#fic: soaring higher

[rainwingmarvel7]

Lord Kaleb Dormaire and his children by Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Ser Tristan Dormaire and Princess Therese Targaryen

I recently got this wonderful commission of my HoTD OCs from my upcoming fic, Soaring Higher, done by the lovely @murmel-malt, and I’m so incredibly in love with it!❤️

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Can you write more Adam fics plz there so freaking good

Benefit of the Doubt PT.2

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Viewer discretion is advised

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff to Angst to comfort, General Adam TW’s, Reader lowkey-highkey has a complex about being loved, Panic attack (I’m not even sure if this is correct term or not), Adam is afraid of heights (makes sense in story) This is set way before the show, and Gn! Reader (Y/n is once again not used lol)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Request Box: Open

Word count: 3136

A/N: Hi! I’d like to Thank you all for the love and support on Part 1! It means a lot that you all enjoyed it as I loved writing it! I’d also like to apologize for this being a week late, I honestly had 0 idea on how to start this one and then a bunch of stuff in my life happened, so it was a mess.

So as an apology I tried to make this one longer than the first! (I seemed to go a little overboard but it’s fine)

Anyways I hope you all enjoy part 2 to ‘Benefit of the doubt’ and as always, if you do, please tell me if want another part in replies/requests/DM’s!

Proofread but of course could have missed something

Tags: @tired-of-life-86

To think love could feel this good.

You were made for it, to give it, receive it… You’ve waited your entire existence for this love, This closeness. It doesn’t even feel real now, even as you’re walking down the golden lined streets of heaven with his arm wrapped around you, all while you’ve been showing him around. The best places to eat, entertainment, or just a nice park. You made sure to show him all of it.

He kept his wings tucked to his sides, the gold contrasting with the white of his robe. The feathers at first glance looked sharp, but now, being so close to him, you could see each of them individually and how soft they must be.

“Hey Sweetcheeks, my eyes are up here”

You jump slightly “Sorry… Adam.” You avert your eyes away from him and focus them in front of you.

Adam laughed “I didn’t say you had to fuxkin’ to stop”

His wings truly were beautiful. It was hard to keep your eyes off them. Adam had only got to heaven recently, it made you wonder if he had the chance to use them yet. You remember when you were first created, wings took forever to get used to. You crashed and fell so many times before you figured out how to use them

Properly.

“Ok seriously, you keep staring, what the fxck is up with you?”

“It’s nothing, just…. Have you tried out your wings yet?”

“Uh, yeah totally, they’re rad as hell” Adam’s voice drifted off, the LED eyes of his mask looking away from you as you both walked. Was he… lying? Why would he lie?

You quickly walked in front of Adam, leaving his warm embrace, gently you took his hands as your wings picked you off the ground. The gust of wind with each flap softly blew around you.

“Well, come on, it will be faster than walking.” Your voice was soft and airy. Slowly, so very slowly, you lifted yourself higher from the ground, Adam’s hands locked firmly in yours, as he was pulled with you in the air.

“W-Wait a- shit- Wait a- motherfuxking second“ Adam yelled strand after strand of curses as you both lifted further and further into the air. His body flailed and his legs kicked against nothing. You pull him to you, his arms quickly snake around your waist, holding on for his dear After-life.

“Adam… did you lie to me?” Your voice was still so soft, so calm, so sweet.

“Fuck- yes I lied, I’m sorry, so put me the fuck down you crazy asshole-“ Vulgar as ever, his voice had fear in it, the LED eyes were forced shut and his grip around you was getting tighter and tighter.

Your arms wrapped around Adam’s head as you laid back, letting The wind breeze from the air pull and push you along its path with your wings soaring through the clouds..

“Adam, it’s ok, I promise you’re fine, all you have to do is open your eyes.”

You pet the back of his neck trying to sooth him which seemed to work after a few seconds. Adam didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to open his eyes. But the longer he kept them close, the more you would whisper soft words of encouragement to him. Eventually, his eyes slowly but surely opened.

“See? There is nothing to be scared of. I’ve got you.”

You hold him closer in your embrace. Adam looked below, the white vastness of heaven’s clouds beneath you both felt unreal, but as amazing a sight it was, Adam’s grip on you didn’t loosen.

“So… I’m guessing you don’t know how to fly yet?” You laugh a little, rubbing a spot on his back, just between his wings comfortingly.

Adam huffed and looked away “oh! I couldn’t fxcking see that!”

You held him close to you. The embrace seemed never ending, and you loved every second of it. Feeling the warmth of his plump body next to you was like a dream come true.

“Here let me just…”

You moved your hands slowly down his arms, caressing the soft flesh as they moved to eventually be at his hands behind you. You began to leisurely undo the grip he had around you.

“What do you think you're doing-“

“Shhh, relax, just trust me, ok?”

With each finger being removed from you, the grip lessened bit by bit, until eventually his hands were fully in yours. Your face leaned closer to his,

“Come on, just give your wings a good flap, trust me.”

“Ugh…. Fine but I swear to god if you let go-“

“I won’t.” Your voice was firm, yet still remained reassuring.

Adam didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t want to. But what other choice did he have? He gruffs and extends his wings from his body. The wind brushed and tickled at his feathers. The way the light hit them caused a glare of gold to be cast from them, enveloping you both. Then, he gave two hard flaps of his wings, he lifted up slightly before quickly falling back to where he was.

“There you go! Now keep doing that.”

Adam continued, his wings slowly pushing him up and up before being sent back down when he stopped. This repeated for a few minutes until he finally got a grip on it. The entire time, you were laughing. Pure unadulterated laughs of joy.

Truly, to think love could feel this good?

“See? You're a natural!”

“Of course I am! I’m the Original Dick, obviously I’d… be good at this… flying… shit.” With all the parading he was doing he kept forgetting to use his wings causing him to fall. ‘A natural’ may have been an overstatement on your part, but hey? At least he hasn’t fallen flat on his face yet!

Gently, you led him through air, giving him reassurance every few feet you flew, never letting go. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours. Before you knew it a brisk orange sunset encased you both with its hue. That’s when you realized just how long you both had been flying.

“You must be tired with sightseeing all day… I think it’s time we go home and rest, yeah?”

“Home?” Adam’s voice sounded for a moment genuinely confused. Had he not been told he’d have a place to live in heaven? As much respect you had for Sera, you’ll have to file a complaint to avoid this with future souls.

You gripped his hand and opened your wings letting the wind lead you through the clouds and above the city. The angels below look like ants at the height you both were. It was peaceful, the flight back home. But it did seem… off? So… quiet? You couldn’t put it together, at least not at the moment, But Adam hadn’t spoken a word since you both left.

Adam, while yes, he was initially confused, it made sense to him, why wouldn’t heaven have a place for its people, a place for each of them to relax, to feel safe, happy, at home.

Home was such a weird word for Adam. Has he ever felt like a place was his ‘home’? The closest thing to it was the Garden of Eden but even that proved to be anything but a home for him. Ever since that snake entered his garden.

No. He can’t think about that now. He doesn’t want to have to think about that again. But oh-do thoughts love to worm their way back into your mind when you least want them to. He’s snaps out of his thoughts when your voice picks up

“Ok, we’re here! Just get yourself settled in and I’ll go make us something to eat. I didn't really know what food you’d like so I mainly just have junk food… I hope that's ok.”

Adam nods his head nonchalantly

You smile, waking him over to the small, plush couch in the living room and handing him a blanket and some pillows. Telling him to wait a second as you fetch some food, leaving him alone.

Adam thought your house seemed welcoming enough, ‘well… our house’ Adam thought. The living room was dark aside from a few luminous lights around the room as well as the small blue gleam from the windows from the night sky.

The couch was comfortable and the pillows just as much. And the blanket you gave him was soft and warm. This really was heaven, huh?

His thoughts are, once again, interrupted by your voice, “Ok here we go, I’ve got snacks and some soda” you say, handing him some of the many food you ravaged from your fridge and sitting beside him, wrapping yourself in the shared blanket.

Grabbing the remote lying next to you, you flick on the TV flipping through the channel before ending on a cheesy sitcom, you keep the volume low wanting to enjoy any conversation with Adam. Except… he never started one. So that’s what felt off.

The entire time you flew back home, got snacks and found something to watch. He hadn't said a word. You may not have known him long but even you had already picked up that he was an advid talker in a conversation.

“Is… everything ok Adam?” You whispered, not want to scare him with your random words.

“What kind of question is that, I’m fxcking fine… I’m fine.” His voice trailed off at the end almost getting as quiet as yours.

“Are you sure cause-“

“I said I’m fuxking fine!” His voice roared through the dark room. Gritty and callous, but you could tell it was meant to hide something. Something he didn’t want you to see.

“I’m sorry…” you paused. What did you want to say from here? What could you say? You took a deep breath and tried to continue. “I… I know I said this earlier… when Sera left.”

Adam’s LED mask looked away from you half shut eyes and a frown forming a scowl on it, but still he let you continue.

“But I’m going to say it again anyways cause… I mean it. I’m really happy to have you here. To finally have you home” you place your arm around Adam’s back rubbing it soothingly as let your head slowly lax onto him, gently cuddling close to him.

That word again… home. That’s all he could think about ever since he first heard you say it. Why? Why couldn’t he get it out of his head? His breathing was becoming unsteady with each new thought and image his brain made. Lilith and Eve, they were made to be apart of his home, for him to be apart of their homes. So why? Why did it end that way?

Suddenly Adam leap from the couch as fast as he could, the shear force knocking you to the other side of the couch, sending the food to scatter and drinks to spill to the floor.

“Adam!?” Your voice was frightened at the sudden movement. Adam looked just as frightened as you, at least from what you could tell through the LED mask. He suddenly began running, where? he didn’t know, the rooms in the house looked the same. But all he knew is that he needed to be away from you. You followed quickly behind him and pleaded for him to tell you what was wrong, but eventually he ran into a room and locked the door.

He looked around, already out of breath. He was in a bathroom. He felt his knees give out under him as he tried to slowly sit down by the tub. His breath heavy, it was hard to breathe, this stupid mask. He needed it off. But just as he went to do so,

*rattle rattle rattle*

The doorknob began to move followed by frantic knocking on the door.

“Adam! Are you ok?!” Your voice pleaded through the wood of the door.

“Fuxk- I'm fine! How many times do I have to tell you that shit” his voice cracked a few times followed by a strand of curses leaving his lips.

Home. The word repeated like a mantra in his head. Like it was mocking him. Was he not meant to have a place he called a home? To have someone to return to, who would tell him “welcome back!” Without even being told to?

Lilith hated him, Eve betrayed and hurt him like no one else before, ever. They were made to be with him, one was literally made to be his other half. The garden, his home, was taken from him because of something, someone he couldn’t control. it all comes back to him. That albino snake in the grass.

Lucifer, ‘The dreamer’… was this some sort of game to him? To toy with his emotions, treat him like some kind of plaything to mess with, to screw over? What kind of life was it? To have every opportunity and opening be broken down by him, And Adam being powerless to stop it?

“Adam! Please open the door!” Your voice was even more frantic now, knocking every few seconds before it quickly quieted down. Your body slumped against the door.

“Adam… I’m sorry if I hurt you or… or if I was going too fast… I didn't mean to… I’m so sorry…” your breath hitched with tears.

And then there was you.

You have been nothing but kind to him since you met him. You showed him around heaven, taught him how to fly and welcomed him home without having being told to. You were so different. So, so very different. Adam figure that out a while ago now. But in reality, it’s exactly why he was terrified.

To have someone who loves him so... unconditionally.

*click*

The sound of the door unlocking drew your attention and was followed by it slowly opening from Adam on the other side, still on the floor.

“Adam!” Your voice was low, already tired from crying. You crawled your way toward him before stopping in front of him, tears still falling from your face, “I’m sorry Adam, I’m sorry-“ you were cut off by a quick movement.

Warmth enveloped you, clouding your senses as a soft weight laid onto you. Arms wrapped their way around you in an embrace.

“Shit- it's not your fault, it was never your fault…” Adam’s voice was surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to his regular tone. Sincerity evident with each word. All you could do was hide into his large frame and cry at the words.

Adam was never good at comforting people. He himself was never comforted, so the concept was more than a bit foreign to him. But even still, he tried. Slowly he helped you both up from the bathroom floor and made your way back to the couch.

The floor was covered in the discarded food you both left behind. The spilled soda is now dried and sticky. Crumbs everywhere.

“Here.. let me get a mop and broom-“

“No just sit down, I’ll clean up the shit I made” you lay down on the couch and watched as Adam swept and mopped the mess from the floor. The entire time the silence hung in the air by a thread. Neither of you wanting to be the one to snap the string and speak.

Finally Adam got done cleaning the mess and made his way to the couch. He sat down and gestured for you to come closer. Crawling over to him, he wrapped the blanket around you both allowing you to snuggle into him.

“Do…” your voice barely audible “Do you want to talk about it?”

Adam looked hesitant but nodded.

“You know about everything, right? About… what all happened in Eden?

You nod against his chest content on listening.

“When… When Lilith left me, I thought I didn't care as much as I did. I thought she was a bitch and that was that. And it didn’t help that as soon as she left, I got Eve…”

He paused

“Then, when I found out about that shit between Eve and Lucifer… I didn’t care then either, but I didn’t understand why…” his voice hitched “but when I ate that damn apple… I realized how hurt I should have been. All the concepts of right and wrong, good and evil, learning all of it through that fruit, I realized one shitty truth… that the one I loved betrayed me.”

You hugged him tighter softly, your hands caressed his stomach as some form of comfort before he continued.

“For the same person- Both of them for that snake…”

“Adam… I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“And that’s why… I’m scared. Scared that I will fuxk up again and get… attached to you. Because every. single. time. He ruins it. And I don't want to see that happen with you.”

Your heart ached for him, the saddening look of his LED mask as he talked only furthered your emotions. Slowly your hands made their way to his face, he looks at you confused, your fingertips crept under the mask before his hand shot up and held your wrist slightly, carefully not holding it too tight.

“Sorry fuck- I’m.. I’m not ready.”

You smile and nod understanding “Adam. I love you… with all of my heart. And I would never do what those two done to you. “

Adam thought for a moment deciding what to say.

“Promise?” was all he could think of, his voice, mind, and body were all too tired to speak more about it.

You slowly remove your hands from his mask, instead taking one of his hands into yours.

“I promise, I would never betray you, let alone talk to that man” ever-so lightly, a soft golden glow burned between yours and Adam’s hands, the gold flame was warm and comforting to both of you as it rose and grew in strength.

From the flame, a string wrapped and warped itself around both yours and Adam’s pinky fingers. The string tightened and loosened as it moved, before finally melting away leaving only two solid gold rings behind, One on Adam’s finger and the other on yours.

“What the hell was that?” Adam’s voice was filled with bewilderment

“A deal- or I guess a promise. In this case”

“Shit, You didn’t have to do that-“ this time it was your turn to interrupt him. You bring Adam’s hand to your lips, and give a kiss on his newly formed ring before lying down and cuddling into Adam.

“I know.”

For once in his life, Adam felt at ease with love. How easy it was to fall for you.

Is this what home feels like?

[beardedjoel]

pretty little wife | sorry, baby

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨ summary: 4k words. Joel is stressed and busy with a big project at work lately. His pretty little wife makes it all better. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, pre-established relationship/dynamic, sub/dom relationship, free use kink, oral sex (m receiving), cock worship (!! yes), unprotected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, pet names for reader, sir kink making a reappearance, bit of fluff mixed in, mention of food/eating, @ GOD WHY ISNT THIS ME a/n: I'M BACK. these two sick lovebirds are back 😭 i needed something sweet to write while working on smother so here's some cute domestic sucking and fucking from my favorite couple MWAH reminder i have no taglist anymore, follow @beardedjoel-updates to hear about my new fics!

Gonna be late again. Sorry baby.

Joel’s hurried text had pinged your phone a few hours ago, and you reassured him it was no problem, of course. You know that his company is contracting on a huge project in downtown Austin right now, and it required a lot of Joel’s attention. He’d been giving so much you were surprised that he had anything left in the tank when he came home to you. But by god, so many nights he sure did, coming home in a frenzy to fuck you, taste you, finding you where you were when he arrived home - cleaning up dishes from dinner, the shower, already curled up in bed with a book on one particularly late night.

You relished in him releasing everything into you - the stress of his day instantly melting with a simple touch of his lips to yours, drinking in your curves and soft skin with rough hands and frenzied yet controlled movements. It always seemed like the more stressed he was, the more he couldn’t get his cock in you fast enough, the more relentless he was in the ways he took care of you. He’d leave you spent, dripping, and aching, letting you talk softly about your day as he stroked your hair afterwards, all sweetness and hushed tones until you two fell asleep.

You peer into the living room from the kitchen to see Joel walking in, looking generally askew and you frown. When his shoes are yanked off and placed in the closet he looks up to see you leaning on the doorframe, lips full and pouting, finger sticking up with a patch of cookie dough stuck to it to taste test. You stand in a long, threadbare t-shirt of his and pink cotton panties, just what Joel had set out for you this morning, and he makes sure to thank his past self for such a wise choice this morning. You’d laughed at the lack of bra or any kind of pants, knowing it was no accident you’d ended up dressed without any bottoms on today. You aim to please, and the look Joel gives you whenever he sees you exactly how he envisioned you for the day always makes your heart soar a little higher. 

He finds his way to the couch, sprawling out and giving you an exhausted look. You stick the errant finger into your mouth, sucking the sweet, sugary cookie dough off and licking your lips. Joel’s expression changes quickly, his interest clearly sparked, but the wearisome look doesn’t leave his eyes. 

“Baby?” you ask, your brows furrowing further with worry. This wasn’t your husband, this wasn’t Joel, and you always hate to see him have a tough day. It makes your heart ache when he works too hard, gives too much of himself and winds up burnt out. You certainly don’t mind making it all better for him, that’s what you’re here for, after all, but it pains you nonetheless.

“C’mon over here, little wife,” Joel murmurs, running a hand down his weary face. When he pulls it away, he gazes at you with heavy lids before propping his hands behind his head. 

You saunter over to him, standing next to where he lays and reaching down to graze your fingers over his stretched bicep, trailing it inwards towards his face. He hums, fluttering his eyes closed for a brief moment and enjoying the way your gentle fingers work across his cheekbones and through his beard. 

His hand slowly moves from behind his head to curve around your waist, drawing you nearer, the front of your knees hitting the side of the couch cushions now. His silent signals are obvious to you at this point, so you don’t waste a moment swinging your leg around his body, tucking it in between his thigh and the back of the couch, settling in to straddle him. A hand runs gently down his chest as you tilt your head, studying his face in concern. 

“What’s my husband need from me?” you ask quietly, letting your other hand bury itself in his curls, scratching at his scalp. 

Joel lets out a pleasured groan, nearly shuddering at the feeling. “Fuck, baby.” You feel his body shift underneath you, already squirming with the sensation of your fingers doing their work on him. “Make me feel good.” 

“Let’s get you more comfortable, then,” you coo, fingers already moving on the buttons of his shirt, making quick work of the top few to let his chest breathe a little bit. You take only a beat to admire the top of his chest poking out, curls of hair sticking out wild and messy before getting to work. You slither down his body, giving yourself enough room to undo his belt before pulling it out of its loops and tossing it aside. 

“Lift, please,” you say, keeping up your gentle, soothing tone as Joel’s hips lift off the couch and allow you the space to pull down his dress pants, wriggling them down to his ankles and then over his feet. “Now that’s better, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” Joel answers, a pleasant little hum from the back of his throat. You can feel how your ministrations have already gotten him hard as it brushes against your center when you settle back on top of his hips. A brief tease of your hips swirling on his sends Joel’s twitching, a sly little smile flashing on his lips. But you’re gone an instant later, moving down the couch and settling next to his feet, sitting crossed legged to face them before taking one into your lap. 

“What’s this, now?” Joel asks, a slight tiredness to his voice now. 

“Ever heard of a foot rub?” you reply with a lifted brow. He chuckles and you watch his body rumble with the sound. 

“Givin’ me mouth today, are we?” he asks playfully, the tired laughter still fading off as he speaks. 

“I could,” you retort, pursing your lips and looking up from his feet to find his eyes peeking open, looking down at your delicate, innocuous smile with a plethora of hidden meaning behind it. 

“Such a dirty girl…” he murmurs, neatly cut off by the groan he lets out when you press in on one of his arches with your thumb.

“See? I know what you need, baby,” you coo, working your fingers into the tender spots on his foot, being sure to use just the right amount of pressure. You prop his foot in your lap, letting it hang there as you gently rotate his ankle, loosening everything up. 

“Christ,” he breathes out as you start on the other foot. His breathing is a little labored, pain and pleasure mixing together as you continue to help his weary soles. You work each foot until he sighs contentedly, a good sign that your work is finished. 

At least on his feet, that is. You run your hands teasingly up his thighs, settling them on his hips as you work your way back up his body, hips straddling his again. You lean down and brush your lips against his neck, peering up to watch Joel’s eyes flutter shut as he sighs again. The sound is music to your ears, anytime your husband makes that content, soft little sound you think you’ve reached heaven. You suck and flick little patches all over his neck, starting a slow, steady grind of your hips. 

“Oh, pretty girl,” Joel starts, landing a firm hand along your hip. “I can’t today… I’m so fuckin’ beat. You know I’d give anything to fuck my cock into you…” He murmurs the words with a hint of frustration. You know this is hitting Joel harder than he’s letting on, seeing as his singularly focused task most days is to find a way to get himself inside of you.

“Who said anything about you fucking me?” you ask slyly, hands hooking into the sides of his briefs. You watch as Joel’s eyes pop open and look at you mischievously. “You said to make you feel good, so that’s what I’m doing, my darling.” You keep your tone even and calming as you continue with your teasing, deft fingers playing under his waistband. 

Joel’s smirk grows and he reaches a hand up to gently pet the back of your head before pulling you to his face, kissing you deeply. “Good girl,” he says as he pulls away, the words falling right onto your own lips. “Doin’ as you’re told.”

You slink lower, getting to the spot you know excites him the most, straddling lower on his legs to bring your mouth down to his clothed cock. You plant small kisses along the obvious bulge and Joel reacts immediately with a small hiss through his teeth. You kiss and lick and suck, letting the fabric tamp enough of the pleasure to drive him crazy. 

“God damn it…” he grunts quietly, hips shifting as they spasm up towards your mouth when you suck another spot on the fabric, taking your sweet time, only a small form of torture for Joel. “You tryna make me ask you to pull my cock out and get your pretty mouth on it? Cause you know, once I’m not dead on m’feet I might have to punish you ‘f that’s the case.” His words tumble out slow and thick with his accent - that Southern drawl always comes out more when he’s tired and mumbling.

Your mouth curls deviously and you lick your lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply in a low lilt. 

“Mhm…” Joel teases, but you heed his warning anyhow, tugging his briefs down to free his cock, nearly enraged as it throbs and drips precum from the way you’d already been working on it. Your tongue finds the salty fluid at his head, lapping it with just the tip of your tongue and swirling it around. You start to practically nuzzle it, catching his cock in the corners of your lips, letting your tongue get a few tiny kitten licks on his shaft as you rub it along your cheeks. The smooth skin glides along your face and you start to get messier with it, letting his cock start to spread his precum and your saliva along your cheeks as you let the flat of your tongue run along it.

Joel lets out a loud, long groan, fingers gripping deep into the couch cushion. He can barely contain himself as your tongue licks a thick stripe up underneath his length, tracing the most prominent vein. His hips stutter forward as he gives himself to the moment. 

“God damn, honey…” he whimpers quietly, eyes shutting in the bliss of the moment.

Your hands rub his thighs gently, kneading into them as you start to bob your head on his cock, taking a little more each time until he’s at the back of your throat. You fight the urge to gag, a little noise coming out of you, sending Joel’s hand flying to the back of your head, his gaze watching the way his cock disappears inside of your warm mouth.

“That’s it, choke on it like I like, pretty girl…” Joel mumbles, eyes rolling back a little as his cock fills your mouth. “My pretty wife…” he whispers with a reverence and respect, despite the degrading way he’s about to fuck your mouth.

You move with a little more urgency, your mouth stuffed and aching already, one hand coming up to grip the base of Joel’s cock and stroking there while your mouth works on him. Joel’s hand pushes down on your head, sending you a little further and you sputter, spit flying all around his cock and lap but it doesn’t deter you. His hips start to move of their own accord into you, matching the rhythm of your mouth pumping on him. Your body gets hot and desperate for him, your praise loving nature alight just by seeing how much he loves the way you pleasure him. Your thighs wriggle as your cunt aches and drips now, begging you for relief that you know will have to wait.

“God, fuck,” he cries out, “Needed this…” Joel seems to be practically revived, a new energy filling his weary body as he grunts and pants, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth in faster strokes now. You can sense how close he is, you know your husband’s body like the back of your hand now, his balls tightening and cock getting even harder on your tongue.

He grunts with the effort of sitting forward, yanking your head off of his cock and swiftly sliding his hands to your waist, hauling your entire body upwards so that your hips are above his. 

“Need this needy little cunt, look how soaked you are,” Joel coos with a genuine pity for you as he sees the wet stain on your panties.. His fingers tear your underwear to the side, giving enough room for his cock to position itself at your weeping entrance, giving you no time to even process it before he forces your hips to bear down on him.

You cry out in a long, wanting moan as he fills you up, the stretch of him burning in that familiar way that you love and crave so much. Joel is an addiction - your husband the one thing in life you could never get enough of, never filling you enough, never fucking you full and deep enough times that you’re fulfilled. He never fails to leave you satisfied, of course, but you’re always wanting more in the next moment, practically wishing you could live just like this - his cock stuffing you and stretching your pussy to its limits, sending that pain you live for deep inside of you until it turns to the most blinding pleasure. Gratitude overtakes you as you sink down completely, whispering out a fervent thank you as you feel yourself clench around him, eyes shut and head thrown back. Joel reaches to your chin, pulling your head to look down at him. 

“What was that?” he asks teasingly, rutting his hips up into your as he speaks. You shudder again, pussy clenching around him as you feel his length pressing against your walls.

“T-thank you,” you breathe out. “Thank you, sir…” You’re unable to say anything else, only look at him with half-lidded eyes and cry out wantonly when he pushes all the way in again, seating himself inside of you only to lift your hips up and do it all over again.

“Yeah… knew bein’ stuffed full of my cock would make you my polite girl again,” Joel says arrogantly, sending a fresh wave of arousal right between your legs, gushing around his girth. You nod, blinking down at him, rolling your hips and chasing your pleasure. You lean down a little closer to Joel, bringing your chest more flush with his, the change in angle devastating the both of you. 

“So fuckin’ full of me,” Joel whispers in your ear, taking it upon himself to bend his legs and start fucking up into you. You moan in his ear, tears springing to your eyes as you feel him close to your cervix, each deep thrust sinfully delicious and bordering on painful in the way that makes your skin tingle in the best way. You want to be used, you want him as deep as he can possibly go, to feel you entirely wrapped around him.

Joel grunts, hot breath fanning next to your ear as he holds you close. Your bodies are intermingling with sweat now, your ass slapping down onto his thighs reverberating through the quiet living room. It’s just this - the two of you, your shared breath, your intertwined bodies, nothing else matters or even registers to you now. Joel’s hips shift the slightest bit in angle and you cry out, your g-spot now overstimulated with attention as Joel’s cock pounds into you harder, brushing the spongy spot with each new movement into you.

You pant, clutching onto him and digging your manicured nails into his shoulder, scratching them along to his neck where you hang on for dear life.

“Fuck…” you murmur, feeling your body tensing, legs like jello as they shake on either side of Joel’s thighs. “Let me come, p-please, sir,” you whimper, holding back with every ounce of strength you have as the tingling warmth spreads, heat in your belly threatening to burst at any second.

“Hang on f’me, baby, fuck, n-not yet,” Joel replies in a huff, clearly close to that high himself. “Wanna fill you up right when you’re comin’ so pretty f’me.”

You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, holding back as your body screams at you with need. This wasn’t the first time Joel had you hold back your climax, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it never got any easier. You whimper, nearing a sob as Joel thrusts into you, your hips rolling and stuttering into his movements. “Please… sir…” you cry.

Joel grunts out a stern no and continues to slam his hips into yours, growing harsher by the second. You’re a whimpering wreck, your body nearly about to betray you as Joel hits your g-spot again. Tears leak from your eyes with the psychological effort of holding back, but you know it’ll be worth it. It always is.

“Now,” Joel says simply, “Come for me, little doll,” he adds, finishing the sentence with a grunt as you start to lose control, feeling like a dam inside of you is bursting, all the pleasure rolling over you in dazzling waves. You flutter around Joel’s cock almost as hard as you ever have, squeezing his length as he lets out a small whimper himself. Your breathy moans right in his ear send goosebumps along his whole body despite how stifling the air is surrounding you two.

“Fuck…” he moans, his hips jerking a few times before he starts to spill himself into you. You continue to shake, pulling every last drop from him as you ride out your own high, Joel’s name rolling off your tongue as you moan.

“God, yeah…” you whimper out, finally collapsing onto Joel’s chest as his legs go limp underneath you. You both lay in silence, chests heaving and small smiles on your faces. Joel strokes the back of your head and your smile grows. Neither of you seem set on moving, the combination of both of your climaxes a slick mess between the two of you as you settle into a more steady rhythm of breathing.

“Mmm…” Joel mumbles out the noise. “How’s my pretty little wife today, hm?” he asks quietly, fingers tracing down your cheeks to your lips.

“You’re late to ask,” you tease him with a laugh, typically hearing that question before anything else when he gets home. He uses his free hand to squeeze your ass cheek in warning at your bratiness and you grin. “But better now,” you answer in the familiar response to your favorite question from him.

“Thought so,” Joel says wryly, giving you ass a lazy pat before kissing the side of your head. He’s quiet for a few moments before lifting your hips off of his, your body immediately missing the sweet fullness of him as you both sit up. Joel brings your legs over his and you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling like the most natural fit in the world. 

“‘M sorry about all this, baby - all the late nights and bein’ stressed and probably bein’ a grouch,” Joel says, his voice laden with guilt. He circles on your bare thigh with his fingers and you shudder a little, snuggling further into him. One of your hands wraps around his cheek, turning his head to meet your eye line and you give him a soft smile.

“You think you just now started being a grouch?” you joke, knowing you’re pushing your limits on how much bratiness Joel will tolerate in one day before things escalate.

He growls deep in his throat and you giggle softly, scratching your fingers through his hair. “Thin ice, baby…” he murmurs.

“I love my grumpy husband,” you say sweetly, fingers moving down to run through his rough beard. “It’s okay though, Joel. Promise. I just miss you, but this busy and crazy time will pass like it always does, right? In the mean time...” you lower your voice, a finger trailing from his cheek to his neck and down his chest. “We can just do that anytime you need it.” 

Joel chuckles, giving your entire body a squeeze against him. “That’s my good girl. Always ready f’me.” You smile into his chest at his praise before he continues. “We’ll do somethin’ this weekend, the two of us an’ spend some time together, mkay? Make up for all this bullshit.”

You feel your heart squeeze inside your chest and your stomach flutter a little at the idea. Joel has typically been pretty good about planning dates over the years, but you know that it’s been hard with his extra workload lately, so you’ve been missing the romantic evenings he’d plan for you two. You’d tried to ask about planning one yourself, and Joel shut you down immediately in the sweetest way possible, claiming the responsibility fully for himself to do that for you.

“Ooh, yes please,” you reply excitedly, hugging him close.  

“‘S a date then,” Joel confirms, leaning his head back onto the couch while you stay resting on his shoulder. You both fall into a comfortable quiet again, Joel’s breathing steadying as he dozes off. 

“Do you want a cookie?” you ask into the silence, sitting up. Joel’s eyes creak open from where he’d been resting them and he glances down at you with furrowed brows. 

“That s’posed to be some kind of euphemism, darlin’?” he asks groggily. You laugh, throwing your head back a little and shuffling yourself to sit up on the edge of the couch. 

“Could be,” you giggle, “Real cookies this time, though. You can even sneak one before dinner.” 

Joel perks up a little, eyes opening a bit more. “Chocolate chip?” he asks, a boyish glint in his gaze. 

“Of course,” you nod, and Joel smiles tiredly, sitting up to join you on the edge of the couch. 

“You know you’re the best wife?” Joel says, nudging you with his shoulder and leaning over for a quick peck on your cheek before standing up and pulling his pants back on. He moans and groans while he twists his back and stretches his arms over his head for a few moments, and you know his knees must be flaring up as they do when he’s more stressed.

“Just one,” you warn Joel as you see him making his way to the kitchen trying to look like some kind of master sleuther on the hunt for fresh baked cookies. “I’m making dinner soon.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel tosses over his shoulder at you before disappearing around the corner. When you make your way to the kitchen, you watch him take a bite off of a cookie from the cooling rack and you stand with crossed arms, admiring him. His eyes look you up and down with a similar appreciation, landing between your legs where he sees your underwear completely soaked and stained from your recent rendezvous. He smirks as he chews, stepping towards you. 

“An’ don’t you dare think about changing your underwear,” he says in a low rumble, eyes flicking all over your face as he gets close to read if you’re going to keep up your bratty streak today. Instead, you give him a docile little upturn of your lips - he’s been through enough today - and brush past him to start working on dinner. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[slytherinslut0]

can you please write something about tom being tied up!!!! please please!!!! i know you would write this so well🥹

hejsjahshs uhm okay this could go many different ways but if you read my fic ‘this is your punishment’ i feel like reader from that fic would be looking to get revenge and what better way to disarm tom than to take away the one thing that man needs more than anything? control.

“what is this—what are you—“ tom’s voice dies off as you tighten the magical bonds around his wrists, tugging him back snug into the chair he’s so adorably trying to slip out of. it’s laughable really, the way you turned the tables back onto him and just how much he fucking hates it. “this isn’t funny. you don’t want to start this with me—“

with a flick of your finger, his tie is between his teeth and his pitiful threats are muffled—as useless as his squirming. with a smirk, you take a step back from where he’s seated, drinking him down in all his glory under the dim lighting inside his dorm. you’ve never seen him like this. vulnerable. the way his muscles flex against his shirt as he squirms, brows pinched and jaw tense—

it’s intoxicating.

”c’mon, tommy…you didn’t really think i wouldn’t get you back, did you?” your fingers find the buttons of your shirt, slowly undoing them one by one. his squirming stops as soon as you move to the second button, chest heaving as he watches you—your pulse soars, spurred on by the way his eyes burn your skin. “look, you’re talented—so bloody good with spells, i’ll give you that. but i think you forgot that i’m good too.”

at that, his eyes narrow and his head tilts just slightly—you slip the last button free on your blouse and let the fabric fall free from your shoulders, black-laced breasts bared to those raging midnight eyes.

“we’re more alike than you thought, tommy. you underestimated me, and that carelessness is the reason you’re sitting there, and i’m standing here.” you step closer again, leaning forward until you’re bent before him, breasts spilling out of the thin lace barely containing them— “a pity, isn’t it?”

he groans into the tie, and you see it—the way he’s warring with himself, not sure where to let his eyes settle—bouncing back and fourth between your tits and your smirk laden lips, hiding behind the irritation as if letting you know he loves this would mean losing.

tom riddle has never been a good loser.

“yes, such a pity.” you nod to yourself, pursing your lips. he is beautiful—beautiful in a way that is far past disastrous but when he’s stuck like this, tied up before you, he’s tamed in a way you know isn’t possible otherwise. all that danger, held back by a silly little spell. “though, i have to say…what’s even more pitiful, is the way you’ve been denying yourself.”

you slip a finger under his jaw, urging his chin up until his eyes have no where to look except into yours. you can’t believe how bold you’re being.

“you could have fucked me, you know. merlin knows i wanted it.” you whisper, free hand slipping down to his knee. “but you chose a spell. because you’re superior, right? a man above impulse?”

he grunts against the fabric in his mouth when your fingers tease timidly up his thigh—you glance down just as he shifts his legs, spreading them wider, pants tight in the crotch as his body betrays him.

you shush him, tutting. drunk off the power trip. “i know. you’re so disciplined, tommy. the rest of us could only wish to be as strong as you.”

salazar save you—you’re playing with matches, biting your lip, unable to look away. you can’t tell forsure but the outline of him looks monstrous under this shitty lighting—and you remember now, just how much you hate this game.

but regardless, you’ll play along—after all, he’s the one that made the rules, who are you to break them?

“look at you,” you whisper, fingers slipping higher, dangerously close. you graze his bulge and his hips twitch, his head almost falling back until you slip your fingers around his jaw, holding his eyes to yours. “you’re so hard.. and i’ve barely touched you…when’s the last time you got off, huh? when’s the last time you’ve fucked?”

AKSJAISHSJ OK I CANT WRITE BLURBS IM SORRY THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME BUT—

[g1rld1ary]

lifeguard!james potter x reader 5

prev

wc: 1225

cw: sexual innuendo, suggestive content, reader is still horny (and so am i)

have been stuck on another fic i've been working on but absolutely smashed this out -- lifeguard!james literally has a mind of its own

james had all but become a part of the furniture in your life. the boys had taken an instant liking to him; similarly fond of his charm and open dorkiness as the girls and you. this meant he was suddenly everywhere, invited to your brunches and late-night walks and, currently, the soccer game you had going on a field near remus' house.

it wasn't a particularly good one. the weather had warmed up after the rain and was back to a sweltering heat that had you all moving sluggishly up and down the grass, kicking the ball between you with a significant lack of zeal. it wasn't long before you gave up altogether, lying back on the grass, feeling each of the itchy blades touch your skin. lily joined you shortly after, red in the face from exertion and sunburn. that left a game of 3v3, with sirius, james and marlene on one team, and peter, remus and mary on the other.

you were more than content to watch the show; the boys had stripped their shirts off and the girls were down to just their sports bras or bikini tops, but you were only focused on james. whilst you'd seen him shirtless a handful of times now down by the pool, in action he was even more glorious.

the sweat glistening on his skin made him look like a bloody fragrance model, glittering in the sun like god herself had crafted him for you to admire. who were you to deny the will of god? you watched happily from under your sunglasses, eyes trained on the way his muscles moved and contorted under his skin, wondering how they would feel under your hands.

"you're drooling," lily teased, reapplying her sunscreen. you rolled your eyes with a scoff but swiped your thumb under your lips just in case. "are you ever going to actually make a move? or do you just love to torment him?" you both laughed at that, glancing over to where the others were running up and down the makeshift pitch.

"i'm waiting for the right time," you explained, "and if he wants it so bad he can do something about it."

at that moment james scored a goal, the ball soaring past mary's incredible dive. his team cheered and celebrated, jumping all over each other despite the sweat and heat. when they parted james looked over at you, pointing to dedicate the goal to you. you mimed being shocked, hand over your mouth, before validating him with a kiss through the air. he committed to the scene, responding with an exaggerated, love-struck stumble before sirius hit him on the forearm to get him to focus.

you giggled at his display, sitting up higher to see the game better. you could feel lily watching you and refused to meet her gaze, scared she'd see the light blush you could feel on your face.

the heat got more bearable in the spot of shade you'd found under a tree and you could feel the energy returning to your body. unwilling to go back into the sun and rejoin the match you nominated yourself cheerleader, jumping around and yelling whenever either of the teams scored.

it was almost half an hour later when the players decided they couldn't go on, agreeing the last goal would determine the winner (they'd lost count of the accurate score ages ago anyway). you and lily got almost too into your roles, lily trying a shockingly good cartwheel as you cheered and clapped.

the game went to james' team, with him scoring the winning goal. it wasn't particularly surprising given his advantageous prior athleticism, but the whole group still celebrated him, cheers and high fives all around. you fulfilled your role, jumping excitedly as you applauded. you caught his glance down to your chest and grinned, bouncing one more time for his benefit. embarrassment flashed across his features momentarily but he recovered -- you could practically see him shift into flirt mode.

"so, when do i get my prize for my heroic win?" he asked, pushing his glasses back up his nose. you paused, pretending to think before shaking your head.

"you're gonna have to impress me more than that, baywatch." if you'd replaced james with a puppy in that moment, you wouldn't have noticed, their eyes were exactly the same.

"you're hard to impress," he pouted and you almost felt bad.

"i'm hard to earn," you corrected, "i'm sure you'll get there eventually, bud."

"bud? you're cruel." james was smiling as he said it so you didn't feel bad, sticking your tongue out and heading off towards marlene. you hoped he was watching you walk away.

the afternoon came to an end as you all had things to attend to, work or family commitments. you and james had ended up walking together, the supermarket only being around the corner from the pool. you'd dropped sirius back to his home on the way and you were glad for the reprieve from his constant teasing.

"how often do you get hit on by the old ladies?" you asked, rummaging around in your tote bag for your uniform -- a black polo totally unsuited for the summer heat. james laughed heartily as he considered the question.

"a little," he confessed, "but they're harmless so i don't mind too much."

"as opposed to me?" you were teasing him, and delighted in the red tinge to his cheeks.

"as opposed to you," he affirmed, "you're something else."

"dangerous?" you asked in a sultry voice, hoping the answer was yes. james hesitated and you were sure he was going to agree with you, but he changed the conversation hastily.

"edna's the worst, of course, she is a woman on the prowl." you both laughed at that, the image of wrinkly old edna coming onto james both entertaining and kind of disgusting.

you turned to face him outside the pool gates and james groaned.

"that should be illegal," he said, staring at you. the tie-up neck strap of your bikini was poking out from under your work polo and the undone buttons were giving james a fantastic view of your cleavage (if you did say so yourself). "they can't let you work looking this good."

"there's not enough people in this stupid town to replace me if i got fired," you laughed, "besides, i'm sure you wouldn't be complaining if you came through my checkout line."

"i'll come through your checkout line anytime you want, hot stuff." you scoffed, both in disbelief at the terrible innuendo and to give yourself time to recover.

"haven't you got lives to save?" was all you could come up with after being surprised by james' boldness. he nodded reluctantly, turning to go with a wave. "might wanna hit the showers before you clock in!" you laughed as you caught sight of his 'little problem'.

"you gonna join me?" he shot back.

"in your dreams, loverboy!" you didn't wait for a response, turning on your heel towards the supermarket. if you'd stuck around any longer you were at real risk of following through with his proposition.

[chrisevansonly]

𝒋𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒐 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏 | 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒄

☁︎ charles leclerc x female reader

☁︎ there is nothing better than carving pumpkins with your husband and your little girl

☁︎ no warnings just very sweet dad! charles content ahead<3

☁︎ i’m really excited for this, i love dad!charles so much you guys have no idea..i love this fall celebration fic idea idk why i didn’t do it before…

Across the table lay a sheet of fabric to protect the delicate cherrywood underneath from the pumpkin seeds and goop that was about to take up the space. You and Charles had taken your daughter Alia out to get some pumpkins to carve for Halloween. Of course, you had to take a little road trip to find only the best according to your husband, Alia had the time of her life that day.

“Maman is it almost ready!” your little girl shouted from the top of the stairs

“Alia, qu'avons-nous dit sur le fait de crier à l'intérieur”

Charles voice could be heard from the kitchen as little footsteps descended down the stairs, a shy smile on her face

“Qu'il est trop bruyant à l'intérieur…”

You smiled turning to see your daughter coming over to you, Charles leaning down to press a kiss to her head

“Oui c’est ça mon ange”

“To answer your question princess it’s ready now, do you want to pick your pumpkin?”

Alia’s face lit up as she nodded, carefully studying the three big pumpkins in front of her

“The middle please! So I can be between papa and you maman!”

It never failed to make your heart soar at just how much Alia loved both you and Charles, she constantly wanted to do things with the two of you.

“The middle one is yours then my love, Papa can help you clean out your pumpkin too if you’d like”

The little girl nodded, getting up onto her stool so she stood higher so she could reach everything she needed. Charles carved the top off of her pumpkin with a knife, knowing it was too sharp for her to grab

“So do you have your spoon bébé?”

“Oui papa! Can I start?!”

He laughed

“Yes, go ahead”

The three of you began to scoop out your pumpkins, Alia obviously asking for her dad’s or your help when her arms got tired, which seemed to be more often than not. Once they’d been cleaned out, you helped her trace the face she wanted to carve, her eyes watching you carefully, in awe of the soon to be carved pumpkin.

“Papa comment ça s'appelle déjà?”

“C'est un jack-o-lantern mon amour”

She furrowed her brows looking up at her

“Mais pourquoi?”

A smile tugged at your lips at your daughter’s curiosity, she always wanted to know the what, the why and the how, Charles says she takes on after you.

“Pourquoi ne pas demander à ta maman?”

“Maman?”

Alia turned to look at you, a soft smile on her face

“Yes baby?”

“Why is it called a jack-o-lantern…?”

You pressed a kiss to her cheeks before thinking for a moment

“I think because it reminds people of a lantern…you know when Papa lights a candle sometimes and the light flickers?”

She nods

“Well I think it reminds people of that..”

“Oh okay maman!”

Alia was quiet for the next while as Charles helped her carve out the shapes she’d asked you to draw in the pumpkin. His was already complete as was yours, both of you going with a traditional triangle eyes and smiley shaped mouth. Honestly you’d argue this was some of your best work to date.

While Alia was busy admiring the now finished pumpkin she had Charles came over pressing a kiss to your cheek

“We’re pretty good no?”

You leaned into his touch

“I think so, some of our best I’d say” you replied to which your husband was quick to agree too.

“Do you think she’s going to ask us to get more..?”

In hindsight maybe you should have picked up more than three pumpkins, this activity seemed to enrapture your little girl, and knowing her, she’d want to keep carving as much as she could.

“Well I might have picked up some extra…they’re out in the backyard”

You tilted your head enough to look at him, a gentle smile on his face

“You think of everything don’t you baby?”

“I just always think of my girls…knew Alia might want to make another one”

Leaning up to kiss him you sighed happily

“Worlds best husband and dad award goes to you, as always Char”

Before Charles could answer you Alia let out a few giggles

“Look at Papa’s pumpkin! It’s so funny!”

Charles feigned hurt

“Hey, it doesn’t look funny!”

“Yes Papa! It looks so funny!”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly along with your daughter as she poked at her father’s pumpkin. When stopped laughing she looked between the two of you, her eyes filled with joy

“Peut-on les allumer maintenant?”

This time you nodded, fixing her hair a little bit

“Oui, allez, petite citrouille, papa apportera les allumettes.”

As she took off towards the front door, you and Charles brought the pumpkins over, happy to get some time to spend all together as a family, especially with Charles being away at races or having other obligations with his sponsors. You had each other, and of course your little pumpkin herself, who now would want to carve as many pumpkins as her arms could handle.

Who were you and Charles to stop her, even if you two ended up being the ones who did most of the work.

translations:

Alia, qu'avons-nous dit sur le fait de crier à l'intérieur: Alia, what did we say about shouting inside?

Qu'il est trop bruyant à l'intérieur: that it’s too noisy inside

Oui c’est ça mon ange: yes it is my angel

Papa comment ça s'appelle déjà?: dad, what is it called again?

C'est un jack-o-lantern mon amour: it’s a jack-o-lantern my love

Mais pourquoi?: but why?

Pourquoi ne pas demander à ta maman?: Why don’t your ask your mother

Peut-on les allumer maintenant?: can we light them now?

Oui, allez, petite citrouille, papa apportera les allumettes: yes come on little pumpkin, daddy will bring the matches

[guilty-pleasures21]

Dragon!Miguel - kidnapped!

The main fic turned out much more popular than I expected, so I decided to spoil you guys with a short side story 🤭.

@captain-liminal possible art of Dragon!Miguel x Phoenix!Reader ?

Hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: brief mention of violence.

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

     He marched out of the throne room, glad that the meeting had finally ended: now he could fly off to his wife’s kingdom to join her while she visited her family for a few days. She’d left earlier that day, wanting to spend as much time back home as possible, and though he hadn’t liked the idea of sending his wife off alone, he could never say no to her.

     “Your Majesty!” A palace guard’s frantic voice broke into his thoughts of his pretty little wife and Miguel frowned as he looked up at the man. But then the guard continued and Miguel’s blood ran cold at his words. 

     “The Queen!” he exclaimed, slowing to a stop in front of Miguel. “She’s been kidnapped! We have received a ransom letter - from a group of rebel orcs, it would seem. They caught her midway through her flight back-” He broke off suddenly as Miguel flew down the hallway, racing towards the front entrance of the palace. The guard followed after him, calling after his King in a panic, but Miguel refused to slow down. 

     “Your Majesty!” 

     “Send an army!” Miguel commanded, calling back to him as he soared away from the palace. His body lengthened into its full dragon form as he climbed higher in the sky, his eyes narrowing into reptilian slits and his skin darkening into deep blue scales. He’d make them pay. He’d make sure there was nothing left of those half-witted, foul-breathed, repugnant monsters once he was through with them.

     The orc whom she supposed was the second-in-command snarled at her from between the bars of the cage they’d locked her in.

     “Just give us a feather, Princess! Or else we’ll have to let Lumdum take it from ya,” he threatened, prompting a gleeful snicker from his friend. 

     “Yeah!” Lumdum agreed. “Let me at ‘er! I got a few new fancy tools I been meaning to try out on a pretty little birdie …”

     X shuddered as the orc leered at her, his cracked lips stretching wide to reveal patches of missing teeth. She grabbed the bars of her cage and drew her brows together to galre at them in what she hoped was a threatening manner - Miguel always said she looked especially cute whenever she frowned at him like that. But she didn’t want to be cute now: she wanted to be taken seriously! 

     “You and I both know you will not be getting what you want out of me,” she said, glad that her voice came out steady despite her nerves. “The best you can hope for is to let me go this instant so that my husband might take the smallest shred of mercy on you and not obliterate you into pieces!”

     The orcs glanced at one another for a moment. Then they all burst into laughter, bending over and clutching their stomachs at how adorable she looked, wrinkling her nose at them. 

     “We’ll take our chances, Princess,” the leader - Varbu, she thought she’d heard the others call him - assured her. He started creeping towards her and X moved back to the other end of the cage. She sucked in shallow breaths, trying to stop herself from transforming out of fear - phoenix feathers were one of the most powerful objects next to dragon scales, able to wipe out an entire battlefield’s worth of soldiers if they were set aflame at the right angle, so she didn’t want to give these demented creatures a single opportunity to get one of hers. She whimpered as she pressed herself against the bars, wishing she had even an ounce as much of power as Miguel had - then she could have at least tried to defend herself against these brutes. Her heart thudded in her chest as Varbu’s fat green fingers closed around the iron bars, then the both of them froze as a loud roar echoed throughout the valley. X looked up and a felt wave of relief crash over her as she saw her husband swooping towards her, his deep blue scales glinting in the sunlight, his fiery eyes burning with rage when they landed on her.

     He drew a deep breath into his lungs, then released it again, bathing the valley in flames. The orcs scrambled around in a panic, desperately trying to put out the fire eating away at their clothes, but Miguel refused to grant them a second of respite before he staged his attack. He dived lower and picked up one of the orcs to throw him over the mountains, ignoring his terrified screams as he flew through the air to his death. Then he swiped at another with his claws, splitting him open as he batted him into the now scorched forest nearby. He descended on the last one before he even had a chance to blink, closing his jaw around his head and flinging him far out of his reach from his wife. 

     She transformed into her phoenix form as he released another barrage of flames, allowing the warmth of his fire to heal the injuries she’d sustained when she’d been snatched out of the sky earlier. She cooed happily as her husband made his way over to her, the ground trembling with every step he took. Miguel grabbed hold of the bars and pulled them apart, bending the metal to create a gap for his wife to exit through.

     She was so graceful in her phoenix form, stepping out of the wretched cage and arranging her dazzling feathers before she finally looked up at him with those big, beautiful eyes of hers. Miguel relaxed slightly at the sight of her safe before him and grunted softly before lowering his head to nuzzle her affectionately. His wife wriggled against his cheek, delighted to be reunited with him and he sighed at how soft she felt. Dios, she was perfect. He’d never let her out of his sight again. 

     She stretched her wings as he curled his large body around her and let out another coo to catch his attention. Her husband raised his head in question and she gestured to the sky, eager to get home and see her parents. Miguel snorted in disagreement as he straightened, refusing to let her travel by herself again. Instead, he turned his head to his body, gesturing for her to get on. X rolled her eyes, but flew up to his back anyway, transforming back into her human form and wrapping herself securely around him. He took off into the air once she was comfortable and together, they continued their journey to her parents’ home. 

     The King and Queen of Risendelle paced back and forth in their throne room, anxiously awaiting any news on their precious daughter. Finally, a palace guard burst through the doors, grabbing both of their attentions. 

     “Your Majesties!” he exclaimed between shallow breaths. “It is the Dragon King! He is almost here!” 

     The King and Queen rushed to greet their son-in-law, the both of them holding their breaths as they watched him ascend to the ground. They ran over to him once he’d landed and let out twin sighs of relief when they saw their daughter safe and sound on his back. X slid to the ground and let herself be wrapped up by her parents, hugging them back as tightly as they did her. 

     “My baby!” the Queen screeched. “Are you all right? Did they … Did they hurt you?!”

     “Your brother left as soon as we received the news!” the King informed her before she even had a chance to respond. “He brought some of the army with him, so they should-”

     Miguel huffed in interruption, surrounding the three of them in a circle of smoke. He grunted when they all turned to look at him, then shrank back down into his human form. His arms came around his wife almost immediately, pulling her back against his chest and holding her close. 

     “There’s nothing left of them,” Miguel informed his wife’s father. “The prince may return to spend time with his sister.”

     The King reached up and gave his son-in-law’s shoulder a grateful squeeze. “Thank you, son. We appreciate your intervention.”

     “My wife-” A growl escaped his throat as he tried to respond and Miguel tightened his grip on X as he took a moment to calm himself down. X brushed her thumbs across the back of his hands where they were clasped around her abdomen and Miguel felt some of the heat dissipate from his body. He cleared his throat and tried again. “My wife is my most precious treasure. I will never let anything happen to her!” His fangs shot out in anger and he let out an involuntary snarl at the thought. The Queen nodded in understanding and brushed a loose strand of X’s hair behind her ear. 

     “Thank you, sweetheart,” she told Miguel, glad that her daughter had found someone so enamoured with her. “Perhaps the two of you would like to get some rest after your journey? We’ll have the maids call you when dinner is ready.”

     X twisted her head back to look up at her husband, blinking at him with her curly lashes. Miguel lowered his head to nuzzle the crook of her neck with his nose and she turned back to her mother to place a hand on her forearm. 

     “We’ll see you at dinner, mother,” she agreed, before walking into the palace. Her husband’s arms stayed glued to her waist as she led them both down the hallway, making her way towards her childhood bedroom. Miguel tugged her back to him once they were alone and bent over to press soft kisses to her skin, his lips making their way up the side of her neck to her cheek. X giggled at the ticklish feeling and turned around to face him, delighting in the feeling of his hard muscles as she placed her hands on his broad chest. She stretched onto her toes to give him a quick kiss, then cupped his face in her hand when she’d lowered herself back to her feet. She brushed her thumb across his cheek and Miguel pouted down at her, allowing himself to be vulnerable enough for her to see the terror that had overcome him at the thought of her being hurt. X wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers making their way into his hair, and pressed a tender kiss to his cheek as she held him close. 

     He stroked her back gently, focusing on the familiar smoky scent of her to soothe his pounding heart. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, showering her with the occasional kiss as she tickled his scalp softly. Finally, he pulled back and trailed his gaze over her, taking her in and reassuring himself that she was safe. She stretched up to kiss him again and Miguel bent over to repeat the gesture before taking a step back. He shook his arms out and transformed into full dragon form, his large body taking up the entirety of the room. X raised her eyebrows at him in question and he circled the room before settling down on the ground, his head resting on her bed. 

     She could still feel some leftover adrenaline from her ordeal, but she didn’t want him to panic any more than he already had. So, she sighed and flashed him an exasperated look, her lips curling at the ends with amusement. Miguel gave her a beseeching look in return and she shook her head before transforming into her phoenix form. 

     He wagged his tail excitedly as she fluttered into the little nest he’d created for her with his body. She was so beautiful in her creature form, her golden feathers glimmering in the light, her brown eyes wide and alluring, her slender body stretching out so gracefully. He reached over to nuzzle her with his cheek, relishing the feeling of her silky feathers against his scales, then he rested his head back on the bed. He watched quietly as she shifted around, getting herself comfortable. Then she closed her eyes and drifted off into sleep, safe in the knowledge that her husband would protect her. Miguel lifted his head to stroke her feathers again, unable to resist how adorable his pretty little wife was. X opened one eye and cooed at him in irritation, and Miguel gave her one last nuzzle before laying his head back down and quickly falling asleep himself. 

     The maid knocked on the door to the princess’s bedroom, then gently pushed it open. “Ma’am? Dinner is- Oh!”

     She startled as she was met by an enormous dragon filling up the entire space. Miguel opened one eye to look at her, his expression unreadable as he flicked his tail back and forth, waiting for her to speak. The maid gulped and lowered her head before gesturing outside. “T-The … The Queen … D-Dinner … is ready … Your Majesty.”

     She snuck a glance at Miguel and he huffed at her request before nodding to his wife, firmly asleep in his embrace. The maid nodded quickly, her eyes widening with understanding. 

     “O-Oh!” she gasped. “Yes, Your Majesty. I shall inform the Queen that the Princess is still resting.” She fell into a bow as she backed out of the room, staunchly avoiding Miguel’s gaze as she closed the door quietly and left. X wriggled around as she started to awaken and she blinked up at Miguel sleepily before cooing at him in question. Miguel reached over to brush her feathers with his cheek, gently nudging her back to sleep, but she transformed back into her human form instead.

     “Miguel? ¿Qué pasó, querido? What time is it?” She patted his nose, then started trying to climb over his tail to get to the door. Miguel transformed back as well and rushed over to grab her waist, turning her around and pulling her against him. His wife laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he sprinkled kisses along her cheek and down the side of her neck. 

     “Querida …” he whined, not wanting to leave their little cocoon just yet. “Te amo, mi reina.”

     “I love you, too, Miguel.” She ran her fingers through his hair, then smiled up at him when he straightened. “But I’m starving, mi amor! Let’s eat!”

[dietcokegirly12]

HELLO, I just read your fic called "Trapped" with Poe! omg i loved it, it was the best thing I've read so far. So...I'd love to ask you if you could do another NSFW fic with a fem reader It doesn't matter what it's about as long as it's sweet and has NSFW. Sorry if I didn't specify well 😭 I'm just desperate to read another fic with him, I loved your writing tysm! 💗

“First Time?”

featuring edgar allen poe (,,¬﹏¬,,)

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── ✎ᝰ♡✧˖°🗒 ─── ˎˊ˗‧₊˚. ─── ✎ᝰ

art credit: pinterest

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── ✎ᝰ♡✧˖°🗒 ─── ˎˊ˗‧₊˚. ─── ✎ᝰ

tags: unprotected sex, cervix kissing, premature ejaculation, mention of masturbation, sub!poe, dom!reader, etc etc

word count: 2k

˚₊‧⁺˖┈┈⋆˙⟡♡┈┈˚₊‧⁺˖┈┈⋆˙⟡♡┈┈˚₊‧⁺˖┈┈⋆˙⟡♡

You and Poe had been dating for several months now, ever since you met at a library where he was working on a novel, and had captivated you with his awkward charm and boyish smile.

Immediately, you had begun to flirt with him, and after coming often to the library, eventually asked him out on a coffee date.

Your relationship had soared after that, always going on lavish dates with your doting boyfriend, and him constantly showering you in gifts and as much time as he could spare aside from writing novels where you would have cute little dates at the park, or ice-skating together, and truly he was the perfect boyfriend.

Aside from one minor problem.

You two had never… well had sex.

And you weren’t sure if it was because Poe was too shy to ask, or because he just didn’t want to, but you certainly didn’t want to push him if he was uncomfortable.

Of course, you two had kissed, even made out a few times, but it would never last long, with Poe blushing immensely and having to excuse himself where you wouldn’t see him for the rest of the night.

Hell, you two had never even slept in the same bed.

On the rare occasions, you would sleep over, since he was always insisting on driving you home, he was always up late working, and when you would awake in the morning, he’d be curled up and asleep on the couch, ever the respectful gentleman.

You really didn’t want to believe it had something to do with you, or that you just didn’t appeal to him in that way, but it was getting increasingly harder to hold back as the days went on, and you got more and more pent up.

What you didn’t know was that every night, Poe would furiously fuck his fist, imagining it was your hand pumping up and down, and indulging in the dirty thoughts he had felt about you ever since your first kiss, horny and in need of any kind of release.

He refused, however to rush you in the relationship, conceding that you needed to take it slow, and he didn't need nor want you to feel pressured by him into doing anything you weren't comfortable with. No, you were his angel, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

You would think he was starting to lose interest with the way he was almost never home, usually making himself busy with his writing.

Finally, you had enough, and in a last-ditch effort to get him to just touch you, you set up a movie night in his living room, draping the couch with lots of extra blankets and pillows to cuddle in.

"Poeee.. c'mere you've been working so hard, come watch a movie with me." you whine, tugging the raven-haired man closer when he finally came for a break.

He chuckled softly, caressing your cheek. "Okay.. sure, one movie."

You scoot over, so he can sit next to you, sighing internally as he made sure to stay a reasonable distance away, your thighs not even brushing.

As the movie progresses however, you shift closer, eager to put your plan into motion so that he won't be able to ignore you.

Gently, your hand slides up his thigh as you rest your head onto his shoulder, eyes never leaving the screen.

He stiffens slightly under your touch, but stays still, breathing turning slightly heavier.

A couple minutes tick by, and you move your hand slightly higher as you pretend to adjust yourself, until you're practically in his lap, hand dangerously close to where you knew the bulge in his pants was.

And just as your fingertips just barely ghost over him, he jolts like he's been shocked, quickly standing up as he hurries off to his room again, blushing furiously.

"M'sorry! Just remembered.. ah.. I forgot something or.. I need to... my book!"

And then he's gone.

You slump back against the couch, defeated but not ready to give up just yet.

This was going to be harder than you thought.

.˚‧˗ˏˋ ── 𓃠✎ ⋆⑅˚₊ ── ˎˊ˗‧˚.── 𓃠✎ ⋆⑅˚₊ ── ˎˊ˗‧˚

You genuinely thought that maybe it was something you were doing, or that he just wasn't attracted to you, which didn't make sense, because he told you almost every day how beautiful you were, like a creation straight out of one of his novels.

So, deciding to take matters into your own hands, you went to ask his best friend, his only friend, Ranpo Edogawa.

"Has Poe what?"

You blush, bending closer to the shorter man to whisper something into his shaggy brown hair.

"Has Poe ever had a girlfriend? Or had.. ah.. sex with anyone you would know of?"

Drawing back, Ranpo looks you up and down, smirking, emerald green eyes glinting mischievously. "What, you two haven't...?"

You swallow, shaking your head quickly. "I'm starting to think he doesn't want to..."

Ranpo grabs you quickly then, taking you by surprise as he widens his eyes in pretend shock, leading you to believe he knows more than he's letting on. "Oh, he wants you all right. He's always going on and on about the ways..."

"Ranpo?"

You turn your head, spotting your tall, awkwardly standing boyfriend, rubbing his arm as his gaze flicks over the two of you.

"What are you doing?"

As he steps closer, you quickly untangle yourself from Ranpo whose eyes dart between you both.

"Well, this was fun, but I have to get going back to the Agency. See you, Poe!" And with that, he dashes off, leaving just you and Poe alone.

Poe comes closer, eyes uncertainly scanning yours. "W-what were you doing with him?"

You quickly rush to explain, not wanting your poor boyfriend to think anything less than pure was going on. "Don't worry, baby! I was just asking Ranpo something a-about.. uh.."

He tilts his head. "He was saying something about someone wanting you?"

Sighing internally, knowing you weren't going to get away from this without an explanation, you quickly say in a rush,"Iwasaskinghimifyou everhadsex!"

He freezes at that, body going completely stock-still as his face flushes as it usually does when he gets flustered or embarrassed.

You quickly rush to apologize. "I'm so sorry. And I should've asked you but I.."

"No, it's fine." He cuts you off, voice strained and eyes unreadable as he gazes down at you.

Worried since you had never seen him make that expression, you reach for his hand, squeezing slightly. "Sorry. Let's just go home."

He nods numbly, and trails behind you as you lead both of you back to his apartment.

┈⋆ ˚｡⋆📜⋆. ˚｡⋆࿔♡✎ᝰ┈⋆ ˚｡⋆📜⋆. ˚｡⋆࿔♡✎ᝰ┈⋆ ˚｡⋆

The whole walk back, you're thinking about ways to apologize for invading his space like that, feeling horrible. He's silent, simply holding your hand and seemingly lost in thought as his mind is elsewhere.

You imagine the worst. He hates you, is already thinking of ways to distance himself, thinks you're disgusting and a pervert, and... oh you're making yourself sick with the thought, wants to break up.

You prepare to make an apology as you shakily unlock the door, turning slightly to face him. "Poe, I'm truly so sorry-"

But you don't get to finish before his lips are clumsily smashing against yours, rough and unyielding as for the first time, he kisses you with passion, rather than his usual hesitance.

He licks the bottom of your lip softly and as you whimper softly in response, takes it as an invitation to mold his hot tongue to yours, pushing you back gently through the door, and closing it with a slam with his foot.

Gasping for breath, he draws away from your mouth barely enough to lift your hips onto the counter behind you, clumsily fumbling with the buttons of your shirt as he connects his desperate mouth back against yours,

"Fuck.. waited so.. mmph.. long. I just never thought you wanted to.. I didn't wanna rush.. ah fuck.."

He breaks off in an obscene moan, one you had never heard before, and one you never wanted to stop hearing, as your hands run lightly over his pants, trying to unbutton as fast as you can.

His head tilts back, beautiful hair falling back to reveal his sharp jawline and high cheekbones, eyelashes fluttering softly.

Pushing his pants down past his hips, you finally reveal the pale, twitching cock you had been dreaming of for so long, slender and oh-so long, tip glossy with pre-cum and prominent veins tracing prettily all along him.

He shudders as you finally grip him, instinctively pumping up and down as his hips shift forward, a lewd groan slipping out of him.

"Please.. ngh.. c-can't wait.. wan' feel you."

His nimble hands come to tug lightly at your pants, clearly wanting them off, and you're all too eager to comply, undressing to reveal yourself, completely bare in front of him for the first time, full breasts and laced panties showing just how soaked you were for him.

He groans at the sight, hands shakily reaching for you again as he lifts you up to straddle him, hands immediately finding the plush of your thighs and breasts, gently squeezing everywhere he can reach, all too eager after being denied for so long of you.

And you just can't wait any longer, the throbbing in your sopping cunt becoming so intense, you feel as if you might die if he isn't inside you soon.

"Here Poe, jus' stay still.."

He grunts softly, hips jerking as his tip nudges at your entrance, you slowly sinking down on him, wincing as he stretches you so perfectly.

Before he's even halfway in, though, he's cumming, spurts of hot, white ribbons filling you up so filthily, so much of it that it begins to seep out of you, your mouth wide and head thrown back as you shudder at the feeling.

"Poe..." you gasp out, chest heaving. "Did you just...?"

His eyes are squeezed shut tightly in embarrassment, a small whine leaving his throat as you finally manage to sink all the way down, his length throbbing desperately inside you.

His hands come to fit over your hips, long fingers splaying across you as he practically pleads with you. "Fuck! M'sorry! Lemme make it up to you, doll!"

That being his only warning, he starts to bounce you up and down on his cock, tip brushing your cervix with every thrust as you moan softly, tugging on his hair as small cries of his name rush out of you.

He bounces you quicker, and reaches a hand down to explore over your cunt, fingers slightly uncoordinated, but learning fast as he quickly finds your clit, tracing over it sloppily.

Your eyes shut and a small whine escapes you as your hips instinctively buck forward, tightening around him, the slight angle change enough for him to hit even deeper into your snug walls.

He grunts, thrusts becoming more erratic and sloppy as he prods at the squishy spot deep inside you that makes you squeal, your stomach coiling tighter with every thrust.

"Poe.. m'close.. m'close.. hah.. fuck m'cumming!"

And with that being your only warning, your cunt sucks him deeper as your walls ripple and tighten, syrupy arousal coating your thighs as you finally reach your high, white-hot blurring your vision.

"Fuck!" He curses before spilling more ropes of cum into you, being so full of him at this point you can barely breathe, every movement eliciting more of his cum to drip out from between your thighs obscenely.

You collapse onto his chest, sticky against him as your breath heaves, hair sweaty on your forehead.

After a few moments, he gently kisses your forehead, trying to relax but still restless under you, shifting slightly. "Fuck..."

"What is it?" You breathe, one hand coming to comb through his soft hair fanning across you.

It's just then that you feel something hard prodding into you again, before Poe's shy voice speaks up, his hips shifting to grind against you slightly.

"Can we.. do that again, maybe?"

[mournings-stars]

little songbird

part 2 (prelude) to my orpheus and eurydice angst fic "doubt comes in" — i'm not entirely certain i'll make this a full fic but if yall like it i might end up adding another part (would still be a prelude since part 1 is technically the end unless anyone requests a spin-off-esque addition)

part 3 (prelude pt. 2) part 4 (prelude pt. 3) part 5/finale (semi-alt ending)

includes: heaven lucifer ofc, a little lore, some blending of greek mythology, i don't think there are any warnings besides fluff and luci is a hopless romantic but also the relationship is ambiguous right now, still dramatic just dramatic greek fluff (also I made angels have golden blush because they have gold blood)

When you first met Lucifer, you’d just finished your duties on Earth and were going to come back to celebrate. As a Virtue, your job was to persuade the seasons into change — you sang a melody you’d taken from nature itself, soaring over the clouds and riding the winds until autumn fell over the world and you went back home until nature needed your persuasive help once more. 

But as you were going up, he was coming down. You came face to face, stopping each of you in your tracks. 

You’d heard of him, of course; Lucifer, the Morning Star, with his wondrous creations and unattainable dreams, but you never thought you’d see him in person — it always seemed like he was too busy working to ever come down to Earth. 

Yet here he was. 

You moved out of his way. “Sorry. I didn’t see you coming.”

“No worries at all.” He gave you a very charming smile, making you smile back reflexively. He took off his hat, tufts of blond hair falling in his face as he took your hand, bowing as his wings lifted him higher. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Humility.” He kissed the back of your hand and your small smile broadened. “I can’t believe we haven’t met yet.”

“You know who I am?” 

“Of course.” He pulled a blooming purple flower from his lapel, twirling it in his fingers. “You’re the one that made this.”

You didn’t know what to say, heart thumping against your ribcage with a swell of pride that he, a Seraph — and not just any Seraph — Lucifer, knew and coveted the small flowers you made blossom in a world that was filled with bigger, much more beautiful things. 

“I collect a new one every spring,” he continued, watching your reaction with a smile that he couldn’t help. Your eyes widened, hand gripping his without realizing you were even still holding it. “I came to collect a few of your golden leaves this time.”

“My leaves?” Was all you could think to say as your wings and heart fluttered with pride. You quickly dropped his hand when you felt your wings behind you, suddenly very aware of his presence and gaze. “I didn’t paint the leaves.”

“No, but you persuade nature to make them,” he laughed, tucking the stem of the flower into your hair as he did. “Who knew Humility would be so humble.”

“It is my virtue,” you said quietly, taking his hand to stop him from fussing with the flower he gave back to you. You opened his palm, brushing your hand over it. His wings fluttered the same as yours. “But thank you for your kindness, Lucifer.”

“Honesty,” he corrected as a golden leaf appeared in his hand, shimmering in the light. He stuck it into his lapel, where the flower had been, and grinned. “Such a generous gift and I don’t even know your true name.” You laughed at his tone, hinting for you to keep talking to him just as you were going to leave, and properly introduced yourself. “It suits you,” he said, “someone who creates this beauty,” he deliberately didn’t look at the scenery, “should have that beautiful of a name.”

“Aren’t you kind,” you said with a raised brow, knowing he was flattering you; calling you beautiful without outright saying it, you could easily pick up on his intentions. 

“Too kind for your liking?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” You said quickly. “I was only joking—“

“I know!” He laughed, soothing your sudden embarrassment with a zealous, maybe overly so, hand on your cheek. “Who knew an Angel of Virtue would be so virtuous,” he joked again, laughing and stroking your cheek with his thumb before he dropped his hand. He was certainly overzealous, but you couldn’t say you minded it. “I should stop teasing you — go on, I’m sure you have important work to do—“

“Your work is far more important than mine,” you blurted, then wanted to slap yourself across the face. “I mean, my work isn’t any more important than yours — I’m sure you have more important things to do—“ he continued to let you put your foot in your mouth, watching you try to make sense of your words with a doting smile and fluttering wings. “—I mean, if you’re staying, I can stay, too—“

“You want to stay with me?” He concluded with a grin and you blanked, shaking your head at yourself as a golden glow dusted your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he laughed, knowing teasing a Virtue like this was both cruel and profane, “if you’d like to stay, please do… but if you have work to do, I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

You looked around, thinking that perhaps nature could use a little more of a push toward fall. The winds could be a little sharper, and the grass a little duller. 

“I’ve always wanted to hear your song,” Lucifer said, seeing the wheels turn in your mind and taking his chances. “If you think Earth could use a bit more help…”

You thought for just a moment longer before offering your hand to him. “You can help if you’d like.” He took your hand, and you rose higher above the clouds, listening closely for the soft melody that nature sang, before flying in the direction the wind took you and singing…

A simple melody. It was a song you knew well; there were no words or swells to make you know what came next, just an endless melody that the winds would sing as they carried the seasons through Earth.

And Lucifer knew just what to sing along, bringing the endless melody a harmony that made it feel so complete. He guided you beneath the clouds so you could see how the seasons changed — and then it came;

Summer rain. 

A tell-tale sign that your duty was complete, though it always came some time after you left. Now, you got to experience the misty rain and watch as animals came out to play. 

Lucifer laughed, wings going over the two of you to shield you from the rain. “Look at that…” He peeked between a pair of wings, reveling in the beauty you’d created together. “As usual,” he said, “a job well done.”

The next time you met was at the Season’s Celebration in The Garden. It was moved a week later to celebrate the summer rain, but it was a quarterly tradition. The other Virtues brought their specialties, but the highlight of the festivities were the heavenly spirits distilled by Charity and Chastity; not a single angel came without taking a bottle for themself. 

Cherubim played music, Seraphim danced, and the Ophanim made an appearance when they could, but the center of attention was on the seven Virtues and their drunk, lively dancing and cheering. 

The seven of you danced in a circle, glasses raised in the air with a flush of gold on each of your faces as you sang along jovially. 

The celebration lasted all day and night, animals coming to join you as wildflowers surrounded the seven of you. Butterflies, chipmunks, rabbits, and the like came out of hiding for a last experience before hibernation and migration. Birds came down from the sky, one in particular flitting around the circle and each of the Virtues before finally stopping in front of you. Pale yellow with red cheeks, tweeting at you until one of your fellow Virtues spoke. “It wants you to sing!” They laughed drunkenly, taking another sip from their glass. “We should all sing,” said another as you let the bird perch on your hand. 

It was the song of nymphs, muses, and winds; a sirenic song that each of you knew well. The plants in The Garden blossomed bigger and bigger and the bird in your hand flew to the middle of your circle before a cloud of white puffed around it. 

“Oh, it is you!” Laughed Chastity as Lucifer appeared, laughing along and twirling her as she said, “I didn't think you’d ever come to one of these.”

“How could I resist after such a beautiful change in the seasons?” He said cheerfully. “You lovely Virtues have outdone yourselves this year.” He then laughed, turning to Chastity, “and It’s always nice to see such heavenly creatures so drunk.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere,” said Temperance. 

“Certainly not with you,” said Lucifer and Temperance laughed at his jesting, the rest of them seeming to understand much more than you did, how to take teasing like his. 

“Flattery gets you everywhere,” insisted Chastity, and Diligence and Kindness laughed like they’d never heard anything funnier. “What’s so funny!?”

As the other Virtues started a loud, joking conversation, you met Lucifer’s eyes. He smiled, then looked at the music still being played and went to you. “Shall we?” He offered you his hand, wings fluttering behind him and making that same shimmering gold wash over your cheeks. It made him smile as you took his hand. 

“Patience is a much better dancer than I am,” you said as he led you to an open area. 

“But I want to dance with you.” And the moment your own wings fluttered behind you, he knew you just wanted him to confirm that. “Maybe you’re not as humble as I thought,” he whispered, making sure no other angel heard his taunts. He then changed the topic, hand reaching up to brush across your cheek. “You kept my gift.” 

“Of course I did.” You took his hand, using it to twirl under his arm as his wings lifted him higher than you. Yoy gave a very playful smile. “A gift from a Seraph should be coveted.”

“Oh, I see,” he laughed, shaking his head at you and your teasing. “You misunderstood me.”

“Did I?”

He nodded, a small half-smile on his face. “I wasn’t returning your flower as a ‘gift from a Seraph’—“

“You weren’t?”

“No, and you know that. That’s why you gave one back.” You laughed, a coy look on your face that made him shake his head as you looked at the golden leaf he still had stuck to his lapel. 

The two of you danced with all of Heaven watching as you spun, flew, and swayed to the music. He didn’t overstep, and he wasn’t overly forward with his gestures, but he was deliberate. He held you against him, but did it gently. He held your hand, but made sure you put your hand in his first. He lifted you with a smile and met you in the air, leading you back down as others joined in. 

Their laughter and chatting made it so that your conversation was much more private, giving Lucifer the chance to whisper, “How many gifts do I need to give you before you do understand?”

You hummed in thought. “I haven’t decided yet.”

But Lucifer had decided, since the moment he experienced your first time changing the seasons, he was going to love you; however you ended up loving him — a friend, a colleague, he didn’t care as long as it meant that he knew you. He didn’t even expect anything from you. You’d done enough; your ways of changing the seasons brought him out of his cold and lonely workplace that he’d never realized was so cold and lonely until he experienced your summers and springs; filled with warmth and community. Angels never ventured to Earth so often before you, and he could easily understand why. 

How someone could take on the job of multiple angels and the outcome be something so much more beautiful than he’d ever seen, he had no idea, but he was in awe every time he saw your humble work. He’d watch from Heaven, seeing the way you did things. It was the same as any other, but you didn’t indulge in pride as you did it. You did it for the good of the Earth, rather than bestowing a gift. 

He held the utmost respect for you. 

Though, Sera was certainly tired of hearing about that respect, because just a week ago, when you first met, she was the one to urge him down sooner. 

“You’ll never meet if you wait this long,” she said, brow raised as she stood behind Lucifer at the golden gates, watching from the clouds. “Humility is very kind. You could say hello,” she pressed. 

“Does Humility have a name?” He asked curiously, continuing to watch as the clouds changed. “It seems so rude… just saying Humility.”

“I’ve only ever known Virtues by what they represent; that’s how they introduce themselves,” she said, shrugging. Lucifer hummed, nodding and continuing to keep his attention on the clouds. She gave him a nudge, “You could ask.”

“You must want me to leave.”

“I want you to stop longing like this.” Lucifer laughed. “Go on.” She gave him a gentle push, making him have to open his wings before he fell. “Just don’t come on too strong.”

“Right…” He took a deep breath, smoothing down his coat. “I can do that.”

[seeingivy]

funeral

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic

content: depictions of grief, talk of addiction/anxiety

an: i am alive (mostly). eat your cake, even though I think it Is bad (this chapter was the hardest to write, right next to the "the third act" chapter

songs mentioned: marjorie by taylor swift

previous part linked here

--

“What are you thinking, Eren?” Hange asks. 

The question is stupid. Eren is thinking of the only logical conclusion that he can draw from the autopsy report. The implication of it, of how Marco really died, is sitting right in front of him.

The patient is a twenty-three year old Caucasian male with no significant medical history. Emergency services responded to the scene of a motor vehicle crash around nine p.m. At the scene, responders found that the patient was trapped in the vehicle, upturned on the side of the road, with no pulse at the time of arrival. Patient was declared dead on scene. Autopsy concluded that primary cause of death was asphyxiation, secondary cause being severe loss of blood due to injuries in the extremities. 

“I’m thinking that the paparazzi killed him, Hange.” Eren spits. 

“Eren.” 

“Hange, don’t. Just-” Levi mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Levi’s eyes are borderline gaunt. Eren knows the past few days have sat horribly on Levi’s shoulders and perhaps the past year and a half have too. 

The guilt is excruciating. Because all Eren knows how to do is ruin people.

He dragged Levi and Hange into his mess, when he asked them for help. But it had gone too far at that point, the interview, the night on the beach, the fight - he had exhausted all ends and desperately needed someone on his side. 

Levi and Hange all but berated him for it. For letting it get so far, for waiting so long when he should have known that they were always there to help. But this reaction, Levi being the one to side with his outburst is proof enough that he made the wrong choice, that he should have stuck with himself. That them bending backwards and forwards to get him out of his mess has truly taken its toll. 

Levi and Hange always mimicked him and you. Eren and Hange, he knows they both have a tendency to get so lost in the emotion, to feel it so deep that the response is too loud, too much for what’s called for. That’s when you and Levi would come in, to soothe them down and bring them back to Earth. 

In the same vein, you and Levi, you planted your weeds too deep into the ground. Rooted in exactly what he’s not quite sure - perhaps misplaced insecurities, whatever the two of you seemed to hide in those deep inner walls - but it kept you both stagnant, stuck where you were. That’s where Hange and Eren came in, pushing you both to soar a little bit higher than what you imagined for yourself. 

But now Levi’s here, all but exhausted and broken, the same way he’s sure you were. That’s why things got so fucked up. Eren didn’t let you pull him down. He didn’t pull you up. 

“They killed him, Hange.” Levi states, tone void of any emotion. 

“Levi. It’s almost midnight, we’re all feeling emotional right now. We should look at this all with a clear mind tomorrow.” 

“They killed him. There is nothing to look at.” Levi says, enunciating every inflection of his words. 

Eren knows it for a fact. And from the look on Hange’s face, he knows they do too. His train of thought is cut off by the knocking - rapid, loud consecutive knocks slamming against the wood. 

“God, Eren. Go get it now before they run off with our food.” Hange murmurs, gesturing towards the door. 

Eren shuffles past the length of the hallway and swings open the door to find not his UberEats bag, but Lana, out of breath and panting on his doorstep. 

“Ew. You just left two hours ago. Why are you back already?” 

“Eren. Oh my god.” 

Lana wraps her arms around him, squeezing hard, as she cries into his shoulder. Her demeanor settles an immediate panic under his skin. The last time she reacted like this, Eren had to watch the most gut wrenching interview of his life while she held his hand. God knows whatever she’s about to tell him now is going to break him.

Eren brings his hands up and grabs her shoulders, applying pressure to stop her from shaking in his arms. 

“Lana. What’s wrong with you? Why are you-”

“Eren. I’m so sorry, you- I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need, just-just say it.” she pants, hiccuping in between her tears.

Eren frowns, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her out of the cold Seattle air into the kitchen where Hange and Levi are cooking by the stove. 

“Hi Lana Bear! How are you, kid?” Hange says, all but bouncing over to wrap their arms around Lana. 

This only upsets Lana more, the discomfort worsening in Eren’s chest as he can’t help but stare at her, at her brown eyes turning almost red from the downpour of her tears and the tension sitting in her shoulders. 

“What is it? Who died?” 

The question, when Eren asks it, is entirely rhetorical. A figure of speech, meant to emphasize that Lana’s reaction was extreme, too obscene for whatever it is she must be talking about. But when she doesn’t respond and swallows hard, the look on her face so crestfallen, Eren’s chest settles into a panic. 

His first thought is you. 

“Lana. Is she dead? What are you-” 

Lana scrambles for the remote on the counter, switching from the Disney Channel to the first news report she can find. The image is of an overturned car, the metal crushed and steaming in the front, accompanied with words that burn Eren’s ears. The first hit is relief - that it’s not you. The second hit is painful, like the air’s been sucked out of his lungs. 

Because it’s Marco. 

“What?” Levi says, taking his eyes off the stove to glance at the screen. 

Eren can feel his phone incessantly buzzing in his pocket and he reaches for it immediately, Lana leaning into his side as she continues to cry into his shoulder. Levi and Hange are moving closer to the television, like that’ll somehow make the sound better, the image clearer, like they’ll be able to find falsity in it. 

jean: the bodt’s said the funeral is going to be near the old house. ask levi and hange if we can all stay in the townhouse together. 

bertholdt: reiner and i are heading over tonight. 

sukuna: Let me know if you need anything. Give the paparazzi hell for this one. 

connie: i’m coming back to seattle. i-i don’t know if i can do this. 

Eren’s quick to respond to that one. 

eren: i’ve got you man. meet us in new york as soon as you can, we’re all going to stay at the townhouse. don’t leave sasha’s side until you get there okay?

connie: alright. okay, thanks. 

eren: phone is on. 

“This is bullshit. How do they know it’s him?” Levi says angrily, hands crossed over his chest. 

“Levi.” Hange says, voice nearly cracking. 

“No, I’m being fucking serious. How do they know that this guy is our Marco? There’s no proof. Call the Bodt’s right now.” Levi says, pacing the kitchen for where he left his phone. 

Eren frowns, his head racing as Levi walks the length of the kitchen and Hange settles into their immediate panic.

“Eren.” Lana says. 

“Hm?” 

“I have to tell you something. You’re going to hate it. I-” 

“Just tell me, Lana. No-no beating around the bush.” 

“The paparazzi…got to him first before the police.” she whispers. 

“What?” Eren says, through gritted teeth as his head all but short circuits. 

“They knew it was his car, he’d been driving it around that part of Nashville for a while. They were probably just following him to get pictures wherever he was going. But then he-he crashed and-” 

“And what? They took pictures of it? Of him?” Eren asks, squeezing Lana’s shoulders too hard. 

“Yeah. They-they only called the police when they were done, Eren. I-” 

The tears fill Eren’s eyes as the implication cuts deep. It all but sears the air in his lungs, the tears welling so fast that it’s already obstructing his vision. All he can feel is Lana’s hands, squeezing his biceps, as he tries to control the heaving in his chest. 

“How long?” 

“Eren.” she says, tone so pitiful it makes his blood boil. 

“How long, Lana?” he asks, voice cracking. 

“It took them forty-five minutes to get there. They would have been there in fifteen.” she whispers. 

And now, the autopsy report tells him enough. With a definitive resolve that the paparazzi killed Marco. Because he died from asphyxiation, from being twisted in the metal, not getting any air. And if the police had gotten there maybe a moment earlier, a second faster, they could have gotten him out, could have at least made sure he was breathing. 

They wanted a picture. Marco died for it. 

The anger surges through Eren, tenfold when he remembers the paparazzi lining up Jean and Mikasa’s engagement party, Falco’s school, his house the day his grandpa died. When you walked into his garage, drenched from the rain with a deep cut on your face and skidded knees, scared to death. 

“I’m done sugarcoating, Hange. Eren is right. They killed Marco.” Levi responds. 

Hange sighs, leaning against the counter as Eren walks up to them, resting his head against their shoulder. They all stand there in silence, not even seventy-two hours after the fact, and it still hasn’t hit Eren. 

In full flesh, that Marco is gone. 

The rapid knocking on the door, real this time, breaks him out of his thoughts. 

“Probably Zeke or Armin. I’ve got it.” he murmurs. 

“Thanks kid.” 

Eren watches as Levi sinks into Hange’s arms, sighing as he shuffles to the door and flicks on the porch light. He swings it open and immediately feels his throat tighten, fully constricted, at the sight of you standing in the lamplight. 

You’re looking up at him, swallowing hard, as you stare into his eyes and all Eren can do is wonder if your brain is short circuiting as much as his is. Surely, it isn’t. Eren has every reason to be embarrassed, to be ashamed. And you don’t. 

For posterity, he fights all instincts, every urge in his body, to reach forward and hold you. To let your sweet flowery smell take over his nose, to settle his face into that crook in your neck, to have your soft, soft touch running over his skin. To let the mountain of emotions he’s been carrying fall, because you’re here. 

But he can’t. 

“Hi Eren.” 

“Y/N.” 

He can’t help but inspect every micro-movement, every gesture you make. Your eyes are nearly glassing over with tears and you’re nervously fidgeting with your fingers. You’ve dropped your gaze to focus on the ground, a habit you always had when you were sad, as your voice breaks into the air. 

“Can I ask you something? Please?” you whisper. 

He reaches forward, hands on your shoulders, squeezing once and praying to god you remember what it means, as he nods. 

That he’s here and he’s got you. 

“Anything. What is it?” 

“Is he dead?” 

Maybe not anything. 

He can’t be the one to tell you. You of all people that Marco died, at the hands of the paparazzi. The same paparazzi who in your very pointed words, gutted your first love like a fish. Who were partly to blame, who drove you out of here alongside him. 

“Y/N.” 

“Is he?” you repeat, voice smaller. 

“Okay. Let’s go inside, you-”

“Is Marco dead, Eren? I’m asking you a question.” 

Your anger in your voice is enough to make him stop in his tracks, the second time your voice is laced with that animosity that it scares him into responding. He hears it, in his worst hours, echoing in his mind. 

How many times are you going to keep breaking shit without any care in the world? The camera, the fucking award you picked over me, Connie’s fucking livelihood, my heart. God, Eren. All you’ve ever cared about is yourself. From the start.

He swallows hard. 

“Yes. Marco’s dead.” 

And you don’t even know the half of it. 

He watches your glass tears, the ones sitting right on the edge of your eyelashes, fall in full force, onto your cheeks as you immediately start hiccuping, hands clasped against your chest. 

“I-I saw it on the news. I-I didn’t believe it but I- They always lie about stuff. I thought it was the same as that and-” 

“Y/N, come ins-” 

Your panic sets in so fast, so quick that Eren doesn’t even register it. Because one second you’re panting and the next Eren’s watching you retch onto the grass Connie mowed this morning. Eren pushes you into the house the second you stop, straight to the kitchen where Levi and Hange are still standing in their spots. 

“Wait, is that-” 

“Do you guys know if we have something like…anti-nausea? Is that what you do when someone throws up or-” Eren asks. 

“Is that Y/N?” Levi asks. 

“Yeah, she-she was on the porch, I-” 

Levi’s quick to walk up, hands on your shoulders as he talks, voice quiet and calm when he speaks near your ear. Hange moves to Eren’s side, her face wearing that concerned look she gives him too much these days, as they both rummage through the cabinets for anything that could help. 

“Y/N. You okay?” Levi asks. 

“I-I threw up on the-the porch. On the g-grass. So-sorry.” 

“It’s just grass. What’s-” 

Eren tries to still it - that pounding in his heart - as he walks over with the glass of water he filled up for you. Your hands must be wobbling too much because Eren doesn’t let the glass go, instead tilting your head up softly with his hands and pouring the water into your mouth. 

“Hey. Drink some more for me.” Eren states, voice soft as he instinctively reaches forward to fix the hairs sticking to the sweat beading your forehead, feeling your skin burning under his touch. 

“We should take her temperature.” Eren says. 

Levi and Hange dart out of the room, to the drawer upstairs where the thermometer is, as Eren takes breaks between helping you drink the water and rubbing circles into your back. 

Eren can feel every muscle in his body tense, his skin burning when you lean forward, forehead resting against his chest as you groan out in pain. 

“Hey. You with me?” Eren asks, murmuring straight into your hair. 

Eren feels your breathing still against him, his hands intuitively wrapping around you this time, cradling the back of your head in his hands. You hum in response to his question, which is a good enough answer for Eren now.  

“Found it.” Levi says, all but speed walking as Eren spins you around, watching as Levi meticulously pushes your sweaty hair out of your face and holds the sensor against your head. You’re all standing there in silence, craning over the little plastic as the two consecutive beeps go off. 

“98.6. You’re okay, Y/N.” Levi mutters, setting the thermometer back on the table. 

“Thank you, Levi.” you respond back, rubbing your arms on your biceps as you stare at the two of them, withdrawn and withholding from you. 

Granted, you’d do the same. You wouldn’t rush to their arms either if they ignored you for two years. 

“You can take this for nausea. If it happens again.” Hange says, placing a bottle in your hands. 

“Sure. Thank you, Hange.” you respond. 

The silence hangs in the air between the four of you as you stand there, each of you racking your heads for the right thing to say. Eren wants to tell Levi and Hange to stop being so rude, that they were the ones who were begging you to come back and now that you’re here they won’t even talk to you. Levi and Hange are debating which one of them should yell at you first, for being withdrawn from them and not asking for help the way Eren did. And you’re figuring out who you should apologize to first, between the three of them. 

None of you break. Because it’s not the right time. Because Marco is dead. 

“Everyone is sleeping together upstairs. There should be an extra air mattress up there, Eren will get it for you….knock if you need something.” Levi says, tone exasperated as he shuffles away. 

“Welcome back, kid.” 

Hange gives you a full smile as they follow him, leaving you and Eren in the kitchen. The distance Levi is putting in between you and him stings, but you swallow the burn and remind yourself that you’re the one who inflicted it on yourself. 

At the time, after the interview, the rationale made more sense. Nonsensically, you decided that you were done with the industry and that, by proxy, meant that you were done with them too. You did your interview and stuck to your word, never looked back. 

It’s humiliating now. Debilitating thinking about how much you must have hurt them. Because each of them, they continually reached out until it stopped. Mikasa made every effort to have you come to her engagement party, that she would even stop the press from coming for Vogue the way they had planned for you. 

And when you didn’t show, all she did was send you pictures, of her and Jean cutting the cake and of the dress she had bought for you to wear. Hange and Levi were so vigilant about it, on making sure that you were okay, that you had security details, that people really were leaving you alone. You didn’t heed any of their efforts, because for all intents and purposes, you were leaving the girl you were behind. 

Her dreams, the love she held, the friends she had. 

It seems stupid now. It seems incredibly and gut-wrenchingly stupid that your last words to Marco were over two years ago because you were punishing him for something that wasn’t his fault. That you can’t go to any of them for comfort because the thing that they need comfort from is you. 

All you know how to do is ruin people. 

“Are you hungry? Or do you want to go to bed?” Eren asks. 

“I can go to bed. Levi said air mattress?” 

“Yeah, we’re all sleeping together in the loft upstairs.” 

“We?” you ask. 

“Mikasa and Jean are here. Ymir and Hisu, Bertholdt and Reiner, Connie and Sash. Everyone else should be getting in tomorrow.” 

Eren pads towards the stairs and you awkwardly follow, crawling up the stairs behind him. You can hear the loud chatter of voices, talking over each other, as you try to catch the ends of their conversation. 

“But where do they go when you pee?” Sasha asks. 

“Fuck do you mean, where do they go?” Reiner says, voice incredulous. 

“Like in the bowl? Because if you’re sitting on the toilet, they have to go somewhere?” Sasha repeats. 

“Sasha. It’s almost one in the morning. Please stop talking about balls.” Ymir groans, earning a good amount of laughs from the group. 

“Eren, tell them all to shut the fuck up.” Jean groans, forearm over his eyes as he and Mikasa roll around on their mattress. 

Eren looks at you, eyes weary, before he turns to respond to them. 

“Y/N’s here.”

They all peek their heads up, curious eyes falling on you, as you give them a halfhearted smile, trying your best to wipe your sweaty palms on the back of your dress. 

“Hi guys.” 

The silence is deafening. You can’t pick what’s worse - Reiner and Bertholdt squinting their eyes at you or Mikasa and Jean refusing to look at you. 

Mikasa and Jean. 

Historia stands up, strutting over from her air mattress, to wrap her arms around you, the pressure of the hug so hard you can barely breathe. You breathe in her smell, spicy and sharp the way it’s always been, as she pulls away. Her warm hand is resting on your cheek, the smile on her face so genuine that it untangles the smallest parts of discomfort on your chest. 

“Hi princess. Missed you.” 

“Thanks, Hisu. I missed you too.” 

That’s always been the thing about Historia. That she’ll pick up, even when you haven’t called her in two years, and run to your aid. 

“How’d you know we were here?” Jean asks, hands resting on his knees. 

“I asked Historia.” you respond. 

“Told you I was her favorite. She reached out to me before you.” Historia mutters, flopping back onto the air mattress she’s sharing with Ymir. 

“You’re so arrogant, Historia. And full of shit.” Jean responds, rolling his eyes.

“You’re so right, Jean-Boy. This is just like what we fought about earlier.” Connie responds. 

The group of them break out into an argument, Historia looking like she’s full on about to wrestle Connie as he only instigates her on. Mikasa’s already resting with her eyes closed as Jean turns pink in the face from his irritations. 

And you can’t help but laugh, warm tingling in your chest at all of them, wholeheartedly the same. You look over at Eren and smile, which he returns. But despite it all, that stillness, that outsider feeling sits in your skin. Because despite them being the same, the striking differences in the room tell you things are wholeheartedly different too. 

“Okay. Where’s the extra air mattress?” Eren asks. 

Connie turns, eyes wide, as he gives the two of you a sheepish smile. 

“Really funny story. Sooooo….” 

“God. What did you do?” Eren groans. 

“Long story short, I was thinking about waterbeds. If you pop a water bed, it should be like a waterfall right? So if it’s an air mattress, it should be like an inflatable air balloon thing. Like the weird noodle guys at the car store? Right? So, I tried to pop it. And succeeded.” Connie responds, rambling. 

“Was it cool?” you ask. 

“Ugh. Not at all, princess.” Connie responds. 

You smile, perhaps bigger than you should at Connie using your old nickname, as Eren starts yelling at him. 

“You should be the one to sleep on the floor since you’re the one who ruined the mattress.” Eren states. 

“She should sleep on the floor. She got here last!” Connie responds. 

“She just threw up. And she wasn’t going to sleep on the floor regardless.” 

“Is she contagious?” Connie responds. 

“Connie!” 

Eren rolls his eyes as Mikasa stands up, shuffling to your side and lightly tugging your arm. You look at her, taking her shorter hair in, as you give her a smile. 

“Hey. Want to go change? Your old clothes should still be here, don’t know how well they’ll fit.” 

Eren breaks out of his conversation, leaning forward to where the two of you are talking, to interject. 

“What’s mine is yours. Take mine if you need to.” he says, before returning in full flesh to the argument he’s having with Connie. You can tell they’re both joking from the way they’re trying not to laugh as you start to walk away. 

The two of you quietly pad down the length to the two doors, directly across from each other, as you take in the scribbled signs switched. Your old room now reads Jean and Mikasa with Connie’s handwriting scribbled underneath inscribing please fuck quietly on the door. And consequently, Eren’s room now reads Eren and Y/N with Sasha’s handwriting scribbled underneath reading yall are fucked UP for this. 

You turn to Mikasa and give her a weird look. 

“Right. We’ve been here for a week, actually. Table reading season four stuff. Jean and I want to share a room so we moved all of his stuff to your room and your stuff to Eren’s room. We’ll put it back.” Mikasa states, pushing open the door to Eren’s room as she starts rummaging through your old drawers in the closet. 

“No, no. It’s okay. I wouldn’t want to impose on you guys when you’re almost about to be newlyweds?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Yeah, next year. And we just moved it because we thought you weren’t going to come back. And Eren didn’t want to toss your stuff and all.” she responds. She pulls out a shirt, most definitely from when you’re fifteen, as you both snicker at the size and she keeps digging. 

You walk around Eren’s room, your room too now, as you eye all the boxes filled with your things, tangled in with Eren’s clothes lying around on every open surface. You take a seat at his desk as you start inspecting his little bulletin board, the pictures underneath the pins. 

One of him, Lana, and Sukuna - the three of them smoldering at the camera. Eren and Connie smiling, Eren and a little kid with short curly hair, and two pictures of you. The first one is of you and him sleeping on set and the other is the two of you with Falco, both of you crouching down to his height and hugging him from behind.

And hanging around both of the pins are your friendship bracelets, which you take off the hooks to inspect. 

So that’s where it went. In all of the fire of moving around so much, jumping from one place to another, you always thought you lost it. But you must have left it here all along.

You run your hands over the beads, yours and Eren’s names, as Mikasa gives you a head shake, indicating she didn’t find anything. 

“S’okay. I’ll look through Eren’s stuff I guess.” you murmur. 

Mikasa nods as she leans against Eren’s desk, hands crossed over her chest, as the silence hangs in between the two of you. She takes one of the bracelets from your hands, twisting the beads in her fingers, as you do the same with yours. 

You find solace in the fact that Mikasa is still wearing her engagement ring - a constant in the sparring mix of changes you just witnessed in the room. 

Connie sober. Ymir and Historia sharing a mattress. Eren and Connie getting along. Mikasa and Jean even tolerating being in the same room as Eren. In the same room as you. And the jarring absence of Marco. 

“How are you?” Mikasa asks. 

“Okay, Mika. How are you?” 

Mikasa sinks down, sitting flat on the floor as she hikes her knees to her chest. You follow suit, dropping from your chair to sit next to her, lacing your arm through hers as you both blankly stare at the floor ahead of you, picking what topic to broach first. 

I missed you. I’m sorry I haven’t talked to  you in two years. Our friend is dead. Eren is here. 

“The engagement party looked beautiful, Mikasa.” 

She smiles, leaning her head against yours. 

“Thank you, Y/N. It was quite nice actually.” 

“I watched it on Vogue. Cried quite a bit.” you respond. 

She laughs, rolling her eyes at you as she lightly shoves you. 

“Should’ve come then. Cried in real time.” 

You swallow hard, cheeks warm, as you squeeze her hand. You know she’s joking, but the guilt runs too deep. 

“I’m sorry for not coming. I-I really wish I was there. And I know there’s no justification for it but-” 

“We aren’t mad at you. Jean and I.” she clarifies. 

“I’d understand if you were. I’m your best friend. I’ve-I’ve been with you guys since the start and-” 

Mikasa’s hands are soft on your shoulders, tears gathering in her eyes, as she looks at you, eyes pinched in pain.

“You had every right to not come. To be done with this. What they did to you, to Eren- Y/N, god.” 

You swallow hard. 

“It didn’t warrant me not coming to you-” 

“It did. You don’t even know the half of it. You-you and Eren. You just-” 

There’s a knocking at the door and Eren pads in, eyes wide as he sees you and Mikasa on the floor, tears gathered in her eyes and your limbs tangled together. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can come back.” 

“No, no. It’s okay, Eren. Her clothes are too small. I can go grab mine for her if you two want to talk-” her words pointed, the emphasis on the last words hard. 

“No, don’t bother Mikasa.” he responds, disappearing into his closet to find a pair of clothes for you. 

Mikasa turns back to you, giving your cheek a pinch. 

“I’ll make Jean sleep on the floor if Connie doesn’t give up his mattress. It’ll be like old times.” she responds, shuffling out of the room as you stay on your spot on the floor.

You hike your knees to your chest as you twist the beads in your fingers again, Eren’s name that you used to wear on your wrist almost every day foreign in your fingers. 

“Eren. We’re going to be late.” you groan, impatiently tapping your foot on the ground as you wait for him by the door. 

The two of you are already thirty minutes late to Erwin’s going away party, the last car waiting to take the two of you, Marco, and Annie out to the little soiree that Erwin is throwing for himself - in celebration of him being killed off. 

“Sorry, sorry. Looking for my bracelet.” he responds, darting back and forth from different corners of the room. 

“Well, hurry up. Annie’s getting pissed.” 

“I found yours! But where is mine?” 

You look down at your wrist to find the pink beads on your wrist, spelling out your name against your pulse point in your wrist. 

“Oops, sorry. I’m wearing yours.” you respond. 

Eren’s quick to walk over to where you’re standing on the door - giving you enough time to groan at how haphazardly he got ready for the party. His tie is loose against his neck, hair all messy as you reach up to fix it. 

“God, Eren. At least brush your hair.” 

“Quit moving your hands.” 

Eren takes his hand in yours, quickly sliding the bracelet off your wrist and switching it with the one in his hand. 

“Well, get ready properly. Your tie isn’t even on right.” you respond, irritated as you reach forward to tighten the fabric and smooth down his collar. 

“And if I told you I put it on wrong just so you would fix it, what would you think?” 

“That you’re asking for a death sentence from Annie for wasting time.” 

He rolls his eyes, reaching up to lift the hand he just placed the bracelet on. His thumb is straight against your pulse point, blood pulsating under the spot, as he lifts his hand to leave a kiss right there. 

“And that it’s cute that you did that.” 

He gives you a wide grin, locking your hands together as you both rush out the door. 

Eren shuffles out, sitting across from you as he puts the stack of clothes between you and hikes his knees to his chest. He holds his hand out and you place the bracelet in his hand. 

“You left it in the bathroom.” 

You nod as you try to steady your mind - still running a hundred miles per hour and overstimulated from seeing everyone again. From how familiar it all feels, how easy it all is to fall back into this despite how different things are. 

How you and Eren are miles apart, how you haven’t talked to them all in months, how Marco is dead. That Marco’s death is suspending all of you in a weird state of reality, that every angry word spoken and every bit of harshness seems miniscule now.

“Do you want me to leave?” Eren asks. 

“No.” you shrug. 

“Do you want to talk?” 

“No.”

Eren nods, counting each of the beads on the bracelet, as you both sit there in the silence, letting your eyes float around the room as you let your mind wander. 

Marco and Colt playing chess everyday when he visited you in Canada, Marco falling for every stupid joke that Connie played on him, the way you all cried when Marco died in the show, Marco at the awards show. 

“Eren?” 

“Yes, Y/N?” 

“Do you remember the first time we kissed?” 

The question takes Eren off guard. He debates it then and there - telling you the truth full and whole - on the basis that he can’t handle the way you’re looking at him. At the fact that you even asked that, at the implication that you thought he could ever forget. 

“Of course. On set, in the-” 

“No, no. I mean, for real.” 

“At the awards show.” Eren responds, without a beat. 

“Yeah.” 

Eren leans forward, wrapping his hands around your neck and pressing his lips to yours. You can still feel people moving around you, setting up things for the closing part of the ceremony, but the only thing you’re paying attention to is Eren. And his lips. And the way he’s pulling you closer, like he can’t get enough of you. 

When you pull apart, you’re both panting, smiling at each other. 

“Thank god. If I got cock-blocked from kissing you a third time, I was actually going to commit a murder.” 

“You want me so bad.” you say, sarcastically. 

“Obviously.” 

You both smile and turn to the left, to a very smiley Marco staring at you two. And then you cringe, remembering that you and Eren are literally backstage and there’s like seven people who just watched you suck face. Marco walks up, wrapping his arms around both of you and hugging hard. 

“I love you guys.” 

“Marco. Don’t-” Eren starts.

“I’m not going to tell anyone. You need time to figure whatever is going on, without Connie and and Sasha up your ass the entire time. But I’m really, really happy for you.” 

“Really, Marco?” you ask, leaning into Eren’s touch. 

“It’s always been you guys. You guys better not break up or else I’ll come hunt both of you down. And if I’m dead, I’ll come back to life just to haunt you guys.” 

“Do you think he’s haunting us?” 

Eren frowns, the memory refreshing in his head. One he thought of a few days ago, lingering on the fact that Marco’s probably turning in grave right now. Granted, Marco was very vehement about his stance on you two - your interview and what Eren did, making Marco so agonizingly and uncharacteristically angry that it bothers him now. 

For not listening to him. That if he does ever get to cross that bridge with you, at least be your friend again, that Marco won’t ever know. 

“I just don’t understand why you won’t just go out there and tell her. You know where she lives.” Marco states, irritated. 

“Because I just can’t, Marco! You watched the interview!” 

“The entire song was about how she forgave you. How she isn’t holding a grudge against you. And-and the way she was talking about it, some part of her knows that other people had something to do with this, Eren. She knows deep down.” 

“The interview was fucking horrible. This entire thing, this thing that I did, fucked her up so bad that she isn’t even doing this anymore. This was all she wanted, ever since she was a kid, she-she was so determined and she gave it up because I said all those things, because I did what I did.” 

“Eren. It’s more compl-” 

“No, it’s not. And she fucking hates me. You should have seen how upset she was at the awards show…..I-I ruined it for her. I ruined her entire dream, Marco.” 

“God, Eren. Your tunnel vision is insane. You’re not even giving her a fighting chance when she doesn’t even know the truth!” he says. 

“Maybe haunting is too mean of a word. I think he’d be happy to see us together, right now. Even if the circumstances aren’t the best.” he responds. 

You smile, giving him a nod. 

“He always did like playing cupid, didn’t he?” 

“At the engagement party, he walked around telling everyone that Jean and Mikasa were only dating because of him.” 

“That’s a lie.” you state. 

“No one believed him.” Eren responds. 

The two of you fall into silence again, resting your chins on your knees, as more thoughts swim through your head, pain so palpable it’s sitting in your chest. That if Marco were here, he’d be prancing in and giving you two devious smirks, lovingly teasing both of you. Pulling both of you aside, saying that bygones should be bygones if you still love each other. 

You look up at him, watch his eyes flutter open and close, as he fidgets with his hands. 

You still love him. 

“Can we be civil for the weekend? Like…like you’re not Eren and I’m not Y/N, we’re just-” you sutter.

Your question falls short, hanging in the air as you watch the gears in Eren’s head turn. 

“I just mean. So many things happened between us. And I know there’s hurt there, on your part and maybe mine too, but…..I don’t want us to be mad at each other at the funeral. Or after.” 

You swallow hard. 

“I’d hate for one of us to die being mad at each other. Without having talked in years.” you whisper. 

Eren gets it. The guilt that must be wracking you for not talking to Marco, when you were one of the people who was closest to him. He reaches forward, taking your hand in his, as he fidgets with your fingers. 

“He knows you loved him, Y/N.”

He watches the tears pour down your eyes, face pink and eyes swollen, as you talk. 

“Did he? Because I ignored his texts. For years. He texted me happy birthday, asked how Falco was doing, wanted to know if I watched Halloweentown on October first like I always do, if I was happy, if I wanted to talk and-” 

He squeezes your hand, pulling out his phone, as he scoots to the space next to you. He tries to still the pounding of his heart as you lace your arm through his, leaning your head against his. 

“He knows, Y/N.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I was with him. I talked to him quite often after….after everything that happened. I promise you, he knows you loved him.” 

You shake your head, guilt sitting in your head. 

“I have something for you.” he murmurs. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s from a few years ago. I think he was really, really drunk.” 

He hands you his phone, open to a voicemail from Marco, as you wipe the tears on your phone and press play. His voice comes through the speaker booming and giggling and hiccuping as he talks. 

“Eren. Eren! Fuck, I love you so much dude. You’re-you’re such a guy. Like I-I just see you and think hmmmm. That’s a guy. Are you with Y/N? Tell her I love her. She’s my best friend. You’re all my best friends. I’m so happy I got to grow up with all of you. Oh, Connie just threw up on the floor, oh Connie- hey, stop! Okay, love you brother, I have to go.” 

The voice cuts off abruptly, as you laugh. 

“Never could hold his drink, could he?” 

“Not everyone can be alcoholics like Jean and Mikasa.” 

You both laugh, chest aching from how familiar, how soft this feels. That you’re both sitting in this room, where you grew up, fell in love, slept next to each other every night. Eren can see the tears welling in your eyes, thinking of his best efforts to stop it, at whatever is plaguing your mind. 

“So. You said you’re not Y/N and I’m not Eren. So who are we?” he asks. 

“I meant that metaphorically, you’re-” 

You watch Eren’s eyes flit around his room, scanning till he stops around his bookshelf, and turns back to glance at you. 

“Your new name is Margaret.” 

“Ew. And I didn’t mean it like that, Eren.” 

“Who is Eren? My name is….” he responds, giving you a smile as he elongagates the syllables waiting for your response. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Bruce. Your name is Bruce.” 

“Bruce Wayne!” 

“No. Not like Bruce Wayne. Think of someone really boring. Irritating, agitating.” 

“Perfect! I’ll just think of you after five shots of tequila.” 

You both laugh as Eren stands up, holding a hand out to pull you up. He sets the stack of clothes in your hand as he makes a move to walk out of the room. Except he hangs on the door for a second, voice soft when he talks. 

“Does Bruce have permission to say something?” 

“Sure.” 

“I know he technically just met Margaret because she was born a minute ago, but he missed her. A lot.” 

You feel your cheeks burn as you give him a nod, murmuring a quiet me too before sinking into the bathroom to slip his clothes on. 

Connie, does in fact, not give up the mattress. Jean and Eren begrudgingly share as you and Mikasa cuddle into the night. 

--

You wake up first, to find Mikasa sprawled over your entire frame. Her entire body is burning hot and you send a silent prayer to the world's strongest soldier, Jean Kirschtein, for putting up with this for so long. After you all but free yourself from her grasp, you spare a quick glance to see Jean must be smothering Eren more than Mikasa was you and silently muse that the two of them truly are made for each other. 

You pad down to the kitchen, yanking the hood of Eren’s hoodie over your head, to find Connie sitting at the table, scribbling away in a journal, a steaming bowl of oatmeal next to him. 

“Good morning, Con.’” 

He looks up, one of his hands going instinctively to cover what he was writing as you take the seat next to him, crossing your legs up on the chair. He immediately relaxes, giving you a bright smile.

“Good morning, princess. You can have some if you want.” 

“No, no. I don’t want to impose.” 

“What’s mine is yours.” he says, mimicking Eren’s voice. 

You snort, reaching for his spoon, as you take a bite of the warm food, soothing the stiffness in your throat. 

“Sleep well?” he asks. 

“Mikasa basically strangled me all night.” 

“Ew. Of course she has the cuddle bug. I swear, Jean and Mikasa were always goo goo ga ga, but they’re even worse now.” 

“They’re getting married, Connie. It’s sweet.” 

He smiles, sliding the string through the pages, as he turns to you giving you a smile. 

“Yeah. It is sweet.” he responds, voice quiet. 

Connie swallows hard, eyes weary as he turns to you. 

“I want to apologize.” Connie says. 

The elephant in the room. He’s the first one to touch it. 

“Oh. That’s okay, I under-” 

“No, no. It’s not okay.” he responds, tone almost harsh. 

You and Armin share a look the second he breaks the frame, glass shattering over the length of Armin’s apartment. 

“Why the fuck would you guys bring me here?” Connie asks, sweat beading his forehead. 

From the way he’s moving, all erratic and nonsensical, it makes you think that it’s out of his system. That if Connie had a chance, this would be when he would sneak off to the bathroom to get his fix. But he’s nowhere near that, instead settled into Armin’s tiny New York apartment, screaming at the two of you. 

“Connie. You asked us too.” you respond. 

“I was fucking high! Why would you guys even entertain a word I said?” Connie states, voice even more agitated now. 

“Connie. You…you need help. We looked at some rehab places while you were asleep and-” 

“Rehab? I’m not going to rehab. Are you trying to ruin my fucking career, Armin?” 

“No, but we want to make sure you’re okay. They’ll be discrete, we’ll make sure the security detail is good so that you can be better and-” 

“I am fucking fine. Do I look like I need help?” 

You and Armin share a weary glance, before looking back at him. 

“Connie. We love you. We-we just want to help you, okay?” you say. 

“Does it ever embarrass you when you do this, Y/N?” Connie says, voice laced with venom. 

“Sorry?” 

“Does you not think it’s embarrassing to beg like this in front of people who don’t fucking care about you the way you do about them? I figured that Eren putting you in your place like that would set you straight but it seems like you didn’t learn your lesson, did you?” 

You swallow hard, eyes and skin burning as Connie waits for your response. 

“You don’t mean that. You-you’re just mad because you can’t be high right now.” you murmur. 

“Am I, Y/N? Or is it true?” 

“It’s not true. This isn’t you, Connie.” 

“God, Y/N. Wake the fuck up. We aren’t fifteen anymore. No ones sitting here holding your hand telling you that you’ll be the best anymore. I get that you need that ego boost to move forward but I sure as hell am not going to be the one to give it to you.” 

“Connie, that’s enough-” 

Connie swallows hard, eyes focused on his fingers as he talks. 

“I know-I know that I said it wasn’t true. But I really did say all of those things because I was high. Or because I wanted to be high and was in withdrawal and-” 

“I know that, Connie. I’ve never held it against you.” 

He frowns, twisting his pen to his fingers. 

“You always give grace even when you don’t know the whole story. Me, Hisu, Eren.” he murmurs. 

“You deserve it…and I partially knew. I mean, addiction is a disease. It hurt at first but that wasn’t your fault. You just needed to be treated and helped and I’m glad you did.” 

He smiles, resting his cheek against his hand. 

“Thank you, Y/N. Don’t mind me if I spend the rest of my life asking for forgiveness. I won’t ever feel like I deserve it but I’ll keep asking anyway.” he murmurs. 

“I’ll always give it to you.” you respond, squeezing his shoulder. 

You silently wonder that if you ever did come back, sans funeral, if things would be like this. If you and Eren could pretend, if Mikasa and Jean could look past it all. Because some parts of it, they feel earnest, truthful. But you can’t tell if you’re all suspended in some disbelief, clouded by your grief and trying to cling onto one of the things Marco loved most. His time on the show, with you all. 

“Honey when I’m above the trees, I SEE IT FOR WHAT IT IS.” Connie sings, screams. 

“Oh my god, Connie.” you deadpan. 

He’s singing happiness. Like the happiness you sang in your interview, when you forgave Eren. 

“THERE’LL BE HAPPINESS AFTER YOU. BUT THERE WAS HAPPINESS BECAUSE OF YOUUUU. BOTH OF THESE THINGS CAN BE TRUE, THERE IS HAPPINESS.” 

You clamp your hand flat against his mouth, trying not to snicker, as he continues to sing underneath your hand. 

“Are you insane? They’re all sleeping.” you whisper. 

“Not anymore we’re not.” Ymir responds, immediately smacking Connie against the head. 

“You’re going to give Eren a nightmare, Connie.” Historia mutters, dragging her feet into the kitchen as Ymir follows. 

“I’m already living it.” Eren grumbles, leaning against the counter as he splits a PopTart with Jean. 

Slowly but surely, every one of them shuffles down to the room, the deja vu of the situation hitting deep as each person follows suit. Sasha ambles down after a few minutes, finishing off the bowl of oatmeal that you and Connie were sharing while Reiner and Bertholdt murmur quietly over the coffee cup. Eren’s in hushed conversation with Jean and Mikasa, fixing himself breakfast, as Hange and Levi wander into the room, immediately thrown off by all of you in there. 

“Jesus.” Levi says, tone exasperated. 

“Good morning, Levi.” Mikasa says, gesturing to the water boiling on the kettle for his tea. He gives her a grateful smile, taking a seat in his corner as Hange talks to the group of you. Connie’s resorted to cracking all of your knuckles since his are all worn out as they go on. 

“Good morning kiddos!” 

“Don’t….do such a cheery voice, Hange.” Levi says, sighing. 

Hange’s smile falters, before dropping all together, and giving a thoughtful nod. Eren shuffles over to your side, taking the seat next to yours as he places a steaming bowl of ramen in front of you. 

“Oh. Thank you, Eren.” 

“Who?” 

You roll your eyes as Eren smiles, reaching forward to flick your cheek. 

“Bruce.” 

“Bruce, indeed.” he responds. 

Eren knows he’s in treacherous waters. That this line you’ve drawn, that you’re not you and he’s not himself, works almost too well for Eren’s purposes. That he can pretend, in earnest, that none of the things he said happened. That you and him are just as you always were, untouched in the bubble you were always in when you lived here. . 

“The funeral is tomorrow, as we all know. The Bodt’s have requested that we get there ten minutes before the service, so be on time tomorrow. Bertholdt, Sasha, I’m looking at both of you. ” 

You all nod, humming in response, as you start digging into the bowl, switching off with Connie and Sasha who are both trying to monopolize the only real food in a five feet radius. 

“That being said…” Hange says, swallowing hard. 

They’re pacing back and forth almost, teetering on their ankles, when they talk. And when they finish explaining - autopsy report in hand and the gut punch sticking in your chest - you all sit there, blankly staring. 

And wander in silence for the rest of the day. 

It was one thing that Marco died. And an entirely different one that he was killed. 

--

“Someone go get Eren, we only have thirty minutes.” Levi says, everyone lingering in the kitchen and the living room, in a sea of black. 

Almost everyone is here now - Erwin, Armin, even Eren’s parents - all lingering around as you wait to head to the funeral. You give a curt nod to Levi and march out to the pavement, pebbles crunching under your feet as you make your way to set. 

Eren’s been in there since last night, never retreating to the room to change into his pajamas before he settled down on the couch downstairs. Despite your protests, he refuses to sleep in the same room as you. Or let you sleep anywhere else besides Jean’s old bed in his room. 

You let the pebbles crunch under your feet, ignoring the sting as you pass the tandem bike, and slip onto the set. You can see new costumes designs printed against the walls, storyboards with Levi and Hange’s handwriting on them as you make your way to the back towards the piano.

When you see him, that rage, simmering warm in your stomach over the past twenty-four hours, the deep-seated pain of Marco dying alone, crying out for help, comes to a head when you see Eren. Because he’s sitting at the bench, with his book propped up against the stand, and a bottle of pills in his hands. 

You march up to where he’s standing, crossing your hands across your chest as you all but glare at him. 

“Oh. Hey, you look-” 

“Are you serious?” 

You watch his face scrunch up in confusion, that stupid look on his face aggravating you even more. His tie is unkempt, his hair is messy - he’s always so haphazard with these things. 

“You’re doing pills in here before Marco’s funeral. Are you fucking serious?” 

He looks down, at the bottle in his hand and stands up, and swallows hard when he looks at you. 

“Wait-” 

“No. No, for once, you’re going to listen to me. You-you’re sick. Marco’s dead. You can’t even give it to him to be fully there while we say goodbye? This means that much to you?” you spit, watching him shut his eyes. 

“Y/N.” 

“How could you do this? To him? To me?” 

He reaches forward, hands on your shoulders as he squeezes, and your eyes burn like acid. And every feeling, building up over the past few days, comes tumbling out. 

“Why did he have to leave us, Eren? We didn’t get enough time with him. He was only twenty-four, he didn't even get to grow old. He was supposed to die, years from now, so happy, so-so surrounded by people he loved.”

Eren forgoes the rational thought. He reaches forward fully, snaking his arms around you as he cradles your head into his frame, trying his best to stifle your cries into his shoulder. 

“And you. He would hate that you were doing this. I hate that you’re doing this. You-you don’t have to. There are other things that can make you happy or-or fix whatever it is that’s wrong.” 

“Y/N.” 

“What, Eren?” 

He pulls back, reaching for the pill bottle, and placing it in the palm of your hand. You read the label, immediately embarrassed and ashamed of your reaction. 

Eren Jaeger *Lexapro 5 mg  Take one tablet by mouth with the morning meal.

“Oh my god, Eren. I’m so sorry, I-” 

You pull back, sitting down on the bench, as you dig your fingers into your temples, trying to stop that pulsating feeling under your skin. The rage, the feeling, coursing through you so hard that you can’t even pick what you’re mad at. 

You’re breathing panic in and out, chest heaving, as Eren takes a seat next to you, leaning his elbows on his knees. And the feeling, it lands on feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed. Because Eren’s not doing drugs, he’s taking anti-anxiety pills. 

“Eren. I’m so sorry. That was so horrible of me, I thought it was-” 

“You thought it was like Connie.” he finishes

“Yeah. And I’m sorry for assuming, I just-” 

“I’m not mad at you. You were just trying to take care of me. I appreciate it.” 

You groan, embarrassment still coursing through you, as you lean your forehead straight against the piano, the smell of the ink on Eren’s book permeating your nose.  

“Do you remember that birthday party of mine I told you about? When I was ten, at my old house in New York? It was when we were in Australia.” 

You nod. 

“I remember feeling it. A paralyzing block in my chest, like I couldn’t move. And when I was able to move, it was only because it all came rushing to me, so panicked, so fast that I-I didn’t even register what happened.” 

He was barely even ten. You lift your hands to his shoulders, squeezing hard, as he continues. 

You’re here and you’ve got him. 

“I didn’t tell anyone. I thought something was wrong with me. I thought that people feel this way, that it’s normal, but I just felt too much of it. That I just can’t handle things the way normal people do.” 

You frown, reaching up to cup the side of his face. Your fingers brush over his dimples, soft under your fingers, as you talk. 

“Eren. There is nothing wrong with you. That’s just an anxiety attack.” you whisper. 

You’re not sure what it is about what you said but when you look up, there are soft tears flowing down Eren’s cheek, the voice coming out of his mouth so garbled you can barely understand what he’s saying. 

“Hey, Eren.” you whisper, 

“No. No, no. Stop.” 

Eren stands up, retreating to the other side of the piano, where he’s leaning over, his entire frame heaving up and down as you walk to his side. 

“Why are you-” 

“I don’t want you to help me. You shouldn’t be helping me.” he says, his voice shuddering. 

“Why not?” you ask, frowning. 

“I’ve been horrible to you. I don’t deserve your help. You-you should be cussing me out, so mad that you can’t stand me, that you want me to suffer and you’re not. And it’s agonizing for me that you aren’t.” 

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around him from the back, as you feel him sigh. You lean your cheek flat against his shoulder, squeezing as hard as you can as Eren continues to cry, fists clenched so tight on the piano that white. 

“You’re not you and I’m not me. We agreed on that.” you murmur. 

“Y/N. We can’t-” 

“Who?” 

He snickers, amidst his tears, as he turns around, and you slot your arms under his. You can feel his heart thumping under your ear, loud and fast, as you place your hand over the spot. The two of you stay that way for some time, Eren's tears falling onto you, as you try your best to remedy whatever it is that's burning inside of him.

“Just calm down and breathe. Falco says it always helps to talk about something else, when he feels like this.” 

He tenses at the mention of Falco, which you realize was a mistake. 

“Why were you in here?” you ask. 

“The Bodt’s asked me to write a song for the service.” 

The perfect distraction.

“Can you sing it for me?” you ask. 

He looks down, green eyes - full and round - as he nods, shuffling towards the piano bench as you take the seat next to him. You can see that the lyrics are scribbled on the book resting against the stand, the paper stiff from blotches of Eren’s tears. He starts playing the piano, his voice echoing on the walls of the set. 

And if I didn't know better I'd think you were talking to me now If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around What died didn't stay dead What died didn't stay dead You're alive, you're alive in my head What died didn't stay dead What died didn't stay dead You're alive, so alive

You rest your hands against the keys next to his, slowly following his pace, as he continues to sing, the hum of his voice filling the air. You can’t help but think it. That he’s beautiful. That this is your Eren, miles away from whoever he was when you saw him last. 

I should've asked you questions I should've asked you how to be Asked you to write it down for me Should've kept every grocery store receipt 'Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me

You can feel the tears flowing down your cheeks now, straight onto the piano keys and your hands, as you cry. 

And if I didn't know better I'd think you were singing to me now If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around I know better But I still feel you all around I know better But you're still around

When you and Eren get to the service, you walk hand in hand to the piano. And play the song together, for Marco and Marco only. 

--

You knock on the door, padding into the room to find Levi, hunched over his computer and leaning his hand on his cheek. You take the seat next to him, crossing your legs against the chair, as he looks over at you, expressionless. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” you say. 

Four days after the funeral and all of them have cleared out. Forced to go back to wherever they were before, to push down the beating pain and move forward. The grief, perhaps it did suspend reality for the rest of you. Leave you to pretend that nothing that happened was real, that you were still teenagers running around on this set together. 

That wasn’t how it was for Levi. Because in almost a week of being there, he had yet to talk to you with a straight face. 

“What are you working on, Levi?” you ask, cracking your knuckles. 

He turns the laptop towards you, one of the old hard drives from the earlier seasons pulled up on his computer. He plays the video, one of Jean sitting in a chair behind the green backdrop. 

“Okay, Jean. Tell me your goal for the end of the show.” Levi asks. 

The video, Jean must be barely sixteen, wearing one of the old costumes from season one. You remember now, that Hange was insistent on documenting everything - that you all were going to grow up so fast that they should keep videos. Obviously, Hange is too disorganized to do it themselves, so Levi bit the bullet and did it for them. 

“I don’t know. That’s so far away, Levi.” he groans, scrunching up his forehead. 

“Just answer, Jean. Where do you see yourself at the end of the show, when you’re in your twenties?” 

“With Mikasa.” he responds. 

You both smile as Levi switches to the next videos, the two of you watching all of them in silence. 

“I want to be myself. That’s all I want to be, not embarrassed or ashamed, I-I just want to be me.” Historia says, smiling into the camera. 

“I don’t know. That’s a weird question, Levi.” Mikasa grumbles, glaring at him. 

“You’re horrible, Mikasa. Jean said he wants to be with you.” Levi responds. 

“Well, that’s a given. Of course, I’m going to be with Jean.” she responds, giving one last eye roll to the camera. 

“Doing something important. That means something to people.” Connie responds. 

You swallow hard, as you see Eren, fifteen and so smiley, as he crawlsl onto the little stool.

“My turn?” Eren asks, giving Levi a bright smile. 

“Yes, kid. Your turn. Why else would you be sitting here?” 

“Okay. This is a secret so don’t tell anyone.” he says. 

“I’m not broadcasting to a news channel, Eren. Just hurry up, I still have to get through half of you.” 

Eren nods, reaching up to fix his hair, before he talks - his voice filled with that confident resolve, that one he always sported when he was fifteen.

“I want to get the Best Actor in a Lead role award. And on the same night, I want Y/N to become a triple threat. And then I want us to tell her that I told her so. Me and her, at the top.” he says, giving the camera a bright smile, before jumping off. 

The next one is of you, what you said being entirely lost to you in your memories. 

“What do I want to do when I'm in my twenties? Hm.” you echo. 

“Today would be nice.” Levi deadpans. 

“Well, I don’t know! That’s so broad. I want to be doing stuff like this. Acting, making music, To have people enjoy the work I make, and making it with my friends, like Eren and Mikasa and Armin. I want to be here, more than anything. It feels so right to me, that I get to do this. It’s special, it’s a privilege and I’m really thankful I get to do it.” 

“Note to anyone watching. This is one of our only kids with manners.” Levi says, setting the camera down to give you a hug. 

You bite down on your cheek, looking over at Levi, as he plays the last one. Of Marco. 

“Okay, Marco. What do you want to do when you’re in your twenties?” 

“Well. I know what I’m going to be doing.” Marco says, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” 

“See. Spoiler alert, but Hange and Levi just killed me off this show. But we made a deal. That I get to be in each season, even if its a super minor role like a flashback or whatever. So in my twenties, I’ll be here. Surrounded by all my childhood best friends, making this show that’s always meant so much to us.” 

You swallow hard as Levi wraps his arms around you, the two of you watching Marco’s smiley face disappear from the screen. 

“So I’ll see you in four months? For season four?” 

“Damn right you will.” you respond. 

And for the first time in a week, Levi breaks a smile. 

“Good.”

--

next part linked here

an, again: SEASON FOUR ERA (this shit abt to be so awkward when they're not all sad/grieving )

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly-y-blog @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi

[rainwingmarvel7]

a little S2 thacaerys ship edit I made from some jace and baela screenshots I found on Instagram posted by vaeratargaryen

original version under the cut

[plor-bindery]

Bound: Under Giant Mountains by wolfpants

The delightful, evocative, and thoughtful Under Giant Mountains by @wolfpants is up next in my tour of wolf’s fic I bound. This landscape of this fic is soaring: mountains and dragons and wilderness. But at the same time, its subject matter is as small and carefully contained as Harry's postwar pain. This is a Harry who is struggling, and struggling to even admit he's struggling. At the risk of spoiling anything, the way wolf writes Harry's breakdown and surrender is so, so soft and sweet and real. I love a Harry who confronts any danger head-on except the danger of what's going on inside him.

(Fun fact: this fic was posted while I was in the midst of writing Polar Night/Midnight Sun and I was like OH GOOD WOLF HAS DONE THE DRACO IN NORWAY THING AND DONE IT BETTER THAN I COULD, I CAN STOP WRITING NOW but of course, I didn't stop; I let wolf's words inspire me onwards, and this is another reason why I love fandom: the overlapping of writerly worlds, the echoes and resonances we experience as creators and fans.)

For this bind, I chose a relatively simple aesthetic, but couldn't resist inserting little tiny dragons as scene breaks.

More process and materials talk under the cut.

Materials: This was my first go at making bookcloth! I had purchased a little remainder scrap of forest green cotton at the fabric store and only noticed after ironing it out and laminating it to the tissue that there were stripes of sun damage on the creases of the cloth, sigh. I had to start over. I used mulberry tissue but some of the fibres are palpable through the cloth, which I am not wild about. Still -- homemade bookcloth! Fun!

Text block is printed on 24 lb cream letter cut down to a quarto bind, and is actually the first bind I did where my grain direction was correct. (I know, I know...) Sewn on two linen tapes with waxed linen thread.

Endbands (which I neglected to photograph, apparently) are machine made.

End papers are just scrapbook paper, nothing special.

The decoration is gold HTV. Hoo boy. More on that shortly.

Process: My first quarto bind! First bookcloth making! First bind with the grain direction correct! So many firsts!

That being said, there was nothing particularly special about this bind's process. My biggest struggle (which is visible) was the gold HTV. I think I've since cracked the code more on how to apply larger bits of HTV without making marks in it (short version: higher heat, less pressure, more patience) but I was still struggling here, as you can see. That being said, I do love the sort of hobbity vibe of the rune-ish font and the dragon/mountain.

I made myself a copy of this as a test first, and the HTV is even more messed up on that. :| Also, I realized when reading it afterwards, I fucked up the page order in one signature. This is fixed (god, I hope it's fixed) in wolf's copy.

Signature length is a tricky thing with case binding/sewn binding in general. I wound up needing a bunch of blank pages at the back of the typeset so I did something I have since done in other binds: added a "selected praise for" section where I copy/pasted AO3 comments into the text block like literary reviews. I love this so much: the juxtaposition of the formal literary trope with the squee and all-caps and hype of fandom commenters. I am not the first to do this, of course, but you'll see it appear again in future binds from me for sure. (And of course I put my own comment first. OF COURSE I did. Binder's privilege!)

[midastouch013]

Kitchen Disaster

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: You attempt to teach your girlfriend how to cook

P.S. This is my first fic so bare with me

Warnings: Just pure fluff and Natasha's horrible cooking skills

P.S.S This was already posted, but I had all my fics deleted, so I'm reposting them

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

The Avengers compound kitchen buzzed (or in this case did not) with an unusual sense of tranquility as you attempted to help Natasha conquer the culinary realm. Natasha, typically a force to be reckoned with, brandished the knife like a seasoned warrior being attacked by enemy agents, attempting to tame the rogue carrots that danced on the cutting board.

"Easy does it, Nat. The carrots won't attack, I promise," you reassured, your chuckles filling the serene space, causing the redhead to roll her eyes playfully.

Undeterred, Natasha continued, determined to master this art that she had failed at mastering multiple times. And with a single slice of the knife, a piece of carrot decided to take flight, narrowly avoiding a potted plant. You shared a look with your girlfriend before bursting into laughter, the sounds of merriment bouncing off the compound walls.

The culinary escapades continued with a pancake batter that defied gravity, flour turning the kitchen into a winter wonderland, and Natasha's fiery hair acquiring a snowy halo. Misjudged salt levels led to a dish that could rival Bruce's green mode in intensity, yet you both sampled it with mock seriousness, laughter punctuating each bite.

Then came the pièce de résistance: Natasha's attempt at a flambe. You were aware that it was a bit overboard for a person who sucked in the kitchen, but this is Natasha Romanoff we're talking about. Flames soared higher than anticipated, setting off the smoke alarm and triggering another round of giggles. You were so lucky the others were away or Tony would've nagged your ears off.

Through the chaos, Natasha's initial frustration gave way to shared amusement. "Who knew cooking could be such an adventure?"

As you both sat down to a table adorned with unconventional yet oddly charming (and slightly charred) dishes, Natasha couldn't help but smile. "Maybe chaotic cooking isn't so bad when shared with the right person."

Raising your glass in a toast, you grinned. "To culinary chaos and spoiling Tony's equipment."

"And that's why I'm sticking to my PB&Js"

________

[ken-dom]

Prioritise Pleasure

Lars Lindstrom x gn!reader

1.6k words

Summary: You help an embarrassed Lars learn to enjoy pleasure and embrace his desires (or, you want to make him cum but he’s nervous about it)

Author’s notes: this little fic was inspired by an idea from @ken-f-cker, encouraged by @hollandstrophyhusband, supported by @heresthestorymorningglory and exists because I just can’t leave this poor man alone. On that note, if anyone wants a part 2 of this with afab!reader, let me know! The title is taken from the album name of one of my Lars songs 🫶

Warnings/content: nsfw, hand job, subby Lars, dubious consent (relating to his orgasm), crying, praise

Lars felt so soft and warm beneath you, your leg hooked comfortably over his knee and your head resting on his slowly rising and falling chest where you listened to the steady rhythm of his contented heart. Your fingers toyed with the hem of his sweater and now and again you heard his heart jump when your skin met his under all those layers he wore.

His arm was wrapped firmly around your shoulders, strong and secure. Lars was stronger than even he knew, and butterflies soared in your stomach every time he displayed it, even in a subtle way like this. He made you feel safe.

You could have stayed like that forever, but everything must come to an end eventually, and the ending here was unexpected but actually very welcome.

Lars kissed the top of your head after you’d made him laugh with a silly joke. The warmth of his lips pressed to your hair was momentary, and he hadn’t even really realised he’d done it, but something in the air immediately shifted at that small affection and before you had a chance to really even process it, you found yourself sliding up his chest to meet his soft lips with your own.

He gasped when you pulled back for breath, diving forward, his head hovering above the pillow to smash his lips back onto yours with a fervour you’d only ever seen in him when he’d taken his temper out on the unsuspecting logs outside.

Lips sealed to yours, he hungrily sucked your tongue into his mouth, fingertips driving into your arms to keep you still above him while he eagerly explored your mouth.

Even with him laid beneath you, the force of his kiss was dizzying. You braced yourself with a steady palm against his chest, hiking your knee up further to steady yourself.

You felt Lars shudder, and with a whine so quiet you almost missed it, the kiss came to a jarring (and disappointing) halt.

You pushed yourself up further to see what was the matter, and as you manoeuvred, your thigh slipped down a little, and you felt it. The unavoidable, solid length between Lars’s thighs, pressed against your leg.

You stared down at him in awe, his eyes squeezed shut, kiss-swollen lips parted to let out shaky, uneven breaths, cheeks glowing red… and you wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. And to make him moan this time.

You pushed your thigh higher between his legs, pressing perfectly against his clothed cock, and, writhing against you, he whimpered with each trembling breath, the sound a simultaneous beg for more while chastising himself for wanting it.

‘Lars?’ you cooed softly, gently placing your palm to his burning cheek, which seemed to calm him somewhat.

He stopped bucking up against you and his face scrunched up with frustration and embarrassment, but he nodded and let out another nervous little whine of acknowledgement.

‘Hey, it’s ok… see?’

You slid the hand caressing his face down over his sweater, feeling his breath catch, and lower until you were cupping the bulge in his trousers.

Lars let out a stream of quick breaths, rendered unable to move. Had he ruined everything with his untimely bout of arousal? And why did it feel so good?

‘Lars, I’m ok with this… are you?’

He only blinked rapidly in response, so lost in a haze of pleasure and panic that he barely heard your words while he tried to process all the new feelings swirling around inside him.

With one swift stroke of your palm to bring him back to you, you tried again; ‘Lars, do you want this?’

He nodded sharply. ‘Mmhmm-’

He couldn’t manage to formulate words right now, not with your hand on his twitching, leaking cock. But you understood.

You rolled your wrist again, rubbing a steady, continuous rhythm over his length through the thick fabric of his trousers, your movements slow and careful, and his back arched off the bed with a low groan.

‘Easy, baby,’ you soothed, slowing a little to get him used to the feeling before your skin met his. He looked like he might cum any second and as hot as that might be, you wanted to give him something to remember.

‘I’m gonna get these trousers unfastened, alright?’

Another quick nod from Lars, and another hum.

You made mindful work of freeing his straining cock from the confines of his trousers, opening them up just enough to slip your hand inside his underwear, not wanting to overwhelm him with nudity on top of everything else. There would be plenty of time for that later.

He smiled when you settled beside him, but as your warm fingers slipped past the elastic of his underwear and wrapped loosely around his cock, he cried out a high pitched, ‘Ahh!’ and began rutting his hips up to meet the gentle massaging of your fist.

‘Does that feel good?’ you whispered, watching his face contort in bliss.

‘Y-yes,’ he managed, ‘f-feels… so… ohhh- mmmh-’

‘You’re doing so well for me,’ you praised, swiping your thumb over his already oozing tip to collect a satisfyingly thick pearl of precum and smear it down his length.

‘N-never- I’ve never- oh!-’

His head flew back into the pillow, fists grabbing desperately at the duvet beneath him.

He’s trying not to cum, you thought with a smirk.

‘I- I’ve never- ohhh-’ he tried again, struggling against the crashing waves of pleasure overpowering his ability to think clearly enough to finish a sentence.

‘It’s alright,’ you soothed, ‘I know. I’ve got you.’

You watched Lars closely as you worked your hand carefully, memorising every flicker of pleasure over his soft features, every needy little sound that escaped his parted lips, every desperate little thrust of his hips. His hair had fallen over his forehead in loose, messy strands, and his eyes had turned delightfully dark in the shadow of it.

You could feel him tensing, each muscle in his body rapidly switching from relaxed to taut to relaxed again; his release was close. You pumped faster, almost frantically, to get him there, and his hand flew to your wrist.

‘Mmh… I’m- ohh! Oh, no, please, I’m gonna… s-stop… stop, please, before I-’

‘Cum for me, Lars,’ you encouraged, making him shudder as you slowed again to the gentle pace that seemed to drive him crazy.

He was so deliciously sensitive, responding just how you’d hoped to the sensual rhythm of long, slow strokes.

A strangled cry tore from his throat as he rolled his hips in time with your ministrations. ‘No, n-no, I can’t, I-’

‘It’s alright, you’re safe, I’ve got you,’ you reminded him. ‘Cum.’

‘N-no- I- I shouldn’t, I- stop! Oh!- ah!- ohh-ughhhh-nnmmmh!’

The strong fingers wrapped around your wrist squeezed tighter, burning your skin in their searing grip, but you managed to keep up the rhythm of your fist until he couldn’t fight his climax any longer and you finally brought him off, pumping just a little harder as his orgasm ripped through his body.

Lars’s hands flew to his face, covering his pleasure-pained expression as he thrashed against the bed, spilling and spilling his release up out of his underwear, staining the hem of his sweater and coating your hand.

His chest heaved with loud, ragged breaths as he came down from his high, trembling as his cock softened and twitched with aftershocks.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whined under his breath the moment you pulled your hand out of his underwear, ‘I’m so sorry!’

You gently guided his hands down from his tear-stained face and wiped his eyes with tender fingertips.

You saw his lip tremble, so you leant in to press your own lips to his again.

‘Lars,’ you breathed as you pulled away, ‘you did so good for me, baby.’

His eyes, big and round and wet, stared into yours semi-hopefully. ‘I… I did?’

‘You did. And I think you needed that, didn’t you?’

His cheeks flushed somehow redder, and he averted his gaze, nodding. ‘I’ve never… never been… touched like that before. I was worried you wouldn’t want me to… y’know, so I felt kind of nervous letting go. I'm sorry about the mess.’

‘Are you kidding? I wanted to make you cum the moment I laid eyes on you.’

Lars squeezed his eyes shut, unable to believe what you were saying and mildly embarrassed by your bluntness. You really thought of him that way the whole time?

‘Listen to me. You never, ever, need to apologise for enjoying pleasure, alright?’

His eyebrows raised as he gazed across at you, awe-filled eyes still glossy. ‘Really?’

‘Really.’

He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth before he spoke again. ‘So, uhm…’ he cleared his throat, ‘if I wanted to make you feel like that…?’

‘You can. And you will. When you’re ready.’

Lars nodded, brow furrowing as he fell into deep thought.

‘It’s alright. When the time comes, I’ll guide you, ok?’

Lars’s concern softened into a smile. The Lars you were used to.

‘Ok,’ he agreed.

You propped yourself up on an elbow to assess the gorgeous mess he’d made, core clenching at the dishevelled state of him, laid out with his legs spread, trousers unfastened, underwear damp with his seed, sweater stained, hair mussed, face hot. You needed to remember him in this moment. He was beautiful.

‘Now, how about a bath?’

‘W-will you join me?’ Lars muttered, feeling bold but still unsure, fighting the sleepiness that had begun to pull at his eyes with all the strength he had.

The grin that spread across your face was answer enough, but you nodded anyway, and he briefly buried his face into your chest, giggling sweetly, unable to believe his luck.

[arisewanekosuki]

TLH-Extra-: You're the brightest star for me (Aether x Fem!Reader)

Small spoiler from Simulanka World Quest

When your group was helping the Prinncess Cimest and Faurobert you never thought that at some point you all would go flying.

When the relic started to glow and started to soar in the air you didn't expect for your feet to lose ground underneath them. You got scared by this but thankfully Aether quickly reached for your hand, smiling. -"Everything is alright." and with that he managed to calm you down.When you flew from the cave, your breath was taken away. Simulanka looked so beautiful. Some origami animals were waving at you, excited to see your group. This felt like you're truly in some lovely fairytale. The night sky was wonderful, you're not sure when you started to laugh. Looking at Aether to ask if he sees this all, what you didn't expect was that he was already facing you. That soft look and smile, like you're the most beautiful view here, made your cheeks warm. You two started to fly higher, tightening your hold on Aether's hand you screamed and then started to laugh again. The blonde traveler felt so happy to see you enjoy it, if his wing wouldn't be taken away he would gladly show you Teyvat or any world from the sky. When you started to laugh he joined too. For the first time in so long he felt so truly happy, it felt like it's only him, you and stars. But he wondered... Is it alright for him to forget about his beloved sister for a moment? This made him stop laughing. Feeling awful for just enjoying the moment. And then something splashed his face with water. It was you. You both are flying up to the waterfall. You giggled. -"Don't space out or you will end up hitting a tree!!" -"You think so? Because for me it seems..." -"Wa-?!" you were brought closer to Aether, thanks to him you avoided a branch that would hit your face. -"...You are the one to hit the tree!" -"Not as long as you're by my side~" you smiled cheekily and the golden haired boy laughed at that. He hopes that Lumine will forgive him that at this moment he wants to think only about you.

---- Sorry it's very short, tbh lately my head is too empty to finish longer fics T_T I hope everyone enjoy their time in Simulanka!! c:

[moonlightndaydreams]

fem!reader x Jisung (skz) x Seongwha (ateez)

Look. It seems I have a type. Black hair and undercuts. Chokers. A little emo. So I believe a threesome scenario is required.

CW: Really Short. Threesome f x m x m, p in v, oral, double pen two holes (it's me ok, double pen is almost compulsory in my fics).

"Baby, you take Soengwha's cock so well." Jisung coos in your ear while he gently presses his fingers against your tongue. You moan, and suck on his digits like the good girl they say you are.

They've got you naked across the expensive couch in the expensive hotel room, whilst they both remain fully dressed - save for their delicious cocks that protrude from where their trousers are open.

You cervix is being hit just right, and as you glance down you lock eyes on Seongwha. Possessed. That's the only way to describe the intense look on his beautiful face. All he wants to do is pleasure his pretty little girl.

Jisung continues to whisper words of encouragement, as he gently fucks your mouth with his fingers. You suckle them and your fingers find your nipples and pinch them hard. Jisung groans at the sight and shoves his fingers into your mouth more aggressively.

You can't get enough.

It was supposed to be a one time thing. These two men screamed "fuck boy" when you first met them. With their jet black hair and undercuts, and self-assured expressions, you thought it would be just a fun ride.

But you soon learned they were just as much sweethearts as they were fuck boys, and one night turned into a casual arrangement of sporadic hookups. Now you meet every Friday night at this hotel for toe curling sex, followed by sweet cuddles and breakfast.

But right now there is only one thing you want to eat. Your hand tries to find Jisung's cock. You need him close too, and you really wish he'd hurry up and push it down your throat.

"Want my cock, baby?" Jisung pulls his saliva coated fingers from your mouth and replaces them with his delicious, throbbing cock.

Yes. Now you're complete. Filled up by both your lovers.

"You're so tight... so wet. Listen to how wet you are." Seongwha pants and furrows his brow. He's close. He thought he'd be able to hold off for longer, but seeing you with your mouth wrapped around his friend's dick? It's too much. You are addicting to him. The more he sees you, the more he fucks you, the deeper he's falling.

Jisung isn't much better. He knows as soon as your tongue presses on the underside of his shaft, and your lips grip tightly around his girth, that he will explode at any given moment.

Of course you are all going to go again. And again. Drawing orgasm after orgasm from each other. They love covering you in their cum, and you love having it plastered all over your body. You'd let them do anything. That's how bad you've got it.

Out of nowhere, you abruptly push the two men from your holes and sit up. They look at you with concern, wondering if they hurt you.

"I want you both in me at the same time." You declare. "Standing up." You add.

After some prep and cautious penetration, it isn't long until you're pulling them closer, urging them deeper. You lean back against Han's chest, arm wrapped around the back of his neck and fingers holding on to his choker as he fills your ass so satisfyingly. Your other hand is latched on Seongwha's choker too. He buries his face into your neck, grunting as he fucks into your cunt.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as their whispers of praise and adoration make you grip them even tighter as you soar higher and higher.

"That's our pretty girl."

"Come for us, baby."

"You're so tight around our cocks."

"You take us so well."

But the words that take you to the stars and leave you sobbing from such an intense release?

"We love you, baby. Be ours forever."

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @xxkissesforchanniexx @starr-lvst @queenmea604 @queen-in-the-shadows @bethanysnow @newhope8 @vanillacupcakefrosting @3rachasdomesticbanana @fun-fanfics @palindrome969 @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @yaorzu-blog @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @everythingboutkpop @jiminssluttyminx