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delusional-day-dreamer · 2 months

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Last Friday Night - n.m

‣ nika muhl x reader!

‣ paige version of this fic

‣ wc: 1953; sorry this is so short and lowkey not that good?

‣‣ synopsis: you and nika have kept your relationship on the dl for a while now, but what happens when your inebriated selves slip up on kk’s live? pretend the ncaa's lift on cannabis for athletes happens before the start of the 23-24 season! (so sorry for the inactivity but I just got back from camp and am ready to feed y'all)

‣‣‣ a/n: so i actually thought of this fic idea when i tried a weed pen for the first time (it's legal in ca) and i passed out with half my clothes on, no fan, forgot to brush my teeth and take my makeup off, and accidentally left a small heater on in my room that ran for four hours and turned my room into a furnace before my mom came in and turned it off and woke me up to yell at me 😊!

8:42 am

To say that you and Nika were in trouble by the events of last night was a little bit of an understatement. Both of your phones were blowing up by your respective coaches, teammates, close friends, and all of your social media accounts.

As you scrolled through your tiktok, text messages, instagram tags, and just about everything else on your phone while laying next to Nika's sleeping figure in her bed, it only reaffirmed one thing in your head.

You and Nika majorly fucked up.

12:07 am; where it all went wrong

With your volleyball season and Nika's basketball season being in their respective peaks during this time of year, you had barely gotten a chance to spend time with your girlfriend alone. The two of you were either travelling for away games, at practice, in class, hanging out with your friends or teammates, or busy studying. Needless to say, you missed Nika. A lot.

Which, combined with the weed pen you were hitting periodically, loosened your inhibitions to a whole new level inside of Ted's fairly crowded bar.

It wasn't jam-packed, but there was a decent crowd of older college students for a Friday night in October, especially since Halloween was soon to be approaching in two weeks.

Normally, you and Nika weren’t big on PDA, at most you would hold hands or give small pecks around the team, considering the fact that the two of you kept your relationship very much on the down low, not so much a secret as very private. You never denied any allegations but basically never posted together on your own, unless the two of you ended up in the background of someone else’s pictures.

Social media had a lot of speculation, edits, rumors, etc, surrounding the two of you, as you had no connection to the team as a volleyball player yet still hung out with them regularly. But either way, you and Nika always just minded your own business and kept everything very hush hush. Except for tonight.

Nika was sort of sober, she had done two shots with some of the other girls while you mostly just smoked a few times, not wanting to get super high, but just enough to let the tingly sense of giggly euphoria wash over you.

Yet one thing you failed to consider when choosing weed over alcohol for tonight was the fact that it made you incredibly horny. That, combined with the fact that you and Nika hadn’t spent any time together in the last three weeks, let alone have sex, were the leading factors of tonight.

The rest of the basketball team was spread throughout the bar, some were at a table not far from the two of you, messing around on KK's live, while others were dancing, drinking, or mingling with their other friends.

Which left you and Nika alone, squished together in the corner of the bar top. You were leaning with your back against the wall, standing in between Nika's spread legs from her position facing you atop the stool. Her hands were holding onto your bare thighs, occasionally removing her left to take a small sip of her drink before dutifully returning to your legs.

"I'm just saying Niks, we could definitely sneak out without anyone noticing, everyone's too busy doing their own thing," you attempted to convince your stubborn girlfriend, sweetening the notion by rubbing your hands up and down her jean-clad thighs.

As D1 athletes, it was obvious that the two of you had toned and muscular bodies, but one of Nika's features you found most attractive were her muscular thighs she built from her time in the gym and on the court, especially the way they would wrap around your head while eating her out.

"We'll leave soon bebo don't worry. Besides," Nika leaned into your ear, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "I already promised I would make up the last three weeks to you tonight yeah? What's another hour ljubavi?"

You bit your bottom lip as Nika pulled back, thudding your head on the wall behind you as your eyes trailed over the small smirk Nika held, now using her fingers to draw small circles on your thigh.

"Fuck, you're driving me crazy like this Nika," you reached your right hand over to the bar top, desperate to take another hit of your pen to ease the influx of horny thoughts running through your mind.

Before you could bring the vape up to your mouth, Nika grabbed your waist and pulled you into her, and despite her sitting position, you still only had a good two inches over her.

"You're not gonna share bebo?" Her teasing eyes gleamed up at you as she licked her lips in anticipation.

You immediately knew what she meant by that, the two of you doing it all the time whenever you're smoking or vaping together (y'all have seen the watermelon pic of her and let's be frl, they're college students, it's NORMAL).

You smirked at her suggestion, leaning into her before taking a deep inhale of the weed, allowing as much of the smoke to enter your lungs as possible before using your left hand to grab Nika's jaw, pressing your open lips against hers to shotgun the smoke into her mouth.

You didn't even wait to finish exhaling all of the smoke and taking another breath before enveloping Nika's lips into yours hungrily, eagerily gripping her waist with the hand still holding the vape.

You kissed her passionately, deepening the kiss as you slipped your tongue into her mouth, the mixture of the rum and coke she was drinking earlier and the earthy taste of weed making your head spin.

You continued to make out for a few minutes, gently pulling away while tugging her bottom lip with your teeth, gazing down at her closed eyes and blissful expression.

"You finally ready to go home Niks?" You teased, licking your swollen lips at her finally needy expression.

"We're getting the fuck out of here, right now," she rushed out, flagging down the bartender to pay off her tab and the second she got her credit card in hand, interlocked her fingers with yours to drag you out of the bar.

Completely unbeknownst to the two of you, KK and her live had been at the table diagonal to you the whole time, and while her body covered the two of you behind her while sitting, the only shield you had quickly disappeared when she stood up, leaning over the table to steal some of Ice's food when it had been set down, completely exposing you to her two thousand viewers, who were no doubt screen-recording.

The camera clearly caught your lips against Nika's blowing smoke into her mouth before leaning in to kiss her, and despite the two of you being on screen for less than a minute, it was enough to cause an internet commotion.

KK's eyes scanned over the comments as she sat back down, blocking your frames as she shoved a few fries in her mouth. Her eyes widened at the sudden influx of comments about you and Nika, leaning in to figure out what was going on.

"I, what? There's no way y'all," she whispered to the table of Paige, Ice, Carol, and Jana. Paige leaned in from KK's right side, trying to figure out what had happened.

Covering the camera slightly, KK, and everyone else, turned around to witness you and Nika's little makeout session ending and the flirty whispers exchanged.

"Unfortunately tonight's live is gonna have to end here girly pops, and if you think you saw something, no you didn't!" KK exclaimed as she quickly turned off the live, the table erupting with laughter at the situation. The whole team had placed bets on how long it would take you and Nika to fumble, and half of them had just lost a hundred dollars at your shennagains.

The walk back to Nika's apartment was brief, filled with flirty touches and short pecks to tide the two of you over until you finally entered home, Nika immediately pushing you up against the front door, moving her lips down your neck and around your collarbones with gentle grazes of her teeth and soothing licks.

"Niks please, stop teasing," you breathed out, grasping Nika's hair tightly from her scalp with your hand, pulling her face up to yours to gaze down at her with a pleading expression.

"Aw, my poor bebo," she cooed, mocking your horny desperation for her, but thankfully Nika wasn't that cruel.

She led you over to her bedroom, slamming her bedroom door behind her as she pulled your shirt over your head, unfastening the bra clipped behind your back all while reconnecting your lips as she laid you down onto the bed.

You moaned into her mouth as her long fingers bunched your skirt up by your waist, rubbing gentle circles on your clit through your panties.

Before you even had the chance to ask for more, she slid the fabric to the side, running her fingers through your slick before inserting two of her fingers, curling them up into you as you let go of her lips to throw your head back, moaning loudly at her ministrations.

"Oh my god Nika, right there baby, fuck," your leg wrapped around her waist tightly as you clenched around her fingers, bucking your hips up to match her movements. Your hands making their way around her neck and back, pressing her body firmly up against yours.

Normally you wouldn't be so close to finishing within a few minutes, but the weed from earlier created a delirious fog that clouded your brain and with the way Nika's fingers were both pressing into your g-spot and rubbing your clit, your orgasm was quickly approaching.

"Fuck I'm so close Niks, please just need a little more," you whimpered into her ear, moving your lips down to nip at the sweet spot under her ear.

Her other hand responded quickly to your begs, twisting and tugging firmly at your nipple as she mindlessly muttered every dirty thought that crossed her mind, knowing how deeply her praises affected you.

"Doing so good for me bebo, always such a good girl. You gonna be my good girl and come for me? Just let go for me ljubavi."

Her words were the final thing to push you over the edge, the tight coil in your stomach snapping as you immediately arched your back into Nika, an endless string of moans and curses falling from your mouth as you let your orgasm wash over you fully.

"God Nika, I don't think I can even feel my legs right now," you giggled in her embrace as she slowly eased her fingers out of you, sucking the remnants of your orgasm off them before wrapping them around your waist, laying you over her as she laid onto her back.

"Hm, fucked you that good huh?" She smirked, using her clean(ish) hand to brush the slightly sweaty strands of hair that had fallen in front of your flushed face.

"I don't know why you're getting so cocky Mühl, haven't even had my turn with you yet," you teased, running your fingers over her stomach, tugging at the remaining fabric on her body.

"Thought you just said you can't even feel your legs bebo?"

"Good thing I don't need them to fuck you then yeah? Don't you think my fingers and mouth will be enough for you Niks," you retorted, shuffling your body down the mattress so you could finally have your way with Nika.

9:13 am

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laurfilijames · 7 months

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Bulletproof

Pairing: Jax Teller x female reader

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Mentions of being shot through a bulletproof vest. Bruises and welts. Swearing. Unprotected intercourse.

Summary: After a close call in a gunfight, Jax turns to you to remind him of all the things in life worth living for.

A/N: I'm sorry I couldn't help it. This is a teeny bit angsty and full of feelings. I needed to write something "short and sweet" (it's neither of those 🤣) to get my writing back on track, and well, here's this... enjoy!!

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The buzz of your phone that sat on the nightstand beside your head woke you from a decent sleep, taking you a few minutes to register it was happening for real and not in a dream, a soft moan passing your lips as you reached over for it and hit the button to accept the call.

“Hello?” you answered, your voice groggy and unable to disguise your sleep, your eyes too heavy and blurred to have read on the screen who was on the other end.

“Hey, it’s me,” Jax’s voice registered in your ear, making you become a little more alert and sit up while running your hand over your hair.

“I’m on my way over,” he explained, his tone short and wired, like he was on edge or adrenaline was pumping through him.

Glancing over at the alarm clock, you simply agreed, not asking any questions, knowing if he was calling you and needing to see you at this hour that something more than just sex was on his mind.

The roar of his Harley came through before he hung up, and flinging the covers off while swinging your legs to the side of the bed, you did the same.

You walked through to the front door, wearing only his Reaper t-shirt that had become your nightly staple, flicking the bolt to unlock it as you leaned against the frame, peeling back the curtain that covered the small window to look out onto the dark street as if he would be rolling in any second despite him having just left to get there.

Letting your eyelids close, you continued to lean, wrapping your arms around yourself to try to keep some of the lingering warmth from your bed on your skin, partly hoping that Jax would be tired and ready for sleep when he arrived.

The familiar rumble of his engine sounded in the distance and grew louder with each second, and an automatic smile tugged at your lips, your heart picking up pace just as his motorcycle did to quicker close the gap between him and you.

You watched through the window, your fingers toying with the thin fabric as you held the curtain aside, seeing him roughly push down the kickstand with his white sneakers before quickly standing up and dismounting his bike, unfastening his helmet at the same time.

The way he was rushing made your pulse hammer, his deliberate strides a clear display of his desperation, and you opened the door for him before he blew through it and knocked it off its hinges, his expression a mix of frenzy and relief as his blue eyes landed on you.

Gloved hands gripped your cheeks roughly, pulling you into him equally as much as he pressed himself into you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss so hard it stole your breath.

A slightly surprised gasp blew out of your mouth when he parted from you and gave you an opportunity to get air back into your lungs, your eyes searching his features with concern as you took in the sweat clinging to his reddened cheeks, his hair damp and darkened.

His chest rose and fell sharply, and tearing off his gloves, he raked his long fingers that held a home for his chunky rings through his messy tresses, exhaling a shaky breath as he looked down at the floor and then back up at you.

“Jax, what happened?”

He shook his head and chuckled falsely, pulling his bottom lip in his teeth before looking at you with what he must have thought was a convincing expression.

“I’m fine.”

His eyebrows sat high on his forehead and brought out the creases on it as he stared at you, and when you held his gaze almost challengingly, he blinked away the moisture that you caught building up in them and moved into you again, his sigh emptying out into your mouth as he kissed you slower this time, but with equal passion.

Your hands slipped up beneath his kutte, the heat of his skin pouring off of him as you rubbed his back in soothing motions, the act comforting yourself as much as it was him.

The familiar taste and smell of smoke assaulted your nose and transferred onto your tongue, knowing whatever stress he was under right now had caused him to light up one cigarette after the other to try to settle his nerves.

As your kiss faded out, Jax rubbed his nose against the side of yours, his breath hot on your cheek, the stickiness of his skin transferring onto yours.

He leaned his forehead against yours, breathing for a moment while he let his hands roam up over your bum and onto the small of your back, bringing your body even closer to his.

Swaying slightly on the spot, he nuzzled his face into yours even more, a moment of softness before he met your lips again, claiming you in another kiss that started slow and quickly increased in fervor.

His breathing became laboured, struggling to draw in enough air as he kissed you harder and with more desperation, his hands gripping at your flesh beneath his worn shirt.

You could feel his hard cock pressing into you as it strained against his jeans, making you rub yourself on it a couple of times with a teasing grind of your hips, your fingers moving down his stomach to work at the button and zipper while he shrugged out of his kutte.

It landed carelessly on the floor beside you, and you couldn’t mistake the slight wince on his face before it disappeared in his hoodie as he lifted his arms and pulled it over his head, immediately moving back to capture your lips again.

He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his jeans, walking forward to force you back and further into your house, your hand rubbing him through his boxers before diving inside the waistband to take hold of his cock, stroking the hot, velvety skin of his length that made you moan into his mouth and him push harder on yours.

Both of you blindly made your way toward your bedroom, only pausing your kisses briefly to peel the white t-shirt that clung to his body off of him, your breath knocking out of you as he slammed you against the wall and began lifting the hem of the shirt still covering your body.

Once your naked form was available to him, he trailed his lips down your neck and along your collarbone while his hands smoothed all along your waist, one moving to your breasts where his fingers plucked one of your peaked nipples, the other traveling downward to slip between your legs.

“Jax…” you breathed, your tone needy and filled with lust, the sensation of his fingers entering and withdrawing from your slick hole making your eyes close and your head knock back on the drywall.

After losing yourself in ecstasy for a couple of minutes, you refocused, needing him more than ever, your thumbs hooking in the band of his boxers to tear them down his legs.

Jax took your hand and turned to lead you the short distance to your room, giving you a view of his back where your eyes were drawn to different spots of dark colouring that weren’t part of the ones that made up the large tattoo that covered almost all of it.

Peppered between the image of the Reaper and letters that spelled out ‘California’ were round bruises, his skin raised with welts, and your heart sank in realization of what had caused them; the impact of the bullets that had hit him unable to be disguised even with the protection of kevlar.

You instinctively reached out to lightly trace each one, counting three in total, a mix of emotions rushing through you that were half grateful and half terrified.

“I’m fine.” He repeated the same lie as before, glancing back at you as he paused in his steps and turned to face you.

You dove into him, wrapping your shaky arms around him to hug him so tight you didn’t care if it hurt, feeling his arms encase you in return and his lips press multiple times on the top of your head.

A sourness crept up your restricted throat, your guts twisting almost painfully at the thought of one of those bullets striking a place the bulletproof vest hadn’t been covering, and you frantically began kissing him everywhere you could reach, starting on his chest and making your way up his neck, your hands moving to cup his cheeks where your thumbs smoothed back and forth on his blond scruff. Your lips met again, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths as you transferred all your worry and grief into a display of love, his cock nudging at your core to remind you of what it was he needed right now.

The oncoming tears stung when you squeezed your eyelids together tightly, one slipping out and down your cheek as you retrained your focus on the feel of his tongue tangling with yours instead, the simplicity of needing to just be with him beginning to outweigh anything else.

You finally made it into your room, sitting on the bed and scooching yourself back to lay down with spread legs as he settled between them and sank overtop of you, continuing to kiss you with as much ardor that the skin around your mouth was already beginning to feel raw.

His knee pressed up on your thigh to guide it higher, spreading you out further as he covered your body completely with his, his fingers running along your scalp to send shivers across your skin.

You adjusted your hips, angling yourself to allow for his leaking head to push through your folds, lingering with just the tip of him inside you that somehow already made you feel full.

The skin on his back was tacky as you ran your hands gently up and down it, feeling his muscles flex as he began to move against you, his cock stretching you out inch by inch as he slowly pushed all the way in.

It was ironic; catching glimpses of the silver shell casing that hung from the chain around his neck in the light shining in through the window as it wagged and glided along your chest, filling the space between your hearts that hammered furiously and proved his vitality as if it hadn’t been threatened.

As soon as Jax had pulled into your driveway he felt better, the need to see you and be with you at the forefront of his mind, having bolted out of the clubhouse the minute he had changed out of his tac vest and clothes that were sprayed with holes from the gunshots he could still hear going off in his head.

Now that he had felt your lips against his and the softness of your skin beneath his palms, he was filled with an appreciation for you that he knew he took for granted too many times before, the relief he felt at being with someone who made him feel alive after a close call with death sobering him in a harsh bite of reality.

The way you made him feel was undeniable, giving him a vigor that was too often misplaced and diluted even though you showed him a brighter side to all the darkness that surrounded him, his lack of commitment to anyone but his club wrongly applicable even to you.

He thrusted harder into you, deepening his strokes as he peeled his mouth from yours to watch his cock pump in and out of you, the sound of your pleasure coming out in beautiful whimpers and soft moans while requesting more from him reiterating every reason why he came here tonight in the first place.

Jax dove against your lips again, needing to kiss you in order to stop himself from saying things that he feared may only be a result of how fucking scared he had been earlier, but deep down knowing the words that portrayed how he felt weren’t coming from a place of fear.

It felt different. Crazed and desperate and meaningful, the way he fucked you hinting at something more intent and unwavering than usual.

Sex with Jax was always mind-numbing and intense, but you never let yourself get too far into things knowing he could be gone before you even woke the next day and carrying on without thinking twice about it meaning anything more, his nonchalance always reminding you to take nothing from it other than pleasure.

Gone.

The potency of that little word had your eyes burning again, burrowing an emptiness in your chest that ached to be filled by anything he was generous enough to give.

There were never any labels put on what you were to each other or what this was, but the possibility of losing him at any moment made you desperate to show him what he meant to you, your fingers digging into the flesh on his upper arms so hard as if adding marks of your own on his body would make him stay with you forever.

You reached your face upward to press harder against his mouth, happy when he reciprocated and drove his tongue deeper inside yours, the long, rolling motions of his hips continuing, only now with more calculated force.

Heat bubbled within you, building up into that familiar tingle that taunted to be chased, every nerve in you warning of what drew nearer with each pump and drag of his long cock in and out of you.

The way his hands roamed your body in a calm, but needy way had your mind spinning, like the more he touched you the more it grounded and convinced him that he was still here to enjoy something this good; the gravity of today in no hurry to lose its effectiveness.

Jax paused for a moment, rubbing his hand over your forehead as he searched your eyes for permission or assurance or something more that scared even you, the sound of your panting breaths the only thing audible in the dark quiet of your room. He dipped down to brush your lips again, his scruff holding onto the sweat that had effectively coated every part of his body, lightly teasing with a softer kiss before resuming the purposeful tempo of his hips, the silence between you able to voice that you were both ready to find your high together.

Letting your bodies say what your words couldn't, you met his pace, grinding and rolling deliberately in time with him, the need to help him find his release with the use of your body seeming more important tonight than it ever had.

Jax gripped your face tightly, his fingers squeezing your jawline in an almost frantic way, groaning into your mouth desperately as a signal of his climax.

His thrusts never faltered, continuing to pound you while his hot cum filled you up in aggressive spurts, throwing you into your own orgasm as your clit rubbed against the coarse hairs on his groin. The feel of his cock sliding his thick seed in and out of you drew out your high, prolonging every blissful spark and shudder that tore through your body, the way his sweaty form laid heavily on top of yours a necessary weight that helped you stay rooted in the moment.

He remained buried inside you while you kissed, catching your breaths by sharing each other’s until he slipped from between your legs and crashed onto the covers beside you, his arm falling over his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

Despite having just been as close to him as you possibly could be, you felt a vacancy and longing for him, glancing over at him where you watched him close his eyes, his chest rising and falling quickly as he drew in sharp breaths.

His necklace fell to the side from where it rested on his pec, hanging in his armpit as he continued to breathe, and you carefully picked it up between your fingers, the silver cold against them and a stark contrast to the heat that radiated off his body.

Even though his eyes remained closed, you couldn’t mistake the pained look on his face, a sort of fear and vulnerability that was rare to see on his features, his mortality shattering the usual invincibility that was layered on falsely by his cockiness.

Your chest felt tight, watching him let everything the adrenaline had prevented him from feeling earlier course through him, and you leaned over and traced your fingertips along the creases beside his mouth before pressing your lips to his, relieved when he didn’t hesitate to kiss you back.

His arms came down to wrap around you, pulling your body to rest more on top of his, his hands carding over your back in a comfortable, soothing way.

You couldn’t recount the times sex with Jax had turned into a quick goodbye between smiling kisses and promises to see each other soon only to have days turn into weeks, convincing yourself and him that this was nothing more than a casual, fun fuck, having to disguise the way your heart ached for him and how many butterflies erupted at the mention of his name alone.

None of that mattered tonight, no longer caring if you let your cards show, the severity of tonight outweighing any need to try to stifle your feelings or bother denying that you felt more for him than you ever intended to let happen.

Jax remained pensive and quiet, his boisterous self clouded by his brush with a graver fate, but with the occasional kiss to the top of your head and the way his heartbeat had steadied in your ear, you knew he was comforted in your embrace.

As you laid entwined in your sheets, your leg hooked over his waist while he held your hand and played with your fingers, interlacing them and listlessly running them through his, you thought how you would never be able to control or guarantee if he would be yours to love forever, the way he lived his reckless life a threat to any sort of assurance.

A soft smile tugged at your lips when Jax shifted slightly lower on the bed to line up your face with his, kissing you slowly and clutching your hand in his where he brought it into his chest.

His nose rubbed against yours a couple of times before he settled his head on your pillow, a quiet hum sounding from his mouth, his blue eyes shining with a vitality and promise that for at least another day, he was yours.

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Please consider reblogging and commenting if you enjoyed reading this story! 💗

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @rhoorl

#jax teller #sons of anarchy #jax teller smut #jax teller x female reader #charlie hunnam #jax teller x reader #sons of anarchy fic #charlie hunnam characters #jax teller fic #samcro

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rush-the-stars · 5 months

Text

AFFECTION'S EDGE: PART II

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|| alpha!suguru getou x omega!afab reader || E/18+ || wc: 6.5k || ao3 || <- part i || part iii -> coming soon || masterlist ||

minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only

━─━────༺༻────━─━

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”

***

Suguru tries to tame you.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

✧ SPRING FEVER collab masterlist ✧

cw: omegaverse, brat taming, mind games, toxic behavior, yandere suguru getou, yandere reader, biting, blood, marking, one slap from the reader to suguru and he sorta likes it, eventual forced feeding, eventual forced bathing in later parts, eventual smut in later parts; masturbation, voyeurism, a blurring of boundaries, consent as punishment?

a/n: this is the second part of my lil series for @lorelune spring fever collab!!

━─━────༺༻────━─━

The mission that Suguru sends you on is to fetch a book.

At first, you are endlessly irritated with him. A book should be far beneath you; he should’ve had one of his lackeys get it for him.

However, upon finally getting your hands on it–after a nasty fight with both curses and other sorcerers–you realize that perhaps the book is rather important.

Firstly, you can’t open it on your own. It’s imbued with cursed energy and locked tight. And secondly, the energy it gives off is strange.

It fills you with a restless, relentless sort of buzz. You feel like a caged beast with it in your presence. You feel like–

You feel a little off-kilter. A little hungry for a fight.

On the third day, you come home.

You let yourself into Suguru’s quarters.

He’s in his study, at his desk, when you barge in and throw the book down onto the desk.

Suguru picks up his gaze.

“You’re back early,” he muses, drinking you in with greedy eyes, “clearly it was no trouble?”

“Hardly.” You snap, “hoping I’d be away for longer?”

A quirk at the corner of his lips, “not at all. In fact, I was impatient for your return.”

Heat whips the back of your neck.

“Come here,” he hums, “let me see you.”

He offers his hand up. He wants you to step around the desk to stand in front of him, you think.

Tentatively, you go to him, round the desk and step up to him. He turns and settles deeper into the desk chair, spreads his legs so that you may even step up between them.

You slide your hand into his slowly.

He pulls you a step closer. And closer still.

“No injuries?” He asks, eyes skimming over your body.

You swallow and shake your head.

“Good,” he sighs and then he pulls a little harder on your hand. And his other hand suddenly hitches around the back of your knee. All it takes is a little effort on his part, and you’re stumbling into his lap.

You throw your hands out to find balance in his broad shoulders, clinging to him, holding yourself out from him.

“Suguru,” you growl in annoyance, fussing, fighting against him a little.

You can feel his smile the moment he dips his face towards the crook of your neck, “did it help to have my scent on you?”

You dig your nails into his shoulders, as if to be spiteful, despite what you say, “it always does.”

He hums, pleased, and drags his nose along your throat again.

He pulls away to look at you, bristled and embarrassed.

“Go bathe,” he tells you, “and wear my clothes. I want you to stay here tonight.”

You jerk back a little, surprised, “and if I refuse?”

“I wasn’t asking.” He says flippantly.

You scoff, moving to stand, “I’m going back to my room.”

His hand squeezes your waist tightly and prevents you from leaving him, from separating yourself from him, “I see the time away hasn’t made you any softer.”

“Let me go,” you push at his chest, “let me up.”

Instead, he catches one of your wrists, holding it to his chest with his large hand. He nearly drowns your hand, overwhelms it entirely.

“Do as I ask, and I’ll let you go.”

You make a noise of irritation, “I won’t share a bed with you.”

“I’ll be good,” he purrs, but even as he says that, you feel his hips flex beneath yours a little, opening, widening his stance.

“I’m not stupid,” you hiss, trying to lift off him a little, but he’s got too tight of a grip on your waist.

“I’ll rub your tense shoulders,” he torments you, and then, his smile grows like that of a fox, “I know you like to sleep in my bed.”

Your heart rabbits in your chest.

“I’ve never slept in your bed,” you snip.

He laughs, low and soft and outright. “There’s no reason to lie now,” he says, languidly leaning back in his seat a little. “You slept in my bed while I was away.”

Your cheeks prickle with warmth, embarrassment.

“I didn’t–”

“I know you’re embarrassed, but don’t lie to me.” He says it seriously, eyes suddenly going colder.

And just like that, you open your mouth—

“I did once.”

Suguru seems pleased, thumb rubbing over the back of your hand that he still has trapped against his chest. “Now you will again.”

You huff. And you understand there is little to win in this case; you could fight harder, snarl and snap and try to leave on your own.

(But there is that horrendously small and foolish part of you that does want to stay. It wants what he has offered you.)

“On one condition.”

“Name it.”

He seems serious in knowing your request—earnest, almost.

Your voice sticks in your throat. You try to form your words carefully, “you won’t do anything—sexual. At all. Not while I’m asleep and—there’s no tricks.”

“What kind of Alpha do you take me for?” Suguru asks innocently and level him with a glare.

“Suguru—“

“No tricks.” He agrees quickly.

“Nothing.” You tell him sternly.

“Not even if you beg for it?”

“I wouldn’t!” You snap, nails flexing back into the meat of his shoulder. The one at his chest bunches in his clothes beneath his own hand.

He laughs a little again, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand to soothe you. “Easy, sweet girl, okay. You have my promise; I won’t do anything sexual. No tricks.”

But the way he says it makes warning bells go off in your mind, distant and wailing. Still, you have his word.

He suddenly takes your chin in hand and guides you to look into his eyes, deeply amethyst, darkly lilac.

“I do mean it.” He says sternly now, and then, “the first time I have you, it will be because you came to me, and begged, with a clear head and open heart.”

You try and jerk your chin from his grasp but he holds tighter, forcing you to stay, “do you understand?”

“I would never—“

“Ah, ah, do you understand?”

“Yes!” You snap and when you jerk away this time, he lets you go. All of you.

You leap from him on unsteady feet, rocking back a little, steadying yourself on the desk.

“Go,” he encourages, “take a bath. And choose any of my clothes you like.”

You swallow hard and glare at him.

“I don’t need your orders.” You grind out.

“Yes, so fearsome you are,” Suguru waves you off and you almost have half a mind to surge back towards him and make him regret saying that. You’re feeling prickly, though, and something inside of you has knocked loose.

You’ve been blaming it on the book.

You’re flushed from the inside out, heated, and frustrated.

You stomp off towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

The bath actually does soothe some of your mood. The bathtub is large and clean; the soaps you used smell faintly of Suguru. The water had been perfect and you’d managed to relax and sink down to your shoulders.

And dressing in his clothes after does more for you than you’re willing to admit. You’re just in an old, soft t-shirt of his. It’s large on your frame and it smells like him, which soothes you in a way that is almost frightening.

When you enter the bedroom, Suguru is not there yet and you assume he is still in his office. You almost hope that he is, that you’ll have time to get comfortable, without his watchful eyes.

You arrange the pillows how you like and when you’re satisfied with your side, you slip beneath the covers and into the cool sheets. You turn and twist a moment, burrowing deeper beneath the blankets, before letting out a little noise of contentment. It slips from you before you can stop it.

And just when you’re beginning to drift off, faintly wondering if Suguru will ever join you, does he finally step into his bedroom. He takes you in and his scent almost changes with it—sweeter, a little darker. You can tell he’s pleased with you.

When he joins you in bed, you go perfectly still. He’s bare chested and you almost want to complain about it—instead, you squirm away from him.

It doesn’t get you far and once he’s beside you, he’s reaching out to lay his hand across the expanse of your waist.

You are about to warn him, bite something out about staying on his side, or to watch himself. But he doesn’t pull you or drag you towards him. He doesn’t roll towards you.

His hand stays, on your waist, drifts to be on your lower back.

The first pass of his hand over your back makes you tense all over, muscles poised to snap or leap away from him. The second, you can feel your breathing tighten up. The third, you realize that this may be it.

You wait, near trembling, as he continues to soothe his hand over your back. Up and down. A slow petting, over the shirt of his you’d worn to bed.

And eventually, you begin to melt; all those tense muscles slowly unwinding.

Then you’re sighing, soft, into the pillow.

Your eyes grow heavy, breath beginning to loosen and even out, slow and deep.

Sleep claims you gently, eases you into its tender embrace, like cooing a baby to sleep, like soothing a stray.

***

In the morning, you wake alone. The bed beside you is empty.

You are almost disheartened to see it. The initial disappointment rears its head, sinks into your stomach, before you try to shoo it away.

But when you listen closely, you can hear him in the kitchen moving about. His footsteps are quiet but there.

Instinctively, the part of you attuned to him, knows he is near.

It soothes you.

You twist a little, throwing some blankets from your body—warmer than usual, a little flushed.

You blame it on the sun streaming through the wide window, the warmth as it seeps into the sheets. You doze again like this, in its beams, covers astray around your legs, curled around one of the several pillows.

In and out of sleep. Hazy, burning flickers of dreams.

When you fully wake again, an hour later, you are even warmer than before.

You feel a little strange. Chilled atop your skin, a little shivery, but so warm from within.

You blame it on nerves; perhaps you don’t want to face Suguru after staying in his bed. Perhaps being away from your own bed has made you anxious, too. As much as you try to hide any of your baser urges, your space is important to you. Your bed is important.

You know you can’t hide from him forever.

More than that, you want water, perhaps. Ice water. You feel parched suddenly. You feel dehydrated.

When you enter the kitchen, you are surprised to find water already out. A bowl of cut up fruit beside it. Suguru is reading in the attached living room.

You look at him. And then at the fruit.

“It’s for you,” he says, without looking up from his book.

You blink at him.

“Why?”

His brows arch upward and he finally pulls his dark eyes away from the page in order to look at you.

“Because you should eat.”

Something inside you, under immense pressure, finally bursts.

“Don’t start doing this shit.” You snap.

Your tone perhaps takes him by surprise. It’s full of vitriol, it’s full of heat and hatred. “Don’t start doing domestic shit for me.”

“And here I was, thinking I’d do something kind after all this tormenting.” He says but it’s really rather amused. Knowing.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” You snarl at him.

He looks you over carefully and something in his face changes—just a small, almost unnoticeable flicker. He asks;

“How do you feel?”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“What did you do?” You accuse suddenly.

“What did I do? Nothing. I cut up a bowl of fruit for you.”

You can feel your threads unwinding, fraying at the edges, and can feel the way it unravels inside you.

Your head is beginning to throb.

Your stomach gives a strange churn.

“That’s not—that’s not true. I feel strange and you did something.” You say and your voice is getting tighter, almost distressed.

“Strange how?” He asks coolly.

“I feel—I feel like I’m sick. Maybe.”

He hums softly.

And then, “it’s your Heat.”

A dull, soft roaring in your ears. You swallow and the sound clicks around in your throat, your head.

“No—“ you start, “there’s no way.”

“I can smell it,” he says, “you’ve been on the cusp of it for some time now.”

You frown and feel for your head with your open palm, warm to the touch. Feverish. You want to squirm out of your own skin.

“I haven’t had one in years—there’s no way.” You say again but your voice sounds thinner, less believable.

Your eyes flash upwards, “you did this.”

Suguru looks back at you blankly, “I can’t force your body into Heat.”

“That’s why you wanted me to stay.” You accuse.

“Perhaps I’m feeling territorial.” He agrees.

“No, you wanted me to stay in hopes of it sparking my Heat—you know an Omega’s Heat can be triggered by an Alpha’s presence sometimes.”

Suguru remains even, almost gentle, “and you know that that can only happen when an Omega has a pre-established and trusted relationship with the Alpha. Only if the Omega—in some way—wants the Alpha in their presence.”

You swallow hard. You feel light headed.

“Alphas can’t just spark the Heat of any random Omega.” He adds, watching you carefully.

“But you were hoping for this!” You snap, feeling thin and worn down suddenly, “you—you wanted this.”

“I was curious if it’d work.” He admits.

“You set me up.” Your voice is higher than usual, more distressed, filled with more concern.

“Now, now—“

“I want to go back to my room.” You demand suddenly, “before—before it gets too late. And I don’t want to see you at all until it’s over. I don’t want to see anyone.” You’re beginning to tremble all over.

You can feel your fear mounting as you stare down the realization that you’re going to have your first Heat in years.

Tears prick your eyes.

“You’re staying here.” Suguru says simply.

“No—“ you bite out, all teeth, all fear and aggression. “I’m getting away from you.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight.” Suguru replies coolly, but there’s a sharp, icy edge in his tone, as if dealing with an unruly and temperamental child.

Immediately, you have the urge to start snarling and yelling and stamping your feet. You feel like the unruly child he is treating you as. You can feel your anger and fear like a bubble in your chest, mounting into something horrible, and you’re terrified to let it burst.

Suguru stands slowly, “you’re spiraling—come here.”

“No,” you snap, wincing back from him.

Suguru holds your gaze.

“Then listen to me carefully.”

Your eyes, glassy with fever and fear, a little too bright, collide with his.

“What did I tell you last night?” He asks slowly.

Your flush worsens. You can feel the heat burn and eat through your cheeks. You want to run and hide, you want to lash out and growl.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Take a breath.”

Despite everything, you take in a shuddering, greedy gulp of air.

“What did I tell you last night?”

You rack your mind, forcing yourself to focus on his voice and breathe. What did he say last night that would be of importance today? Now?

You swallow hard when you realize it.

You pick your head up.

“You wouldn’t—do anything—if I wasn’t in my right mind and I’m not.”

“No,” he agrees, “you aren’t. So I will not touch you sexually—” And then he holds your gaze for too long, “not even when you beg me.”

“I will not beg you—“

“I will hold you and care for you. But I will not give you what you so desperately will want.” He says slowly, carefully.

Blindly, you reach—and for what, you aren’t quite sure, “what about you? Will I spark your Rut?”

“I’ve taken a suppressant and will continue to do so.”

“You planned this,” you say again sharply, “you knew.”

“Would you prefer I not take the suppressant? Would you like to see what happens—will it make it fair for you?” Suguru asks calmly, so lax that it makes your hands ball into tight fists.

Pieces of you war and squabble and fight inside of you, opposing forces, opposing ideas. Part of you wants to force him to suffer, too, part of you is angry and hurt that he wouldn’t want to share his Rut with you.

But it also frightens you. You know what would happen then—aren’t too sure it still won’t happen now.

And you’ve never—

You’ve never shared a heat before. Not with an Alpha, an Omega, or a Beta. You have always ran and hid, tucked yourself into small, dark places, and cried and cried alone, hugging yourself. Weathering your own storm.

You can’t decide if it terrifies you more that you won’t be alone or that you don’t want to be alone.

Despite everything, your bitter rationale wins.

“No,” you bite out. “Take your suppressant. And keep your hands to yourself.”

You turn on your heel and storm back into the bedroom.

You slam the door so hard that it slants cockeyed on its hinges, hanging itself in place at a strange angle.

You throw yourself down onto the bed, shoving your face into the pillow you’d once been sleeping peacefully on, and a frustrated scream rips through your throat.

You can feel the pressure of tears.

You curl around the pillow, hugging it closely with your face still shoved into it. Your tears blur and push past all your resolve, which crumbles to dust the moment you let out the first breath, and it’s part sob.

You can’t even properly name why you’re crying—you’re scared, you think. You’re emotional and frustrated and aching. You feel vulnerable and confused and bitter. You feel needy and delicate. You feel suddenly young and foolish, to be lured here like this, but also to be alone and longing.

You’re hardly alone, though.

You can smell his scent still, all over the bed, all over you.

It soothes you.

It sickens you that it soothes you.

So you cry—you cry, holding onto your pillow for dear life, until you exhaust yourself.

Until sleep claims your feverish body again and you welcome it’s darkness gladly.

***

Pain awakens you.

It’s later in the afternoon now, early evening with the way the sun has paved its course through the sky.

Your Heat has gotten significantly worse.

Your body aches, the chill of the fever, and the sickly warmth of your insides make for an awful combination.

Worst of all, you can feel the pressure most between your legs.

You shift them and realize there’s—

There’s a slick glide against your inner thighs.

Oh, god, you think oh, god, oh god, oh god.

You need—

Water. Something.

Suguru—

Your brain freezes to a halt.

His name spins around your mind.

You half hope he won’t be there that if you leave the bedroom in search of water or—

Suppressants.

You roll to the edge of the bed, a wave of dizziness overcomes you. Despite that, you force yourself to stand on wobbling, fawn legs.

You quietly try to crack the door into the smallest of openings, only a peak, a sliver of light from the other room.

But instantly, you are caught.

“You’re awake finally.” Suguru says, “you should drink water, eat a little.”

You don’t budge at first.

“Do you have more suppressants?”

You watch Suguru’s head tilt.

“It's specific to an Alpha’s Rut—it wouldn’t do anything for you.” He answers, “will you come out?”

“No.” You respond, gripping the knob of the door with curled knuckles, tense fingers.

“Will you let me in?”

“No.”

It’s growled, low and sharp. It echoes a little, charged and bristled. Scared.

You slam the door again. It’s not sitting right on its hinges anymore.

You return to the bed, arranging and fluffing pillows how you like them. You build a small wall of them on all sides of you,

You burrow down into them, settling yourself into the small—nest—you’ve made. You try to take a steadying breath, but all that fills your nose is Suguru’s scent, dark fig and full sandalwood, hints of lush cream and walnut. It’s seductive—almost dreamy. It floats around you like a lure, tempting you. You curl inwards on a pillow again and his smell is stronger here. Deeper. More pungent and twinged with something heavier on the nose, a little more spiced, a scent you can’t place. Something you’d find at the nape of his neck.

Without thinking, you rub your thighs together.

A frustrated whine leaks out of you as you turn and toss in his bed.

Your fingers twist in the sheets.

“If I hand you water, will you drink it?” Suguru asks through the door and he is much closer than you thought he’d be now—just outside of it.

“Please go away,” you try to snap, but your voice is strained and wane.

“You need water, at least.” He sighs. “You haven’t eaten anything yet, either.”

You bristle, “stop trying to take care of me.”

“Stop being so stubborn.” Suguru replies, “I’m going to come in.”

“No!” You snarl.

Still, the doorknob twists slowly, gently, as if to not frighten you anymore than you already are. In a heartbeat, the door has creaked open and Suguru steps into your space. He has a glass of water in hand.

You feel your hackles rise, shoulders drawing back and up like an aggressive, bad dog. Your cursed energy ripples around you as you growl and it’s not the humanly sort, but the one you have in your cursed form.

“So fierce, aren’t you?” Suguru muses softly, taking slow steps towards the nest you’ve made. “I’m only here to give you water.”

The closer he gets, the lower the growl gets.

Your muscles are so tense that you’re near trembling, as still as can be—unsure if you’re the prey or predator, some inbetween creature too frightened to do anything but be still, but make low threatening, inhuman noises.

He manages to sit on the edge of the bed.

“And so frightened.” He ducks his head a little in what could be a show of submission if it came from an Omega. “I told you—I’m not going to do anything to you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t you trust me?” He asks and this time, he catches your eyes, a flicker of something darker in them.

“Not like this—” you manage to get out.

“You’re so tense.”

“I’m—” the word catches, breaks from your throat, “scared.”

Suguru softens instantly.

(And if you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s almost pleased. His scent softens, too, sweetens a little.)

“How would you like me to prove myself this time?” Suguru asks lowly, “would you like to make me bleed again? Would you like to scream at me?” He cocks his head, “or would you like me to hold you? And nothing else?”

You’re trembling so hard that your teeth are almost chattering with it.

You realize very keenly that you want to be held. You want to be wrapped up in him, you want to be in his arms. You want.

“N-no.” You manage to get out.

“No?” He asks, “in the least, will you drink water for me?” In his broad hand is a glass of cool water, nearly drowning it with his own easy grip over top of it.

The request is like honey.

It's sweet in the veins, it’s meant to lure you.

Your mouth is dry. And your temples are throbbing.

You feel shaky and suddenly realize how weak you are, a little woozy after everything. Perhaps out of fear. Perhaps because he’s right, you haven’t eaten or drank anything all day. It’s nearly evening now.

Perhaps it’s because of your first Heat in years.

Slowly, you extend your hand to take the glass from him.

It’s shaking. Hard.

“Will you allow me?” Suguru asks.

You bristle, “just—give it to me—”

“You’re shaking so hard, you’ll spill it.” He responds evenly.

“I’m not a child.” You snap.

“You��re acting like one,” he says and there’s a smile in it, a little shadow of torment. And then he lowers his voice, soft and dark, “come here.”

You almost go to him.

“Stop it.” You bite out, “stop trying to do that.”

“What am I doing?” He asks, “trying to help you?”

“No! You know what you’re doing! You’re trying to—to sway me or something!”

Suguru sighs, “come here.” He says again and it’s gentler now.

You glare at him, eyes glassy with fever, with anger and fear.

But he waits patiently. Serenely. He doesn’t give in, he doesn’t waver. You glance at the water in his hands and then back up at his face. He’s so calm, in the face of all your fright and anguish and discomfort. In fact, he seems to revel in it. Bask in it.

Tears build suddenly in your eyes, much to your fury. Much to your frustration. The pressure behind your eyes is enough to leave you aching, a lump forming in your throat.

Instantly, Suguru coos, “oh, what’s wrong?”

You fight the urge to let out a sob or cry harder.

“Why must you humiliate me?” You ask suddenly. The tears fall despite your best attempts at stopping them. “Why must you torment me?”

Suguru sets the glass of water down on the nightstand beside the bed.

In an instant, he’s gathered you into his arms, into his lap. He cradles you, tucks your head beneath his chin and carefully bundles you into the crux of his chest.

This makes a small sob work it’s way out of you.

He shushes you gently, rocks you a little, “I’m not trying to torment you.”

“Yes, you are,” you cry, outright, even as you turn your face into his chest to hide there. Even as you cling to him.

“I’m trying to take care of you—is being taken care of humiliating?”

“Yes,” you get out between another rough sob.

His hand strokes slowly over your back, pressing you deeper into his chest—his scent is strong here. Dark oud. Sandalwood. Fig. It’s rich, as if he’s pleased or content, almost humming with it.

Perhaps to try and soothe you. Perhaps because it really does please him to have you crying, falling apart in his arms.

You can’t stop the emotions that rise inside you like a tidal wave, can’t stop the way you just want to cling to him. It’s horrible, you cry harder, because it does feel good to be held by him. To be cooed to.

Taken care of.

He rocks you like a mother might rock their child.

He rocks you until you settle down, until you’re sniffling and going lax in his arms.

You peak up at him through an angry, wet eye.

“You’re an awful man.”

“I know,” he agrees gently, reaching up to touch carefully at your cheek, to wipe away your tears with his thumb.

“You torment me.”

“I know,” he consoles softly.

Your head is spinning with him, heady, and filled with pressure. You sniffle hard. His arms around you are warm and strong. He’s so broad. He shrouds you in him, tucks you into him where you might feel safer. He smells heavenly—enough that you think about turning your nose into his throat and scenting him. You think of sinking your teeth down into him.

He strokes the hair from your face gently.

You realize keenly that he is not going to leave you.

Not now, during this Heat, or perhaps ever.

You realize that you have gotten yourself straight into the belly of the beast. You have gotten yourself entangled with someone who you don’t think has ever let go of anything in his life. You think he bites and doesn’t release, jaws tight and locked, and you think you have gotten yourself between his teeth this time.

A strange peace settles over you at the knowledge.

He won’t leave you.

And if you left him, he’d chase you down.

How long have you wished for that? For someone to never leave? How long have you wished for some form of peace?

Is this peace?

When he reaches to lift the glass of water again, you do not fight him.

Carefully, he cradles the back of your skull with the crux of his large palm. He holds the glass to your lips. You let him. With a tenderness that makes you feel strange, he lets you drink from the cup. Cool water.

You’re thirstier than you realize.

Your hands come up like you may touch the glass, hold it yourself, but he pulls it away.

God forbid he let you do it on your own.

You wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand. You can’t help but glare at him again—he’d begged to do it for you and now, right when you wanted more, he denies you.

Again, you ask yourself, is this peace?

A cramp rolls through your lower back and the ache between your legs strengthens into a horrible throb.

The whimper that gets torn out of you is a pained and high sound. New tears sting your eyes for entirely different reasons. Your skin feels hypersensitive, prickling with every touch, every place you meet. You shiver. Another cramp, somewhere low in your hip bones, rocks throughout your body.

Your fist tightens in his clothes. You shift with the smallest, most subtle rock in your pelvis. You grit your teeth together.

You realize the ache in your center; the pressure.

“Hurts,” you eke out, breath tight in your chest.

You take a shallow breath.

“Where does it hurt?” He asks, stroking over your arms, your shoulders—petting you.

You narrow your eyes in another weak glare.

“You’re being cruel again.” You get out.

“Tell me where,” he murmurs.

“My lower back—“ you manage to get out, squirming again, “my—my hips,”

He hums lightly in praise and then coaxes, “lay on your stomach?”

You shake your head sharply, “no—what are you going to do?”

“Massage your lower back. Nothing more.” He urges you this time physically, jostling you from the cradle of his arms, from his lap.

“I give you an inch and you take a mile,” you tell him, easing out of his embrace.

He doesn’t let you go far.

“Lay on your stomach for me.” He says again, voice warmer and soft to your ears, like oozing honey.

Against all of the alarm bells rattling and clanging in your mind, you turn and lay on your belly.

You fold your arms beneath your head. You rest your cheek against them.

You try not to squirm as another cramp bears down on you, deep pressure pulsing in your lower hips. You twist a little, a breath of pain working its way out of you, hissing between your clenched teeth.

Suguru takes position behind you and panic seizes you the moment that he straddles the back of your thighs. He almost—

“Suguru—” you warn and the sound is half growl, half whine. Your voice is torn by something terrible and raw. Fear. Anger.

“I’m keeping my word,” he soothes and in a moment, his big hands are fitting to your lower back. You are so tense, you think you’re going to shake apart again, so tense that you’re going to splinter and crack under the pressure. You hold perfectly still.

But just like before, all he does is move his hand over the length of your back.

He coos.

He hushes when you make a noise.

He soothes.

His hands, warm and firm, work their way through stiff muscles, through the awful pain of the cramps.

Slowly, you begin to melt into the bed beneath you. Your head lolls deeper into your folded arms. Your eyes grow heavy, lashes sinking and fluttering, like wings now soaking wet—trying, and failing, to rise.

His hands are careful around the contours of you. He rubs at your neck, but is cautious of your scent glands, and then he dips back down the small arch and curve of your back to dig his thumbs into the meat of your lower back.

It feels good.

And the way he rumbles softly to you, little words of praise or comfort—makes something tightly woven begin to slowly unravel inside of you. You sink into the bed, into his hands that press and massage.

Your body flares into a dull throb.

You try not to squirm.

There’s a deep, horrible pressure between your legs. It’s an ache. A bundle of muscles on the inside of you, squirming and cramping down around nothing—shifting the bones around of your pelvis around, turning your insides over—all in need of—

In need of—

Your head is foggy.

You arch a little into his hands, into his touch, like a cat finally enjoying itself.

“There,” Suguru murmurs and he’s leaning over you slightly, “feels better when you give in, doesn’t it?”

His scent is strong.

You go bleary with it all.

Another cramp twists up your insides. The aching inside you pulls taut.

You roll over onto your back beneath him, belly up and vulnerable. Suguru lifts himself away only momentarily to allow you to do it. And then you’re gazing up at him, reaching for him.

“Suguru—“ your voice pitches, cracks on a desperate, upwards note.

Your fingers tighten in the front of his clothing.

“—need you,”

A hint of a smile.

“But I’m right here.” He tells you, voice lilting with false naïveté.

Your blood sings.

“Don’t be cruel,” you beg again, “you know what I mean—“

“I’m afraid I don’t, darling.”

Tears suddenly build again, the pressure of them sharp and cutting. More pressure in your poor body. More aching and pain.

You twist a little beneath him, hips arching up on their own, searching—

“Suguru,” you whine, pulling at his clothes, pawing at him. And then a word that splinters out unintentionally, “please—“

“Please, what?” He asks, but his eyes are gleaming and sharp.

You curse low and he laughs softly, even as your nails dig into his bicep, his shoulder.

Still, you swallow down all your shyness and fear and embarrassment. You pull at him.

“Please touch me?” You whisper. “It hurts so bad.”

Another shift and squirm of your hips, your body.

“Touch you?” He asks in return, but he’s so—so smug about it. “Is a massage not enough?”

Your anger spikes sharply and you suddenly tighten your hold on him, dig into skin, try to bleed and mark. You hitch your hips up against his and feel—

Feel how hard he is. You tighten your leg around his waist.

“Stop tormenting me.”

Suguru goes perfectly still despite your moving and twisting, hips rocking up against his own.

He detangles you, sitting up to look down on you, pulling his hips away from yours. You squabble to pull him back, digging nails into his muscled forearms. “Suguru—“ you whine, “isn’t this what you wanted?”

He takes a slow breath in through his nose and you think he’s trying to steady himself. He huffs it out. His eyes are so dark—darker than you’ve ever seen before.

“Of course it’s what I wanted,” he tells you and his voice is low, a soft rasp, as he carefully unlatches your hold on him. He presses your hands down into the bed, pins you easily. You melt into the hold blearily, squirming so that you might feel him where you need him—

“But it isn’t what you wanted.” He tells you, voice just a husk. His eyes are lidded as you find them, burning, “remember?”

“Suguru—“

“I promised you.” He continues, “I wouldn’t do a thing, not until you were clear headed.”

You rear back, “what?”

“Are you really so surprised?” He asks, voice lilting and for a moment you grasp to understand him, wading in dark waters, lost. “I warned you, last night.”

Through the fog of your mind, it slowly becomes clear.

He led you here to suffer, with no intention of helping you.

You have walked directly into his trap.

I would never beg, you’d told him.

But he’d made you hear him, loud and clear, while you were in your right mind.

If only to throw the words back in your face now.

Your gaze sharpens on him.

You squirm, fighting his hold until he releases your wrists.

“You’re cruel.” You hiss with as much venom you can muster. “You did this on purpose.”

“Perhaps only slightly.”

You lash out; you strike him. Solidly, your palm connects to his cheek. It cracks to the side, skin blossoming pink almost instantly.

Through the curtain of his hair, you see the sliver of a smug smile. The smarting of his cheek.

“Such a brat,” he rasps and when he pins you this time, there is a strange, unnerving gleam in his eye.

“I should punish you worse for that, hm? You’ve always done better with a guiding hand.” He says.

“You’re punishment enough.” You growl in his face, twisting and turning, trying to dislodge the hold he has on you. The one he’s always had on you. You strain and struggle, wrestling with it, with him.

“The only one who has punished you is yourself.” He replies, letting you fuss and fight, “if you had just given in to what you so clearly want—told me, admitted to it, I could’ve been sharing this with you.”

Then he really exudes his strength, stopping your wrestling almost seamlessly. You cry out with the way he holds you.

“You don’t know my punishments—you only know your own.”

When your eyes meet his, there is a wild gleam to them, one that sparks and sweeps the heat inside of you into an inferno.

“If I suffer this week, I’ll make you suffer, too.” You finally promise.

Suguru smiles, the curve of it sharp and dark like a sickle, a crescent moon.

“You can certainly try.” He agrees and finally rolls off of you.

Cold air sweeps in, leaving you bereft and aching, strangely startled and alone.

He stands. “I’m going to cook for you and then I’ll feed you.” His eyes flicker over you, a mess in his sheets, “I expect the glass of water to be finished when I’ve returned.”

You open your mouth to growl—

“You’ll need the strength,” he then says lightly, “if you’re to make me suffer at all this week.”

There’s a new note in his scent, you catch it now in his absence. It lingers in his place; spiced tobacco. It's warm and thick on the tongue, strange and heady, and—unfortunately, miserably alluring.

The door you have slammed so many times now, remains ajar, wide open, when he finally leaves the bedroom. There is nothing between you.

And you think something is now ajar inside of you, too, wide open, and ripe for the taking.

#suguru getou x reader #getou suguru x reader #getou x reader #suguru x reader #geto x reader #getou suguru x you #getou suguru x y/n #jjk x reader #cw: omegaverse #cielo writes!#cielo's writing!

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sulumuns-dootah · 5 months

Text

NSFW Alphabet - Leviathan

༺☆༻

A/N: Sorry this took a long time. Been a busy and chaotic past month, but I'm working on things so hopefully they'll be ready to post soon. Also, Levi isn't exactly my favorite so I had hard time analyzing and accounting for all the lore we have so far.

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

‎‧₊˚✧ 18+ Minors Do Not Interact‎ ✧˚₊‧

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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

If you had an intense encounter, you'd both need it, which is why he calls for his servants to come and care for the both of you. Otherwise, he doesn't mind to do some extra steps to get you comfortable.

༺☆༻

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Our nice piece of ass loves your neck. The loyalty noose would look amazing around it. Or maybe his hands?

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C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I'd say his cum tastes like caviar. He's technically a fish too, after all. Definitely the king whose cum I'd enjoy the least. It's also not as opaque, but with a slight shimmer.

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D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

While he's having some me-time, sometimes he puts on a noose around his neck and orders himself to hang.

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E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

With how rarely he trusts anyone, I'd say he barely has any. He gets the gist, knows many positions, but hasn't tried out most of them.

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F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position, really. As long as you're strangling him hard enough, he doesn't care.

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G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? Etc.)

No jokes here. In fact, no jokes ever. Besides like some special circumstances.

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H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.)

Perfectly silky smooth like the rest of him. There's no room for imperfection.

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I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

If he's bedding you, you're already doing something right. I imagine him being super vulnerable figuratively as well as literally with the strangling and all.

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J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

His main source of getting off. He can't even remember the last time he's slept with someone. Once you're in the picture, however, that immediately changes and his hands focus onto you.

༺☆༻

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Beside the obvious breath control and getting beat up, he also strikes me as the type that would be into voyeurism as in getting watched fucking someone.

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L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Public places are out of the question. The safety of his castle is the only place where he allows himself to get loose.

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M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Jealousy, of course. But also public humiliation as long as he sees you as more than just his subject.

༺☆༻

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Share a partner. He'd get too jealous and possessive. Unless, of course, you tie him up as a punishment. HE would actually enjoy that.

༺☆༻

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Force him to go down on you and you'll have one of the best orgasms ever. In giving-head-contest he'd come close second (only beaten by the pussy devourer fly boy). While giving him head, he'd get super whiny and needy. Tease him and he'll lose his mind.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? Etc.)

There's two ways Levi can go. Either he's downright lovemaking with you or the bedroom is a whole ass battlefield.

༺☆༻

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Actually, thinking about the location again... I wanted to say that why have quickies when you're at his castle and have all the time in the world, but thinking about it, If the need arises and you're not in his chambers, he would definitely use his coffin to have a quickie with his partner.

༺☆༻

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? Etc.)

Depending on the risk. He wouldn't mind seeing how long you can hang from the noose, but wouldn't try and introduce lovecraftian horrors in the bedroom.

༺☆༻

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Leviathan's energy is stored in that juicy ass of his and boy, can he go for long time. The thing is, that he will, however, start complaining that he's tired and that you have to do the rest yourself.

༺☆༻

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Levi doesn't really strike me as the type to use toys. His imagination is enough for him. In my mind he's more old fashioned and all these different toys are just a riffraff for him. (Meaning he's too shy to buy some and would be afraid to get caught using them.)

༺☆༻

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh this man *italian hand motion* loves to tease, but the moment you tease back you have no time to react before you're hanging from the ceiling.

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V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Whimpers. This man whimpers and it's the best thing you've ever heard (besides Beel's purring). How loud, depends on the situation. If you're on the bottom, some might escape him. But if you're on top, oh boy, all the demons in the surrounding chambers know.

༺☆༻

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Actually, not a hc, but more of an analysis of his H scene that I really want to talk about? Okay, so Levi makes it really obvious that he wants to be beaten and straight up just abused. This just screams to me a trauma response, which is extremely sad to me. The amount of abuse he had to endure to the point where his mind equates it to pleasure just so he doesn't go bonkers?

༺☆༻

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Once again, if you have the Erolabs version, you're lucky to see his sausage in the game itself. I personally agree with the ingame depiction of Levi's dick (unlike certain pierced someone's).

༺☆༻

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Actually, piggybacking off the wild card analysis, I think Levi can go anytime all the time. One of trauma responses tends to be hypersexuality (but I'm not a professional psychologist, so don't take my word for it). We even know about it from the Halloween event where Minhyeok says that Levi looks like he's in the mood despite fighting off angels.

༺☆༻

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not really a sleep I'd say, but he wouldn't mind snuggling up after some exhausting workout. Just don't get too used to it since he's too busy.

#what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#whb leviathan #whb smut

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crown-of-roses-thsc · 5 months

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MY FAVORITE HENRY STICKMIN ARTISTS ON THIS HECKSITE!

@rarestdoge - I don’t know how to say this- these aren’t in any particular order but this blog has my favorite THSC art…EVER. E V E R. RARESTDOGE IS SO TALENTED HIS ART IS JUST- AAAAA?!?!?! THE EXPRESSIONS THE POSING THE E X P R E S S I O N S AAAAAAA **explodes**

@capturecharlesau - HSIHSUHSUHWUHUHUW I WANT A CARTOON IN YOUR STYLE I WANT A CARTOON IN YOUR STYLE I WANT A CARTOON IN YOUR STYLE I WANT A CA

@finaltimelineau - Their AU?! Their ART?! ASTOUNDING. I LOVE IT SO MUCH. I LOVE HOW THEY CHARACTERIZE EVERYONE I JIST- HISHUSGYSGYGSUHWHSJHHAJSGUSGUHU

@sketchythesketchbook-artblog - HOLLLLLY MOOOOOLLLLLLY THEIR ART IS SO YUMMY!! I LOVE HOW THEY ADDED RUPERT AND DAVE TO THE TRIPLE THREAT IT WORKS SO WELL AND I LOVE THAT THEY GAVE EVERYONE SIGN NAMES!!! ART IS SO YUMMY YUM YUM ART GOOD FOR TUMMY

@suddenly-stickmin - RRRRRRRRRRRRRR just- THEIR ART IS SO GOOD. SO EXPRESSIVE AND FUN AND HSIHSUHSUSHUHSUHUSHWUWUH I CHANGE MY ANSWER THEYRE TIED WITH RARESTDOGE I LOVE THEIR ART SO MUCH THEIR SHADING IS SO AWESOME AND PAINTINGLKKE ANDNSJSHSIISHUSHUSHUSHUHSJHJSHJHSJ

@smoresthehalloweenqueen - I DONT KNOW WHAT TO SAY I DONT I REALLY DONT JUST LOOK AT THEIR SUBMISSION FOR MY CONTEST JUST LOOKA T IT LOOK AT IT OOOK AT THE EXPRESSIONS AND ANATOMY AND EXPRESSIONS AND POSING ANDNBSUHSUGSUGUDGUDGHSGHSGHGHDGHGHSGHSGHDGHGSHGDHHDGHGD

@wololo-01 - AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE GOW YOU DRAW HAIR I LOVE THAT YOUR STYLE IS CHIBI BUT NOT TOO CHIBI I LOVE YOUR STYLE YOUR ART IS SO CUTE AND I LOVE THE PASTEL COLORS YOU USE AND I LOVE THE WAY YOU DRAW HAIR DID I SAY THAT ALREADY ITS TRUE

@caruskie - JUST DISCOVERED THEM A FEW MINUTES AGO JUST LOOK AT THEIR ART LOOK AT IT ITS SO CUTE AND EXPRESSIVE AND FUN AND EJIHDUHEUHJDHJD IF YOU GUYS CANT TELL I VALUE EXPRESSIVENESS ABOVE ALL ELSE IN THSC ART AND THEY TAKE THE CAKE IM JUST SAYING SHDUHEUGDUHEHGSJHJSH

@frazzledazzlin the biggest mistake I ever made was forgetting to put frazzledazzlin on this list. The apology video will be out soon but no matter how genuine it is it will never make up for the BIG FRICKIN MISTAKE OF FORGETTING TO PUT THIS DORK (/pos) ON HERE AAAAAAA??? AAAAAAAAAA??????? THEIR ART IS SO FFFFFREAKIN GOOD I LOVE IT SO MUCH *kicking and screaming*

@jasi-3 I JUST DISCOVERED THEM, LIKE, THE OTHER DAY, AND Y’ALL BETTER GET YOUR BUTTS OVER TO THEIR BLOG AND FOLLOW THEM.

@berensteinsmonster THEIR AUS ARE SO CREATIVE?? AND THEIR ART??? IS SO YUMMY??? ALSO I NEED MORE OF THE COWBOY AU I LOVE IT SO MUCH I LOVE CHANGING THE NAMES BUT KEEPING THEM SIMILAR THIS IS LITERALLY AMAZING THE FANDOM HAS PEAKED ITS ALL DOWNHILL FROM HERE

@terrence-unsuaved I’m adding them to this list before I scream about the art they just sent me I gotta make sure not to forget because it is a CRIME THEY WERENT ON THIS LIST BEFORE THIS IS THE GRAVEST MISTAKE OF MY LIFE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA???????????????????????EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE MY CHEST IS ABOUT TO EXPLODE

@kingkenzieofmold - LOOK LOOK LOOK LOOK YUMMY ART ALERT YUMMY ART ALERT!!! I HAVE NEVER SEEN YOUR BLOG BEFORE MY GOOD FELLOW (gender neutral) BUT I LOVE YOU /silly

@thsc-scattered-stars I don’t know what to say just- their art makes me smile so so much it’s so fun and cute and THEIR AU GSYSGYGSYGSHGS IF YOU DONT CHECK THEM OUT ILL BREAK YOUR FINGERS

@ecstacyblog I THINK THIS BLOG JUST STARTED BUT NEW FAVORITE ALERT NEW FAVORITE ALERT NEW FAVORITE ALERT THEIR ART IS SO CUTE AND PROFESSIONAL LOOKING AND HRUHEUHRURGRRRRRRRRRRRRR *spins around in circles*

@number-1-harumi-hater NEW NEW NEW FAVORITE NEW FAVORITE NEW FAVORITE MY FAVORITE HENRY STICKMIN NICHE IS “THIS IS JUST AN EVEN MORE AMAZING VERSION OF THE GAME’S STYLE” AND MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM ❗️‼️❗️‼️❗️⚠️❗️

@nickorite *politely fangirl-s*

YOU ART IS SO CAYUUUUUUUTE IM HONESTLY A HARDER SELL THAN MOST ON DRAWING THE STICKS AS NORMAL-PEOPLE-WITH-CIRCLE-HEAD BUT DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWGGGGGGGG YOU PULL IT OFF SO WELL RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

@cosmicdenro

/pos

@ending-the-cycle-ask you have really really nice art and shading and 😭😭😭 YOU DRAW HAIR GOOD YUMMY HAIR

@kursed-curtain guys I’m running out of things to say about everyone but your art makes me want to scream incoherently (this is a compliment) I want to watch a whole show in your style

@jaspbiia I’m NOT JUST BIASED BECAUSE THEY GAVE ME SO MUCH COOL ART THEIR ART IS SO EXPRESSIVE AND THEIR SHADING IS SO GOOD HHHHHH BUT STILL THE POSING AND EXPRESSIONS AAAAAAAAA!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

y’all this is also a list of people I want to do art trades with please hit me up

And I’m trying to stick to people who were active in the fandom as of me putting them on the list hehe

#henry stickmin crown of roses #thsc #thsc cor #thsc au #henry stickmin #au #thsc ellie rose #copperrose #thsc reginald copperbottom #thsc right hand man #CALLOUT POST #BECAUSE THESE PEOPLE ARE TOO TALENTED >:((((#cor favorite

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seeingivy · 1 year

Text

ribbons release

actor eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: happiness for once. until it is not. ronnie's love for foreshadowing strikes again.

an: not a fan of this chapter, but we digress. read it and do not kill me if you don't like it.

song: not explicitly mentioned, but this chapter reminds me of about you by the 1975. ratty healy, I hate you but you ate on this one thing.

previous part linked here

“I ju-just sent my loc-location, Eren.”

“I got it, Y/N. I just need you to hold on for ten more minutes, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes.”

Seattle is famous for rain. You understand that all too well now. After what you’ve counted as twenty-seven minutes - from when you went to take the trash out to the mailpost you’re hiding behind now - you’re all but soaked. Drenched.

Your phone is blowing up with texts, the rain is only getting harder, and the mini black dress and ribbon in your hair do no favors to keep you warm. You slide out of your call with Eren and quickly scan through the messages, buzzing so loud they’re blocking Eren’s voice.

reiner: so, so proud of you always!!! stop being a big famous pop star and go back to being the little twerp who needs my help killing spiders on set :/

levi: I love you too, kid. And on a real listen, we really do love the album.

armin: ann and i are smelling a triple threat on the horizon. love you to the moon and saturn <3

connie: i was accidentally pooping while i listened to dorothea for the first time and i think the combination of those two things at once gave me like a really visceral reaction. im not ok. u are amazing.

mikasa: u are givg me aneurysm. pls don’t forgor to call me the scnd ur okay.

erwin: Call me ASAP.

erwin: Not urgent. Just feeling emotional about my little Canadian reaching hearts all over the world.

king of bitches (maybe: ryomen sukuna): Fluff shit indeed. Blow me a kiss when you beat James for Album of the Year.

danny: where is the album release post? it’s almost been half an hour.

You have bigger problems at the moment. Like the frozen piece of fabric you’re wearing. You should have named the album sweaters or scarves or something. Then at least you’d be warm. And blend in with the paparazzi.

Fuck.

“W-wait, Eren. Y-you ca-n’t b-be the one to get me.” you murmur, shivering through your teeth.

“Do you want to stay with someone else? I know nice people here. My neighbor is in her late forties and has like two middle school aged girls that are really nice. They’d take care of you, I promise you can trust them and-” he rambles.

“N-no. I want to st-stay with you. But pa-papara-zzi. S-send ss-omeone e-else.”

“Paparazzi? Why are-?”

“Er-eren.”

“Would it be that bad if it was me? Like it has to be someone else, Y/N?”

“Y-yes.”

“I have someone in mind. She’s leaving right now, okay?”

Eren’s sound is muffled over the line now, which has you digging your phone into your ear to catch the ends of what he’s saying.

Blast the heater….butt warmer on before she’s in the car….bring it up and I will kick your freeloading….

“Y/N?”

“H-here.”

“Good. I’m sending her. Don't get upset, this is the best I could do, okay? I-I promise she’s actually nice. You can trust her and-and I’d never send someone who would do something bad.”

“O-okay. I t-trust you. J-just get me ou-out of th-this, please.” you whimper, praying to god the rustling behind you is a rabbit and not the group of them finding you.

“I’m trying sweetheart, okay? She’s speeding. She’s on Main and Third, three lights and she’s there.”

That’s when you see it. The flash of the camera. And hear five consecutive clicks right after. You look around the periphery, before you see two of them, two tall guys speed walking closer to where you’re hiding.

So you do the only thing you can. Stand up and run instead.

You scramble up off the pavement, hiking your dress down, and keep running down the block. Climb up the gates, knock over trash cans to block the way, anything to stop them. And when you look back, after who knows how long, you realize they’re gone.

And sit flat on the messy pavement, finally lifting the phone back up. Only to realize Eren’s no longer on the line because your phone is dead. You drop it straight into your lap and dig your hands into your head, covering your ears to stop the pounding sound of the rain from getting any louder.

God. Just breathe. Whoever is coming to get you is on the way. They’ll come get you and then you’ll be out of this mess.

You hear three resounding clicks and a flash of a light to look up at two different paps, two girls this time, getting a straight on picture of you. And all you can do is put your head down in your lap and cry.

They already got the picture. There’s no point in trying to run out of it anymore.

“Y/N.”

“Pl-please. I’m b-begging you. You already got your picture and can ss-spin it into whatever you want. I-I’m still a person, please. Just let me go.” you respond, the tears blinding your sight of vision.

You feel a towel being wrapped around your shoulders and soft hands lifting you up by your arms. And then all of a sudden you’re in a warm car, being sped out of the neighborhood past the groups of paparazzi in between the houses, and not directly across from them having your picture taken.

You’re in a car. You’re okay. You’re leaving. You’re okay.

You lean back and breathe hard, phantom sobs still racking out of your chest, trying to register that you’re almost there. Safe behind closed, triple locked doors.

“D-did you tell Eren?”

“Yes. He’s not far, we’ll be there soon, okay?”

“Okay. T-thank you. I’m Y/N.”

“Lana.”

You turn your head to actually take in the driver this time, to be met with the Lana you feared. Ricky’s ex-girlfriend, Lana. She has short brown hair - entirely different from her long, beachy waves from the Girlfriend incident - a pointed nose and a very clenched jaw.

“Th-there are more blankets on the floor. I pumped the heater pretty hard, but I’ll turn all the fans your way. And anything you could possibly need is being rushed to the house for you, so just don’t worry, okay?”

“I appreciate it. Thank you for coming to get me. I-I”

“Please don’t thank me. I just-”

She takes a harsh intake of breath and turns to give you a look, her mouth upturned.

“He locked you out, didn’t he?” she whispers.

“Yeah.” you respond.

“What did you do?”

“I told him I didn’t like him back.”

She turns her head towards you, a look of confusion on her face.

“It was a PR thing.”

She snorts.

“Your managers must hate you.”

“I’m starting to think they just might.”

“Well. Don’t feel bad. Not for a fucking second. Just because he likes you, doesn’t mean he’s entitled to you reciprocating back. You like who you like. And if I were you, I wouldn’t stop liking a guy like Eren for a skeeze like Ricky either.”

You lean against the glass, hot air blowing in your face, as you take in her expression - so enraged, so exasperated, so furious that it gives you a chill. But when she looks over and gives you a halfhearted smile, you see the pained expression there too.

That’s when you pinpoint it. Lana reminds you of Historia.

“I’m sorry.” you respond.

“For?”

“You knew he locked me out. He must have done it to you too, no?” you whisper, the tension in the air delicate.

She swallows hard and clenches her knuckles on the steering wheel, eyes laser focused on the red light shining on her face. And beyond the original striking features - her sharp jaw and nose - you see the softness too. The dimples, the wrinkles near her eyes, the light brown freckles.

“I wanted to take time off from acting. It-I did a role that was really traumatic and I just needed a break. And he was just about to go on tour and he wanted me to come to support. Like a little cheerleader.”

“So he locked you out?”

“For two days. He-he’s just. A lot of the fame stuff got to him when he was really little. And now he’s got this convoluted sense of self-image and it just- I don’t know. He’s got problems.” she responds.

“I’m sorry. Really, that’s-”

You stop talking, words failing you. And maybe it’s the way your head was frozen ten minutes ago and it’s being melted now, or that the picture they took is going to leak soon, or that there is no good thing to say to something shitty like this. It only took him three months to turn on you, which you’re guessing is generous now. She must have infinite patience for putting up with it for an entire year.

“In a weird way, I’m glad it’s me and not Eren. You- this does something for me. Making sure you’re not out there for two days, it-it helps me.” she whispers, looking over to give you a smile.

“I really appreciate you, Lana. Thank you. And I-I’m not mad at you for the Girlfriend thing. You had every right to do that.”

“Y/N. I have every right to drag Ricky James’ name through the mud. But not yours. And I- shit. Please don’t tell Eren we talked about this. He’s going to kill me.”

“Why?”

“He told me that if I brought it up, he’d kick me out of his house. I kind of stay there because I-I hate living in our townhouse on set because of how toxic it is and he was nice enough to offer. And he made it very clear that I have to pick you and make sure you’re okay, not make you uncomfortable or anything. We’re here to take care of you and-”

“I brought it up. I’ll deal with him if he gives you a hard time. I used to be really good at that type of thing.”

“I know for a fact that you could tell him to twirl in the air like a show pony and he’d do it.”

“I’ll test the theory and let you know.”

She laughs, giving you a smile which you warmly return. Your phone buzzes in your lap, finally revived, and you send a quick message to Mikasa and Jean before shutting it off.

“I-I didn’t know that it was going to go that far. I knew the song and that we were just going to sing it. Let people speculate it was about you. I-I didn’t know they’d have a girl who looked like you OR bring Eren up on stage. And Eren didn’t know anything about the song or the performance at all - they, they set him up.”

“Why would they do that? I mean, they got horrible backlash in the entire thing.”

“They thought people would like it. And they severely underestimated how much people love you. And they did it because, Eren- he. He doesn’t follow rules and-”

“Follow rules?”

“I’m saying too much. He-he’s going to get mad. Ju-just rest, okay? You’re okay now, we’re two minutes from the neighborhood..”

You give her a questioning look, which she returns with a dismissive shake. Stubborn - she’s Historia alright. You lean back in the chair and reach for the music nob, twisting it on. Only to be met with the Teletubbies Theme blasting through the car and a very flustered Lana turning the knob off.

“Fuck.”

“Teletubbies?”

“I-I can explain.”

“Please. I’d love to hear it.”

She drums her fingers on the steering wheel as the silence hangs in the air.

“Okay. Maybe I can’t explain.”

“No need. I appreciate versatile music taste in prospective friends. Especially classics like this.” you respond, cranking the music back on.

“Friends?”

“Don’t be silly. Not exaggerating, but I think you quite literally saved my life a few minutes ago. You’re like the La-La to my Dipsy.”

“Lame. You’re more of a Tinky-Winky. And anytime. We girls stick together, right?” she responds, reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze. Like Eren.

Did she learn the hand squeezes from Eren? Is he squeezing her hands? They live together so …are they dating?

“We’re here.”

You nod, appreciative of Lana more than maybe any person on god's green Earth, as she pulls into the driveway and helps you out of the car. It’s only after sitting that you’re realizing your legs are so bone dead tired that you’re barely moving on your own.

You move past the hood of the car as Eren walks into the garage, immediately beelining towards you. His hair is long again - it’s always changing every time you see him - and he’s all wound up with tensions sitting in his shoulders. His hands are warm and cupping your face, yanking the cold towel off and replacing it with a warm one.

“Hey. You-you nicked your face, Y/N. And you’re freezing, you-” he whispers, brushing his fingers across the skin near your eye that stings on touch.

Lana holds the door open as he leads you in, arms aggressively moving up and down your shoulders and his face all pinched up in concern.

“You’re good to go? I put your stuff out by the door.” Eren says, gesturing to Lana.

“Is she leaving?” you ask, looking up at Eren.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, it’ll be just us. And I’m sure Mika and Jean will drop everything to fly out for you tomorrow, I can tell them if you need me to and-”

“Well, don’t make her leave. She shouldn’t stay on that stupid set just because of me.” you respond.

Eren looks over and glares at Lana, who is now wide eyed and giving Eren a sheepish smile. Fuck. He asked her not to talk about that.

“Lana.” he says, in a warning tone.

“Eren. Chill out. I didn’t even-”

“You’re so full of yourself, you know that? You- she got drenched and the rain and you were talking about set?”

“It’s not like that! It just came up and-”

“Oh, for sure. You just happened upon it like you were a villager walking in a town square. Ooh Y/N. You just got drenched in the rain and chased by paparazzi, but more importantly, the girls I work with are super bitchy.” he responds, mimicking her voice.

“You-it wasn’t like that! You’re so aggravat-”

“Eren. Leave her alone.” you ask, looking up at him. And you’re sure you must look horrible because he immediately stops when he looks at your face again and signals for her to leave, which she’s receptive to.

“Okay. Lana, text me when you’re there. And check if you were followed on your way out.” Eren says.

Lana stops and holds both of your arms at your biceps, hands soft on your skin.

“Do call me if you need anything, okay? Especially Ricky related. Whatever you do, I’ll back you up, Tinky-Winky. ”

“Thank you, La-La. I’ll take you up on that.” you respond, giving her a warm smile.

“Oh god. No. No, you don’t get to be friends now. Fuck no, Lana. Please stick to the geriatric grandmas you play Scrabble with.”

“You’re just mad they beat you at mahjong last week. Because you’re a prissy loser.”

“And you’re-”

You jab Eren in the side, signaling him to stop, as they both nod and she slides her way out. From the way he’s arguing, the look on his face is so similar to the one he gives Connie when they argue, you know they could go on for years if they got the chance.

“Fuck you, Eren.”

“Eat shit, Lana.”

She flips him off as the door clicks shut behind her, the lack of her presence making you suddenly aware of your breaths. And of Eren, warm Eren rubbing into your shoulders and concerned green eyes staring into yours.

“I like her.” you whisper.

“Me too. Don’t tell her that though, she’s got an ego problem.” he responds.

You laugh, which has him smiling at you, and suddenly you’re sobbing. And on cue, Eren has his arms around you, his touch warm and his voice oh so soft that it kills you. That you haven’t seen him in two months. And haven’t talked to him for longer.

“Eren.”

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry, it-it’ll be okay. I- we’ll fix this, okay? I’ll call Levi and Hange, whoever you want, they’ll all come and-”

You reach up, tangling your arms around his neck as he keeps nervously talking, trying to hold you closer even though it’s not physically possible. And he’s just so-

So familiar that he feels like home.

“You’re breaking my heart here, Y/N. Please stop crying, I-I’ve got you, okay?” he murmurs, straight into your skin as you nod, trying your best to even out the sobs still leaving you. And slowly but surely, the stream slows and your breath evens out enough to get at least a few words out.

“Okay. Okay, okay. I’m okay.”

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“As much as I like holding you, you’re freezing. Take a shower first and we can do this all you want, okay?”

You pull back, wiping the tears off your cheeks and giving him a nod. He gives you a small smile, before placing his hands on your shoulders and leading you down towards the bathroom. And you don’t miss all the posters and pictures he has on his walls - one from each season of Attack of Titan, a few of him and Armin, and even one of him and Lana flipping off the camera together.

He pushes you into the bathroom and immediately turns on the shower all the way to the hottest setting, before turning around and putting his hands on his hips.

“Towels, clothes, shampoo. There’s soap in there already and take as long as you want. Sit in here for three days if you have to just- do-do whatever you have to do and-”

You pick up the bottle of shampoo, the lavender scented Pantene, the one that you’ve been using since you were fifteen. And you know, you know that Eren’s atrocious ass uses a three in one hair and conditioner so it’s not his.

“Eren.”

“Hm?”

“Did you just happen to have the brand of shampoo that I use?”

“N-no. Those are Lana’s.”

“Then why are they unopened?” you ask, giving him a smirk.

He glares at you, before rolling his eyes and holding your face. And now he’s leaning so close, so close that your lips are only a few feet away from yours, when he talks.

“You know why you can’t make fun of me for keeping a spare of your shampoos in my house?” he whispers, green eyes burning in yours.

“Why?” you whisper back, stomach lurching.

“Because you’re actually here. I knew you’d come back to me.” he responds, giving your cheek a pinch before walking out.

And when you watch him walk out, giving you one last smile before he shuts the door, you can’t help but roll your eyes. Typical Eren. Funny, irritating, and soft all in one.

He’s the same as you left him.

You pad out of the shower, Eren’s hoodie and sweatpants ridiculously huge on you, as you follow the sweet smell into the kitchen. Eren is leaned over the counter, sliding vegetables into two bowls of ramen as you walk in.

“Hey.”

“Hi. Took a while. Thought you died in there.” Eren responds, pressing his hands to your skin to test how warm they were.

“I almost wish I did.” you respond, laughing.

Except Eren doesn’t find it funny and instead he’s dropping the utensils and standing at your side.

“Y/N.”

“I was joking!”

“Nothing about that was funny. Don’t ever joke about that.” he responds, rummaging through the drawers at your side before pulling out a little tube of gel.

Eren taps the top of the counter, which you jump onto, before he takes his place in between your legs. His hands are focused on reading the instructions, forehead all scrunched up in concentration.

“What’s that?”

“It’s like this…scar ointment or whatever. Helps things heal better, I want to use it on that cut on your pretty face.” he responds, twisting it open and squirting some on his finger.

He brings his hands to your face, eyes intently focused on your cheek. You hiss the second his finger makes contact with your skin, the tingling sensation catching you off guard.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I know it hurts.” he whispers, smothering the cold gel down the side of your eye.

“I-I fell on the pavement. My knees are pretty bad too, Eren.” you whisper, which he nods at.

After he finishes, he’s carefully sliding the ends of your pants off and carefully placing the ointment on each of the jagged marks on your legs. And you eye the bowls of ramen at your side - knowing instantly that the one without mushrooms is yours - and reach for the food. The broth is so warm it soothes the aching feeling in your throat, still seasoned to perfection the way Eren always makes it.

“Eren.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you a weird question?”

“Sure.”

“Are you and Lana dating?”

He looks up from your leg and gives you a devilish smirk. And then starts laughing. Like full on, crouched over, tears from his eyes laughing.

“Okay. It wasn’t that funny.” you murmur, rubbing your hands against the warm bowl and frowning.

“Oh god, Y/N. Jesus-”

“It’s a normal question! She lives with you, you trusted her to come get me, and you guys have a picture together in the hallway.”

“Are you jealous?” he asks, standing up and leaning straight into your space.

“Absolutely not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“You don’t need to get all embarrassed. Watching you kiss Ricky James made me want to break something, preferably his neck.”

You swallow hard at the mention of Ricky again, the thought of him and what happened was so far away because you were with Eren. In his space, in your shared bubble, after so long. And he catches on too fast because he’s already profusely apologizing.

“Hey. I didn’t mean to bring him up, I-I’m not trying to push you into telling me what happened it’s just-”

“No. No, Eren. It’s okay. I know. I-”

You breathe in hard and put the bowl of ramen down and reach for his hands instead. You keep your eyes focused on them - on the little mole on his left hand, the feeling of his knuckles underneath your fingers, and on him squeezing your hands three times before you start talking.

“Ricky and I were faking the relationship for PR. Since London Boy and all that, it was Danny and Sareen’s idea. That-that’s why I stopped talking to you, I-I felt bad. And I was ashamed that I was even doing it, I-I don’t know. The Little Women press and all that, it would just get people to stream and talk. Make me a triple threat. And then today, I- He told me he liked me. And I said I couldn’t do that right now. That I don’t like him back. I went to take out the trash because it was so awkward and then I was going to go home but he- he locked me out. And when I asked to come back in, he repeated the same words to me. That he couldn’t do that right now.”

Eren lifts your hands, still locked with his, and presses a kiss to the top of your knuckles, as you continue. His lips burn your skin, still.

“I was out there and it-it was cold. And then I heard the cars and I saw seven paparazzi trucks, right on the porch. Ricky, his address isn’t leaked. No-no one knew I was there or that he was but they all showed up, right when I was out there and-”

“He called them, didn’t he?” Eren asks, his tone so harsh, so unyielding that it almost doesn’t sound like him.

“Yeah. And I ran, for so long. I- they got a picture. A few, I know they did and I was just so, so scared that I was going to be out there forever, that I was all alone and they were just going to-”

Eren reaches forward, wrapping you in his arms for what feels like the fiftieth time tonight, but you welcome it. Focus on his heart beating under your ear, running your fingers over his fish tattoo on his bicep, and on his soft, steady breaths.

“Eren.”

“Hm.”

“You didn’t say anything. What are you thinking about?”

“What I’m thinking isn’t productive for you to know right now.”

You look up at him, giving him a questioning look.

“Drop it, Y/N.”

“No. Tell me. I’m sure you’re mad and all but-”

“Mad? I’m fucking furious, I’m livid. That he fucking locked you out and left you in the cold. You-you could have been seriously hurt. You are hurt. And not only that, the fucking paparazzi. You-you ran in the cold, you fell, you can’t stop crying and-and- I’m going to kill this asshole when I see him next because it’s his fault you’re feeling like this.”

“Eren.”

“No. Shut up, Y/N. I’m being serious. I-I don’t like seeing you like this and don’t tell me not to. He hurt you. It’s that simple.”

You deflate, knowing Eren too well to know that he won’t drop this. Especially when he’s overly passionate, deep in the feeling right now.

“Okay. But can you just be here for me right now? I need you here and not all….tense and mad. B-Be soft. And warm.”

He stops, the frustration in his forehead dissolving as he takes a breath and smiles at you. Not fully, but it does the job.

“Okay. I can do that. Let’s watch Fruits Basket. And then go to bed.”

“You hate Fruits Basket.”

“But I love you. Enough to watch your weird bestiality adjacent show and pretend to like it.”

You smile and he reaches forward to pinch your cheeks.

“Look at that smile. There she is. There’s my sweet girl.” he whispers, voice all tangled in his throat.

You wake up to an empty bed, Eren’s side cold. And you pull his hoodie on before padding downstairs to find Eren’s phone pressed to his ear. He gives you a wave and points to the plate - a mix of eggs, french toast, and fruits - perfectly placed to perfection.

You give him a smile and he walks off, taking the phone with him. You frown as you watch him disappear, jabbing your fork through the cantaloupe.

What is he talking about that’s so important he doesn’t want you to hear?

You jump off of the stool and quietly pad towards the direction he walked, hiding in the hallway. He’s leaning against the wall, staring at the picture right across - one of Levi and Hange kissing your cheeks at the vow renewal - and angle yourself to hear his words.

“Is he okay?”

“I’m glad. You tell me if you need anything else, okay?”

“Okay, Coco. I missed you too, yeah?”

Who the fuck is Coco?

He hangs up and you immediately scramble back to the kitchen, trying your best to stay inconspicuous as he comes back and gives you a smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes, the expression on his face almost tired.

“Hey sleepyhead. You okay?”

“Mhm. Food is really good, Eren.”

He gives you a smile as he sits at your side, eyes focused on you as you eat your food. He places both of your phones in front of you, and you spot yours with nearly a hundred notifications. But when you reach for it, Eren grabs your hand in the air and locks it on his own instead.

“Just-wait. Eat first.” he says, his tone hollow.

You turn your head to the side and take in Eren’s expression, downtrodden and uncharacteristically unexpressive. The complete opposite of Eren yesterday - moony eyes and soft smiles.

“Eren.”

“Y/N. If I ask you to do this for me, can you trust me and listen?”

“No. You-what’s wrong? You’re being weird.” you ask, reaching for his hand.

He looks over, the look indiscernible, as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“You-I took care of most of it, okay? Levi and Hange are coming. Just, don’t panic. You-it’s okay.”

“Eren. You’re scaring me. Just tell me.”

He takes a deep breath, cracking the knuckles in your hand as he nervously talks.

“You-your pictures leaked. The ones of you running last night. And-and people started speculating really fast - wondering why you were running and crying on the night your album released instead of celebrating it. And-and then Ricky, he tweeted a bunch of things.”

You pale. And reach for your phone, which Eren stops again.

“They’re lies. Obviously. You don’t need to read them, not yet. And Lana told me she’s ready to back you up, whatever you want, when you need it. But, that’s not-”

“What, Eren? Just spit it out.” you respond, frantically.

“They- Ricky’s fans are mad at you. They’re sending you death threats.”

“Oh.”

You deflate, staring at the cold mess of breakfast on your plate. Death threats. Hate, you’re no stranger too. Of people commenting on your looks, how bad your singing is, how lame you are. But wishing you were dead? Full on, unbothered and cursing your existence?

“And not just you, but your family too.” he whispers, watching your face fall.

Your family. Your parents, Colt, Falco-

“Excuse me. What did you just say?

Eren doesn’t respond and the tears fall immediately from your eyes, hot and angry as he reaches forward, immediately swiping them away. His expression's pained, he knows this all too well.

“I sent your family a security detail. Don’t worry. Colt was only minorly injured and-”

You stand up and grab Eren’s shirt, bundling the fabric into a fist in your hands, as you glare at him.

“Injured? What the fuck do you mean injured, Eren?”

He sighs, lifting his hands to move yours, and hold them. You’re still clenching hard, so hard you’re sure you’re drawing blood, but he’s doing his best to uncurl your hands as he talks.

“They threw a brick through the window. And the glass, Colt was sitting right there. I was just on the phone with Falco, he said he’s doing better. The security detailing has medical so you don’t have to worry about that again and they’re both okay and-”

“No part of this is okay, Eren! Quit saying it’s okay when it’s not! They almost killed my brothers.”

“Y/N.”

“No. No, this is horrible, Eren. They-they don’t do any of this stuff. Falco’s barely thirteen. And Colt - he’s going to college. He’s not a celebrity, he’s not a singer, he’s just a student. How is he supposed to go out after this? Why- how is it supposed to be normal? And now, they’re going to be like us. They’re going to feel like they’re trapped in this fucking suffocating ass fish bowl and everyone’s watching and laughing at them and they just-”

“Y/N. Stop. It’s not going to-”

“Falco’s too soft for this. He’s just a kid, Eren. I can’t- no. This isn’t fair. Eren, they didn’t even do anything. They’re literally just related to me, they just love me and they’re getting hurt because of it. You- you’re probably getting dragged in the mud too. Everyone who helps me gets subjected to this, loving me comes with this big thing behind me and I can’t even keep people who get it with me. I let you go when you were the only person who understood and I messed it all up and got myself involved with Ricky James of all people and-”

“Y/N. Stop. Please."

You sit flat on Eren’s floor, head in your hands, and cry, teardrops falling straight onto the floor. And Eren’s sitting there with you, with your big mess of jumbled feelings and mistakes, and trying his best to help you with it.

That’s how Levi and Hange find you two, after pocketing the spare key Eren told them about. After he insistently called them and payed for a private jet, going on and on about how Y/N needed them. And here you two are, despite their original conceived notions that you two were fighting, on the floor, in each other’s arms.

“Some things never change, huh?” Hange whispers.

“Yeah. They keep fucking crying every time we see them.” he whispers back.

Between Levi and Hange - Jean, Mikasa, and Connie who make it out that night - and Eren and Lana, they fix things. Most things.

Ricky’s narrative about you is clear cut - half-true and half-fake. Your team forced him to date you and defend you for PR purposes, after the Girlfriend incident. There was an agreement that you two would write certain songs, make certain appearances, and support each other.

But then Ricky turns the gate. Says that you’ve deeply, severely hurt him. That you led him on, that you used him to boost your own ego, and that you were dangerously obsessed with fame and not him. That you were all things - heartless, fake, that he doubted if you were even a real person. A glorious pop-star, empty and hollow on the inside.

And people jump on it fast. Citing the fact that you would throw away your friendship with Historia to be famous, that you stopped dating Eren when he stopped being successful, that you can go to tours but not to Mikasa or Jean’s birthday parties.

The worst part? Ricky lied, but the things they pointed out were true. Every mistake you make is on display and that people make it a point to draw attention o it. That you really were in too deep, too deep into pleasing Sareen and Danny, and being a triple threat that you forgot that they were all there too.

Eren, especially. Sweet, sweet Eren who saved you, who held you when you needed him.

You look over at him and Lana, the two of them very aggressively debating how to use their last turn of their daily Wordle, and feel your heart deflate.

You dropped the ball. You’ll never make it up to him.

Lana, in her infinite kindness, has chosen to share her own story, as a corroboration for yours. That Ricky taunted, mocked, and harassed her the entire time they were dating. That you're anything but the things he says. Because she’s had enough and she’ll do it to help out her Tinky-Winky. (Much to Eren’s dismay, he hates that you’re both becoming closer as time goes on.)

And to complement the announcement, Lana asked for one thing. To go out in style. You wrote a song with her and promised her that she was going to be the lead actress in the music video. A girl rage moment, like The Man. Danny and Sareen approve the move, making no comments or concerns about anything else that happened, and ask to be involved when the time comes.

You sit on it for a few days. Till you’re ready. But where you are now - with these people - needs to stay for a little longer. Before you brace everything again.

“Yo.”

You smile, opening up space for Connie on the couch for you.

“Hi Con.”

“Deep in your thoughts there, princess. Thinking about how your album is about to go Multi-Platinum?”

“No. Just the entire thing.” you respond, frowning.

Connie rolls his eyes, reaching forward to squish your cheeks way too hard.

“Ricky, when I catch you, Ricky-” Connie says under his breath,

You snort, reaching forward to push Connie off. You focus back on Eren and Lana, who are now pulling each other's hair and a nice string of insults, as Mikasa and Levi brew their tea, entirely unbothered in the back.

And when the screen in front of you flashes, when your third album goes Multi-Platinum after a week of being released, they’re all climbing on you. Jean and Mikasa are hollering in the back, Connie and Lana are jostling you in the air and pressing kisses to your cheek, and Eren, Levi, and Hange smile at you, the three of them enveloped in their own hug, across the way.

You split your separate ways at the end of the week, when you’re ready. Connie, Jean, and Mikasa return to set, Lana and Eren are gone with the wind, and Levi and Hange disappear again.

When you sit on your plane back home, it sits in. How lonely this entire thing is. How a week full of your friends who love you only happened because of this sickening thing. That it's not a given, that they're presence is only in the bad times and almost never the good.

Your phone buzzes in your lap and you pick up your phone to read the notification.

eren: don’t be a stranger. fish like to swim in schools, not alone.

It’s something that rings in your mind, time and time again. When everyone else wins the war, when you keep performing and letting them take and take, for the sake of the work. For the art, for your dream.

And when you give up acting, singing, and dancing at the end of it all and make zero intentions to ever do any of this again, the question still bothers you.

If fish like to swim in schools, why did Eren push you so far away? Why was he so intent on swimming alone? Where you couldn't follow?

eren: I'm not saying that for you. and I know that this is selfish but...

eren: I need you just as much as you need me.

Fucking liar.

next part linked here

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moodybluezzz · 4 months

Text

Deidara NSFW Alphabet (18+)

[I've never done one of these before and proofread at 2am so hopefully this isn't a dumpster fire. Warning for NSFW content under the cut.]

[Word count: ≈1.3k]

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Deidara gets very sweet and mellow after sex. In fact, it seems like that's the only time he doesn't have an explosive amount of energy. He'll wipe the sweat from his forehead and ask you if you're okay with a satisfied smile. If you're not completely wiped out he'll cuddle and talk to you until you fall asleep with your head resting on his chest. He's not gonna want to budge so cleanup usually waits until the morning after. He prefers admiring the mess you made together anyway.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Deidara's favorite part of his own body is, unsurprisingly, his hands. He knows he's skilled with them because of his art, and having two extra mouths is a blessing in bed that no one else has. His favorite part of his partner is their face. He loves admiring your features and expressions as he toys with you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Deidara tends to finish quickly and usually pulls out so he can cum on your body, whether it's your back, thighs, face, or wherever else he can make a mess of. “My best masterpiece yet~”

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Deidara doesn't give a damn about getting walked in on and secretly likes showing off what's his. (Plus, seeing the priceless reactions of the rest of the Akatsuki is just a bonus.)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Deidara is barely experienced, if at all. He's young and too caught up in the Akatsuki to have dabbled in relationships very much. Luckily his natural confidence and dexterity make up for the inexperience.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

I don't see Deidara as the type to do gymnastics on the regular. His favorite position is probably missionary, since he gets to see your reactions and admire you up close. If he's feeling dirty the worst he'll do is doggy style so he can pull your hair and be a little more dominant.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Deidara is absolutely the type of person you can joke with, or hold a conversation with, during sex. Although he takes his relationship and intimacy seriously, he likes to have fun so it's never too intense.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Deidara is just about as hairy as any average guy, but it's not very noticeable because of his light, blonde hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Deidara isn't the most romantic guy ever, but when he's alone with you his intimate side is on full display. This is especially clear in how careful he is not to hurt you. He balances showing you that he cares and keeping the mood light so you can both have fun.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Deidara jerks off a lot, usually before bed or when he's bored. And yes, he uses the mouths on his hands for extra pleasure. (Can you blame him?) He'll imagine his partner’s pretty face going down on him as he licks along his own length.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Sorry but Deidara just isn't that kinky, unless you count him using his hand-mouths on you. He's not a full-blown exhibitionist, but he does also enjoy the thrill of fucking in places he could get caught.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In his room at the Akatsuki base, and it doesn't matter whether anyone else is home or not. The place may be cluttered with art supplies but he makes room for you quick. He also once tried having some fun with you on the back of his clay bird, out in the open night sky. It was a little scary at first, but you had to admit it was exciting.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Deidara likes someone who can match his energy - seeing you have fun or marvel at his latest work is enough for him. He's also a sucker for a bit of praise and some clever pickup lines about art and explosions.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sorry sadists, the man said himself that he isn't into BDSM. He absolutely won't do anything that seriously hurts you or leaves marks on your body, aside from some light hickeys. He sees it as ruining a masterpiece.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Deidara is the KING of giving head - he was blessed with three mouths and you'd best believe he's gonna use them. He'll eat you out while the mouths on his hands lick along your sensitive inner thighs, or kiss you passionately while he reaches down and lets his other mouths go to town.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Deidara's movements are quick and shallow. He just prefers it rough and fast. His last few thrusts are always a bit slower as he takes in how you look as you finish, though.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Deidara will never turn down a quickie, even if you just wrapped up a mission and you have to sneak away and find a hidden spot to have some fun. He'll probably end up having more quickies than longer sessions when he's busy with missions, but that doesn't mean he won't take his time pleasing you when you're back at the base.

R = Risk (are they open to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Deidara is probably the most risky out of everyone in the Akatsuki. He can't help but get off on the thrill of fucking in “public” places or when the rest of the team is around, and he doesn't stress much about getting caught either. Unfortunately Deidara is also not the most discreet and Tobi has definitely stumbled upon some unholy things while looking for him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Deidara could go for more than one round if he really wanted to, but most of the time he's satisfied with one round and just wants to relax afterward.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Doesn't own any toys of his own but definitely isn't opposed to using them with you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The lovable asshole that he is, Deidara teases pretty often, mostly verbally or with his tongues. However, he gives in pretty quickly and gets right to the fun part.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Deidara is very vocal and not ashamed about it whatsoever. He doesn't hold back on moaning and loves talking dirty as he fucks you. Some of the Akatsuki have definitely gotten pissed at him for keeping them up at night.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Might be down for a threesome with someone else in the Akatsuki? 😳

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

About average with more length than girth, plus a faint trail of blonde hair leading down to it ;)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Deidara's sex drive is high, but not to an unbearable extent. He's young and full of passion, but he equally enjoys spending quality time with his partner as well, so most of your time together is spent pretty innocently.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Deidara is pretty full of energy and never falls asleep immediately after sex. Sometimes he'll stay up for a short while to spend more time with you, and other times he'll jump up and run to his desk, getting straight to work on some new art project that he thought up.

#deidara #naruto shippuden #naruto fanfiction #akatsuki #deidara x reader #naruto smut

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jensensitive · 5 months

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I am obsessed with the way in which you draw Dean. You have his features nailed to perfection - somehow your Dean looks even more Dean than Dean in the show, because you exaggerate everything that makes him HIM. It's truly breathtaking <3 Any advice on how to get those features so flawless?

This is so so nice, thank you so much 😭💕💕💕

Honestly Dean is like my go-to thing to draw basically, and has been for many years, like I have to try to refrain myself from just drawing Dean again sometimes. He's like probably half of how I've learned to draw at all. So there's definitely practice there.

That said, I did not immediately have much of answer to this. It's like, his face is just his perfect, beautiful face, and then I try to draw that. 😅

So I drew some Dean to figure out what it is I do, so thanks for the excuse to draw more Dean lol

Extensive answer under the cut

If you're drawing something realistic from reference, for Dean you kind of have two options, you can either get a screencap that's closer up so you can see details better, but the top of his head is cut off, or you can get one where you can see less details but his whole torso is in frame. It can be weirdly difficult to guess at where the top of his head is sometimes, and you don't need details to capture a likeness, I think it was Sargent that said that the shape of the head is actually the most important aspect in capturing a likeness, so it's something to keep in mind. On the other hand, if you want to look at his pretty eyelashes while you draw him, you might want something closer up. (An understandable impulse).

Another thing is just to look for a reference that you really like, contrasty light and shadow are also great to look for. It's difficult to create a great drawing without them, but also it will illustrate the structure of his head best too. Look for shadow shapes you want to draw. If a reference is too dark (as it often is, because it's supernatural), edit it so you can actually see what you're drawing lmao.

I took a bunch of random screencaps of 11x02-- as random as I could, normally I'd just take screencaps of what I already kind of like, but I tried to just get all of it so you can see what I'm not choosing. (also couldn't help taking some cas ones when the lighting was going really hard)

I love a profile, I love a 3/4 view, I love when his eyes are like half open. His face was kinda giving towards the end of this episode.

Hopefully you can see them well enough. The mass ideas are more important for picking at impactful reference, but ofc I'm also trying to avoid any where he's making a dumb face or it's blurry. Sometimes that's only evident when I open it bigger, but that's okay, we have a bunch to pick from.

a. This one is one I picked out because it's an interesting angle, and I'd definitely do a little study of it, but because the lighting is so soft, it probably wouldn't be super interesting.

b. I like this one, the face he's making is hilarious, and I like the rhythm of his hand, but if I were to draw it, I might draw a fourth finger, otherwise it might look strange. So keep that in mind too, if it looks odd in the reference, it will look odd in the drawing, so unless you're confident that you can effectively change it, pick a different reference or find a second reference to help you change it.

c. This lighting's more dynamic, and I like his expression.

d. Would be hard to pick between these. This one's 3/4 and has a nice eyelash shadow, and I love the shape of his eye when it's downturned.

e. Shoutout to the shape of Jensen's brow when he looks down gotta be one of my favorite genders. + subtle Rembrandt lighting. Lovely.

f. This one is so good. Overhead lighting getting a shadow from his ear in a sideview, defining the jaw in an interesting way. Great expression. It's a bit strange, the way he's looking to the side, so it might be hard to draw convincingly, but would be worth it if I could do it. The shadow from the hair defining the shape of the brow. The light on the cheek defining the slight eyebag. The reflected light under the eye, the light landing on the nose. Would probably change the hair a bit because it looks a bit odd at this angle in this lighting, and if drawn like this it would probably look at bit block-like.

g. More rembrandt lighting. Shoutout to the shadow that this upper lip casts on his lower lip. Shoutout to the shadow his lower lip casts on his chin. Shoutout to the line of light defining his neck. Shoutout to the shape of his brow and forehead.

h. The rhythms here are chefs kiss-- the shadow line diagonal from the corner of his hairline to the corner of his brow echoed by the shadow line diagonal of his cheekbone, then that second line following through to the line of light on his neck that curves the other way.

i. This one's kinda boring wrt lighting, but it's an interesting enough angle to do a study of.

I'm going with screencap c because it's gonna work well to effectively illustrate the basic structure of how I construct his features. It's not directly straight-on, so the form isn't lost, but it's straight enough on to properly show our proportions.

For supplies here, I'm just using a soft charcoal pencil, I just use the kinda cheap ones (currently Markart) cause I actually like them better than General's. And it's on smooth newsprint. I just get it in a big thing of 500 sheets. Not archival but it's a cheap thing that's incredibly enjoyable to draw on. Pink Papermate eraser and a kneaded eraser. The pen I use at one point for some reason is a red Pentel RSVP ballpoint I think, although I actually prefer a Bic.

1. So first thing I block in that main shape, in this case, his head and shoulders. I also have to draw in the hairline at the same time, cause I can't figure it out otherwise. He's got kind of pointy ears. The collar of his jacket often comes up pretty high on the back of his neck. He's got a distinctive hairline that I think can go a long way to showing it's Dean, it's worth taking note of. It swoops to our left, and then the corner (I guess?) of his hairline will line up with the corner/arch of his brow. And don't draw the hairline as an unbroken line, but several lines with some room to breathe. His shoulders are pretty straight and broad, but about three heads across which is pretty normal.

2. Next what I think about is the shape of the eyesockets and the line of the brow. This bit will go a ways for conveying Dean's expression, because he has a wide range from light and happy to horribly scowly that's in the brows. You don't have to define the exact line of the brow at this moment, blocking in the general line is fine just to have an idea of where it lands. You can go back later and refine it. I also find where the bottom lid lands. In my brain it makes a shape like what I've drawn. I might not draw it just like this, but even if I don't, this is the shape I'm thinking about. The line from the end of his eyebrow to his bottom lid is a fave, sometimes you can see it on him, especially at an angle, and it's real pretty.

3. Next I find where the bottom of his nose lands, it's about double the length of the eyesocket. And the line under his bottom lip, about halfway between his nose and the bottom of his chin. These measurements are pretty average measurements for a face. I didn't give myself enough room for his chin initially, so I moved it down to fix it. Also adjusted his face very slightly wider on the right side, cause it's looking a bit narrow.

4. I added some of our shadow shapes. This is where finding a reference with well-defined shadows will be very helpful. And I sketched in the clothes cause why not. The clothes don't have to be perfect, who cares, Dean's collar is not our point of interest lol. The shadow on the neck will probably be slightly curved because of the roundness of the neck. If it's not, you might want to make it curve slightly anyway just to help define the form. I blocked in where the eyes are.

eyes: For Jensen's lovely eyes, they have a specific shape that is so nice to draw, especially at certain and angles and with certain expressions. But basically the top lid is more angular and can be almost boxed off at the end, and the line from the corner of the eye to the lashes is an s-curve that's higher in the middle. Again, not unusual features in drawing a face, but such pretty examples. The shadow that his lower lid casts (or his makeup idk?) is often dark enough to look vaguely like eyeliner. Jensen's lower eyelids, an underrated part of Jensen. His eyebrows are thicker in the middle and sparser on the ends.

5. Next I found the corners of the lips. This is an important aspect in the way I draw mouths. Sometimes I just draw them with dots where the corners of the lips are, a curve where the lips part in the middle, a shadow under the bottom lip, and the curve of the cupid's bow. (This is seen below in 6) I think I also adjusted the bottom lip shadow here. Straight-on, the middle of his lips is slightly higher than the corners, but of course, this will change when not straight-on, depending on if we're looking up or down at his mouth. I also sketched in the nose shape. The ridge of his nose has a nice subtle bump, and then the ball of his nose is very slightly squared off I think, from a front-facing perspective, I feel like. And I drew in his slightly drawn brows. Just pay attention to the angles in your reference, because the expression, the perspective and the angle of the head can impact it. But of course generally, drawn down in the middle, furrowed = scowly; drawn up, unfurrowed = happy.

nose: I prefer drawing his nose in profile. And who wouldn't, look at it! The slight curve of the bridge and then the ball of the nose. I will exaggerate this a little sometimes, just because it's fun and I like it. I couldn't find a reference, but from below, you can see the shape of the bottom of his nose, it dips in the middle a bit more than average. Drawing the bottom of the nose is often a delicate balance between shadow and reflected light. I love keeping it light, save for the nostrils, but then the shadow under the nose can be important too. Sometimes it's just a stylistic choice. Note that there's a plane change between the side of the nose and the cheek. (I think I drew his nose too upturned here, but the general idea is still there)

6/mouth: In drawing the mouth, the top line of the upper lip looks more rectangular at the ends, increasingly so as it turns away from us, and much less so as it turns towards us. Of course, he has a full upper lip that you can shade as you like. I try to keep it distinct from the shadow of the line of the mouth, and a reflected light on the top lip can be good here too. For the bottom lip, it's always nice to give is some shine with a hard-edge highlight. For the cupid's bow, I try to leave a light between the upper lip and the shadow in the cupid's bow. For some reason I drew the shadow backwards here, but I think it looks fine.

7/ears: I started to shade it, and then I remembered that he has ears. There's a simplified way I draw ears that I like. It's not entirely accurate, because the two shadows at the top are actually usually connected, but I find it a bit distracting that way sometimes, so this is more subtle I guess. In profile, I don't really have a method of drawing it, I just draw whatever the reference gives me or bs it with a similar version of this, depending.

8/hair: My method for drawing his hair is 1) suffer 2) hope and pray. I like to leave a rim light-type deal between the contour/outliine of the hair and the rest of the hair, I feel like it helps define it a bit more. The direction of his hair, and thus the direction of my lines is something like this.

9. And then I more or less just shaded. When shading, it's always good to follow the direction of the plane, and I also alternatively like to shade in the direction that the light is falling to reinforce that gesture, but when I shade a face, I try to shade in the opposite direction of where wrinkles would go, if that makes sense, mostly up and down I guess. This is of course on a case by case basis, like a lot of times, I'll do the forehead horizontally anyway, but it's especially touchy around where the laugh lines of the mouth would be and the neck. And on soft plane changes (and softish hard plane changes), I often shade at a different angle to the main shadow. Shading direction can also delineate different areas of similar tones, like I did with the jacket and the side of the nose. I like to give Dean his eyelash shadow, because he deserves it. I also drew in the eyes, of course. I think I actually tend to shade them backwards, and the light would fall in the opposite direction, so when lit from the right, the right side would be darker, but I just don't draw it that way idk maybe I should.

And there he is, that's our guy!

Normally when I'm drawing, I'm definitely a bit more all over the place, and don't necessarily do things in perfect order. And it's good to move around. I'm probably not going to be shading things before noting where all the features are going to land, but I often am shading something before I've drawn everything. Or end up drawing one eye and then maybe do part of the other and then move to do part of the nose and then sketch in an ear and then maybe notice something's off somewhere and adjust that, etc. Just go with it, have fun, he's got a fun face to draw! 💗

#ask #art tutorial #if there's one thing I can talk about forever!!#dean winchester #my art #portrait drawing

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