#hips and romance - especially when sometimes it seems to be like. people who could not stand on their own as a character/are fundamentally

[total-feminism-takes]

Lesbian Courtney anon here I like to think we don't sexualize cartoons but sadly we do. (Not all of us do!)

Courtney I love her... but I am not ignoring her hatred and sexualization in the fandom.

I love myself now, well I am working it out, ok?

But I am Latina and was hypersexualize growing up by grown men as well as harassed sexually a lot times.

I know this bad take or awful thing to say but sometimes we writers use our favorite characters from TD (Me it's just me as a fanfic writer) I make Courtney seem so goddess like status with describing her body type but sometimes the way people expect Latinas to be wide hips, big butt, and etc.

But it's not because I believe all girls that love Courtney needs to be like that because that's bullshit.

You don't need be anything but yourself because you are killing it girl and you don't need to do much but exist is my opinion.

Oh yeah. The point is I need to make is women bodies are sexualized throughout history most our cartoons aren't made by women for women only. Society has failed us in many ways and forms along with sexualizing out cartoons for young and growing minds.

I am at fault too because I describe TD girls like goddess or from 'perfect' women yet it actually something I am unlearning through age and writing. I want them to be pretty but how I write them it sounds like shitty 80's heated romance book!

Looks aren't all that, it's a plus.

We shouldn't sexualize. We should learn to appreciate people how they are.

ALSO... Bimbos are needed and goth girl as well. Lindsay is beautiful and she can be a bimbo and still wear whatever she wants! Some bimbos, gothic, cheerleader, nerdy cosplaying girls, and etc, have been sexualize not because of their soul or maybe they shouldn't be dress like that in the first place. It's because some people are just awful seeing little girls to teens to women as objects/ to conquer and use. (Not all people but too much of them that causes feminine bodies feel awful of existing)

All these girls of TD could be more.

But now it's our jobs to do if we choose to, yes, we need to make safety place for children in the fandom too but a lot of children are curious about the world.

We can tag 18 plus all we want, fanfics of M and Up, and put not for child or minors yet it will take a community to raise these children in said community of TD Fandom. But we aren't their parents who control their search history, can delete their A03 accounts, and take away their Tumblrs.

So the question is how can we do better?

Lindsay

Gwen

Leshawna

Courtney

and etc.

Need better representation, so then write it, create it yourselves or ask someone to create for you, call us out when we fail you too.

Women are more than beauty and their bodies.

But remember not all think like that, I am a Latina who writes of her trauma onto Courtney.

I know that Leshawna is more than we got her hoops, her loudness, and mistreatment is overwhelming to someone to rewrite especially if you don't family members or 3D black teens representation in media. She should never needed be called gh*tto or all that stuff by anyone. I like her loud and proud, her dancing should be more in fanfics, and sometimes sadly some people in your community seem like a stereotype. I love Leshawna she reminds me of my older cousin growing up and she still has the hoops too! Guess what, she is married to a white man with two kids- she was stereotyped and treated awful by many even my own family. In end the day she loved herself still proud her but struggled with outside because people judge her on everything mostly them hoops, nails, speaks, and way she was.

I know that Lindsay is big chested and she can breath, everyone let her breath maybe make her love interest fall for her blonde hair or her eyes. We get it she's big chested... I am pretty sure her back is killing her doesn't need more the fandom trying make her uncomfy. Like if she was real person she would block half of us already! Also I love bimbo Lindsay and stupid act. Yeah I am say it she acting stupid because she was emotional wise, good friend, and even more.

(You don't need post this lol)

But Bimbo Lindsays! RISE UP!

Gwen transfem rise up too. (I feel like I have a whole rant gothic girlfriend trend that start years ago and in anger with bloodlust too. Because you don't actually see them as a person but to sexzaile them and sexual thing to flex on people on online like gross and I will end up in FBI custody for explaining I want fight men for only dating them for I just wanted gothic baddie toy but alive to date to fuck with not a person that actually is person with a soul)

I am sorry for cussing in my rant but I think fandom tends to sexualize these girls maybe too much and I am also at fault sometimes I have to put warnings don't copy this or this not how to treat teens and it's just my trauma hopping out again in writing... make them TD girls eat a sandwich and giggle about baby duck funny videos!

WHERE IS MY TD ASEXUAL AND AROMANTIC GIRLS?

WHERE IS MY TD LATE BLOOMERS AND AROMANTIC GIRLS?

WHERE IS MY TD I JUST WANT TO WAIT TO DATE UNTIL COLLEGE AND DEMISEXUAL GIRLS?

Where are you writer of TD fandom have more representation for the fandom?

I am she/them queer Latina girl I struggle with representation better for my girl Leshawna but goddamn someone save me not her!

You know why? Leshawna deserves the best and better than the stereotype and only being that stereotype. She can be more still wear them hoops!

Also, I am not like full black? I am mixed race to the point I don't what I am anymore. I wasn't raised in black experience, but I have acknowledged most people look at skin tone before meeting you which I don't like that but :/ it happens. Black experience in America is different for everyone but I didn't even grow up in it and that. Some my friends didn't tell half their experiences, but I been there in awkward moments where I was like you know what I am step for my girl and yell this fellow classmate for stereotyping her and fight if I have to.

Point is representation matter a lot and I hate sometimes use of gh*tto because links back to Jewish people centuries ago and people ahhha we need to learn history more stop using words that harmful to Jewish and Black community without least tagging harmful words are at use but writer doesn't support it like such.

That's it for now.

I am sorry and I understand if you ban me for the blog too for cussing and having awful take, I understand and will be respectful leave the blog alone. Love y'all peace out!

- 🧡

[hime-bee]

*rubs hands together menacingly* fuckbuddy hoederer?? ohhhh i'm gonna have fun with this one,,

it works in your favor, seeing as intimacy isn't exactly on the plate for someone of your standing. being the doctor of rhodes island isn't exactly a position that allows you the leeway of what could be considered a normal romance (what, with all the eccentric characters that are your operators). but it does allow you some room to at least weasel in some sessions of getting dicked down. and hoederer is the one who suits your fancy, even if he responds rather awkwardly to your little teasings. you're well aware that he doesn't hold you in the same regard that any of your other operators do, but that's not the end of the world.

hoederer adapts surprisingly well to being your fuckbuddy, even if he's a bit stiff the first few times around. he's certainly not used to you being so forward and bold with your advances, though you work around what makes him comfortable. and you did assure him that your little meetups wouldn't affect his standing within rhodes island, but you did ask that he keep it a secret, especially from w of all people. she'd never let it go if she found out you were getting fucked by what was essentially her father figure, and she'd certainly never let you hear the end of it.

the way hoederer fucks you certainly affirms your choice of picking him for your fuckbuddy. it does take a lil' bit to really get him going, but you've figured out that he needs a good handful of affirmation and gentle touches before he's rearing to go and you can get on all four limbs for him. he fucks you so hard that he keeps slamming against your cervix and making your head go blank from the sensations alone. sometimes when you want to feel just how strong he is, you'll place your hands against the wall and playfully wiggle your hips until he fills you up with that huge dick of his. it's not fair, really, how easily you fall apart to the point where he has to lift your hips up himself and keep fucking into your cunt while you squeal and moan like a needy slut.

he's the type of fuckbuddy who pushes your head down into the mattress while he's pounding into you from behind, your sobs and moans muffled as he hits so deep that you can feel him in your stomach. whether it be intentional or not, just feeling his raw strength is enough to have you creaming around his dick over and over. even if he does offer an apology for getting too rough, it's pretty clear from your pleasure-slack expression that you enjoyed every second of his manhandling.

but the one time you coaxed him into fucking you raw? oh, that really did it in for you. it just felt so damn good with how much of his release he filled you with, and you couldn't stop moaning for him to hurry and knock you up and how badly you wanted his babies. and—oh? looks like he's getting pretty into it too, despite that conflicted look in his eyes. seems like even your war-exhausted fuckbuddy wasn't immune to becoming weak at the thought of knocking you up~

(you gave me an inch and i took a mile >:3c hope this lil' thirst can help with any potential hoederer smut ideas once you're all healed up and feeling much better! <33)

I'M??? LATI????? You really got me over here blushing, no lie 😭 I rarely get flustered by smut anymore, SHEESH- I've reread this so many times, I stopped counting LOL

Ma'am, you're feeding me graciously and I can't thank you enough for these full course meals fr. You've given me such a good idea for a fic, I can't WAIT till my hands heal up, I'm gonna be all over that old man like white on rice, just watch me 😩😩 If you end up writing for him as well, I can guarantee I'll eat that up too 😌💦💦

[allnightlongzine]

Join The Black Parade: My Chemical Romance And The Politics Of Taste

Daoud Tyler-Ameen | OCTOBER 21, 2016 | npr.org

Sunday is the 10th anniversary of My Chemical Romance's The Black Parade, a defining album for both the band and a generation of pop-punk fans. A decade later, NPR's Daoud Tyler-Ameen is still processing what it means to love this record, and what its impact says about the culture around it.

Click the audio link for his roundtable discussion with Tracy Clayton, host of the Buzzfeed podcast Another Round, and Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib, poet and MTV News columnist — or find it in the All Songs Considered podcast feed. For more on how their conversation came to be, read on.

Common wisdom suggests that the culture you're exposed to in your teens and early 20s ends up informing your taste for the rest of your life. For most people, those years are where the very notion of taste begins. Books, movies, music, fashion, friends: You realize you have options, and you reject the ones that don't match your idea of who you are. The stuff that does stick — be it posters on a wall, patches on a jacket, a dog-eared paperback stuffed in a back pocket — you add to your coat of arms, self-definition by way of curation. What you like informs your understanding of what you are like, and vice-versa.

But every so often, taste leads you somewhere complicated. Sometimes you love a piece of art, but not what that love says about you — and the self-portrait you've so rigorously composed threatens to flake away. This is where I was 10 years ago, when My Chemical Romance released its third album and crowning achievement, The Black Parade.

In 2006, amid the rising tide buoying the fates of Fall Out Boy, Paramore and Panic! At The Disco, My Chemical Romance was as just about as big as it got. This was a boom era for the kind of band whose LPs are stocked at Hot Topic, but the Jersey quintet had always seemed to aim beyond its base. MCR had come out of nowhere with 2004's Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, an album born of hardcore but ringed with enough melody and melancholy that all stripes of emo and pop-punk buffs could find themselves in it, too, resulting in sales that zoomed past Warner Music's 300,000-unit target on the road to platinum status. The record had hits, it had hooks, and it had reach, especially once the cinematic visuals for "Helena" and "The Ghost of You" found their way to MTV. Crucially, it also had a sense of humor — see the video for "I'm Not Okay (I Promise)," in which freaks-versus-jocks teen comedies are skewered with note-perfect precision — which meant I couldn't dismiss the band as some self-serious Marilyn Manson hangover, even if singer Gerard Way did favor eyeshadow and funeral garb. Three Cheers was really, really good, and that was a problem for me.

Emo had found me in 10th grade, when a two-month relationship left me with a bruised heart and a taped copy of The Get Up Kids' Red Letter Day EP, and had followed me to Yale, where I hipped my freshman roommate to Dashboard Confessional. My Chemical Romance's music was not itself the issue — rather, it was the scale of the thing. This band was so popular, so grandiose — and thus, it was also a punching bag, derided as "mall punk" by the same people who had a few years earlier indicted Britney and *NSYNC as signs of the apocalypse. At a moment when mannered indie-pop and roughshod garage-rock were infiltrating the mainstream, MCR was earnest, dramatic and unapologetically massive, in a way that made it conspicuously uncool. And for me — a gawky black kid at a fancy white university, feeling very much stuck between identities — uncool seemed like the worst possible thing to be.

Writer Carvell Wallace has described the struggle this way: "Having black skin but liking white things is a little like walking on a tightrope ... You have white friends with whom you can never talk about race but you avoid groups of black people because you fear they will hear what's in your headphones and call you out as a traitor." Those words come from a Pitchfork Review profile of TV on the Radio frontman Tunde Adebimpe, with whom Wallace had overlapped years before as an NYU undergrad, and identified as a kindred square peg — the kind of black kid who might not take great care of his sneakers but would agonize over which ratty band T-shirt to wear to a party. That's the needle I was threading when MCR arrived in my life: wrapping myself in thrift-store accessories, loudly claiming bands like TV on the Radio as my heroes, positioning myself as the kind of black bohemian (Pharrell and Basquiat come to mind) who can move between cultural groups by dint of the fascination he inspires.

This version of me wasn't a lie, just a selective presentation of the truth. But committing to My Chemical Romance, which in spite of its success was scorned far and wide as mass-market histrionics for sad teens, threatened to shake the myth apart. So I kept my love of Three Cheers to myself. And when The Black Parade arrived, heralded by an orchestral lead single whose video employed period costume, gothic sets and scores of extras, I was mortified — and pushed the band out of my life altogether. I was out of school by then, playing in bands of my own, working office jobs and learning to carry myself as an adult. Even closeted fandom seemed like a bad habit in need of shedding. The inner emo kid, I thought, had to go.

This summer, a cryptic teaser posted to My Chemical Romance's YouTube channel briefly lit up the social web, stoking fevered rumors among those who'd been missing the group since it disbanded in 2013. A day later came the letdown: There was no new album, no reunion tour — just a 10th-anniversary reissue of the record that had come to define the band's career.

Fans took to Twitter to voice their disappointment. Two voices in particular jumped out at me: Tracy Clayton, co-host of the Buzzfeed podcast Another Round with Heben and Tracy, and Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib, a music writer and the author of a remarkable book of poetry called The Crown Ain't Worth Much. Both of them are friends of friends, part of an extended media family that platforms like Twitter have helped to illuminate. Both of them create work rooted in blackness, Tracy in searching interviews that sound unlike any in her field, Hanif in poems that read more like cultural essays, refracting issues like gentrification and police violence through the grammar of hip-hop and pop culture at large. Both of them were legitimately upset that My Chemical Romance was not getting back together. I knew I had to talk to them.

It isn't just that I've come around to The Black Parade in the past year, though that helps: When I finally allowed myself to listen to it all the way through, when I researched its underlying narrative about a cancer patient's journey to the beyond, when I stumbled on live videos of the band dressed in marching gear and corpse paint, the weight of it all hit me over and over and over. The record is a monument, as moving a statement about death as has ever been made. Twenty-two year-old me would have loved it, and loved talking about it. But it may well have taken the media environment of 2016 to show me how to have that conversation — in public, no less.

I don't know how much of this revelation comes from a change in the industry, and how much is just my own senses becoming more finely attuned, but the sheer plurality of black voices that move through my social timelines and podcast feeds these days is such a rich, resplendent comfort. When you can follow the work of not just a handful of black writers and commentators, but dozens upon dozens, running on their own or within enshrined institutions, you stop focusing on how different their perspectives are from the rest of the world — and begin to take notice of the many differences among them. You witness their minor debates, and pick sides. You see and hear them making guest appearances in one another's territory. "Rep sweats" fade from the picture; instead, you take as a given that people of color do and make and like all kinds of things.

And so, to toast the 10th birthday of The Black Parade, I called up two black writers whose work I adore and whose taste I admire, to have the exchange of ideas I wish I'd known how to have way back when. Here's hoping it reaches a few brown kids still learning how to trust themselves.

Andrew Limbong and Brent Baughman provided production support for this story.

[wri0thesley]

thank you for infecting me with total naoya brain rot, nat. can i request a breeding kink scenario with him and curvy, thick reader that he thinks looks perfect for bearing him an heir 👀 feel free to make him as nasty as you want, i love to read about this absolute trash fire of a man

Covet - Naoya x Fem!Reader (3.6k)

Naoya wants something from you - you see a chance to get something you want too.

warnings: afab reader, fem pronouns. breeding. power imbalance (reader is a maid at the zen’in estate). talk of pregnancy, knives, misogyny, fingering, coming inside/creampies. the mandatory warning that this fic is about naoya.

You are fairly certain that Naoya Zenin does not know whether you exist. If he has ever noticed you attending to your duties, so much lower and less important than he, he probably doesn’t like you.

At least, you did not think he liked you before this moment. Even now, with his hands on your hips and your body pressed flush against the wall outside his chambers, you’re not certain – there’s a weight to the way he’s holding you, a twist to his lips that you can see from where your cheek has met cool wallpaper. He looks like he’s considering you; sizing you up.

Your cheeks burn as he sizes up your lower half, eyes tracing your hips and ass and thighs without even a hint of remorse, as if it’s his god-given right to look upon you like this even though you’ve barely ever spoken more than a cursory polite; ‘I brought you this, Sir’. That’s what you’ve been taught to do.

Be respectful, stick to the shadows, do what you’re told. It’s an honour to serve the Zenin clan, it’s an honour to be here in the estate – it’s an honour to get a brief moment of any of their time, even if they’re just making demands on you. You sometimes hate yourself, for not being born one of them - you want, you want, you want, like a physical ache. The luxury. The nice treatment. People to think that you merely blessing them with a look is an honour--

It’s an especial honour to be worth Naoya’s time – everybody knows that he’s going to be the next leader. There are always rumours buzzing around the grounds about him; about his power, about his temper, about his personality . . . about which pretty young woman he’ll make his wife and have beside him to rule the clan.

You’re brought back to what’s currently happening by his hands sliding down from where he is clinging onto your hips, generously tracing the curve, admiring just how broad they are.

“Pity you have to hide beneath that,” he says, smirking. Your cheeks are hot. “You’re pretty, you know. At least. . .” One hand moves from your hip, thumb and forefinger squeezing your cheeks to turn them more thoroughly towards him. He looks entirely unruffled by the situation, every inch of him at ease that you will bend to what he wants. “Your body is pretty.” Eyes scan over your face, and you’re suddenly aware of every imperfection, every feature you’ve ever scrutinised. “Hm. Not bad either.”

“I . . . I don’t understand,” You find yourself breathing. He raises one elegant eyebrow. The hand that’s on your hip moves, tracing the plush of your ass through fabric, his lip curling into a smirk. He presses a little bit forward and you feel something stiff press against your other cheek (the one not occupied by his hand) – and your throat goes dry as you realise precisely what he means.

Oh.

Oh.

You should run. Good girls do not do what Naoya wants you to do. You have duties to attend to! You have things that must be done, lest your seniors sigh and tut at you and punish you for neglecting your work. But your throat is very dry and your heart is pounding and there is suddenly a strange twist of heat low in your gut, as Naoya Zenin looks down at you with the air of a man who will devour you if you let him.

You can’t deny it’s thrilling to be wanted – more thrilling to be wanted by someone like him.

“I’ll give you ten seconds,” he says, and his tone is patronising. “If you don’t want me to take you to bed and fuck you, I suggest you make yourself scarce.”

He says it so openly, so brazenly – you suppose that’s what comes of being born into this family. He has nothing to fear in these walls. Not like you.

You imagine yourself underneath him for a second, his hair in disarray, hakama abandoned, his perfectly composed face twisted in pleasure. You should not go to his bed. But . . . you want to. And don’t you deserve something you want, when you’ve spent your entire life watching other people enjoy it?

“You don’t need to,” you breathe, swallowing. Naoya pulls back in amusement, his eyes darkening. He seems so much taller and stronger than you. Even swathed in fabric, it’s clear that there is muscle and strength beneath the clothes. He has been trained to within an inch of his life since the day he was born. He makes a considering noise in the back of his throat. A thumb trails over your cheek.

“Are you sure about that?” The smirk in his voice says that he knows you are. “I won’t be gentle with you, you know. I don’t have all day to romance you. I just want to get you on your back . . .” His thumb slides over your jawline, past your earlobe, until he’s taken a hank of your hair and yanks it back roughly, exposing your throat and making you gasp. “And fuck a son into you.”

He must see the look on your face, because he laughs, the sound cruel even to your ears. He’s still pressed so close to you. Nobody who walked down this hallway would mistake the embrace the two of you were currently in for anything clandestine. You suppose he has nothing to worry about – but your reputation? He’d ruin you for marriage.

“Come on,” he murmurs, chuckling. “Have you seen yourself? You’re made for bearing a child, sweetheart.” The pet name is almost mocking, but your heart skips a beat anyway. “Don’t worry too much. You don’t think I could take care of you, if you carried my heir? You’re a servant, right? You already know how to behave.” His smile is like a wolf. “So, I give you my word that if it takes, I’ll take care of you. Sounds fair, huh?” He jerks on your hair again. “Ten seconds,” he reminds you. “If you want to get out of it. You don’t think there are girls lining up around the block to have me?”

(Judging by the whispers about him, you actually don’t think there are – but judging from Naoya’s eyes, he certainly thinks so.)

He lets go. He steps back. His eyes are still on you, but he raises his arms either side of him as if to show you that you’re free to go. And you do consider it – you let the possibility of running flicker through your head. It’s quickly replaced by the thought of Naoya on top of you, an end to the aching between your legs, and the knowledge of just how you might be treated if Naoya did succeed in his mission.

It’s fine to want nice things, every once in a while.

“Five,” he says, warningly, but his eyes are dark with hunger. “Four. Three.”

You turn towards his bedroom door and grasp the handle, and he laughs, the sound very loud.

“Oh,” he says, “so you’re going to be fun.”

The minute his bedroom door clicks behind him, Naoya wastes no time on being on you. He’s full throttle, immediately – hands pulling at your clothes, rough, his mouth on your neck. He avoids your mouth, like he doesn’t quite want to kiss you – but as you bite back a moan as he nips at your throat and he groans in response at the noise, you realise that he wants to hear you.

Figures a man like that wants the reassurance that you’re enjoying yourself. Figures he wants to crow over every whimper that drops from your lips. Hands pull at your kimono, almost ripping it in his hurry to have the fabric out of his way and on the floor. You barely even notice he’s been pushing you across the room until you’re pushed hard down, and your back meets pillows and sheets instead of the floor.

The way you fall makes a perfect tableaux; the material of your outfit pooling around you, your body in the middle of it, clad in only your underwear. His light eyes rake over you hungrily.

“Fuck,” he says. His hands immediately go to your hips, thumbs pressing hard into the soft flesh. You barely fit in his hands, the curve of you dramatic. “You’re going to be perfect for this, huh? Look at you. It’s a fucking shame you’re not knocked up right now--”

Your body reacts to his touch and his look, though you can’t help but be embarrassed by it – it’s one thing to be entranced by someone pretty, you think, but it’s another thing to be entranced by the idea of how pretty someone will look when their stomach is swollen and their breasts have swelled and their hips have filled out because they’re bearing your child.

He doesn’t bother with unclipping your bra. He reaches into his hakama and panic flashes before your eyes when he pulls out a knife, but he uses it merely to slice the gore between your bra cups, right between the cute bow adorning them.

“I—I liked that,” you say, but your voice sounds very wobbly in the room, under Naoya’s gaze, under his hands. He snorts.

“I like you better without it,” he says shortly, as if your likes and dislikes are not a consideration to be taken into account. For him, you suppose they’re not. “Besides.” Hands travel from your hips to cup your breasts, squeezing the meat of the mounds so that you groan and arch your back, desire pooling between your legs. “I wanted to see these. I wanted to touch them.” He grins. “I wanted to imagine how nice they’re going to look when they get bigger.”

He squeezes the point of each of your nipples, so hard that the pleasure almost becomes pain.

“I think I’ll leave marks on you,” he says, conversationally. He pulls an arm back and suddenly has slapped you, your breast stinging, a brief imprint of his hand showing on your skin. He admires how your breast moves with the force – you’re too surprised to even make a noise of pain. “Good girl. I want you to remember how I feel when we’re done.”

You don’t think you could forget. You definitely can’t forget the sting of the second slap, this one making you moan – it hurts, but part of it feels good to be marked by him. You definitely can’t forget his thumbs hooking into your underwear, dragging it past your thighs – the way that he drinks in the wet patch on the fabric. You definitely don’t think you’ll be able to forget the chuckle that leaves his mouth as he spreads your thighs and sees your sex for the first time, already slick.

“You like being treated rough, huh?” He asks you. There’s that grin again; a predator, a man who has never been told no, a man who doesn’t know what it’s like to not have everything he has ever wanted at his fingertips. “Good. I like playing rough.”

He still doesn’t kiss you. He dives his head down, though, his teeth once more nipping at your neck, at your breast, tongue lathing across your nipples. One of his hand delves between your legs, spreading the plump labia, fingers briefly stroking your clit and sending a hot bolt of lightning all through you.

“That’s right,” he murmurs, as he pushes a finger inside of you. You’re slick and tight around his digits, hot and silky – one of his fingers alone is like a vice. You’re going to feel so good. He doesn’t much care whether his cock hurts you or not – but he wants you to be so fucked out by the time he’s come inside you that you don’t care about him leaving your legs propped up so not a single trickle of come leaks out of you. He doesn’t want a whimpering little bitch in his bed – he wants someone who’ll lie there, patiently, prettily, and let him make sure it takes.

You’re going to be good for that, he knows it. With a body like that, and eyes like that, and a clear longing for something better than the shitty hand you’ve been dealt? Oh, yes. You might not know it, but Naoya likes you immensely.

That you’re a servant, who’s been taught your place - that you’ll look at the ground respectfully and walk behind him and agree to whatever he says, like women should? Even better. Perfect. Fuck any of those snooty young women of a clan who think that just because they were born with a name, they were somehow more than a cunt for breeding--

Two fingers. This one gets a cry from you, almost too full – Naoya clicks his tongue against his teeth. He’s not patient, but he slows down, scissoring you open. One of your hands seems to flex out as if going to grab his bicep – but thinks better of it, clutching for purchase on the bed instead. Cute.

He can’t help but watch his fingers dive in and out of you, already coated in your liberal slick. They already look so good – he can’t even imagine how good his cock will look, hilted so deep in you he’s all you can feel.

Three fingers. You’re making soft little noises, circling your hips – there’s a coil in your belly that Naoya’s fingers are stoking in a way you didn’t expect, one that you feel like you’re so close to getting to spring forth – he slides his fingers out of you as he feels you tightening and tensing around him. If you’re close enough to come on his fingers, he reasons, you’re close enough to take his cock.

He didn’t expect to be so entranced by how pretty you looked, all curves and soft on his bed – but there’s time for that later. Right now, his cock is driving a hole through his own underwear. The thought of fucking his seed into you, of having you coming around his cock . . . you moan in frustration at the lack of stimulation as his hands busy themselves peeling off his own clothes.

“What’s the matter?” He asks you, a little breathless. You don’t notice that – good. He hates people witnessing weakness. “You need to be filled up?”

“I—” your teeth dig into your bottom lip, and Naoya has the urge to kiss you that he pushes back.

Not now. Not yet. Not while you’re still scum. He can transform you, and maybe you’ll be worthy of that – but right now, you’re an empty shell, and Naoya needs to mould you into something fuller and better before he’ll lower himself to brush his lips over your own. That’s too intimate. That’s too much.

“You don’t need to use your words,” he purrs. “You’re soaking wet.”

You urge your thighs further apart as Naoya’s clothes slip off of him and you see his cock jutting proud against his stomach. You haven’t had much experience to know whether it’s a nice cock, whether he’s big – but Naoya grins when he sees you looking, ferocity sparking in his expression.

“You may as well look at it,” he tells you, “because it’s going to be buried inside you in just a moment--”

He’s on the bed, his body on top of yours. His hands are clinging to the hips he’s admired so much, his grip tight enough to mark. His face is close enough that you can see the sculpt of his lips and the fan of his eyelashes, the dark pupils. The wet head of his cock smears precome on your thigh as he positions himself at your entrance – and as he sinks inside, your body welcomes him.

He hisses in fluid pleasure as his cock descends inside of you inch by slow, inexorable inch – the stretch, the burn, the slick fluid pleasure. This time, one of your hands does find purchase on his shoulder – but Naoya is enjoying the feeling of your walls kissing his cock, embracing him tight and deep, too much to snap at you for being such an insolent thing. Your nails leave little crescent moon marks in his shoulder that he decides to forgive. After all – you’ll have bruises in the shape of his handprints tomorrow, he knows it. He doesn’t have a single crumb of shame about it.

If he gets his way, you’ll have more than just those as a mark of tonight. He hilts inside you, his skin pressing hot against yours. You’re so full – he feels so very deep, buried as far as he can go. All of your breath has been knocked out of you.

Your eyes meet his for just a moment.

“Better hold on,” he tells you. “I told you I wouldn’t be gentle.”

The first pull out is swift, immediately thrusting back inside you with such force that your body rocks on the bed. He wasn’t lying about not being gentle; his hips quickly establish a punishing rhythm, helped along by the slick glide of your channel, the wetness leaking around his cock. He pulls you a little with every thrust, the hands on his hips assisting him being able to watch his cock drive in and out of your sex. It’s a mark of the strength he has that the only sign that you weigh anything at all is a huff of breath in between his thrusts – you’ve never exactly felt delicate  in your life, but something about Naoya’s way of handling you makes you think that he could break you in half if he tried.

That is, if his rough thrusts in and out of you don’t split you in two first. You give up trying to do anything other than hold onto him, your mouth dropping open in a series of wordless wails and moans.

(Naoya prefers quiet women, he has to admit – but there’s something endearing about you giving up in bed, giving yourself to him in voice as well as body. Perhaps he doesn’t mind a loud woman, as long as the reason she’s loud is because he’s fucking her silly).

His skin slaps against your skin. The sound mixes with your own whimpers and gasps, Naoya’s quieter breathing, the embarrassingly wet sounds of his cock plunging in and out of you. The release that was denied to you earlier with his fingers is creeping back up on you again, all hot pleasure and tight tension. With every thrust, Naoya is hitting a spot amongst your plush walls that has your eyes rolling back in your head and your body all hot and needy. He doesn’t care if you come, really – this isn’t about you – but . . . just another of those things he supposes he could get used to, as the ball of pleasure inside of you finally unravels and you feel yourself come.

And oh, he could get used to that feeling too – how your walls pulsate around him, pulling his cock tighter inside of you, practically milking him. His hips just get faster, snapping against you like a man possessed – heh. Isn’t that funny?

Your chest is heaving, but he’s enjoying the feel of your hips too much to play with your tits again. When they’re all swollen with milk and bigger and rounder, he’ll probably fuck you again, slower . . . and then, he’ll get his feel of touching them. Just like he’ll get his feel of your thighs even plusher, your stomach rounder, your hips even better in his grip--

It’s those thoughts that push him over the edge. Your body softened and rounded with his child – his son, his heir. You’re fucking perfect for it. He groans, his hips snapping and driving so deep inside you that you think he’ll break – and then, he’s groaning, and his cock is pulsing inside you as the sensation of his come painting your walls hot and thick overtakes your senses.

He pumps his cock a few more times inside of you after the initial release, as if he’s trying to push his seed even further within you. You’re shuddering, exhausted, your body aching – and so, you don’t argue beyond a soft noise of pain at the unpleasant prickle as he pulls his cock out of you. You don’t argue when he slides a pillow beneath your hips and says;

“Keep your legs bent like that.”

Naoya takes a moment to admire you. Your pretty cunt is darkened from his aggressive fucking, clit swollen, slick with your own desire-- he frowns as he notices a drop of something whiter and thicker. That won’t do. Two fingers roughly push his come back into you, pressing it deeply, making you groan and your hips weakly thrust against them.

It’s cute that you’re still welcoming to his fingers; that your sex still sucks them in as if it’s greedy to be fucked again. Your eyes are half-lidded, glassy – your lips bitten dark. He thinks he could fuck you again and you wouldn’t even complain.

Yes. He grins at you. Give it a little while, to make sure his come takes – and then, he thinks, he will fuck you again. There’s no harm in being thorough, right?

[forcefullyawake]

Hello! This is for @ketslketslketsl claws and creampies collab.

Summary: It’s not every day a pretty girl gives you her number, or pursues you so much. Sure, it looks like Mikasa is hiding something, but how bad could it be?

Pairings: Mikasa x Reader, Monster! Eren x Reader

Warnings: non human sex, noncon, violence, tentacles, gaslighting

WC: 4.8k

You look like an idiot.

There’s really no way around it. The dress your friend had all but forced you into is a little too tight, the straps on it digging into your plump flesh a little too much. The color on your lips is a little too red, the makeup on your eyes a little heavier than you’d ever done before. All of this to stand out, to show to the party at large that not only were you available but you were looking- something you hadn’t gone out of your way to advertise before. Your friends say that you look hot before you leave, but you think you look like you’re trying to hard.

It’s especially obvious when you’re handed a red solo cup as soon as you walk into the door, and immediately find a place on the wall to people watch. Nobody gives you a second glance (well, maybe a couple do, but at the resting frown on your face nobody gives you a third or tries to strike up a conversation). All of the makeup in the world can’t overcome the fact that you just don’t like talking to new people. Hell, even the friends you came with tonight basically adopted you into their friend group your first week of college, instead of you engaging them.

People filter through the home all around you, some dancing where there’s open space, grinding on each other to a low thumping beat that reverberates through your chest. You have to shift on the uncomfortable heels you’re wearing, trying to subtly grind your thighs together. It’s not like you don’t want that- it’s not like you don’t want to throw caution to the wind and disappear upstairs with some pretty boy or gorgeous girl. It’s just that you don’t know how- it’s like you missed that lesson in school, too wrapped up in a book to learn to relate to people who didn’t exist on a page.

Your mother says it’s not too late to get out there and learn about these things, but it feels that way sometimes. In times like these, it’s hard to gather up the courage to strike up a conversation, even when you’re on your second drink. At least you think it’s your second drink- whatever is in your cup is red and fruity, and it doesn’t taste like there’s much alcohol in it, which even in your limited experience you know is a sure sign there’s probably a whole bottle or two of something in it. It makes your head swim a little, it’s nice in a way but it mostly makes you sleepy.

Maybe you can call an Uber. You can find one of your friends to let them know you’re leaving, call an Uber and go to sleep at an almost decent hour. Let them have all the fun, and the hangovers, while you get a solid eight hours of sleep. At least it’s the weekend, and you have two days of freedom before your job takes up your time again. Your eyes start slowly scanning the crowd, looking for anybody you know- Annie, maybe, she’s tall and her blonde hair sticks out. Or Reiner, the lone male in your group, but knowing him he’s snuck off with Bertolt the first chance they got. Lucky bastard.

“You look lonely,” Someone says to your right, and when you look over there’s a girl standing there. She’s a couple inches taller than you, slender but the sleeves on her shirt are short enough you can see her muscles too. Black hair, pulled back into a ponytail, a dainty gold chain resting on the pale skin of her neck with a little ‘M’ on it. Startling grey eyes that are doing their level best to bore into your skin. Definitely not the type to talk to you.

“Just trying to find my friends,” You say, but it mostly comes out as a whisper. She leans forward a little more, so you repeat yourself, a little louder. There’s a slight edge to her smile when she realizes you’re alone, you think, something about it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It must be a trick of the light, though, because the next moment it’s gone.

“It might be easier to find them if you’re in the crowd,” She says, murmuring right next to your ear, her breath dancing over your skin, “They could be upstairs, even. I could help you.”

You mean to say no, thanks but no thanks, you’ll be on your way. Your parents talked to you about stranger danger, and you’re on the wrong side of tipsy but what comes out of your mouth is, “Yes, please.” She smiles, victorious and promising.

“I’m Mikasa,” She tells you, putting her hand low on your back as you move away from the wall. The way the dress is designed, all wrapping layers, means there’s a gap in the fabric on your lower back, just enough that you can feel her hand on your skin, cool against you despite how warm it is in the room. You give her your name, watching as she repeats it to make sure she has it correct, eyes rapt on the way her lips move around it.

She doesn’t guide you upstairs, but closer into the makeshift dance floor. It feels like a scene out of one of the romance novels you have tucked away on your bookshelf at home. People seem to part around you, time stands still, all the cliche’s come to life. Her hands are on your hips as she moves behind you, steady and squeezing into you just enough to make your heart race. Mikasa isn’t especially broad but you feel remarkably safe with her right behind you.

“See anybody you know?” She has to lean down to speak in your ear, and between the alcohol and how close she is, you’re not sure you would even recognize your own face. You can feel her moving in time with the music, your own hips starting to sway with hers. Your eyes drift shut, letting her hands wander over your sides, skimming up to right under your breasts before the make a trail like fire back down to your hips. Maybe this isn’t so bad, you think, as you let yourself turn in her arms, her thigh moving between yours.

You’d think it’s a dream, that you did go home when you thought to, and your mind was wandering but the pleasure that courses through your when her jeans rub against your clothed cunt feels too good to be a dream.

“You do this often?” She asks, drawing you back to earth. All you can do is shake your head, arms coming up to wrap around her neck. She laughs at that, mouth forming words you can’t quite make out when you hear your name being called.

“I think your friends have found you,” Mikasa smiles, taking a step back as she eyes someone over your shoulder. Your hands drift back to yourself, helpless in the air before she catches one, grabbing a pen out of her back pocket to scribble something on the back of your hand. She presses a kiss on it when she’s done, giving you a warm smile.

“Call me,” She says, before being swallowed into the bodies behind her. On your hand there’s a phone number. You hold your hand close to your chest as your friends surround you.

“There you are!” Annie hisses at you, wrapping a protective arm around you, “What were you doing with her?”

“Mikasa?” You ask, glancing behind you like you would still be able to see her, “She was helping me look for you. You left me.”

“She looked like she wanted to eat you alive,” Reiner huffs, Bertolt nodding in agreement. You roll your eyes at them.

“Maybe you’re just seeing things,” You suggest, pulling away from them, “Either way I think I’m going to head out. You know this isn’t my scene.”

“I’ll drive you,” Annie says, looking over your shoulder, “Armin is ready to go too.”

“Thanks,” You walk with Annie and her boyfriend to her hatchback, stretching out your legs in the backseat. You ignore their hand holding and longing looks. Clearly, when Annie said Armin was ready to go, she didn’t just mean home. At least the drive home is short. You say your goodbyes and make your way into your apartment, locking the door behind you before getting ready for bed.

Normally you would be tired, but there’s a thrumming in your veins, an undercurrent of excitement at the number written on your skin. You enter it into your phone, debating on sending Mikasa a text, but you hold off, not wanting to seem overeager. Still, you toss and turn, your skin feeling overly sensitive, each brush of your sheets feeling like the brush of fingers.

With a sigh you give up on sleep, rolling onto your back, one hand trailing down your neck while the other pushes up your sleep shirt, fingers skimming up, cupping one breast. You let your eyes close, imaging someone else touching you, Mikasa’s fingers being the ones to curl around your neck, her fingers tweaking at your nipples until they’ve pebbled. You picture her lips, her tongue, when you spread your lips, fingers making tight circles around your clit. It’s not you touching yourself, but her, playing your body like a fiddle until you cum, quicker than you can remember in recent memory, hard and fast, one hand smothering down your moans from your neighbors.

Maybe it should concern you though- no matter how hard you concentrate on Mikasa, picturing her above you, or between your legs, you can seem to recall the color of her eyes.

They only look red in your memory.

Dawn rises bright and early, pulling you from your sleep. You wake up with your heart racing, pounding in your chest. You don’t remember much of your nightmare, only that something was chasing you, nipping at your heels as you ran for your life. With a shudder you roll out of bed, thoughtlessly grabbing your phone to take it with you to the bathroom.

You gather courage as you brush last night out of your teeth, compose a text while washing your face, and hit send right before you step into the shower. It’s nothing special, a quick text that lets Mikasa know it’s you. Your phone balances precariously too close to your shower, music playing steadily out of it when the sound cuts off- your ringtone starts to play. You’re getting a call.

Grabbing your towel from where it rests you dry your hand, half your body out of the shower as you take the call without checking who it is. Nobody calls anymore, you assume it’s an emergency.

“Hello?” You try not to sound too panicked. The voice on the other end laughs, low and throaty.

“I thought I said to call me?” Mikasa teases you, can you feel your skin heating up for a reason that has nothing to do with the shower. There’s no way to turn the water off from where you are now, not without getting your phone soaked, and you’re sure she can hear exactly where you are. “Though, maybe I should give you a call back.”

“Give me ten seconds, don’t hang up,” You say, not listening for her reply as you place the phone back onto the counter. Reaching over to twist the shower off, ignoring the soap left on your body to grab your towel and wrap it around you properly. It’s not enough but it’ll have to do.

“Still there?” You ask as you make yourself comfortable on the bed. Your sheets are gonna get wet but it’s worth it. Your skin is cold where the air hits it, but you don’t wanna hang up, not yet.

“Of course,” Mikasa breathes, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. “I know it’s a bit old fashioned to call people now, but I find it’s a much better way of communicating with people, don’t you?”

No, you don’t. You get flustered and stutter over your words, so you much prefer texting where you can make sure you say what you want to, but you certainly can’t tell Mikasa that and so- “Yeah, I think so too. It’s hard to read tone over text.”

That part isn’t a lie, at least. Mikasa’s laugh is like honey in your ears. “You don’t have to lie, I can put you out of your misery now, if you’d like. Send some texts with the letter u as you.” Her teasing doesn’t sting you, not even a little bit.

“Or we could just meet up?” You suggest, breath catching in your throat as you wait for her reply. It could be that you’ve completely misread the situation, maybe she’s just being nice, maybe she doesn’t like girls, maybe-

“Give me an address and I’ll pick you up tonight at 7,” Mikasa replies, so smooth and confident it makes your head swim a little. You rattle off your address and she tells you to dress casual before hanging up. You have all day to get ready but you start immediately, drying your hair and styling it before picking out what you hope is a casual enough outfit- a soft white sweater over a sundress patterned with strawberries. A few swipes of pink makeup later and you’re set.

Now all you have to do is wait.

It feels like the hours manage to double themselves, or even triple themselves. A whole lifetime of waiting in one day until you manage to lose track of time and doze off on the couch. Three sharp knocks on your door startle you awake, sending you flying towards the door.

“I’m awake!” You practically shout, throwing the door open. “I mean. Hello. Hi. Can we do that again?”

“No, it was cute,” Mikasa says, smiling at you. You can feel heat rush to your cheeks, trying to ignore it. You’re not sure if you should invite her in but she solves that problem for you. “Are you ready? The place I’m taking you isn’t that far away.”

“Just let me get my shoes on,” You say, quickly turning to slide your feet into the first pair of sandals you see, strappy ones that make you trip if you’re not careful. But it’s fine. You know you’ll be careful tonight.

Mikasa leads you to her car, a silver hatchback. The interior looks spotless, and there’s an almost overwhelming smell of cleaner permeating through the car. You buckle yourself in before looking at her.

“Got it detailed just for me?” You think your voice is teasing but Mikasa stiffens, inhaling sharply as she looks at you. Her reaction takes you aback. “Whoa. Sorry. Teasing!” Mikasa relaxes almost imperceptibly at that, but you can see her shoulders sag down a little.

“Sorry, normally nobody notices how clean a car is,” She says, “Took me off guard. You’re very perceptive.”

“A lifetime of being a wallflower,” You reply without thinking, “You get good at people watching, all that jazz.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” She teases you back now, bringing a smile to your face. She’s right, the place she takes you isn’t that far away and the drive passes smoothly as she pulls into the parking lot of your towns oldest diner. You sit up straighter in your seat- you haven’t been here since you were a kid.

“It’s a little old fashioned, I know,” Mikasa says as she gets out, and you must be distracted because the next thing you know she’s opening your door for you, and there’s no way she moved that fast. “But the ice cream floats here are to die for.”

“Oh no, this is great!” You exclaim, walking next to her into the diner. She asks for a booth in the corner, something you didn’t know people did outside of your romance novels.

“Order whatever you want,” Mikasa says, barely giving the menu a glance. “It’s my treat.” Your mother didn’t raise you to take advantage of someone’s generosity even on a date so you order a small combination meal- though you do opt to upgrade your drink to an ice cream float at Mikasa’s insistence you try one.

“What do you do for work?” You ask, trying not to cringe at your attempt at small talk while you wait for your food to come out.

“I’m.. uh,” Mikasa hesitates now, looking anywhere but your face. It takes her a fraction of a second too long to answer, just enough time to make you frown when she continues, “I’m a caregiver.” Even to you it sounds like a half truth, but you let it slide, not wanting to be too pushy on a first date.

“Oh?” You say, shifting in your seat, “How did you get started in that?”

“It just kind of.. picked me, I suppose.” Mikasa still isn’t meeting your eyes and you figure it’s time for a change of subject.

“How do you know Historia?” There, that should be a safe question. She was at Historia’s party last night, after all.

“We were friends way back in elementary school,” Mikasa explains, clearly relieved to have moved to something different. “I live one neighborhood over from her, so we’ve already just hung out together.” That makes sense to you- Annie has known Historia since high school, and Annie seemed to know of Mikasa.

“Got any embarrassing stories?” You know you probably shouldn’t ask but you can’t resist. The Historia you know is almost regal in nature, prim and perfect at all times. You can’t even imagine her as a child.

“Oh, do I ever,” Mikasa says, voice a little lower as she leans towards you, launching into a story from her childhood. You hardly notice your food appearing, and then barely taste it as you eat, hanging on Mikasa’s every word. She’s funny and engaging, and it’s not until you hear the pointed cough of the man behind the register that you realize it’s closing time for them.

“Yeah, Zeke, we’re going,” Mikasa says with a roll of her eyes as she pays him. He huffs at her a little bit but soon enough the two of you are sitting inside of her car, an awkward silence growing. What do you say now? You don’t want this date to end but would it be to forward to invite her over? Or will she invite you over? You don’t get too far into your thoughts when the car starts moving.

“Do you wanna come over?” She asks, the car sitting long at a stop sign. She’s looking dead ahead, fingers gripping the wheel so hard it turns white. She’s just as nervous as you are, you realize.

“Yes, please,” You manage to breathe out before continuing on, not wanting to sound rude, “If you want me to, that is.”

“Trust me, I want you to,” Mikasa replies, something laced in her voice but she doesn’t relax at all on the drive to her place. The drive is quiet, tense in a way you don’t understand, but there’s still an electric current in your veins as her house comes into view. It’s one neighborhood over from where you were last night, just like she said, a small place that looks like a two bedroom.

“I got it from my parents,” She explains as she leads you inside, locking the door behind you. “When they passed.” You’re not sure what to say at that but the moment passes. Mikasa leads you to the couch.

Now what?

“So,” You start, barely getting the word out before her lips are pressed against yours, pushing you back onto the couch. Her mouth is firm on yours, insistent. Her hands are on you, sliding down your sides, teasing your thighs under the hem of your dress. Her mouth moves to your neck, biting and kissing and sucking her way down.

It’s a lot, almost too much. You want to tell her to stop, to slow down a little but Mikasa presses forward, your dress sliding up as she slides down between your legs. The shadows on the wall dance in a weird way, that doesn’t seem to move with the way the lights are. You can’t voice anything as Mikasa’s mouth covers your pussy, mouthing at it over your underwear. Her spit wets the fabric, her tongue dragging over your clit, making your eyes roll back. Your fingers curl into fists at your side, legs spreading wider to accommodate her shoulders- which you realize seem too wide now.

You’re so close when your eyes finally open and you look down.

Mikasa isn’t between your legs.

Whatever’s taken her place isn’t human, the face looks human enough but his body (and he’s definitely a him- you think you almost recognize him) blends in with the shadow, tentacles sliding up behind him, reaching out for you.

“Hello,” The monster says, ignoring the way you scream. You manage to twist free, catching him by surprise as your hand shoots out to scratch right at his eyes. You’re on your feet, running as you hear two voices call out your name.

But your shoes, your stupid strappy sandals- your ankle rolls in them and then something grabs you before you fall completely, your head slamming against the front door as everything does dark.

“Wake up,” A harsh voice commands you. It’s a growl, in human and it seems to be inside of your head. You ignore it, trying to roll over, thinking you’re dreaming but you can’t move. That makes your eyes shoot open.

“You’re up!” The monster is looming over you, using it’s many tentacles to hold you down. Your clothes are gone, the cold air biting at your skin. You’re not even sure how it’s this cold inside of a bedroom, one that looks to be incredibly decorated as well. There’s a chair in the corner, a plush blanket under you. It almost looks like a hotel room.

“Mikasa brought you just for me,” It tells you , leaning in close, his tongue coming out to lick at your throat. “You’re so sweet, I can’t wait to play with you, can’t wait to eat you right up!”

“Let- let go of me!” You shout, trying to make your voice as loud as possible. Maybe a neighbor will hear you. Maybe the monster doesn’t like loud noises. “Mikasa!”

“You can scream all you want, nobody is coming to save you,” The monster seems to delight in the way his cruel words make you cry. “It’s just me and you.” It pauses. “Maybe I’ll let Mikasa play with you a little too, before I kill you. She really liked you, she almost didn’t want to give you to me.”

He leans closer, speaking into your ear, rancid breath sweeping over you, “But I insisted. And she won’t ever deny me.”

“Eren,” Mikasa’s voice comes from the door way, “There’s no need to be cruel.” She’s not looking at you at all, looking rapturously at the monster on top of you. She looks in awe, in love even.

And not even slightly afraid of him.

“You know they taste better when they’re afraid, Mikasa, how many times do I have to tell you that?” The monster, Eren, snaps at her, hardly giving her a second glance. A tentacle creeps up your leg, twisting around it, the tip grazing over your cunt. A shudder of revulsion runs through you when it taps your clit, sending a spark of pleasure through you. “It’s better when they fight it. It always is.”

“Whatever you say, Eren,” Mikasa gives a sigh, taking up the seat you saw before. She’s wearing sweat pants now, a sports bra, looking like she’s just came in from working out. There’s a light sweat on her skin.

“Going to watch this time?” Eren asks, shifting so he’s to your side now, his tentacles holding you open, putting you on display. You try to close your legs but he’s too strong, his grip too tight. “Normally you don’t. Is this one special?”

“You know as well as I do that she’s just like the rest of them,” Mikasa says, and that, more than anything is what breaks you. A sob tears from your throat, as reality comes crashing in. You’re nothing more than a mark- she was never really into you at all.

Of course, you think, why would anybody like her be into someone like you?

More of his tentacles come up, holding your pussy open to their gazes. Despite her harsh words Mikasa has a hard time looking away from it. Eren’s tentacles are softer than they look as one circles your clit, drawing wetness from you no matter how much you tell yourself you don’t want this.

The tip of the tentacle is insistent though, circling your clit with more pressure until your hips jump up, chasing after it when Eren moves it back. He laughs, mocking and mean, before returning to his ministrations. He’s not soft in the way he touches you, one tentacle coming up to start to slowly push it’s way inside of you. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever taken before and it hurts.

“Stop,” You whine, hips twisting away from him as much as you can, “It hurts, please, stop!”

“I’ll stop when I’ve had my fill,” Eren replies, his voice mockingly sweet as the tentacle rams into you, splitting you open. The one circling your clit has left, leaving you reeling as your mind focuses in on the pain. The pace he sets is brutal, and his tentacle doesn’t feel like a cock or any of your toys. It squirms inside of you, pushing upwards along your front wall until-

“Fuck!” You wail now, thrashing on the bed. Eren smiles, and Mikasa gives a little whimper. You manage to look at her only to see her sat low in the chair, her own legs spread, with one of her hands down the front of her sweats, clearly touching herself while the other works at one of her nipples. “Please!”

“I knew you would beg,” Eren sounds delighted, “They always beg!” Your words seem to be what he was waiting for- the tentacle returns to your clit while the other attacks that spongy spot inside of you. You’re crying outright now, absolutely sobbing with- with everything, really. Your cries are of pleasure, of pain, of fear, of ecstasy. You cum harder than you ever have in your entire life.

But Eren doesn’t stop.

He keeps going, now moving to to lap up your juices with his tongue, cleaning you as one orgasm trips into the next, and then another. You can’t tell if you ever really come down from one. It’s too much, it hurts again, and you don’t want this- you know you don’t want this, you want him to stop and-

You pass out, somewhere after what you think is an hour, if not more. Your mind blissfully goes blank, locking you away behind a door, away from your fractured reality.

People are talking above you, in quiet, hushed tones.

“We can’t keep her.”

“You said you just wanted a snack tonight, Eren. Not.. not that.”

“She’ll go to the police.”

“They won’t believe her, you know that. They didn’t believe Historia.”

“Historia was a child.”

“I’ll convince her she fell asleep or something, you know I can.”

“Fine. But Mikasa?”

“Yes?”

“Next time she’s mine.”

You don’t hear anything after that.

“Hey,” Mikasa is by your side. You’re back on her couch, clothes in place. You jerk up, away from her, looking for signs of what happened but there’s nothing. You don’t see any bruising. You feel sore between your legs, but nothing that would match what you went through. “You fell asleep. After we fucked.”

That’s not true, you know it isn’t true but the only other explanation doesn’t make sense. Monsters aren’t real. You weren’t… assaulted by one. Mikasa has to be right.

“Oh,” You struggle to sit up, feeling sluggish. “I’m sorry. I’m normally not like that.” The smile on Mikasa’s face is warm, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I think I need to go home. I don’t feel so good. Can you take me?”

“Sure, of course,” Mikasa sounds relieved. That’s good, you think, she’s not mad at you. It must have been awkward for her when you fell asleep, had that nightmare. It felt so real. She helps you gather up your things. One of the straps on your sandal is broken. You’re not sure how but it’s a short walk to her car, you can go barefoot.

She starts it up, already talking to you about meeting up again, maybe next week if you want? You tell her it sounds nice, that you had a really good time tonight. You can’t tell how she’s lying through her teeth.

You give her home one last look as she pulls the car away.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think the shadow in the window had a face, that it waved at you.

But you know better.

Monsters aren’t real.

[futurewriter2000]

Rocks and Dust

A/N: I don't know why Remus gave me such Heath Ledger vibes when I was writing this but he did and I am honestly so fucking proud of it. Now, I really want to make myself some rice and chicken... or just rice. I hope you like it <3

REQUESTED BY @cloudywitchh: Hiiii, Im not sure if your requests are open, but if they are i have one. :)) Before I request, I want you to know that I love your oneshots and series! ive been binge reading. Could you possibly do a Gryffindor reader that has both james and remus that like her. oneshot or series. if you choose to write it, thank you, if not i understand

XX

Souls meet when eyes do and it hasn't been much easy to hold yourself back when such mesmerising hazel eyes had done nothing but watch you seductively.

At first you couldn't feel it but after a while, something in the back of your mind told you to look a certain direction. When you did, your eyes met his and a certain colour started to appear on your cheeks.

You watched him, he watched you. "Yes, Potter?" you asked with a smirk forming on the corner of your lips.

He smiled, tilting his head a bit to the side before speaking. "Had you done something new with your hair?" he asked, glancing up at your hair as you let out a laugh.

"Not really."

"Well, no matter of it." he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "You look absolutely stunning."

You felt your heart flutter in your chest but you were not about to let him know that. "Thank you. When don't I look absolutely stunning." you joked and he rolled his eyes.

"Hey, mate." Remus came into the common room and tapped James' shoulder as he passed him by, sitting next to him.

James smile faded a bit. He was a tad disappointed in his friend's presence. Everything had seemed to go so well between you and him. If the two of you continued to be alone, he would have had more confidence to ask you out on a date. Knowing that Remus took fancy in you too, it was a bit challenging to do so.

"What's up, Moony?" James looked at him, clearly not in a friendliest tone Remus was used to.

Remus' lips twirled upwards and he felt amused by his friends' frustration. He looked at you and smiled wonderfully. "Hi." he said and you smiled cheerfully, oblivious to the competition in front of you.

"Hi, Remus."

You seemed to be a tad disappointed as well. You loved to flirt with James because it seemed so easy and fun to do yet sometimes you couldn't understand whether he truly likes you or if he's doing it just out of fun. But you live by your mother's words; If a man truly likes you, he will do absolutely everything to let you know and pursue you.

That was why you were always so laid back. You didn't overthink anything when it came to boy. They seemed to think more simply than girls and whatever they did, they did because they wanted to, not because there was a whole scheme behind their actions.

You could see a bit discomfort in James. You couldn't really figure out why but he started to pout, which had made you a bit more uncomfortable around both of them.

Remus, however, loved to talk to you. He was open and honest but sometimes you felt as if he held too many secrets inside of him. To you, he was a bit harder to get to know, no matter how much he could tell you.

"You're going to love this, (y/n)!" he started to sound more excited. "I had found the oldest yet most interesting place a few nights ago-" he hear- both of you heard James scoff to that. "And I know your curious spirit cannot wait to explore it."

"Where?!" you threw all your books away and jumped forward. Old ruins and historic backgrounds always made you overly excited. You must have gotten it from your dad's side of the family. Everybody seemed to be more of history freaks and you were no different.

"I can show you. What do you think James?" Remus turned to James, who only laughed.

"No, thank you." he stood up and stretched his arms over his body. "Rocks and dust? Not my cup of tea. If I wanted to take a girl I fancy-" he looked at you with a grin and a soft chuckle. "I'd take her somewhere more romantic." he walked to you and winked. "A lovely restaurant or a walk among the trees under the moonlight." he was leaning down to you, close and observing the flush in your cheeks.

Your eyes were meeting and it lit a fiery spark between the two of you but as you didn't want to give him the pleasure of it, you rolled your eyes and moved away. "That's a bit of a cliche, isn't it, Potter?" you stood up and stretched your back as well. "I don't do romance." you turned from James to Remus and smiled excitedly. "Shall we go and explore!?"

"Yes we shall."

---

Remus hasn't felt you this excited over some 'rocks and dust' in all the years he had known you but he had felt his heart fill with joy and love when he could see how a person can live for the small things in life. You didn't care about wealth or power, neither if a person was physically beautiful and attractive. You neither cared if person had its flaws, you still loved anybody for who they were; good or evil. You always tried to look the best in people and your gift was, that you always seemed to bring out just that out of everybody and especially out of him.

As the two of you had walked, he had realised that he wants to tell you something important to him. It wasn't a secret to his friends and family but it was a shameful secret to him and to everybody else.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked as the two of you were climbing up the hill.

"Yeah." you stopped, gasping for air and putting your hands on your hips. "I think we need to rest too." you smiled and he laughed.

"It's not that far. We're almost close."

"My heart is almost close to stopping too."

He laughed again and sat on the rock, finding the moon shining on him as if it was leaving its fullness from a few days ago. "I just have the need to tell you this... and I'm serious."

You looked up at him and found the moon perfectly cut out the colour of his green eyes. "Your eyes look so pretty in the moonlight." you said without any filter but sat down next to him.

"Thank you."

You smiled and looked up at the moon before taking a look of his worried expression. "What is it?" you shoved him a little as he smiled. "You can tell me your deepest darkest secret." you joked but it was no joke to him.

"Well... I'm... I'm a werewOlf." he stuttered out, trying to sound casually as he said so but unsuccessful.

You only stared in silence, clearly processing the information as he was impatient to wait for your reaction. Your eyes only narrowed at him and you nodded. "I knew it."

"You knew it?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I mean, I didn't know it. I just know there was something to you that I couldn't put my finger on but I kind of knew it. It did cross my mind once but I brushed it off quickly. I didn't believe it but apparently my intuition was on to something." you laughed and stood up, offering him your hand. "Shall we continue?"

"You don't seem a tad phased by it." he took your hand gently and stood up.

"Oh, I am but I really don't mind people being people. You know?" you started to talk fast. "I don't judge people by their flaws, more by their actions and I don't seem why your werewolfness would bother me when there are far worse withces, wizards and Muggles in this world, who are far more worse than any werewolf I had encounter. Which, you're the first but still. You don't seem the one to eat children and howl at the moon."

He let out a loud laugh. "I don't eat children but I do the latter."

---

The two of you walked up the hill hand in hand, him trying to pull you up as his steps were much larger than yours. He was more of muscles than you, faster and careful as for you seemed to trip over a branch or two.

He had opened up as the two of you made your way to the top and started to walk on the flatlands. It stretched far away from the castle but you could see the ruins so clearly from the distance. The light of he moon made the subject far more pleasing to the eye and at that moment when Remus was talking to you and your eyes seemed to wander on the view- everything seemed to be perfect and you imprinted that moment into your memory so that you can look back and re-live it all over again.

As he talked, he seemed more lose and excited. He hadn't held back on anything. He had told you about Animagnus forms of his friends and how he isn't the only one who howls at the moon. Sirius apparently loves to do it just as well in his other form. He had constantly made you laugh by his full moon stories and how he accepted the awful fact of his life-long destiny of sharing his body with a beast.

He was glowing, literally glowing when he was telling you all the things he was hiding from you and for the first time, you were the one to listen and he was the one constantly talking.

"We're here!" he pointed at the ruins of an old castle. It wasn't big or notorious as Camelot or Hogwarts or any other historically known castle. It was small and poor in it's built but it was still a castle, just not the traditional kind.

He let go of your hand and it gave you a sort of an electrical shock as he did. You seemed to be so comfortable and in love of holding hands that you completely forgot what it was like without his fingers intertwined with yours.

It wasn't for long though. He had opened the old wooden door for you and offered you his hand to lead you inside. "After you, m'lady." he bowed as a gentleman should and you hurried up inside, taking him by the hand and leading him behind you.

Your wands needn't to be lit as the moonlight made it's own natural light through the large gaps between the rocks. Nature made it's own charm by growing vines around the walls, flowers and grass among the cracks. It truly did feel more magical than the magic itself.

"Oh, Remus look!" you ran to one of the walls and saw names carved in. "Ibzan." you smiled back at him.

"Old biblical name." Remus followed and saw many other names written around it. "Arthur." he laughed. "Wouldn't be an English castle without an Arthur in it."

"Tatiana." you looked at it. "Like a princess." you looked at him but he seemed to be very close to you, staring forward. His chest was against your back and his head leaning over your shoulder. You didn't have to look back. You could only move your eyes to the side and see him there.

He seemed to be so focused on the rocks in front of you that he hasn't even noticed you marvelling at him. All you could see, for the first time noticing his sharp, nicely structured side profile. His cheek bones were finely defined, his lips sharp and plump and his eyebrows nicely arched.

He truly was a beautiful boy and you hadn't noticed it till now. His palm was placed against the rock as he was supporting himself but when he had noticed you looking at him, he slyly looked back. A corner of his mouth quirked up and he said: "A girl doesn't need to be a princess to have a beautiful name." he spoke low and quietly.

The spark that James lit before was over-flamed by the passion Remus arroused in you. Before you knew it, he was leaning down and kissed you softly. One short kiss and it was enough to tempt you for more. You put your hand around his neck and pulled him down for me, smiling into it as you had felt him smile as well. As heavy as they felt, they seemed light as well because no kisses seemed to be as perfect as his; soft, teasing yet deep and passionate.

When he placed his hand on your cheek you could feel the dust set on your skin. You let out a giggle and he pulled away. "What?" he smiled but then just noticed how dark your cheek was. "Oh, my-" he let out a laugh, then looked back on the wall his palm was pressed on before. "I am terribly sorry."

You laughed as well. "Don't worry." you continued to laugh and wipe it away. "It'll probably wash away."

"Probably." he tilted his head a bit and gave you a peck. "And we should probably head back."

Putting your arms around his neck, you made a big stretch and looked up at the sky. "Ugh..." you looked back into his green eyes, burning your soul into sparks and bitses. "But it's so beautiful here." you let out a small whine and he chuckled.

"Well, (y/n)(y/l/n). I didn't think you did romance." he teased.

"I don't. I let the man do all the romance for me." you stepped on your tiptoes and brushed your nose against his.

"That's a bit unfair."

"I wouldn't worry if I were you, Lupin. I have time to make it fair."

"Glad to hear it."

[shorkbrian]

Okay so pro hero kiri has this big fat crush on his co worker! Reader who unintentionally rejecting his moves on her because she is so shy and awkward but slowly she shown some signs that she is into him so he changes tactics and acts more romantic which adds bonus points once he sees her blush when she reads the note attached to a deep red rose! fast forward to a couple of months of pinning and he is getting very frustrated especially with her enticing soft curves of her body so (1/2) 🌠 anon

oof okay listen!!!! open ur ears!!! I have something to say

(Warnings - stalking, Somnophilia, dubcon, NSFW, unsafe sex, blood from a bite wound but it’s very brief lol)

You’re a little paper pusher at his agency, you barely even interact with the big man, but he always makes time to swing by your desk and chat for a bit before he heads home.

Unfortunately, you’re about as smooth as a piece of burnt toast. His casual flirting goes right over your head, and you keep rejecting his advances and it’s so fucking frustrating. Can’t you see how hard he’s fallen for you? Kiri doesn’t understand why you look away whenever he bends down to rest his elbows on your desk, giving you the perfect view down his shirt to see his fat pecs (the man knows he’s got a banging’ body okay). He doesn’t get why you shy away from his touch when he tries to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Kirishima can’t comprehend why you always turn him down when he mentions going out with you and some other co-workers (to make you feel more at-ease, he knows he can be intimidating) for drinks or a bite to eat.

He’s stressed - the man really wants to get to know you, but it’s like you’re completely oblivious to his intentions. He’s pretty sure you just see him as a goofy extroverted coworker that loves people. After all, he does stop and say hi to several other people every day as he makes his way over to your desk.

So Kirishima decides to up his game. Starts making his feelings obvious. He gets more touchy, perching on your desk to reach and rub your shoulders, laughing at your jokes and (gently) smacking a hand against your leg like a giggly schoolgirl. He talks about his workout routine and asks you if you think his muscles have been getting bigger. Could you check? Just with a hand around his bicep of course.

He buys a few gifts here and there; a cup of coffee for you with his number on the lid, a new pen when he noticed your favorite one broke, cute socks because he’s seen you wearing cute ones before, and he saw them and thought of you.

Each and every gift is accepted with the biggest blush he’s ever seen. You turn beet red, flush stretching down your neck and disappearing underneath your shirt. Kirishima chides himself for wanting to see how far the flush went, for wanting to rip off your shirt and bend you over right here and now.

But he didn’t like you just for your body, and he was willing to wait. 

Kirishima feels emboldened by the success of his other gifts, so he decides to write out his feeling in a note, get you a bunch of flowers, and present them to you Friday night. That way, you’d have time to think things over and process your own feelings before you saw Kiri again on Monday. To him, it seemed like the perfect plan.

And god, you were so cute when he gave you the flowers, he wanted to kiss you on the nose and then taste your lips, right then and there. 

But he didn’t.

He gave you a soft pat on the back before walking away. He was around the corner before he heard you gasp, which immediately made him backtrack and peek his head out so he could see you. Was it a good gasp? Or a bad gasp?

You had a little smile on your face, eyes twinkling as you read the note.

Kirishima pumped his fist, heart soaring. He finally got through to you.

Except he hadn’t.

On Monday, you didn’t say anything to him, hardly even looked at him. When he came by your desk to ask what you thought of the note, all he got was a fierce blush and mumbled sentences, before you bolted off to the bathroom.

It’s like he was back at square one. 

It made Kirishima feel... inadequate. His old middle-school insecurities came creeping back into his life. Was he not good enough? Was he just too boring and dull and you didn’t know how to tell him without hurting his feelings? What was wrong with him?

But he was an adult now, he could handle rejection.

The thing is, you weren’t rejecting him. 

You baked him cookies, dropping them off in his office while he was out, but they had your name on them and the most adorable little note, and Kirishima’s heart almost exploded. Plus, they tasted delicious. 

He got a text from you one night, a cute picture of a spiky red dog and a “this reminded me of you... Sleep well! <3″ and he spent the rest of the night imagining your wedding.

You kept showing signs that you were interested, yet you wouldn’t even look at him in person. Kirishima concluded that you were just too shy.

That was okay. He realized that the more time he gave you, the more you opened up to him. Maybe in a few months, the two of you could go on a date or something!

In the meantime, the man liked to check up on you, make sure you were safe. He was invested in you now, subtly following you home some nights to make sure nobody looked at you wrong.

He broke into your apartment quite often, but it was entirely justifiable! He wasn’t being a creep (okay, well, maybe just a little), he was just being a good friend, a good coworker. He had to make sure everything was safe, that no one could get in (other than him), that you hadn’t left a candle burning or the stove going. 

You slept like a rock, staying asleep even when Kirishima accidentally knocked a cup off your counter and broke it. To his surprise, there was no awakening, no screaming, yelling for him to get out or that he was a weirdo. Just you, snoring in your bed, a tiny bit of drool at the side of your mouth.

It was such a domestic scene, it warmed Kiri’s heart.

Sometimes the man liked to slip into bed beside you, frame creaking under his weight. It was a tight squeeze-he was a large man and your bed was made for one (1) person, but Kirishima didn’t mind. It just meant he got to press close to you, feel the warmth of your smaller body, hear your quite little huffs and snores and mumbles as you slept. 

He let himself relax, sink into the mattress. The next time he crawled into your bed, he let himself wrap an arm around you. The time after that, Kirishima felt brave enough to scooch under the covers, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he found that your pajamas consisted of a giant shirt and panties.

Bare legs.

Glad that he wasn’t a teenager anymore, he didn’t have to worry about cumming in his pants. Still, he found himself leaving your apartment with a chubbed-up cock more often than not.

You were just so soft. He wanted to touch all of you, to lick all over and get your plush flesh in-between his teeth. He wanted to bite into your shoulders as he fucked you into the mattress, pumping you with load after load of cum, until your stomach was swollen and you cried because you felt sick.

But Kirishima also wanted to hold you close, take showers together and wash your hair for you, make coffee in the morning and talk about last night’s episode of “Chopped”. He wanted to give you sappy smooches before getting to work, make you laugh with goofy jokes and give you hugs, pick you up and twirl you around whenever he saw you after being apart, no matter if it were days or minutes.

The nasty, dirty thoughts warred with the soft, gentle ones. Sometimes they mixed, Kirishima daydreaming of sweet, romantic sex. 

He just wanted you so bad.

One night, he’s crawled into bed with you like usual, rubbing a sock-clad foot over your bare legs, pressing chaste little kisses to the top of your head as he draws you into his arms. It was nigh impossible to wake you, so he felt no fear or apprehension in taking such bold actions.

Shuffling in your sleep, you throw a leg over his hip, snuggling deeper into the solid warmth that is his body. Kiri sighs, contented.

And then you start making noises.

Little huffs of breath, tiny whimpers, and when Kirishima looks down, your eyebrows are drawn up. You twitch against him, against the thick thigh that you had slung your leg over, and then repeat the motion. 

You’re.... You’re having a wet dream.

Kirishima lets out a shaky breath, trying to focus so he doesn’t crush your arm with his excited grip. You’re rutting against him steadily now, dragging your damp cunt against his leg, sighing at the friction, lips parted. 

His cock is rapidly hardening, and he wants to rub himself against your stomach, feel the cling of his shirt as he rucks it up with his rhythmic humping. But he doesn’t.

He’s a gentleman, he wouldn’t take advantage of you like that. You’re just having an unconscious reaction to a man being in your bed. Maybe further down the road, when he’s taken you on many romance-filled dates, then he can lay you down and whisper into your ear how much he loves you while the two of you make love.

The man is so taken with that fantasy that he almost misses the gentle gasp of a name falling from your lips.

But he didn’t, because it was his name.

A shiver ran through him; excitement? fear of you waking up? He didn’t know. When he checked your face, you were still asleep, letting out those little whimpers and moaning his name quietly.

God was real.

God was real, and he had made angels, and you were one of them. 

And lord forgive him, because Kirishima was about to sin.

How could he hold himself back? You were humping his leg, moaning his name and panting, in your sleep. You wanted him, you were just too shy to initiate or accept Kiri’s advances. 

Theres no way he’s holding himself back.

Covers are thrown off, Kirishima quickly detaching from you (oh how he missed your warmth immediately) to shuck off his clothes, almost falling on his face as he ripped off his socks. 

Then he’s looming over you, quickly pulling up your shirt, lifting your head gently, guiding your arms out. Your panties came off next, slid down your legs with shaky, excited hands.

Kirishima wanted to worship you. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, laid there on the bed, whining in your sleep for him, thighs rubbing together. He felt himself salivating, jaw itching to open and clamp down, to eat you whole. He wanted all of you.

Climbing back on the bed, Kiri pumped his cock a few times, precum flowing from the tip helping to smooth the way. He was going to fuck you now. 

No preamble, the man just spread your legs, settling between them. A quick rub of your pussy with his fingers had him finding it already drenched, and he groaned quietly, the hand around his cock moving faster. 

He shifted back slightly, only far enough to lift your legs, pressing your thighs up and back towards your chest. Your breathing changed slightly, but Kirishima wasn’t paying attention to that now. He didn’t care if you woke up now, you had just been dreaming about him. He was your wet dream come true, you’d surely appreciate how good he was about to make you feel.

Lining up was a bit more difficult than Kirishima was used to - he’d never been this excited to fuck someone in his life, hands trembling, heart beating out of his chest, sweat slicking his skin. But then the tip of his fat cock slipped inside, stretching you open, and all was right in the world for Kirishima.

He wanted to slam home, to push and push until he was balls deep and his tip was kissing your cervix. But he held himself back - he hadn’t stretched you, and he didn’t like the idea of hurting you in that way, he wanted your first time with him to feel good.

So he went slow, pushing inside an inch, waiting. Pushing another inch, then waiting. Waiting waiting waiting, he almost couldn’t rein in his desires. But he did, for you.

“Kiri?” You mumbled, eyes fluttering open. Kirishima wasn’t expecting you to speak so clearly, hips jumping forward, seating himself the rest of the way inside your heavenly warmth as the man swore.

“Kiri?” Clearer now, with a hint of panic. Kirishima looked up, and you were fully awake now, looking at the man with wide eyes.

“Hey baby.” He whispered, smiling gently. Your hands rose, one resting against his bicep, the other settling on his chest, and he shivered at your touch, at the feel of your tiny little hands on his flesh. 

“What’s-? When did you....?” It was so cute, the confused scrunch of your face. You were still fighting the mist of sleep, blinking owlishly up at the man on top of you. Fear hadn’t kicked in, although it was simmering underneath the surface.

“Hey, shhh. Don’t worry, I’m here. Gonna make you feel the best, you’re my pretty little girl, know that? I’ve been waiting so long for you.” He whispered, swooping down for a gentle kiss.

You didn’t fight him, just accepted the lips pressing against yours with confusion. It probably felt like you were still in a dream, hazy and relaxed.

Kirishima couldn’t wait anymore, his cock was throbbing, your insides were molten and he felt like he was going to explode. He wanted, no, needed to move.

His first thrust was small, just a quick schlick out, and the same noise when he pushed back in. You were sopping wet, and the slide made it easy for him to move. Even more proof that you wanted this. 

You gasped, eyes fluttering closed as you pulled away from the kiss. Kiri huffed out a joyful, breathless laugh as he thrusted again, sparks of pleasure lighting up in his gut. 

“Mm, Kiri wait-” You moaned, nails digging into his bicep and chest. Kirishima ignored you, speeding up, trying to angle his hips to find your sweet spot. One of his hands held your hip, the other brushing your hair out of your eyes as he cooed at you. “Pretty baby, my beautiful girl. You’re making me feel amazing, love you so much. Feeling good? I can feel you trying to milk my cock. You want my cum?”

Dazed, assaulted by so many sensations straight out of sleep, you couldn’t exactly grasp what was going on. But Kirishima’s question snapped you fully awake, and you squirmed against his body. “No, no, don’t do that.” You mumbled.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. I’m gonna pump you nice and full, you’ll feel all warm and round. Look so cute like this.” He grunted, going harder and harder with his hips.

Then he angled just right, striking your sweet spot, and you cried out in pleasure, bucking your hips involuntarily. “Mm, there we go. Feels good, doesn’t it honey?”

It was a rhetorical question - you were too busy writhing on Kirishima’s cock to answer, one of his hands pressing flat over your stomach to feel the subtle bulge of his cock as he fucked into your guts.

“Oh Kiri! Wait, I’m not-! Wait!” You whimpered, steadily reaching your orgasm. You didn’t want to cum, you needed to slow down and gather your wits, figure out what was happening and why Kirishima was here and when this had started and-

Kiri pulled out, quickly manhandling you as if you weighed nothing. He was so strong, it was easy for him to flip you onto your stomach, pulling you to your hands and knees. 

“Gonna fuck you full. You’re gonna take all of my cum, gonna get bred like a good girl, my good girl.” His teeth were clenched as he slid back home, hissing as your wet heat welcomed him. You whined at the pleasurable sensation, unable to stop your hips from fucking back, trying to take more of his cock. 

“Ohhh, fuck yeah, look at you. Knew you wanted this, wanted me. You’re so perfect, taking my cock so well. You like having my fat cock filling you up? Messing up your insides? Making you all wet and sloppy?”

His hand found its way to your clit, the area already wet from the copious amounts of slick and precum the two of you had produced. Kiri quickly began rubbing large circles over your button, thumb big and calloused and oh so good.

Kirishima’s other hand grabbed at your chest, attaching to your tit and pawing at you. He was quickly devolving into a feral man, animalistic in the way he fucked you, thrusts harsh and fast and too much but hitting you just right-

You cried out as you came, convulsing in the man’s arms at the strength of the orgasm he ripped from your body.

He didn’t take a second, spurred on by your orgams and the tightening of your cunt, and instinctively bit down on your shoulder, almost growling as he pounded into you.

“Fuck, fuck! Kiri ouch, fuck!” You yelped, his sharp teeth breaking skin.

The man paid you no heed, rabbiting his hips until he started to cum, his hot seed flowing into your pussy. His hips kept going, twitching as they slowed down until they stopped completely, both of you absolutely spent.

Nothing but the sounds of panting filled the air, and Kirishima finally unhooked his teeth from your shoulder, wincing at the stream of blood the started to roll down your back.

“Oh, baby m’sorry.” He mumbled, a bit drunk off the pleasure still coursing through his veins.  You collapsed forward, his arms no longer holding you up. 

Kirishima didn’t pull out as he laid down next to you, keeping your hips firmly cemented to his own so that none of his cum would escape, pulling you close to his body in the process. “Pretty baby, I love you. Thank you.”

It was just a dream, it had to be. You were left with no choice but to console yourself with that thought, unable (and unwilling) to think of any other possibilities. 

A wet tongue lapped at your back, Kirishima licking up the blood from the wound he inflicted. “I’ll be more gentle next time, I can be good with my teeth, I promise.”

You ignored him, letting your exhausted self flicker between awake and asleep, confused, disoriented, overwhelmed. 

What did he mean by “next time”?

[milkyway-writes]

i’m not ready for that s.r.

pairing: Steve Rogers x black!Reader (anyone could read though)

summary: Even though Steve has been living in modern times for a couple of years now, he still finds himself not used to the present, especially when it comes to women. But when he meets you, an outspoken girl who completely embodies the kind of woman “he’s not ready for,” Steve is forced to reevaluate what he wants.

warnings: 18+, explicit language, dry humping, unprotected sex, sex in a hotel room, a small age gap (but not mentioned much), probably some typos and/or bad grammar, disregard for card games and 60′s music

word count: 2,828

author’s note: This is my first time writing a fic! So, tell me what you think and if you’d like more stuff from me. 

After waking up in a world filled with people dressed in unfamiliar clothing, using confusing language, and carrying around these tiny devices they called “phones,” Steve experienced the expected amount of disassociation. He said things which earned him weird looks, struggled to understand modern references, and sometimes secretly wished he could just go back to his own time. 

But if anything, Steve Rogers was determined. 

He kept a notepad to track the new things he learned and reviewed them in his spare time. He made an effort to listen to the radio and watch popular TV shows. Steve even managed to tailor his wardrobe to a certain degree. Except for the khakis. The khakis were essential. 

Despite his acclimation and newfound understanding of the 21st century, Steve still struggled with women. And in all honesty, he doesn’t even feel that open to dating. He’s completely content with simply working and living his life, romance not much of a priority of his. 

But Natasha keeps pushing it. 

“What about that girl from accounting?” she says, “Laura, Lisa…”

"Lillian,” Steve answers, “lip piercing, right?" 

"Yeah, she's cute."

"Yeah, I'm not ready for that.”

•••••

So, when you show up with a total disregard for authority, a smile that could fool the devil, and a snarky attitude all complete with a cute little nose piercing, Steve doesn’t quite know what to do with you. 

Your words are much bolder than any woman he knew from the 40’s. You behave with a certain level of confidence and self-assuredness that it’s impossible to believe that you’re only in your twenties. And you don’t shy away from showing men up, never one to hold your tongue. Steve notices that you don’t mind interrupting people. You seem to get a glint in your eye each time he clenches his jaw after you’ve cut him off. 

Everything about you is overwhelming to Steve. 

Any time he tries to correct you, you scoff, blowing air through your plump lips. Always rolling those brown eyes in annoyance. (It makes Steve want to scream.)

Nothing is ever easy with you. There is always a rebuttal, or some type of teasing remark, or simply a look that tells him “you can’t tell me what to do.” It enrages him. Steve doesn’t think he has ever met a person who could find a way to fight him on every single thing.

Now, as he looks at you standing with your hands on your hips, freshly-manicured nails on display, Steve wonders how he’ll ever manage to get through to you.

•••••

You hadn’t known much about Captain America before you’d agreed to work with him and Natasha when S.H.I.E.L.D. started falling apart. 

You had been working for the agency for a while now, assisting in the capture of criminal individuals as a sort of immunity for your own crimes. Your skills were too valuable to waste, and honestly, they knew you’d escape any prison they put you in anyway. Despite this, you weren’t the most reliable. 

You often took risks, and your youth raised a sort of concern amongst other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. No one trusted a girl whose main motivation to be an agent was to avoid prison. And because of this, Nick Fury did not bring you on for the Avengers Initiative right away. You needed time to grow, time to figure out your priorities. 

For two years, you focused on your development, learning how to control your abilities and use them most effectively, and in the meantime, you only took on small missions. You were happy with this, so happy that when Fury began reaching out to you with the intent to bring you back on for more advanced missions, you promptly avoided them.

One quiet afternoon, you were feeling the soil of your succulent, trying to figure out if the plant needed watering when you got the call that Nick Fury was pronounced dead. 

Immediately, your stomach dropped. 

Your mind was racing as you rushed to the hospital, hoping that this was all some sick joke. A test. Something Fury had comprised to teach you a lesson. 

Natasha noticed as you stood frozen at the door of the hospital room. Your heart ached seeing him lie there lifeless. 

While you pretended that you didn’t care about him, Fury had always been important to you. He had given you a second chance when you didn’t even think you deserved it. He saw potential in you when others saw you as a delinquent. This grief, coupled with the knowledge that S.H.I.E.L.D. had been compromised, led you to agree to work with Natasha and her new friend, Steve Rogers. 

•••••

Since the beginning, your presence had been an immediate concern to Steve. Along with your untamed attitude, he didn’t like the way you would make hasty decisions that left him wondering if you were still alive. He had to bite his tongue at your stubbornness. And each roll of your eyes pushed Steve further and further to the edge. After a while, he had had enough and pulled you to the side to express his disapproval. 

You stare at him expectantly with your hands still on your hips, waiting to hear why he’s singled you out.

He lets out a breath, “these antics of yours have got to stop.” 

You instantly laugh. Because he has to be kidding. 

It takes everything in him to remain calm when you flash him a smile and saunter away, throwing a “oh loosen up, Captain,” over your shoulder. 

He has to stop himself from watching your hips sway. He catches your wrist. “No. Not ‘loosen up.’ You need to be more responsible.”

“Well you need to understand that I’m not a soldier,” you yank your arm back. “I’ll follow your plan,” you offer, “but sometimes things don’t go as planned and we have to make adjustments,” you say, speaking slowly as if Steve’s a child. 

He steps closer, now towering over your small frame. “Your ‘adjustments’ almost always result in dangerous situations.”

“Really?” You cock your head to the side, “Is that right?”

He narrows his eyes at you.

“So, this is coming from the man who jumped out of an elevator?” Your perfectly arched eyebrow raises tauntingly. “Right?” 

You chuckle as he rolls his eyes. You don’t miss the hint of a smile in them. 

•••••

You do eventually try to be more of a team player, sticking to the plan when you can. You figured you’d be working with them more often, so it was in your best interest to make yourself easy to work with. Your efforts don’t go unnoticed.

Steve is grateful that you don’t pull any surprises when the Winter Soldier makes his attack. The revelation that it was his best friend already enough to throw him off. 

Surprisingly, when Steve decides to go after Bucky, you offer to join him and Sam. Your excuse being that you don’t trust two men to get the job done. 

Honestly, you just didn’t want to go back to your life before. Working with Steve was exciting. He was exciting. The way he’d catch your eyes after you’d say something snarky made your stomach flip because there was a hint of a threat in them.

You enjoyed the way he wasn’t afraid to touch you. He liked to grab your arm and pull you to him when you didn’t listen. He’d once backed you up against a wall when he thought you weren’t telling him the full story pertaining to the mission. And while he was angry, you couldn’t help wondering what it’d be like to have him take you right then and there.

You had come to terms with the fact that you wanted Steve Rogers. You just didn’t know if he’d want someone like you. You were aware that he probably hadn’t encountered many women like you in his past life. 

•••••

While your eye rolls and sassy comments do remain, Steve finds himself enjoying your presence despite himself. The struggle between the two of you slowly morphing into playful teasing, teetering the line between that and sexual tension.

“How’d you end up here anyway?” Steve asks as he lays down an ace of spades. 

You grimace and tuck your king of hearts back into your hand in embarrassment. “We’re on a mission, silly.” You giggle, the diamond in your nose catching the light.

“Mhm very funny,” he says. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You don’t say anything. The only sound coming from your breathing and the Solomon Burke song that’s playing through your phone speaker.

You hum along as you pretend to search your hand for a card to play. 

Steve nudges your knee. You’re not sure if it’s because you haven’t answered him or because you still haven’t put down a card. 

“You mean how’d I end up doing this? Working for S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

He nods.

“It’s a long story,” you manage to let out.

“We’ve got time.”

You sigh and place your cards down on the mattress knowing you were gonna lose anyway. 

“A while back, I lost someone…someone very important to me,” you say, “and all I wanted was to hurt the people who took them from me.” You glance up to meet Steve’s eyes, “one thing led to another, and I sort of lost myself. I hurt people in ways I never intended to, caused the kind of pain that,” you search for the words, “that I had always been so afraid to feel.”

“I was so blinded by rage,” you shake your head, “I just completely forgot my morals.”

You feel the bed shift, and Steve reaches out for your hand. 

“Long story short, Fury offered me a job. Said I could use my skills for good. And next thing you know I’m going on these crazy missions and catching ‘bad guys,’” you say using finger quotes. 

You sigh, “you must think the absolute worst of me now, huh?” 

Steve chuckles, “no, not at all.” He pauses and his eyebrows crease. “It actually makes me respect you more.”

You let out a laugh, “well then, sir, you are most definitely twisted.”

He shrugs, “maybe I am.”

You notice that he never let go of your hand, and for a second you swear you feel a flutter in your abdomen. Lightly, you slide your fingers up his arm, tracing the veins. He doesn’t move or protest. Instead, he brings his other hand to rest on your knee. You look up at him as his hand moves from your knee up your thigh, gripping you firmly where your shorts end.

Steve looks at you for approval, and when you nod, he pulls you in by your hips and leans in, letting his lips ghost over yours.

You haven’t felt like this in awhile, and it takes a lot of strength to hold back a whine. Steve continues to tease you, only letting his lips lightly touch yours while rubbing circles into your hips under your shirt. Impatiently, you link your hands together behind his head, and when you grasp the hair at the nape of his neck, Steve finally leans in, letting his lips press against yours. 

Almost instantly, you climb onto his lap, straddling him. The playing cards from earlier are hastily pushed aside as Steve scoots back, bringing you with him. 

His hands find your hips again as he sucks on your bottom lip. You softly grind into him, causing Steve to groan into your mouth. He works to control himself. He hadn’t expected it to feel this way with you. So desperate, so needing.

You can feel his hardness through the material of his sweatpants, making your arousal even more apparent.

Steve leans down to kiss your neck. The feeling of his tongue makes you buck your hips, searching for some type of friction. His hand travels up your side and comes to cup one of your breasts. He runs his thumb over your nipple, feeling it harden. 

This must give him an idea as he moves to pull your shirt over your head. He grabs you again and takes your nipple in his mouth. You moan, continuing to grind onto him as his hands cup your ass. At this point, you’re sure that your arousal is leaking through your shorts.

Steve feels completely lost in you, your body setting him on fire and awaking something within him he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before. 

He continues his assault on your breasts as you fight to control your arousal. You feel his cock twitch under you. “Please, Steve,” you say breathlessly.

“Please what?” He mumbles around your breasts.

“I need you.” 

Those seem to be the words he needed as Steve promptly flips you over, roughly yanking your shorts down. He tosses his shirt off as you grab onto the waistband of his pants, urging him to take them off. He pushes you back on the bed, leaning over you. You feel his knee press into your cunt and let out a moan. 

Steve grabs your face, kissing you sloppily, and trails his hand down your body. You nearly grind onto his hand as he places his thumb over your clit and rubs slow circles over it. 

“You like that, honey?” He teases as he rubs you over your panties. 

You nod, biting your lip. 

He grabs your chin, “I said do you like it? Answer me.”

You cry out, “yes, Steve yes,” You whimper, “please I need more.” 

He scoffs, “who would’ve thought to get you to act right, I’d just have to play with this pretty pussy?”

You let out a pitiful whine. 

“Now you wanna be a good girl huh?”

You’re afraid you’re going to cum just from his words when he stops and drags your panties down so slowly that you want to scream. The smug look on Steve’s face makes your face burn. He’s enjoying this too much. 

Once they’re off, Steve settles between your thighs, making you look him in the eyes before reaching his hand down and dragging the head of his cock from your folds to your clit. You moan as he gently taps it against your clit a few times and makes a comment about how wet you are. There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he lines himself up at your entrance. Steve groans as he eases into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper.

He bottoms out, and you both moan. Steve begins to thrust, and you’re already so worked up that you know you won’t last long. He brings his hand down to rub your clit causing you to cry out. 

His thrusts become more forceful. Your eyes close tightly, your sharp nails digging into his shoulders. He leans his forehead against yours, “I know you want it, sweetheart. I know you wanna cum.” 

His words shock you but send a wave of pleasure straight to your core. 

“Come on, honey, cum for me.” Steve says as he thrusts into you. Your walls spasm around his cock, causing him to groan into your neck. He never lets up on his thrusts though, continuing to slam into you as your first orgasm ripples through your body.

“You feel so good around my cock, baby,” he brings a hand up to lightly wrap around your neck.

You groan in response feeling your abdomen tighten once again.

You can tell Steve is close now, his thrusts becoming frantic and rushed. You clutch onto him as the sounds of slapping skin fill the room. Your name falling off of his lips repeatedly in your ear.

“Cum inside me, Steve,” you plead, “I wanna feel you.” He groans at your words, and you feel his hand tighten around your throat. You look at him, and his eyes are dark with lust, you feel yourself clench around his length. The look he’s giving you fills you with a primal need. You plead one more time, pushing Steve over the edge. His thrusts begin to slow, the feeling of him filling you up is enough to bring about another orgasm.

You find it difficult to keep your eyes open. Sleep begins to take you, and you drift off with Steve guiding you to lay your head on his chest. 

With one hand caressing the side of your head, Steve stares up at the ceiling of the hotel room, Nina Simone’s voice floating out of your phone. 

“It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me,”

“And I’m feeling good.”

•••••

Initially, seeing a girl like you would have made Steve doubt himself.

But now, he knows he’s ready for you as he sits next to you holding your hand as you prepare to get your first tattoo.

[illfoandillfie]

Good Boy

it’s a little late but this is the final blurb from my Platonically event for Aggressively Arospec Week! Usual caveat that I didn’t really edit it. Sort of follows on from the last smut blurb i posted but can be read as stand alone.

Words: 2,071

Warnings: smut (obv), cockwarming, dom reader, sub ben, orgasm delay

The evening where Ben bent you over the arm of the couch really opened the door for you to play with some other kinky ideas. Nothing too heavy or painful was suggested – spanking with a hand was about as far as you wanted to push it, at least so early on. But both of you had some experience with a couple of kinks from previous relationships and could suggest things that might be fun to try. Neither of you claimed to be experts and google was consulted more than once to answer questions for you, but through the process you found out that Ben was quite good at being dominant when he wanted to be.  

Mostly you played around with elements of degradation since, while talking about the couch incident, you admitted it was a key part of why it was so hot – feeling as if Ben was putting his pleasure above yours – though you also tested out some light bondage and incorporating toys into your sex more often. There was one night where Ben put his fleshlight between your thighs, making you hold it as he fucked it (though of course he’d also made sure you came eventually with a mixture of a vibrator and his tongue), and another time he told you how to masturbate, directing your fingers so you got what pleasure he wanted you to have but only when he decided you should have it, and all without lifting a finger himself. Even when he’d got so hard and horny from watching that he just wanted to be in you, even then he made you do all the work, telling you how to rub your clit and when to clench down on his motionless dick until you both came. He even managed to call you a slut once or twice, though it never rolled off his tongue as easily as Kitten did.  

Then one day you made what was meant to be a harmless joke.   “Maybe you don’t like calling me a slut because you’d prefer it if I called you that,” Ben’s reaction was interesting. He laughed but it was a higher pitch than normal, his cheeks flushing lightly.   You suspected he might not hate the idea and proved as much when you cooed at him, “Do you want to be my pretty slut Benny?” He nodded slowly, the pink on his cheeks getting more pronounced. It made sense really. Ben liked pleasing people, especially pleasing you sexually. He liked going down on you just because, sometimes not even letting you return the favour afterwards, and liked to make sure you felt good while you were having sex, even if you couldn’t actually get off. So when you made a gentle suggestion for him to take off his clothes, he did exactly what you asked. There was no questioning, no talking back, no snarky comment, no brattiness at all. Just service. When you talked about it later you both agreed that you’d liked the dynamic. He obviously enjoyed following instructions and making you happy and, aside from the physical sensations and the orgasm that made you feel good, you also really enjoyed the gentle domination. It was caring in a way. Knowing you were making Ben happy by letting him make you happy. And trying to show it through your words and your touch so he’d know he was appreciated. It was clear that you should experiment with that dynamic more, as well as the other things you’d been trying. And you were already looking forward to the next time you’d get to instruct him, ideas for what to do and how already forming in your mind.

So when Ben had a particularly busy day a few weeks later, you decided it was your chance to try the gentle domme roll again. He left the house by eight in the morning and you didn’t see him again until after six that night. A combination of errands and meetings with his agent and just general business kept him occupied and when he finally did get home he seemed quite tired, flopping onto the couch with a grateful sigh, stretching his legs out down the length of the seat.   You sat on the edge of the couch, in front of his knee.   “Sorry, Y/N, did you want to sit here too?” “No, it’s fine, you stay there. I was just thinking that maybe I could...” you lay your palm over the front of his pants, softly rubbing until he took the hint. “Oh, really?” “If you’re up for it. I could look after you.” “Go ahead,” he voice sounded huskier than it had before and he cleared his throat as if that would help.   You adjusted the angle of your body as you brought your second hand to his crotch, popping the button and tugging down the zip on his jeans, “Lift your hips for me,” He complied easily, letting you tug his jeans and underwear down to his thighs so you had better access to his cock. You got a little more comfortable, laying down beside him on your front, your legs in the air behind you, as you began to tease his cock, tracing your fingers along his length.   It was enough to make his breath hitch. “Just relax,” you cooed, laying your head down on his hip so you could watch him get harder under your attentions, “that’s right. Doesn’t take much to get you hard, does it? Such a greedy slut, aren’t you? You kept your voice soft and sweet as you spoke, though you sped up your hand a little “Always so ready for me.” “Thank you,” he said breathily as he nodded. “You’re welcome. I know you just want to feel good right now, don’t you? Yeah, and this feels so good. My hand on your cock, stroking you over and over. Probably my breath too, when I talk, yeah?” “Mmhmm, yeah.” “Yeah. Must feel so nice. So good.” “Yeah,” it was nearly a whine.   “I don’t blame you sweetie, I want to help you. I want you to feel good. That’s why I’m doing this. So my pretty needy little slut can feel so good. But y’know what would feel even better?” “What?” “My pussy. Right? Being deep inside me, so warm and tight. That’d feel so good, wouldn’t it?” “Oh f-fuck, yeah, yeah it would.” “Maybe I could give you that instead. My pussy instead of my hand.” It seemed to take a moment for the words to reach Ben’s brain. There was a pause where all you could hear was him panting as you brushed the head of his cock with your thumb, and then, “Really?” “Do you like the sound of that?” “Yes please,” “Okay. Why don’t you keep touching yourself while I get ready.” Ben nodded, his hand replacing yours on his cock as you stood up and began to shimmmy out of your pants. Immediately he began stroking himself faster, touching himself the way he usually liked.   “Careful,” you warned, “I know you’re a greedy slut. I know you want it, you need it,” you stretched the word out sweetly, “but if you cum now that’s it, sweetie. No pussy.” Ben whimpered and, with great effort, slowed the pace of his hand to better match the one you’d been using.   “Good boy,” you leaned in to kiss Ben, feeling him whimper against your lips. You were a little wet already but not enough so you let Ben dangle, let him wait a little longer, reminding him to cum yet, as you spat on your fingers and rubbed them along your slit.   Ben groaned as he watched you press two fingers into yourself, his hips bucking a little as he released his cock.   “In a second, sweetie.” You laughed, “You’re so good for being so patient. I know you’re a desperate fucking slut but you’re being so good.”

Ben breathed out another, “thank you,” as you finally sank down onto him.   You went slowly, partly because that was the game you were playing and partly because your fingers hadn’t quite been enough to get you ready for his cock. But rubbing more of your saliva over his length helped make it easier and there was only a small sting that accompanied the stretch as you took him fully. When you properly situated on his lap, you felt Ben release a breath he’d been holding. Gently you placed your palm against his chest, rubbing it in a soothing circle.   “Is that better? Is that what my slut wanted?” “Yeah,” he whimpered as you quickly clenched on him.   “You like being inside me, don’t you Benny?” “Yes, of course. Feels incredible.” It was a bit of a boost to your ego and you couldn’t help but smile, “Well that’s good, sweetie, cause I’m going to stay here for a bit. I like feeling you inside me too and I want to keep feeling it. So why don’t you just watch TV and don’t worry about how tight my pussy feels or how badly you want to cum or anything like that.” Ben nodded and turned his head towards the TV. You settled against him, leaning your head on his chest and slowly running your fingers along his side. It was strangely intimate even though neither of you was looking at the other. A type of intimacy that didn’t feel too close to any of your romance limits. Every now and then you’d reward Ben by pressing kisses to his chest or neck or lips, letting your arms slip around to his back so you could squeeze him tightly. He’d whimper whenever your movements changed, feeling his cock shift inside you or feeling you tighten around him for a moment. But he didn’t complain. His arms were as tight around you as yours were around him. There was no way for you to be any physically closer than you were already and yet it felt like he was trying as he embraced you. You could feel his breaths through the rise and fall of his chest, the way he trembled slightly whenever you clenched or moved.   You kept reminding him that he was being so good for waiting, that you loved him, loved how obedient he was and how well he listened to your instructions. That it was okay if he was a slut who liked to feel good because you liked making him feel good and wouldn’t waiting for it just make everything so much better anyway.   The praise made him bashful. He focused his gaze on the TV, eyes seeming almost out of focus as he made sure he didn’t look at you, but his cheeks flushed and he squirmed in his seat. But he also seemed a little proud oh himself, proud that he was pleasing you.  

You made him wait through six advertisement breaks before you began to rock against him properly, your own breath feeling less even. He moaned as soon as you moved, though he kept his head directed towards the TV until you guided it with your fingers, gently turning him to face you. Seeing you, seeing the way you intentionally grinded your hips against his, made him moan again. “Such a pretty sound from my pretty slut,” you whispered, “Keep sounding pretty for me. I like knowing how good I’m making you feel.” It didn’t take too much longer for him to actually cum, worked up and teased as he was.   You didn’t mind either, even though there was no way for you to reach your own high in such a short time. But that had never been the point.   He panted into your shoulder, mumbling out more thanks and words you only half heard which just made you chuckle as you carded your fingers through his hair.

You stayed like that for a while, just cuddling as he collected himself, listening to his breathing even out and an odd whimper or two leave his lips.   “That was nice,” he eventually said, laughing a little, still seeming a bit coy about how into he’d gotten.   “If you don’t mind, we could stay here for a while. I could keep warming you until you got hard again.” “You’re filthy,” “Thats not a no,” you laughed back, “I promise you can cum in me again. If you’re good.” “If that’s what’ll make you happy.”

[colossal-fallout]

[ Classified ]

The full report - Eren Yeager

The following report details all information on Eren Yeager. Contains NSFW content and reader must be over the age of 18 to view this document.

For your eyes only.

Name: Eren Yeager

Birthplace: Shiganshina

Height: 180cm / 5ft 9"

General

[ A1 ]

Appearance & Hygiene practices:

Eren's chestnut brown hair is always clean and fresh. Whenever he pays you a late night visit, he'll have most probably just gotten out of the shower. Coconut scented shampoo of sorts? Whatever it is, it smells so good.

Prefers showers over a bathe. He says it's to save time, but he spends a good 40 - 60 minutes in there, easily.

Once he's dry, likes to throw on jogger bottoms and a hoodie over his bare skin. His bare skin that is now so soft and scented as his favourite shower gel which is either tea-tree oil or Coconut.

If he wants to remain clean shaven, Eren must shave every 2-3 days. Sometimes he likes to grow it out but nothing ever past a long stubble.

Minimal body hair.

Trims the hairs on his pubic bone/lower stomach. Has pleasuring you in mind as he does so. Will take into consideration the friction against you.

Totally clean shaven testicles.

Eren's nails are short but that's because he bites them. [ see section A3 ]

Beautiful set of teeth. Brushes twice daily in a modern AU.

Eren adores it when you brush his hair for him. He finds it extremely relaxing as you massage his scalp. His eyes will close and a small, barely audible hum will emit from time to time.

Eren's skin care routine is pretty basic. All of the steam from sitting in his hot, frequent showers for so long seems to do him wonders - his skin is flawless and worthy of envy.

Due to the healing power of being a Titan shifter, Eren has no scars.

Eren has quite large hands with long fingers. He doesn't wear rings or jewellery as it reminds him of the burden of when he had to keep that damn key on him at all times. Will however, put up with a wedding ring.

[A2]

Body & Love language:

Eren is a pretty introverted person. His hands are usually tucked away inside of his pockets - be it either trousers or hoody/jacket.

He hunches a little too. Likes to feel hidden. He's had enough attention over the years and wants nothing more than to just shrink away in a crowded room. Or maybe, it's the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Brooding, moody exterior. Extreme "resting bitch face"

Shrugs a lot. At first glance, you'd think he was a moody teenager trapped in a grown man's body.

Likes to sit with his feet flat up on the chair with his knees splayed - you'll usually find him like this with an arm resting over a knee while the other is at a 90 degree angle pointing away from his hip.

Fumbles his hands together in formal occasions when he can't sit so casually or tuck them away.

Likes to drape his arm over you without touching you. His arm will rest above you on the top of the chair. A clear indication of "They're mine" and "I will keep you safe"

His hips will usually be swivelled in your direction, regardless of where you are in the room. A subconscious body language of sexual yearning.

Eren likes to hold hands with you when you're walking. He's not huge on PDA but likes the strong yet subtle showings that you're together.

Tends to rub his thumb over the back of your hand absent-mindedly when you do so.

His love languages include physical touch. Can get very needy and touch starved pretty easily. Not in a overbearing way, but even just a run of his slender fingers through your hair is enough to keep him going until the two of you are in a more private setting.

[A3]

Bad Habits & Tendencies:

As mentioned above, Eren bites his finger nails. His toe nails too. It's pretty gross to be honest.

He never does it in public, but he has been known to do it in front of you when he feels comfortable enough to do so.

Get's very fidgety when irritated or annoyed, which is pretty often. Especially if Jean is around.

Short temper. He's learned to tame it more over the years where he doesn't show it so easily. But everyone has their limit and when his is reached, his yell is booming and pretty intimidating.

During an argument with you he has been known to raise his voice, but it's not the frightening roar you've heard him unleash on others before.

Always apologises to you after he's calmed down. Even though it wasn't that bad.

If you two ever have a bad falling out, will lock himself away for days. He'll be pissed at himself for letting it get so bad and depressed that you two are having such problems. But he'll do anything he can to fix it.

[ A4 ]

Common misconceptions:

Obviously everyone has their own cannons and opinions. But I don't personally see Eren as being an abusive partner. Yeah, he has his problems and treats his friends like shit but there's a reason for that we'll probably see in the last chapter. If you're worthy enough to pierce that cold and distant shell, you're a very special person and he'll treat you as such.

Eren actually has a large heart hidden under that huge chip on his shoulder. He cares and loves the people around him unconditionally. Even to the point of carrying out mass genocide to protect them.

Still... He does have a dark side to be weary of at times.

Even though he's gross while in Liberio, usually Eren is actually pretty clean.

[ A5 ]

Food & Drink:

In a Modern AU Eren loves fancy coffees with the weird names. The longer to pronounce, the better. He just likes the fact they give him energy and the fancier ones taste good.

Due to not having meat for so long, a good ol' fashioned beef/lamb stew is his favourite.

Doesn't drink in canon.

Modern AU, his alcoholic beverage of choice is bottles of beer and craft ales. Sometimes is a sucker for red wine.

[ A6 ]

Modern Au:

Eren wears loose clothing. Hoodies, loose jeans, those baggy cardigans too.

His texting style is spam over one long message. Especially if he's pissed off. He's too impatient to sit and type in paragraphs.

Drives a black car. Don't ask me what type, I don't know cars. But it's black, 'kay?

It also has "black ice" air freshener inside.

Likes to ride quads and mopeds along fields. He's a thrill seeker. Rollercoasters, bungee jumping... you name it he's game.

Eren plays the guitar. He took lessons for it but after about a year he just went his own way and self-taught.

If he sees a guitar at a party, he will pick it up and play it. He won't sing though.

He actually hates singing. He finds it embarrassing.

Always has in his air pods/earphones.

Likes any sort of music that is catchy.

Probably streams on Twitch. He won't talk much though.

Could have a wide range of jobs. Coffee shop, could be in college, might be a ride attendant... who knows? It's anyone's guess what Eren is doing. He doesn't talk about himself that much.

Romance & NSFW

[ B1 ]

Crush:

Eren would definitely be in denial he has a crush on you at first.

• “Does y/n seem different to you?”

Armin; “No…? In what way?”

“I dunno… Just, different.”

• His poor stubborn brain would be ticking for weeks as to why he suddenly wants to be near you a lot more often and has urges to touch you, even if it’s just a slight brush against your arm.

• Will find any excuse to do extra training with you

• Once he FINALLY clicks on as to why he’s had these feelings, he’ll be pretty knocked off his feet and a little annoyed at himself.

I’m here to kill the enemy...

• Still though… Can’t seem to keep himself away.

[ B2 ]

First kiss & general kisses:

After the initial denial and keeping himself away, he'll just decide one day he's had enough of feeling this way and decides to to something about it.

He won't shove himself onto you. He'll do some sly probing to see if there is any indication of reciprocation.

Knowing Eren, he'll indirectly piss you off or insult you. He didn't mean to. He's just lacking social skills. Man aint smooth.

You'll slap him, probably, where he'll keep his head away from you for a few seconds, realising he's pushed you too far. Whichever side you palmed him away, he'll stay.

He'll slowly return his gaze to yours before gently holding your arms, apologising and planting his lips onto yours.

His general kisses are quite firm and forceful. Not in an aggressive way, but a "god I want you so bad" way.

Always either slides his arms around your waist or cups your face/head.

He tastes like sweetened tea <3 / Coffee in a Modern AU

Loves coming from behind and snaking his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck when you're doing something. Doesn't like it when your attention is away from him for too long.

When he's feeling soft and tender, will dance his nose with yours and catching your mouth in a caress.

When he's super turned on, he'll suck your tongue, bite your bottom lip and kiss anywhere he can.

[ B3 ]

Sex:

Ha ~~!

Eren is up there with the best when it comes to sex. He knows what he's doing and he does it well.

Extremely skilled with his fingers and tongue. He'll have you crawling the walls with hysteria as he likes to tease you throughout the day. He more than makes up for it, though.

Gropes, nips, kisses, licks, bites, flicks... anywhere and everywhere he can.

Is the most vocal when you perform oral sex on him. Will groan so deeply, his entire body will vibrate.

Dirty talk is this man's second language.

"Look how desperate you are for me." / "Look how desperate for you you've gotten me..."

"Do I feel good like this?"

"Am I making you feel good baby?"

"You're so good at that. Fuck, such a good girl/boy"

"S'so fuckin' tight."

"You're my little fuck thing, aren't you?"

"You're perfect."

"I love you..."

Are some of the many things you'll hear while he's fucking you.

He doesn't really have a favourite position. He'll gladly take you anyway he can. If he's in a rough mood, he'll bend you over the sofa, take you up against the wall... But if he's feeling more soft he'll make slow, passionate love to you for hours.

He does have a strong soft side at times.

Dominic Dominant. He loves seeing you totally at his mercy, the power over you the most arousing thing in the world to him.

Big daddy dilf vibes. He knows what he’s doing and he’s fucking good at it too.

The only time he’ll sub is if he wants to be lazy - letting you ride him and use him to your heart’s content.

Dirty talk. It can get pretty degrading at times. If you’re not into that, he respects that boundary.

Will absolutely ruin you.

Low-key loves it when you claw his back in hysteria. He thrives knowing he can send you absolutely insane, and he can just heal the claw marks in a matter of seconds. Sometimes even during sex (which is the hottest thing ever)

In an AU modern, he would love to fuck you near a large mirror or record you both getting at it to watch at a later date.

A lot of hissing, humming and low groaning, especially when he’s close to unloading.

Likes to watch you masturbate, putting his head close and observing intently. Loses his shit if you moan his name while doing so.

Hair pulling is his overload language. Will tug fistfuls when he gets too turned on.

[ B4 ]

Kinks:

The risk of getting caught. He likes having risky sex in semi public locations. Makes a game of how loud he can get you to moan, knowing someone would probably hear you.

Light Degradation. When he’s in a rough mood, he doesn’t mind calling you a few names. Nothing too extreme. And if it’s not your thing, he’ll respect that boundary.

Loves a good ol’ 69. Having you on his face with your ass in view is just… *Chef’s kiss*

Speaking of ass, he loves to bend you over too, allowing himself in nice and deep with a great view and something Juicy to grab.

[ B5 ]

Aftercare:

Aftercare with Eren isn’t anything special unfortunately. He’s another who gets sleepy after sex.

Won’t ignore you though. Often lazy pillow talk is on the cards and telling you how much you mean to him and how beautiful you are.

Will run his fingers across your scalp to soothe you.

Also will kiss any bite marks or finger bruises he’s left behind and ask if you’re okay.

Relationship with loved ones & becoming serious

[ C1 ]

Friends & Family:

When Eren meet's your friends family he will be polite yet quiet. He wants them to like him but he won't pine for their approval. If they like him, awesome. If they don't...? No big deal.

Same goes with your friends. He'll stay quiet until spoken to at first, but once he's been eased into conversation, he'll flow with it a lot easier.

Again, he'll be polite but don't expect him to kiss ass, because he certainly wont.

[ C2 ]

Marriage:

You couldn’t actually believe Eren had proposed. Although he was down on one knee in front of your very eyes, your mind just wasn’t accepting it. Folks and onlookers watched with bated breath, awaiting your answer. He sure kept this surprise hidden well…

Of course, you said yes and he picked you up by your waist in a spin, colliding his lips to yours.

And now here he was, watching you walk down the aisle, a lump in his throat and his heart racing.

You looked gorgeous, like something from a fairy tale.

And of course, he looked as handsome as ever. His suit was smart and his hair was up in its usual bun.

Armin is his best man, of course; who is standing and beaming with pride.

Eren holds back his chokes and tears as he reads his vows;

“Y/N… From the first time I ever laid eyes on you, all those years ago, I knew you would be in my life forever. Back then, I didn’t think it would be as my wife, but God I am so glad it is. I’m sorry for my stubbornness and irrational behaviour when we were young. But despite that you still loved, and stood by me and for that I’ll be eternally grateful. I vow to always stand beside you, whatever the world throws at us. I vow to hold you when you need support. I vow to remember how you always had my back no matter what. And I vow to always love you, with my heart and soul, until the day I die and after.”

The room erupts in cheers and tears when you seal your kiss.

The reception is wild.

Everyone is drunk (except Levi) and dancing. Reiner and Connie are dancing like weirdos, Reiner's blazer removed and at one point Connie is on his shoulders.

Sasha has too much to drink and is spewing in the bathroom.

Mikasa can’t stop crying with happiness and pride.

He carries you to your room afterwards where you spend all night sealing a special bond that will never be broken.

[ C3 ]

Children:

Eren has a soft spot for children, believe it or not. As seen before the expedition to the forest of giant trees. He sees his old self behind the innocent glint of unaltered admiration within a child's eyes.

He's not super into child play though. He wont pull weird voices or funny faces. He'll sit at their level and speak to them like they were anyone else. Obviously, watching what he says around them.

If they're unchecked and acting themselves, he'll become quickly annoyed as they wreck havoc around him and will have to leave the room or he'll get too agitated.

If his s/o discovers they're pregnant he'll seem to take it well. But inside he's falling apart and freaking out. He won't ever show it to them, but he doesn't know how he could be a father. Would he be like his own? Would he be able to be a good figure to look up to? What if he fails? Is it selfish to bring a child into this cruel world?

He'll be shocked but understandably so. After after a couple of weeks of self-reflection and brooding, he'll start to feel better about the whole thing.

More protective over his s/o than usual. Will make sure they're eating, drinking, resting and god help you if he finds you doing something you shouldn't such as trying to lift something heavy.

Will hold your hair and rub you back, as well as bring you water while you're having your morning sickness.

"Babe? It's four in the afternoon. How come you're still sick?"

"Eren, it's called morning sickness but it can happen any time."

He'll click his tongue. "....That's a dumb name, then."

The first time he feels the baby kick within you, his heart absolutely melts. His eyes enlarge and you could swear you saw them soften with that spark behind his emerald greens he had when you were younger.

His large palm is warm against your stomach as he feels around, the little flutter of your child hitting against his skin making him flinch in surprise at first.

"Woah..." He'll gasp in amazement. "They're already so strong. Hey, y/n? Doesn't that hurt?"

"Sometimes." You'll laugh softly.

He'll gingerly place his face to your skin, a little embarrassed he's doing this; but he feels the need. "...Don't hurt your mom, okay?"

As your pregnancy progresses and you get larger, he will not leave your side. If he has to, he'll be worrying and you'll be occupying his mind. In a modern au, he'll constantly call and text and will get Mikasa or Armin to check in on you often.

Will be so gentle during love making. He's terrified he'll hurt the baby.

One of the only times you've seen Eren panic in his adult life is when your waters break.

You'd gotten up in the middle of the night to pee. Climbed back into bed and felt a strange pressure, followed by a pop. Then a warm gushing sensation. You wait a few seconds to settle your own panic before you nudge Eren awake.

"Eren..."

He'll bolt up, confused. "What? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?"

"Eren, my waters have broken."

"Shit. Okay. Shit. What do we do? Shit." He'll leap out of bed and throw the lights on. You get to your feet where more water will start to drop onto the floor. "Shit, shit. I'll get the bag. Do you need help getting dressed? Okay, where's my jacket? WHERE'S MY JACKET?!"

"Eren, honey I need to you calm down."

"Okay, sorry. I'm calm. Shit. Shit..."

Will hold your hand with a worried look the entire time you're in labour. Has water and snacks on hand.

Will watch in amazement as your child is pushed into the world. This magical moment changes something in him, but right now he's not sure what that is.

They will bond immediately. As soon as he holds your son/daughter he can't take his wide gaze off them.

They're inseparable.

Any doubts of being a bad father is washed away as he takes them under his wing and teaches them about the world.

[wakatvshi]

hey can i request a scenario/fic where jean falls in love with a marleyan medic

I don’t know if this is exactly what you wanted but I really hope you enjoy it. I actually love this one and I hope you guys do too!

warnings: general season 4 spoilers, heavy petting. 

wordcount: 1423

You could hear the head doctor talking to Hange from where you were in the tent. You’d managed to remember the names of most of the survey corps in your time being here. They were the ones you had the most interactions with. The people with the Roses you sometimes saw and the ones with the unicorns you only ever saw when something was going wrong. Even then they didn’t really have anything to do with you, you were just a base level medic. What they wanted was information from Dr. Morgan. 

When you signed up for the mission to Paradis you weren’t expecting much, it was supposed to be a simple scouting mission to check things out. The only thing you were really supposed to have to do was deal with scrapes, seasickness, and other minor injuries. Eren Yeager and his attack titan had changed all of that and you were taken captive. Your only solace in this situation was that you were with your best friend Niccolo. The two of you at least had each other during this nightmare. 

Overtime things changed slowly. You weren’t always a prisoner, you were captive but not a prisoner. The fear was still there, being among these Eldian’s that hated you for every move you made wasn’t the ideal situation but you’d managed to make at least tentative friends with some people. It wasn’t perfect and you wanted to be home more than anything. But there was one thing that pulled your heart and made you want to stay here. Something you’d never had before. 

It was hard for you to accept that you’d developed feelings for an Eldian. You hated yourself for it at first, you’d lay there listening to everyone else talk about how awful the devils were and how you would all be lucky to make it alive. The words they said made your skin crawl, especially when you realized how you were feeling for one of them. You couldn’t imagine how the others would react to hearing that you did have feelings for one. 

When someone cleared your voice behind you, you winced, you could get in trouble for listening in like this if the wrong person had caught you. You stood straight, ready to defend yourself when the person spoke. “You know eavesdropping is a bad habit.” Jean.

Spinning around quickly you slapped the man in question in the chest. “You scared me!” You hissed looking over your shoulder where the other Eldian officers were talking with Dr Morgan. “I thought I was going to get in so much trouble!” 

Jean Kirstein was the most infuriating man you’d ever met. An Eldian, a soldier, a commanding officer and the only man you’d ever been in love with. Realizing you had a crush on him was bad enough, accepting that and falling in love with him was even scarier. You didn’t know if there was a chance for a future with him, in Marley you’d be killed for it, for doing anything with him you’d be killed. Here? You didn’t know what would happen, if they would allow it to happen here. 

“I’d have covered for you.” He sounded so sincere about it that you did believe him, “Hange is talking to your boss anyway, there wouldn’t be any reason for you to get in trouble.” That didn’t mean someone couldn’t find a reason. You knew how some of the Eldian’s looked at you and it made you sick to your stomach. 

Nodding a little you let out a small sigh, “You say that but I’ve been in trouble for less.” your hand fidgeted at your side and you ached to reach out and grab him but you couldn’t. Not here in front of everyone. You both knew better than that, not until things were better figured out. Maybe one day you’d be able to do that, love him the way you did openly. 

You’d not even told him that you loved him, you couldn’t say it, the fear of reality pushing the two of you apart was too much. Inside you knew he felt the same, you felt it in everything he did but he didn’t say it either. Holding onto this however you had to was important. Things could go badly any second, in the end you were literally a captive of Paradis and you knew that. Unless something changed you didn’t know what more you and Jean could be. So you’d cling to this.

“Come on. I have to show you something.” You looked around for a second to make sure no one else was around before you followed behind him. If someone was watching the two of you they’d probably follow and you doubted Jean wanted that. By now he’d know to make sure that no one was watching the two of you. “I have a few questions to ask you. So if you’ll just come with me.” His voice was loud, anyone who might have seen the two of you together wouldn’t have had anything to say about your interaction anymore. 

Biting back your smile you trailed behind him, you were always a little impressed by his ‘commander’voice. He was a powerful man here in Paradis and it was a little exciting when you really thought about it. A powerful commander in a foreign military falling for a captured doctor of a hostile nation. It was what those cheesy romance novels back home were about. Only this was your real life and the danger wasn’t just your relationship being found out but your actual life. You’d never tell Jean how it effected you but you had a feeling he knew.

When you entered the office room you let out a small yelp when you felt hands on your hips, “Jean!” He spun you round to face him, “This was what you wanted to show me?” Biting the inside of your lip you looked him over, “If so I think I’ve seen it.” 

The man in front of you laughed, his lips grazing over your jawline. “Are you telling me you’re tired of seeing it?” Your hands moved up his chest when he pulled you in closer, a moan falling from your lips when he nipped at your neck, the sting sending waves down your spine. “Yeah I didn’t think so.”

You wanted to be angry about how cocky he was, refuse him or make him work for you more. The limited time you had alone with him didn’t give you much time to tease him or even make him work too hard. “You’re an asshole Kirstein.” the smile on your lips and the way your hands held onto the front of his shirt made it clear that, that wasn’t how you really felt. 

When your back hit the door you gasped, his knee finding its way between your legs, pressing against you. You hated that these were the only moments you had with him but you’d take him however you could have him. “You love it.” His hands moved up your body. “I can feel you.” He smirked against your jaw as he moved his knee against you, “Pulsing.” 

“Fuck.” You sucked in a sharp breath, he loved teasing you and if you had the time you’d love it, you’d let him take you apart. Time wasn’t a luxury you had, “Just fuck me already Jean.” 

You grabbed his face kissing him, his tongue brushed against your lips but as soon as you tried to open your mouth there was a bang on he door. “Jean.” You knew that voice. It was one of his friends, Connie you guessed. “We got called away sooner than I thought you have to wrap up.” 

Jean’s hands were tight on your hips as he let his leg fall. Your head was rested on his chest, you knew this was too good to be true. Time like this in the middle of the day was too much to ask for. “Jean.” you let out a sigh, “You’ll get in trouble.”

Nodding a little he moved his hands to your face, pressing a hard kiss to your lips. “It won’t always be like this. I promise.” Resting your hand on top of his you smiled a little, “I’ll try to see you tomorrow. Make sure you leave the room a few minutes after I do.”

Running your hand down your face you watched him leave. You knew he couldn’t promise that but you would believe him as long as you could.

taglist: @x6nji, @pockou, @bertlebear, @colossalnova, @joyness99, @sparklypaintertyphoon, @smoochiesdiarie​, @sashaisangel, @dufresnes, @hexbestfriend, ​ (if you want added let me know! also i added a few people who’ve just kinda seemed interested? if you’re not and you’re here i’m sorry!

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 23

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader CW: Drinking, slight internalized homophobia A/N: The first part dives into Lily's sexuality. It’s pretty innocent but may make readers uncomfortable. If you want to skip, go past the line break and I bolded the words ‘Round round get around’ for when it’s ‘safe’ to continue!

Chap 23 Playlist

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 23: The Daily Quarrel

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

Lily always considered herself to be calm, rational and level-headed, that’s what made her a great prefect and student. But over the last five months, Lily felt herself becoming everything but that.

Lily never concerned herself with dating. Of course, she’d entertained the thought. She had crushes before, many crushes, and dabbled in the idea of romance, love, dates and commitment. Especially now as it seemed like the older she got, those around her fell into relationships and quick snogs in the broom closet that she was forced to break up one too many times. If she were to date, she didn’t want to force it. Lily wanted it to come naturally. It was never that important. If it happened, it happened, and she would welcome it with open arms.

But recently, it was all she could think about.

At first, it was a passing thought. Boys — dating — and then other things she thought she buried deep down began to resurface.

Girls, by every definition, were beautiful. Lily would admire the way they style their hair or religious headwear, how they carried themselves with such effortless grace that they never seemed to notice themselves. Girls, women; Lily thought they were thoughtful, kind and more respectful than men. She felt loads more comfortable around them before her thoughts began to turn more obscure — until her mind quickly shut it down and interjected that she just wanted to be close friends.

That was an utter lie.

It’s not like Lily didn’t feel any sort of attraction towards boys. She did, very much and had feelings both romantic and well… er — unleashed a plethora of other feelings. Lily was not opposed to holding hands, kissing or cuddling them, she really liked the idea and felt herself grow warm. She would do all sorts of things with the right boy. But there was something so exciting, yet frightening when the idea of hand-holding, kissing and cuddling with Y/N. That certainly left Lily with sweaty palms, heart racing and a flustered mess.

Whenever she held her hands, went around holding her arm in the halls, or crept into each other’s beds at night, Lily felt like a puddle of nerves.

She’s managed to force a smile most of the time whenever improper thoughts surfaced. She could be alone, walking the hallways for her prefect duties and something would pop up: when her fingers ran through Lily’s scalp when she brushed her hair. Her smile. Her eyes… her damn eyes… All she thought about these days was her. How was Y/N doing? She’s so funny! Would she like the way she styled her robes today? How would she look on top of — ARGH! Lily was mortified half the time.

Let’s just say that it was a gradual realization.

Lily wasn’t stupid, far from it and knew what was happening and it left her on complete edge, especially around Y/N. It left her face scarlet red and felt as if her chest was about to burst into a bloody mess. She couldn’t even look or be anywhere near her sometimes because it was too overwhelming.

But her feelings… Lily grew up being taught that she wasn’t supposed to feel this way for another girl, let alone both boys and girls...

Her heart, mind, morals, feelings, everything she believed in was at war. Lily felt herself change inside and out. It’s always been there, those… emotions — and suddenly it just ripped at the seams. Y/N was just the tipping point.

But why did it feel like such a crime for something so innocent? Something that is supposed to be beautiful?

And Y/N… out of all people!

It had been a very tiring and stressful school year so far.

Potter’s birthday had coincided with Gryffindor’s win against Hufflepuff and thus, a joint party was thrown. Lily watched from the sidelines as Y/N’s back faced her. The glowing of lights, all charmed red, immersed her as she snapped an abundance of photos of a very plastered Potter having the time of his life. He stood on a table, drunkenly singing.

Another bright flash went off and she brought the camera down, took the photo and shook it. A wide smile plastered on her face as she watched the photo develop and her body shook with laughter. But as if Y/N knew Lily was staring, her head swivelled around with a smile so blinding that it hurt Lily’s heart; now filled with hot shame again.

She shouted over the loud music. “Petals! C’mon, let loose for once!” She pointed to the cup in hand.

Lily looked down, looking at the amber liquid filled to the brim of her cup, untouched. Her gaze looked back, giving her a shy thumbs-up and brought the cup to her lips. The bitter taste of Firewhiskey burned before spreading warmly through her. But, Y/N’s reaction was worth it.

Lily tried to still her heart as she ripped her gaze away. Y/N made her feel everything but calm, rational and level-headed. It was terrifying. 

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‘Round round get around, I get around, yeah

(Get around round round I get around, ooh-ooh) I get around’

“Hip-hip —” James bellowed, raising a glass filled with Firewhiskey in the air.

“HOORAY!” The Gryffindors roared back.

“Hip-hip —”

Throughout the night, Sirius danced with probably every girl there before he went to turn the record player louder, re-filling his glass. He watched as James hopped off the table and made his way to Emmeline, peppering her skin with sloppy kisses that made her laugh and eyes crinkle.

They all officially met her that night. She’s sweet, kind and they found out she’s just as crazy as James in the love department and they seemed beyond happy.

Peter was there, who looked at the two, almost enviously, faced stained red before solemnly bobbing his head to the music. Sirius didn’t think much of it, instead just passed it off as a sad drunk.

‘I'm gettin' bugged driving up and down the same old strip

I gotta find a new place where the kids are hip’

Sirius cringed; he was never a fan of the Beach Boys but Wormtail and Prongs loved it…

Students jumped, rocking to the blasting music. Some talked, some were snogging, others tipsy or drunk. Sirius grinned from ear to ears as he looked around the room, searching for Remus. He was already a pole light, he would stick out like a sore thumb. But instead of Remus, Sirius’ eyes settled on L/N; film in hand, talking to another student. He was blond, a year above them, large in stature and Sirius recognized him from the Gryffindor tryouts back in September. Aldrich McLaggen.

His face was beat red as he chatted with L/N, his hand toying with the sleeves as he looked her up and down, wearing a flirtatious yet apprehensive grin. The bastard was flirting with her.

Sirius felt himself grip his glass tighter than normal, his free hand bunched into a tight ball while pressing firmly to his side. Neither she nor Sirius spoke, aside from their Puffskein assignment and it was killing him. From the discomfort or wishing they had kissed that night — he didn’t know. But it was tortuously awkward.

“Padfoot,” came a voice. Remus leant against a nearby table as he sipped his drink. No matter how much he seemed to drink, Remus was able to knock back drinks after drinks without it affecting him. Sirius envied that but then the thought passed, eyes settling on L/N.

“Moomy.”

Remus followed Sirius’ eyes, scrutinizing the situation.

“She’s so annoying,” said Sirius. He didn’t even mean to speak, it just slipped out.

Remus’ brow rose. “Talking about this, again? She’s not. L/N’s my friend and I like her.”

Sirius shook his head. “She’s insufferable. Who does she think she is?!”

“... Who?”

“Just look at her!” Sirius exclaimed, using large hand movements. “She acts like she owns the place. Just because she’s new she assumes she’s better than everyone else! And —” Sirius continued to rant but Remus blocked him out, head shaking.

Fucking idoit, Remus thinks. He wants to slap Sirius silly. When will he stop talking about her?

“— taking all of my friends: Prongs, Lily, Marlene, Wormy, you! I was —”

“You sound like a child.”

“— so smart. The Slugclub? All filled with stuffy pricks — except you and Lily — the kicker, I’ve seen her with Regulus! A Slytherin! Come on. That’s just asking for —”

“Padfoot —”

“— don’t understand how —”

“Crikey! Sirius!” Remus scolded. Sirius went quiet, intimidated by him. Remus took a deep inhale, his eyes fluttering shut but asked, “Why do you hate her? Is it because of that fucking rejection because —”

“What?!” Sirius’s voice cuts, loud and booming to the point where several heads swirled to look at him.

Remus looked at them, making hand movements to shoo them off. “Mind your business.”

“Moony, you know me! Come on! Sure, I’m a dick, but I’m not that much of a dick!”

“Then what is it? It can’t just be that she’s annoying.” Of course, Remus was right again. Always so blunt and never failed to be clear-cut.

Remus then tipped back his drink in one go without a flinch and left Sirius’ side. He’d much rather do his prefect duties than listen to him go on about the same conversation for what seemed like the eighth time that week. With Sirius left to sulk, he sighed and looked back to the scene, feeling irrational jealousy bubble up.

L/N laughed at whatever McLaggen said, who leant into her ear. What an obvious bloke.

Maybe it was because of the mix of alcohol that made Sirius place his cup down and stride up to them, but even he knew it wasn’t just the Firewhiskey.

“I’ve always wanted to visit. How was it like living —”

“McLaggen.” Sirius’ voice came out gruff and cold.

Both their heads turned towards him and she sent him a look, telling him to go. But too stubborn, he stayed put.

“Um… Black. Hello,” McLaggen responded. Sirius continued to stand tall, body language closed off, telling him silently to leave.

Tosser. Pillock. Daft bimbo lookin’ arse —

The boy coughed awkwardly and threw L/N a tight-lipped smile. “See you!” She nodded her head, giving a small, friendly wave. “Bye!”

Sirius took his place instantly. “Finally, you said something right for once. He’s a git.”

L/N’s face scrunched up in confusion. She sent daggers his way and he had to stop himself from smirking. “Surprise,” he drawled, hands going up to shake in jazz hands. “You seem happy to see me.”

“Why are you talking to me? People might think we’re friends.”

“Like we were ever just friends.”

Her mouth hung open after registering what he said and Sirius felt like using an unforgivable curse on himself. Did he have to bring it up like that?

Sirius was all over the place with his thoughts. Point blank, he didn’t know what the fuck was happening. He so badly wanted to draw near, to touch her and hear that damn laughter, but did he?

His… very unwelcomed feelings — whatever they were, were beginning to get in the way of his already messy life. Was it the chase that made him feel so electric, the need to dive into someone else to cover up his own problems? Was this him dabbling in his unhealthy behaviours and would this just set him back? Sirius wasn’t sure and he walked a fine line.

Humans, especially those like Sirius, are social beings. Like most people, they craved recognition, approval and constant reassurance from those around them. People want to fit in that desired image but struggle to find happiness — lost in that perceived image they chase. Desired reality… it’s like a mirage. The constant back and forth only drained him and it had been more apparent than ever since the break. That pretty packaged Sirius — was that him subconsciously crawling its way out, making him lose the little progress he’s made by continuing whatever this was? A game, his true feelings or a way to be social, to fill that void settled deep within his chest?

But he doesn’t think so, and that freaked him out even more. What scared him was that he wanted to get to know all the little parts of her, no matter how much he tried to deny it. It felt like a mantra playing in his head, questions about her he wanted answered. But he could never be sure.

L/N remained silent and he cut in, trying to cover up his internal dilemma.

“Now look who’s the quiet one.”

“Be more conceited, will you?”

“Insolent brat.”

She grinds her jaw aggressively, to the point where he swears he can hear bones crunching but she holds back from a snarky comment. His mouth opens, ready to add on before L/N turns around to survey the room. He watches as she looks up to James and back to him and then a small, separate room that’s cut off from the main room. The last thing either wanted was to ruin James’ night or cause a scene. “Follow me.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, teasingly staying back a beat before another Gryffindor girl comes up to him. He’d danced with her earlier. “Pretty boy,” she greets, “Fancy another dance?”

Sirius’ eyes travel to L/N who’s eyes hardened as she stomped back up to him. “Sorry, but pretty boy” her voice dripping in obvious sarcasm, “Has somewhere to be.” Then, she tugged on the hem of his sweater and the action had Sirius’s heart flutter. He let her lead him through the crowd, nearing the room.

“Pretty boy? So you do think I’m pretty?” He smirked, watching her duck her head to prevent him from seeing her reaction.

Out of the entire student body he could’ve had feelings for — feelings he’s never felt before that caused him to go speechless, heart speeding and the urge to inch closer — it had to be her? She never knew how to take a joke either! How James and Remus were so fond of her, he didn’t know.

She shoved him into the small room, casting Muffliato. It was ill-lit, the only source of luminosity were the red lights seeping in the cracks of the door and the small window; twinkling stars shining just enough. The mixture of lights made her look alluring.

“What do you want?” Her voice is passive-aggressive.

You, he reckons. Or maybe a permanent silencing charm to never have to hear her speak again. Either seemed great.

Her eyes rolled, impatient as he remained silent. “Could you be anymore… confusing? You’re hot and cold! First, you’re nice to me, then mean. Then come up to me, ruin my conversation with Aldrich and now you’re silent.”

“Fine. I don’t want to be here with you, happy?”

“Like you didn’t start this.”

“It’s not my fault you’re infuriating, constantly running your mouth.”

She takes a deep breath, her hands rubbing her face and let’s out a frustrated groan. Her eyes snap back open, “I hate you.” The silence was loud.

Sirius felt himself freeze, eyes turning half-lidded as he took a few steps towards her. She backed up, sliver of a smile there. His chest rose, breathing deeply, “Say that again.”

L/N looked up at him with those eyes he swore looked right through him. Simply being that close made him feel as if he ran a marathon. Then, a wicked, yet timid grin worms its way on her face. Their soft breaths were tense, like if either were too loud, everything would come crashing down.

She repeats. “I hate —”

She doesn’t finish her statement as Sirius pressed himself against her, pushing her back but snakes a hand to prevent her head from hitting the jagged wall.

His voice was low. “Are you sure you want to say that again?”

Her breath hitches. He grins. She swallows. “I. Hate. Y—”

Each syllable was hushed as Sirius pressed his lips onto hers, gentle, sweet and hesitant, contradicting compared to their banter.

When the initial shock wore off, he felt Y/N respond to the kiss, deepening it. Her lips parted and Sirius slid his tongue inside. She was a bit clumsy, hesitant but eager. Sirius smirked at her. Everything felt startling, incredible and better than what Sirius imagined it to ever be like. He felt like a firecracker, a warm feeling spreading through his veins like fire.

She’s soft, incredibly so. His free hand went to roam around before settling on the base of her back, stroking the soft skin up and down. Her hand is threaded through his hair just hard enough that he has to bite back a groan. Her other hand is pressed firmly onto his chest and god — she feels so good.

To Y/N, Sirius tastes like what you think he would taste like. He tastes expensive, smells really good and his kisses are a lot softer than she expected — the very opposite of him: energetic, rough, messy and wild. Instead it’s delicate, sweet and velvety.

She’s the first to pull back and Sirius can’t help but move his head to try and catch her lips but settles on pressing his forehead against hers.

Their soft pants fill the air and Sirius feels like screaming. His skin is boiling and she looks beyond enthralling. Their eyes locked and her eyes washed over him with such an intensity that it could rival any ocean wave.

Neither spoke, just trying to process what happened, letting their eyes run wild before she tucks a fallen strand of hair behind Sirius’ ear. The action, so small and fairly insignificant, made something so bubbly flare in his chest.

Both of their pupils are blown wide and this time, she’s the one to lean in first; with a series of soft peaks before Sirius prolongs it. Both his hands are now on her face, tilting her head up before one goes to graze her neck.

There wasn’t a sinking or horrible feeling in his chest that made him feel used or worthless and he took that as a good sign to continue.

This time, it’s faster, rough and passionate and Sirius leads, his hips pressed against her, caging her against the wall. Her hand then went to embrace Sirius, her nails scratching down his back and he involuntarily slipped out a soft groan into her lips.

Merlin… she’s more intoxicating than any brand of alcohol he’s ever drunk.

Eventually, they simultaneously pulled away, using whatever sense they had left and Sirius was left feeling high and shaky. Y/N looked away first, Sirius continuing to stare wide-eyed.

“Um — w-we should — ugh — get going —”

“— Right, I was just about to…”

Sirius backed up, letting Y/N free as she went to sit on a nearby chair. Sirius ran a hand through his hair and stumbled back into the party. He exhaled deeply, fingers outlining his lips in shock.

He must be mad — blood fucking mad! They’re both equally mad!

God, he must be blushing like a damn fool and certainly, he’s not going to be able to sleep tonight. Blimey…

Once James saw him, he pointed and made a B-line, strutting over, his hips exaggerating until he swung an arm around him.

“Siriusss! You’re my best friend!” James ruffled his hair, “Did you know that? Merlin — you light up my world.”

Sirius felt himself smile, but he’s still not fully there. His mind thinks back to her touch: soft and fleeting and god does he crave more and — what is she thinking?

“In love with me? You’re going to have to get in line.”

“Love with all m’friends… Moony… Wormtail — Whiskersss.” James slurred his words slightly and went on a tangent but Sirius’ eye remained on the door, waiting for her to come back.

She’s taking an awfully long time. Fuck, did he push it?

“Mate — earth to Padfoot?” James says, this time knocking his fist on his head like a door. “SIRIUS! Yoo-hoo! In there?”

“Yeah — sorry. A lot’s on my mind.”

James studied him, looking a lot more sober than he did just seconds ago as he went to fix his glasses and said seriously, “Is it… the nightmares again? We can go and talk about it?”

This caught his attention. Ever since Valentine's, he’s been talking to James about them — or at least mentioning bits and pieces which helped a lot more than he expected. “What? No, no it’s not that.”

“But if it is, you’ll tell me, right?”

Sirius has to stop himself from snorting, but it’s all too endearing. “Of course — I’ve only gotten them two times this week.”

Prongs grins like a mad man, throwing his fist in the air. “That’s one down! Amazing! You are amazing.”

And then he hears the door click open and it’s her. She sent him a small smile, barely there but Sirius felt his heart swell. Marlene bounced up to her, pulling her into a dance along with Mary. He watched as her head tipped back with a smile so dazzling and he felt his skin turn fuzzy again.

She got under his skin like nobody else and he’s starting to love it.

[sabrinathe20somethingwitch]

Rivetra Week 2021

lol not me completely not knowing that Rivetra Week was happening THIS week and frantically trying to put something together. but on a more serious note, everyone in this fandom is so incredibly talented, I am in constant awe of all of you. always and forever, thank you for reading.

August 25th - Day 2: Jealousy

Levi had never considered himself to be a particularly possessive person. Sure, he had grown up in the pits of the Underground and he had learned how to protect what was his, how to prevent people from sticking their noses into his territory. He had established such a strong and deadly reputation for himself that once he arrived at the surface, there were few that dared to challenge him and his authority, especially when he had someone like Erwin at his side vouching for him. He didn’t want for much, he was used to surviving on next to nothing, he didn’t have many possessions to his name and besides, no one would dare to touch his things or even enter his room without permission anyways. He certainly wasn’t possessive of his friendships with others, if he could even call them that to begin with. He was protective of his squad in the sense that he didn’t want to see the shitty brats get devoured by titans, but they were free to do what they wanted otherwise. Really, he wasn’t a very possessive guy, he never had any reason to be. 

So he didn’t quite understand the strange feeling that had coiled tightly in his chest and the way that his blood seemed to boil beneath his skin when he saw one of the Garrison officers chatting up Petra. 

Levi had permitted his squad to have the day off, claiming that he needed to make a trip to the local market for supplies because “rations only give us the shit kind of everything anyway” when they had all agreed to join him. Begrudgingly, he had accepted. To be honest, the entire excursion into town didn’t end up being as bad as he had expected. He had found his tea, special soap, some extra cleaning supplies, and even a nice bottle of whiskey; he even considered sharing some with the rest of his squad later in the evening and they were just about ready to depart when the local flower stand had caught Petra’s eye. “They remind me of home,” she had said softly as she eyed the yellow chrysanthemums, a wistful look on her face, and she was quickly drawn to them, promising him that she would only be a moment. He had turned his back to get the horses, only a few minutes, but when he was just about to see what was taking her so long (“Oi, Ral, how long does it take to buy some fucking flowers?”), he was there. 

He was tall, blonde, radiating with boyish charm and wearing a goofy grin that made the captain want to sink his fist into his face for some unknown reason. His lips were moving, he was saying something to her, and Petra’s hand flew up to cover her mouth, but he could see the way her lips curled upwards at the corners, the way her shoulders shook slightly. She was giggling. Her face was flushed. Was she blushing too? Levi watched as the boy dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a coin, pressing it into the vendor’s palm before plucking a flower at random, a daisy, from the bouquet. He reached forward, tucking it behind her ear, stepping closer to her.

Levi was pretty sure this bordered on sexual harassment.

Before he was even aware of what he was doing, he felt himself striding over to the pair with purpose, a murderous scowl etched across his features. Petra turned to greet him with a smile, but the boy didn’t even notice him at first, still staring at her with that stupid look on his face, before Levi cleared his throat, noticing with smug satisfaction how the boy sputtered violently, thumping a fist over his heart quickly.

“Captain Levi! I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t see you,” he squeaked.

“I can see that,” Levi said, a bite creeping into the edges of his voice. “Ral, it’s time to get going, c’mon.”

She laughed nervously, twisting a piece of hair between her fingers. “Sorry, Captain, I was just going to grab some flowers when I got to talking with-” She gestured to the boy beside her before she blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry, you didn’t even tell me your name.”

“Henri.” He nodded his head at her before turning to Levi, extending a hand. “Henri Augustine, sir. It’s an honor to meet you,” he said, flashing him a toothy grin.

Levi only glared in response and Henri slowly dropped his hand, wiping his palm against his trousers and glancing at Petra out of the corner of his eye.

He jerked his chin towards the horses. “Petra, let’s go.”

She nodded in agreement and offered Henri a small wave and a soft smile before the boy quickly snatched her wrist, tugging her towards him. “Petra, wait!”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi also didn’t consider himself to be an unnecessarily vengeful person; he only used the right amount of vengeance when the situation called for it. But when he saw the punk’s fingers close around her wrist, he prayed to whatever deity he could think of that a titan would wreak havoc through the marketplace and the little shit would become lunch.

Henri pulled her closer to his chest, far too close for Levi’s liking and far too close to be considered appropriate in public, and bent forward to whisper something into her ear. Levi couldn’t quite hear what he was saying, but he caught snippets of his words, something like “love to see you” and “keep in touch”. She was blushing furiously and it made his stomach churn. Violently.

He was just about ready to put an end to their little conversation and insist she come with him, they did need to make it back to the barracks before sundown, when the boy brought her fingers to his lips, giving the back of her hand a soft kiss.

Levi saw red.

Within an instant, he was beside her and shoving the soldier backwards. Henri stumbled for a moment, his arms flailing wildly, before recovering and staring at the captain in bewilderment. 

Levi seized Petra’s upper arm and began dragging her towards the horses. He knew that his grip was far too tight, but he didn’t care, choosing to ignore her hiss of pain.

“Captain - ow! - What’re you doing?!”

“We’re leaving,” he spat through a clenched jaw. “Now.” He spun her around, grabbing her hips and forcefully hoisting her onto her horse. She squeaked in surprise, her cheeks flushing bright red as she hastily adjusted herself across her saddle.

She tossed one last look over her shoulder at Henri, who still stood there seemingly petrified, and offered him a pitying glance before the bright yellow flowers caught her eye once more. 

“Wait, Captain! I didn’t get the flowers!”

“Tough shit, Ral.”

If she were standing on the ground, and feeling an extra bit childish, she would’ve stomped her foot in indignation. Instead, she gave a small huff, offering the captain a subtle lift of her middle finger behind his back and muttering curses under her breath before she joined the rest of her squad. The boys exchanged confused, and concerned, looks between them as Eld rode beside her, leaning in.

“Should I even ask what the hell happened?” he mumbled from the corner of his mouth.

“Nope,” Petra replied, popping her lips at the end of her word. 

Eld nodded tersely before shaking his head at Oluo and Gunther, imitating a slashing motion across his neck.

It was going to be a long ride home.

——————————

Petra had always known that she was a beautiful girl: she knew about the effect that she had on the men around her, how they would turn their heads when she entered a room. She knew that they found her desirable, something that her father had cautiously warned her about as she reached maturity and reminded her of as she enlisted in the military (“Really, Pet, the only girl in that entire squad?”). However, even though she was beautiful, she wasn’t a particularly feminine woman. Her brazen confidence, strength, and thirst for vengeance, coupled with her Scout uniform that was usually covered in blood and guts, had most men running for the hills before she could even introduce herself. It was alright, she reasoned; they weren’t worth her time anyway. Besides, she didn’t have time for romance, not when she was risking her life everyday for the sake of humanity. Still, she sometimes found herself daydreaming what it would be like to fall in love, get married, raise a family, like normal people do everyday, like she could do when the war ended. 

She flopped onto her bed, having retired for the evening and changed into her nightgown, twisting the nearly-forgotten daisy, the source of all her current woes, between her fingers and plucking the individual petals with a tad more force than necessary. She hadn’t actually been interested in Henri, he was far too tall and lanky for her taste. But for a brief moment, her heart had fluttered at the mere notion of loving someone and being loved in return, especially when the focus of her affections was being an absolute ass.

She groaned in frustration, rubbing at her temples as she pushed away from her pillow. She needed to talk to him, she needed to set a boundary and tell him that she didn’t need him rushing in to defend her honor like she was some sort of damsel, she could handle herself perfectly fine.

But when she opened her door, she nearly yelped in surprise to see the very person she needed to talk to was already standing in her doorway, his knuckles raised to rap against the door. He looked at her with a similar expression of shock before his face melted into his usual bored, impassive look and he quickly shifted something behind his back before Petra caught a glance of what it was.

“What’re you doing here?” he said in a low voice.

She gestured to the nameplate on her door. “This is my room.”

The tips of his ears burned red, the only sign of his apparent awkwardness. “…oh, yeah.”

She folded her arms across her chest, feigning nonchalance. “What do you want?” she asked. Her tone was dry.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Is that how you want to talk to your commanding officer?”

Petra gave him a pointed look, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation, another habit of his that she had picked up. “What do you want, Captain?”

He swallowed audibly, she could practically see the knot that had wound itself in his throat. It confused her; in all the time that she had known him, she had never seen Levi quite so… nervous.

He threaded a hand through his hair. “I just, y’know, wanted to say that I’m-” He pressed a palm against his chest and grimaced, almost as if the words brought him physical pain. “I think I owe you, um… an apology… for today.” He scowled. “Even if that little shit was being a brat. And um, here, I guess.” He thrust something into her hands and Petra blinked once, then twice, then three times.

Yellow chrysanthemums.

“You said they reminded you of home, right?”

Flowers. He had given her flowers. Instantly, all of her anger and annoyance and frustration towards him seemed to melt away and an unfamiliar, yet pleasantly warm feeling swept into its place, pooling low into her gut and heating her from the inside out. 

“You never picked them up when we were in town so I doubled back and got them for you.”

He had gone all the way back into town for her. To get her flowers.

“Just don’t expect something like this ever again, Ral, because that vendor charged the fuck out of me, so if you want flowers, I’ll just go pull you some weeds from the forest next time-”

“Captain?”

She stepped closer to him until they were nearly touching and lifted up onto her toes, quickly placing a chaste kiss against his cheek, desperately hoping that he wasn’t close enough to hear the pounding of her heart against her sternum. His skin was surprisingly smooth beneath her lips, she noticed faintly, and she smiled softly at him. “Thank you,” she whispered, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks and fighting back a blush.

He nodded, muttering something under his breath akin to “get that shit in some water or it’ll dry out” before promptly bidding her goodnight. He turned on his heel, retreating quickly back to his office but not before he could notice, from the corner of his eye, her beaming smile, the kind of shit that lights up a room, as she stared down at his flowers. The sight brought a small smirk to his face and the tightly coiled tension in his chest that he had felt all day, ever since seeing that Garrison punk sidle up to her at the flower stand, finally unraveled, replaced by a faint stirring that made his heart beat just a little faster. 

Sometimes, being possessive paid off.

He noted that for next time.

[hanniiesuckle17]

Fireworks

A/n: this is not requested but i needed to write something for me and I always love writing best friend!jisung (this turned out to be hella long btw). Also i just realized this is the 16th jisung fic on my masterlist wtf. Welp happy sweet sixteen jisung. 

Tag List: @mini-meanhoe​ @leggomylino​ @hanstagrams​ @desertofdessert​ @hoes4hoseok​ @yangomangos​ @jeonqqin​ @geminirules​ @crscendoforsung​ @mrsunshine999​ @jisungsjheekies​ @hannie-squirrel00​ @cotccotc​ @kodzu-ken​ @konenichi​ @yangs-jeongin​ @binniebutter​ @skzwriternet​​

Warnings: cussing probably, lil distressed jisung, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: Y/n and Jisung practically grew up together. Y/n always dreamed of getting her fairytale happy ending. So, Jisung is surprised when she is settling for an all but labeled ‘arranged marriage’ to an asshole that Jisung knows doesn’t love her. Not like he does. Can Jisung convince himself to go after what he really wants and take the risks that come with it? Can Y/n face the facts that what she has wanted has been in front of her all along?

Genre: romance, fluff, angst, non-idol!au, bestfriend!au, friends to lovers!au, wedding crasher!au, Fem Reader

❃

“Please, come today!”

Jisung sighed over the phone. “Y/n. I have no knowledge whatsoever about dresses. Especially wedding dresses! They’re all white! What’s the difference?” I could hear the murmurs of Changbin and Chan on the other side of the line. “See. I will be no help at all!” Despite the negative connotation of his words I could hear the tiny smile in his voice.

“So, we’re meeting outside the shop at five.”

“Y/n, I’m not going.”

“2146 Chyeongsong Ave, got it?”

“Yes, I’ve got it.”

Letting out a happy laugh I hung up on my best friend, sure that his attendance could be accounted for. The wedding was three months away. Jiho, my fiancee, had no desire for a big wedding and it seemed the sooner we were married the happier he would be.

But, I had always dreamed of a magical wedding with hundreds of people watching me marry the man of my dreams. So, we compromised. He said I could plan as big I wedding as I wanted as long as I could get it done in three months and he would pay for it.

Jiho was the son of one of Seoul’s big company presidents. His family was very kind and seemed to welcome me with open arms despite my less than formal upbringing. Jiho grew up in a penthouse apartment and went to the best university in Seoul.

I grew up in a tiny house in the rundown suburbs next door my best friend, Jisung, and busted my ass to get scholarships and pay my way through a cheap college. Jisung was beside me in all the big moments in my life. He was my best friend and I loved him more than anything.

“So, what did he say?”

Sooyoung’s head of curly dark hair popped over the cubicle divider separating our two desks. I laughed and gave her a thumbs up. “You doubted my power of Jisung persuation?”

“Never. You could convince that boy to run around Gangnam with his shoes on his ears and screaming at the top of his lungs if you wanted to.” Laughing at the thought, I turned back to my computer, desperately watching the minutes tick by before I would get to start searching for my wedding dress.

❃

A slightly chilling breeze blew across the street. Jisung regardless of his lack of enthusiasm on the phone picked me up from work to walk with me to my dress appointment. My mother, other best friend Yuri, and Jiho’s sister Bo Rim were already waiting outside. Everyone greeted us with a smile as we walked up. My arm was looped with Jisung’s and my hand was stuffed in his jacket pocket since it was cold. 

 My mother smiled and embraced Jisung with a kiss on the cheek before motioning us inside. My entourage and I were quickly greeted by a consultant. “Hi! My name is Hyunsoon, I’ll be your consultant today. You must be the gorgeous bride, Y/n!” She smiled looking me up and down before glancing at my arm linked with the man beside me. “And is this handsome young man your husband-to-be?” 

 Jisung shook his head dark hair falling in his eyes. A tight smile sat on his lips as he answered the woman. “No, I’m just the best friend. I’m not going to stay for the whole appointment.” She nodded looking at Jisung with new eyes. “I want to be surprised. Regardless, Y/n will look radiant in whatever she chooses.”

 After a few questions about my wedding Hyunsoon led me back into a dressing room and my family and friends to a couch with mirrors around it.

 “Are you excited for your wedding?” She asked with a kind smile, placing dressing on the wall of the dressing room for me to see.

 “You could say that,”

 Her brows furrowed. “You don’t sound very excited?” I shrugged and laughed nervously. The dresses she had picked out were very pretty. Sensing I had nothing more to say on the topic she helped me into the first dress. 

It was weird to see myself in the garment. I watched her fix the dress with clips so it would fit as it should before looking over to me. The dress was more of a ball gown style. It poofed out just above my hips and was strapless with a sweetheart neckline.

“Do you want to go out and show them?” I nodded and helped her pick up the many layers of tulle skirt. Hearing fabric brush against the ground as we walked out of the hallway, the heads of my entourage turned. Several smiles were seen from my view in the mirror as I stepped up onto the pedestal.

 I gazed once again at the dress in the mirror. It was a gorgeous gown; there was no doubt. Feeling ready for their opinion, I turned around to face the peanut gallery. “What do you think?” My mother was quick to gush over the skirt. Bo Rim and Yuri both raved over the shiny beading on the bodice. Mrs. Nam, Jiho’s mother seemed to like it just fine. My eyes fell on Jisung who said nothing. He looked at me, arms crossed and fingers brushing over his bottom lip. “Ji?”

 “It’s....nice...”

Struggling not to laugh I replied, “One of the most incredible song writers I know and the only thing he has to say is ‘nice’?” My friend chuckled and his stare raked over the fabric before looking back up at my face.

“It’s not you. You don’t look like you. You look like some frilly puffy marshmallow girl.”

From anyone else the comment would offend but all I could do was laugh. “He’s right this is definitely not me.” Nodding the consultant ushered me back into the dressing room. Five dresses later, nothing felt right and I was beginning to get stressed out. “What do I do, Hyunsoon? Nothing feels right. I’m not feeling those....fireworks.” The beautiful woman looked at me in question. “Sorry, it’s something Jisung and I say to each other. It’s like our wish for the other to find so much happiness that it feels like...actual fireworks.” I explained with a light laugh. 

She sat down on the floor with me, moving the short silk robe further over my thigh, a gentle gesture. “Tell me more about your fiancee,” She kept her hand on my knee and rubbed soothing circles on my skin.

“Ummm....well...his name is Nam Jiho. He’s really nice and very very smart. Like holy fuck, he is insanely smart. He spends most of his time at work and he really likes to run as well.”

She looked at me expectantly. “That’s it?” I nodded, a little unsure of what else she wanted me to say. “And you love him?”

“Of course! What kind of a question is that? I’m getting married aren’t I?” Though I smiled, she could tell there was the smallest bit of insecurity. She thought for a minute tapping her fingers softly on my knee.

I felt somewhat lost among the mountains of white fabric scattered about the room. “Okay then! Whose opinion matters the most to you out of everyone you brought with you today?”

“Oh- Jisung. Of course.”

“Tell me about Jisung,”

A hefty sigh left my lips, but a small happy smile soon replaced it. “Jisung is....he’s like....my person you know? Like anytime I need him- even when I don’t need him- he’s always around. We grew up together. He is my everything. I trust him with more than my life. He’s just....Jisung. He is fully himself and unapologetic about it.” Ilaughed recalling thousands and thousands of memories with him. “He is a total asshole. Way too confident. But, he gets really shy sometimes. He’s also very genuine and has the biggest heart. Without Jisung...I wouldn't be who I am today.”

She smiled and pushed herself off the ground. “I will be right back!” Just as she closed the door, Hyunsoon winked over at me and left me alone in the dressing room.

❃

Jisung’s POV

I was beginning to feel restless. Y/n hadn’t come out in at least thirty minutes. My leg was going to bounce off my body at this point. Unable to sit still any longer I pushed myself off the plush couch. It was getting harder and harder to control my heart seeing Y/n walk out in all these gowns knowing she was going to marry another man.

Wandering through the labyrinth-like rows of white frocks, I found myself thinking once again about Y/n. Not bothering to cage my thoughts they ran wild with daydreams of Y/n choosing dresses imagining what I would think of her walking down the aisle. Her smiling at me instead of that asshat, Jiho. 

Turning down an obviously dead end, my eyes fell on the mannequin standing in the center of the row. A delicate dress hung on the figure.Tattooed lace around the bodice and down the front of the gown to the hips fading like waves on shore. The back was low and open and my mind filled in the gaps, picturing Y/n’s soft skin laying beneath the fabric. My fingers brushed over the long thin sleeves. 

The sound of the a door closing snatched me from the my tantalizing reverie. “Oh- You’re Jisung right?” The woman asked walking closer. I recognized her as the one helping with Y/n’s appointment. I gave her a short nod, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket. “I actually need your help.”

“Anything for Y/n.” The beautiful woman’s brow quirked up and a smile slid onto her painted lips. “I mean....anything...for the bride.” 

Her tongue slid over her white teeth. There was so much white around, my head was starting to physically hurt. “Uh huh. Anyway! Y/n basically hates everything not only I have picked, but also everything she’s picked.” I stood waiting for the part where I could possibly help. “She trusts you. She wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

“I’m sorry....I don’t see how-”

“I see you’re looking at dresses. Have you seen one that you like? Maybe....one you would like...on Y/n?” My eyes fell to the floor, glancing over at the mannequin briefly. My quick gaze did not go unnoticed by Y/n’s consultant. “Well...Jisung....don’t you have good taste.” She walked over to dress form and checked the price tag before giving the gown a once over. “Revealing taste too....” She sang with a smirk. 

I looked away rubbing the back of my neck, the area feeling very itchy all of a sudden.  “I-I- uh...the dress just seems like her. It’s very.....mesmeric. Her.” 

“She did say you have a way with words.” Hyunsoon, I think her name was, walked over to one of the racks pushing past dresses until she pulled out one I assumed was in my bestfriend’s size. “Go sit back down! I know she’s going to love this one.” 

My head tilted back and I let out a sigh. As much as it pained me, I knew seeing that dress on Y/n and knowing it was ‘the one’ would be it for me. I’d snap and in front of all her family, soon to be and current, I’d confess how much I loved her and that I didn’t want her to marry that dick. I’d ruin what would be her perfect happy ending. Well...in her words....her ‘Moderatley-Happy-Fiancially-Stable Ending’.

“Actually...I’m gonna head out. I know she’s gonna love it. Tell her I hope she gets her fireworks.”

Willinging myself to start moving, I walked past Hyunsoon and towards the door, only stopping once. A glimpse. I caught only a glimpse. The door of Y/n’s dressing room opened and I saw the bright smile on her lips as she looked at the dress being brought to her. “That’s your last look, Han.” I mumbled under my breath. “Now turn around and walk out.” 

With every ounce of willpower left in my body, I did.

❃

The TV droned in my rundown apartment. My two closest friends, outside the one I was deeply in love with, were half drunkenly lounged in my tiny living room. I scowled at the television, taking another drink from the bottle in my hand. 

“Dude- slow down. That’s like your sixth drink.” The eldest chided, tossing a balled up fast food wrapper at my head. 

Ignoring the fellow musician’s advice, I chugged the rest of the beer shooting Chan a look. “Chan let him be. You know what tomorrow is.” Changbin sighed. Turning, I found him hanging off an armchair upside down, scrolling through his phone. It was silent for a while until the inverted boy spoke up again. “I still don’t get why she’s marrying that douchebag.”

Knowing where this conversation was going I escaped to the kitchen, preoccupying myself with grabbing another beer from the fridge. the other two boys paid me no mind and continued the discussion as if I was invisible. Chan’s attention turned back to me as I plopped down next to him on the dusty old couch. “Han, didn’t you say you caught the guy cheating like....multiple times....” 

It was true. I had caught Jiho not once, not twice, not even three times, but four times I had got him with other women. Jiho liked to go out to clubs. The scumbag would pretend that he was working late so Y/n would be none the wiser, then he would stay out until three in the morning drinking and getting with random girls he met. The bastard didn’t even have the decency to frequent establishments he knew I wouldn’t be at. My music career was in the dumps lately and I had resorted to DJ-ing at downtown clubs.

That fucking asshole even had the audacity to flirt with other girl while Y/n was around. She had invited me out with the two of them for drinks  after a promotion at work. The second she leaves for the bathroom Jiho starts making moves on the waitress. Right in front of me. 

“Yeah....well, there’s nothing I can do about it.” On multiple occasions I had tried to tell Y/n about her terrible fiancee. Every time I tried, all I could see was the look of hope on her face. the look that practically begged for me to tell her that Jiho and I were finally getting along. And....I couldn’t do it. I could never do it. 

“Boo hoo. Horton hears a bitch ass liar!” Changbin slurred from his awkward position. 

“What?”

“That is quite possibly the biggest lie you have ever told.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. Chan yanked the beer out of my grip and handed me a water bottle instead. “Oh and what do you suppose I do then?” I managed to get the words out before Chan less than gently shoved the water in my face. 

The man beside me sighed and shifted to face me fully. “You love Y/n. Yes or No?”

“Yes.”

“She needs to know that.” I shook my head. No, she did not need to know that. I was not going to be the reason Y/n ruined her chance at a good life. Looking around my apartment I saw nothing but disappointment. Most months it was hard to make rent and I could barely afford to do anything but the bare necessities. She deserved better than what I could give her. “We all know Y/n is only settling. This is definitely not the fairytale ending she always talked about.”

“Chan, there’s no such thing as fairytales. Even Y/n knows that.” Inwardly, I grimaced at my own words. Had Y/n been around to hear those words I would have been slapped upside the head. 

“How do you know that? Do you have proof?” Changbin mused, a drunk smile on his face. “Let’s say this is a fairytale. You and Y/n have to be the main characters! The prince and the princess always get to together in the end! Duhhh!”

Even in my sour and depressed mood it was easy to laugh as Changbin slid off the armchair and landed on his head. “He does have a point, Ji.” Chan said, listing his head back onto the couch. Two of his fingers pushed the bottom of the bottle back up towards my face. “You’re the leading man in your own life, dude. Stop acting like the best friend. If you want her go get her.”

My thumb brushed over the grooves in the plastic . The alcohol was quickly clearing out of my system. A numbness filled my body as I contemplated the options put in front of me. Maybe it was time for me to be selfish. Maybe it was time for me to get what I wanted. 

Taking a deep breath, I pushed myself off the sofa and headed for the door. 

❃

Thirteen hours. Thirteen hours before my best friend’s wedding and I was walking to her house at two in the morning to confess my feelings for her. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I mumbled under my breath. The view of her parents house was growing closer as I walked down the street. Y/n told me earlier in the week she would be staying there the night before the big day. 

Just like so many nights in our teen-dom, a familiar yellow glow from Y/n’s bedroom window illuminated the street below her house. Through the second story window I could see glimpses of movement. For a moment I just stood, doubting all the decisions I made in the last twenty minutes. I could chicken out here. Turn around and go home. She would never know. 

Just as I was about to turn around, I was caught in daze by the image in the window. Y/n stepped into view, radient like a new morning. From the little I could see from the street, she was wearing the dress I had picked from the boutique. Her hair was messily pushed back and strands fell in front of her eyes. The glint of the standing mirror flashed across from where she stood. Her beautiful E/c eyes trained on her reflection. 

She was breathtaking. My chest got tight just looking at her and a cold sweat was born on my palms. I watched as she rung her hands together, nervously twisting the rings on her fingers; a habit we both shared. Y/n let out a shaky breath before returning her gaze to the looking glass, this time with a smile. 

Her delicate fingers reached up and brushed her cheek before they stretched out as if to shake some invisible person’s hand. Her smile grew brighter as she talked to this imaginary person. She laughed and looked truly the happiest I had seen her in a long time. 

My eyes fell to the road, scuffing my shoe on the asphalt. She was happy. No matter how badly I wanted her.....there was no way I was going to take that away from her. Y/n’s happiness mattered more than mine. I could find comfort in the knowledge that she would be happy. That she would be taken care of. That she got everything she deserved. Everything I could never give her. 

Turning on my heel, the cold air and truth bleeding me sober, I walked back into the city away from my happy ending. 

❃

Y/n’s POV

Thirteen hours. Thirteen hours before my wedding and I was questioning everything for absolutely no reason. The rest of my family was long asleep. Yet, here I sat in my wedding dress feeling like everything I was doing, every decision I made.....was wrong. I felt like crying for no reason, my throat refusing to be anything but tight. 

Coming to my feet, I smoothed out the gorgeous gown and walked with no purpose until I found myself staring at the mirror on the far side of the room. The girl on the other side of the glass looked like a bride. Why wasn’t I happy with that?

Standing up tall like my mother lectured many times in the past few days, I pursed my lips and put on a pained smile. “Hi, I’m Mrs. Nam Jiho,” The name felt unclean coming from my lips. Tilting my head, I rubbed my face before staring back at my reflection. I sighed pushing back the feeling of tears begging to spill over. 

“It’s nice to meet you, my name is Nam Y/n.” I shivered, swallowing the last bit of moisture in my mouth. “Nam....Y/n.....Y/n Nam....Mrs.Nam Y/n.” The more I tried to look at the person who I would become the more I felt like crying. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Mrs. Nam Y/n....” Before I could finish the words I broke into tears. Loud sobs filled my room and all I could do was stare at the hollow shell reflected in my mirror. 

My heart ached. The air in the room around me felt heavy, like a weight on my shoulders, pushing me down into the ground. Pushing past the lump in my throat, my eyes returned to the mirror, this time fixating on the photos framing the glass. Pictures of my friends and family.

 My heart lifted seeing a photo of Jisung and me. It was an old picture from highschool, probably taken on one of those disposable cameras you could get at corner stores. His school uniform was slightly too big for his then thin frame. My skirt was just a little too long and my shoes were never quite the right size. We were seated on the bleachers outside the school. Jisung sat on the row above me and let me rest between his legs. His arm was wrapped around my shoulders, as he leaned around to kiss my cheek. I was caught in the middle of a laugh and Jisung looked so happy right next to me. 

I smiled remembering the day from the printed memory. A friend we both had lost touch with had taken the photo while we weren’t looking. We then got teased for days afterwards. My fingers brushed over the delicate fabric of the dress. The dress that Jisung had chosen. Jisung. Almost every happy moment of my life....was tied to Jisung. Taking a step forward, I looked back in the mirror. Sniffing away the tears, I smiled. 

“I’m please to meet you....I’m Mrs. Han Jisung,” 

The smile on my face grew bigger and my heart swelled. Reaching up I brushed away the tears that spilled over before holding my hand as if meeting one of the guests at my wedding. “Jisung and I are so pleased you could come to our wedding,” 

The feeling in my chest had me wishing to cry all over again but for a different reason. I wanted to jump and scream at the top of my lungs the name ‘Han Y/n’. The more I said it, the more I felt like a teenager again. 

All I could think about was Jisung. His dark hair, dyed one too many times, leaving it slightly damaged but somehow still soft. His big, round, doe eyes. The way he told the stupidest jokes. His voice- not just when he sang, but even simply speaking his voice was one of my favorite sounds. Pressing my hands to my cheeks, I pulled away finding them hot. 

“Fuck...I’m in love with Jisung.”

❃

“Okay, I need everyone to give me some fucking space!” I shouted, effectively silencing my dressing room. One by one, my maid of honor ushered the ladies out. I let slip one time that I am having second thoughts and all hell breaks loose. 

Sitting at the vanity, my head fell into my hands. I was dejected. Confused. And obviously sitting with a pretty big headache. I hadn’t heard from Jisung since the dress appointment and he didn’t answer any of my texts this morning. It was like he was avoiding me. Eyeing the champagne on table I contemplated drinking the whole damn bottle then just going through with the event. As much as I wanted to get married, I didn’t want to do it to someone I didn’t love. 

Standing up, I manuevered the champagne filled vessel away from my body and popped it, the sound letting loose a satisfying echo. The bubbly liquid filled the glass flute I picked up. My first sip was interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“I told you guys I needed space! Just fuck off!”

Downing the glass, I turned to pour another one. Drunk ceremony was looking like my best option right about now. The click of the dressing room door opening caused my ears to prick up. “I said fuck off-”

“That’s not very nice language coming from the bride.” 

Jisung stood in the doorway, hesitant smile on his face. His hair was almost styled, pieces still falling loose over his forehead. A black blazer hung over an untucked slightly wrinkled white dress shirt. His slender hands were shoved in the pockets of his blue jeans. 

“Coming from you that’s rich,” He watched me drink in his appearance. “Jeans, Ji? You come to my wedding in jeans and Doc Martens?” 

My best friend rubbed the back of his neck, eyes trained on the carpeted floor. “To be honest....I wasn’t sure I was coming at all.”

I blinked, trying to process the words just said to me. My best friend....the man I loved more than anything in the world...said he almost didn’t come to my wedding. “Excuse me?”

“Y/n....we need to talk....” 

My chest tightened in anticipation as I watched Jisung close the door. He stayed on the opposite side of the room seemingly nervous or afraid to even look my way. A hint of a smile appeared as I watched Jisung anxiously turn the silver rings around his fingers. “Ji, have you been avoiding me...”

Instead of answering, the man’s eyes fell to the bottle on the vanity. He motioned to it, wordlessly asking for a glass. Stepping away, I allowed him enough room to cross and pour a glass for himself. He downed the flute like a shot almost making me laugh at the similarity between us. “Didn’t you want to get married outside? In a forest if I remember correctly?”

“Don’t change the subject, Jisung.”

“I’m not.” For the first time I felt like Jisung really looked at me. His eyes seemed to soften. Before I could once again appreciate how beguiling his eyes were, they retreated back to their place on the floor. “Y/n....this isn’t you. You deserve a fairytale ending. Your fairytale ending. You don’t deserve a shotgun wedding in some church with nobody watching just waiting for the hour de vours to be passed out.”

“I’m not pregnant. This isn’t a shotgun-”

“Please just let me finish, Y/n....”

Nodding, I leaned against the vanity and watched my friend’s hands brushed through his dark locks. The silver hanging from his ears glinted in the bright fluorescent lighting. “Y/n...Don’t....don’t get married.” He seemed encouraged by my reaction, or lack thereof. “I think about you a little more than I should. A lot more actually. For a long time. Y/n/n, I’ve been in love with you since grade school.”

A familiar lump began to form in my throat and a pit formed in my stomach. Gaining confidence, Jisung’s eyes met mine. “It’s been killing me...seeing you with that asshole. I know you’re happy. I know that you’re better off with him. He can give you everything that I can’t, because you deserve to have a nice house. You deserve to be spoiled with gifts and trips. You deserve to not come home every night and worry whether the rent has been paid.” Jisung stopped and stared at the empty glass in his hands. 

“You always talked about fairytales when we were little. Well...my fairytale would just be us. No magic. No princes and princesses. Cause you’re enough for me. More than enough. Y/n, you’re it for me. You’re my fairytale.”

His eyes widened seeing a single tear rolling down my cheek. Before continuing Jisung watched me with shaking hands carefully set the glass flute on the vanity behind me. 

“I- I want you to be happy. If you’re happy with Jiho then I will go out into that church and clap when you get hitched. Because, that's what friends fucking do and that I can give you. But...if there is any chance....any part of you...that loves me at all....even a little bit....”

He gulped, fingers ferociously twisting the rings on his right hand. Not many would believe it, but Jisung was shy. Introverted. It was rare to see him like this. Jisung wasn’t afraid or nervous, but more timid or demure. I could almost see his heart physically stop beating as I opened my mouth to speak.

“I’m not happy, Ji.” He blinked, big, brown, doe eyes trying to understand what I meant. “I want to be. But, I can’t be happy with someone I don’t love. I don’t care about the money or the gifts. I just.....want my fireworks. I think you can understand that more than anyone.”

Jisung nodded dejectedly, shoving his hands into the pockets of the blazer that seemed to be holding itself together with only a few threads. He seemed to not understand what I was saying. “I do....understand- I mean. That’s all I want for you. If you can’t be happy with Jiho or me then-”

“Fuck, Ji. You really are dense aren’t you?”

“What?”

Reaching forward, I twisted the collar of Jisung’s slightly unbuttoned shirt and pulled him closer. Before our lips even touched I could feel electricity in the air, sparking and making room hotter. Finally feeling my lips against his sent my stomach on a rollercoaster; twisting, turning, loop de loops, and free falls giving me the greatest feeling spreading to the rest of my body. 

The feeling of my fingers sliding up his neck, must have brought Jisung out of whatever shock induced daze he was in. Like second nature his arms wrapped around me, cool hands pressing into the bare skin of my back. There was nothing but fire in my stomach as Jisung dragged his lips over mine at a painstakingly slow pace. The man smiled feeling me pull and tangle my fingers in his soft dark tresses. 

“Fireworks?” I asked, pulling away with my bottom lip snagged between my teeth. 

“Millions.” Jisung’s thumb brushed over my cheek before he leaned back in capturing my lips in another death defying kiss. “Did you drive here? I took the train.” He mumbled between kisses.

I laughed feeling happier than any moment before in my life. “My car is out back. You’re driving.”

Opening my eyes, I saw that signature smirk my best friend was famous for. For the first time I knew why my insides did flips when it was directed at me. Lacing his fingers with mine he dragged me from the dressing room and led me through the halls as fast as we could run with one of us in a wedding dress. As we reached the car, slamming the doors shut, the bells in the chapel started to ring making the both of us grin. Jisung leaned over, fastening my seatbelt before kissing my lips like they were his only source of air.

“You make quite the gorgeous runaway bride,”

❃

Masterlist

[bookwrm99]

Preferred Music- OM! Brothers

Not that anyone asked me, but I was in the mood to write and I’ve gotten back into Obey Me! after a super-long hiatus.. so these are my thoughts on what the brothers listen to in terms of music. I’ve only finished S1, so forgive me if these don’t make sense in context of the later seasons T_T

Lucifer:

It’s established in canon that Lucifer loves listening to classical music and has an extensive record collection- the more cursed the better

I headcanon though that he also likes to listen to big band music, like the Glenn Miller Orchestra

I can imagine him putting one of his vintage Glenn Miller records on his grammy and asking his s/o to dance with him one night if he was feeling especially romantic. The song he’d initiate on would be Twilight Interlude, Moonlight Serenade, or Starlit Hour.

I also headcanon that Lucifer listens to crooners, like Nat King Cole or Frank Sinatra

If MC can play an instrument, especially if it’s the piano, Lucifer might lurk in the hallway for a while if he hears them playing music by composers like Beethoven, Mozart, or Chopin. He doesn’t know how or why, but he thinks their works sound best whenever MC plays them

I think Lucifer’s guilty pleasure is 50′s/60′s decade music, but only listens to them when certain conditions are met: he’s in an exceptionally good mood, his privacy is guaranteed for at least an hour, and it’s just him in his bedroom. He feels that artists like The Beach Boys, Elvis, and The Beatles don’t fit with his polished, high-class image, hence the secrecy around listening to them

You’ll know he trusts you when he allows you into his space while one of these artists’ records is on the gramophone

Doesn’t change MC’s ringtone in his phone, because one: he’s an old man and hardly uses the thing for anything besides communication anyway, and two: he wants to be the only brother who wasn’t prompted by Mammon’s ringtone change

Probably changes their ringtone after a few weeks, when his brothers have forgotten all about it

 Mammon:

The Black Crowes. Next-

It’s canon that Mammon likes R&B music

Mammon strikes me as a classic/90′s alternative rock kind of guy too, though. Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, U2, Deep Purple, The Black Crowes, Pearl Jam- that kind of vibe

If he’s feeling something a little more hard, he’d probably dip into Nirvana, Van Halen, AC/DC, or another band along those lines

“Money” by Pink Floyd is DEFINITELY his ringtone

If he’s trying to really focus to come up with a scheme to make Grimm, or is just in the mood for something really chill, he might pull up a lofi hip hop playlist/station to listen to in the background

If he and MC happen to be chilling in his room, though, he’d probably play whatever they’re into- not because he likes them and wants to learn more about them or anything, noooooo sir, definitely doesn’t want to know their favorite artists so he can maybe take them to a concert one day either

Probably starts listening to MC’s favorite bands and genres too as their relationship develops

I headcanon that as soon as he finds out whatever MC’s favorite song is, he sets it as their ringtone in his phone so he can distinguish them from modeling agencies and his brothers

Leviathan:

It’s canon that Levi LOVES anime music, which like- I 110% subscribe to

I think he’d also really like video game music as well. Especially if it’s a game he loves and their soundtracks are *chef’s kiss*

If the Devildom has an equivalent to K-pop, I could see him being into that too. BTS, EXO, SUPER JUNIOR, Girl’s Generation, and SEVENTEEN all give me Levi vibes

Because he used to play so many different instruments, I also headcanon that sometimes he gets in the mood to listen to some of the music he used to play

He might get started on a classical music kick for a couple hours, then be satisfied for a week or two until the craving comes up again

Like Mammon, he might try listening to MC’s favorite music to get to know them better- but if he’s too averse to it, he’ll just go back to listening to his usual music

As their relationship develops, he might change MC’s ringtone in his phone to the theme of an anime they’ve both watched together and loved, or to the theme of his favorite anime- not to be outdone by Mammon, of course

Satan:

It’s canon that Satan also enjoys classical music, especially symphonies

I headcanon though that Satan might resent this similarity to Lucifer, so listens to classical music in secret- or abstains from it until he cracks and binges for a few hours

I could also see Satan listening to music very loudly in his room to piss Lucifer off if he’s in a particularly vindictive mood, especially if it’s hard rock or metal

Three Days Grace, Shinedown, Breaking Benjamin, Disturbed, The Veer Union, Gojira, Beartooth, Steel Panther- and if he’s really mad at Lu, he’d pull out the stops and listen to some death metal

Lowkey kind of likes some of it, even though he started listening to it exclusively with the intent of making the eldest tear his hair out in frustration

For casual listening, though, I headcanon that he has soft indie playlists and stations that he’s favorited/subscribed to

I could also see him as the type to have a playlist built with all his favorite songs from his favorite Broadway plays (looking at you, Les Misérables and Cats)

When he catches wind that Mammon and Levi changed their ringtones for MC, he didn’t hop on the train to outdo them- he just thought it was a good idea. He changes it to a soft indie song that reminds him of MC in some way, whether the lyrics are explicitly about someone similar to them or the sound of the song gives them MC vibes

Asmodeus:

Asmo listens to healing music in canon

But I also imagine him listening to dance/EDM music, because it gets him pumped up for The Fall and reminds him of the good times he’s had there

I headcanon that Asmo listens to healing music when he’s pampering himself or doing spa sessions with MC, and dance/EDM when he’s getting primped up to go to the club

Asmo is DEFINITELY the type to put soft music on when he’s about to get it on with somebody to set the mood, but it’s not something he listens to on his own- he feels ambivalent about romantic music in general

With MC, though, if their relationship buds into something more than friendship- you can bet your ass that he custom makes the perfect playlist for spicy situations with them, and his opinion on romantic music changes into a more positive one

I also see him listening to Queens like Ariana Grande, Rihanna, Nicki Minaj, Beyoncé- really powerful women vocalists

Asmo might have an easy listening pop playlist/station subscribed on his app of choice, but probably has to be in the mood for it to put it on

Definitely changes MC’s ringtone to something cheeky at first, like “Sexual Healing”, but trades it for a romantic song that reminds him of them later as they get closer

Beelzebub:

The RAD newspaper reports that Beel likes the song in the “Hell’s Burger” commercial

But I headcanon that when the newspaper club asked him that question, he just didn’t know how to respond because he listens to so many different genres, so he blurted out the first thing on his mind (so of course it would be food-related)

Beel doesn’t strike me as the type to like one genre in particular to the exclusion of most others- he seems more like he’d have playlists of all different genres to switch between depending on the situation and his mood

He’d definitely have a workout playlist full of songs to hype him up, like “Eye of the Tiger”, “Welcome to the Jungle”,  “Seven Nation Army”, “Thunder”, etc.

Probably has upwards of thirty playlists/stations he’s subscribed to because of his broad tastes, but the ones I see him frequently playing are pop, indie, alternative, and punk rock

Because he shares a room with Belphie, he’s grown accustomed to listening to chill, soft piano music at night when the both of them are first falling asleep- so much so, he has a hard time falling asleep without it, so he always brings earphones with him when traveling so he can still listen to it

MC’s ringtone in his phone is the “Hell’s Burger” commercial song- the only other contact that shares the ringtone is Belphie. Hearing his favorite song helps him distinguish his favorite people from everyone else calling his phone, even if hearing the song makes him hungry and drool a little bit before he picks up

Belphegor:

Belphie likes chill piano music in canon

Makes sense to me, since he’s sleeping 99.999999% of the time

But I headcanon that he also likes punk rock, like Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, blink-182, Good Charlotte, All Time Low, Panic! At The Disco, Bring Me The Horizon, and more

He only listens to it if he has to stay awake for a long period of time- listening to piano music makes him sleepy, so that’s out of the question, even though he needs music to be able to focus

Belphie is another brother who will stick around if he hears MC playing the piano- he’s less covert about it than the eldest brother, though

He’ll straight up trudge into the music room, sit on the bench with them and lean his head against their shoulder as they play

Hope you weren’t planning on stopping anytime soon, MC

Belphie also seems like the type to have subscriptions to ASMR or soft storytelling podcasts/stations/playlists, for the times he finds he’s having a hard time falling asleep

Like Lucifer, is one of the last to hop on the ringtone train, and honestly didn’t really give a shit about it until he really thought about it. What if MC was in trouble and tried to call him while he was asleep? His normal ringtone wouldn’t wake him up in that scenario, which could end up being really bad

Changes it to something really loud and obnoxious at first, like “What Is Love” (the animal cover)

Eventually changes it to something more romantic as he and MC get closer in their relationship, like “Check Yes, Juliet”

~~

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. <3

BTW, this is the ringtone I HC’d for Belphie lmfao: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mx5-aOGphII&t=53s

It’s my morning alarm and my family hates it, but I’m an extremely heavy sleeper sooooooo guess I’ll just keep being a menace to society

[yuzukult]

i’m bad too 18 || kdy & reader

title: i’m bad too - drabble series pairing: kim doyoung x reader genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, goodboy!doyoung, nerdy!dy (basically he’s a dork) & badgirl!reader, hitman!au, oc-isn’t-a-hitman-but-she-could-be!au, word count: 1.8k warnings: none for this chapter a/n: just two more chapters left to the end !! :D taglist: @wownajaemin​​​​ @crescent-iak​​​​ @ncttboo​​​​ @byunbaekby​​​​​ @jinfizz​​ @doyoungyoung​​ @ahgayeah0305​​ @doyobun​​ @sexualitaeyong​ @mrkleelvr​​ @m1ss-foodi3​​ @hcwurld​​ ← previous chapter || next chapter →​​

Doyoung’s favorite drink is caramel coffee.

He doesn’t like it hot—you recall him mentioning, he prefers it iced, and he finishes it so fast that the cubes don’t melt and condensation doesn’t drip off the sides of the plastic cup.

So you shouldn’t be surprised that he’s at this very café. Especially since it is his spot, but it also shouldn’t be news to you when you’ve come here everyday for the past two weeks in hopes of running into him.

You wonder how he’s been doing. It’s been months since you’ve last seen him; forever ago since you saw him with that girl Karina, and you’re curious if he thinks about you as often as you think about him. He’s on your mind daily, sometimes by the hour depending on what you’re doing, and he feels like a drug you can’t quite quit (despite the shortage of time you’ve done fine without him).

And you admit willingly that your feelings for him come rushing back the moment you see that pretty smile dressed upon his lips when he laughs from his chest at the video his friend shows on his phone.

But you continue to sit in the corner of the shop, face behind your device as if you’re immersed in the technology when you’ve got your eyes on him the entire time.

Instagram doesn’t do justice. You never know what he’s really up to, you learn, because his feed only shows the happy pictures he poses for. But his stories—you stay for that. There’s some nights you’d catch him posting something with a scenery, a little heartfelt description written along the horizon, and it gives you a glimpse of how he’s vaguely feeling. Maybe they’re for you, well, you were hoping they were, but for a guy who isn’t the greatest in the romance department, he’s very artistic, so it wouldn’t be surprising if it weren’t for you.

Maybe it was for Karina.

Okay, there might be a slight chance that you were bitter about that chick. She hung out with Doyoung often, from what you speculate, possibly involved in the same friend group, having mutuals together (which, already is how she’s so different from you). She roughly reminds you of that emotion that runs through your veins when you first saw Doyoung talking to Joy; that clenched jaw, tightened fist, and a deep swallow to push down all your anger. Joy was just a friend, and you eventually learned that without having to go the hard route, but Karina… didn’t give you any reason to believe her friendly motives. But Doyoung isn’t yours, you have to remind yourself, and because he isn’t, there’s no need to get upset.

For one, the times you followed (don’t judge, you missed him but didn’t want to approach him if he wasn’t ready) him, Karina always stuck to Doyoung like glue. She was practically joined by the hip; batting her pretty long lashes, cheeks brushed with that coral pink blush like she’s all embarrassed because sweet boy Doyoung accidentally touched the back of her hand, and whenever she got the chance, she’d hold onto his arm tightly, pretending that she couldn’t catch her balance in those Ultraboost sneakers that were basically socks on a sole with no support.

“Ugh, you always do this,” one of his friends says, loud enough that you could hear from where you’re sitting. “How do you manage to beat me every time?”

“I learned the tricks,” Doyoung retorts, voice stable but his face all smug. “Doesn’t look like you did though.”

The other guy rolls his eyes before tossing his phone onto the table. “Forget that dumb game. I’m actually curious about something,” he begins, leaning over with his forearms pressed against the surface. There’s a mischievous smile that tugs on the ends of his mouth, and you rest back in your seat in curiosity when his tone changes. “You and Karina. What are the two of you?”

You nearly snap the pen you’d been fiddling in your hand.

Fucking Karina. Again. This bitch just keeps being brought up, doesn’t she?

Doyoung shifts in his seat, hands with his phone dropping onto his lap. A brow quirks, narrowing a strange gaze at his friend. “Why are you asking?”

“Mmm, heard there’s rumors going around about Karina liking you.”

“And,” Doyoung takes a sip of his iced coffee. “Why’s that matter?”

The friend clicks his tongue, groaning that Doyoung isn’t picking up the not-so-subtle hints. “Because. Have you seen her? Or are you just blind. She’s smokin’ hot like… literally any guy would want to get with her. And you too, which is kinda crazy—”

“—is it impossible to believe that someone attractive can like me?”

“I mean, no offense Doyoung, you don’t exactly look like the type that would sweep those types of girls off their feet. You spent most of the time indoors! Watching movies, playing games, maybe sometimes you go out to clubs and parties but barely and it’s with our geeky friends. Even I can come to terms that I’m a geek. Jocks or bad boys are what she would be into.”

Doyoung sighs. “Where are you going with this?”

“You should date her. Since, you know, you have that chance.”

He shrugs, bending the straw of his drink like he’s occupied with something else that’s going on in his mind. He’s quieter than usual, especially around a friend, and it’s left you pondering what’s got him so tied up. But then, you hear it.

“I’m waiting for someone.”

His guy scoffs in belief. “You’re waiting for someone. Who? That chick you were having friends with benefits with like a year ago? Dude, she was also out of your league. Rode a motorcycle, didn’t talk to anyone, hot, and somehow you got her attention. But dude, she’s been gone for a while now.”

Doyoung purses his lips. “Told her to come to me whenever she’s ready. Karina and I don’t really have something like… that. Not worth dropping the chances of her coming back and seeing me with Karina.”

“She’s got you that bad?”

A soft smile pulls on his lips, and he nods confidently. “Yeah, she does.”

When Doyoung and his friend pack up their bags to leave, he halts in his tracks. “Actually, you head out first. I’ll meet you later tonight, I won’t be going to the pre-game.”

The latter stares at Doyoung suspiciously. “Really? What’s up with you? Thought you said you were tagging along.”

“Yeah but… I gotta do something real quick. I’ll meet up with you.”

Strange, you think to yourself, because Doyoung seemed like he was going to leave too, until that very last second. Then, you notice something. When his friend leaves through those double doors, he turns and looks directly at you.

At you. Like he sees you.

You’re not a ghost, but you’re pretty good at camouflaging yourself with a crowd. You’re not the prettiest nor the ugliest, so being average has an advantage in this field, but Doyoung isn’t like normal people. He sees you, and even though you’re in a black baseball cap with casual clothes to match, he still can spot you in a sea of people.

“You’re here,” he says, his tone between a question and a statement. Part of you expects him to be angry, fuming with rage because you’re here instead of asking him to meet up. “You’re… actually here.”

“I’m surprised you found me,” you retort, standing up from your seat and gathering up your belongings. “I thought I was good at blending with people.”

“I’m in love with you, you expect me to not see the girl I’m head over heels for?”

You pause.

Bag not even slung over your shoulder, your heart does the complete opposite of your motions and races. He what?

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Doyoung straightens his posture, trying his best to read the expression on your face. “Why… Why haven’t you called or reached out? Were you not ready until now?”

“I thought… you had a girlfriend,” you admitted, and truthfully, you’re not sure how Doyoung manages to get you to spill out your insecurities so easily. His eyes widened, and before he could say anything else, you interrupt his train of thought. “But that was months ago. It’s fine. I trained, and I’m back in the field, and I wanted to see how you were doing, that's all.”

“But you didn’t want to call me?”

You clear your throat, drifting your gaze elsewhere. “Like I said before. Thought you had a girlfriend. I don’t want to interfere with anything in your life that could be normal.”

He has a finger on your chin, directing your attention back to him. Your heart skips a beat this time, air sucked out of your lungs from his stare, and you swallow. “I waited for you, though. If you’re ready to come back, please come back. I have never dated anyone since I left your place, and I don’t intend to either. I made a promise and I’m keeping it.”

You hated reporting here.

There’s something ominous about this warehouse; it’s not just the people who occupy it, but it’s the building itself. Outside, it looks like an abandoned stone mill. Worn down walls, windows shattered, and located in a dangerous neighborhood, secluded from all the up-and-coming buildings that are being constructed a couple blocks down. The cars that came for drop off didn’t come here either, so it made the building even more mysterious and seemingly empty.

But the moment you stepped in the front doors—it’s like a factory.

A factory that manufactured everything from guns, grenades, to bombs, and so on. Everything that you wore on missions, everything you held between your fingertips, and everything you utilized in the field were all made here.

The headquarters.

Upon entering, you had to go through security. Guns are to be logged in, identities are checked through the system, quick but yet thorough pat down, and phones are chipped until you leave the premises. Needless to say, they were careful and even someone like you with so much skill and worthiness cannot go undetected here.

“Boss is asking for you.” A gorgeous girl says, clipboard in her arms. She’s got her hair tied in a low bun, glasses on with thick frames, and a pencil skirt to pair with her white blouse.

“I asked for boss, but yeah, that.”

She nods, bowing her head just slightly and you’re wondering how she even got in this field. Shy, quiet, and fragile, she seems, and you wonder if she knows what’s actually happening around here. “Please follow me.”

She takes you down a narrow hallway, far from where the other workers were posted, and takes you through these metal doors that looked too heavy for her to push, but the guards standing by the sides do it for her instead.

“Head on in. He’s waiting.”

“Right,” you gesture her a head nod in thanks.

Taeyong is seated at his desk, two additional guards standing on either side of the wood, and he’s fidgeting with the pen in his hand. “Lookie here. Our star player. Ten’s little sister. What do I owe the honor?”

“I want out.”