#it does feel like less than zero though

[vanmarkus]

how is it 9° that "feels like" 0°?? like, how??

[imrllytootiredforthis]

thinking about how there isn't enough on virgin!minho

like things get a little handsy and then you learn how sensitive he is... idk i just love subby whiny min but i haven't seen any inexperienced/virgin minho around :/

Made of Glass

pairing: lee minho x reader

warnings: dom afab reader (no pronouns are mentioned, reader does have a hole but i don't think anything else - besides minho referring to the reader as a goddess once), sub virgin minho, lots of build-up, little bit of a handjob, grinding on his bare dick, penetrative sex ( r receiving, haven't written it in a long time so don't get mad if it's shit😻), fluffy build up (they're in love your honour), he says he hates you a lot (but he doesn't mean it cause we love subby tsundere boys)

word count: erm...about 4.6k

-- MINORS BEGONE --

Minho wasn't ashamed of the fact that he was a virgin.

Untouched and "pure", undirtied by the hands of another some might even say. Specifically you, teasing him with light kisses and gentle touches.

And sure, he'd gotten to 2nd base in a high school relationship and older drunken mishaps but never anything more. Never as so far as to...feel certain things from another person.

Or from himself for that matter.

But no, wasn't ashamed that he was a virgin but he was maybe, perhaps, just a little bit embarrassed.

And he had absolutely zero idea how to breach the topic with you much less approach it.

You, who knew he was a virgin. Always so patient and careful with him.

Obviously, it should be expected that in the heat of the moment you stop when he freezes up or slows when he tenses up. But none of his previous partners had ever treated him so nicely, without getting angry or miffed off after at the very least.

They hadn't kissed his cheeks gently with a smile and conceded into a cuddle after it happened several times. They hadn't wrapped him up in their arms and turned on a movie, or delicately asked to talk about it after the fact.

You did though.

With no questions and no pressuring and no guilt-tripping. No anger.

He loved it. He loved you...as long as that had taken for him to come to terms with, with you and with himself.

He loved you.

And he was ready.

To...to, yeah.

And what better way than to just come out and say it? But that's embarrassing.

"I think I wanna...you know."

"Darling, sorry, can you speak up?" You looked up at him, yawning and setting your phone down on the coffee table.

He flushed and turned away, "um..." and he could feel every ounce of confidence in his body drain out of him like that.

Under your eyes, like this, you so attentive to listen to him. So nice, giving him your whole attention like he was the only thing that mattered.

You patted the couch next to you and he had no choice to sit down, falling into your arms like he was the missing piece to your puzzle.

He was quick to nuzzle his face into your throat, hiding against you. You just made him so nervous. Why did you make him so nervous still? After dating for this long, you shouldn't make him feel this way still.

Fluttery and gooey and nervous.

He'd say he hated it. The way you made his heart flutter...as sappy and love-drunk as that sounded.

He'd say he hated it when your hand cupped his cheek, turning him back to you. But he didn't hate it. Not one bit.

"I love you."

A grin split across your face, lighting up in that way you always did when he said those three words. No matter how many times he's said it, it would still drive you crazy like it was the first.

You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose gently. "Say it again for me darling? Just one more time, please?"

Now you were teasing him. But you couldn't help it. You loved teasing him so much. Loved fluttering kisses over his face and hearing him say those words again and again and again.

You didn't think you could ever get sick of it.

"Fuck you," He groaned but his tone with filled with anything but malice, making you laugh; letting him bury his head into your neck. "Fuck you for being so..."

"So what?" You challenged. "Hmm?"

His voice was muffled against your skin, barely legible, "So...insufferable." But he must like suffering then. "And intolerable." And he must have built up some tolerability, maybe because he was around you so much, indulging in you far too often.

You pulled his body against yours, leaning back to slot his body onto yours.

He was too eager to follow your lead.

To let himself be maneuvered so his hips were pressed against yours and your chest was aligned with his, so softly you moved him, so carefully you treated him.

He could feel your heart beating in time with his, fluttering and quick. He loved the feeling like he loved everything about you.

Fuck you for making him feel like this.

For the butterflies in his stomach. And the flush on his cheeks. And the hard-on between you and him, wishing desperately you wouldn't notice.

But of course you would.

You pulled his face from your neck, hands holding either side of his face, keeping him in place - like he'd want to be anywhere else.

"So I'm insufferable and you're...what?" Your lips pouted and he felt the overwhelming need to kiss them. To kiss you. Hard and fast and the way he needed.

He pretended to think but was only sidetracked by the feeling of your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, tracing his lips and following down to his jawline.

"Mmm, I'm...handsome. And, uh," he let out an embarrassing breathy sigh when you lean in, kissing the corner of his mouth so softly he wouldn't be sure it was there if he hadn't watched you.

"And...?" You prompted, smiling coyly. You knew the effect you had on him.

You peppered kisses over his face, following where you'd touched him with your fingers seconds before. You nipped at his cheek and pulled away before he could properly reply.

"...pretty?" Though the words came out more as a question than anything else. "I mean-"

A giggle escaped your lips, "Hell yeah you are," you brush your nose against his, looking at him in a way so scarily intimate he has to look away first.

"Pretty..." you mutter, sighing. "Y'know, I think I can accept being insufferable and intolerable if you can accept being pretty," you whisper, guiding him back to you with a delicate kiss, finally to his lips. "And handsome," you murmur, smiling against him as he deepens the kiss, hands grasping at the fabric of your shirt.

You pull away with a small teasing smirk, "And beautiful, and gorgeous, and stunnin-mmph!"

His hands fist the fabric, pulling you in before you can continue with your stupid rant. Before you can focus on the way his heart pounds when you add on another praise.

You hum and recede into the motion, allowing him to push his tongue into your mouth, sloppyily, in the way oddly reminiscent of the way horny teenagers kiss.

In a matter of seconds he's turned the kiss from sweet to something not-so-sweet.

Exactly what he wanted, and maybe he wouldn't even need to suffer through the awkwardness of asking.

Everything he put in was returned by you in the tenfold, one hand moving from his cheek to the nape of his neck, the effects making you laugh against his lips. His form shivering into yours, full-bodied and obvious.

"Sensitive?" You pulled away, with a breath, mouth curling up. "It's okay, it's cute-mmph!"

He crashed his lips against yours again, effectively cutting off your words and your thoughts. Even if you continued to play with the nape of his neck, fingers teasing over the spot. The feeling only made him more and more desperate.

But if he was needy, you were nothing but eager to reply, deepening the kiss like you were trying to consume him whole.

"Darling," you mutter, too soft. "Minnie," you groan, holding him to you gently.

But you were too soft, too gentle.

He wanted more, he wanted you.

Unrestrained, doing what you wanted for once, using him like you wanted. Because he wanted it.

Wanted to not be treated like he was a piece of glass, in danger of breaking every moment. He loved how carefully you treated him but now he wanted to be treated rough, he needed to be treated rough.

But he didn't want to say it.

Slowly, he pressed his hips against yours, shuddering at the fizzle of friction sending sparks through his nerves.

"Minho," you sighed, nails scratching against his scalp making him whine. "Darling," with a particularly harsh nip to his lips, almost hard enough to break the skin - that was what he wanted.

A whimper built up in his throat only to be swallowed down. He wasn't that desperate yet. Even if every one of his movements seemed to argue otherwise, finding a clumsy rhythm in grinding against you, replicating and intensifying those sparks.

Building them up to what he hoped was more.

Even if the motions were clumsy and new. Curious but wanting all the same, the way he moved was raw, exploring and ruining. It made his head spin and everything else go foggy.

You dragged your mouth away from his, tugging his head up by his hair to lick your way down his neck.

A lick and an open-mouthed kiss, making him shudder and shake, heat emanating from the areas you touched and the places you pressed together.

Separated by stupid clothes but not enough to stop him.

He must look pathetic the way he thrusts against you, each discordant grind getting more desperate, more sloppy with the skim of your mouth. With the drag of your tongue down his jaw and pulse-point, heart thrumming beneath your lips. With every shockwave of euphoria that tingles down his spine, with every moan and whisper of his name that leaves your lips.

"Minho," "Minnie," "Baby," "Darling,"

His head is too fuzzy to worry about anything else. To think about the needy noises that leave him, he's sure he sounds lewd, and dirty.

From just dry-humping against you.

But it's not enough. He wants you rough and hard and on top of him. Showing him what to do, telling him what to do. To make him feel good, to make you feel good.

He falters imperceptibly. Should he...?

No, he doesn't want to. He can't. Because how is he supposed to ask you to-

He's caught up in his head but his body works on autopilot, reacting to the sensations that are bringing him closer and closer to cumming in his boxers.

Caught up in his thoughts but not so much so that he forgets about you,

and he certainly doesn't miss anything you say, like the words "Such a fucking good boy," nearly growled into his throat, voice husky and ragged as your teeth scrape down his skin.

Good boy?

He freezes. Heat pools deep inside of him, warm and making him painfully, painfully hard. The words push him nearly to the edge, and he can feel himself on the precipice of-

And then he's being shoved back, hard.

Harder than you meant to, but necessary for what you were about to do.

You pant, as does he, both of you flushed and trying to catch the breath stolen from your lungs.

No, no, not when he was finally getting somewhere, not when finally, finally he was getting what he wanted. Not when you were actually unrestrained and-

"I'm sorry."

His gaze snapped to yours.

"What?"

Your lips were red and parted, he was sure his weren't in much better shape. All he wanted to do was kiss them again, and again, and again.

He wants to hear you call him a good boy again.

"I-I'm sorry," you ran your hand through your hair. "I should've...I shouldn't have done that, I'm so sorry Minho." This time you were the one looking away.

"The fuck do you mean?" He snaps. It came out a little harsher than intended, he admits. But really, he was sitting here, horny and pent-up and just wanting to get fucked, and here you were, pushing him away and apologizing?

You blink, slowly, surprised.

And here he is, fuming.

Why won't you just fuck him?

"I'm sorry-" would you just stop saying that? His glare shuts you up. "Um," You only looked confused now, a furrow between your brow.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips. You watch it.

He wishes you'd just make the first move.

Because now he was going to have to say it. Out loud. To you. Not just mumble some nonsense and hope that you'd pick it up.

"I want you." He said simply, inching closer to you.

You nodded but made no move to continue anything. "Okay..." then a sigh. "I'm going to need you to elaborate just a little, Minho."

The flush across his cheeks spreads, down his neck and over his collarbone. Why did you have to look at him like that? Like he was made of glass or something? Like you cared about him so much it made him melt.

Fuck, he loved you.

"Look at me baby." You gently cup his face, turning him to meet your eyes. "You can tell me."

You definitely knew.

He could see it in your eyes, the worry giving way to a teasing look. Now you just wanted to humiliate him huh?

He hated you.

"Shut up."

You smiled, pulling him into your chest again, laying between your legs. Just like you were before. "Well that's not what good boys say, now is it?"

He pulled his face away, burying it into your shoulder to hide from your eyes. "I don't like you." His voice came out muffled into your shirt.

You only scoff out a laugh. "We both know that's not true darling. You love me." Voice dropping to a whisper, you lean into his ear. "Do I make you nervous baby?"

Someone just kill him now.

Put an end to his misery.

"N-no;" his voice still muffled in the fabric of his your shirt. "you're just-"

"Just what?" You challenge, fingers teasing into his hair, the way you know he likes it. "You're a big boy, you can use your words, can't you?"

He shudders and swears he can hear your smirk. "I...- fuck you."

You tug on his hair, making him face you. You swear he has a eye-contact problem. Or maybe he just gets too nervous looking you in the eye.

Either way, he's too adorable not to coo at.

"I was imagining this the either way around, but whatever rocks your boat~" you purr. "All you have to do is tell me what you want."

His hips jolt against yours, heat filling his body. As soon as he does though, your free hand stills his hips, fingertips teasing under the hem of his shirt while you look at him expectantly.

He wants to hide again, but you hold him in place. Pinning him against you, not letting him look away, not letting him move.

He wants you so bad.

"Touch me..." He mutters, and your hand slides just a bit higher on his abdomen, your thighs squeezing just a bit tighter around his hips.

It's over for him. He knows as soon as your lips turn up just a bit more into a coy smile. "Where?"

When he doesn't reply soon enough you skim your hand up and over his ribcage. Breathing growing heavy as your other leaves his hair, trailing down his neck and over his shoulder, slipping just beneath the collar of his shirt.

"Here?"

Such a simple touch makes him feel hot.

"Or here?"

Slowly, your hand under his shirt makes its path towards his chest.

He gasps lightly when your fingers tweak over his nipple, delighting in the way he quivers, rutting against you. You click your tongue at him. "You know, I really can't do anything to you until you tell me what you really want." Lips ghost over his ear, nipping lightly at the shell. "Too bad, really. I could take such good care of a cute little virgin like you~"

His voice cracks under the weight of your touch; trying to clear his throat while biting back a moan. "I'm not cute-"

You cut him off with a kiss, tentatively, like you hadn't stolen his breath with a kiss only minutes ago. Like you're afraid to break him.

But he wants you to break him.

The kiss is too short for his taste but it effectively cuts off his thought process, making him nearly dumb against you. Not dumb enough to not catch the smile against his skin, "I'm not cute." But he sounds so cute. It only makes the smile widen, turning your attention to trail kisses down his neck, murmuring between each press of your lips.

"Yes you are." Kiss.

And for some reason, he can't argue.

"Remember?" Kiss.

"I'm...what was it?" Smile, kiss, lick.

"Intolerable?" A pause, but only for a second, taking the moment to drag your tongue across his throat.

"And you're cute," Stopping to suck on the spot where his pulse thrums, feeling his heart beat under your lips.

"And pretty..." Kissing, once again, over the pretty mark you've left on his pale skin.

"And beautiful...and stunning...and..." you pull away, looking to see his eyes hooded and pupils blown. "...not getting anything more until you can tell me what exactly you want here."

You pinch his nipple one more time before pulling away, leaving him cold, whining, grinding desperately between your legs.

He's hard enough, you wonder if he would've cum in his pants if you hadn't stopped.

"I..." he starts and you wait patiently for him to continue. If you've learned anything about Minho, it's that he's nothing if not embarrassed to voice his wants. Especially the ones like this.

You remember how he blushed and couldn't stop wringing his hands when you worked him up to ask to kiss you for the first time.

The way he couldn't look you in the eye, focusing anywhere else.

But he knows by now, you're nothing if not a tease, willing to play the long game to get him to tell you what he wants.

Fuck you.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

He's so hard though, it hurts. And his skin nearly burns with the need to be touched, to feel you on him again. And all he wants to do is let you have your way with him.

Something that won't happen until he tells you.

"Please," he whines. Though he knows it's not enough. He just wants you. "Please?" On him, touching him, teasing him, kissing him, consuming him. "I need it." pressing a sloppy kiss to your collarbones. "Just fuck me, I want you so, so bad." He pants, hands tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Wanted you so bad, for forever now."

God, you can't wait to fuck him.

A grin blooms across your face, one that he can barely process. "Thought you'd never ask baby."

Not before you're pushing him onto his back, onto the soft cushions of the couch, switching your positions before crawling on top of him.

"M' gonna make you see stars baby." You purr, and he can do nothing else but nod dumbly, looking up at you with wide eyes like you're something of a goddess on top of him.

And you will make him see stars. Not yet anyway.

His vision goes hazy though as your hands quickly move to pull his shirt over his head, leaning down to kiss him again.

Deep and hard, filled with promises and care.

You lace your fingers with his against the couch cushions as you kiss down his jaw and down his neck and his chest and-

He gasps when you lick over his nipple, wrapping your lips around one to suck on it lightly.

Your tongue swirls around it, free hand tweaking at the other, making sure not to ignore it.

His cock is so hard, he can feel it throbbing in his sweats. He's sure he's already leaked through his underwear.

He swears he could cum from this alone.

"Don't!" He gasps and you pull away quickly, concern etched across your brow before you see his face clouded with pleasure, mouth hung open to let out breathy moans. "Please don't." He squeezes your hand in his. "I'll cum if you keep doing that."

You melt, filled with the overwhelming need to make him cum by just playing with his nipples. How cute he'd look from having his tits played with.

"So sensitive, aren't you?" You coo.

Maybe another day though. Right now, you'll give him what he wants. What he's wanted for 'forever'.

"Shut up," he scowls though it's quickly wiped away when you pinch his nipple one more time, making him gasp.

Finally, you glance down at his sweats, tenting with his boner. "Well someone's excited for me." Seeing you stare at his crotch makes him excited. His already hard cock twitching in his pants. "You're so sensitive for me, aren't you, Min?"

He hates you so much, covering his face with the back of his arm. The fact that you're only telling the truth makes him want to hide his face into your chest again.

But you're too far away, and too focused on watching his boner through his pants, fascinated by how hard you've made him with so little.

"Please," he whispers, but the way you watch him, eyes full of hunger makes him throb even more.

Somehow, he gets a kick out of you just watching him, softly moaning at his eagerness, as he lets out a hushed whisper, "Please. Please y/n, don't tease me like this. I'm already horny." His legs spread open shamelessly.

"Awe, why? Can you not handle it?" You look up at him, at his blushing face and his needy eyes. You wanna kiss him so bad.

And so you do, getting close to his lips, your warm breath tickling him. Your hand runs over his clothed cock, teasing your nails gently over the head of his dick. His eyes widen as you begin to touch him over the fabric.

But your lips quickly silence him as you kiss him again. He moans into it, the feeling of your hand on his cock, stroking him lightly and your lips on his.

Your tongue pushes through his lips as you stroke him a few more times, squeezing him lightly in a way that has his back arching off the bed, pushing into your hand even more.

Panting, you pull back a little. "Such a good boy for me, Minnie." Before you're pinning his hips to the couch and looking at him one more time for conformation.

Then you pull his sweats and boxers down in one swift movement.

And then he does see stars as you slide yourself over his hips, grinding against his bare cock.

He thinks he tells you he loves you, that he worships you, that he adores you more than anyone on this planet. He thinks his hand squeezes yours so hard that you bring it to your lips, kissing his hand and telling him to relax. He thinks you grind against him slow and gingerly, watching to see his reactions.

Like he'd ever tell you to stop.

He'd rather die.

Shoot him in the head if he ever tell you to stop, because it sure as hell isn't him.

Again, he thinks. But he isn't sure. He isn't sure of anything really right now.

His head is a mess of sensations and feelings, whines pouring from his mouth until you kiss him again and again and again.

Whispering that he's a good boy.

He's going to cum, he's going to cum.

Stars explode behind his eyes as they roll back and he isn't even inside of you yet.

And then you stop.

And he thinks tears might be rolling down his cheeks. He needs you, he needs you so fucking bad.

"Please, please, please." He pants, trying to roll his hips up against you, failing to find any contact as you sit back on your haunches, just out of his reach. "Need you," he gasps. "Need you so bad!"

You push sweaty hair out of his face, kissing the back of his hand one more time before you pull away entirely. He whimpers and you coo. "Be patient baby, just need to do something."

He watches blearily as you pull off your shorts and tries to calm his racing heart and heavy breaths as you roll a condom over his length.

"One more minute baby," you hush as you kiss him. "Are you ready?"

He nods desperately, of course he is. He's waiting for this for so long. He's wanted you for so long. He's going to go insane if you don't-

He gasps.

You groan as you slide down his length, slowly burying him inside of you until he bottoms out.

If he though grinding was intense, this was like nothing he could've ever imagined. His mouth gapes open, an endless stream of whiney moans and needy whimpers flooding into the room, feeding into you as you lift up and sink onto his again, groans of your own mixing with his.

He can't think anymore - he doesn't want to. He only wants to fall into the feeling of your walls squeezing around his dick, warm and wet as you ride him and the feeling of your hand once again finding his.

Whispering into his ear that you love him so much as you turn his head into mush

"I…I can-" Minho tries his best to talk, to tell you how good he feels. He really does, but whenever the thought comes to mind, it just gets cut off with the liquid heat coursing through his veins.

By the intense feeling of everything that is you.

He's an idiot for not asking you to fuck him sooner.

"Yeah, baby?" You chuckle breathlessly when he fails to complete his sentence. "You feel yourself inside?" You bring your interlaced fingers to your lower abdomen, "You feel it?"

All he can do is respond with a loud sob as he nods his head to your question, hips bucking up into you, desperate to chase the high quickly approaching ever since you've touched him.

He's not going to last much longer.

"You fit so well inside me," you murmur.

He's going to cum. Of this, he's sure.

"Please!' He hiccups, but he's not sure what he's pleading for. "P-please!" For more? For less? For something - anything to stave off the inevitable, he doesn't want this to end. He doesn't want it to ever end.

You kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw. You flutter kisses over his face, so softly compared to how you're fucking him into the couch so roughly.

"I love you, Minho."

"I love you so much!" He pants and squeezes your hand, his other grabbing onto the nape of your neck as he shoves your lips against his.

He's fucking beautiful, you think. Cute and pretty and beautiful, under you, falling apart.

It's the most gorgeous sight you've ever seen, and he's whining your own name against you lips, pleading between sloppy kisses for you to let him cum, to let him cum for you. 

You show your approval with a collision of lips and teeth and tongue as he tips over the edge and you follow suit. He sobs as he cums, shivering violently as waves of pleasure roll over his body, his back lifting into an arch, pushing himself deep into you with a followed whine.

Each moan and whine are muffled by your tongue pushing into his mouth but his hips still grind as he pushes himself into overstimulation, whining until you have mind enough to still his hips.

For a moment, the two of you are silent, chests heaving, both catching your breath as you pull away, looking at him.

"Minho?" His eyes are shut and his cheeks are painted red. "You okay baby?"

He murmurs something you don't catch, but you don't tease as you push the hair out of his face, sweat-soaked and tired, kissing his forehead once.

You make a move to get up off of him but he only wraps his arms around you, holding you in place. "Don't leave," he whispers, looking up at you with tired eyes. "Just stay, please. For a little bit?"

His sleepy eyes make your heart skip a beat. "Who are you and where's my Minho?" You tease softly, but give in nonetheless.

"Fuck you." But his tone is with filled with anything but malice, as he nuzzles into you like a happy cat.

"I just did." You giggle.

"I love you so much." He mutters, kissing your shoulder. "I love you so fucking much."

"And I love you too."

a/n: I did it ^-^, who's proud of me!! also haven't written reader being penetrated in a looooong time, so if it's shit, oh well :p

pls leave feedback, i need motivation to finish my other teaser fics😭

[v3lvieraven]

𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞

(Riddle, Floyd, Leona, Malleus, Lillia)

Synopsis- reader tends to give really big and tight squeezes similar to Floyd whenever they hug/cuddle/get excited

Warnings- cursing, mood swings (Floyd), accidentally pushing away (riddle)

𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞

•he collared you for the first time

•this didn’t really do shit though considering you have zero magic.

•takes him a second to realize then un-collars you!

•After a few times of him lying through his teeth about not liking it, you figured you should stop.

•But those squeeze times had found their way into his schedule, literally.

•so when you stop squeezing him it messes his schedule up! Which is absolutely unacceptable.

•usually he wouldn’t straight up tell you his feelings but his poor poor organized schedule was falling apart! And all because you stopped the squeezing.

•“Why aren’t you doing the squeeze thing anymore?”

•You opened your mouth to answer but seeing his unusually upset expression you kept it shut

•With a shake of your head you bring him into your arms with a big squeeze.

•”Awww you like my squeezes!”

•”shh… you have three hours to make up to me”

•that meaning he made you squeeze him in bed for three hours (after his already busy schedule)

𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝

•he fell in love the moment you squeezed him.

•obviously it wasn’t as tight as he does it.

•but he still loves it nonetheless!

•he definitely pouts whenever you arnt squeezing him. Which makes it very inconvenient for Jade and you.

•he’s very clingy though, but if he saw you squeeze someone else, even if it was in a friend way. He gets so jealous!

•when you went to give him a squeeze a few hours after he saw it, he probably would yell at you.

•He has really bad mood swings so it’s not surprising but it didn’t hurt any less.

•depending on your personality this could go two ways-

•first way: you give him space

•he would be more aggressive towards everyone at first.

•Azul and Jade had begged you to calm him down but you stood your ground.

•not wanting to cross his boundaries.

•but after he gets his anger out one way or another, he realizes he royally fucked up.

•Definitely starts crying and finds you, drags you into a bed, and squeezes you. VERY HARD.

•ends in you either passing out or he falls asleep.

•second way: you wait like thirty minutes and give him another squeeze

•after about thirty minutes he should have probably calmed down

•other than his pout and occasional muttering he is actually holding onto you for dear life.

•both ways he bites you tho.

𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚

•HE IS LOVIN IT

•When you found him in the botanical garden asleep you thought this was the perfect time to cuddle with him

•momentarily forgetting about your habit

•it woke him up, he probably hisses at you, even when he realizes it’s you.

•Almost shoved you off until he notices that he really likes this.

•often orders Ruggie to escort you to him whenever he is in a bad mood or a squeeze mood.

•I’m gonna be honest I actually can’t imagine if he were to get mad at you for squeezing him, ironic considering his temper

•like Floyd he can and will bite you to get what he wants.

•he flops on top of you often and demands it with light insults.

•Maybe you should try squeezing him whenever he overblots that might work.

•soon finds out he can’t really sleep without the pressure around him.

•one night when you were on a small trip somewhere he couldn’t sleep, so he tried to squeeze himself with his tail.

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬

•craves it more than anything.

•please don’t stop. He will actually cry.

•he’s really touch staved, so whenever you show up and squeeze him, he returns the gesture

•thinks of it as a human way of expressing love

•which it is to you.

•he’s so adorable, you can’t understand why anyone is Afraid of him. Of course he can be scary but not to you

•He also cries when you do squeeze him, but out of happiness. So either way, if you do or don’t, he will still probably cry.

•Sebek scolds you a lot because you started this and now he often gets really mad and causes thunderstorms.

•sneaks into your dorm and kicks grim off the bed and onto the couch

•poor grim :(

•Sometimes when he’s had a particularly bad day and he needs to unwind he will come to you. Which usually ends up with him letting out some of his more dragon features.

•Not fully though, unless you are okay with him destroying a bit of your dorm house.

•overall he loves you dearly, wouldn’t trade this for anything at all.

•please keep going!

𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚

•he teases you all the time for it.

•the first time though he was genuinely surprised but wiped that expression off his face VERY quickly

•he sleeps upside down so sometimes he will ask you if you wanna stay upside down with him and do your thing

•most of the time your squeezing sessions will turn into play fight or tickle session instead

•he gets really giddy when it happens

•don’t be fooled though, he will threaten anyone you squeeze.

•also might curse them or something but you don’t need to know that!

•He’s smitten for you though, and even when it sometimes doesn’t feel like it because of his playful demeanor, he truly appreciates these moments with you

•might sometimes mutter things under his breath before he falls asleep in your arms.

• “don’t let me go..”

• “your squeezes are mine…”

•he means the second one in all seriousness though.

•this is one of the most vulnerable times when he is too sleepy to keep his silly facade

•not saying he isn’t silly naturally, but sometimes he covers up his problems with his cuteness or calm demeanor.

•He’s usually not as silly when he’s not with you, but again, sometimes he uses it to cover that he is hurting

•so please don’t call the things he is saying at the moment “silly” because he means them with his whole heart.

•just keep squeezing and reassuring him, and he will open up!

Note- totally not based off the fact I squeeze ppl when I hug/cuddle

[yandere-romanticaa]

Low key building upon this post. Why? Because it was originally supposed to be more smutty but I'm a chicken who can't write smut, so I tried dipping my toes here. Nothing too extreme mind you, I'm still a big baby. Sue me. This was also written in a cafe in like, under 20 minutes so...

"I won't make you do anything you don't want to."

That mantra has been inside of your head for months now, ever since the bastard hunter took you. In some strange way, he did somewhat keep that promise and that made you feel so damn bitter. Kinich only really forced you to do the utmost basic necessities to keep you sane and alive - nothing more, nothing less.

He was still the same old Kinich you knew. Nothing was free of charge. The only reason why he still kept you around was because it made him feel good, or so he liked to remind you every so often.

That was precisely why the current predicament you were in was so damn bizarre.

Kinich panted beneath you, his eyes widened in shock as the faintest outline of blush dusted his cheeks, his shoulders quivering ever so slightly as you held him tightly on the bed. His arms found your hips and swiftly settled there, occasionally groping the soft skin whenever the opportunity arose.

Never in his wildest dreams could Kinich have predicted that you would ever greet him home like this.

Practically giving him no room to breathe, he was pounced on like a hunter does to its prey, giving him absolutely zero time to react. Your movements were desperate and clumsy but he did not care, not when everything felt so damn good. Kinich stared at you through half lidded eyes, his gaze seeping with exhaustion but want, so much so that he was inclined to gently nibble on your lower lip, which he gladly did.

A small noise escaped you, a silly mixture between a whimper and a cry but to Kinich's ears, it felt as though the gates of heaven had been opened.

Slipping his tongue in, he swiftly sealed your lips with his own, your own saliva and spit merging with his in some sort of flimsy but erotic dance. It was messy, he noted as he felt the spit gently trailing down his cheek, which he did not care about whatsoever. Your touch was hotter than the sun and it set his whole body ablaze with a lust which he had never felt before.

Was it normal for a person to want another this badly?

It most likely was not, Kinich reasoned. But that same reason was thrown out the fucking window once he felt your hips being pressed into his own, grinding ever so lightly against him. It was sudden but good, more than plain old good actually.

Kinich could hear your pants but chose not to pay attention to them. He was going to fight you on this for as long as he could, he was never going to stop kissing you if he could have his way.

Even so, Kinich himself felt his lungs burning for sweet air, but his heart was beating straight out of his chest and his mind was in tatters.

He cannot let you go. Not when you finally had given into him.

With his brute strength, Kinich broke free from your hold and roughly grabbed you by the waist, switching places that now you were the one who was pinned. He broke the kiss, finally, and slowly brought his arm up to his face, wiping away the spit off his lips. He stared down at you in a frenzy as he took the sight in - eyes screwed shut with a pained look on your face, heavy pants leaving your lips as you desperately tried to regain your composure but kept utterly failing each time.

It was so damn cute, he muttered wistfully.

Ever the opportunist, Kinich dove back down once more, his lips on yours again. One hand kept your arms pinned above your head while the other was lowered down towards your shirt, his skilled fingers ripping the fabric off. You yelped beneath him, not expecting the sudden force but that was alright too.

It simply added on to the cuteness.

Kinich felt himself growing harder by the second, his pants becoming more and more uncomfortable. He lost count with how many nights he had wasted away daydreaming about this exact moment - you, on his bed, stuffed full of his cock as his name was chanted like a sick love spell, over and over and over - let the whole valley hear, heck, let absolutely every human and beast hear who was making you feel so good. Your pleasure was officially in his hands now and there was no turning back now.

That was the initial idea, at least.

"HEY, HEY! What do you two freaks think you're doing?!"

Ajaw's shrill scream rang throughout the entire hut, its body now a mixture of bright orange and angry red, its tiny arms raised as high as they could be as it continued to complain.

"Kinich! I knew you were a freak but this crosses the line, even for YOU !" yelled the tiny dragon creature, its sharp gaze now stuck on you both.

"Sick perverts! How dare you subject the Mighty Dragon Lord to such an uncouth sight!"

Ajaw continued to complain over and over again as Kinich slowly distanced himself from you. He still lay there on top of you, albeit with his back fully straight now as his gaze became hollow. You could not tell if he was trying to tune out Ajaw or if he was listening intently but that question would be answered soon enough.

Still loudly complaining, Ajaw continued to prattle on and on, forcing Kinich to let out a very long and frustrated sigh. With a cool gaze Kinich raised his arm slightly in the air, his back still turned towards Ajaw as he made the "come here" motion with his finger. The tiny dragon obliged, thinking that his servant was going to give him a proper apology which he rightfully deserved - only to be met with the harshest smack across the head he had ever felt.

The impact was so loud that it echoed loudly across the entire room. Ajaw landed on the ground, dazed entirely and just stayed there, not making a sound. Still on top of you, Kinich lazily checked the ground to see where Ajaw had landed, and once he was satisfied with the findings, Kinich nodded to himself, his entire focus being shifted back towards you. With an outstretched arm, he placed a hand at the back of your head and gave your neck a soft but determined kiss. From the corner of your eye, you could see the faint outlines of the marks on his body beginning to glow but you did not know why, nor did you bother to ask.

Your body felt a little lighter as Kinich got up, the entire bed suddenly so much more free and cozy. Grabbing the hem of the blanket felt like the right thing to do, which you did. Kinich stood by the bed and watched you for a few seconds, his palm pressing your head down towards the pillow as he tucked you in.

"You did good tonight." he praised softly.

"I'll make sure to be a little nicer towards you. After all, how could I not be after tonight?" said Kinich with a snort, his lips forming into a smug smirk. You growled under your breath, frustrated to see your captor see so damn happy but you knew that in the long run, this was the best thing to do. A happy Kinich was a good Kinich.

It just made things easier. And that was the stone cold truth.

With a light pep in his step, Kinich walked towards the exit, grabbing his jacket along the way.

"I'll be out late tonight, commission. If Ajaw hadn't interrupted... I would have completely forgotten about it."

His tone was flat but cool, low key signaling that he was indeed telling the truth. Saying nothing, you covered your head with the fuzzy blanket and heard Kinich laugh under his breath one last time before leaving you to your own devices.

Times like these felt perfect for an escape attempt but experience had taught you well. No matter how far you went, Kinich would just track you down and bring you back by the ear if he had to.

He definitely had the monster like strength to do so.

With a huff you closed your eyes, blushing a little as you felt the pleasurable heat down your body, causing your legs to press themselves shut on instinct. The best thing to do now was to get some rest, nothing more, nothing less. The day had been long and draining, which only added to your sleepiness. In less than a few minutes darkness had taken over, your mind and body completely shut off from the rest of the world.

Meanwhile on the ground next to you, Ajaw quickly opened one eye and kept an ear out. Once he realized that you were fast asleep, only one thing could be said.

"Darn it."

[luveline]

Ok but can you imagine if bombshell!reader who is pregnant does fall down somewhere?? Everyone, Spencer very much so, freaks out and she tries to play it off cool even though she’s really sore. She and baby are ok but she and Spencer are definitely shaken up by this and he’s even more hover-y from this 😭🥲

ty for requesting <3 pregnant!reader falling and panicking lovely bf spencer, 1.3k

“We’re like, the dream team,” you say, sewing your arm through the crook of Spencer’s. He’s trying to zip up your jacket, which is difficult given the ever-growing curve of your stomach. With one arm, it’s hopeless. 

“We are,” he murmurs obligingly, thinking about how cold it is outside and how you’ve yet to give in to the ‘ugly-fest’ of maternity clothes at work. It’s a shame. You look adorable in them at home. “Maybe you should put on your hoodie.” 

“It’s fine, it’s like, three steps between the station and the hotel.” You smile at him. He loves your eyes, your lashes, and he forgets to be stern. 

“Let’s go, then.” He waves at Emily where she’s chatting with an officer. “You ready?” he asks. 

Penelope pops her head out of the office with her laptop bag tucked under her arm. “Let’s go home, my chickens.” 

You and Spencer devolve into one of your murmured conversations, giggling, pressed arm to arm as you and the team emerge from the warmth of the police station and into the cold winter air. It’s sub zero outside, Spencer’s sure, wanting to get you back out of the elements as quickly as possible. 

He takes the steps first and holds out his hand a few beneath. Emily laughs, says, “He’s so chivalrous,” to Penelope’s delight. 

“He’s always been our gentleman,” Penelope says. 

You look eager to agree. “He’s my prince,” you tease gently, taking his hand, leaning just a little too far forward. 

Your foot slips out from underneath you with a sound like a knife scraping the snow. You fall hard and fast, and the horror is that your one leg trips more than the other and you end up slamming flat on your side. 

Spencer has you up again before the slush can so much as wet your clothes, but it doesn’t matter. Your eyes go wider than he’s ever seen them and your lips struggle down into an immediate frown, a wobbly expression, alarm in your voice as you say, “Oh, woah.” 

“Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?” Penelope asks, she and Spencer rushing down to the bottom of the steps to meet you. 

“Sit her down, Spencer,” Emily says quickly, not scornful or anything but her concern turning her tone hard. 

“It’s wet,” he says, as his head bubbles up with horrible statistics. 

“Spencer,” you say tightly, “I’m fine.” 

You don’t look fine. He yanks his suit jacket off and drops it to the floor, a write off, he and Penelope encouraging you to sit on the bottom step. Your eyes are filled with tears, he suspects from panic and pain at once, and he doesn’t really know what to do in this situation for a second, he has to think back. It’s hard to think and hold your hands at the same time. 

“It’s okay,” he says, enthusing his voice with false pep. 

“What should we do?” Penelope asks, quicker to panic than the rest of you. 

Spencer bends down in front of you. You’re the only person that matters in that moment. “What hurts?” he asks, hand hovering over your side. “Does anything hurt?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, before shaking your head, “What about–” You cut yourself off. “Yeah.” 

Spencer takes your wrist. “I’m gonna call Dr. Cordell right now. Okay? Just as a precaution. That’s what you’re supposed to do, okay?” 

“I think I hurt my hip,” you say smally. 

With some help from the girls, Spencer gets you back to the hotel. He calls your doctor, and they decide to get you an emergency check up with an antenatal doctor he knows while you’re still out of state. It feels less panicky and more dread while you wait, but the appointment goes well, and you’re given the all clear a few hours after your fall. 

You’re uncharacteristically quiet at the hotel. Spencer asks if you’re alright and you say, “Of course,” while he spends the rest of the evening watching you wince. 

It’s getting ready for bed where he finally gets you to crack for him. You’re not expecting to be sore, that much is clear, and you’re bashful asking for his help. “I can’t get my shirt over my head,” you say from the bathroom, with no need to shout. He can hear you from his not so casual seat at the foot of the bed. 

He lost his tie a few hours ago, and his suit jacket lays soggy in a plastic bag on top of his suitcase. He rolls his sleeves up as he eases into the small bathroom, eyes dropping to the naked bump of your stomach where your shirt is pooled. You have a yellowy bruise taking form on your hip. Another on your bump, like the lines of the stone steps. 

“Angel,” he murmurs, fingers glancing over the bruise gently. 

“Doesn’t hurt.” 

“You don’t have to lie.” 

You poke him. “Help me get changed, handsome.” You laugh at your demanding. “Please help me get changed.” 

“So rude,” he says. 

He grabs the ends of your shirt and pulls it up your back and over the back of your head so as to not agitate your cut up elbow again. You sigh as he pulls it clean, leaving you shirtless and gorgeous in the bathroom, despite all your worrying. He should tell you. He can’t not tell you, really. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, taking your shoulders into his hands. 

“Even with the baby weight?” you ask. 

He rubs your arm. “You’ve never been this beautiful.” 

“Oh, no, don’t say that.” You cover his arm with yours, hand over his, fingers intertwining loosely. 

“You’re always…” He leans down. He’d been about to stop himself, but he continues, lips just an inch from yours, the two of you eye to eye. “Beautiful. I’m sorry about today, it was my fault.” 

“It was my fault.” 

“I should’ve been more careful, I knew it was cold enough for frost.” 

“I should’ve been more careful,” you say, frowning at him indignantly, “I know how fragile I am right now and I’m not being careful enough.” 

“You slipped,” he argues. It could only be an accident.

“What if she felt it?” you whisper. 

Spencer was trying to assuage your fears and he’d been planning on a kiss, but a hug feels more important in that moment, a careful loop of his arms under yours. His few inches of height over you are especially helpful in steering clear of your stomach. “She didn’t feel it, Y/N, I promise. You took the fall for her, and the doctor said everything is just fine. She didn’t even know it was happening, I swear.” 

You let out a long, slow breath. You nod into his should after a few moments. “Okay. Thank you for picking me back up, Spence.” 

“That was impressive, right?” 

You poke him some more as you let the entirety of your weight slouch into his front. “You’re quite impressive, Reid. I felt the muscle.” You kiss his neck, voice dropping to a murmur, “I’m okay.” He hasn’t realised how badly he needed reassurance too. 

“I know.” 

“Sorry if I was dramatic,” you say. 

“Dramatic?” he laughs, thumb on your neck drawing shapes. “You tried to tell me you were fine. That’s the opposite of dramatic.” 

“…Maybe I should slow down some. Maybe. Take some days off.” 

Spencer kisses the top of your head. “That could be nice. You’ve been bouncing around for months. We could just spend a couple of days laying down, right? You can try out some of those maternity pyjamas you’re so reluctant to wear.” 

“Why’d you buy so many?” 

“I’m trying to take care of you. I thought I’d finally be allowed,” he says. 

Your voice turns to a whisper. “You always take care of me, Spence. You really do.” 

[strangerstilinski]

can you pretty please do [intimidation] with eddie

🥺👉👈

[INTIMIDATION] sender, in an effort to frighten the receiver by invading their personal space, sits in their lap to try and inspire discomfort or fear in them.

cw: alcohol consumption, fem!reader, sort of enemies -> lovers (but actually idiots -> lovers), 2.4k

dividers by @strangergraphics

You're blocking the doorway into the Harrington kitchen, shoulder leaned against the wood panelling where you have a good view into the living room. Your unimpressed glare is drawn from the figure currently hogging the sofa when someone bumps into you just as you're bringing the plastic cup in your hand to your lips.

"Jesus, fucking watch it-" The outrage in your tone fades quick when you see who's run into you.

"Sorry." Jonathan grimaces as he watches you wipe a bit of juice and vodka from your chin.

"No, it's fine," You sigh and turn on your heel, following Jonathan into the kitchen as he begins to grab things to make himself a drink, though it appears to be far more lemon-lime soda and grenadine than anything else. "Sorry, I just.. I dunno, sorry." You shrug before gulping down another mouthful of your own admittedly strong drink. You're kind of hoping that once your buzz kicks in you'll feel just a little less like there's a storm cloud floating right above your head.

"What is with you, tonight?" Jonathan asks with an overly cautious smile, "I haven't seen Munson bug you even once, so it's gotta be somethin' else-"

"Nothing," You huff, a little defensive at just the mention of the other boy, "I'm fine."

"Oh yeah, totally," Jonathan chuckles and raises his newly acquired drink in a salute, "You're like a ray of sunshine tonight."

It's annoying as hell, but he's right. You're fuming and Eddie has yet to even speak to you. He's been avoiding you like the plague from the moment you walked through the door, as if Eddie could somehow sense that you were already in a mood, and he didn't feel like getting told off for being the reason that you finally snapped.

Because normally, Eddie would've found at least seven ways he could irritate you by now. He'd have finished the last of the juice he saw you eyeing for your next mixed drink and laughed maniacally when you pouted about it. He'd have pestered you about whether you might want to join in on another campaign, all while making a handful of little comments about just how easy it'll be for him to decimate your character when you do. He'd have watched you shiver while you passed a joint back and forth by the pool, and then draped his stupid jacket around your shoulders just so he could roll his eyes and give you shit about not dressing warmly enough.

Eddie was infuriating — And the worst part was that he knew it. The asshole thrived on pushing buttons and testing people's limits, but tonight evidently he'd been able to tell that you were already toeing dangerously close to yours and had steered clear altogether.

You peer back out into the living room now, narrowed eyes zeroing back in on the figure sprawled across the entire length of the loveseat, socked feet kicked up on the opposite cushion where someone else could be sitting if he weren't such a selfish prick.

"God, what an asshole." You grumble, downing the last of your drink and grabbing the nearest bottle to begin mixing another. "I mean, look at him, seriously. Does he have to take up the whole couch?"

Jonathan's gaze follows the path your own had taken moments before, and he snorts in amusement, "Eddie."

It's not a question, but you answer him as if it had been.

"Yes, Eddie." Another quick glance up into the living room has your eyes locking with the man in question just as his name falls from your lips.

Eddie's eyes go wide, his cheeks dimpling with his sudden grin. He jabs his index finger into his chest, lips moving silently around the words, "Who? Me?"

"Uh-huh.. Why don't you go do something about it?" Jonathan teases.

Eddie's attention is pulled away when Gareth says something from his spot in an armchair. Whatever he says it gets Eddie riled up and he's immediately talking animatedly, hands gesturing wildly as he speaks.

"Maybe I will." You're already moving with purpose, halfway out of the kitchen when you hear your friend shout after you.

"I was joking!"

"Well I'm not!" You call back over your shoulder.

It's darker as you step into the living room, overhead lights off in favor of utilizing the warmer glow from the the lamp tucked away in the corner. You have to step over Eddie's discarded shoes at the foot of the sofa, and the boy very nearly knocks your drink out of your hand when you step in front of him, too distracted by his own tirade to have seen your approach.

But his head snaps up toward you as your thigh brushes his arm. Whatever he's been saying, the words cut off abruptly at the realization of who it is standing beside him.

"Well hey there, princess." He shoots you a toothy grin — You assume it's meant to be charming, but it only irritates you further. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

You ignore Eddie in favor of casting a small smile of apology toward Gareth, "Sorry to interrupt."

"Nah, no worrie-"

"No, no! You didn't interrupt. We were done." Eddie cuts his friend off, "Gareth was just telling me he was gonna go take a piss, actually."

Gareth splutters for a moment, but when his eyes shift from you to Eddie he's suddenly rising from his chair. You watch Gareth shake his head as he steps around you before he stalks off without a word.

"What was that about?" You can't help but ask in curiosity.

"Beats me. Really had to piss, I guess." Eddie says quickly, sitting up a little straighter against the arm of the couch. He throws an arm out to gesture to Gareth's recently vacated chair, "Did you wanna-"

Rather than taking advantage of the empty seat, you plop yourself across Eddie's thighs unceremoniously, feeling oddly satisfied by the huff of surprise that escapes him when your weight is suddenly in his lap.

The way the warmth of his body seeps into your own is near immediate, even through two layers of denim. Your arm presses into his chest as you lean back into the cushion of the sofa, trying and failing to remain unaffected by his proximity. He smells infuriatingly good this close, clean and masculine with just a lingering hint of the weed he'd smoked earlier in the night. It makes your stomach flutter wildly, makes your head swim for half a second before you're lifting your cup to your mouth in an effort to compose yourself.

Eddie huffs softly and his breath fans out over your exposed shoulder, warm and smelling faintly of cheap beer and menthols. Goosebumps prickle along the length of your arm, hairs standing on end suddenly. You wish you could convince yourself that your body's reaction were one of repulsion, but deep down you know that its something far, far worse than that.

"You.. You're just gonna.. sit.. here?" Eddie asks, voice a little wobbly, unsure.

His knuckles brush your thigh, likely an accident, but one sidelong glare has his hand retreating to the relative safety of the couch cushion in a flash.

"Yep."

You can see outside to the patio from your position, and you focus your attention to the group sitting with their feet in the pool. The sheer amount of effort it takes to keep your eyes trained there, rather than allowing them to drift to where Eddie's hand twitches near your knee-

"Do- Did you want me to move my legs? Do you want-" He shifts underneath you like he's ready to pull his feet from the cushion at the other end, but you remain resolutely in place.

"Nope, I'm good."

You have absolutely no plans of moving any time soon. You'd remain seated right here in Eddie's lap until his bladder was ready to burst, until your weight made his legs fall asleep and tingle from lack of blood flow, until he was ready to grab you by your hips and force you into another seat.

He'd learn his lesson. The inconsiderate couch-hogging asshole.

"O..kay." Eddie says slowly, wiping his palm on the side of his own denim-clad hip, as if his hands might've gotten a little sweaty.

Were you making him warm? Good.

"So.." Eddie pauses. You catch a glimpse of his face scrunching in thought at the corners of your vision before he continues, "Any big plans for the weekend?"

With how close you're sat, Eddie is speaking almost directly into your ear. There's no need for him to raise his voice to be heard, and you find that the low rumble of it is nice, soothing almost. It curls around your ears and sends something warm shooting down your spine.

"Killing boys." You return dryly, eyes straining now in an effort to remain focussed on what's going on in the backyard.

Eddie snorts, body jolting underneath you with his amusement — And his almost-laughter absolutely does not make your chest flush with pride. You couldn't care less whether or not Eddie Munson finds you funny. As if.

"Oh, so nothing out of the ordinary for you then."

Eddie chuckles and the tip of his thumb finds its way to the place where your thigh presses into his. You can't tell if it's accidental or on purpose, but the gentle press of his finger maybe kind of makes your stomach flip pleasantly, so you allow it. Whatever.

You hum in agreement, "Yeah, well. There's almost always some boy who deserves it."

"I don't doubt it," Eddie murmurs with a wide grin, his head tipped sideways over the back of the couch, cheek nearly brushing your shoulder now, "Anyone I know currently at the top of your list, madame assassin?"

"There is this one asshole." You pause to take a sip of your drink, fighting off a grimace at the awful liquor to juice ratio. "He's loud. And irritating. Just loves getting on my last nerve-"

"Long hair?"

The interruption has your eyes rolling, "Yep. Walks around looking like some Van Halen wannabe."

"Oh, he sounds cool."

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice now.

"Well he's not." You return blankly. "He's always trying to get a rise outta me, acting like a total prick-"

"Hold on, hold on-" Eddie cuts you off again, "Now I'm not so sure we're on the same page. Thought I knew who you were talkin' about, but-"

"Oh, you know him." You grumble, sinking farther into the plush cushion on the back of the couch with your drink clutched to your chest. "You know him well, trust me."

Eddie shifts beneath you, angling both himself and you until he's taking up more of your line of sight than the patio doors. His big brown eyes bore into you until you crack and flick your gaze toward him.

"Here's the thing.." Eddie starts, the pad of his thumb stroking the seam on the outside of your knee. "Maybe this guy's just pushing your buttons because he likes when all of your attention is on him-"

The arm he has thrown over the back of the couch by your shoulder moves then, brushing your hair back from your temple only to backtrack and trail the pads of his fingers featherlight over the space between your brows.

"-Maybe.. Shit, I dunno, maybe he likes the way your eyebrows come together when you're angry-"

Your heart is beating so loud you can hear the blood pumping in your ears. The urge to fidget under his attention is strong, but you sit at still as possible in fear of breaking the spell. You have to strain to hear Eddie's next words over the dull whoosh of your heartbeat echoing in your skull.

"Maybe he thinks you look kinda devastatingly beautiful-"

"You-" And, fuck. Did your voice just crack? "You're trying to tell me you think this guy is, what? Being a dick because he likes me? Pulling my pigtails on the playground and shit?"

Eddie's grin is less cocky than you've ever seen it. His lips twitch at one side of his mouth. He almost looks nervous.

You take a deep breath as his fingers skim over your jaw on their way back toward your hair, where he pinches a small lock between two fingers and tugs twice, oh-so gentle.

"What if he was?" Eddie asks softly, "Being a dick because he likes you, I mean."

"I'd tell you he's an idiot." You manage, plastic cup crinkling under the increased pressure of your hand.

Eddie winces, but nods and averts his gaze. His arm falls to the back to the sofa again, close enough for you to feel the warmth of it beside your shoulder.

"But.." You have to swallow down a smile when Eddie's wide eyes snap right back to yours. "Maybe this idiot's attraction isn't totally one-sided. So, maybe he should stop being an asshole and try making a move."

Eddie blinks. Once, then twice. He squares his shoulders and leans in like he might kiss you, but then he backs off again and searches your eyes as if he's terrified he might be reading the entire situation wrong.

"Eddie." You whisper sharply, "The idiot is you, asshole."

"Oh, Jesus Christ, thank god."

And then his fingers are curled gently around the back of your neck. His hand is fully grasping your opposite thigh as he tries to drag you impossibly closer. His plush lips are pressing softly into your own, the taste of beer mixing with vodka and citrus.

It's a quick kiss, chaste. Your mouths only remain glued together for all of three seconds before he's leaning back just enough to watch you blink at him from beneath heavy lashes. You can't imagine how stupidly docile you look; brows pushed up your forehead, chest nearly heaving beneath your shirt, jaw slack, lips parted and waiting for more. It's pathetic how he's managed to turn you into this with just one G-Rated kiss.

The hand on the back of your neck moves to your face, fingertips tracing the smooth line of your brow before trailing back down to cup your cheek.

"Yeah.. Yeah, this is nice too." Eddie murmurs, "You're awful pretty when you're mad, but this.. This right here is somethin' else."

"You're so annoying." It comes out airy, absolutely no bite to your words.

"Oh, that's not changing, sweetheart. Matter of fact, I think it's a part of our spark. Gotta keep the fire burning, right? I'll keep annoying you, you'll keep getting angry-"

"Would you just shut up and kiss me again?"

Eddie grins, already leaning in, "Sure thing."

[14dayswithyou]

[REDACTED] NSFW Alphabet

🔞 18+ CONTENT! MINORS: DO NOT INTERACT! 🔞 Ren's version can be found here!!

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

[REDACTED] will usually part with a kiss before cleaning you up with a damp cloth or towel — or, if they were a bit rougher than usual, they'll draw you a bath with all your favourite scents instead.

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

He will forever be a tummy and thigh guy until my dying breath. [REDACTED] loves the feeling of you in his arms, so they'll often find themselves absentmindedly running their fingers up and down your thighs or just pulling you closer by your stomach and giving a soft squeeze. [REDACTED] might also favour your hands too, since he's a really big hand-holder and palm kisser. I don't think he'd have a favourite body part on himself, though he does subconsciously enjoy it when you compliment his eyes. It boosts their self-esteem and makes them feel attractive for once. (In regards to their real self!!)

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

Similar to his Ren counterpart, [REDACTED]'s cum is very thick and tastes somewhat salty. They enjoy the thought of filling you up and watching it slowly ooze out, and if you can manage to pry it out of him, [REDACTED] might even tell you about how it's always been one of his fantasies to have his cum still inside you while you go about your day. They secretly enjoy knowing that a part of him still lingers on you — as nasty as it might sound.

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

I already mentioned it in Ren's NSFW alphabet, but he has an entire 4TB harddrive full of photos of you. Most are innocent and harmless, but others are... not so much. [REDACTED] often likes to look at them and fantasise about what it'd be like to help you through those lonely and intimate moments you spend between your sheets.

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

[REDACTED] had zero experience prior to sleeping with you, though he does have some idea of what to do. [REDACTED] is much more forward and honest about what he wants (compared to his "Ren"/Haruko persona), so you can expect him to be less timid and shy when he ruts into you for the first time. "Never done this before... 'M glad I get to experience this with you. Can I... put it in now? Or d'you need more time?"

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything that involves facing you and entwining your hands. [REDACTED] is big on watching your reactions to see what you like and respond well to.

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

He's definitely a lot more casual in bed, but I wouldn't call it goofy or anything. He'll go along with any jokes you make, and will even respond with his own if it fits the situation. But other than that, [REDACTED] tends to keep the moment tender and intimate.

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

His happy trail is very faint and matches the dark, black hair on his head. [REDACTED] also keeps himself moderately groomed, but if you want him to shave down there, they're happy to oblige.

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

Extremely intimate. They are always holding your hand, maintaining eye contact, and constantly praising you for how good you feel and how much he adores you. [REDACTED] might not light candles or set the mood with music, but he makes up for it by showering you with love and affection.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Likes to jack off whenever you do, just so he can time his strokes with your own hand. Otherwise, if the need ever arises, they'll simply seek you out and ask if you're in the mood to help him out.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

They have a maaaaassive praise kink (giving, but also... he subconsciously enjoys receiving it as well), biting/marking kink, and breeding kink. I wouldn't say [REDACTED] has an exhibitionism kink or anything — but he is down for anything if you initiate it in public.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The hood of Teo's car, Leon's bed, Jae's couch, Violet's gaming desk, Elanor's reception counter, Conan's favourite bookshelf, inside the changing rooms of Kiara's boutique, the staircase in Olivia's souvenir shop, during a phone call with Moth— oh, and on Angel's hardwood floor, I guess /silly

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

While they would never force themselves onto you, you could quite literally bat your eyelashes in [REDACTED]'s direction and he'll be rearing to go. Try pulling them in by their belt or sucking on their collarbone if you want to be (carefully) thrown on the nearest flat surface and be fucked within an inch of your life.

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

Threesomes (or more), cuckolding, or anything that physically involves others outside of [REDACTED] and you. Anything that has to do with DDLG/LB or ageplay is also a massive turn-off for them.

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

He's a biiiiiiig fat service top/pleasure dom at his core, so you know [REDACTED] is all about giving you pleasure. They're more than happy to spend the rest of their days between your thighs, and [REDACTED] could honestly cum hands-free purely from watching you unravel on his tongue. Your pleasure is his pleasure as well.

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

Typically, it starts out gentle and intimate — but the more [REDACTED] slowly unravels over time, the harder and rougher he'll get. Things like throwing your legs over his shoulder, gently biting your neck, gripping your hips and using you like a personal fleshlight, bucking into you with reckless abandon, etc. Obviously, nothing that would cause noticeable pain — but it's certainly different from how Ren would usually treat you in the bedroom. 

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

They don't mind quickies, but [REDACTED] will always prefer to take their time with you and shower you with all the love and affection they have. He doesn't want to rush your pleasure (and he likes to give you more than one orgasm per tryst), which can prove challenging to do if it's just a quickie. With that being said, they're all for being dragged away to a storage closet for some... fun before work!

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

Please ask him to go down on you while you're manning the front desk :( He lives for the thrill of it. [REDACTED] is down for almost anything — so long as it doesn't put you at risk.

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

At the start of the relationship, they might only last one or two rounds due to their inexperience. But as time progresses, he'll slowly start to get better. But it's soooo hard for [REDACTED] to focus when you're right there in front of him; splayed out perfectly on his bed and letting him bury himself deep inside your warmth, all while you— Aaaaand... Yeah, he's already spent and snoozing.

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

Prior to sleeping with you for the first time, [REDACTED] owned a vibrator, butt plug and fleshlight, which he would use whenever you'd pleasure yourself on lonely nights. They'd prefer not to use any toys on you as it comes across like you're not satisfied with his own hands, fingers, mouth, and tongue — but you could honestly convince [REDACTED] otherwise if you play your cards right.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is a complete tease compared to his "Ren"/Haruko counterpart. They will whisper absolute filth into your ear while slipping their hands between your bodies and playing with your sex — before pulling away and innocently asking what you need from him. "D'you want more? Y'gotta tell me, angel." / "That feel good? Tell me where." / "I don't think y'can take all of me, angel. You're practically stuffed full already." / "You're droolin'. Feels that good, huh? Right here?" / "If y'want me to go harder, y'gotta beg a little more. It's cute. You're s'fucking cute." / "Want my fingers too? Tell me where." / etc. you get the point lmao

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

[REDACTED] will babble incoherent words when they're lost in the sauce (lol), but other than that, you'll mainly get soft groans and harsh sighs most of the time. However, if [REDACTED] is bottoming/getting pegged; it turns into bratty moans instead. And if you squeeze his hand or bite his collarbones, you'll have them practically whining into your skin and begging you to do it again.

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

Started crying when you said you loved him in bed for the first time. And sure, maybe he was getting his tears all over your shoulder — but he also gave you at least seven orgasms that night and a reason to take a day off from work.

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

Packing an ~8 inch dick (~6 inches when soft), with a cute pink head to contrast the scary vibe of his Jacob's ladder piercings. Girthy enough that you can just barely wrap a hand around it, as well as pale enough to match the rest of his skin tone. Leaks a lot of precum and curves slightly when erect.

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

[REDACTED] has a high sex drive, but will only indulge in it when you want to. Sex is an afterthought to him, and he won't ever push you to do anything — plus, they're more than okay with rubbing one out in the bathroom to satisfy their urges. But if you're able (and willing) to match his sex drive, you can expect to do it at least two times a day.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

They will stay up and either play with your hair, trace their fingers across your skin, gently rub your back, or even indulge in pillow talk! It all depends on what you tend to do afterwards, which [REDACTED] will easily comply with. He might even stay up and just... lose himself in his thoughts because [REDACTED] finally has you in his arms, safe and sound — where you belong.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

PART ONE

After accidentally causing Reader’s very first orgasm, Anthony does what any gentleman would do: he teaches her how to make it happen again, anytime she likes… ♥️

In keeping with Bridgerton’s vibe, Reader is a young woman with zero sexual knowledge or experience. I imagine she’s around nineteen or twenty years old and while she has had suitors, none of them have inspired in her the feelings Lord Bridgerton evokes…

Lord Anthony Bridgerton. Six days have passed since your carriage ride together, and instead of making peace with yourself over your embarrassing display in front of him, you now have even more questions than answers.

Firstly, what was that overwhelming rush of feelings you experienced in his carriage? And secondly, why had Lord Bridgerton reacted so calmly while watching you carry on as you did? And thirdly, had he never really intended to call on you, even though he said he would?

In truth, Anthony Bridgerton had been preoccupied with thoughts of you since delivering you home last week. He’d originally intended to call on you, but felt that approaching the subject of what he could obviously tell was your very first orgasm would be impossible while in the company of others. So, he’d conceived an admittedly unconventional plan to discuss the matter with you, in private…

Anthony knew you had questions, and as a gentleman, he didn’t want to leave you confused or even worse, feeling as if you’d somehow done something wrong. Anthony was well aware of the fact that for young ladies, sexual education was limited to none. With all the privileges of a male upbringing, Anthony had acquired plenty of sexual knowledge and experience without the attached shame and social stigma a woman would receive if expressing herself in such a manner…

The sun had gone down over Mayfair, a crisp Autumn evening settling in as its residents did the same. You’d retired to your room for the night, ready to sleep and hopefully dream of carriage rides with Anthony Bridgerton, and without embarrassment. Being so close to Anthony had felt exhilarating, at first, until that terrible-wonderful-beautiful-terrifying surge of energy had taken hold of you. If only you could repeat the events of that afternoon, the ones that involved Anthony’s recusing you, his chivalry, his act of kindness…his touching you…without the resulting fit that had seized hold of your body. A realization washed over you. Could what you experienced have somehow been caused by Lord Bridgerton? He had observed the extent of your outrageous display with complete ease. It was a bit irritating, in fact, that he seemed to understand exactly what was happening to you, while you remained completely overwhelmed and in the dark.

You gazed at the ceiling, frustrated tears burning your eyes. What would happen if Anthony told anyone of your frightful episode? You could only assume he had not spoken word of it to anyone, because surely Lady Whistledown would have mentioned it in her latest scandal sheet. Clearly, Anthony Bridgerton was an honorable man. You chided yourself for thinking anything less than a gentleman of him moments ago.

Suddenly, a shadow at your window caught your eye. Usually, birds didn’t perch on your windowsill this late in the day…and what else could have caused the shadow, besides a bird? You closed your eyes, preparing for sleep. A dull thudding sound came from the direction of your window, lurching your body forward in bed and forcing your eyes open wide.

Anthony Bridgerton was crouched outside your window. Surely, you must be dreaming. And what a scandalous dream to be having, you thought to yourself with a giggle. It was only when Anthony tapped his knuckles against the glass that you realized, much to your horror, that you were most definitely not dreaming.

He smiled and pointed to the latch on your side of the glass, making a turning motion with his hand. You left your bed for the window, quickly grabbing a robe to cover your nightgown, which did little to conceal the shape of your breasts.

You unlatched the window and lifted it only so far as to hear each other speak. “Lord Bridgerton!” you whispered harshly. “Are you mad??”

Anthony’s smile faded only slightly, his head tilted in thought. “Possibly,” he conceded. “But nevertheless, I had to speak with you.”

“And why now?” you asked. “At the most inappropriate time? In the most inappropriate way-??”

“-Because,” Anthony interrupted. “The nature of my intended conversation with you demands privacy.” He sighed, glancing down at the latch again. “Now, are you going to allow me inside?” Anthony asked. “Or would you prefer I catch my death of cold? Or perhaps-.” He peered over his shoulder at the ground below. “-Falling to my death would better suit your-.”

“-Oh for heaven’s sake!” you snapped, throwing open the window, to Anthony’s delight. “Hurry in before someone sees you…”

He swung his legs over the windowsill, nodding a polite “thank you,” while keeping his steps as quiet as possible. Your eyes swept over the yard, trying to make out the face of anyone who might have witnessed the Viscount Bridgerton of all men climbing through your bedroom window. Thankfully, the grounds looked bare; you sighed gratefully, content with remaining free of scandal. For now, at least.

You turned to find Anthony seated on your bed, a sight that nearly gave you a heart attack. He saw the horrified look on your face, and immediately stood up- “Forgive me,” he said. “I did not wish to offend you. I find it…” He paused. “…Difficult, to know where you and I stand…to judge the nature of our relationship, after-.” Anthony swallowed, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

“-After my frightful display in the carriage?” you offered, and he nodded.

“Yes,” Anthony replied. “Which, to be completely transparent, is exactly the reason I called on you tonight-privately,” he emphasized. “Because the nature of such a conversation is surely too sensitive as to be eavesdropped by others, do you not agree?”

Your eyebrows lifted, confusion written all over your face along with a blush of shame spreading over your cheeks. “People fall ill regularly, Lord Bridgerton,” you said, trying to calm the embarrassment making your voice tremble. “I fail to see how my…spell, though humiliating, as you seem eager to remind me, should warrant such a clandestine meeting as this...”

Anthony took a step closer; you flinched backward. “I do not wish to harm you,” he insisted. “Nor do I mean to imply wrongdoing of any kind on your part. If anything, it is I who acted thoughtlessly in not calling on you sooner, for not explaining that your-.” He smiled softly. “-Spell, or, falling ill as you call it, was not humiliating at all…”

You realized, for the first time in six days, that the feeling had returned. It stirred between your thighs like a dangerous, delicious secret. And while you couldn’t understand how, you were somehow sure that Anthony knew of your secret, too.

He took another step closer, and this time, you didn’t move backward. “Are you familiar with…” Anthony chose his words carefully. “…With the ways a woman’s body experiences pleasure?”

Your eyes widened; Anthony realized he may need to proceed with even more caution than he’d anticipated.

“When you…feel good,” he tried, watching your eyes for any sign of understanding. “That warmth you experience…inside your body…”

Anthony took another small step closer; you swallowed, feeling as if all the air had suddenly left the room. “…When you…touch yourself…”

He saw the lack of understanding in your eyes, and asked “you do touch yourself…don’t you?”

You shook your head, bewildered by Anthony’s lack of actual explaining. “Of course I touch myself, Lord Bridgerton,” you replied matter-of-factly; he seemed surprised by your blunt response. “I touch myself every day.”

“I’m glad to hear-.”

“-Everyone touches themselves every day-.”

He tipped his head in thought. “Well, it’s doubtful everyone-.”

“-In fact, I fail to see how that explains anything about my behavior last week, Lord Bridgerton,” you finished. Anthony looked slightly confused, and asked “when you touch yourself…do you not feel the way you felt in the carriage?”

You shook your head, embarrassment washing over you again. “No,” you replied. “I’ve never felt anything comparable to that while touching myself.”

Anthony considered his next question, and his reasons for asking it, carefully. “How do you touch yourself?” he asked, worrying immediately that he’d gone a step too far. Everything about this conversation was becoming more inappropriate by the second, but at least you seemed to have some experience in pleasuring yourself. It was a good start, Anthony reasoned.

You didn’t seem offended by his question in the slightest. “I touch myself each time I pull on my gloves, for example,” you explained, still not at all sure how this was relevant. “I brush my hair, which means I must touch myself to do so…” You continued to describe absolutely innocent everyday examples of ways in which you touched yourself, none of them pertaining to masturbation, as Anthony soon became aware.

He held up a hand to stop you, a gentle yet frustrated smile on his face. “While all of the examples you’ve given do indeed describe touching oneself,” Anthony replied, his smile fading. “They do not describe the manner of touching that would arouse feelings like the ones you experienced during your…spell, in my carriage.”

You stared at him blankly, completely confused. “How else would one touch themselves, my lord?” you asked. Anthony’s chest dipped as he exhaled, deeply. He hadn’t stopped thinking of the sounds you made in his carriage the week prior…of how you looked seized with pleasure, your pretty features contorted in ecstasy…the way your scent had remained in his carriage, how he’d used it to get himself off on the way back from your home…

Anthony knew he was treading on very dangerous ground. But despite his better judgement, he found the words he should not say passing through his lips, and his fingers drawing closer to touch your cheek: “Perhaps I might teach you, then?”

Your skin warmed beneath Anthony’s touch, his fingertip tracing your cheek and resting on your lips. It was all too much, the racing of your heart, the intensity of his gaze holding yours like no man had before. The beautiful ache between your legs was now pulsing, throbbing in time with your heartbeat.

“May I teach you?” Anthony asked again, softly. His thumb stroked the curve of your chin; your legs felt weak, unable to hold you. “Yes…yes,” you replied, every inch of you trembling. “Please…”

Anthony’s lips curved in a slight grin, but his behavior retained the calm sensibility of an instructor preparing to teach. He guided you toward your bed, gently imploring you to “lie back.” You followed Anthony’s direction, taking his hand as it was offered. His lips parted when your robe slipped off your shoulders, revealing the curve of your breasts, your peaked nipples lifting the fabric. You moved to cover yourself, but Anthony stopped you. “Do not be embarrassed,” he murmured, his voice low, sincere. “Your body is beautiful, (Y/N). It should not be a source of shame…not here. Not now.”

Anthony brought your hand to his lips, pressing your index finger to them in a pretend ‘shh.’ “No secrets,” he whispered. You whimpered softly, unconsciously pressing your thighs together, attempting to soothe the tension between them. Anthony noticed your discomfort…every part of him noticed. His cock twitched at the sound of your arousal, at the way your scent lifted through the thin fabric of your gown and straight to his nose. He watched your body tense as you tried to fend off the inevitable; you were going to come. And Anthony was going to watch it happen, again.

He loosened the cravat at his neck, the heat in the room increasing by the minute. He led your hand over your breasts, watching you gasp as your nipples perked to meet your palm. “That’s a good girl,” Anthony praised, his voice slightly strained. “Do you see the way your body responds?” He exhaled slowly, his cock pressing uncomfortably against the restraint of his trousers. “Now,” Anthony continued. “Bring your hand lower, like so…”

He guided your touch downward, dusting along your belly. You watched with widening eyes as your fingers moved closer to the space that throbbed more intensely with every breath you took. Anthony swallowed, feeling his resolve weaken. He had to keep himself under control; you were fragile, completely unaware of just how vulnerable a position you truly were in. A less honorable man than he would likely take advantage of an innocent young woman in such a state, having given him her full trust, legs spread and waiting for his command. Anthony clenched his jaw and resolved to continue your lesson, his desires forced into check.

He paused your hand just above the tender space you’d never touched, that no one had touched before. A space that in some ways belonged to Anthony already, as only he seemed able to arouse these desires in you from the start. How fitting, then, that he should be the one to guide your hand in exploring yourself, to the place that swelled and wept only for him…

Anthony’s erection was becoming distracting. He wondered if you’d notice, and ask about it. Thankfully, you seemed too consumed by the sensations affecting your own body to notice anything around you, for which Anthony was grateful. If you did ask to see it…looking all wide-eyed and innocent at his cock…asking why it stood like that, why he looked so intense-did it hurt…? What is it for…? Can you show me, my lord…? Anthony knew he’d crumble like a pastry and end up doing god only knows what…

He pressed his wrist against it, a subtle attempt at soothing away some of the pain denying himself was causing. Instinctively, you’d pulled your hand (and Anthony’s covering it) further between your legs, till your touch was hovering just above your clit. Anthony’s eyes were hooded, his lips parted and dry as he watched you. “Touch yourself, (Y/N),” he murmured, his voice husky, wavering. “Allow your body to tell you what she needs…”

Anthony gently lowered both his hand and yours, his fingertips fanning over your clit. You drew in a sharp breath, your hips bucking, the muscles in your stomach tensing as you lurched forward. “Shh…shh,” Anthony comforted you. “It almost hurts, does it not? A feeling so intense, it frightens you…like bringing your fingers too close to a flame…”

He lightly circled his fingertips over your clit again, pulling a helpless whine from your throat. Anthony’s cock twitched against his wrist, begging for relief. Sweat beaded along his hairline, his brow tense with concentration as he forced himself to maintain control.

“Focus,” he said, both to himself and you. “Lean into the feeling, frightening though it is…” Anthony used your hand to massage yourself. Your heels dug into the bed in response. “Let go of all the tension you carry,” Anthony whispered, his hand working over you. “Give in to the feeling….give in to...”

Anthony’s words failed as all his senses were consumed by the image, the scent, the sound, of you coming undone beneath his hand. You whimpered and wept, soft sobs of pleasure that spilled from your lips as your body convulsed. Your feet kicked wildly, making a mess of the bedding, sheets tossed this way and that as you flailed. In your beautiful struggle, your nightgown was thrown above your knees, putting your pretty, pouty lips on full display for Anthony. The scent of you was abundant, no longer inhibited by the cover of your gown. Anthony abandoned his pretense of modesty, aggressively rubbing the outline of his cock through his trousers while his other hand continued clutching yours.

He pulled away suddenly, a labored groan roaring up from his chest. You were just beginning to come down, your mind awash with the fuzzy, delirious bliss of orgasm. Anthony climaxed beside you, grunting through his release, filling the front of his trousers with semen. He turned to find you lying with your arms outstretched, your chest rising and falling and glistening with sweat. Your legs were still spread wide, your embarrassment long-abandoned, a big, satisfied smile lighting your eyes. Your smile faded just slightly when you noticed the look of exhaustion on Anthony’s face.

“My lord?” you said, concerned. “Are you alright?”

Anthony chuckled, nodding his assurance that he was well. “I assure you,” he replied, kneeling to sit at your bedside. “I am more than alright…”

He took your hand in his once again, feeling the slickness of your arousal on your fingertips.

“Did you…” you began, unsure how to ask. “…Did you do what I did, just now?”

Anthony’s brow lifted, his smile widening. “In fact, I did,” he said, to which you replied, in happy surprise, “I did not know that men could do it, also!”

Anthony threw his head back laughing, before quickly admonishing himself for making too much noise. He leaned closer and gave your forehead a chaste kiss, before making his way to your window.

“My lord?” you whispered. Anthony paused at the windowsill.

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

“If there’s anything else you might wish to teach me,” you said. “You’ll find my window open, from now on.” A mischievous grin turned the corners of your lips. “Remember that, will you?”

Anthony smiled, his mind already teeming with a thousand filthy things he wanted to show you. “I will remember,” he said, and exited through your window. ♥️

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

FOOLISH SPRING WINDS, BLOW MY WAY ; SATORU GOJO

summary; a snippet of the spring you share with a certain satoru gojo — who seems intent on making your high school life as difficult as possible.

word count; 5.4k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, enemies to friends (..but the ’enemy’ part is kinda one-sided), fluffy n sweet overall, satoru doesn’t know how to make friends + thinks lighthearted bullying constitutes as a bonding activity, he’s a little shit but he means well, switching povs, lots of gojo slander (but reader sees the light eventually), big shoujo vibes, they’re both tsunderes <33

a/n; i ended up scrapping the series i wrote this fic for originally, so i thought i’d rewrite it and repost it on its own!! teentoru is such a grumpy little kitten i need to squish his paws

satoru gojo is annoying.

it might seem blunt, but after many weeks of careful thinking, you’ve decided no description could possibly fit him better. 

when you first met him, on that first day of school, you had no idea what to think. no real expressions or tonal shifts to clue you in on who he was, how he felt — nothing but the slightest peek of a terrifying blue to set your nerves on edge. 

in hindsight, you’re almost certain it was intentional. he wanted to appear unreadable. purposefully hiding his personality and mannerisms, to gain the upper hand — observing you, dissecting you inside his mind, while revealing nothing about himself apart from his surname. 

it’s a kind of power; a safety measure.

… but evidently, holding back isn’t exactly gojo’s forte. the very next morning, he was already beginning to loosen up, after getting more accustomed to the new environment and classmates. showing you his true colours; just a little hint of cerulean, a single dip of paint on the blank canvas of his soul.

and with the revelation of his genuine personality — your unease around him festered even more.

where could you even begin to describe him? for one, he’s childish. and cocky. and loud. arrogant, selfish and flamboyant — just generally an asshole? you could go on and on. none of the traits are particularly flattering, and you know he couldn’t care less.

gojo is annoying, plain and simple. almost constantly up to something, eager to push someone’s buttons, to get attention. like a bratty toddler. uninterested in manners, or even common courtesy; he says what he feels, regardless of how other people take it. 

to put it simply, he has no regard for the people around him. his self-interest is limitless. 

as if that wasn’t annoying enough — you have no choice but to admit that he does have a certain presence to him. a kind of charisma, or what you think could become charisma, if he’d just get off that high horse already. he won’t, though. you know he won’t. he revels in it, in looking down on everything and everyone, annoyingly boisterous and irritatingly tall. freaky, long limbs. like a noodle and an alien had a baby.

but, more than anything — above all else — what frustrates you most is the fact that his unbridled confidence isn’t exactly unwarranted.

as much as it pains you to say it… gojo is maybe just a little bit incredible. a natural-born genius. he’s intelligent, and observant, and awfully pretty, with those baby blues eyes and those snowy locks of hair. and he has no issue getting what he wants. 

absolutely zero. 

there’s something admirable about it, in a twisted way. like he doesn’t even need to try. he’s good at anything, if he just gives it a single chance. you can only assume he’s never given much thought to the prospect of being a decent guy, because that’s the only thing he sucks at.

effortlessly perfect, in the most imperfect of ways. that’s probably how you’d describe him.

… annoying is still the most fitting word, though. or maybe obnoxious. he’s got this spoiled rich kid vibe that irks you, gets under your skin. you doubt he’s ever had to empathize with anyone, in his entire life. 

and, yes — maybe you’re being a little harsh to him. but why should you bother being jovial when he won’t return the favour?

gojo is annoying; and when you say that, you mean annoying to basically everyone. as a basis for existing. always teasing and taunting, looking down from that high horse of his. you’re no exception to this rule, of course. but you’re almost certain that he has it out for you specifically.

you know he looks down on you, from behind those tacky sunglasses. you’re sure of it.

compared to geto or shoko, you aren’t very self-assured — and you think he must have sensed it the moment he laid eyes on you. sensed that you’re a little meek, a bit of a doormat, easy to push around and get a rise out of. maybe he also noticed your apprehension towards him, your apparent unease. 

you’re easy prey, to put it simply.

evidently, he’s developed a fondness for getting under your skin. it started as soon as introductions were over, and it still hasn’t gotten better. he loves catching you off guard, throwing you an unneeded comment or two, just to see what reaction you’ll give him next. almost like he’s solving an equation — said equation being you, the limit of your patience. and you keep giving him what he wants; a scoff, a roll of your eyes, an earnest fuck right off. you can never seem to successfully ignore him. he’s just far, far too good at being insufferable.

… and, more than anything, he’s far too out of reach. even when you try to get along with him, it backfires. you don’t have a single thing in common. you don’t understand him at all. 

(and that suits you just fine.)

a heavy sigh slips from your parted lips, as you examine your blurry reflection in the surface of the mirror. fatigue clings to your skin like a layer of sweat, your mind muddled, stuffed with anxious thoughts and discomforting feelings.

you’re exhausted. completely and utterly spent, even though the day’s barely begun — running on three pitiful hours of sleep, all broken up and jumbled by nightmares that wouldn’t stop spooking you. not a single wink of proper rest. 

and it’s painfully obvious. in your face, your posture, the dark crescents beneath your eyes; in the way you can’t help but drag your legs as you walk, your hair disheveled, little sighs and grumbles slipping from your lips for every step you take. all you can do is sluggishly blink the exhaustion away.

you just feel so tired.

it could be worse, though. you don’t have any classes today, no real reason to get out of your comfy bed, leave the safety of your cozy little dorm room. but you need breakfast, right now, or else you’ll literally explode — so you still get up on shaky legs and try to mimic the appearance of someone… even moderately well-rested.

it doesn’t work, but that’s besides the point. 

so you make your way to the dormitory’s shared kitchen. walking idly — clumsily — enjoying the sight of fleeting, fluttering cherry blossoms through the windows you pass. little pink butterflies.

once you’ve crossed the threshold, you’re relieved to find the open space entirely devoid of people. no shoko, no geto, not even a mischievous gojo. running into the first two wouldn’t be the end of the world — but it still wouldn’t be ideal. you don’t want anyone seeing you like this, tired and meek, a little vulnerable.

(least of all gojo. you shiver at the bare thought.)

with laboured, groggy movements, you waltz around the kitchen, getting cups and plates and turning on the coffee machine. enjoying the soothing melody of the pan sizzling, singing along to the purring of espresso being made. it’s nice and pleasant to your sensitive ears, as you blink under the rays of sunlight shining in, throwing together a lazy breakfast. 

you waste no time in taking a seat by one of the tables once you’re finished. eager to soak in the peace and quiet, wolf down a sandwich and copious amounts of caffeine.

but, as always — the world seems to have it out for you specifically.

”oh? well, look who it is. and here i thought you had left too.”

you stiffen. ever so slightly, barely noticeable, but still enough that you physically feel the dread envelop every single cell of your body. the voice that echoes out across the open air is a chipper one, a familiar one. a voice you were desperately hoping not to hear today. 

all you can do is continue to sip from your cup of coffee, inwardly wincing, silently going through all five stages of grief simultaneously — before accepting your unfortunate predicament. 

(that’s just your luck, isn’t it?)

finally, you raise your weary head, knowing exactly what sight you’ll be met with once you do. 

and, lo and behold — there he is.

gojo looks the same as always. grinning brightly, a little woflish, wearing those ugly sunglasses and making his way across the room like he owns it. a trait you can’t help but admire, envy, hate and worship at the same time. he plops down next to you like it’s nothing, a little too close for comfort, unconcerned about your concept of personal space.

”whatcha up to?” he chirps, in that sugar sweet tone, layered over with a boyish kind of excitement. there’s a teasing tilt to it, too — the one that always accompanies his voice when he’s speaking to you.

under normal circumstances, you’d flip him off. maybe even just glare at him, silently, or raise a brow in challenge.

but you’re far, far too tired to. too anxious. too in need of sleep, in need of a peaceful breakfast that he oh so cruelly ripped from you. all you can muster is the energy to glance his way.

for just a second, your eyes meet. not like you can actually see them, from behind his glasses — but you know they’re there. menacing and uncanny, bright and excited. too much to handle, right now.

”… morning.”

as soon as the mutter has left your lips, you take a tentative bite of your sandwich. gaze trailing sluggishly back to your plate.

gojo blinks.

he immediately notes that your voice sounds meek. even more so than usual. he expected you to give him a scoff, or even just a timid huff — but no such luck. 

you’re just sitting there, quiet, curling into yourself.

after a moment’s consideration, gojo opts to look at you. to really look at you, study your face, the way those twitchy fingers move to curl around the ceramic handle of the cup you’re drinking out of. the way your eyes shift from place to place, unfocused, your eyelids flicking shut every couple seconds. slow.

he’s always been observant — but it doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re tired. 

gojo is silent, for no more than a mere moment; contemplating his next course of action. he’s never seen you like this, before. did something happen?

…

(— well, it doesn’t matter. not his problem.)

”you look like a zombie,” he grins, a little teasing, showing off the white of his teeth. even though you look out of it, he can’t help himself — despite his own intuition telling him to let you be. 

you’re just too fun to tease. suguru and shoko only ever raise their eyebrows at him, or stare him down like a misbehaving dog, but you always have a good reaction to give. something to entertain him when he’s bored, distract him when his mind is too full of noise. 

so he can’t help but tease you, a little. hoping it’ll soothe the restlessness inside his chest.

but for once, what gojo expects isn’t what he gets. 

what he expects is for you to glare at him. tell him to leave you alone, or even just sigh in exasperation — either one would be fine. it’s just mindless enjoyment, to him, a little fun to lighten up his day. 

especially now, when suguru is away on some day trip he wasn’t privy to. that traitor. shoko is nowhere to be seen, either, probably off smoking in some random alleyway. or hanging out with one of the kyoto losers.

… the whole dorm is so eerily quiet.

(gojo would never admit it, not in a thousand years… but maybe he’d feel just a little bit lonely without any of you around.)

for a while after waking up, he assumed he’d have to spend the whole day alone. no one to talk to, no one to look at. he was practically dying of boredom. but then he entered the kitchen — and saw his saving grace. his dear little irritable classmate. 

he was so relieved. content in the knowledge that he’d get to push your buttons to his heart’s desire, bask in your playful banter and cold, joking little looks until suguru finally comes home.

only this time — you don’t react at all. 

you don’t give him what he expects, don’t indulge his little antics, in the way he’s grown so accustomed to. you just keep eating your breakfast, and drinking your coffee, in total silence. 

gojo waits, just a couple moments more. hoping for a delayed reaction, a witty counter, a snarky comment. anything. 

but it never comes.

finally, he starts to sulk. slumping against the leather seat behind him, quieting down with a low huff. furrowing his brows, as his glossy, cherry-tasting lips curl down into a little pout.

honestly, he’s kind of annoyed. just what is your problem? what is with you, today? 

… it’s no fun if you’re not playing along. 

gojo can’t help but grumble, a little, under his breath. you’re usually so responsive, so easy to rile up. so what’s wrong? why are you just sitting there?

…

whatever. so what if you’re not talking to him? so what if you won’t even spare him a glance? gojo has better things to do, bigger fish to fry. he wasn’t even that excited, when he saw you. the thought of bantering with you didn’t lift his spirits, even in the slightest. 

not even a little bit.

…

but, really — would it take so much effort for you to just say something? to just respond to his friendly little quip? you can’t possibly be that tired. 

or, what — did you get insecure, or something? because he called you a zombie? no way. you’re not that sensitive… are you? or is that it? 

what a hassle.

you know he’s just messing with you. he knows you know. so why are you acting so…. 

(sad, gojo wants to think, but he buries the thought before it can reach his frontal cortex. he doesn’t want to empathize with you, not right now — doesn’t want to feel that discomforting pang in his chest.)

a strange sensation bubbles up in his chest. something frustrated, a little unnerved; at your lack of a reaction, the weak glint in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand why — and that frustrates him even more. 

why can’t you just bite back, like always?

(… it’s fun when you do.)

the silence lingers on, stretches out across the room, festers and grows as you gulp down your breakfast. all while gojo keeps on sulking, still sitting beside you, waiting for something to happen. he briefly considers getting up and leaving, or saying something annoying to hopefully spur you on —

but you stand up before he can convince himself to go through with either option.

having finished your breakfast, your legs carry you to the sink. finally, you can head back to your room. gojo’s being weirdly quiet, but you pay no mind to it; methodically washing your dishes in silence. 

you don’t bother saying goodbye to him, either. still sitting there, seemingly deep in thought, grumbling something under his breath. 

he watches as you leave, gaze trailing after you, until you’re completely out of sight. 

then he lays down, flat on his back, with a frustrated huff. trying desperately to brush away the memory of your dim eyes, the slight frown on your lips. the dark circles under your eyes, that he tried so hard not to notice because they made him feel so weirdly uncomfortable. the meek, meek look you gave him.

gojo sighs.

(he feels just a tiny, tiny bit bad.)

when you wake up from your slumber, you immediately note that your body feels lighter.

this time, no nightmares came to haunt you. having practically collapsed once your head hit the pillow, your body finally decided to give you some peace of mind, some well needed rest. thankfully.

with a groan, you lazily stretch out your limbs — enjoying the feeling of your veins waking up, gaze falling on the clock on your wall. you’ve only been asleep for about two hours, or so, but it’s more than enough to give you the little jolt of energy that you need.

what to do, what to do. you still have the whole day ahead of you. another nap wouldn’t hurt, but you don’t want to waste your precious free time just rotting in bed — maybe you could take a walk around the schoolyard instead? the cherry blossoms have started to unfurl, and the grounds of the school are just littered with them.

even just the mental image is enough to have you changing into some light and comfortable clothes, reaching a hand out to push your door open. excitement stirring in your veins.

as you do so, something is knocked over.

all you hear is a soft little thud, accompanied by the sensation of something colliding with the door. a low curiosity overtakes you — eagerly peeking around for a look at the mysterious something.

your gaze falls on something pink.

it’s tiny, awfully out of place, just laying unassumingly on the dusty floorboards. as you crouch down to get a better look, you recognize it instantly; a small carton of strawberry milk. a plastic straw plastered on its side, and an evil looking cow mascot staring at you from the front. one of the items sold in the schoolyard’s vending machines — your personal favorite. you drink it every time you need a tiny pick-me-up, the sweet taste always managing to soothe your spirits.

and it was sitting right outside your door.

you stare at it, silently, in deep contemplation. holding it in your hand as the gears turn inside your head. could someone have dropped it? no, that’s dumb — who’d drop it right outside your door and then not pick it up?

… did someone leave it for you, then? because they know you like it? that could be it, maybe, but who would —

…

your mind stills. 

(no way.)

when you think about it — that’s the only explanation that makes sense. shoko and geto aren’t there, and you barely know any of your senior students. yaga-sensei would never give you strawberry milk without a lecture on the dangers of cavities, either.

that just leaves one possible culprit.

but you can’t wrap your head around it. why would he do something like that? he doesn’t like you — you know that much. so it couldn’t possibly be him.

… then again, you have seen him drink it. both of you like it, contrary to your other classmates; shoko doesn’t like sweet things in general, and geto wouldn’t go for strawberry milk if he could choose something else. it might as well be the only thing you and gojo have in common — the one thing that binds you two together. 

a single carton of strawberry milk. 

it’s almost comical.

(if it’s really true — if he really did do it… then you wonder why. maybe he noticed that you were feeling under the weather, and figured it’d make you happy. 

you wonder if it’d be foolish of you, to believe that it’s true — if only because you kinda like the idea.)

your feet move on their own, before your mind has a chance to question the decision. 

where could he be? in the kitchen, still? in his dorm?

just as you begin to wonder, a flash of white dances in the corners of your vision. when you glance out the window, you see it; white, soft hair, like a fluffy cloud, in the midst of all the pink petals fluttering about. 

you stop.

then you start walking again. with more decision, this time. hurrying to the exit.

gojo is sitting right outside the dormitory, on a wooden bench, legs swinging idly as he gazes at the sky. his hair sways slightly with the breeze, soft strands moving and caressing his skin. pink petals dance all around him, gracefully descending down to the ground, together with a trail of bubbles. gojo is blowing them, haphazardly, following their movement with his keen eyes. they glimmer in the sunlight, reflecting all shades of the rainbow.

the sight is just a little bit breathtaking. 

the ground crunches beneath your feet, when you take a step forward — and gojo turns towards you. you stiffen like a deer in headlights, instantly regretting your decision. blinking nervously. you walked here almost entirely on impulse, but now that you’re face to face…

(it’s a little scary.)

… still, it’s far too late to back out now. you can’t do much except join him, so that’s exactly what you do — albeit a little hesitantly.

trying to ignore his continuous stare, burning into the side of your head, you plop down beside him. feeling the steady bench beneath you, breathing in the scent of sweet-smelling cherries and soap.

an uncomfortable silence lingers in the air around you both, as he waits for you to say something. 

it’s a little tough. mustering up the courage to say anything, even just to face him. the decisiveness you felt just a moment ago has faded, now only the ghost of a sensation — you’re too nervous to verbalize anything.

but eventually, after a deep breath or two, you force yourself to speak. hoping you won’t come to regret it.

”… hey, gojo?” 

it’s almost a whisper. soft and fragile, mumbled beneath your breath as you stare at the cherry trees in front of you. you know his eyes are on you, though. you can feel them, almost feel their weight in the palm of your hand. like marbles.

weakly, you raise up the carton of strawberry milk. glancing over at him, not quite managing a smile, but trying your best to look somewhat appreciative. 

”thanks.”

a confused blink. gojo looks down the strawberry milk, and then back up at you. eyelashes fluttering.

a moment passes. 

then he turns his head away, swiftly, his hair tousled by the movement — a couple pink petals stuck between the soft strands. you can’t see his face anymore.

”i have no idea what you’re talking about,” he huffs, with a voice you’ve never heard him speak through.

when you look a little closer — you think the tips of his ears may be just slightly red. it makes your lips curl up into a small smile, but you barely feel it.

(like this, he’s actually kind of cute.)

cherry blossoms flutter in the wind, dancing joyously, without a care in the world. a spring breeze ruffles gojo’s hair, as he sits beside you, having begun to blow his bubbles again. not saying a word, and looking straight ahead. but you can’t help but stare, as sneakily as you can muster.

you find yourself thinking that he looks right at home, among the petals. fleeting, hard to get a grasp on, so pretty, and so out of reach — despite being so close. 

if you wanted to, you could reach over and touch him. you could reach for his sunglasses, lift them off his face, and finally see those eyes he’s so intent on hiding. you could see him, see straight into his soul — and find out who he really is.

you won’t, though. some boundaries aren’t meant to be so callously crossed.

instead, you puncture the pink carton in your hand with the plastic straw, and take a tentative sip. the sweet taste soothes you, straight away, blooming on your tongue. you can’t help but sigh, softly, relaxing even further — it’s absolutely perfect, for this kind of weather. the sight before you, cherry petals and shining bubbles, a boy you don’t like, but definitely don’t hate. 

you both look up, following the bubbles with your eyes, as they float up into the sky; as they get smaller and smaller, farther and farther out of reach. neither of you say a word, but the silence is comforting. light. 

gojo is the first one to break it — in a voice so small you barely hear it.

”… you don’t look like a zombie.”

a second passes. you’re left blinking in confusion, trying to decipher the sudden statement. you can’t get a good read on his expression, with those eyes of his conveniently hidden; he must have regained his composure, then.

it takes a couple seconds for his words to sink in — but once they do, all pieces seem to fall into place. 

and you burst into laughter.

gojo blinks at you, caught off guard, his eyelashes flapping like a little dove scrambling to get off the ground — staring at you like you just grew a second head. that makes you laugh harder, a bout of giggles spilling past your lips — you just can’t help it. 

”did —” you wheeze, softly, thoroughly amused. trying and failing to bite back the laughter. ”did you think i was bothered by that, or something?”

gojo looks at you. a little stunned, for a moment. the sight only makes your smile bloom further, eyes crinkled as you meet his gaze. from the angle you’re viewing him through, leaning back against the bench, you catch a glimmer of his eyes. they’re awfully pretty — blue and bright, full of life. when you look closer, you can see tiny, tiny splotches of white. 

they look like the blue sky. 

you called them menacing, before, but now you aren’t so sure. they seem soft, in the sunlight, especially when seen like this — right after catching him off guard. it’s a rare moment, terribly precious. something to savour.

gojo doesn’t let it linger, though. 

after a moment of two, he scoffs — turning away yet again. a soft, soft pout on his lips.

”obviously not,” he huffs, sounding nothing but irritated, resting his jaw on the heel of his palm. ”but with how sensitive you are, i wouldn’t be surprised.”

usually, a comment like that would irk you. now it just makes you giggle, lightheartedly — the tips of his ears turning redder at the sound. 

(he really isn’t so bad, after all.)

for a while, you don’t say anything else. afraid of ruining the tender atmosphere. you feel closer to gojo than ever before — and you wonder if maybe this is the gojo that geto sees. childish, but well meaning. arrogant and cocky, but oddly innocent. selfish — but not really. you’re starting to think that you may have been slightly off, with that one.

the strawberry milk on your tongue tastes sweet. a little sweeter than usual, though you choose not to dwell on it.

”hey,” you break the silence, surprising even yourself. the words fall from your lips like soft little breaths, rolling off your tongue like marbles pouring out of a glass bottle. ”i don’t dislike you, you know?”

it’s an impulsive admission. saying it out loud doesn’t feel wrong, though. maybe a little humiliating, sure, but not wrong. not dishonest.

you suspect that gojo may be looking at you, out of the corner of his eye, but you aren’t sure. after all, you’re vehemently avoiding his gaze — a little embarrassed by your own sincerity. 

he doesn’t know how to respond. you’re being strangely unpredictable, today, and it makes him feel unsure of himself. your tone is soft, almost friendly. he only ever hears it when you’re talking to shoko or geto.

not learning his lesson, gojo opts to tease you again. as always. afraid to let the silence linger for too long. it’s a halfhearted attempt, though, more of a vaguely amused huff than anything. 

”what, got a crush on me or somethin’?”

this time, you don’t scoff, or roll your eyes, or give him an earnest fuck right off. you only chuckle, in a way that almost borders on fond. you’re not one to tease, contrary to the boy on your left, but your words are teasing even still. ”i have better taste than that.” 

gojo should be irked, should grumble and bite back, but you don’t give him the chance to. 

”i just… you know,” you taste the words on your tongue. ”i still think you’re annoying. and childish.” gojo huffs, and your lips curl up. ”but i really don’t dislike you.”

you take a sip of the strawberry milk, before continuing, hoping it’ll make the words easier to say. ”… and it’s not like i know you, anyway. so i’m sorry for making a bunch of assumptions.” 

a pause. for a split second, you quiet down, a little flustered. gnawing on your bottom lip.

”… that’s all i wanted to say,” you exhale, gaze glued to your lap. feeling a heat on your nape.

as always, you can’t tell what gojo’s thinking. out of the corner of your eye, you try to catch a glimpse of his face, but you have a nagging suspicion that it wouldn’t tell you anything anyway. his eyes are hidden by those sunglasses, after all, acting as a wall between him and the rest of the world. so you don’t know if the words reach him, if they mean anything at all. 

but you hope they do. even as you brush cherry petals and non-existent dust off your lap, and get up to leave.

gojo just sits there, for a second, deep in contemplation. 

he tries to bury a certain thought, before it has a chance to reach his frontal cortex — before he has to accept that it exists. only this time, he doesn’t succeed. the words die before they reach his tongue, but he hears them, in his head. he hears them loud and clear.

and he flushes under the light of the sun.

(i don’t really dislike you, either.) 

what actually ends up leaving his throat is merely a scoff, so faint he doubts you even hear it. 

”whatever,” he mutters, hoping it’ll come across as cool and unbothered. it doesn’t.

one last smile reaches your face, before you head back inside. gojo stays behind, on the bench, lost in thought.

tossing the now-empty carton into a trash can, you try to calm yourself down. feeling oddly excited, as if you’ve reached something, the start of an eventual conclusion. something worth cherishing.

you still don’t understand satoru gojo. but you get the impression that you just grew a little bit closer to him. there are layers to him, more than what meets the eye, hidden behind those sunglasses of his. you can only imagine what the world might look like, from his perspective. what you look like, reflected in his eyes, a blur of colours and facial features, sparks and dots.

you wonder if the whole world looks like a painting, to him. 

you feel a little ashamed, for thinking you had him all figured out. a spoiled, self-centered rich kid, with no functional empathic abilities. it might be partially true, but you’ll have to reevaluate the statement. to see how well it holds up. you still don’t think his emotional intelligence is anything to gawk at, but you may have been underestimating it. it’s there, despite everything — in those eyes, in that single carton of strawberry milk.

you think there’s a certain maturity, there, in spite of his childishness. or perhaps the latter is no more than a product of the former, a way for damaged children to dress their wounds. the way he carries himself and the way he speaks both seem a bit forced. like he’s used to performing, used to moving in a way that demands attention. all eyes on him, at all times. 

you think that sounds just a little exhausting. 

even as you return to the safety of your dorm room, you still can’t help but wonder. there’s still so much you don’t know. despite the moment you shared, and the connection you think may be growing between you, he’s still so out of reach. almost lonely, in a way. you wonder what he looks like, when he’s alone, when there’s no one around to perform for. 

(what is an actor without their audience?)

and, despite everything, after all is said and done — you really, really don’t understand satoru gojo. not at all, not in the slightest. not one bit.

but you think you’d maybe like to.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Waiter waiter! 1 asking Feixiao, Kafka, Acheron and Robin to be big spoon for cuddling request pls! 🐕

(Honkai: Star Rail) Feixiao, Kafka, Acheron, and Robin being asked to be the big spoon

I bet Feixiao could crush me in her sleep.

Jokes on S/O, Feixiao was going to do that anyway!

(Feixiao) "Hah, straight to the point! Alright, why not?"

She has zero issue with this, and takes S/O into her strong arms without hesitation.

Feixiao would nuzzle into S/O with a big smile, and feeling quite comfortable.

Though this is when she's sober. When drunk, S/O is little spoon whether they even asked to or not.

And that grip that was comfortable before becomes ironclad, the only thing stopping Feixiao from gripping S/O being herself.

And that side of herself wouldn't be back awake until the next morning.

In combination with an adorable pout and terrifying strength, S/O is not leaving her arms.

(S/O) "...F-Fei-...xiao...can't breathe...!"

(Feixiao) "Hm...S-Shush..."

And that sentenced S/O to death, because her grip somehow becomes even tighter than before as her head rests on the top of them, unintentionally rubbing her face in their hair.

Kafka lets out a low sultry chuckle, ultimately shrugging at S/O's request.

(Kafka) "Needy, aren't we? Well, fine, guess I can indulge you for a little while.~"

Honestly, in this relationship she didn't really expect any less than being asked to take the wheels.

Does she mind? Not particularly, it's kind of amusing.

Though she definitely wants to see if S/O can work up the courage to ask her to be the little spoon.

(Kafka) "Comfortable enough for ya?"

(S/O) "Y-Yeah, thanks."

(Kafka) "Why so jittery? You're the one who asked me after all, not like you're caught in a web."

(S/O) "With you? That's always a possibility."

(Kafka) "Hm, good answer."

They weren't wrong either.

Acheron pauses for a moment before a small gentle laugh passes her lips.

(Acheron) "Very well. Here...-"

Acheron holds S/O closely and firmly, the gentle squeeze instantly making both of them feel at ease.

Acheron has not had this type of affection in a very long time, or at least not that she can remember, anyway.

Yet the feeling deep within tells her that this sensation is...pleasant.

Having S/O's head rest under her chin, she lets out a small hum of approval.

(S/O) "Thinking about something, Acheron?"

(Acheron) "Hm...Just how nice this feels is all..."

After this, she will wait for S/O to ask to be held, though the longing look in her eyes tells them that she needs it as much as they do.

Robin can't help but giggle, one hand quickly reaching to her mouth.

(Robin) "Sure! If you're comfortable with it, S/O."

Her wings flutter in happiness for a brief moment before taking S/O into a comfortable hug, squeezing them ever so slightly.

Robin's smile just grows exponentially, getting to just spend time with someone so dear to her without worrying about anything else, at least for the moment.

Sometimes, she'll ask if S/O can do the same for her with a blush accompanying the request, but she doesn't mind being the big spoon either!

Whenever she is the big spoon, she can't help but start humming a lullaby to S/O.

Sometimes it ranges from one of her more recent songs, or even a song she learned from Sunday back when she was younger.

Regardless, it always puts the two of them at ease without fail.

(Robin) "...Good night, S/O."

With a hand gently brushing back their hair she takes a deep breath before joining them, smiling at the sight of S/O resting comfortably.

[retroaria]

Hey hey I hope u doin well :) I would like to request a wind breaker headcannon when their girl is really sassy/badmouth like swaering and gets herself into trouble. Maybe for Suo , Kaji, Sakura, Toma and Umemiya :).

a/n: i’m notoriously not good at writing for hiragi so i apologize for excluding him :( thank you so much for the request and i appreciate your patience!! <3

• | WIND BREAKER M.LIST | •

Suō finds your behavior rather entertaining, so much so that he lets it go on longer than it should some times. Not that he finds it humorous or anything - he finds it really attractive actually.

he loves watching you handle your own and be fierce about it, sometimes leans over and makes a cat growling noise in your ear (such a cheeky loser lol)

defends you with the biggest smile on his face, “sorry, she’s a hot head.” - he’s not sorry at all and he’s about to go give you a fist bump for telling the person off.

if ever he finds you biting off more than you can chew, he steps in and handles the rest for you. you guys are kind of evil, an evil team if you will. (it’s pretty romantic!)

kaji’s favorite little moment of life with you is when he gets to say “i told you so.” not only does it grant him exclusive access to the adorable pouty face you make while he teases you, it also makes him feel less guilty for not actually stopping you from running your mouth and getting into trouble.

“i told you not to do that.” sure he did! once or twice…maybe…under his breath as to not distract you from unleashing your rath. seriously though, for as much distaste as he shows in your rowdiness, he can’t hide the little smirk that gives him away while he sits back and watches you go off. he isn’t sure if he should be amused, proud, or concerned, but somehow he’s all of the above.

kaji’s biggest fear would be you causing some sort of drama in the community, and the rest of the guys have to start keeping tabs on you. so he keeps tabs on you himself and lends a hand when he sees necessary. he’s also sure to cover your tracks and would defend you with his life (unless he gets bored and realizes it’s pointless but in that case he knows you can figure it out on your own) partners in crime!

umemiya pretends to have zero recollection when a story of your aggressive misadventures is mentioned to him. “whaaaaat she didn’t do that, pffft- and if she did i’m sure she had a reason…yeah…” he must’ve been out of town that weekend. he loves you with all your fiery rage of course, but some of the stuff you’ve done really makes his head spin (in a simultaneously loving and nauseating way)

he gives you the same pep talks he gives the other guys in bofurin and encourages you to fight every battle with a purpose. once you get the hang of that he’s sure to let you know that “because i wanted to” and “because i can” are not good enough reasons to curse someone out and threaten to have your boyfriend come and beat them up. (he knew what he was signing up for)

despite the different ground you both stand on in certain situations, he loves that you’re strong and independent and sees those qualities as being forever beneficial, so he wouldn’t change you for the world. maybe just change your approach! i’m sure that would spare him a few drops of sweat and flustered apologies on your behalf.

sakura is truly not fond of how many uncomfortable (and slightly dangerous?) situations you’ve roped him into. hes got hands for days, but he can’t really formulate full sentences sometimes, so he tends to take the back seat and silently beg you to stop and leave them alone and just go home or else they’re gonna get even more angry and- oh but if that actually happens suddenly he’s pumped and ready to hand out mean left hooks like it’s nothing.

he can’t quite wrap his head around how quickly and fearlessly you engage in aggressive verbal confrontation without just rolling your sleeves up before even opening your mouth. he finds it just as admirable as it is scary.

unlike umemiya, knowing you threatened some asshole trying to mess with you that HE was gonna come and mess them up gives him instant gratification. he’s on the way! actually he was probably already there with you and as soon as you stopped yelling and he could take his hands off his ears he’s ready to defend your honor. he’s the robin to your batman sometimes, but just let him believe he’s batman, for his sake and yours.

wooo another wind breaker post for the books!!! i’m sorry i’m a sleeper agent when it comes to writing anything besides blue lock but have faith in me guys -aria

[ghostfacesvalentine]

HALLOWEEN DAY 26: It’s a Halloween party right? - Multi!Muse x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader

Warning: Mentions of basically bullying, cursing, killing, a little graphic but nothing crazy.

Type: Blurb

Request: N/A

Word count: N/A

Prompt: Tiny blurbs of what I think the muses would act when you’re at a Halloween party with them and someone makes fun of your costume!

Notes: Why did anyone stop wearing costumes I hate this new era were in. Grow up. Wear a costume.

Jason Voorhees: Immediately killing. No doubts about that, I take Jason to be a somewhat naive character but he absolutely knows what it’s like to have someone laugh at you. Whether it’s a crude joke or a twisted sense of humor, he can put two and two together, so the party definitely goes from zero to a hundred. I don’t think he would give the other a second to correct themselves or analyze the situation, instead it’s immediate kill, ask questions later. If you ran away crying, it’s overkill and Jason would never give parties a second chance, sorry.

Michael Myers: I think if he understood it, it may take him a while, they have to be obnoxious about it. If they’re laughing and throwing stuff at you, immediately Michael springs into action. There’s so many people who dress like him anyway, there are doubts that he’s even the real thing but some the smarter of the bunch know better than to join in and make a run for it before they get caught in the crosshairs. When everyone is pinned to the walls with kitchen knives and whatever he can find, then the place gets set ablaze, it’s not like he wanted to be there in the first place.

Tiffany Valentine: Picks up on it before you do and when she does she’s coming up with the most embarrassing way to be found dead. She’s trying to be a better person, she really is but why are they laughing at you? Maybe she can give everyone else who gets their hands on the crime scene photos something to laugh about. I don’t think she would give them a second to apologize or make up for it, she’s already had their death made up in her mind. They really fucked with the wrong person.

Billy Loomis: Laughs louder but with empty eyes, these group of kids just signed their death sentence. If you’re sobbing, the more tears you shed, the more blood they will. If you’re only uncomfortable, they’re still dying, maybe not as gory but he’s still taking his time. He gets away with it too, with the help of Stu. “Come on, Stu’s parties are way better than this” he’d kiss your forehead, not caring if there’s glitter sprinkled all over him.

Stu Macher: Kind of grinning, looking at both you and whoever the hell is trying to insult your costume. “Well I think it’s really cool.” He’d say, acting nothing but stupid with a big grin. I think he would have less restraint than Billy though, he’d start getting the strays one by one, coming around acting completely clueless as to what was happening. He’s a little smug with how well he covers up what’s real blood and what’s part of the decorations. Be careful pissing off Stu, you would’ve thought people would know that by now.

Leatherface: Poor baby he would be so confused at first, the groups of people would have to literally be laughing and you’d have to have a visceral reaction to their mean words. As soon as he puts two and two together, its head empty only wants to see their guts across the room. He’s especially violent because he knows what it’s like to be made fun of by his family and by the victims. It’s not a good feeling and he would do anything to make it go away when it came to you.

Patrick Bateman: There would be light chuckles, all the way up until he notices that they’re talking about you. A pressed smile would make itself present across his face, sniffing his drink before setting it down. Swiping his tongue across his perfect front teeth, mouth closed and sticking a fist in his pocket. You insisted to dress up for the silly Halloween party, he was hesitant about allowing you, but you did look stunning in designer clothes as a tacky costume. Patrick would absolutely pull a Stu and lead the others away from the pack, one by one around the building before unleashing the most amount of rage. Spitting and yelling, blood of his victims splattered across his delightful face. “Not the fucking face you fucking fuck.” He’d groan out wiping as much as he could off with his sleeve and trying to slick back his hair as much as possible before moving to the next person.

Harley Quinn: “Whatddaya mean by that?” There would be no hesitation for Harley to have the group try to correct themselves, depending on their reactions would directly affect if and how’d they die. If they would show no remorse, Harleys face would turn into a wide smile, staring blankly at them before shrugging her shoulders then shooting them point blank in the face, one by one. If there was some kind of remorse, Harley would be judge, jury and executioner about it. “Sorry about the blood on yer costume cupcake, maybe Ivy has somethin’ for that! If not her, then maybe kitty Kat.” Nobody makes fun of her baby, if they did, then she’d make sure they wouldn’t laugh about anything ever again.

Poison Ivy: With a raised eyebrow, Pamela would know exactly whether or not how they meant it and if she didn’t, they’re wrong, it’s exactly how Pamela viewed it. You were so excited to wear a costume, Ivy even helped you get it together, you were absolutely over the moon and now, some people who thought they were too good to dress up for Halloween were laughing in front of you both. Similar to Harley, she is judge, jury and executioner. While her methods would be a little more sophisticated, they still inflict the most amount of pain. She always carried something for moments like this, where one’s blood would turn against them, making them feel like there’s venom slowly invading their veins. Maybe a prick, maybe some powder, maybe a kiss, who really would see it coming. Either way, nobody laughs at her baby.

Billy Hargrove: Would stop what he’s doing immediately to look at whoever or whatever group was laughing at you, there would be a moment of silence offered to them to get themselves together. Not many chose to laugh or keep up the act and those who did would get a real beating full of pent up rage. So what if you wanted to wear a costume, so what if you were the only one. That was the point of it no? A halloween party? These people were going to be damn near unconscious by the time he’s done with them.

Steve Harrington: All fun and games until you’re crying. “You guys take it too far!” If you ran out of the room, Steve is chasing after you immediately to console you. You’re drunk, he’s drunk, you’re both a mess but you’re crying and as a great boyfriend, he’s trying to console you. “This party’s lame anyway, let’s get out of here” he’d kiss your forehead, if you’re still pouting he’s more than happy to sit down with you. “I think you’re the prettiest fairy in the whole world. And other worlds too.” He’d wipe the tears off your face, getting a warm towel to help. “Come on. You’re so beautiful, you look amazing, everyone’s costume is a jackass I guess. But I thought we were supposed to be something different for Halloween” he’d roll his eyes, still drunkenly trying to clean you up. He’s such a catch.

Steve Rogers: Concerned eyebrows active. “Hey what did you just say” suddenly no one wants to repeat themselves and if you know anything about captain America is that he absolutely hates bullies. “It’s a Halloween party no?” Suddenly he’s heated, facing the group completely while you make yourself small behind him. Everyone’s on edge enough to try to break it up. He wasn’t surprised they’d be backtracking, but he still doesn’t accept that behavior. “Apologize” “Steve- no it’s okay.” “No. It’s not okay. Apologize” even if they did, god forbid he caught them alone while you weren’t there. “He must’ve felt left out and added some fake blood to his face to fit in.”

Bucky Barnes: Similar to Steve, he’s going to stand up for you, especially when he can tell if it really got to you. All he thinks about was about how excited you were pulling your costume together and now you were crying or about to start crying and hugging yourself wanting more than anything to go home. Bucky has a way shorter temper than Steve though and he doesn’t care if it’s in front of anyone, they’re going to apologize to you without him having to ask. After sorting that out, he’s babying you after all of this.

Loki Laufeyson: Immediately killing them, even if he’s trying to reform his ways, he still can’t stand the thought of someone else’s words humiliating you. If he doesn’t have the patience to outwit them, he’s absolutely going to kill them. You’re his baby and he will always stand up for you, he’s just a little rusty around his methods. “If you ask me, you’re the most beautiful most elegant vampiress in the universes and I’ve been to many” Loki has such a way to always make you feel like the most beautiful and important creature, if it wasn’t his words, you had a hard time believing anyone else. He worships you more than anyone on this list so it’s hard to let anyone make you feel inferior.

Cloud Strife: He doesn’t get it for a moment, not until you’re upset. When he realizes you’re upset, he follows you out. He’s not the best at comforting but when he sees you upset, he’s all over you. “You look beautiful.” He admires you, after all it’s only Clouds picky opinion that you care about. He rather spend the holiday with you instead, he’s not really much of a party guy. Cloud would absolutely wipe your tears, sit in the grass with you, walk around the town all while complimenting your costume every chance he got.

Sebastian Michaelis: Maybe not immediately killing them, but absolutely torturing them, all with a smile. If there are appearances to be made, he waits until he can find them alone. He understood every crude remark, every joke, even when they thought they could get away with it with sly comments. “You appear to be the most stunning character here Lady Y/N.” That’s enough to make you blush, after all he only has eyes for you. He encouraged you to dress up, he wasn’t lying when he said you looked gorgeous. For anyone to have the nerve to make fun of you, it would be a death wish.

Spencer Reid: He would absolutely outwit them, nobody can really keep up with his charm. He didn’t really acknowledge the joke at first, until it hit him. Both of you would be dressed up and he’s more than ready to stand up for you especially. Spencer vents to you all the time about people who think they’re too good to dress up in a costume for a Halloween party. He doesn’t need to get physical with them, but let’s say if they really crossed a line then he’ll pull some strings at the BAU.

Bruce Wayne: So what if you were the only one wearing a costume, similar to Spencer, he can absolutely outwit them. Everyone wants to please Bruce and it only takes him staring at the ones who are laughing with a straight face. The elites around him would want his validation so bad that they would also stop laughing immediately. “I don’t get it. Who are you again? New money?” Hit them where it hurts. “The dress is Hermes, fortunately they had it expedited last minute. We had a few options to sort through. Looks like a dream nevertheless.” But it was never the dress that made you look godly, it was Bruce’s love.

Jason Todd: Immediately getting violent “what the fuck did you just say” and you better hope he misheard them. It’s scary to see Jason get this worked up, but it was for you. Before you know it he’s got another guy hung up against the wall or dragged across the table by the collar of their shirt. He would comfort you afterwards, treating you to whatever you want. “You know you’re the prettiest baby at the party.” If anything they’re better off making fun of you instead of making crude comments about wanting to see what you look like under the costume, I think Jason would have to be locked up in Arkham after that if that were to happen. He’s still pulling strings with the batfam to teach them a lesson.

[frracturedjaw]

Hi Hope u already did one but maybe s/o sleeping without pants because it's hot af and I am dying here :,)

Have a great day/night/morning :D

unspecified so i just did a few short ones for bo, vinny, and tommy.

warning(s): a little suggestive in some places

a/n: sorry this took nearly four months teehee

bo sinclair

* he could care less about nudity. he grew up with brothers, louisiana is hotter than hell. he gets it. however…

* he sees you half naked in any context and his mind is already going two hundred miles an hour into everything he wants to do to you. zero filter zero hesitation.

* assuming you’re already asleep, he’s not going to act on those thoughts. but he’s definitely chewing his lip and gripping the front of his jeans like the pervert he is.

* when you groan and twist around on top of the sheets, something changes, though.

* he’s still imagining himself pressed up on you. but he’s thinking more about how your legs would feel tangled up with his own.

* the twin pumping of your hearts. the feel of your breath fanning across his chest. each other’s hands curled up into one another so hard that his knuckles get sore.

* he wants the marks he leaves on you to be not from his tools, his pliers or his tape or his knife, but from him. his skin on yours. the pressure of your weight on him.

* you wake when he drops his belt and it clinks loudly in the little bedroom. there’s a mild panic in your expression that makes his chest twinge.

* but when he slips into bed and you shift to press the entire length of your body against him. when you fit your chin over his shoulder and hook a leg over his hip. when your breathing returns to the slow in, pause, out.

* that night he dreams of the usual things. his parents, the tourists, the museum. but also of you. just you.

* you making breakfast

* you sitting on the back porch

* you laying with your head in his lap

* for the first night in a very long time, bo sinclair sleeps peacefully.

vincent sinclair

* you’d been wandering around the basement all day in an effort to stay cool, but all the hot wax made it fruitless. eventually you’d vanished upstairs to one of the empty bedrooms.

* he comes up to find you later on, finally peeling off his sweater and tying his hair back for a moment of relief.

* he walks into the bedroom and freezes at the threshold.

* you look straight from a botticelli painting. you look like Bouguereau. you look like Picou and Matisse and Klimt

* you look cut from marble and silk cloth, crystal and soft earth and sun

* you look like sky and sweet and home and being held and warm breath and moving water.

* his breath hitches when the bed creaks under his weight.

* he counts. you breathe two, three, four long lungfuls of the cool blue night air. then you reach up at him.

* vincent gathers you in his arms like you’re quicksilver. like you’re going to dissolve through the bed and deep into the earth if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. like he’ll die without you.

* (he’s convinced he might)

thomas hewitt

* he’s wracked with guilt when he first walks in on you asleep without all your clothes on. Luda Mae taught him better than this.

* but… you’re in his bed.

* he has half the mind to go sleep on the couch, but the heat would be even worse downstairs.

* he says a quick prayer for forgiveness and walks in with his eyes averted and does his best to go about his business getting ready for bed.

* he himself usually sleeps in just a shirt and boxers, but for whatever reason, you doing the same feels… intimate. you’re not exposed in that way, but at the same time, it’s still vulnerable.

* after standing (looming) over the bed for longer than is probably appropriate, he eases himself into bed beside you.

* his eyes wander to the tender apex of your thighs, admiring the soft flesh usually hidden from sight

* you adjust in your sleep, rolling to your back. he watches the lengths of muscle in your legs flex, then relax. your shirt rides up somewhat, revealing more supple skin

* he squeezes his eyes shut and leans back. he shouldn’t be taking advantage of the situation like this. if he has any respect for you, he should be showing it here.

* he tucks his hands underneath his legs for good measure and examines the speckled darkness behind his eyelids until sleep finds him.

* naturally, he wakes up the next morning with you on top of him.

* your head is turned to the side, your ear to his chest. your limbs have fallen to either side of him, but his shirt is clutched tight in one of your hands.

* where your skin meets his, he doesn’t feel the usual startling, crackling sensation of being touched without warning.

* he just feels warm. weight. the pink mark on the side of your face where you’ve been pressed against him makes his mouth twitch with a smile.

[nattikay]

...hmm...just thinkin' about an Avatar "no angst" AU, y'know, like an AU where the characters who died in the first movie just...didn't? For example...

• Tsu'tey and Sylwanin are both alive and well. They officially tied the knot not long after the point when Sylwanin would've died in canon, and already have a child together by the time Jake arrives on Pandora.

• Eytukan also lives and therefore he and Mo'at are still leading the clan, though of course Tsu'tey and Sylwanin are next in line.

• Because the schoolhouse incident never happened in this AU, Grace was never kicked out of the village; her school is still running and she is on good terms with the Omatikaya.

• The RDA is overall less psychotic than they are in canon, and the Avatar Program has been largely successful in establishing diplomacy with the local clans. There is still some level of tension between the humans and the Na'vi of course, because the humans are ultimately still there to mine unobtainium and the Na'vi would prefer there was no mining at all, but in this AU the RDA is at least principled enough to not do things like bulldoze the Tree of Voices or bomb Hometree etc. (so, Hometree is still standing). Jake was never asked to spy on the Na'vi.

• Grace is actually the one to introduce Jake to Neytiri when she brings Jake and Norm along to the school one day. Neytiri is intrigued by the goofy non-scientist "warrior" dreamwalker and Jake finds himself equally intrigued by her; they begin spending more and more time together, and when Jake expresses curiosity about her way of life Neytiri just naturally kinda takes it upon herself to teach him the ways of the clan.

• Because Neytiri is neither tsakarem nor engaged to Tsu'tey in this AU, her romance with Jake is not quite as ~forbidden~ as it was in canon (and honestly they make zero effort to hide their feelings; the whole clan knows lol). The only remaining barrier is the fact that he's a dreamwalker and how that may affect things.

• Jake and Neytiri fall head over heels for each other about as fast as they do in canon; after three months Jake is already fully convinced that he wants remain with Neytiri and the clan for the rest of his life rather than ever go back to Earth, where there is nothing left for him. Even getting the spinal surgery to fix his legs no longer holds any interest for him, since of course his avatar body can walk just fine.

• By that point Neytiri begs Mo'at and Eytukan to let Jake do the coming-of-age ceremonies and become part of the clan so they can become mates. Mo'at and especially Eytukan are hesitant, but Mo'at consults Eywa and Eywa sends a sign of approval, so they allow it. Jake spends about an extra month preparing more specifically for Iknimaya and Uniltaron, and soon after completing those he and Neytiri actually get to have a proper mating ceremony. Jake does go through the permanent consciousness transfer at some point, though I haven't yet come up with the exact circumstances there...

• The Sully kids get to have more extended family! Grandpa Eytukan, Uncle Tsu'tey, and Aunt Sylwanin are all still around, along with a handful of cousins (Tsu'tey's and Sylwanin's kids).

• Quaritch never shot Grace in this AU, which means she never had to undergo the attempted consciousness transfer, which means Kiri wasn't conceived the way she was in canon. Buuuuuut I still want Kiri as part of the Sully family, so in this AU she is Jake and Neytiri's biological daughter and Neteyam's twin. She doesn't have the special Eywa powers that she has in canon, but does still have a spiritually-minded personality, and is a strong candidate for next tsakarem after Sylwanin. Grace still adores and dotes on her, especially when she shows interest in botany.

• Norm and Trudy are happy in a long-term relationship.

• There was no Battle at the Hallelujah Mountains, therefore Paz didn't die and was still around to raise Spider (undecided on how involved Quaritch was though).

• I like to imagine that in this AU Paz and Trudy are good friends, both being pilots and all. It's through Trudy that Paz and Spider become involved with folks from the Avatar program and Spider meets the Sully kids.

• Because she doesn't have the RDA-related traumas she has in canon, Neytiri is totally chill with Spider in this AU. She is mostly just curiously amused by the strange little human boy running around with his Na'vi friends.

• Spider is semi-trilingual English/Spanish/Na'vi. English is his go-to since everyone he knows can speak it, but he can also do some Spanish (Paz and maybe Trudy's influence) and quite a lot of Na'vi (Omatikaya influence, though Norm was thrilled to help when he caught wind that Spider was interested in learning). Sometimes he (subconsciously) mixes up a combination of any two or even all three and spews out mishmash sentences no one else understands immediately and has to stop and re-word.

• Because Quaritch is not the Big Bad Evil Guy the way he is in canon, Spider isn't really bothered by being called Miles. However, the nickname "Spider" somehow just stuck when he was very young so most people still call him that; it's mostly just Paz (and Quaritch) who call him Miles.

• Jake is not Toruk Makto in this AU, because with the RDA being more cooperative/less aggressive, he never needed to be. He and Neytiri are just normal (albeit well-liked/respected) hunters in the clan. Perhaps eventually a day will come when Toruk Makto is needed and Jake will have some reason to step up...but not yet. He's perfectly content being just a regular clan member.

• This has the side-effect of lessening Neteyam and Lo'ak's dramatic stunts as teenagers, because the legacy they're trying to live up to is simply "strong respectable hunter" rather than "legendary olo'eyktan Toruk Makto"

[junicult]

synopsis ; the aftermath of going days without seeing your boyfriend.

contains ; suggestive. mostly fluff tho (shocking). gn!reader, but fem in mind. established relationship — dating. drabble. reader is very desperate lol. i need harvey. this might be literate to me only. sorta proofread, i’ll look over it later.

note ; forgive me…….again……………….again.

you’re not surprised you even had the dream in the first place. it’s been nearly a week since you’ve last had sex. and it’s been days since you’ve seen him.

no wonder your subconscious is wanton. you’re more sexually-frustrated than you’ve been since you were single. unfortunately, you’ve never been able to finish due to a sex dream, so that only adds to the indelicacy of the way you handle your plants today.

to put it simply; you’re a bitch today. cursing random things that get in your way, walking around town barely throwing items at the applicants and leaving with no other word.

you’ll feel guilt later. you just can’t get this one thing out of your mind.

you detour, (is it even a detour if you knew you’d find your way here at some point in the day?) bursting into clinic as if you own the place. the air conditioning blows the pulled pieces of your ponytail, cooling your sticky skin.

the discrepancy of storming in hardly goes noticed by the woman behind the counter, nose deep in a book like usual while she waits for appointments or someone to shop. she’s used to you coming in like this, more or less.

“hey maru.” you bore, hardly sparing her a glance.

“hey farmer.” she doesn’t even have to look up, she already knows who you’re here for.

you push past the swing doors to where you know your boyfriend sits, examining files you have zero interest in (not that he’d even let you peek.) your steps are harsh, leaving a trail of dirt or something you have no care in at the moment but most-likely will later. you might even offer to mop if it’s too bad.

you push open the door to find just what you were expecting; you’re achingly handsome boyfriend with his neat brown hair, paired with his lab-coat and stethoscope as always. he’s hunched at the desk, deep “in the zone” as he would say, until your disruption has him swinging around to face the door.

only to visibly relax when he sees it’s you, and in turn pulls a smile on his previously scrunched face.

“oh! what a pleasant surprise, i was just thinking about yo—“

“you need to fuck me tonight.” you state, before the door was even shut and loud enough maru could’ve heard—a possibility that has him wincing. “y’know, if you’d like. that’d be great.”

god, seeing him only makes it worse. you want to kiss him, all over if you could. you want to grab his collar, pull him up from this tiny, squeaky office chair and press him against the wall, feel his hands, his lips, anything you can grasp—

“what?” he hesitates. his eyes pinch with concern you disregard as you step closer.

“harvey,” you whine, “i just needed to see you. oh my god, i don’t like going days without seeing you.”

he’s stunned, but his heart swoons before his brain even registers what you’re saying. though his lips seem to think before he does, accepting your own like a magnet when you press into him.

he never minds a quick peck when he’s in the office or in uniform. and he’s never been one to turn down your affections, but at this moment you’re kissing him like you only do at home. you’re stealing his breath, fingers feathering through the back of his hair, nails scratching at his scalp in the way you always do before eventually lowering to your knees and going on with what makes him the most relaxed.

you know what you’re doing, he knows you know what you’re doing. and he also knows you’re well aware of time and place, and unfortunately for you—this will never be the place.

“what’s gotten into you?” he suspires, the action causing you to pull away with a sigh.

you have to force your gaze away from his crooked glasses and puffy lips. “i had a dream about you last night. now i’m pissed off.”

“because of me?”

“because we haven’t had sex in like, a week.” you groan, breathlessly, “i miss you.”

you could almost feel embarrassed. almost, if you didn’t already know you were stroking his ego; a task you love to do mostly because it never makes him cocky it just makes him more confident. and you love him the most when he’s feeling good about himself.

he stays mostly silent for a moment, basking in this declaration of love (lust) from you. he blinks with puppy dog eyes—you’ve always loved how much larger they get under his thick lenses.

“…all because you had a dream about me?”

you sulk, giving him a short glower. “not all because. we haven’t even seen each other since monday.”

“i know, i’m well aware. i’ve missed you too,” he nods and offers a small smile. “want to tell me what your dream was about?”

you frown, absentmindedly circling your thumb on his polyester shoulder.

“it was dirty.” you murmur.

he lets out a huff of air through his nose, already assuming as much. the confirmation feels nice however, and he purses his lips as his cheeks grow crimson.

it’s flattering knowing you think about him the same he does to you. or maybe, it easies the guilt when he wakes up the next morning.

“you were doing things…that you’re really good at…that i really miss,” you drop your butt and cup your knees like a spoiled child, subtly whining as if neglected. you almost feel like it too, which you know isn’t purposeful. he’d spend every waking moment with you if he didn’t have his own obligations.

you look up at him with a pout, almost defeated. “please come over. i’ll make you dinner.”

“honey,” he laughs, acquainted with a warm flush across his cheeks that he wears handsomely, “you never have to bribe me to see you. although i’ll gladly accept if you’re offering. what time will you be finished with work?”

“what time will you be finished?”

“probably around 5:30 today. i can come by afterwards, if you’ll be done?”

you grin, shooting back up. “i will be. i’ll make you the best dinner ever. you’ll never want to go two and a half days without seeing me ever again in your life.”

“i never wanted to to begin with!”

[seeingivy]

i hate it here

phd student eren x f!reader

**part of my canary mate fic

previous part linked here

--

eren’s doorbell rings an hour early. 

haunting, considering the fact that gabi could barely bring herself to be on time in the first place. he noted that it was a particularly plucky habit of hers – one that took him infinitely long to get used to – but one that he found a very creative solution for. 

he thought it was a little bit dramatic at first, asking her to come pick him up from his apartment at six in the morning. it felt a little less dramatic when she still showed up at seven fifteen, just in time to drive the two of them to the hospital. 

when he swings open the door, it makes complete sense. it’s not gabi at all, which he probably should have been able to guess.

hell would have to freeze over before she made it anywhere on time.

“falco.” eren states. 

“good morning, eren! i brought you a coffee.” 

falco should have no reason to know where he lives, and maybe more keenly, no reason to be at the place that he lives. he notes that despite the absence, gabi’s beaten down honda civic is still half parked in the driveway – and if her tints weren’t so dark – he figured he’d be able to see her half asleep in the front seat too. 

the odd thing about falco was that he always seemed to be unwaveringly nervous whenever eren interacted with him. though he imagined that falco must feel like that most of the time, since he seems to be so overly attached to his tethers that it must have felt debilitating to feel alone.

eren figured it was why he was more antsy than usual. falco was far too attached to the comfort that you and gabi seemed to always provide him.  

“i didn’t realize you knew where i lived.” eren states. 

“gabi told me. she drove me here, she’s just in the car.” 

eren narrows his eyes. 

“let me rephrase. i didn’t realize you would invite yourself to where i live. at six in the morning.”

falco gives him an awkward laugh, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck, as eren sighs and gestures for him to walk inside. falco seems relieved in the slightest – his mannerisms irritatingly all too familiar – as he tries to wave at gabi from the car. 

“is she coming?” eren asks. 

“uh…yeah. she’ll… just..just give her a second.”  

eren pauses. 

“she’s just going to sit out there. alone?” 

“yes. she’s…having a weird day. and she’s on the phone.” 

eren shrugs. when is she not having a weird day? 

falco follows behind him, almost dragging his feet across the hardwood floors, before settling into one of the spare chairs at his kitchen table. 

“i wanted to talk to you about something.” falco states. 

“well, i gathered you weren’t coming here for breakfast.” eren jests. 

falco gives him an awkward smile, rubbing the palms of his hands against the length of his thighs, before he – what eren assumes – musters the courage to talk again. 

“i apologize for coming without any notice. i actually hadn’t planned on coming at all, but gabi kind of masterminded this whole plan so i could talk to you. you know how she is.” 

eren fights the urge to smile. 

“all too well. what is it?” 

“i wanted to talk to you again. about my brother.” 

eren sighs. he hated shooting people down like this.

“i already said what i did before. i would love to help you but…” 

“i brought his updated scans. and i cross checked all the materials that y/n gave me, he…he does qualify to participate.” 

eren notes that you had to be in on this plan to corner him. that it probably gave him zero points with you that he hadn't agreed on the first ask.

“i know that he does. my concern is a conflict of interest. i don’t want you to get your hopes up that your brother is going to walk again or not be as tired if he participates in my study, or something.” 

falco pinches his lips in a line. 

“he can walk. and he…he doesn’t get tired, he just doesn’t remember who i am.” 

eren pauses. 

“what?” 

“he got into a car accident almost a month ago. he was fine but they did some surgery since he hit his head. i don’t know if it happened before or after but he doesn’t remember anything from before. he can make new memories, he just…can’t remember the old ones. there’s nothing that they can really do for him.” 

falco places a manilla folder on the table, filled with sets of translucent scans, that eren’s keen to look at – for curiosity sake. 

there was no way that he could accept falco’s brother as a participant. not when falco was so deeply involved, which meant that gabi was too. by proxy, he was sure that some protective instinct would kick into your hard drive as well if you were as involved as he thought – which meant that any mistake that he made would be credited to him and him alone. 

and he would get caught in the crossfire from three directions. 

“it’s the one region that you have missing. and he’s one of the younger ones in the participant pool so it could give you more data regarding age and effects of the treatment.” 

eren squints his eyes. 

“how many times did gabi make you rehearse that one? 

“twice. i also wrote it down on my hand in case i forgot.” falco responds, lifting his hand to reveal the black ink on his palm. 

eren smiles, flipping in between the scans to the detailed report at the end. 

“i’m sure she’s waiting in the car to give me a lecture.” eren states. 

“as backup. she has one more card up her sleeve.” falco states. 

“i’m sure this is a great use of her time. spending her paid work hours to find ways to coerce me.” eren states. 

falco smiles. 

“she’s just very passionate about the subject. she really wants to see a patient in the younger age pool.” 

eren laughs. 

“i’m sure that she is.” eren states. 

eren places the scans back down on the table, utterly intrigued and somewhat hopeful, but able to cross the mark. 

he couldn’t give false hope to someone that he knew or irreparably break an interest in research that eren personally had no affinity for. 

“falco, i would love to but…” 

“can i ask you a question?”

eren leans back, crossing his arms across his chest, before giving him a nod. 

“do you really believe in your hypothesis?” falco asks. 

“what?” 

“do you really think that stimulating the neurons enough can get them to kind of kickstart and start functioning again?” 

“in theory. there’s promising research behind it. i certainly didn’t come up with it out of nowhere.” eren responds. 

falco nods. 

“i know it seems like i’m talking this very lightly. just suggesting my brother participate because i know that he qualifies for the experiment and he just got injured but…but trust me.” 

falco pauses. 

“erwin has a lot of faith in you. gabi knows how much work you’ve put into this, how you…you love to work with patients and people. even y/n vouched for you. the only reason i want him to participate is because it’s your study. and i trust you too.” 

eren restrains himself for asking more about the gleaming recommendations that everyone seemed to give him. though, he was curious about some more than others. 

“i appreciate that. and that you think the study will work, it’s...” eren starts

“i’m just asking you to give him a chance. i would never think to blame you when you’re the one doing us a favor by letting him participate. and even if it doesn’t work, i would only be grateful to you. i know you can’t might not understand what it’s like to have someone not remember you but…” 

all eren can think about is sweet golden eyes going cold. that the main thing that made eye contact or looking into the eyes of someone he loved warm was that they were softening to him in recognition.

unbeknownst to falco, of course, eren knew the feeling all too well. it’s the only reason that, on impulse, he was inclined to say yes. the despeate look in falco's eyes.

eren imagined that he looked the same when he feels so helpless too. 

“okay. i’ll bring him in for all the screening questionnaires and preliminarily accept him for now. if i see any glaring red flags that bar him from participation, i will remove him for his own safety.” 

falco’s eyes light up. 

“really?” 

“you made a striking case. gabi’s played her cards well.” 

“oh thank god. and she didn’t even have to use her last one. i’m going to go get her.” 

eren sits puzzled as falco basically jumps out of his chair, screaming out the window of the kitchen into the quiet calm of the neighborhood. his hollering is reciprocated with three honks.

and it makes complete sense to him what gabi had intended to do when she wounds up at the door. with falco’s brother on the doorstep. 

eren takes the quiet second that falco’s ushering him in to berate her. 

“you were going to guilt trip me by watching his brother not remember him in front of my face?” eren whispers. 

“you’re a softie. i knew i wouldn’t have to do all that.” gabi responds. 

“then why did you bring him?” eren asks. 

gabi gives him a peachy, almost innocent smile. 

“insurance! which speaking of…i have another proposition to discuss with you.” gabi responds. 

--

right on the dot at eight am, there’s three consecutive knocks on your cubicle. 

you look up from your laptop to find eren, accompanied with a set of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and his red-rimmed eyes staring at you. 

the glasses were an abnormal sight; from the amount of time you’ve spent glaring at him, you’ve noted that he almost always gives preference to his contacts. the frames never become less unsettling, but it’s only because they’re almost always accompanied with the red eyes. 

like a vampire. 

your split second pause at his appearance causes him to knock again, but this time he opts to push his head closer to you as he looks over at your laptop screen in efforts to see what’s causing the delay. you can feel the slight edge of panic – of the canary mate website tab open all the way on the right – as you slam your computer shut and glare at him. 

“can i help you, eren?” you ask. 

“i highly doubt that you would have any special skills that i would need to request.” eren states. 

you pinch your lips into a line. so sharp, even in the morning. 

“then why am i being graced with your presence so early in the morning?” you ask. 

eren rolls his eyes, scrunching his nose up in the slightest, as he pulls out his phone. 

eren doesn’t have the same problem that you do – as he took his due diligence of keeping his online pen pal a secret very seriously – which in his case, included muted notifications every time he set foot into the research lab. 

connie was nosy, jean was irritating, and you were always around. his efforts were merely precautionary measures to protect himself and his sweet secret exactly as it was – a secret. 

“it seems that my horrendous car luck has passed on to gabi.” he states, as slides onto the screenshot in his images. 

you snort. 

“you’re like a virus.” you state. 

eren glares. 

“if only it had passed on to you instead of her.” he responds. 

you roll your eyes, before swiveling over to face him properly. 

“can you get to the point? you have a really roundabout way of talking. it feels like you can never get to your point, eren.” 

it was a low blow. the exact criticism that eren had received from erwin earlier this morning at the lab meeting. 

“something that must have rubbed off on me from you, i’m sure. next thing i know, i’m going to start leaving spelling errors in my grant applications.” eren seethes. 

you seethe. eren always knew how to dish it back. you were convinced that he only listened during lab meeting to hear the criticism you received ��� just so he could throw it back in your face later. 

and find a way he did. 

“can you just get to the point, eren?” you ask. 

eren hands his phone over to you, the screenshot of four pinned locations on the map. 

“i have been made aware that you have a preference for carpooling in the morning with either falco or sasha.” 

“that’s correct.” 

“between our research team, only two of us possess vehicles now. we marked out all the locations and it seems that it is more time and cost effective if falco arranges his ride with gabi and i arrange my ride with you. i live two streets down from your apartment.” 

you give him a sly smile. 

“i thought you highly doubted that there were any special skills that i could provide to you.” 

“driving is hardly a special skill.” eren retorts. 

“it is when you don’t have a car. and need to rely on someone else to give you one.” you goad. 

eren sighs. you swivel back towards your computer, slowly opening up the computer and quickly shutting the tab all the way on the right and pulling up the maps. 

“i suppose i have to oblige. and while it is time and cost effective, there is a third, and more superior motive, for falco and gabi.” you respond. 

eren raises his eyebrows. 

“there is?” 

you scoff. 

“are you blind? they like each other. riding together means they get more alone time.” 

eren rolls his eyes, as leans properly into your cubicle this time, hunching over the back of your chair to be level with your line of sight. you note that his cheek is inches away from brushing yours – that the smell of his cologne is very strong – as he offers the address to his apartment. 

“that’s hardly a superior motive. cost and time are more important than something as frivolous as that.” 

“it’s not frivolous to them. though, i understand it can be hard to relate to when you don’t understand the feeling.” 

eren scoffs. 

“and you do?” 

no you don’t. at least not right now. at least not in a way that people understood anyways. 

“i might.” 

“no you don’t. connie talks, far too often. if you had a partner, we’d all be aware of it. and knowing you, he’d be just as irritating as the blonde that sasha brings around.” 

you quickly type in the address that eren provided, as you note the route from your street to his. 

“niccolo isn’t irritating.” 

sometimes he was. 

“is he not the reason you spilled coffee all over yourself two weeks ago?” eren asks. 

“no. he wasn’t.” you state. 

according to sasha and niccolo, he was. 

“irritating is the wrong word for it. he’s an…acquired taste. i don’t wish ill towards him at all, it’s just that his demeanor can be a little much as time. as is sasha’s.” eren starts. 

you seethe. did he really think you wouldn’t report back to them with every word that he said? 

“they’re just –” 

“i doubt the sincerity of their enthusiasm all the time. can someone really be so lively at all times? though in my case, that most definitely reflects more on me as a person than it does on them.” 

you pause. you pause because you’d had that same exact thoughts – not once or twice, but almost on a daily basis. it’s just that it was coming out of eren’s mouth now.  

you pause because eren does, almost frozen at your side, inching towards brushing his cheek against yours, as he shoots up, standing straight behind you. eren clears his throat, entirely dismissing the comment that he just shared, as he sticks his hands in his pockets. 

“i can walk to your house so you can avoid the drive. i usually pick up coffee from play in the mornings so i can either compensate you for the gas through a latte or just cash.” 

you can’t help but snort. 

“are you offering to buy me coffee?” 

you squint your eyes at him. 

“were you dropped as a kid? you can’t just accept the offer as it is?” eren asks. 

there it was. he was back to normal. 

“i’ll take the latte. but i’ll drive you there. it’s supposed to rain. wouldn’t want you to look unprofessional.” 

eren glares. 

“that’s more time required together than necessary.” 

you roll your eyes. did he need to be so persistent in his hatred of you? 

“that’s more of a hazard for me than it is for you. because of your car virus. and your godawful personality, of course.” 

eren gives you a pinched smile. 

“i appreciate it, y/n. i’ll see you tomorrow morning.” 

there’s barely even a hint of earnestness in his voice. 

the message pops up almost the second he leaves. 

[busstopbilly]: I hate it here. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: so you’ll go to secret gardens in my mind? 

[busstopbilly]: That was a statement. Not a quote from The Tortured Poets Department: The Anthology. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: did your sister like the album :D 

[busstopbilly]: She prefers the standard edition. I like the Anthology. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: because you are a poet trapped inside the body of a finance guy? 

[busstopbilly]: You could say that. 

[busstopbilly]: Except, I hate finance. 

[busstopbilly]: Not too keen on poetry. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: hilarious

[lizontopoftheworld]: but really. what is it? 

[busstopbilly]: My sister is visiting. It seems that I poured her micellar water (whatever that is) into my contacts case instead of the solution last night. It seems whatever it is, it has gone to my brain and caused me to overshare – particularly too much – with one of my peers. That and the fact that two of my peers showed up to my house at six in the morning with a proposition that I’ve hesitantly agreed upon, though I’m not sure if I did the right thing. 

[busstopbilly]: It’s definitely not water, by the way. It burned. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: OH EW 

[lizontopoftheworld]: GROSS

[lizontopoftheworld]: micellar water is like makeup remover. so it definitely had chemicals and stuff in it…

[lizontopoftheworld]: are you blind :O 

[busstopbilly]: Quite the contrary. I just wore my glasses instead, though my eyes are slightly pink still. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: glasses :O 

[busstopbilly]: ? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: I am slowly collecting an image of you in my mind based off of things that you have told me. green eyes and glasses (sometimes). that’s all i’m going on. 

[busstopbilly]: So close. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: and we all overshare. who gaf they probably won’t even remember. and i’m sure you made the right decision. 

[busstopbilly]: Oh trust me. She’ll remember what I said. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: wallflower…? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: :D 

[busstopbilly]: Shut up. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: remember when u had a crush on wallflower and stalked her entire life before she came to ur program 

[lizontopoftheworld]: lol 

[lizontopoftheworld]: heheheheheheheh

[lizontopoftheworld]: BRO RESPOND I SWEAR TO GOD 

[busstopbilly]: I don’t have a crush on her anymore. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: yes yes i recall im just saying its FUNNY 

[busstopbilly]: I don’t see the humor. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i’m an acquired taste. 

[busstopbilly]: I’m well aware. 

[busstopbilly]: Just my type actually. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: lame. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i basically set that one up 

[busstopbilly]: And you still liked it. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: true 

[busstopbilly]: :)  

--

focus group is the best day of the week. 

the focus group is simple; you, eren, falco, and gabi interview all the participants every week and monitor their baseline levels and compare them as you continue through the treatment.  

it starts out that way, but mostly ventures into all four of you staying late to converse with the patients. it’s outside of the parameters, but something that almost everyone – the group of you included – turn your nose away from because it gives the patients something other to do than just sitting around alone when you leave. 

“do you have a boyfriend, gabi?” 

nanaba loved to get up close and personal. 

it was something that you noted the first day you met her, when she lingered around after the focus group to ask you why you seemed to look at eren with such disdain. a rather polite way of asking why the two of you were glaring daggers at each other, but more keenly, something she was clearly nosy about but ready to soothe away with the age old wisdom she seemed and wanted to impart in every sentence. 

“the real question is do you want a boyfriend? i’m sure that we could find one for you tomorrow.” 

shadis loved to get up close and personal too. a nicer way to describe meddling, but you knew that he was always well-meaning at heart. 

and at least he was more in touch with your suspicions about falco and gabi then eren was. 

“are you going to go get me one from the store?” gabi asks, earning her a smile from eren, who was glued to the wall and finishing checking off all the signatures from the paperwork. 

“why would i need to go to the store? i have a perfectly normal one for you right here.” shadis responds, pointing to falco who goes immediately pink in the face. 

“oh, now you’re just embarrassing him.” marco states. 

marco bodt was the youngest of the group and the final edition to this pool after falco’s brother. 

he was barely twenty-one and with irreparable damage to the right side of his body that impaired most of his motor functions. a similar mechanism to colt, marco was crushed under the metal of his car on the way to the grocery store – he may have survived but he was never the same after. 

and seemingly because of it, filled with an over-exerting amount of kindness. but you have a hunch that he was just always like that. the pacifist. 

you walk over to the end of the table to where colt is sitting, rather stifly against the back of his chair, with his hands folded directly on the table. the first three focus group he had been to were admittedly overwhelming, but it felt like he was having a hard time adjusting to the dynamics there. 

especially after he failed almost all the diagnostic tests that were done after the treatment. he was always more receptive at the start, but a quiet shell by the time you were all done. 

falco didn’t take it very well. 

“hi colt.” 

he gives you a halfhearted smile, his eyes still trained on falco and gabi arguing a few feet away from the two of you, the fight being mediated by eren and his plastic clipboard. 

“hi y/n.” he responds. 

“how was the session today?” 

colt sighs. 

“standard.” 

“you know, if you would prefer to do this one on one, i can always arrange for you and me to discuss what’s been going on at another time.” 

colt shakes his head. 

“that would worry falco. if i wanted to hide something from him.” 

despite not being able to remember him, it seemed to be the only thing that colt cared about. and one of the only reasons that you were convinced that he was still in there – that you could get him back if you tried hard enough.  

“well, we’re not worrying about falco. my main concern is you and what makes you comfortable, so if you prefer to answer questions about everything that’s been going on without him present, i can work something out.” 

you pause. 

“without him knowing.”  you add. 

colt gives you a halfhearted shrug, but you can tell that the idea is simmering behind his almost hazel eyes. 

“i can tell he gets upset when i don’t get the questions right. i try harder than i should to remember but i’m unsure if that messes up things on your ends if i…i feel this pressure when i’m doing all your tests.” 

you look across the room, locking eyes with eren who seems to already be watching, as you gesture for him to join you. and he obliges, quick and quiet as falco and gabi are still being harassed by the lot of them, and crouches down. 

“i want to remember my brother. probably even more than him because every interaction i have makes me feel like everyone has something over me, but i just…i just can’t.” 

eren gives you a questioning look. 

“everything okay?” eren asks. 

“i was just discussing with colt here that maybe we could ask his screening questions in private. sans falco and gabi maybe.” you murmur. 

“i see. anything that makes you comfortable, colt.” eren offers. 

eren’s swift with it, leaning against the chair between the two of you, and with a surprisingly soft smile. 

“i want you to do this to the best of your ability. eren and i just want to do this in a way that makes you feel comfortable.” you offer. 

eren seems to give you a nudging look, green eyes beaming into yours, as he catches the hint. 

“every time it doesn’t work, it gives me a better idea of where to try next. i’ll get the right spot eventually and while it feels like the work is exhaustive right now, it’s narrowing down what’s going to work for you. please know that everything that you do, even the mistakes, tell me and y/n a lot about where we can move forward with this.” 

colt sighs, almost like he’s taking a thoughtful second to consider it over.

“i just hate disappointing him. he wouldn’t know…if i wanted to do it with just the two of you?” colt asks. 

“not a word.” you affirm. 

“don’t tell gabi either. they’re basically attached at the hip – i doubt she would be able to keep it in with the big crush she has on him.” colt jokes. 

you smile, reaching to elbow eren in the side. he rolls his eyes, giving you a steely glare, as you turn back to colt. 

“eren doesn’t see it. i have now proven him wrong by the majority.” 

“about falco and gabi? oh, it’s obvious. he’s like bright pink every time they talk to each other.” colt jokes. 

you turn to eren and smile. 

“eren’s just painfully oblivious.” you state. 

eren gives you a snide smile before glaring at you in full. you swear that he’s fighting the urge to smile when you laugh at him. 

“something the two of you have in common.” colt responds. 

you give colt a confused look, which finally breaks eren’s silence and makes him laugh, as he gestures for the two of you to join him back at the main group. eren can tell that gabi and falco are being teased enough, the two of them bright pink in the cheeks like colt mentioned, as he leans against gabi. 

“alright. we’re all done for the day.” eren states. 

“as if. we just started talking about this in seriousness. don’t be ridiculous, eren.” nanaba states. 

“don’t be a hard ass. you can stay for thirty more minutes.” shadis adds. 

eren gives them a smile. 

“while i would love to, i do fear the resident doctor will, for a better lack of terms, be a hard ass and make us leave.” 

they all groan. 

“not forester.” nanaba groans. 

floch forester was the resident physician on wednesdays. the only downside to focus group was making his acquaintance every week, checking through the charts under his jurisdiction and checking out with him at the end. 

it was hard to pick one thing about him that was irritating. he was exceedingly arrogant when he explained things to you and eren – always giving the impression that he believed the two of you were incompetent idiots who knew nothing about the topic at all. or just an irritating and agitating prick otherwise. 

“i heard him call y/n sweetheart last week.” colt mentions. 

there’s a resounding group of gasps as they all turn their heads to you, marco and nanaba’s eyes nearly boggling out of their heads as they basically gesture for you to confirm. 

“he was explaining the behavioral scales to me that we use in the grading. i told him there was no need and he responded by saying it’s not a problem sweetheart.” you offer. 

you shoot colt a glare, which he only responds to with a smile, as they all break out into their rather melodramatic responses. 

“we should have him fired, the prick why is he talking down to her like she didn’t have a job similar to this before?” shadis asked. 

“that’s inappropriate. you wouldn’t see him calling eren sweetheart. this is ridiculous.” nanaba adds. 

“if it makes you uncomfortable, i’m sure you could report it to someone, y/n.” marco offers. 

you laugh, waving your hands at them. 

“that would be unnecessary. i didn’t think much of it and i really don’t see him that often anyways.” 

eren turns to you and glares. 

“you see him every week. if he’s going to make weird comments, you don’t have to put up with it.” 

“i’d rather avoid the hassle.” you state. 

eren rolls his eyes, firmly crossing his arms over his chest. 

“it’s not a hassle. it’s borderline harassment. and with a guy like that, you have to nip things in the bud.” 

you roll your eyes. 

“it’s not that deep. every time i interact with him, someone is there with me. i’m a big girl and i can ignore it.” 

eren sighs. 

“you might be a big girl but you have to know you’re not the only girl he does that to. and if he’s not doing it to anyone else now, he definitely will later. you could just check him and put him in his place now. or better yet let me do it.” 

you shake your head. if there was one thing floch hated, it was eren telling him what to do. it would be better taste to nip that argument in the bud before it happened. 

“it’s fine, eren. if it escalates into something weird, i’ll tell you myself.” 

eren gives you a questioning look, almost like he doesn’t believe you, before eren turns back to the group of them. 

“i have a sneaking suspicion you won’t.” 

you give him a glare, before shaking him off and turning back to the group of them. eren seems to take the hint and follows your suit. 

“as always, y/n is a boring topic of conversation. i would love to go back to what we were discussing earlier. i was unaware of these predilections gabi and falco shared.” 

eren smiles, turning to where gabi is now giving him an irritated look while falco looks at you with pleading eyes. you shake your heads as shadis and nanaba return to talking about the beauties of love and relationships. eren waits for the conversation to get rowdy enough to the point where they’re arguing, which gives the two of you the time to slip away and turn in the documents to the front desk. 

“i can bring your stuff down if you want to bring the car around. i can also go get the car for you if you’re scared to walk in the dark.” eren offers. 

the kindness is strange. but you can tell it’s only transactional so he would have an excuse to fight with floch. 

“it’s barely sunset.” you state. 

eren shrugs. 

“there could be perverts in the parking lot.” 

the two of you note an unmistakable head of red hair walking down the hallway and internally groan. 

“i’d argue that they’re actually inside.” you murmur. 

you note that eren smiles as floch walks up to the two of you, his fists deep in his white coat as he gives you an almost synthetic smile. 

“jaeger. y/n. always a pleasure to see you. how are my patients?” floch asks. 

“requesting a new doctor. desperately.” eren states. 

you note that floch’s eye twitches, but still offers a fake peachy smile. 

“you have an interesting sense of humor, eren.” 

“i wasn’t joking.” eren deadpans. 

you can’t help but smile, as floch turns over to you. 

“and how are you, sweetheart?” 

“i’m fine.” 

eren signs, almost exasperatedly at your side, before talking. eren had an issue with keeping his thoughts to himself. but this was the first time that it worked in your favor. 

“it seems that we’ll be requesting a new doctor to work with too.” eren states. 

“and why is that?” 

“you’re borderline harassing my co-worker.” 

“harassing?” 

“she has a name. it’s y/n. it would be best practice for you to use it.” eren states. 

floch rolls his eyes, as he signs off on the paperwork at the top of the deck, that eren snatches from him just as fast. 

“she’s never corrected me.” floch states. 

“because i doubt you let her get a word in. she introduced herself to you as y/n. you should refer to her as such.” 

floch puts his hands up, almost jokingly like he’s guilty, and you can’t help but sneer at him. 

“sue me. i’m sorry, y/n. i will refrain. unless things ever change between us, of course.” 

you turn to eren, giving him a disgusted look, as he gestures for you to leave. you take the hint as such, hopping down the stairs and leaving the two of them to it as you rush towards the car. and two flights down, you feel the familiar buzz in your pocket. 

[busstopbilly]: I still hate it here. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: boo 

[lizontopoftheworld]: same lowk. everyday i become a bigger misandrist 

[busstopbilly]: Tell me about it. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: random tangent

[lizontopoftheworld]: how is your mom 

[busstopbilly]: The other day she was having a difficult time. Called me by my dad’s name.

[lizontopoftheworld]: ….

[lizontopoftheworld]: ouch

[busstopbilly]: Yeah. It is what it is. There’s some good days where she tries to tell me storeis she’s never told me before. It’s weird to think that they won’t be there at some point. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: yeah i’ve been thinking about that a lot. if it’s better if it goes all at once or if you…have to watch them go away

[lizontopoftheworld]: what do you think? 

[busstopbilly]: Biased, but watch them go away. It’s hard to have a good day sometimes and a bad day the next. My sister actually came to stay with me since she was having a rough time kind of dealing with the up and down. Emotionally. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: :( 

[lizontopoftheworld]: it’s hard when you’re a teenager

[lizontopoftheworld]: is your moms condition genetic? 

[busstopbilly]: Yeah. 

[busstopbilly]: It’s scary to think about sometimes. 

[busstopbilly]: I don’t want to forget you. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: lucky for us, every interaction we’ve ever had has been perfectly preserved. i’d read them all to you until you remembered. 

[busstopbilly]: You stole that from the Notebook. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: the thought still counts >:( 

[busstopbilly]: I can make an exception. Everything counts with you. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i really hope you don’t forget me either. 

[busstopbilly]: Well, I imagine that it would be insanely hard to do that. You’re basically scored on my heart, you know? 

[lizonotopoftheworld]: you stole that from me before you 

[busstopbilly]: The thought still counts. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: yeah yeah i'll make an exception or whatever

[lizontopoftheworld]: i will note that your impeccable memory of all the cheesy movies i have made you watch is a great sign :) 

[busstopbilly]: Very hopeful but I’ll have to agree on this one.

you look up from your phone when you hear the crunching of gravel, accompanied by eren walking up to the car and greeting you with a wave. you shove your phone in the pocket and abandon the conversation. 

“any pervert encounters?” 

“just you.” you state. 

“I could say the same.” eren responds, as he walks around to the side door and crawls into your front seat.

--

next part linked here

an: this is setup. I also haven't written in forever so its bad. sorry.

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