#literally do not feel obligated to read this. It is very VERY long

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

anniversary antics

pairing: joel miller x f! reader

cw/tags: pwp, breeding kink (literally that's the fic), unprotected p in v (duh), dirty talk, established relationship (they're happily married?!), not beta read, written in one evening

summary: literally breeding kink

wc: 1.3k words

You’d always heard that married couples don’t have sex very often. You’d been warned about these ‘dead bedrooms’ by friends of yours, read about it on the internet – it was basically common knowledge. 

Maybe there’s some truth to it, but you wouldn’t know because you married Joel Miller who gets older and sexier every day. Joel Miller, your husband who took you out to a nice dinner for your anniversary and sat across from you acting all polite and charming in his brand new suit, your husband who ripped your dress off the moment he got you through your front door. 

Now you lie naked under him, already disheveled and ready to take whatever he’ll give you. You’re face-to-face with the man who makes you weak like no other. You affect him equally, you drive him wild, fill him with a fiery need that surpasses all other desires.

Though it takes all of your mental fortitude to fight the pull of arousal, your sensible self still peeks through for a moment.

“Joel, I’m pretty sure I’m ovulating right now.”

Joel slips back into his serious, practical, typical demeanor easily. A completely different man from the one who was sucking marks into the taut skin of your neck just a moment ago.

“Okay. You want me to pull out or do you wanna use a condom?” he asks as if those are the only two options.

“We can do whatever you want.” You shouldn’t tell him what you want.

“It’s not just about me. It’s your body, baby.” He leans in and whispers his next words into the shell of your ear: “tell me what you want.”

His voice is low and commanding. It makes you nervous for all the wrong reasons. You should be worrying about the consequences of doing this while you’re ovulating, you should be assessing the risks, but you can only think of the reward. 

“I, uh- what if you didn’t do either of those things?”

“You mean you want me to cum inside you? Is that it?” He remains straight-faced, seemingly unfazed by something that’s been a kink you’ve kept secret for so long, believing it to be too taboo.

He’s not even inside you yet, he’s looming over you, skin barely ghosting over yours, but his words alone make you exhale a breathy moan, and he knows.

“You do want that, huh?” He gets that cocky grin on his face, proud of himself for figuring out what makes you tick, though it was hardly a mystery. 

One of his hands remains by your head, balancing himself above you while the other is wrapped around his dick as he drags the head along your folds.

You grip the pillow and turn your head to the side, burying your face in it, determined not to let him hear the sounds coming from your mouth right now.

“I know how bad you want it, baby, but I think she wants it even more than you do,” he says, focusing on your cunt, playing with it and reveling in the lewd sounds that come with every swipe of his tip along your slit. “Listen to that,” he says

He’s silent for a second, letting you hear the slick noises of your wetness.

“I need you to look at me, sweetheart.” He ceases his teasing between your legs and brings his hand up to your face to cup your chin.

Hesitant to meet his eyes but desperate to have him inside you, you give in and look at him.

“Baby, she’s cryin’ ‘cause she needs it so bad. Are we gonna give it to her?”

“Only if you want to.” Translation: yes, please.

His tone is deeper, voice thick with conviction, when he replies. “Baby, you have no idea how bad I want it.”

You shouldn’t be surprised, and yet you are.

“Gimme your hand,” he says. “I want you to feel how hard I am right now.”

You oblige, let him take your hand and guide you to wrap your palm around his cock. It twitches in your grasp. “I didn’t know it could get this hard,” you say.

“Only when I’m with you.”

You shift your hips while you hold his cock steady lining it up with your entrance. “Please,” you whine, gazing up into his eyes.

His answer isn’t verbal. He eases into you, letting you feel his length stroke your inner walls as he gradually presses himself deeper.

“It feels so good,” you moan. 

You wrap your arms around him, holding onto him like you’re afraid you’ll lose him.

“I know.” His voice is raspier now, barely hiding his own desperation. “Baby, just so you know, if you want me to stop-”

“-No! Don’t stop.” You wrap your legs around his hips, keeping him inside you, using your heels to force him even deeper.

He laughs – so much as one can when they’re running out of breath. “Or if you want me to pull out.” There’s a glint in his eye, he’s not ‘checking in with you’, he’s teasing you. “If you don’t want me to get you pregnant…”

On cue, your walls clench around him, betraying any facade of composure, and the smirk is already waiting on his face.

“I knew it,” he says. “You want me to get you knocked up, huh?”

In a haze, eyes half-lidded and empty of all thoughts but Joel getting you pregnant, you mumble in agreement, “uh-huh.”

“I could put a baby in you right now,” he says as if it’s some revelation. He continues to act flippant to tease you, but it’s getting to him too – you can hear it in his voice, rough and raspy.

The coil inside you tightens, so close to snapping, you can feel it. “Joel, I’m gonna cum.” It’s urgent, a warning, not a plea.

“Mm-hmm. You can cum for me. But I’m not gonna stop until I get you pregnant, baby.”

And that’s what brings you over the edge. Your walls clench around him, keeping him inside you, and your nails drag down his back, leaving marks, claiming him, knowing he’s about to make you his too.

You cum so hard you nearly scream but it’s all unintelligible aside from his name.

He doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath as he chases his own orgasm. All you can do is cling to him and sob out your pleas as you continue to soak the sheets.

“Look how deep I am, baby,” he says, eyeing the bulge his cock makes in your abdomen. “Gotta make sure I cum deep inside you if I wanna get you knocked up tonight.”

Joel’s not usually this talkative during sex. He’s the kind of guy to swear through gritted teeth and grunt with every thrust, but now, he’s talking dirty to you like he’s an expert. Like he’s practiced. Maybe in his head, he has. 

It’s the look on your face, the way you can’t seem to shake yourself out of your last orgasm while teetering on the edge of the next, the way you’re losing yourself to your own pleasure that spurs him on.

“You feel so good, baby. I’m getting’ real close.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah?” His hand snakes its way downward so that his thumb can circle your clit in time with his thrusts.

His hips falter and he cums deep inside you with a low groan. You’re so caught up in your own that you struggle to focus on him. You want to see him, but your eyes screw shut when the intense pleasure courses through you. You gush around him, leaving him equally as messy as he leaves you.

Basking in the post-orgasm bliss, you slowly regain your senses. 

“I could really be pregnant,” you say

“I doubt it,” he says. 

“Why’s that?”

“Just my intuition.” He shrugs and a small smile graces his lips before he adds, “but we can always try again.”

[winterarmyy]

Kiss It Better

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of. 

Summary: In which the reader refused to let Bucky go down on her lately because she's embarrassed of the chafing marks on her inner thighs.

Pairing: avenger!bucky x female!reader

Words: 3.2k++

Warnings: 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, cunnilingus, cum eating, soft fluff, not much of angst but there's sprinkles of feels, body insecurities, bucky is in love and in heat tbh, i think he is particularly unhinged and filthy in this one but hey, you tell me. idk if i need to remind y'all about this but english is not my first language so my grammar are prolly fucked. Anyway--

Inspiration: Guess who felt a little soft and decided to wear a skirt to work? Yup, that would be me. No, because I commute to work (or basically anywhere) and there is quite a distance of walking in between the journey. Note that your girl here walk fast asf (basically running at this point).  And because them inner thighs ain't got no gap between them, so i got myself some blisters/chafing :') then i fell into a self-deprecating despair for the whole day and it hurts whenever i walk, at that time i just want Bucky to kiss it better. Fast forward a few days later, here we are.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

She could feel it. His burning gaze following her every move. Observing, calculating. And she knew that must not show any signs of discomfort; not on her face nor from the slightest jolts of her hips. She must not gave him a reason to question her.

She can't.

So she continue walking around their room, back and forth from the bathroom to the wardrobe, as if every step she took was followed by a burning sensation on her skin. She momentarily stood in front of the row of clothes hanging on the rack, her back facing the bed where Bucky had been sprawling on since she went in for a shower.

Honestly, she was standing there suspiciously 'too long', as if she was choosing an outfit for a date night, when clearly she was just getting ready for bed. When she realized that, she quickly pulled out a clean set of pyjamas and walk back into the bathroom.

Bucky's eagle eyes followed her figure, disappearing behind the locked door. His lips pursed as his cogs of thoughts spins around, trying to find answer a question that his lover keeps avoiding but it was useless.

He can't think straight. Especially when he was undeniably famished. He had not got a taste of her his sweet pussy for about 2 weeks now and he was quite literally about lose his fucking mind. 

When his sweetgirl refuses to go further than kissing and making out, of course he obliged. She has every right to 'no' and he respects her wishes. Then it happened again the next day. And the next. Then again, and again. 

Normally, people would've assumed that maybe she was on her period, and she is not comfortable having any sexual intimacy when menstruating. But, Bucky can tell that, that was not it. Because first of all, it was way too early for that time of the month, he knows her schedule.l very well. Second of all, he would've smell the blood if she was on her period.

Most of his senses are enhanced after all.

So, why was she avoiding it?

Bucky's is completely fine if sex was not something she wanted to do, but not even letting him eat her out? Now that's concerning. At least for him.

Because he needs her. He needs to suck on that needy little clit of hers, make it wet and swollen. He needs to lap on that sweet juices when she cums on his tongue.

Fuck. He's getting all work up now, thinking about it.

He swore that if this keeps going on, one of these days he might just spread his legs and fuck his fist on their bed while she's tied on a chair on the other side of the room. Maybe forcing her; seducing her, to watch his desperate cock become wet and messy would give her a clue of what he is feeling now.

Absolutely needy and deprived of that pretty little cunt of hers.

He was quite distracted with the filfthy thoughts until he heard the clicking sound of the bathroom door unlocked.

As she walked towards the bed, Bucky felt like his lungs stopped providing oxygen through his body, "Pretty." His eyes sparkled affection as the voice in his head echoed his thoughts. It wasn't that he have not seen her in those pyjamas before, he had. Many times in fact. The very same lavender set with tiny little cartoon cats printed all over the fabric.

The same ones that she wore when she came rushing to his side on one of those sleepless night. The time when she hold him close, distracting him away from the nightmare by asking the most random question of "You know, Bucky... These cats supposedly have the same expression, except for one. Do want to try and find it?"

He found it. It was near the hem of her right sleeve. And by that time, his nightmare was no where near his mind, the next thing he knew, he fell right back to sleep with her in his arms. It was his favourite pair of pyjamas that she ever worn.  Nothing compares.

A loving smile unconsciously appeared on his face when his lady threw a sweet smile at him as she walked toward the bed, "My baby's so pretty." He thought.

The grin on his lips lasted, but not for long. Especially when he saw the tiny frown on her face, the faltered steps and when he heard that brief sound of a painful hiss slipped out of her lips.

So the moment she sat down on her side of the bed, Bucky already had his hands on her. Arms instantaneously wrapped around her waist, before effortlessly pulling her back onto his sturdy chest.

She giggled gleefully from his sudden rush of affection  and that surely managed to trigger a chuckle out of Bucky. He hums and proceed to purr in crook of her neck, "What's wrong, baby?"

She could feel his throat rumbling at the back of her neck, "Did he notice it?". Her heart beat ever so slightly picked up its' pace but she planned to act like opposite of it, "Hmm? What do mean 'what's wrong'?" She asked.

Bucky can hear the change tempo coming from within her ribcage, he knew something was wrong, "I just want to know how are you feeling."  He pressed a long and tender kiss on the shoulder.

The warmth of his breath tickled her skin, "Now? Hmm. I feel very loved." She smiled dreamily as she closes her eyes.

Bucky left out a brief laugh at her response, this cheeky little bunny, "That's true, but how are you really feeling, hmm? Like physically?" He urges softly.

She thought about it for awhile; contemplating whether she should just tell him the truth or proceed to act like she okay. Well, she chose the latter, "Hmmm physically. In this position? Very comfy." She wiggled her body back into him, closing the non-existent gap between their bodies and gripping Bucky's arms around her a little tight.

Though her plushy ass was rubbing against his crotch just nicely, but the former winter soldier was not going to let that distract him from his mission. He needs to know what she's hiding behind that sweet smile, "Doll..." his voice was stern and she knew he was not having it.

His calling was only met with silence when she didn't reply verbally. Since she was looking down, Bucky cannot see the frown on face and the wobbling worries in her eyes. But he did picked up on the anxiousness of her heart; beating faster by the second.

"I..." her voice cracked at the first word she said, and Bucky knew he fucked up. He swiftly maneuvered her body to sit on his lap, facing him. His metal hand craddled her soft cheek, and his flesh ones gently caresses her back, "Hey hey hey, doll, what's wrong? Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pressure you." His voice was laced with panic.

When she only had her gaze down, Bucky tenderly coaxed her, "Bunny, look at me." His hand guided her by the chin and when they made eye contact, he apologized again, "I'm sorry. I just want you to feel better. Forgive me." He leaned in a planted a kiss on her forehead. Then, her nose. And her cheeks, all over her face, muttering his words of apology.

She felt bad that Bucky apologized for something that was clearly not his fault. She's the problem in this situation. Her negativity, her insecurity was what drove her away from Bucky for the past 2 weeks. She knew that. And she knew it wasn't fair to him.

Knowing Bucky, he's probably blaming himself for her actions. And she didn't want that. She decided to tell him the truth, "I just..." Anxiety runs through her veins when she thought about it again. Would she be able to handle it if Bucky reacted negatively to her truth? Probably, not. "Just... promise that you won't be disgusted by it... Or get the ick from it."

Bucky frowned in confusion, "I don't even know what 'get the ick' means but I promise." He swore.

She let out a short laugh at his comment, causing him to smile along. Seeing how loving his gaze was, it gave her the strength to confess. She started with explaining how she had been busy at work this month. With launch of the new product, and her being one of th product manager, she was obligated to visit the branches around New York.

Bucky listened to words attentively, at first he thought maybe she was trying to say that she's been stressed lately. But then she started to explained about how she had been wearing skirts to work most of the days, because it was one of the their campaign's rules and Bucky does not think that 'stress' was what this would conclude to.

Nevertheless, he didn't lose his attention.

"But basically what I'm trying to say is..." She took a deep breath before continuing, "It's just... My inner thighs are chafed..." her voice was barely audible at the end of the sentence but Bucky caught it perfectly.

He thought about it for awhile before asking, "So, you mean to say that you got blisters on your inner thighs?" He wanted to confirm that his understanding was accurate.

She looked down in shame as she nodded to his question.

Bucky responded by pulling her closer, and kissed her forehead, "Aww doll. Is this why you've been avoiding me? Because it hurts? Why didn't you tell me earlier? I could've helped you. I mean I could help apply some meds or--"

Horrified at the idea of him seeing marks; the literal reminder of how fat she is caused her to blurt, "No!" She pushed Bucky away, eyes widen in horrid.

"No?" Bucky frowned quizzically at her intense reaction.

Realizing what she just had just done,  she composed herself, and spoke, "It's... it's not a pretty sight. And I don't want to show it to you. Plus, if my thighs are a little thinner than they are now. Then, this wouldn't happen. If only these thighs are not like... fucking fat as they are we wouldn't have to go through this. And you wouldn't need to hear all this. You wouldn't---"

Bucky knew that once she was in the state of insecurity, she self-deprecate herself like she was less worthy than the goddesss that she is. So, instead of arguing with her, he simply intercepted her rambling, "Show me."

She stopped the seemingly endless word-vomit, and titled her head to the side, "Huh? No. Bucky I just said--"

Bucky grabbed her by the waist and effortlessly lifted her off his lap and onto the bed, caging her  below him, "And I said... Show. Me." His tone was more like an order rather than a request.

She didn't dare to defy him, when his gaze was as rigid as they were now, so pulled her pants off; slowly, reluctantly. When the pants was at the last inches before it's completely off, Bucky took control and quite literally ripped it off from her.

The sudden action resulted to her body needing to hide itself from his darken eyes. Her thighs clammed together as a whine slipped from her lips. The friction of her wounds brushing against each other was burning her delicate skin.

Bucky quickly softens when he heard her pained voice,  he pushed himself off from her and kneeled on the bed before her. "Doll, please..." His hands gently squeezes the side of her thighs as he pleads, "...Let me see."

Slowly spreading her thighs apart, Bucky's eyes are now focusing on the red marks on her skin. His thumbs absentmindedly traces the area around the broken skin. He was so concentrated that he didn't say a word. And that only triggered her insecurity that she started to rambled something about how she will start going in a diet and she'll add more intense leg workout in her routine.

But her voice was only a muffled strings of incoherent sounds in Bucky's ears when he finally processed everything that happened from 2 weeks ago until now.

The realization hit him like a high speed train with a broken break system. Did she really turned him down because of this? Did she really starve him out because of this? Bucky let out a growl of disapproval when he abruptly pulled her by her calves, forcing her hips to lift from the bed. She yelped in surprised but she saw the look on his face,  "You..." he rasped.

Bucky placed her legs on his shoulders, letting it daggle on his back as he palmed sides of her thighs. He then, proceed to leave trails of kiss on her inner thigh, avoiding the irritating wounds on her skin, "You deprived me of my sweet little pussy because you think this..." he flattened his tongue and nibble on her softness of her inner thighs, "...would turn me off? That these thick, soft thighs that I love so much would bother me?"

He planted a delicate kiss on the marks before, "Well, guess what bunny?. You're absolute wrong. In fact, it's quite the opposite." His lips travelled upwards until it found her core. Bucky's nose flared at the scent of her arousal, "And oh my sweet babydoll, I'm going to eat your pussy until understand that. Then, I'm gonna do it some more because I am fucking starving." He pressed a firm kiss on her clothed pussy, causing the cotton to soak the juices that leaks from her hole.

"Look at that. Does your needy pussy wants some pampering too, hmm?" She could see the lust dripping down his ocean blues; the same ones that were usually bright but now were now noticeably darker.

Bucky's finger traces the slit of her pussy, rubbing her over the fabric of her panties, making patch of wetness spread even more. "Yeah? Does she want me to kiss it better? Make her feel good?"

She moaned softly to his touch, "Please."

That was all it took for Bucky to rip her panties apart as if it was made out of paper.  "Fuck, there she is. My sweet pussy." He brought his fingers over, widened the folds of her pussy. Even with minimal lighting, it was enough to show him the glistening pink flesh of leaking cunt, twitching and needing his tongue to explore her insides.

He was hungry of course, just simply looking at her pussy had made his mouth water and impossible for him to resist the urge of putting his mouth on the pretty little thing. "Hmm,," a sharp cry escaped from her lips as he blew on her little twitching nub. There was this glint in his eyes as he watched her try to buck up, cunt helplessly clenching around nothing.

Before she could beg for him, Bucky's tongue dipped in between folds. Pointed at first, from the entrance of her pussy up to her clit. The tip of his tongue swirl around the aching nub. A breath caught in her throat when Bucky repeat the same move but this time he flattened his tongue.

And then he does it again and again.

Bucky, is generally the larger man compared to anyone. He is tall and beefy. But he is especially big when he's in between her legs, gently devouring her wet pussy. Slow and long licks were his favorite, it allowed him to savor the taste of her. Always so sweet and he couldn't get enough of it.

With every flick Bucky's tongue assulting to her swollen bud, she couldn’t help but pull on sheets behind her, needy moans leaves her lips every time he explored her, teases her. Her body cannot stay still when the pleasure was taking her higher. But it was not a problem for Bucky to control. Whenever she tries to close her thighs together, he stopped her. He didn't want to irritate her wounds or cause any pain, so he kept pushing her thigh open as he nuzzle his face into her pussy.

"Ahhh fuck ,, that feels so good, Bucky!" She moaned his name as the overwhelming feeling of his wet and soft tongue gliding and rubbing on her core, guiding her to heaven.

And the salacious squelching noises to fill the room as Bucky laps and sucks on her clit. She was so wet that he could just shove his fingers up in her hole but he didn't. He won't. After so many days not tasting her, he want to only use his mouth.

Though the man barely spoke during these times, he’d much rather keep his mouth occupied with drinking up her juices or suckling on her cute little clit. But when he does. Fuck. Does he spill the most unholy things.

Bucky momentarily detached himself from her and rasped, "Gonna cum, babydoll? Come on, give it to me. Let me drink and lick your cum after." His metal fingers quickly finds her clit, swiftly started to deliciously rub it; just the way he knew she liked it. It felt so good that her tongued lolled out her mouth out of pure pleasure.

"Yeah, bunny. You're gonna let me clean you up with tongue so nice, so that you can make the same mess again and again. Cum in mouth, babydoll. Cum for me"

He delved right back where is mouth belongs, licking her clit into his mouth just to wrap his lips around the pretty pink bundle of nerves sucking it harshly.  She whined needily her hips started to move on its own accord, searching for more friction of his tongue, “ahh ahh! hmmmm,, s-so fucking good! ahhh,, So close!” she was seeing stars in her hazy vision from how good and dirty she felt.

Bucky's eyes almost rolled back when let out a groan of satisaction against her spread out cunt; he can feel that she was going to cum and want her to do it with his mouth latched on her.

And cum she did, moments after she couldn’t help but squeal as her back arched from the bed, grinding herself on his tongue. Bucky growled at the streams of cream squirting out of her throbbing cunt right into his mouth, down to his throat.

So sweet and warm and addictive.

While her whole body was still shaking from the aftermath of the mindblowing orgasm, Bucky continued to lick and lap on her leaking pussy, slurping and suckling every bit of cream she had blessed him with.

Yet he was still hungry.

She mewled when Bucky started to suck on her clit again and when she looked over at him, he momentarily pulled away, "oh doll, did you forget? I'm not going to stop any time soon. So just lay there, look pretty for me and let me enjoy this sweet little pussy."

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Have you ever gotten your inner thighs chafed? Anyway, thanks for spending your time to reading my work! Leave your thoughts behind, I'd love to read them ♡

[icarryitin]

Episode 11: Effortless

spencer reid/gn!reader

coming into this from a fandom where my last fic got literally 11 notes (half of which were my own self-rbs) the reception for workplace hot was heartwarming, pls accept more pre-relationship work crush goodness as thanks🧡🧡

series masterlist

word count: 1.6k// warnings: absolutely hopeless pining, this man is so so clever but so so oblivious

summary: Taking care of you just comes naturally to him.

“Chicken.”

“Did you know, the origin of ‘chicken’ in reference to someone who’s afraid can be traced back to the use of ‘hen-heart’ as a synonym for ‘fainthearted’? Its first documented use was in the York Mystery Plays - which are considered to have been written prior to 1450.”

“Chicken.” Morgan repeats.

“Shut up.”

While his second response is decidedly less eloquent, Spencer’s pretty sure he can’t fact-dump his way out of this particular conversation.

It’s not exactly a secret - his giant, all consuming, world ending crush on you - at least, it’s not a secret from anyone except you. He’s past being embarrassed about it when one of the others brings it up, as long as it’s not around you. That’s happened exactly once, and Spencer’s automatic response was to chatter about the migration patterns of a specific type of bird he’d read an article about the day before. Ceaselessly. No matter how much everyone else had begged him to stop, until the previous subject was well and truly forgotten. So when you’d asked a leading question about another kind of bird? He was more than happy to oblige. You’ve always done that, listened to him. It’s nice.

It’s probably what got him in this mess in the first place.

Somewhere along the way, a routine developed itself. He remembers the first day you asked him to elaborate on something he’d started on earlier in the day, trivia about the fluctuations in the popularity of a specific make of car. It had ended up being useful in the context of the case anyway but, more importantly to Spencer, the tidbit had you cornering him in the kitchen to ask him about it. And now it’s just what happens. You potter around to make your lunch, he chatters about the most recent paper he’s read like your own personal podcast.

It’s a comfortable friendship, solidified by little things like that. Though they’re not all that little to him, if anything they’ve only deepened his feelings for you - he doesn’t let on, for your sake, he tries not to.

But his affection sneaks out in other ways.

He gravitates towards you without realising it, just to exist in your space. At the round table, on the jet, at crime scenes, in whichever office the local PD have cleared out for the team. He’s never hovering, but he’s not not hovering. Just working parallel to you. It’s why he likes the bullpen, for all its hustle and bustle, because he can look at you out of the corner of his eye whenever he wants to. He can spin his chair to face you, stretch his legs out across the aisle, and let a wave of sheer steadiness wash over him. Sometimes it’s you, reaching over to hand him something or abandoning your post completely to perch on the corner of his desk. Spencer thinks that’s what it might be, the peace you seem to exude that quiets his busy mind - the kindness you extend to victims and their families that flows through your very veins. It follows you like an aura, there’s very little he won’t do to be bathed in it whenever he can. It’s all led to a unique dynamic that means you’re paired up together more often than not.

You move around each other unconsciously now, leaning over maps and files and evidence. Swapping pens and ducking under one another’s arms as you both scribble away at the board. It’s almost choreographed, natural. Everything is with you, and that’s what gets him. There’s a part of Spencer Reid’s brain that is dedicated to considering his actions in relation to the people around him, running in the background like a computer programme, but he doesn’t have to run it around you. He doesn’t think, for once. He just does.

It’s effortless, second nature, to make space for you. The same as it is to leave a seat open for you, even if it’s the only one. To nudge you gently when you’re too far in your own head to realise you’re picking at your skin. You’ve started nudging him back in recent weeks when he does the same, chewing on the inside of his lips and paying absolutely no mind to the damage he’s doing. You notice, you care enough to stop him. Just like you’ll leave an empty space on the nearest desk for him to hop up on. He’s not sure if you realise you’re even doing it. Clearing perfect Spencer-sized spots at every precinct and office you’re set up in, because you know he prefers it to the chairs. Which makes his own actions feel a little less overt and, in turn, lets him breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe this is just what good friends do for each other. He can call you that, at least, if his own fears won’t afford him the chance to call you anything else.

Though, he’s not sure he could stop himself from taking care of you in his own way if he tried. Mostly because he’s not trying in the first place.

He didn’t even realise what he was doing, the first time he turned to you to double check your protective vest was secure. Narrow fingers tugging on straps, barely even processing the inviting warmth of you underneath them, he’d been too focused on making sure you were as protected as you could be. And then he’d walked into the Unsub’s home ahead of you anyway.

Spencer never walks ahead of you, anywhere. He’s always ushering you in first, something drilled into him by some unknown force, his basest of instincts - you’re ahead of him into the office, into precincts, into crime scenes, even into the elevator. But in a hostile situation? He’s first through the door every time.

So much so that it’s routine now, wherever the case, whoever is around. He grasps the shoulders of the thick vest and wiggles it, he rips the velcro straps off at your waist only to secure them again. A little tighter, and he’s quietly grateful that you let him. The heat of you at his back is reassuring when scenes aren’t secure. To know that, based on his experience anyway, the Unsub will more than likely jump out ahead of him - and he’ll be the one between you and the bullet. Which is maybe a little dramatic, but it’s the truth.

“Ready, boys?”

Doctor Spencer Reid has never claimed to believe in any god, but he makes sure to thank something for the interruption. Anything to get himself and his giant crush out from under Derek Morgan’s microscope.

It’s Emily who speaks, Emily who tosses protective vests at him and Derek, but Spencer’s eyes are focused on you entering the office behind her. You’re concentrating on your own vest, securing straps that’ll only be repositioned in a minute or two. But you still do it yourself each time, as if you’re not expecting him to come over and double check your work. There’s no way you haven’t noticed by now. That he’ll do it every time, that he doesn’t do it for anybody else, that he spends twice as long checking on your vest than he does securing his own. FBI emblem emblazoned on his chest, Spencer crosses the room dutifully to conduct his little ritual.

Velcro isn’t quiet. It pierces through the background noise when he undoes the buckle at your side and tears it free, but his eyes don’t move from the task at hand. Yours are heavy on his face, the way they always are when he gets this close. He pretends not to notice.

“Thank you.” You whisper softly. So softly that between the chatter and gun checking behind him, only the two of you can hear.

It’s only now, now he’s certain your vest is snug as possible, that he allows his careful gaze flicker to meet yours. He struggles not to take a step back with the force of it.

“Of course.” He replies, reluctantly pulling his cold fingers out from the warmth beneath the shoulders of your vest. His smile, small, self-conscious, is returned tenfold and beaming. The same way it always is. He doesn’t know how you do it - see the things you see every day and still manage a grin wider than the Río de la Plata. Maybe he can’t explain everything.

He catches a movement over your shoulder, it’s Morgan. Arms folded at the elbow, fists tucked close to his chest, as he makes the exaggerated movements of a chicken. Head bobbing and all. The teasing support, because that’s all it is, is nice to have - but there’s not one member of the team who understands exactly why he’s so afraid to say anything to you. In an ideal world, he wouldn’t be. He’d be able to pull you aside and tell you exactly how many days it’s been since he’d met you, started crushing on you, fallen absolutely hopelessly in love. It kind of all started at once, if he’s being completely honest. And in that ideal world, you would smile that billion kilowatt smile and tell him you love him too, and even the paperwork from the bureau wouldn’t matter. This isn’t an ideal world, however. He knows that better than most.

Spencer’s been rejected before, more than even he would care to admit, by friends and lovers and parents and colleagues and strangers. But he’s not sure he could take it from you, not while you hold his heart so tenderly in your hands. Even unaware of the responsibility, you’re gentle with him.

He’ll keep you close, regardless, as much as he can without arousing your suspicion. He’ll keep making space for you and double checking your vest until every ugly confession claws its way out of him.

That’s enough, for now.

if you’ve made it this far, pls know i am kissing u gently on the forehead🧡🧡

i’m also thinking about opening requests for all things pre-relationship spencer bc mutual pining and obliviousness is my fav fav fav thing, in case anyone was interested👀

[annie-writesstuff]

Come here, kitty, kitty! - Sylus

Summary: The Evol cats have had enough of Sylus and his mistreatment, so this time, instead of giving him cat ears and a tail, the punishment goes further as he is completely turned into a Caracal cat.

Warnings: Long fic. Cat puns. Fluff - Literally and figuratively lol. Reader literally adopts a lynx for one night :p. Reader is economically poor (I'm sorry.) Reader is not MC. If anyone ever reads this, I sure hope you enjoy :3!

Part Two

This was simply... Catastrophic.

Sylus feels a hint of regret because his actions led him to that position right then. Pawing and hissing at the Meow's Café door.

It doesn't budge an inch.

Not even his Energy manipulation Evol was going to be useful, simply because it had been supressed whenever those evil Evol cats had turned him into that... creature.

He doesn't have access to his phone either, not in that form, and therefore has not contacted either Luke and Kieran or Miss Hunter.

Sylus feels, perhaps for the second time in his life, helpless. He is aware his fur would protect him from the cold, but that does not mean he wants to be alone and out during the approaching snow storm.

He sits down in front of the double glass doors. Someone is bound to go in or out anytime soon, right?

Right?

It seems his calculations were wrong.

How long had he been sitting there? It must have been close to an hour. Why are there no clients?

He stands up, unconsciously stretching, before looking around. Well, he wasn´t going to get anywhere if he simply sat and waited.

His paws quickly take him down the road. It is uncomfortable. He isn't used to the frozen sidewalk, but he pushes through, until he finally sees a person standing in front of a food cart.

Whatever they are selling smells absolutely delicious. Since he hasn't eaten in hours, his normally luxury palate is craving for whatever this person is selling.

Slowly, he approaches, and lightly paws at your black snow boots.

¨Hm?¨ You look down, your half eaten chicken skewer in your hand as you spot a... very unique looking cat. "Oh! Hi there!" You smile, crouching down and gently booping his nose with your index finger. "Are you hungry?"

Sylus hesitates.

What the hell is he doing? He is no stray cat.

But... he is indeed hungry, so he simply looks at your hand expectantly, his vermilion eyes not moving away from the juicy looking meat.

Your giggle reaches his ears, and he bristles in response.

How... irksome.

Carefully, you take one piece, blowing on it a few times, before offering it to him on your palm.

His nose makes quick work, and after a few sniffs, he easily devours the entire piece. Not bad.

He looks at you, awaiting another piece.

To his surprise, your oblige, feeding him until only the stick of the skewer was left. He licks his snout and whiskers.

He jumps away when your hand comes closer. Now, just what do you think you are doing?

Immediately, you retreat. "Sorry." You say, as you stand up. You pay the vendor, before waving at the cute cat.

Wait.

Where are you going?

Sylus immediately follows. He was not going to be outside during that snow storm. You had fed him. He is now your responsibility, and he isn't about to let you leave without him.

So naturally, he stalks after you.

You stop, and turn. A soft smile adorns your lips. "Ah. Coming back for more?" You tease playfully.

If cats could look annoyed, this cat sure does.

Chuckling, you bend down, offering your hand palm up and letting him smell you.

Fine. Just because it seemed you were his only ticket out of this situation. He moves closer, looking as dejected as his feline features allow him as you gently pet his head.

He couldn't say he hated the sensation. Unlike some other people he had encountered earlier when he had first transformed, you are actually being mindful of how sensitive his ears are.

For a brief moment, he allows himself to feel at ease. Not that he is ever going to admit it, but he is enjoying the attention, if anything by the purrs leaving the very back of his throat as he nuzzles into your hand. It's warm and soft.

When you stop petting him and continue walking, he follows again.

You look up at the sky as you hasten your pace. Snow is starting to fall... You don't want to be caught in it. So you jog down the street.

The pitter patter of paws makes you turn again.

Before the cat could react, you scoop him up, tucking him inside your coat, zipping it up so only his head is visible. You smile at the somewhat dumbfounded look the cat gives you. But he doesn't protest nor tries to escape.

This is a bit embarrassing. He had never been caught so off guard before!

He can feel the erratic beating of your heart agaisnt his small body as you hurry towards where he supposes is where you live.

His red eyes scan the dilapidated building you are approaching.

This has... got to be a joke.

Purrhaps he has chosen the wrong human to take care of him.

It is too late anyway, as you walk inside. The walls look like they had seen better days, as you go up the stairs, a lot slower than your brisk walk earlier.

There isn't even an elevator?

Pathethic.

You huff and pant, and his eyes scann the state of this floor. Yeah, it looks equally old.

You fumble to get your keys out, and push open the door. "Home at last!"

You throw the keys over a bowl, though you miss and instead hit the table. Not that you care much as you get rid of your boots and snow-covered coat, gently placing your newly found freind on the floor.

Sylus looks around curiously. He is used to luxury and opulence wherever he visits, so this is a new for him. How can you live in such... place?

The fake wooden floor creaks under your every step, the wall´s paint is falling off, and it is almost as cold here as it is outside!

You approach a small sized screen, which Sylus soon realizes is actually a heater when you press a button to turn it on. A fake image of a fireplace shows on the screen as the small machine starts to work.

You must've been sleeping in front of that heater. He can see a sleeping bag, blankets and some plush toys placed in front of it.

He can only assume that the apartment heating is no longer working. That isn't surprising considering the state of it.

The sound of pans and clatter of utensils catch his attention, and he quickly rushes to the kitchen. He sits at the entrance, wondering if you are cooking something.

You had given him the thing you had been eating earlier, and that makes him feel a bit guilty.

In his defense, he was hungry, and although he could've hunted something, he was still at the heart of Linkon city. It would've been very troublesome to try to get food for himself.

The smell of meat and spices reach his nose. His whiskers move as he smells the air.

Well damn, the aroma was delicious. He is still hungry.

He watches as you sing whilist you mix whatever food you are cooking - he guesses meat and veggies?

This is an atipical sight for him. And he can't help but observe, his heightened senses glued to your every carefree move.

Many questions run through his head. What led to this? Why are you living in that old apartment?

Are you happy?

That last question catches him by surprise. It isn't normal for him to care about someone he just literally met. He guesses being in such a vulnerable position makes him see things differently.

He is used to every interaction being an exchange. He never works for free - nobody he knows does.

Yet... you had fed him and brought him to your home... in exchange of what?

He can't give you money or power. Not while he is a cat, at least... But you don't know who he really is, so it is obvious you aren't looking for something akin.

¨C'mon. Let's eat together!" You call as you walk towards your makeshift room in front of the heater.

His legs quickly carry him to you. He settles comfortably over the sleeping bag and the numerous blankets, the gentle light coming from the heater screen makes him feel... cozy.

"I read that Caracal cats are carnivores". You say, as you grab some meat strips from your bowl and place them in a smaller plate you had brought from the kitchen with you. "And you also eat veggies. They say carrots are good for your vision, so I cooked you some!"

That is very... Thoughtful.

He looks at the plate of food.

It isn't a five star meal, but... You made it for him, and he isn't going to let it go to waste.

He eats with gusto, his tail unconsciosly swaying.

After you return from the kitchen after taking the dishes to the sink, he wonders what kind of routines you have.

He would've called you boring every other time, but he finds it fascinating just how simple your lifestyle is.

You don't live in a castle or mansion, but you give him such pretty smiles, he could've been easily fooled.

You spend a few minutes in the bathroom, and come out wearing your pajamas. He can see they are a bit old, the color of the fabric is fading, and there are a couple holes in it. But they are clean and fresh. He can still smell the lingering scent of laundry detergent and softener.

You sit down on the sleeping bag, and yawn once, twice. You put your phone over a small holder, and put on some cartoons while it charges. "Ready for bed, Red?"

Red?

Is that his 'new' name?

Ah. The color of his eyes. That must be it.

He huffs as you pick him up and crarefully craddle him against your chest.

"Oh? You have a scar? What happened to your eye?" You ask softly, your thumb gently skimming over it.

As a reaction, he hisses, biting you hard enough to draw blood. His fur standing up as he meows threateningly.

And when he calms down, he looks at you, his small chest heaving up and down as he realizes what he did.

He hadn't meant to...

Sylus half expects you to kick him out, let him go.

But instead, you hug him closer. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

Your voice is so sweet and gentle, and he doesn't understand your reaction at all. He looks at you, his vermillion eyes searching for any hint of dishonesty.

But he finds none.

Guilt revolves in his stomach as he looks at your finger, the clear mark of his fangs marking your skin. He licks at the small puncture wounds, silently apologizing.

The scar in his eye is a touchy subject for him. He's aware he overreacted - or better said, instinctively reacted, but that was no excuse. He never wanted to hurt you.

Your eyes stare at him, and once again you smile. "It's okay. You don't have to apologize. I shouldn't have been so careless."

You lie down on your sleeping bag, and tug the blankets around your body, still hugging the Caracal to you. "I hope you are comfortable." Your grip on him is loose, so that if he wants to move, he can.

"Have a goodnight, kitty." You press a tiny kiss to his wet nose, before easily drifting off to sleep.

He remains awake for a couple more minutes. He takes in your features now that he has you so close. You're not wearing make up, but there's a light blush on your cheeks. And your slightly messy [h/c] hair cascades over the side of your face. Overall you look peaceful.

Sylus wishes... he can feel like that too.

He curls closer to your chest, hoping to see if he can steal a bit of normalcy from your life and bring it into his.

He sleeps so soundly, that he doesn't realize is daytime... and the cat's Evol has worn off - majority of it, at least.

He still conserves his cat ears and tail, but he's defeinitely back to his human form.

When he wakes up, he immediately notices what has happened. You look a lot tinier than you did last night, and the sleeping bag doesn't fit all of him anymore. "Hm."

He wonders how you'll react once you wake up and see that you have a naked man-cat (Cat-man?) holding you.

A deep chuckle escapes his lips. "This will be very interesting, won't it, Kitten?"

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

It's like if you don't like erotica go read smth else??

respectfully I agree with you broadly but also feel like this is missing the point of why, specifically, the lovely people I've been corresponding with today are so opposed to so-called "dark romances"

when you make something a moral panic you can't just look away and do something else. if you look at some of the people responding to my post, they genuinely and sincerely believe that dark romance poses a tangible, real threat to people (namely women) by convincing them to accept and emulate the dangerous and abusive dynamics they read about.

an apt comparison may be the frequent glib retort to opponents of gay marriage: "if you don't like it, don't get gay married!" it's a decent goof, sure, but the thing is that many of these people don't just think gay marriage is gross, they think it's a very literal threat to the moral fabric of society. in particular, many anti-queer bigots sincerely believe that many children who would otherwise be good, normal members of cishet society are tricked or groomed into being queer, whether by sexually abusive adults (there's a LONG history of gay men being seen as targeting young boys this way, in particular) or cartoons with queer characters or by strangers on the internet pressuring them to trans their genders. these bigots can't just ignore gay and trans people and mind their own business, because to do so is to ignore a real, horrific danger to children and society right under their noses. they're wrong, obviously, but that's what they genuinely believe.

this particular flavor of anti-dark romance girlies are on the same thing: no, the fiction is not just fiction, and is actively making vulnerable and suggestive women more susceptible to accepting abusive behavior. they can't just read something else and leave women who enjoy those romances alone, because those women are endangering themselves and they have a moral obligation to say something about it.

which, again, isn't true, but you have to understand that some people are engaging with this one a MUCH different level than just "these books aren't to my personal taste."

[theragethatisdesire]

three's a... - jean kirschstein x afab!reader x eren jaeger - 18+!!!

i feel like i have mentioned the possibility of giving y'all an erejean threesome way too many times to keep holding out on you, so now that i've finally nitpicked this fic to death, here we are!! literally living my dreams vicariously through this fic. i'm still not 100% happy with it, but eren and jean are sexy here and are doing half of the work of making this worth the read for me lolol. it's also written mostly through jean's pov which was interesting to play with.

pairing: eren jaeger x reader x jean kirschstein

wc: 6.5k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, threesome, established relationship (eren's ur perfect bf and u guys can't stop having sex with jean lol), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, anal (fingering and fucking), swearing, use of names (slut, brat, pretty girl, good girl, angel), mean dom eren vs soft dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie, double penetration, bicurious jean and bicurious eren (tasty, they definitely don't keep their hands to themselves), polyamory implied

buckle up, this was a blast to write and i hope it's equally as fun to read. enjoy <33

-

Jean should definitely not be here.

He should absolutely not be on his living room couch with Eren Jaeger’s girlfriend’s head in his lap, playing idly with her hair. By all traditional conventions and rules of exclusive relationships, Jean’s fairly sure that letting your girlfriend rest her head on the crotch of your roommate while he strokes her hair is on the no-no list. Not for Eren, apparently, who has your feet in his lap on the other end of the couch, playing with your toes absentmindedly and making you giggle and kick him in protest. Jean should not be here, but you and Eren have made a habit of roping him into circumstances that he would never admit to, not even at gunpoint.

If Jean is brutally, painfully honest with himself, he knows he had gotten himself into this. You were just so cute, wisping around their apartment in a big tshirt and tiny shorts in the mornings, always making sure to save him a cup of coffee. Maybe he had let his lingering glances linger just a little too long, smirked over his coffee mug at you one too many times, come up behind you to help you reach something on the top shelf and leaned a little too close, Jean couldn’t pinpoint exactly what caused Eren to notice his clear attraction towards you, but he did. Instead of getting his ass kicked like he had expected when you and Eren sat down to confront him, Jean had learned something.

Eren Jaeger has a greedy, spoiled brat of a girlfriend.

That had been the first time Jean came in you, fucking into your throat while Eren watched from across the room, palming over the bulge in his jeans. The second time, the two of you had invited Jean out for a drink, which, in hindsight, he should have seen the ulterior motive from a mile away. He had ended up cumming in your pussy, bending you over in the bar bathroom with Eren’s cock in your mouth. The third time had been in Eren’s bedroom as you rode him, Eren sitting behind you and working your hips over Jean’s cock as you wailed.

Jean had stopped his ministrations in your hair as he was reflecting on how exactly he got into this situation, trying very hard not to think too far into the filthy details to prevent propping your head up with an erection. You make a little noise of discontent, grabbing at his hands and urging them back to your hair.

“Jean, don’t stop. Feels good.”

Jean’s mouth tightens into a thin line at your choice of words, words he’s heard from you before under very different circumstances, but he obliges. So much for self control. Eren raises a smug eyebrow at him from across the couch.

“You’re giving her what she wants, right, Kirschtein?”

Jesus, you two are insatiable, still managing to grate on Jean’s razor-thin willpower with all of your clothes on. Jean wonders briefly what the appeal is for Eren, if he gets off on watching you take another man’s cock, bring another man near to tears with your warm, silken cunt. Does Eren enjoy dangling you in front of Jean until he’s forced to give in? Eren’s gaze lingers on Jean’s hands, threading through your hair, awaiting an answer.

“Yeah,” Jean says, not trusting any more words to his loose lips. They’ve already betrayed him three times now, saying yes when they should have been saying no.

“Good,” Eren responds simply, offering a small smile that, to anyone else, looks innocent. Jean knows Eren better than that. He watches as Eren’s hand travels up your bare leg, coming to rest on your upper thigh. You’re affected by it, such a simple touch, such a sensitive little body; he can feel you tense over his thighs.

Jean steels his jaw and forces his eyes back over to the movie. He’s got to stop playing these fucked up games of yours, it’s bad for him and he knows it. He hasn’t dated in months, not since you’d first pulled him into your little world, can’t bring himself to look at anyone else, can’t stand the thought of feeling anyone else’s skin under his fingers. His little crush has bloomed into full-blown lovesickness, and it would be best for him if he just stopped.

All of that ironclad willpower melts away in an instant when you let out a little moan.

Eren’s hand has snuck its way up to your shorts, nudging at the apex of your thighs. His focus is still trained on whatever reality show you’ve put on, completely ignoring the way you sigh under his touch. Jean’s cock twitches in his pants; this is his opportunity to hesitate, to say no, but he stays silent, only watching as you squirm in his lap.

“Eren,” your chastisement comes out as a breath. One of your hands comes to meet Eren’s, trying to push him away, but he simply swats your hand, shooting you a stern look.

“Behave,” Eren warns, eyes dark and dangerous. Jean’s learned that Eren’s mean to you, snappy when you put on your little attitude and fight back, but Jean doesn’t have the willpower. He holds you gently while he fucks into you hard, gives you anything you ask for.

You bite your lip and turn your head back to the TV, one hand coming up to pull Jean’s away from your head, wrapping your fingers around his. Jean’s breath hitches in his throat when you squeeze tight, back arching like you’re holding back a moan; Eren’s worked his way into your panties now, rubbing little circles over your clit.

“Look, Jaeger,” Jean makes a half-hearted attempt to remove himself, pulling his hand from yours and making all the movements to suggest he’s going to stand up, “I should–”

“What?” Eren cocks his head, as casual as if they’re discussing the weather. “Look at her, you really gonna just leave her there like that while I’m teasing her?”

Against his better judgment, Jean flicks his eyes down towards you. It’s a pitiful sight, your eyes already glossed over and staring up at him, wide and pleading, your bottom lip tucked in tight between your teeth.

“Jean,” his name comes out of your mouth, broken and already heady with arousal. That’s what snaps his resolve clean in two. You need him.

“What is it?” Jean hates the fondness in his voice, so glaringly obvious in front of your fucking boyfriend. Eren doesn’t seem to mind, though; he picks up speed, making you wriggle impatiently.

“Wanna kiss,” you whimper, reaching up towards his face.

“Don’t,” Eren stops Jean from leaning down, “she’s been bad today.”

“Is that so?” Jean rubs a thumb over your lips, frowning down at you. He can see the guilt in the way your brows knit together; oh, you have been bad, and you know it.

“Wouldn’t stop begging me for you, wanted to snuggle with Jeanie,” Eren raises his voice to mock you, slapping a hand against your clit and making you jump.

Jean’s face burns; is this it? Is this finally Eren telling him that you’re off-limits, finally deciding that Jean’s had his fill? And he’s going to rub it in his face by torturing you on Jean’s lap?

“Tell him,” Eren demands, another sharp smack landing on your cunt.

“Didn’t want to wait t-til you got home,” your face is already blotchy, eyes clouded with shame, “wanted Eren to text you and make you leave work.”

“And what did I say?”

“Be patient,” your voice wavers, Jean’s heart pounds in his ears, “and Jean would come take care of me.”

“So needy,” Eren tuts down at you, cruelly shoving a finger into your wet heat and instantly removing it, drawing a breathy whine from you, “see?”

Eren’s offering his finger to Jean, shining with slick, eyebrows lifted insistently. Jean narrows his eyes, cocks his head. What game is he playing at?

“What, don’t want a taste?” Eren’s eyes glint in the low light, taunting him. Jean leans forward hesitantly, lets the other man slide a thick finger between his lips. You always taste so good, salty and tangy; Jean feels a groan rumble deep in his chest. The corner of Eren’s mouth curls ever so slightly. Whatever game he’s playing, Jean’s losing. “Touch her, but no kisses. She has to behave if she wants that.”

You pout, bottom lip still wobbling where you’ve pushed it out, but you arch your back a little, straining your tits against your tank top. Jean knows you well enough by now, knows you chose that thin little top and didn’t wear a bra just for him, just to tempt him. You have been bad, but Jean doesn’t care, could never care when you’re looking up at him all sweet and needy. But he knows better than to disobey Eren’s rules, for your sake. Eren will edge you for the rest of the night, make himself cum, and leave you out to dry.

“Jean, please–”

“Sh,” Jean shushes you, sits you up just a little so he can pull your tank top over your head, “I’ve gotcha. Just be good for us, alright?”

You nod and smile drunkenly as he cups your breasts, kneading your nipples between his fingers. They’re one of his favorite things about you; he can’t resist leaning down to place sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your hot skin, lick around your nipples just light enough to tease. Maybe Jean can be a little mean too.

“More,” you gasp, fingers coming to clutch at his head, “more, I– oh!”

Jean’s eyes flit down your body to see Eren’s now got two long fingers shoved knuckle-deep in you, curling them fast enough to make you cry out, roll your hips up towards him. If he looks closely, he can see a wet patch forming on the crotch of your shorts; it makes his cock throb. He’s never met a woman that gets as wet as you, filthy at the slightest touch.

“You’re so messy,” Jean voices his mind without exactly meaning to, pulling himself from you so he can prop you up against his chest and let you look at the mess you’ve made. You give him a little whine of protest, tilting your chin up towards him, searching for his mouth.

“Please, I want–”

“I know what you want,” Jean thumbs at your lip, “he’s mean, isn’t he? Making you behave yourself when all you want is a little love, isn’t that right?”

“Mhm,” you manage to shoot a scathing glare at Eren that makes Jean chuckle, makes Eren smack your thigh hard enough to echo throughout the room.

“Stupid little slut,” Eren growls, moving his fingers faster, “you’re just all about Jean because he spoils you, aren't you? Someone has to make sure you behave yourself.”

Jean’s eyes widen; Eren’s clearly in a mood today, and Jean hopes it doesn’t have anything to do with his presence. Eren’s a mixed bag most times. Jean’s overheard him making soft, quiet love to you, little praises slipping out from the crack in his bedroom door, but Jean’s also watched Eren edge you to the point of tears, spit on your cunt, spank you until you bruise. Maybe Eren’s jealousy finally is getting the better of him, Jean thinks, maybe he just can’t say no to your insatiable appetite, and he is actually pissed that you had begged him for Jean.

“Jean,” you’re clutching at his shirt, moaning pathetically as Eren sucks harsh bites into your thighs.

“Did it to yourself,” Jean shakes his head at you sadly, “you know better than to make him mad.”

“Shut her up,” Eren nods his head at your mouth meaningfully, “I’ve heard enough out of her for today.”

It takes some awkward repositioning, but Jean’s able to pull his cock out, tap it against your tongue where you’ve already got your mouth hanging open, drool pooling on his lap under your cheek.You shove yourself up with some effort, and take Jean almost to the hilt on your first go, slurping lewdly around him. Jean nearly chokes.

“Oh, you are needy today,” he hisses, threading his fingers through your hair, making sure his view remains unobstructed. “That what you wanted? My cock in your throat?”

You manage a stiff nod around him in between the muffled moans you’re letting out around his cock; Eren’s added his thumb to the mix now, pulling your panties to the side so he can swipe at your clit.

“She was fuckin’ drooling for it earlier,” Eren says, meeting Jean’s eyes with a smirk, “should have seen her, all pouty and sad because her Jeanie wasn’t here. Pathetic.”

In the small part of Jean’s brain that’s still able to think rationally with his cock nudging at your gag reflex, he’s frowning in confusion. Eren is pissed at you because you were begging for Jean, and here he is spurring Jean on in fucking into your throat. It makes no fucking sense, really, but Jean’s getting his dick sucked, and not for the first time, by the woman he’s been pining after for months, so who is he to question it?

“Mmph!” You squeal, mouth too full to form a real sound, hips canting up violently towards Eren. Eren laughs, low and cruel.

“Aw, I think she’s gonna cum soon,” Eren pulls his fingers from you, a tear slips down your cheek. “Pity.”

Your cry of protest is whimpered by Jean standing up slightly, angling his hips to plunge as deep as he can. He’s only had his cock in your mouth a few times, but Jean’s intuitive. He knows how much you can take, knows exactly how far to push you before it’s too much.

“Don’t whine, baby,” Jean huffs, “just gonna make him more mad. He won’t let me help you if you don’t behave.”

“Look at you,” Eren runs his hands along your thighs, leans down to press a chaste kiss over where you’ve ruined your shorts, “being a good girl for us. S’that what it takes for you to behave? Need both of us?”

If Jean’s not mistaken, the garbled sound you make around him is one of agreement. The thought goes straight between his legs, brings him far closer to the edge than he’d like to be at this point. He pulls your mouth off of him, making you pout.

“But–”

“I know, I know, you want it,” Jean rubs an affectionate thumb over your cheek, “but you want me to fuck you, too, right?”

“Please,” you breathe, reaching down to wiggle your shorts off. Eren’s face lights up.

“Wanna show him your little surprise, baby?” Eren’s tugging at your shorts now, ripping them off and tossing them to the sides. He puts his hands under your arms, yanking you out of Jean’s lap and throwing your chest over his shoulders. When Eren’s hands come to your cheeks, spreading them so Jean can see, Jean’s heart nearly stops. There’s a little pink rhinestone glittering where your asshole should be– a plug, keeping you open and ready. Eren meets Jean’s eyes, daring. “She picked it out just for us. Want us both, don’t you? Nasty little thing.”

Eren punctuates his statement with a grin and a sharp slap to your ass that makes you jump, nod desperately from behind him. Jean reaches a cautious hand over, puts two fingers around the toy and pulls lightly, just enough to watch it move in you. You whine; he can see your empty cunt flutter.

“Can she take it? Both of us?”

“Oh yeah,” Eren brushes off Jean’s concern, “been using all her little toys for weeks, making me practice with her. She can take it.”

With that, Jean’s standing, padding into his room and knowing Eren’s following with you still tossed over his shoulder. His head spins; you, his precious little toy, have been stretching yourself out, getting yourself ready to have two cocks in you? The thought nearly makes Jean moan to himself, imagining how tight you’ll be all stuffed full.

Eren’s thrown you on the bed none too gently, stripping as you look up at him, hearts in your eyes. He stops midway through pulling his clothes off to grab your chin, offer your pleading gaze to Jean.

“Why don’t you ask him, hm?” Eren coos, looking between you and Jean with a filthy grin on his face. “Ask him again, see if you’ve been good.”

“Will you kiss me, Jean? Please?” Your voice has that thin, fucked out tone to it that drives Jean crazy, makes him want to make you cry.

“Yeah princess, I’ll kiss you.” He leans down, takes your soft mouth in his, Eren never releasing his hold on your chin. Jean can taste himself on your tongue, smiling appreciatively at the salty tang. Eren rips you away far too soon, pressing his mouth down on you far rougher than Jean had. They balance each other well, Jean thinks, the gentle caresses and the sharp slaps that make you come undone under them in a way neither of them can manage alone.

“On your knees, brat,” Eren sneers, the shred of tenderness that he’d grabbed your face with long-gone, “convince us to fuck you stupid.”

You nod obediently, sliding off the bed and onto your knees, reaching for Jean. He steps forward, letting you hold his cock in your little hand, rub up and down while you take Eren in your mouth. Even your hands are enough to drive him crazy, so soft and supple around him; Jean’s head falls back.

“Fuck,” Eren sucks a sharp breath in between his teeth, “that’s it, baby, take it.”

Something possesses Jean, what it is he can’t be sure, but he reaches a hand down to the back of your head, pushing you further down Eren’s length. He half-expects Eren to chastise him for it, but Eren groans, long and loud, a sound that simmers in Jean’s stomach.

Jean watches the contractions of Eren’s abs, trails his eyes up to where the other man’s strong chest is heaving, a strange, hot sensation trickling through his center. It’s too late to look away once he realizes he’s been caught, but instead of finding amusement when he meets Eren’s eyes, Jean finds something else entirely.

Eren’s looking at Jean the way he looks at you, all lusty and uninhibited. Jean nearly scowls at him, everything he’s internalized over the years rearing its head in his chest, but Eren stops him with a hand wrapped around the back of Jean’s neck. In the blink of an eye, there’s a set of lips on his, a sharp tongue licking into his mouth.

Jean lets out a wanton, strung out moan that Eren swallows, echoes with one of his own. Jean notices that your head has stilled under his hand, and he shoves you back onto Eren’s cock mindlessly, relishing in the way Eren’s mouth stutters against his own when you retch around him. He trails his hand, tentative and exploratory, up to Eren’s hair, grabs the bun at the back of his head and pulls. Jean’s surprised at the heat beneath his palm; he’s always known Eren runs hot, especially after the last few times he’s fucked you. It’s only natural to brush arms, brush legs during the act, but Eren’s skin is scalding, damp with sweat under his touch.

It’s not Jean’s first kiss with a man, not by any means, but he’d never guessed that Eren, headstrong, manly, unreadable Eren, had this in him. Had it been hiding there for all of these years? Was it a spur of the moment thing, that Eren would look back on and cringe at later?

Doubt getting the better of him, Jean breaks first, pulls away with a quiet smacking sound. Eren’s eyes are just as wide as his feel, searching Jean’s face for any sign of regret, of satisfaction, of something. A loud whine from below distracts them both, and whatever odd moment was forming is broken as they look down at you.

Your chin is covered in drool from where you’ve been choking on Eren, gagging around him, and your eyes are glossy and needy. Jean’s cock gets impossibly harder.

“What?” Eren taunts. “You jealous that I kissed your Jeanie?”

“Yeah,” you pout, brows knitting, but Jean can see the arousal written into your features. You liked it.

“Get up,” Jean says to you, voice hard and unforgiving.

You follow his instruction, standing on shaking legs. Jean can see the snark in your eyes before it comes out of your lips. “What, finally going to pay attention to me now?”

As soon as the words have left your mouth, Eren’s hand is around your jaw, wrenching it open for him to spit into your mouth. “Don’t fucking talk back, not if you want to cum.”

“You were doing so good,” Jean rubs a hand over your hip, guiding you to lay on top of him on the bed, “what, are you that desperate for us that you can’t mind your manners?”

“I just–”

“Want both of your slutty little holes filled?” Eren scoffs, kneeling on the bed behind where you’re straddling Jean’s hips. “Yeah, we know.”

You frown and lean down to Jean, searching for consolation, but he shoves you to sit back up, admiring the way your chest bounces with the movement.

“Can’t be nice to you all the time,” Jean’s voice is low, dangerous, “not when you act like a brat.”

He can see the heartbreak on your face, revels in it, but it’s short lived. Your eyes fly open as Eren works the plug out of you, tossing it to the side and wrapping an arm around you to take your neck in his hand. Eren looks down at Jean, exchanges a conspiratorial smirk with him.

“Why don’t you ask Jean if you can sit on it while I work you open, hm?”

Your eyes glisten pleadingly at Jean, but something’s come over him. He realizes he likes drawing those begging moans out of you, likes holding you over the edge between the tips of his fingers. Jean shrugs.

“Show me how bad you want it.”

While Eren reaches over to scrounge around for the lube in Jean’s bedside table, you start to work your hips over Jean’s cock, slicking it up with how wet you already are. Jean grabs you by the back of the neck, pulls you to him to drink down the little whimpers and moans that escape your lips.

“Jean, please,” you sigh into his mouth, “I need you.”

Jean’s resolve wavers, but he stands firm. “Beg.”

“I–” hot tears of shame are welling in your eyes now, Jean wants to lick them from your cheeks– “please, I need it, need your cock in me, please, Jean.”

“What do you think, Eren?” As Jean asks the question, it strikes him just how often he refers to the other man simply as “Jaeger”, not by his first name. In his mind, ‘Jaeger’ is his friend of many years, and ‘Eren’ is the man that he had just inexplicably, passionately kissed. “Think she’s earned it?”

“Let’s see how she takes my fingers,” Eren replies, slicking his fingers up with lube and forcing two into your already-stretched hole with ease, making you squeak in surprise, “oh fuck, she’s already so stretched out for us. Yeah, give her what she wants, let her warm up to it.”

“Thank you, t-thank you,” you stammer, out of your mind with want as Jean slides the head of his cock into you with a long groan.

“Shit,” Jean growls, holding onto you tight to prevent your hips from pushing down on him too fast, filling you up too quickly with Eren’s fingers hard at work in your other hole. Maybe he is the nice one, after all. “So fucking tight for me, aren’t you?”

“Mhm, for you,” you hum, lip tucked in your teeth.

“Think she likes you more than me,” Eren smirks from over your shoulder, working a third finger into you and making your jaw drop. For his part, Jean bottoms out, hissing as you pulse around him. He can feel Eren’s fingers scissoring through your walls, eyes rolling back into his head at the sensation.

“You okay? Is it too much?” Jean notices one of those tears that had sparkled in your eyes earlier threatening to fall, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him. You look beautiful, all stretched around him and fucked out, mind blank.

“It’s a lot,” you nod, sniffle, “but I’m okay, I can take him. Want to, want– need you both.”

Eren’s eyes darken, and Jean can feel him remove his fingers, feel the accommodating stretch of your walls able to breathe again. Jean takes your hips in his hands, rolling you along his cock to grant both of you some of the friction you desperately need. You mewl, leaning over to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Eren’s lining up behind you, running a soothing hand over your back.

“Deep breaths, baby,” Jean instructs you, holding you to his chest. You sniffle and nod into his shoulder, muscles tense and twitching.

“Tell me if it’s too much, alright angel?” Eren leans over to press a surprisingly tender kiss between your shoulder blades and gives Jean a signaling nod, which Jean returns.

Jean can feel it the moment Eren pushes in, feel your body stretching itself to accommodate both of them. You squeal into the skin of Jean’s shoulder that you’ve taken between your teeth, and it hurts, but he lets you, rubbing circles on your lower back.

“Doing so good for us, baby,” Jean hums, pressing his lips to your ear, “too much?”

You shake your head, whimpering as Eren pushes in further.

“God, she’s– shit, it’s so fucking tight,” Eren growls, jaw clenched and a little vein protruding in his neck from the effort of holding himself back, reining in the part of himself that just wants to snap his hips forwards into you.

“Yeah, she is,” Jean chokes out, feeling suffocated by the way you’re pulsing around him, by the pressure of Eren’s cock shoving at him. He’s not sure where he ends and where the both of you begin, if there’s even any separation between his skin and Eren’s and yours anymore.

“Feel so– full,” you hiccup, nails digging into Jean’s shoulders. Your watery voice makes Eren pause, rub a hand over your back.

“You doing okay, baby? How you feeling?”

“Feels….” you take in a deep, heaving breath, “good. Feels so good.”

Eren grins, something feral. “That’s our girl. So good for us, yeah?”

“You like being full, hm?” Jean can feel a smile mirroring Eren’s on his face.

He doesn’t miss Eren’s choice of words. Our girl. And you are their girl, you love being full of them. Of course you do. You’re their insatiable little plaything, so good at taking them in each of your holes. You love it, you love them.

“It’s– fuck, I’m in,” Eren’s staring at where you’re all connected. Jean wishes he could see, but the tightness of you around him is enough, the way he can feel Eren through your thin walls, pressing against his cock. Eren pumps his hips experimentally, and all three of you moan in sync.

“Pl-please move, Jean, fuck- no, Eren, just–” you’re babbling nonsensically, music to their ears.

“We’ve got you,” Jean hushes you, fucking his hips up into you and cutting you off, “just sit tight and be our good little girl, alright?”

“Oh g-god.” Your words wrench from you in a sob, jolting with the thrust of Jean’s hips up into yours. It takes some work, but soon enough, they’re pumping in and out of you at the perfect pace, synced up so you’re never empty, not for long. You’re wailing, voice scratchy from all the crying you’ve already done that night, clutching onto Jean like he’s your last lifeline.

“Feels so fucking good,” Eren grits out, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips, “so good for us.”

“Not gonna last long, not like this,” Jean agrees, sitting you up so he can see you, see your wet cheeks and your open mouth, “so pretty like this, aren’t you? All stuffed full?”

“She loves it,” Eren growls over your pathetic, shaky moan of agreement, landing a smack on your ass, “fucking loves us, don’t you baby? Tell us, tell us how much you love it.”

“I-I love it,” you manage, voice wrecked, “love you— fuck- love you both so much.”

Jean’s eyes widen, roll back in his head a little. You’re so perfect, obedient and willing to take both of them, let them abuse your holes. The thought makes him bite down on the inside of his cheek, not willing to be the first to break and ruin this perfect moment.

“Jean, I– shit, I’m gonna cum soon,” Eren pants, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open when he meets Jean’s eyes. “Make her cum.”

Jean nods determinedly, somehow finds the presence of mind to slide a hand in between your slick bodies, swiping at your clit insistently. Your body blooms for him, back arching as you throw your head back against Eren’s shoulder. He feels you clench violently around him, knows you’ve already been on the edge since they started with you, knows you won’t take much goading to break for them.

“That good?” Jean forced out through his clenched jaw, trying to keep pace with Eren amidst your vice-like grip on him.

“Yes, so fucking– oh my god, J-Jean, I’m– Eren,” you’re babbling, close to the point of hysteria, eyes blank and teary. Jean’s free hand wraps around your hip, grabbing hard at the flesh there. He’s so gone he barely catches it, just barely, but he notices Eren’s hand. Eren lays his palm over Jean’s, deliberate and steady, grabbing onto the other man’s hand and squeezing down. Jean meets Eren’s eyes, fucked out and hooded.

“Come on,” Jean rubs faster, harder, his eyes flitting back and forth between yours and Eren’s, “show us what a good fucking girl you are for us.”

Whatever was tethering you to your sanity falls away, and you cum harder than Jean’s ever seen, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as your muscles lock up, legs trembling on either side of Jean’s hips. He grips your hip harder, trying to maintain a pace so you can ride your orgasm out on top of them. Eren follows quickly behind you, biting into your shoulder with a loud, long groan. When Jean feels Eren’s cum leaking out of you, feels the mess they’ve made between your legs, he falls over the edge too, slamming your hips down into his and grinding up into you with a moan.

The three of you collapse into a heap of limbs and sweat and stickiness, chests heaving and muscles twitching. Jean can feel the burn of Eren’s skin and the slick, plush give of yours, enveloping him from every angle, and for the first time in months, he lets his eyes flutter shut, letting himself enjoy the simple pleasure of touch.

But nothing is forever, and after a few minutes, he feels you begin to stir between them, mumbling about needing to go to the bathroom. Eren reluctantly rolls off the bed to help you to the bathroom to clean up, leading you out on shaking legs. Alone again, Jean throws his hands over his face and sighs, deep and hefty.

He shouldn’t be here, he should have never let you both goad him into this.

It occurs to Jean that he needs some air; the apartment feels suffocatingly small knowing that both of you are only a few layers of plaster and a door away. He pushes through regret and self-doubt, pulling his sweatpants back on and scrounging around in his laundry basket of unfolded, clean clothes to find a shirt.

“What are you doing?” Eren’s suddenly in the doorway, scowling at him.

“Going out.”

“You worked this morning. What, do you have plans or something?” There’s a clear note of annoyance in Eren’s voice, but Jean’s too exhausted and shaky to look into it.

“Jean?” You, Eren’s shadow as always, peer around his shoulders, a cute little furrow of confusion between your brows. “Where are you going?”

Jean nearly growls in frustration, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Out. I’m going out.”

He hates the way you flinch, grab onto Eren’s hand for stability in the wake of his snapping at you. Eren speaks next, but Jean doesn’t recognize his tone; it’s firm, but somehow, it’s lacking Eren’s perpetually angry intonation.

“Sit.” Eren’s got one finger pointed to the bed, ordering him as if this isn’t Jean’s own room. He drags you over behind him, plopping on the bed as if you all do this every day. Jean glares at Eren, softens his eyes at the way you’re looking up at him invitingly.

“We just want to talk a little,” you pat the comforter, smiling softly. That breaks him, and against Jean’s better judgment, he’s sitting where you’ve indicated, t-shirt still fisted in his hands.

“About?”

“We don’t want you to think– well, this…” Eren gestures his hands between the three of you, frowning deeper, and eventually sighing, “I don’t know how to say it.”

You pick up for Eren, smiling at him. “We don’t want you to feel like you’re out of place here, that’s all.”

Jean cocks an eyebrow. “In my own bedroom?”

“No, asshole,” Eren rolls his eyes, “with…with us.”

“What does that mean?” Jean’s heart nearly stops. A small, soft hand over his makes his breath catch in his throat.

“We’re not, like, experienced with this, so maybe we’re doing this whole thing wrong,” you look to Eren anxiously, who nods at you reassuringly, “but…we have room for you. If you’re open.”

“Like…” Jean barely trusts his voice to carry above a breath, “in what sense?”

“It’s not just sex,” Eren mumbles, flushing pink, “to us, at least.”

“We like you,” you clarify, smiling again, “and however you want us, if you want us, at least, you can have us.”

Jean blinks stupidly, looks to Eren to see if his face betrays anything, anything that could explain the conversation taking place, if it’s a joke, if he’s unsure. To his surprise, Eren looks up at him, green eyes earnest and burning into his, and takes the t-shirt out of Jean’s hands, giving one of Jean’s hands to you and taking the other for himself.

“It works,” Eren says, finding some conviction, “whatever you want to call it, this works.”

“For both of you?” Jean can hardly believe his ears, can hardly fathom the feeling of your soft, delicate little fingers and Eren’s calloused palms wrapped around his hands.

“For both of us. But…does it? For you?” Your voice wavers, your nerves betraying you.

“I mean, I don’t know what it is. I don’t understand it,” Jean admits, positive that his eyes are comically wide in the face of this new information.

“Me neither,” Eren shrugs, “but we don’t have to be so serious about it–”

“Not for now at least,” you smile at Eren encouragingly, nodding and urging him to press on.

“Not for now,” Eren agrees, squeezing Jean’s fingers ever so slightly, the smallest, most tentative reassurance, “we can figure it out later.”

“If you want it,” you bite your lip, looking up at Jean through thick lashes, “want us. We won’t be upset if you say no. No pressure.”

Jean thinks for a moment, thinks about everything you’re offering him. You, who he’s pined after for months, so beautiful and sweet to him. He thinks about sharing coffee with you in the mornings, holding you tight to his body and drifting off to sleep, letting you play with his hair. He doesn’t know if he loves you, but whatever he feels is pretty damn close to it, close enough to drive him crazy and keep him up at night.

And Eren. He’s been friends with Eren for near a decade now, known him for as long as he can remember. What this agreement means in terms of his relationship with Eren, Jean hardly dares to press, knowing how Eren is: flighty, argumentative, brash. None of that is written into Eren’s features now, though; Eren’s watching him intently, earnestly, chest stilled as if he’s holding his breath, waiting for Jean’s answer.

Something old and something new mixed together into something entirely unfamiliar.

“We don’t have to put a label on it now, or even go through the semantics,” Eren’s voice is spent, nearly breathless.

“We’ll give you some space if you need–”

“No,” Jean cuts you off, looking between you both, “no, it’s– it’s just a surprise, that’s all.”

Eren snorts. “How many times do we need to fuck you before you get the hint?”

“Eren!” You slap his arm, looking between him and Jean meaningfully. “Not really the time for jokes, is it?”

“I mean, fucking in the bathroom of Scout’s isn’t exactly wining and dining me,” Jean rolls his eyes. Eren laughs at that, unintentionally tightening his grip around Jean’s fingers and making Jean’s heart thud a little in his chest.

“You two are beyond annoying,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Eren and Jean exchange a wicked smirk.

“Regretting this already?” Eren teases you, digging his fingers into your side and making you giggle.

“Get over here,” Jean pulls you onto his lap, feeling emboldened to press a quick succession of kisses to your jawline, to your cheek. God, maybe he does love you, the weight of you in his arms feeling almost perfect. Eren leans over and tackles you both, tickling you wherever he can reach, Jean pinning you to his chest despite your protests and thrashing.

That’s what’s missing, Jean realizes. It’s not about you and Jean, or you and Eren, or he and Eren. He understands Eren’s bluntness earlier: the three of you just work, regardless of the weirdness of it all or the awkward conversations that lay ahead. It works, and for now, that’s enough.

Eren relents in his torture, scooting up the bed and dragging you with him, pulling Jean’s covers over you both like he’d done it a hundred times. Jean’s last little inkling of self-doubt perseveres, and he hesitates, until Eren tosses the covers on your other side back, patting the sheets meaningfully. Jean swallows his pride, swallows his insecurity, and pulls you into his side, very mindful of Eren’s arm tossed over both of your shoulders, of Eren’s fingers weaving absentmindedly through the hair at the nape of his neck.

And in the morning, when Eren mimics Jean’s loud snoring and you’re playfully throwing little crumbs of toast at them over the counter, the little voice in Jean’s head that had warned him to keep his distance will be completely silenced for the first time in months.

[halfwayhearted]

No Need To Argue — Pablo Gavi.

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ever since that night, things have only been going downhill. Once you finally issue a break, your… he crumbles.

Word Count: 1K+

Disclaimer/s — None!

A/N: Read part one here! *_* So! I actually don’t know how I feel about this but! Reconciliation perhaps or whatever…

So, four months did in fact go down the drain!

To you, that is. After two more weeks had passed and nothing between the two of you changed, you decided it was better for you guys to take a break. For you, it was to prioritize yourself, and for him, well, you didn’t know. To… get better?

Honestly, you weren’t doing quite well at all! How could you be? Feeling like you were nothing but a chore to be done had completely shattered you.

You just didn’t know that Gavi was literally doing just as badly himself. He felt like complete and utter shit. How could he have treated the one person who stayed by his side the way he had?

He wasn’t a teenager anymore. He was grown—too grown to be acting the way he had acted.

It shouldn’t have taken him so long to come to that conclusion. He spent days figuring out how to reach you, when he should, if he even should. What if you wanted nothing to do with him?

He wouldn’t be all that surprised if that was the case. Not at all. He could never blame you.

But what could he do? He knew that all you ever actually wanted was his presence. And he had failed to give you something as simple as that.

Running a hand through his messy hair, he looked around the empty apartment. The silence was deafening. He ached for the scent of the candles you’d light when you came home from work, the sight of you on the couch with a book propped up against your legs, occasionally glancing over at him watching television. The soft, melodic music that used to fill the space while you did literally anything was now a haunting absence. He missed your humming, a constant reminder of his loss.

He missed your voice. He missed… you entirely.

Your words ring throughout his mind, “Why is it so hard to make time? I miss you.” You had missed him, even stated it, and what did he do? He brushed you off. He was such a jerk to you.

Two weeks stretched into three, and each day was filled with nothing but disappointment.

That was until he had enough. After days of planning and wondering what he should do to get you back, he realized it wasn’t about what he had to do. It was about what he had to change.

And that was his time. He had to learn how to be there for you, how to truly be present.

He always wanted to make time, but he let the joy of finally being back with his team distract him from that. Now he was aware, and he would stop at nothing to get you back. He needed you.

He couldn’t lose you—no, he wouldn’t lose you.

The man shot you a quick, vague text, hoping you wouldn’t just… ignore it. Hoping it’d do the job.

Pablo: Can you come over? It’s important.

Luckily, it did. You hadn’t actually replied to him; you just reacted to his message with a thumbs up. Earlier that day, he had gone to the store, bought the ingredients for your favorite food, a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and even a candle you had claimed was your favorite scent.

Very Cliche? Probably. Worth it? Hopefully.

Fifteen minutes later, you were there, knocking on the door despite having the key. He hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath before swinging it open. “Hey, come in, please?” Gavi started.

Your eyes narrowed, “What’s this about, Pablo?”

Knock it off. Knock it off. Knock it off. “Come in.”

Walking in, you scanned the familiar apartment, and your nose scrunched up slightly. “Is that—”

“Yes,” he interjected, closing the door. “It is.”

“You hate that. Claimed it ‘burned your nostrils’.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he uttered, “But you like it. That’s enough for me. Listen, can we sit?”

He was being weird. Very weird. Yet you couldn’t help but oblige, reluctantly taking a seat on the couch and crossing your arms, “Is it about my stuff? Because I wasn’t planning on doing that—”

Gavi says your name quietly, that was enough to make you clamp your mouth shut. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re… sorry?” You echoed, your tone skeptical.

“You were right. I wasn’t treating you right. I made you feel like you weren’t important, and that was never what I wanted. That’ll change, I promise.”

“Saying you’ll change and actually changing are two very different things. Anyone can say that.”

The brunette nods, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “You’re right. See, I knew you’d say that. So… I went ahead and did what you like to do—I made a list.” He pauses, a hint of nervous energy in his actions, as he reaches for a paper on the coffee table and moves to sit beside you. “Look, these are our designated times together. Cross my heart, I won’t cancel any of these, I swear to you.”

You open your mouth to say something, but you can’t. Your gaze is locked on the paper. This was what you had wanted. Needed, even. “I—really?”

“I promise you,” he confirms, his voice soft yet earnest. “I even included cooking night. We can make those cookies you’ve been wanting, too.”

“When?”

Looking over at you with a goofy, growing smile, he nudges his head toward the kitchen. “Now?”

Your eyes narrow once more, “What’s that smell?”

“That is a surprise,” he smiled, standing up and holding out a hand for you. “Let’s eat, then we can make them, yeah? If you’re free to… are you?”

Was this too easy? You weren’t sure. Though it didn’t stop you from accepting his outstretched hand and pulling yourself up. “Yeah, yes, I’m free to. But! I hope you know I’m still upset with you, so let’s just hope the cookies turn out good.”

His smile widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he nods, guiding you into your shared kitchen.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedrilcvr + @gadriezmannsgirl + @spidybaby + @pabl0andm3 ! ౨ৎ

[bingoboingobongo]

If the asks are still open may I make a request. I read your cuddling headcanons for task force 141 and it got me thinking. How would they react to being cradled to their fem s/o's chest. With their fingers running through their hair, listening to their heartbeat? These boys deserve to go to sleep in comfort. Let them go into such a deep sleep they almost go into the light. If you don't feel like doing the whole squad can I just have Ghost?

task force 141 + being cradled

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Warnings: none

A/N: help i've been watching neymar jr/jude bellingham edits for so long my fyp thinks im a real soccer fan

simon "ghost" riley:

alright so simon's definitely more used to being the cradler rather than the cradled

he likes holding your head to his chest and feeling you bury your face deeper into his shirt

but honestly he's never been held by someone else

i mean just on size alone the schematics are kinda awkward

which is why he's sort of caught of guard the first time you pull him to your chest

the two of you were sitting in bed and he was telling you about his day

and you could tell that even though his voice was neutral he was absolutely exhausted (plus all the stuff he had to say just sounded so tiring)

so without saying anything (and a bit of struggle ngl this man is huge and therefore heavy) you manage to pull his head into your chest

he kinda stiffens and tries to get away but you hold him firm against your chest because you know that if he really wanted to leave he easily could

but when he sees how determined you are to keep him there it sorta flicks a switch in his mind that maybe this isn't the worse thing in the world

like obviously you wanted this and he's spent enough time with you to trust you

and besides you're so warm and even though you're not as big as him he can't help but feel secure in your arms so he starts to relax

and you tell him to pick up his head so you can take off his balaclava and he happily obliges

and he takes this opportunity to readjust into a more popular position so that he's more shifted on his side with one of his arms wrapped around your torso

and now he can feel the tiredness start to creep around his eyelids but he doesn't want to fall asleep because he wants to be able to savor this moment

but when you bring your fingers to his hair?

oh. my. lord.

simon melts IMMEDIATELY

he's kinda embarrassed about it but his eyes literally rolled into the back of his head

and after that point it is literally so hard for him to not fall asleep

like he is fighting demons just so he can stay awake and listen to your heartbeat longer

but with the way you're fingers are working magic on his scalp it's not long until his eyes are closing

he honestly doesn't even realize he fell asleep until he wakes up the next morning

and is he stiff as hell?

yes.

but was it worth it?

yes.

john "soap" mactavish:

alright so soap's definitely more chill about it than ghost

like he was the one to put his head on your chest not the other way around

he just likes how soft and warm you are and it makes him feel cozy

but he can't do it all the time because sometimes it gets to hot or he gets worried his head is too heavy

it's like being the little spoon

it's nice but sometimes you just wanna sprawl your entire body over someone else's

so he honestly doesn't let you cradle him very often

plus it's just like an awkward position for him

he doesn't wanna have to crane his neck up to see you and he has to do that when you have his head in your chest

that being said he will sacrifice seeing your face for a bit if it means having you scratch his head for him

although his favorite is when you're sitting on the couch because then he can lay his head on your lap

and then he has a good visual of your face and he gets to have you scratch his head

so it's a win win in his opinion

that being said having his head on his chest is one of his favorite positions to fall asleep in

especially when he's too tired to worry about if it's comfortable for you or not

something about your heartbeat is just soothing what can i say

kyle "gaz" garrick:

hmmm so tbh i don't think gaz is really into the head scratches

like it doesn't really work with his hair texture anyways and they feel funny to him

sorta like how some people love asmr but others can't stand it

and honestly i hate to say it but i don't really see gaz as being super into having you cradle his head and stuff

idk why i just can't see him doing that but maybe im just blind idk

like he might lean his head on your shoulder or even your head or something like that but idk he's just not a cradle kind of guy imo

he definitely loves cradling your head though

like he loves it when you're sitting in the car or on a couch and you lean your head on his shoulder and he can wrap his arm around you

definitely gives a top of the head kiss then too

maybe when he's sleeping he'll put his head on your chest

but again he'd much rather have your head on his chest

plus gaz has found that he has a very sensitive spine

(probably from falling out of like twenty helicopters let's be fr)

and so often when he falls asleep with his head on your chest he wakes up with a super stiff neck

off topic but one time he did fall asleep with his head on your chest and you moved it to his pillow once he fell asleep

and ik it sounds counterintuitive but that day gaz knew he was falling in love because the fact that you knew to do that made his heart soar

john price:

okay so price is obviously older and therefore more mature

and like the wise man he is he's never afraid to rest his head on the chest of a beautiful woman

that's honestly one of his favorite ways to spend his off days

the two of you laying on a couch watching a movie

he let you pick bc you both knew he would pass out by the thirty minute mark

i mean how could he not?

especially when he's laying on your chest and you're fiddling with his hair

twisting it and braiding it and combing through it

also you know he let's out the most guttural groan as soon as your fingers touch his head

and at that point he's more than happy to close his eyes, lay back, and relax as he listens to your heartbeat over the sound of the movie

sometimes you'll say something and he'll grunt in reply

but you both know that he has no idea what you said because he's in that perfect limbo of barely being awake and barely falling asleep

i mean he literally fantasizes about spending his days like that

alejandro vargas:

hm alright so alejandro would definitely rather have you on his chest than lay his head on yours

but also in the end his root motivation for everything is just making you happy so if you ask him to lay his head on your chest he will obey any day

i mean guys...

he is whipped for you let's be real

you say jump he says how high

he'll also never admit it or explicitly ask for it but he does love it when you play with his hair

especially when you curl it around your finger and tug on it a little

sometimes though if he's had a long day he'll come home and just lay his head down on your chest so he can listen to your heartbeat

usually he'll get up after a while so he can talk to you without his words being muffled by your chest

sometimes though he's too tired and he'll just straight pass out

still in his gear and everything

rodolfo "rudy" parra:

hehehehe rudy my favorite

all right guys im sure you already saw it coming but rudy definitely LOVES resting his head on your chest

like it is his preferred position for everything

he will outright ask you to lay down so he could go rest his head on your chest

and yes he will ask you to play with his hair too

and he will sing your praises when you do

this definitely started way early in the relationship so you've had lots of time to get used to it

and it's not like you can complain because even if it does get uncomfortable at times rudy is always sure to let you know how much he appreciates it

i mean it just lets him actually sleep well for once

like as soon as his head is on your chest he is passed out

snoring quietly and drooling ever so slightly

and you know when he wakes up he's gonna have those red indent marks on his skin lol

but all jokes aside it really is his favorite thing like if he could he would record the sound of your heartbeat and play it back during missions

and also when he's on duty and has to sleep alone he definitely props up some pillows and tries to pretend it's you

it's not as good as you though

[impactedfates]

Hello there!! Can I request some headcanons / mini-scenarios for: Dan Heng, March, Welt, Himeko, Yanqing and Jing Yuan; with a normally soft-spoken Reader who has a wide vocal range (from contralto to hitting those high notes) and occasionally does song covers? Doesn't matter the genre, so long as Reader likes it.

So they might hear Reader singing something like a lullaby or a traditional Xianzhou song one day, to something that's still soft and sweet like a mainstream pop song on another day; to belting out something like "Kakusei" or "NEXUS" from the Promare OST. :D

★ A/N: I understood the request, I just hope I wrote it in a way you wanted! People with such a large vocal range are so talented istg, they gotta teach me. (I say as if I have ANY confidence to sing anyways)

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic

★ Format: Bullet Pointed Head Cannons (And small scenario at the end :>)

☆ Warnings: None

★ Extra: Reader is a Nameless // Readers age is undisclosed so imagine them at whatever age you wish // Reader can play instruments! // Characters might be OOC I feel // Proof Read but I did it when it was 4am lmao

When you sing more soft songs, Dan Heng tends to enjoy listening. It helps him feel more relax and sometimes rids his mind of nightmares.

He's more used to hearing that kind of voice from you. So when one day, he walks in on you singing a song that's the exact opposite of how you usually sing, he's a bit surprised.

He never doubted you could have a big vocal range, however hearing you sing a song that's different to how he normally hears you sing is what surprised him.

He still enjoys listening, but more so when you sing in a softer voice, don't get him wrong. He still enjoys your singing voice and will support you. But he isn't one for a more loud song.

"[Name]...if you're going to sing more...on the loud side, could I request you do it else where?" Dan Heng sighs softly, being awoken up once again due to you. Despite his words hinting at annoyance, his facial expression was soft and kind. A soft sorry came from your voice as you quickly turned off the music you were using, switching to a more softer song. An old Xianzhou lullaby. "Here, I'll make it up to you. Sit on the couch and I'll sing a softer song" You smiled, Dan Heng chuckled as he obliged. He can't deny that your more softer voice doesn't help him fall asleep. He silently hums along to your voice, and in a sleepy voice he speaks to you before drifting to bed. "If you enjoy music like that so much, we can pay a visit to Serval okay?"

March 7th LOVES your singing voice. She would sing along to whatever song you were singing. She praises you every time she hears you and likely took photos of you singing.

She so supports you if you ever make a YouTube (StarTube?) account and posted covers, literally your number 1 fan.

When you post a cover of a song, she's always the first one to like, comment and listen!

When you post a cover of a song that's VERY different. (Let's say, Usseewa) and you hit ALL those high notes and, everything omg. She was surprised but immediately hyped you up.

She doesn't mind if you sing songs like that at all, your singing is amazing. Like I said, number 1 fan...she doesn't hid it either.

"I love you [Name]!" "Uh, the one with the blue camera and pink hair?" "OH. MY GOD. [NAME] YOU NOTICED ME, YOU NOTICED ME. I.LOVE.YOU" Serval laughed out loud seeing Marchs outburst, as if you two don't live with each other. You could only look away with a small smile, seeing March jump up and down and shaking whoever was beside her. Much to Welts "delight"

Welts very impressed with your vocal range. But he's also worried, he knows that if you were able too have a large vocal range, you likely know how to manage it.

Still, anytime he hears you singing songs like NEXUS or Kakusei he can't help but slide over a bottle of water for your throat.

If you ever join a concert with Serval then he IS buying tickets, though not everyone may go (Dan Heng) he and the rest of the Express will.

He also tends to buy any merch you may come out with if there is any. (Mainly for March but he does keep one or two for himself to support you)

He doesn't really have a preference when it comes too what songs you sing, just as long as your happy and it isn't really disturbing anyone.

If you ever start a StarTube channel, he might animate a few of your covers! Under a pen name though, he's not embarrassed, but I think he'd like it if you thought it was a different fan and not just him who's already liked your singing from the start. (If that makes sense)

"WELT! Weltweltwelt" You ran up to him, quickly showing him an animation someone did of one of your new songs. "ArahatosNumber1Fan animated one of my covers again" You said excitedly, bringing the phone screen back to your view as you scrolled through the comments. Many complimenting the animation but many also asking who sang the cover to which they were directed to your account. "This the guy that you said was helping boost your channel subs?" You nod happily, tapping your chin you thought for a bit. "Do you think they'd still animate my covers even if I sing a different genre? I want to go with something softer this time instead of a louder peice" "I'm sure they'll animate any song you wish to sing" He chuckles. And sure enough, a week after you posted a cover of Lost Umbrella, ArahatosNumber1Fan posted an animation to go along with it.

Himeko compliments you a lot for your vocal range. In fact, she got you a karaoke machine for your birthday! Of course, though. She doesn't let you use it during night time. She doesn't want to wake up because you decided to start singing Churira Churira Dadada at 3 in the morning.

I do think she prefers you to sing outside the train. While she does enjoying your singing and she has no problem if you were to sing in the train. However she also understands it may disturb many people so she does ask for you to sing in an area where you aren't disturbing anyone.

I feel like she also asks you to teach her how to sing or have a wider vocal range. She enjoys singing herself and would love to join in when you're out singing to keep you company!

Perhaps you two can make money by singing on the streets :> (Only if you're okay with it though!)

You strummed you guitar as the two of you reached the last note, Himeko took a small bow and looked up at the audience that had gathered around. All of them clapping and complimenting your voice. She laughed softly and gently packed up your things so the two of you could get going, checking to see if you were uncomfortable with the attention before she directs you back to the train. As you two entered, Himeko was quick to sit and count the amount of credits that were left in your guitar case, looking up to you she said with a smile. "A success, well done. They loved you" "It wasn't just me singing..." "Perhaps but...I'd say they have their favourites"

When Yanqing overhears you singing Xianzhou lullabys, he's quick to shower you with compliments. Your voice is so soothing! He could listen it for so long and it's effective too. You had to usher him out as he could wake the kids you just put to bed.

When he hears you singing a song like (man I'm running out of songs I know/hj) Noels Lament. He's impressed, how can you sing a song so softly and quietly and then sing something like this which needs a stronger voice??

He might skip a few of his training to find you and see what song you're singing, he makes it a guessing game! Will you be singing something so sweet and kind? Or something that might will make head turn??

"...Yanqing?" "Ha! I guessed right this time" "...Guessed...right?" Ah, you weren't meant to know the guessing game he had in his own head, quickly, he shuffled away. Scratching the back of his head. "Of where you were!" "I always walk in this area" "...I meant...what outfit you'd be wearing?" "I usually wear similar clothes?" ...Yeah, he's running off quickly, hopefully Jing Yuan won't scold him for skipping his training again right? Surely the general can understand he just has to see if his guess was right or not.

Surprisingly (or not surprisingly) Jing Yuan enjoys when you sing your heart out with songs like Candy Store or Mount Rageous. That's the type of sing he first heard you sing when he tried to find Yanqing when he skipped yet another training sessions.

Usually he would just sleep till Yanqing returned or just go on with his day if he never did. In either case, now he joins Yanqing to see what song you're singing before returning back to train.

When he hears you singing a less upbeat song like Sweet Dreams. He's slightly surprised but listens intently, it's different to what he often hears you sing but he enjoys it none the less, he sees your happy so he's fine.

He might even request to hear certain songs just to see how well you voice range can handle it. From the loudest song that could break glass, to a soothing song that can put even the mara struck to bed. And if you successfully sing them all, he congratulates you.

Overall, he's impressed as well as many others, likely talks to you and how well you sing to his friends.

You panted a bit as you finished a particularly long high note, Jing Yuan chuckles and slides over a cup of water which you accept quickly. Taking a drink to sooth your throat. "You voice really can do wonders, I'm more then impressed" He speaks, you nodded in response as he then offers a small treat for agreeing to sing a song for him. A song that made you go from high to low, soft to loud and all in all, tested how wide your voice range can be in a singular song. "I must apologies, I just wished to see how far your voice can go. I should've considered how tired your throat must be from singing that particular song" "No worries, it was fun to read and practice that song. I'm a bit surprised you know it though" "Oh? Are you now?" "Yeah...I mean...the song was released like a month ago and you're kinda a grandp-" "Alright I get it" He chuckled lightly, gently flicking your forehead.

I'm so smart writing Yanqings and JY sleep deprived right?/j Yeah uh they might be OOC, hopefully not thoughejfpgt.

[squiddy-god]

Hii!

I'm not really sure if you're familiar with this character, so if you aren't I wouldn't mind if you wrote for Diluc or Boothill instead. Please can I request Veritas Ratio from hsr with a reader who has constant nightmares🙏

Tsk tsk tsk someone has not been seeing the 50000000 ratio fics ive put out </3 seriously tho i love him so much so yes i will be writing this because i love him<3 also did boothill because mmmmm cowboy. 

♥︎requests open♥︎

cw : nightmares, trama, comfort fic hehe, established relationship 

Ratio 

Ok ok ok 

I think that he is actually very supportive

 Ratio gives off the vibes of being both the heaviest and lightest sleeper. 

Like the 14 step night routine, reads before bed, deep sleep, but his alarm goes off and he just,,,gets up,,, like he wasn't even sleeping at all 

So when you wake up from a nightmare he is also quick to follow right behind, 

Not the best at comforting you but he dose try to ground you, if you need to just be held a little he is more than willing to oblige, if you just want some space and a bit of water hes grabbing a glass for you

Depending on the reasons for your nightmares he willing to talk about it if you need 

Now if your like me, you have nightmares but mine don't really scare me, they are more like weird dreams at this point

He's still willing to talk you through it, surprisingly gentle in his approach to your mental health or anything that is affecting these nightmares

Boothill 

Mmmmmmmm cowboy go brrrrr

Literally 

Like fall asleep by the fire listening to the gentle whirring of his internal machinery 

Personally i like to think boothill needs a lot less sleep, he still dose but its a lot less than any other non cyborg would need

So the first time you woke up shaking from another nightmare i think he gets pretty concerned

I think at first hed feel guilty that maybe he had something to do with this since you travel with him on his dangerous job hunting bounties but as long as you explain that no no this is something that has been happening for a while, he feels better about it

Takes the high road of “heh nothing to be afraid of while i'm here” 

Like you have absolutely nothing to fear, with boothill keeping watch you don't have to worry about anything or any shirt bags

Definitely like when you wanna cuddle up to him after a nightmare, and he talks to you until you're ready to sleep again. 

My roomba<3

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part thirty-two

summary: the end.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n:

the end!! omg!!guys thank you so much for being here through this whole story and this was LONG!! over 110k words of a lot of nonsense but to anyone who's made it this far,, ilysm. i'm gonna miss them!! stop they were everything to me :(

ANYWAY same with LTPF if you've read that, there will be an epilogue coming soon and also definitely more oneshots and maybe bonus content that i wish i included in the original series but just didn't make the cut. so stay tuned for that!!

if you liked this series, i'm obligated as well to plug my NEXT series that's coming soon, 'requiem'!! i am so excited about it so please follow me for updates on when that will be posted!! def soon!!

just one more time i wanted to say ily, and thank you :')

see you soon!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

You keep your books tucked firmly to your chest as you walk into your first class, wearing the spare clothes you brought to Sejanus's house on Friday just in case you had to change. In case you spilled something on your white dress, or just felt the need to change- ironically enough.

Your normal seat in the front centre of the room is obviously free, considering also that you were quite early this morning. You had some readings you needed to catch up on anyway, in order to be prepared for midterms which were apparently coming up quickly.

It isn't long after you open your book before others begin to shuffle in, and much to your surprise, you feel the chair next to you pull back and see someone sit down. "Hi, Victor." The boy's voice says, forcing you to look up from your book.

Dark hair and dark eyes, you think you remember his name was Cancor. "Oh, my name is Y/N." You correct him kindly, adjusting nervously in your seat.

"I know that." He says, eyes merely slits as he seems to look past your own eyes and into your soul.

"You're... You're Cancor, correct? I don't believe we've properly met." You add, sitting up straighter.

"Crane." He states. "My last name is Crane."

"That's... yes that's a lovely name." You smile nervously, unsure what to say but still wanting to fill the silence he seemed so comfortable with. "Alliteration is such a fun thing to consider when naming a child..."

"It means spider." He states. "Did you ever meet my sister?" He asks, ignoring your nervous ramblings.

"No, no I don't believe I have. What is her name?" You ask.

"Arachne." The boy says, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly while you take a moment to wrack your mind to place it. He's acting as if you should know her, and suddenly you feel like you do.

You tilt your head slightly, allowing the memory to hit you like a freight train.

The funeral.

All you really remembered until now was being chained to a truck and paraded down the street you now recognize as the Corso, the body of his sister's tribute swinging above you while people screamed and cursed at you. Then, Coryo sang the national anthem.

"Oh, yes. Of course." You nod slightly, a frown settling over your features. "I am so sorry for your loss. Truly."

"No, you're not." He spits. "You don't care, and the fact that you're pretending to is just vile. She meant less than nothing to you and those animals- otherwise, she would still be here!"

You stammer, pushing yourself back in your seat as you grip the bottom of the chair. "No, no- I am sorry, I am. That should not have happened. It- It was horrible."

"Cancor." You silently thank the universe for your professor's quick intervention. "If you wouldn't mind returning to your usual seat and leaving Miss Y/L/N alone."

"We were just talking." Cancor replies, suddenly sweet as honey- cool and collected as if he wasn't just berating you over your faults in his sister's death.

"Go." Dr. Nero tells him again, nodding up toward the back of the lecture hall. "Before I am forced to ask you to leave."

The boy sighs in quiet frustration, slightly aggressive about his movements as he grabs his bag and stomps up the stairs.

You look up to your professor who greets the look with a curt nod and the smallest of sympathetic smiles.

It does nothing to quell the lightness you feel that usually signifies the trembling of your hands, which would soon spread. You close your eyes trying to take deep breaths that wouldn't come, but all you can see is the bodies of Arachne Crane and her tribute by the bars that had separated them. You have to open your eyes to remind yourself you aren't standing in the street, wrists still shackled to a truck. You can feel the chains weighing your wrists down to the desk as you think about it. You had almost entirely forgotten about the whole event- and the guilt of that was suddenly clawing its way up your throat. Cancor had never had the privilege of forgetting the way you had.

Quickly, you shove your books into your bag and stand, heading for the door. "Y/N." Dr. Nero's voice forces you to stop and you just turn to look at him, knowing full well you're unable to speak. "It's 8:58."

You nod slightly, looking down at the marble flooring that lay between you. "Start without me." You mumble, not giving him the chance to respond before you're leaving, accidentally bumping shoulders with some of the final students to enter.

You hadn't missed a single class yet, attendance was important, but right now you couldn't care less. Why should you even have the privilege of attending classes at the university in place of some of the academy's brightest minds who never got the chance? Like Arachne, and the three other mentors who were killed because of the games. You knew it wasn't necessarily your fault, but you understood Cancor's anger being directed at you. In a twisted way, you felt like you deserved it. They were meant to survive, you never were. Yet, here you were- a walking reminder to those students' friends and families that for some reason, they had to lose someone they shouldn't have.

You quickly pace down the nearly empty hall, trying to hold back your tears as long as you could. Feeling like you can't breathe is making it exponentially harder, and you wonder how you even walked out of the arena as it was. Adrenaline is a crazy beast- and you wished you had some leftover now. Sometimes, in moments like this, you wonder if you had used up your life's supply of the chemical the last time you were here in the Capitol.

Coryo was already running late after spending probably far too long conversing with your brother in the car, but he couldn't resist taking a detour into the arts building. He would just pass through, past your room just to glance inside and see if you were really there. Just to get a look at you.

He doesn't need to, though, turning a corner and just catching a glimpse of your hair as you disappear with a left turn at the end of the corridor. He was sure it was you.

Walking past your classroom he looks anyway, just to double-check, and as he suspected, you were gone.

He quickens his pace, taking advantage of his height difference over you to try and catch up with more rushed steps. "Y/N?" He calls out as he turns the same corner, but you're already hidden from view and the door at the far end of the hall is slamming shut.

As he continues down the corridor, a furrow knits its way into his brow. You must be headed to where you normally eat lunch, that is all that would make sense.

Without thinking, he follows. The courtyard is almost empty, aside from your frame curled up on the grass, knees tucked to your chest and bag discarded halfheartedly beside you on the damp grass. The sun casts a shadowed glow where it isn't blocked by trees or buildings in its path of rising, the grass is wet under his shoes as he quickly approaches you.

"Hey- hey, Y/N/N, it's me." He calls out as he walks up behind you. You turn your head, and then stand quickly.

"It- It's okay. I'm fine." You stammer, wiping your cheeks frantically. "You should g-go, you're already late."

"I'm not leaving you like this." He shakes his head, holding a hand out toward you as you avoid his eyes. "Tell me what happened, love. Talk to me."

You shake your head, shoulders backed to an invisible wall as you hold your palms over your face. You can't look at him right now- especially right now, when all you want is for him to hold you.

"You're okay. I'm not gonna hurt you." He whispers, taking a hesitant step closer. By now, you know full well he wouldn't hurt you. Not in the way he's saying, at least.

"You should go." You choke over the words that feel heavy in your mouth.

"Y/N, love, I told you, I'm not going anywhere." He repeats calmly.

"I want to go home." You sob. "I shouldn't have won, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't even be alive!" You say, voice picking up in frustration. "It's not fair. Nothing is fair, nothing."

He frowns as you lower your hands, clenching your fists at your sides. "Of course, you should be here."

"You don't get it!" You snap, and you hardly even sound like yourself.

This was it. This was your breaking point.

Coryo is taken back by your outburst, almost flinching at the abruptness of your shift. He had never seen you angry- he didn't even know it was possible. Of course it was. He'd spent all this time, all this energy trying to convince people that you were human. Anger comes with that, hand in hand like your cat and the fur that's clinging to his clothes at this very moment. You couldn't have one without the other. "Then explain it to me." He urges you, trying to sound anything other than defensive.

Your eyes soften, as if you're suddenly realizing that your anger was not entirely placed on him. You shake your head. "It's not... I cannot explain it and that is the worst part." You sigh, but the rage flashes in your eyes again as you look down. "Why was it me and not any of them? Why did so many of your classmates have to die? Why did Marcus escape only to face a worse fate than the rest of us, when he tried to help me too? Why am I enrolled at this stuffy university when my spot belongs to Arachne Crane in rights?"

"Arachne Crane?" Coryo mutters, eyes widening with confusion while he wonders where on earth that came from. He shakes his head quickly to dismiss the thought. "Marcus tried to save you, yes, that could have been you who escaped, that's true- but you were too busy trying to save me. And you did." He knows better than to accuse you of regretting that. He knows you don't.

When you don't reply, just staring at him head on now, frustrated and confused, he continues. "If we're going by this unexplainable logic of the universe, I think that it was you because instead of saving yourself, you saved me. And you did it again in the arena, when you went back for Jessup when I was looking at the screen and begging you silently to just ditch him. Same exact thing when you tried to get little Wovey up into the rafters with you, and hell! When you stared down the barrel of my gun, shaking head to toe from fear just to save the life of the Mayor's daughter, who was nothing but awful to everyone!" He says, gesticulating wildly to get his point across. "I've been trying to tell you for months, Y/N. It was you because you are the only person in this whole damn country who cares about someone other than themselves."

You just shake your head, and it's frustrating to him that you're unwilling to accept what he knows to be true. "It didn't work." You sniff. "You're the only one who survived me."

"Listen to me," Coryo says, reaching out and holding your face in his hands- throwing caution to the wind regarding how he knows to handle your panic attacks. "I survived because I had to learn how to love you."

You look into his eyes, flitting your own back and forth between them in an attempt to place any signs of deception. Blue, baby blue. You find none.

"And I did. And I'll love you every day for the rest of our lives. I don't want you to think for a minute that I'm embarrassed by that fact." Your eyes are squeezed shut by the time he finishes speaking, his thumbs swiping over the tear stains left down your cheeks by anger.

"It's not your fault." You mumble, shaking your head under his hold. "I do not fault you for being embarrassed."

"I'm not." He says again. "Look at me, please, love."

You pry your eyes open to face him.

"I've... I've had all this pressure my whole life to be perfect, and now it's worse than ever and I should have never let that get pushed onto you. I want you to be happy, that's all. I want you to be free to do whatever you want, and right now, the cost of that comes with who we are in public. Do you understand?"

"Yes." You say softly, but he can see that's not fully true.

"Here, in the Capitol, everything is a social ladder. We cannot marry who we wish, we marry who we should. Rarely ever do kids here date for fun."

"Like Lucy Gray and the silly mistakes she made over and over again with Billy Taupe." You comment, trying to lighten the tension you feel radiating off his body.

"Yes." He chuckles, smiling hopefully at you, relieved that you understood. "But I want nothing more on this earth than for you to be the one I spend my life with. I want to make you happy, but first, in order to do that, you have to be someone that they will accept. And I am so, so sorry I didn't explain this to you sooner, but I want you to know I've never wanted you to change."

"We don't need them to like me to be happy. That will be an endless uphill battle, Coryo." You shake your head slightly, placing your hands over his as they slide down onto your neck.

"It will be uphill but we can do it." He assures you quickly. "You're already well-liked, we're-"

"Were you not happy in Twelve?" You ask, a sad look in your eyes.

He stops, tilting his head slightly at you. He was happy in Twelve, now that he considers it. He hadn't thought about it, he was so focused on hating everything but you that he just assumed it was awful, but really, it wasn't. Not in hindsight."Is that what you want?"

You smile in response. No one had asked in months what you wanted. What you really wanted.

"What do you want, love? I'll pack up and move us back to Twelve tomorrow if that's what you really want." He says again, nothing short of desperation in his tone.

Faced with the option, you're really not sure. Yes, of course, you'd like to go home. It was very tempting. But Coryo was right, this education was important. You imagine for a moment the life you could have back home if you stuck it out a few more years. And maybe by then, you'll be better accepted here. Maybe by then, the Capitol will be a different place, and you'll be truly happy here. With him, and he will have the power to make the games go away.

"No, no." You shake your head. "I want to do something splendid...something heroic or wonderful that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it and mean to astonish you all someday." You say, and he can tell from your change in notation that the words are not your own. It was something new, unlike what he had heard from you before. He smiles. "I want to be with you, first and foremost."

"You'll always be with me. Where you go, I follow." He assures you. "I was happy in Twelve, if only because I had you."

"That should not be enough, though." You insist.

"It has been for you, hasn't it?" He asks, and you nod, biting your tongue.

He grins. "Then I promise, love, that would be more than enough for me."

"O-okay." You agree, suddenly flushed by his stare. Coryo smiles, looking briefly at your lips as you speak. To him, they seemed more tempting now than ever.

He starts to lean in and you move your head back quickly, a worried look crossing your face and you look around. "Coryo, we-"

"I don't care." He says quickly, gently pulling you back to him and pressing his lips to yours. Consequences are the last thing on his mind right now.

You take hold of the front of his delicately pressed shirt, pulling him closer with his hands on your neck. Here, in the middle of the university courtyard with the sun shining down on your back, everything is okay and at least for now, the cold night has given way to a warm, sunny morning.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls , @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @cascadingbliss

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[drdemonprince]

i read in the comments to my last ask about "ordinary unhappiness" the idea of depression as a lack of agency and i feel like that is true? when i feel miserable and in pain, it's not because something is sad but because something is either unachievable or impossible (or at least there is the perception of it). and like i think that's what you were getting at too? this thing that drives you to keep going, this lack of satisfaction. i simply don't have anything i can give into such that i would ever even feel a lack of satisfaction. i've never had anything to give myself into and feel frustrated and perhaps sometimes successful in but instead i just envy the people who do have those things. nothing i've ever done has felt maintained a sense of emotional connectiveness in that way (positive or negative). i guess to wrap this back around to another potential talking point, i'm curious how you find that in your life? is it weird for me that nothing has ever felt worth putting myself whole ass into? idk, i find it envious you've got both writing and gay hypno fetish stuff you're able to just throw yourself into so wholly and utterly

Passion isn't inherent, it can be a choice too. I only look like I care a ton about writing and gay hypno stuff because I have deliberately chosen to pursue those passions, for many years, and cultivated a deep interest in them, anon.

When I was in my early twenties, I felt completely empty. I was a void. If you've read the first chapter of Unmasking Autism, this is the period I'm talking about in that book. I went away to graduate school (because I was good at academics, and I had some illusions about what a career in that field would do for me), but I had absolutely zero zest for the subject of psychology at that point. I had no research ideas. I read psychology books and publications purely out of obligation. I did what was required of me, but nothing additional beyond that, and I spent the rest of my time sitting at home, sometimes literally staring at the wall and crying. I had no friends or hobbies, aside from taking long, long depression walks listening to podcasts in order to fill the silence.

This was when I was at my most depressed, and my most suicidal. Just existing was a pain. I'd sob in bed at night and cry out begging for God to kill me, and I didn't even believe in God. The only thing that distracted me from my pain was a guy I was seeing, who was beautiful and very cruel and inconsistent, and I clung to him through all kinds of lies and abuse because it felt as though my happiness was located inside of him.

I had a friend that I wrote to about how miserable I was, and all the twists and turns that my horrible romance was taking. Her name was Heather. (Unlearning Shame is dedicated to her). She told me hey, you're a really good writer, did you know that? I really enjoy reading your emails, even when you're speaking about the most pitiful anguished shit, you really put it poetically and have a ton of insight. You should write more.

For a while, I ignored her. I didn't care about writing. I just wanted to get my pain out on the page because I had nobody to talk to, and oodles of time to waste. I had nothing otherwise that I felt I HAD to say. I had no PASSION. I did not feel like I was put on this earth to do anything. Other people seemed to have these drives, and I had nothing.

But then one day in a fit of depression I stopped by a bookstore right near my apartment, The Armadillo's Pillow, just to get outside of the house. I happened upon a book I had loved in high school, Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections. I took it home. I read it. It transported me for a few hours away from my pain. I went back to the book store and picked up some sci-fi. A John Varley collection, I think. I was also swept away from my suffering, even when the stories had flaws that I noticed. I was interested in the actual craft of storytelling: what worked and what didn't. And there was finally some beauty in my head instead of the usual dreariness and self-hatred and emptiness.

And so. I made the choice to write. I could have taken it or left it at that point. I didn't care about anything. Caring is a muscle that you have to flex. And when you're depressed, it can be very hard. I needed a lot of nudges from the external world and other people, to realize that I had some things I did gravitate toward, even if I didn't realize it.

All that time of course I WAS driven to write. I was churning out 5k word letters to Heather every day practically. I was reading stupid shit online. And when it was put in front of me, and I had no reason to feel guilt about not working hard enough on other things, I reached for books. But I didn't feel passion strongly under the heavy blankets of my depression. Or usually at all, really. I am a quite internally muted person whose emotions are suppressed. But they're there. Speaking to me softly. And to overcome my depression, I had to decide to listen to them instead of ignoring them all of the time, and give them kindling, and then fan them into a flame.

I started blogging regularly while I was in graduate school (right here, hello, you can check my archive dating back to 2011), and finding a reason to live. When I was writing, I felt like the world was interesting, and beautiful. It gave me new things to do. I attended literary readings and book launches all over town. I submitted work to magazines. I bought old copies of magazines and read them. I inhaled books. I listened to fiction podcasts. I joined writing groups. At first, it felt like a slog, like anything else. Doing these things, I was not "happy". But I was interested. I liked learning about the world of publishing, critiquing people's stories in my head, and commisserating with other Tumblr writers about the stuff that got featured on the Prose tag that sucked.

After YEARS of doing this, of choosing to fan my passions, it became a genuine motivation in my life. But even then? I lose track of it sometimes. I get busy, or there's no place comfy to sit and read in my apartment, and I forget that I like writing and reading for months at a time. And then I have to choose it again. It takes effort to care about something, every time.

It's the same way with hypno. I did have a fetish for this stuff all my life long. But it's a passion that people always thought was weird and gross, and that I thought was bad. I didn't tell anyone about it until my late 20's. I felt ashamed masturbating to it or looking up hypno content online. For years I snuffed out that flame of passion until I could barely feel it anymore. It wasn't until I was super depressed AGAIN in my later 20's that I took a bunch of weird off-label anti-depressant drugs under the table and had a weird dreamy headspace overtake me and make me insanely horny that I remembered how much I loved hypno, and because I was in search of an escape from my tormented brain, I sought hypnotists out.

And I had the time of my life. But I also had boring, awkward encounters, bad hook-ups, and had to do a ton of work.

My passions have drawn me out of depression because I needed them to. I had to find them, listen to them, and then give them lots of food. And it's one of the few things that a person does often have agency over, no matter how dispiriting their circumstances. You can make choices about where to put what attention you do have, in what free moments you do have. When you're on the bus or in line at the grocery store and you're thinking about how much you hate yourself, you can try to think about a story you read or a sexual fantasy you had, instead. It's a lot of work. But it's better work than the work of hating yourself, which takes a whole lot of energy and attention itself.

I hope you can find something like this for you. It doesn't really matter what it is. It can be some hobby you've always wanted to try, or something "childish" you've suppressed. Having a passion isn't like being chosen by the universe to care about something. It's not like love at first sight. Nothing fucking works like that in life. It's always work. It's always a choice you have to make, because no one else will give it to you. But there can be hints that you can follow, sometimes.

[strabara]

•.SHIGARAKI’S SEXTAPE.•

SUMMARY: Y/N is batshit crazy for Shigaraki that she finds him and confesses her undying love for him. And he promises to return her love only if she completes a small favor. Y/N of course blindly obliges.

Notes: I had posted this on AO3 AGESS AGOOO. But! I decided it deserved a remake. Also bc I’m making a second part soo yea :3 AGAIN as I’ve said before English isn’t my first language and it wasn’t very good 2 years ago.. so watch out for grammatical issues and terrible writing skills..

WARNINGS: NONCON, CREAMPIE, SHAMELESS SMUT, ROUGH SEX, BREEDING, CREAMPIE, FORCED PREGNANCY, NOT BETA READ, PLOT WHAT PLOT/ PORN WITHOUT PLOT, SEXTAPE, PITY SEX, HUMILIATION, OVERSTIMULATION, LOSS OF VIRGINITY

Y'know to the pro heroes the video that Shigaraki filmed of you looked fucked up. It was even more fucked up that it was being broadcasted live for everyone to see. People didn’t need to know who you were to know that you were 'Kidnapped'. After all they think you’re his hostage and you’re doing all of this against your will. But oh how they were so wrong. Right now you were seen as a barely clothed chained girl who was being forced to suck dick.

But to you this was all apart of your sick fantasy that you dreamed of! Sure it’s weird somebody even liked Shigaraki but no.. you loved him. You loved him so much that you'd do anything for him, LITERALLY. I mean here you were shamelessly rubbing circles to your clit as your face was getting fucked by Shigaraki! All they could hear was muffled moans and groans. A truly terrifying sight for anyone.

"Agh.. Look at you taking me so well.. I'll reward you with my disgusting cum you little slut."

You gurgled and sped up your pace to your clit. You moaned as you reached your peak and on cue he released his thick salty ropes into your mouth. You whine as they traveled down your throat. Panting as you hold your heavy eyes, tired from the Costant stimulation to your clit. God how this turned you on. He takes himself out of your mouth as he quickly grabs you by the neck, shoving your face into the camera.

"Open your mouth and show them how you swallowed a villians cum you Whore."

You slowly opened your mouth showing your tongue and bruised throat. You wanted to smile but couldn't since that would show you really weren't doing this against your will. Shigaraki started to laugh as he threw you to the floor making you whimper. He then grabbed you by the hair, pulling you towards him. He spreads your legs as he got inbetween them, his hard member falling onto your cunt making you flinch slightly. Almost instantly he disintegrating your panties before he put your thighs to your chest.

You were now basically naked, well except for the ripped up thigh high socks you had on. Your uniform was all ripped up and discarded to the side somewhere.

"How does it feel knowing your virginity will be stripped away from you by a villian? Not only that but I'll make you bear my children! You hear that? Your small cunts gonna be forced to swallow my villian seed!"

He smirks at you before he ran his tip along your slit, making you shudder. This made the heroes hearts drop. But only added love to yours. You couldnt believe this was actually happening!! The man you’d been in love with for who knows how long was about to take your virginity! Oh how luck was on your side.

"No p-please! I beg you! You can let me go I wont tell them anything I-I promise!"

You yelp as he slaps your pussy, grabbing and pulling at your clit. A hand went to your head before he grabbed a handful of your hair. His lips came to your ear all the while he had a smirk on his lips.

"Hmm i thought about it and how about.. No?"

And just like that he snapped his hips forward, pushing his large shaft into you with a single thrust. You choked as he stretched you out. You really were willing to do anything but the pain really did hurt. You screamed loudly all the while you threw your head back throwing weak punches to his chest. Shigaraki was quick to put a hand at your throat to shut you up.

"Hah.. Shit your sucking me in so good it’s like you want me to breed you! How dirty for a cute naive quirkless girl."

The camera catches the small streams of arousal mixed with blood trickle down your hole as it reached the floor. This was the final straw for the heroes.

"what the hell are we doing! This girl is getting Assualted and we're just going to let it happen?!"

The Lust hero, Midnight exclaimed.

"Look Midnight we can't do anything! We dont know where they are! And people wont let us search without creating a jam. I get it I want to help too but there’s nothing we can do.!"

 

 

You continued to moan and yelp as he reached into the deepest parts of you not caring about the people who were listening or watching. After a while the pain had subsided and turned into pleasure.

"P-please s' too much!~"

You moan loudly while his tip assualted your cervix every thrust he gave.

"Aw maybe i'll be nice if you’re a good girl and tell me you’re my cocksleeve."

You squeak as he gripped your hips tighter, almost as if he was promising he would leave bruises.

"N-no i don't want to be anything to you just let me gah!~"

You stop as he bites your body leaving love marks everywhere as he showed you’re HIS property. Shaking your head he licks up your neck until reaching your parted lips. Being quick to thrust his tongue in. Your mouth leaking with saliva while he dominated your mouth. He stops before he licking his lips, watching you gasp for air as your mouth quivered.

"Cmon say it, you’re my cocksleeve and you’re a slut that loves villian cock. Theres no way anyone else will want you. After all you’re being used up by a big bad villian!"

This Sickening Fantasy of yours was a dream come true!

"I-I’m your cocksleeve!~ and a slut who loves villian C-cock!~"

This was probably humiliating for others but it turned you on so much more. You shamelessly wrapped your arms around his neck while wheezing.

"Hey wait a minute.. You just got tighter! Ha that turned you on huh? How dirty of you."

You just continued to cry and whimper as you turned you head away, but that shortly changed when he started to hit your G spot. You yelp loudly before your arms left his neck, putting them on his abdomen to push him away.

"Whats wrong huh? Need to cum?"

You squeal as he rubbed your sensitive clit, making your toes curl and eyes roll back.

"A-ah no! I dont wanna cum!"

Your orgasm was approaching fast as he continued to hit your G spot all the while he teased your clit.

"Ha! What a treat! Cmon cum on this villian cock! I wanna hear how someone disgusting like me makes a good little civilian feel."

His hips rocked back and forth as your body bounced. He took this time to suck your nipples, bringing you over the edge you were so eagerly trying to get to.

"A-agh I’m cumming!~"

Unexpectedly you squirted all over him coating his cock and balls with your juices. He lets out a creepy laugh before gripping your jaw to look at him.

"Wow you’re disgusting! You said you didnt like me ya big perv! Well here’s my treat for you so make sure to swallow every bit of it! You'll look so pretty pregnant! Agh you'll be forced to be burdened with MY kids it’s just amazing!"

The overstimulation was bringing tears to your eyes as you shook your head no.

"No please pull out I dont wanna get pregnant!~"

His hips slammed into you fast at an animalistic speed as you continued to bounce. Your moans cracking from all the screaming, cheeks wet with tears and saliva. He roughly kisses you to shut you up as you felt a second release coming. Finally he slammed into you one last time releasing his sperm into your cervix. You moan into the sloppy kiss as your second orgasm ripped through you, making you to squirt again.


"Wow i must have really made you feel good, Not only that you squirted again, truly amazing guess quirkless people can make up for it huh."

You heavily breathed while letting out small whimpers. He started to cackle as he put the camera to your ahegao like face, along with pulling out of you to watch his cum ooze out slowly.

"Oops let’s just push that back in yeah?"

You whine as his finger pushes into

your sensitive cunt, plugging his cum inside. The pro heroes felt guilt in their hearts, they failed to protect a civilian. You on the other hand were fucked dumb. All you could think about was how good he made you feel, how full you felt. You let out a shaky breath as you pull your pussy apart. Allowing your hole to glisten from the camera's light.

"I-I’m yours only, P-please Mr. Shigaraki… use me to your h-hearts content."

You manage to slip out with tired heart eyes and a subtle grin. His smile just widens before he thrusted back inside you, making you moan softly.

"Of course how could I refuse such an offer?"

 

 

Multiple citizens were left traumatized, but this didnt stop many from being determined to find you. Although there were some people who were really weird about it. I mean somebody broke into the news station and stole the video!! They literally uploaded everywhere. Top trending video for awhile weirdly. Lots of people watched it they called it 'Shigaraki's sextape' it was super long, nearly 7 hours.

The search continued and continued which bugged the shit out of you! After all you were the one stalking Shigaraki and you were the one who told him about your crazy obsession, how you were in love with him, how you'd do anything he asked of you!.. Even if it would ruin your image. Couple of months had went by and you were now 5 months pregnant with triplets! Oh how happy you were. You found out that you were having 2 boys and a girl.

"Oh! Y/N look what I got you! Its perfect for your triplets so you can try to put them to sleep at the same time!"

You open the gift to find a small box it had a voice box so you were assuming it was to record your voice. With a smile you turned to the radio hero.

"Thank you Mr. Mic I appreciate this gift!"

Yea... about that, part of Shigaraki's plan was for you to get found so if he and his future league ever did need shelter they could stay in your apartment. But, you didnt get an apartment. Instead you got a huge ass house gifted to you from the pro heroes! After all they were filled with guilt that they couldnt save you from the so called 'Trauma' you experienced, or the fact you’re forced to have kids you 'don’t' want. And lets not even talk about how they found you and the state you were in, it was... something.

"Alright who's gift is this? There's no name."

"Dont know probably a gift sent from a random person."

Alot of the random gifts people sent were… questionable to say the least. Its also a bit unsettling that some people would comment on your instagram with the link to the video saying they 'wished it was them he did it to'. You won’t lie now you always click the link so you could watch him and in the end you always masturbate to it. You sigh, slowly ripping the wrapping paper to find a small box that looked shabby and old filled with bibs, onesies and a small envelope. You s slowly open the envelope to find a scratchy like note that read 'I love you, so you better make sure that my kids are well taken care of or else you'll regret it.' Wait.. Shigaraki spent his valuable time to send you gifts AND he told you he loved you!?

The Tomura Shigaraki wasted his precious breath on someone weird like you?! Kicking your feet you squeal and hold the note to your chest. You blush as you look up to the pro heroes surrounding you.

"What is it Y/n? A love letter? "

The pro heroes start to laugh as you giggle.

"No.. Its just... "

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Shigaraki truly does love me!.."

Notes: OKAYY so I did change some pieces here and there uhh sorry if there’s still mistakes I’m fucking blind. Hope you enjoyed! I’m currently working on part 2 now!

[lowkeychenle]

And Then It Was [ZCL] (M) fic teaser

Description: After your marriage with Chenle was arranged by your parents for a company merger, things with him aren't quite like you expect. In your life full of obligations, he's determined to finally give you the ability to make your own choices.

Genre: Smut/Fluff/Angst (arranged marriage!au, rich families using their children as business mergers yk) (no actual smut in the teaser but the tension kinda wild lol)

Content Warnings: Not sure of any in the teaser, but in general content warnings will be rich, generational family trauma, mentions of pregnancy and heirs (no actual pregnancy in the fic), reader feels obligated to do literally everything and Chenle's like yeah that's not really cool, umm if I think of more I'll let y'all know

Expected Word Count: 20-30k

Teaser Word Count: 789

Release Date: 8pm EST 2023.3.22

READ HERE :)

Taglist: Open!! Please let me know if you want to be tagged when this comes out <3

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x fem!Reader (features the rest of dream!)

Juliet's Masterlist | Tell me what you think? :)

“Chenle?” you call out.

When he appears in the doorway, his shirt is absent, and you were pretty sure he’d been wearing a belt before. His arms are crossed over his chest as he leans against the frame, awaiting you to tell him what you need.

You don’t have to actually speak. Instead, you turn your back to him and pull your hair over your shoulder. He hums behind you, keeping a respectable amount of distance before he grips the zipper.

“What did you do before me?” he asks, hesitant to pull it down.

“Staff.” You shrug. “But I mostly wore things I knew I’d be able to—”

The familiar sound and the rush of cool air against your practically boiling skin as he reveals more of your skin has your breath catching in your throat. You cut yourself off, immediately reaching up to hold the dress to your chest.

“I’m a very accommodating man, (Y/N).” His voice sinks into every inch of your skin. “If you need something, tell me. I’m your husband. It’s quite literally my job to ensure you’re happy, darling.”

The warmth radiating from his bare skin so close to yours has every thought in your brain flying away. Logically, there’d be nothing wrong with giving in to your temptation. It’d been a long time since anyone had touched you, and the man behind you is your husband. Physical attraction had nothing to do with emotions or feelings, so it was okay. One thing you’d never be able to deny is how he’s one of the most beautiful men you’d ever met. Your parents could’ve chosen much, much worse for you.

His voice centimeters from your ear startles you out of your trance. He says, “I wonder what you’re thinking about. You seem a bit distracted.”

“Wouldn’t you love to know.”

“Truly.”

“I need to change.”

“Do you?” He trails a finger up your spine. “You’re so soft. What an odd comparison to that steel wall you’re forcing yourself to keep up.”

“I think you’re forgetting your own boundaries.” You clench your fist into the fabric of your dress. “This wouldn’t be real.”

“What even is this?” His breath fans across your neck, and you’re sure you feel the sublest brush of his lips on your skin. “Tell me where you think this is going. After all, I’m helping you with your dress like a good husband.”

“My dress was dealt with minutes ago.”

“Darling.” He tsks. “If your dress was dealt with already, it would be long, long gone.”

Even like this, you refuse to let him win. If this were to be the extent of your relationship with Chenle, you’d be fine with that. You crave satisfaction, and you also know this is a means to an end. This may be the key to giving your family those fucking heirs they want so badly.

In a bold move, you release your grip on the fabric and allow it to crumple at your feet.

“What?” You tilt your head, grinning when his breathing halts. “Are you the only one who can deliver?”

He places his hand on your hip. “Can I touch you here?”

“Mhm,” you inhale sharply when he squeezes, trying your best not to roll back against him.

“Here?” he whispers, splaying his fingers out along your stomach.

“What’s your goal?” you ask, looking back at him over your shoulder. “You seem like you want something from me.”

His face is much too close to yours, but for some reason, it does little to bother you. When his lips part, you don’t mean to squirm in his touch.

His eyes sweep over your expression, his touch edging just a little further downward until he can play with the lace hem of your panties.

“I’ve told you what I want already.” His gaze locks on your mouth. “Everything. I want it all.”

You gulp, unable to speak for fear of making a fool of yourself.

“What about me makes this hard for you?” he asks.

Despite the softness of his voice, your proximity to him means you see the hint of hurt swimming around in his dark irises. The heat of his bare skin on yours has everything inside you awakening, but you can’t give him what he wants.

“The choice is yours.” He takes a deep breath. “Going forward, the choice is always yours to make. I’m yours in any way you want me.”

The atmosphere around you is so hot, charged, you can’t help the way you struggle to breathe. You lean closer to him, and when your lips brush his, his grip around you tightens.

Before he’s able to initiate a real kiss, a knock sounds on the bedroom door.

[yandere-wishes]

Who are your fav authors on here, why and what are your fav fics from them?

Anon, I don't think you're aware of the beast you've just unleashed!

So strap in cause this is going to be long.

Right off the bat, we have, @thefudge. I'm trying so hard not to sound like a deranged fangirl right now. But trust me when I say that I am OBSESSED with every single thing they write! I have read their fics SO SO many times and It's impossible to pick a single favorite one. So here are my top 5

Waiting for the barbarians

Within you is everything I am

I won't be these clothes I burn

His little dead wife 

god complex

Honestly, guys go check out their work they have so many stories spanning countless fandoms. They're literally the ones that got me into Star Wars in the first place! @thefudge I SWEAR I'm not a crazy fangirl, I just really love your writing and works!!

@yandere-romanticaa goes without saying, I've been a HUGE fan of Ana's since literally forever. She was actually one of the Yandere blogs that inspired me to start writing on Tumblr. Again I can't pick just one of her works I love so here's a top 5 list

Wanna Be yours 

Yandere! William Moriarty 

Yandere! Miguel O'hara

Yandere! Nikolai #1 and #2

Yandere! Dazai comparisons

She writes for so many fandoms and updates very frequently. She's also such an amazing and fun person so hearing her stories is always a treat!! Love you lots bestie!!

@fragileheartbeats is another amazing author I love her frigid aesthetic and how it adds a layer of etherealness to all her stories. Her scenarios are magical and written in such a way they evoke such sweet feelings. Honestly reading her stories makes me feel like I'm wrapped in a blanket with hot chocolate watching as the snow silently falls outside. 

Cute little things that melt their hearts (jjk) 

White Swan (jjk) 

How it feels to be loved by them (jjk) 

First kiss (jjk) 

When they become dads (jjk) 

These five are my TOP FAV works from her they're honestly so well-written and utterly adorable!! Guys I'm not kidding go follow her, she is literally my wify!!

@irresistible-revolution

I'm new to their work. BUT "A Coffin Made of Glass" is so beautifully written. It's dead dove yet so utterly bewitching. It takes place in the space between famous Star Wars scenes and gives a more in-depth view of the character's actions and sentiments. 

@spacexseven, omg where do I even begin? Okay, so they just have such a natural way with words. Their stories flow SO smoothly it's honestly astonishing! They've written two Childe fics, "Broken Vows" and "Mandatory Obligations" that I'm wholly obsessed with. The dialogue they write also feels so natural and forthcoming, it's absolutely enticing!!

@rrairey another author whose work I've recently gotten into!! If you're a Sukuna fan then her blog is the place to go. 

Love

Sukuna vs Plushie (a literal BANGER!!)

Gojo vs Plushie

Trust

Bracelet

Seriously, go check out her work!! The way she writes dialogue between the characters and the reader is so utterly perfect. It makes you feel as if you are right there saying those exact words. The scenarios (although) fictional feel so real thanks to her wonderful writing style. 

@dear-yandere needs no introduction, she's a staple in the yandere community. Her stories always blend love and creepiness to a perfect extent. Can I take a moment to just appreciate how poetic and GORGEOUS all her stories are?? Like seriously!! "Almost god" is my favorite fanfic of ALL TIME!! And don't even get me started on "Cry for Me"!! 

This turned out long I don't think anyone was expecting an essay. To be honest I consume more fanfics than published books nowadays so I guess it's a given to have such a long list.