#she’s literally throwing temper tantrums.

[literaila]

all I want for Christmas is knowing how the atf! Family as a whole spend Xmas together (or New Years, idc) and also how Gojo x reader celebrate it alone 👀

“no, satoru,” you say, for what is probably the thousandth time ever.

you should really start capitalizing on these moments. keep a tally and make him pay you for each mark he gets. each time you have to teach him how to listen.

you’d be richer than him by now, probably.

“but please.”

satoru is on the ground by your feet, literally. his giant head rests against your socks, hands clawing at your very elegantly themed nutcracker pajamas like he’s about to rip them. which, he definitely is.

it’s early enough that you don’t even scold him for it, but blink idly, wondering why you’re still up this early when the children are completely grown—to everyone’s utter dismay—and have never believed in the magic of christmas.

well, megumi, at least. tsumiki, the only person in the room who can’t see curses or use any sort of actual supernatural ability, believes wholeheartedly in all types of magic. it must be easy, considering that she’s a sort of magic all on her own.

megumi, who has been preparing for this moment, steps right over satoru and shrugs down next to you on the couch. he’s also wearing christmas pajamas, but only because you and tsumiki manipulated him into it for fifteen minutes the night prior.

tsumiki is sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, smiling because she’s the only morning person in the house.

also because she’s probably the only one who got any sleep.

“get off,” you tell him, pulling at his hair. “you need to wait your turn.”

“noo,” he whines some more, shaking his head and probably getting snot all over your ankles. his morning voice is nonexistent because you know that he didn’t even attempt to go to bed. which is also why he’s throwing a temper tantrum.

“it’s youngest to oldest. you’re dead last, loser.”

satoru looks up at you, pouting.

you ignore him entirely, turning to megumi. “go ahead, kid.”

megumi sighs, picking at the box you set next to his spot. but before he opens it, he gives satoru a look. “i think she just called you old.”

tsumiki giggles, sipping on her hot chocolate.

satoru, who is now leaning against your legs, entirely too tall for anything, looks back at you, head in your lap, with mystified puppy-eyes. he’s completely outraged. “did you call me old?”

you raise a brow. “i said oldest,” you respond, but your tone claims otherwise, because satoru is getting pretty old.

“i am very youthful—“

“immature,” megumi says, under his breath.

“—and the only one with any decency around here.”

“you’re wearing a shirt that says ‘santa’s favorite ho,’” you deadpan, pulling at his hair some more.

tsumiki giggles again.

satoru shakes your hand away. “it was a gift!”

megumi snorts, finally pulling at the wrapping paper around his present.

you blink. “from yourself.”

“not like any of you were going to appreciate me,” satoru mumbles, crossing his arms. you kiss the top of his head in response, and he grabs ahold of your calf like it’s a hand.

“i got you the pants,” tsumiki says, smiling at him.

“and i’ll wear them until the day that i die,” satoru nods, giving you another pointed look. you just snort.

“what’d you get, megs?”

“it’s a mug that says ‘worlds greatest teacher,’” he hands it to you, brows furrowed, his voice is nonchalant.

“what? i didn’t get you—“

“megumi’s not a teacher,” satoru interrupts, easily enough. he plucks the mug right from your hands. “well, i guess ill take it off your hands since you have no use for it—“

“satoru.”

“what? santa must’ve made a mistake—“

tsumiki laughs into her mug, getting hot chocolate on her face, and pajamas, and another year has passed.

who ever said christmas was about gifts anyway?

the rest of the morning passes, new socks shoved into dressers, books left around the house. tsumiki gets yarn to knit with, and megumi gets gel for his hair—and some new underwear, courtesy of satoru.

christmas doesn’t have a lot of tradition for any of you. maybe it’s because you and gojo grew up without any meaningful holidays, or maybe it’s because tsumiki and megumi barely knew what christmas was before you and satoru were assimilated into their household.

but you spend december putting up lights, buying gag gifts and trying to teach satoru how to wrap a present for the sixth year in a row. none of it is ever the same, and none of it goes very well. lights are broken, trees fall, and no matter how many matching sets of pajamas you buy, one always seems to go missing by christmas eve.

still, everyone laughs together at all of the nonsense and maybe that’s the only tradition that matters.

*

it’s not until later that night that you and satoru are finally alone.

you’re laying in bed, book in hand, trying to purposefully ignore his side eyeing.

but, even after a decade of practice, satoru isn’t easily forgotten. his eyes are too bright, his presence too ingrained in your mind. it’s a curse really, and you shouldn’t welcome it.

but it’s about eleven years too late for that now.

so after ten minutes you sigh, shutting the book. “what?”

“what what?”

“satoru. stop staring at me like a crazy person and talk.”

“what would i have to talk about?” he asks, dazzling smile on his face. he leans over to you, entirely too close. and it’s not a moment later that he pulls a small box from his back, holding it out to you.

how it got there, you’re entirely unsure.

you frown at it for a moment, then groan. “we said no gifts.”

he frowns. “so i’m just supposed to get my wife nothing?”

“yes,” you grab it from his hands, roughly. “because that’s what we agreed on.”

“i don’t think you know me,” he says, almost mystified but entirely teasing

you eye him, lip twitching. then you push the present back into his hands, leaning over to your bedside table.

when you turn back it’s with your own meticulously wrapped present in hand. “i know you,” you whisper to him, handing it over.

“hey,” he says, not at all angry. “we agreed.”

“you’ve never agreed on anything.”

and satoru, as impatient as ever, doesn’t even bother to respond, or even argue back. he just pulls at the bow, ripping the box in two.

and hes already smudged the lens of the new glasses you got him. you begin laughing before he can even look.

“what is this?” he asks, tilting his head at it.

you giggle some more, looking as excited as a child, grabbing the glasses to hold them out towards him. “new glasses,” you say, simply, but your voice is high pitched and on edge. “look.”

satoru grabs them from you again, and looks at the side of the frame. “are these eyes?”

you cover your mouth with a hand and nod. the sides are ingrained with a terrible imitation of satoru’s own eyes, no amount of paint enough to capture the alien-ness of them. still, they’re blue and bright and entirely too hilarious.

he blinks at you, his lips pursed. “are there six of them?”

you hold back a snort and point. “only four. you’ve got two perfectly good ones on your head already.”

and then you burst into laughter, leaning over so you can giggle into the blankets.

satoru is scowling but his face is soft, and maybe he’s smiling at you in disbelief, or admiration. “these are awful,” he says, but puts them on anyway.

“i know!” you say, grinning at him, completely giddy.

he shakes his head, but his face is amused, and nudges his present towards you. “open.”

you’re still quietly laughing to yourself as you open the box, but your smile fades once you see what’s inside.

you pull out a music box, a deep blue with gold embellishments. it’s porcelain and if you drop it, it’d break. you breathe out, then whisper “isn’t this the one we saw at that—“

“at the art festival we went to in october. you said it looked like the one you had at home.”

you look up at him. satoru is still smiling, but when has he ever stopped? “when did you get it? i carried all the bags that day.”

“there was another festival in kanto a month later,” he tells you, pulling it from your hands so he can open it up. “i stopped after a mission to look.”

but before you can thank him, can say it’s beautiful, or wonder how long he thought about it, a tiny dancer pops out, and she’s holding a slip of paper.

“what’s…”

satoru, who can’t wait for anything, grabs it, unfolding it so you can read. but he tells you anyway. “plane tickets. for a trip sometime. us and the kids. i already talked to yaga about time off.”

“satoru—“

“and the higher ups, but that one took longer. they’ll be fine for a week or two.”

you look at him again, lips downturned. “my gift was so dumb.”

he laughs, leaning in so he can press his forehead to yours. “this is for all of us, so we’ll call it even,” he grins, though. “or you could give me a different gift. i have a couple of things in mind—“

you shake your head and crawl to him, pushing him back so you can trap him with your head on his chest. “you’re so dumb.”

he pulls you close and runs his stupid soft hands up from your shoulders to your neck. “i know.”

“i love you.”

“i know,” he answers, still smiling.

[corpose]

i was going to go to sleep but someone decided to start doing fireworks outside, so instead i’m comforting my dog and thinking about vi and the few times she has emotional outbursts during the game and how only johnny gets to see that in her, only he is ever privy to that … rage, that anger ( and who knows by the end if it’s really just hers anyway ), and then the one time where it happens and he’s not there. it’s almost always destructive, a physical need to just scream and fuck shit up, because so much of how she carries herself is stilted, contained, professionally bitchy.

the earliest instance comes after the vdbs kill her. she comes to on the ground, choking on her own blood while johnny tells her what happened and she’s so angry, so fucking incensed. because she died. because someone fucked her over again and she should’ve seen it coming. there’s just this guttural screeching for awhile, and when she’s up on her feet she’s kicking the dead netwatch guy’s head, she’s throwing the laptop on the ground, she’s essentially taking everything she’s felt - bc she hasn’t had a real reaction to anything that’s happened to her - jackie’s death, konpeki, any of it - and that’s all funneled in right here. and then she wipes her face, smooths her hair, and goes to meet brigitte knowing she’s going to kill placide after.

then again when she realizes that songbird played her so, so well in pl. she just kind of goes numb, manages to stumble her way out of it all and when she gets home it’s destructo-rama. that’s the real reason she ends up leaving her mega building apartment. it’s a shambles when she’s done, someone even calls the cops to check on the noise. that one ends with her crying which, since she can’t actually produce tears unless she permits it, ends up sort of an uncanny looking panic attack because it keeps happening, and she’s getting worse, and it just keeps happening!

the next one is less rage, more . . . something else. she’s not really certain. panam offers her a place in the aldecaldos and she goes back to her car and drives away and the whole way home, i think again she’s doing that crying thing. no tears, but the heavy breathing, the blurred vision ( though that might be another relic malfunction ). she gets in a wreck and ends up spending the night at the sunset, high.

the last one is up in the stars. without him. she tears up her room and all she gets is takemura throwing a chance to put her in soul prison. in my perfect world, i think she at least considers coming across to choke him out.

[namazunomegami]

Lord of the Flies, Gluttonous Queen, Prince of Filth, Prince of Decay, Goddess of Ekron, Lord of Slander, Queen of Pestilence and Famine, The Rotting One

I Solomon said unto him: “Beelzeboul what is thy employment?” And (s)he answered me: “I destroy kings. I ally myself with foreign tyrants. And my own demons I set on to men, in order that the latter may believe in them and be lost. And the chosen servants of God, priests, and faithful men, I excite unto desires for wicked sins, and evil heresies, and lawless deeds; and they obey me, and I bear them on to destruction. And I inspire men with envy, and desire for murder, and for wars, and sodomy, and other evil things. And I will destroy the world.” - The Testament of Solomon

[steevejr]

ok I finished reading Margo and I need to say justice for Margo. she was so right. if god showed up and spit in my face id kill him and then myself. the fact she doesn’t do any of that makes her so much braver than the us marines.

[emberwritesinsight]

The discussion around Ariel TheLittleMermaid baffles me bc if my dad literally destroyed a bunch of stuff I collected in front of me in a terrifyingly violent display of anger and I had a witch offer me an out if I could score the boy I thought was hot, my name would be on that dotted line before you can say "poor unfortunate soul". What do you mean she's stupid, her dad ravaged her Special Interest Cave like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum, I would also run the fuck away

[shysquidd]

my sister is such a bitch for no reason whatsoever

[sunday--is--gloomy]

gotta say

new job best job love it people are great I feel confident I’m getting paid the highest wage I’ve ever had it’s sick it’s cool af

too fucking bad I have to walk to get there and I have one whole coworker who drives me mcfuckin crazy

[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Part 6)

Word count: 2100

Warnings: making out, mommy kink, jealous Agatha

Taglist:@stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas @r-3-becca @harknessshi

Before you can open your mouth to respond, she yanks you back into the bathroom you had just come out of. You rip your hand out of her grasp. 

“What – what are you doing here?” You ask, mouth agape. How had she known where you were? Why is she so mad?

She advances on you until your back hits the wall. Fury is radiating from her and you’re more than a little frightened (and kind of turned on). 

“You see me kissing your dad, so what?” She sneers scathingly. “You run and find the first girl you can for a lousy fuck in a bathroom?” 

She keeps coming closer so you put your hand on her shoulder to stop her. “What are you talking about?” You shout exasperatedly. “We didn’t ‘fuck in the bathroom,’ I was upset and she was comforting me!”

“You kissed her,” Agatha says, voice strangely calm. 

“And you kissed my dad! Also, are you fucking stalking me?”

“I followed you to make sure you didn’t do anything rash, because news flash, your father and I are married! I know you don’t want to hear it, darling, but not everything is about you.” 

You grit your teeth. “I know that. But do you? Because every time I even get close to a girl, you basically call me a slut.” 

“Well, maybe if you weren’t acting like one,” she snarls. You fist your hand into the shirt she’s wearing, digging your nails in through the fabric. 

“You know, it’s pretty rich that you’re calling me dramatic for earlier when you’re literally going crazy over the thought of me with someone else.” The air in the room seems to change. It’s the closest either of you have gotten to addressing this thing between you. 

You see Agatha falter for a split second. “That’s not what I’m doing,” she growls. 

“Oh, yeah?” You challenge. “Then what is this? Cause to me, it looks like you’re jealous.” 

The vein in her forehead throbs as she leans in. “You know what this looks like to me? Like a spoiled little girl didn’t get the kind of attention she wanted for one second so she decided to throw a temper tantrum. And now she needs to be taught a lesson.”  

“Fuck off, Agatha.” You let go of her shirt and raise your hands to shove her back but she easily catches them and pins them above your head. 

You inhale sharply, a noise sounding an awful lot like a moan coming out of your mouth. She smirks wickedly, her eyebrow raising. 

“What a naughty girl,” Agatha tuts and embarrassment burns your face. 

“Let go of me,” you say, struggling to get out of her grasp but she holds you tighter. 

“Is this what she did to you when you took her to the bathroom?” 

She’s bringing up Rio again. She clearly has some serious jealousy issues and you wish you didn’t find it so hot, however frustrating it is. “I didn’t have sex with her, for fuck’s sake! I kissed her, yeah, but I was thinking about you the whole time.” The admission stuns you both and her grip around your wrist slackens. But you don’t pull away. You need to see how she’ll react. 

Her eyes drop down your lips, then back up. She leans in closer and you forget how to breathe when she ghosts her lips over your mouth and you find yourself instinctively drawing in an attempt to actually kiss her. 

But she steps away before you can, dropping your hands and letting go. 

“What?” You sigh defeatedly. You’re already tired of this game she keeps playing, the one where she strings you along and makes you think she likes you and then cuts you off. She doesn’t get to be jealous and possessive and then back away after almost kissing you. 

“I’m married to your father,” Agatha says. “I’m your step-mother. I’m over twice your age. We can’t do this.” 

“I don’t care!” You insist, but she shakes her head. Your insides harden and you get a rush of boldness. “Okay, fine. Here we go. I want you, Agatha. I don’t care who you’re married to, or how old you are. Fuck, I like how old you are!” 

She scoffs in disbelief, eyes darting up to meet yours and then to the floor again. 

“So you can either do something about that, or you can let me go back out there and have fun with my friend.” You give her the ultimatum, praying that you didn’t just ruin everything.

For a minute, you think Agatha will change her mind. But then she spins on her heel and walks out of the bathroom. You feel a rush of emotion flood over you, but you shove it down. You got your answer. It’s better you know now. 

“Hey, where have you been?” Rio asks when you finally rejoin her on the dance floor. 

“Ran into someone I knew,” you say evasively. “You wanna get out of here?” She nods eagerly. You give the bar one last look over just to see if there’s any sign of Agatha. 

There isn’t. 

You bite back the disappointment rising in your chest and pull Rio out the door by the hand. 

You’re walking to your car when you see a shadow in the alleyway by the parking lot. You squint your eyes and can make out the trace of a woman. 

Is it her?

Stopping abruptly, you turn to Rio and drag her in for a long kiss, pushing her against your car. She groans into your mouth. It grows heated and you’re almost too distracted to notice your phone buzzing in your purse. 

You break away, both of you gasping for air. Rio runs a finger over her lip smugly and you pull out your phone. 

You win. Drop her off and come over to my house. Do NOT touch her. It’s from the unknown number you’ve memorized. A number you could recite in your sleep. A hot thrill runs through you. 

You smirk to yourself and turn to glance back at the figure in the alley, still cloaked in darkness. Of course Agatha would wait to watch, not being able to give up control even after she tried to. 

You’re not sure you’ve ever driven so fast in your hurry to get Rio home so you can go be with Agatha. But once you’re parked in Rio’s driveway, there’s an awkward pause. 

“Do you want to come inside?” Rio finally asks. You feel bad that you’ve led on her, made her a pawn in this game between you and your step-mom. 

“I should probably go. School tomorrow, you know. There’s still some things I need to finish,” you say apologetically. She nods like she understands and then she gets out of the car and enters her house without looking back. A pang of guilt hits you hard but you shake it off. 

I’ll be there in 20 you text Agatha. 

I’ll be waiting. Her reply comes almost immediately and your breath catches in your throat. 

Anticipation builds in your stomach the entire drive to your dad’s house. You’re not sure what will happen, or really what can happen if your dad is home. You have a feeling that if you have sex, Agatha will want to hear you make noise. 

You arrive in front of the house, all the windows dark. You shift nervously. Maybe she just made you drive all the way over here, knowing you wouldn’t do anything with Rio if she told you not to, and is hanging you out to dry. 

You check your phone. It’s been about twenty minutes, so Agatha should know you’ll be getting there any minute now. You wonder if you should ring the doorbell, make Agatha come down and explain or risk waking your dad. 

And then you see it. 

The gate to the backyard is unlocked and slightly pushed open. An invitation. 

You quietly shut your car door and creep up the driveway, cringing at the sound your car makes when you lock it. The gate squeaks. Your shoes echo on the patio concrete. It’s like you’re asking to get caught. 

When you finally turn around the house and come into view of the pool, your mouth falls open. 

Agatha is floating in the pool, an inviting smile beckoning you to join her. But that’s not what gives you pause. 

You can see in the light of the moon that she’s naked underneath the water. 

Your mouth runs dry as you strip off your dress as quickly as you can and your underwear follows in suit. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so turned on in your life and you can see her eyes darken at the sight of you. You walk quickly over to the pool steps and wade over to her, stopping when you’re right in front of her. 

The two of you stand like that for what feels like forever, simply soaking in each other’s bare skin. No words are spoken, risking nothing that might break this spell. 

And then Agatha reaches a hand out to cup your cheek, asking for permission with her eyes. 

You give it to her by entangling a hand in her hair and dragging her into a bruising kiss. There’s no teasing, no featherlight kisses – you both need this too much – and her tongue is in your open mouth before either of you knows it. You feel her moan into you and your arms circle around her naked back to pull her in even closer. You whimper at the feeling of her breasts against yours and you’re easily able to wrap both your legs around her waist, practically weightless in the pool.

Her fingertips dig into your ass and you can’t help but roll your hips against her lower stomach at the sting. 

“I can feel how wet you are even in the water,” Agatha chuckles darkly, walking with you until your back hits the edge of the pool, pulling another groan out of you. 

Her lips are back on yours, kissing you so fervently and so dominantly that it makes your head spin. You feel like you’re drunk. You’re literally vibrating with need for her. 

Her hot mouth trails down the side of your neck and then bites harshly. You whine, trying to get some stimulation on your clit by squirming against her stomach. Agatha tugs your bottom lip between her teeth and sinks them into it, eyes flashing with the sound you make. 

“Please, Agatha,” you beg. Her hands start stroking up and down your thighs, the dull ache between your legs now a roaring fire, still holding you in place against the pool wall. 

There’s a glimmer of mischievousness on her face. “Oh, baby, I know you can do better than that.” 

You’re panting, lips swollen, and grinding on her stomach. You’re not sure how much more she wants. “Please, Agatha, I need you, I want you, please fuck me, mom-” You clamp a hand over your mouth before you accidentally embarrass yourself beyond repair and she smirks like it’s the most delicious thing she’s ever heard. 

She leans in and whispers against your ear, “Say it. Who do you belong to?” Her right hand slowly moves up your thigh until she’s hovering her fingers right over your pussy. 

Your breath stutters, feeling her right where you want her. “You, mommy,” you whisper, barely audible. 

"That's right." She slides her hand through your folds, pressing hard on your clit which elicits a moan from you, and then she shoves you off her, stepping away like she had done in the bathroom at the bar. 

“What the fuck?” You ask, throbbing with need, never more aware of the emptiness inside you than right now.

“You didn’t think I was going to reward you after that little stunt you pulled in the parking lot, did you?”

“Agatha, I’m sorry, I just wanted to make you mad, please don’t, I need you so badly.” Your pleas fall from your mouth and she delights in them.

The smirk on her lips is pure evil. “I know, sweetheart. But mommy needs to make sure you learn your lesson. And trust me, when I do finally fuck you, it won’t be in a pool.” She climbs out of the water, grabbing the towel she set on the side and dries off. You watch her in a stupor, not believing that she’s going to leave you like this, lips still burning from her kisses. She throws the wet towel back on the ground for you to use and then walks naked to the sliding glass door, tossing you one last look. “And don’t even think about touching yourself.” 

She goes inside and you are alone once again. 

[teesmosambijoos]

insane.

[yuri-is-online]

Such a soulmate for Leona and Idia would feel like a jackpot lolol

Or imagine ruining Ghost Marriage just because Yuu is Idia’s soulmate, Eliza would cry so hard

prev

Yeah I had to hold myself back from making the post almost entirely about the two of them ha

Leona's first case of physical contact with Yuu is them stepping on his tail. He isn't impressed with what he sees, this is his soul mate? Really? The little herbivore that interrupted the enrollment ceremony? But then he overblots and Yuu fights him and he gets the same sensation from being close to them... through the pain and the overwhelming emotions he feels he feels you, your soul screaming for him to come back to his senses. Fine, he gives in. You're his destined one. He tries to ignore the smile twitching at his lips when he comes to and reaches for you, he supposes he can put some extra effort to keep you safe.

I can see ghost marriage going one of two ways. If Idia knows Yuu is his soul mate he probably tries telling Eliza and she doesn't listen, but he gets really smug for fifteen seconds when Yuu shows up and chews Eliza out. Hell yeah that's right suck it Princess! You literally died mad about it AND HIS SOUL MATE CROSSED THROUGH OUTER FUCKING SPACE FOR HIM! YOU HEAR HIM? HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIM- then he realizes what he is saying and has a stroke. If he doesn't know, I could see Yuu trying to help rescue him and them touching then and he freaks out. Eliza watches their soul bond snap into view at real time and throws a massive temper tantrum while Idia is hyper ventilating over possibly dooming another person to the Shroud curse and having to look undeniable proof that he isn't unlovable or forgotten by the universe. Someone was waiting for him.

As a side note, do you guys think that if you were Idia's soul mate and you touched revealing it, your hair would also turn into flames with the Shroud curse? I don't think we know if it effects their partners too but it's a thought ('-')?

[year2000electronics]

i think obsessive/selfish/misguided love or “harmful” love in general as an antithetical theme to gravity falls’ theme of love and family makes so much sense. if you think about it, a lot of the conflict in the show is born out of selfishness and obsessiveness and loving people as objects or means to an end. obviously, you have the big examples like gideon for mabel and giffany for soos, but every time both sets of the pines twins have butted heads, it’s usually been because of that too. just in like, a different way.

stan and mabel are both relying on dipper and ford to stay anchored to them forever to secure their happiness, and even though it’s a totally okay thought to have and dipper and ford weren’t in too much of a rush to consider their feelings, it’s a bandaid solution at best! dipper ends up NOT leaving because that’s the right thing for them but it’s not totally because the pines twins are a “set of two” who can’t be separated. it’s a decision they make mutually! mabel even says that she would be okay with dipper taking the apprenticeship, she just needed a minute to be frustrated!

and then of course you have stan and ford where stan leaving ford meant stan would lose his only friend, but even in their adult years, they clearly still love each other (ford and stan both apologizing profusely every time they land a devastating enough hit) but their selfish desire to have the other admit they’re the “villain”, to have a scapegoat to blame a whole series of factors on, overtakes them and buries that love. even as old men they’re still trying to get something out of the other before anything else (ford’s house and name, stan’s “thank you”). stan and ford want to love each other deep down so badly but this giant means to an end is in the way

you even see that sort of motif with characters like dipper and pacifica, where dipper’s crush on wendy almost always has negative results because, not only can it never be due to the age gap, but every time he tries to court her, it’s usually in the way a prize is to be won. he makes an itemized list of a process that is “guaranteed” to impress wendy, he literally brakes the laws of space time just so robbie won’t date her (as if one single snow cone is keeping him from his success), gets a job at the pool just so he can hang out with her, and jumps at the opportunity to prove robbie is evil. etc etc. and with pacifica it’s clear that her parents’ love is very transactional and conditional. if EVEN that.

so the fact that book of bill is setting up bill to be like a clingy ex to ford- more than that, it’s setting up ford to be the only human bill cares about THIS much! it feels like the ultimate way to tie bill to that theme of how love can harm as much as it can heal. like, he’s always been an obstacle to the pines’ happy ending, but this way, we see his reaction to love in his psyche play out, and you understand why he’s the opposite and obstacle to the pines. the stan twins hurt each other and it takes an entire show’s worth of growth for them to fix it. gideon hurt mabel but him letting dipper and the group into her bubble proves he’s willing to change. bill hurt ford and he throws a temper tantrum and denies everything, trying to use force to get things back to the way they were because in his own twisted way he really does love and care for ford. i’m sure even a traumatized millenia old dream demon could change but for now bill doesn’t! and that kinda makes him and ford’s relationship the perfect tie in to the themes in the show

[nervoussagittarius]

to win or not to win

chris sturniolo x reader

summary: chris and his girlfriend do a twitch stream together and compete at who’s the better fortnite player, request

warnings: fluffy, language

it wasn’t unusual for you and chris to get into friendly competitions. most of them ended in a temper tantrum from one of you, but they were innocent nonetheless.

todays topic of discussion was ‘whos the better fortnite player’. although chris had been playing for a significant amount of time longer than you, you were sure you could hold your own. especially, because chris was the one to teach you how to play.

you both we’re confident in your skills, so the only logical way to decide was to take it to twitch and let the viewers watch the showdown.

“okay guys so here’s what’s happening today. y/n and i are having the fortnite championship and you guys are here to witness” chris said as he took the seat next to you. a very serious look was etched on his face

you looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a look that said ‘really?’

“while we wait for mr. dramatic to calm down i’ll tell you why we’re really here. chris thinks he’s better at fortnite then me.” you said. there was a slight pause before both of you broke into laughter and fell into eachother.

you continued as chris placed his head on your shoulder and watched the chat, “i don’t think chris is better a fortnite then me. so we’re gonna play a few rounds and see who has the best outcomes.”

“yeah so basically we’re gonna be playing 3 rounds, and when we finish we’re going to see who had the overall higher placings.” chris explained.

“that’s quite literally what i just said. thank you for repeating me, love”

“that’s quite literally what i just fucking said” chris mimicked as he poked your side to agitate you.

“stop it” you said giggling, trying to slap his hand away from you.

chris had the split screen set up on his pc. it was a tight fit but you guys were going to make it work. this argument needed to be settled.

the first two games went smoothly. trash talk was being thrown and so were elbows. you both didn’t mind playing dirty. lines had been crossed to many times to count, but it was all in fun.

“it all comes down to this, ma. so far we each have a first and second place finish” chris said cracking his knuckles. no matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t intimidating anyone.

the game went smoothly for a while. you were both able to get through with out any scratches. it was down to the last ten when chris noticed you leg start bouncing in anticipation and nervousness.

as much as chris hated to admit it, he didn’t want to see you lose. he loved seeing how excited you got whenever you win a competition between the two of you, and this was a game chris was willing to throw.

chris looked at you, then at the game before him, then back at you. he could see the distress on your face and he hated it.

“dude i don’t even fucking know where these guys are coming from!” you exclaimed as you started firing random shots to try to hit someone.

you guys were now in the final four. chris made his way over to your character and quickly took out one on the guys shooting at you. you were able to get the other one out not long after that.

“oh fuck chris. please don’t shoot. please don’t shoot. please” you repeat over and over as you tried to get the perfect aim on chris’s player. without warning chris pretended to fumble his controller, dropping it to the ground.

“oh shit!”

this gave you the perfect opportunity to kill chris’s character and win the game and the overall competition between the two of you.

“yes!” you yelled as you threw your arms up and jumped out of your chair.

“oh my fuck. no chance. i just fucking won.”

you did a celebratory lap around chris’s room. chris winked at the camera and held his finger up to his lips telling the chat to not spoil the fact that she is let you win. when you made it back to him you held his face in your hands.

he looked up at you as you said, “you we’re good. simply just not good enough.” you leaned down to place a short peck on his lips and held out your hand for him to shake. he instead grabbed your hand pulling you down to sit on his lap.

“you know chris, me winning really just proves how good you are at fortnite because you taught me everything i know”

chris groaned in joking frustration as he nuzzled his head into the crook of you neck. he placed soft kisses around the area as you watched the chat congratulate your win.

chris finally picked his head up, “thank you guys so much for watching me get my ass kicked by my girlfriend i-”

“kinky.” you interrupted.

“okay that’s it” chris stood up, picking you up by your waist at the same time. he walked over to his bed and gently threw you down. swiftly, he ran back over to his desk chair, taking a seat.

“as i was saying, thanks for watching and we’ll see you again soon”

“bye!” you said blowing a kiss to the camera.

an: this one’s cute. i didn’t want it to seem identical to matt’s so i hope y’all enjoy it🤍

[princessbrunette]

asking rafe to slap you when you guys r having sex cus one of your girlfriends mentions her and her bf do it. so he does it but it’s like weak, and just begging him to go harder and he’s just like “ huh?? “

- 🌟

⋆ ˚🐇🍥 ⁀➴

being allll wired up and getting ideas in your head after that conversation with your friend because she was like “i bet rafe would give you a good one. that man would probably knock you tf out” and your pupils just become hearts bc yea <3 that’s your man <33

and then you see him lose his temper at a party and rough some guy up, and it just pushes you to want it even more !! next time you’re fucking you’re just grinding on his lap, batting your lashes at him like “please slap me? please? j’st— really want it, dad!” and he literally rolls his eyes and laughs at you because ???

“you want me to slap you? am i— am i hearing that correctly?”

“mhm. just need you to. please?”

so he gives you a lil tap on the cheek, and it’s not enough — but he notices how hard you clench, how much more you roll your hips on his lap. “happy? there’s your goddamn slap.”

“nooo, harder rafey.”

“i’m not beating you baby, jesus— just take this fucking dick would you? talkin’ too damn much.”

and then u just get silly n have a whole tantrum about it til he flips you on your back roughly with one hand round your neck and the other slapping the shit out of you !! “yeah? yeah? think you’re a big girl huh? you wanna cry now? after throwing a fuckin’ fit begging me to hit you? nah. you fuckin’ provoked me. shut up and take it, kid.” :(

⋆ ˚🐇🍥 ⁀➴

[theragethatisdesire]

much ado about nothing chapter 7 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

okay so i guess the responses i got on my "i have writer's block wahhh" post worked because GUESS WHAT I FINISHED THIS MORNING. this chapter!!! i have been aching to share this (even when it was half-done), i literally cannot wait any longer. this is an eren pov chapter so you guys already know it's going to be fun. lots going on, and please don't hate me for the end, i promise there's a master plan in place!!! i hope you guys enjoy :-)

specific cws: smut, rough sex, use of names (both endearing and derogatory so take that as you will), drinking, swearing, i want to give eren a giant hug

-

“Love sought is good; but given unsought, is better.” - Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare (Act III, Scene 1)

Eren has no excuse for any of it. No excuse for stepping in, for throwing Floch against the bar. He knows you, knows you have enough experience with awful men to know how to handle yourself. He just couldn’t help himself.

And now he’s gone and acted out again without thinking. The cold winter air sobers him up, brings Eren back to himself, and when he looks down at you, all cute and furious with him, the heat in Eren’s veins dies. A pregnant pause stretches between you both, you with your arms crossed and glaring up at him, and Eren, surely with hearts in his eyes, looking down at you, something apologetic beginning to write its way into his features.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Well, so much for that. The venom in your voice reignites Eren’s temper, fans the flames back into a full-blown inferno.

“My problem?” Eren growls, stepping closer to you. “What the fuck is your problem? I was just getting that prick out of your face. I’d think I deserve a thank you more than anything.”

“It wasn’t your place,” you huff.

“My place?” Eren nearly shouts, exasperated. “You’re the one who wanted to be friends so badly, was I supposed to just sit back and watch while he drooled all over you? Give me a fucking break.”

“That’s not– ugh, you’re really fucking frustrating, you know that Eren?”

It’s like watching all the ghosts of his past jump out at him through your teeth; Eren flinches, feels his fury rushing in his ears like a tidal wave.

“I’m–? Fine, fine, yeah, I’m the frustrating one. Definitely not you, throwing a goddamn temper tantrum over the stupidest shit imaginable, makes perfect sense. Really putting that smart little head to use, aren’t you?”

“Oh? ‘My girl’?” As soon as the words hit him, plunging through his chest like daggers, Eren’s blood runs cold. So you had caught his little slip-up. “What the fuck was that, then?”

Eren stutters, words caught in his throat at the worst possible moment. “Y-you know, like my girl, like you’re my friend or whatever.”

“Uh-huh,” you eye him disbelievingly, “you may as well have hiked your leg up and pissed on me in front of him. Am I supposed to be your fucking property or something because we had sex? Is that it?”

“What? No, I–” you’re faster than him, cutting him off.

“Don’t you already have your hands full with your ex?”

That crosses a line, pushes your fight into an entirely new territory. Eren’s eyes narrow. “Are you really bringing up Breeze right now? Like she…Jesus, like she even fucking matters?”

He watches the way you flinch when he says her name, the way your eyes widen, something he hadn’t expected out of you after with your little snide comments today. Interesting.

“She doesn’t matter to me, but I know she matters to you. As your friend, I’m just letting you know it sounds like a bad idea.”

“What’s a bad idea?”

“Getting back together with her,” you say, like it should be obvious.

It hits Eren like a truck; so that’s what’s gotten into you? You think he’s getting back together with Breeze, as if you didn’t text your ex that you were “totally in love with” on that godforsaken night at Paradise? Eren can still hear the slur of your words in that maddeningly confusing voicemail.

“Even if I was getting back with Breeze,” Eren snorts at the very idea, “which I’m not–”

“Oh yeah?” you counter, stepping forward to nearly touch your chin to his chest with how severely your head’s tilted up at him, “never took you for a liar, Eren.”

“A liar? When did I fucking–”

“Sasha saw you two at 104 the other day. You’re not fucking slick, you know.” Eren hates that tone in your voice, smug and wounded all at once. He wants to tear his own hair out.

“Oh, so you just know everything, don’t you?” Eren’s voice is shaking under his efforts to keep it at a low volume, keep you with him outside of your little bar and just make you listen to him. He watches your posture change ever so slightly, a shoulder turning towards him. “I was telling her to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Over coffee?” Your voice is still clipped, snarky. “Sure, Eren.”

Eren tries to keep himself in line, but his temper gets the better of him yet again, shooting out sharp and lethal. “Isn’t it a little hypocritical of you to avoid me over that, when it’s really you that’s getting back with your ex?”

Your eyes shoot open, and you spin on your heel to fully face him. “What?”

“You think I didn’t listen to your little voicemail?” Eren seethes, the full-bodied ugliness of his anger warping his face into a scowl. You don’t deserve the brunt of his temper, he knows you don’t, but he’s failing at every turn to reign himself in.

“You can’t throw that in my fucking face, I don’t even remember it,” you cut him off, eyes narrowed into little slits.

Eren freezes in place. The world around him seems to slow; the only thing tethering him to this plane is the way you’re looking up at him, furious and beautiful in the buzzing neons of Scout’s. He knew you’d been drunk, but not that drunk.

Hey, Eren– fuck, Stor, leave me alone! I’m just gonna talk to him really fast! Sorry, Historia’s all over me because I did something bad. I– I texted my ex, Luke. I never told you about him because he’s like, the worst, you’d hate him. But the funny thing is, I don’t even think I care? Maybe I do because I really was like, totally in love with him. Maybe he’ll text me back and we’ll fall in love again. But…I don’t know, Eren. I think about you all the time. I think I…I think I like you. Not like a friend, more than that. Wait, fuck, can I delete this? Just…I don’t know. Call me tomorrow or something. I want to talk about it before I can go down the black hole of Luke all over again. I know it’s not what you expected, and maybe you don’t feel the same, but…maybe we can just– shit, Historia, don’t hang up the–!

“Whatever I said was bullshit, I didn’t mean a word of it. I’m not getting back with my ex, or whatever else I came up with while I was blacked out.”

Your present-tense voice, affirmative and clear, snaps him out of his daze. I didn’t mean it. Every word of that voicemail that Eren knows so well, has basically memorized after listening to it day in and day out, trying to analyze every little drunken intonation of your voice– it was bullshit. Eren steels his jaw, musters up all the willpower he can dredge up in his body.

“You didn’t mean it,” his voice sounds alien as it leaves his mouth, distant.

“Yeah, exactly,” you’re mean, you’re so mean, not even stopping to acknowledge the sinkhole ripping open in Eren’s chest, “so before you rip me a new one, make sure that you’re not thinking about where you’d rather be right now.”

So you’re not just mean, you’re oblivious, it seems. For some reason, even through the shattering, crushing feeling erupting beneath Eren’s hoodie, it infuriates him. You just don’t see it, don’t see him. You didn’t mean a word you’d said to him in that damned voicemail, so he can’t tell you necessarily. It crosses his mind that maybe he can show you; the last dying ember of Eren’s rational line of thought sparks and spits at the idea in protest, but eventually chokes out, slowly dying in the tidal wave of emotion that takes him over.

“Oh, I don’t have anywhere else I’d rather be,” Eren's voice starts low and venomous, but it escalates with each passing word, “trust me, I showed up just aching to get into it with you. Just dying to have you rip me apart for something that I didn’t even fucking do!”

Not even a lie, honestly.

“You’re such an– ugh!” You shriek, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“A what? Say it.”

“An asshole!”

“Is that what I am?” Eren’s backing you up against the bricks, making good use of his height to tower over you. Some sick part of him relishes in the way that, while your eyes remain blazing furiously enough to send a weaker man to his knees, your height difference forces you to cower under him. “An asshole?”

“Yeah,” you counter, glaring up at him defiantly, “you’re a fucking asshole, Eren.”

His proximity to you is making him dizzy and a little unhinged, and through the drinks and his anger and the mere inches between your heaving chests, Eren feels his blood start to run hot in an entirely different way. The leash he holds on his own temper, his own throat-closing desire, is dragging along the floor as he backs you fully against the wall, and Eren’s too wound up to bring himself to care. 

“That’s not what you were calling me when I had my head between your legs, now is it?”

That shakes you, makes your jaw drop a little. Eren’s vaguely aware of your fingers twitching and clenching at your side, inwardly braces himself for a slap to the face. “Well, you weren’t acting like an asshole then.” 

Eren smirks, leans into his own cruelty. “What, you jealous that you haven’t been getting all of my attention? Is that what’s got you acting all mean?”

“Cut it out, Eren.” Your eyes are telling him you’re still mad at him, furious even, but Eren doesn’t miss the way the rise and fall of your chest grows ever so slightly more frantic, the way your tongue darts out anxiously to wet your lips.

“Or what?” Eren leans down, boxing you in with one arm on either side of your head.

“I– we’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He widens his eyes innocently. “What am I doing?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you hiss, but if you ask Eren, it sounds an awful lot like a moan is lodged in your throat, like your words are lacking the conviction that you’re trying to muster. He pushes himself in closer to you, noses mere inches apart, a wicked grin splitting his face.

“Is it working?”

Eren’s lips meet yours at the same moment that his hand whips out to catch your arm where you’re swinging it up to slap him. A broken little whimper leaves your mouth, spills into his, as your arm slackens in his grip. Eren feels your free hand fist into the hair at the nape of his neck, lets a groan fly out into nonexistent space between your lips. He’s been driving himself crazy thinking about this moment, the next time he’d get to feel your mouth on his again if it ever even happened, what you taste like, the little noises you make. The moment that’s been keeping him up at night is finally here, inflating his wounded ego like a balloon, and it feels fucking good.

You bite a little too hard into his bottom lip, the tangy, copper taste of Eren’s blood leaking into the kiss, making it clear that this doesn’t mean everything has settled between you both, but for the time being, Eren doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way your plush thighs feel wrapped around his waist, how easily he can scoop you up and pin you against the wall, the little moan that slips from your lips when he presses the length of his body entirely into you.

He doesn’t take his time, doesn’t savor the moment like he’ll surely wish he did tomorrow; Eren devours you, running a hand up your bare leg and under the hem of your skirt, grabbing a handful of your ass, squeezing at your hips.

“Bet you’re wet under this short little skirt, aren’t you?” Eren huffs into your mouth, sucking on your tongue.

“Fuck you,” you spit, squeezing your thighs tighter around his hips.

“Is that what you want?” Eren whispers, dizzy and drunker on you than the three Jameson shots he’d knocked back at the bar.

“I–”

“Been thinking about it?” Eren can’t stop himself, trying desperately to keep his lips on yours through the spill of words from his mouth. “Maybe that’s why you’ve been so mean to me, grinding all up on me in that club, teasing me, then running off. Just wanted a little love, didn’t you?”

“That depends,” you pant, moving your face to kiss up his neck, leave little nips in your wake. Eren groans deep in his chest, pushing against you even more insistently.

“On?”

“How bad you really want it,” you bite into his earlobe, steal another shaky groan from him.

Eren’s not a submissive guy, not by any means, but the thrill your words send running through his veins just about makes him drop you.

“Want me to beg?” Eren growls, shoving into you and biting deep at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I’d only ever beg for you, baby.”

“Is that what you’re going to do? Beg for me when you’ve got another girl waiting for you?” Your anger has fizzled into a bitter sarcasm that goes straight between Eren’s legs and knocks him right in the ego all at once, tongue tracing the shell of his ear.

“Fuck– you’re my girl, my favorite girl, did you forget?” Eren grabs your face, forces your head back against the brick so you can look at him, eyes blown wide with lust and glossed over, mouth open in a desperate pant. “Told you the first time, you’re the best I’ve ever had. Didn’t think I was just fucking around, did you? It’s just you, only you.”

“Could have fooled me,” you dig your teeth into the thumb Eren’s worked between your lips, making him suck in a sharp ouch between his lips, “sure don’t feel like your favorite girl.”

“Sounds like I need to fix that, then,” Eren lets a hand trail down between the little space he’s leaned back to create between your bodies, finds his way to the damp fabric of your panties, “oh, who’s the liar now?”

“Don’t– fuck,” your eyes roll back in your head when he starts pressing into where he knows your clit is, rubbing insistent circles over the cloth just to elicit that reaction from you, rip the control right out of your pretty little hands. Eren chuckles down at you, dark and dangerous, amused at how quickly you melt for him.

“Thought we weren’t doing this?” He parrots your words from earlier, nosing at your neck. “Thought I was an asshole?”

“You are,” you grit out through a clenched jaw, but Eren notices the little forward push of your hips, notices that you’re trying to hold yourself back from rubbing yourself into his palm.

“And that gets you wet,” Eren counters, grinding the heel of his palm up into your clit and wrenching a little gasp from you, “bet you liked watching me in there, bet you would have loved watching me kick his ass for you.”

Eren pauses, waits to hear if you’ve got anything to say for yourself, but you’re already half-gone, rolling your hips against the steady rocking of his hand and whining in your throat. He smiles– god, you really are his favorite.

“Say it,” Eren growls into your skin, slipping a finger past the fabric of your panties to slide it into you, not the whole thing, but just a knuckle, just enough to make you shudder in his arms, “tell me you need me, want to hear you say what this perfect pussy’s already telling me. C’mon baby.”

Just as your mouth opens, either to answer him or snark at him, Eren can’t be sure, a cat-call from across the street snaps both of you out of your haze, your eyes flying wide. You shove at him, wriggling in his arms until Eren mercifully drops you to your feet, reaches down to right your rumpled little skirt for you. You glower up at him, look him up and down, and just when Eren’s about to bullshit some excuse to run home, fuck into his hand with your name on his lips, you surprise him.

“I mean, after all that, the least you can do is walk me home.”

The necessary steps of Eren closing your tabs, walking into the whipping winter wind, walking through the streets silently with Eren side-eyeing you as you storm along, arms crossed petulantly, commence. They go by in a blur; Eren’s not even sure he should be doing this right now with the lack of blood flow to his head. You don’t make eye contact, and if Eren had any more conscious thought at the moment, he would think you’re already regretting this before it happens, but he can’t bring himself to care, not yet.

He’ll kick himself for this as soon as the sun rises, but for now? The only thing he’s worried about lies wet and pulsing for him under the hem of your skirt.

The moment you’ve gotten the door open, Eren’s got you shoved up against the wall again, letting his hands find their way under your skirt and grabbing at your ass with a quiet groan.

“Historia?” he questions, nipping at your earlobe just because he can.

“Ymir’s,” you pant, pushing him off of you and practically storming to your bedroom. It hits Eren that for all the time you’ve spent together, he’s never actually seen your bedroom. He thinks that maybe he’ll do a little investigating of his own once he’s fucked all the fight out of you.

Safely behind the door of your bedroom, Eren wastes no time in yanking his shirt over his head, reaching for yours only to find that you’ve already rid yourself of the cute little sweater he had been admiring from down the bar back at Scout’s. You’ve got a pretty lace number underneath, one that Eren almost doesn’t want to take from you, but he reaches behind you and unclips it. Eren plans on taking and taking and taking everything you’ll give him, just for tonight, because the sinking feeling in his chest is telling him to do it while he can; a girl like you never sticks around a guy like him for long, and he’s already done himself the favor of ruining most of the potential your relationship had anyway.

“Eren– oh,” the broken whimper that leaves your lips snaps him out of his thoughts, reminds him that he’s got one of your breasts in his palm and the other nipple between his teeth. Eren wraps his free hand around your back, pressing his splayed fingers between your shoulder blades to arch you closer to him until he’s so full of you he can hardly breathe.

He’s going to keep taking from you, take until he drowns in it.

“Feel good? Missed me?” Eren’s words come out a little garbled around the flesh in his mouth, but you get the message all the same, managing a sarcastic eye roll through your arousal. You decline to answer him, but Eren can read your body, so he digs his teeth in harshly to the little swell of fat on the underside of your breast, sucks a bruise in to cut that eye roll of yours right in half. Eren smirks when your eyes flutter closed, a reluctant hand coming up to thread through his hair. “Thought so.”

“Can you just–fuck–get on with it?”

“Uh-uh,” Eren straightens back to his full height, backs you onto the bed until your knees catch and you fall onto your back, glaring up at him defiantly. “Gotta get you ready for me, right? I’m sure you remember.”

He eats up the doubt that flickers across your face, the memory of the first time you’d taken him all over your expression. Eren reaches beneath your skirt, pulls your panties down your legs delicately, rubs his hands along your thigh-high stockings with an appreciative swear under his breath.

“There’s a zipper on the back,” you wiggle a bit to try and reach the fasten of your skirt, but Eren slaps a firm hand onto your hip, pins you back onto the bed.

“Think I’m letting you take this off? After you were teasing me with it all night?” Eren says, stretching his body over yours, taking full advantage of his size to cage you in.

“I wasn’t teasing,” you huff, “these are just my clothes.”

“Anything you wear is teasing,” Eren brings his fingers to your core, swipes through the wetness gathered there, “especially when you look like this.”

You open your mouth to retort, but your jaw goes slack when Eren rolls over your clit softly, rubbing little circles into it at the perfect speed, the perfect pressure. He’s not interested in teasing you too much, he wants to feel you break on him as many times as you’ll grant him the pleasure. Once your little gasps have begun to swell into quiet moans, Eren ventures down, pushes his middle finger into you, all the way to the hitch. Eren answers your widened eyes and your little gasp with a sharp hiss between his teeth, marveling at the way your walls cling to his finger, sucking him in when he slides out and back in again.

“Just like the first time,” Eren murmurs, leaning down to take your collarbone between his teeth, “are you always this tight?”

“I– I don’t– more, please.”

Eren smiles around the mouthful of your skin he has, feeling his heart swell at how cute and airy your words come out, how clear it is to him, even if it’s only for this precious moment, that you’re just as desperate for him as he is for you. He grants your wish, working a second finger in beside the first, curling them cruelly against that spot in your walls that he knows gets your heart racing.

“Eren,” you keen, arching off the bed and tossing your head to the side.

“So tight baby,” Eren says in awe, pulling his head to watch as your cunt leaves little white streaks on his fingers, “so warm, can’t fucking wait to get my cock in you.”

“P-please,” you sputter, hooded eyes sparkling at the mention of it. Eren thinks wildly that he might be falling in love with the little unshed tears that prick your eyes when you start to get close, the little broken pleas you give him.

“You gotta cum for me first.” Eren works his fingers faster, can feel the fluttering of your cunt around his fingers. He realizes how worked up he must have gotten you outside of Scout’s, how you’re so wet it’s dripping down your soft skin onto the sheets, and you haven’t even cum yet.

“I’m– I just want you to fuck me,” you say, whiny and pitiful.

“I will,” Eren coos, “missed this messy little cunt so much, I promise I’ll fuck you, just give me one first. Gotta make it fit, right?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, hips bucking up towards him. Eren watches, drinks the sight of you in: skirt pulled up around your waist, legs spread wide open for him, slick spread all over the inside of your thighs, bottom lip tucked so tightly between your teeth he worries you might draw blood. He commits the sight to memory, his pretty little student all strung out and begging for his cock, begging him to make you cum. If he remembers right, if he curls his fingers just a little more harshly–

“Eren–” your head shoots up suddenly, eyes flying wide open, fists tightening in the sheets.

“Right there?” Eren grins, sharp and half-crazed, raising his eyebrows at the reaction the new angle has brought out of you.

“Right– oh, oh my god, I–”

“Give it to me,” Eren urges, working his fingers even faster, “come on, baby, show me how much you missed me.”

With a cry, you twist and thrash under him, cumming almost violently. Eren drinks it down, leans down to press a kiss against your open mouth, pins your body to the bed so you can’t run from the vicious waves of pleasure wracking your body. 

“There’s my girl,” he mutters, licking against your tongue, “such a good, good girl for me.”

When your orgasm finally starts to ebb, Eren doesn’t let up, not entirely; he keeps his fingers working in a slow drag through your walls, appreciating the way your muscles twitch and the way you feebly shove at his wrist.

“Eren…” you trail off weakly, fingers finally locking harshly around his hand and pulling him from you, “too much.”

“Thought you wanted me to ‘get on with it’?” Eren snorts, finally obliging your earlier request and sliding your skirt over your legs, tracing his fingers up and down your thighs once you’re fully bare and beautiful underneath him, taking mental snapshots of every inch of smooth skin that he’s lucky enough to have under his touch.

“I do,” you say, eyeing him with a glint of annoyance in your eye. It just makes Eren smile bigger; you’re so cute when you’re mad.

“Whatever you want, baby,” Eren says, situating his hands under your arms and practically throwing you up against the pillows at the head of your bed. You widen your legs so he can crawl in between them, kissing his way up your torso in a self-indulgent, tender way.

“Do we, um…” you start to question him, and Eren’s close enough to your face now that he can feel your cheeks warm. He sits up a little, arches a questioning brow down at you.

“What?”

“Do we need to use a condom?”

Eren frowns, confused. “I mean, after last time, I thought you were on birth control.”

“I am,” you confirm, nodding slowly, some odd emotion flickering over your features that could be anger, could be heartbreak, “but I don’t know if, like–”

“I haven’t been with anyone else,” Eren catches your meaning, feeling his heart thud heavy and loud in his chest, “not since…”

“Oh,” you exhale quietly, nodding, “okay.”

“You?”

“Uh, no,” your voice is so low Eren almost doesn’t hear you, but he watches your head slowly lull side to side in confirmation, “no one else.”

Eren can’t excuse the rush of relief that courses through him, the swell of happiness to learn that no one’s gotten to see you like this since the last time he had. It goes straight to his cock, hard and drooling between his legs. Before he can get too wrapped up in the emotional side of things, Eren leans in hard to the horrible, possessive thoughts that have constricted him, laying himself over you and taking his cock in his hand, swiping it through the mess between your legs.

“Good.” He even surprises himself with that, looking down on you with dark eyes, eyes that promise ruin.

“Please,” you give him one more breathless plea, Eren swears you know too well how to snap his composure clean in half.

He pushes himself in, choking on a moan at how tight you are, vicelike and suffocating around him. A broken groan flies from your lips, your fingers tighten their grip on his biceps until Eren’s sure you’re going to break the skin, but he’s beyond caring. His mind wipes completely blank, save for the hot, wet heat that’s enveloping him, beckoning him to snap his hips forward viciously and be done with it. With what little self-restraint he can muster up, Eren flicks his eyes up to yours.

“So…it’s so–” another whimper cuts you off, and Eren can feel your thighs twitch on either side of his hips.

“Too much?” Eren manages to reign himself in, back out another inch or so.

“No,” you wrap a leg around his waist, shove him further into you and wrench a deep, guttural groan from his chest, “feels good, keep going.”

“Careful what you wish for,” Eren breathes, trying to retain any semblance of control over this situation, give you that dominant dirty talk that he knows gets you off instead of turning into a whimpering, moaning mess at the feel of you clenching around him. He bottoms out, feeling himself fuck all the way up into your tummy, head falling down onto your shoulder.

Eren manages to keep his pace slow and gentle, rolling his hips into yours like he’s making love to you, not saying goodbye. Little satisfied sounds are slipping out of your mouth, but Eren can see a flicker of consciousness in your eyes; you’re not drooling for him, out of your mind with want, not like the first time. He frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re…I don’t know, you seem like you’re somewhere else,” Eren hates having to admit that he notices, that he even cares, and the unsteady creak of his voice reflects that, just making him hate himself even more. You don’t seem to notice his vulnerability or, if you do, you aren’t affected by it. You simply raise an eyebrow at him.

“I mean…it’s good,” you say, eyes flitting around the room, like you can’t quite admit whatever you’re going to say while looking him straight in the eyes, “but I want you to fuck me.”

“I am fucking you.” Eren’s frown deepens into a scowl of annoyance. What, is he not good enough for you now?

“Well, literally speaking yes, you are fucking me. But,” a nervous giggle slips from your teeth, riling the anger starting to bubble under his skin again, “I’ve heard a lot of rumors about you.”

“Why are we talking about this while I am literally inside of you?”

“Because I want you to fuck me,” you raise your eyebrows meaningfully, canting your hips up towards him. It clicks– as much as Eren wants to show you what he feels because he can’t tell you, fucking you like an animal, as he’s prone to do, is what you want. Eren’s been so wrapped up in trying to relish whatever time he may have left with you before you inevitably cast him off to the side again, he’s not been paying attention.

“You want me to fuck you, huh?” Eren thrusts forward a little harsher, a little more pointedly. Your eyes roll back, a slow, indulgent smile spreading across your face.

“I want you to fuck me like I know you can,” Eren feels your arms wrap around his neck, pulling his ear to your lips, “unless that last time was all luck. Surely all those rumors aren’t false, are they?”

Eren knows you’re trying to get under his skin, to bite at him through the haze of the heavy air weighing down on both of you, to rekindle that anger that you had brought out of him outside of the bar. What is he going to do with you, incorrigible little thing that you are? If Eren Jaeger was a better man, he would stop this all right now, force you both to talk through the sharp, spiky things that hang in the balance between you two.

But Eren Jaeger is not a better man, he’s only a man, broken and needy and tucked into his favorite place on earth, with the girl of his dreams below him urging him to fuck her brains out. Is he really to blame?

Eren rips himself out of your grasp, standing tall and menacing on his knees over you.

“I’ll fuck you,” Eren grits out through a clenched jaw, grabbing you by the back of your thighs and shoving your knees towards your head, “but you better be ready to put your money where your mouth is.”

“Yeah? Well– oh,” a sharp, shrill cry of your own making cuts your voice off when Eren snaps his hips forward, brutal and unforgiving into the wet heat of your cunt. He doesn’t stop there, immediately pulling out and snapping forward again, hitting somewhere deep inside of you that, based on your face, he knows no man has ever been able to reach. He smirks, all cocky and cruel, setting a harsh pace that’s got you clawing at the sheets.

“What? Is it too much?” Eren whines down at you condescendingly, eating up the way you’re already whimpering and moaning. He can see tears glistening at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall.

“No, no,” your voice is broken, breathless, “it’s– fuck, it’s so good, Eren–”

“Is this what you wanted?” Eren growls down at you, locking one strong hand around your throat. “Wanted me to fuck you like the little slut you are?”

“Yes!” Your admission comes out in a choked, watery cry, the tears in your eyes finally beginning to run down your temples. Even if it wasn’t written all over your face, Eren can feel how much you like it; your pussy is fluttering, pulsing around him, begging him to keep going. He drives his hips forward like a man starved, a man whose life depends on fucking you until you can’t walk straight for a week.

“Who knew?” Eren muses to himself, wiping the tears from your face. “Who knew my pretty girl was so filthy?”

“I, I–Eren,” you moan wantonly, thighs shaking under his firm grip. Eren should hold himself back, knows that you’re going to be so sore in the morning, but a sick part of him is glad for it. Let you walk around campus with the throbbing ache of him inside of you, maybe he’ll fuck you so hard that little twinge in your belly when you sit down never goes away.

“Say it,” Eren urges, squeezing your windpipe, “tell me how much you love it, tell me how bad this pussy missed me.”

“I–” you choke out around his iron grip on your neck, “I m-missed you, I love it w-when you fuck me–”

“Fuck you like a whore?”

“Fuck me like a w-whore,” you wheeze out, face reddening with shame. Eren loves it, wants to kiss the blush off your cheeks and swallow it whole.

“That’s right, baby,” Eren releases your throat, watches the way you heave and gasp as the air flows back into your lungs, only to be punched out by the force of his thrusts, “you love my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes, I– oh my god, Eren, I–”

“What?” Eren sneers, smirking wickedly down at you, “is my smart girl already so fucked out she can’t talk?”

“No, I– I just– fuck!” You’re so loud for him, if he knew that fucking you within an inch of your life would get him this, Eren never would have bothered playing nice in the first place.

“‘ve barely even started,” Eren laughs, mean and sharp, “and you’re already fucked so dumb you can’t even think. Think you can cum for me, just like this?”

He doesn’t even have to ask; he can feel the way your cunt’s starting to tighten around him so harshly that it nearly pushes him out. He’s bullying his way back into you on every thrust, forcing you to open up for him, to take what he has to give. Inwardly, Eren hopes to god you do cum soon; he’s not going to last, not with you spread out beneath him crying and wailing his name. Eren doesn’t think he can hold out much longer without filling you up, watching his cum seep out of you.

“Eren, Eren, Eren–” your nonsensical babbling has started to take the shape of his name, Eren can feel his ego swelling and swelling to the point of bursting. There’s a tone of warning in your moans; the onslaught of an orgasm is threatening to pull you under.

“Don’t you dare hold out on me,” Eren slaps your thigh hard, the tacky, wet sound of it echoing through the room, somehow finds the wherewithal to piston his hips even faster, “want to feel it, feel you cum on me.”

“I’m going to, I’m going– oh Eren–”

Eren practically snarls, leaning over to spit in your open, waiting mouth. “What are you waiting for? Don’t you–fuck–want your pretty cunt stuffed full of me? I’ll give you yours, just gotta cum for me and give me what’s fucking mine. Go on–”

Eren’s rambling is cut short by the loud, raspy sob you let out, clenching down around him so hard it almost hurts, drawing a loud, long hiss from him. He looks down past your quivering thighs, sees the frothy white that’s streaking his cock, and he’s done for. He grants you a few more sloppy thrusts, and then with one final snap of his hips, he stills, holding himself as deep inside as he can manage, pumping you full of him.

Before he can stop himself, Eren’s crashing into you, bringing your lips to his in a messy, frantic kiss, open-mouthed and teeth clacking together. He can feel your body shaking violently underneath him, rocking with wave after wave of post-orgasm bliss, but he can’t seem to break himself from you, collapsed and clutching onto your smaller frame like it’s the only thing tethering him to this earth.

“Eren,” you finally say weakly, voice muffled as you smack at his shoulder, “you’re heavy.”

“Sorry,” he grunts, rolling off of you reluctantly. Your crumpled, naked form is still there, still so tempting and soft and warm. Your eyes are shut, so you don’t see Eren’s tentative hand reach for your hip, just wanting to rub a thumb comfortingly over the bone there, before he pulls back, second-guessing himself. A few pregnant beats pass by, Eren biting his tongue and holding his breath as he waits for you to make the first move, to direct him into how to speak to you after what’s just happened.

“I need to shower,” you finally say, words coming out in a breathless admission.

“Yeah,” Eren answers lamely, sitting up and looking around your room. There’s postcards from almost every country imaginable, tacked above your desk and fluttering in the breeze from your heating system. The desk itself is a wreck, dozens of papers and books scattered around in seemingly no order. Eren notices a little stuffed teddy bear tossed onto the floor and picks it up with a smile, placing it back against your pillows.

“Are you…”

“Am I…?” Eren looks at you, hoping that his pleading gaze isn’t too horribly obvious.

“I think Historia will kill me if she sees you leaving in the morning.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, Eren swears he can see something like regret fly over your face, and you turn your back to him instantly, scrounging around on the ground..

“I don’t know,” Eren wheezes through his shellshock, trying to force out a nonchalant chuckle that only sounds strangled and tense, “she’s pretty short. I don’t know how she could manage it.”

“You’d be surprised,” you slip a bathrobe over your shoulders and grant him a mirthless smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Eren dresses in the heavy silence that’s fallen over the room, pulling his shirt over his head and having to inwardly brace himself to face you. Eren’s comfortable with himself, probably knows a little too well that he’s an attractive guy, but he feels completely naked even fully clothed when he turns around to see you, standing all cozy and fucked out and sleepy in your fuzzy robe.

“So…” Eren trails off, wanting to smack his own face for speaking first.

“Have a good night, I guess,” you look up at him and then quickly away, chewing nervously on your bottom lip. Eren steels himself, lets every bit of courage he can find in his body rise to his mouth, forcing it to move.

“Are we, you know, good?”

“Good?”

“We said a lot of things to each other back there,” Eren can’t meet your gaze, can practically feel his face burning as he scratches anxiously at the back of his head. When he forces himself to look at you, there’s something odd and unreadable in your eyes. Are you sad? No, you’re smiling. Well, sort of smiling– it looks contrived, not real. But you’re not angry, not entirely.

“Yeah, I’m good if you are.” That stupid, insincere smile is still twisting your features. 

Eren doesn’t like the look of dishonesty on you, but he’s fought enough for tonight. He’s sad, spent, and tired, and he figures it’s hopeless anyway.

“Okay, good,” he makes his way to your bedroom door, fingers twitching for the feel of your skin under his, eyes damn near watering, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“See ya.”

And with that, Eren’s left alone in the cold of your apartment hallway, alone and sickened by the feelings of satisfaction and longing swirling in his chest.

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

Ok, I'm going to say this as a 19 y/o, but I think we as a society give wayyyyy to much grace to teenagers. I mean, yeah, our brains aren't fully developed, but we still understand the difference between right and wrong. Like, we understand how the world works to an extent. Excusing ignorance, selfishness, and cruelty because "they're literally a teenager" is very infantilizing and enabling.

Yes, our emotions get the best of us, we have bad coping skills, and we don't have the best critical thinking skills. However, the expectation shouldn't be that we're inept, naive, and frankly stupid things. I think there should be grace and understanding extended to teenagers and teenaged characters, but not the extent I see people give.

For instance, Sansa Stark is given wayyyyy to much grace for her wilfull ignorance regarding Littlefinger's plans. Yes, it's excusable to and extent in AGOT, she was a sheltered girl who saw the world in a very whitewashed way. However, by the point of AFFC, she knows the world is harsh, she knows Littlefinger has no issues killing to get his way. She chooses to ignore this truth.

Now, I'm not saying Sansa is evil and irredeemable. Her wilfull ignorance is a character flaw, one she will develop out of. She's a gray character, just like every other character in ASOIAF. (I also have a lot to say about her bullying of Arya, but I won't talk about that here).

Alicent also receives the same treatment a lot. I think some of her choices in the first few episodes of season 1 do fit with the excuse. However, her choices throughout the show, her very stupid and cruel decisions, are so often excused long after her teenage years. This is a whole ass 30 y/o and her stans are treating her like she's fucking 15.

With Dany, I see the opposite applied. I've seen people say that she's foolish and naive, is too young to understand how the world works. They say she throws temper tantrums and expects the world to fall in line for her. This isn't the case. Rather than excuse her actions and flaws because "she's just a teenager", people create stereotypical flaws of teenage girls in her story.

Dany is known to be extremely wise for her age and she displays amazing self control and emotional regulation that I don't have now, let alone when I was 13. Dany is compassionate, self-sacrificing, and displays great foresight. She's someone who was forced to learn the harsh realities of the world young. She's not a stupid child, she shouldn't be infantilized, especially since it's always done maliciously.

I think (show) Rhaenyra gets the same treatment, but to a lesser extent. Her rightful reactions (ie to Criston asking her to run away) are misconstrued as the choices of a spoiled teenager. And yeah, that does come through sometimes, I guess; however, not nearly to the extent her antis accuse her of.

Rhaenyra wanting to change the cultural misogyny isn't her being spoiled, it's a fair goal. She's going to be the most powerful person in the kingdom, it's more immature, I think, for her to not have any plans or ambitions. Rhaenyra not wanting to run away to a life of poverty isn't being spoiled; it'd be naive of her to do that with a dude she had a drunken one night stand with.

These are just some examples of this teenager excuse being misapplied. Each time this happens, as a teenager, I feel insulted. We are not simply naive idiots; we are not just overemotional or selfish. We have brains, treat us like we do. Expect teenagers to understand at least the basics of morality and the world. This enabling behavior encourages teenagers to act selfish and be unthoughtful.

[updownlately]

i hope he's home for you (even though i had to lose you)

| leah williamson x reader

~~~

“Leah, are you kidding me?”

You couldn’t believe this. You never thought you’d be put in a position where you’d have to fight for your girlfriend’s affection yet here you were, doing exactly that. 

You only got a shrug in response, the blonde shuffling on the couch, trying to get more comfy as she continued texting on her phone. 

“I’m going for a little over a month and you’re already replacing me?” The incredulous look on your face didn’t do your emotions justice, the thought of the blonde not cherishing your last few days together absolutely shocking you.

“It’s nothing serious, I promise. Plus, he’s cute, outgoing, and really friendly…it’s going to be a good time,” she replied, not bothering to look up from her phone.

The nonchalant retort didn’t have the comforting effect that the blonde had hoped, actions not lining up with words, only managing to irritate you further. 

Eyebrows furrowing, you got up from your place at your kitchen island, making your way to stand near her. “I hope you do realize that these are our last couple days together before I literally fly across the world for the tournament for a whole month and then some?”

Just barely getting a nod in reply, you huffed, face twisting in annoyance.

You continued, hoping the midfielder would rethink her decision. “You’re gonna miss me you know? Especially when he can’t cook any of your favourite foods. And when our usual Sunday dates don’t happen, you’re going to feel it.”

“It won’t be that bad…he’ll be good company while you’re gone…”

You threw your hands up in exasperation, not believing that these were the words coming out of Leah’s mouth. The same Leah that had practically moved into your apartment after you had made things official. The same Leah that would constantly plan date nights for the two of you, wanting to spend as much time together as possible during the season. The same Leah that would complain every morning when you’d leave your shared bed to only start the coffee pot for the both of you. The same Leah that was now treating you like a spare choice, too caught up in the novelty of the new to even bother to remember the good times you two shared thus far. 

Silence hung in the air, disbelief making you momentarily mute, the other girl too caught up in texting that verbal communication was a hindrance.

It was only when Leah spoke again that you snapped out of your bewilderment.

“Actually, I think I’m going to go out today with him, I’ve just texted Beth and she’s free too…”

You couldn’t believe it. You really couldn’t. This was actually happening. Throwing your head back, you took in a deep breath, one that Leah could hear even from her seat a handful of feet away.

“So what? You’re going to make time for him but not for me? That’s how important I am to you? I leave soon Leah!”

“Oh come on, you’re acting like I’ve gotten a new boyfriend or something!” It was Leah’s turn to be annoyed, the blonde turning towards you as she got up, mild amusement littering her face. 

“You practically have!” You whined back, shoulders dropping, foot gently stomping petulantly.

“Babe, Cheeto won’t be replacing you, he’s just going to keep me company while you’re gone.” Leah was fully smiling now, hands on her hips as she observed your little temper tantrum, it amusing her more than she’d ever let on.

You raised your eyebrows at the skipper, not pleased with her reply.  

“He’ll be here when I’m back…he’s not gonna go away.” You were aware that you sounded absolutely childish right now but the thought of him being here and getting all of Leah’s attention while you were oceans away didn’t seem fair to you.

“Love, trust me, you’ll like him, he’s full of love.” The fond smile Leah expressed as she spoke the words set an uneasy feeling in your stomach. 

“You realize he probably won’t like exercising right? He’ll be more trouble than peace? And what kind of name is ‘Cheeto’? It just sounds stupid.”

Leah couldn’t help but laugh at your last comment, the immatureness of it finally breaking her. 

“It’s not like I can move much anyways? And he’ll keep things interesting. Plus, I think the name’s fitting, he does look like a ‘Cheeto’.” 

With the blonde recovering from her ACL, you knew she was right. Another presence around would help. Still, it didn’t mean you had to like it.

Rolling your eyes, well aware that you had no retort, you turned away from the Englishwoman and hoped that your body language spoke your aversion.

You heard a gentle laugh behind you before the patter of Leah’s footsteps filled your ears, her hand coming to rest on your waist and turning you to face her quickly after.

Bringing both of her hands to intertwine with yours, the blonde waited for you to meet her eyes before speaking.

“Listen…I’m not replacing you. Especially not with Cheeto. Yes he’s a great puppy but he’s no you, okay? Also you love dogs, especially corgis. You’ll love him, I promise.”

Finally giving up your act, you let yourself be pulled into Leah, letting go of her hands in favour of wrapping them around her while she did the same.

“I hope he treats you better than I ever could,” you mumbled into her neck, a teasing smile present on your face as you cuddled further into her warmth.

Leah’s laugh rang melodically throughout the apartment, her arms wrapping tighter around you. “Oh shut it you.”

Grinning, you knew you wouldn’t mind having Cheeto around, glad that Leah had something to fill her heart while you were gone, even if you weren’t the one she was choosing. 

“You deserve the world times two and I hope Cheeto and I can give that to you…” 

Feeling Leah’s pull you impossibly closer at your whispered words, you sighed in comfort, contentness spreading through your body.