#that is to say he doesn't tell you anything

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: break-up, angst, hung-up yandere, anger issues, insecurity, threats to regrets

♡ GN reader

Thinking about pro-athlete ex-boyfriend… 

You know, the one you broke up with because he couldn't focus on anything but his career, the one you just couldn’t stand by and watch any longer as he nearly ran his health into the ground—not to mention your relationship—all to reach his goals.

He’d been so mean—meaner than you ever thought possible when you told him you couldn’t do this anymore—said it was a real class act of you to abandon him now when it mattered most. He’d made it about you not wanting a no-known sportsman for a boyfriend, how you never believed in him anyway, how you never cheered for him, how he thinks you don’t even want to see him succeed. 

He’d been so loud and so ugly you’d been in shock for weeks afterward, unable to wrap your head around it. You didn’t even dare tell anyone—feeling it was a beast of burden you ought to keep for yourself. Oddly enough, you felt that if anyone knew or saw him like that, it would be not just detrimental to him and his image but embarrassing for you both.

And you hadn't spoken to him since. At least not face-to-face. He’d sent you a few drunk texts then and there, which you’d replied to in short, though mostly ignored. You’d thought about blocking him at one point, but you didn’t want to be dramatic, either. And suppose, in some way, you were still waiting for an apology.

But months passed, and nothing like it ever came, and so, instead of being bitter, you accepted that was just how the two of you ended. And that was that. 

Still, it's a little awkward. You wonder if you should congratulate him on his rise in popularity, how he’s finally getting all those long hours spent training back in full—but somehow, you feel it would just sound petty coming from you. And so, you don’t bother.

He’s got other people in his life cheering him on now—he doesn’t need a measly text from his ex. No, it's better to leave it be, is what you think.

Which is why it’s surprising when you get the dinner invitation. 

And following the initial surprise, you don’t really know what to expect of it either. But you end up accepting—some part out of curiosity, wondering what he might want after all this time, and another part hopeful it was to finally address the awful break up so that the both of you could move on without it hanging heavy over your heads and hearts.

This, however, was the last thing you had in mind when sitting down with him for the first time in a long time.

“Will you marry me?”

Your whole body flares up with something reminiscent of the feeling when you trip and fall—that type of split burn that rushes through you from head to toe and then leaves you feeling cold all over. Heart in your throat, you’re speechless.

Or no, you just don’t know where to begin.

“What are you doing?” you end up accusing—a little too harshly, maybe, but who could blame you? Looking around, you’re glad your table’s in a more private sector of the restaurant before you look back at him, eyes wide and brows knit. 

“I–we broke up a year ago and haven’t seen each other since—and you’re—” Your eyes fall back to the thing in his hands. It’s an outrageous ring. “Asking me to marry you?”

He makes no move to withdraw the offer—keeping his hands where they are, on your side of the table. “You said yes to the dinner. That must mean something. I thought—”

“Yeah. It means that I still worry about you,” you say. “It doesn't mean–”

“I fought my way up. I’m finally at the top,” he cuts you off in earnest. “I’m the best, and the world finally knows it now–”

“I don't care about any of that,” you state, feeling it should have been something you told him from the very beginning. “I'm sorry. But I never cared about you being the best. I just wanted…”

You just wanted the two of you to be like other couples—together and happy. You just wanted that to be enough, but it never was for him.

“Never mind…” you end up saying. “I think I should go.”

You’re about to get up when his hand, suddenly around your wrist, tightens in a harsh grip.

“I don't think you understand,” he utters, voice lowered with a hint of a growl. “It’s either this ring or I bury you in rumors that won’t leave you a moment’s worth of peace.” 

You go stiff while looking back at him.

Did he just… did he just threaten you?

You blink. He's got that same warped expression you remember from the last time you saw him, that very odd look as if the guy you know has been switched out with someone entirely different.

Only this time, it just as quickly disappears, and he lets go of your wrist, quickly pulling his hand to himself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that–I’m just—” he apologizes with a stutter, looking startled.

He puts his face in his hands. Then there's a sound—close to a sob.

“I’m just a mess without you.”

Goosebumps rise on the surface of your skin when hearing it. And swallowing thickly, you sit back down again, albeit a bit begrudgingly. But spotting how he trembles, you just can’t stop feeling sorry for him.

You sigh. “No, you’re not. You just…” Reaching across the table, you stroke his arm. “You just lose your head a little sometimes, that’s all.” 

He peaks up from his hands. A sheen under his eyes reflects the ceiling light, and your heart twists in your chest.

He really is a mess.

“But I know you…” you try smiling. “You were always destined for greatness.”

He takes your offered hand in his, stroking it, then sniffs, voice fluttering weakly, “Yeah, well…”

He keeps his head low, resting it in his other hand as if he just couldn't muster the strength to sit straight or even attempt to pull himself together.

“If I'm such a great guy, why wouldn’t you stay?”

He sounds as if he’s been holding things back for the entirety of the year since you left. Broken now... it's all spilling out.

“Because," you start, even though your throat’s tight and you’re fighting back tears of your own, your mind hasn’t changed.

You didn’t come here to get back together. 

"You want to go places, I just can’t follow.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks, Enji ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ CSM – Aki ♡ BLLK – Reo, Isagi, Rin, Sae, Yukimiya, Karasu, Shido ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ WB – Sakura, Suo, Kaji

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[wholoveseggs]

Hey lovely, re-reading through your works on my commute. :) I got another idea to put on your ever-growing pile of requests: reader and Elijah are having an affair. Sex is amazing (duh!), but reader is bothered that Elijah never climaxes. He always stops right after she had her pleasure, insisting he prefers to stay in control the entire time and that he doesn't like to be overwhelmed by any kind of strong emotion. Naturally, reader sets out to change that.

Dissolve

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!reader} Elijah always puts your pleasure first, never letting himself fully let go. Until you push him over the edge and he falls completely.

♡♡ Ugh @originals23 what a delicious idea, he deserves to receive the same amount of affection he gives out~ ♡♡

4.6k words - Warnings: smuttt, lots of teasing, oral (m + f receiving), light restraint (wrist pinning), some steamy shower fun, riding, reader worshipping her man, Elijah struggling to be vulnerable, some vampire face, biting, blood-sharing, soft dom!Elijah vs. your mission to break him && the only Mozart song I know the name of...

Being in Elijah Mikaelson's bed was nothing new to you. You had been in it enough times to know exactly how soft his sheets were, the exact way his pillows smelled, the feeling of his skin under your fingertips, how his lips tasted when he kissed you.

It was all a routine. You would show up at his place after work. He would lead you to his room. The door would shut, and for the rest of the night he would make sure you thought only of him.

Tonight was no different. He invited you over. You had a few glasses of wine. Then his lips were on yours. He carried you to his bed. Clothes were shed. Your back pressed into the mattress as his mouth traveled down your neck. His kisses were always so slow. So methodical. Each one deliberate, with the intent to leave a mark.

You had noticed that this was his favorite part. The foreplay. Taking his time to drive you insane. He enjoyed watching your reactions. The way your eyes fluttered closed when he kissed your stomach, or the soft whimpers you would make when he ran his hands up your thighs.

And of course, he loved the sounds you made when his tongue explored your most intimate places. Your hand was in his hair, urging him closer, trying to get him deeper. He hummed against you, knowing it would send you over the edge.

"Elijah..."

Oh, how you said his name. No symphony could compare. He looked up at you with those eyes, so dark and hungry. They were telling you not to look away. He wanted to watch the pleasure roll through you, he wanted to feel the way your body tensed, he wanted to hear his name leave your lips over and over again as he made you come.

As your breathing calmed, he kissed his way back up your body, lingering on the places that made you whimper the most.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered in your ear, making your cheeks flush and your heart pound. He could do that to you. Turn you into a giddy teenager with just one compliment.

"Hush," you said softly, trying to hide your grin.

He didn't say anything else. He just pressed his lips to yours, his hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. He was gentle and sweet, which was the perfect segway into the second round.

You tried to push him onto his back, to get him under you. He wouldn't budge. He knew what you wanted, but he would never let you do that to him.

"Let me," you said, running your hand down his chest.

He smiled and shook his head, his hands moving up your thighs, spreading them as he pulled you under him. His lips captured yours again, his hands pinning your wrists next to your head. You didn't fight it. Not tonight.

He needed to feel in control. That's how it had always been with him. Maybe he was scared of losing it. Of becoming too vulnerable. Maybe he just liked the thrill of power. Or maybe he was trying to protect himself. From what... you couldn't tell.

"Are you okay?"

You looked up at him, realizing you had been spacing out.

"Yes," you smiled, reaching up and pulling his lips back to yours.

He released your wrists and let his hands wander to your waist, his erection pressing against your stomach. He continued to kiss you, not wishing to rush things. But your hands were impatient. They moved to his shoulders, pulling him closer, trying to make him understand that you needed more.

Your impatience made him smile. You could feel his lips curling up against yours, he was enjoying your desperation.

"Do you want me?" He said, his words teasing.

He always had to ask, no matter how obvious the answer was. He liked hearing you say it. He liked the way your voice got needy and breathless.

"Yes," you said, kissing him again.

He eased inside you without breaking the kiss, and you let out a soft sigh. He enjoyed the feeling of you around him. The way you pulled him in. It was heaven.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him deeper, making him groan against your mouth. He started slow, making love to you the way he knew you liked. His forehead pressed to yours, his breath hot against your skin, his lips brushing yours between moans.

It wasn't enough for you, though. You wanted to see him lose control.

"Harder," you whispered, hoping that it would spark something.

You reached down, grabbing his ass, pulling him closer, trying to coax him into taking you harder. It worked. For a second. Then his pace slowed, his hands moved from your hair to your hips, holding them down.

He changed the angle, lifting your thighs to his sides. The new position made your toes curl, and you gripped the sheets.

"Fuck," you said, your eyes closing.

"Look at me."

The words were gentle, but commanding. He wanted you to look at him, and not stop looking.

You did as he asked. His gaze was intense, and it made your whole body flush. He smiled, leaning down and kissing you as one of his hands moved to where you were joined. His thumb circled your clit, and you whimpered.

You tried to break the kiss. He wouldn't let you. He held the back of your head, his mouth swallowing the moans he was eliciting.

His thumb was relentless, his hips moving faster, his thrusts growing sloppier. His breathing was getting ragged, and he groaned against your mouth.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him, wanting to finally feel him come undone. He kissed you deeper, his tongue dancing with yours.

You were already sensitive from your first orgasm. Your nails digging into his skin as you tried to hold yourself together, but you were falling apart. You wanted to hold off, to have him go over the edge with you.

It was too late, he was too good at this, the coil inside you snapped. Your muscles tightened around him, a wave of pleasure washing over you, making you moan his name. He smiled against your lips continuing to move his hips, not wanting the moment to end.

But then he did what he always did.

Once you came down from your high, he pulled out, kissing you one more time before getting out of bed. You watched as he went to the bathroom, and heard him start the shower.

This is the part you hated. The part where you were left alone, feeling confused and empty. It happened every time. He would take you to his bed, fuck you senseless, then leave you with your thoughts. You didn't understand why he was the way he was.

You laid there, staring at the ceiling, wondering why he was so distant. Why he never let himself fall over the edge. Was it you? Did he not trust you?

You couldn't help but wonder, and you had been wondering for months. You knew Elijah was complicated, he had experienced many losses and he liked to keep his feelings private. Only letting certain people get close enough to see the real him.

You were in love with him. He was everything you wanted. And maybe he loved you too. But he wouldn't say it. He had never said it. Not even during the throes of passion. The words never passed his lips, but he showed you in everything else he did.

That's why you didn't understand him pulling away. Why didn't he allow himself to be vulnerable? You sat up and threw the covers off, heading into the bathroom, not caring about the cold air against your skin.

He was already in the shower. You opened the glass door, taking a moment to admire him. The muscles in his back were defined and tense. Water was streaming down his hair and the curve of his neck.

He turned, surprised to see you there. His eyes raked over your naked body, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"I thought you had fallen asleep,"

"I would rather be in here," you said, stepping into the steamy air.

"You should rest," he said, running his hands through your hair.

"I will, after I finish what we started."

"As I recall we did finish. Based on the sounds you were making and the way you were squeezing me," he teased, a hint of cockiness in his tone.

His hands went to your waist, slowly turning you around, switching places with you, letting you get warm under the water. You couldn't keep your hands to yourself. You pressed against his chest, kissing his lips. He smiled, his hand resting on the small of your back, keeping you close.

"I want to please you too," you said, trailing kisses down his neck.

"You do please me." He ran his hand up your back, his fingers tangling in your hair, gently tugging.

"You know what I mean."

He didn't respond. His grip on your hair tightened as he tilted your head back, forcing you to look at him.

"Not tonight," he said, his tone soft.

"Why not?"

"I just wanted to enjoy you. No distractions. Nothing to worry about, just make you feel good."

He sounded genuine. You could hear the sincerity in his voice. But it wasn't enough. You were tired of being the only one who got off.

"What if I want to give you that same feeling?"

He didn't have an answer. Instead he picked you up and pressed you into the cold tile, his lips claiming yours. He wasn't going to give you an answer, instead he was going to try and distract you.

And by the time he carried you back to his bed, it had worked.

But tomorrow would be a different story.

The next day you had a lot on your mind. Elijah was always distant, but he seemed especially detached today.

It didn't matter that you were having mind-blowing sex nearly every night. There was still a wall between you. Elijah was always trying to make you feel good, but he would never let you do the same for him.

And you were going to figure out why.

You were working late that night, and when your phone rang and you saw Elijah's name on the screen, a smile crossed your lips.

"Hello."

"Hello."

Just one word and his voice could make you blush. You missed him already, and you had seen him a few hours ago.

"Can I come over?"

"Of course," he said, his voice warm and gentle.

"Good. I'll be there soon."

When you arrived, his place was dark. There was music coming from somewhere upstairs. It was soft and melodic. A violin maybe.

"Elijah?"

"In here."

You followed his voice into his bedroom. He had a vinyl record playing, and he was sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room, a glass of bourbon in his hand.

He looked gorgeous. Dark blue button down, sleeves rolled up. His hair was perfect, and his gaze on you was so soft.

"Hello," he said, his eyes traveling up your body.

"Hi."

"How was your day?"

"Tiring. Yours?"

"Quite uneventful."

"Oh really?"

He smiled and put his glass down, standing and walking towards you. He put his hands on your waist, and pulled you closer.

"This is nice, what composer is this?" You asked, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

"Mozart."

"Oh, I know him," you chuckled, "What is the song called?"

"Lacrimosa,"

"Hmm. Pretty."

"Very."

He was looking at you with a small smile, his eyes filled with lust and adoration. His fingers hooked into your belt loops, and he led you to his bed, sitting down and pulling you into his lap.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

"Only a hundred times."

"Well, it's worth saying a hundred more."

"Sweet talker," you said, leaning in and capturing his lips.

"You like it."

"Maybe a little," you grinned, kissing him again.

His hands moved down to squeeze your ass, making you giggle. You unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside, letting your eyes travel down his toned chest.

"I have a question," you said, running your hands up his torso.

"What is it?" He asked, kissing your neck.

"Why are you always so focused on my pleasure and not yours?"

"I get pleasure from pleasing you."

"You know what I'm asking."

"It's a complicated thing," he said, his voice muffled against your neck.

"I want to understand. Tell me," you said, running a hand through his hair, tugging gently, making him look at you.

He studied you for a moment. The expression on his face was hard to read. He was deep in thought, thinking of the right thing to say.

"I'm afraid," he said, his eyes locked on yours.

"Of what?" You asked, your voice soft, not wanting to push him too far.

"I... it's difficult." He swallowed hard, his gaze falling.

"You can tell me." You took his face in your hands, tilting his head up, forcing him to look at you again.

"If I lose control, if I let myself go, I'm worried I'll hurt you," he said, his tone quiet and almost ashamed. "I've hurt many, and I do not wish to do it again."

His dark eyes became glassy, and the words caught in his throat. You knew he had a lot of guilt over the things he had done, and the pain he had caused. You had known him long enough to know he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"'lijah," you said softly, bringing his lips to yours, kissing him slow and tender.

You felt him relax under you. His hands moved from your waist to your thighs, gripping them tight.

"You won't hurt me," you whispered, your breath hot against his lips.

"You don't know that." His voice cracked as he spoke, and he rested his forehead on yours, his eyes closed.

"Trust yourself," you said, brushing a strand of hair out of his face.

"You have no idea the kind of monster I can become," his words were a whisper, his hands trembling.

"I know the man I'm in love with, and I trust him." You kissed him again, trying to show him that he could be vulnerable, that it was okay.

He didn't say anything. He kissed you back, his hands moving to the small of your back, holding you close. You could tell he needed a moment. This was a big step for him.

So you just kissed him.

His lips were gentle and slow. His hands moved from your back, to the hem of your shirt, and he lifted it over your head, tossing it aside.

He was quiet. So you took his face in your hands, pulling him closer, not wanting to break the kiss. You could feel the tension in his jaw, the slight shake in his hands, the way his breathing hitched.

"Hey," you said softly, leaning back.

He looked at you, his dark eyes searching yours. You could see the worry behind them. He was afraid. He was afraid that if he gave in, if he let himself lose control, something bad would happen.

You ran your thumb over his bottom lip, and his eyes fluttered shut. He looked so afraid. So unsure.

"Let me take care of you," you said, leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

He let out a soft sigh and nodded, his eyes still closed. You smiled, trailing kisses down his jaw and to his neck, his skin warm and soft against your lips.

You slowly climbed off his lap, kneeling on the floor, between his legs. Your hands traveled up his thighs, and you unbuckled his belt, taking it off and tossing it to the side.

He opened his eyes, looking down at you. You bit your lip, smiling up at him as you unbuttoned his pants. His breathing hitched as you dragged the zipper down.

You pulled his pants off, leaving him only in his boxers, his erection straining against the fabric. You leaned in, kissing his length through the thin layer of material, and he groaned.

"Please," he said, his voice raspy.

You grinned, hooking your fingers into the waistband, and dragging them down, freeing his erection. You took him in your hand, stroking him slowly, enjoying the way his head fell back and his hips lifted.

"Fuck."

You loved it when he cursed. It was rare, and it always sent a rush through you. The way it rolled off his tongue, the way his accent thickened, and the way his voice dropped an octave.

"Does that feel good?"

"Yes," he hissed, his jaw clenched.

You moved your hand a little faster, loving the way his muscles tensed, and the way his breathing changed. He looked so sexy. His hair a mess, his skin flushed.

You lowered your head, taking him into your mouth, making him groan. You looked up at him through your lashes, and his eyes were shut, his head back. You could tell he was still trying to hold back, trying to keep control.

You swirled your tongue around his tip, making him curse again, slowly taking him deeper and deeper. You moaned and his eyes snapped open, looking down at you, watching his length disappear past your lovely lips.

His hands were in your hair, pushing it out of your face so he could watch. You felt his grip tighten as you relaxed your throat, taking all of him.

"Darling, if you keep doing that..."

You hummed, looking up at him. His eyes were blown wide, his breathing ragged. His hands were tugging and guiding, as his hips began to lift, thrusting up, pushing himself deeper. You tried not to gag, the sounds lewd, but the look on Elijah's face made it worth it.

He was falling apart, his self-control slipping away. Eyebrows arched, his muscles flexing, his lips parted in a silent moan. It was the most erotic thing you had ever seen.

You kept going, not wanting the moment to end. His grip on your hair was borderline painful. You moaned around his length, the vibration causing his hips to jerk.

"Shit," he growled, his hands tightening.

His jaw was clenched, his hips rocking, his eyes turned black, his vampire nature peeking through. Veins dancing under his eyes, his fangs extending, and a low growl rumbling through his chest.

You kept your eyes locked with his as you took him all the way, pressing your face into his pelvis, swallowing around him. The sound he made was feral and carnal, his hips lifting on their own, chasing the pleasure.

He was close, you could feel it. His movements were getting sloppier, his grip on your hair tighter, his breathing more labored. You hummed around him, sending a shockwave through his body.

"Y/n, please, fuck, I can't-"

His words came out broken and rushed. Then he came, a string of curses leaving his lips, his hands gripping your hair so tight you thought he might rip it out.

You kept your lips wrapped around him, swallowing everything he gave you, his cock pulsing against your tongue. He was panting, his chest heaving, his eyes squeezed shut, still holding on to your hair.

You hummed once more, making his hips twitch, his hands finally releasing your hair. You pulled away, letting his length slip from your mouth, before sitting back and looking up at him.

He was a mess. His hair was disheveled, his eyes were still pitch black, his fangs visible as his breathing evened out. He was a sight to behold. You had never seen him this unraveled.

You took advantage of his dazed state, and stood up, pulling your pants down and climbing into his lap, straddling him. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, his hands moving to your waist, gripping it tightly.

"I hope I didn't hurt you," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Not even a little, in fact, I rather enjoyed it," you grinned, running your hands through his hair.

"Really?"

"Uh-huh," you hummed, leaning in and capturing his lips.

He kissed you back, his hands traveling to your hips, holding them, his tongue sliding against yours. You could feel him starting to get hard again, and you pulled away, smirking.

You reached down and slowly took him in your hand, pumping him, loving the way his breathing changed. He was still sensitive and the sounds he was making were driving you wild.

"Elijah," you said, biting your lip.

"Hmm," he hummed, his eyes shut, his hands on your waist, squeezing, his hips lifting slightly.

"I love you," you whispered, leaning in and kissing him.

His hands moved from your waist, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hips. You could tell the words were affecting him. He didn't need to say it, you could tell by the look in his eyes, and the way his heart raced under your hands.

You lined yourself up and slowly sank onto him, taking him all the way. He groaned against your lips, his nails digging into your skin.

"I love you too," he whispered, his lips brushing yours.

His words made you melt. Hearing it for the first time, made your chest tighten. You kissed him again, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

You started moving, your pace slow, taking your time. You wanted him to enjoy it. To make him feel everything. To remind him that he had nothing to worry about, and that giving himself completely was okay.

He broke the kiss, his head falling back, his eyes closing. You took the opportunity to quicken your pace, bouncing in his lap, making him groan.

You steadied yourself against his shoulders, rising from your knees on the bed to your feet, fully in control now. The new angle let you dictate the pace, lifting yourself almost completely off him before slamming back down, making him groan beneath you. Skin met skin in an intoxicating rhythm, the sound nearly as filthy as the way he gasped your name.

His eyes opened and he watched, his breathing uneven. The sight of you was incredible. You were flushed, your lips parted, breasts bouncing, and when he looked down at where your bodies met, it was almost enough to push him over the edge.

"Fuck," he rasped, his hips jerking.

Your thighs were beginning to burn, and you were getting tired, but you didn't stop, couldn't stop. The look on Elijah's face, plus the pressure building deep inside kept you going.

His hands guided you, his grip on your hips impossibly tight. His eyes were watching, his breathing growing ragged. You knew he was getting close, and by the way you felt your own orgasm beginning to crest, so were you.

"'lijah," you whimpered, moving as fast as your body allowed, chasing that sweet, sweet release.

He could hear it in the way your voice wavered, and the way your muscles tensed. And then he let himself feel it too, giving himself permission to let go, he held you tighter, your name falling from his lips.

The coil snapped, and pleasure washed over you. You moaned, and he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you to him.

He suddenly flipped you over, laying you on your back, keeping your bodies connected. He thrusted hard, making your eyes roll back. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him, encouraging him.

He gripped your thighs tightly, his pace rough and sloppy, his head falling onto your shoulder. You could feel his fangs scraping against your neck, and you tilted your head, giving him better access.

He could sense it, the way your heart was racing, and the anticipation of what was about to happen.

He thrusted into you hard and then bit down, sinking his fangs into your neck. It was euphoric. His entire body was pressed against yours, his hands holding your thighs, his mouth sucking and drinking, his hips slamming into you. The combination of sensations was too much, and another orgasm crashed into you. You moaned his name, your nails dragging down his back, making him growl against your skin.

And just like that, he was falling.

His thrusts became erratic, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed himself deep inside, emptying himself. You could feel the heat, the way his body shook, the way he clung to you as if you were the only thing grounding him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, your bodies entwined, his weight warm and solid against you. He lingered there, and he slowly pulled his fangs out, reluctant to move, reluctant to let go of this fragile moment.

His grip on you loosened, his forehead resting against yours, his breath ghosting over your lips. His hand came up, brushing his fingers over the bite mark on your neck, his expression shifting.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice quiet, hesitant.

"Yes," you smiled, brushing his hair out of his face.

He frowned slightly, his thumb tracing over the bite. "I... didn't mean to lose myself like that."

You caught his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. "I liked it," you whispered.

"Oh, did you?" he murmured, his lips curling into a soft smile.

"Uh-huh," you hummed, kissing him again, your lips moving slow and tender. "You are so fucking hot when you lose control."

His dimples showed, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. You couldn't help but smile back. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Please do," you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him close.

He chuckled, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder, his lips finding the mark he left behind. He bit his own lip and you felt the sting fade, his blood healing the wound. His touch was reverent as if sealing something between you.

When he pulled away, there was something different in his expression. His dark eyes shone, his smile softer, more open. He had never looked at you quite like this before. Like he had let down some invisible barrier, like he had finally let himself dissolve into the feeling, let himself believe.

You leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. He sighed, his hands tangling in your hair, holding you there, savoring the closeness.

"Will you stay?" He asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Of course."

"Good," he murmured, his hands settling on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.

You hummed and kissed him again. Your lips moved slowly, enjoying the feel of his mouth against yours. The two of you slowly fell asleep, tangled together, warm and content.

And in the morning, he would still be there. He would kiss you awake, make you breakfast, and show you. Through touch, through words, through the way he looked at you. That you had changed something in him.

Because the night before had been different.

You had given him a piece of yourself, and in turn, he had given a piece of himself to you. And in a thousand years, that was a rarity.

In a thousand years, no one had ever loved him like this. And for the first time, he let himself believe he deserved it.

[yanderedrabbles]

Hi! Btw It’s my first time on this blog & Love your scenarios! Just wanted to Ask in general: would Yandere military contractor ever be amused by an mc who’s very willing or will he want more of a struggle from them? 💝

Yandere! Military Contractor x Affectionate Reader

Hmm, I've said before that he's the kind of guy who takes what he wants from you regardless. But no matter how monstrous, he's still a man. Deep down, he wants you to want him back.

The thing that scares him though? The inherent vulnerability that brings. He's used to covering all his bases, used to squashing down his emotions to get the job done - to the point where he's numb and dull to almost anything. Admitting, even to himself, that he needs you in that way? Absolutely not happening.

Even when he was watching you - weeks spent on the roof of the building across from your apartment, hours parked outside your work - he always told himself it was just curiosity. Just an itch that he needed to scratch. He'd feel better once he had his hands on you, that's all. He'd stop thinking about fucking you once he got it out of his system.

Such a great liar that he doesn't even realise when he's doing it to himself. The second he had you - skin on skin, your throat under his teeth - he told himself he'd keep you just a little longer. Just to really work out his frustration. Gotta get his fill so when it's over he doesn't get the craving again.

But he's never full enough.

No matter how much he's had you - crying or whimpering or even begging him not to stop - it's never enough. There's this thing inside him that always wants more, wants it different. On your back, flipped onto your stomach, up against the wall with your forehead in the crook of his neck, begging, crying, laughing. All of it. All the time.

He holds you at night and tells himself tomorrow, I'll let her go tomorrow. But tomorrow never quite seems to come.

When you start wanting him back, kissing him, pressing against him at night, he isn't sure what to think. You're clever. This could all just be a trick.

Showing him affection just makes him sink his teeth in deeper, makes him fuck you harder, makes him double lock the doors everynight. Makes him want to break you under him because how can you be so cruel? Giving him what he's wanted all along but doesn't deserve? He lives in fear of you taking it back, changing your mind.

Fucking you so rough that you're sobbing, snarling in your ear that he'll be nice if you say 'I love you.' Liar. It just makes him worse.

[wonweige]

I want to see more of the princess's life on being a reminder of someone everyone lost! Maybe she acts like them unknowingly and Mydei is getting more overprotective cause of it!

❝ 185139144 ❞ ✶ but I see her in the back of my mind all the time ! ; not proofread — ignore typos </3 ++ reader (gn!) referred to as ‘you + parent + beloved’ (reader is NOT the little princess)

low-key feel like i didn't do this req justice erm </3 if you want me to redo this just tell me and i will !!

── .✦ THE LITTLE PRINCESS, who can feel the watchful eyes of guards no matter where she goes. her small hand clings to the skirt of her governess/nanny as they walk through the market, her expression not showing how she was slightly unsettled and also exasperated. seriously, did she really need guards watching over her 24/7 from the shadows? it was bad enough her uncle phainon constantly popped up out of nowhere and- oh, there he is now.

── .✦ THE LITTLE PRINCESS, who deadpans comically as her father enters her room for the umpteenth time that day, checking up on her and making sure she was safe and unharmed. she hadn't even left her room for half of the day, simply playing with the many toys her father had gifted her with, and here MYDEI was, fussing over her like she had been battling nikador himself.

── .✦ THE LITTLE PRINCESS, who finds herself staring at the painting of her parent more and more, finding the resemblance between her and them a bit... uncanny. down to the even the smallest curve of the face. she really was a carbon copy of them.

── .✦ THE LITTLE PRINCESS, who has been sleeping next to her dad for a while now.. she thinks he's been having nightmares, but she can't really be sure because her father isn't the type of guy to want company while he sleeps just because he's been having nightmares. still, every night, he either goes to her room or she goes to his and he holds her in his strong arms like she'd vanish if he let go.

── .✦ THE LITTLE PRINCESS, who likes watching her father train and spar with others. she'll sit to the side, her uncle phainon next to her in case anything went wrong, and cheer on her father with a dazzling smile on her features, confident he'll win because he's the crowned prince and her super strong dad who could take on the entire galaxy if he wanted to!

── .✦ THE LITTLE PRINCESS, who does not know how MYDEI's heart feels heavy as he hears her cheer him on from the sides, her words the exact same as his late beloved's. it's almost enough to make him lose his focus.

── .✦ THE LITTLE PRINCESS, who adores the same food as you. it even has to be prepared the exact same way or else she won't even spare it a single glance. much to her delight, it seems that everyone she asks knows how to make it exactly to her liking, telling her that they've made it a million times before. she does her best to ignore how the people that prepared the dish look at her with looks of nostalgia.

── .✦ THE LITTLE PRINCESS, who notices how her outings with her governess/nanny grow less frequent and her outings with her father grow more frequent. not that she's complaining! she loves spending time with her father, especially because he can never say no to her and spoils her rotten even if it's unintentional. she doesn't like how she can't run off, though.. her father always holds her hand or carries her when they're out.

── .✦ THE LITTLE PRINCESS, who gives an unamused look to her father as he squints with disapproval whenever a boy talks to her. "daddy, he was just asking me where the nearest bathroom was." "he should've asked someone else." "..."

── .✦ THE LITTLE PRINCESS, who is adored by the people. who wouldn't love her? sure, she may be a bit bossy at times, but she always wants the best for those around her. such a smart little girl.

── .✦ THE LITTLE PRINCESS, who can't help but giggle as her father leaves their daddy-daughter tea party, pretty [color] bows in his hair, to attend a meeting. nobody would dare say a thing to MYDEI, however, because who would dare question the crowned prince? (phainon did not let it go, however.)

[okkotsuus]

1:54AM, FRIDAY. (sae itoshi) !

loving sae itoshi is quiet. it is longing glances shared across the room while his manager drones on about him needing to remedy his public appearances. it is heated looks after sae scores, as if telling you that this is your man: that he is all you could ever need. it is those long cat-like blinks he does in consecutive threes. a silent i. love. you.

loving sae itoshi is behind closed doors. he keeps a hand on you, looped over your hip or tucked into your back pocket; but not much more, when out. however, the moment his apartment door clicks shut, his nose is pressed into the crook of your neck, lashes ticking against your skin. he lets out a quiet groan as he coaxes you onto the couch, practically draped over you like a blanket.

loving sae itoshi is annoying him to no end. sae has a special ringtone for you, to get him to actually answer the phone. but it doesn't bring him that same joy when it's blaring in his ear from beside his pillow at two in the morning. nevertheless, he answers. only not because it's you...

loving sae itoshi is making late night snack runs. he answers your call only to find out you're parked outside his apartment and want fast food. he hates that processed garbage, thinks it's the worst thing someone can do to his body. still, he drags on a shirt and shimmies his way down into your passenger seat.

loving sae itoshi is cracking jokes in the solace of just the two of you. you rest your hand over his thigh, one hand on the steering wheel all leant back in your seat. that's how sae drives. he doesn't even say anything, just snorts and clasps his hand over yours: thumb running along your knuckles.

loving sae itoshi is being spoiled. even if you're the one driving, who had woken him up and so rudely dragged him from his precious sleep. his card is wordlessly shoved into you hand when you get to the window. sae would never let you drop a dime if he was around.

loving sae itoshi is trying new things. even though he hates fast food, when you dangle a nugget dipped in your sauce of choice in front of him: he takes it. he can feel the extra laps he'll run tomorrow over this singular bite, but he'd run himself dead to see you smile like that.

okkotsuus 25

[animamii]

Hit Different | Eren Jaeger

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ Eren meets his match when Ymir's cousin crashes into his life. Classic playboy meets maneater. ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

𖹭.ᐟ modern aot verse! college au!

.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．.・

Eren sat there on the couch in his garage, legs spread out as his brows were furrowed deep in thought. Arm slung over the worn-out edge of the armrest, blunt ashes falling to the cold cement floor. He stopped smoking inside of his house when you said you didn't like the smell of tobacco, didn't like the way it stuck to your hair. That was months ago, but he still kept the habit. Or tried to. He told himself it wasn’t because of you, that it was just better this way. But he would almost catch himself saying your name when Connie tried to spark up in the living room.

"Don't light that shit up in here y/n doesn't like that shit—" His eyes would go wide, stopping himself midsentence, lowering his raised hand as a confused Connie moves the lighter away from the tip of his dutch.

Now he's sitting here, irritated as hell with thoughts of you. It hits different. The silence. Wondering what the hell you were doing right now. Wondering if you were with somebody else. Eren takes another slow drag, the cherry at the tip of his blunt glowing in the dim light of the garage. He exhales through his nose, jaw tightening as the smoke curls around him, dissolving into the cold night air. His leg bounces, restless, and he hates that he's thinking about you again. Hates that the silence only makes him wonder more.

He tells himself he doesn't care. That it's none of his business if you're out, if you're with someone else. But the thought sticks, stubborn and unwanted like gum to his shoe. He could just text you. Just ask what you’re doing. Maybe something casual—Where you at? or You good? Something that wouldn't make it so obvious that you're in his head. But his phone stays face down on the armrest, screen dark, and his fingers twitch with the urge to reach for it anyway.

His jaw clenches as he swipes his tongue over his teeth, eyes narrowing at nothing in particular. It's fine. He’s fine. He doesn’t need to know. It’s not like you owe him anything. Then his mind wanders to thoughts of you under someone else. Makes his other hand ball up into a fist, has his chest tighten for a second as his jaw feels tension. He hates how even just the thought has him sick to his stomach.

The garage door is cracked open just enough for the night breeze to slip through, and Eren finds himself staring at the empty street beyond it. It would be so easy to get in his car, drive to wherever you are, just to see for himself. Just to make sure. His fingers tighten around the blunt as he exhales sharply. He needs to get a grip. Needs to stop thinking about you like this. How did he even start thinking about you like this?

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

8 months ago

Eren had never really been one for romantic attachments. He simply preferred the hit it and quit it, no strings attached life. In short, he was just a slut. Everyone knew that. Everyone was fine with it. Except the occasional girl who would think they knew what they were getting themselves into but fall into the sinkhole of charm that was Eren Jaeger.

"Yo, Jaeger!" Ymir bursts into Eren's place, plopping herself onto the couch across from Eren, who was laying with a blunt lazily between his lips, preoccupied with his game of Rainbow Six. Flicking through the operators before he goes with his main, Kali.

"W'ssup Ymir?" His eyes flit to her for a second, greeting muffled as he tries to keep the lit blunt balanced, tiny tufts of smoke leaving his mouth with each word.

"Nothin' much. Just got back from helping my cousin move into her place. Girl has so much shit, my back is fuckin' aching from carrying her dresser. I know I'm a masc lesbian but fuck, I'm still a damn girl," Ymir rubs her aching back as she sits up, watching Eren snipe yet another person. "I need some damn indo to help with this back pain."

"Cousin?" Although Eren and Ymir were close, Eren felt like he knew jack shit about her. He didn't even think she had actual parents. In his mind she just spawned onto the earth with no attachments.

"Yeah. My cousin on my pop's side," Ymir leans forward to grab the blunt dangling from Eren's lip, which he side eyes but allows, "We used to be hella close growing up as kids til she moved up north. But she just moved back for school. Got into some fashion design program or some shit." She takes a fat puff, coughing a bit as she leans back into the couch once more.

Eren hums, barely paying attention as he respawned in-game, fingers moving lazily over the controller. “Fashion design, huh? Sounds high maintenance.” In his mind he was envisioning a bubbly, ditzy girl who could barely form a coherent sentence without using the word 'like'.

Ymir snorts, shifting to get more comfortable on the couch, blunt between her thumb and index finger as her other hand rests behind her head. “Please, she’d eat you alive, Jaeger.”

That caught his attention. His brows lift slightly as he glances at Ymir out of the corner of his eye. Taking the blunt back for another hit, the ember at the tip of his blunt glows a fiery red as he took another slow drag, letting the smoke sit in his lungs before exhaling through his nose. His free hand runs through his already-messy hair before he leans back, posture relaxed but interest piqued.

“That so?” He drawls, as if the idea of someone getting the best of him was comical. It was utterly laughable.

Ymir smirks knowingly. “Yeah. She’s not like those girls that throw themselves at you.” She reaches over to grab the blunt from his fingers again, taking a slow inhale before flicking the ashes onto the dirtied rolling tray that sits on Eren's beat up coffee table. “She’s a fuckin' problem.”

Eren lets out a short laugh, eyes still trained on the screen, but the way his leg bounces slightly betrayed how much she had his attention now. “A problem, huh?”

Ymir rolls her eyes, exhaling deeply. “Don’t do that.” She already knows what's going on in Eren's head. She can already see that conniving look on his face. Like a bad ass kid plotting.

“Do what?”

“Make it sound like a challenge,” she scoffs, watching as the smirk tugged at his lips. Aaaaand there it was, that conniving look.

His fingers twitched slightly against the controller, but he shrugs, feigning indifference. “You make it sound like I couldn’t handle her.” But the tone in his voice was anything but indifferent.

Ymir lets out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “Handle her?” She stretches her arms behind her head, amused. “Jaeger, she’d ruin you.”

That made him pause, just for a second. He tilts his head toward Ymir now, fully interested. “How so?”

“She’s just like you,” Ymir says simply with a casual shrug of her shoulders, blowing out a fat swirling cloud of smoke before handing the blunt back to him. “Except worse.”

Eren raises a brow, taking a slow hit before exhaling toward the ceiling. “Worse?”

“Oh yeah.” Ymir’s grin was almost cruel. “She’s got a new guy every other week. Doesn’t do relationships, doesn’t do feelings. The second she gets bored? You’re out. No explanations. No second chances. Sound familiar?”

His fingers momentarily stilled over the controller. “Lemme get this straight,” he says after a beat, bringing the blunt back to his lips. “She’s a maneater?”

“That’s an understatement,” Ymir mutters, rolling her neck. “She’d chew you up and spit you out, Jaeger. And I’d pay good money to see it.”

Eren exhales sharply, shaking his head, but the smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips gives him away. He wasn’t used to hearing about a girl like this. Someone who played the same game he did, who knew how to keep things casual and clean.

But the way Ymir spoke about you… the certainty in her voice, the absolute conviction that you were the one who would wreck him and not the other way around—it irked him. Because no one ever got the best of Eren Jaeger. No one.

“She ever try to sink her teeth into you?” he asks, mostly just to push Ymir’s buttons.

Ymir lets out a barking laugh, smacking her knee. “Fuck no. I'm one of the few lucky ones. She actually respects me.” Then her grin widens. “Which is more than I can say for you, by the way.”

Eren clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes as he gives Ymir a dubious smile, but he couldn’t shake the way his mind was suddenly fixated on you. For the first time in a long time, it wasn’t about how fast he could get someone into bed. It was about how long he could last before you decided he was disposable. And for some reason, he really wanted to find out.

Eren exhales a thin stream of smoke, tapping ash onto the makeshift ashtray as he gives Ymir a sideways glance. “You talk about her like she’s some kind of myth.”

Ymir snorts, kicking her feet up on the edge of the coffee table. “She might as well be. Every dude she’s been with thinks they’re gonna be the one to change her, to get her to stay. And every single one of them ends up ghosted, wondering what the fuck just happened.”

Eren smirks, tilting his head slightly. “Sounds like they’re just weak pussies.” He can't imagine any self-respecting guy to be groveling at a girl's feet.

Ymir lets out another laugh. “Nah, they’re just dumb. She makes them feel like they’re special, lets them think they’re running the show. But the second she’s bored? She moves the fuck on, no hesitation.” She takes the blunt from him again, flicking the accumulated ash onto the coffee table by accident when she misses the ashtray. “Shit’s actually impressive.”

Eren leans back against the couch, stretching his arms over his head, pensive smirk still in place. “So, what? You’re warning me?”

“I’m telling you not to waste your time,” Ymir says casually, leaning forward. “You think you’re hot shit because girls let you do whatever you want, but she ain’t like that. She’ll let you hit, sure—if she even finds you interesting enough—but she won’t think about you after. You won’t be special, Jaeger.”

That had something curling hot and stubborn in his chest, something he wasn’t used to feeling. Not special? Eren Jaeger was always special. He didn’t say anything, just grabbed the blunt back from Ymir and took a slow drag, eyes narrowing at the screen in front of him, pretending her words didn’t get under his skin.

Ymir watches him, and when he stays silent, she grins knowingly. “Ohhh shit,” she drags out. “You’re actually interested, aren’t you?”

Eren exhales a faux laugh through his nose, jaw tightening. “Relax. I’m just curious.” But Ymir already knows you have your claws sunk into him, even before he met you. That's just the type of hold you had on boys.

“Curious, my ass,” Ymir cackles. “This is gonna be fucking hilarious. I cannot wait to see you get humbled.”

Eren scoffs, shaking his head, but Ymir’s words stick to him like gum on pavement. He hated how much this was getting under his skin, how much he already wanted to see for himself. Because if there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was someone thinking they had him figured out. And right now? It sounded like you were the one to beat.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Music lowly plays from the tiny Bluetooth speaker on the white dresser, bass thrumming low as you stand in front of the full-length mirror that sat in the corner of Ymir and Historia's room, applying a final coat of lip gloss, rubbing your lips together to blend your lipliner just right. The dim amber-yellow light of the bedroom reflects the shimmer against your lips, and you press them together with a satisfied smirk, blowing a kiss to yourself.

Behind you, Historia sprawls on the bed, one knee bent, her phone resting against her thigh. She scrolls lazily, barely sparing you a glance until something about your outfit catches her attention. She looks up briefly, eyes flicking over your outfit before raising a brow. “You’re actually trying tonight?”

You turn, placing a hand on your hip as you pose for her, making those cunty faces you two see on Rupaul's Drag Race. “This is minimal effort, babe. I'm going easy tonight.”

Historia rolls her eyes but smiles, propping herself up on her elbows. “Yeah, yeah. You just like making it look easy.”

You grab your pair of hoop earrings from the nightstand, sliding them on as you check your reflection again. Tight, flattering, just the right amount of skin—tonight is going to be fun. “Speaking of looking easy, what about you? You’re not pulling up in that sweater, right?”

Historia huffs dramatically, tossing a pillow at you. “I’ll change later. Ymir is taking forever in the bathroom, and I am not getting dressed in front of her just so she can talk shit about every outfit I try on the entire time.”

You snicker, knowing she’s not wrong. Ymir has a talent for running her mouth, and Historia—despite her sharp tongue—usually ends up the easiest target. Blame the innate sweetness that she harbors. Something you don't really have.

As if on cue, Ymir’s voice calls from the echoing hallway. “y/n, you better not be corrupting my girlfriend again!"

You turn to Historia with a grin. “As if she needs my help.” Historia flips you off before sitting all the way up, long blonde hair cascading down her back.

“Who’s gonna be at this party tonight? Anybody interesting?” You ask, turning back to the mirror as you adjust your top with a shift and a squeeze.

“Dunno. Sasha said she’d be there, and Connie’s probably already pregaming," Historia swings her short legs off the bed.

“And the guys?” You ask, voice laced with mild interest. Might as well peruse the menu before you get to the restaurant. Maybe choose who you want to sink your teeth into before you arrive, make things easier.

“Why? You got your eye on someone?” Historia raises an eyebrow, curious as to what your chaotic ass would have planned for tonight. You and Historia have been out together countless times, and each outing has its own insane story.

“I’m just asking," shrugging your shoulders, you walk over, plopping onto the bed beside her.

“I guess it depends on what you mean by ‘interesting.’ Jean will probably be there. You know how he is—loves the attention but gets all soft when a girl actually plays back," She explains to you. You've met some of Ymir and Historia's friends, become slightly acquainted.

You hum in acknowledgment. “Reiner, probably? Bert too. I think they were talking about it last night,” you continue, running through the other friends you had met in passing.

Historia tilts her head, looking down at you as you stare up at the ceiling. “What about Eren?” She knows exactly why she's bringing him up. Little freakin' instigator.

At that, you pause, blinking once before snorting. “Eren Jaeger?”

She nods, her cerulean eyes still focused on you and your reaction to the boy. “Yeah. You two have never met, right?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Ymir’s mentioned him before, though. Total playboy, right?” You had only been in town for a couple of weeks, and it seemed like every other conversation was 'Eren this, Eren that". It was annoying, really. Ymir's friends acted like he was some kind of God.

Historia smirks. “Yeah, textbook.”

Your lips curl at the corner. “Hmm.” You don’t say anything else, but you can feel Historia watching you closely.

“What?” she finally asks, nudging your arm.

You stretch your body before standing up from the bed with a slow, lazy smile. “Nothing. Just wondering what kind of playboy we’re talking about here.” You've dealt with more than a handful of so called 'playboys' and they've all crumbled before you. Reduced to groveling messes. Snot nosed, teary eyed, on their knees begging pathetic puddles of men.

Historia rolls her eyes, but she's smiling something mischievous. “Don’t even try it. Ymir already said you’d destroy him.”

Your smirk widens, that's exactly what you wanna do. “Then maybe it’ll be fun to prove her right.”

Before Historia can respond, Ymir strolls into the room, towel draped over her defined shoulders, damp strands of chocolate brown hair sticking to her forehead. She takes one look at you, then at Historia, and groans, throwing her head back.

“Oh, hell no,” she says, rubbing a hand down her grimaced face. “What are you two talking about? And why do I feel like it’s something that’ll piss me off?”

Historia smiles, tilting her head innocently. “We were just talking about the party.”

Ymir narrows her eyes before turning to you. “Uh-huh. And why do I get the feeling that you’re plotting something?”

You shrug with a toothy grin, smoothing out your top as you turn back to the mirror. “I don’t plot, Miri, you know that. I just go with the flow.”

Ymir scoffs, rolling her eyes as she sits down on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, and that ‘flow’ usually leaves a trail of broken hearts and emotionally scarred men in its wake.”

You laugh, tossing a menacing wink at her. “Not my fault they can’t keep up.”

Historia snorts, and Ymir groans again, rubbing at her temples. “Alright, for real. What’s the topic of the night? Who are you planning on destroying this time?”

You turn back to them, leaning casually against the dresser. “We were just talking about Eren Jaeger.” Your tongue presses against your cheek as your lips curl into a conniving smile.

Ymir stops mid-motion, eyes locking onto yours, and grimaces. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

You raise a brow, your lips slightly parting in feigned innocence and confusion. “What?”

Ymir throws her hands up. “Nope. No. I refuse to let this happen.”

Historia leans back against the bed frame, amused. “You say that like you can stop it.”

Ymir groans, looking between you and Historia. “Listen, I know my cousin. And I know Jaeger. You two? That’s a goddamn collision waiting to happen.”

You smirk, crossing your arms. “Sounds fun.”

Ymir points at you, eyes sharp. “No, sounds like a mess. He’s the worst kind of playboy—thinks he’s untouchable, gets what he wants, then bounces. And you?” She gestures vaguely yet dramatically at you. “You’re the female version of that. The only difference is that you don’t even let them think they had you in the first place.”

You tap a manicured finger against your lips, feigning deep thought. “So, what you’re saying is… I’m better at it?” A devilish smile forms on your glossed lips, perfect brows rising in satisfaction.

Historia cackles, and Ymir grabs a pillow off the bed, throwing it at you. “I’m serious, dumbass! Eren’s the type who doesn’t get played, and you—” She shakes her head, eyes shut. “You’re gonna ruin his fucking ego.”

You shrug, catching the pillow and tossing it onto the bed. “And? Sounds like a him problem.”

Ymir drags a hand down her face. “I don’t got the energy for this.”

Historia grins. “Oh, I do. This is gonna be hilarious.” If there was popcorn she would definitely be eating it right now.

You laugh, stretching before grabbing your phone from the dresser. “Well, guess we’ll just have to see for ourselves, won’t we?”

Ymir groans one last time, muttering something about needing a drink already, while Historia smirks knowingly. The three of you are just about ready to head out when chaos strikes—in true you and Ymir fashion. It starts with a missing sneaker.

“Where the fuck is my shoe?” you mutter, crouching near the bed, tossing aside a hoodie, a hairbrush, and what looks like a half-eaten granola bar (probably Ymir’s). “I literally just had them both here.”

Historia, standing by the door with her arms crossed, sighs. “Ymir probably kicked it under the bed or something.”

“Excuse me?” Ymir squints, sitting on the dresser with her arms draped over her knees. “Why do I get blamed automatically?”

“Because you’re always the reason,” Historia deadpans, icy blue eyes lidded.

“Valid,” Ymir admits with a sensible nod, but then tilts her head. “Still not my fault.”

You blink at her before getting down on your hands and knees, blindly reaching under the bed. “I swear to God, if I find some weird ass shit down here, I’m gonna kill both of you.”

“I told you not to look under there,” Historia says, completely unhelpful. All she wants right now is to be downing vodka cranberries and dancing to Saweetie. She might even pretend to be straight so guys will pay her to kiss Ymir like at the last party they went to.

Your fingers graze something soft and cold and squishy, and you scream. Ymir howls with laughter as you jerk back so fast you nearly smack your head on the nightstand. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!”

Historia wheezes, clutching her stomach as she leans against the doorframe. “Oh my god, I forgot about that!”

“Forgot about what?!” you snap, eyes wide and chest heaving, with your hands raised up as if they were contaminated. Which they probably were with the rest of the stuff Ymir hid under her bed.

Ymir can barely get words out between gasps of laughter. “Bro, it’s the ice pack! The one Historia left down there weeks ago when she fucked up her knee!”

Historia nods furiously, laughing so hard she has to brace herself against the wall. “I— I was icing it while watching TV and then it just… stayed there.”

You stare at both of them, disgusted. “You two are feral. Ymir, I understand. But you, Historia?”

Ymir wipes a tear from her eye, finally catching her breath. If she laughed any harder, she'd be having an asthma attack. “Oh, man. You’re so fucking dramatic.”

You shake your head, completely over it, and reach back under, finally finding your missing sneaker. “If I die from some unknown bacteria because of you two, my ghost is haunting this place.”

Historia, still snickering, straightens up. “Noted. Now can we go? I need some Grey Goose in my system pronto.”

You dust yourself off and slip your shoe on. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go before I change my mind.”

Ymir hops off the dresser, slinging an arm around Historia’s shoulder. “Finally. I need a fucking drink.” With that, the three of you head out the door—completely unaware that tonight is about to be the beginning of something more dramatic than a damn Shakespeare play.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

“Bro, hurry the fuck up!” Connie yells from the living room, mouth probably full of chips if the muffled sound of his voice is anything to go by. “You take longer to get ready than my sister.”

“Shut up, Connie,” Eren calls back, dragging a comb through his hair one last time. He’s not even trying that hard—just the usual: white tee, black jeans, and a flannel he doesn't care all that much about just in case his overly drunk ass misplaces it. Simple. Easy. Still, something feels off, like he’s overthinking tonight. And Eren Jaeger never overthinks.

He steps back from the mirror, eyes scanning himself once more. Sharp jaw, messy hair that still somehow looks good, green eyes that’ve gotten him out of more trouble than he cares to admit. Yeah. Still got it. He grabs his phone from the bathroom counter, ignoring the flood of unread texts sitting in his inbox—three different girls, all wanting to know if they’d “run into him” tonight. His thumb hovers over one of their names for a second before he snorts to himself and shoves the phone in his back pocket. Not in the mood.

He’s not really sure what he’s in the mood for. Lately, all of it’s been feeling… boring. Same faces, same lines, same routine. A couple of drinks, a little flirting, and by the end of the night, they’re tangled up in his sheets. No attachments. No feelings. Easy. It’s supposed to be easy. But for some reason, Eren can’t shake this weird, restless feeling creeping under his skin tonight.

He walks into the living room, where Connie and Jean are already half a bottle deep into Eren’s liquor stash like they pay rent here or something. Connie’s stretched across the couch, feet shamelessly on the coffee table, while Jean flips through a playlist on his phone, back slightly hunched, sitting on top of one of the kitchen counters.

Jean glances up before doing a double take. “You’re still wearing that flannel?” Jean raises a brow. “Thought you’d retired it after that blonde last month—what was her name again?”

Eren rolls his eyes, snatching a bottle of Hennessy off the table. “Mind your business.”

Connie chortles. “Man, you are off tonight. Usually, you’re already texting some poor girl by now, setting up your after party plans.”

“Yeah, what gives?” Jean adds, leaning back against the cupboards. “Having an identity crisis or somethin'?”

Eren ignores both of them, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a swig. The burn slides smooth down his throat, but it doesn’t do much to quiet his thoughts. He doesn’t know why he’s on edge tonight—he’s been to a thousand of these. Same people, same drinks, same easy hookups. Girls who know what they’re getting into with him and guys who pretend not to care that Eren always seems to be the center of the room. But tonight? Tonight feels different.

Maybe it’s because Ymir mentioned that her cousin would be there—you—the so-called female version of him. He leers at the memory of Ymir's warning. The way she said you’d ruin him like it was an undeniable fact. Like it was already written in the stars. Like it was already decided. Please. No one ruins Eren Jaeger.

Connie’s voice cuts through again. “Ohhh wait.” His eyes narrow playfully. “This got something to do with Ymir’s cousin? What’s her name again?” Eren doesn't answer, just stays quiet. Connie grins. “y/n, right? Yeah, I heard bout her. She’s bad.”

Eren’s jaw flexes again, his grip tightening slightly around his phone. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Connie raises a brow, sparking up a blunt that he seemingly pulled out of thin air. “Means she's bad, bro. As in hot. As in way outta your league.” Connie takes a hit, pulling it back to see if it's burning just right before passing it to Eren, who takes it without glancing.

Eren scoffs, smoke curling from his lips. “No one’s outta my league.” He says it with the confidence of a man who’s never heard the word ‘no’ in a way that actually mattered. Since birth Eren had been one cocky son of a bitch, and for good reason too.

“Yeah? She might be.” Connie smirks, pouring himself another shot. "Heard she's already got a roster and she's barely been here a couple weeks."

Eren leans forward, resting his elbows on the kitchen counter, blunt dangling between his fingers. “So?”

“So,” Connie says, shrugging as knocks back the Hennessy like its water, “I’m just saying���she’s like you. Probably already got some dude lined up for tonight and won’t give a shit about whatever game you think you’re running.”

Eren’s tongue presses against his cheek, brows furrow and his gaze darkening. He doesn't like the way that sounds. Doesn’t like the idea of you brushing him off—of anyone brushing him off.

“She’s just another girl,” Eren mutters, more to himself than to Connie. “They all play hard to get till they aren’t.”

Connie laughs. “Yeah? Well, good luck with that.”

Eren takes another drag, holding the smoke in his lungs like he’s locking in a decision. On the outside, he’s calm, collected, the usual brand of cocky. But inside? Oh, he’s already made up his mind. If you’re really as untouchable as they say, there’s only one thing to do. Find out for himself.

���˚⊹ ᰔ

The bass shakes the walls, vibrating through the floorboards and straight into the bones of anyone standing too close to the speakers. Red plastic cups litter the countertops some half full some tipped over. The air is thick with the sting of liquor, the stench of sweat, and the occasional hint of weed. Floors sticky as they get covered in track marks.

Eren spots you the second you walk in. He doesn’t mean to. It’s not like he was waiting for you or anything. But the second the door swings open and you step inside, it’s like the party shifts. Like you shift the air just by being here.

And fuck, do you look good. Your hair is tousled, lips glossed, and that skimpy outfit—shit. Eren’s eyes flicker down for a split second, a slow smirk tugging at his lips as he takes in the way it clings to you just right. Top hugging your tits just right and skirt shifting with each step. He doesn’t even have to try to picture it bunched up around your hips. The thought just plants itself in his head like it belongs there. He exhales through his nose, rolling his jaw. He’s seen beautiful before. Had them in his bed, in his car, against bathroom sinks at parties just like this one. But there’s something different about this. About you.

And then? You fucking ignore him.

You and Historia weave through the crowd like you own the place with your arms interlinked, Ymir following close behind, and you don’t even spare him a glance. No knowing smirk, no subtle check-over, nothing. You just flick your hair over your shoulder and move straight for the kitchen, where a handful of people are already pouring drinks.

Eren’s smirk twitches. Oh. This is gonna be fun.

He watches as some guy—Jean, of all people—gravitates toward you, already pulling that smooth nice guy act. Eren doesn’t even have to hear the conversation to know exactly what’s happening. Jean leans in just a little, eyes dipping to your lips between words, smiling like he’s got a shot. And then you laugh—head tilted back just enough to make it look effortless. Eren’s fingers tighten around his cup.

Connie, now posted up against the wall beside him, follows his gaze and grins, letting out a low whistle. “Daaaamn,” he drawls out the single syllable just for the dramatics. “Jean’s already on that? Tough break, bro.”

Eren scoffs, tipping his drink back and swallowing slow like he wants the liquor to burn his throat on purpose. “Not my break to be tough.”

“Sure.” Connie sneers, stretching the word out like he’s not buying a damn thing. “So it’s not pissing you off that he’s—”

“I don’t give a fuck what he’s doing.” The words snap out faster than intended.

Connie raises a brow, like he’s just caught onto something real interesting. “Yeah? Then why do you look like you wanna knock his ass out?”

Eren doesn’t answer. Doesn’t need to. Instead, he pushes off the wall, weaving through the party with that lazy, self-assured stride that’s gotten him anything he’s ever wanted. People move out of his way without him even trying, girls trailing their eyes over him as he passes. But his focus? Locked. Jean is still talking, still smiling like he has a chance—until Eren’s presence shifts the entire energy of the space. Jean notices first. Then you do. And finally—you meet his eyes.

Eren doesn’t look away. He doesn’t break that charged stare, doesn’t let you see anything but that knowing smirk playing at his lips. You knew this was coming. You had to. The way your own lips curve at the edges tells him everything. He expects you to turn, to give him your full attention. After all, you're such a lucky girl to be graced with the presence of Eren Jaeger.

But no. You let out a soft snort, flipping your hair as you continue your conversation with Jean. Eren’s smirk falters for half a second. Oh, so that’s how you wanna play it? His grip tightens around his cup, but then—he laughs. A deep, low chuckle that rumbles through his chest as he tilts his head, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. You think you can just brush him off like that? Like he’s nobody?

Alright, sweetheart. Let’s see how long you last.

Eren leans back against the counter, swirling the liquor in his cup as he watches you, waiting for the moment you’ll crack and finally look at him. He’s patient—cocky, but patient. Girls always fold first. But you? You don’t even glance his way. Instead, you tilt your head at Jean, lashes fluttering just enough to make the poor guy swallow hard.

“You were saying?” you prompt, voice smooth as silk. Eyes looking up at him so steadfast, making him feel like the only boy in the world.

Jean blinks, briefly thrown off before he collects himself. “Uh—yeah. I was saying—you should totally let me take you out sometime.” He leans against the counter, confidence settling back into his stance. “No pressure. Just two good lookin' people getting food together. Maybe some drinks.”

You hum, pretending to consider it. “Sounds more like a date.”

Jean grins. “It can be. Or it can just be a good time. Your call.”

Eren scoffs under his breath, barely audible over the thrum of music. This guy. Jean thinks he’s smooth. Thinks he can keep your attention just because he’s playing nice. Cute.

You smirk, tipping your cup toward Jean. “I like the idea of a good time.”

Jean raises a brow. “Yeah?” Eren can just hear the excitement in his voice, the undertone of him surprised that you'd even consider it.

“Mhmm,” you sip, eyes flickering over him as you size him up and down. “And you’ve been looking real good tonight, Jean.” You can't deny that Jean is attractive. Six foot something, muscular but not too much. Stubble highlighting his sharp jawline.

Jean’s brows lift slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” You lean in a little, lowering your voice like you’re telling a secret. “Been hitting the gym, haven’t you?” Your breath is warm against his ear, subtle but effective. Jean tenses, then exhales through his nose, like he’s trying to play it cool.

Jean then chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck to calm his nervousness. “Maybe a little.”

“It’s working,” your voice is soft and sweet, masking your devilish intentions. A sly hand creeps up his arm, gently squeezing his bicep. Jean subconsciously flexes it, an obvious attempt to impress you.

Jean’s ears go a little pink, and Eren rolls his eyes. Jesus. This is painful. You’re just playing with the guy, toying with him like a cat with a string, and he’s eating it up. His fingers tighten around the rim of his cup. Pathetic. Jean’s lapping it up, oblivious to the fact that he’s just another name on your list, just another temporary distraction. And maybe that’s what really pisses Eren off.

Eren bites the inside of his cheek, swirling the liquor in his cup with a slow flick of his wrist. The ice rattles against the plastic, but his focus is razor sharp on you. On the way your fingers graze Jean’s forearm, the way your lips curve at something he says—something that wasn’t even funny. The sudden tug on his wrist rips his attention away.

"Eren," a voice purrs, dragging his name out like a slow sip of honey. He barely has time to register who it is before soft hands pull him away from the counter, dragging him into the depths of the party. He exhales sharply. Of course. One of the girls from Mikasa's sorority, Louise. She’s all over him before he even gets a word out, pressing against his side like she belongs there. “Where the hell have you been, Jaeger? Too good to say hi now?”

Eren scoffs, eyes flickering toward the kitchen one last time, but you’re still wrapped up in Jean, still laughing at whatever dumb thing he’s saying, still not sparing Eren a single glance. Fine. He lets Louise pull him toward the hallway, weaving through sweaty bodies and the fog of cheap liquor and weed. Her grip is possessive, like she thinks she can stake some kind of claim over him just because they fucked once. They stop near the base of the stairs, away from the worst of the party but still close enough that the music pulses through the walls.

“I was starting to think you were avoiding me,” Louise hums, pressing a manicured hand to his chest, almond shaped nails scraping lightly over the fabric of his shirt as she tilts her chin up, batting her false lashes. Eren notices the inner corner of her strip lash lifting up a bit, making her look wonky, but he doesn't care enough to say anything.

Eren’s smirk is lazy, practiced. “Should I be?”

Her lips part slightly, caught between intrigue and challenge. “I don’t know. You tell me.” Flashing him a smile, she tilts her head to the side, blue eyes trying to pierce through the emotional wall Eren currently had up.

Eren exhales through his nose, tipping his head back slightly, bored. She’s doing that thing—the same thing every girl does when they want to get a second round with him. Soft touches, sultry looks, a voice dipped in sugar and suggestion. It’s textbook.

It would be so easy. He could take her upstairs, let her kill the frustration building in his chest, let her drag him under and replace the image of you and Jean still talking. Laughing. Touching. But when he looks down at Louise—he doesn’t see you. Doesn’t feel anything.

His jaw tightens, body burning with frustrations that you're the irritating source of. “Not happening.”

Louise blinks dumbfounded, jaw going slack. “What?”

Eren steps back, shaking her hand off his chest. “I’m good. Go find someone else.”

Her lips part, the briefest flicker of shock crossing her face before it hardens into something sharper. Annoyance, maybe. Embarrassment. Either way, she doesn’t like it. “You’re serious?”

Eren just shrugs, rolling his shoulders as he shoves his hands into his pockets, already feeling like this conversation is a complete waste of his precious time. “Dead serious.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms, agitation showing in her posture as one leg steps out, her hip pointed. “You really think you’re all that, huh?”

He just shrugs. Doesn’t deny it. Pursing his lips and swirling his solo cup of henny and coke, waiting for her to catch the damn hint and kick rocks.

“Whatever,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “Your loss.” She flips her hair and stalks off, disappearing into the party with a dramatic sway of her hips.

Eren exhales, rolling his tongue over his teeth with a tchht before turning back toward the kitchen. And when he does—you’re looking right at him. Not with jealousy. Not with anger. Just amusement. Like you knew this would happen all along. Eren smirks, shaking his head slightly as he lifts up his drink to his pink lips. He takes a slow sip, holding your gaze over the rim of his cup.

You hold eye contact for a small second before you turn your attention back to Jean. He's actually such a sweetheart you're genuinely enjoying the conversation. Which was... refreshing. You don't remember when the last time you had such an interesting conversation with a person of the opposite sex. One that didn't consist of hook ups or how 'fuckin' hot' you looked.

Jean was in the middle of a passionate tangent about Sailor Moon being able to solo Goku if they were to go one on one. It was cute to see such a straight browed guy defend a shoujo protagonist against the poster boy for shonens.

“I know, I know. Everyone always goes ‘But Goku’s a Super Saiyan, blah blah blah,’ right? But Sailor Moon—she’s got that moon power, bro. You know how powerful the moon is? No one knows the moon’s potential. It’s like, this massive source of energy.” He takes a few more gulps of his drink, making that little ahh' sound before he continues, “And Goku’s just a dude, right? Yeah, he’s got all this strength, but Sailor Moon? She’s literally a magical being. She can manipulate the power of the moon—and that’s not even the best part. She’s got that Silver Crystal, man. That thing can destroy entire universes. If Goku’s even trying to throw a Kamehameha at her, she can just use that to, like, wipe him out before he even finishes charging it.”

Jean huffs out a breath, swaying slightly as he sets his drink down. All that Jameson was going straight through him. “Shit—I gotta take a piss.” He flashes you an easy grin, thumb pointing over his shoulder toward the hallway. “Don’t go anywhere, yeah?”

You let out a tiny laugh of air, smiling as he gives you a flushed boyish grin. “No promises.”

Jean chuckles, rolling his eyes playfully before he disappears into the crowded party. You shake your head, turning back toward the counter, scrolling through your phone like you’re not hyperaware of the gaze burning into the side of your face. Then, before you can even process it—he’s there. A slow, lazy presence stepping into your space like he belongs there. You don’t look up, don’t acknowledge him, but you hear the way he exhales, the entitlement practically dripping from his voice.

"You done playing yet?" It’s smooth, teasing, but there’s an edge underneath. Like he's nagging like an impatient child.

You hum, taking another sip from your drink, still not looking at him as you half watch people's instagram stories. “Playing what?”

Eren chuckles, trying to cover the bratty scoff that somehow leaves his breath. You can hear the way he shifts, arms crossing, the way he fixes his stance. "You tell me."

Finally, you glance up, tilting your head as your squinted eyes flick over him. Jaw tight, bottom lip catching in his teeth, biceps flexing under his shirt like he doesn’t even realize it. Oh, he’s pissed. Amused, but still pissed. Your lips part, a retort on your tongue—

"y/n, we gotta go. Like right now." Ymir’s voice slices through the tension like a blade. You blink, turning just in time to see her hoisting Historia up by the waist, the blonde giggling into her shoulder. "Before Christina Aguillera here falls off another table and gets a concussion," Ymir grumbles, adjusting her grip as Historia hiccups dramatically. You sigh, downing the rest of your drink before setting the cup down. Eren is still looking at you, now frowning like a child whose ice cream just fell off the cone.

You smirk, letting your eyes trail over him one last time before pushing off the counter. “Night, Jaeger.”

Eren exhales sharply as he watches you leave. That was his shot. He should’ve said something—should’ve done something. But no. You slipped away. He licks his lips, tongue pressing against his cheek as he tips his head back, exhaling through his nose.

Next time, sweetheart.

[littlelamy]

can you make a series where rafe and reader broke up 3 years ago, but she comes back to Outer Banks only now she has a daughter(who looks just like Rafe) and a husband (Whom she doesn't really love) and rafe still loves her.

notes: part 1; once i have more time ill create a whole masterlist and moodboard 🤍

you should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

leaving the beach that day, gripping your daughter’s tiny hand like a lifeline, you told yourself it was just a coincidence. a cruel twist of fate. but deep down, you knew better.

rafe cameron never let go of things that belonged to him.

and you? you were his biggest unfinished business.

so when you see him again, it’s not a surprise. but that doesn’t mean you’re ready for it.

it’s late, your daughter is asleep in her room, and the quiet hum of the television does little to calm the storm brewing in your chest. your husband is still at work, leaving you alone with your thoughts—until a knock at the door sends a jolt through your spine.

you freeze, heart hammering.

you don’t have to open it to know who it is.

but you do anyway.

rafe stands there, leaning against the doorframe like he has every right to be here. his hair’s messier than before, shirt slightly wrinkled, like he’s been running his hands through it all night. his eyes flicker past you, scanning the house before landing back on you.

"you weren’t gonna call me, were you?" his voice is low, rough.

"rafe—"

"don’t lie to me." he steps closer, and you instinctively grip the door, as if that’ll keep him out. as if you could ever keep him out. "we need to talk."

"there’s nothing to talk about," you whisper, even though you both know that’s not true.

he scoffs, shaking his head. "you really think you can just pretend I don’t exist? That she doesn’t—"

"don’t." your voice is sharp, cutting through the air between you. you swallow hard, glancing over your shoulder, but your daughter’s still asleep. "please, rafe. not here."

his jaw clenches, and takes a long exhale through his nose. "but we’re not done."

before you can stop him, he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. his presence fills the space instantly, suffocating, electrifying. he smells the same—cologne and salt and something distinctly rafe. something that used to make your head spin in the best way. now it just makes you dizzy with memories you’ve spent three years trying to bury.

"so this is your life now?" he murmurs, eyes sweeping over the modest living room, the framed photos of a life he wasn’t part of. "picket fences and a husband who works late?"

your fingers tighten around your arms, nails pressing into your skin. "it’s a good life."

"bullshit." he steps closer, gaze burning into you. "you’re a good liar, but not with me. never with me."

your breath shudders, your resolve cracking. "rafe, please—"

"please what? leave? forget? pretend that kid doesn’t have my eyes?" his voice is bitter, his anger barely restrained. "because i fucking can’t."

you shake your head, but the words won’t come. because what is there to say? he’s right. she does have his eyes. and he was never meant to see her.

he sighs, running a hand through his hair, frustration rolling off him in waves. "i’m not here to ruin your life," he says, quieter now. "but i’m not walking away either. not this time."

your stomach twists. you should fight him on this, tell him to leave, slam the door in his face. but you don’t. because a part of you—the part that still remembers how it felt to love him, to be loved by him—wants to hear what he has to say.

and that scares you more than anything.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @drewsephrry

[hitomisuzuya]

husband scaramouche x fem!reader. head canons. fluff. soft!scara.

i really got the urge to write headcanons about husband scara, and how he would act with a pregnant wife. this is mainly cute headcanons. i may do the same thing with childe and aventurine.

when you announce to scaramouche that you are pregnant, he kneels in front of you and puts his hand on your stomach. "there is a cretin growing inside you?" despite his..unique choice of words, there is a hint of wonder and pride in his voice. once you scold him for said choice of words, and he tries again, he puts his ear to your stomach and says, "hello in there? are you a girl or a boy? whatever you are, i am waiting to welcome you into this world."

yeah, you definitely married him for a reason. looking down at him, your heart swells with so much love that you thought it might burst. this man, the feared balladeer, notorious for so many things is also your husband, the very same man hovering his hand so gently over your belly.

scaramouche would have this fierce need to be a good parent because he has already been the victim of having a shitty parent. there is no way he would do the same thing to his child.

that being said, he also takes being a husband very seriously. he even is a bit old fashioned about it. no wife of his would work if she didn't have to. of course, you could freely choose to work. he wouldn't stop you, but he certainly didn't have to like it. the way he sees it, his wife is strong, but if he can be strong for her, he can and he will. he is the protector. the provider and that was that.

his wife is the center of his world. he also married you for a reason. you don't let him get away with his shit. you argue with him, and back talk him without fear. you tell him what's what while still being patient with him. you have shown him qualities like being gentle and caring still exist. and he would burn all of teyvat and celestia itself if anything dared take you away from him.

whatever his wife wants, his wife gets, pretty much.

also, the kind of husband that says he doesn't want cats, but then you find him napping with said kitten sleeping curled up on his chest. you want cats and other pets, and he can't say no to you. but also know this, he genuinely enjoys having pets. you gotta know when to look at the right times to see them. moments like the one you took a picture of. they do happen. and often.

during your pregnancy, he is incredibly on top of things. he keeps all of your doctors appointments carefully noted. he makes them in advance on the exact day that they should be. if the doctor wanted to see you back in a week for some tests, the appointment was scheduled exactly one week later, at the same time as the previous appointment. he is incredibly particular.

really, the doctors and nurses have never seen anything like it before. this man would background check everyone if he could. twice.

literally fort knox level protection anytime you go out. there is not a chance anyone will come close to accidentally bumping into you. you had to have a talk with him about snapping at people he thought walked too close to you. twice. he struggles with improvement in this area to say the least.

if you have some crazy pregnancy cravings food in the middle of the night. it could be at 3am and he wouldn't care. he would be out the door getting it. in fact, man would start a war over it. "i don't care if that's what not you do. my wife is pregnant. i say you can do it, so you can do it."

when it's time for you to go on bed rest, he makes sure he is doing everything for you. if you needed anything, he got it for you.

when you found out you were pregnant, you also had this thought: 'god help the doctors and nurses working when i go into labor. i don't they will be prepared for scaramouche.' and you were right.

the nurses at your doctors office even put notes about him in your chart for the emergency room and hospital staff to look at in advance.

scaramouche makes sure everything is done straight to the letter. and that includes little things like your iv getting put in. he is even able to calculate the exact amount of time it takes for your iv drip bag to empty and is calling the nurse to change it. don't take this as being overbearing, he is just very nervous and scared. and this is how he deals with it. he wants to be able to help if the slightest thing goes wrong.

that just doesn't always show in the most polite ways to the staff sometimes.

the look on his face when he hears his child cry for the first time, and holds them for the first time is so soft. like he has seen one of the most beautiful things in this whole world besides his wife. it even makes the doctors and the nurses think that dealing with his colorful temperament was worth it just to see that look on his face.

[archangeldyke-all]

Saw this post and immediately thought "wow I miss CEO Sevika, this would make such a nice Angel prompt"

Not entirely sure of a premise for this but let's say....Sevika and Reader have a small fight in the morning and Reader Isn't Happy™. She gets over it rather quickly, but decides to lightly tease Sevika the rest of the day, including through meetings. After their last meeting, she traps Sev in her office and tells her "Eat it" as an "apology."

FUCK YESSS this is so hot ehhehe

men and minors dni

"heyyyy..." seamus trails off as he walks into the break room beside you. you glare up at him.

"i don't wanna hear it."

"i didn't even say anything!" seamus exclaims. he walks to the coffee maker, his eyes on you the entire time as he fiddles with it. you sigh.

"we're fighting." you explain.

seamus nods. "that much is clear."

you cringe. "is she being a bitch?" you ask. you know how your wife can get when you're not there to tell her to bite her tongue. seamus makes a squeaky noise, then gives you a constipated expression.

"no." he lies. you snort and shake your head.

"fuck. i'm sorry. she went behind my back and scheduled herself a meeting on her birthday weekend." you explain. seamus pouts and sits beside you.

"but you guys always do something fun for her birthday."

"i know. guess not this year." you say with a sad shrug.

in past years, your birthday celebrations ranged from fancy dinners to weekend getaways. but it's not even the fact that you're missing out on a nice date with your wife. it's more than that.

"she just-- she doesn't fuckin' take breaks unless i force her, y'know? and these past few years she hasn't tried to argue takin' her birthday off. i just finally thought i got her used to takin' care of herself and she goes behind my back to do this shit..."

seamus frowns and pats your shoulder. "if it makes you feel any better, she's clearly regretting her decision now."

you giggle a little. it does make you feel better. "i should go back in there, huh?" you ask.

seamus nods. "yes, please. i forgot how fuckin' scary she is without you. nearly pissed myself givin' her the morning report."

you giggle and pat seamus' shoulder. "you're a good friend."

"and you're a good wife!" he shouts behind you. you laugh and shake your head as you walk toward your shared office with sevika.

she's drawn all the blinds-- a clear sign that she's in a bad mood. you roll your eyes and take a deep breath, then push into the office.

sevika's eyes dart up from her desk, her gaze softening as it lands on you. something inside you flutters. she's still so sweet, even when she's pissing you off.

"seamus says you're being mean." you say, closing the door behind you. you lock it, not wanting anybody to walk in on you and sevika arguing. sevika sinks into her chair, guiltily.

"well, what do you expect? my wife's been giving me the cold shoulder all day."

you roll your eyes and walk over to sevika's desk, sitting in front of her. she smiles sweetly up at you, wrapping her arms around your legs. you shake your head in amusement. "you're not off the hook y'know." you sigh as you reach down to cup sevika's face, combing your fingers through her hair.

sevika nods in your grasp. "i know." she whispers. "does it make it any better if i tell you i cleared an entire week out for us at the end of the month?" she asks.

you have to bite your cheek to keep from laughing in excitement. "what?"

"i rearranged some things. booked us a room at our favorite little resort."

"you did, huh?" you ask. sevika kisses your hand and nods.

"i'm sorry." she says finally. "baby, i really am." she kisses a trail up your arm, nuzzling against the crook of your elbow. you frown down at your wife, trying your best to keep your resentment strong, but it's so hard when she's so cute. you can't believe this is the woman all your co-workers find scary, she's like a fucking puppy.

"mmm. i dunno if i can forgive you yet." you say.

sevika pouts. "what can i do to make it up to you?" she asks.

you giggle. you were hoping she'd ask that. you squish her cheeks together in your hands kissing her puckered lips, before letting go of your hold on her and turning around in her grip, laying yourself on her desk and wiggling your ass in her face just a bit.

"eat it." you say simply, pulling your skirt up and your panties to the side.

the sound sevika makes is equally endearing and arousing. something needy and guttural, a hint of surprise overwhelmed by a rush of need. she doesn't need to be told twice. you gasp as her hands smack your ass cheeks, spreading you open and humming as she takes a good look at you. you lean down onto your joint desks, grabbing your cardigan from the back of your chair to muffle your moans.

sevika spits on your asshole then dives forward, sloppily eating you out.

you shiver against the desks, reaching back to grab sevika's wrist. fuck she's good with her mouth. she's sloppy and passionate, her nose rubbing deliciously at your asshole while her tongue fucks your cunt. her chin's rubbing against your clit with her movements, and the little moans she's letting out at the taste of you are making you dizzy.

"fuck, i love you." you sigh, clawing at her forearm. sevika's free arm smacks your ass-- her response to your words. you giggle. "you piss me off sometimes but-- ah!" you giggle as sevika bites your inner thigh. "but you make up for it pretty well." you finish.

sevika chuckles against you and kisses her bite mark. "can't be fully forgiven 'til you cum on my tongue." she says. you snort.

"you're a freak." you say with glee. sevika giggles, then flicks your clit with her tongue. you gasp. "fuck-- please." you beg. sevika hums and sucks your clit into her mouth, her thumb working circles around your asshole. you groan and push back against her. "please!" you whine.

"shhhhh baby." sevika scolds, smacking your ass with an impact much louder than your whine had been. "somehow i'm the freak while you're beggin' for my fingers in your ass."

you growl and reach back, pulling sevika's face back toward your cunt by her hair. she muffles her giggles against you and continues her work, lapping up your arousal and working her thumb against your ass again. "fuck, i'm close." you whine.

sevika grunts against you, hooks her thumb inside you, and chuckles as you fall apart. you bury your face into your cardigan, trying to muffle your moans. judging by the way sevika's moaning against you, though, you aren't doing a very good job.

your body sags against the desks when sevika pulls away. she snorts, smacks your ass one last time, and straightens your clothes back out before pulling you to sit down in her lap.

you sigh dreamily, letting your head lean back on her shoulder, kissing her cheek as she caresses your body.

"so... am i forgiven?" she asks. you giggle.

"mmm. i guess."

sevika grins. "nice. you wanna help me with these tax forms?" she asks, gesturing to the pile of papers on her desk. you snort.

"hell no."

sevika pouts up at you, and you wiggle in her lap against her hard, hot, trapped dick. "f-fuck, watch it baby!" she whines.

you laugh. "how about i crawl under our desks and take care of this for you while you do all the boring paperwork for me, hmm?"

sevika's smile is blinding. fuck, how hopelessly in love with someone do you have to be that the sight of their tooth gap turns you on?

"that sounds like a real good plan, baby." she says. you giggle and shimmy off her lap, only to be stopped by her arms wrapping around your waist. "wait." she whispers. you turn to face her, ready to ask what she needs, when she leans forward and kisses you sweetly. she pulls away, smiles at you, then shrugs and leans in to kiss you one more time. "okay. now you can blow me." she says.

you burst into giggles as you make your way under her desk.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

@nanajustnana-a @helaenabugmom

[shysuccubusstuff]

l&ds nsfw links! pt. 2

Content: Zayne + Xavier + Rafayel in various NSFW imagines!

Note: It's so hard to find actual good content for these kind of imagine... How is everyone doing? I miss holidays so much... I did four instead of five cause I keep trying to find more accounts. Let me know if you liked it! Also, if anyone has any kind of request, my requests are always open tbh!!

Zayne:

Starved Zayne arriving after several days on a trip, he looks so exhausted but even if he has eyebags the only thing he can think of is grabbing you and letting you know just how much he actually missed you.

Zayne knows he should reject the idea, but how could he reject you when you keep begging him to fuck your throat, with your sweet eyes looking at him in such a way... He accepts, even if he still feels slightly guilty about it, but deep down, he may be enjoying the bulge that appears in your throat each time he shoves it deep inside you...

You sent him as a joke a supposedly true research about how sucking on your nipples could avoid you getting breast cancer... Despite Zayne looked almost ammused at first, you soon noticed how he had started to suck on them much more than often... Was this a mere coincidence?

Enforcer! Zayne taking all his anger out on you... He tried so hard do maintain his frenzy, biting his lips and leaving them all bruised just to stop himself from doing anything to you... But as soon as you use that damn enhancer on him, it's a matter of seconds before he has you lifted in the hair, your eyes rolling back as you keep pleading him to at least slow down for a second.

Xavier:

Jealous Xavier making sure to leave a lasting mark in your body. He knows it's dumb to feel that way because of some dumb barista clinging a bit too much on you, but he can't just help clenching his fist and forcing a kind smile towards you.

Just some warm-up between the two of you. You keep asking him to help you improve your stamina, what's better for that than riding him for some time? Don't worry! He will help you a bit, just make sure to get down all the way, ok?

Contrary to what many people believe, Xavier is one of the fittest LI, even if he doesn't look as strong. Just let him show you just how much he can last holding you up in the air, legs dangling as he keeps hitting your cervix with his tip.

Aftermath of that one card in which Xavier keeps getting teased while he wears his working out outfit... It is oly fair that he is able to tease you, right? He keeps taunting you, telling you to quiet down as he keeps rubbing his hardened cock against the crook of your ass. As soon as he releases, just now that this is far from over.

Rafayel:

After leaving due to work for a couple weeks, you end up receiving this video late at night... Who would imagine such a re-known artist would dare to do this kind of thing? The video has a small comment written by him: "I miss my cutie so much... the wait is becoming unbearable".

Just Rafayel giving a taste to that sweet nectar that is dripping down your legs. What do you mean that is unclean? Just relax and let him show just how much he adores you.

After acting as a butler for you, it is only fair for him to see you in those short and cute maid outfits! Just... don't blame him when his eyes begin to drift, ears starting to heat up as he keeps trying to stop his mind from imagining the many ways he would just take you right then and there. All he needs is you pulling him towards you to lose himself, one of his hands playing with your tits as the other circles around your clit.

You keep teasing him during the whole art exhibition, with you constantly wrapped around his arm, your chest pressing against his arm even as some of those supposedly art experts ask about the inspiration behind his latest paintings. Oh, you just knew he wouldn't let it slide the moment his eyes glistened with a dangerous look. As soon as you arrive to his studio... Well, let's just say that he made sure to give just as much as you had given to him...

[ts-janus-rp-blog]

Remus didn't say anything for a bit, simply listening to him. But then he shook his head as Emile took his hand. "That doesn't matter... You're...not getting it. Even if I was going through a lot, I still should've been there for you. You were there for me at my worst, the least I could've done was be there for you at your worst. And instead...you weren't. Even when Roman found out about that, he didn't even tell me! Even he knew not to tell me. Its not my fault for not knowing, but it is my fault for not being there. Not even my own brother trusted me with information at that time. Like...that's just...fucking pathetic of me..."

"He is?" Logan frowned, "Hm... I thought he wouldn't have enough energy to talk back. I apologize. If I knew that I wouldn't have told the lady to drop him off to you. I... Yes, I can do that, Roman." And yet, Logan didn't move, instead his eyes went over to Virgil. He was waiting for permission from his boss.

Patton knocked desperately at the strangers door, praying someone, anyone was home. His heart beat as fast and loud as the rain thundering against the sidewalk. He was sure he was being followed, they were going to catch him. They were going to drag him back. He wasn't sure if whoever lived here might be worse, but he was willing to risk it at this point. Anything to escape.

{@moralpuppylover2}

Janus didn't know who would be at the door. It was late, but his master won't surely be home at this time. He normally doesn't get home until the sun starts to come up.

So, as the dog hybrid walked up to the door and opened it, he wondered who it could be. And if he should open it at all... Who knows, he may get in trouble with his master for opening the door. But, his curiosity was getting the better of him-

He stopped when he saw the soaking wet cat standing at the doorway. He could tell that this cat needed help almost immediately. Well, if his poor state of clothes were anything to go by. His eyes flickered up and down the sidewalk before he grabbed pattons arm and pulled him inside.

"are you alright?" Janus nervously asked as he grabbed a towel from the mud room. "Well, that's a stupid question, of course you're not alright! Are you...running away from your owners?" As Janus walked, the collar around his neck would jingle loudly. And even though it was cold outside and even in the house, he only had a pair of boxers on. Because of that, Patton would be able to see the numerous large scars that covered his body...and the countless amounts of fresh bruises.

@moralpuppylover2

[fanged-fanfics]

Hello! I want to make a request!

Imagine if reader gets stuck in game (from like this human reality) and turns into a cookie... And I don't think cookies have like fingers and stuff like that so we'd obviously struggle with that part and many more...

And how would Pure vanilla and Shadow milk cookie react to that? They don't know we're not from here because we don't say it to them, but they can clearly notice that we can't even hold a rock or walk properly and etc..

Ty if you decide to do this!

☆ Whole New Reality — Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla (seperate) x Human!Reader HCs ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Upon entering this new reality, you were surprised when you landed in a shadowy area where a group of three were huddled up and chatting together. The blue leader turned to you, floating over and asking how you'd stumbled in

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He found out pretty quickly that you couldn't even stand well, much less walk. He used the end of his staff to lift you into a proper stance, joking that you were acting like a Sugar Gnome after being through a salad spinner

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He introduces himself as Shadow Milk, offering outright that he could tell you were new here. You panicked a little initially, but with a deep bow he dramatically proclaims that he'll be your guide. A helping hand would be nice, yes? And who better than him!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You stood confused while his henchmen applauded behind him, noting how noble it was of him. He soaked in your praises while pulling you close to his side, an arm wrapped firmly around your shoulders. He flashes you a wide smirk while mentioning that he thinks you're going to be very good friends

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Alternatively, you find yourself in a warm field in front of a kingdom, confusion filling you right before a blinding light of the sun burns your eyes. You cover your face, attempting to stand when suddenly feeling a supporting hand on your shoulder

ᯓᡣ𐭩 A gentle voice asks if you're alright, a large sleeve coming up to block the sun from your vision. As he holds you up, you try to play it off, but he becomes immediately concerned when you can't go two steps without stumbling and falling to the ground

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He tells you not to move, assessing your legs in his hands to see if he can sense any injuries. His staff waves over your form, and he seems confused once he pulled back. There doesn't seem to be anything physically wrong, but you seemed so disoriented

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He eventually helps you stand once more, telling you to hold tight while he begins walking you to the castle. He promises to help you in any way he can, meanwhile you're mentally trying to think how you're going to explain where you're actually from. For now, you're content to just lean against the Healer while he promises you some beverages for the trouble

[l1tw1ck]

Consummation

Bottom!FTM Mydei x Top!Masc Reader

☆ Word Count: 1,370 ☆

Mydei finally fulfills his duty after his marriage to you

AFAB Language Used | Royalty AU

CW: Dubious Consent, Aphrodisiacs, Cunnilingus, Virginity Loss, Riding, Oral Sex, Cum Swallowing

“Don't forget that our union is merely for the benefit of the people.” Mydei pulls away from your ear and closes his eyes, giving you a small peck on the lips to fulfill his duty as a husband.

“Don't worry.” You turn your head and smile at the crowd of people.

“Now that you've been crowned, don't you think you should spend more time here? You have other things to prioritize over your bloodlust.” You watch Mydei remove his clothes. He doesn't feel any embarrassment about you seeing his naked body, he doesn't have any fear that you’ll touch him.

“Your job is to take care of those things for me.” He ties his hair up.

You follow him into the bathroom. “There's still a lot you need to do yourself, Mydeimos.” You stare at him as he bends over to adjust the water temperature. “One of those being, the consummation of our marriage. You’ve been stalling.”

It's true. He’s been going out to avoid that. “Does it matter? It's foolish to have children now.”

“The purpose isn't necessarily to have children, you know. Our marriage will be voided otherwise. You know it's the only reason you’ve been crowned. Am I the only one who has to care about our people?”

He growls and steps into the bath.

“It’s just one night. What are you so afraid of? I’m sure you’ve had plenty of time to practice.”

He growls again. “Fine. Just get it over with.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, now.” He crosses his arms and turns to you. “Hurry.”

You quickly remove your clothes and enter the bath. He stares at your cock with his brows furrowed. He turns and presses his hands against the wall as he bends over. You gently touch his cunt. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making sure it doesn't hurt.”

“It's not going to hurt.” He says, protecting his ego. “Do it.”

You sigh and slowly pump your length before entering him. He bites down on his lip. You gently rub his back. “You're too tense, I can barely move any further. I told you–”

“You're not trying hard enough.”

“Just relax your body, okay? Take a deep breath for me.”

His ears tinge red. He moves himself away from you. “We’ll do it tomorrow. You're annoying me.” He doesn't make eye contact.

“Okay, if that's what you want.”

“Mydei?” You walk into the room, surprised that he's laying in bed instead of sleeping against the corner of the wall. He's only wearing a robe.

“Do it..” His voice sounds soft. He moves the robe apart so you can have access to his body. “Hurry and get it over with.”

“You sound different.”

“My aide…gave me….” He sighs and spreads his legs. “Come on, you HKS…!”

“He gave you an aphrodisiac? Seriously?” You chuckle. “You know, it wasn't my fault. You didn't let me do anything.”

His cheeks flush red. “Then do it now.”

You climb onto the bed and bring your face close to his cunt. “You're already so wet, were you touching yourself before I got here?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Calm down, sweetheart. You should've been. I can't imagine how needy you must feel now.”

“I’m not needy—Fuck~!” He moans from the feeling of your tongue sliding up his folds. He bites down on his lip and looks down at you as you start to eat him out. You look like you're enjoying yourself. He subconsciously wraps his legs around your head. He does his best to not crush your skull. “I– wait—” He throws his head back as he orgasms, his walls fluttering around your tongue. He shoves you away with his foot.

You get off of the bed and wipe your face. You watch his body subtly twitch and his chest slowly rising and falling. His eyes are wide. “Tell me when you're ready.” You remove your clothes.

“When I’m ready?” There's a slight growl in his voice. “I'm always ready!”

“Mydei–”

He shakily gets up and shoves you onto the bed. He crawls on top of you and positions himself above your cock.

“Wait–”

“Look who's scared now.” He grins, lowering himself onto you. He throws his head back as his pussy stretches to fit you. It feels a little easier now but it's still painful.

Mydei lets out a sigh as his cunt fully absorbs you.

“Mydeimos..” You gently rub his thighs. “Don't move.”

“Why not?” He slaps your hands.

“Because I want you to. Your duty as my husband is to listen to me, right?”

“I’m the king. You're just a consort!” He tries to raise his body but gasps as his sudden movement causes him to realize why you didn't want him to in the first place. Having something inside him is too foreign and you seem to know your stuff. “Fine. I’ll listen to you. Only for tonight.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” You gently stroke his cock.

“I didn't— mmh- give you permis—iuh~” His eyes roll back as he comes again. “Again–”

“Yeah? You want me to make you come again, sweetheart?”

“Don't toy with—” He shudders as your hand returns to his cock. “Yes— yes~!” He groans, rolling his hips. Having your cock inside him feels amazing now. His pussy just keeps fluttering around your cock. He grabs your wrist and forces you to keep touching him.

“Does that feel good?” You coo. “I feel good.”

“Of course you feel good, I’m amazing.” He moves your hand away and calms down. “Is that it?”

“Technically, no, but I’m sure all the servants outside our quarters can attest to our consummation.”

“Then what is technically it? I finish what I start.”

“May I show you?”

“Fine.” He allows you to hold his waist. His mouth hangs open in surprise as you lift him upwards. He didn't think you were strong enough. You slowly move him up and down before ascending to a faster pace. He starts moaning again as your cock hits all the right places inside his sensitive, creamy walls.

His lips curl into a smug, blissed out grin. He already feels his peak approaching.

“Huh?” He furrows his brows as you lift him off of you. “What do you think you're doing?”

“You don't want kids yet.” You look at his pissed off expression. “I’ll finish on my own..”

“What?!” He gets up and grabs you. “Do you think I’m not good enough at this?”

“Calm down. This isn't a competition or a display of strength. I'm just respecting your dislike towards me.”

“I…I don't dislike you.” He tugs you closer to him. He stares at your throbbing length. “Just…Just tell me what I have to do.”

“Well…are you gonna hit me if I tell you what I’d prefer you to do?”

“I won't.”

“Promise?”

He sighs dramatically. “I promise. But if it's weird you have to do that again. Deal?” He points at his cunt. It's still tingling.

“Deal. So…can you get on your knees?” You ask sheepishly. He raises an eyebrow but kneels anyway. You comb your fingers through his hair. “Can you open your mouth?”

His ears turn a fiery red. It’s a good thing it blends in with his hair, his pride is still intact. He opens his mouth and lets you slide your cock inside it. He pushes aside his embarrassment and maintains eye contact.

“You're so pretty..” You mumble, slowly thrusting into him. “Just a little more..”

He feels the heat from his ears travel to his cheeks. Heat from a different source fills his mouth.

“You can—” You’re interrupted as he swallows your cum.

“Eh.” He isn't sure how to feel about it. He stands up. “C’mon then.”

You smile and kneel, once again flipping your positions. Mydei stares down at you with curiosity and soon understands as your lips wrap around his cock and your fingers slide into his cunt.

“Fuck yes-” He groans. “Good boy.” It only takes a couple seconds for him to come again. He shivers as you clean up his thighs with your tongue. “You're not so bad.” He crosses his arms.

“I’m honored to be not so bad, my king.”

[pricegouge]

Ghost stealthing😵‍💫 (I need him so bad)

I love it as a power thing for him, wanting and taking something he “can’t have” just because you say so and really there is no telling him no because he’ll just find a way around it

-🫀

[the post by @/tempfrangit]

ghost doesn't really know the meaning of 'can't have'. you don't have boundaries with him, even if you think you do. no one really does. he was rifling through your medicine cabinet before you even knew his last name, but you think you can keep this from him? this pretty cunt? that deep, tight gate it hides? please. he's been acquainting himself with it since you first got together, blunt fingers digging deep even as you sleep, cock head kissing your womb when he's got you so fucked out you barely know which side is up.

and now you wanna get all shy on him?

well. if you must. doesn't change anything.

[cream1111]

Caleb’s the type to spoil you so much getting whatever u want to but there’s always a price if u get too bratty of disobedient to him (BREEDINGGGGG SESSSSHH)

he def is! one of my fav dynamics is a bratty spoiled princess type mc and a loyal servant / eager guard dog caleb, like an mc who has never had to lift a finger bcus caleb has always been there to do everything. [this fic does this dynamic rly well!]

⠀⎯⎯⠀⠀caleb/mc!reader, drabble, incest, dubcon, free use(ish), possessive

he would do anything for you, and if you were ever met with hesitation or resistance (rarely) all you'd have to do is pout and bat your lashes at him and he'd melt. he told you he wanted you to come to him first for everything and he means everything.

chores you didn't want to do, clothes you wanted to buy, food you wanted to eat. he'd do it all. how can he ever say no to his sweet little sister?

and if you cramp your hand or get too lazy when touching yourself, you can call him into your room, no matter how late at night, to finish you off. he'd finger you so nicely, or offer his thigh for you to rub on, all while telling you how happy he is, that you let him do this for you.

so when you ask zayne for help with some homework and caleb finds out, he loses it. hasn't he always given you whatever you wanted? it's a simple request really, him, ask him first.

the next time he's helping you get off, he's waits til your blissed out and can barely speak before leaning in real close and asking you why you needed zayne's help when you have him. you barely have time to register his question, let alone pout and apologize before he replaces his fingers with his cock, pushing into you in one harsh snap of his hips. he doesn't give you any time to adjust, settling into a brutal rhythm that knocks the air out of your lungs.

he keeps going for hours, round after round. you lose count of how many times he forced you to milk his cock, filling you to the brim. how many times you say you get it, he made his point, only for him to reply that he doesn't believe it yet, and fuck his frothy come back into you. he wants to drill it into your pretty head.

"remember, come to your big brother first for anything, everything"

[hood-ex]

Need a fic where Dick gets zapped by some magic hoo-ha and starts acting like his fanon self, and everyone hates him because of it, and they're like, "We have got to get him back to normal like yesterday."

Fanon Dick transgressions:

Dick promptly moves back into the manor (or whatever the fuck Bruce's current abode is called idr). He basically turns into Buddy the Elf and just wants to eat sugary shit that does absolutely nothing for him. Because of this, the pantry is stocked full of sugary cereal. Whenever Bruce tries to tell Dick to actually cook something for himself, Dick's like, "You know I can't microwave anything that doesn't have a preset button." And when Bruce looks rightly annoyed by this, Dick goes in to give Bruce an apologetic hug, and Bruce cannot handle that amount of gross affection, so he's constantly dodging Dick's hug attempts or making excuses to hurriedly get away from Dick.

The Titans try to take things into their own hands to help Dick get back to normal, but whenever they try to get Dick to come back to the Tower with them, or to hang out in general, Dick's just like, "Sorry guys, I'm going to be with my family tonight. And tomorrow. Probably the entire weekend too."

Damian can't stand Dick's habit of babying him and calling him "Dami" and "Baby Bird." Like Bruce, he has a radar for when Dick's about to get overly sappy and affectionate, and he quickly removes himself from the room when he gets a ping.

Dick suddenly doesn't know how to do anything when Jason's around. Doesn't know how to hold a baby. Doesn't know Spanish as well as Jason does. Doesn't know how to crack an egg. Jason would find it funny if he wasn't so annoyed by Dick constantly pestering him to come home to eat Alfred's cooking. (Bonus points if this occurs when Alfred is dead/Jason is already integrated back into the family).

Dick constantly asks Tim if he's okay, and when Tim asks, "Yeah, why?" Dick frowns and says, "You're usually on your third cup of coffee by now."