#I was in a terrible phase two years back and keep falling back into the same spiral again and again sometimes

[puck-luck]

hi!!! could i order a café latte with peppermint (childhood friends to lovers (if this can be an element? i'm not sure lmao)), and cinnamon (breeding kink) for jhugh86 please? thank youuu and congrats on 1 year!!

hi! so i kept this as a jack x reader fic but just know... in my mind this is stg!jack x lani, his michigan situationship and childhood best friend who he's not sure how to treat anymore. sorry lan!!! (this also takes place when they're both 18, just before jack's rookie year and a month or so before lani goes to college).

You’ve known Jack since you were both young teenagers, pimples and braces and questionable fashion choices and all. He’s been by your side since he moved to Michigan for Quinn’s NTDP days. It was a dream when three kids moved in next door, as you’d been aching for friends in the neighborhood for ages, and it was even better when you found out that one of them was your age. 

You weren’t immune to Jack’s good looks, either. He’s a pretty boy and you met him when you were in your peak boy-crazy phase. Despite being close friends, you’ve always had a crush on him, and you’ve done what you can to keep it secret so that your relationship doesn’t change. You love Jack, really, in a platonic and a romantic way. Your friendship comes first.

Years have passed since you met and Jack has been drafted first overall. It’s the end of the summer and he’s going off to New Jersey soon for the first time and you’re so sad he’s leaving. You’re doing what you can to support him, but you’re two of Quinn’s High Noons away from bawling.

Jack finds you in the backyard at the end of the night, sitting in one of the picnic chairs and staring off towards where Luke, Alex, and Trevor are playing basketball.

“You okay?” he asks, knocking your shoulder before he sits next to you. He pulls his chair closer to you and leans over the arm, into your space. “You seem upset.”

“I’m okay, J. I was just thinking that I’d miss you, that’s all,” you reply, half-heartedly smiling at him. “You’re going to be so far away.”

“I’m coming back every summer, you know,” Jack teases. “It’ll be like I never left.”

“I know.” You shake your empty can, looking away from him. “I don’t know, I just think it’ll be different when you come back. You’ll be gone for so long.” Then, quieter: “I’m worried you’ll forget about me.”

“I could never forget about you,” Jack says. When you look over at him, his eyebrows are slack with concern. “Do you really think I would?”

You shrug, feeling stupid and insecure. This is the first sign of the world you’ve known cracking and changing as you grow and it’s terrible. What else will change when you head to college and into the adult world? Probably everything.

Jack says your name, reaching out with his hand and laying it on your knee.

The touch makes you jump and look at Jack, both frightened and yearning for him to touch you more, higher, softer.

Something must have changed in your eyes, because the same thing changes in Jack’s.

He leaves in just a couple of weeks, but you find yourselves upstairs. You snuck past his parents and tiptoed until you found yourselves in Jack’s room, a place where you’ve never been before. It’s always been off limits. His twin bed is unmade and there are clothes and hockey paraphernalia on the floor. 

You stop in the center of the room, Jack’s hands uncertain and twitching as he lays them on your hips. “This is… are we doing this?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” you tell him. He’s touching you the way you’ve wanted since you were both 13 years old and baby-faced. 

“I’ve thought about kissing you since we moved here,” Jack whispers, eyes wide as he stares at you. 

Those are the words you’ve been dreaming of hearing all of these years. Your lips part and Jack moves forward when they do and all of a sudden you’re kissing him, he’s kissing you, you’re kissing each other.

And then you fall into Jack’s bed.

His shirt comes off, then your dress. He kisses your shoulder, where the strap of your bra has slipped down and revealed new skin. His shorts come off. His fingers work on the clasp of your bra and every touch is sweet and bumbling. You can’t believe you’re in Jack’s room and he’s kissing you and undressing you and touching you. It’s– it’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of.

Before you know it, you’re both naked and he’s teaching you how to touch him, how he likes it, and rubbing circles along your hips. Your hand is on Jack’s cock– it’s inconceivable. You have to be asleep and you’ll wake up from this any minute, but it keeps dragging on. 

Jack tells you when to stop and you’re reluctant to do so, wanting to see him come undone just by a little stroking, but he soothes you with another kiss and promises that he’s going to find a condom so that you guys can do this right.

“Just pull out,” you tell him, knowing that that’s a bad idea and doesn’t prevent anything, but you need this. You need him to stay on top of you, touching you, because he’s going to leave soon. He’s going to leave you and go all the way to New Jersey, but at least you’ll have this night. “I want to feel you, Jack. I need to feel you.”

He groans. “I don’t… I don’t know if I’ll last. What if I forget? Baby, it’s going to feel… too much. So much.”

“Jack, please,” you beg. “It’s going to feel so good, I need to feel you inside of me even if it’s just this once.”

Jack blinks in surprise and whines at your begging, touching your nipples to ground himself, before making his decision. He hods and breathes out an “okay,” lining himself up with your entrance. The pressure is there and it’s uncomfortable at first, but as he moves slowly, it gets easier. It gets better. 

Jack is… Jack is the most beautiful, loveliest person you’ve ever seen. He breathes into your mouth and kisses you sweetly when you moan and whimper at his thrusts. He doesn’t last long, grunting out warnings about how it feels too good and he can’t stop himself and he’s “sorry, fuck, sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to–”

His cum flows inside of you and makes you feel like you’ve never felt before, frozen in place. You feel claimed by him, empowered that he couldn’t stop himself from releasing his seed into your heat, and irreversibly connected to Jack. You’re his. He made you his.

Just once won’t be enough.

[zwhoreo]

Hi! Can I request a fic where the fem!reader helps Luffy to deal with the trauma of losing his brother?

omg first fic after i randomly left for 2 months!! but im back to writing angst again im in an angst phase

also i ended up not specifying anything gendered for reader, hope that’s chill that it’s x gn! i mostly reserve gendered language for smut

wake up @nina-ya i finished the fic i said i’d finish 2 months ago

nightmares - luffy x gn!reader

angst, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending

❕SPOILERS FOR MARINEFORD❕

summary: the trauma of marineford gives luffy nightmares, and you need to comfort him while he’s vulnerable and scared

contains: luffy in a distressing emotional situation, luffy is traumatized, references to marineford/ace’s death/timeskip

words: 2k

_______________________________

Luffy never used to remember his dreams. They were hazy and soft, they made him feel warm and fuzzy when he woke up, he would stretch and yawn and they’d go away so fast and so gently like butterflies flying away. And then he’d see you and hold you and kiss you until you were awake too, as excited to see you and his heart so warm and full of love.

And you were there to enjoy his dreams, he was a noisy sleeper who mumbled happy little thoughts unintelligibly into your neck, he would kick and pinch and squeeze in his sleep which you had to learn to live with because he couldn’t go to sleep without a hug and you’d be the one to give it to him all night. But he’d often end up moving and rolling around, tangling himself uncomfortably, protective instincts kicking in he'd get on top of you and lay there, starfish. When he awoke in the night he’d assume his most comfortable and close position with lazy kisses. He was so, so happy every night.

That was two years ago.

He’s still the same boy he was then, still giving you all those awkward little affections during the night that you missed so much while you were away. But now there’s more. Now, sometimes, he has nightmares. Awful ones that torment him every so often and make him upset and sad when he awakes in the dark, make him begin to cry when he realizes you aren’t in his arms anymore. You always pray for nights when he’s calm like he used to be, you make sure to massage him and kiss him as he falls asleep to coax those good dreams back and help him heal. Of course those years ago he’d get upset and scared and sometimes he wouldn’t feel well when he woke up, but that was so rare, that was when something bad had just happened and he was very stressed but it was so rare because he was so, so happy.

Luffy’s happy now, too. He hasn’t changed much, really, still an excitable, bouncy kid, always smiling, but now you have to worry about the night. You have to worry about dark thoughts and memories bubbling over when he’s most vulnerable until his body shakes and even your affection is barely enough. This is terrible for you, so unbearably terrible. You have to learn how to soothe something broken, something you love with every fraction of your shattered heart.

_________________________________

You’re asleep, a dull, unbreakable sleep, you’d curled up in Luffy’s arms when it was time for bed and you’d cuddled together and giggled and kissed until you both fell asleep in a joyful pile. Now you’re so content, you don’t even notice how Luffy had accidentally rolled away from you in the night, sheets all tangled up with you and keeping a distracting warmth.

Luffy’s dream isn’t bad at first. It’s the kind where you’re not quite there, floating above the world in just a dull picture, no sound or feeling or touch. It’s just the ocean, a bird over the sea. But suddenly the ocean is stone and the sky is fire and he’s disoriented, where is he? What’s happening? He looks at his hands and they’re red and he’s frozen in fear like you sometimes are in nightmares. He knows in his fractured, cloudy little mind that something bad is going to happen and he’s going to see that picture again. A thousand flashbulb memories are going to explode at once, in fire. In the waking world in bed he’s twitching and sweating and his eyes are shifting furiously beneath his lids, and you don’t know, you aren’t there to hold him.

Ace. Ace’s smile and his soft black eyes and they’re playing in the jungle together and running and running and now that’s gone, the fire’s back. It all happens at once, so much blood, holding something fading and dying. Heartsick over a goodbye. It’s one of those nightmares where you cry and scream so much and as loud as you can because everything’s happening to you at once, but you can’t make any sound, you’re just in a tidal wave of amplified agony. And that’s how Luffy lives in this moment, unable to make out much of anything except darkness and pain, shaking and overheating in his sleep.

But the anguish bursts all around him and then suddenly the fire’s gone and everything is quiet again and Luffy’s awake, tangled uncomfortably in the blankets, face covered in tears. He can’t catch his breath and his mind is full and blurry and empty all at once. Suddenly the darkness of the cabin is all encompassing, sickly, he wants it to be day again and for the world to feel safe and happy and oh, where are you?

Fear squeezes his heart as he tries to find you in the darkness, are you gone? He can’t handle being alone right now, he can’t do this, he searches with his hands in the dark and cries and feels the panic burning a hole in his stomach but finally he turns to his left and there you are. Sleeping. Despite all of this you’re still sleeping, curled up and breathing slowly, unaware and at peace. Luffy wants to wake you up so badly because he doesn’t want to be alone but he doesn’t want to worry you.

So he climbs into your arms and breathes you in. He buries his face in your chest and tries to calm his injured heart.

Biting his lip and shaking he tries so hard not to cry. He can’t bother you, he knows you’ll be sad and worried which he really doesn’t want. But his whole body hurts, he wants your arms to be tighter, he squeezes and squeezes begging silently for relief and for everything to go away but it wasn’t just a night terror it was a memory and memories don’t just go away. So he cries.

You’re stirred from sleep because the sound of Luffy crying is the worst thing you could possibly hear, a thousand of your own memories are brought back and some deep instinct is triggered within you, pulling you, you wake up immediately and the first thing you do is get on top of him and lock him in your arms, trying to breathe slowly so he will too.

He twitches beneath you, cloudy realization that he’s no longer alone. His arms are around you, fingers digging in, sharp pain, he’s trying so hard to make his tears stop as you hold him and stroke his face. But he’s a possessive, needy boyfriend who’s comforted by protecting who he loves. He sits up, taking you with him, he wraps his arms around you tighter and tighter and then his legs. He’s breathing heavily on your face, eyes closed, sad still but resilient. You’re pinned to him, unable to move, but you massage the tension out of his back and shoulders as best you can.

“Did you have a nightmare?” you whisper and he nods against you and holds you even tighter if that’s possible, “…do you wanna talk about it?”

So he nods very gently but he doesn’t say anything. His hands are twitching against you, scratching at your back in leftover desperation.

“Was it about him?”

Luffy leans against you, hopeless and drained, you don’t need him to answer so you just press your cheek against his and pet his hair. And his shoulders shake as he cries silently in your arms.

You rest there for a few minutes, unable to do much other than just hold him, and he whispers in your ear, “I miss him so much.” Which wets your eyes because there’s so much pain in those five words. His voice is breathy, far away.

“I know, Lu… I’m sorry.” You’re not good at this, you think. You never really know what to say because this goes deeper than words can touch.

Luffy bites his lips. He doesn’t want to cause you pain and knowing that he is, it’s just piling on top of his despair. There’s so many times he’s oblivious to how you’re feeling but when things are broken, when you’re in distress, reality tugs at the inside of his heart.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper, fingers in his hair, you kiss his neck gently and the warmth is getting through to him, so gradually.

“I want him here. I just…” Luffy’s voice is breaking. And you taste fresh tears as you move your lips higher. “I miss him,” he says again.

“I know how much he meant to you. Hey, Luffy…” The slow rise and fall of your chest is slowly steadier his breath now. He looks up at you, that sadness in his eyes is almost too painful to handle but you look at him anyways, eye contact with something beautiful soothes his soul. “He’d be so proud of you. And how strong you are.”

He’s heard this before. Luffy sniffles, he knows it’s true but only so much of that can help.

“He’d be proud of you, because you never gave up, right? You kept going and you got stronger.” And you’re not talking about his physical strength, really. You tap the side of his head gently. “Up here.”

Luffy nods subtly, his tears are stopping slowly as he clings to the comfort of your words, his greatest comfort in the world is protecting people he loves, being there for someone. He’s still guilt ridden at letting his brother die for him but as long as he keeps living he’s living for Ace, honoring him, being there for him even if he’s gone.

And that’s what you say next, reading his mind. “What matters is that you’re alive. You didn’t let what he did for you go to waste, he’d be so proud of that. This is exactly what he wanted, yeah?” Your hands trace circles on Luffy’s back as you feel him relax very slowly.

“I’m so happy you’re still here,” you whisper right in his ear.

“Mhm…” Luffy’s lips find yours, hovering, just touching you. “I’m not letting you go, ‘kay?” His words are so deep and genuine. There’s heartache there but an impenetrable love, most of all. His arms are flexed around your body, he’s squeezing you and it’s almost uncomfortable but you have to let him right now.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You manage a smile which makes him smile too.

It seemed impossible for Luffy to get even more loving but he definitely was when you saw him again. You’re the one who’s getting it all, all the affection he wanted to give to his brother.

“You wanna hang out for a while?” You offer because you’re scared to let him sleep again. “It’s ok to stay up. If you’re tired tomorrow I’ll take a nap with you.”

He likes that idea. Maybe you’ll get something to eat, even take a walk on the deck if it’s not too cold. He just wants your company. He wants to spend as much time with you as he physically can to make up for everything and to show you how much love he has to give.

“I love you, mh, let’s stay up an’ hang out,” his words are quiet and gravelly from sleep and tears but what matters is he’s smiling now. He’s back to living in the moment tonight, and you’re his moment.

The next morning he’ll be completely back to himself. He’ll kiss you good morning but he’ll act like the night never happened, probably, because it’s nicer to be happy and enjoy the day. He has you, he knows everything’s going to be alright.

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Your prompt request #13 "not here... not now..."

In the midst of a battle between two kingdoms, you go into labor. While the city breaks into chaos, you try to escape while trying to deny the birth.

Female character can either deliver the child deep in the woods while on the run or hiding in the rubble, trying to keep quiet as she births her child.

You choose! And thank you for choosing to make an account for your wonderful work! Obsessed with your first fic! 🫶

Not Now… Not Here…

[This was one of the first asks/prompts I received and made me so happy to have created this side blog. Thank you so much Anon for your request and your kind words at the end. Hope you enjoy! 💜 Fpreg 2917 words & Beta’d by the wonderful @gravid-transluna ]

Marion stood by the open window in her bedroom, hands braced against the window sill, as she watched the billows of smoke and the sounds of screaming get closer and closer to home. Tensions had been building between Alleria and its neighbouring kingdom for many years and it had only been a matter of time before one of the Kings ordered their troops to attack. The battle had been raging for days… weeks now, with news from the frontlines making it back to the city as the wounded returned. Unfortunately for the residents in Alleria the battleground was moving ever closer towards the city, and for Marion this was even more unfortunate for she was currently deep in the throes of labour.

She gripped the wooden ledge below her window and bounced her knees and hips through the latest contraction.

“Mnnnnhhhhh… oh little one, you have a terrible sense of ti— ohhhhhh… timing.” Marion moaned softly, her hips swaying instinctively as the tightening coursed across her middle while the weight of the baby’s head filled her pelvis.

When the contraction had faded back into a dull ache Marion looked up again at the city slowly falling to the destruction of war. The smoke seemed closer than it had an hour ago, the battleground was heading right across the city in the direction of her home. The pains had started yesterday but were manageable back then - she could continue moving around and getting everything prepared for the birth. The war was far from the city at that point and it did not occur to Marion that she would not be safe to labour and birth here - Alleria had never allowed their borders to be penetrated before, but the invading Kingdom’s forces were too strong.

Marion held the underside of her heavy and tight belly, her thin olive green dress stretched around her enlarged middle. She had never given birth before but had helped in many a delivery around the town. It was a rite of passage for a woman to deliver her children - the men-folk would almost never be present while the labouring mother would be supported by female friends, family or neighbours.

Marion didn’t have any of those but she wasn’t phased to be doing this alone - she preferred things that way. However, as she looked down through her window at the empty and deserted street below, fear and panic began to claw at her thoughts. Perhaps she should flee the city as well. A loud scream and sound of metal against metal echoed through the streets. The battle was getting closer, she needed to leave. Now.

Grabbing a canvas bag Marion quickly threw some items inside; blanket, clothes, water, food. As she was frantically waddling around her small rented room another contraction hit out of nowhere only minutes after the last.

“Hoooooooo— oh fuck….” Marion doubled over and braced her thighs as the pressure and pain skyrocketed. Her pelvis was being pulled apart as the baby’s head shoved its way through, almost certainly at the top of her cervix by now. The immeasurable weight and pressure was overwhelming and Marion found herself grunting against it.

“Mnnghhhh!!!” Marion growled, but the sound was swallowed by a loud explosion coming from a few streets away.

“Ooooh… so— so low. Don’t come now baby, just a— a little bit longer.” She pleaded to her rounded belly, holding it with both hands as she straightened back up. Grabbing her bag of supplies Marion bolted for the door to the stairs at the back of the building. She had to get out of here, get herself far away from the incoming battleground before she delivered this babe.

The stairs were awkward and difficult to descend with her dangerously wide gait from an extremely low baby. But Marion eventually made it down to street level and looked around; there was no one left - everyone had already fled. She waddled as fast as she could in the opposite direction from the rising cries of battle, her hands holding up her taut and tensing belly as if her grip alone could stop her labour. Marion was too busy worrying about safe routes out of the city to realise the next contraction was fast approaching and when it struck she found herself dropping into a deep squat in the middle of the cobbled street.

“Grrrrrrrhhhhh….! Oh Gods… So— so much pressure!” She groaned, her bag of supplies slipping from her shoulder as she squatted and grabbed her knees. Instinctively she mooed and growled her way through the latest wave, each one seeming to strike with more ferocity than the last. Marion would be self-conscious making such a public display of her labouring but with the streets deserted she allowed herself to make whatever noises she needed to get her through the pain of childbirth.

Eventually it passed, but the delay in her movements meant the sounds of battle were only a stone's throw away. The harsh sounds of doors and windows smashing echoed off the buildings and Marion thought she could hear incoming heavy footsteps. If the owners of the heavy stomps were just of Allerian troops then she would be okay but, if they were of the invading forces there was no telling what they would do with a woman wandering alone on the streets. The clinking of swords colliding got louder. Both troops were getting closer. Marion could not get caught in the crossfire - she’d be as good as dead.

She ran, as fast as her wide legs could carry her, away from the brutal fighting. She barely made it round the corner down a narrow side street when she was forced to stop once more. Slumped against the brick wall, Marion curled around her hard belly and trembled as she struggled to stay upright. The heavy boulder of a baby’s head was right there, filling her birth canal with so much pressure she thought she might explode. There was no stopping the primal grunt that rattled her throat as every muscle seemed to contract and squeeze the baby towards its exit.

“Nnghhhhh!!!” She roared against the pain and it was immediately followed by a gush of warm liquid running down her thighs and splashing the beige cobbles underfoot. At the tail end of the contraction she felt it - deep in her genes an instinct was telling her to start pushing.

“No….” She whimpered. “Not now… not here… hoohoo-hoohoo…” Marion panted erratically, fighting against her body’s advancing labour.

When the contraction somewhat eased the mother-to-be staggered bowlegged down the deserted side street, the large head shoving its way through her cervix. She made it through to the next street over but Marion had no clue where she was going, no planned destination she was trying to reach. Instead she was just desperately waddling as far away as she could from the noise of battle. She thought she had more time to find an alternate place to give birth but the increasing weight and pressure between her legs was soon proving her wrong. Out in the open of this new street she doubled over against a shop window - palms flat on the glass, her hips jutting backwards and her heavy belly hanging towards the floor.

“Ohhhhhh… no, don’t push… don’t— mnghhh don’t p-p-push…” she chanted over and over, panting and sweating and shaking while the baby inside sank lower and lower.

Running and shouting and screaming could be heard from the end of the street. Marion, still caught in the midst of a powerful contraction, glanced down the road towards the sound and saw at least a dozen men rounding the corner. Their metal plated armour, the colours of their tunics, their pale faces - none of it was familiar. These were enemy soldiers. The labouring mother slipped around a corner to hide down another side street, her legs stuck so wide it looked like she was about to drop the kid any second. And it felt that way too. With one hand holding onto the wall, the other disappeared under her dress between her thighs. No baby yet, thankfully, but she was starting to bulge into her underwear.

Deep and gruff shouting echoed from the high street, the invading warriors were jeering and smashing everything in their path. Despite the continuing contraction, Marion shuffled a little further into the alleyway, into the shadows and tried to hide behind some broken wooden crates. The soldiers were shouting in a language she didn’t understand, but the tone of their rough voices were clear - they were winning this war.

One… three… seven… Marion looked through the gap in the crates counting the foreign soldiers as they stomped past the entrance to the narrow side street, the burly and primitive men kicking and smashing and destroying every single thing they passed.

The next contraction ramped up before the last had even faded away and Marion slapped a hand over her mouth to stop any sounds escaping. Her baby was insistent, desperate to be born. The pressure screamed at her to push and her stance instinctively widened, but as she moved her foot she kicked something hard and metal sending it tumbling across the cobbles with a clang.

Her heart stopped, her breathing seized. Marion’s eyes flared with panic and looked nervously through the gap in the wooden crates towards the entrance of the side street. There was no way that sound wasn’t noticeable, a second later Marion’s fears were realised when two strange looking men stood at the archway of the dark sidestreet, staring into the shadows looking for the source of the noise.

Push!

Marion stayed perfectly still, her hand squeezed over her mouth, her nose breathing as silently as humanly possible. She could not let them find her, Gods only knew what they would do to her, especially if they had conquered Alleria.

Push!

The contraction still tore across her body, her belly contorted into a solid, hard ball beneath her dress as it tried to deliver the child. The pressure between her thighs was making her eyes water, the weight was pulling everything downwards, and her vagina was starting to burn. And yet Marion remained still, not moving an inch.

Push!

The men were talking to themselves, grumbling incoherently in their foreign tongue, pointing and staring down the narrowed cobbled strip. Marion’s legs were trembling, her knees sinking, and as she held her breath in fear of discovery she realised too late that her body was pushing. Without instruction or permission the baby was shoved down the birth canal, feeling like it was seconds away from falling into her underwear. But she couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop herself from bearing down. Behind her sweaty palm Marion’s mouth opened in a silent scream as she pushed and immediately could feel her labia starting to part beneath her clothing.

Oh fuck! Marion thought, trying to stop the impossible. Please don’t come out now!

She fought against her instincts for the longest minute of her life, desperately trying not to push and trying to stay silent. Eventually the strange men lost interest, deciding nothing was hiding down this side street, and continued to ransack the surrounding shops with their fellow soldiers. Marion slumped back against the wall when the soldier's departure coincided with the slight easing of the contraction. With heavy breaths quieter than a whisper, she tried to regain a normal rhythm in her lungs.

This baby could not be born now, here, it had to hold on for her to get somewhere safe. Away from the carnage of war and away from her foes. Then there was a sudden bang, a moving wall of heat, and a victorious cheer coming from the adjacent street - the enemy had started burning buildings causing a giant explosion.

Debris flew through the air, shards of brick and building raining from the skies and Marion spun around, curling around her bump, to protect herself and the baby. She staggered, bowlegged, deeper down the dark alleyway to try to get away from the destruction but with the contractions almost on top of each other she barely made four unsteady steps before she had to pause. The baby was right there, she could feel it. Her hand dived between her legs to check and felt with her fingertips the spherical shape between her folds peaking into her undergarments. The primal need to give birth took over once more and whether she wanted to or not, Marion found herself bearing down with the contraction.

This baby could not be born, not now and not here. If she could not stop pushing she would have to find another way. With her hand wedged between her thighs she clamped it firmly over the mass in her sodden underwear, and with a low grunt she was uncontrollably pushing against the palm of her own hand.

“Nnghhhh— noooo.. don’t c-come o-outtttt…” she growled, her body pushing ferociously and she could feel the head slip forward.

In the shadows Marion grunted and heaved and pushed. Against these efforts she tried to keep her palm over the emerging head to prevent it coming out any further. Her legs were wide and trembling, the heavy mass between her hips forcing her pelvis apart. It was hell, being stuck like this, her labia stretching around the emerging head, the desperate need to get this over with - to deliver this baby. The placement of her own hand proved futile, her body outright refusing to do anything that could delay or prevent the birth. Instead her knees buckled, sinking into a deep squat, and her free hand flew forward to brace her labouring body against the rough bricks of the dark alley while the other hand cupped the head of the incoming babe.

“Ohhhhh fuck…” her groans barely audible, all efforts going into birth. “Oh Gods… help me… it’s coming— it’s coming o-outtt!”

The hand at the apex of her thighs was supporting the head rather than stopping it from coming out. She gasped, sucking in a desperate breath, and leaned into the push giving everything she had into bearing down. She sobbed as the head reached a full crown in her underwear, its large shape undeniable and filling her small palm. The clothing was damp and stretched but she couldn’t remove them, both hands were occupied - one holding her upright in the squat the other holding the emerging head. “Grrnnnhhhhh!!” The low and primal groan of effort rattled the back of her throat and ever so slowly the head was born into her palm.

Smoke was filling the city, homes and shops were on fire, the enemy’s army was tearing her home apart. Loud and sudden blasts echoed down the alleyway, shaking the streets and buildings all around her. Marion fell forward, scrambling on all fours to get away from danger, all the while her baby’s head hung from her body filling her underwear. The rough cobbled street grazed and cut her knees as she crawled further down the side street, desperate to find some shelter. Fluids were leaking from her opening leaving a trail of damp in her wake. She found a door, indented slightly into the brick wall. She tried the handle but it was locked. A cry of fear and frustration left her lungs as she pounded and pushed against the wooden door.

The baby wasn’t waiting for safety or shelter, the next contraction was soon taking hold and she rocked on all fours in the alcove, humming an instinctual noise as the baby’s shoulders started to press against her opening.

“D-don’t…. No….” Marion panted and pleaded with her body.

But her hips sank backwards and she was uncontrollably pushing once more, grunting with every wave as her body worked on expelling the child. “Mnnnghhhhhhh it— it’s coming… I can’t— stop p-p-pushingggggg!!!”

Marion clawed at the door bringing herself up on her knees as the shoulders stretched her opening wide. The baby was waiting for no one and it was coming out right into her underwear. Her fingernails dug deep into the wooden door, her hips sinking towards the floor and she roared with the effort of bearing down, of pushing the baby’s shoulders out of her body. She could feel everything as it slipped out - one shoulder, the next shoulder, its arms and hands and torso as it emerged into her undergarments. Marion managed to prise her hands from the door and scrambled with her clothing to free the path for her baby to enter this world. Pulling the underwear down a few inches she grunted with the desperate final push and the baby suddenly slipped from her body into her hands.

“Ahhh oh Gods… you’re here, you’re out….” Marion gasped, pulling the newborn straight to her chest and sitting back onto her heels. “Hello little one.” The baby shifted and squirmed in her arms and released the softest cry of a first breath.

Exhausted, Marion turned and slumped against the doorway, babe in arms. The sound of crying soon travelled down the side street and footsteps approached. Fear filled Marion’s heart, the enemy was approaching and both she and her baby were defenceless.

“Oh my goodness, is that a baby?” Came a gruff voice above her. She looked up frightened, but when she saw the familiar uniform colour and the warm caramel skin of an Allerian soldier Marion let out a relieved sob.

“Come on Miss, I’ll get you and your baby out of here.” He said kindly.

[osaemu]

when they hug you

PAIRING: tartaglia, xiao, venti, kaeya, diluc, zhongli x reader

SYNOPSIS: when is his embrace the most memorable?

CONTENTS: cursing. indirect mentions of death in xiao and zhongli's parts.

childe spins you around in his arms the second he returns home from another one of his missions. you two collapse in the snow, laughing like children and smiling so hard your faces hurt. being in his arms again feels like home — for both of you.

"haven't seen you in a while, hm? c'mon, let's go grab a drink while you tell me all about what's happened while i was gone, yeah?"

xiao pulls you close in the middle of the night when his mind starts to replay every battle he's ever been through, every friend he's lost, and every time he thought it was over for him. his arms find their way around you because he wants to know that you're still there – to ensure you won't slip through his fingers, just like everyone else did.

"just making sure you're stil— ah, i mean, keeping you safe. go back to sleep. oh, me? i don't need that much sleep. don't worry about me."

venti wraps his arms around you whenever he gets the chance. it's usually for comfort or out of laziness — primarily the latter. sometimes he'd just plop down next to you in the tavern and wrap his arms around your shoulders and lay there, drunkenly mumbling something you can't make out until you finally agree to take him home.

"huh, why is everything so blurry?! i can't— don't let me go, or i'll fall! and if i fall then i- huh? you won't let me fall . . . ? good!"

kaeya wraps his arms around your waist when he has a point to prove, whether it's to you or to the world. if he's trying to make a point to someone else, boom, your pretty face is in between his arms as visual credibility. and god forbid that he's trying to make a point to you, because he'll have no problem trapping you in his arms for as long as it takes to get you to agree with him on whatever the matter is.

"tch, is someone getting distracted? eyes up here, babe. look me in the eye while i tell you why i'm right about this."

diluc hugs you long and hard after a shitty day. he probably has a terrible headache and muscles in desperate need of a massage, but your hand trailing down his back makes everything a little more bearable. 

"fuck, my head is killing me. help your boyfriend out and give him a drink or two, yeah? or a massage. actually, i'd prefer that, love. you're the best."

zhongli holds you in his arms when you're about to leave. maybe it's to go to work, maybe you need groceries, and maybe you even just want to step outside. he always wants to make sure that you leave with a good memory of him — having lived for thousands of years, he knows all too well how unpredictable life is. he never wants to have the regret of seeing you for the last time without a smile on your face.

"bye, darling. i'll see you soon, stay safe... yes, i know i say the same thing every time you leave. why shouldn't i?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i had a three year long childe phase </3

[fairykazu]

GINGERBREAD COMPETITION WITH CHILDE contents // established relationship, cheesy pick up lines / nicknames, baking chaos, one f bomb notes // i wanted this to be longer but ive delayed it for so much. hopefully by the time this is up im working on the next oneshot masterlist

childe had that look in his eyes, the fighting spirit he gets when he gets an idea to fight with you. playfully, of course. "babe," you weren't looking in his direction, instead, you were wrapping bows over the presents.

once he gets an idea, he never lets it go. "babe," he began to pester you, poking you in the sides while you were as still as a rock, used to of his antics. he started to frown, "babe, name, c'mon, aren't you my my sweet pea pookie? the apple of my eye?"

didn't phase you yet? don't worry, he still has a lot of nicknames up his sleeve. you began to wrap more presents. "sweetie muffin?"

you know if you give in, you have to listen to whatever he says to say for the moment but if you don't, he will pressingly continue with the cringe nicknames to make you listen to his announcement. as much you do want to know his announcement, you also wanted to finish wrapping presents as soon as possible.

"pumpkin butter honey biscuit..." that actually sounds really good. he pouted, it's really cute how he pouts despite the current circumstances. he's like a pitiful dog.

you were keeping your defenses up until he got closer to the nape of your neck, whispering, "sweet mcdreamy nutter butter... please..."

now that was terrible, you winced, "what?" he smiled when he finally got your attention, he cleared his throat while he held a fake microphone, "ahem, may i announce an idea?"

after finishing two bows, you tapped your chin with your finger, pretending to think, "hmmmm," you looked into his cerulean eyes pleading you to say yes. "you may."

already from your answer, he was with glee. he began to act like a host in those reality tv shows, "in honor of the winter spirit and tsarita, i say, 'we shall, have a gingerbread competition!'"

the idea has crossed your mind but considering the baking skills and how much childe likes to wing his recipes, "gingerbread competiton? who's going to make the bread?"

he smiled, "we are!" snaking his arms around your waist, pulling you up from the floor. you tapped on his shoulder as he sets you down, you furrowed a brow,

"the recipe?"

childe waved his phone around, "xiangling!"

you nodded, thankful that childe wouldn't wing the cookies this time. last time it was too salty when salt was supposed to enhance the sugar in the gingerbread. "okay, fine. what's the prizes?"

he exhaled nervously as you peered at him, "i didn't think this far. i thought you would reject my idea."

"start with the thinking pretty boy!"

flustered a little, he replied back with "ok, my sugar snookums."

you sighed, "i need you to stop with these, ajax." he laughed a little,

"these won't stop, pookie dookie bookie."

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

as the ingredients are prepped and ready, the challenge is set. the person with the best house, voting decided on instagram, would win by choosing the christmas movie and halloween costume for the next year, which isn't a prize per say but childe thinks so. despite the fact, you suggest he should choose and he always faltered to go with yours.

childe rolled up his sleeves as you tidied up your hair. glancing at your boyfriend, you recalled back when people had told you different rumors about him. how he was a playboy or indifferent cold hearted person, despite it all, you didn't fall for those.

but one particular one caught your attention, one being his eyes being always blank, missing a shine in his eyes. but when you look into his, it's always filled with light like how the sea reflects the light in every wave in sunny afternoons. "babe? is something wrong?"

"yeah," you replied as childe's face became concerned. he held your head in his hands, inspecting anything on your face.

"what's wrong?"

"you're too pretty."

he giggled, twirling one ginger lock around his fingers before turning around, clearing his throat. a dust of pink across his face, "i mean, thank you, babe. i appreciate it!! um, let's get started, yeah!!"

it was an hour in, the gingerbread cookies were done baking, cooling off away from the oven. while you were sketching your idea for your house, thinking about a castle or maybe a cottage? childe tapped your shoulder, you turned to his direction,

"hey girl, mind if we take a picture?"

you ignored him and continued to draw, "hey, c'mon," he pouted as sighing as you turned to him again. "'cause i need to show Santa exactly what i want for Christmas." he winked as you laughed,

"okay, childe."

"im the rizzler- wait what?"

"what?"

"childe? not even babe? you hate me!" childe bawled, dramatically draping his hand against his forehead. "didn't know that you are such an ice queen. i think im going to get a frostbite from your gaze of hatred and bullying," he started to frown, eyes pretending to water.

he's so dramatic. you sighed deeply, snaking your arms around him. he burrowed his head into your shoulder, soaking up the attention you're giving him, "i apologize, my blizzard babe, i'm trying to win the competition."

childe's jaw dropped, "YOU SAID A CHEESY NICKNAME???? i can't believe youre getting into the christmas spirit." he silently cheered as you retorted,

"and no one will believe you that i did."

"fuck."

[fatuismooches]

Reader is always sitting on dottore’s lap.. but what if dottore say on readers lap instead?I love the idea of reader holding one of the segments while they work just sitting on their lap <3 They will get antsy and flustered but you can easily fix that with a peck!! 😌

Something about being close and up and personal with dotty makes me feel so fuzzy and warm! I want to cup his face, kiss him all over, tell him I love him again and again!!! I just really really love the closeness for dottore :(

This goes for the segments as well because they deserve all the love too. Especially webttore!! Give that man a hug during one of his passion rants, no questions asked just do it.

And when I think of akademiya zandik & reader, I think of so much BECAUSE THAT WAS THE HONEYMOON PHASE!!!!! Just two dorks being in love and defending each other and trusting one another. Imagine reader with zandik after he tells them a bit of his past, his childhood, (A bit OOC but perhaps that could be the first instance where reader sees zandik cry for the first time..?) with reader reassuring him whilst embracing him.

I’d love to come back here and talk more!! Can I please become 🎨 anon? I do have troubles with speaking so I am sorry if this is a bit wonky. :1

There are certain words that you simply do not refer to Il Dottore as. Cute and submissive are two of these words, but you? You use them anyway. Because they are cute and submissive when they're all comfortable (although terribly embarrassed and defensive) in your lap. In the beginning, when you suggest the idea, Dottore and the other segments laugh at you because they think it's an amusing joke but, nope, you're 100% serious. It takes... a lot of perseverance and bothering and begging and pleading but!! Soon you'll have the segments fighting over who gets to sit in your lap, because well... it's comfy and soft and they get to be held by you for hours on end as they do their work... (Prime and Omega are obviously the last to give in, their egos are not handling this embarrassing treatment.) You always wrap your arm around him and ask him about his work! Giving him kisses when he starts to get irritated and working your hands into his shoulders and back... :( You're good at repelling the oncoming stress and headaches in this position.

Webttore's ego literally blows up whenever you show such blatant affection and interest in his rants, like yes please keep indulging because he WON'T stop as long as you keep doing it. You could be on the verge of falling asleep and all you hear is him continuing to tell his stories in the background. He wouldn't even notice at first because he gets very into his storytelling as to how he casually demolished a few dozen camps of enemies but then he realizes you aren't commenting anymore... oh you fell asleep :( all of this was probably too much for you to handle all at once...

HONEYMOON PHASE AKADEMIYA ZANDIK AND YOU... :( ugh you're so right 🎨 anon. That was when times were so much simpler... sure school is a pain but!! It was fun. It was when you two found love. Finding comfort, finding each other. It was when you two could simply be Zandik and [Name], no other titles getting in the way.

Zandik despised opening up about himself, much less his past so, he'd only tell you after like many years, and even then he kept it brief and acted like he didn't care and it didn't affect him, because he didn't want to be pitied, he doesn't want your comfort. And so you don't push the topic, but you know he was hurt by it, hurt by being called a monster since birth, being run out by the people who were supposed to be family. So when he does end up crying about it, you don't say a word, you just hold him even as he tries to cover it up, even as he curses you for being like this, because you love him.

[babytarttdoodoo]

Can you write one of Jamie showing up to training sick and the team has to convince him to go home? Then someone takes him home (I want it to be Roy even though Roy probably shouldn't leave training when he's in charge for Roy/Jamie shipping reasons, but all the lads wanting to care of him would also be nice)

Who needs realism when we can have fluff? I went a bit off script but I hope you still enjoy it.

Thank you for the prompt!

(Prompt Fill Masterpost)

—

Isaac was generally the first player to arrive for training at Nelson Road. He tried to set a good example, being captain and all that.

Jamie, despite living closer to the grounds than most, usually strolled in with less than 10 minutes left to get changed and out on the field.

It used to annoy members of the team, Isaac included. These days, he knew that Jamie and Roy had extra early workout sessions together and that Jamie was just genuinely awful at managing his time in the mornings. It was fine - he never held anyone else up.

But it was therefore extremely surprising to find him in the locker room a full hour before training was due to start, dressed to play and slumped halfway into his cubby.

“Alright, bruv?” Isaac gave him a cautious nod and dropped his stuff at his section of the bench. “What are you doing here?”

Jamie was slow to answer, blinking bleary eyes at Isaac and apparently needing a minute to take in the question.

He sniffed. “... training, innit?”

“Yeah…” Isaac affirmed, frowning at his rough voice and general dishevelled state. “Don’t normally see you this early, though.”

Jamie hummed and nodded like that was a fair observation.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Well, that probably went some way to explaining the state of him. There were dark smudges under Jamie’s eyes and his hair, rather than carefully styled in the swept-back quiff he’d taken to lately, hung limp and unkempt over his forehead.

He looked kind of terrible, actually.

Roy wouldn’t have let him come in if there was anything seriously wrong, though. That much, Isaac was sure of.

He hadn’t been overly surprised when the pair had told the team they were together. There had always been a weird level of intensity between the two and more than one person over the years had quietly speculated that at least some of it was down to sexual tension.

Any worries about how it would affect team dynamics had simmered down quick enough, too. If anything, they both seemed to overcompensate at work to make sure they couldn’t be accused of dropping the ball, so to speak.

But they did obviously spend their mornings together, training or otherwise, even if they arrived on different schedules. And though Roy was still hard on Jamie as a coach, he was also exceedingly protective as a boyfriend.

If something more than a bad night’s sleep were at play, he would have insisted Jamie stayed home.

Still, Isaac kept a careful eye and ear out while he went through his routine of getting ready. It probably wouldn’t be the worst thing for Jamie to fall asleep where he sat and get a quick nap in, but it was best to be ready to catch him if he toppled off the bench in the process.

Dani was the next to arrive, far too perky for the early hour and seemingly not phased by Jamie’s presence. His smile did dim at the lack of response to his bright greeting but Isaac caught his eye and gestured for him to keep it down a bit.

The message was received and passed on through silent glances and elaborate head tilts as more players filtered in, a collective effort to let Jamie close his eyes and snooze overriding the usual rambunctious atmosphere. Isaac was very proud.

Nate was the first of the coaching staff to arrive. He looked confused at the lack of rabble in the room and his gaze followed everyone else’s to see Jamie snoring softly. They all shushed him frantically when he opened his mouth to clearly try and rouse him.

Isaac, Sam and Colin beckoned him over to the other side of the room.

“What’s up with Jamie?” he asked quietly, looking between them.

“Just said he didn’t sleep well.” Isaac shrugged. “He was in before me. Seemed kind of out of it.”

“He doesn’t look alright.” Colin put in, frowning over at their pale and sleeping teammate.

“Have you heard from Roy today?” Sam asked Nate, worry pinching the corners of his eyes. “He must know if something is wrong.”

“I haven’t.” Nate checked his phone but shook his head. “No, nothing. They don’t always come in together, though.”

“But they train in the mornings.” Dani whisper-shouted from his end of the bench, clearly listening in and echoing Isaac’s own thought processes from earlier.

“It could be that Jamie did not sleep because they had a fight…?” Richard ventured reluctantly, holding up his hands in defence when the room hissed at him in disgust. “Just a suggestion!”

“If Jamie were angry or upset, he would be running laps or sulking, not sleeping.” Sam pointed out.

“And they wouldn’t bring that shit into work.” Isaac stated with surety.

Nate looked back at Jamie and checked the time on his watch.

“We’ll need to wake him up soon and make sure he’s okay. He can’t just sleep in here all day.” He peered over into the coaches’ office and looked relieved to see movement. “I think Beard’s arrived - I’ll go see if he’s got any ideas.”

The air of respectful quiet had shifted to uncertain worry as everyone started to question, internally or amongst themselves, exactly why Jamie was so exhausted. He didn’t have the best track record with open communication when something was wrong.

Could there be something up between him and Roy?

As if on cue, their manager stalked into the locker room and was immediately taken aback by the subdued environment. He stopped dead in the doorway and scowled.

“What the fuck’s up with you lot?”

“Roy?” Jamie stirred and opened his eyes to a squint in search of the familiar voice. Roy’s head immediately snapped to the side and took in Jamie’s half-reclined form.

“You look like shit.” Only years of experience let Isaac pick up on the surprise and concern in Roy’s voice. Vague worries about trouble in paradise dissipated immediately.

Jamie - predictably - pouted up at him. “‘S not nice.”

The slurred speech sent Roy’s eyebrows flying up in alarm and his emotions suddenly became a lot more visible to the untrained eye. He quickly pressed the back of his hand against Jamie’s forehead, cursing quietly at whatever he felt there.

“Fucking hell, Jamie. You could have called me.”

“Were you not together?” Sam asked, now also clearly edging back towards distress. Nate and Beard emerged from the office at the new wave of commotion.

Roy shook his head. “No. Phoebe’s been staying at mine while she’s off school with the flu. Told this idiot to go home last night and get some proper sleep.”

He sighed and, despite his harsh words, gently smoothed back Jamie’s hair.

“You’re supposed to tell someone when you catch the plague, you muppet.”

Jamie just whined pitifully and leaned into the contact so hard he almost slumped right off the bench. Half the team jolted in place with aborted attempts to catch him.

Roy was right there, though, and easily tipped him back to a safe sitting position, grip steady.

“Alright, prima donna. Let’s get you home.” He looked over to Nate and Beard. “You two good to get things started? I can be back in an hour or two.”

“Take your time.” Beard gave him a firm nod and Nate mumbled his agreement, brow furrowed at the scene. “We got this.”

Declan swept in to help pack up Jamie’s things as Roy cajoled him to his feet and slid an arm around his waist to keep him upright. He accepted the duffle bag with a grateful grunt and started shuffling his boyfriend towards the exit.

“Let us know if you need anything, yeah?” Isaac demanded when they were finally underway.

Roy looked back over his shoulder and half-smiled at the room of worried eyes staring back at him. “Will do, captain. Keep an eye on the rest of them for me.”

[rodeoxqueen]

Can I have a sequal 2 da Dante x Reader birth to his darughter…. Lik what he iz lik after his daughter iz b0rn and what his wife (y/n) is like

Sure thing.

-Rodeo.

Loves his daughter. Loves her very much.

Definitely extremely protective over her since he is the infamous son of Sparda and she the granddaughter.

Sings her old bar tunes from his younger more degenerate years.

Definitely gets a little more serious when he has his daughter but only because he’s terrified of anything happening to her.

Picks up little trinkets for her.

When she was younger and teething she’d cry over sore gums and Dante would slip her a crust of pizza to gum away at when you weren’t looking.

He sucks at cooking but he can make simple things for her.

Dante would love his wife like it was his first time ever seeing her every day.

Becomes very domestic.

Will wake up later than the two of you in the mornings but makes it his job to scoop the two of you up once he makes it to the kitchen where you’re making breakfast.

His daughter will have a phase where she is disgusted by how deeply in love the two of you are. She also thought your real name was either babe or sugar for a while.

He’s got trauma from his childhood and how abruptly it ended so he’ll never want his little girl to grow up too fast. He tries to keep the ugliness of the world away from her as much as he can.

Dante’s daughter will sneak away from curfew to join her old man on missions and eventually Dante realizes he can’t keep her away from his bounty hunter life.

His wife, oh his wife.

He loves wearing his ring. A simple silver band with your name engraved.

His wife would have to be very nurturing but tough. He wouldn’t put a woman through his life unless he knew she could handle it.

He likely wouldn’t trust a civilian and would probably prefer a woman who also knew of the demon world and how to eradicate her weight in devils.

However, the two of you quickly fall into domestic life together, especially with the child.

You’d be understanding when he came home too late but his daughter is very much a daddy’s girl and would jump for joy at his return.

Drinks in front of his daughter and when she’s older she’ll make fun of him or steal his handles when she has her friends over.

Wants to be a cool dad but knows kids these days aren’t as easily impressed as they used to be.

His wife definitely grounds Dante from going too low and shooting too high. He struggles with both.

He really needs a ride or die but please don’t die. His worst fear is ending up like his mother in that sense where he’ll have to raise your daughter alone. ;(.

Once puberty happens and all of a sudden daddy’s girl doesn’t want to be near him at all and is always rolling her eyes, he’s devastated. He’s just glad she has a good relationship with you at least during that era so he at least can hear how she’s doing from a second source.

“No please not the teenage angst. She gets it from me.”

Will blow his top if he catches her being disrespectful to you.

His daughter after a terrible fight will find him later with a bourbon in hand and a photo book of her baby photos. He asks her to sit down and tells her-

“I know things aren’t very good between us right now but if anything, anything happened to you…I wouldn’t know what to do.”

A little goes a long way and the two are quick to go back to being close.

Will spend money he doesn’t have on her. She would be spoiled if you as her mother didn’t set boundaries.

Won’t take it easy on her sparring wise since she’s a quarter demon and needs to know how to strut her trigger when she needs it. The tough love pays off.

All in all, Dante desperately wants to be a good father and be present at everything. He’ll want to involve himself in everything she’s up to and is willing to invite him to.

Most likely, he’ll find himself extremely happy in this new family of his, of strong loving women who take no shit.

Please let Dante settle down and be happy Capcom I ain’t gonna keep begging.

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

My memory is terrible so I wanted to do a breakdown of my stuff every once in a while. Might be monthly, might be whenever I feel like it. Also there are too many shows on and something is always finishing or starting so a month is a lot.

BL - Currently Watching

1000 Years Old [2/12] - It's silly, and entertaining and makes me laugh. The friend group is delightful and I'm having a good time watching them. Was excited for a minute when Yo suggested a haircut for Pun because I cannot handle that wig. 🤞

Anti Reset [5/10] - This is one of the most frustrating shows I've watched in a while. The show doesn't seem to settle on what is actually trying to say about the AI of it all, and when it says something I'm not crazy about it. Why is it so frustrating? Because they are so fucking endearing when they're together on screen. I wanna love this show so much.

Cherry Magic Th [11/12]– I love them so much. I'm fascinated by the choices that the show is making. As a big fan of the manga and the jbl I came into this with reservations and this show is just blowing my mind. This was the best episode 11 of all time and Tay/New are delivering. My heart is so full with this.

Cherry Magic Anime [7/12]– Another helicopter ride! Yay. The date song was hilarious. We're now getting to the point where they are dating and Adachi is feeling guilty for lying so I'm curious how the show will adapt the next phase of the relationship.

Dead Friend Forever [10/12]– Glad to see we are all on board with Tan's murderous impulses. It's been so much fun having more people join in on the fun. As for me, I NEED White to stay alive. That's really all I want. Getting curious about how Perth factors in to all of this.

My Strawberry Film[2/8] - I feel it coming. I see sadness in my future. But I'm bracing because I'm loving the look of this show. And pining boys are my favourite type of boys. I'm ready.

Ossan's Love Returns [8/9] - The videos messages destroyed me but then that ending made me annoyed. I don't know what to expect in terms of Kurosawa but I hope he's not actually dying and there's a really good reason for all this. Medical mal practice might be the thing. Although as @twig-tea pointed out to me, since it was said in show it might not actually happen. I want happy for the ending anyway.

Perfect Propose [5/6] . Why must I only have them for 6 episodes??? I need more. Kai is everything to me, and that back hug followed by that smile melted by cold heart. Hiro's boss needs something heavy to fall on him from a great height. And please Hiro,sweetie, I need you to eat better and sleep.

Although I Love You, and You? [7/10]- Sakae is letting me down. And by that I mean, the show is letting me down. Sakae needs to put his foot down with Mizuki and go back to being a fool in love with Soga.

To Be Continued [1/8] - It's not amazing. but I'm a sucker for second chance romance and there are two couples so there's a 50% chance I will like this. We'll see. Also, they need to start hiring younger actors for the high school flashbacks. This goes for A Secretly Love too. Having 27 year olds and up playing ten years younger just won't do. It's terrible.

Unknown [2/12] - I'm intrigued. Not completely sold yet but I'm liking it so far. Also nothing would keep me away from watching Sam Lin again.

Also watched the first episode of A Secretly Love and caught up with City of Stars but it's on the 'I need to shut of my brain' schedule so I'm not necessarily watching to weekly.

BL - Finished

Cooking Crush - I will miss all of them. I loved it so much. The whole cut/uncut version thing was annoying and the editing was weird at times but overall this was wonderful. Communication done right. Relationships and character growth was stellar and both couples won my heart. Aungpao really surprised me, considering he was surrounded my pros on all sides. Dynamite was a joy to watch. And OffGun delivering with all the kissing. Everyone should watch this.

The Sign - I mean, what they did to this show is absolutely insane. Not airing the finale like the rest of the show. Having to pay extra for happy ending is ridiculous (although I kinda predicted this and @lurkingshan is my witness. I said as a joke and it turns out reality is a joke.) Then waiting 2 whole weeks for whatever that was. Just the most unsatisfying experience. Go read this from Shan because I agree with everything said there. Also @bengiyo final thoughts here really echo how I felt about this show overall.

Happy Ending - 20 minutes split in 3. Why? No idea. Was it a happy ending? I think so. Was it cute? Sure. Was it great to watch Seong Hyuk again? You betcha. But I didn't love it. I need Choco Milk Shake S2, like, TODAY.

Playboyy - It ended.

Rose Watches OJBL - I feel bad about this. I didn't watch any of the ones I planned to. This might seem like whatever but I've been trying to catch up with awards season films, because since uni, me and a couple of friends always do it and finish it by watching the oscars together and so ojbl was were I dropped the ball. Gonna restart soon though.

Not BL - Watched this month

Night Has Come Death's Game Shop for Killers

That's it for right now. As usual my ask box is open for gif requests and any other questions. All my gifs are under #rosygifs.

Have a good week💜

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

[From my blogging buddy Steve Renfro]

+

A large excerpt from Annie Dillards essay on a total eclipse in 1979. I probably go back and read it just about every year for the last 8 years. Posted without permission.

“I had seen a partial eclipse in 1970. A partial eclipse is very interesting. It bears almost no relation to a total eclipse. Seeing a partial eclipse bears the same relation to seeing a total eclipse as kissing a man does to marrying him, or as flying in an airplane does to falling out of an airplane. Although the one experience precedes the other, it in no way prepares you for it. During a partial eclipse the sky does not darken—not even when 94 percent of the sun is hidden. Nor does the sun, seen colorless through protective devices, seem terribly strange. We have all seen a sliver of light in the sky; we have all seen the crescent moon by day. However, during a partial eclipse the air does indeed get cold, precisely as if someone were standing between you and the fire. And blackbirds do fly back to their roosts. I had seen a partial eclipse before, and here was another.

What you see in an eclipse is entirely different from what you know. It is especially different for those of us whose grasp of astronomy is so frail that, given a flashlight, a grapefruit, two oranges, and 15 years, we still could not figure out which way to set the clocks for daylight saving time. Usually it is a bit of a trick to keep your knowledge from blinding you. But during an eclipse it is easy. What you see is much more convincing than any wild-eyed theory you may know.

You may read that the moon has something to do with eclipses. I have never seen the moon yet. You do not see the moon. So near the sun, it is as completely invisible as the stars are by day. What you see before your eyes is the sun going through phases. It gets narrower and narrower, as the waning moon does, and, like the ordinary moon, it travels alone in the simple sky. The sky is of course background. It does not appear to eat the sun; it is far behind the sun. The sun simply shaves away; gradually, you see less sun and more sky.

The sky’s blue was deepening, but there was no darkness. The sun was a wide crescent, like a segment of tangerine. The wind freshened and blew steadily over the hill. The eastern hill across the highway grew dusky and sharp. The towns and orchards in the valley to the south were dissolving into the blue light. Only the thin river held a trickle of sun.

Now the sky to the west deepened to indigo, a color never seen. A dark sky usually loses color. This was a saturated, deep indigo, up in the air. Stuck up into that unworldly sky was the cone of Mount Adams, and the alpenglow was upon it. The alpenglow is that red light of sunset that holds out on snowy mountaintops long after the valleys and tablelands are dimmed. “Look at Mount Adams,” I said, and that was the last sane moment I remember.

I turned back to the sun. It was going. The sun was going, and the world was wrong. The grasses were wrong; they were platinum. Their every detail of stem, head, and blade shone lightless and artificially distinct as an art photographer’s platinum print. This color has never been seen on Earth. The hues were metallic; their finish was matte. The hillside was a 19th-century tinted photograph from which the tints had faded. All the people you see in the photograph, distinct and detailed as their faces look, are now dead. The sky was navy blue. My hands were silver. All the distant hills’ grasses were finespun metal that the wind laid down. I was watching a faded color print of a movie filmed in the Middle Ages; I was standing in it, by some mistake. I was standing in a movie of hillside grasses filmed in the Middle Ages. I missed my own century, the people I knew, and the real light of day.

I looked at Gary. He was in the film. Everything was lost. He was a platinum print, a dead artist’s version of life. I saw on his skull the darkness of night mixed with the colors of day. My mind was going out; my eyes were receding the way galaxies recede to the rim of space. Gary was light-years away, gesturing inside a circle of darkness, down the wrong end of a telescope. He smiled as if he saw me; the stringy crinkles around his eyes moved. The sight of him, familiar and wrong, was something I was remembering from centuries hence, from the other side of death: Yes, that is the way he used to look, when we were living. When it was our generation’s turn to be alive. I could not hear him; the wind was too loud. Behind him the sun was going. We had all started down a chute of time. At first it was pleasant; now there was no stopping it. Gary was chuting away across space, moving and talking and catching my eye, chuting down the long corridor of separation. The skin on his face moved like thin bronze plating that would peel.

From all the hills came screams. A piece of sky beside the crescent sun was detaching. It was a loosened circle of evening sky, suddenly lit from the back. It was an abrupt black body out of nowhere; it was a flat disk; it was almost over the sun. That is when there were screams. At once this disk of sky slid over the sun like a lid. The sky snapped over the sun like a lens cover. The hatch in the brain slammed. Abruptly it was dark night, on the land and in the sky. In the night sky was a tiny ring of light. The hole where the sun belongs is very small. A thin ring of light marked its place. There was no sound. The eyes dried, the arteries drained, the lungs hushed. There was no world. We were the world’s dead people rotating and orbiting around and around, embedded in the planet’s crust, while the Earth rolled down. Our minds were light-years distant, forgetful of almost everything. Only an extraordinary act of will could recall to us our former, living selves and our contexts in matter and time. We had, it seems, loved the planet and loved our lives, but could no longer remember the way of them. We got the light wrong. In the sky was something that should not be there. In the black sky was a ring of light. It was a thin ring, an old, thin silver wedding band, an old, worn ring. It was an old wedding band in the sky, or a morsel of bone. There were stars. It was all over.

I saw, early in the morning, the sun diminish against a backdrop of sky. I saw a circular piece of that sky appear, suddenly detached, blackened, and backlit; from nowhere it came and overlapped the sun. It did not look like the moon. It was enormous and black. If I had not read that it was the moon, I could have seen the sight a hundred times and never thought of the moon once. (If, however, I had not read that it was the moon—if, like most of the world’s people throughout time, I had simply glanced up and seen this thing—then I doubtless would not have speculated much, but would have, like Emperor Louis of Bavaria in 840, simply died of fright on the spot.) It did not look like a dragon, although it looked more like a dragon than the moon. It looked like a lens cover, or the lid of a pot. It materialized out of thin air—black, and flat, and sliding, outlined in flame.

Seeing this black body was like seeing a mushroom cloud. The heart screeched. The meaning of the sight overwhelmed its fascination. It obliterated meaning itself. If you were to glance out one day and see a row of mushroom clouds rising on the horizon, you would know at once that what you were seeing, remarkable as it was, was intrinsically not worth remarking. No use running to tell anyone. Significant as it was, it did not matter a whit. For what is significance? It is significance for people. No people, no significance. This is all I have to tell you.

In the deeps are the violence and terror of which psychology has warned us. But if you ride these monsters deeper down, if you drop with them further over the world’s rim, you find what our sciences cannot locate or name, the substrate, the ocean or matrix or ether that buoys the rest, that gives goodness its power for good, and evil. Its power for evil, the unified field: our complex and inexplicable caring for one another, and for our life together here. This is given. It is not learned.

The world that lay under darkness and stillness following the closing of the lid was not the world we know. The event was over. Its devastation lay around about us. The clamoring mind and heart stilled, almost indifferent, certainly disembodied, frail, and exhausted. The hills were hushed, obliterated. Up in the sky, like a crater from some distant cataclysm, was a hollow ring.

You have seen photographs of the sun taken during a total eclipse. The corona fills the print. All of those photographs were taken through telescopes. The lenses of telescopes and cameras can no more cover the breadth and scale of the visual array than language can cover the breadth and simultaneity of internal experience. Lenses enlarge the sight, omit its context, and make of it a pretty and sensible picture, like something on a Christmas card. I assure you, if you send any shepherds a Christmas card on which is printed a three-by-three photograph of the angel of the Lord, the glory of the Lord, and a multitude of the heavenly host, they will not be sore afraid. More fearsome things can come in envelopes. More moving photographs than those of the sun’s corona can appear in magazines. But I pray you will never see anything more awful in the sky.

You see the wide world swaddled in darkness; you see a vast breadth of hilly land, and an enormous, distant, blackened valley; you see towns’ lights, a river’s path, and blurred portions of your hat and scarf; you see your husband’s face looking like an early black-and-white film; and you see a sprawl of black sky and blue sky together, with unfamiliar stars in it, some barely visible bands of cloud, and over there, a small white ring. The ring is as small as one goose in a flock of migrating geese—if you happen to notice a flock of migrating geese. It is one-360th part of the visible sky. The sun we see is less than half the diameter of a dime held at arm’s length.

The Crab Nebula, in the constellation Taurus, looks, through binoculars, like a smoke ring. It is a star in the process of exploding. Light from its explosion first reached the Earth in 1054; it was a supernova then, and so bright it shone in the daytime. Now it is not so bright, but it is still exploding. It expands at the rate of 70 million miles a day. It is interesting to look through binoculars at something expanding 70 million miles a day. It does not budge. Its apparent size does not increase. Photographs of the Crab Nebula taken 15 years ago seem identical to photographs of it taken yesterday. Some lichens are similar. Botanists have measured some ordinary lichens twice, at 50-year intervals, without detecting any growth at all. And yet their cells divide; they live.

The small ring of light was like these things—like a ridiculous lichen up in the sky, like a perfectly still explosion 4,200 light-years away: It was interesting, and lovely, and in witless motion, and it had nothing to do with anything.

“It can never be satisfied, the mind, never.” Wallace Stevens wrote that, and in the long run he was right. The mind wants to live forever, or to learn a very good reason why not. The mind wants the world to return its love, or its awareness; the mind wants to know all the world, and all eternity, and God. The mind’s sidekick, however, will settle for two eggs over easy.

The dear, stupid body is as easily satisfied as a spaniel. And, incredibly, the simple spaniel can lure the brawling mind to its dish. It is everlastingly funny that the proud, metaphysically ambitious, clamoring mind will hush if you give it an egg.

Further: While the mind reels in deep space, while the mind grieves or fears or exults, the workaday senses, in ignorance or idiocy, like so many computer terminals printing out market prices while the world blows up, still transcribe their little data and transmit them to the warehouse in the skull. Later, under the tranquilizing influence of fried eggs, the mind can sort through the data. The restaurant was a halfway house, a decompression chamber. There I remembered a few things more.

The deepest, and most terrifying, was this: I have said that I heard screams. (I have since read that screaming, with hysteria, is a common reaction even to expected total eclipses.) People on all the hillsides, including, I think, myself, screamed when the black body of the moon detached from the sky and rolled over the sun. But something else was happening at that same instant, and it was this, I believe, that made us scream.

The second before the sun went out we saw a wall of dark shadow come speeding at us. We no sooner saw it than it was upon us, like thunder. It roared up the valley. It slammed our hill and knocked us out. It was the monstrous swift shadow cone of the moon. I have since read that this wave of shadow moves at 1,800 miles an hour. Language can give no sense of this sort of speed—1,800 miles an hour. It was 195 miles wide. No end was in sight—you saw only the edge. It rolled at you across the land at 1,800 miles an hour, hauling darkness like plague behind it. Seeing it, and knowing it was coming straight for you, was like feeling a slug of anesthetic shoot up your arm. If you think very fast, you may have time to think, “Soon it will hit my brain.” You can feel the deadness race up your arm; you can feel the appalling, inhuman speed of your own blood. We saw the wall of shadow coming, and screamed before it hit.

This was the universe about which we have read so much and never before felt: the universe as a clockwork of loose spheres flung at stupefying, unauthorized speeds. How could anything moving so fast not crash, not veer from its orbit amok like a car out of control on a turn?

Less than two minutes later, when the sun emerged, the trailing edge of the shadow cone sped away. It coursed down our hill and raced eastward over the plain, faster than the eye could believe; it swept over the plain and dropped over the planet’s rim in a twinkling. It had clobbered us, and now it roared away. We blinked in the light. It was as though an enormous, loping god in the sky had reached down and slapped the Earth’s face.

Apparently people share a sense of these hazards, for when the total eclipse ended, an odd thing happened.

When the sun appeared as a blinding bead on the ring’s side, the eclipse was over. The black lens cover appeared again, backlit, and slid away. At once the yellow light made the sky blue again; the black lid dissolved and vanished. The real world began there. I remember now: We all hurried away. We were born and bored at a stroke. We rushed down the hill. We found our car; we saw the other people streaming down the hillsides; we joined the highway traffic and drove away.

We never looked back. It was a general vamoose, and an odd one, for when we left the hill, the sun was still partially eclipsed—a sight rare enough, and one which, in itself, we would probably have driven five hours to see. But enough is enough. One turns at last even from glory itself with a sigh of relief. From the depths of mystery, and even from the heights of splendor, we bounce back and hurry for the latitudes of home.”

This post is excerpted from Dillard’s book The Abundance: Narrative Essays Old and New. Copyright © 2016 by Annie Dillard.

[londonhalcyon]

I’m in my annual fall writing slump/various video game brainrot phase (happens at the same time every year, don’t worry), so here’s just a general update on my WIPs:

The Mad Witch: I’ve been sticking pretty close to the outline, with only a few minor tweaks, so we’re still looking at around 60 chapters total. Probably a little more based on my propensity to underestimate the chapter word counts, but it shouldn’t be by much. So, in other words, we have about 20-something chapters to go. Made decent progress on Chapter 39 before I hit my slump, so whenever my brain decides to get back on track, the chapter shouldn’t take too long to finish.

Rosemary Reaper: Looking at around 30-40 chapters for this fic, or about half the length of The Mad Witch (hopefully). Over the past two years, I’ve sporadically written 43,000 words for this fic—31,000 for Rosemary Reaper itself, 12,000 for its sequel, which can only be a disastrous case of writer’s hubris. What’s even more dangerous is that I would love for this to be a trilogy, but let’s see if I can pick up the pace and actually finish the first one before I go crazy.

That Skyrim fic: This one is set to be 10 chapters at most, and probably less. In theory, it shouldn’t take me that long to finish it, but I keep forgetting my Elder Scrolls lore and having to look things up, so who knows at this point. If the Fallout brainrot hits in fall, the Skyrim brainrot tends to hit in winter, so we’ll see what happens them.

Also, I’ve been super terrible at responding to everything lately—emails, texts, phone calls, etc.—so if you left an AO3 comment any time within the past few weeks, I saw it, I love you, I appreciate you. As soon as my brain feels less like a hyperactive dog tangled in its own leash, I’ll get back to interacting with people.

[seungminsbaldspot]

Christmas with Seungmin

Pairing: Seungmin x reader 

Synopsis:  Seungmin wants to make this the perfect Christmas but everything he does to decorate or plan goes terribly wrong

Spoiler: "I've tried so hard this year. To make everything perfect you know? But everything just... messes up."

Word Count: 1904 words

Genre:  fluff

Warnings: no pronouns are used, no mentions of whether or not seungmin is an idol here but you can imagine he is or isn’t, cursing, established relationship(you share a house with him)

Note: my very first Christmas special, i hope you all enjoy it

December 1st: Twas the first day of December, and your boyfriend was eager to set up the Christmas tree. He was pulling all of the decorations out of closets and pulling boxes out of the attic. “Min, I didn’t even know you kept decorations up there.” He shrugged, “I keep lots of secrets from you.” He wiggles his eyebrows. You laugh. “Sure Minnie” 

While Seungmin is pulling out the tree and putting it together, you are making dinner, as a thank you to Seungmin for all of his hard work. He was the perfect boyfriend. He knows how to treat you, and you know how to treat him. You two are the perfect couple. Seungmin always goes all out for holidays and birthdays, although his friends have informed you that before you came along, he was never into celebrating this much. He only did it because you liked to go all out. 

While in the kitchen, you hear a crash inside the living room. Thinking the worst, you rush into the living room, finding Seungmin squatting over something. Seungmin stands up and frowns, “Oh shoot. I loved that ornament.” It was a glass ornament that had the date that he asked you to be his partner You patted him on the shoulder, “No worry Minnie! I can get another made.” You say reassuring the sad guy frowning in front of you. He shrugged, “I guess, but it won’t ever be the same.” You smiled, “No, but it will have the same exact date on it and it will mean the exact same.” You say, trying to comfort him. He begins to say something, but then you hear your water boiling over, “Oh Shit!” You say, running off back into the kitchen. Seungmin sighs and gets the broom. He supposes that decorating the tree can wait for another night. 

December 9th: After the long work week, Seungmin and You finally put up some more decorations around your house. Seungmin digs out garlands and fairy lights to decorate some shelves with. You continued decorating the tree when Seungmin tried to decorate it, he broke a glass ornament and refused to touch it again, in fear of breaking another precious ornament even though you had told him that it was alright and that you could replace the ornament. 

Seungmin takes the garland and fairy lights and hangs them on a shelf in the living room. After putting one end of the garland on a hook, and moving to the other side to drape the garland, the other side of the garland fell off of the hook. Seungmin groans loudly, causing you to look away from your tree-decorating duties. 

"Everything alright, Seungmin?" you ask, putting down the ornament you were about to hang on the tree. Seungmin looks a bit frustrated but manages a sheepish smile. "Just the garland. Doesn't wanna stay on the hook." You walk over to him, trying to hide a smile. "Let me give you a hand." 

The two of you struggled with the garland for about thirty minutes. Each time you thought the garland was stay put, it would fall. “I’m one more fall of this garland to super gluing it to the shelf.” You laughed, “How about hot glue? Hot glue will come off and not damage our expensive ass shelves.” He looked at you weirdly, “Hey, look I had a Pokemon phase where I hot-glued Pokemon cards to my wall.” Seungmin side-eyes you but nods. “Weirdo.” He whispers under his breath, “But I’ll go get the hot glue.” 

December 16th: Now that your shared house with Seungmin was finally decorated up to Seungmin’s standards, as he is surprisingly picky about Christmas decor, you could spend this weekend celebrating the upcoming holidays. 

Seungmin and You have had this tradition that every weekend before Christmas, the two of you would have a bake-off. Sometimes you won, sometimes Seungmins won. But what can you say, you both enjoyed shoving cookies, cupcakes, and cakes into your mouths. This year, Seungmin wanted to only do cookies, as last year, Your home-baked Lemon cakes were to die for and Seungmin really wanted to win this year. Seungmin decided to bribe you with a whole year of free Seungmin hugs and kisses. You laughed at his bargaining but accepted. You could never say no to free Seungmin Hugs and Kisses for a whole year! 

“Okay, so I’m going to do classic chocolate chip cookies.” Seungmin states, One of the rules is that the two of you must make two different flavors. You nod, knowing exactly what flavor you are going to bake, (enter any flavor here, other than chocolate chip).

Seungmins pulls out the flour, sugar and salt, While you head to the fridge for the milk and eggs. The two of you work around each other, adding all of the ingredients to make the perfect batch of cookies.

You finish with your cookie batter before Seungmin, so you roll out the batter and create Christmas cutouts of the batter. Then you place the cutouts onto a baking sheet and gently place them into the oven. "Done!" You yell out. Seungmin scoffs, "Just because you put yours in the oven first, does not mean that your cookies will taste better than mine." He says, still needing the dough. You shrug, "Whatever you say, Min"

When you smell your cookies in the living room, you know that your cookies are done baking. You walk into the kitchen to find Seungmin just now placing his cookies onto a baking sheet. "Damn Minnie, My cookies are done and yours are just now on the baking sheet?" You tease, but Seungmin ignores you. "Don't worry little cookies, You will win this battle." He whispers to the dough, causing you to laugh.

You carefully take your cookies out of the oven and place them onto the cooling rack. Then you watch Seungmin place his baking sheet with his precious cookies in the oven. He takes off his oven mitts and wraps an arm around your waist, kissing you on the cheek. "Wanna watch a movie?" You nod, "As long as it's Jim Carry's Grinch!" He smiles, "Of course, It's simply the best holiday movie to ever exist." He says, pulling you into the living room.

Halfway through the movie, Seungmin jerks up, "SHIT!" Seungmin yells, rushing into the kitchen, " Oh shit," Your eyes widen, "The cookies." With the smell of your previously baked cookies and the enjoyment of your favorite holiday movie playing, you had totally forgotten about the chocolate chip cookies in the oven.

The smell of burnt cookies and chocolate waves throughout the house when Seungmin opens the oven door. "Damnit Damnit." He says, quickly pulling out the baking sheet, with his oven mitts. He throws the baking sheet onto the cooling rack. Quickly taking the mitts off, he examines the cookies. It only took a glance for you to know that the cookies were brunt. "I guess I'm the winner this year too, huh?"

Seungmin looks at the burnt cookies and then back at you, a mix of disappointment and amusement on his face. "Alright, alright, you win again," he concedes, shaking his head with a smile. "But just wait until next year. I'll come up with a winning recipe that will blow your mind."

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around him. "You always say that, Min. But for now, I guess I'll enjoy the victory and those free hugs and kisses for the next year."

December 24th: For the night of Christmas, Seungmin planned a little Christmas date for this weekend last week, so of course Seungmin wants to pick your outfit.

“I think that you’ll look good in this.” He says, pulling out some random clothes. You shrug, “Sure, But if we’re going to be outside I would like to request a jacket please.” You joke, Seungmin’s eyes narrowed. “Fine, I guess I will pick out a jacket for you.” He rolls his eyes and walks to pick out a jacket, He pulls out one of those standard puffer jackets and everybody and their mother has. “Good Enough?” You laugh, “It’s perfect.” 

Seungmin never tells you where he’s taking you on dates. You never quite know if it’s because he is winging the whole night or if he actually wants it to be a surprise, But at this point in your relationship, you don’t mind. You loved Seungmin and trusted him 100%,so whatever he had in store for tonight was going to be amazing. 

The two of you arrive at this park, decorated with beautiful lights for the holiday season. “It’s so pretty out here.” You murmur, Seungmin takes your arm, almost pulling you to these lit-up archways on a path. The two of you walked under these beautiful archways, looking around at all of the different lights. 

After a while of exploring this beautiful park, You started to shiver. “Want some Hot Coco?” Seungmin asks, You nod, “Sounds delicious right now.” He nodded, leading you to an open area, “I heard this place has some of the best hot cocoa around.” He says, making you excited to try this wonderful hot cocoa. 

When you arrive at the vendor, the man is wearing an apologetic smile, “Sorry folks, I don’t have any more hot cocoa.” You smile at the man, “Awh, Well That’s alright.” You tell the man, Who is still uttering apologies. You look over at Seungmin, whose face is adorning a solemn expression. “Don’t worry, Minnie, We can make some at home!” You say, pulling on his arm, pulling him back to your car.

Back at your shared home, You put on some water to boil. Seungmin looks slumped over sitting on the couch. "What's wrong, Min?" He sighs, "Nothing really." You knew that it was more than nothing. But you didn't want to pressure Seungmin, so you will leave him be for the moment to change into some cute and comfy matching Christmas pajamas you had bought.

You take the matching pair and throw them in his lap when you walk by him in the living room. "Put these on, and by then we can have some hot cocoa!" You say. He takes the clothes and goes into your shared bedroom.

By the time he emerges, the water is boiling. "Hurry Min! The water is done boiling!" You say, rushing him to be by your side. You pull out two mugs and start to dip the hot coco powder in each. Then you start to pour the boiling water into the power. While pouring the water into Seungmin'smug, you feel arms around you, giving you a backhug.

"I'm sorry" Seungmin mumbles into your neck, You finish pouring and place the boiling water down. Then you turn around to face Seungmin. "Whatcha sorry for?" You ask, He hasn't done anything. "I've tried so hard this year. To make everything perfect you know? But everything just... messes up." Your eyes soften and you hug Seungmin, almost surprising him. "Min! You have made this Christmas one of the most memorable Christmases that I've ever had. You mean the world to me and just being here with me right now is making me so fucking happy. There is nothing in this world that you could do that would make me not want to love you Kim Seungmin."

"Even if I killed someone?" You laugh, "Depending on the person."

ughht this was so cute im going to rot, also the thing about the pokemon cards hot glued to the wall.. yeah I actually did that. and no the wall is not damaged.

also notes, reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

[ramayantika]

When you read Valmiki Ramayana and see how the processes and preparation for Ram's coronation you can't help but feel terrible for Ram.

People all excited to welcome Ram. He hears some people talking how Ram on ascending the throne would mean peace and prosperity for many years to come. Dignitaries have come from all over the country, like a full public event. Ram looks so regal only to let go all of it in a few moments unaware of his mother Kaikeyi's intentions

And this man I know why our elders would advise us to look upto Ram. This man after getting a terrible blow and getting an exile akin to a death sentence from his mother who loved him dearly and was even so happy with the news of Ram's coronation. He is then asked to leave the palace immediately for 14 years like never once come back for 14 years.

Keeping myself in Ram's position to not come back home once for so many years would kill me. I don't think I would give any thought about promises dharma or karma then when I would be told to go away.

And do you all realize that he was giving up an empire which was rightfully his? To learn from Ram, I think we must learn to keep ourselves in his position and think what our step would be and see the difference between Ram's behaviour and thoughts and us.

It's like you are told that you will have a promotion at work and get a high position. Everything is set. The people, your new cabin, your new post everything and once you come to office to begin your duties you are told that you won't get promotion without stating what you did wrong or where your efforts lacked.

Tell me how would you feel?

This is similar to Ram's case too. For him promotion would mean to be the king and take control of a grand empire. You must see how Valmiki describes Ayodhya. I would love to live there.

And when he is walking back to his own palace (ram and sita lived in a separate palace away from Dasharath's) he doesn't use the parasol and the chariot.

Today every person whom I talk too regarding Ram, I see everyone getting angry and pointing faults at him.

This is epic Kaikeyi behaviour. Kaikeyi after getting her mind poisoned not once does she think of ram and her relationship with him, his qualities, etc. We too do the same thing. All this while I always said Ram shouldn't have done this should not have done that why should Ram be idealized?

Growing up I realise why dada dadis would tell us to be like Ram. You can be steady and calm in good situations how do you keep your self steady and calm when life is being unfair to you? We all slip into sadness, submit to grief and anger and worse into all sorts of terrible addictions to cope with it.

And what did we do to Ram? Forget learning from him, we politicise him. Ram is a tool for vote bank, Jai Shri Ram is a war cry and shit like that.

Kaikeyi was unfair to Ram and so are we. We are no better.

Just like what my elders did, I am going to tell my children and the upcoming generation about Rama and to be like him.

Jai Shri Ram 🙏

[lyrabythelake]

Ghost Wind AU

part 1 || part 2

These heroes can be real idiots sometimes, Wind thinks dully as he watches yet another poorly concocted plan pan out exactly as terribly as he had foretold it would. This one even involves explosives for that added spice of death.

“For Hylia’s sake,” he says out loud as Sky throws his sailcloth over Hyrule’s hair which is literally on fire.

“Well done everyone,” Time praises once all flames are successfully smothered. They look a mess, the lot of them. Hyrule’s hair is missing chunks and still smoking a little bit, Wild is sporting both a wide grin and a broken arm and Legend is noticeably limping as he joins the rest of the group where they’re congregated.

“I would say that was a pretty successful ambush. We managed to take out all the enemies—”

“And half the mountain,” Wind adds.

“—we may have to work on bringing down casualties on our side, but that’s something we can talk about for next time. Right now, I say we take a well-earned rest. Sky, can you distribute potions to those who need them, please?”

“Pretty successful?” Wind screeches incredulously, following Time as he separates himself from the rest of them and sits down with his back leaning against a tree, lowering himself with a groan like the dramatic old man he pretends he isn’t.

“Pretty successful?!” That was a disaster! I’m better at planning attacks than all of you put together and I have the mind of a fourteen-year-old.”

Time takes off one of his boots with a relieved sigh, wrinkling his nose at the smell. Most of Wind’s senses are dulled these days, but he swears even he can smell the stench coming from those socks.

“You should have attacked from the side,” Wind tells him, settling next to him with his chin in his hand. Time starts to remove his weaponry from the belt around his torso. “I know coming from above seems like the obvious attack, but you could have been stealthier if you’d come from the left. You probably wouldn’t have any casualties and you wouldn’t have caused that landslide.”

Time brings up a finger to clean the wax out of one of his ears and then proceeds to take off his shoulder pads and chest plate.

“I mean, I know Warriors is your best tactician, but he can also be as much of a pyromaniac as Hyrule sometimes, so you’ve got to be the voice of reason.”

Time settles back into the tree trunk, watching the others distantly as they set up camp for the night. It’s a peaceful scene, one much needed after the chaos and volume of the battle.

“Yeah, it’s probably not all that fun being the leader, huh?” Wind nods in understanding. “You do a good job really; who knows where the others would be if they were left to their own devices.”

Time grunts as if to agree and then rummages in his bag for a few seconds before pulling out a large, red apple.

“Now that’s just rude,” Wind mutters as he takes a bite, “you know how long it’s been since I’ve been able to eat an apple? Two hundred years, that’s how long, and you decide to eat one right in front of me. I’d kill to be you right now.”

Wind folds his arms as he watches him with a wistful frown. Even the memory of what an apple tastes like faded for him long ago. Food is something he misses most about being alive.

“This is torture,” he murmurs after a while and he pries his eyes away from Time to look around at his surroundings. The sun is low on the horizon, the faintest blush of pink starting to creep into the clear blue sky and the other heroes, having finished setting up camp, are laughing and chatting amongst themselves by the fire. They’re just far enough away that he can’t hear exactly what they’re saying, but they sound happy.

He stares at them longingly for a while before he realises there’s one missing.

“Huh. Where’s our resident ranch hand?” he asks nobody. He scans the treeline, pausing when he notices a flash of movement heading into the woods a small distance away.

“Or should I say our resident wolf?”

He pushes himself off the ground and heads in the direction he’s certain the wolf went. It’s not long before he catches up to him (he’s able to forgo weaving through the trees in favour of phasing right through them), and once he’s in his sights it’s relatively easy to keep up.

He’s curious about where he might be going; it’s not often that Twilight transforms into the wolf unless absolutely necessary. He probably just wants some time to his self; he’s sure sharing space with seven other heroes is probably quite taxing, so he’s likely after some peace and quiet.

“I don’t blame you,” he says out loud, “those lot are exhausting.”

Wolfie suddenly stops and stands stock still, ears twitching.

“You hear something?” Wind asks inquisitively, coming to a halt just behind him. He hadn’t heard anything himself, but that means nothing considering the proficiency of Wolfie’s ears compared to his own.

Wolfie perks up once more and twists around so his head faces in Wind’s direction, and if Wind didn’t know better, he would have been certain his eyes were locked straight onto his.

“What do you see?” he asks, his curiosity mounting. Wolfie lets out a small whine which turns into a bark before tilting his head ever so slightly to the left. His eyes still seem to look right at him, as if… but no, that’s impossible.

It is impossible. Wind hasn’t managed to gain the attention of anyone since his death over two hundred years ago, he’s accepted that’s how things are supposed to be now.

But what if…

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters to himself before taking a deep breath. He might as well prove to himself that interaction with the living world is just as impossible now as it’s always been. “Okay. Wolfie, bark twice if you can hear me.”

Wolfie barks twice.

Wind’s eyes widen so far, his non-existent eyeballs are in danger of falling out of their sockets.

“Holy shit.”

If Wind had a working heart, he’s sure it would be thumping hard right now.

“Wait… how do I know that wasn’t a coincidence? Er… Wolfie, bark five times if you can see me.”

Wolfie doesn’t bark, but instead lets out a low growl and Wind’s heart sinks. It was stupid to get his hopes up, of course he can’t see him, that would make no sense at all.

The air fills with dark particles and all of a sudden, a man stands where the wolf once did.

“I know you’re there,” Twilight says, “I can’t see you now, but I can as the wolf.”

Well this… this certainly changes things.

[a-d-nox]

Hello, could you tell us about the asteroid Cleopatra? I have this asteroid conjunct Venus and is in the 1st house. Thanks.

cleopatra, queen of kings (asteroid 216)

back by popular request - egyptian asteroids - history and myth (@safieblue this is for you too (i didn’t forget you ;) just a little behind in the ask department!)).

paid reading options: astrology menu & cartomancy menu

enjoy my work? help me continue creating by tipping on ko-fi or paypal. your support keeps the magic alive!

cleopatra :)

Cleopatra was a notable Queen of Egypt and historical woman. She was known for her logistical skills, cunning, power, and charisma. Many say that she had an irresistible personality. It was Julius Caesar that had her statue erected in the temple of Venus - this was because she herself was thought to be a goddess or goddess reincarnated (many believed she was Isis - who is most similar to Venus/Aphrodite (hence the temple selected)). Cleopatra had great strategic skills because she had knowledge on how to speak around eight languages - this allowed for more trade and diplomacy amongst those countries around Egypt. She was a very intelligent woman who was known to have studied philosophy, writing, politics, etc. It is likely that she gained all this knowledge based on living in Alexandria, which was a cultural hub and had a renowned library. Her reputation was what made two well known Roman generals fall in love with her: Julius Caesar and Marc Antony. Most references on her have been distorted with time - most at large being her looks. Many say that she was gorgeous like Venus herself but others say she was average (most trustworthy may be the statues and coins made in her image - you can debate her beauty amongst yourself, i for one say we are all pretty hot lol). Back to her story though - Cleopatra was made to marry her brother after her father died. Her brother had her exiled after learning that he could have all the fame and glory instead of sharing it. Rome’s involvement is due to Cleopatra's father, who had a large amount of debt incurred from Rome, as well as Cleopatra's connection to the Ptolemaic dynasty (Macedonian in origin - Greek). After a civil war in Greece, the general Pompey fled to Egypt knowing that there were people who most likely had to take him in - he was wrong, Cleopatra's brother killed him. When Caesar found out about what had occurred, he demanded that Egypt pay for this terrible deed. Cleopatra was able to settle this peacefully and sweet talk Caesar into placing her back on the throne. Caesar was inspired by Cleopatra and brought ideas back to his homeland after staying in Egypt for many months - sadly, Caesar was assassinated shortly after his homecoming. Octavian and Marc Antony came to Cleopatra asking for her help in avenging Caesar. Cleopatra quickly agreed for the sake of her and Caesar's son. Marc Antony and Cleopatra quickly became involved romantically - their honeymoon phase offended Octavian into annexing Egypt and claiming emperorship of Rome. He convinced Rome that Cleopatra was trying to ruin their traditions and corrupt their leaders which caused a fleet to attack Marc Antony and Egypt. The rest is a bit blurred due to popular culture having mostly Roman history available to work with - which is a bit biased as to what happened with Cleopatra or her reign in general. So I will end it on this note: at the age of seventeen she began ruling and it is said that the twenty plus years following that were prosperity and peaceful in the eyes of Egyptians'. IN MY OPINION Kleopatra in a chart represents a) how good you are at strategic thinking, b) how others see your beauty, c) how you are remembered, d) diplomacy and how well you interact with foreigners, e) love affairs, and/or f) your power of persuasion.

i encourage you to look into the aspects of kleopatra along with the sign, degree, and house placement. for the more advanced astrologers, take a look at the persona chart of kleopatra AND/OR add the other characters involved to see how they support or impede kleopatra!

OTHER RELATED ASTEROIDS/PLANETS: aphrodite (1388), VENUS, isis (42), and caesar (18458)!

have ideas for new content? please use my “suggest a post topic” button! 

return to nox’s guide to metaphysics

return to the masterlist of egyptian myths & legends

[ficsforeren]

The Last Song - Chapter 6

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: Rockstar AU, Friends with Benefits, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn

Series Summary: Eren Jaeger has two personas, a charismatic lead vocal who has lost himself in fame, and a boy who struggles with depression, seeking for someone to bring him back to where he was twelve years ago. Where he only knew love in the form of your name.

Chapter Summary: You keep insisting on applying some rules to your Friends-with-Benefits relationship but Eren never wants to play by your book.

Content Warnings: explicit sex (cunnilingus, blow job, fingering, hand job, car sex, dry humping, drunk sex, public sex, unprotected sex, one night stand, choking, treating women like objects, dub-con, corruption, face-sitting, sex toys, daddy kink, praise kink, slight degradation, etc), substance abuse (use of drugs, alcohol, tobacco), severe abandonment issues, childhood trauma, anxiety attacks, depression, adultery, physical abuse towards men and women, family issues, abusive parents, crude words, dark humor, mention of sexual assault/rape, harassment, car accident and child abuse.

Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart (follow her on Twitter)

This ‘fuck buddies’ thing is a bad idea. A terrible idea.

And you know that this will probably lead to something even more terrible but it seems like there’s no other way. You can’t go back to just being friends with him, not when your body is constantly craving for his touch, not when your lips are always chasing after his, not when his face—God, that handsome, beautiful face of his—keeps appearing in your head every five seconds. You’re lusting for your best friend, and it’s a sick thought but what can you do when he wants you just the same?

It’s like you’re going from one phase to another. First, it was the passionate sex—the frantic, I-can’t-keep-my-hands-off-you kind of physical relationship that would leave bruises on your skin, and scratches down Eren’s back. Then, it was the fun sex, like you two were playing a game, testing each other’s patience and limits, giggling and laughing between kisses. And now… You’re not sure how to call it but you can tell that this one shouldn’t happen because it’s too… intimate. There are feelings involved when you both know, you can’t get emotionally attached. This is not how Friends-with-Benefits relationship is supposed to work. It feels like every kiss, lingering and sweet, means something more. Something stronger than passion. Each playful teasing turns into delicate touches, affectionate as if you’re worshipping each other’s bodies instead of marking your territories. Flirty banters turn into loving praises and you have to put a stop before these praises turn into confessions.

Whenever you’re alone in your bed, your mind always drifts to the beautiful, green-eyed boy and it’s okay. It’s a given knowing how much you’ve been spending your time together. What frightens you is that you’re not just simply craving for his touches. You’re longing for his presence. You’re yearning for him, entirely.

This… This has got to stop. But Eren is becoming more and more like alcohol to you, addicting and dangerous and you have tasted him enough to know that you’re not gonna be sober anytime soon.

***

Summer is your favorite season, but you love whenever it rains.

There’s something about the way the earth falls into silence, only the sound of water touching the ground reverberating to your ears. There’s something about the way you can smell the pine trees, or the wet grass, or the fresh air once the sun begins to peek behind the clouds. And there’s something about the way he embraces you with his lips soothingly caress your nape, murmuring sweet nothings against your bare skin.

Eren loves holding you when it pours outside, as it makes you thirst for his body heat even more. He loves tangling his arms around your waist, his fingers mildly massaging your breast as the rain trickles down your glassy windows. He loves pressing his torso to your naked spine, completing every curve of your body with his, as the clouds rumble quietly above the earth.

“I love this,” you admit it as well, sighing in pleasure. Eren moves so slow, gently swaying his hips back and forth with you meeting him halfway. He feels so good inside, making you feel complete in every way possible. “I love it when you hold me like this.”

“Me too,” he murmurs, placing a delicate, wet kiss on your nape, and nuzzling his nose against the crook of your neck. “I wish it could just rain forever.” His voice always sounds deeper when he’s this close to your ear—breathier too, and you wonder whether he’s doing it on purpose to send goosebumps breaking all over your skin.

“That could cause serious issues, actually,” you reply, filled with amusement. Your little giggles never last long, replenished by soft moans once you feel his fingers sliding down to tease your favorite spot, the one that’s aching between your legs, yearning for his attention.

“Let them drown, I don’t care.” His chuckles are mixed with a low groan once he feels you tightening around him. “As long as I can hold you like this, ah, I don’t care if the world ends.”

Despite your usual playful banter, everything else doesn’t feel quite the same. It’s romantic and sensual, and it’s not something friends would do to keep each other warm. But every time your conscience tells you to stop, you snuggle even closer, intertwining your legs with his and Eren doesn’t mind. He never does. He wishes he could keep you like this for eternity. You try to think that maybe the reason why spooning feels so good is simply because of science. They say that hugging may lead to a release of oxytocin—the hormone that can reduce stress and keep you happy. Maybe that’s just it. Maybe that’s the reason why you never want this to stop. He sends you over the moon, that’s all it is.

(Click here if you want to listen to the song while you read)

We got the afternoon

You got this room for two

One thing I've left to do

Discover me, discovering you

John Mayer’s Your Body is a Wonderland is playing through the speakers in your living room. It’s resonating faintly to the bedroom, but it’s loud enough for you both to pick up. Half an hour ago, you were listening to your playlist as you spent your time reading a magazine with Eren sitting nearby on the floor, playing Resident Evil 5 on his Xbox One. That was until he noticed you shivering from the cold and insisted to play something else to keep you warm instead. You never got to turn the speakers off, forgetting to do anything else once Eren’s silky, plump lips were drawing filthy designs on your neck.

One mile to every inch of

Your skin like porcelain

“Such a nice coincidence,” Eren deeply chuckles, referring to the song. He changes position, going back to settle himself between your legs but he doesn’t enter you just yet. Your spine is pressed flat against the sheets, his pendant grazing your clavicle as he hovers above you. “I wouldn’t have been able to pick a better song to describe you even if I try.”

One pair of candy lips

And your bubblegum tongue

He plants velvety kisses on your cheek before he makes his way to your mouth, letting his tongue caress the smoothness of your lower lip. “Your lips taste fucking amazing,” he breathes out before he deepens the kiss, tautening the knots inside your stomach. He’s always like this, praising you. And he does it like he never meant to say it out loud. As if he was just so overwhelmed by emotions—overwhelmed by your beauty, your scent, your voice, your everything—that his mouth just ran on its own. It feels more like he was stating out the truth instead of complimenting you to make your heart flutter. But it does. It makes your heart rate soar as if you had been running for hours and Eren never gives you the time to catch your breath.

He leans back to sit on his knees, tucking a few loose strands of his hair behind his ear so nothing can distract him from marveling at your beauty. “And if you want love, we’ll make it,” he serenely sings along, smirking lightly as he trails a finger from your collarbone down to your chest, stopping to brush his thumb over your nipple once. “Swim in a deep sea of blankets.” With glazed eyes, he glides his fingertips further down, passing your belly button before he traces the shape of your pelvis. His touches are idle, light and teasing, yet still manage to light the fireworks inside your stomach just the same. “Take all your big plans and break ‘em.” His other hand lazily strokes himself, rubbing his tip against your clitoris. He looks up to you, a corner of his lips tilting upward as you lock gazes. “This is bound to be a while.”

“Stop teasing me,” you tell him but in all honesty, this excites you too. There’s something sexy about the way he’s so enjoying the moment—enjoying you—while painting the dirty lyrics all over your body.

Your body is a wonderland

“Your body is a wonder, I’ll use my hands,” Eren echoes, softly like a whisper as he leans forward to take your earlobe between his lips, his fingers rubbing against your folds. The words, the melody, and the way he sings it to you—only to you—makes you think that, yes, you probably wouldn’t care either if the world drowns. As long as he’s here, embracing you like this a moment before he sends you to cloud nine, the rest of the world can fade away.

“Your body is a wonderland,” he emphasizes, licking his lips as he ravishes you with his eyes. “These lips, this curve of your waist—You make me want to write a song about it too. Every little part of you.”

“Just—” You can’t keep up with this. He’s too obscene. He’s a God of seduction and you’re just a mere human, powerless and weak underneath his sinful strokes. “Just come back inside me, Eren, please…”

But you are too. To him, you’re Aphrodite, and with only one lure from your eyes, he’s ready to sin. He spreads you wide open so he can perfectly see the way he slides in, rocking his hips against yours like he has all the time in the world to relish the thought of being connected to you in every way possible.

“God, baby,” he sighs, feeling the way you’re tightening around him. “You’re so warm…” He leans down until he’s almost lying on top of you, embracing you tighter as he goes a little bit deeper inside, causing another sultry moan to break free from your lips. “How can you be so warm?”

“Well,” you tilt your head to the side when you feel his lips moving from your ear to your jawline. You part your mouth, welcoming him inside to taste the rest of your jasmine mint toothpaste. “From what I read in college, our muscles and metabolism generate heat continuously so when—”

“Shut up,” he laughs into the kiss, so airy and light, just as warm as the blood that courses through his veins.

Whenever he has the chance, he will lock his eyes with yours and you had no problem with it before, at least not this much. His gaze is always intense, always heavy—it almost feels suffocating, but it's also tender like he’s adoring you. Like you’re the most beautiful thing he ever laid his eyes on. It makes your heart race. Makes your stomach swirl. Makes the butterflies you didn’t know you had in your stomach come alive.

“Let me stay forever like this,” he says. Lips, eyes, skin. He’s savoring everything, loving the way you’re taking him in, basking in your warmth and the vibration you give whenever he provides you the friction that you want. Unable to stand both his velvety murmurs and his gaze, you hide behind your palms before he can catch the blush that emerges on your cheeks.

“Hey…” Eren pries your hands away. “Don’t hide. I want to see your face.”

“Stop staring at me.” You beseech as you glance away, flushed. “You always do this and it’s—“ Your head sinks deep into your pillow, legs spreading wide apart to give him more chance to bury himself deeper. “You’re making me nervous.”

“We’ve done this so many times and you’re complaining now?” His chuckles are relaxed, almost blissful. Reaching up a hand to frame your face, he draws your gaze back to him. “Are you nervous because I’m looking at you,” he pauses to kiss your lips, languid and lasting, “Or is it because you’re worried that I’ll know just how much I’m making you feel good?” His smirk is just as sinful as the sway of his hips, and this one feels more like Eren. Or at least, how he’s supposed to be. It’s easier to deal with him when he acts flirty and mischievous. It’s still a dangerous combination, but yet again, everything Eren does is dangerous.

“Can’t you just look away, please?” You pout between whines, accomplishing nothing but riling him up even more. He loves it when you pout. He loves it when you beg. Not because it makes him feel superior. Because you make him feel like you need him.

“No.” He showers another kiss to the corner of your lips, trailing his way down to your ear. “What are you so embarrassed about? You’re perfect.”

Your stomach flips, unconsciously squeezing yourself around him, and expletives flee from his lips. “Christ,” Eren gasps. “I can never get enough of how good you feel around me when you do that.”

Ashamed beyond belief, you try to shove him away by the shoulders, only to have your hand pinned down to the bed. But he doesn’t hold you dominantly by curling his fingers around your wrist, not like how he usually was. This time, he slides his lean ones between your shorter ones, intertwining your fingers so naturally as if God had specifically created your hand to fit his.

You panic, shaken by the intimacy. “Eren—“

“Shh,” he kisses you once and it isn’t enough. “It’s okay. I’ll make you feel good, baby.”

With his mouth pressing an idle kiss on your shoulder, he brings down his hips, pushing in deeper, and maintains a steady pace once he sees you separates your lips in a silent moan, satisfied with the friction he provides. He drags his face away slightly so he can take another glimpse of your expression. “I love how you can be cute and pretty at the same time,” he praises, chest meeting chest as he pounds harder, his mouth kissing your chin when you throw your head back in pleasure. “You’re so goddamn perfect.”

“Stop staring—” You’re gasping for air, feeling like you were about to burst. He never does, and the intensity of his stare only doubles your pleasure by ten folds. It’s so affectionate the way he holds your gaze, just like the way he laces your fingers together, holding them so tightly as if you’re going to let go if he doesn’t do so. And maybe that’s true because that’s the right thing to do, right? Aren’t you just friends?

But you can’t think about that. Not right now. Once you catch the way he looks at you with those beautiful teal eyes going half-lidded, you can’t help but marvel at his beauty too. The way his cheeks are painted with scarlet, the way his lips are red and bruised by your own, the way your name escapes his lips in breathless moans. His eyes—it’s like they’re trying to convey the feelings he never puts on words. The feelings he tries his best to keep locked and concealed inside his chest. And you want to know what it is, you might know what it is, you just don’t allow yourself to believe it.

Eren muffles your sob with his lips and you can feel them curving up into a tiny smile as he feels your walls clenching around him. The vibration that runs through your body causes shivers to trickle down his spine and he loves it. “I want to keep you like this forever,” he vocalizes, emerald eyes never appeared this tranquil before. “The way you’re looking at me right now… The way you’re holding me…” He closes his lids, pressing his temple against yours as he sighs. “I don’t ever want to let you go.”

Sex always lasts longer when you seek each other’s warmth instead of comfort. You’re not desperate for release, you’re desperate for connection. Once he gives you that, you will try to keep it as long as you can. You’re not sure whether minutes or hours have passed with your body tangled with his underneath the sheets. No matter how long, it will still feel like it’s not long enough. But all good things must come to an end, and you’re both crashed over with eyebrows knitted in ecstasy and obscene moans bouncing off the walls.

Eren falls asleep not long after and he drifts off so peacefully like he always does whenever he’s with you. He doesn’t make a sound, only emanating soft sighs through parted lips. “Big baby,” you murmur as you smile slightly to yourself, brushing his long strands away from his face.

It’s rare for him to have a day off from work so you chose to take a day off too, just to spend as many hours as you could with him. Knowing that you both had only eaten take-outs for brunch, you decide to cook something for dinner. You lay a sweet kiss on the corner of his mouth, making him stir a little in his sleep before you climb down the bed. You hastily wash in the shower, erasing the stain that he left on your inner thighs with warm water before you wrap a towel around your chest.

Eren’s button-down shirt is thrown haphazardly on the floor, along with his jeans and sneakers. Feeling quite mischievous, you snatch it away and let it drape down your body. The hem falls to your mid-thigh, the fabric of his shirt falls loose, and silky-smooth on your skin. You bask in the scent of his bergamot perfume, but you love that you can still smell him—your sweet, sweet summer—underneath it. You roll the sleeves to your forearms, taking a quick look at the mirror to fix your hair but end up staring at your reflection for a good whole minute.

I look like his girlfriend, you can help but think. You’re wearing his shirt, you can still remember the sweet taste of his mouth on your tongue, your collarbones are painted with the little love bites from his teeth. A part of you tells you to stop, to immediately discard his shirt and settle for one of your old sweaters instead. But your heart forces you to keep it on, knowing that it would surprise him once he’s awake and maybe, just maybe, you could make him happy too.

“Yeah, just don’t think about it too much,” you mutter, making your way to the kitchen. You tie up your hair in a messy bun, choosing a different music playlist to play from your phone, and put it on shuffle.

Eren wakes up twenty-three minutes later with a yawn. He reaches his hand forward, blindly trying to find you on your other side of the bed. Noticing that you’re not there, he forces his eyes open before he sits with his blanket pooling around his waist. “Babe?” He calls, voice hoarse from sleep even if he only napped for less than an hour.

“I’m in the kitchen.”

“Oh.” He sleepily rubs his eyes, his hair’s a mess—both from sleep and your hands. He steps down the bed, pulls back his jeans, and lets them hang low on his hips. “Hey, have you seen my shirt?”

“I’m wearing it.”

“You’re—” He blinks twice, almost half-running to the kitchen to catch a glimpse of you. He stops once he sees you standing near the stove, a spatula in your hand.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you turn around to face him, a flush blooming faintly on your cheek. “I hope you don’t mind I’m borrowing it. It’s just—the fabric’s so soft.” Which is not a lie, but not the reason why you wear it. “I’ve prepared another shirt you can wear. It’s on the coffee table.”

He doesn’t mind—of course, he doesn’t. Hell, this is probably the cutest you’ve ever appeared in front of him. Both cute and sexy too, as you’re not wearing anything else underneath but your panties. But he doesn’t want to look so transparent, doesn’t want you to know just how fucking happy he is right now. Doesn’t want to dwell too much in it, or else he’ll start thinking that maybe the reason why you’re wearing it is that you want to feel like you belong to him. Like you’re his lover. Like this—whatever it is that happened today—means more to you than something casual between friends.

“It’s, uh…” He clears his throat, grabbing the shirt you laid out for him—it’s one of the old shirts that he never remembered to bring it back with him. “It’s too big on you.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a giant,” you tell him, shifting back to focus on your dish. He can most definitely tell that you’re embarrassed, but you could also see how he turned pink the second he saw you. The question is: is this normal?

No. None of these things I’m doing with him today are normal, you inwardly sigh. God, why do I keep doing this? Why do I keep letting myself get carried away by the moment?

Not a few seconds later, you can feel his arms curling themselves around your waist and you find yourself surrendering to him once again. “Eren, I’m busy here.” There’s no strength in your voice—if anything, it sounds like you’re asking him to hold you tighter instead of warning him to let go.

And Eren knows that too. “What are you making?” He questions instead, standing close as he settles his chin down on your head. “Smells wonderful.” Like rosemary and mint, he says as he breathes in your scent, smiling a little to himself when he noticed you’re wearing the expensive shampoo he bought you as a gift.

“Italian Chicken Meatball Soup,” you say, showing him the recipe you display on your phone screen. “I know how you like Italian food so I’m trying to make one.”

“You’re making this for me?”

“I—” You blush, your hand nearly stops stirring your soup. “Well, I’m making it for both of us, obviously, but—” Eren tickles your side, causing you to jump on your feet. “Hey!”

“Why can’t you just say yes?” He challenges you, chuckling. “Just straight out admit it and let me be happy.”

You hesitate before you finally give in, pouting as you murmur, “It’s… for you.”

You can’t see his face but you can feel his smile growing on your skin as he kisses your cheek. “Thank you.”

This might be the best day of my life, Eren thinks, his chest feels so full, he could barely breathe. He continues hugging you from behind as he hums, waiting for you to be finished with your dish when your phone starts playing a different song.

(Click here if you want to listen to the song while you read)

The strands in your eyes that color them wonderful

Stop me, and steal my breath

“Oh, I remember this song,” you say, putting it on a low heat as your mind takes a trip to the past. “My parents used to slow dance to this song whenever it came on the radio. It started to grow on me so I added it to my playlist too. Haven’t heard this in a while.”

It’s such a trivial matter but Eren remembers, like how he remembers everything else about you. You only told him once about it during junior high when he asked you what song you were humming to. Once he knew that it was a romantic song that your parents loved, the fourteen years old version of him thought, someday, I want to dance with her to this song too.

Eren decides that today is the day he fulfills that promise.

He steals the wooden spatula away from your hand and he fills the spaces between your fingers with his own. He spins you around until your face almost knocks against his chest.

And emeralds from mountains

The thrust towards the sky

Never revealing their depth

“What are you doing?” You ask him, frowning to mask the way your heart palpitates inside your ribcages.

He lays his other hand on the dip of your waist. There’s a twinkle in his beautiful eyes, playful and juvenile, and it matches his grin. “Place your hand on my shoulder.”

And tell me that we belong together

Dress it up with the trappings of love

“You’re asking me to dance with you?”

“No. I’m forcing you to.”

Without warning, Eren lifts his left hand—the one that’s intertwined with yours—in the air and he twirls you around. Once, twice, by the time you’re spinning for your third time, you lose your balance and he catches you in his arms, beaming at you like a child.

I'll be captivated, I'll hang from your lips

Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above

“You’re terrible,” you mutter flatly as he pulls you back to your feet.

“At dancing?” He coos, smirking. He guides your free hand to drape on his shoulder. “Or as a person in general?”

“Both.”

He titters. “Ouch.”

And I'll be your cryin' shoulder

I'll be love's suicide

And I'll be better when I'm older

I'll be the greatest fan of your life.

Eren sways from side to side, left to right and you follow his lead. He’s not terrible at it. He moves naturally, patiently, maybe even gracefully. What’s terrible is the affectionate aura he’s giving, the romantic air that disperses between the proximity, the way he steals glances at you, abashed and elated. He never seems this blissful when you catch his smile. Everything makes you nervous. He makes you nervous.

“Relax,” he says, noticing how you stiffen every now and then every time he makes a move. “I’m not gonna bite. Well, not until tonight, anyway.”

That annoying, yet adorable grin of his surprisingly finds its way to your lips as well. “You’re disgusting.” But he’s succeeded at easing the tension and you can finally breathe properly, relaxing in his arms. You follow his lead, moving to the slow beat of the song. Before you know it, the gap between you is closing by the second until you’re close enough to lay your head on his chest if you want to. “I don’t think we’ve ever danced before.”

“Yeah,” Eren replies. “It’s sad that we went to different high schools. I would’ve taken you to prom.”

The image of him dressed handsomely in a black tuxedo, asking for your hand before he leads you to the dance floor feels so clear, you have to shake your head once to shake it off. You snort, trying to act nonchalant. “How bold of you to think I’d say yes.”

“You would’ve definitely said yes.” His confidence and smugness stand vividly in his voice. “‘Cause there would be no one else for you to go to prom with.”

“You think I couldn’t get myself a date?”

“Not someone as hot as me.”

He has a point, you admit but you’re not going to feed his ego. “Cocky little shit.”

“A cocky little shit who would love to spend the entire night dancing with you.” The amusement in his voice vanishes, however, once he says, “I would be with you forever if you let me.”

Your stomach is dancing on its own, somersaulting to his every word. “Stop saying nonsense.”

And the rain falls, angry on the tin roof

As we lie awake in my bed

“And you're my survival, you're my living proof,” he suddenly sings, so soothingly and beautiful, stunning you. He leans in to playfully rub the tip of his nose against yours. “My love is alive, not dead.”

Fuck. You look away, your entire face feels like burning. “I—I didn’t—it’s weird that you know this song,” you stammer so terribly, you wish you had kept your mouth shut. “I thought you only listened to rock music.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Sweetheart.” He raises one hand to twirl you around once more, much gentler this time, and you do it seamlessly as you follow his guide.

“Tell me something then.” You’re finally brave enough to meet his gaze. “Tell me something that you’ve never told me before.”

“Ladies first,” he challenges. “If you can tell me one thing that you're sure I haven’t known about you, then I’ll be honest and answer anything you ask me.”

And that’s tempting. There are a lot of questions you want to ask him—what happened to him in the past; what happened to his family; how does he feel about you exactly—about this relationship you’re having. There are so many things you want him to confirm, and to get that, you’ll have to provide him with something stronger than a secret. A confession.

“You already know that you…” You’re bashful but you know you have to say it. “That you were my first, um, sexual partner. But you were also my—“ You take a deep breath. “My first kiss.”

You can feel him freeze for a second, his fingers clutching tighter around yours. “What?”

“I—I mean—isn’t it obvious?” You avert your gaze, turning a bit frantic. “We were in junior high when that happened. I’d never dated anyone else—never even held hands with any boy before, and you just… You just suddenly kissed me like that.”

Eren keeps himself in reticence as he processes the entire thing. He’s never looked at it in that way before. He already feels so content knowing that the kiss was real and not just a random dream that appeared in his head from thinking about his first love so much. And now, to hear that he was her first kiss too?

“Did you… regret it?” His previous confidence has been shredded to nothing and he stands there, looking at anywhere but your face, afraid of hearing your reply.

But you don’t even have to think about the answer. It’s clear in your head, it’s always been. “No,” you confirm with a smile, warm and mellow. “I’m glad I shared it with you.”

How is this even real? He thinks. Maybe he’s still sleeping and this is all a dream. “You’re…” Eren murmurs. “You were my first kiss too.” Your gaze immediately drifts back to his, staring at him with wide eyes. “W-what is it?” He grows noticeably nervous under your scrutinizing stare.

“So, like…” Your heart thrashes wildly. “We were each other’s first kiss?”

Underneath the blush and the awkwardness, he can somehow see the excitement in your eyes, the little joy for finally being his first at something physical, and it makes him melt. Makes him feel surreal. Makes him feel lucky. So with a smile, he agrees with, “Yeah. And I don’t regret it either. I never will.”

You’re lost a little bit in his eyes, before your gaze goes down to his lips, somehow a little bit tempted to kiss them again even if you have done it numerous times by now.

Keep yourself together.

But Eren sees the sign and he takes the lead, placing a chaste kiss—one that only lasts for a second and not more but enough to keep your lips tingling once it ends. “W-what are you doing?” You stutter, blushing madly.

“I thought I was dreaming when that happened,” he says, awkward and adorable. “So I thought I’d do it again. For real this time.”

“You’ve already kissed me hundreds of times before, idiot.”

“You’re right. Guess I’m not making any sense.” He chortles, shy and light. “I always do that when I’m with you.”

Maybe it’s something about the way he naturally says the words that make you ponder whether you make him feel so many things at once, that he stops making sense entirely. That’s how much he’s affecting you too and hopes and joy begin to spread all over your chest. Before you know it, you’re already asking him to, “Try again.”

“Huh?”

You slide your hand down his shoulder, stopping when you reach his elbow and carefully tug him forward. “Eren…” With your eyes falling to his lips, he gets the message.

Eren wets his lips once, like how a nervous boy would at the thought of sharing his first kiss with his first love, and to Eren, it’s just like that. He wants to make this first kiss as perfect as it can be, and the thought of disappointing you makes his stomach swirl uneasily. He releases your hand, moving his larger one to your face, and tenderly pushes a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. He keeps his other hand on the curve of your waist, holding you closer to him. And as he whispers your name, he cups your cheek and closes the distance.

How can a pair of lips meeting another pair spark so much fire inside, you muse. Eren’s lips are simply pressing against yours, touching so lightly, you could barely feel them, and yet…

Eren, why do I want you so much?

Both of you are holding your breath, your hands lay still on your side before you finally force your body to relax, and hug him back by circling your arms around his waist. Eren, with his eyebrows furrowing deeply in concentration, sighs into the kiss once he feels your lips parting underneath his. He only slightly deepens the kiss, his thumb stroking your cheek, and with the hushed, little moan he emits, the tiny hairs on your nape begin to raise.

It feels so perfect—the way he kisses, the romantic music that plays in the background, this moment, him—everything feels so perfect. It’s the kind of kiss that you often saw in romantic movies, ones that made you go, “Oh, how I wish I could have someone kiss me like that in real life.” It’s a bit ironic and frightening to know that the person who grants your wish is your friend who you’ve known for over a decade but above all that, it just… feels right.

When Eren breaks away, ending the sweetest dream you’ve ever had in your wake, he lays his forehead against yours for a few seconds before he expands the gap. Then, slowly, sheepishly, he smiles, quietly asking you, “Was that… okay?”

It would have made him so happy if you could just be honest but you can’t. Not when you’re feeling like your heart is about to fail. “It was… decent.”

“Decent?” He blurts out giggling, taking you by your hand and waist to start dancing along with you once more. “Man, I tried so hard to impress and I only got decent?”

You land your hand on his shoulder again. “Maybe you need some practice.”

“Oh, I would love to practice some more.”

Him being sweet nearly gives you a heart attack but so does his naughty eyebrow raise, that you have to quickly move on to the next topic to stop you from going even flustered. “Your turn.” You firmly speak up. “But instead of telling me a secret, I want you to tell me what you want. Tell me something that you want so badly, you thought you’d explode if you couldn’t have it in your life.” That wasn’t the question you wanted to ask him at first but it feels right to be asked in this situation. Inwardly, you wonder, would it have anything to do with me?

Maybe it’s because he just realized that he played an even bigger role in your life than he thought. Or maybe it’s simply because you’re close enough to have your breath falling to his lips when you speak. But whatever it is, it causes his heart to swell so much inside his chest, it begins to cloud his mind.

I want you, Eren screams internally. I want you so much, it hurts. I want to relive this day every day for the rest of my life. We’re right here, doing everything that only lovers do and yet you’re not mine. I still can’t call you mine. Why aren’t you mine?

And once he separates his lips, the words come out like a confession. “I want to marry you,” he says and you freeze, eyes widening in disbelief. The music is still playing, mixed by the sound of the pouring rain, and the stuttered breathing that paints the air.

“What?” You ask him but you can barely hear it yourself. Your grip loosens from his shoulder and Eren releases your hand from his hold, his fingers framing both of your cheeks as he sighs. His half-lidded eyes droop once they land on your lips. “Eren—“

“God, I wanna marry you.” He kisses you, consuming and hard as always, but not deep as if a part of him isn’t sure whether he should be kissing you at all. Whether this is right. You clamp your hands around his wrists, frowning into the kiss as your body threatens to collapse. Your thoughts are jumbled but they’re all about him, and you can’t seem to make sense of the situation.

Eventually, you find the strength to push him away. You want to confirm what you heard, but your tongue could only lay heavy in your mouth.

There’s a storm raging inside once you perceive him with shaking eyes, and he panics. He’s afraid, terrified of rejection. He wasn’t thinking clearly before, too swept by the moment but now that the words have been spoken, he starts to realize just how fucked up this whole situation is.

Fix this. Fix this right now.

“And cut,” he says, breaking away as he forces himself to show you a mischievous grin. Seeing you turn pale, he laughs, too loud and too strained. “Dude, you look like you just saw a ghost. Chill out.”

Now that you can’t feel him on your skin, you feel like the world is crumbling beneath your feet. “H-huh?”

“I was re-enacting a scene,” he tells you, lacing his hands behind his back so you won’t see the quiver that runs through his fingers. “You can’t honestly believe I’m asking you to marry me, right? I mean, come on. Aren’t we just friends?”

It’s true. There was no way he would ask you to marry him. Not in a situation like this. Not when you’re having this kind of relationship with him. It’s a joke, and it should’ve been harmless so why…

Why do you feel like crying?

“Hey,” Eren’s fake smile starts to falter. “You okay?”

“Huh? Oh—y-yeah—” Stinging tears are brimming in your eyes and you hastily turn around, marching back to the stove once you remember you’ve kept the fire on. “Shit—” You panic, turning off the stove with your shoulders sagging forward once you see what your dish has turned into. “It’s all burnt.” You close the lid, sighing as you throw your gaze at the ceiling. You will yourself to stay calm, to stop your tears from falling. The first thing to do is to pretend and erase everything that occurred in the last two minutes from your memory. Because every time even a fraction of it fleets through your head, your tears threaten to fall again. You feel angry, disappointed, heartbroken, humiliated—but you’re not allowed to feel any of this. You’re just a friend. It’s your own goddamn fault for letting this gets to your head.

You take a deep breath and mask your sadness with a laugh. “Guess we should order takeouts, then.” You snatch your phone back from the counter, busying yourself with tapping your thumb on the screen so you don’t have to meet his eyes. “Eren, what do you want for dinner? I’m thinking we could get some Chinese food.”

“Y-yeah…” Eren can’t tell what you’re feeling but he knows damn well he went too far. He’s just not sure how to fix the situation but by saying, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You glue your eyes on the phone, keeping your voice light. “For distracting me while I’m cooking and giving us burnt soup for dinner?” You snort. “Don’t worry about it. It probably wasn’t that good, anyway.”

“No, for…” He tarries, heartrate soaring. “For joking around like that. It… It wasn’t funny.”

Your movements gradually come to a halt. “No, it wasn’t very funny,” you whisper back, worried that if you state your words louder, your voice would break. “But it’s okay. It’s not the first time you throw dumb jokes at me. You can say I’m immune to them by now.”

Eren reaches out a hand to touch you but you quickly step away, pressing your phone against your ear and pretend you’re making a call. “Yeah, Lee’s Restaurant? Yes, I’d like to order…” Your voice trails off as you step inside the room, closing the door behind you and leaving him standing in your kitchen, heart heavily filled with guilt.

***

“You seem so stressed,” Pieck mentions on the following day as she glides her chair to enter your cubicle, carrying a cup of cold lemon tea and a box of greek salad. “Not enough sex?”

“Too much sex,” you sigh, scooting over and push aside your belongings to make enough space for the two of you to eat lunch together on your table.

“Never thought I’d hear a line like that coming from a prude like you,” she snorts, popping open her plastic box. “Okay, spill.”

Unsure where to start, you decide to open the conversation with a confession. “Okay, so remember the rules you gave me? Eren tore them apart and insisted that we make our own rules, but he never did.”

“Of course,” Pieck says, “Men don’t give a fuck about rules. They just want endless sex. They don’t need them either. It’s very rare for men to catch feelings, or whatever you call it, by sleeping around. It’s us girls who are always more sensitive about this. ‘Cause we think with our hearts, not with our non-existent cocks.”

“Geez. Have you considered making a ted talk? I think you should make a ted talk about this.” But jokes aside, this makes you even more anxious. “Well, I tried to follow what you did, so I came up with some rules. Now, I haven’t shown these to him yet, but…” You rummaged through your handbag, grabbing your notebook. After quickly going through the pages, you find your messy scribbling on the paper and offered it to her. “Here, take a look.”

Pieck does a quick scan, munching on her food as she does it. “Whoa, so many.”

“Yeah. I gotta be careful, just in case.”

“So many scratches too.”

“Yes, because I had to, uh, revise some stuff.”

She narrows her eyes at you, somewhat judging and you hurriedly focus back on your food so she won’t notice how uncomfortable you are. Pieck leans back on her chair, taking the notepad with her, and goes through your handwriting one word at a time.

Rule #1: Keep eye contact to a minimum level.

Rule #2: No pet names. No ‘baby’. No ‘sweetheart’. NO ‘MY LITTLE KITTEN’.

Rule #3: Fuck me, NOT make love to me.

Rule #4: Condoms are lifesavers. I’m taking birth control pills now, so be grateful.

Rule #5: No sleepovers. You can stay but NO CUDDLES.

Rule #6: No fancy dinners, flowers, gifts, or games. Okay to gifts ONLY if they’re related to our sex life.

Rule #7: It’s okay to meet and date other people since we’re not exclusive.

Rule #8: No morning sex (equals NO fucking my thighs in my sleep).

Rule #9: No missionary or any other intimate sexual positions (does NOT mean you can kiss my back during doggy style).

Rule #10: No talking during sex, unless it’s dirty talking.

Rule #11: No romantic hugs, no romantic talks. NO KISSING MY FOREHEAD.

Rule #12: Kinks can be explored. Blindfold? No. Choking? Yes. Bondage? YES (with you being the one who gets tied up).

Rule #13: Don’t look at me when I’m naked unless when we have sex. But, I’m allowed to see YOU naked at all times.

Rule #14: No sex in public places. Car sex and public bathroom sex are allowed but ONLY if there's no motel or private space within a 10 minutes drive.

Rule #15: You can visit me anytime you want. You can only visit me at 3 am ONCE A WEEK and always refers to rule #5 afterward.

Rule #16: Do NOT distract me while I’m working. No kissing. No touching. No placing your hands on my lap. And no walking around in my apartment wearing only your jeans.

Rule #17: No backstage sex.

Rule #18: No roleplay.

By the time she gets to the end, it feels like years have passed and the season has changed. Pieck closes the notepad with a blank face, returns it to you, and simply goes back to her salad.

“Pieck, please say something or I’m going to kill myself.”

She sighs, already feeling exhausted after just spending five minutes of her time dealing with your problem. “You do realize how stupid your rules are, right?”

You grimace. “Ouch.”

“Sorry, babe, I’m just gonna be honest with you because this?” She flaps around your notepad in the air. “This is not ‘Rules on How to Become Fuck Buddies.’ These are rules on ‘How to Keep Fucking Like Fuck Buddies When We’re Actually So In Love With Each Other.’”

“Oh my God,” you sob out, groaning into your palms.

“Yeah. Oh my God.” She imitates you coldly. “Also, you scratched out ‘No Roleplay’. Did something bad happen?”

Blood rushes to your face instantly. Last week was…

Eren was dressed in a navy blue button-up shirt with two buttons of his collar opened, a pair of black pants, and a white lab coat. His hair was tied up with a few strands falling to his temple and that was nothing new, but once he had his Lindberg frames on, he suddenly appeared like a stranger.

A wickedly hot stranger.

“Please lie down on the bed,” he gestured to your bed, professional and serious, while you, on the other hand, felt like you were seconds away from hyperventilating out of shame.

You were dressed in such a skimpy outfit he bought you—a red, satin robe dress with a low cut that reached the valley between your breasts. Your clothing was tied together with only one sash around your waist. It would only take him one tug to have you laid bare and exposed on your sheets.

Eren had a stethoscope hanging around his neck with a pad and a pen on his hands (you didn’t ask where he managed to get all of those… properties). Seeing you fidgeting on your feet, he asked, still in that doctor voice of his. “Is there a problem?”

“I’m—“ This is ridiculous. I’m too ashamed to act! “Just… nervous.”

He looked satisfied at the blush that painted your cheeks. Fixing his glasses, he leniently smiled. “Don’t be. I’m just going to take a quick look.”

You couldn’t help but glare at him but seeing how he just smirked in return, you sighed in defeat and did as you were told. Lying yourself down on the white linen, you kept your eyes glued to the ceiling of your bedroom, settling one hand above your stomach to make sure that your dress didn’t slip off on its own.

Eren laid down his pad on the nightstand. “I’m glad to see you again. How are you feeling today?”

I want to die. “A bit better.”

“That’s good to hear.” Eren traced his fingers from your arm to the back of your wrist, and even just that, it almost made you flinch. “Are you still feeling…” He went down, his hand gliding down your stomach, moving against the smooth fabric of your dress. “… nauseous?”

You gulped. “N-no.”

“That’s good,” he cooed, wetting his lip as he slid his hand further down. You waited with bated breath until he stopped just before he reached your pelvis. You exhaled sharply when he retracted his hand, not sure if you were relieved or disappointed.

“Relax,” Eren said, not sure if he was playing his role or he was just mocking you at how you were reacting. “I will just be checking on your pulse.”

Still with a prominent scowl on your face, you offered him your wrist. His smile was mischievous. “Do you know,” he took a seat beside you on the edge of the bed, “That there are a few ways to measure your heartbeat? People usually go with the pulse at the wrist. Also known as the radial pulse.” He took your hand, turning it over before he placed his pointer and middle fingers on the inside of your wrist. “Just like this.”

“Umm, yeah,” was the only thing you could say.

Eren nibbled on his bottom lip, holding back a laugh. “Your heart is beating quite fast.”

“S-shut up.”

He chuckled, deep and low. “We can also check your pulse by finding the carotid artery.” He brought his hand to your throat. You expected him to teach you by pressing his digits above your vein, but what he did was curling his fingers around your neck and choking you lightly with them.

Frowning as a sign of both shock and protest, you grabbed onto his wrist. “Eren—” You felt him squeezing you tighter. “What—“

“It’s Doctor Jaeger,” he corrected you, eyes gleaming. “Say it.”

“D-Doctor Jaeger,” you coughed. “You’re—kinda—choking me—”

“Oh, sorry,” he tittered, releasing you from his hold. He bit the corner of his lip as he watched you gasp for air. “I got a little carried away.”

You hated to admit the fact that his fucking smirk and his dominating tone managed to send a zap of electricity coursing through your veins. Am I turned on by this? Am I seriously turned on by this?

Using the same two fingers, Eren gently pressed them on the side of your windpipe just below the jawbone. “Oh no,” he said, “Your heartbeat is racing even faster than before. Are you sure you’re okay?”

No, I’m not. You just fucking choked me! “I’m perfectly fine.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain about that.” He took off his glasses, placing them inside the pocket of his lab coat as he stood back on his feet. Ignoring your scowl, he put the eartips of his stethoscope into his ears. “I’m going to examine you a little bit further, would that be okay?”

“Yes,” you said through gritted teeth. Let’s get this over with!

“Then, excuse me.” His hand found the knot that held your dress together and with one yank of the sash, you were bare to his eyes.

“Er—Doctor!” You shouted, sitting up on the bed with your face aflame as you tried to cover up. Funny how he had seen you naked more than you could count but when you were forced to act in this terrible scenario he provided, you felt like you were a virgin once again. “Is it really necessary to undress me?”

“Why, yes, of course,” he patiently answered. “I need to use my stethoscope on bare skin to avoid picking up the sound of rustling fabric.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, throwing yourself back down on the bed. “This is stupid.”

“It's not stupid. It’s science.”

“You’re stupid.” But you knew how stubborn he could be so even if you begged him to end this stupid roleplay, he wouldn’t show you any mercy. “Fine, go do—whatever it is you’re going to do.”

Eren was having the time of his life, you could tell. He pushed your dress to the side, revealing every bit of your skin to his eyes. He laid the diaphragm of his stethoscope on your chest, causing you to flinch almost instantly. “It’s cold!”

“I know,” he simply responded, only grinning even wider when you were throwing ice daggers at him with your eyes. He dragged the diaphragm to the left, over the mound of your breast, and even further until it brushed against your nipple.

“That’s—” You were so ashamed that you could feel it hardening under the cold. “That’s not where my heart is, Doctor.”

But Eren was no longer listening to you. His eyes were entranced, his own heart beginning to soar. Unable to resist the temptation, he bent his head down, tossing his stethoscope away, and latched his mouth around your nipple.

“Ah—“ Your hands were gripping to his shoulders. “Wait—”

“You seem to be reacting just fine,” he spoke around your bud, gently sucking it as a little mmm escaped from the back of his throat. “How about if we go,” he dragged his lips over to your other breast, “over here?” He flicked his tongue over your nipple before he placed it between his teeth, grinning when he saw how mortified you were. “That’s a cute expression.”

“Doctor, please.” You urged him. “Let’s just—let’s do it already.”

“Do what?” He reclaimed his seat on the edge of the bed, sliding his hand down between your legs. “I haven’t finished with my examination yet.” He rubbed you once, caressing your folds just to tease you. You arched your back, chewing on your bottom lip. “Seems like you’re more sensitive today.” The amusement was thick in his voice. Eren brought two of his fingers into his mouth, lubricating them with his spit before he brought them back down to your heat. “Spread your legs for me.” You were obedient, desperate for release and it turned him on so much, it took everything in his body to not plunge himself inside you right then. “That’s it,” he cooed, probing his slicked fingers against your entrance. “Such a good girl.”

“Doctor—” Your breath hitched in your throat when he dipped one finger inside, moving it in and out of you so painfully slow, you wished you had the patience to keep up with it. But you didn’t and you found yourself raising your lower half, fucking yourself on his finger. Eren breathed out heavily through his nose, adding another one so he could scissor them inside you.

“More,” you pleaded, wanting to feel him play with your clit. “Use your thumb, Doctor.”

“For what, exactly?”

You couldn’t say and you didn’t have to. He already knew what to do—his fucking smirk said so. But there was something arousing with the way he held his power over you. The submissive version of him was cute and endearing. This dominating side of him was just… hot.

“Here, Doctor,” you showed him, rubbing circular motions on your clitoris with two of your fingers. “I want you to use your thumb and rub me here as you pump your fingers inside me.”

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, finally breaking character. But it was only for a few seconds before he switched back, becoming even more merciless. He drew his fingers away from you, making you whimper at the loss, and he brought them back inside his mouth. He swirled his tongue around them and hollowed his cheeks, taking every bit of your taste off his digits.

“You want to know how you taste?” His husky voice is so deep and seductive, it’s driving you insane. Before you can think, you find yourself nodding your head. “Open your mouth.”

Eren took a hold of your jaw, lying his thumb on your chin before he tugged it down, and you followed, your mouth opening wider little by little. “Stick out your tongue.” You followed. “Good girl.”

He hovers close, pooling saliva inside his mouth before he lets it dribble onto your tongue. His eyes glazed with lust, cursing under his breath as he watches you take it in. He moved his thumb to trace your lower lip and you took it into your mouth, engulfing it completely with your hot cavern, sucking on it, swirling your tongue, and keeping your eyes on him all the while, as if you were treating it as something else entirely. You moaned, producing the voice from the back of your throat as you let it slide out slowly. Completely entranced with the show, Eren lowered his head and darted out his tongue. You answered it with yours, gliding against his a few seconds before your lips made contact.

He gave you a minute to drown yourself in his kiss before he broke away, leaving you mewling in protest.

“Do you know what a femoral pulse is?” He asked you and you didn’t give two shits of what he said so you kept yourself mute and just focused on where his hand was stroking your thigh. “Answer me.” The sudden change in his tone made you tremble.

“N-no, Doctor.”

“Well,” his lips drew designs on your navel, his tongue dipping inside your belly button before he continued. “It is one that’s located where the femoral artery passes through the groin in the femoral triangle.“ He reached lower, giving kitten licks on your skin, leaving the spot tingling and aching for more. “The site for optimally palpating the femoral pulse is in the inner thigh.” He lowered his head, placing a sultry, open-mouthed kiss on the said spot. “Usually, a doctor would use their hands to check on the pulse. As for me,” He tossed you a devilish grin, so sexy and alluring. His lips were almost brushing against your labia when he spoke, “I like to use my mouth.”

“Hey,” Pieck calls, snapping her fingers in front of your face, and pulls you out of your daydream. “I’m talking to you here.”

“S-sorry.” You mentally slap your face in your head. “W-what was the question?”

She takes a look at your face, completely losing her interest. “Nevermind. I thought something bad happened during your roleplaying in bed. But seeing how you just stood there with drool dribbling down your chin, I’m guessing it went well.”

“A-anyway,” you hastily divert the topic. “Doctor—Fuck, I mean—Eren—rejected the rules you gave me. So now what do I do?”

“Stop having sex with him.”

“I can’t stop having sex with him.” You say your line like it’s the dumbest suggestion she could throw back at you.

“Why not?”

“‘Cause it feels good, Pieck.”

“Right, yeah. Well then, have fun falling in love with your fuck buddy.”

“Pieck, please, help me.” You’re clutching onto her hand, pleading like an addict desperate for a daily dose of her drug. “How do you do it with Porco, exactly?”

“Mostly anal,” she says, shoving a cherry into her mouth.

“I—” Pieck is shameless when it comes to sex—everybody knows that—but you’re blushing madly enough to cover for you both. “That’s not what I expected to hear but okay.” Retrieving your lunch box from your handbag, you continue. “No, I mean, like, what do you do during sex? Do you guys stare into each other’s eyes—do you hold hands—d-do you kiss a lot—“

“Honey,” Pieck interrupts with her mouth full. “We don’t make love. We fuck. Know the difference. Also, keeping eye contact during sex is the worst thing you can do. Haven’t you heard that saying? ‘Eyes are the windows to the soul’?”

You’re already aware that it’s such a bad idea even before she says anything about it, but hearing her confirming it makes you ten times more jittery. “Well, Eren keeps doing that. He keeps saying that he wants to see my face. That I’m… beautiful.” You literally can’t talk about this topic without blushing every ten seconds. “And he, uhh—“ You’re even more flustered when the vivid images of the things you’ve done with Eren come back to your head. “He always prioritizes my pleasure over his own. Like, he always waits until I finish first. And if it takes more time for me to, uhh, get there, he’ll go down on me.”

Lucky bitch, Pieck mutters inwardly. “And you’re complaining because he’s terrible at it?”

“Oh my God, no, Pieck, he’s so good—”

“Noted,” she hastily replies. “Skip the details. Tell me your problem.”

“I mean, is it normal? He always insists to pleasure me first—always takes his time to do foreplay. He never just goes straight into it unless I beg him to.”

“I have a theory but I don’t want to jinx it,” Pieck flatly says, which is he’s so madly in love with you, you idiot. “Well, different guys have different kinks, I guess. Maybe he just gets off on pleasuring you, which by the way, lucky for you. Most men just go straight to the main course without warming us up. Why don’t you do the same to him?”

“He won’t let me. He said I didn’t have to do it. I got to perform oral on him once and that was only because I tied him up to my bed.”

“Lord, I don’t think I want to continue with this conversation,” Pieck mutters under her breath, not loud enough for you to catch on her words. “Then just offer to do it at the same time.”

“I tried that too! But he was so good, I couldn’t…” Your hands move animatedly in the air, making random gestures as you search for the right term. “Focus,” you finish terribly. “So it usually just ended up with me sitting on his face.”

Pieck sighs, staring at her salad in boredom. I’m gonna have to do a long talk with Porco after this. “Yeah, I don’t think I can help you there.”

“He kisses me a lot too,” you say, fiddling with your fingers. “And, like—like softly, you know?”

“With tongue?”

“No.”

“Teeth?”

“No.”

“So just like, lips pressing against lips?”

“Yeah.”

“What is this, a Korean drama?” She actually looks disgusted as she munches on her potatoes. “Don’t do that.”

“But what do I say to him?“ You’re so stressed out by this, you’ve started to lose your appetite. “Well, I mean, it’s not bad—”

“Of course, it’s not bad.” She rolls her eyes. “We like it. We like being treated like we mean the whole world to them. Us women eat this romantic shit right up. It makes your heart race. Makes your skin tingle.”

“Exactly,” you brighten up, assuming that it’s normal to feel that way.

“Yeah. And when he whispers sweet little things, like, ‘God, you’re beautiful,’ or, like, ‘I love the way you say my name, you’re so perfect’—“

“Yes!” You almost stand up from your seat. “Exactly—oh my God, he literally says that! So it’s normal? You and Porco do that too?”

“It’s normal,” Pieck nods before she loudly shouts, “Between two married people, that is! What is wrong with you? Are you in love with him?”

Feeling your heart sink to your stomach, you slam your head on your table. “No,” you quietly sob.

“Sounds like you’re in love with him.”

Maybe you do. You’ve certainly been acting like one—cooking for him, wearing his shirt, wondering how nice would it be to get married to him. “Speaking of married people…” You anxiously chew on your lip. “What do you say when your fuck-buddy said he wanted to marry you?”

A bite-size potato falls off her fork before Pieck can put it in her mouth. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“As a joke!” You immediately add. “Well, he seemed so serious when he asked the question but then he said he was joking. It’s awkward at first but we just keep pretending it never happened.” At her judging look, you lose your strength, almost banging your head against your desk from how frustrated you are. “Jesus, he keeps doing this to me! It’s like he has feelings for me—”

“He does have feelings for you—”

“—and he wants me to fall for him so bad—”

“He does want you to fall for him—”

“—just so I can take the first step and turn this whole stupid fuck buddies thing between us into something official.”

Pieck blankly stares at you, chewing on her lunch. “Exactly, yes.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not gonna do that.” You scoff, your bottom lip jutting out in anger. “Two can play at this game. If he wants to date me, then he needs to be a man and ask me that himself.”

“Do you want to date him?”

“Oh my God, I don’t know.” You tilt your head to the side to face her, pleading for help. “Pieck, what do I do now?”

“Communicate,” Pieck easily says with a shrug. “Tell him to stop treating you like a lover. No intimacy, no kissing each other’s nose or those other disgusting shits you do. Oh—ask him to treat you like a slut in bed!” she claims, proud of her suggestion. “That will stop you from loving him. Unless you’re like me who gets turned on with degradation, then no, don’t do that either.”

You groan. “I am so fucked.”

“Yeah. In more ways than one.” She’s already finished with her lunch and you haven’t even touched your fork yet. “Look, just talk to him. Be honest. He’s your friend, right? You should be able to talk about it. Just tell him, ‘Eren, I want you to spit on me and choke me as you fuck me in the ass.’”

You turn pale, stomach lurching. “I already feel like I’m about to throw up just by thinking about it.”

***

“No eye contact.”

Eren looks up from behind the magazine he’s been reading at the sound of your voice, lips hovering near his mug. “What?”

Okay, to be fair, you could’ve started the conversation better, but you’re so anxious, you just want to say everything and get this over with as soon as you can. “No eye contact when we have sex,” you clarify, plopping down on the couch beside him and steal the drink from his hand. “That’s rule number one.” After taking a sip of his coffee—and grimacing from how bitter it is—you drag the mug away and settle it down on the coffee table.

Eren, running a hand through his long, thick dark brown hair, flatly stares back at you. “You serious? I can’t look at your face when we have sex?”

“You can, but not, like,” Fuck, what is the right word? Gazing romantically at me? Staring at me like I’m the most beautiful thing in the world? “Just don’t stare too much.” You finish lamely as you shift uncomfortably on your seat, running away from his gaze yet again. “It just makes it feel too… you know, intimate.”

“And having my cock inside you isn’t?”

You’re so abashed, steam practically coming out of your ears. “W-well you’re making it like it feels more than just us having casual sex! Also, no missionaries or any other intimate sexual positions. That’s rule number two. Do it, like, doggy style or something. We can avoid eye contact that way too.”

Eren rolls his eyes, dragging them back to the magazine. “I’m not going along with your stupid rules.”

“Why?”

“Just ‘cause.”

“But why? Does seeing my face turns you on or something?”

His cheeks redden but you can’t see them as he turns around, lying down with his back pressed flat against the couch, his Rolling Stone magazine hovering above his face. “No,” he mutters unconvincingly. “Your sex face is stupid.”

“Ha ha. Thanks.” Even if it’s a joke, you can’t help but feel ashamed. You try to mask your embarrassment by landing a mean poke on his stomach. “The more reason why you shouldn’t watch my face when we fuck then.”

“I’m still gonna do it.”

“But whyyyy?” You’re almost whining at this point, drawling on your word. “Oh right, I think we should refrain from talking when we have sex.”

“Oh my God,” Eren’s patience is running thin, scowling at you. “What am I to you, your sex doll?”

“A very handsome, rugged-looking sex doll, yes,” you tease him, wiggling your eyebrows but he’s not amused in the slightest. “Look, I know it’s weird and maybe I’m asking for too much but talking feels a little intimate to me too.” Especially when you call me cute or beautiful in bed. “I’ll allow dirty talking, but that’s just it.”

There’s a moment where he looks like he’s trying to make you combust into flames with his stare. “That’s dumb.”

“Eren, what I’m saying is that,” You pause, feeling your cheeks heating up even before you can say the words. Mustering every willpower you have, you blurt out the words quickly. “I want you to fuck me, not make love to me!”

To your surprise, Eren goes still. His grip around the magazine begins to loosen and although you can see his face, you still can’t decipher his expression. He has a guarded look, staring at you almost lifelessly. “How do you want me to fuck you then?” He coldly asks.

“Well…” It suddenly feels like the room is twenty degrees hotter. “Just, uh, stop treating me like I’m made of glass. I’m not sure why you think I’m so frail but I’m not. I can handle you.”

“Oh?” He taunts, raising a challenging brow. “You sure about that, Sweetheart?” There’s an underlying tone that makes him sound like he’s saying, you should take back your words before I break you apart.

“Stop calling me beautiful,” you hastily move on to the next part. “Stop holding my hands. And stop kissing me for every two seconds.”

Eren doesn’t utter a word but there’s anger fleeting in his eyes, though it was too fast for you to be sure about it. “Fuck your rules,” he eventually says, dragging the magazine up to his face again.

“Do it,” you firmly state. “Or you’re not gonna fuck me again. Ever.”

At that, Eren tosses his magazine to the side. “You’re not gonna be able to keep up if we do it that way.”

“Yeah?” You provoke him, tilting up your chin. “Try me—”

Yanking you down to him by your arm, Eren crash your mouths together, muffling both your protest and your surprised yelp with his hand slipping underneath your shirt. You land hard on his chest, his nails raking down your back and popping open your bra. His grip is strong enough to make you his prisoner. “What are you doing?!” You hiss, being spun around until you’re lying underneath him, legs between his thighs.

“What else?” he says, standing on his knees as he pulls his sleeveless shirt over his head.

You swallow, blood rushing fast to your face. “But we just had sex t-two hours ago.”

“Start making a new rule, then.” He’s not stopping, his fingers are now tearing the buttons of your blouse apart.

You sit up a little to let the fabric slip off your shoulder. “You’re just trying to change the topic.”

“Maybe,” he smirks, pulling you closer to him by the legs until the harsh material of his jeans is pressing against the supple skin of your bare thighs.

You can feel the bulge that’s starting to grow harder and harder with every grind of his hips, his hand gliding up your thighs, pushing the hem of your skirt to your stomach. “You’re insatiable,” you say, voice wavering as you lift your lower half, allowing his lean fingers to drag your lingerie down your legs.

Eren chuckles, deep, sexy, and merciless, “I wasn’t the one who offered to become fuck buddies in the first place,” he says, “Keep your skirt on.”

“Huh?” You toss away your bra, leaving you completely nude except for the skirt that hangs around your waist. “Why?”

“‘Cause I love fucking you with your skirt on.”

Jesus Christ. You can feel your stomach flipping already. “Just get on with it.”

“What’s the rush?” He licks his lips, eyes drooping down as he glides two of his fingers over your folds. “We’ve got all day.”

Sticking true to his words, Eren takes his time pleasuring you even when he’s already aching to be touched. But he’s patient, so patient that it drives you insane because right now, his face is between your legs, mouth gently sucking on your clit, his palm squeezing your breast.

“Look at me,” he orders, tongue darting out to lick a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. “Keep your eyes on me.”

You look away, hiding the flush that blooms on your face behind shaky fingers. “N-no.”

“Hey—”

“No!”

Eren sighs, drawing himself away and you can see his chin glistening as you take a peek at him. “Then I’m not gonna eat you out.”

You want to shout, “Why must you be so stubborn even at times like this?!” But you know that it will only make you sound desperate and give him more power over you. “Fine by me,” you jeer back through gritted teeth. “Just hurry up and fuck me then.”

“Not gonna fuck you either until you look at me.”

“Oh my fucking God,” you finally snap, glaring back at him in anger. “Just how irritating can you—” You have your head thrown back instantly when you feel him sliding two fingers inside, searching for the spot that makes you see stars. He’s being rough and it’s a bit painful, but every throb causes more adrenaline to course through your veins. “Eren—” He takes both of your wrists above your head, pinning them down to the cushion with one hand.

He kisses you, hard and deep, taking your breath away. He bites on your lower lip, tugging it forward between his teeth and sucks at it until it grows swollen. You retaliate by kissing him just as wild, running your tongue along his teeth. You can faintly taste yourself on him, making you more desperate to rock your hips against his fingers, begging him to move faster. “Eren,” you whisper, half-lidded eyes pleading for his touch. “Eren, don’t tease me…”

He can stare at you forever. Can gaze at how fucking beautiful you look with your eyes hazy and your bruised lips parted in the silent moan of his name. You don’t know just how much you’re affecting him. Don’t know how many girls has he fucked with his eyes closed just so he could imagine this face of yours behind his eyelids. So now that you’re looking up at him in this position, with that expression, how could he ever follow your rule and gaze away from you?

Eren unzips his jeans, taking himself out of his boxer with one hand, and grazes his tip over your slit.

Your mind is reeling, your eyes going down to where he’s rubbing himself over your wetness. “Eren…”

“I know,” he says, inserting the tip of his cock inside just to tease before he pulls away again. You groan in frustration and he laughs a little. “Guess we’re both insatiable, huh?”

He’s not wrong. He fucked you on the same goddamn couch two hours ago and here you are, lifting your hips in the air to meet him halfway.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he orders, his smirk turning sultry.

“I want you inside me,” you exhale heavily, sliding your hand from his navel to his chest. “Want to feel you again.”

His smile wavers, his face turning serious, consumed by lust. “Say please.”

“Please…”

It might be the most favorite word he loves to hear coming out of you other than his name because Eren’s breathing starts to rag, his cock twitching in his hand, “Can I fuck you raw?”

“Yes, yes,” you don’t care. He can fuck you however he wants, you don’t care how as long as he does it now. “Just—hurry—”

And he does, sliding in almost effortlessly from how wet you already are for him. His eyebrows are knitted together in concentration, long strands of his hair falling to brush your collarbones as he moves. “Look how you take me in,” he titters, voice sounding more hoarse than ever as he watches the way his cock is sliding in and out of you. “It’s like you’re made just for me.”

“What did I say about—” You’re clutching hard to his back, gasping for air as his sudden thrust knocks everything out of your lungs. “N-no talking during sex—”

“I thought you said you’d allow dirty talking,” he snickers, changing position until you were sitting on his lap, his back leaning against the couch with your hands winding around his neck. “Move for me, baby.” The way he says the words, the little growl he makes as he sinks his nails into the skin of your hips, nearly makes you sob. He leans in to graze his lips against your ear. “I want you to fuck me until I fill you up with my come.”

Jesus fucking Christ. You lift your hips, moving up and down his length, quickening your pace as soon as you find your rhythm. “I need to revise my rules,” you grumble, unconsciously pouting. “And add a lot more.”

“You need to stop thinking,” he corrects, smirking with mischievous eyes peeking from under his bangs. “That’s it, you’re doing great, baby,” he lets do all the work, loving the way your face is contorted in concentration as you provide your best effort. “Trying to find the right spot?”

“Yeah, just—shut up for a sec.” You place your hands on his chest, trying different angles as you bounce on his lap.

Eren’s hooded eyes never leave your face, just memorizing every detail, loving every feature. You’ve done this with him countless times by now and he still can’t believe that this is reality. That he’s not dreaming of sucking bruises on your chest. That’s he’s not imagining placing his hands on the slope of your waist as you try to use him for your pleasure. You’re real and you feel so fucking good.

“God, look how pretty you are,” he murmurs, eyes glazed, hand coming up to your breast. “Every time I’m on stage, I’m gonna picture how fucking perfect you look when you take me in deep inside.” He brought his lips closer, wrapping them around your nipple. “Gonna remember how your skin tastes on my tongue.” He slides down his hand, thumb drawing motions on your clit and you tremble, legs squeezing around him. “Gonna remember how you fucking quiver around me—ah,” he moans between faint laughs, “Fuck, yeah, you’re so good—slide up and down my cock just like that, baby, come on—”

He seems more aroused than usual, more verbal than usual, and it’s stirring you up just as much. “You’re—” You almost whimper in pleasure. “You’re violating all of my rules—“

“Didn’t I tell you?” He lifts you by the waist, breaking the connection for a few seconds before he slams you back down on the coffee table. He raises both of your legs high in the air, almost folding your body in half with your knees pushed to your chest. “I said,” he smirks, a split second before he rams inside, driving himself to the hilt. “Fuck your rules.”

He’s hitting something—something that makes your toes curl, your stomach lighting up on fire. “Oh God—” Your legs are falling over his shoulders, back arching for more. “So—deep—”

Eren can feel it too, feel how much deeper he is compared to the previous position and he knows he’ll go insane if you keep tightening around him like this. He brings your legs down, hips never stop moving, grazing his pelvis against your clit. He moves his hand to your throat, holding you down.

“You said you wanted me to go rough on you?” He questions, his hands curling around your throat, feeling the throbbing veins underneath his fingertips. “Let’s try.”

Eren pulls out abruptly, it leaves you quivering. Then he flips you around, drags your body to the carpeted floor, and holds you down by the nape. Your cheek is pressed flat on the ground, choking out his name as he positions himself behind you. It doesn’t take a second longer before he slides back in, the new angle somehow allows him to penetrate you even deeper.

You’re spouting incoherent words, both curses and God’s name tumbling off your lips. Eren moves fast and he moves deep, holding your head down with one hand before he slips his fingers through your strands, yanking you up by the roots of your hair. It’s painful but the pain sends more thrills and you stop making sense altogether. You just want to feel, want this to never stop. Despite him being rough, his lips are planting chaste kisses on your back, his chest completing the dip of your spine as he tilts your head to the side, kissing you roughly with his teeth prickling against your lip.

“Is this how you like it?” He questions, breathless and raspy as he keeps pumping in and out of you. “Want me to fuck you like this every time?”

You don’t answer him. No, you can’t answer him. You’re too distracted, too lost in rapture. But if you could, you’d say that although this was hot, you’d prefer to have him the way he treated you during your first time. It just feels… more like him. And that makes you realize that it’s not sex that you want. It’s him. But it’s an option you can’t choose. You know there’s no going back to being friends if he keeps treating you like that. And you don’t want to fall in love with him. You can’t. There’s too much risk to take.

“Answer me,” he demands. “Tell me how you want to be fucked.”

“Just—” you’re trembling underneath him. “Slow down a little—”

And usually, he would obey. Usually, he would kiss your hair, apologizing between sweet nothings, asking whether he hurt you. But not today.

Today, he leans in close to your ear, and he growls, “No.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s lust or anger that drives him to the edge, but he goes harder, switching from giving deep, hard thrusts to quick, shallow ones and you crumble, wrecked apart as he had promised you with his eyes earlier.

“Eren—” Your nails are scratching against the carpet. If they had been on his back, you would’ve left angry marks down his spine. “Eren, fuck—”

“What, you’re gonna come already?” he murmurs back, already can tell by the way you’re clenching around him. “But I’m just getting started.”

He was being mean. No, not mean. Ruthless. You squirm, panting his name until you hear him call you with that endearing pet name he always knows you love.

“Don’t call me that—” You can’t take it. It makes him sound like a lover when he’s anything but that.

“Then what should I call you?” He questions, sliding his hand down to cup your breast in one hand.

“Just—” You can’t think. “Just—call me by my name—”

You can’t see it, but a smile instantly breaks upon his face. And he says it, he calls you by your name like how he’s done a million times before in a way that sounds so sensual, so dirty and profane, you’re not sure if it’s really your name. He never sounds like this. Never sounds so… erotic.

This is such a fucking bad idea.

“Wait—don’t—” You have tears prickling in the corner of your eyes from how fast he’s going, along with the emotion he pulls out of you. He calls your name again, and again, with each call sounding more desperate and dirtier than before. Eren suddenly laces his fingers with yours, his lips painting feathery light kisses from your nape down to your spine. His hips are hitting another angle that feels just as amazing even as he slows down the pace. The intimacy surprises you as you don’t expect him to be this tender after being so rough, it almost hurt. With his palm covering the back of your hand, fingers slipping between yours, somehow, everything feels more sentimental, stronger, crossing the lines.

With a moan of your name, Eren spins you around until you lie on your back. His talented fingers frame your face, lips meeting lips as he thrusts back in, gasping against your mouth. He can’t help it. No matter how much he’s done this, he needs to see you when he comes. To see the pretty look on your face when he releases everything inside you. To hear the little whimper of his name when you feel his come trickling down your thighs.

His half-lidded eyes are boring into yours, thumb slipping between your lips. “Say my name, baby.”

“Eren…”

He snaps his hips, and you tangle your legs around them in response, fingernails digging into his upper arms.

“Now tell me you want me.”

“I want you,” you say, arching your back. “I want you, Eren—please don’t stop—I’m close—” The knot in your stomach untangles without warning and your orgasm hits you so hard, you nearly weep at the sensation. With the way you’re quivering and squeezing around him, Eren follows right after with a low groan. He paints your walls with everything that he has, his face sinking into the crook of your neck, hips stuttering as he rides out his orgasm.

Half a minute passes in silence with you and Eren trying to catch your breath. You’re so spent, your body still quivering after your orgasm and you feel like you’re being detached from reality.

Eren pulls away only to lay a sweet kiss on your shoulder. “You okay?”

You’re still panting hard, your heartbeat beating like a drum in your ears. “I know I asked for this but…” you weakly say, “Next time, please have mercy on me.”

“Told you it would be too much for you to handle.” He laughs a little and you let him. He’s winning this argument without giving you any chance.

“Also…” you quietly add. “Please don’t ever call me by my name again during sex.”

His laughter drops dead within a split second and you expect him to retaliate with a witty comeback or a mocking snort. But Eren tenderly strokes your cheek, swatting the hair out of your eyes. “Why are you so obsessed with making rules?” He softly asks, his green eyes turning solemn. “Can’t you just do this without thinking about anything else but me?”

The sudden question strikes you cold. “I’m…” You want to look away but you can’t. “I’m not obsessed, I’m just… I just don’t want to make any mistake that we’ll regret.”

“And what’s that?” He queries, his thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip. “What’s this mistake you’re so afraid of making?”

“It’s…” You’re breathing hard for an entirely different reason. “I’m afraid that if we keep doing this—especially with you treating me so nicely like this—I’m afraid that I’ll…” The words are there, you just don’t have the courage to say them.

“Go on.” Eren never wavers. “Afraid that you’ll what?”

“I’ll fall for you.” The words come clearer than you expected. As if he was hypnotizing you with his eyes, stealing the words from underneath your consciousness.

Eren grows still before his gaze softens. He lays his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he steadies his breathing. “And is that so wrong?” He whispers, knowing that if he asks it loudly, his voice will break. “Is it so wrong for you to fall in love with me? Am I that horrible of a person that you have to stop yourself from loving me?”

Your heart thunders but your body lays cold, frozen. Not once in your life did you ever expect him to ask you such a question. He sounds so horribly crushed, so undoubtedly heartbroken and you’re asking yourself why. Why is he asking this question? Does he want you to fall for him? How are you supposed to think when only two weeks ago he claimed that he didn’t want to be in a relationship? That he had stopped caring about people because he didn’t want to feel abandoned?

You heard his questions. You understood his words. But the way he said those lines make you feel like instead of asking those questions, he’s asking you this:

Why can’t you love me back?

You panic, propping your elbows on the carpet so you can sit up and face him properly. “Eren—”

“I’m joking,” he abruptly cuts you off and when you freeze, completely stunned, he laughs, messing with your hair. “Relax, Sweetheart. I was just teasing you. We’ve been friends forever. No one knows my flaws better than you do. You’re not gonna fall in love with me, I can guarantee it. Especially when all we do is meaningless sex like this.” He stands up, fixes back his jeans before he offers you a hand. “Besides, I’m not the easiest person out there to love. If I was, you would’ve had fallen for me since years ago. And we wouldn’t be having this kind of conversation right now.” He turns pensive. “Or this relationship. So don’t think about it too much, ‘cause I won’t. Just do what you want to do, and I’ll do what I want too.”

You still sit there, pensive and dumbstruck. Eren sighs, pinching your nose once before he scoops you in his arms. With a yelp, you tangle your arms around his neck. “Eren—What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna help you clean up,” he answers, settling one arm below your knee and another one behind your back to keep you from falling. “You’re covered in my come if you haven’t noticed.”

And as he carries you to the bathroom, you’re drowning back into your thoughts. There are so many things you want to say, so many reasons to tell him that what he said was wrong.

It’s so, so easy to fall in love with him.

What’s hard is the part where you have to admit it.

***

The person you just had sex with wasn’t Eren. It was another persona he created to fulfill your wish, to make a point, to remind yourself that it was fine to do what you truly wanted to, instead of making rules to guard your heart. And he knew that too, knew how much he was being rough with you before and now he’s making sure that he spends every second making up for it.

Eren lets you land back on your feet once he’s stepped inside the bathroom. Landing a peck on your temple, he murmurs, “Wait here,” and prepares the shower for you, adjusting the water temperature as he lets the water pours like rainfall from the showerhead that sticks to your ceiling. “I guess it’s okay now,” he says, tugging you carefully inside the shower box. Warm droplets of water wash over you, drenching you from the tip of your strands to your toes. “Is the water too hot for you?”

You smile at him in response, pulling him closer by his arm and standing on your tiptoes to kiss his lips. It’s chaste and it’s light, but Eren’s breath still gets caught in his throat. When you let go, he asks, “What was that for?” Because it doesn’t feel like it’s just a kiss and he wants you to answer before his mind wanders off on its own and starts spreading hope all over his heart.

“To thank you.” You run your hands through your drenched hair, making sure that none of them cover your face. “Also to remind you to stop pampering me. I’m not a baby, Eren.”

“You kinda are, though,” he chuckles, and it’s endearing and sheepish, warming your heart. “You’re a big baby.” He walks closer to you until you’re almost chest to chest and you don’t mind. You love the proximity you’re in. It’s like you’re both standing under the rain but the only one that’s sending shivers down your spine is Eren’s light touches on your cheek. “Are you okay?” He observes your face with concerned eyes, looking for a sign of discomfort. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No.” You cast him a reassuring smile. His gaze softens, his eyes falling to your lips. He leans close and you expect another kiss to fall on your lips but Eren only steps closer to reach the shampoo bottle behind you. Turning the water off, he pours some onto his palm, grinning boyishly at you. “Come here,” he says, grinning, “I’ll give you a mohawk.”

But as you let him clean your hair, he never plays with it. He cards his fingers through your strands, being so careful so he won’t cause you any pain. It’s so relaxing the way he touches you, you’re almost lulled to sleep. Eren massages your scalp, smiling a little to himself when you sigh in content. “Feels good?” He asks and you hum. When he lathers your body with soap, he never touches you inappropriately. Even murmuring an apology when his fingers accidentally brush over your breast. Telling you to close your eyes, he drenches you both with warm water once again.

“Your turn,” you tell him as soon as he’s about to step out of the box to retrieve a towel for you.

“What?”

“I’ll wash your hair.”

He flatly laughs. “No, thanks.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause I’m not a baby,” he snorts. “Now come on, dry your hair and get warm. It’s my turn to take a shower.”

“Just come here.” You forcefully yank him back into the box and tell him to bend down. “If you don’t do it, I’ll pour hot coffee on your MacBook.” But it’s not your threat that makes him comply, it’s the little pout you display on your face. He can never win against you when you look as adorable as you are right now.

He sits down on the ground, facing the wall as he hugs his knees to his chest. You stand behind him, turning off the shower. “Unlike you who chickened out at the last second,” you say, grinning to yourself as you pour a generous amount of shampoo onto your hand. “I will give you a mohawk.”

But Eren never complains about what you’re doing to his hair. He stays mute the whole time, just listening to your little hum as you wash his locks. “Your hair is really thick,” you comment, massaging his scalp like how he did to you earlier. “Does it feel good, Mr. Jaeger?”

Eren doesn’t answer, only gives you a little nod. He folds his arms on top of his knees, burying half of his face in them. You’re trying to catch a glimpse of his expression but from where you are standing behind him, you can only see his ears turning red. “Is the water too hot for you?” You ask, slightly worried.

“No,” he murmurs. “Just get this over with.”

And it may sound like he’s being cold, or ungrateful but Eren… He just doesn’t know how to act. When was the last time someone ever did something like this to him? He can’t even remember if his mother ever did. Your fingers are so comforting and they always have been, that’s nothing new. But the whole gesture of you taking care of him like this…

He’s so happy.

Eren closes his eyes and prays, and hopes that if he prays hard enough, God will hear him and stop the time for him, or let him stay like this for eternity.

Curious, you stop what you’re doing and walk forward. You kneel in front of him, checking on his features and he quickly sinks his face into his arms, hiding as he curls into a ball. “Eren,” you call him, half-amused, half-touched, “Are you blushing?”

“I’m not.” His answer is muffled by his skin.

“You are!” You launch your hands forward, trying to pry his arms away from his face. “Look at you—you’re totally blushing!”

“Stop it!” He whines, his face bright red as he tries to escape your teasing fingers. But the shampoo gets into his eyes and he squeezes them shut, shouting, “Fuck—water—turn on the water!”

And you can’t hold back your giggles as you turn on the knob, going back to stand behind him as you washes the bubbles out of his hair. “Aaw, look, the baby got shampoo in his eyes,” you coo, stifling down your laughter. “Are you gonna tear up, big baby?”

Eren sighs in defeat, somehow exhausted by your antic. With his head hanging low, he simply retorts with, “I’m gonna kill you.”

But there’s no malice in his voice because you know, he likes it. Everyone likes being taken care of and he’s no different. He’s just too shy to admit it. “You know, Eren. You have to let people take care of you too.” You push back his hair, unconsciously gathering every strand like you’re about to tie his hair up in a ponytail. “You might look big and strong, but you’re just a kid at heart. We’re both kids. That’s why we get along.” You turn off the shower, tugging him back by his ponytail until he looks up, facing you upside down. You lean forward, your fingers resting on his cheeks, the end of your wet locks grazing his shoulder.

Your smile turns soft and genuine, as you speak the words you’ve always felt but never got the chance to say. “And I want to take care of you too.” His eyes widen slightly at your words, unblinking as he listens intently. “Just like how kind you’ve been to me, I want to be kind to you too, Eren. I want to be there whenever you need me. This may sound a little bit cheesy—“ You laugh to mask your awkwardness. “And cliche too—but I want to be the shoulder you can cry on. I want to be able to protect you. I might not be strong but I’m sure I can do something for you.”

Eren stays there, doesn’t even seem like he’s breathing. You start to notice how close you are being to him and how… embarrassing your little speech was. You’re about to panic and break away before he gathers your face in one hand and pulls you down.

His lips meet yours and they feel different as you’re kissing him upside down. But maybe it’s not just that. Maybe it’s the way he slants them that feel different, so soft and so faint, or maybe it’s the atmosphere and the situation you’re in that makes your heart race a hundred times faster.

When he lets go, you’re the one who’s holding your breath, waiting for him to say something. “Sounds like you’re proposing to me,” he comments, and you’re not sure if it’s a joke because he doesn’t have that mischievous look on his face, doesn’t have that naughty twinkle in his eyes.

So you panic, blushing so hard, you feel dizzy. Quickly moving back to your feet, you pour shampoo again on your palm and lather everything on his head.

“Hey!” He complains, trying to shove you away. “What are you doing—”

“Shut up, I’m giving you a mohawk!”

***

“You okay there?” You ask, offering him a cup of hot brewed coffee—bitter, the way he likes it. Eren is laying down on the bed, still only in his towel that hangs too low on his hips.

“My head hurts,” he says, one arm settled over his eyes. Droplets of water seep out of his hair to stain your pillowcase.

“Yeah, ‘cause you kept moving around like an idiot and bumped your head against the wall.”

“Whose fault was that?”

“I was only trying to give you a fabulous mohawk!”

Eren snorts but you can see the side of his lips curving into a smile. Before long, yours come up to mirror his, silently thanking that whatever that moment was that occurred between you, finally goes back to normal.

“You can sleep if you want,” you tell him as you settle the mug on the nightstand. Picking up your clothes from the floor, you untangle the knot around your bathrobe.

“What about you?”

Your bathrobe slips down your shoulders, taking your arms away from its sleeves. “I’m gonna work on my article for a little bit.”

“Sleep with me.”

“I just did. Twice today.” You’re the only one who’s chuckling at your joke, which makes you regret it for saying it in the first place. Eren drags his arm away from his face, his gaze landed heavily on yours. Noticing him, you quickly gather your bathrobe back to cover your front. “Hey, turn around, I’m still changing.”

“So?”

“I don’t want you to see me naked.”

“We literally just had sex. And showered together.”

“True, but you’re not my boyfriend and I don’t want you to ogle at my ass while I’m changing.”

“I won’t look, I swear.” He yawns, completely uninterested and you believe his words because of that. You turn away, hesitantly taking off your robe and let it falls. You gather your bra from the floor, focusing on hooking it around your chest when—

“You have great boobs.”

“Jesus, Eren!” You scold him, throwing your bathrobe to his face. “You promised you wouldn’t look!”

“I was just talking about your ass. I never said anything about not looking at your boobs.” Can a person be annoying and sexy at the same time? Because right now, lying on his side with his elbow on the sheet to prop his head, Eren looks exactly like that. “You have great boobs.”

“You said that already.”

“I meant it.”

Goddamn it. “I swear to God, Eren, you—” Before you can finish, he’s already yanking you by your arm, bringing you down until you have your back pressed against the sheets.

“Hey—” Your weak attempt at trying to fight back is easily overpowered when Eren spins you around, hugging you closely from behind, his chest pressing against your spine. “What are you doing?”

“I want to cuddle.”

“We can’t cuddle.”

“Why not?” He lazily murmurs, his breath fanning against the sensitive skin of your nape. “Think about it like taking a nap. We’ve done that before.”

“It’s not the same as taking a nap, you idiot,” you hiss in return, cheeks flushed. “I’m naked.”

“I’ll keep you warm.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” You struggle to break free but his strong arms are holding you tightly by the waist. “Eren—"

“Don’t worry,” he says, tightening his arms around you in a way that is far from suffocating but you’re feeling just the same. “I won’t let you go. I’ll keep you in my arms, just like this.”

His words sound like a promise—something that means something more than just keeping you warm and this is bad. This is so bad. Not just him cuddling you like this—everything you did with him today has been crossing the lines—ones that you never managed to draw in the first place. Pieck’s advice isn’t working. Your rules are thrown away and forgotten. So now what can you do? This can’t go on forever.

So maybe you’re just panicking. Or maybe you already feel something for him—something that shouldn’t exist. No matter what it is, your mouth is already running before you can filter your words. “Eren, we need to talk.”

Behind you, he slowly opens his eyes and they’re already heartbroken, knowing from the tone of your voice that what you’re gonna say to him will slap you both back to reality. He doesn’t answer, he never wants to. Not when you’re going to say the things you’re planning to say.

But you keep yourself strong and you continue. “I know you said I shouldn’t think too much, but…” You take a breath, nervous. “I can’t. This is the only thing I can think about and it’s driving me insane.”

You try to spin your body around to see him but he stops you. You can feel his arms tightening around yours in the first two seconds, trying to keep you in place as he doesn’t have the bravery to face you yet, but eventually, he gives up. So you whirl around and you face him properly. “Eren,” you start, eyes locked together. “I don’t want to fall in love with you.”

Words can cut deeper than a knife. He knows that. He’s felt that before—the way they tore open his heart and let blood gush out from its wound. He’s gotten that from his mother. He’s gotten that from his father. He’s gotten that from less important people who stay in his life just because they want to take advantage of his looks, of his talent, of his fame. But yours… Your words cut deeper than the others.

Your words killed him.

“I see.” His eyes turn empty and he tries to glance away but you keep them still.

“No, you’re not getting it.” You cup his cheek with one hand, and Eren can feel how much your fingers are quivering against his skin. “I don’t want to fall in love with you because I know I will if we keep this up. And I don’t want that to happen.”

You don’t let him speak, so when he parts his lips to respond, you hurriedly continue. “You are one of the most—no, you’re the most important person in my life right now. And not because we’re in this—fuck, I don’t even know what kind of relationship we’re having—but it’s not because of this. You’re important to me because you’re my friend, my best friend, and I cherish you more than anyone else in the world. And that’s exactly why I shouldn’t have feelings for you.”

You can feel your voice breaking as if you’re on the verge of crying and you’re not sure if you are. You just keep sprouting out words, emptying everything that lays heavy inside your chest. “I think the reason why we can be around each other like this is that we’re just friends and nothing more. But it will change if we start having feelings for each other. At least, I know I will.” You’re caught between taking a breath or rushing to say more. “I’m not good at being in a relationship. No, I’m terrible at it. I tend to overthink things; I get jealous all the time; I worry about small things like, whether I’m being too clingy or ignorant, whether I call too often, or don’t call often enough because of work. Whether I’m too possessive, whether I make my partner feel neglected. All I do is worry and worry and it will end up into fights, and fights end up with bitter goodbyes and I don’t want that. Especially not with you.”

Eren doesn’t try to interrupt anymore. He listens with his eyes blinking slowly, trying to catch on to your every word.

“And we live two different lives,” you say, “I’m just this normal girl who can’t even finish a damn article without my morning coffee while you’re… You’re this amazing guy—you’re talented, you’re kind, you’re handsome—you can have the world in your palm if you want to. But with your line of work—with you becoming more popular each day, it’s not gonna work with me. I know damn well that it will be hard for me to stay calm and ignore all of these fans and celebrities chasing after you. Dating you would stress me out so much because even though I trust you with all my heart, I’m sure that my insecurity will act up on its own. Before long, I’d start asking myself, why is he still with me when he can have anyone he wants? What if he doesn’t love me anymore but only forces himself to stay because he doesn’t have the heart to break up with me? And it’s not gonna be your fault at all. It would be mine.”

Your hand moves to hook your fingers around his necklace as your voice gradually turns quiet. “And I know that I’m selfish for wanting to continue what we’re doing right now—having casual sex like this whenever we can—but I’m also afraid that if we keep doing this, I’ll end up…” Your eyes go down to his pendant, losing the bravery to meet his green ones. “…liking you more than I already am. That’s the reason why I’ve been trying to apply some rules because I know if we keep doing this, I’m gonna fall for you.”

Now that the hard part is over, it feels like you’re losing your strength. So you shift to lie down on your back, your eyes glued to the ceiling. “You told me that I wasn’t going to fall in love with you because I’d seen your flaws. But Eren,” you inhale sharply. “I love you because of that. Yes, you are stubborn, you are impatient, you make excuses when things don’t go your way but I find all of those traits of yours endearing. I find you endearing. And it’s so, so easy to fall in love with you. You’re so kind, so attentive, so observant—you’re perfect. But I’m afraid that if things don’t work out, we can’t go back to where we were. And I don’t want to lose you. Not again.”

And the silence follows when you become too overwhelmed by your emotions to continue. You can hear Eren breathing steadily beside you, keeping himself still so you plead him to, “Say something, please.”

But what’s there to say? What do you want him to say? You both can’t figure out the right answer. Because Eren is also worried about the same thing. Only in his case, he’s afraid that he will ruin it, not you. “Do you want to stop?” He eventually asks, just to confirm. “I can go back to being friends with you if you do. Just friends.”

You tilt your head to the side, catching his eyes. “I don’t. Right now, lying here next to you is the happiest I’ve ever been.” You tell him the truth. “I don’t wanna trade that for the world.”

He only expected the word ‘yes’ to come out from your mouth so when you gave him this, he turns speechless.

“What about you?” You urge him. “Do you want to stop?”

“No.” His response is immediate but nothing else follows.

And it’s not fair that you spoke so many loving words and he said none. “Can… I ask why?”

Eren blushes but he turns around before you can see the color. “Because I like to get my dick wet. What else?”

You’re baffled, completely stunned for the whole three seconds before you burst out laughing. “Seriously?” You slap him on the spot between his shoulder blades. “I praised you this much and that’s all I get? To get your dick wet?”

Smiling to himself, he pulls your arm until your chest is pressed against his spine. He drapes your arm over his stomach. “Your turn to be the big spoon,” he says.

“You’re six feet tall,” you roll your eyes but you nuzzle your nose to his nape, cuddling against him like how he did to you earlier. Eren can feel you smiling against his skin, can hear the little giggles that escaped your lips. Wishing for his voice to stay steady, he begins to speak.

“I won’t change the way I act around you,” he tells you. “If you want to play by your own rules, go ahead. But I’m not gonna do it. I don’t care if I fall for you.” I already have anyway.

Your heart throbs. “But—But didn’t you say you didn’t want to be in a relationship?”

“I’ll try if it’s with you.” To your surprise, he turns around to face you and your heart race even faster it begins to hurt. Gazing deep into your eyes, he adds. “I’ll do anything if it’s with you.”

You’ve never been this embarrassed in your life, never been this jittery. And you think you’re maxed out but when he smiles, his fingers landing on your chin to tilt your face upwards, you feel like you’re blushing even harder. “E-Eren—”

“So go ahead and fall in love with me. I dare you.” He smirks, leaning close until the tip of his nose brushes against yours. “Fall in love with me until you feel like you can’t breathe without me. Until you feel like you wish I was there with you at all times, holding you like this.” He tugs your body forward until you’re meeting chest-to-chest. “Kissing you like this.” He kisses you softly at first, consuming for the rest and when he breaks away, his eyes are still plastered on your lips as your eyes grow hazy. “Love me until you feel like one kiss isn’t enough. Having me for one night isn’t enough. I want you to want me like I’m the only one you want—like you never wanted anyone else.” His smirk turns a little wider. “Can you do that for me, Sweetheart?”

And how do you respond to that?

***

Next Chapter

HUGE shoutout to @justasketch as always for reviewing this for me even when she's busy with work. *sings BTS's Euphoria endlessly for you* I LOVE YOU MWAH

Tagging: @tasteless @l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @luvtaromilktea @didiyogo @xximthefoolxx-blog @itsmooniebaby @erenbean​ @tehehebri thanks so much for reading, lovelies! ❤️❤️❤️ Let me know what you think!