#Jean fucks idgaf

[thelastsirenssong]

Jean Kirstein send tweet

[marcobodtseye]

Jean sketches, + Marco

[the-acid-pear]

I was gonna make a joke about when I start watching Seinfeld again I won't shut up about wanting to fuck Kramer but we all know I was Not doing that already like I'm very sure more than once I was Pretty Open about how bad I want that silly man.

[infecto-groovalistic]

dress shopping<<<<

[kleine-joost]

Literally anything with whimpering joost pls, that man is one that whimpers idgaf what anyone else says, whimpering is hot with two t's

ask and you shall receive (I hope I did it justice for you!!! ❤️)

Joost Klein x Reader 18+ MDNI

You continued to dance as the bass jumped through your bones. You always lived for nights like this. With your past week at work, you needed a night to unwind, and Joost knew it. One of the perks of having a well-connected boyfriend, you could get into practically any club in Amsterdam that you wanted, and you always used that to your benefit. You’d dragged Joost from one club to another all night, it was getting close to last call time and you were trying to make the most of it all.

Joost didn’t mind trailing after you. You were wearing the pair of jeans and the strappy top that you knew made him go crazy. That was part of the fun of the night as well, teasing him for hours upon hours until he couldn’t handle how worked up he was and would drag you home to fuck you until the sun was coming up. 

But that was getting harder and harder for Joost to hold off as you grinded into him on the dancefloor. He had hold of your hips, swaying you both to the music. You were facing away from him, and everytime to shook your head to the beat he got a whiff of your shampoo, it was bordering on torture.

“I’m going to get another drink,” he practically yelled in your ear just so you could hear him.

“I’ll come with you!” You swung around, your face flushed and slightly dewey, grabbing Joost’s hand as he led you both to the large circular bar closer to the entrance of the club.

It was a bit quieter, at least the glasses of half-finished drinks that sat on the bar were only slightly vibrating from the bass that emanated through the building. Joost ordered another beer, and you got a bottle of water. You both didn’t say much as you both just quietly watched the crowd jumping in unison.

You could tell your body would be sore later, and your lack of energy was quickly dawning on you. You rested your head on Joost’s shoulder as he took a sip. 

As if this wasn’t torturous enough already, now his senses were filled with the scent of your perfume and a light sheen of sweat that started at your hairline and slowly went down your neck. He wished he hadn’t worn such tight jeans tonight, he was painfully hard and the pressure wasn’t helping. He tried to slyly adjust himself, hoping for some kind of reprieve.

You noticed him wriggle. He couldn’t hide much from you, you saw how his eyes raked over your body as you were getting ready to leave, and you felt his grip on your hips and waist tighten with every club you went to.

Maybe it was time to give him what he’d been wanting so badly. You grabbed his hand tightly, looking up at him with lidded eyes and leaning close to his ear.

“Come with me,” you whispered, beginning to walk to the small hallway you knew led to the bathrooms.

It was surprisingly empty. Even better. You slid into the men’s bathroom, quickly dragging Joost into a stall with you.

As soon as you latched the lock shut his mouth was on yours, and he was pushing your bodies against the stall door.

You let his tongue explore over your lips, your teeth, and your own tongue. He tasted like the strawberry gum he always loved to chew. You let your hands wander over his back, and gripped his shoulders, nails digging in just the way he liked.

You parted your mouth from his to place wet kisses down his neck, biting just a little.

“I need you,” he gasped. “Please.”

“Impatient…” you tutted.

But you couldn’t see your boy so desperate, so you indulged him. You reached a hand down to palm him through his jeans while you lightly sucked that sweet spot near his collarbone. He let out a tiny whimper, but enough to spur you on.

You quickly unbuckled his belt, fumbling with the large, ornate buckle he’d worn that night, and reached into his boxers, just to give him enough skin-on-skin contact.

“What do you want, baby?” You asked him, slowly running your nails over his length.

“Uh, uh,” he stuttered for a moment. “Your mouth, I want your mouth.”

A grin spread across your lips. You would honestly do anything for this man when he got like this, seeing him so desperate made you want to make him happy in any way you possibly could.

You kneeled on the sticky floor without delay, pulling Joost’s jeans and boxers down just a bit to let his cock spring free. You were salivating at the sight of him. After only a few small licks to his glistening, pink tip, he was gasping for air. You jumped into gear, lightly sucking on him and running one hand over the rest of him.

The room was quickly filled with his moans. Not the normal, guttural moans like when he was fucking you, these were higher pitched, more of a whine. He was itching for a release.

You flattened your tongue and pushed him deeper in your mouth. You were just staving your gag reflex back, as he grabbed the back of your head to encourage you. Joost took hold of your hair once you’d gotten into a good rhythm as he was hurtling closer and closer to the finish line.

With one final swirl of your tongue, he was finishing in your mouth. You waited as he rode out the high, letting out some final strangled gasps as you looked up at him, taking him out of your mouth and swallowing.

He grabbed your hand to help you stand up as he tucked himself back into his jeans. You noticed his cheeks had the slightest tinge of pink washed over them, it made you smile. Just when you were about to unlock the stall to leave he pulled your arm back, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Let’s go home,” you told him, sweetly.

[zweiginator]

ok ok good cuz i am NOT done talking about college!artrick, it's literally my favorite version of them atm. (potential tw: dubcon and drugs 😵‍💫)

i need to be so fucked up/out that i'm unable to do anything, just totally limp. idgaf if it's from like overstimulation, weed, too many cocktails, or just like being fucked so good my brain turns off. completely helpless and at their mercy, y'know. need to have art and pat grab my jaw and nod my head for me, i'm too weak to do it by myself. :(((( but it's okey, they know what i want, they know what's right for me 😵‍💫

maybe it's them teaching me how to smoke weed and i just get waaaaaay too high. i was havign a hard time learning how to do the inhale properly, and they insist on repeating it until i get it right, and suddenly it's just too much too fast. and they just have to take care of me!!!!

and poor baby, my little pussy is so wet, she's crying for attention :((( they should help her shouldn't they, we wouldn't want her to cry? look at her so sad and lonely, bet she feels so empty doesn't she baby? she just wants some attention, huh? i'm too gone to properly give them an answer, but they know what i want, theyll nod my head for me :((((( RRRRAAAAAHHHHHH

-🐞

cw: noncon stuff, somno stuff, drug usage

college!artrick who quickly became your best friends. it was unconventional, at first. art had hit on you at the run-down bar that had since closed. and patrick, being the good samaritan and even better wing man slash best friend that he was — told you to go for it. to ditch your stupid asshole boyfriend that he mentioned hadn’t even bought you a drink. to fuck art.

“it’s truly harmless.” and your boyfriend was a douchebag. he hadn’t bought you a single drink but was nursing on his sixth beer. watching your empty hands and then turning to his equally awful friends to loudly ogle women that would never give them a second look.

art was sheepish and didn’t look at you. but obviously, patrick had gotten the idea of art wanting you from somewhere. so you squeezed in between them and nudged art’s shoulder and tried to get him to come out of his shell.

“he’s weird when he smokes weed.” patrick whispered in your ear and smoking a joint sounded way fucking better than swiveling on an unoiled barstool off campus in uncomfortable heels.

“do you have some?”

art looked high and he smiled at you for the first time since you met them. he pulled a little baggy from his jeans and nodded his head towards the door.

“can we go to your place?” patrick asked. he explained how he was visiting, how art was on the tennis team and his roommates slash teammates—one of which who was the coach’s son—were major fucking snitches. so it really had to be at your place.

you rolled your eyes and agreed that they could come over.

and they sat on the balcony all night with you. forty three missed calls from your boyfriend didn’t cajole you from the trance you were in with them. of course, they were hot. and the humidity was suffocating even past midnight. so of course, their shirts hung over the railing of your balcony as the three of you passed a joint around, leaning forward in plastic green lawn chairs, splintered and uncomfortable on your asses.

your high was heady, and patrick was feeling bold.

“if you’re not gonna make a move then i will.”

so patrick kissed you. it was a parched and awkward kiss at first; you both were dizzy from too much weed, your mouths awfully dry. but then art joined and his kisses were sloppy, his tongue prodding into the corner of your mouth until you grabbed his hair and kissed him proper. patrick sat back and reveled in his creation, swigging a beer he stole from the fridge.

and your relationship with both of them just sort of remained stagnant.

you had long since dumped your boyfriend after he told you he fucked a blond sorority girl that night you had met the boys. you just shrugged and told him it was whatever—you made out with two tennis players anyway.

and people around campus had come up with filthy rumors and lies. patrick didn’t live in town. people conjured up fantasies about patrick being a prostitute. that art was a goody two shoes and wouldn’t fuck you so he paid someone else to.

it got so tiring that art had confronted his team and coach about it, after it had gotten to them. said his relationship with you was none of their business, but slammed down an old photo of him and patrick when they were kids at the tennis academy, their cheeks plump and red from the sun, a racket in each of their grasps.

it wasn’t until one friday night that everything between the three of you changed. the ticking time bomb’s fuse had finally burnt to its end. patrick was back in town for the weekend and art was excited about it. he hadn’t been there since that fateful first weekend.

your roommates were out of town, too. so it was perfect. art picked patrick up from the airport and brought him to your place. you found it odd that the first place they would go was to your apartment. but you let them in nonetheless.

“what is your plan for the night?” you asked.

art took a shitty bong out of his backpack and a bag of weed.

“just smoking? there’s nothing else you wanna do?”

the boys shook their heads like there was some ulterior motive controlling their movements.

“okay, alright.”

so you smoked. and before you had hung out with art and patrick that one night, you really hadn’t smoked all that much before. you saw art’s bloodshot eyes as a way out of the shitty bar with your boring boyfriend and you took it. you had coughed your way through the joint last time—but the bong was intimidating.

“how do you use it?” you looked at the stem of it; it was nasty and you had already given art shit for it.

“what do you mean? i thought you were a huge stoner chick?” patrick said, between coughs.

“i never said that. i dabble but pretty infrequently.”

you were sat in between them and both their sets of eyes flickered from the expanse of your neck, to your eyes, down to your lips again. a cycle of ogling you that you dismissed. and as you grabbed the bong they shook their head.

“that’s gonna make you cough like a bitch.” art warned.

“probably enough to make you nauseous.” patrick was seemingly parroting every point art was offering in favor of not using the bong.

“then what do i do?”

they said they could help you by shotgunning it into your mouth. and you had somewhat heard of that but you said that would be okay. you watched patrick light up while art sucked the smoke into his lungs. he grabbed the back of your head to pull you in and then the smoke was in your mouth.

“inhale it.”

and you did what he said, but you felt yourself stumbling over your sandals as you mounted him, still sat in the wobbly lawn chairs that could barely support the two of you.

art grabbed your waist and pulled you in by your belt loops. he was sunken in eyes, puffy and half-shut. he was chapped lips, which you licked for him. he was shoving his tongue into your mouth and you were grabbing his jaw to maneuver him how you wanted him and patrick just watched.

“your turn.” you turned to patrick, and art reached for you to stay. but then patrick took a hit with art’s kind help. and he repeated everything art did. grabbed you and pulled you to him. pushed the dank smoke into your mouth and ordered you to breathe it in.

you were so high and dizzy. outside of your body. you kissed patrick too, clawing at his chest and grinding yourself down on his very obvious erection. you were certain people could see you if your neighbors were out on their own balconies.

so you stumbled inside and into your room. patrick slammed the door and didn’t bother locking because it didn’t matter. art was on his knees, taking your sandals off. you could barely keep your eyes open but you could feel your cunt weeping with arousal. you wanted them so bad and you mumbled that as you fell on your back onto your bed.

art looked at patrick. patrick looked at art.

“what’d you say, sweet girl?” patrick stroked your cheek and pushed his thumb into your mouth. you sucked it, hallowing your cheeks.

“i want you guys.” you mumbled it softly, but that was enough for art, still on his knees, to yank your shorts down your legs.

you flipped onto your stomach and the boys looked at how your ass moved, still in your little pink panties. art kissed your lower back, your plump ass cheek. it was patrick’s turn to undress you, so he shimmied your panties down your legs and they stared at your cunt.

glistening, warm, inviting. patrick spread your legs further and you moaned. let them.

“fucking shit.” art ran his thumb through your folds. “she’s so fucking wet.”

patrick did it himself, confirming art’s conclusion.

art petted your hair. “your little pussy’s so wet.”

“i know.” you nestled your head further into the pillow.

“i bet she wants to be filled up.” patrick offered.

you nodded. it was faint, but a nod.

patrick hurried to pull his jeans down, letting his cock spring out.

but now your body was limp as you fell asleep. drool pooled onto your pillow and patrick rocked against your cunt.

“wake up pretty girl.” art shook your shoulders and you moaned.

"hm?" you giggled and art kissed you hard.

"do you want us to fuck you? fill your little pussy? she looks like she really wants it." art cooed in your ear.

"mm. yes."

patrick pulled your hips up and pushed into your cunt, using the flesh of your ass as leverage as his thrusts got harder and deeper. your body rocked forward and soft mewls and whimpers left your mouth. but god, you were so, so sleepy. just felt heavy from the weed. from the weight of patrick on top of you as he reached around to rub your clit.

you clenched around patrick.

“that feel good?” patrick groaned against your ear and you let out a tiny, almost indiscernible whimper. patrick grabbed your jaw, nodded for you.

“fuck—baby—“ his thrusts got sloppier and art was still hard.

so he pushed his boxers down and stroked his cock. up and down. up and down. you were dozing in and out of sleep; they could tell when you came to due to your sweet, saccharine moans that were pushed out of you when patrick’s cock was in you, to the hilt.

“fuck you make me so hard.” art rubbed the head of his cock against your lips. so plush. drool running out from between them. his precum leaked on your mouth and he used it as lubricant to rub himself all over your lips, your cheeks, your face.

“artie-“ you whimpered and stuck your tongue out. you still could barely open your eyes; they felt glued shut. would be easier to keep them shut.

art held the back of your head and fucked his cock into your mouth slowly.

“good fuckin’ girl.”

you sputtered around him and your eyes watered as art jerked himself into your mouth, using you. but your sounds of contentedness fueled them. your poor, limp body so high and outside of yourself. your best friends wouldn’t want you to be so empty, so alone like this.

patrick came on your back and art on your face and then they were spent and all three of you fell asleep, after they wiped you clean.

[seeingivy]

the met gala

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: the end contains some possibly triggering content. toxic man moment/unsafe situation so dni and protect ur peace if you need to.

an: fan service to the highest t. you want laufey? i'l give you laufey. you want sukuna? ill give you sukuna. did you ask for catoru gojo? no but i'll give it to you anyways. and the end is a nice yummy lil eren little fdklsfjdksljfkdlsjfkdsjk. also I changed real life met gala lore idgaf if they don't do real perfomances there bc they do now

songs mentioned: death of a bachelor by panic at the disco, seven by taylor swift, promise by laufey, and dorothea by taylor swift

previous part linked here

--

Eren waits for it in nervous anticipation. Because despite everything Hyla and Lana say, he knows for a fact that you won’t be staying silent. That Danny and Sareen wouldn’t let this slide and neither would you. 

And it eats at him while he waits for the real response, beyond that video Connie posted of you, Mikasa, Connie, and Jean dancing to Girlfriend and your tweets about how much you loved the song. 

He’s positive that a forty second video can’t be all you’re doing. People loved it and thought it was funny. But surely that can’t be it. 

“I can’t believe all your friends sided with her. I thought you were close with Connie.” Lana mentions. 

“I was. Before you did that.” Eren responds, clenching his jaw. He can feel anger surging through his blood, every minuscule fraction of frustration building even more - like it had been for the past three days since the awards show. 

It's irritating how quick things crumble down. He figures this is what Sukuna was talking about. Because the last time he talked to Connie was when Mikasa called him and it was nothing short of irritating. 

Eren’s phone rings in the middle of the night and he’s nearly scrambling out of his bed because he thinks it’s you. Nine hours after the awards show and you’ve finally gotten the chance to respond.

Except he sees Mikasa’s name flashing across the screen, accompanied with her contact picture which is you and Mikasa sleeping.

“Mika? What’s wrong?” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you Eren?” 

“Mikasa. Okay, I can ex-” 

“You can explain? You can explain why you just humiliated Y/N in public? Are you serious?” 

“I-I know it’s bad and she hasn’t picked up my calls and-” 

“Eren. Is there something wrong with you? Because I don’t even recognize you right now. You would never do something like this, let alone to her of all people.” 

“Did you just call me to yell at me Mikasa? You don’t think I feel bad enough about it already? You don’t think I would have stopped it if I had any idea it was going to happen?” 

He hears the line get quieter and Mikasa murmuring over the phone, only to be met with Connie talking to him now. 

“Hi Eren. It’s Connie.” 

Eren sighs, the fact that Mikasa’s so put off she won’t even talk to him sitting wrong with him all together. 

“Hi Con.” 

“You okay, man?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, is she okay?” 

“Mika? You know her, she gets mad so fast and-” 

“Not her.” Eren whispers. 

“Oh. No, no that’s why we called. She won’t talk to any of us. We called to see if you would know what to do because we’re coming short on ideas.” 

The words die on Eren’s tongue. The first line of defense when you get like this is always him, because he can always get you to talk. 

Could always get you to talk. 

“You tried Levi?” 

“Yes.” 

“Her brothers. You need to fly Falco and Colt out now. I’ll pay for the tickets. Get the shin ramen from the store, it’s her comfort food - put half of the spice packet in because she can’t eat it too spicy, make sure you boil the egg for six minutes because she likes it when it’s still a little runny, and chop ONLY carrots and green onions for the vegetables. And put on Spy Family, it’s her favorite show. Her favorite episode is nine, I think. It’s called Show Off How In Love You Are. ” 

“Okay, that’s all great man. Really. Thanks.” 

“Connie?” 

“Yeah?” 

The thought crosses his mind so fast and suddenly he's asking it.

“Do you hate me?” Eren asks, the whisper in his voice sounding so pitiful that he’s almost embarrassed. 

“No, Eren. I could never. Just, I have to be here because she needs us right now. You get that.” 

“No, no I do. Take care of her, please. Tell me how it goes.” 

“Yeah man. Sure.” 

Connie hangs up and the guilt eats at Eren. 

Eren hears the resounding pounding of footsteps - only to be met with Myka, Hyla, and two other people he’s literally never seen before - standing in his bedroom. 

The first thing he learned quickly about filming with these people? They have no concept of personal space or time. 

“What?” 

“Ricky and Y/N. They made a music video. Put it on.” Myka states, the group of them crawling onto Eren’s bed as he starts pulling up the video. 

The thumbnail already has him sick to his stomach. It’s you kissing Ricky’s cheek. The video starts with you and Ricky’s hands, playing the piano together, and it takes Eren all but three seconds to realize that this is the horrible, gut-wrenching response he was waiting for. 

His first cue? Not only are the two of you playing the piano together, but you and Ricky are wearing matching, beaded bracelets with each other’s names on them. Like the ones you and Eren have, the one he keeps on him at all times. 

The camera pans up to the two of you and Ricky starts singing, which earns him a nice list of profanities from Lana at his side. 

Do I look lonely? I see the shadows on my face People have told me I don't look the same Maybe I lost weight I'm playing hooky with the best of the best Put my heart on my chest so that you can see it, too I'm walking the long road, watching the sky fall The lace in your dress tangles my neck, how do I live?

His second cue? The dress you’re wearing in the video, the one with the lace, is one he knows all too well. 

“Okay so, Eren. I have to find a dress to wear for the album premiere tomorrow. And it's my first album and it's special and I want it to be perfect. Something kind of soft and casual, since it’s just going to be just fans. Can you help me pick?” 

Eren nods as he flops back onto the soft plush of your bed, eyes focused on all the little pictures and knick knacks littered over the walls of your childhood bedroom. Participation awards for sports, signed letters from your teachers, and pictures of you and Colt doing karaoke. 

“Ew, Eren. Don’t look at those.” 

“What do you mean? You were such a cute baby.” 

Eren hopes your kids don’t inherit your messy hair genes as you walk up to his side and look at the picture - of you and Colt with little pink microphones in your hand and the little plastic crown on your head. 

“You know, you still do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Everyone else holds the microphone at the top, their fingers nearly wrapped around the wire. You’re like the only person I know who holds it at the bottom - like you’re doing in the picture.” 

You roll your eyes as you gesture to the dress, asking for his opinion. Eren stands up, grabbing you by the wrist, to spin you around in the air. And he loves the sound of your laugh and how you berate him immediately after. 

“Eren. Be serious. What do you think?” 

“Perfect. Wear this one.” 

“But it’s black - it doesn’t really fit the vibe that I wanted to go with.” 

“Good point. No one should see you in this but me. Try another one on.” Eren states, placing a kiss on your neck before walking over to your bookshelf. 

"You're no help." you whine.

"I'm biased. You look good in everything, sweetheart."

He’s running his hands against the spines of your books, clearly bent and broken from reading them so much as you try on the next dress. 

“Love?” 

“Hm?” your voice comes out, all muffled from the sound of the closet door. 

“How many times have you read the Goblet of Fire? This spine is demolished.” 

He feels your limbs wrap around his neck and a kiss on his cheek as you lazily murmur into his skin. 

“Lots. Cedric Diggory was my first love.” 

“Oh? Really?” 

Eren turns around and makes it a point to pointedly glare at you, which you return with the sweetest, cheesiest of smiles as you tease him on. 

“Oh, of course. I’ve always had a thing for Hufflepuffs.” 

“Would you look at that? I’m a Hufflepuff too.” 

“No, you’re not. You’re a Ravenclaw, Eren.” 

“I was expecting you to say Slytherin.” 

“No, I feel like that’s a cop-out answer. You’re intelligent, creative, and clever. Ravenclaw.” 

Eren smiles as he brings his hands down to your wrists again, spinning you in the air again. He brings his hands up to your hair to tuck your hair behind your ears before responding. 

“Nope. Very pretty, but too formal for something small like this.” 

“I appreciate the honesty this time, mon chéri. I only have one more, so it better be the one.” 

Eren leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“What was that for?” 

“I love it when you speak French to me.” he whispers. 

Eren watches you roll your eyes as you disappear into your closet again. He settles into the seat at your desk, flipping through the song lyrics in your bound notebook.

And he doesn’t miss the polaroids you have taped into certain pages - the one of the two of you at the vow renewal on your invisible string page and one of him at the piano on the New Year’s Day page. 

“Okay, Eren. Good?” 

Eren turns around to find you shyly smiling at him, hands tucked behind your back. It’s a soft white dress, with a lace neckline. Eren thinks it makes you look like an angel. He makes it a point to stand up just so he can push you onto the bed behind you and lean right over you. 

“Eren.” 

He leans forward and starts peppering kisses all over your cheeks and your face, leaving longer lingering ones in your neck that leave you in a fit of nervous giggles and saying his name so softly it only sets him off more. 

“It should be illegal-” 

Kiss. 

“To look like this.” 

Kiss. 

“You’re doing this on purpose.” 

Kiss. 

“Doing what?” 

“Trying to drive me crazy, love.” 

“Am not, Eren. It’s just a dress.” 

“It’s never just a dress with you. Be serious, Y/N.” 

He watches your eyes go wide, a soft pink dusting your cheeks. Your hands are resting on his face and he swears they’re shaking, your arms trembling along with them. Eren brings his hand to your cheek, softly brushing across the skin once. 

“Hey. What is it?” he whispers. 

“You said my name.” 

“I say your name all the time.” 

“No, no. You always call me love or sweetheart.” 

“Do you like it when I say your name, Y/N?” 

He watches the blush spread across your cheeks again as you nod, the sweetest smile on your face. 

“I like how you say it. Y/N.” 

“I love your name. Though, it’s missing something.” 

He watches you frown, the confused look spreading across your face. 

“What’s that?” 

“My last name at the end.” he responds, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“Ew, Eren. That was so corny.” 

He brings his hands down to the side of your dress, where the zipper lies and starts pulling down. He watches the shock spread on your face, immediately pulling back. 

“Are you crazy? Falco and Colt are still here even if my parents aren’t.” 

“Falco is sleeping over across the street. And Colt is definitely at a party and pretending not to be. Who takes limes and salt to a study session? He definitely needs those for the drinks, silly girl.” he responds, sliding the dress off your shoulders and burying his face in the crook of your neck, leaving lazy kisses all over your skin. 

“Eren.” 

“Hm?” 

“Chelseaiswatching.” you murmur. 

“Huh?” 

“Chelsea is watching.” you whisper.

“Who the fuck is Chelsea?” he asks, the panic laced in his voice. 

You point over his shoulder and he immediately rolls his eyes when he sees her, bringing his hands up to pinch your cheeks. 

“Are you being serious? You can’t kiss me back because your stuffed animal is watching?” 

“Eren. It’s weird, I’ve had her since I was a kid. And my dad bought her for me.” you whine. 

“And you think she’s going to narc on you?” 

“No. It’s the principle, Eren! Don’t do inappropriate things when kids or kid-like things are present.” 

Eren stands up, making it a point to pick up your stuffed animal and bury it in the back of your closet before he returns, hands on his hips. 

“Okay. Anything else? Do I need to put tape over your posters of Loid Forger doesn’t watch us doing it?” 

“Now that you say it, it’s actually-” 

“Too bad.” 

And well after being tangled in the sheets together, Eren pretends not to be offended when you pull on a hoodie and immediately get out of bed and reach for your notebook and your pen instead of cuddling with him after. 

You crawl back in the bed next to him, where he immediately rests his head in your lap and starts groaning. You reach forward to push the messy hair out of his face and make a mental note to cover up the purple skin on his neck later so Colt doesn’t hang you at the cross whenever he comes back. 

“Did I get you that inspired that you can’t hold me right now?” 

“Basically. You’re my muse, Eren.” 

“What’s the song called, Y/N?” 

“Dress.” 

“Clever. I wonder what it’s about.” he responds, pressing kisses along your thigh, consecutively going higher with each kiss. 

“Eren. Are you serious? It’s only been like ten minutes.” you respond, the nervous jittery feeling growing in your stomach. 

“It’s like vitamins. Can’t go without it.” 

“Do not refer to it as vitamins. And you can technically go without vitamins, if you’re like really healthy.” 

“Quit being a know-it-all. You know I meant like medicine.” 

“Eren.” you respond, a warning tone in your voice as you keep scribbling your lyrics out. 

“You get two minutes to finish what you’re writing and then I’m throwing that book out the window.” he responds, his breath on the inside of your legs tickling you. 

Eren knows you’re trying to drive him crazy and not in the way he likes. And it’s working. And Ricky’s all too agitating singing voice doesn’t make it any better. 

The death of a bachelor Oh oh Seems so fitting for Happily ever after (woo) How could I ask for more? A lifetime of laughter At the expense of the death of a bachelor

Eren watches you and Ricky dancing through the streets, while Ricky sings on and on about happily ever after, and he can’t help but slam the computer shut and all but push the group of them out of his room. And when he closes the door, all he can do is cry and hope they can’t hear him.

--

You peek out the window and count seven black cars and fourteen different people standing on the block, anxious faces craning up with shining black cameras in their hand. You feel a hand on your shoulder and know the ice cold hands can only be Ricky. 

“Hey.” 

“How many?” 

“Fourteen.” you groan, giving him a frown as you yank your shoulder out from under his hand and walk past him. 

You head to the vanity, where you’re going to place your last finishing touches on your outfit. Ricky’s quick to follow and lean into your space, with a smirk pressed on his face. 

“Ricky.” 

“Yes, babe?” 

“Ew. Do you need something? Or are you all up in my space for fun?” 

“For fun! You smell really good.” 

You make it a point to lightly shove him back, which you both laugh at as you clip on the sparkly necklace, making it a point to not move suddenly at all from this moment forward. 

It would be infinitely embarrassing if you ripped the first designer dress you wore. Especially when you have to return it later. 

Ricky swings his hand around you from the back and holds a cupcake in front of your face, a glimmering blue candle lit in the middle. You give him a questioning look in the mirror. 

“Baby’s first Met Gala!” 

You snort as you blow out the candle, taking it from his hands and pulling the wax out. 

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Ricky says. 

“For?” 

“The cupcake! And getting you invited to the Met Gala.” 

You smack his shoulder, giving him your angriest look, before you both laugh. 

“You’re a prick. I got invited all on my own.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.” he responds, sarcastically. 

“What flavor is the cupcake?” 

“Chocolate.” 

“Eh. I like vanilla.” you respond, swiping the frosting off the top with your finger. But before you can lick it, Ricky reaches for it first and swipes it right off your finger. 

“I mean, I was going to eat that, Ricky.” 

“I only like the frosting of the cupcake.” 

“Well, I only like the frosting too. Especially when it’s not the flavor of cake I like.” 

You hand Ricky the rest of the cupcake and grab your purse as you head out. You press the button on the elevator and both slide in when it opens, the anticipation of the fourteen people waiting outside for you and the hundred more who will be at the event sitting on you. You must be making some weird face because Ricky catches on to it super fast. 

“Just relax. It’s just paparazzi, not flying to the moon.” 

“I know that. I just feel like I’m not entirely here at the moment. And they’re all going to ask me about Girlfriend and you and Eren and I just-” 

You still haven’t encountered the press after the entire thing, despite most of the tabloids writing things in your favor. Because rehashing the worst thing that’s ever happened for you in the two seconds the paparazzi talk to you and have it become a whole convoluted story is not something you’re ready for. 

After the entire thing went down, you retreated to your room for one day. One day. With full intentions to mope for the rest of your life, because you would never live this down. And because the entire ordeal was so overstimulating, so stressful that you need to rest.  

Until Danny and Sareen dragged you out by the legs and forced you to film a music video with Ricky. Then go to his debut of the song and the music video in Times Square. And then they granted you your beauty rest, but then that stupid voice in your head got the best of you and you couldn’t help but watch what everyone said about the entire thing after the event. 

People thought the entire Girlfriend thing was really tasteless. Because it was. Ricky did a bunch of interviews, where he just talked you up and how the entire thing was ridiculous in his opinion. They thought it was sweet of Ricky to come to your defense with Death of a Bachelor and that your official debut as a couple was one for the books. 

You’ll take a win where you can get one. 

Everyone sided with you, which was nice. Fans wise but also from your real friends. Connie, Marco, Mikasa, and Jean were at your side the entire time, which you appreciated. 

Connie was the one that convinced you that “you had the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever” and filmed a video of you, Jean, Mikasa, and him dancing to Girlfriend and posted it. 

Which was your favorite part of the entire thing, not because of the song, but because they were there for you through the entire thing. That Connie could make something mortifying funny for you. A bad memory a good one. A true testament to his support. 

Unlike some people. People’s inquisitive eyes leave no stone untouched and now rumors of a fallout between you and Historia are flying around, when she’s the only one to not publicly come to your defense. And you get it, she doesn’t have to. What you don’t understand is why she won’t return any of your calls. 

Ricky reaches down and grabs your hand, locking his fingers in yours as he gives you a smile, bringing you back down from the thoughts. 

“I won’t leave you, okay? Danny and Sareen said I should handle all those questions anyways.” 

“And if Lana comes up to me?” 

“Spit in her face. She’s really annoying.” 

“And if Eren comes up to me?” 

“I’ll give you a big kiss.” 

“Ew. Don’t do that.” 

“I love it when you act disgusted by me.” 

You snicker as the elevator rings and the door swings open. You’re immediately flooded with a mound of flashing lights as Ricky grabs your hand and drags you through the crowd into the fresh air. And it only gets worse outside because not only are the cameras outside bigger, but the reporters are louder. 

Are you and Ricky official? 

Eren and Hyla are rumored to be dating. Do you have any comments on that, Y/N? 

Can you tell us anything about your upcoming record, Ribbons? 

Ricky ducks your head into the car first before sliding in himself, tapping on the seat ahead of him as the car speeds off. You let go of Ricky’s hand, wiping the sweat against your dress, immediately freezing when you remember you’re supposed to return it at the end of the night. 

“Now was that so bad?” Ricky asks, giving you a winning smile. 

“Literally, yes! I wasn’t expecting them to be in the lobby.” 

“Cmon, you nailed it. I was there, wasn’t I?” 

“Quit trying to flirt, Ricky. You suck at it.” you grumble, which he laughs at. 

The car comes to a screeching halt and you give Ricky a weary smile as he walks out first, making it a point to open the door for you on the other side. You wrap your arm around his as you both walk the carpet, giving glimmering smiles every time you walk a few paces. 

You make mental notes of those standing on the steps behind you and you catch sight of them. Eren and Hyla, in the center of the carpet. Eren’s lifting his hand to twirl her in the middle, with consecutive clicks from the cameras. And you can see Sukuna right behind them, pretending to gag with Maki and probably ruining all the picutres.

You smile, making it a point to sit with Sukuna later because he’s so wildly unserious that it’s probably the only thing you could tolerate on a day like this. And it would really piss off Eren.

Mikasa and Jean are smiling at you from behind the ropes, Mikasa giving you a sweet smile and mouthing that you look great. She points at a spot towards the left and you nod, signaling that you’ll meet her there after. 

Out of the periphery of your eye, you catch sight of it. The giant cat in the middle of the runway. You tap Ricky on the shoulder, pointing it out to him. 

“Oh god.” 

“At the Met Gala? That’s so unserious.” you respond. 

“Ten bucks it’s Gojo.” 

“That’s such a lame bet. I know for a fact that’s Gojo. He’s the only type of dumbass to show up to the Met Gala dressed up as a big white cat with blue eyes.” 

You both lean closer together, making a point to make sure the paparazzi are taking pictures of you two all close to each other. The head of the cat pops off and surely enough, a very excited Satoru Gojo is now running in circles around in the middle of the carpet. And blocking every girl standing on the side.

You don’t miss Geto standing ten paces behind with Shoko, the two of them very loudly declaring that they, in fact, do not know or associate with that man.

“You owe me ten bucks.” 

“I never agreed to that, Ricky.” 

Ricky leans forward and plants a warm kiss on your cheek, earning a nice symphony of cooing from the photographers on the other side. 

“Oh?” 

“We both got it right. So we both get a reward.” he responds, tapping his left cheek. 

You roll your eyes as you stand on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek and consequently wipe your glittery lip gloss off his face after. You give the cameras a smile and wrap your arm around his again as you walk farther down the carpet towards the interviewers. 

“Y/N. You look gorgeous!” 

“Thank you! So do you.” 

“Is there anything you can tell us about your third upcoming album, Ribbons? What’s your favorite track on the album?” 

“Thank you for asking! I think Ribbons is a mix of a lot of feelings I’ve had lately - specifically good, warm, and positive feelings. I-I think that being negative is something that’s really easy to do, especially when you’re in my position, but I try to keep my music feeling like sunshine on a nice day, because who likes to focus on the bad when you can just be the good. My favorite track on the album is seven, a song that I’ll be performing inside later today with one of my best, best friends who I wrote it with.” 

“That’s sweet. Are any of these positive feelings a consequence of your new beau, Ricky James?” 

And right on cue, Ricky’s on your side, tilted eyes glimmering in the camera. 

“I know for a fact they are. She loves to write songs about me.” 

“That’s a bold statement coming from you, Ricky.” you respond. 

“I’m a bold guy.” Ricky responds, giving you a wink. 

“Speaking of writing songs, Y/N. How do you feel about songs being written about you? Songs like Girlfriend?” 

The reporter looks way too excited at this part now. You look at Ricky before answering, who gives you a subtle nod. The answer you practiced with Sareen and Danny. 

“I think it’s flattering.” 

“Really?” 

Ricky slides his hand around your waist and smiles, finishing off the rest of the answer for you. 

“Oh, it’s totally flattering. I mean, I’d be really intimidated if I was comparing myself to someone like Y/N here too. She’s quite literally at the top of her game, in every sense, and it’s easy to feel less than when you’re comparing yourself to a future triple threat. So we get the thought process behind it.” 

“Ricky.” 

“It’s true, Y/N. Personally, I think they should pick London Boy from her discography as the song selection. But that’s just me.” 

You smile at each other as you give the interviewer a polite nod, giving each other a thumbs up as you walk around the floor. You finally get to stop near Jean and Mikasa, who are very obviously already wine drunk, from the way their cheeks are tinted pink. 

“Wow, Jean. It hasn’t even been two hours yet.” you respond, placing your hand flat against his cheek to see how much his skin is burning. 

“I hate this type of shit.” Jean responds, grumbling. 

“Jean. How drunk are you? Don’t tell me you’re imagining cats walking around are you?” you ask, feigning concern. 

“Huh? That cat isn’t real?” 

“You’re actually seeing cats?!” Mikasa asks, catching on. 

“THERE’S A REAL CAT HERE, MIKA. LOOK.” Jean says, pointing at Satoru who is now lying face down on the red carpet. 

"Jean."

"Y/N. MIKASA. I'M SO SERIOUS I SWEAR THERE'S A REAL CAT. IT TALKED TO ME EARLIER. IT TOLD ME I SHOULD HAVE DRESSED UP AS A HORSE WITH IT."

“Oh, sweetheart. We should go inside, you’ve had too much. You always do this, Jean.” Mikasa says, shaking her head as she leads him in. Mikasa turns her head over her shoulder and gives you a wink, before she walks straight into the venue. 

Geto and Shoko come up to your side after they catch you staring at Gojo - who's now doing the worm in his cat suit on the floor - as they both give you polite hugs. The three of you stand against the wall to watch him take the spotlight away from anyone who was hoping to have it. 

“Can you believe you’re married to that guy?” you ask Geto. 

“Please don’t remind me. It pains me everyday.” 

“He wore the cathead to my house the first day he got it. I was hosting a vigil for one of my neighbors.” Shoko states, placing a cigarette between her teeth. 

You snort at the thought of Gojo, in his fully exuberant energy, trotting into a room of people mourning with the cat head on.

Megumi and Yuuta join the group of you as you now watch Yuuji - whose actually dressed in a nicely styled suit - have a dance off with Cat Gojo on the red carpet. 

You nudge Megumi in the side. 

“Can you believe you’re dating that guy?” 

“We’re breaking up.” Megumi responds, earning a laugh from the group. 

“I can’t tell what’s worse. The fact that they’re dance battling at the Met Gala or that Yuuji is horrendously losing to Gojo wearing a twelve pound cat-suit.” 

“Yuuji losing.” you all respond in unison. 

“I think Cat Gojo is going to haunt me in my dreams.” you respond. 

“Get this, Y/N. It’s not Cat Gojo. It’s Catoru.” Yuuta responds. 

“Don’t tell me he trademarked it already.” 

“He did.” they all respond in unison. 

"Geto. Shoko. When you burn that thing in the flames of hell, I want a video." you state.

"That's a promise, kid." Geto responds, with Shoko giving an affirmative nod.

You turn to your left to find Ricky standing at your side, with his arm wrapped around John. Historia’s ex-boyfriend. You give the group of them a polite nod as you walk away and join Ricky at your side. 

“Y/N. This is my friend, John. He’s been looking forward to meeting you.” 

“Hi. Y/N.” you respond, making every effort to emphasize the flatness in your voice. 

“John. Nice to meet you.” he responds, holding his hand out which you refuse to touch. 

“Play any chess games lately?” you ask, making a pointed reference to Historia’s song. 

He glares and you watch the smile on Ricky’s face drop. You give your best, sickly sweet smile as you wait for a response. 

“That’s right. You acted in Attack on Titan so you must be friends with Historia.” 

“Very good friends.” you respond. 

“Okay John, we’re going to go in. I’ll see you in a sec, yeah?” Ricky responds, hands increasingly hard on your biceps as he drags you a few paces away. 

“Ouch, Ricky. Get off.” 

He’s leaning close to you, whispering in your ear earlier like you two were when Satoru came in, except this is nowhere near as fun as last time. 

“What’s your problem?” 

“What’s yours? He’s not a good guy, Ricky.” 

“I’ve made every effort to be friends with your friends. You could and should be doing the same for me, Y/N.” 

“And I will. For your friends who aren’t groomers, Ricky.” 

Ricky glares at you before giving you a smile and pressing a kiss to your forehead with the paparazzi so close, before dragging you into the venue with him. You settle into your seat next to Ricky, craning your neck to see where the rest of your friends are sitting, all the way on the other side of the room. 

You turn to the girl sitting next to you and whisper in her ear. 

“Hi. I’m Y/N.” 

“I-I know who you are. I’m a big fan.” 

“I’m really sorry to ask you this then. But you see that guy right there, pink hair, those two little scars near his eyes. Could you go and switch seats with him? He’s sitting in between Megumi Fushiguro and Yuuta Okkotsu, so I can at least promise it’s a better seat than this one.” 

She looks over and gives you an affirmative nod. You squeeze her shoulder as you watch her stomp over, Sukuna turn back to give you a questioning look, before letting the girl take his seat and striding over to sit next to you with two cups in his hands. 

He sits on the chair to your left, making it a point to spread his legs as far as he can on his chair, and glare at Ricky as he sits down. 

“What do you want, doll?” 

“Nothing. I got bored.” 

He shrugs as he places the second cup in front of you, which you pick up. And then immediately spit back up, because it’s just straight vodka. 

“Shit. My bad, doll. That’s mine.” 

“You’re drinking straight vodka? No chaser?” you ask. 

“Imagine doing this shit sober. I’d drive myself half insane.” he murmurs. 

You switch the cups and drink yours again, pleasantly surprised by a warm, sweet latte. 

“Sukuna. How’d you know?” you ask. 

“Eren told me.” 

You look over at him, giving him your best glare. 

“As if you’d talk to Eren.” you snort, craning your neck to find him on his phone, next to Hyla’s who is fixing her hair. 

“We talk. It’s just not pleasant.” 

“Yeah. My preferred coffee order is just so horrible to talk about.” 

“You wouldn’t believe it. Poor guy mopes about you so much it even makes me depressed.” 

Ricky taps aggressively on your shoulder, leaning over into your space.

“I’m going to go sit with John.” Ricky states, angrily. 

“Okay?” you respond. 

“Okay? That’s it, Y/N?” 

“Do you need a formal, written invitation? Or does she need to hold your hand and walk you there so you don’t get lost?” Sukuna responds, glaring at him. 

Ricky gets irritated at Sukuna’s response and storms off, which just has Sukuna moving his chair so that you can both prop your legs up on it. You’re both switching off on sharing your drinks - mixing Sukuna’s alcohol with your latte and watching all the performances. 

“Are you performing?” Sukuna asks. 

“Yeah. With Marco, right before Eren.” 

“Real cute. Is it that same fluff shit you always write?” 

You smack him hard on the shoulder. 

“Asshole. That fluff shit is Multi-Platinum, dumbass.” 

“I get that. But I’m saying, you should write something more serious than that. Instead of penting up all that rage in your forehead, you should write it in a song. Quit letting real stupid girls call you stupid in songs.” 

“I can’t. My record doesn’t really like the idea of that.” you respond. 

“So? You’re the artist and it’s your music. Write whatever you want. Don’t be a chickenshit.” 

“It’s not that simple, Sukuna.” 

“No. It literally is. You’re just chicken.” 

“It’s not about chicken, Sukuna. My record was the one who took a chance on me and to some extent, I have to follow that. And they’ve made me Multi-Platinum so far so who am I to not listen to them?” 

“God. You’re pathetic.” 

“And you’re an asshole, Sukuna.” 

“Do you want to kiss now?” 

You reach forward to smack his face, which elicits a laugh from him. 

“You never change, do you Sukuna?” 

“Best thing about me, doll. You should learn to piss people off like I do. It’ll actually relieve some of that tension. And flirting is good for your health.” 

“We can’t all afford to be feather rustlers like you.” 

“You could. I’m sure people would eat it up - the whole sweet girl saying her mind type thing. I’ll give you lessons on how to talk your shit sometime instead of letting idiots like that do it for you.” 

He points over at Ricky, whose glaring bullets at the two of you. You give him a gesture, which he completely ignores as he turns over to whisper in John’s ear. 

“Out of all guys, you had to pick that one? When you tweeted that you were charged with murder, I thought you were being serious and got really excited for a second.” 

“Danny and Sareen picked him. That’s not my fault.” 

You feel a tap on your shoulder and see the usher, signaling that it’s time for you to perform. You nod and turn to Sukuna, who's already getting up from the chair. He presses a kiss to your cheek before you walk off to the other side where Marco’s waiting. 

--

Eren’s sitting towards the end of the bench, hands pressed under his legs, when he watches you take the stage with Marco, a glittering smile on your face.

And in your billowing, white dress, there’s only one thing Eren can focus on. The fish tattoo, right on display. He instinctively reaches for his own, hidden under the fabric of his clothes, and thinks about how your sweet, flowery smell was always overwhelming, even in a disgusting tattoo parlor. 

And when Eren catches sight of Marco at the piano, Eren knows you’re a temptress to everyone and not just him. Exhibit A? You convinced Marco to sing in public with you. 

“Hi everyone. My name is Y/N.” 

Everyone breaks into a loud applause and Eren thinks that the wolf-whistling in the corner is Mikasa, who he’s convinced is shit-faced by the way her cheeks are glowing pink. 

“Thank you. Um, can we just take a minute to give a second round of applause to my sunshine boy, Marco, here? He’s not a big singer and I’ve all but forced him to do this with me, so let’s all give him some love.” 

The crowd claps again and Eren knows for a fact that the wolf-whistling this time is Jean, who is actually plastered. 

“This song is off my new album, called Ribbons, and it’s called seven. The idea of this song kind of came up randomly. I told Marco that it was kind of sad that I don’t have any of the childhood friends I did when I was a kid anymore. And Marco just responded by saying, ‘what do you mean, we’ve been friends since we were seven?’ And long story short, I jumbled out a nice mess of lyrics with Marco and Armin produced it after that and the song was finished. We hope you like it!” 

Marco starts playing a soft piano tune, accompanied by your light strumming on the guitar, and some part of it is so familiar, so you that it makes Eren’s heart ache. Not that Eren’s a big hater of your new, more pop songs like London Boy, but Eren’s always enjoyed your soulful, soft songs like this more.

They remind him of the soft parts of him that you only shared with him, when you used to be next him when he slept at night. 

Y/N:  Please picture me In the trees I hit my peak at seven feet In the swing Over the creek I was too scared to jump in But I, I was high in the sky With Pennsylvania under me Are there still beautiful things?

Eren fights the urge to snort. Of course, there’s still beautiful things. You’re standing right there.

And Eren knows he’s way too sensitive for this because hearing your soft, echoing voice when he’s about to sing a song about the last time he kissed you has him pushing his face into the table. Because there are tears in his eyes. 

Y/N:  Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you

Marco:  Your braids like a pattern Love you to the moon and to Saturn Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long

When you both finish, Eren watches you give Marco a big hug and a kiss on the cheek as you both walk off together. And then Eren’s trailing up to the stage where Historia’s waiting, the orchestral suite setting up their instruments and he feels his hands shaking at his sides. Historia gives him a smile, which he appreciates as he takes the front stand.

He hates it up here. He knows that flowery scent in the air is you. He manifested it by thinking about it and now it's suffocating him.

You lean against the wall with Marco, hands linked together, as you watch Eren readjust the microphone to his height and Historia sit at the piano. You make a fleeting second of eye contact with her and give her a smile, which she halfheartedly returns.

Eren’s hair is shorter, he’s cut it from the last time you’ve seen him. And he looks kind of tired, though you’re sure you look no better. 

“My name is Eren Jaeger. This is my new song, Promise, that I co-composed and wrote with my friend, Historia.”

You lean your head against Marco’s shoulder, who is giving you a warm squeeze on the shoulder, as you listen. 

I made a promise To distance myself Took a flight, through aurora skies Honestly, I didn't think about How we didn't say goodbye Just see you very soon

You pinch your eyes shut as you feel the breath constrict in your throat and tears warm in your eyes. 

“You okay?” 

“It’s Eren. Of course, I’m not okay.” you whisper. 

No matter how long I resist temptation  I always lose  It hurts to be something  It’s worse to be nothing with you I’ve done the math  There’s no solution  We’ll never last Why can’t I let go of this? 

As Eren goes on and on, that soft voice that’s lulled you to sleep hundreds of time is haunting you. And Marco’s reflexes to wipe your tears away fast are the only reason that people don’t catch on.

When Eren finishes, his green eyes meet yours and he gives you a painstakingly long look, before walking away. 

You don’t see him again that night. Or for a while. You figure it's better that way. Being in the same room but not talking is like nails on a chalkboard.

--

You lean over the counter, scrolling through the set of pictures Ricky just took, as you wait for the timer on your computer to count down.

Ricky circles his arm around your shoulder, as you both watch the seconds on the timer run out and the little display of confetti go around the screen. 

You refresh the tab on your Apple Music and you see it - your name and album cover displayed in bright colors right at the top banner. 

“How does it feel?” Ricky asks, watching you refresh your Spotify on your phone and watch the songs turn from grey to white, meaning they're now able to be played. 

“Good. I hope Historia calls me after she realizes that dorothea is about her.” you murmur, the notifications on your phone buzzing from Reiner, Levi, and Mikasa. You open Levi's first.

levi: We love the record, kid.

you: it's been out for five seconds.

levi: Just shut up and take the compliment, sometimes.

you: I love you, levi. give kisses to hange. i'll call you guys tomorrow.

“She will. Just relax.” Ricky states, as he watches you push up on the counter, legs dangling in the air after putting your phone down.

He reaches for the lowest drawer, pulling out a dark black box and placing it flat in the palm of your hand. 

“What’s this?” 

“A gift, before you go on tour. And I wanted to ask you something.” 

You nod, encouraging him to go on, as you look at the bracelet - a chain-linked, chunky silver bracelet with a heart charm right in the middle. 

“That’s custom made. From Tiffany, because it’s your favorite right?” 

“Yeah. Thank you, I really appreciate it.” 

“Well, I’m really proud of you. Ribbons is a great record and I’m sure you and I will be competing for Record of the Year in a few months.” 

You smile as Ricky leans closer, hands on both of your sides of the counter. 

“I think you’re really great. And-and I know we’ve been pretending but some part of this became really real for me and I think it did for you too. So I think we should quit playing around and do this for real.” 

You feel your throat dry as Ricky smiles at you, so excited and earnest, that you almost feel bad. For how you’re going to shoot him down. 

“Ricky. Oh. Um. Listen. You’re really great. I-I really like you. But I-I don’t know if I can do that right now.” you respond. 

“That’s okay. I don’t expect anything from you and I’m willing to be patient and all that. We’ll figure it out.” he responds, yanking the chain out of the box and reaching forward to secure it around your hand. 

“Listen. I-I don’t know if it’s all that. It’s just, I don’t. I like you Ricky but not like that. I just can’t do that right now.” 

Ricky leans back in confusion, dragging the necklace off your hand as you give him your most sincere smile. And you can’t help but feel bad for not liking him back. When he’s helped you out more times than you can count, with red carpets and defending you when he didn’t have to. 

But you can't help these sort of things.

“Listen. I-I can go home. I’ll take the trash and then leave so you can be alone, yeah?” 

“Okay. I appreciate that. Thank you for being honest.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“Of course. And thank you for taking it well, I still appreciate what you’ve done and have a lot of love for you.” you respond, squeezing his shoulder as you walk past. 

You take the half filled bag of trash and walk out to the garage to swing the door open. There’s a decent amount of rain pouring down and you quickly scamper out admist it. You throw the bag over your shoulder and quickly run over to the chute to throw it down before running down to the door. 

Except when you reach for the handle, it doesn’t pull down. You jam it down, more aggressively this time as the heavy drops start matting your hair to your forehead. Giving up on the door, you run to the other side and rap your knuckles against the window, where Ricky’s back is still turned. 

He turns around and gives you a look, half opening the window. 

“Hey. Sorry, I accidentally locked the door on the way out.” 

“That wasn’t an accident. That was me.” Ricky responds, glaring at you. 

“Huh?” 

“That was me.” he responds, again. 

“Listen, I can’t really hear you and it’s really cold outside. Can you just let me in?” you ask. 

“Sorry, Y/N. I really like you but I just don’t know if I can do that right now.”

"Ricky."

He closes off the window and walks away all together. 

You can feel the panic setting in your chest - at the fact that you’re standing in the pouring rain in Seattle and you don’t know where to go. And that Ricky, nice and sweet Ricky, just locked you out.

You hunch over on your knees, yanking your phone out of your pocket to call Mikasa. She picks up on the first call and you can hear her and Jean screaming through the speaker. 

“TOP TEN ON THE CHARTS I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT.” they both scream, the sentence going over you’re head. 

“Mika. Mika, wait.” you whisper, the tears starting to fill your eyes. 

You’re thrown off by the screeching of tires and doors closing and you march over to Ricky’s side door. You lightly crack it open and spot seven paparazzi cars, parked straight on Ricky’s porch. 

Meaning. Not only did Ricky lock you out of his house in the pouring rain but he made sure to call the paparazzi so they can catch you the first chance he got. You quickly shut the door and run to the backside of the house, into the back streets by Ricky’s neighborhood. And the panic's starting to make your legs shake.

“Mika. You’re not still in Seattle, are you?” you ask, the panic laced in your voice. 

“No, babe. We’re in Tampa right now for Armin and Annie’s thing. We left a few days ago.” 

“Do you know anyone who is? This is urgent, Mika.” 

You hear Mikasa murmuring over the phone and suddenly Jean’s on the line, his voice more firm and collected than Mikasa’s. You can suddenly hear her panicking in the background, talking to a third voice you can’t identify. 

“Marco says your options are Eren or Historia. They’re both still in Seattle, though I think Eren’s closer to where you are. Call us when you’re safe. Immediately, Y/N.” Jean says. 

“Okay.” 

You can hear the sound of raised voices from the direction you came and you quickly hunch to the side. You try your best to wipe the wetness of your phone as you scroll for Eren’s contact and dial. 

He picks up on the first ring.

“Y/N?” he asks, voice raspy like he was sleeping. 

And at the sound of his voice, months after the fact, when you’re soaked to the bone in the rain, you can’t help but cry. 

“Eren?” you ask, voice breaking. 

“Y/N. What is it?” he asks, voice suddenly louder. 

“I need your help.”

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No. No, I'm not hurt, but I could be? I don't know, Eren I-"  

“Say the word. What-what is it? I-I’m there. Just tell me what you need me to do, love."  

“I need you to come get me, Eren.” 

“I’m coming. Stay exactly where you are and on the line with me.”

--

--

next part linked here

taglist:

@k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai  @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist by either commenting on this or the masterlist <3

[gild-ui]

crimson

wc: 1.3k | simon riley x f!reader | 18+ dddne implied coercion . cumplay . unreliable narrator . breeding kink-ish . the concept of welding things to skin (man i was horny idk) . spanking . toxic relationships . idgaf!ghost . mean!ghost . inner monologue!ghost . reader dresses in a skirt, has afab parts, and paints their nails but is otherwise featureless

Simon Riley’s bird was gone. 

Fled his nest while he was out fighting for his country.

Shameless, really. 

 Left him with nothing but a handwritten note, a few bits and bobs forgotten around his house, and a pair of forgotten used knickers beneath his bed. 

The gusset was crusted, dried with past slick, long forgotten during one of the many nights that Simon would fuck you hard enough to leave the drywall behind your headboard indented. Simon hadn’t cared about fixing it then. Still didn’t care about it now as he stood before the full length mirror in front of your bed in his travel gear, covered in grime and foreign gunk, his boots impeccably laced, his hoodie too small to contain his frame, thighs near bursting from his worn jeans, duffle bag clutched in his free hand. 

They smelled like you too. 

A slip of red fabric, too rich in colour to remind him of blood, yet still reminded him of the hue you’d been painting your toes when he left weeks prior. Satiny fabric, intricately printed lace across the front with one of those teeny, tiny bows at the waistband that did not untie anything despite how much you had reprimanded him to stop trying to unknot it, Simon. 

At some point the bag dropped from his hand. His gloves discarded, left in small piles at his feet. His mask rucked up above his nose, knickers pressed flat against his face inhaling as he angrily fisted his weeping cock in front of the mirror. His forehead knocked against the pristine glass, smudging the pane in a way that would usually result in you yelling at him for leaving prints against what you’d just washed. 

You’d tear him to shreds over it, yowl in his ear on and on about mucking it up, and he’d love every moment of it. The way your teeth would set back in a snarl, upper lip curled. Your right eyebrow always went higher than your left when you were annoyed. Your nose always crinkled in distaste like a mutt primed to bite. The way your voice went shrill after he'd said he would help around the house whilst you were off to work, and yet, every time, the chores went on untouched and he remained on the couch as you stepped through the door. 

He would do anything for it. To see that snarl, to watch the anger light up your eyes, your jagged, jerky movements—lacking in any sort of grace, reminding him of a fawn just learning to stand—as you paced, hands pumping at your sides as you yelled and cried and spat and whined and pestered until he got fed up with it. 

Then, and only when you were about to fragment, break into a million pieces, desperate enough to hurl something at his head, to do harm, did he acknowledge your existence. Half-lidded brown eyes would examine your figure. Leering over you. Objectfying. Undressing you with his beady gaze. Somehow, all at the same time, he managed to make you feel as if he were slightly disgusted by your presence.

He’d huff, like he were the one incensed and you were the inconvenience. Then, he’d bend you over the table. Yank up your skirt, ignore the way your crimson nails swiped at his forearms—”beasty,” he’d coo with that infuriating chuckle of his—and when your nails connect with his skin.

Oh, how he’d be waiting for that, returning fire with a scorching handprint across your asscheek. Imprinting himself into you. Holding you down by the scruff of your neck, your face pressed against the wooden grain of your table as he rutted his cock between your thighs, never quite allowing you the satisfying fullness you’d keen for.

 Punishment. 

Cumming on your clothes—your pretty floral skirt, your expensive jumper—spreading it across your knickers, ruining the fabric, labelling everything that is yours as his, and only after, he’d fuck you in bed, leave you a blubbering mess afterwards. Too drunk on his cock, too full of his seed, orifices leaking his slimy, accursed essence. 

Anything to get you to shut the fuck up, really. 

His cock wept as his textured hand tugged on it. Using the precum as lubricant, his thumb notched back his foreskin, thumbpad rubbing against his ruddy cockhead, flicking at it with his blunt nail. Simon inhaled your knickers again, ran a hot stripe across the fabric as if he could rehydrate the fabric enough to suck your taste from it. 

It wasn’t enough. Nothing was ever enough. Knickers in his hand, Simon slammed his open palm against the wall, rattling the mirror, knocking down a picture frame you’d hung ages ago. The glass shattered along the flooring, yet, Simon only dropped that hand to his groin. More delicate than he’d ever handled your body, he wrapped the fabric around his shaft. Carefully made sure the gusset—the closest thing to you he had left, bleached, stained, worn far too many times to be considered part of your ‘sexy clothes’—was lined up with his slit. 

Simon’s hand squeezed tightly as he rutted into the fabric, aiming to fuck his hand with enough vigor that he’d forget it all. The small fact that you were gone. Brown eyes set in weary, pale skin and sodden with eyeblack remained open, vigilant in his watch, as the fabric darkened from scarlet to maroon. As he staked his claim into the final things of yours he had left. His breaths fogged the glass, his cock smudged against it, leaving prints each time he thrust too far into his hand. So close, yet not close enough. 

You had been wearing red the first night he met you. A scarf around your neck that had him thinking about how pretty you’d look with a collar—his name carved across it—of the same colour forever welded against your skin. You’d looked pretty wrapped around another man’s arm, huddled from the wind, Simon was enamoured then. Now, he was obsessed. 

His final few thrusts were sloppy. The burning that had started at the base of his spine spread like wildfire as quiet grunts escaped his gritted teeth. Simon shut his eyes against the onslaught, pretending it was your cunt he was spurting long, heated strings of semen into—as if it was your sticky womb he was once more filling, overfilling—instead of the cold, stiff mirror. 

It was your complaints about the bedsheets being gross because he’d refused to wear a condom—”cunt squeezes me so good we don’t need one, beasty” he’d reason only when he knew you were too focused on the rumble of his voice box against your hardened nipples as he peppered kisses along your skin—instead of the roaring silence of an empty house, tinnitus ringing without the blanket of gunfire or of a Scotsman yapping for too long in his ear. 

Simon didn’t bother wiping down the mirror, tossed the knickers back under the bed, stepped over the broken glass, as he headed for the dining room. He paused long enough at the table to scoop up your note, reading the delicate, dainty curves of your handwriting whilst his feet moved instinctively to the couch. 

Off on a work trip.  Call when you get home.                                           xx,                           your beasty

He was watching football when you got home. Ignored you as you stepped through the front door, greeting him with a kiss to the crown of his head when you passed by to make your way into the bedroom. He counted to five before you came storming back out.

“What the fuck did you do to the mirror, Simon?! What the fuckin’ hell?!”

At least, this time, he swept the broken glass out of the main entryway and toward your side of the bed. To be found and stepped on later when the two of you went to bed.

Wouldn’t want you to spill that pretty red blood before he could lap it up. 

[neiptune]

aot boys x guilty pleasures

a/n: this is me being self indulgent and having a lil fun so forgive the shitposting but also feedback is always appreciated mwah

eren loves the shit out of nature documentaries you'll leave him alone one saturday night and you'll come back to find him sprawled on the couch watching life of mammals or some shit on netflix lmao you'd be on a date and he'd get suddenly excited enough to hit you with random facts like “btw did you know that the average blood pressure of a giraffe is around 300/190?” he'd literally barge in rooms with a “babe omg hummingbirds are like the only birds that can fly backwards” and you'd just be sitting on the toilet with a very unimpressed look but he's cute 12/10 would make a good park ranger or whatever

armin is lowkey obsessed with youtubers like he legitimaly sits down and watches hours on end of unboxing/reaction videos or travel vlogs jfc and it's always the dumb stuff ya know like person x unboxing the same phone in 10 different colors or person y reacting to drake's new single and THAT controversial lyric. it's exhausting really he'd be in bed at 3am still going through chrissy's 27 min travel vlog about some bali vacation gone wrong and don't even get me started on drama and internal feuds or breakups oh my god he has a whole playlist of breaking my silence videos on youtube to keep track of who's said what so he can pick the best side

you've introduced jean to the world of fandoms and fanfiction and at first he was all like nah that's too weird but now he has his own ao3 account and eats the weirdest most hilarious shit up, will also use acquired terms in the wrongest way like you'd be watching bridgerton together and he'd suddenly nod to himself with a OOOO TRIGGER WARNING THEY BOUT TO FUCK lmao he's obsessed tbh his twitter is filled with commentary on random chapters he's screenshot and that I WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS SHIP titanic gif posted over and over again like no honey you will not we've moved past that 10 years ago

oh god connie is such a chronic playlist creator he'd have one for EVERYTHING and he genuinely spends hours selecting the perfect most appropriate songs and titles for each one, you best believe before you first started dating he's made one for you called “i like you idgaf about your boyfriend” which came with a weird ass mix of sweet stuff like just the way you are by bruno mars and cash shit by megan thee stallion lmaooo he's so random he thinks he's good at it too and you don't have the heart to tell him that “get down dirty bedroom sexy lapdance music” ain't a good title. it's kinda attractive that he's not a music snob tho like he'd be blasting country music classics while cooking, rap mixtapes when he's taking a shower or full on broadway showtunes when driving, he also has a cute voice that cracks on higher notes but it secretly turns you on how deep in the moment he is while screaming to defying gravity in the car

levi gets a weird kick out of serial killer documentaries or real footage of their interviews/trials, also listens to A LOT of true crime podcasts and TAKES NOTES about the most interesting cases to check if he'd be able to solve the unsolved ones and he'd always test you as well? you'd be reading a book in bed and he'd plop next to you with a dead serious look on his face asking shit like “would you help some random guy with a cast on his arm carry his bags?” 🤨 out of the blue like ?????? baby that's kinda weird can you not but it's really just him trying to flex his big big brain thank fuck he's not an actual cop he'd be insufferable (and way less hot)

to absolutely no one's surprise reiner's guilty pleasure has to do with you, the man's all about you (and hockey), you've asked him to take a bath with you once and now not a single motherfucking week goes by without him looking at you big big puppy eyes asking “bath???” most evenings after work. it doesn't even have to lead to anything he's just content basking in warm water and bubbles with you in his lap, he gets to massage shampoo into your scalp if you want to wash your hair and is now a pro at creating the perfect atmosphere with oils and dimmed lights and omg don't even get me started on candles, he's memorized your favorite scents and now also has his own preferences, catch him walking around a yankee candle store at least twice a month, girls working there ask this big scary grumpy guy if he needs help and he'd reply with the softest most polite & specific hi hello yes actually i need to stock up on sparkling cinnamon and snow globe wonderland tyvm

porco 100% checks his naked self out in the mirror lmaooo i know this shouldn't count as something people wouldn't believe he'd do but it's kinda a guilty pleasure i guess??? he finds putting clothes on a lil depressing and knows he's hot. sometimes you'd catch him doing that after showering and the man would be so fucking thirsty for compliments cause what is he supposed to do with muscles and abs and prominent biceps if you won't drool over them a little? he's annoying & also gets soooo whiny if you don't indulge him like :( do you not think your dashing boyfriend is cute :( while flexing, also always tries to convince you to take your clothes off as well for “inspection purposes” to which you simply flick his forehead lol whether you end up pressed against that very mirror 10 minutes later it's between you and him xoxo

[rabbitsrams]

I'm just leaving a request for when you get to it absolutely no rush but pls more lunch club schlatt im feral for him

absolutely anon <3 i love this sm!! will be about meeting him at a party the m*sfits (unfortunate) were hosting in los angeles circa early 2020 era <3

i've written a lot about lc schlatt a lot already but idgaf i love writing more <3333 this turned into a whole fic hehe

nsfw under the cut, minors dni!! 18+ only.

you were dragged along by a friend who was invited by their friend. because they had to go to a huge youtuber party and you weren't gonna let them go alone.

the house is HUGE, wasn't a surprise that you lost the group as soon as you went inside. you decide to wait by the drinks on the off-chance someone you know would show up. none of your friends did, but someone else did.

out of all the creators you watched who were at this party, you were a casual fan of jschlatt's content. you were around when he did a face reveal, shocked that he was this cute guy your age instead of a 45-year-old man (it's the voice, sue me).

even in the darkness, you recognized him. you were too stunned to say anything as he grabbed the only water bottle in the area.

"you, uh... you want anything?" he asks. that voice. that voice you've only heard through headphones was now two feet in front of you. you shake your head.

"i, uh, i don't feel comfortable getting drunk at a party where i don't know anyone." you say, looking down at your hands.

"fair enough. uh... ah fuck, i got the last water, 'm sorry."

"i-it's fine," you take a deep breath. "uh, a-are you jschlatt? your voice sounds really familiar."

he chuckles. "yeah..."

"oh wow," you laugh. "i knew it."

it's silent for a moment before schlatt pipes up again. "d'ya know anyone here?"

"i came with my friend, who is nowhere to be found. their friend apparently knows whoever is hosting and got us in."

"ah," he takes another sip of water. "you can't find your friend?"

you shake your head. "whatever. they'll only find me if they need a ride home. i don't care anymore." you grab a can of beer and walk away from the drink table, trying to find a quiet place to stay. schlatt follows you for a moment before taking you to his room upstairs.

it's a breath of fresh air. the music is muffled and schlatt's temporary room is spacious and (mostly) clean. he invites you to sit on the bed with him and you continue your conversation from earlier. he's actually a lot nicer than you expected him to be (considering his online persona). and he's even cuter in person.

soon enough you find yourself leaning in to kiss him. he's a bit nervous and doesn't kiss you back.

"sorry. i, uh, never kissed anyone before." he confesses.

"that's okay. i've only kissed one other person and it's been a while since that happened." you say. that makes him relax a little. he cups your cheek and leans in, hesitantly pressing a soft kiss to your lips. you pull him closer, moaning softly as you put your hands in his hair. he whines.

you pull away. schlatt's face is tinted red and hints of your lipstick are all over his lips. "i, uh, wow..." he murmurs. you smile, moving closer and straddling him. he's already rock-hard underneath you. "s-sorry..."

"oh my gosh, don't be, it's okay." you grind your hips down, feeling his dick twitch in his jeans.

"h-honey, please... 'm gonna... b-bust. w-wanna do it i-inside ya..." he whimpers. you nod, removing your dress and panties. he kicks his jeans and boxers off. he leans to the left, opens a drawer and takes out a condom.

"oh thank god, i was prepared to go out and ask for one," you giggle. schlatt doesn't respond, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him. you ease yourself inside him, and before you can start moving, he groans loudly.

"fuck, 'm so sorry."

"did you..."

"yeah."

"oh."

"w-wait, i don't wanna leave you hangin'," schlatt says. he helps you lay next to him. "can i touch you?"

"y-yes... please..." you whine. he coats his fingers with your wetness before slowly sliding them inside you. you clench around him, whining as he begins thrusting them in and out of you. he rubs your clit with his other hand and before long, you're coming all over his fingers.

"fuck, that was... so good..."

"yeah? it wasn't too, uh..."

"totally fine. uh, we can always do it again, dunno how long you'll be here but um... i can give you my number."

"yeah?"

"yeah."

after you both clean up and get dressed, you exchange phone numbers. the party is slowly dying down. your friend texts you that they don't need a ride so you leave. as you drive back, you get a message from schlatt, already eagerly asking for your next meeting.

[cadriox]

Yumihisu deserter AU

(mikasa was found dead in the woods)

Alternate universe where ymir came back with historia instead of sacrificing herself for the warriors. Then they be like, okay everything is pretty hopeless let’s run and get married. (Ymir said yes) (Berth and Reiner died there)

In this AU a LOT of the main casts died bc they really fuck everyone over. Eren spiraled even more because mikasa dead 💀💀

Rumbling still happened but yumihisu survived being in the island. They won the idgaf war, happy ending for them only!!!!!

Friend killer wives 💖

(I also imagining eren wanting to kill them once he knew where they were but realized he’s envious of them being able to escape fate while he stuck to the cage so he avoided them, bc if he saw them he’ll go murder spree for mikasa)

adding on…

Armin was the only who figured out they deserted for themselves not to Marley while Eren was furious. Erwin still died

Eren eventually learned about ymhs through contacting zeke, influencing him to ask armin to join him last minute. Armin left with Eren.

Floch didn’t join the yeagerist, he’s bonded with the rest of the 104 more than ever.

Jean was the 15th scout commander, but not for long bc they all died trying to stop the rumbling.

Armin, Eren, yumihisu, and everyone in paradis survived. Eren and Ymir died from 13 yr curse

[saenora]

YOUR FAVOURITES AS YOUR SIMPS

note: if we flip tables and what if youre the mangaka character and your fav simps on you… these are some adequate subpar headcanons… 🫠 (i dont write so lmao bear w me 🤭) thankies to Ai <3 @gojoest-main for indulging always mum ily and SOBS GOJO IS BASED ON WHAT AI SAID🤭)

the husband

YN IS HIS LOML. he is huge on selfship community! HIM AND EVERYONE CALLS HIM YOUR TRUE HUBBY! he has a whole lot of selfship arts with you. he might go broke with all the merch but he cant help it every time he sees your fanarts or a new chapter drops, he goes feral. PINTEREST MOODBOARDS, PLAYLISTS YOU NAME IT. HE HAS IT. he is defending you on every website, writing little self indulging drabbles about you. he knows you well, his little head canons are cannoned by all of your fans. your his f/o and nobody can change it. he either talks about you infront of his friends and he has gained a reputation because of it or leads teh secret life… there is no inbetween. has the sweetest selfship headcanons but occasionally tweets regular horny one liners about how bad he wants to be fucked by you, or about how much he wants to cum inside you and get you pregnant.

gojo?, reo, kise chuuya, isagi, yuuji, taiga, ran + anyone who fits the criteria

the loyal hoe

he has too many blorbos, he knows it. BUT YOURE HIS MAIN BLORBO, HIS BIGGEST SELFSHIP/ THE ONE HE KEEPS CRAWLING BACK TO. it can be put as you made him standout. IS 25/8 YN BRAINROT AND TWEETS HORNIEST STUFF. HE ONLY SURVIVES ON SMUT AND BREATHES TO THE THOUGHTS OF YOUR AROUSAL. writes the best sex stuff. he keeps hopping from one to another but everyone knows he is your biggest whore. UNHINGED. crazy lot of nsfw fanarts of you, has patreon subscription to see all those fanarts. it doenst matter where he is, work/home/cafe. HE IS THIRSTING ABOUT YOU. writes about the shapes of your labia/cock and can write poetry on your body.

SHIDOU, karasu, dazai, GOJO, sukuna, toji, BACHIRA, aomine(ik.. but if he could write), ranpo, EREN, kaiser, jean + anyone who fits the criteria

the sweetheart

he isnt extremely active. somewhere in between the worlds. he calls himself your cheerleader, your number one supporter. he has tons of art saved of you might/might not be on budget. has one commissioned selfship with you. he loves you and probably has the most pure of the selfship with horniness served as dessert. (NO ONE CAN ESCAPE IT) occasionally indulges in you. is mostly very sfw!! but his head is full of all the sexi stuff. loves to talk about you… if anyone strikes a conversation about you he can write verbal books. CERTIFIED SIMP. his selfship is uwu. doesnt go big on it but is a soft fan.

kenyu, hiori, isagi, yuuta, megumi?, chifuyu, rindou, kakucho, connie, atsushi + anyone who fits the criteria

the silent one

he has been your fan since the start, the first time he laid his eyes of your 2d character design, your story, your everything captured him. he loves you from afar.. isnt really active but has a small pinterest board or a playlist of you that he silently indulges in. has no idea what selfships are but you’re a coping mechanism for him (sometimes). if you were real, he’d treat you so much better than the shitty charcter you’re stuck with. doesn’t pick fights online but wouldn’t hesitate if someone crossed a line. he doesnt realize but thinks of you more than a fictional character. probably is the healthiest out of the five. none of his irls know about his fixation of you and it would never see the light of the day. IF LOYALTY WAS A PERSON IT WOULD BE HIM. period.

nanami, rin, ness, levi, erwin, akutagawa + anyone who fits the criteria

the idgaf

he simps only for you. he has posters of you and is not ashamed. people know about you being his favourite character but he is scary so nobody can ask it about. has minimal/no online presence. but keeps signed copies of the mangakas. JERKS OFF TO YOUR POSTERS UNABASHED. he follows one fan account and prolly goes anon sometimes. heavily reads your smut or hasn’t scratched the surface you cant tell. YOURE NOT A CHARACTER, YOURE HIS FAVOURITE. ANOTHER ONE WHO DOENST KNOW WHAT SEFSHIPS ARE, BUT HEAVILY CREAMS THINKING OF YOU and has wild fantasies about you.

sae, aomine, shoichi, oliver, izana, kaiser(idk), baji, naoya, mikey, wc kunigami, ranpo + anyone who fits the criteria

zen speaks: i’ll do a yn as diff as character tropes drabbles too 🤭 so wtevrhr <3

dividers: @/cafekitsune

[blorbocedes]

charles for the ask meme asdjfksafj

charlieeee... I really like those heart patch jeans he has. it's totally my style. if I could rob him of one item it would be this. I also wear a minimum of 4 rings so I understand him in that regard

something that's really struck with me was when he said about his hot dog dog, that bringing Leo into his life made his already beautiful life even more beautiful.

being a f1 driver and being a SUCCESSFUL one at that - which he is - is a 1/20 experience out of 8 billion, it's already a very different extraordinarily privileged life from most people. but he's also had the extraordinary grief of losing a parent, a childhood friend, and a godfather. and to be able to look back at this life and call it a beautiful one, one that he actively lives to make it one is very commendable. so even though I idgaf that dog, his gratitude towards it and his outlook on life really got to me

I also think ppl have extreme blorbo brain towards him and can't see that he is very assertive on radio and to the team, and he has very clear ambitions, instead of uwu poor omega charles fucked over by ferrari yet again, can't make his own decisions helpless sacrificial catholic lamb

he's a very open closed book, like you'll see all these aspects of his life that he makes public but you'll never really know him

[beans-core]

watched Deadpool 3 today. Please excuse me while I lose any marbles I’ve managed to convince you I have.

Spoilers! duh

Number one. First and absolute foremost. I will absolutely cream my jeans if Deadpool makes any cameo in any other marvel show/movie. Seeing him talk with Happy Hogan was already so great, and seeing any other characters trying to tolerate deadpools bullshit would be INCREDIBLE.

Something specifically that would make me happy cry would be seeing DP with Spider-Man. plEASE. Idgaf if they recast Spider-Man for a fourth fucking time or something but oml I would watch the hell out of that. (It would prob make the OTP SpideyPool shippers cream their jeans too, now that Tom hollands Spider-Man is legal. Would be a hell of a cradle-robbery though jfc.)

Number two. Honestly, I’d be completely fine if there were no more Deadpool movies. I feel like it’s alright to stop a good thing before it become a bad thing. E.g: not over doing it. It’s happened in many movies franchises before, and if happens to Deadpool I’ll probably kms. Like, three whole good movies is already teetering on the ledge. It’s fear-edging me. I’m scared the greed is gonna come back (did it really ever leave?) and target DP. So if they stop the movies while the going is good, I’d understand, but if so— please dear god I hope DP still makes appearances.

As in: maybe a tv show? Like, wasn’t there going to be an animated show at one point? It got scrapped I think, but something like that would fuck hard.

Number three. Just. Hugh Jackman. MAN. I’m ecstatic to see him play wolverine again. Positively quivering with excitement. I have no earthly idea if this was a one time thing, a final-but-for-real-this-time hurrah. But if it was: worth it. I squeaked when I saw him back on screen. Was shitting screaming crying at the end of ‘Logan’ when I first watched it (amazing movie btdubs) and even though it’s hilarious that Marvel didn’t let his movie-story end there— they just went “how about no”— I’m kinda glad that they didn’t just ignore that Wolverine ever died. And the fact that this movie helped set up a more coherent timeline for a bunch of other movies!!! I appreciate that sooo much!!!

Also. happy to see the movie people making another excuse to get wolverine naked.

“There are 206 bones in the human body. 207 if [Hugh Jackman is there].”

yeah okay I’m done. For now.

if you need someone to geek out about with, I’m here. Hmu. But beware, I’m not versed much in marvel’s comics.

[christophersg1rl]

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘? ᴄʜʀɪs x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs:it’s obviously very smutty, use of pet names, and minors don’t interact, or do idgaf

A/N: to let you guys know you can always request something and I’ll def write it!! always here to provide for yall 😋

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It was a Saturday night, and you and the triplets were obviously going out, what else are you adults for. You and chris had been dating for a while, and you knew the triplets for almost your whole life so hanging out with them wasn’t weird in any way, but you had anxiety in parties, and oh did chris know that. you weren’t even one for parties until you started dating chris, dating him was a lot because of his crazy fans, you didn’t mind it tho. You would be jealous to if you didn’t have him. You decided to wear a dark red dress that was VERY small on you, you knew chris would love it since it hugged your body so nice he could see all your curves. obviously chris doesn’t care how he looks so he puts on jeans and a shirt, looking like a homeless man right next to you. But you loved how he didn’t care, it made him unique. “babyyy we have to go!!” chris whines waiting for you to finish your makeup because you took almost 2 hours, isn’t it hard being a lady? “okay okay babe I’m done” you say coming into the room seeing ur boyfriends mouth drop. “Ma your so beautiful.” he gasps, he loved complimenting you. What wasn’t there to compliment about? you were beautiful, you had the prettiest smile, that smile could make him nut in his fucking pants. It’s what made him crazy about you. “CAN WE GO YOU FUCKERS” nick yells from downstairs, earning laughs from me and chris. “we’re going we’re going” you say embarrassed of how long It took to get ready.

“Y/n you take so fucking long to get ready I can’t imagine being a girl” Matt exclaims as nick nods in agreement. “Well a woman always needs to look put together, and it takes a process”you grab your purse, going outside to get into Matt’s car since nick or chris didn’t know how to drive. As soon as you got to the party you realized how big it fucking was, I mean this was atleast a 3 story house tops. And man was it fucking PACKED. But you knew you would be okay because you had chris with you. “Baby it’ll be okay I’m going to be with you mama. maybe you will have some fun” he whispers in your ear earning a smile from you as you walk in the house with the boys. Already tons of people walk up to them, not you tho. You were popular but not with Christopher’s friends, his friends were mostly just weird to you. You decided to go get something to drink since chris had gotten busy with his friends. “One margarita please” you ask the guy at the bar that’s in a house, I know. crazy. as you get your drink you go to look for your boyfriend until you see him with a girl. And damn was she beautiful. You weren’t the type to easily get jealous but she was touching him and he was laughing. Why was he laughing. chris took a quick glance at you and smirked. He knew you were upset, but it turned him on. He loved making you mad. You decided to go up to him because you were sick of her touching your fucking man. “Chris I need you to help me with something” you say in a rude tone, causing the girl to give you a face. “And who are you?” The girl laughs looking at chris knowing that the girl just fucked up. “I’m his fucking girlfriend you idiot” you say grabbing chris and leading him to the bathroom. Once you guys are in you shut the door and slap him. “So you think it’s fucking funny to make jealous huh? You think your so fucking funny Christopher.” You say as you crash your lips onto his earning a groan from him realizing he was already hard. “Oh so you wanted this huh? This turned you on? Me being mad?”you say as you pull his jeans down and his boxers at the same time. “I bet she can’t make you this fucking hard chris. Right?” you question as he nods throwing his head back when you touch his tip already filled with pre cum.”please y/n fuuuuuck” he pleads as you slowly start to jerk him off. “Tell me who you belong to chris” you continue your pace slowly. “you mama you please baby.” he pants trying to catch his breathe. you slowly take his dick in your mouth causing him to throw his head back. “Holy shitttt baby this feels so good.” he groans as you moan as a response, you could feel he was close so you stop. “fuuuck baby why did you stop?” He whines at the loss of touch.

“I told you not to play with me 𝗰𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗲𝗿.” you laugh getting out of the bathroom leaving him a whimpering mess.

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A/N: I hope you guys like this cs I’m rlly new to smut 😭

[catboygretzky]

Exyblr Dashboard Simulator based on what I personally see on sportsblr:

8/?

🗣️ jeremyknoxes follow

'california didn't see the solar eclipse' actually fuck u i see a solar eclipse every time jean moreau steps in front of jeremy knox

#😤

72 notes

💃fox-me-up

neil josten:

me:

#neil stans roll up #neil tag

365 notes

♛ queen-of-exy

most of my mutuals are kevneil bitches but are we forgetting that andrew minyard literally smashed riko's arm to pieces on live tv bc riko was going to hit neil?????? ("allegedly" etc etc 🙄)

👢exyinaphonebooth follow

uh. riko like, killed himself over that btw

♛ queen-of-exy

i'm not talking about riko here am i, i'm talking about andrew and neil

#if i say rip or whatever to riko does that make u more comfortable #0310

122 notes

🐋 sexyexy

when get around to writing this kevneil soulmates AU it's over for you hoes

🫡 exyisntreal follow

will you ever write it tho

🐋 sexyexy

😤 fuck oFF

#we all know the answer is no but you don't have to say it

39 notes

🧚 goalie-stan

every time i see kevin day in an edit on booktok i lose ten years of my life

#idgaf that she's dreamy or whatever give her BACK #jumpscare fr

13 notes

🦷 introverted-misha-collins follow

i'm just living my life, i didn't need to know exy fandom was a thing in general and i DEFINITELY didn't need to know that the exy rpf tag on ao3 has 30k+ fics

🙀 catboyneiljosten

#no WAY would someone ever do that :O

765 notes

🤳 badexyimagines

imagin..e.....

your boyfriend andrew minyard gives you two roses. he says 'i'll love you until the last rose dies, y/n' you cry in happiness, thinking one of the roses is fake; he takes out a lighter and lights them both on fire. 'lmao bye' he says, walking away you cry

#bad exy imagine #andrew minyard #exy #psu #next person who thinks this account isn't a parody dies #i'm sure this is extra fake as andrew would never give anyone roses at all even just to light them on fire

376 notes

🧜‍♀️ sapphicexy

you can say I have a type (lesbian goalies)

#if you rb and tag this andrew minyard i stg........

432 notes

🌸 a-softer-exy

jean moreau - golden

#usc #university of southern california #usc trojans #trojans #jean moreau #exy #web weave #poetry

3,007 notes