#because if I’m acting like this I surely can’t do the things I want to do

[drudyslut]

— summary: kook princess. kook prince. perfect match, right? wrong. you hated rafe cameron and everything he stood for. and he hated you. so when your fathers spring it on the two of you that they’d arranged for the two of you to be married, both of your worlds are flipped upside down.

— CW: strong language, forced/arranged marriage, kissing, slight sexual tension, alcohol consumption.

— note: so sorry for how long this has taken me. i’m still unsure how i feel about it but i refuse to scrap it again. feedback is very appreciated! likes, comments, reblogs!

prev parts: one, two

2 days later…

Y/N

It’s been two days since the encounter with Rafe at the Country Club, and it’s all I’ve thought about. He was drunk, that’s what I’ve been telling myself. He was drunk, and he didn’t actually mean any of the shit he’d said to me. Rafe hated me, just as much if not more, as I hated him.

I needed to shove his face, and the way he looked at me that night, down. I needed to get my head on straight, because tonight… Tonight I had to glue myself to his side and pretend to be happy. Pretend that I was madly in love with my future husband, pretend we didn’t despise one another.

But as much as I tried, I couldn’t. I couldn’t get the look of pure lust he’d had on his face that night out of my head. I couldn’t get the way his hands grabbed at my body out of my head. I couldn’t get the things he’d said out of my head. He was stuck there… Almost like he’d wanted to insert himself deep into my mind and make me trip over myself, wondering, waiting… Did he mean what he said?

I squeeze my eyes shut, hearing his low and raspy voice at the back of my mind.

“Baby, you’re going to be crawling on your hands and knees begging for me to touch you. To kiss you. To please you. You can act like you hate me now, Lord knows I can’t stand you. But even I can admit, you’re fucking gorgeous. And I know you find me somewhat attractive.”

Fuck. What is he doing to me? He is attractive, but I’d never admit that out loud. He’s a fucking douche, and he knows that. I just wish this could be easy, I wish I was being forced to marry someone I somewhat like… That would make this a whole lot easier, but no.. Of course my parents would set this shit up with the Cameron’s. My dad and Ward have only been friends for as long as I can remember.

Fuck them, and fuck Rafe. I-

A knock sounding on my bedroom door rips me from my thoughts, and I sit up fully on my bed, crossing my legs and saying, “Come in.”

My door is pushed open, and I’m met by my mother’s eyes.

“Hey sweetheart, you’ve been locked up here all day, are you okay?”

I fight the scoff that wants to come out, not in the mood to fight with my parents today. Instead, I put on a fake smile and say, “Yeah. I’m fine, just trying to keep my energy up for tonight s’all.”

My mother makes her way to the end of my bed, sitting down and placing a soft hand on my leg. I sigh, knowing this is about to be some long lecture I wasn’t in the mood for.

“Sweetheart, I know how you feel about Rafe.. But this is a good thing, okay? I’m sure the two of you can learn to get along, he’s not that bad of a person is he?”

I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to think of what to say, but my mind fails to think of anything. She has a point. He isn’t that bad. He’s just had a shitty life — Well.. To an extent.

His father was known to be a major ass. I’d personally witnessed the verbal beatings he’d given his son, not to mention the few times I’d seen Ward actually lay hands on him. Rafe didn’t know what it was like to be loved and in turn, didn’t know how to love. Maybe things would be different had his mother not passed when he was only eleven, maybe she would have loved him, and taught him how to love. But we’d never know the answer to that.

“Honey? You still with me?”

I lift my head, finding my mother’s worry filled eyes once more.

I nod my head, “Yeah sorry, mom. I’m just tired. How long do I have until the engagement party? I think I might take a nap.”

Standing from my bed, my mom makes her way to my bedroom door, opening it but stopping to answer my question. “You have about three hours, guests will begin arriving in two. Take you an hour nap, then get ready. Your dress is on the back of your bedroom door. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

She closes the door softly behind her, and I throw myself back into my pillows, letting out a deep breath. I close my eyes, hoping I can take a nap and not dream about Rafe and his fucking hands on me, I don’t want him to have this power over me, but fuck if he hasn’t burrowed his way into my head.

-

RAFE

“Rafe, we’re leaving here in twenty minutes!”

I roll my eyes, looking myself over in my bathroom mirror once more and straightening my tie. I just have to get through tonight, and then I don’t have to deal with her again for another few weeks. I could do this.

She’d been on my mind for the last two days though… That night at the Country Club, and how good she’d looked, how her voice sounded. Fuck, how could I have never noticed her like that before? How could I have always overlooked her?

She was fucking beautiful, and fuck her attitude, and the way she looked when she was mad… It had my cock straining for days. I hated her though, and nothing would change that. Not even good pussy would change the fact that I fucking hated her.

I clear my throat, straightening my tie for the millionth time before finally turning away from the bathroom mirror and walking into my bedroom. I make my way over to my nightstand, opening the top drawer and grabbing out the flask I’d had hidden in there.

Quickly unscrewing the cap, I tossed it back, swallowing as much as I could before screwing the top back on and shoving it back into the drawer, closing it. Fuck, I needed to use some mouthwash before I got into a car with my dad. Last thing I need is him bitching me out for drinking before we arrived at the Y/L/N’s house.

After swishing around some mouth wash, i grab my phone, wallet and keys, shoving them all into my pockets before inhaling a deep breath and letting it out slowly. You can do this, Rafe. It’s just the engagement party.. You still have three weeks until you’re officially married off to her.

I make my way down the stairs with one minute to spare, seeing my dad, Rose and two sisters all standing by the front door waiting for me. I meet all of their eyes, one by one taking in the expressions on their faces.

“Let’s go. Don’t wanna be late right?” I say slowly, pushing past all of them and out the door.

-

We arrive at the Y/L/N’s house within five minutes, their driveway and the sides of the street already filled with cars and the yard all the way into the house filled with people. I swallow nervously, running my hands up and down my dress slacks.

“You okay?” I hear Sarah say from the right of me.

I glance down at her, narrowing my eyes. She never gives a shit about me or how I’m feeling.

“Just peachy, Sare. You don’t have to pretend to give a shit about me.”

She scoffs. “I’m not pretending, Rafe. I couldn’t imagine being in your position, I’m just-”

“Look, I’m fine. Can’t be that bad, right?”

Before she even has the chance to respond, I lean over her, opening the car door and looking at her, my face letting her know to get out of the car. She does just that, exiting the car and smoothing down the front of her baby pink dress.

“If you need anything, you can talk to me. I know we don’t get along, but I am your sister, and I do care.”

It feels like a thousand needles prick at my throat, my eyes stinging from tears wanting to well up, but I don’t let them. Fuck, I need a drink. I nod my head at Sarah, thanking her before climbing out of the Range Rover and slamming the door, slowly making my way toward the front porch steps.

As I enter the house, the sound of music and chatter fills my ears, and I can’t help but wince. I’m used to this sort of environment, lots of people, music, the works. But it’s always people my age, and we’re having fun, not celebrating the engagement of two people who could care less about one another. Every last person here is oblivious to the fact that Y/N and I do not want to be married, fucking ignorant bliss.

I make my way into the kitchen, finding various bottles of liquor on the counter tops. I settle for a bottle of Whiskey, grabbing a small glass from the counter and pouring two fingers, tossing it back and pouring another.

“Do not make an ass of yourself tonight, son. I swear to God if you embarrass our families..”

I roll my eyes, slowly turning to face my father who stands so close to my back I can feel his breath on my neck.

“Don’t worry, dad. I won’t embarrass us. I just need a drink or two so I can get through this shit fest.”

My dad’s eyes narrow, but he keeps his mouth shut, turning and storming off into the house, probably in search of Y/N’s father. Good, hopefully Mr. Y/L/N keeps him off my ass tonight.

I toss back the second drink, placing the glass into the sink before shoving my hands into my pockets and slowly working my way through the crowd of people. A lot of the older men and women stop me, shaking my hand and congratulating me. I guess some people already know why they’re here tonight, shocker.

I approach the foyer of the house, scanning the length of the room when my eyes land on her. She looks absolutely beautiful tonight, shit. She’s making it really hard to not notice her lately. Why? I’ve been around her since we were kids, grew up together, and I’ve never paid her any attention. Why now? Maybe it’s because I’m being forced to marry her, so she’s been consuming my mind, or maybe it’s because Topper hasn’t shut the fuck up about her the last five days, ranting and raving about how “hot” she is, and how I should enjoy her. Maybe he’s right, and maybe that’s why I’ve been so infatuated with her these last few days.

Without even realizing it, I make my way toward her. My soon to be wife. The soon to be Mrs. Cameron, mother of my children.

“Hey.” I say lowly, my eyes scanning the length of her body in the tight fitting white dress.

She flicks her gaze up to my face, her eyes searching mine.

“Hi.” she responds.

I swear I see a blush cross her face, and I don’t miss the way she shifts back and forth on her feet, her white strappy heels clicking against the tile floors.

“So, we’re supposed to stay glued together tonight, shall we?” I ask, holding my arm out for her to take.

She hesitates for a moment before finally linking her arm with mine. A weird feeling erupts in my chest, and I shake my head, trying to shake the weird feeling.

We begin walking through the crowd of people, all eyes on us as we try and find our parents, knowing they wanted to go ahead and announce the engagement and wedding date so everyone can enjoy the rest of their night mingling and drinking.

Finally finding our parents, we slowly step up the stairs and onto the landing, standing between our parents — Ward and Rose beside me, her parents beside her.

Ward clears his throat, clinking a small fork on the side of his whiskey glass and getting everyone’s attention.

Fuck, there are so many fucking people here.

“Thank you for coming out tonight everyone. We have a very big announcement to make.”

He stops speaking, turning his attention to Mr. Y/L/N and letting him continue.

Y/D/N places a loving hand on his daughter’s shoulder, clearing his throat and speaking. “We have invited you all here tonight to announce the engagement of our two eldest children, Rafe and Y/N. We wanted to throw this party in their honor tonight, to celebrate two people becoming one.”

I discreetly roll my eyes. Two people becoming one my ass, more like two being being forced together so two companies can become one…

“The wedding will be in three weeks. Saturday June fifteenth. We hope to see all our friends and family there.”

The room erupts in gasps and cheers. A fifty-fifty of mixed emotions throughout. I notice Y/N’s hand tighten around my arm, her eyes scanning the room quickly. I take note of a few girls I’d slept with in the past, glaring at her. Fuck. I need to do something, these girls will eat her alive, they’ll know this is all bullshit. I need to try and make it seem real, but I don’t think Y/N is going to like my plan very much.

I slowly unlink our arms, turning her so she’s facing me and I cup her cheeks in my hands. She sucks in a sharp breath, narrowing her eyes on me.

“Trust me, okay?”

Her chest rises and falls quickly, but she squeezes her eyes shut and nods her head.

Without a second thought, I dip my head down and capture her lips with mine. The kiss is slow and soft at first, but I quickly deepen it, shoving my tongue into her mouth and feeling her body tense up underneath my hands.

She kisses me back, her body relaxing and melting into mine as the sound of the hoots and hollers slowly fade. There’s no one but us in this room. Shit, she’s a good kisser.

She finally pushes me back, wiping the corner of her lips with her hand and staring up into my eyes.

“What… What was that for?” she asks.

I glance behind her, seeing Jessie and Caraline rolling their eyes but stomping away. I can’t help but smirk at that, Y/N is the only girl I’ve publicly shown any affection towards, and they all know that.

I shrug. “I was saving you from being eaten alive by the bitches of my past s’all.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, thanks. But I think I can handle a few girls.”

I can’t help but smile at that. She’s strong, she’s tough, and in three weeks, she’s all mine.

“I bet you can, but, you’re welcome.”

Her eyes continue to search mine, her hands shaking at her sides as she continues to stare up at me. God, my cock is painfully hard right now. I just want to take her up to her room and ruin her innocence, but I won’t. I’ll wait until the wedding night, I can wait three more weeks.

“Now, let’s go enjoy this party. It’s gonna be a long night, baby.”

RAFE TAGLIST: @drewstarkeyslut @princessslutt @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @sturnioloshacker @starkeysprincess @rafescurtainbangz @atorturedpoetx @redhead1180 @jjsmarijuana @romaescapes @kisses4angel @lovelysturnioloos

series masterlist | rafe cameron masterlist | taglist form

[starlit-typewriter]

Genshin SAGAU, Creator of Teyvat, but not Humanity Part 7

WOwza, this one took a while!

Thank you so much to everyone who liked and commented, literally makes my day whenever you read them. I love them so much!

Sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger last time ;) In return you guys get this massive chapter. It's the biggest so far I think.

Warning for mild dissociative thoughts

Warning for Spoilers up to 4.6

Masterlist | Prev Part

~~~

Funny thing about the brain is that it actually helps you filter out a lot of sensations. 

For example, you can always see your nose. Always, but you don’t notice it because your brain filters it out.

Or the fact that your toes are always touching each other, you can always feel your toes.

It’s actually really important that the brain does all this, because if it didn’t you probably wouldn’t be able to get stuff done.

You’d just lay there.

Like a potato, unable to do anything because you’re too busy feeling.

Do you know why I know that?

It’s because I’m feeling it, right now.

Every inch of my body, I can feel.

The gentlest of breezes, the slightest brush of fabric, the pounding of the heart, the light touches of my eyelashes hitting my face.

I just laid there, breathing.

Feeling the air going in and out of my body.

You’re not sure where you are.

Or why you’re here.

You just, are.

Inhale,

Exhale,

Inhale,

Exhale,

The act of moving seemed torturous in your mind.

You can already feel so much, how could you even dare think about feeling other stuff.

You just,

Didn’t want to feel anymore.

Every sensation, every movement feels overwhelming.

Like a tsunami of things to focus on. 

You don't even know where to start or what to do.

You just lay there.

Existing

You squeeze your eyes closed tighter, desperately trying to ignore the light that still permeated through your eyelids.

Hoping that the quiet peace of sleep will overtake you.

It doesn’t

You can’t sleep.

It’s just waves upon waves of noises and feelings. 

It’s awful

You hate it

You hate it so much.

You want to rip off the blankets and sheets and get out of this bed and scream, but you know that doing that would just introduce more unpleasant sensations which would be even worse than what you’re experiencing right now.

Even though you know that your brain is still demanding you get rid of the things that are touching you and instead of doing anything, you just stay there and stew in your bubbling resentment and irritation at everything and anything.

You’re just stuck in this cycle of hating everything and wanting it to be different, but fearing that difference and also being too tired to do anything about it.

That just gets worse and worse and the burning anger and frustration just keeps building in your chest and you’re helpless to stop it.

You know it’s not rational and it’s dumb, but it’s still there and you just feel like a helpless shell that’s about to burst with the amount of things that you’re feeling and you hate it and that just makes it worse.

You’re so caught up with everything you’re feeling that you don’t even notice the shaking of the floors, nor the frantic footsteps and the slamming open of the door.

All you can focus on is the pressure and anger and rage and helplessness that’s building inside of you.

Then it stops.

Distantly you can feel some foreign energy pressing against you.

It’s unpleasant, but in a soothing manner.

You can feel all that resentment and anger slowly shrink.

It doesn’t go away, it’s still there, sitting as a small lump inside you, noticeable at every move.

But it’s not overwhelming.

An artificial calm washes over you, relaxing your limbs and making you sleepy.

You can hardly remember why you were so irritated in the first place.

You’re just tired,

You want to sleep,

So you do.

~

The Adeptus breathes a huge sigh of relief as the ground stops shaking.

Even with the strongest of sealing spells placed around this domain, the power of the creator is still one to behold.

Thankfully the calming spell Cloud Retainer gave him works in soothing the sleeping deity.

She said it was one that she had used to calm Shenhe’s bloodlust back when she was younger. It became much less effective over time and as her disciple grew in age, but it works as a temporary measure. 

The Yaksha had many doubts in using the spell, after all Shenhe was only human, how could using this on her even compare to using that on a god, nevermind the creator of the world.

But it did,

Somehow.

As much as Lord Lapis assured him that the creator had been weakened greatly, Xiao still had his doubts.

After all, even in a half conscious state, they managed to crack the barriers placed upon this domain to seal in their power and resentment.

Not that he’s particularly happy that these barriers have been placed there.

He sighed, feeling every single one of his centuries.

As much as the Traveler teased him for looking young, he was one of the senior Adepti and the years to prove it.

He knew many of the tales about the creator of Teyvat, not as much as Lord Lapis of course , but much more than even the most learned of human scholars.

He knew of their actions, their allies, their feats.

And their downfall.

It was not quick, nor was it pretty or honorable. 

But it was how Celestia conquered Teyvat.

It would be of no surprise to anyone had the creator returned with rage and blood.

If they’d come with a thirst for vengeance.

With intent to destroy their creation that had been turned against them.

But they did not.

Or 

At least,

Their ∎∎∎∎ didn’t

The elusive outlander that appeared upon the borders of Liyue, dripping with the energy of the creator.

It wasn't that no one noticed their energy.

Simply that no one could recognize it.

After all, the only living being left who’s met the creator is the very same that defeated and sealed them away.

That he knew of mind you.

There is a good chance that there are those who’ve been around since the age of dragons still lurking in the dark corners of Teyvat.

However, they’ve made their presence scarce. Posing no real threat to Liyue, as such they were of no concern to him.

The soft clicking of shoes took him out of his thoughts.

The Traveler poked their head in, eyes drawing to the unconscious figure on the bed.

They then flickered over to him, silently asking for permission to enter.

He nods, stepping to the side, as to not disturb the sleeping deity.

“So how are they?” they asked quietly,

Xiao couldn’t hold back a sigh at that question. 

It’s been several days now since they found the creator at the site of Azhdaha’s sealing. 

Several days of going in and out of consciousness, all with dubious control over their powers.

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” he starts, feeling guilty at how slow things are progressing. It was the Traveler after all that had volunteered their own home, teapot, as a base of operations.

More so out of convenience, since at the time they had no idea when deity would awaken next, nor their condition, so taking them somewhere where any potential power leakage would not result in casualties was the first order of affairs.

As far as he knew, Lord Lapis had been working with many other of the Adepti to create a hidden domain where it would be safer to keep the creator, should the worst happen.

The Yaksha felt guilty that Lord Lapis had to step in and take control when he should be rightfully enjoying his retirement.

But in this case, he can’t say he’s not thankful for his steady presence.

Having to battle Osial without the steady support and presence of his Archion was a harrowing experience. Whilst he’s lost many companions in the field of battle, the Lord of Geo was always the steady presence that everyone believed in. 

The person that would always overcome the enemy.

Losing him was like losing the very ground he walked on. 

It was only the reminder of his duty and contracts that he was able to shoulder on. 

Thankfully that was just a test, and one which they passed with the aid of the Traveler and the Qixing.

Whilst the Traveler is lending their aid in this endeavor, the Qixing.

Some affairs are not for mortals.

Even the idea of explaining the full, true history of Teyvat and how humans came to be is a burdensome task.

No,

It was best to leave this to the Adepti.

And the Traveler.

He snuck a look at the outlander standing beside him.

Well, standing is a strong word, they were leaning against the wall after all.

Their golden eyes flickered over to him, noticing his stare.

He resisted the urge to look away from their striking gaze, “Do you want me to get a chair?”

“I’ll keep watch,” They offered in response. The two having silently agreed not to leave the creator alone, or unguarded.

Trusting the Traveler with the task, Xiao headed out of the room.

He never spent much time in Adeptal abodes, despite having one tucked away somewhere is Juyun Karst, he seldom uses it.

It was far too removed from Guili Plains, where he tends to patrol the most. In all honesty, Wangshu Inn is probably his closest equivalent to an abode. 

Not that he’s willing to admit it, he is well aware of the Qixing meddling with the Inn in question, how they’ve set it up to be a safe haven for him should he need one.

A kind but foolish sentiment. Should he ever require a safe haven, an inn full of humans will be the last place he’d go.

That doesn’t stop him from wanting to go there from time to time, especially if the chef is in.

He was getting distracted.

Xiao entered one of the rooms.

Ah, chairs.

It seemed the Traveler wasn’t the biggest fan in interior design.

Not that they were bad at it. When they put their mind to it, the rooms were elegantly decorated with good quality furniture.

When it wasn’t,

Well.

He stared at the piles of furniture, haphazardly stacked around the room.

At least it was clean?

The Yaksha grabbed two of the closest chairs and started moving back towards the guest bedroom.

Whilst he was making his way there, he heard the sound of the front door opening.

Peeking over the banister, he saw Lord Lapis enter, adjusting his sleeves slightly.

He moved over to catch his eye, he bowed, as much he could with his cargo, which was really more of an exaggerated nod.

The retired Archon climbed the stairs to join him in his journey.

In hindsight he should’ve grabbed an extra chair.

Or even a table.

Well it’ll look weird if he went back now.

As the two walked, Lord- Zhongli, filled him in on the happenings outside the teapot.

Some of the other Adepti were assisting in his workload as much as they were able.

Something he was grateful for.

And the domain for the creator was almost complete. 

Now it was simply the task of moving them to it, without disturbing them.

Whilst Xiao took no pleasure in his duties of extinguishing the spirits of fallen gods, rarely has he wished to be out on patrol as much as he does right now.

He knew exactly why he was being set on guarding duty.

Even if he wasn’t fond of that fact.

Steadfastly ignoring the flickering spark inside his chest, he set the chairs down by the Traveler, who smiled in response.

Lo- Zhongli strode past the two of them to examine the condition of the unconscious deity.

The figure, stirred at his presence, their energy rising as a result of that.

He sighed, backing off, gesturing at Xiao.

That’s when the Yaksha reluctantly approached the creator.

They stayed calm.

For him.

It was of great surprise to him when he was blessed.

To everyone really.

He was the first properly documented case after all.

Not that he was the first to be blessed, he believed that honor lay with some Mondstatian knight, nor was he the first Liyuan, he suspects some human may have received the blessing before him.

But for a period of time.

He was the only one they knew of.

That could recognize the blessing at least.

He was greatly favored for a period of time as well.

His skill grew at a rate it hadn’t since the days of the Archon war. Back when growing was the difference between life and death.

His karmic debt,

Was also greatly lessened.

To this day, the pain has never increased past the day he was blessed.

There were days where he felt the full force of his karmic debt.

And days where he felt light as a feather.

He hated those days.

Grateful

But also hateful.

Because it would never last.

It was only ever a glimpse of peace.

A flicker of freedom.

Sometimes hope could be crueler than pain.

Pain he knew, he understood.

A sharp blunt hammer of agony bearing into his soul.

He was used to that.

But hope,

Hope is like a weed,

Ever growing and persistent.

You can get used to pain. He did after all.

You can’t get used to hope.

Hope is greedy.

It always wants more.

He was getting distracted.

Xiao approached the sleeping creator.

They didn’t stir, their energy, a shifting cloud around their figure, accepted him into its embrace.

It swirled around him, suppressing his karmic debt, rejuvenating his energy and soothing aches and pains he didn’t know he had.

It’s addicting

He hates it.

Stepping forward, he gently lifts the creator.

Cradling them in his arms, as one would a damsel or so Cloud Retainer would say.

Many good things came with her moving to the Harbor.

Her interest in Inazumen light novels was not one of them.

Apparently she gained some ideas regarding his relationship with the Traveler.

Ideas that he thought he stomped out when he first got blessed.

There was once a theory that the Traveler was the one who gave out the blessings. 

And that the strength of the blessing was directly correlated with the strength of one’s relationships with them.

It was wrong.

Unfortunately the ideas that stemmed from that theory did not die the same death the theory did.

He respected the Traveler greatly.

That’s all.

“Xiao,”

He didn’t jump at their soft voice.

He didn’t 

Thankfully the sleeping deity didn’t stir,

Much

He also resisted the urge to bristle when the Traveler placed their hand on his back.

This is only to get out of the teapot, he reminded himself as the two teleported out of the teapot.

Their hand was warm.

He could still feel its imprint well after they let go.

Lord L- Zhongli appeared beside him soon after. 

“Where to?” He asked.

~

It,

It wasn’t far,

Not in the grand scheme of things,

Liyue is huge after all, it would take a mortal days to traverse on foot.

Except well,

They didn’t have days,

Who knew the next time the creator’s energy would lash out.

This time without layers of sealing spells surrounding them, he didn’t want to think of the carnage.

It was only a couple hours of travel.

Made much faster by Lo- Zhongli’s foresight in clearing the way of both enemies and cough inconvenient walking terrain.

Not that any errant enemies would dare approach. Considering the sheer amount of energy dripping off of the creator, any creature with even a shred of self preservation would know not to attack them.

The three walked in silence.

Not out of awkwardness, it was a comfortable silence all things considered.

Well, as comfortable as can be considering how dangerous the passenger in his arms was.

Thankfully, they didn’t stir throughout the entire journey, their head resting peacefully on his chest. 

It wasn’t long before they made it to the domain.

It was between Mt Hulao and Mt Xuanlian

A deceptively peaceful area, with a secret domain hidden behind a waterfall.

The three made their way inside. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Cloud retainer, or well Xianyun in this form, as she double checked some of the seals by the entrance.

 He quickly made his way to the center of the domain, a large circular room, with layer upon layer of sealing spells and barriers set up. 

A simple bed, placed in the center of it all.

He put them down gently, only to tense as their energy flared. 

The Traveler and Lord Lapis tensed too, preparing for their awakening.

Only for it to settle down.

Xiao breathed a sigh of relief, teleporting out of the circle and nodding to Rex Lapis, who activated the barriers.

The room lit up with golden sigils. A beautiful display of Geo power, creating sparkling barriers around the center of the room.

The plain stone walls looked as if they were inlaid with gold. The barriers are akin to the finest of silk, thinner than spiderwebs, doming around the sleeping figure.

“Now, all that’s left is for them to wake up,” Lord Lapis announced solemnly.

He looked tired.

Understandably so, 

No one expected this to happen, a deity of this scale is one that Celestia would struggle against, never mind a lone retired Archon.

Xiao knew his strength, he knew Lord Lapis’s strength, but he also knew of the feats of the creator.

He knew that should they truly wish to escape, these barriers would be naught but paper walls for them to tear through.

All the Yaksha could hope for was their continued slumber.

As the three trailed out of the domain, sealing the paths behind them as they went.

The slumbering figure trapped inside shifted.

The heavy layers of Geo energy crushing themself against their body made themselves known.

It was heavy,

Crushing,

Solid,

Familiar,

A familiar energy,

One of an old enemy.

Flashed of a man, a beast.

A figure of brown and gold, with a white hood.

A warm hand extending out.

The gift of vision, of light.

Of time of companionship.

Of joy.

Of battle.

Of war.

Of loss.

Of grief.

Of Anger and hate.

Hate and fear and anger.

Confusing feelings of hate and love, of joy and sorrow.

You remember who these memories belong to.

You remember his form.

His face,

His name.

Azhdaha.

In the dark cave, hidden behind layers of rock and seals and a waterfall.

Glowing slitted eyes, snap open.

~~~

Masterlist | Prev Part

Oops, looks like I forgot to fix up that cliff hanger huh?

My Askbox is always open!

Taglist: @bunniotomia,@lucid-stories, @ymechi, @chocogi,  @ra404, @ash1, @esthelily, @tottybear, @mmeatt, @quacking-simp, @reemthetheme, @universallyenthusiastsage, @resident-cryptid, @fantasyhopperhea, @thedevioussmirk, @etherisy, @naynayaa ,@mel-star636, @chericia, @aithane, @mmeatt, @xrosegorex, @amidst-the-tempest, @8-sinner-8, @reapersan, @elementalia ,@strangeygirl

[raineandsky]

hi! could you write a piece about villains resolve to hate hero slowly growing into concern when he notices that hero is always showing up to their fights with injuries he didn’t cause? begrudgingly, tries-to-convince himself-and-act-like-he-doesn’t-care protective villain, and usually golden boy hero turned messy crier

thank you for the request! hope you enjoy :D

tw: implied abuse

The villain manages to bowl the hero over, and the hero winces a little more than is normal for a little toss like that.

The villain waits while the hero scrambles to correct himself. It takes too long. His hands are shaking as he grapples with the ground. Then the villain sees it; the shadow a touch too dark on the do-gooder’s wrist.

It’s not the first time he’s seen it, either. The villain doesn’t go for the wrists. Nor the neck, or the ribs, but he’s still caught glimpses of them, littering the hero’s body like little mockeries that someone can do it better than him.

“Who is it?” the villain asks sharply. The question seems to catch the hero off guard—his head snaps up from where he’s still on the ground. Why hasn’t he gotten up yet?

“Who’s who?”

“The other villain.” The villain takes a step forward. “Who’s beating you up in my stead?”

He made no reference, but the hero pulls his sleeves further down his wrists all the same. “There isn’t anyone else.”

“Don’t mess with me, [Hero]. Tell me who it is.”

“There’s no—” The hero’s voice catches. The villain knows what that means. Please, god, don’t cry. “It’s not a villain.”

“What?” comes out before the villain can stop it. “You mean there’s some goody two-shoes doing my job for me?”

The hero nods once—short, sharp—and with a sob, crumbles into a flood of tears.

The villain watches distantly as the hero wipes at his face in vain. This isn’t right. No, it’s the agency and the villains. Good versus evil. Wrong and wronger. This isn’t supposed to happen. Who the hell is acting like this and putting themself on the hero pedestal? Even the villain’s goddamn better than that.

He takes a cautious step forward again. The hero’s still trying desperately to stem the flow of tears to no avail, his hands pawing uselessly at his eyes. The villain bends down towards him and opens his mouth before realising he doesn’t know what to say.

What would come out? I can help you. He sure as hell can’t. Or won’t. He’s a villain, the hero’s… well, a hero. He doesn’t help heroes. Then maybe who is it? But the villain doesn’t give a damn about that.

The slow churning in his stomach is selfish, right? Someone’s swooped in and done his job for him. He could be out of business if the heroes just turn on each other like this. But the hero grabs onto him when he makes the mistake of getting too close, burying his face into his shoulder with a grief-stricken sob, and that pit in the villain’s stomach yawns wider. 

“Okay…” the villain says softly, because that’s really all they can think to say that’s not too revealing. “You can stop now.”

The hero’s hands are balled in his shirt. That’s going to goddamn crease, he can see it already. It can’t find it in himself to move the hero away, though, so he wraps his arms around the other to distract himself from the future of ironing he’s facing. That’s why. No other reason.

“I–I’m sorry.” Ugh, the hero sounds snotty. “I didn’t… I wasn’t meant to be…”

“Yeah, I could’ve kicked your ass by now.” The villain shifts to run a hand through the hero’s hair. He barely even realises he’s doing it. “I don’t kick crying people’s asses though. I appreciate it’s not exactly a fair fight when you can’t see.”

The hero snorts a laugh that’s immediately punctuated by another heave of tears. “That’s very kind.”

No it’s not! the villain wants to screech, but that’s not true, is it? It is kind. It's battle etiquette, if the villain’s going to twist it in his favour.

He’s not going to though. He knows he won’t. So he props his chin up on top of the hero’s head, prepared to wait this thing out, and simply asks “who did this to you?”

-

The hero goes back to the agency after that fight, exhausted, stressed, nervous. Another failed capture, another round of punishment for his incompetence.

He gets back to the superhero’s office to report and finds that he’s not there.

And if the villain has any say in it, he never will be again.

[wanderingsoul6261]

Credit for gif goes to userbeaufort

James Beaufort x Reader

Title: Distracted

Synopsis: James and Reader have an argument after she feels that he is being too overprotective. She gets injured during a volley ball game and he comforts and apologizes.

Warnings: mentions of blood/wounds

Sorry if volley ball is described inaccurately in the brief moment it's discussed. Last fic for about 24 to 48 hours. Decided to take some time off to rest up. Sinus infection had gotten worse. My ears are plugged and hurt. I have about 8 to 9 more requests, so more is definitely coming.

The fight that they had was just full of nonsense. At least, that was in regards to Y/N’s own opinions. James felt as if he was in the right, only wanting what was best for his girlfriend. He just wanted to make sure that she was safe. He thought that he was being overprotective. Y/N thought that it was that with a hint of jealousy. It was known though that neither of them could come to agreement on what it actually was. 

“Can you stop breathing down my neck, just for twenty four hours?” Y/N raised her voice slightly, turning to look at James. He had been following her around, making sure that she was okay and safe. She felt suffocated though, that if he continued to stick around that she would die due to lack of oxygen. 

“I just want to know that you are okay. Is that too much to ask for?” 

“Yea. It is actually, because if you stick around any longer, I might get arrested and charged with murder!” James paused his steps and stared at her. Confusion and slight anger was portrayed on his face. 

“What is your problem?” He asked. Y/N turned around, looking at him as if he just slapped her. And he might as well just have. 

“What is my problem? It’s you, James.” Now it was his turn to act as if he had just been slapped. James took a staggered step back, a look entirely of hurt and confusion the only thing to be seen on his face. 

“What?” Y/N had almost felt guilty, seeing the blow that she had just landed, even if she knew that all that he wanted to know was that she was safe. Instead, she had only stood her ground and raised her chin slightly in defiance. 

“You heard me.The problem is you.” James didn’t know how to react, and if they weren’t currently in the situation that they were in, Y/N might have felt proud to have put James in the state that he was currently in. “You’re suffocating me. I feel like I can’t breathe. I take a few steps in any direction and I’m knocking myself into you. And it’s constant, James. It’s like you’re being some possessive boyfriend. What’s next? You are going to start dictating who I can or can’t be friends with?” James did say anything. Honestly, he didn’t have much to say, so he only remained standing, averting his eyes from her gaze and looking anywhere else. His jaw clenched, but he knew that he couldn’t be mad at anyone but himself, even if he was angry at the current way she was speaking to him. 

“What?” Y/N questioned. “Cat got your tongue?” And just like that, James was gone, turning around on his heel and stomping down the hall. Y/N had felt nasty for the way that she had just treated him, but she also knew that she had to make her voice heard. She felt that there was no other way for her to have accomplished it in any other way than in that moment. 

—-

It had been a few days since the two of them had talked. Y/N had rightfully been angry and James himself had rightfully, even if he had deserved it, been upset and hurt. They had both mutually agreed that it was best to give each other some time to cool down and relax. The last thing that either one of them had wanted to do was come back and say anything that would be highly regretted. Not that Y/N didn’t already regret the way she snapped at James. She had honestly wished that she could just go back and choose a better way to have got about it. 

But the damage had been done, and the only thing that she could do now was wait until he had cooled down enough to talk.

In the meantime, Y/N had a volleyball game to prepare for in a few days, and she would be lying if she said that she was good to play. Even if it happened a few days ago, the argument was still fresh in her mind, and had been affecting her ability to focus well enough on the task of the game. 

No matter what happened, she could never stop thinking about him. 

Y/N had wondered if she should check in with them, considering their lack of conversations over the past few days. Her friends would easily tell her no and to let him stew in the moment. A few of them had even gone as far as to tell her to give him hints that she wanted to break it off, because it would quote, light a fire under his ass, unquote. But Y/N couldn’t do it. She wasn’t that brutal. However, she didn’t want to back out on her defense, knowing that her feelings were justified, and she didn’t want to do anything that might suggest otherwise. 

That didn’t change the amount of times that her finger hovered over the send buttons to numerous different messages. 

Im sorry 

Love you

I hope you are doing okay. Let’s talk soon. 

One of them consisted of just heart emojis. There were even times messages consisted of a mixture of those messages. 

Even as the volley game against a rival college was about to start, Y/N was doing just that. She sat on a bench in the locker room, biting her nail as she tried to make up her mind on whether or not to send the message. Y/N wasn’t even sure if he would show up tonight. 

I don’t know if you plan on coming to the game tonight. But I think we should talk soon. Y F/L/M initials 

She let out a heavy sigh, running her hand through her hair, finally pressing send. And then she waited for several moments, waiting to see if he would open and read it. When ten minutes passed and she was finally being yelled at for not being on the court yet, she figured that he was probably still mad at her. 

Y/N tossed her phone into her gym bag, leaving it at that. Which obviously, with the continued emotions only adding to inability to play the game. She should have told her coach, but yet, here she was, running out of the locker room and onto the court, her mind filled to the brim with thoughts and questions, and ultimately, him. 

The game though had surprisingly started out pretty okay. They were almost done with their first set when Y/N saw James walk into the gymnasium. They locked eyes momentarily, her heart fluttering. He showed her his phone, likely telling her that he had seen her message. But he still didn’t look too enthused. She swallowed thickly, turning back to the game when her name was called. The ball was just over her, and she jumped, spiking the ball over the net, scoring a point for Maxton Hall. 

As the team captain, she knew she had to keep her mind distraction free, but it was definitely easier said than done. They couldn’t do well if she wasn’t there. But even with that thought in mind, she still wasn’t doing well enough. Halfway through the game as a whole, everything in her mind, thinking about the argument, about him, and what might come of them after the game had gotten too much. 

She had the space and time to dive for the ball in front of her, hitting it up and over the net just in time before it hit the ball, none of the other girls close enough to hit it, They couldn’t take the risk. So she dove, and in the end, she almost wished that she didn’t. 

No matter what she did, she couldn’t stop herself from cracking her face against the floor. She laid there for what seemed like several minutes and wasn’t even sure if she hit the ball over the net. Instead, she heard the crowd murmuring silently, her teammates coming over to check on her. 

She lifted her head off the floor. Y/N saw the blood. She brought her hand to the left side of her face, feeling the wetness of the blood and gingerly touching the outline of a gash. Her head snapped up to meet James’ own panicked look. He was standing up from his seat, watching her, his eyes wide. It only took a few more seconds and her coach pressed a towel to the side of her head for him to come running down. Her ears were ringing by the time he made it to them. 

She watched as he spoke to her couch,  but her mind was so fuzzy that she couldn’t exactly find it in herself to make out what was being said. 

And then James was escorting her out of the school and towards Percy, where he was waiting for them. One arm was wrapped around her waist while the other was pressed to the towel currently on the wound. 

“We have to take her to the hospital, Percy. Nasty little cut on her forehead.” James spoke to his chauffeur as the two of them slid into the car. As the car got moving, the two sat in silence for several moments. 

“My phone is in my gym bag. Can you tell my parents where we are going?” she asked. He passed his phone to her, but as she grabbed it, he replaced his phone with his hand. 

“I want to say I’m sorry.” he spoke softly. Y/N looked at him in shock. “I shouldn’t have been acting the way that I was. It wasn’t right of me. I know you can look after yourself.” James turned his head to look at her. His eyes glanced at the place where the towel sat. 

“I should be the one apologizing.” His eyes snapped back to her. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way that I did. I know that you only want what is best for me, and snapping at you the way that I did wasn’t the best way to show my appreciation, no matter how mad I was.” Y/N explained. “I just hope that we can fix this and use it moving forward in our relationship as a reminder. That is, if you want.” 

“If I want? Just because we had an argument doesn’t mean you’re getting free of me.” He joked, a smile gracing his lips. “It’s only one of many that we will have in the coming future. Arguments aren’t avoidable.” Y/N gave him a smile, leaning into him. She went to press a kiss to his cheek, but he had turned his head enough to make her lips land on his own. They leaned into it, and Y/N could feel a cheeky smile grace his lips. 

When they pulled away, Y/N held his gaze. 

“Promise?” His cheeky smile turned into a soft one. 

“Promise.” 

[bloomeng]

I know MXTX is a good author I want to get that out of the way before I get into this. She’s a fantastic (male) character writer and she has a great grasp on interpersonal connections. Though she’s working in an established niche genre she’s still very creative, I think SV especially is evidence of that. But there’s one thing that I just can never seem to get a pulse on, and that’s how much she means to comment on classism.

Author’s intent is always gonna be tricky especially when I have to rely on translated texts and interviews. There’s probably a lot of nuance that I miss, not to mention literally interviews I’ve never seen etc. It also doesn’t help that I haven’t read most of TGCF yet, so I can’t comment on that series, and with SV this conversation is less applicable, so for the sake of what I know best I’m gonna be using MDZS as my main example.

Classism is undeniably at the heart of MDZS’s themes, however for years anytime I analysis the text I’m usually fairly cautious to note that I don’t know if this was intentional. This isn’t because I think MXTX is stupid or can’t handle deep conversations, it’s simply because I can’t tell if it was her intent. On paper it seems obvious; WWX, JGY and XY’s wealth disparities, how privilege drives the plot, literally everything about the Wens as a whole. So much of the novel’s runtime is spent showing us how corrupt the feudal system can be, going so far as to have a protagonist who dies for the cause and two antagonists who are driven to be awful because of their poor circumstances in life. It feels intentional that WWX was granted a certain amount of privilege based on something he was born with (his parents connections) and how easily people turned on him because to the world he is a villain (also he does bad things that he likely wouldn’t have to if he had no need to defend anyone). JGY acting as a foil for WWX feels intentional and I would absolutely consider them foils regardless of intent. With all this in mind I would be inclined to say that yeah, MDZS is commenting on classism, but then WWX marries into the corrupt system and we the audience are supposed to read this as a good thing.

This has always been my biggest qualm with the book. We spend so much time showing how awful this system is and the two people who do anything to try and save it are punished for it by death. Sure WWX is brought back but as soon as he’s in Mo’s body he’s aimless. JGY is of course the secondary villain of the series, but MXTX goes out of her way to make us understand that even when JGY had power, his birth kept him from actually holding any real control, and what control he did have he mostly used to get bad people out of power and make the community better (he was biased and paranoid and vengeful but MXTX’s characters are nothing if not nuanced). Why set all this up to end up in such a contradictory place?

I get that solving such big issues such as classism isn’t easy and we want a happy ending but does MDZS even have a happy ending? None of the mc’s besides LWJ and (supposedly) WWX and LSH and LJY are in good positions by the end of the story. I remember reading MDZS for the first time and thinking that LWJ would fall for WWX because of his radical ideas and eventually see that the Lans were contributing big time to this awful system that favors wealth over everything. Especially because we have a second plot line about whatever was going on with LXC and JGY. And then it just never happens. Instead the Lan sect are painted as ok just because they’re monks. The system wasn’t the issue actually it was the people in charge but don’t worry they’re gone. Life is great now that the most powerful sects are in the hands of a 15 yr old, a man with unchecked anger issues, a council of elders that think corporal punishment is the solution to everything and a man who committed to a life long bit to get out of all forms of responsibility. What could go wrong?

I’ve always thought it was strange and ooc that WWX just accepts going back to Cloud Recesses. His literal incense burner fantasy was a cottage in the woods away from society. He never really warms up to the rigidity or their bland ass food, and he doesn’t even really respect the Lans culture more than he has to. It’s clear he only lives there for his husband and son’s sake. So why am I to believe this is his fairy tale ending?

The only answer I’ve been able to grasp over the years is that the romance genre of the novel overpowers everything else.

This is what brings me back to my original point. I don’t know if MXTX’s intended to comment on class, because if she did I struggle to understand how the ending of the story fits this intention. Which means by default it wasn’t the intention, at least not the priority. I mean ok duh, obvious conclusion, this is a danmei, it’s the bl genre, of course the romance comes first, but that’s not exactly what I’m getting at. You can absolutely have a romance that comments on other things at the same time and I think MXTX’s writing is smart enough to do this, except it fumbled so hard at the end it left me questioning if she even meant to comment on classism in the first place.

A part of me thinks that all of this commentary was just a coincidence of the genre conventions. Cultivator/ historical fantasy tends to just have classism baked into setting, so maybe that’s all it was. Perhaps she was just borrowing what was already there to make interesting character motivations and it wasn’t done with any intention of commenting on any sort of greater societal issue. Which for the record would be ok. I’m not policing what MXTX should write and romance for the sake of romance is perfectly valid, but as a reader I’m allowed to say this particular instant made me dislike the actual romance she set up. These issues in the book made me actively dislike LWJ. I’m on an island about that though. Getting back to my point, I struggle to call this commentary intentional and thus things like WWX and JGY suddenly feel unintentional as well.

I also find MXTX’s own words to be contradictory at times. For instance, she’s mentioned that after SV she found writing more than one couple to be too taxing. When asked if other characters in MDZS were gay she said explicitly they were not, yet both MDZS and TGCF have unofficial side couples that are an inch away from being canon. She’s also mentioned that XY, Sl, and XXC were old characters of hers and were originally going to be the focus of the book, which leads me to believe that they would’ve been a canon love triangle. So I am skeptical when she said all the characters besides WWX and LWJ are straight. I’m not accusing her of lying or anything like that. Tolkien contradicted himself so many times in his letters and essays, it’s sort of par for the course in my opinion. What it does mean though is that I can’t get a read on her intentions. What I can gather from what she tends to focus on in her extras, interviews, and just the fact that this is the BL genre, I’m inclined to believe that a lot of these parallels are unintentional but then I circle back to just how heavy handed it all is and I’m unsure again.

Anyway this was just the world’s longest way to say that actually we don’t have any idea what her intentions are and this is why when I’m analyzing her work I make a point to not put words in her mouth.

[magicaii]

The fact that when tsukasa tenma experiences something highly traumatic he instantly zeroes in on what he did wrong to end up in that situation, drills into his head how to avoid experiencing something like that again in the future, and immediately tries to forget the event ever happening because it’s not only a reminder of his failure but the memory would also cripple his self value enough to hinder his ability to be the person people expect him to and move forward with a new lesson learned to avoid being traumatized again. The problem with this is that you can’t forget your trauma, because then you’ll never be able to fully process what happened to you and recognize what effect it has on your life and outlook. Tsukasa is never able to do this because he does his damndest best to completely erase the memory. When someone has trauma, it’s a completely normal response to come up with a strategy or solution to deal with the damage you’ve been dealt, whether it’s simply withdrawing from those feelings inwardly or acting outwardly in a way to make sure it can’t hurt or affect you again. The problem is that these aren’t healthy patterns, and you’re supposed to get help so that you can acknowledge what happened and move PAST it. Tsukasa is so adamant to pretend shit never took place that he is stuck in this horribly unhealthy phase with terrible mechanisms to get through it all, and since he never processes his trauma has even taken it to the next level by piling it on and on every time something new happens. Saki forced herself to smile because of me? I can never disappoint someone again. The audience didn’t enjoy our play? I said I wouldn’t disappoint people anymore, so I can’t believe I did it again, I have to double down now. The troupe broke up and it’s my fault? I let them down as a leader, I need to take on every burden by myself so that I’m the one solely responsible for everything and I will make sure nothing goes wrong again. Thing is, all these feelings are valid to a certain extent, there’s nothing wrong with not wanting to disappoint people and feeling remorseful when you make them upset. It’s just not good when you’re basing all your worth as a person on how well you live up to peoples standards. He’s so fixated on how well he “performs” that his behaviour becomes EXTREMELY erratic when he is faced with his own failure. Sometimes he straight up lashes out or retracts, both so different from his usual demeanour that people are utterly taken back to the point where even if they are concerned about tsukasa they find it hard to say anything because it’s almost like dealing with an entirely different person. I don’t know how to wrap this up but he’s so mentally ill and I feel that people overlook it a lot because he’s also a comedic character.

[rweoutofthewoods]

hey mere! so i just go around to reading tennessee baby and i just wanted to express my … disappointment i guess? don’t get me wrong here i love previous work vm usually u do jeggy so so much justice and i usually have such adoration for your characters but this one is really rubbing me the wrong way as james is essentially grooming reg and its promoting teachers and adults in general abusing their power with children. cause regulus might be of age but he’s still a child in comparison to james and just in general like 17-19 are still children they are teenagers and don’t have a fully developed brain and so the way you’re making it seem as if it’s regulus doing is just WRONG. like i don’t even have other word for it. and yes i get the whole don’t like it don’t read it but… how do you feel comfortable promoting stuff like this in the first place to your audience who previously hasn’t gotten the impression that you’d promote such violence in your fics yk?

anyways, i’m only sending this in hopes that you may have something say about it i guess cause as of right now i’m not sure if i’d even feel comfortable reading anything else you’d write in the future which is just heartbreaking to me as i’ve been following along with you for so long now!

If you have read my writing before then I hope you know that I don’t write anything as black and white. I write things that are purposefully wrong and the characters are supposed to be in the wrong.

This is something I run into a lot that is very frustrating to me because I can’t force anyone to understand my work. But I understand my work.

That is to say I’m not writing Tennessee Baby with the intention of saying any of this is good or alright. I’m not writing it to act like my characters are in the right. I don’t write things to be moral lessons on how a person should act because why should I? I plan my writing, I exist for it, I have thought out every single little detail and exactly what I’m portraying. which as the fic goes on, I think everyone will find is the exact opposite of “promoting violence” or any of this behavior to my audience.

So two things.

1. The fic is incomplete and very early in the story. Their relationship is just beginning and we’ve barely gone anywhere. It’s a bit premature to judge me morally on a story I’ve barely begun and I WILL touch on all the things and I’m not painting my characters as their actions being okay. But it takes time to write a story. You know who thinks regulus in control and at fault for their sexual relationship? REGULUS. In his pov only… maybe think about that and think about all the ways I’ve showed how he IS a kid despite being a legal adult. I know exactly what I’m writing, trust me. I think you don’t, and I can’t blame you bc the fic is so early in the plot, but it would be nice for people to trust me. Bc comments similar to your concerns pop up regarding a lot of my WIPs and I always know exactly what I’m doing and what my intentions are. So it’s a tad frustrating often feeling the need to defend my writing choices when ik if we just wait and read on everything will become clear.

2. I did warn multiple times exactly what the fic would contain and that it is immoral and it’s MEANT to be. None of this is supposed to be acceptable behavior and I have never acted as if it is.

So really I guess I’m a little disappointed in your response. If it’s not your cup of tea that’s fine! Not judging! It isn’t a nice happy unproblematic fic. If u went happy moral fluff there’s a million other fics for you. But this is the writer I am. I always HAVE been. I’ve written multiple cheating fics, I’ve written age gap, I’ve written characters killing people. Does that mean I believe in infidelity, murder, and student teacher relationships? no 😭that’s not how it works, and the things I write don’t morally define me at all. In fact most of my writing teaches a lesson. if you can’t understand that and don’t want to read my work anymore that’s fine, but I hope you consider why people might choose to purposefully write things that are wrong.

[yae-energy]

╰┈─✩ ˚ ‧ All the ways I love you ‧ ˚

✧˖° synopsis : The Jjk first years and their love languages !

✧˖° cast and crew : Megumi Fushiguro, Yuji Itadori & Nobara Kugisaki x Black Reader < 3

.ᐟ content warnings : General tomfoolery and mushy mush cause FUCK THE MANGA.

⤑ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ authors note : It’s been actual decades since I’ve posted any form of writing….I feel so unseasoned LMAO. This is just a quick lil hc post, nun crazyyy 😽

—

Megumi “I’ll do it” Fushiguro : Acts of Service king.

Now one thing about Megumi??? He’s gonna hit you with the “I got it” EVERY. SINGLE. TIME without fail. Doesn’t matter what time of day, doesn’t matter what he’s doing, he’s gonna make sure you don’t lift a finger for anythinggg.

Is he gonna complain whilst doing it? Of course.

But that’s just true Megumi fashion. It doesn’t mean he ACTUALLY hates doing things for you. Whether that be grabbing you snacks or completing mundane tasks for you such as carrying your bag or opening doors for you, HES GONNA DO IT EVERY TIME. You don’t even have to ask.

Def brings a “if he wanted to he would” typa vibe to the relationship and obviously you appreciate it ten fold (despite the tough guy act he tries and subsequently fails to put on. He loves him some you.) And what better way can he show that than through actions?

They speak louder than words, right?

—

Yuji “I love you” Itadori : Words of Affirmation goat

Ok y’all listen here, this boy is a certified yapper through and mf through. ESPECIALLY when it comes to you.

He will never fail to let you— or anyone for that matter, know just how much he loves you and appreciates your presence. You’re like some sort of higher being to him, the best thing since sliced bread if you will.

All day everyday he’s spouting all sorts of “I love you” and “I’m so lucky to have you 🥲” and he’s gonna get emotional EVERY TIME. Like he won some sort of award (the prize being you of course.) And that doesn’t even include the impromptu monologues about how you’ve changed him for the better, and how glad he is to even have someone as amazing as you.

He loves you REAL BAD, why wouldn’t he tell you?

He’d scream it from the rooftops if he could.

—

Nobara “Look what I got you” Kugisaki : Gift giving queen

Now, I personally consider Nobara to be a mixture of quality time and gift giving, but I’m leaning more with the latter because damn is she a great gifter.

Not only does she love spending money (me too girl, me too.) But, she LOVESSSSS you. Two birds with one stone she’d say, because she loves having an excuse to drop a couple dollars and make you happy in the process.

If she sees you eyeing something while window shopping? It’s yours automatically— whether you actually intended to buy it or not. She’s not good with the whole “lovey dovey” schtick, that’s just not her style. But to make up for it, she makes sure that you have whatever you want when you want it, even if you express she doesn’t HAVE to.

SHE WANTS TO, and you can’t tell her otherwise.

⤑ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ tags : - @morosis-haze @jogeto @mypimpademia @ivanari @planetlunaa @cosmiles @milesmolasses @chinieh @romiantic @stqrriichiigo

if you wish to be tagged in any future works, here’s my tag form to fill out <33

if you wish to submit a request, here’s my ask box :)

⤑ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ closing notes : hey guys…ahahaha…

LOOK IK I SAID I WAS GONNA POST A MONTH AGO BUT LIFE WAS LIFING LMAOOO

I also got a new job now so I won’t have AS much time to post and be silly on here (not that I was super active before but yk.)

Anyhow, thanks for reading and putting up with my lying ass 😕🫶🏽

Love y’all BOOTS DOWN

Mwah 💋

- Xoxo, Yves

[queer-reader-07]

it is so vitally important to me that aziraphale and crowley not only love each other but choose to love each other.

i don’t want it to be fate. i don’t want it to be god’s will. i want it to be a conscious and continuous choice.

i want aziraphale choosing every day of his goddamn existence to love crowley and all that he is. i want aziraphale choosing to love crowley not in spite of being a demon, but because he is a demon. i want aziraphale choosing to love crowley’s curiosity and creative wonder. i want aziraphale choosing to love crowley’s love of plants and gardening.

i want crowley choosing to love aziraphale’s passion for books. i want crowley choosing to love aziraphale’s desire to do things the human way even if he could just miracle it. i want crowley choosing to love aziraphale’s angel-ness because it is a fundamental part of him.

i want aziraphale choosing to love everything about crowley and vise versa. and i want it to be a very conscious and intentional choice.

it being fate negates the entire point of the story. good omens is a love story between an angel and a demon, yes. but that’s not all that it is. it’s a story about two occult/ethereal beings who choose humanity over the great plan. two beings who choose the world over armageddon. and they make those choices because despite it all they have chosen to fall in love with the world and with humanity.

it only makes sense that they choose each other. that they choose their love. it being fate or god’s will ruins the foundational pillar of their relationship. that they choose each other over and over and over again. year after year, century after century, time and time again. they always choose. they choose the arrangement, they choose saving the other from harm, they choose lying to protect the other.

it is always a choice. and it better stay a choice or i am going to be so devastated.

[dimitrscu]

i love pride month but at the same time it always makes me feel so bad about myself. just knowing that i’ll never be able to properly come out because my family will turn on me and because of that i will never be able to have a relationship just makes me feel really awful

[cherrysnax]

the one thing abt being hyper aware of ur flaws is that u can kinda make it a lil bingo game

[drowninginthoughts27]

Not to vent but I think my biggest fear is failure but I’m also like so set up for it. Self sabotage is all I know.

[cr0wc0rpse]

I’m just having a shit time and feeling pretty miserable lately and I’ve been trying to not think too much about it or let it soak but it still gets in through the cracks. And earlier today I was reminded that 1 year ago today I got out of the hospital after my suicide attempt. Which just kind of makes me feel worse. I was miserable then and I’m still miserable now. Almost nothing has actually changed since then, both within me, personally and my life, and outside of me. It’s still the same

[theragethatisdesire]

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

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

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

[tonycries]

Wanna Do Bad Things To You

Synopsis. He fucks you like he hates you. You didn’t mean to fuck your old friend-with-benefits - truly - it just kinda happened.

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! Reader, hate sex, ex-friends-with-benefits, slight angst, he’s still in love with you,  unprotected sex, jealous sex (from his side), choking, marking, pet names (my love, sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 1.5k

A/N. Ummmmmmmm yeah. Art by @_3eam on X.

He fucks you like he hates you.

“Shut the fuck up, you little slut.”

“Do it then. What? Scared he’ll do it bet-”

Cut off by a pathetic gurgle - his large hand around your throat. Ringed fingers tightening right above your pulse, the cold metal digging into your searing skin. 

Your vision is bleary, blood roaring in your ears as he leans down, muscled front against your back. His breath is hot against your face as he whispers lowly, “Running your mouth a bit too much, my love. You do the same with him as well?”

Shivers run down your spine - all the way to your cunt, pulsing and clenching furiously around his throbbing tip. Teasing your dripping entrance. Unmoving.

Your walls burn, struggling at the stretch of his thick head, yet still wanting the bastard to fucking move. Such a fucking tease. He was always like this - even back when you two were together, but that’s a story for another time.

Turning to glare at him over your shoulder, “So what if I do? Who are you to tell me what to do?”

You’re either an idiot or a mastermind. 

Maybe both. Because you feel his achingly hard cock twitch animalistically inside you, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across those kiss-bitten lips you knew too well. You hated how much you wanted them on yours right now. 

“You’re right. I’m not anyone to you.” he murmurs venomously, swiftly capturing the tender skin of your exposed neck, sharp teeth digging into you. Branding you. 

You keen, hips bucking uselessly against his bruising grip on your hips as he pulls away. God, you felt so used - and it made your walls flutter around him so desperately. 

Two long fingers reach up to squeeze your cheeks together mockingly into a pathetic pout, forcing you to look at him. “But I’m gonna ruin you for everyone. Including that little prick you’ve tried to replace me with.”

Your eyes flutter open in shock - you didn’t even realize they were scrunched up - getting lost in the ones boring into yours, half-lidded and pupils blown ferally. Electricity jolts through your body at the pure lust and rage whirling in his intense gaze. 

You two were going to be the deaths of each other.

You two were always going to end up like this.

You’ve barely even finished the thought before his flushed tip is kissing your cervix so painfully good. 

“Hah- Oh, fuck. Fuck you.” Eyes rolling to the back of your head as he sheaths himself completely in you. A low hiss leaves his swollen lips as he pulls out agonizingly slow, inch by inch, prominent veins dragging along your g-spot. 

“Fuck, you sure you hate me? Because this pussy seems like she can’t get enough of me, hm?”

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by his rock-hard cock bullying its way back into your snug cunt. He fucks you animalistically, heavy balls stinging your pussy as his cock rams in and out of your hole over and over at a relentless pace. 

Strangled mewls of ah! ah! ah! leave your swollen lips as large fingers presses tight circles into your clit at a merciless rhythm matching the cadence of his hips. 

You mindlessly writhe against him, you felt so full - so split open on his cock. It was too much to handle. He was always too much to take. 

“Now now, don’t hah- run away from me, my love. If you’re going to act like such a fucking slut then take it like one.” he purrs, lip curling into a smug smirk that you wanted to smack off his pretty face. You couldn’t stand him - but you couldn’t get enough of him either.

“I’m not the hah- o-one that runs away. And- hngh- I’m not your ‘love’” you grit, because God forbid you go down without a fight - even when you’re falling apart completely under him.

What else could he have even expected? You always did see through him.

God, did he love that bitchy mouth of yours. 

Huffing out a surprised laugh, he wraps a strong arm around your waist pulling you deeper onto his throbbing cock - grip hard enough that he knows you’ll have marks to remember him by. Not like he planned on letting you ever forget him in the first place.

“You always did know how to push my buttons, huh, my love?” 

“Could say the same for you, sweetheart.”

Fuck that stupid fucking petname. How is it that even after years of not hearing it, his heart still lurches the same as it falls out of your mouth? That annoying, nagging part of his brain wonders if you call him the same thing.

And maybe you could read minds - he wouldn’t be surprised - because you open those pretty lips to say “Though, you’re not my sweetheart anymore, huh?”

Unexplainable anger seethes under his skin in a way that makes him want to claw it off. 

“Fuck you.” he hisses, turning your face so his mouth clashes with yours. It’s all bruising urgency and teeth clashing at the breathless dance of your tongues. 

His cock speeds up it’s abuse on your cunt, fucking you with impatient, harsh thrusts that have his leaking tip kissing your cervix. Had it not been for his firm hand around your throat, you were sure you’d have been slammed into the headboard creaking in protest.

“You drive me fucking insane. Fuck you.”

He hates the whines of his name falling from your kiss-bitten lips, and how it’s his favorite song.

He hates the tears clinging to your lashes in a way that makes him want to burn down anything that made you cry. Including himself.

He hates the way your cunt clamps down on him as if it hurts to part - he wishes you felt the same.

He hates the way he can’t let you go.

You were perfect, so perfect. Too perfect for him. He was probably better for you - all stability and reassurance where he is nothing but a whirlwind of change. 

In one, fluid move, he’s pulled out of the snug heaven of your dripping cunt - flipping you onto your back to stare into those beautiful eyes that haunt him every night. 

"Let's forget everything else, if just for tonight."

And with those words, he’s back inside you again, ramming into you with purpose. Though his thrusts are as unforgiving as ever, something about the air feels charged with something different. A rawness that both of you would have shied away from. 

“Th-this doesn’t hngh- fix us, y’know.”

“I know, my love.”

His low words muffled as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing the bite mark with a tenderness that doesn’t translate into his hips. And you can’t overthink it - because your head is only filled with him and the way your cunt is milking his thick cock so good. 

And later you’ll probably blame your foggy thoughts for the reason why your hands subconsciously wrap around his muscled shoulders, pulling him so impossibly close until you can feel his heartbeat thundering under your touch - in sync with your own. One. Two. Three.

“Ah! Shit. Doing so good, cunt made jus’ f’me. You’re made jus’ f’me.” choked moans leave his throat as he pulls away ever-so-slightly to look into your fucked out eyes. 

“Perfect f’me, my love.”

Maybe at his words - or maybe at his predatory, blown-out gaze - you buck your hips to desperately meet his. Breathless moans of his name leaving your bruised lips.

With a final, purposeful thrust of his cock, he pulls you once more into a familiar, searing kiss that sends you both over the edge. You see stars as you cum, mind barely registering the thick ropes of his seed that fill your quivering cunt.

A low groan leaves him as his cum forms a thick, white ring around his base, dripping down your legs and onto the bedsheets that he knew were your favorite. It was feral - and at least for this moment, it made him feel like yours. 

Some carnal part of him keeps bucking his hips into you as if on instinct, letting you ride out your highs together. Fucking his cum deeper and deeper the way he would as lovers, his strong arms wrapped around you to keep you from moving away. But he didn’t have to, because right now you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Keeping you close. As if he never wanted to let go - both of your bodies a mindless whisper of what your minds craved. 

A delicate intimacy that only your bodies could bring rings in the sex-filled air. And when he finally stops, body collapsing onto yours - he whispers a secret. Meant for only the two of you in this quiet world.

“Fuck me like you still love me.”

Because by God was he in love with you.

- Gojo, TOJI, SUGURU, Atsumu, SUNA, Tsukishima, SAKUSA, EREN

A/N. Maybe I’ll do some fluff next week to make up for this…

Plagiarism not authorized.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~