#genuinely talking about them in disgusting ways

[luveline]

hello lovely angel!! humbly requesting zombie!steve au, perhaps more of jealous steve? i love their dynamic so much💗 maybe someone is flirting with reader, and enter protective steve:)

thanks for requesting! fem, 2k

You tend to think of it in two weird halves. You love Steve, and you never would’ve known that without the end of the world, so things are okay. Sometimes you wonder if he ever could’ve loved you if he hadn’t been so close to you for so long, but he loves you in this insane capacity of softness that says otherwise. Like, soulmate style. 

It didn’t begin that way. Steve your reluctant guide, and you his unlikely saviour. You’d stopped him from dying at the very start of it all and he couldn’t leave you behind. And Steve, he’d been mean to you. He didn’t want to take care of you initially, but you’d grown to get along. You’d argue black and blue and he’d still rub your back at night. 

There are so many moments you’ve shared that make what you have all the more special. A hundred different memories from before you’d ever kissed. You think about it now, watching him across the firepit as he shows a young girl, Cassandra, how to braid her hair. 

The one that’s sticking today is when Steve got really bad food poisoning for the first time. When you’d known you were in love with him for a while, and when he’d stopped pretending he didn’t know. He’d been sick everywhere, on both your shoes, and you’d rubbed his back through everything.  

It was nice to take care of him. Nicer that night when you’d shared a bed and he’d hugged you half to death. 

He has no idea how much he means to you, or how much those moments with him kept you going when you were all alone. You’re lucky now to have found community, but those stolen hours in bed with him hugging him and getting to be his support, you wouldn’t have made it here without them. 

“Hey.” 

You look up as a man sits down. A boy, a man —what do you call twenty somethings? You don’t feel like a woman most of the time, but you are. 

“Hi,” you say. 

“I’m Jamison.” 

“You’re Eddie’s friend, right?” 

“Who, Munson?” Jamison makes a kidding face, a disgusted scrunch of his eyebrows that falls away to more friendly fondness. “Yeah, we go back. You’re Eddie’s friend too, right? I saw you guys taking out some laundry a few days ago.” 

Jamison is handsome. He has tan skin, short hair, and a crooked nose. His smile is disarming. If you hadn’t fallen in love with the handsomest guy around, you might feel nervous under his gaze. 

Time spent ugly under Steve’s reverent handling makes you confident. You genuinely feel prettier knowing Steve loves you, and it makes it easier to be yourself with strangers. 

“Eddie’s awesome,” you say easily. “I thought he was gonna kill me when we first met, but he’s too nice.” 

“Nice, really?” 

Jamison is casual, as people go. You wonder what his motivations are for talking to you at first, but as conversation stretches, littered with the cracking pops of the fireplace and brief pauses of surprisingly comfortable silence, you realise he’s just talking. Maybe he’s lonely. You know how that feels. 

He tells you that he and Eddie had been in a rock band together before the apocalypse. You’d known to some extent that Eddie was in a band, but Jamison tells you all the details you’d been missing. They were called Corroded Coffin, four members, Eddie played guitar and Jamison thought he was pretty fucking good at it, actually. 

“I don’t think we would’ve been, like, Metallica. But we could’ve been good. We were gonna make a record.” 

You smoke sympathetically. “I bet you could’ve been.” 

“What were you doing? Before all this?” 

“I honestly barely remember,” you say quietly. Your life before Steve is a blur, and it’s painful, too. “Things are harder now, I know that. I wish every day that we could go back to how things were, you know, I miss TV and grocery stores and my family.” You lick your lips. “I wish things were different, but somehow, I think I like my life now. I have stuff to do. Is that crazy?” 

“It’s not crazy. Everything fucking sucks,” —you both laugh— “but that’s not crazy. I’m lucky, I still have my dad, and my friends. There’s purpose in being here.” 

You nod emphatically, just once. “Exactly.” 

You have purpose, now. You get to be a friend, a girlfriend, a confidente. You take care of people. 

It all comes back to Steve, at the end of the day. Would you change the world if it meant never having met him? 

Nope. 

You glance across the fire for him, but he’s not there. 

You put your arm behind your back and bend, looking for him. 

“Looking for someone?” Jamison asks. 

You deflate with relief when you spot him standing near the gaggle of tents about fifty feet away. He’s looking at you from over Robin’s shoulder. You wave, and he waves back with a big smile. 

Something seems a little wrong. 

“Steve,” you explain. 

“He’s your boyfriend, yeah? Eddie told me you’ve been together since the start.” 

You don’t bother correcting him. He might not mean together as how you’re thinking it. “Yeah, that’s him. Have you met him?” 

“Kind of. We all thought he was a huge dick, back then.” 

“He sort of was,” you say. “I mean, we all had our own stuff going on. I get that I’m biased, but he’s my favourite person I’ve ever met. He’s so kind, I don’t think I could describe it to you or anyone just how much he cares about people. I wouldn’t be here without him, and… I don’t know, I’m not saying you’re wrong, but if you ever wanted to meet him again, he’s amazing. He’s a great friend. He’s so fucking funny, he makes me laugh every day.” 

“He’s sort of giving me the stink eye,” Jamison says. 

You wave your hand weakly. “He has raging jealousy issues.” 

“Shit, am I getting you in trouble?” 

“No, never!” you say, tempted to laugh. “He doesn’t get mad at me for stuff like that. He’s normal, I promise. Just sensitive.”

You tell Jamison that it was nice talking to him because it really was, but you’ve been missing Steve for hours already and you need to get back to him before you go totally bonkers. 

He’s sitting on the floor in the tent. The weather has been beautiful lately, you could sleep under the stars if you weren’t scared of being zombie charcuterie. Steve has stripped down to just his jeans and socks, no t-shirt or shoes to be seen. He has his sketchbook splayed open on his thigh, but he abandons it the moment you kneel down. 

“Hey,” you say. 

Steve folds his book closed, pencil between its pages. “Hi. Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?” 

You shuffle in to take his hand. Clumsy touches, his fingers warm and a tad clammy between yours. “You told me yesterday that I have a smile like an angel. I know you were kidding, but I still felt it.” 

“I wasn’t kidding,” he says, wrinkling his nose with a smile. “You think every compliment is a joke.” 

“Don’t make me laugh so much, then.” 

He squeezes your fingers gently. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself to Jamison. Just, I knew him already from school. And he did not like me.” 

“That’s okay. He seemed nice, I think you’d get along if you met now.” You kick your shoes off and crawl as close to him as you can get. He looks up at you, but you look down at his lap. “What are you drawing?” 

“I was just trying to touch up that landscape I did of the river,” he says, a sheepishness to him as he opens his sketchbook. 

You read it with affection, trace lines and hatchings in awe. “Steve, I really wish you had time and space to do this stuff properly. Not that you aren’t doing it properly, just, I know you could make something just as beautiful as this with paint.” You slide to be sitting properly, putting you both at the same height, so you can meet his eyes as you continue. “Did you know what you wanted to do, when you were finishing school? Did you ever think about art?” 

“I thought about it.” His lips quirk. “Mostly about how my dad would’ve kicked me out if I said something that stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid.” 

“I know.” 

That would’ve been a nice life. You and Steve living together, with a basement for his paintings, or a garage turned studio. You’d read books together every night like you do now, and you’d scrub paint smudges off of his cheek. 

You love him so much it must give you an aura. 

“I’ve got nothing to worry about, huh?” he asks softly. 

You drift in, tipping your head back for a kiss you don’t take. “I don’t know, Steve, Jamison used to be in a rock band.” 

He scoffs in disgust. You think it might be a mixture of anger at Jamison and himself. “Who wants to date a rockstar?” 

“I might’ve.” 

You’re teasing, of course, smiling as your kiss draws nearer, and nearer. 

“Well, I can be a rockstar,” he says quietly, warmth of his breath on your lips. “Just give me a chance to get there.” 

You brush the tip of your nose against his and hold your breath. “That’s okay,” you say, letting it rush out of you in a huff, your excitement to be kissed too much to bear, “I like my guys all mixed up. Preferably good at track, and swimming, but with a soft side. Kind of guy who fills a sketchbook up with my face.” 

Steve lists to the side. Your lips are so close, you can feel the phantom of them against yours as he moves in. “It’s not just your face… it’s your hands, your arms… your everything–”

He cuts his own explanation off with a soft kiss. That softness swiftly hardens, turns rough, ten long seconds of sweetness before his hands coming up behind your head and he’s pressing inward, deepening the kiss, and giving you little room to breathe. 

You have no intention of dating any rockstars, but his jealous streak has nothing but upsides for you. Steve knows that his jealousy over the innocuous is his own problem, his own insecurity that he’s working on, and while you sympathise with him (after all, haven’t you yourself worried he’d find someone else he liked more?), you have to confess to enjoying the edge to his kissing. 

You make a pleased, humoured sound as he breathes you in like you’re a drug he’s been waiting for. He gets sloppier, and you can’t help pulling away to laugh. 

“What?” he asks, thumbing at your cheek in a soft juxtaposition. “Sorry, am I being a dick?” 

“No, it’s fine. Kiss me how you want to.” 

Steve kisses your cheek softly. “He knows you have a boyfriend, right?” 

“He knows.” 

Steve hums like he’s smiling and nudges your nose with his, until you part your lips, and he wades in for another dose. 

[blackmoonoracle]

BLACKMOONORACLE PRESENTS ...

PICK A CARD • OCTOBER PREDICTIONS

P I L E O N E

Soooo, you’ve definitely got a pretty decent release coming in during the month of october. I specifically heard the releasing of a karmic contract, so, I truly love that for you. You could be making a decision about a connection, it definitely feels like a past energy though. Some sort of cycle you’ve experienced with a particular soul over and over again. You put a stop to this though, I feel like you called it like it was. I’m channeling Vultures by Earl Sweatshirt and the beginning of the song literally goes. “I’ve been on the run, that’s why I go harder than you go. Plus I call em how I see em, maybe that’s why I’m all alone.” Season of the Witch is currently playing and it’s the part that goes “you’ve got to pick up every stitch” it feels like an energy of uprooting. I do feel like this pile has a tendency to hold onto people that don’t serve them in any way shape or form. Channeling Serve the Servants by Nirvana, in specific this part stands out:

“I just want you to know that I don't hate you anymore There is nothing I could say that I haven't thought before”

There feels like a specific intention in this pile to remove themselves from relationships that are dragging them down.

Something may be occurring that is causing you to let go of this connection, like something is going to make you realize you’re wasting your time. It’s not like usual either, it’s like this undismissable feeling of disgust and realization.

The mask is being ripped off, and in a very ugly way LOL.

I feel like whatever information you’re going to learn from this situation is actually going to help you develop better self esteem and turn a new leaf. It feels like a sigh of relief, this person possibly made you feel like you weren’t good enough, or were a bad person. I heard “I’m always the problem” and you’re going to realize that you aren’t and never were the problem.

I literally heard “reactive abuse”.

If you’d like to book a personal reading you can always dm me on here or instagram.

P I L E T W O

You guys are making social waves the month of october by setting harsh boundaries and restrictions in place with others. I heard “Look but don’t touch” I feel like there may be some kind of drama going on in october. I did hear workplace, so for some of you this could be career/reputation/workplace related drama and bs bubbling over. I see you taking things into your own hands and very critically thinking about the situation so you can make a solid decision that is balanced and fair. I also heard “in your favor” I feel like whoever this person you have issues with is doesn’t have a very good reputation. It’s almost like this person speaking so negatively of you constantly is really aggravating other people. Especially because you don’t really talk about them at all. You’ve pretty much moved on from whatever this is.

I heard “bitter ex friend” and I also heard “bite the bullet” and I heard something about a poison apple? Someone could have tried to use an apple in some sort of hex or spellwork towards you. It could be also that someone has poisonous intentions of trying to gain access to you and that you are putting that shit to a stop.

I heard scorpio, so this person could be a scorpio. I see you essentially making a judgment on this person socially which is going to cause other people to really see them in a different light. You could also be bringing context or clarity to some kind of situation, you hold missing information or you are a missing link in some way. I also heard complexity, so this situation could be very complex.

This new judgment will teach you to be more selfish with your time and resources so that you can create a genuine balance in your life.

Too much gratitude I heard, which is lowkey crazy? I think that what that means is that essentially sometimes you put shit on a pedestal. There’s a self worth wound being worked out in this situation tbh.

If you’d like to book a personal reading you can always dm me on here or instagram.

P I L E T H R E E

I see a new financial opportunity becoming available in the month of october for you, something unexpected. It could be in something with creation of some kind, doing and creating content possibly even? I see you handling business matters and phone calls of some kind? I heard admin, so some sort of administrative position? I also heard dream job, so for some of you this could be a once in a lifetime opportunity or for others this could be a really solid offer. I also heard high caliber, but I’m also hearing don’t work yourself to death. This group feels very capricorn type of energy, addicted to working, you love making money. I see where you’ve fought long and hard to get into whatever position is being given to you. I see where you’ve lost so much, in search of stability and I feel like you will need to face your shadow of lack and insecurity while in this job position or offer. It almost feels like some of you may try to eject yourself out of the situation because you’re scared or because it feels too good to be true? I feel like this is a good opportunity, but don’t get wrapped up in social liaison I heard. I feel like you have to learn to be comfortable with not fitting in or being like neck deep in a community. You’re meant to be a bit of an outlier at this current point in time because you are learning something new. You’ve already developed the social skills, this is about developing a deeper personal skillset that you can really utilize to drive you to your success.

I see this group really coming to terms with the past, and releasing either the fear of being seen for who you are. I’m also hearing “of being heard” a fear of being perceived for who you really are. You are healing your relationship to yourself, i heard “grotesque” you might be really mean to yourself a lot of the time. Like highkey you are very impatient and cruel to yourself at times and it lowkey sucks for you. I also heard don’t lose sight of what you have, this new opportunity is here for you to milk it for what it has to offer and then dip when things begin to culminate on a deeper scale for you. Some of you could really go through a deep spiritual awakening and learn what happiness truly means to you as a result of this.

If you’d like to book a personal reading you can always dm me on here or instagram

[14thcommander]

best kept secret and your biggest mistake | hange zoe x reader

summary: your relationship with eren is a facade, and hange is your secret lover. they wish it was more than that, but they’ll take what you’ll give them. (inspired by nobody puts baby in the corner - fall out boy)

cw: smut, 18+ ONLY. angst, cheating, drinking, sex under influence of alcohol, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise. afab!reader, they/them pronouns for hange zoe. the characters are flawed and reader has a personality. 

Parties have never been Hange’s scene.

Not in a superiority complex way – at least that’s what they like to think – it’s just that people aren’t really Hange’s thing. Although the consumption of alcohol has become an increasing habit in their life, the noise and social interaction are the worst parts of attending parties, they figure.

“Tch, can’t believe we’re being dragged to this shit.” Levi comments, rolling his eyes at his own boyfriend. The short man always seems to be stressed or annoyed, but this time it feels genuine. When it comes to his partner, though, it never lasts long – not really. “This is your fault, Erwin.”

Erwin Smith, ever the social butterfly and recognizable persona, is able to fluctuate through almost every social group in Mitras. Which is precisely the reason why they are entering Zeke Yeager’s birthday party, crossing the threshold of a luxurious two story house — Hange wonders if the guy isn’t a bit too old to throw parties like this anyway, but hey: it’s free alcohol. 

“Sorry eyebrows, gonna have to agree with your boyfriend.”

Erwin snorts at Hange’s words and Levi simply huffs in agreement. A typical conversation so far. The living room is crowded, the atmosphere pumps a generic pop song, and Hange already wants to leave. There are so many people Hange recognizes, realizing that they will have to greet most of them in order to be polite. They look around, scanning the room for something they know will hurt them. 

You.

“Don’t be so pessimistic, Levi.” The blond says, placing a hand on the brunette’s shoulder. The gesture is suggestive, something only lovers could share. “You’ll have fun, I’ll make sure of it.”

Hange scoffs at the scene before them, with a roll of their eyes and a bitter taste on their tongue.

“Ew, get a room, you guys are fucking disgusting.” They say, face contorting with faux discomfort. “I’m getting a drink.”

-

There’s a golden locket hanging from your neck, a collar as heavy as prison. The photo inside, blurry and bright, is of your boyfriend — which was an anniversary gift from last year, or something. The both of you are always breaking up anyway, so Hange doesn’t fully understand what the point of celebrating an anniversary really is. The jewelry doesn’t fool anyone when it comes to deceiving the mess that is your relationship. It isn’t like a necklace would make them forget how he treats you.

As if it would make you look away from his affair with Mikasa Ackerman. 

Hange can’t help but eye it, as it gleams viciously, almost as if inviting them to destroy it. Instead, they take another swing from the sweaty beer bottle in their hand. 

Everything about you is more complicated than it should be. Someone like you shouldn’t be dating Eren Yeager of all people — he’s petty, childish, the embodiment of everything you’re not. You are no saint either, however being with someone like Yeager is something that Hange takes as a personal offense. 

This is bullshit. All of it. 

“Gonna grab another beer. Want one?” Levi says, the baritone voice is somehow louder than the music that plays from somewhere in the living room. 

“Sure.”

It has been an hour or so since they have arrived, and Hange is a few beers deep in

Your boyfriend has a hand on your thigh, marking his territory just in case anyone dares to look at you with lust in their eyes. Hange fights the urge to punch him. This is bullshit. All of it. 

You mutter something to Eren, lips close to his jaw, pressing a kiss to it after you are finished speaking. Hange assumes it is something about wanting another drink. They wonder if your boy toy knows what you like, at all. For starters, you prefer silver — why would he gift you a locket that is fucking gold? 

-

Hange decides to go upstairs in order to escape from the hell that is this party, unable to watch that circus any longer. The house is crowded, causing the atmosphere to feel even worse. It’s almost claustrophobic.

And, for some unknown reason, your friends are into that. 

The bathroom — third door on the right — is thankfully empty. It is clean, too: no signs of drunken regret in the form of vomit. 

The luxurious bathroom is covered in marble with gold adjacents, from floor to ceiling. There is an enormous bathtub on the end of it. Hange if the Yeagers ran out of money when renovating the house: the bathroom is all marble but there isn’t fucking decent lighting. 

Hange locks the door, back pressed against it. They let out a sigh, something from deep in their lungs and even deeper in their heart. They adjust the thick oval glasses on the bridge of their nose, feeling emotionally exhausted after watching you play pretend with Eren.

“Fuck.” They mutter shortly before splashing their face with cold water, feeling droplets fall down their neck. It refreshes them, sure, but the sinking feeling in their stomach is still there. 

Objectively speaking, Hange knows it doesn’t have anything to do with them, or they are – the whole situation is entirely your fault. You are the one who is – allegedly – in a happy, committed relationship. Hange was merely caught in the crossfire of your desires. The jealousy that bubbles in their stomach every time they have to witness you kiss him is your fault. 

But they can’t bring themself to hate you for it. 

-

After all, is it greedy to want both of them? 

You dream of dark, charcoal eyes only to wake up to an ocean gaze staring at you. It is confusing, complicated. You wish you were not pulling and pushing, stuck in between two different worlds.

The party was becoming too much for you – too much noise, too many people. You go upstairs, to the second floor of the house, needing to get away from everything and everyone. Wondering if there is an option — begging for a sign from God — to escape all of this, your hand grabs the doorknob of the bathroom, only for it to twist magically.

And, on the other side of it, is Hange Zoe. Dimly illuminated, the first few buttons of their shirt undone, tanned skin glowing — almost reflecting, luring you in. 

“Oh.” Is all you can come up with. 

Standing face to face with the truth isn’t funny — or easy — in the slightest. The sight of Hange before you feels like the universe is taunting you with the possibility of a life you could have.

“Hi.” They greet you, voice as buttery as you remember. 

You are overwhelmed with flashbacks of car seats, foggy windows, whispered sweet nothings. The ghost of Hange’s mouth still sends chills down your spine.

And, here you are — red solo cup in hand, filled halfway with a nasty drink your own boyfriend made for you, apparently unable to know the basics of your likes and dislikes. The golden locket around your neck is so heavy, so heavy you almost drop to the ground and as your skin turns blue.

“Hey.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. Hange is a few inches from you, and you can breathe in their scent, as it intoxicates your lungs. They smell of cologne, and a subtle undertone of cigarettes. You want to ask, since last time you talked they had quit the poisonous habit – it’s as awkward as it is already, though. 

You haven’t seen them in a month, since the last time you got back together with Eren. Hange took the message when you started ignoring their texts, and posted a picture with him again on your social media. Still, they don’t understand why. 

“How long are you planning on avoiding me?” They ask, shoulder leaning against the door frame. Because fuck this — fuck all of this. Fuck Eren Yeager and his superiority complex, and how he has the only thing Hange has ever truly wanted.

You.

Considering your options, you realize you have the chance to play dumb and pretend you don��t know what they are talking about. Except, this is Hange, who knows you better than anyone else in this world — who knows your soul and brain and heart like the palm of their hand. 

“Hange,” the sound of their name tastes unbelievably sour on your tongue. “You know. You know it’s complicated.”

They know this – at least that’s what they tell themself. Hange does their best to understand you, to feel empathy about your situation. Your relationship is obviously unhealthy, maintaining you in a chokehold. Eren always has a short leash around your neck – in the form of a gold necklace, mainly. He is always around, always with an arm snaked around your waist or a hand on your shoulder. Well, except when he sneaks around to cheat on you with Mikasa. 

“Is it?” Their words make your heart beat heavily against its organic cage, begging to be freed from its confines. “You say that every time, yet you won’t leave him. I thought you had a bit more self-respect than that, to be honest. You don’t seem like the person I met anymore. Not at all.”

They take a step towards you, bringing themself unbelievably close. 

“What happened to you, huh? Little Eren made you his pet?”

Their words drip with venom, poisonous and ready to kill. They want to hurt you as badly as you hurt them, but truly, they would not be able to do so. Hange is all bark, and no bite. You, on the other hand…

“Fuck you. Fuck you from even saying that.” There are stubborn tears threatening to spill from your eyes, a mixture of anger and plead.

Hange knows they might have gone too far, their words intended to stab you in the heart and apparently they did. Alcohol doesn’t suit their anger issues, after all. 

“Tell me to step away. Tell me to fuck off and I will. I’ll go downstairs and pretend I haven’t even seen you.”

You know they would do it, in case you requested — or better, ordered. These days, you wonder if there is anything Hange wouldn’t do for you. There’s a brief moment of silence, voices echoing from the party downstairs, music pumping through the walls. 

They move closer, so close, until their forehead is pressed against yours. 

“Hange.” You mumble their name like a confirmation, like a warning. What it implicates sits heavy in your stomach. 

It is messy, you don’t know who moves first, however your lips end up moving against theirs, with a synchrony that should be long forgotten.

The disgusting liquid that you were once holding ends up splattered on the floor. Your drink of gin, that tasted like kerosene, stands out on the marble floor. Someone would have to take care of it, but not right now. Not now, that your tongues are intertwined. Hange tastes like beer, and you probably taste like something similar.

And just like that, Eren Yeager’s empire falls, right into Hange’s hands. 

They grab your waist, moving you towards the dimly lit bathroom, in order to give a bit of privacy. Smoothly, Hange closes the door and presses your back against it, the rage of Hange burning from deep in their heart — you can feel it on your bones, in your marrow. You know this isn’t a hate fuck, but it isn’t making love either.

No, this is way more intense, as they press open mouthed kisses on the warm skin of your throat. They notice you still wear the same perfume they once complimented, and they can’t help but think it’s because of them. Hange can’t help but wonder about the impact they have in your life, or if they have any at all.

They whisper something that sounds like your name, and it sounds so different from how your boyfriend says you. In this very moment, with Hange gripping your hips tightly, canine teeth grazing the side of your neck, you feel no empathy for Eren. You feel no regret at all, and if that makes you an asshole, then so be it. Being a goody two shoes, a people pleaser, has never gotten you anywhere.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this.” Hange confesses, as they pull your skirt up, guiding you to lay in the empty bathtub, on the other corner of the bathroom.

“I know. I missed you too.” You reply in the form of something in between a whisper and a moan. It's not what they said at all, but you know they mean it anyways. 

Your tits are exposed, bra tossed somewhere on the ground. Your skirt is a puddle around your waist, panties moved to the side — the sight of your glossy cunt exposed to Hange, as they offer you a smile that isn’t nothing short of wolfish. 

“Aw princess, your cunt is so wet already. So messy.” The condescending tone drips from their voice like honey, much like the wetness that drips from you.

Biting their tongue, they fight the urge to ask, is it all for me?

They take a moment to appreciate your body, fingers dancing along your soft skin, occasionally running through scars, unevenness, and a birthmark. Details they want to remember for the rest of their life, but would much rather be reminded of those every chance they get to see you strip for them. 

“Please.” You whimper, as your hips buckle. 

They shush you, fingers lightly grazing your pussy, teasing you through your wetness.

“I know, baby. I’ll give it to you, I promise. Just be good for me, yeah?” They say, pressing kisses under your year, on your neck, towards your collarbone. “Think you can do it?”

You whimper in agreement. They’ll take it

“Gotta be quiet, or someone might notice.”

Digits find themselves playing with your cunt, spreading your inner lips apart as Hange presses a single finger against your entrance, touching you just enough to drive you crazy. It sends a white hot feeling through your body.

“So fucking pretty, princess. Prettiest goddamn pussy I’ve ever seen.”

Given Hange’s history, that means something. Even if it didn’t, the praise would still make your body sing underneath them. It’s hard to properly explain the effect they have on you. 

Their experienced fingers finally find their way inside you, as a thumb rubs against your clit. It’s magical, it’s heaven. If you could choose to die like this, you would. 

This right here should make Hange feel bad, overtaken by a sense of regret at least, but they can’t. Not when you look this good, moaning and whimpering and begging. You have a boyfriend, and they couldn’t care less. 

Their fingers start pumping in and out of you, slowly at first, but growing in speed. Hange knows just how you like it, they right amount of pressure to press on your clit, and curling their fingers inside of your cunt.

“Fuck, ohmygod.” You pant, dignity long forgotten. It’s shameless, you are horny like a fucking teenager, but it feels so good. “It’s so good.”

Hange swallows another moan from you, mouth pressed to yours messily, a mixture of tongue and teeth and spit. 

“Gonna let me taste you, baby?” They ask, not showing you any mercy, already lowering their body in between your legs. “You have no idea how much I missed this pretty pussy.”

“Please, please.” You whisper in response. “Need it, Hans. C’mon.”

They smile wickedly at you.

“Know you do.”

And then, finally — finally, they press open mouthed kisses on your inner thighs, careful to not leave any marks. If there isn’t any proof of your crimes against Eren, then he can’t hold it against you. This is how it works. 

You want all they can give you, unable to quit them. 

Tiny explosions spread through your entire body, as you grind your hips against Hange’s greedy mouth. Now, this is greed — the overwhelming lust, the need to make you theirs. 

The bubble of warmth on your lower abdomen only grows, threatening to pop at any given second. 

The way Hange takes care of you with subtle touches, making it clear that they pay attention to your every reaction brings a bittersweet taste to your tongue. The contrast between them and your boyfriend is even clearer, starkly obvious. This is too intense: a mixture of passion for your lover and regret for your relationship. Somehow, it feels similar to falling in love.

Your hands find home in Hange’s dark hair, like they have many times before. For some unknown reason, this time is bittersweet – perhaps, the emotions, the touches that are so fresh on your body, send you into sensory overload. Tears escape from your eyes, like a broken dam. 

Your mind is a mess, and so is your body – wetness clings to your inner thighs, a thin layer of sweat covering your entire body. 

Their name falls from your lips like a mantra, as if your body is solely devoted to Hange – no one, not even Eren, is capable of earning such a reaction from you

You are so close – your hands pull on Hange’s hair lightly, just enough for them to moan into your cunt. Their teeth lightly graze your clit, sucking it like their life depends on it. The Earth stutters on its axis as you come, the bubble of warmth on your lower abdomen finally exploding, creating a mess out of you. Your legs tremble in pleasure, as Hange carries you through your height. 

It is quiet for a while, only your heavy breathing and the bass of music bumping from downstairs creating noise around you. Hange helps you get dressed, adjusting their hair and glasses shortly after. It isn’t silent, however wordless – an old choreography you have smoothly executed many times before. 

But, really, what is Hange supposed to say? See you next time? Can’t wait to do this again? Is this-

“I’ll leave him.” You mutter, while fixing your makeup in front of the mirror, attempting to clean it in the dim light. You look at them through the mirror, fixing your smudged eyeliner as you do so. It is still unclear if your boyfriend knows about your escapades with Hange, but you make sure to return to him as impeccably as you arrived to them. Maybe it’s better this way. 

They scoff once again. You sound like a broken record at this point, and they are tired of believing you. 

“I will-”

“Yeah, you said that last time.”

You sigh, turning around to look where they stand behind you, with a shoulder pressed against the door. Supporting your body against the sink, your gaze falls to the ground. 

“I mean it. I’ll leave him. I don’t know when, or how, but I will.”

Hange sighs.

“Alright.” They turn to you, one last time before opening the door. “But you gotta do this for you, not for me.”

With that, Hange leaves you – you wonder if this is what they felt after the countless times you were the one to leave them.

[loganswdc]

i dunno who fucking said it, if it was david c. or will buxton but they tried my baby (logan), comparing franco to logan talking about how franco was better and saying logan crashed more and shit, but they both can eat my shit and leave my baby ALONE .

- 🏎

REAL REAL REAL REAL REAL literally i don't understand how anyone thinks they can fairly compare logan and franco when logan never got to drive the car with upgrades (and when he got upgrades they took them away !) while franco is driving a fully upgraded car like come on 😭 and in general it's insane to me how vehemently people have been comparing franco , not just to logan but to other drivers , too !! like it not only makes me upset for logan and the other drivers being compared to him because ?? wtf ?? but it also makes me sad for franco because he didn't sign up for this kind of treatment .

i truly will never understand how people can think they can fairly compare franco with others , especially with logan , and the insane hate that people have towards logan . i cannot comprehend it and i don't think i ever will . i overall do not understand the hate that a lot of drivers get . perhaps it's because i have a lot of empathy for people and can understand different sides of things ,, but i just don't understand how hateful the f1 community has been recently . and that especially goes to how people have treated logan .

and the commentators making such comments and coming after logan even though its been a whole month since he got dropped is also insane to me . it's as though they have nothing else to talk about and their commentary will fall flat if they don't take a jab at logan . like , please , just move on . let him rest . let him go on to different motorsports series and show how good of a driver he is . they need to stop constantly bringing him up in such a negative way . he was their scapegoat then and he still is now , and it's pathetic and sad and disgusting .

and it's crazy to me how it's their job to know what's going on (who has upgrades , who doesn't , who is driving what car , etc.) and yet they never have any clue what the fuck is going on and make stupid comments . like y'all fucking SUCK at ur jobs if all you can comment on is negative things about logan . literally they need to do some damn research and open their eyes like us fans have been doing for so long 😭

also !! on a happier note -- oh my gosh hi race car anon !! this is my first ever emoji anon message i've ever gotten so this is genuinely so exciting to me 😭💞

[jonny-b-meowborn]

I try not to engage in any arguments on instagram because no matter what's the discussion about, I have a furry pfp and pronouns in my bio so it would always eventually just turn into people bullying me or being straight up transphobic and/or ableist. And honestly it's gotta be good for my mental health, not arguing with people online, me being openly a furry prevents me from getting into pointless arguments 👍

[princsstwilightsparkl]

saying "if aroace people can date, then can lesbians date men?" is absolutely aphobic narrative btw!

[here-there-were-dragons]

as a general rule, on average, if americans consistently complain about a food being conceptually weird, gross, and scary, then it probably tastes amazing. or at least inoffensive.

this is because in my experience americans for the most part (give or take a few exceptions by region) think eating literally anything other than beef, chicken, bread, eggs, peanut butter jelly sandwitches, ketchup, and disgusting cloyingly artificial brown sludge soda is insurmountably weird, gross, and scary.

[rotisseries]

people are very weird about shockfics like what is up with that

[luvsavos]

random vent(?) in the tags, feel free to ignore i just have a lot of pent up emotions to get out today apparently

[dyketubbo]

oh also this is mostly so it can go down on record but clarification with the note abt shipping in my intro post abt not minding shipping unless its done with jaiden: i still consider qprs to be shipping as i always have because theyre still intimate relationships that you dont just like.. have with just anybodu. but if you see (ic) roier and jaiden as qprs i dont mind since they have iirc called themselves partners just not married/romantic. so while qprs are still shipping to me nonetheless since its pretty close to what theyve described themselves as in canon queerplatonic roier and jaiden enjoyers are fine by me

[gayforcarstairsgirls]

Suella Braverman is one of the most disgusting politicians in our current government

[touyaz]

why do men

[rintoki]

RINDOU DAY RINDOU DAY MY LOVE 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

[mildew-dread-mold]

ok. genuine question. do east asians with lighter skin (chinese, japanese, korean, vietnamese, and more) count as people of colour?

[malkaviian]

i have a headache but also i dont want to go to sleep just yet dkjnfjds i want me-time

(warning: as i was writing the tags of this post this turned into another kinda-heavy rant about the situation my group of friends and i are. so keep that in mind)

[cosmogyros]

.