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geekforhorror · 10 months

Note

thoughts on riding tired ani?

DUDE I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ON THIS I CANT.

also i’ll do you one better and write a FIC all about it because i love this request sm

—————

next to you

pairing: rots!anakin x senator fem!reader

warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), sub!anakin, dom!reader, riding, p in v sex, penetration, pet names, teasing, reader being sexy as hell, fluff at the end, etc.

word count: 2.3k

—————

To say it had been a long day for Anakin would have been the understatement of the century. He had been watching over the younglings in the Jedi Temple all day and most of the night while the jedi masters were away on a business venture. Even Yoda being there would’ve made it better. He loved the younglings, but they were too riled up today. The extensive training the younglings required exhausted him just as much as them. Despite this, there was one thought that kept him going throughout the long work day. Coming home to you. Even though it technically wasn’t his home due to the suspicion it would raise to the other Jedis, you made it feel like his home. So you could imagine the relief he felt when the masters returned, which let him finally jump into his speeder and focus on getting home.

————

You were cooking dinner for the two of you to enjoy when you suddenly heard an engine running just outside of your guys’ apartment. You got excited at the thought of him returning home and wrapping your arms around Anakin. You took the dinner out of the sauce pan and placed it on two plates— one for you and one for him. You had made spaghetti and meatballs, which was his favorite, especially after a long day.

Suddenly, you hear the elevator open and there he was. He looked so tired to the point where he could’ve been mistaken for a zombie or even a force ghost. He had bags under his eyes and his hair was disheveled as well, yet he still looked good.

“Hey baby,” you said with a smile as he walked into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he said to you with a tired tone in his voice.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him out of concern.

“Nothing, just a long day at the temple,” he says flatly.

“I’m sorry, Ani,” you say sympathetically.

“Don’t be, my love. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. It would’ve been nice if the other masters were there,” Anakin says.

“You’re a stronger person than I am, darling,” you say with a chuckle. He lets out a weak chuckle at your comment and sits at the table, drained of any energy he may have had.

You decide to break the silence between the two of you and try to make small talk since that was all he was in the mood for right now. “I made us some dinner. It’s your favorite!” you exclaim in a chipper voice.

“Love, you shouldn’t have,” he says with a calm voice.

“I wanted to,” you say with a smile before kissing him on the lips. You noticed the expression in Anakin’s face and it was a rather sad one. “What’s wrong Ani?”

“It’s just that you worked so hard on dinner, but I’m too tired and stressed to enjoy or even eat it,” he says with defeat in his voice.

“I thought you were just tired,” you question.

“I just didn’t want you to worry about me,” he admits.

“Anakin, I’ll always worry about you whether I want to or not,” you say.

“I appreciate it, darling,” he says tiredly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you offer.

Anakin lets a sigh escape his lips before responding. “It’s just a lot of pressure, y’know? I mean I have to go on missions, fight, and look after the younglings. It’s just a lot for me and I feel like I’m not fulfilling my role as a Jedi,” Anakin confesses.

“You expect too much of yourself, Ani. You’re an amazing Jedi and I’m so proud of you,” you say out of pure love.

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” Anakin says to you.

“I love you too. More than you know,” you say with a big smile on your face.

He didn’t know if it was just the atmosphere in the room or because of the long day he had, but he hungrily kisses you out of nowhere with desire, leaving you surprised.

“Fuck I missed you so much,” he says in a soft but tired voice.

“I missed you too,” you let out.

He stands up and pulls your legs around his hips, causing you to let out a giddy laugh. “I think I can help you with some of that stress,” you whisper into his ear.

“Oh yeah?” he challenges.

“Yeah,” you replied with a hint of lust on your face.

He takes your hint and the two of you make your way towards the bedroom. He lays you down on the mattress before he climbs on top of you. You decide to take charge and you manage to get on top of him.

“Let me take care of you Ani,” you say seductively before kissing away at his neck. He lets out the tiniest whimper and you find yourself amused. He was so needy for you and only you. “Do you want this, sweetie?” you ask in an attempt to make sure he wasn’t vulnerable enough before you did anything.

“Fuck yeah,” he lets out, which causes you to smile.

“I’m gonna treat you so well,” you say. You continue to kiss his neck before undoing his robe, letting it slide off his beautiful figure. You let it hit the floor and reach for the hem of his tunics in an attempt to tease him. You slide one of your hands underneath his garments and caress his toned stomach, causing him to let out an inaudible gasp.

“You like this, don’t you?” you ask even though you already know the answer.

“Y-Yes,” he whimpers.

“What do you want, Ani?” you coo, now sucking away at his neck once more.

“I-I want you to ride me,” he lets out, being more embarrassed than ever.

“That’s a good boy,” you whisper.

He says nothing more as you pull his tunics off him and discard them on the floor. “What’s this?” you say with a raised eyebrow as you palm his hard on through his trousers. “Fuck…” he lets out as a breathy sigh.

“Want me to take these off?” you say with a smirk.

“Maker, yes,” he replies, more desperate than ever.

You let out a chuckle at Anakin’s response and you proceed to undo his utility belt and the zipper on his pants. You glide your hands down his legs to slide his pants off him and you successfully do so.

“I can’t wait to put your beautiful cock inside me until it splits me open and raw,” you say, knowing it would turn him on and make him even needier for your cunt. Here he is now, only in his tight boxers. It was truly suffocating for him. You finally give him some mercy now by stripping him of his boxers and he couldn’t be more relieved. “This isn’t fair… You’re still wearing all of your clothes,” he complains.

“Demanding, are we?” you ask rhetorically. He nods his head once more and you can feel your pride grow.

“All you had to do was ask, Ani,” you say before slipping your long, flowy dress off your body, leaving you only in your bra and matching panties, rendering Anakin speechless. “You wanna be a good boy and help me out here?” you ask.

“Y-Yes,” he answers. He reaches for the clasp on your bra and unhooks it, letting the straps fall down your shoulders. Anakin tries to take your panties off, but he’s stopped by your hand. “Not so fast…don’t you want to feel how wet you make me?” you ask breathily.

“Maker, yes,” he lets out. You grab his wrist before making his hand trail downwards until he hits the damp part of your panties. “All for me?” he asks pathetically. “Mhm… Just for you,” you respond. You slip your panties off your wet pussy and teasingly throw them across the room. “I need you inside me already… Please,” he begs of you. “Patience, Ani,” you let out.

You reposition the two of you so that you can sit on top of him accordingly. You wanted this just as much as he did, so who were you to deny him of such pleasure? You waste no more time before sinking yourself on his erection, now feeling him inside you, which caused you to let out an unexpected moan. He lays his hands on both sides of your hip bones to give you support. You instinctively start to buck your hips while you were gliding down on his cock. Anakin starts to provide some more friction between the two of you and you can’t hold back anymore.

You start to roughly thrust while he’s inside you and you feel a pool of ecstasy wash over you and your cunt. The newfound sensation had him throwing his head back as you continued your thrusts. “H-Harder,” he whimpers. You smile at this and you comply with his request. To help you out, Anakin pushes harder into you repeatedly until he’s balls deep inside your cervix, causing you to become even more cock drunk. More moans had escaped from his lips, but he didn’t seem to care because he just needed you to ride him like there was no tomorrow and that’s exactly what you were doing.

“You’re such a good boy for me Ani… Feels so good,” you say. You felt his tip twitch inside your clenched walls, hitting your sensitive g-spot. You knew that the both of you would be nearing your climax sooner rather than later considering that both of you had slowed down each others pace. “Such a big dick, Ani… Fills me up every damn time,” you praise.

“I’m gonna cum,” he pants raggedly as you continue to animalistically bounce on him while grabbing his hips in order to hit the right angle in your needy walls. Gasps and moans fill the room at the sudden change of motion, but it didn’t matter. You can feel your climax approaching, but you had the strong urge to hold it until after Ani came. His hips start to stutter uncontrollably and his pace was slower than before. Anakin was screwed.

“I can’t hold it in much longer, baby,” he cries out like a bitch in heat.

“Then cum inside me… It always feels so good when you do,” you admit. With that, you bounce on him a few more times just in case he needs the extra sensation. You know it works because within seconds of you doing so, you feel his warm seed spill into you and you loved it. After feeling him fill you up with his cum, you finally let yourself orgasm after holding it in. Your arousal splashes both Ani’s dick and your inner thighs, causing a big mess on your guys’ bodies. Realizing he’s still inside you, he pulls out of you at once.

"That was fucking amazing,” he pants out.

“I can’t disagree with that,” you chuckle. “We should probably clean up here,” you suggest.

“Yeah we probably should,” he says with a laugh.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, getting off of him to head to the bathroom for some towels. You open the bathroom closet and grab the nearest hand towels you can find. Once you have them, you walk over to the sink to dampen them with warm water. After feeling that they are wet enough, you head back to his bedroom and sit on the bed with Anakin.

“I can clean you up if you want,” you offer, now dangling the wet rag in his face.

“That’s an offer I could never turn down,” he says tiredly with an idiotic laugh.

“God you’re such a dork, Ani,” you say jokingly as you clean him off with the towel.

“A dork who made you moan,” he corrects with a snicker.

“Ani!” you gasp as you jokingly slap his arm.

“Ouch,” he said with a grin.

“I’ll tell you what… You can clean me up if you don’t make any more stupid dad jokes,” you say jokingly.

“Deal, but I know it’ll break your heart to not hear any,” he says mockingly.

You scoff sarcastically and you hand him a new rag to clean you up with. He rubs the rag against you for a bit, collecting the mess you made. After doing so, he walks up to the hamper and places the soiled towels in. On his way back to the bed, he picks up your guys’ underwear before handing it to you. You slip the garment on your body as does he. Once you finish putting your panties on, you head over to your closet to pick something to wear to bed. You grabbed a blue, flowy nightgown that would compliment your figure. You slip the nightgown on and you feel much more comfortable in it than you did in your other dress.

“Do you want your pajamas or not?” you ask Anakin.

“Yeah, could you get me the black pajama pants from the drawer?” he replies.

“Sure thing,” you say before retrieving them from the appropriate drawer. You walk over to him and hand the garment over. He quickly changes into his pants shortly after.

“Thanks, my love,” he says admiringly before he kisses you on the lips,

“Still too tired for that dinner?” you ask. It takes him a second to answer you because of his current disheveled state, but eventually answered within a few passing seconds.

“Now that I think about it, I could eat,” he says with a grin. The two of you casually walk out of your room before entering the kitchen and sitting at the nicely set table.

“Maybe I should stay at the temple longer everyday if it means I get this reward every time I come home from a long day,” he says with a raised eyebrow.

“Who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky…” you reply with a smirk. With that being said, the two of you start eating dinner and have an enlightening conversation.

You guys could get used to this.

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #star wars anakin #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fanfiction #hayden christensen #star wars fandom #star wars fanfiction #revenge of the sith #slashers #horror movies #scream franchise

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jqnehr · 3 months

Text

𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐲

you and zayne enjoy a picnic together.

word count: 1.6k contains: fluff, crack, my shitty writing strikes again zayne x reader so!! with the poll voting zayne as the winner, I have presented you with the fic y'all wanted!! this idea came to me in the nick of time when I saw his memory of him peeling an apple. and, due to receiving a few asks about xavier, his fic will be uploaded today or sometime this week!!

“do you like your apples peeled?” zayne’s hazel-green eyes are obscured by his raven fringe. he’s already peeling the apple in his hand, relaxed against the picnic mat you’d both laid out upon the grass, basket beside him. today’s little date involved you coercing zayne into finally taking a day off, much to his reluctance. you made sure he’d dressed appropriately—in comfortable, warm casual clothes with a woollen cardigan to keep himself from the cold. not that he’d really feel it, anyway—his evol seems to boost his resilience to the somewhat chilly air. still, you’re making sure all precautions are taken.

“I do,” you respond, straightening from the picnic basket you were just rummaging through, looking for the paper cups you swear you packed. the 2 litre bottle of fizzy lemonade you’d picked up at the convenience store on the way here sits beside you, still chilled, and the sun is beginning to rise quite high in the sky, its rays becoming rather toasty. you’d long shed yourself of your sweater, now acting as a pillow to lie back on to look up at the sky. it’s a lovely day today, hardly a cloud overhead, the breeze soft and with a slight bite. “I packed the paper cups, right?” “I wouldn’t know.” as per usual, zayne never misses a chance to poke playfully at you with those toneless words of his. “you’re the one who forced me out of my car today just as I was entering the hospital. you practically kidnapped me.”

“you can file a report once you get back to your apartment, then,” you shoot back promptly, biting back a grin. “can’t blame you if you did—you look positively distressed right now. you’re just itching to head back and work yourself to death, aren’t you?”

zayne finishes peeling the apple and pulls out the small wooden cutting board you’d also packed for this very reason. he picks up a small knife and slices the apple into six pieces. “maybe I should file for a restraining order. that way, I’ll finally be able to work in peace, hm?”

“you’ll be able to die from overwork in peace, too, and then this world would have lost its best cardiac surgeon.” you reach for a piece of apple and munch on it, peering teasingly up at the man before you through your lashes. “and I’d have lost the love of my life. don’t you think that’s such an unfair trade?”

you catch the flicker of a wince—well, more like a cringe—flash across zayne’s face before it’s stone again. your grin widens at his brief reaction. he side-eyes you, fully aware of just what you’re up to. “for once, you’ve actually said something that makes sense. keep on eating that apple, there, [name]. an apple a day will keep you away.”

you smack his arm at his words, hand meeting solid muscle through his clothes, and he barely flinches. it’s not like you’d ever slap him very hard, anyway. “you’re an idiot. and you’re a cardiac surgeon. what’s me eating an apple going to do to keep me away from your services?”

his eyes narrow at your wording. “the saying, for your information, is actually true—eating apples in fact decreases the chances of heart disease. it also lowers your risk of high blood pressure. I’ll give you a bouquet of apples next time.”

“you seem to be in no rush to get away from nor get back to your office.” you pointedly avoid the slices of apple on his lap and reach over for the tiramisu and spoon you’d sneaked into the basket while he wasn’t looking. zayne eyes it—not with hunger, but with poorly hidden distaste. his expression doesn’t go unnoticed. “oh, zayne—it’s not like I have these kinds of desserts everyday. rid your mind of work and relax a little, alright? I’m young, and I’m not going to collapse from a heart attack from one bite.”

“the bad habits you’re forming now will accumulate up and will eventually transpire in your old age—”

you answer by shoving the spoonful of tiramisu into his mouth, cutting him off. zayne’s eyes widen, and he coughs a little when he unintentionally inhales the cocoa powder dusted atop the dessert in surprise. you choke back your laughter. “it’s nice, huh? want some more?” zayne shoots you a look that has you torn between excitement and intimidation. he slowly lifts a hand to wrap around yours that holds the spoon in his mouth. his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows the dessert and takes the utensil from his mouth, tongue flicking out to lick up what’s left of the cream at the corner of his mouth. it may seem like a perfectly normal action, but it’s making your imagination run wild. the bastard knows what he’s doing, but he still arches a ‘clueless’ eyebrow, eyes glinting with amusement. “what’s got you so silent now?” “ahem!” you quickly retreat, stabbing the spoon back into the tiramisu, taking a bite yourself, uncaring whether he also licked the spoon or not. indirect kiss, I guess? you cringe at your own thoughts. ew, don’t be weird. “anyways, moving on. there’s another container of this in there for you, if you want it.”

“no, thank you, I have a diet to keep to.”

you roll your eyes, pointing your spoon at him. “boy, you have a bigger sweet tooth than me. do you think I don’t see all those chocolates you sneak? I’m amazed you don’t have a head full of rotten teeth.”

“I just wish to keep my current body shape and weight.” zayne unclips the lid of a plastic container full of neatly sliced fruit, something he probably packed himself. he glances up at you without moving his head, through his long lashes. “a body shape you enjoy a little too much.”

you blush. “wh-whatever! there’s no harm in indulging yourself from time to time, you know?”

“like how you adore indulging yourself in me all the time?” “okay! I get it! I get your point.” your face is about to explode into flames. you go back to stabbing at your tiramisu, bested and smarting. you shift on the mat to sit with your legs at your side, leaning against the trunk of the tree beside you both, muttering to yourself, “it’s not as if you don’t like it either…”

“what was that?” he’d heard you loud and clear, but he enjoys watching you flush and squirm.

“nothing! nothing at all.” it’s like you’re a teenager again, innocent and oblivious and very prone to blushing. whenever zayne dresses and talks and looks at you like that, you feel like a victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time.

flustered silence from you and smug quietude from zayne is all that reigns for a few moments, the man watching the park’s distant bubbling fountain absently, popping a grape into his mouth occasionally. you two had picked a rather secluded space—far away from the sound of traffic and squealing children and frollicking dogs, underneath the shade of a tree, the area quiet and private. also, his sharp, handsome features are now rather well-known to the populace after that article on him being the top cardiac surgeon at asko hospital and in the world went viral. you found all the teenage girls going crazy over him in the comments rather amusing. now, you’re unfailing in teasing him about his fanclub whenever you get the chance. too bad zayne just doesn’t care. he hardly ever reacts to your jests.

your embarrassment eventually fades and soon you’re looking for something else to annoy him with. however, zayne seems to have sensed your plotting as he turns his head towards you, chin propped in his hand as his elbow leans against the side of his knee. “whatever you’re up to this time, I wouldn’t bother.”

you sniff indignantly, playing innocent. “you’re paranoid. I just wanted some grapes.”

he obliges, handing the container to you. “did you find the paper cups?”

“no. I think I forgot them.” you make to rummage through the picnic basket again. “there’s a can of sparkling water in here, if you want it.” you hold it up, reading the label. “lime-flavoured. I thought I got berry.”

“it’s alright.” zayne’s quiet voice holds no inflection of annoyance—or anything, really. as usual. “is it still cold?” condensation rolls down the can’s side, but it has heated to room temperature. “no. a shame. would you like it?” “here.” he holds out his hand for it, and you promptly comply. but instead of cracking it open, the ice-blue glow of his evol envelops the can. soon, he’s handing it back to you. “there you go. you look thirsty.”

“uh, thanks.” surprised, you listen and stare at the hiss and bubble of the sparkling water reacting to you opening the can. “are you sure you don’t want any? there’s another can in there, if you’d like it.”

zayne smiles at you. the rare sight always strips you of your breath. “that’s alright. here, eat the rest of this apple.” he places the small chopping board with the slices of apple on it upon your lap. he leans back and places his cheek upon his fist, watching you fondly. “it’s good for you.”

you throw one more smart comment his way. “if anyone’s giving me a heart attack here, it’s you, doc.”

it’s funny how he’s changed his tone now. “that means you get to keep seeing me.”

“aren’t you the one adamantly against heart problems?”

“not when it involves you sticking around.”

you grin. “so you won’t file for a restraining order?”

zayne chuckles. “I’ll drop off a basket of apples in front of your apartment every week instead.”

“and keep a bowl in your office?”

“and keep a bowl in my office.”

wow. I didn't expect my headcanons drabble to blow up bro. tyasm for your support 😭🙏

masterlist

#⌗ ༘ ⋆｡𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐒❜ works !#ᝰ dividers by @/hitobaby !#the banner up top w zayne in it is made by me!! please do not use with or without credit <3 #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #zayne x reader #zayne x you #zayne love and deepspace x reader #zayne love and deepspace #zayne #love and deepspace imagines #love and deepspace drabbles #oracleofstars

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pawified · 3 months

Note

Hi I was just wondering if I could request headcannons for father figure bf!Suguru? Thank you so much I love your writing🩷🩷

hi so sorry for responding late . . . i hope you are well ! but ofc i cane give u littl headcannons some of based off of things i think he does ( ovbi ) and some are what i interpreted from da show & manga !

its supa short bc im swleepy bc its 3:30 am exactly nd i haven’t taken a nap at all.

( side note : i miss my puppy girl agenda so dis will b da first thing of my return to be fulfilled of puppy girl )

. father figure!bf suguru who wraps you in his arms when you are feeling uneasy with anxiety.

. father figure!bf suguru who buys you milk bread everyday at your favorite bakery on his way to pick you up from whatever college after activity you have going on for that week.

. father figure!bf suguru is very attentive, the first thing he noticed about you when you two first met is that you walk with a littl bounce

. father figure!bf suguru doesn’t care or particularly mind that you cling to him like a needy puppy begging for attention. he finds it cute how you rely on him for anything.

. father figure!bf suguru who hates the word “goodbye.” he always corrects you when you’re stepping out the car to head into your morning class. “hey. wait, what do we say?” he cocks his head to the side, you try arguing that you’ll be late, but he doesn’t let up. you sigh in defeat and mumble out a quick “ see you later, i love you. “ quickly slamming the door, you rush to your class before you could hear his response “i love you too. you look beautiful”

. father figure!bf suguru who gives you you a baby pink collar engraved with “ if found return to geto suguru “ on one of the sliver tags dangling from the key ring.

. father figure!bf suguru who starts calling you pup more often. he’s well aware that you love the petname he has adopted into his vocabulary. — he likes it also.

. father figure!bf suguru is never mean to you;not intentionally you think? but when he is, it make your brain a bit hazy.

. father figure!bf suguru doesn’t like brats or liars which you happen to be both. of course you never tell major lies at least that’s what you think but your partner would disagree. — you told a small white lie about how you had no clue how a big wine stain got on the couch and suggested that his friends did it. geto knew who had done it, but you don’t know that he is aware of it. he just want you to confess.

. father figure!bf suguru punishments hurt; alot. you aren’t use to the heavier ones, only a few taps on your bottom to bounce you back from being disruptive but they’re never like this. — ass cheeks are warm accompanied by a slight tint of red due to the pressure of his big palms, you can feel the welts starting to form. “restart over. you stop again, i will leave you here with a vibrator tied to your leg, do i make myself clear?” his voice is rough and firm. “y-yes sorry. m-sorry”

. father figure!bf suguru the after care is what makes you fall in love with him all over again. — after his corrective actions, you and him are embraced into each other for awhile, as he draws circles on your back while rocking you back and forth to bring you back down. “my sweet girl, you did so good. always know how to take your punishment well.” he coos, you look at him with big doe eyes, suguru thinks for a moment; you are a real puppy who has reincarnated into a 20 year old girls body.

. father figure!bf suguru regardless of his mistakes in the past before you became his light at the end of a dark tunnel, he make a secret promise to whatever god existed that he would do whatever it takes to heal from his past in order to keep you around for the rest of his life.

#˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆#𝑝𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑠 ‎໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ #! ! 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑏𝑜𝑥 — ꒰ঌ ໒꒱#𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑜 — ♡ ᵎ #father figure ! series #puppy!reader #father figure bf ! suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #suguru headcanons #m’ startin tew fall in love wif him #geto x you

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seeingivy · 8 months

Text

the sound of the applause

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: pain pre cursor.

an: songs mentioned - london boy by taylor swift, golden hour by jvke, girlfriend by avril lavigne. anyways. this chapter tame af. we are starting our demonic era. and no, you are not getting an eren pov until I say so. and I have covid so I am feeling extra evil and already writing the next one.

previous part linked here

You’re twelve years old the first time that you feel it.

You have hippies to thank for the entire ordeal. In your small, small town in Canada, there’s very little tension or importance on the arts. Singing, dancing, acting - like many places around the world - fall short to the highs and lows that come with sports.

Your middle school is no exception. A school that can barely spare money to fund a dying arts department, that begrudgingly offers one generalized art class that covers the basics of painting. Except when the hippy dippy parents in town petition, file a complaint with the mayor, they’re sequestered to include arts in all sectors that sports are included in.

A law that opens doors insanely. And creates the opportunity that exposes you to it. The singer showcase at the football pep rally.

And if you have to, you guess you have to thank food poisoning as well. Because Paulina, the original girl who was supposed to sing, was missing from first period that morning and you were all too quick to offer to take her spot.

They give you that pitchy, old black microphone and let you sing your heart out to one of your favorite old songs, At Last by Etta James. And when you open your eyes, the recollection of the performance is wiped from your mind seconds after you finish, and there’s only one thing you remember. It rings so hard, the sound so loud in your eardrums that it’s all you feel. The rush of the blood, the eyes staring back at you, and your cheeks burning.

When you think back, long and hard, that’s the first time it happens. The first time you feel it. It sits with you, that resounding pressure, that digs on you to give in. The need, the want, the infatuation with the rush you’re feeling.

And the obsession with the sound of the applause.

“Y/N. Wake up.”

You aggressively push your forehead into the plush of your pillow, creating a nice symphony of groaning songs in response to Danny, who is interrupting your beauty sleep.

“How long has it been?” you murmur into the pillow, the stinging in your head and the fatigue sitting in your body telling you it couldn’t have even been an hour.

“An hour. But I just realized, the bridge didn’t come out right when I was mixing so you have to record it again.”

“Can you come back in like three years? When I have the energy?” you groan.

“Y/N. I’ll see you in five down there.” he definitively states, shuffling out of your room.

Against every fiber of your being, you pull yourself out of the bed and drag yourself down to the studio, making it a point to glare at him as you re-record the bridge of the song you wrote yesterday. You give it a few tries, messing with the octaves and inflections, until you get a shining thumbs up, and wrap yourself into the blanket left on the couch.

“You write anything new?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You hold out your green book to Danny, opening it to the page marked, at which your producer is already wrinkling his nose. He hasn’t even read the lyrics yet, but you’re sure the title - Cry - is already setting him off.

“You didn’t even read it yet.” you respond, frowning.

“I don’t have to read it to know it’s brilliant. But you were there in that meeting last week and you know this isn’t what we can push out.” he responds, turning back to his soundboard, half-pulling his headphones back onto his ear.

“Danny. I-I just haven’t been able to write songs like that lately. This is what’s coming out.”

After nearly a year of writing music and touring, Danny and Sareen have leaned heavily into your Lover Girl branding. An affectionate term used by your fans, but now the entirety of the breadth that you work with. You’re widely known for the lovey dovey, sweet songs you write so when anything that falls outside of that mold, it isn’t stuff Danny and Sareen appreciate.

But you haven’t been able to write any of that lately. Which only makes that resoundling, crackling, heavy pressure in your head worse. Like you’re defective.

He turns around in his swivel chair, taking the little bound book you’re holding out for him, as he starts flipping through the pages. The worn down book you were gifted on your birthday years ago is filled with every mess of lyrics you’ve written, though none of them are meeting the game plan that was set weeks ago.

That announcement sent everyone on your team into a frenzy, which was so far from your initial reaction.

First of all, it was a rumor. That you were one leg away from being a triple threat. Second, if it’s true, you’re ecstatic. Enthralled and honored and every feeling in between. That you were even in the consideration for being a triple threat, let alone a few feet away from it.

No one else on your team saw it that way. Your producer, Danny, saw this as a sign that you need to be making more music and faster. The songs you make take you weeks to write at this point, no thanks to the perfectionism that comes with writing the lyrics and working out the sound. He’s set a goal for you - to write one song everyday. It makes it - that impending doom in your head - ten pounds heavier.

Your manager, Sareen, is no better. She only took this as a sign that you need to start being more vigilant. A hard-assed woman in her forties, Sareen is all about work ethic. That staying determined is the only way that you will get through this. And she’s extremely blunt when she tells you so.

Stars don’t take breaks. If you want it that badly, you have to work harder. There’s six thousand things working against you, take it as a note that you need to be running faster. That you aren’t trying hard enough. Those are equivalent to dumbbells for that rock on your head, that you’re sure is responsible for pinching all your nerves.

And it’s a matter of proving yourself. To Sareen, Danny, Eren, and everyone who watches you.

You appreciate the push. It’s extremely draining, but worth it when your song releases are so anticipated that you’re selling millions of copies before the song comes out. Have sold out stadium tours, and are shortlisted for awards nearly every time you do something.

You wake up. Get ready for the show. Memorize lines in between shows, film when you don’t have shows. Write songs on flights, produce through voice memos since you’re hardly in one place at a time.

And when you think about it all, finally being a triple threat, finally getting to hear Eren say that he told you so like you said that first night on set together, it’ll all be worth it. It’ll be over.

You can stop running. You can stroll, swim, make the music you like. So you oblige. This is part of the process, you just have to push through. There’s an end goal in sight. And being near Eren is a part of it.

“Have you ever thought about writing a song about…Ricky James?” Danny asks, swinging around in his chair as he smiles at you.

You wrinkle your nose as you throw the closest thing, an empty CD case, at Danny as he laughs back.

“Ew, Danny. That’s so not a thing.”

Ricky James, an infinite, insurmountable amount of talent, was your co-star on your last movie, Little Women. A British singer-songwriter, who virtually blew up over night.

He was nice - definitely the charismatic, flirty type of co-star. You’re positive half of it is the accent. After the two of you started doing press for Little Women, everyone was swooning over the two of you together. At how you guys had a handshake, did your famous kiss scene in one take, and how in almost every interview, he made it a point to joke that he was in love with you.

You get it. It works well for the press, gets people talking about the movie. But you could never like a guy like Ricky James. Or anyone who wasn’t Eren, for that matter.

“I know it’s not a thing. You’re all goo goo ga ga over loverboy. But it’s the same thing that we did for Little Women. He used the fact that people like to speculate to his advantage. It wouldn’t hurt to do the same.” Danny responds, shrugging.

“I already do use that to my advantage. It’s no secret that I earned my whole Lover Girl branding from writing love songs about Eren.”

“Yeah, but you know how it’s been for Eren lately. Maybe it’s not the best thing that your name is attached to him anymore? For both of you?” Danny states.

Eren’s had a rough go of it lately. After Satellite Port failed and the joke they made at the awards show last year, he’s all but resigned into what you call hiding. He said that he’s just busy, focusing on landing new roles and getting more credits under his belt. You know that he recently signed a deal with Scott Clarkson to film five movies with his studio, which is promising.

But you know Eren too well. He’s retreating, hiding in all senses of the word. From you too. The texts he used to send you - good luck before every show, a good morning even though you were on different sides of the world - have ceased all together. And the few seconds you do catch him, he seems worlds away.

And it’s not just you who has caught onto it. The last time you saw Historia, when she came to watch your show, she mentioned that she was concerned about him, that she thinks he’s being a little bit self destructive by working with Stone Studios. That Scott Clarkson is not a good idea.

Granted, Scott Clarkson is buddy buddy with John. You know that’s a touchy subject for her and made it a point to bring it up to Eren. To see if he was okay. But you were flying out for a tour and forgot to. And then he started showing up in the press again, hanging out with the cast he’s been working with, so you figured it was fine. That he’s going out again, smiling in photos.

“That-that’s not true. He’s on the come up - he’s going to be the lead in the Gatsby remake that Stone Studios is doing. I’m sure he’ll get an award for it.”

“There’s no need to get defensive. I’m just saying it doesn’t hurt to expand your horizons. Triple threats are awarded for being versatile, not sticking with what’s easy. Maybe you just need to push the boundary of what you think you can do.” he says, giving your forehead a tap.

“It kind of feels like cheating to write a song about someone that’s not him.” you murmur, looking down at the pages in your hand. Eren’s handwriting is scribbled onto the invisible string page. Hell was the journey but it brought me heaven.

“You know, Sareen’s not too keen about this relationship. And I know that Eren’s team isn’t either.” Danny states.

“Who are they to tell us who we can date?”

“It’s not about who you can date. It-it’s about the image. Tying your name to his doesn’t exactly always work in your favor, Y/N. There’s no loyalty in an industry like this. And for Eren’s case, you’ve never really helped him in that sense. When you stand together, with the success you’ve had, all they see is a failure in Eren, when he’s really not even that bad.”

“People’s comparisons aren’t my fault. And Eren’s doing fine, he-he’s okay.”

“Now, he is. But a few months ago, it was your name next to his that was dragging him down. If it comes down to triple threats and it’s between you and him, are you telling me that you would really pick him over you?”

Yes. One thousand times, yes. Though you know that’s not the answer Danny wants.

“You have to be more selfish, Y/N. And maybe that’s selfless for Eren's sake too. There isn’t room for the both of you, right now. I know you love him, but Sareen has a point. Is working this hard worth it if you don’t get what you want out of it? You and Eren have all the time in the world to be together, just focus on your career before him.”

You frown, staring at the wrinkles pressed up against his forehead.

“You can have what you want - have your cake and eat it too, write all these corny love songs about him after you make it. Stop running when you’re actually there, kid.”

You look down at the pages, the thoughts floating through your mind, as the lyrics start spilling out. For your first song that’s not about Eren.

London Boy.

You try to make a point to call Eren before releases. Key word, try.

But it doesn’t happen that way. Because Eren’s in Los Angeles and you’re in Tokyo and the time difference messes the two of you up so bad that when they surprise drop London Boy, you don’t get to warn Eren beforehand.

And when he texts you about it, you can feel the guilt creeping into your chest. Because you know he’s too nice to say what he actually thinks about it. If it were you, you’d wring Eren’s neck out for writing a song like this about his co-star he’s rumored to be dating. But Eren is Eren and he would never.

eren: “he likes my american smile?” babe, you’re canadian.

eren: i like the song. really.

you: i have dual citizenship.

you: eren. i’m so so sorry. i meant to tell you before but the time differences, we just kept missing each other. you know i don’t mean any of it, right?

you: it’s just a marketing thing danny and sareen planned. the song will be a hit if people are speculating who it’s about and stuff.

eren: i figured. you don’t have to explain yourself to me!!!!

eren: you’re a pop princess <3

eren: and currently number one on the billboard hot 100 for the fourth time in a row!!!

You nearly throw your phone across the room at the notifications, the frustration building so hard that it’s all pouring out of your head. You can see the stack of gifts at the front of the room - candies from Falco and Colt, as well as Marco, Historia, and Reiner - for the release.

And it’s moments like this, when you’ve been running so fast and pushing so hard, that you resort to one of your worst tendencies. Because the only thing that helps you when you feel like this is being a masochist. Feeling bad only makes you want to feel worse. Like you deserve it.

So you inflict it on yourself. By reading what people say about you online.

You reach back for your phone - ignoring the messages from Armin, Bertholdt, and Levi - as you scroll to Twitter, hiding the light of the phone under your sheets as you look through the app.

You look at the trending tab. Y/N L/N, London Boy, Ricky James, Eren Jaeger, and love is dead are trending.

You press your bolded name and swipe to the recents tab, scrolling through every tweet, each one categorizing, sticking in your mind as you scroll. A mix of the good, the bad, and the ugly.

That you’re pretty. That you’re ugly. That you have no personality, that you write mediocre songs, that you’re the best actress from Attack on Titan. That you’re lucky for bagging Ricky James and Eren, that you’re too good for Eren, that you’re horrible for writing the song.

You place the phone flat on the sheets, the absence of light making your eyes sting, as the tears string out of your eyes.

You want to make your cake and eat it too.

But is it even worth it if this is how you have to get there?

You stick your hand out, swinging it in the air with Ricky as you do your handshake, and plop onto the couch. Danny and Sareen called a meeting with Ricky’s team before you guys went to the wrap party for The Proposal, which is the only thing on your calendar that you were actually looking forward to this month.

Because Annie and Armin are the leads and because you know Levi and Hange are going to be there.

“This is Michael and Nancy. They’re my talent managers.” Ricky states, pointing out the two people across from you.

“Sareen and Danny. Sareen’s my manager and Danny’s my producer.”

“Is he behind the genius of London Boy?” Ricky asks, smirking at you.

“Shut up. London Boy isn’t about you, Ricky.”

“Oh, shut up. I know I’m your muse.”

The line sits in your stomach wrong, because all you can think about is Eren. Seventeen year old Eren, shimmering green eyes on that empty set when you wrote New Year’s Day. You shake your head as Danny turns to the two of you, a smile on his face.

“We have an idea.” Danny states, a smile on his face.

You and Ricky nod as Nancy and Sareen start laying out the plan, each consecutive word twisting horribly in your stomach.

Surely they can’t be serious.

“We think that the two of you should date, as a PR move.” Sareen states, handing over a folder to you.

There’s dates listed out, public places where they want you and Ricky to meet at, and songs they want you to release about each other. All down to the slated releases, ideas for album covers, and interviews they want you to do.

“This is part of Y/N’s triple threat campaign. I think putting in this whole ruse of a relationship and writing songs about it, especially if there’s some part of it that will be drama because of Eren and Lana, it’s even better.”

“Lana?” you ask.

“She’s Ricky’s old girlfriend. They aren’t dating anymore, which is something that we should capitalize on. For the both of you. This should get Ricky into the leagues for the Album of the Year award when he releases next year.” Nancy states, flipping through the pages.

You look over at Ricky, ready to fully shut down the idea. But when you turn your head to him, he’s flipping through the pages, writing down his own ideas in the folder.

“Ricky. You’re not actually considering this, are you?” you whisper.

“You aren’t?”

“I’m dating Eren. No, I’m not considering fake dating you for the press.”

“Eren, who was seen on a date with Myka yesterday? Right.” he states bluntly, flipping through the pages.

“That’s just tabloids, Ricky. Be serious.”

“And so is this. Myka and Eren are in a movie together. You and I are musicians. You can do the same thing as him and I bet you he wouldn’t even care. And he shouldn’t, because your career comes first.” Ricky states, leaning forward on his knees to discuss more with Danny and Sareen.

You flip through the folder again, each consecutive page filled with more and more details of how they want you and Ricky to pretend. And the last page has the words bolded, little stars around them.

Y/N gets triple threat status! Ricky gets Album of the Year!

“Y/N. Have your cake and eat it too.” Danny warns, a reminder of what you’re supposed to be prioritizing.

“This is the time to run, Y/N. You’re almost there.” Sareen affirms, the two of them nodding as they look at you.

And by the way five of them are staring at you, big eyes filled with anticipation as they wait for your response, you know you can’t say no. That insurmountable pressure - to please, to be successful, to be the best - wins out, every time.

Danny’s produced for three different hit pop stars. Sareen’s managed some of the biggest names in the industry. And you have no idea who Nancy and Michael even are, but if they’re working with Ricky, they’ve got to be in the big leagues.

You put the folder down, giving all of them a nod, as they all erupt into cheers. Ricky leans forward to give you a kiss on the cheek, which you tell him to save for the cameras, as you take the folder and walk out.

And figure out how you’re going to tell Eren.

You head to the wrap party three hours later and any excitement you had about the event is immediately drained when you know that Eren’s going to be there and you have to talk to him about it. Break up with him.

“Y/N!”

You turn around to find Armin and Annie, the two of them wrapping their arms around you as they press kisses to your cheeks. You try to stifle the literal tears that are making their way to your eyes at the sight of them, their blue eyes the same soft ones you’ve always known.

“Annie. Armin. I’m so excited for the movie, I’m sure it’s going to be great.” you say, squeezing both of their hands.

Two of your shyest friends still, they’re both blushing at the praise as Connie and Sasha walk up. You’re wrapping your arms around all of them, as everyone else - Reiner, Mikasa, and Jean - join you.

“So Y/N. London Boy, huh?” Connie asks, smirking.

“Did you guys know that Eren is from London?” Sasha says, sarcastically.

“Oh, quit it. It’s just one of those PR things. The triple threat thing made them all go crazy.” you respond.

“We respect the hustle, Y/N.” Connie states, mock saluting you with Jean.

“There is no press better than you and Eren releasing Medicine and Dress on the same day.” Mikasa states, earning a bunch of laughter from the group.

“Oh god. Don’t remind me. Whore move, from the both of you.” Reiner says, pinching your cheek. Connie mocks the ah ah ah, from Dress, which has you all laughing.

You smack his hand off as Marco slings his hand around your shoulders, squeezing hard and smiling at you so big, in earnest, that it makes your chest hurt.

“Can you believe it? You’re so close to it, Y/N - I can feel it.” Marco says, leaning forward to press a kiss onto your cheek.

You reach up to squish the plush of his cheek as Marco mimics your movements, the two of you smiling at each other. And then you feel two warm hands on your shoulder and turn around to see Eren, soft green eyes looking into yours.

And it makes you burst into tears. Soft green eyes, albeit a little tired looking, and Eren’s hair all grown out. When did Eren grow his hair out to his Season Three length? The last time you saw him, it was so short. He looks the same. He feels far away. And that pressure in your head is resounding.

“Yeesh.” Connie says at the sight of your spilling tears, earning quiet laughs from everyone.

Eren brings his hand up to your cheek, swiping the wetness away, as he glares at Connie.

“Connie.” Eren warns, the tone in his voice threatening.

“Sorry. Just missed him, that’s all.” you respond, wiping the last of the wetness off your face as they all smile at you.

“Man, every time I see one of you, you’re crying.” Hange says from behind you, the group of you turning your heads and immediately tackling them and Levi into hugs. Eren reaches for Hange first and you go for Levi, his stupid minty smell making your tears return.

You look up at Levi, who's glaring at you, and can’t help but smile.

“Levi. You could at least pretend you’re happy to see me.”

“I am happy to see you. But not when you’re crying in public. You two are going to give me an ulcer.” he states, frowning as he glares at Eren at your side.

You look over at Eren, the end of what Hange said catching up with you.

“You cried in front of them? About what, Eren?” you ask, voice soft.

“Ah. Nothing.” Eren responds, cheeks lightly pink as he runs his hand through his hair.

You both let go of Hange and Levi as Armin and Annie take to the makeshift stage, giving a little speech about their time on the film and how grateful they are for everyone in the room for supporting them. And as they do, Eren jabs his elbow into your side.

“Ow. What gives?” you whisper.

Eren places hand on his chest, feigning shock.

“Don’t tell me you forgot our secret hand signals already?” he whispers.

Jab in the side. Meaning, you need a second to talk, away from everyone.

“As if.” you respond, giving a nod to his sign.

He gives you a smile as you both turn your heads back to Annie and Armin, who are playing the trailer on the screen now. And when they finish, the resounding noise of the claps are the last thing you and Eren hear when you go out to the balcony, the cold air surrounding you both.

You wrap your hands around your arms, which Eren picks up on too fast and suddenly he’s taking his coat off and wrapping it around you. Making a point to pull your hair out of the collar, hands focused on fixing your hair around your face.

“Eren.”

“Yes?”

“I-”

The words die on your tongue. Because here he is, the perfect green eyes you fell in love with staring at you in the lamplight of the dark, and you can’t say it. You can’t shatter his heart into pieces or be the one to let him go.

When he’s one of the only things you’ve wanted.

“I know how you feel, Y/N. You don’t have to say it.” he whispers, hands tucking your hair behind your ears before letting go.

You can feel the tears spilling out of your eyes as you frown at him, the look on his face so pained that it hurts.

“I’m guessing they don’t want you to see me, at least not for right now?” Eren asks.

You nod, aggressively wiping away the wetness on your cheeks as you reach for his hands, squeezing three times. You hate that he knows. That Danny and Sareen think he isn’t good enough for you. When you’ve always been the one who was never in the same league as him.

That Eren was the one who defended you when you were there, but no one’s letting you do it for him.

“I still love you, Eren. You-you know that?”

“I know that.” he whispers, nodding. His eyes are focused on your hands, interlocked with his. He reaches in for your bicep, fingers tracing over the fish tattoo right above your elbow.

“Fishbowl, Y/N. We’ll come back to each other when it’s time. Just don’t be a stranger.” he says.

You nod, reaching forward and wrapping your arms around him as you nearly sob into his chest, his voice soothing your hiccuping, even though you’re the one who just smashed him into pieces. And when Eren wraps his hands around your cheeks, giving you one last lingering kiss, before walking away, you can’t help but sit there in the cold, his jacket wrapped around you and letting the tears bite on your skin.

You close your phone, giving Ricky a glowing smile, as you both settle into your seats at the Institute Music Awards. The two of you officially went public earlier today, though you’re both still denying any rumors that you’re dating.

“How does Ricky compare to Eren?”

You try to hide your scoff as you answer, trying your best to stay neutral in your response to avoid becoming a headline the next day.

“I’ll always have so much love for Eren. We grew up together and really came into this hand in hand and no one could ever really take that away. And there’s no bad blood between us, we’ll always be best friends.” you respond, giving them a polite smile as you walk away and swallow hard.

You can see Eren twenty feet down, in a specially designed suit that he looks wonderful in, smiling for the cameras. He’s standing in between Hyla and Myka, since their film is premiering in a few days.

“You look green, doll.”

You turn around to find Sukuna, who you fake punch in the shoulder and glare at, before pulling him in for a hug.

“You sure you’re not talking about yourself? That’s your girl down there.”

“Jesus, Y/N. Don’t ever associate me with her again.” Sukuna mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Oh? Was it not you saying she wasn’t that bad when we were kids?” you tease, poking into the soft of his cheek.

“Well, that was before I found everything out. I’d say a prayer for your boy over there, he’s about to get himself into a gnarly mess he won’t be able to get out of.” Sukuna responds, eyes focused on Eren and Hyla posing together a few feet down.

“What do you mean?” you ask, linking your arm with his as the two of you walk down, past him. You make it a point to attempt to make eye contact with Eren, but he’s too focused on Hyla that he misses you all together.

“I just mean…he’s about to get himself involved in things he shouldn’t. And you should stay far away.” Sukuna states, giving Ricky a polite smile as he joins you at your side. Sukuna gives you one last kiss on the cheek before Ricky links his arm with yours, dragging you to your seats.

You both settle into the seats, giving Marco a big smile as he sits next to you.

“Hey. Where’s Hisu? I saw her name card here earlier but it’s not here anymore.” you whisper, as the lights start dimming ahead.

Marco winces, giving you an awkward smile as he puts his hand over yours and squeezes.

“She doesn’t want to sit with Ricky. Or you.”

“Oh.”

“Just for today, Y/N. Because of the history and all that, you-you know that.”

You shake your head, ignoring the stinging, as you give Marco a half-hearted smile, nodding.

“No yeah. I get it. I’ll talk to her soon.”

“Okay.” Marco responds, giving you a smile.

You make it a point to do your best throughout the awards show, fake whispering in Ricky’s ears every time the camera is on you two, holding hands and comparing hand sizes, letting him tuck your hair behind your ear once and a while.

And it’s all going great and peachy, until Hyla gets called on stage to perform. You crane your neck back to find Sukuna, giving him a warning glance as he rolls his eyes, making the motion that he’s choking himself.

One of the most insane things about Hyla and Sukuna’s beef? The fact that they perform and write songs about each other, that are so insanely written, that they trend for weeks.

You’re sure Hyla and Sukuna are what Danny and Sareen dream about in their free time.

Hyla gets on stage, giving everyone a soft smile as a few of the girls join her on stage, adjusting their microphones. You can feel Ricky squeezing your hand hard, his jaw clenched.

“You good?”

“The lineup. Hyla, Myka, and Lana.” he responds, glaring at the three of them.

You focus your eyes on the third girl, Lana, who is Ricky’s ex-girlfriend. The only reason he wants to fake date you. Apparently, the two of them broke up after you and Ricky started trending, her insecurities about the people’s words overruling any reassurance that Ricky could give her.

“This is my new song, it’s called Girlfriend. I hope you all like it.” Hyla says, giving a smile as the upbeat music starts.

Hey, hey, you, you I don’t like your girlfriend No way, no way I think you need a new one Hey, hey, you, you I could be your girlfriend

You lean back as you observe the visuals and the line of backup dancers supporting the three of them singing, their performance extremely upbeat and punk pop star that you can’t help but tap your feet to the beat of the song.

That’s until they reach the bridge. When Hyla pulls one of the back-up dancers from the background to the front and Lana pulls Eren on stage, the two of them are seated on the makeshift chairs on the stage. Hyla’s singing around Eren, rolling her eyes at the back-up dancer.

Who's wearing the exact outfit that you wear on your tour, a sparkly, billowing pink dress. And when you take her in properly, you realize that she’s supposed to be you. The same hairstyle, eye color, skin tone. You can feel your throat dry as you watch Eren’s cheeks tinted pink on stage as Hyla sings around him, the entire audience erupting into cheers.

(Oh) In a second, you'll be wrapped around my finger 'Cause I can, 'cause I can do it better There's no other, so when's it gonna sink in? She's so stupid, what the hell were you thinkin'?

You feel Marco’s hand on yours, squeezing hard, as you focus in on the performance, trying to ignore the fact that the big, black camera is shining on your face and that everyone in the room is looking at you. And that millions of people must be talking about it at home. You turn back to give Levi a look and he shakes his head, mouthing don’t cry which you halfheartedly nod in response too.

Jean and Armin have switched seats with the two girls behind you, their hands on your shoulders, squeezing, as Eren and Hyla walk off stage, hand in hand past the back up dancer who’s supposed to be you - who's crying fake buckets of tears now.

And when it’s all done and over, you skip the afterparties and let Mikasa drive you home. She tucks you into your sheets, making it a point to help you wipe all your makeup off and leave a bottle of water by your bed, you sink into your sheets and do it again. Let that overwhelming, embarrassing, deep rooted hatred sink in.

And pull up Twitter. Read about how everyone hates you. Relive the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to you yet. Stare at pictures of Eren and Hyla and ignore the resounding sound of the applause the two of them received.

next part linked here

taglist:

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

pls comment on this post or any of the chapters if you want to be added to the taglist <3

297 notes · View notes

tsumtsumrry · 11 months

Note

request where reader has some kind of severish accident which means her movement is limited (like she has a leg cast and crutches or something) and harry takes time out to visit her in hospital and then care for her at home when she’s released until she’s feeling better and once she feels good again she keeps hinting at wanting to be intimate with him because it’s been so long and she’s missed having him that way and that aspect of their relationship but he’s not picking up on her hints because he doesn’t want to rush her or assume she’s ready before she’s fully recovered but it just makes her feel rejected and sad like he doesn’t want her that way anymore and he sees her as a burden because there’s no proper communication but then when they finally talk about how they’re feeling he’s like omg baby no that’s not it at all of course i’m still attracted to you i love you i just don’t want to pressure you after everything… cut to it ends in fluffy emotional smut and all is well again

lmao sorry this was so long and there’s no punctuation but this was literally a stream of consciousness 😮‍💨

hii thank you so much for the request it was really fun to write <;3

hope you enjoy!

It was completely your fault.

At least that’s how you felt. The bike ride was supposed to be short and sweet but you ended up in a small ditch with a broken ankle. You felt stupid more than anything. And a little embarrassed. You called Harry with a wobbly voice and shooting pain in your ankle. He raced to your location and took you to the hospital, doted on you endlessly and now that shooting pain has been reduced to a dull ache due to the medication they have you on.

His hands gently knead your leg and give you a much needed massage to soothe a cramp that’s been building up while you stare at him with loving eyes, “how’s it feeling, baby? Better? Doctor said it would be good to go home with some crutches.”

You roll your eyes at him and smirk mischievously, “I could’ve gone home days ago, you’re the one that made me stay here to make sure I was alright, Harry.” You chuckle softly and watch closely as he gets up to start to tidy up and collect your things.

“I just needed to make sure that there wouldn’t be any further damage, angel.” he pleads his case, stopping his gathering for a moment to shoot you a look that you only respond to with a deadpan stare.

“Whatever you say, Dr. Styles.”

“Mm. Say that again. S’kinda hot.” your lover smirks at you with that glint in his eyes that only shows up when he says something that he knows will have an effect on you. You giggle and he takes a couple steps towards you, leans down, and gives you a soft kiss. Your hands reach up to tangle in his brown curls, tugging lightly to pull him deeper into the kiss. The faintest of groans leave his lips and it makes a wave of contentment flow through you, you’ve missed him like this. That contentment is very quickly thwarted when Harry pulls away, only to leave you with a quick peck and a smile. You frown softly, but he misses it.

“All jokes aside though, I’m really glad you’re okay. It could’ve been a lot worse; you know?” He gently takes your chin between his fingers and squeezes softly. You nod and offer him a knowing smile. You know how anxious he gets, especially when it comes to the people he loves most, especially when it comes to you. “And excuse me for my innate nature to protect the girl I love.” he speaks with a sarcastic bite and a faux eye roll that you giggle heartily at.

“Alright, love.” his voice strains from the weight of you in his arms, “you just lay here and look pretty. I’ll go get your stuff and then we can cuddle.” You were cleared to go home. They sent you off with some crutches and told you that you were good to go.

And that’s basically how the rest of the five weeks in the cast went. You and Harry, alone in your house, with Harry constantly all over you and needing to make sure you were okay. He rarely let you out of his sight unless he had to go to work and you loved it, but seeing him and not being able to really kiss him the way you want to has you a little bummed, and frustrated. You’ve not only missed kissing him, you’ve missed having him. The weight of him on top of you, the praise he always whispers in your ear, the way he feels when he touches you and fucks you like no one else can. You’ve missed all of that.

And you barely need the crutches anymore! You’ve been walking just fine without them and Harry has been so vocal about being proud of your progress, but still nothing.

You try to give him hints sometimes but it’s like it completely flies over his head. He’ll just kiss you as if you guys are being watched by the pope and be his normal perfect, “tooth-rottingly” sweet self.

“Missed you so much, angel.” He had just come back from work, tired, but obviously never too tired for his girl, “d’you need anything? You’ve eaten right?” he mumbles while his face is squished cutely into your arm.

“Yes, my love. I’ve eaten. Don’t need anything really. Just you.” And that one was obvious, really obvious, you used that tone you normally use with him when he’s fucking you, you have your hands tangled in his hair and make sure to tug lightly enough to where it feels like an accident, you’re wearing his favorite smelling body oil, you’re even dragging your foot across his thigh for god’s sake. What more does he need? He’s usually ready to go with less.

“Well you’ve got me. Always.” his head shoots up, the curls flopping with it, he grins so happily at you like you aren’t dying from the emptiness of not having him inside you for so long. You might lose it and honestly you can’t even blame yourself for how you’re reacting. He’s just too good to be without it for this long. And you can’t figure out why he doesn’t seem to want to give you what you need. That’s always been his promise after all, that he was going to give me what you needed, always.

So, what in the world is going on now?

It’s been another two weeks. Still no moves from Harry and still seventeen million moves from you (a day). You’re beginning to think that he’s doing it on purpose, and that, that is a dangerous thought. You’re the biggest overthinker you know, and now that the seed is planted in your head that Harry is avoiding your attempts at being intimate with him, it’s spiraling out of control. There’s a big ball of emotion in the pit of your stomach that’s making you feel like shit and you really don’t like the feeling.

You decide to go downstairs and find him, hoping to just talk it out. The whole way down the stairs you’re convincing yourself that it’s all just a big misunderstanding or miscommunication, but your brain is working overtime to convince you that you're being avoided on purpose.

When you hit the last step, you immediately see him, in all his glory. His back is turned to you and he’s wearing a tight black shirt that showcases every muscle in his back and arms. It honestly makes your mouth water. You walk up closer to him when you realize he’s on the phone and your walking slows so you can be quieter. Your hands reach up to touch his shoulder and finally get some of that physical contact you’ve been craving. He puts his hand on yours for a second but then slightly shrugs your hand off of his shoulder. Your heart drops.

Now, normally, you would’ve found it funny, or just chalk it up to him doing something important, or being in a bad mood, but there was only one word running through your head now.

Burden.

The extreme fear you have of feeling unwanted manifests in many different ways. You stumble back from him, while he doesn’t even notice the pain on your face, and you slowly retreat to your room. As soon as you get upstairs, and onto your bed, the waterworks start. You feel so incredibly dramatic but it hurts so much to feel like the only person you want around doesn’t feel the same way you do.

It’s a couple dozen minutes of crying before you hear his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Your door opens a couple moments later and Harry comes in it. The first thing he heard, which stopped him in his tracks, was a sniffle. And then he saw you crying. His heart drops.

“Hey, hey hey. What’s going on?” he rushes over to you with his gentle voice, immediately crouching down to level with where you’re laying on the bed. “Is it hurting, baby? Tell me what’s wrong.”

And he tries to convince you to tell him, for way longer than he should’ve, lots and lots of coaxing, and when you finally told him, it may have been in the least liked way that you were imagining.

“Why won’t you touch me?!” you blurt out, frustration clear as day in your voice. Harry leans back slightly at the shock of your admission.

“Why won’t I…touch you? I–babe what are you talking about?”

“I’ve been trying everything I know of to get you to realize I just need you so badly, but it feels like you’ve been ignoring it. Like you just don’t want to be intimate with me and it feels like I’m a burden or something. I hate feeling like I’m bothering you.”

Harry has a permanent frown on his face when you speak, looking directly into your eyes, following your every move.

After your short rant he looks at you for a moment, he looks away as if he’s in thought, he sighs almost as if he’s relieved, then you watch him…laugh?

“I cannot believe,” he starts, immediately getting up from his crouched position to stand and tower over you. “I cannot believe that you could ever think that I don’t wanna be close to you, or make you feel good, or make you come the way only I can.” his eyes have changed from soft and concerned to intense, but with that familiar glint.

“You really think I’d ever deprive myself of being in between those gorgeous thighs, baby? Really?” his hand softly grazes against your thigh, almost as if to prove his point. Your eyes flutter shut at the faint touch. Finally, you think.

“I’ve only been worried about your ankle. I just wanted to make sure everything was alright before we did anything. You hurt yourself pretty badly baby, didn’t wanna pressure you.”

“Jesus, H. Seriously? I was worried–” you’re cut off when he kisses you deeply, his hand coming up to loosely wrap around your throat. You moan into the kiss and he groans deeply, moving himself so he’s on top of you.

“Thought I taught you better than you not using your words, pretty.” he rasps, his tone soft but condescending. You whimper softly at his words, as he spreads your legs to fit himself between them, rocking his hips to grind himself against you. “Hm? Use your words, baby. You have to tell me what you want.”

That slow grinding is making your mind go fuzzy, it’s been so long and you already feel dizzy with pleasure. “Need to be close. Need you to fuck me.” you mumble. You already feel closer than you have in a long time. The way you’re staying directly into his moss green eyes as his entire body flexes with his movements, the way you can feel his soft pants against your skin.

“Yeah?” and he wastes no time. He kisses down your body slowly, like he’s worshiping you, and makes his way down between your thighs. He spreads you apart slowly like if he wants to savor every moment and when he finally gives you what you want, he gives and gives and gives.

And you just have to sit there and take it while he’s fucking you with his perfect mouth like that, getting his face and your thighs all messy with your arousal, moaning as if he’s the one getting pleasure from it, making you come twice on his tongue despite your squirming and whimpers.

“Have no idea how much I missed your perfect cunt, baby. No idea.”

And when you tried your very best to pull away due to the overstimulation, he tightens his arms around your waist and tugged you back to him harshly with a gruff, “M’not done. Need more.”

And god if you didn’t just die right then.

When he fucked you, it was slow. And you could definitely tell that he missed you just as much as you missed him. Deep and slow strokes that brought the most beautiful sounds out of both of you and had his breath stuttering and eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re so perfect, so wet for me.” he moans softly. Suddenly his eyes open and his brows pull together when he looks down at you, he almost looks…sad.

“Don’t you ever think that I don’t want you like this again, do you understand me?” He punctuates his words with a very purposeful thrust that rubs right against the spot that makes you shake. “I could never be not attracted to you. Never. You’re the only person that has me this fucking gone. How do you not see what you do to me?”

He reassures you the whole time, whispering those praises you missed so much in your ear ang touching you exactly the way he knows you like.

“You’re so fucking good for me, angel. Squeezing me so tight, you missed me hm?”

“Wanna come for me? Is my needy girl gonna soak my cock? Go ahead baby.”

“That’s my girl. Fuck I’ve missed how you feel when you come around my cock like that.”

And when you both finish, he’s extra cuddly. You guys are bundled up in the blankets and it feels like if he were to crawl in your skin it still wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.

“God I missed you.” he breathes out contentedly.

“Missed you too, H. So much.”

“Also you smell really good, is that my favorite body oil?” he questions with the most adorable smile on his face.

“Now you notice?” you giggle and roll your eyes; he has a confused pout on his face, and you just cuddle up closer to him and let your eyes fall shut.

#harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #new #h's video diary

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pedgito · 1 year

Note

YAY i’m so glad you’re writing again, i’ve missed it!! can i request some sweet and maybe kinda mischievous/giggly smut with eddie?

a/n: i have released myself from horny fic jail to bring you whatever this is, surely a mess. i'm slowly writing other fics but i needed to get back in my eddie groove. thank you for this!

cw: 18+ MDNI, afab!reader, unprotected sex, face sitting, light dom/sub (barely, if any), multiple orgasms

word count: 2k

Eddie’s fingers are dancing around the edge of your collar, cotton shirt worn with age and fraying in random places. He’s rubbing it between his fingers, flipping it over to watch it fall back into place, silent aside from the occasional huff of laughter that escapes him when he catches you looking at him.

He enjoys this—the times in between, the before, the after. The small moments of vulnerability when it’s just you and him and your breathing. He’s managed to rid you of your jeans, his own too, your legs slotted securely around his hips and his lap turning into a makeshift seat.

He’s maneuvered himself against the wall behind his bed, legs angled up to act as a support for your back as the hand that isn’t currently fiddling with your shirt is rubbing a gentle pattern up your leg, rings catching on the material of your underwear with each glide upwards.

“What’s going on up there?” You ask playfully, tapping a soft finger against the center of his forehead. Eddie glances your way, eyes angled up slightly—menacingly, with a grin to match.

“Don’t think I forgot about this morning.” Eddie responds, a softness to his tone that was unsettling, almost as if he’s speaking on a topic he loved, addressing the situation with ease.

This morning. Front seat. A hopeful quickie cut short by the sound of the school bell cutting through the silence. Eddie begged for a moment longer, but letting your grades suffer on the account of being late? You just wouldn’t allow it.

Besides, it was his fault you were running late, therefore the punishment had been dealt. But now, it was coming back to bite you.

“You are—“ The words die out on a squeal, his fingers digging into your sides until you’re keeling over, begging for mercy from the relentless tickling.

“Say it,” Eddie goaded, peeking up from where he had his face buried against your clothed chest, curls hanging in his face from how messy his hair had become during the short wrestle, “what am I?”

A list compiled in your head.

Funny. Caring. Obnoxious in the most loving way and a bunch of different traits that ultimately came back to the same point. But, the only thing that popped into your brain was—

“Ridiculous.”

Eddie nods, almost like he expected it.

“Go on.” He encourages.

“Selfish.”

It’s a total lie.

He responds all the same, but the difference is the fingertips gliding along the column of your throat, a delicate glide as his touch tickles until it’s in a firm grasp under your jaw. He’s not squeezing or taunting, just holding. It feels like a caress, but the look on his face says otherwise.

“Infuriating.” You breathe out, eyes flicking up toward the ceilings as you bare your neck and there it is—the small force of pressure you were waiting for.

“Right.” Eddie nods calmly, palm shifting out behind him as support as he leans forward, legs falling as he forces you backwards an inch, slotting your cunt directly over the hard line of his cock, constrained by the tight material of his boxers.

He repeats the three words calmly, punctuating them each with a kiss to the line of your throat as he ascends, stopping by his thumb, whispering a haughty, “Let’s see if I can change that.”

Eddie constantly lived his life in extremes. High highs, low lows, never settling on middle ground until he met you. He was teasing you, taunting you, mostly for your own pleasure but especially for his.

And he could admit that he was selfish when he wanted to be, but never with you. The words stung and ignited a fire, determined to change your mind.

His free hand curls a finger around the material clinging to your hip, teasing the soft skin underneath.

“Take these off for me?”

What an asinine question.

He releases his hold on you, watching you teeter from side to side as you shimmy the clothing down your hips, your legs, the material catching on your ankle in a way that has you giggling awkwardly. Eddie’s kind enough to lend a hand, his own laugh escaping as he reaches and discards them for you.

It’s worse this way, not providing the friction you so desperately crave. Skin to skin.

Eddie’s playing the long game.

“Go ahead,” Eddie encourages, “seeing as I’m selfish.”

“I was joking—“ You know it. He knows it.

“Ah ah,” He chided, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. His dragging a full once over, thumb digging into the curve of your hip bones. He guides you forward gently, a tantalizing and teasing glide.

“Take what you need, baby.” His teeth peek through his grin, eyes crinkling in a way that had your insides fluttering. “I mean, unless…you’d rather I be selfish.”

You huff a breath through your nose, letting out a small yelp when Eddie jerks you forward roughly, expanding on the already growing wet patch on the front of his boxers.

“Go on,” He breathes, eyes slowly traversing to connect with your own, “touch me.”

It doesn’t take long for things to escalate, your hands slipping under his waistband, cupping him with a gentler hand than he expects before pulling him out with ease, shifting his boxers just far enough out of the way that they won’t be a nuisance and you’re slipping him inside you with no preparation.

It wasn’t like you needed it. You molded to him like the final piece of a puzzle, nothing but a soft release of breath shared between you both as you rock until you’re fully seated, hands pressed flat against his stomach for support, having shoved him down on his back with a force that has him laughing through a gruff expletive.

“Fuck,” He chuckles, “I’ll never get tired of this.”

This. You. All of it.

You nod knowingly, mouth hanging open in a quiet moan as your hips find a rhythm, alternating between a slow rock that catches your clit in a perfect pressure until Eddie gets slightly impatient, aiding in a subtle bounce until your ass is slapping against the front of his thighs at a hurried pace.

And it still isn’t enough, your body burning with desire. Your top comes off in haste, tangling with the shirt as Eddie slowly the pace for a moment, the material flying somewhere in the room haphazardly, a soft noise as it hits the floor and your fingers are struggling with the straps of your bra when it’s finally unclasped, all twisted up on the right side—your patience was wearing thin.

Eddie’s nose wrinkles in amusement, coming to an abrupt halt when he can’t watch you suffer any longer.

“Easy, easy.” He comforts you, amusement evident in his tone and face. He was enjoying this far too much. “That’s one of my favorites.”

“You say that about all of them.”

He can’t disagree.

“Because it’s true.” Eddie says defensively, “Every single one.”

You roll your eyes playfully, groaning when you resume the determined roll of your hips, clenching around the girth of him with every squeeze to your thigh, hips, watching as he falls apart beneath you so beautifully.

“That’s it,” He praises, eyes squeezed shut to focus, staving off the orgasm creeping up on him, “that’s good—so good, baby.”

Your head drops back, rhythm thrown out the window as you move wildly, aided by the unpredictable thrusts of Eddie’s hips. It’s the perfect view of your chest, the stretch of your body as you lean back in pleasure, moans following from your lips like a wave, gradually rising in volume.

“Always fuckin’ good for me,” Eddie admits, “shit—perfect. God, I can’t—“

“I can stop if—” You attempt, but god forbid Eddie let that happen.

“Don’t you dare,” He quickly deters you, “wouldn’t fuckin’ dream of it.”

He’s still reeling from the morning high, cut too short and he feels like he’s ripping at the seams now, grabbing and panting into whatever bare skin he could reach as his thrusts falter, leaning up and pulling you toward him in the same motion, arms draping over his shoulders as he releases with a groan he’s been holding back, the tip of his nose running along your collarbone as he huffs in exhaustion, quickly dissolving into a laugh that turns into a full on giggle-fest, satiated by his own orgasm but feeling so giddy he can’t hold back.

And it’s infectious, your own soft laughs following as he pulls back enough to catch the blissful smile on your face, earlier conversations and arguments forgotten.

Eddie, however, is still very determined to prove you wrong.

He’s got his hands around your thighs before you can second guess yourself, hauling you up and over his chest, legs barricaded around his arms, knees pressed gently against the curve of his shoulder as he grins at you.

It’s so devious it has you clenching around nothing but the slow drip of his cum as it threatens to slip out of you. His fingers press inside you gently, eyebrows furrowing at the sensation.

“Didn’t think I’d let you off that easily, huh?” Eddie teases, “What kind of guy do you take me for?”

For one, you knew he wouldn’t let up until he was satisfied, giving you as many orgasms as you could handle until you were begging for a break.

The word was silly in hindsight, a freudian slip that managed to tick Eddie off just enough.

Selfish. Oh, he would show you.

Your answer never comes, silenced by the wet, warm press of his tongue over your clit as his fingers moved inside of you, a dueling pace between rhythms that had you thankful Eddie was experienced enough to manage them separately, so effortlessly. He liked to hum a particular song in his head, which he’d admitted once, but he’s never clued you in to what it actually was.

It has you snorting behind your hand that night, muffling the laugh that slips past your lips. It doesn’t surprise you in the slightest and that’s exactly why you’re so amused.

It doesn’t take long either, fingers snagged tight around the curls at the crown of his head as you rock against his face, savoring the tiny grunts he releases, a sign that he enjoyed it just as much. You come with a sharp gasp, hips lifting up just enough that Eddie squeezes tight, not letting you wander far.

“Feeling okay?” Eddie asks after a moment, feeling your body settle.

“Yeah, yeah,” You respond shakily, “point proven, we’re even.”

“Oh…no,” Eddie argues playfully, “not even remotely close.”

You counter a look of disbelief, yelping when he shifts you suddenly and an arm is enveloping your waist to battle your current position and tucking you under him, a rough and calloused hand slapping at your thigh gently as he hikes it over his hip, a dull ache compared to the shaking, spasming muscles in your legs.

“I’m thinkin’ one, two—”

“Two?” Your eyes grow comically wide.

“Maybe three.” Eddie adds.

“Eddie.”

He knows it, that tone.

“Swear you didn’t mean it?” Eddie asks, pressing a quick kiss between the valley of your chest, eyes flicking up at you, all soft and resembling a sad puppy.

“Swear.”

But, it doesn’t stop him from pulling another orgasm out of you, along with another of his own as he finds himself back inside of you, lazily guiding you both to that point.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #my writing #and now i will disappear into my wips for pedro

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forever-rogue · 1 year

Note

Hi Bee! I've been a long time reader and fan of your blog! The way you write for Eddie is insane 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️ I love it 🥹 if you feel comfortable, could you please write something for fem!reader x Eddie where she has a history of being bullied (physically & verbally) and one day they could be arguing or something and Eddie is on edge and raises his voice and moves too quickly and she flinches (or maybe has a panic attack or something) I would really appreciate this ❤️🥺 comfort and fluff at the end because I need that rn ❤️

AN | Okay, but this is a little angsty but mostly soft 🥺🥰

Warnings | Language, mentions of past verbal abuse

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.3k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been a long week. Weeks, really. And you felt like you and Eddie were like ships passing in the night more than anything else. You were busy with college classes and your part time job, and he was busy working at the shop. He’d been working a lot lately, even more than he normally did, but you hadn’t questioned it. You knew that you didn’t bring in a lot of money only working part time while you finished your degree, but it would be worth it in the end.

But Eddie, good, kind hearted, wonderful man that he was, insisted that you it was okay. He wanted you to be able to focus on your studies, rather than have to worry about working. He was the main provider for your little family of two, and while it was a lot of pressure, he wouldn’t have changed a thing. In fact, one of the reasons he’d been working even longer hours and helping a few customers on the side, was so he could save up to buy you an engagement ring. You always insisted that you didn’t need anything fancy, but Eddie wanted to do this right, he wanted to do all the things with you, including proposing with a pretty ring.

Right now though, you were desperately wanting to spend some time with him, so you went ahead and planned a little date night for the two of you. You’d gotten a few very generous tips at the cafe lately and stashed them away in the rainy day fund; and now it was time to use them. You wanted a nice night out for both of you.

“Eddie Spaghetti,” you were grinning from ear to ear as you walked into your shared apartment. You’d just gotten out of class and he should have been home a few minutes before you. He didn’t respond to your excited call for him and you wondered if he was home yet, “babe?”

You walked into the bedroom and found him sitting at the edge of the bed, boots off and a fresh change of clothes. He was breathing deeply, eyes closed and leaned back on his hands. Poor thing looked tired, and you knew he deserved the rest.

“Babe-”

“I heard you,” he said, not altogether rudely or kindly either, “hi sweetheart.”

“Hello my love,” you kneeled at his feet, reaching for his hand to take in yours, “I missed you today! I’ve been missing you a lot lately.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he responded with a gentle squeeze of your hand, looking into your eyes for a split second. You could see the exhaustion in them and it made your heart constrict.

“Listen, I set a little bit of money aside for us and I thought we could go out tonight,” you were grinning, but there was an unreadable expression on his features, “get dinner and maybe catch a movie?”

“Not tonight, sweetheart.”

“I just think it would be nice to have a night out to ourselves-”

“I can’t tonight,” he repeated as you pouted at him, “I’m sorry - maybe this weekend, okay?”

“But Eddie-”

“Please!” he snapped suddenly, dropping your hand as he gave you a sharp look. You’d never heard him raise his voice before…especially not at you. The only time you really heard him get loud was when he was in the thrill of the moment during a new campaign, “I’m exhausted and I have to go back to work tonight.”

“I don’t think you should-”

“Really?” his eyes narrowed and you gulped nervously, “then who is going to pay for everything, huh?”

“Eddie,” you stepped back, your heart racing as you felt the stinging of tears in the back of your eyes, “I-I-”

“Not all of us have the luxury of going to school and working a few hours here and there at a coffee shop!” you’d never heard him this mad before, not in over three years of dating, and it frightened you. You didn’t like this Eddie and wanted your Eddie back. You flinched away from him, trying to hide how scared you were.

“I just thought you could use a break,” your voice sounded so small and hurt that it broke Eddie’s heart. He shouldn’t have snapped at you, shouldn’t have taken his momentary anger (which was not even at you) out on you, “you’ve been working so hard. I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Sweetheart,” he tried to reach for you but you shook your head and pulled away to where he couldn’t reach you, “honey - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. Will you come here, please?”

“No,” you shook your head and clambered to your feet before scampering towards the door, “please just don’t.”

“Angel,” he got up and tried to walk over to you but you ducked in the hallway, “what’s wrong?”

“I-I’m going to go,” you stammered nervously, almost running into the living room to grab your bookbag. Eddie followed you slowly, trying to keep a bit of distance that you obviously needed, “I-I’ll see you later.”

You were gone and out the door before he could say anything else, heading to your care. You weren’t sure exactly what to do, but you just needed some space. You’d never had a single moment with him like that before and it felt terrible. This wasn’t Eddie, and you knew that he wasn’t going to turn into some monster, but the moment had settled harshly in your bones.

Eddie’s eyes welled up with tears as he stared at the door. He hated the look on your face; he hated himself more for snapping at you. He’d just been so tired and run down, and it had all come to a head. Unfortunately, it was you that was caught in the crossfire; his love, his princess, his angel. The last person he ever wanted to hurt. And he’d just gone and done that.

“Fuck,” he sighed at himself, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. He wanted to come after you, figuring you’d more than likely have gone to Steve and Robin’s place. But, more than anything, he wanted you to be comfortable, so he opted to give you space instead.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you got home, Eddie was already in bed. But he wasn’t sleeping, instead he was staring at the ceiling, unable to calm his worried mind down. He heard the front door open and close, followed by your soft tread, but remained still and silent. He noticed the hesitation in your tread after he heard your bag settle on the floor, followed by your shoes. He hated the idea that he was the reason for your quiet shyness.

You paused outside the bedroom door, noticing that it was still partly open, almost like a sign of apology. You paused with your hand on the knob before slowly pushing it open and letting yourself in. There was a soft glow from the bedside table where the small lamp was still on. It illuminated his body, but you knew immediately that he was still awake.

“E-Eddie?” you whispered softly, padded over to your side of the bed, cautiously sitting down. Your boyfriend rolled over so he was facing you, blinking softly but not yet saying anything so he wouldn’t push you further. You met his eyes and offered him a small little half smile. He visibly relaxed when he saw that you weren’t shying away, “I know it’s late, but can we talk?”

“Yeah - y-yes,” he sat up and leaned against the headboard, lightly patting the space next to him. You didn’t even bother to take off your clothes before crawling into your side of the bed, sitting cross legged next to him, “I…first of all, I want to say how sorry I am. I should never have talked to you like that. I know you probably don’t believe me right now and I don’t expect you to, but I will never talk to you like that again. I swear it.”

“I know,” you nodded softly, playing with a loose thread hanging from the sleeve of your sweater, “I know you won’t, Eddie. I know that a one time thing isn’t going to change our entire relationship.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” you raised a tentative hand before reaching over and touching his cheek, brushing your thumb over the apple of his cheek. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttered closed at the feel of your soft palm on his skin, “I think I owe you an explanation too.”

“Sweetheart,” he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, “I am tired, and I’ve been tired and I know you have been too. And it’s not because you don’t work hard - I know you do. I know it’s not just going to school full time and working part time. And it’s nothing I hold against you, because that’s what we agreed to, and let’s be honest, school ain’t for me.”

“Eddie, you’ve been working so much,” you whispered, “and I don’t want you to run yourself into the ground. We’ll be okay if you cut back your hours, especially the extra ones. I can always pick a few more hours on the weekends…but we’ll figure it out.”

“I…” he swallowed thickly, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing, “I know I can cut back and we’d be okay….I took the extra shifts and hours because I was using them to save some extra money.”

“Oh,” your brows furrowed in surprise; you spotted the dark pink flush in his cheeks, “whatever for?”

“I was saving up so I could buy you a ring,” he confessed, looking like a shy boy rather than a grown man. Your eyes widened in surprise and you couldn’t prevent the small gasp that escaped your lips. A wave of emotion caused your eyes to prickle with tears, “I know you said you didn’t need an engagement ring or a big proposal or any of that, but baby, I want to do this. I want to do it right, and get you that ring.”

“Oh Eddie,” a few tears had prickled up and rolled down your cheeks, which he tenderly wiped away, “I had no clue…I…I love you so much.”

“I love you,” he promised, “I hope you’re not mad…”

“Of course I’m not mad,” you beamed at him, “I think you’re a stubborn man that won’t change his mind, huh?”

“I won’t,” he agreed, causing you to giggle at him, “I’m gonna cut back my hours, I swear. But I’m also going to get you that ring, yeah?”

“Okay,” you didn’t need or want fancy material things like shiny rings, but damn. You weren’t about to say no to Eddie. You knew now that he’d spoken his piece, it was your turn to speak yours, “I, ugh, also want to apologize for how I reacted earlier. I, umm, growing up kinda sucked, you know? Well, I know you know. I never really gave you the full details, ‘cause it never felt necessary. But in school I was bullied a lot, especially when I was young because of being different. Home wasn’t much better; my mom, she…liked my older brother and sister a lot but with me it was different. For whatever reason, she hated me and my life a living hell half the time. She used to call me names, tell me I was stupid and unlovable, and would never get anywhere in life.”

“Sweetheart…”

“She liked to yell, a lot, almost like it was her form of a drug,” you shrugged, “I’m sure that’s why I don’t like any sort of yelling nowadays. I never really left like I fit in anywhere. Not until I met you….you and the rest of the gang.”

“I…I’m sorry,” was all he managed to choke out as he settled his hand on your neck, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin, “I had no clue…I-I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“We all go through our own things,” you put your hand on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I should have told you sooner…but I want you to know that you are the best thing that has happened to me. I love you very much, Eddie.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he leaned in and pressed a soft barely there kiss to your lips, “will you forgive me? I know it’s a lot to ask for.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you leaned your cheek against his, breathing in slowly, “we both…it’s not that we made mistakes, it’s just that….we just didn’t quite sync up today. And that’s okay, because we’ll learn and it won’t happen again.”

“It won’t,” his eyes were soft and bambi-like, making your heart melt. You loved this man beyond measure, and you knew he left the same, “how about we use some of that extra money we’ve stashed away and go away this weekend, huh? Just the two of us, no cares in the world.”

“I’d like that,” the smile on your face was breathtaking and electric and Eddie was positive he’d just fallen a little more in love, “let’s do it.”

“Let’s do it,” he agreed softly, “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Eddie.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #tw: mentions of verbal abuse

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madaqueue · 21 days

Text

Dripping in Gold | Chapter 2

synopsis: finding a job was never easy, and why even bother trying after you meet satoru gojo, a man with mysterious and exorbitant wealth, who wants nothing more than to spoil you with it? the only caveat to your little arrangement is that it can never, ever, become personal.

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au, sugar daddy gojo. language, smut. fingering (f receiving). 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.3k

a/n: my gojo brainrot is hitting this man is all i've been able to write about the past two weeks hELP somEBODY HELP MEE

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A week after your first date with Gojo, he randomly calls you while you’re in the middle of making lunch.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he purrs through the phone.

“Hi Gojo,” you respond flatly.

“Wow, I was hoping for a bit more excitement,” he chuckles, “especially since I have good news - your car is fixed!”

“Oh my god, thank you!” your tone softens as you remember you are actually grateful; he really did come through for you on this.

“Don’t thank me just yet - remember how you offered to repay me?” he asks slyly.

Of course. You knew he was too good to be true - he fixed your car, now you have to sleep with him. For a moment you nearly forgot the transactional nature of your relationship, and even though you had already decided you want to hook up with him, it still stings a bit.

“Well,” he continues in your silence, “in exchange for my generosity, how about you let me take you out for lunch today?”

You chortle in surprise. “Seriously, that’s all you want from me?” you ask incredulously.

“C’mon now, you’ve got to stop thinking so lowly of me, I’m actually quite the gentleman once you get to know me,” he laughs. “Anyways, I’ll meet you at your place in 15 minutes. Wear something cute for me, m’kay?”

He hangs up as you pull your phone away from your face. The smell of something burning hits your nose as you realize the grilled cheese you had been making was slowly frying to a crisp on the stove.

Well, good thing I’m going out for lunch.

Riffling through your closet, you search for something that would meet Gojo’s idea of “cute,” hurling jeans and leggings across your room. The closest thing you find is a plain white dress you got a few years ago that’s slightly stained, but you hope he won’t be able to tell. Again, it’s not like you’re made of cash, especially after you had to use what he sent you from your last date to cover rent and groceries.

Exactly 15 minutes later he pulls up outside in a different car than the one he let you borrow over the past week, this one a flashy red sports car with a logo you don’t recognize. He hops out to open the door for you and you take a seat on the cool leather, the tantalizing scent of his cologne hitting you as he returns to the driver’s side.

He looks over at you through round sunglasses, taking in your outfit. “With all due respect, what the hell are you wearing?” he teases.

“You told me to dress cute, this is the best I’ve got,” you explain, hands moving over your lap to try and cover your dress as embarrassment washes over you.

“No, no, this won’t work,” he tilts his head away from you. “Okay, we’re postponing lunch to go get you some actual clothes.” Before you can protest, he puts the car into drive and speeds out from the parking lot.

While he drives his hand idly finds its way back onto your thigh, a feeling you didn’t realize you had missed so much until you notice pressure building between your legs and nervousness in your stomach. Every so often you steal glances at him, his white hair somehow perfectly ruffled and blue eyes slightly shaded by his sunglasses. The white button-up shirt covering his torso looks freshly ironed yet hastily rolled up above his elbows, his plain black pants perfectly hugging his waist. He really is gorgeous, you think to yourself.

He eventually stops the car outside of a store you’ve never seen before, likely because it’s in a part of the city you could never afford to go to, until now. The exterior is unassuming, a simple brick facade and plainly lettered sign. Gojo gets out of the car first before opening your door, taking your hand in his as he leads you up the stairs and inside. The store itself is well-lit, with a faint scent of rosemary hanging in the air.

An attendant greets you without looking up until she finally glances over at the two of you. “M-Mr. Gojo!” she exclaims, surprise evident on her face. “I’m so sorry, we didn’t know you’d be in today, your tailor isn’t here-”

“No worries,” he cuts her off with a calm smile, “I’m actually not here for me.” He pulls you up next to him, a hand going around your waist as though it was second nature, and you feel the warmth of his body against yours. “She needs something cute.”

The still-flustered attendant nods. “Of course, I’ll take you back to your dressing room and grab a few things for her to try.” She gestures you both to follow as you walk to the back of the store, past racks of clothes that look straight out of a catalogue.

Who the hell is this guy? you think as you walk next to him. You are led to a curtained-off area with a deep purple rug and matching couches that surround a central mirror, additional racks of suits lining the remaining walls.

Glancing around you notice a small nameplate hanging by the entrance. ‘Satoru Gojo’ is embossed against the gold, light reflecting off it slightly.

“Satoru?” you question, reading it aloud.

“Mhm,” he hums as he sits down onto one of the couches, legs sprawling in front of him. “That’s my first name, but nobody really uses it. I mostly just go by Gojo.”

You plop down next to him, enjoying the feel of the velvet texture beneath you. “Well, do you prefer ‘Satoru’ or ‘Gojo’?”

“It depends,” he starts, putting his arm around you and pulling you closer to him. “If it’s a pretty girl like you saying it, I don’t really have a preference.” You blush as his face slowly gets closer to yours. “Although, I think ‘Satoru’ is probably a little easier to scream when I’m-”

His words suddenly cut off as the attendant walks back in, arms full of dresses. You’re grateful for the distraction that allows you to turn away, hoping he didn’t notice how red your face was getting or how fast you started breathing. Something about him makes you so nervous, like a kid with their first crush. You’re better than this, aren’t you?

With a huff, the attendant sets the dresses down in the middle of the room before hanging them up one by one on a nearby empty clothing rack. “I think I got your size right, but do let me know if you need anything tailored and I’d be happy to help. I’ll leave you two to it, let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you!” she waves, stepping out of the room.

Now alone with Gojo, you find yourself tense, heart fluttering in your chest as he traces his fingers along your jawline, landing on your chin to turn you back to face him. His eyes stare into yours as a smirk draws at the corners of his lips.

“So, you wanna give me a little show?” he whispers, so close you can feel his breath against your face. His eyes travel over your shoulder to the clothes rack behind you as he tilts his head, releasing his hold from you and leaning back. “After all, these aren’t going to try themselves on.”

Trying to steady your breathing, you stand up and attempt to ignore how shaky your hands are as they move to feel the clothes hanging up. The textures are almost impossibly soft, with colors from yellows to blues and reds, a rainbow of beauty in front of you. Glancing down at the price tag on one dress, your eyes widen.

“Gojo, these are like $2,000 each, I can’t-” you start, slightly panicked.

“Hush, this is my treat,” he says nonchalantly with a wave of his hand, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the couch. “Besides, getting to see you in these is worth all the money in the world.”

You blush again, a soft, “Okay,” leaving your lips as you pick out a dress from the rack.

Each one you pick up is more beautiful than the last as you work your way through the clothes. Gojo insists on helping you zip every single one up and has you twirl around, a smile permanently plastered on his face. He murmurs some version of “gorgeous,” “beautiful,” or “perfect” when he sees you in each dress, and truthfully, he makes you feel it. You find yourself giggling and practically skipping around the room as you dance around the man who’s making it all possible as he just watches you with joy in his eyes.

Finally, you near the end of the rack as you put on a flowy, off-the-shoulder dress that looks like the color of the sun. It hugs your body perfectly and you can’t help but stand in front of the mirror, spinning back and forth as it flares out around your waist.

All of a sudden, you feel the warmth of Gojo behind you as his hands wrap around your waist, his head settling in on top of your shoulder. He looks at you in the mirror, slowly taking in your beauty.

“This is the one,” he whispers into your ear. “Get all the others, I don’t care, but this is the one you’re leaving here in.” All you can do is grin and nod, your cheeks flushing at his words.

The two of you stand there for a moment, Gojo’s hair softly tickling the side of your face as his hands trace along your hips, moving down to run the hem of the dress through his fingers. He tilts his head down slightly to place his lips against your neck, softly kissing the space above your collarbone.

Instinctively, you lean your head back as your eyes close, taking in the feeling of his body against yours. Your hips press against his, the hands that rest against your thighs pulling you into him further. He bites softly against your skin, eliciting a moan from you as you raise one of your hands up to the back of his head, gently rubbing an undercut you didn’t know he had before you bring your fingers higher into his hair, loosely twirling the white locks through your palm.

One of his hands trails under your dress between your legs. He pauses momentarily, lifting his head away from your neck so his mouth hovers next to your ear. “Tell me what you want, princess,” he hums.

Eyes still closed, warmth begins to build in your stomach at his touch. The only thing you know in this moment is that you want him.

“You,” you whisper, “I want you, Satoru.”

Hearing you voice his name, a soft moan leaves his throat as his lips reattach to your neck, gently sucking your skin just enough to leave a small bruise. His fingers continue their path until they reach your clothed cunt, a breathy chuckle from Satoru telling you that you’ve soaked through your panties. His fingertips ghost over your folds, the gentle sensation making your hips slide forward, desperate for more.

“P-please,” you whine, moving back against his body as you suddenly feel his cock start pressing against your ass through his pants.

He slides your panties to the side and brushes his fingers over your clit, the roughness of his fingertips making you squirm from pleasure. His hips start grinding against yours, craving the friction your body provides.

Moving down slightly, he presses against your entrance before slowly sliding two fingers inside you. Fuck, it’s even better than what you imagined. You tilt your head back further and feel a moan start to leave your throat, when suddenly his lips are on yours. His tongue slides into your open mouth as the pace of his fingers picks up, curling inside you as he finds the spot that makes you shudder against him. You both forego air as you sloppily kiss one another, releasing a need within you that you didn’t know you held.

Satoru continues kneading his fingers inside you until the familiar tension begins to build in your stomach. Pulling away from his lips for a moment, you moan his name. “I-I’m close,” the words catching in your throat, eyes shut tightly from pleasure.

You hear him chuckle behind you. “Open your eyes, sweetheart,” he purs as his lips return to your neck. You do as he says, focusing your gaze in front of you, and your eyes meet his through the mirror. “I want you to see how pretty you’re about to look when you cum for me.”

At that he thrusts his slender fingers further into you, thumb hastily drawing circles over your clit as you watch yourself get closer to the edge. With one hand in his hair and the other grasping onto his wrist, you try to stabilize yourself as your knees begin to give out. His free arm wraps around your waist to hold you up as you begin to lose yourself, eyes threatening to close as you try to maintain your gaze ahead.

“That’s my girl,” he hums. His words are barely audible over your moans as you feel waves of pleasure crashing over you, the only sound leaving your mouth a broken cry of his name.

His movements finally slow as he pulls his fingers out of your sensitive cunt, never breaking eye contact with you through the mirror as he lifts them to his lips, opening his mouth to lick your sweet essence off them. Pausing for a moment, he admires you - your taste, your delicate hands clutching onto him, your flushed cheeks. He places a kiss on the side of your mouth as you try to ground yourself, knees still shaky underneath you and only able to remain standing thanks to his hold on you.

“So,” he smirks, his eyes lighting up as he looks at your pretty face in the mirror, “where should we get lunch?”

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baxteravenue · 27 days

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https://www.tumblr.com/baxteravenue/743919302176047104/hiiiiiii-will-u-be-able-to-write-for-jack-again

YES PLS POST ALL OF THEM 😭😭😭😭 I luv ur writing miss u and ur writing

another one ;)

Druski had been trying to get you to do a skit with him forever, partially because you were the It girl that everyone was obsessed with and maybe partially because Jack Harlow had an insane crush on you that he had yet to make any move on and to be honest Druski was sick and tired of hearing him moan and groan about how “Y/N doesn’t even follow me man, I followed her and nothing… Why the fuck does she even follow you?”

He was just about done with Jack, so he wanted to do something about it.

“No Druski, I’m not doing a skit…” You shook your head as you answered his phone call.

“Nah, nah, nah! It’s chill, not a skit well maybe kinda… It’s more like a cooking show but different.”

You couldn’t lie, you were interested.

So that’s how you ended up at Druski’s house in Atlanta getting ready to cook a whole meal with his two friends Urban and Jack.

You had walked in a little late, saying sorry as you rushed through the door.

“Man, I told y’all she was gonna come!” Druski loudly yelled as a camera came up to you, “Look it’s Y/N and it’s not no clickbait… Say hi girl, make sure they know you ain’t no AI.”

You laughed while waving at the camera, “Hiiiiii.”

“Anyways now that we got everyone here, let me introduce y’all to the Chefs that are gonna be feeding me and the homies.” Druski moved the camera back to him, “We’re gonna really test these motherf*ckers and see how they can work together.”

You looked over at the other people, Urban and Jack. You knew Urban, you had met him once at a party that someone had thrown and Jack well you knew of him… but you didn’t occasionally listen to his music.

“It’s nice to see you again,” You hugged Urban first, “And nice to meet you I’m Y/N.” You smiled at Jack shaking his hand which made him give you a confused look but nonetheless he shook your hand.

“Nice to meet you Y/N, I’m Jack.” He responded, “I just want to let you know that I’m not the best cook.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s all good I can pull us through this as long as yall just follow my lead.”

Druski immediately cut in, “I don’t know about all that because here are the rules. Basically one of yall can’t hear nothing, the next one can't see, and the last one can’t do either. So you all have to rely on each other to not f*ck it up. Especially my kitchen.”

Your eyes widen, “What the hell Druski you didn’t mention any of this?” There was no way you were about to trust two guys you didn’t even know with open fire and knives around you like that.

Jack however did not care, he was hoping to impress you and earn your trust. God, he hardly knew you and yet here he was actively trying to get into a situation where his hand could potentially be cut or burnt off just for you.

Urban was just down with it all, he had seen the trend on Tiktok a couple days earlier and thought it looked fun.

“I swear we’re not gonna let anything happen to you.” Jack smiled at you, which made you feel a little better.

“I don’t know I’m actually kinda clumsy with my hands so don’t put too much pressure on me.” Urban put his hands up in defense making you laugh.

You sighed, giving the three of them a look before shrugging. “Fuck it.”

“Alright, alright!” Druski nodded, “And before we start Coulda Been Records is not at fault for anyone's clumsy ass and we made all three of em’ sign an NDA.”

Druski had the three of you pick a paper out of hat with what position you were gonna be.

You were going to be completely deaf with the headphones on blast, Jack couldn’t see anything with his blindfold, and Urban was going to be completely useless because he was both.

“We’re making pasta!” You just knew you were screaming and it made you laugh, “I’m gonna carry us!”

“Damn shawty is yelling.” Jack laughed, but you couldn’t even hear him. “She fine though so she gets a pass, matter of fact it’s turning me on.”

“What did you say?” You yelled at Jack.

Jack shrugged, putting up his hands. “Just lead the way!”

#jack harlow #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow x you #jack harlow x y/n

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manias-wordcount · 1 year

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hello :) can you write a black butler oneshot w/ sebastian michaelis x fem reader?

reader is a succubus demon and she and seb are ex lovers of some sort then one day seb is surprised to see reader working as a servant in the manor. ciel accepted her without seb's knowledge but ciel also did not know about their history. seb is a bit skeptical of reader cause he does not know her motives so he acts a bit cold towards her but reader actually did it just cause missed seb (but not that she'll admit it cause she is too proud for that. also maybe seb feels the same who knows lol) reader is the teasing and provocative type if thats ok. pls ignore this request if ever its complicated to understand, i just based this on some random imagination i had hehe. anyway thank you :>

What You Couldn't Do (Sebastian Michaelis x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼!! 𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗶𝘁 𝗴𝗼𝗱 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗮 𝘀𝗮𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝗹

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

The door to the kitchen shuts behind you with no fanfare. That is to say, there’s no light-hearted, half-shouted greeting from one of the other quirky members of staff. Nor was there a harsh, barked order from the young master of the household. There wasn’t even a small, near silent yet warm grunt of acknowledgment from your favorite tea-sipping house steward.

So naturally…

“Oh, Sebastian!”

…you knew who it was…

“To what to owe the pleasure of this-”

…and all that it entailed.

In an instant, you find yourself cutting off your own words with the swiftest of tongues. You suppose it truly is the smartest choice. You had only been working at the Phantomhive Manor for a mere couple of days. You were still in all sense of the word. You didn’t yet have the young master’s good favor. Nor did you think you could ever be on the receiving end of any sort of sympathy from a boy such as him. So it’s only right you learn your place and you learn it well. Because while such a feeling make be odd and discomforting, you imagine it’s still better than the feeling of the knife being held between Sebastian’s gloved hand plunge itself into your throat.

“What is your aim.” His low murmur comes from behind as he traps your body from behind between himself and the counter. Despite his words, you know to take everything as a demand rather than a question purely based on the dull pressure of the boning knife pressed lightly against your jugular. That, among other things of course. “Why are you here.”

You pursue your lips, fully aware of the way his eyes would follow your every action through your faint reflection in the mirror. His voice is as cold as you remember it to be. Unfeeling and so very cruel. The unspoken threat to you is loud and clear. His utter disdain for you? Even louder and even clearer. Yet, you find that it’s terribly hard to hide your excitement. The arm that crosses over your chest to hold the knife to your throat brings up so many memories. The way his body presses and molds into yours reminds you so much of the past. When the two of you weren’t so-called co-workers serving under the most irritating of charges. When the two of you weren’t so-called enemies who spent your days and nights, far, far apart. When the two of you weren’t anything to each other.

But when the two of you were lovers.

“Knife play, Sebastian? That’s a new one…” And fueled by those resurfaced memories, you respond to him. It’s obvious in the way that his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits through the window’s reflection, you know you’re not exactly giving him what he wants. But you hope- no, you don’t hope, you know- he’ll play along with your typical game. Just for a little longer. Just one last time. “You certainly seem like a much different man than from what I remember…I wonder how that little brat managed to whip you into-!”

Once again, you found yourself cutting your words short in favor of a long life. Your murmured words were meant to be heard. Meant to rock the boat. Meant to get yourself in trouble. They always were. But you know when enough is enough. Even when your entire life is about toeing the line and saying the things that men and women wish they could say- you when it’s not your turn to speak. At least, not your turn for the moment.

Though you can’t help but feel pleasantly surprised now that the threat you’re faced with is being phrased a little differently than before. No, the knife is not being pressed further into your skin. It still sits where it was originally- relaxed in a comfortable grip as it delivers the lightest of kisses against your skin. Rather, it’s Sebastian himself who has changed. It seemed that with your bold words, he was no longer content with just trapping you with weight. The arm that had now snaked against your lower waist and was holding onto your hip with a vice-like grip tells you as if the action was words itself.

“I won’t ask you again.” He bites out behind you in a harsh whisper and it’s almost shameful how your body instantly reacts to the feeling of his breath just dancing over your ear. “Why have you followed me here.”

The way you just shivered at his words? The way you just gasped at his tone? You’re worse than you thought. God, what are you doing? Chasing a man like you weren’t the one who should be chased in the first place? All while trying to play coy as if you weren’t practically shaking with excitement at the thought of seeing him again. All while trying to play powerful as if the first thing you wanted to do when you saw him after all this time was to get on your knees and listen to his every command.

You’re not going to last like this. You’re not, you’re not, you’re not. So with one last selfish act for yourself, you decide that you won’t That you had come all this way. That you had pulled all these strings to get here. And the very least you could do for yourself after all this time running and running and running after a man you know doesn’t deserve you was to be kind to yourself. That’s all you could do. Be kind to yourself. Because if not today? Because if not now? Then when?

“I missed you…Sebastian.”

As if you could ever be kind to yourself at all…

“What…” For once, he sounded stunned. This great and powerful demon that you knew so well sounded like he was taken by surprise. But even then, you couldn’t enjoy the feeling. Even then you couldn't look in the eyes- even as he released you from his hold and stepped away. You couldn’t. Not with your heart beating so fast you could have sworn you were alive in this moment. Not with your throat shaking so much you could have sworn that you were truly the blushing virgin you tried to appear as. “No. No, that cannot be true.”

Not with the way he denies you after all this time.

“Oh, but it is, Sebastian. Even after all this time…” You murmur softly, a sad smile crossing taking over your beautiful face. Words left unsaid. Memories left on repeat. And heartbreak that begins to take shape. You couldn’t look him in the eyes now that your life has been spared. You couldn’t look him in the eyes now that the two of you are no longer close. You couldn’t look him in the eyes when you feel like this. “Even after all this time, I…I continue to miss you.”

And you certainly couldn’t look him in the eyes right now.

Because how could you stand to see such a handsome face through the blurry mess of tears?

You just couldn’t.

#sebastian x reader #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian black butler #sebastian michaelis #black butler x reader #black butler fanfic #black butler fanfiction #black butler #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji fanfiction #kuroshitsuji fanfic #kuroshitsuji #x reader #xreader #fanfic #fanfiction

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honey-comb-xox · 2 months

Text

Greened out

Nick Sturniolo x male!stoner!reader

Warnings: Weed, greening out, throwing up, peer pressure, driving while high (don't do that brothers!! Be safe!) - sorry if i missed anything pls lmk if I did!!

A/n: y’all be gentle w this one it’s my first actual writing that isn’t a joke 😭

Summary: y/n greens-out 😶‍🌫️

Y/n sighed as he leaned further back in the lawn chair he found himself in about 3 hours ago. The hot summer air in L.A. was completely different then what he was used to in New York, for some reason it just made blunts hit 10x better.

“Dude you gonna hog that shit or fuckin pass it”

Y/n snaps out of his daze and keeps the smoke circle going, it had been a stressful day. The majority of his day so far has been spent running errands, bringing Nick back and forth to the post office for Space Camp orders, and making sure the Triplets didn’t starve while signing cards for their 6 mil merch drop. It doesn’t sound like a whole lot, but it was definitely draining. Hence the predicament he’s in now.

“Bruh I got one more blunt! Who’s up for a third?”

“Nah man i’m good i gotta drive back to Nicks soon”

“Dude look it’s skinny as shit you’ll be fine, unless you’re pussy”

“Seriously man, i’m not falling for your shit right now”

Y/n did in fact fall for his shit again. Which has led him to his current predicament of how the hell he was supposed to get home, if this was any other area in town then he’d just leave his car. But of course it wasn’t and on top of all that there was not a single sober person he trusted to drive his car to Nicks. There’s really only one option…

“Alright guys I think imma head out” Y/n groaned while stretching up

“Be careful driving back man!”

Y/n sighs as he starts his car preparing for a long ride back home.

~Timeskip~

Y/n stumbles out of his car while trudging up to the front door. After messing with his keys for a few minutes he finally finds the key Nick gifted him a couple of weeks back.

“Nick! I’m back!” Y/n exclaimed

“Hey! Matt and Chris just went out to get dinner. Did you eat?” Nick says going in for a hug.

“Nah I just got back from Jetts place”

“Yeah I can tell. How much did you guys smoke?” Nick coughs from the stench of weed radiating of off Y/n

“I don’t know…like three, 2 ½ blunts” Y/n responds nonchalantly

“THREE? Please don’t tell me you drove back here right after”

“Well I didn’t really have a choice. I couldn’t just leave my car there” At this point that ‘mini’ blunt is starting to hit a lot more than Y/n expected it to. Nick keeps rambling on, but this all goes through one ear and out the other because now it’s either he focuses on what Nicks saying or not throwing up.

“Are you even listening to me right now? You know what, whatever just tell me what you want from Canes so I can tell Matt and Chris”

“Nah I’m good I think, I actually gotta go to the bathroom real quick” Y/n paled. The thought of food was enough to send him over the edge.

Nick looks questionably at his boyfriend, but then brushes it off and rolls his eyes. The moment of silence is broken by groans from the bathroom.

“Babe you okay?” Nick hollers

Y/n doesn’t respond.

“Babe!” Nick shouts once again

Again no response. Nick runs to the bathroom to find his boyfriend curled up near the toilet.

“Oh my god! Babe are you okay?”

Y/n only groans in response. Nick sits down and rubs his back soothingly. Y/n goes to turn to Nick only to find the room rapidly spinning around him which only furthers his nausea. This carries on for another 5 minutes.

“Oh my god. I’m never smoking weed again” Y/n whines while slumping against Nick

“Yeah right, I’m gonna go grab you some water and your toothbrush from my room” Nick laughs

Y/n nods, while adjusting his position to lay on the cold tile .

“Aww poor baby” Nick says smugly

“Oh shush” Y/n says as he sits up against the bathtub

“Seriously though, are you okay?”

“Yea, I mean I’m still a little dizzy but the nausea is gone” Y/n yawns as he curls into Nick.

~Timeskip~

Chris runs up to the door without waiting for Matt.

“Dude seriously! Not even gonna grab the drinks or anything?” Matt hollers from the van.

“I getting the door for you, duh” Chris says meekly

Chris goes back to the van to grab the drinks from Matt, and holds the door for his brother.

“Nick!! We’re back! We got food for Y/n too!” Matt yells as he passes the stairs.

“Matt look at this” Chris whispers

Matt sets down the food on the counter, and heads over to Chris. The boys have their heads peeking into the bathroom only to find Nick and Y/n peacefully sleeping against the bathtub all snuggled up together.

“If they don’t wake up in like…thirty minutes then we’ll wake them up so their food doesn’t get too cold” Matt whispers to Chris

Then a sudden flash comes from Chris’ camera with the image of Nick holding Y/n in his arms sleepy glaring as his brothers.

A/n: okay how was that? Again please be kind it’s my first time writing smth like this but if you have any tips for me i’m definitely open to suggestions!!

#nick sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x male reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

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nouearth · 10 months

Note

a soulmate AU where you can write on your skin and have it appear on the body of your soulmate. with bart allen x dark angsty reader

i just combined your two asks together since they're pretty similar. hope you like it!

it's okay to not be okay.

pairing ; bart allen x m!reader. fandom: ; dc, the flash, young justice. word count ; 896. genre; angst & comfort. rating ; pg-13. warnings ; comfort!fic, soulmate!au, topic of depression notes ; i've been kinda on a creative block, so i'm so sorry if this sucks, lol. bart is aged up by the way!

“you up?” the sound of rain accompanies you as you’re sat at your desk, waiting for a response beneath your written question. it’s one of those nights again. another night of endless tossing and turning because of thoughts—stupid thoughts. naturally, parts of your body find a rhythm as a way to shake out those bad thoughts, an impromptu exorcism you liked to joke.

your fingers nervously drum against cherry wood, your leg bouncing in pursuit, and your heart races all at the same time, as you wait for a response. it’s four am, you weren’t exactly hopeful for one, but somehow, bart has yet to fail you.

“brley.” you’re calmed by the appearance of the black ink on your skin, smiling now. barely. he’s missing an ‘a’ but you figured you’d give him a pass considering how late it is.

“sorry. just wanted to see if you were still awake.” you write smaller than usual on your skin, accommodating for the longer sentence.

“drinking a coke now! you ok?” his handwriting is sloppy as usual, but you find it endearing. it’s almost like he’s rushing to talk to you and you couldn’t complain about that—you do the same.

“4 am thoughts again?” bart continues on before you could write a response. he’s always been a quick replier, impossibly fast at times.

it hasn’t been long since… all of this started happening. you never believed in having a soulmate, even attempted to refute the idea. but the existence of bart allen has convinced you into believing, maybe… just maybe, that he’s the one. bart always knew what was on your mind simply by how long it would take you to respond at times. that’s how impressive he is. he always knew what to say. not because he’s wise or smart (though, he is), but because he knew how to make you laugh. and you can feel yourself healing, though baby-steps, the more you spent time with him.

“you know me.”

“and i always want to know more! favorite cheesecake flavor? mine’s a basque.” you chuckle as more words appear on your skin, quickly extending over the length of your forearm as bart never cared to write small. “i know, it’s a little too fancy for me, but that caramelization is YUM!”

“and i thought you knew me, bart…” you write just as the previous responses vanish into your skin. “you know i don’t like sweets.”

“i know and it’s why i’ve docked you down to being 95% compatiable with me.” a smug smiley face with its tongue sticking out ends his sentence and you draw whatever you can imagine at the moment over it like you often do, both to your amusement.

for a moment, you forgot why you even woke him in the first place. bart makes time pass by, the problem and care of the world—of life—fleet away when you’re with him. but when you’re not, everything is numb. white noise follows you everywhere. the only reason why you come out of bed is to go to work, but you work idly, breathing as best as you can. living as best as you can.

you didn’t realize you’ve been staring off into space until you felt soft pressure applied to your forearm again, breaking your focus. “you never answered if you were okay or not.”

it takes a moment, a long moment until you gather the courage to respond.

“honestly? no…” you sigh to yourself, admitting defeat.

sometimes, there were days where you felt okay. but they were rare. you hated feeling like this. merely stating how you felt made you uncomfortable, but you’ve been lying to him, to yourself for so long. you aren’t okay. because the longer you lied to yourself, the more you hurt everybody, what’s left of everybody, around you.

you’ve stopped doing your favorite things again, opting to sleep the entire day away if you could. but you knew it was unhealthy. so you try. you try to make yourself okay, whatever that meant. going to the beach, taking a walk in the park, it was something. but you always found yourself wanting, dreaming to be one of those attributes that had people returning to those locations. the gentle sunset that warmed cold shores, the breeze that kept park benches cool, you wished you had that effect on someone—to have them return.

but to have them return is to get better, work towards being better. you’ve hurt a lot of people. those that have tried to help you, stood by you, but you’ve pushed them all away by now, and you’re alone. painfully alone.

“you remember what i told you from before, right?”

“yeah.”

you think to yourself, will bart return if something happened? if you were an ass to him? said or acted hurtful towards him? you knew you would never intentionally, but it’s a thought—a scary one.

“it’s okay to not be okay.” you both write simultaneously, your print in small and bart’s in large.

you’re not doing well. you admit to yourself again, and that’s okay. you remind yourself, alongside with bart’s writing. it’s a part of life and most of all, a step in the right direction. to healing, to being better, to being okay.

“i’m always be here for you.” “you always know what’s on my mind, bart.”

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quitesins · 2 years

Text

Hair as Pink as his Cheeks

Masterlist

Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Tags: Sfw, fluff, drabble, early stages of the relationship tings, disgustingly sappy, Kirishima is there- at the start I mean, I’ll come back and edit dis later

A short drabble- that I’ll probably recycle for an actual fic I’m writing- where Bakugou accidentally dyes his hair pink!

“What the fuck shitty hair?!” Bakugou emerges from the bathroom, a bottle gripped tightly in his hands. And his hair. It’s pink.

“Holy shit.” Kirishima looks at him, wide eyed and evidently about to laugh. “What did you do man?”

Bakugou just dashes the bottle towards Kirishima- which the red head narrowly misses- and stomps over. “This is your doing, why the fuck is the shampoo full of dye.”

Kirishima just shrugs and pushes his hands through the wet hair, looking closely. Even at the roots, where his hair darkens, it’s pink.

“Wow, you really got it in there.” Kirishima notes, going to study another section of hair, before Bakugou pulls back and shoves at him lightly.

“Will this shit wash out,” Bakugou grumbles, glaring at his roommate. Kirishima looks sheepish and Bakugou already knows his answer. He groans.

“Hey, man, it looks good on you.” Kirishima tries to comfort. “Plus your hair grows fast, no? Give it a few weeks, you’ll be fine.”

Bakugou almost decks his- soon to be ex- best friend, best friend in question noticing and raising his hands in playful surrender.

“I need it gone now!” He huffs.

“Like now-now?” Kirishima inquires, looking at him suspiciously. “What for?”

“I have a fucking date with [Name]!” Bakugou finally shouts, sighing heavily as the words leave him.

The relationship is new. Still soft and stuttered. In its early stages of romance. It’s warm with the need to take the love in his hands, hold it gentle and nurture it. There’s a pressure to keep it close, nerves that force perfection. But most of all, it’s a simple childish urge. He wants to impress you. He wants you to like him.

Kirishima nods his head, looking solemn as he thinks. Then he finally speaks.

“Maybe a hat will do-” But before he can finish, Bakugou is on him like a rabid dog…

He’s nervous. Hat tucked over his hair and hoodie atop that for good measure. The air is hot and it only serves to make him dizzy. He dislikes the stickiness of his own skin and how his quirk threatens to go off. He waits for you in the shade but doesn’t spot you in the crowd.

“Kats’?” Your voice comes from behind, startling him, and he whips around quickly.

There you stand, in a flowing, summery dress, looking pretty in the sun.

“Yeah.” He turns, letting you greet him with a hug. The smell of your perfume is familiar and settles his nerves a little.

“What’s with the disguise,” you joke, and his nerves return.

“It’s not a fuckin’- it’s not a disguise.” He pulls off the hoodie but keeps the hat on. The pink of his hair does not stay hidden.

When he sees you and the way your eyes go wide, he groans, wanting the ground to swallow him whole.

“Wow,” you speak, almost like a question. “You’re pink?”

He isn’t quite sure how to respond, instead shoving the hood back on and grabbing your hand. He ignores your light protests and pulls you along with him to take seat at a cafe nearby.

With orders placed, he finally lets the hood and cap fall off, showing off the entirety of his now pink mane. He mumbles out a quick explanation, something about stupid roommates and ex best friends, and waits for you to react. You don’t respond immediately, so he prompts you, wanting to get it over with.

“So? What do you think?”

Your face shows you’re thinking, and after a moment you speak, “Well, it’s not quite Dynamight-”

He cuts you off. “I fucking know.” It’s like his walls draw up without his order. Ready to fight rejection before it arrives.

You bend over the table slightly, to sift your hands through his hair. You words are light, soft, and hold a sincerity even he can’t deny. “But I like it.”

That’s unexpected.

That’s really unexpected. So unexpected that his walls drop with a sudden thud and his face heats instantly.

“You’re as pink as your hair, Kats’” You laugh, moving back to you seat. He almost instinctively reaches out to keep your hands in his hair, but stops himself at the last second.

“Fuck off.” He rolls his eyes, trying hard to keep his lips from tugging. He knows he probably looks a little insane, the way his teeth are bared, but he’s too embarrassed to let the smile free.

“Like candy floss.” You look at him dreamily. And God, he wants to squish the expression off your face.

“Are you just hungry.” He retorts, with an even more dramatic eye roll.

“A little bit.” You smile cheekily and he regrets his tease for he can see your next words coming clearly. “Maybe I should just eat you up.”

You’re unbelievable.

“Shut the fuck uppp.” He groans with his head turned. This time the he can’t keep the smile to himself, so he doesn’t.

Even you have a slight sickly grimace on your face. “Okay yeah, that was bad, even for me.”

The food arrives shortly, your half is mainly cakes and treats while he chooses something more nutritious. Doesn’t matter as he finds himself giving you half his meal anyways, liking the way you’re so free with how you express your delight. He frowns when you raise a cupcake with icing of an annoyingly familiar colour to him and snap a picture. He lets you keep the picture of course, playfully threatening that of it gets anywhere, that’d be your head. You reply with your own light hearted jabs, and the quick back and forth becomes something that could only be considered flirting.

“I really like it you know.” The sun sets on the two of you nicely. You speak to keep the day longer.

“I won’t keep it.” He establishes. “But I’m glad.”

“Aww not even for me.” You joke, smiling at him, like you’re trying to replace the sun. To him, you do.

If you asked seriously, he probably would. Anything even. He’d give it to you in a heartbeat.

“Nah.” To accept would have the discussion taper. So he lies, although he knows you know otherwise. “Not even you.”

Defo gonna snag bits and pieces of this for an actual fic. A pick n mix of my own writing with the sentences as sweets. Anyways I wasn’t sure how to end this at all and was tempted to simply go “the end” but i somewhat pulled through, hopefully… also also sorry for the random pacing and pov switching. Also also also, I used the word even too much. Okay long and drawn out authors note OVER! GOODBYE!

#fanfic #x reader #fanfiction #bakugou x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x reader #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #bnha x reader #fluff #quite shorts #quitesins bkg

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