#this woman's life is a dumpster fire | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

keravnous · 1 month

Text

diet mountain dew; john wick/fem!reader (smut, 18+)

dating john wick - the playlist

The Boogeyman is out to get you. Little does he know, that you too are willing to do quite a bunch of things just to stay alive.

warnings: blood, guns, knives, injuries, physical violence/fighting, assassination attempt; dub-con, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), choking, dirty talk, spanking, a lot of manhandling bc for the love of god he doesn't know how to be soft anymore, gun kink, knife kink, size kink, strength kink, squirting, body worship if you blink, is this hate-fucking? idk; john has a horse cock change my mind; john is in his 50s, the reader is in her 20s; set somewhere after the series i guess? (I refuse to accept he's dead); problematic family relationship as a plot device; let's all collectively ignore the fact that he would actually never touch another woman or even dare to catch the smallest of feelings again; john gets off on the violence

word count: 10,6 k

thank you mel for a) listening to my ramblings and b) reading a good chunk of the first third of this dumpster fire and still going nuts about it, kissies and thank you v for listening to my keanu ramblings without losing faith in me

You wonder, if praying will help you. Probably not.

The sound of carnage, screams and gunshots in the hallway abruptly stops. You hear the assailant's heavy footsteps echoing off the floorboards outside of your hotel room mere seconds before the door bursts open, flies out of its hinges and rattles to the ground, wood creaking and breaking, splinters flying everywhere.

There had been a hit out on you for two days and every single soldier in your father's militia was ready to defend your life with their own.

Literally. You can tell by the man entering your suite.

You can tell by just how much he is covered in blood. You can tell by the way it drips down his forehead and how it soaks his white shirt - even the soles of his shoes creak with it. You can tell by the way he is totally and utterly drenched in red red red, and because you are certain it is not his.

They literally gave their life for you. The thought hits you like a blow to the head. People have died because of you. Fathers, brothers, sons. You recall your last conversation with your own father. They want us dead, they put out a contract on us - you had never seen him so nervous, so disheveled. What does that mean - his anxiety had been washing over you in seeping hot waves, sending cold shivers down your spine. It means, I need you out of the house - now.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach as the man now approaches you, casually strolls into the suite with his finger on the trigger of the gun dangling from his hand and you stare back at him - a deer in the headlights, frozen by fear in the eyes of its deadly predator. One of your father's men jumps from his cover, fires a shot and gets hit back with one straight between his eyes. It happens so quickly, that you can't turn your head away. You see the bullet piercing his forehead, blood splattering as soon as it exits the skull on the other side. His head flies back a little, and then his body goes limp, slack, as he falls to the ground with a heavy thud.

You want to scream. You want to vomit. You want to run. But there is nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide from him.

There's only one soldier left with you in the suite now and he is hiding around the corner, near the bathroom. The stranger - the assassin, the killer - does not lower the gun again, and does not let his eyes stray from you as he carefully enters the room. You feel terribly exposed, dressed only in your negligée, not daring to move.

Now, that the dim light of the suite's living room strikes his face, you can finally see him, see the man who has come to end you. He is older than you, maybe nearly twice your age, with dark hair and even darker eyes, matching his black suit. Lean and athletic, chest heaving slightly with physical exhaustion. The Boogeyman.

You do not know who or what you had expected, what cruel and dreadful images your brain had conjured up in the past 48 hours - 48 frightful hours of being moved around from hideout to hideout by your father's men, not staying in one place longer than necessary - but it certainly was not that. Not him. He is a lot more handsome than his reputation has led on. Seeing him on the subway around rush hour you would have never suspected him to be in this business. He looks nice. And that is exactly what makes him dangerous.

You have heard his name before. Echoing from the walls. Baba Yaga. Whispered with both: fear and respect. The Boogeyman. Blurted out: like a curse or like a blessing. Mister Wick: like redemption, like damnation. Jonathan, the king's son walking the earth as the devil.

John. The sound of his name is oddly human - disturbingly human - for someone looking as calm and collected, focused and concentrated as he does right now, while being drenched in blood and pointing a gun at you.

You must have said his name out loud, because his eyebrows twitch irritatedly, a movement so quick you barely missed it - must've sound desperate too, then.

Vision zeroing in on the barrel of his gun, your hands clutch the sofa's edge. There is so much adrenaline pumping through your veins right now that it freezes your limbs, has your ears ringing. The only thing responding to your brain fully are your eyes, and they snap away from the gun and over to the remaining soldier. It's a quick look, not even a second, but the hitman seems to recognize it and - with near inhumane speed - flicks his gun, and fires two shots. Blood splatters against the white door as the shots pin the soldier's body against it, and is it finally drops to the ground heavily it leaves a nasty trail, all wet and sticky and red.

Could be you.

You want to scream, but your body does not belong to you anymore, does not respond to your commands. It is a desperate, cruel sound that leaves your throat instead as you flinch with the sound of the gun being fired.

"Let's make this quick" his voice is gravelly and rough, like he has seen a thousand grim things and the pain of it has etched its way into his throat, left a nasty mark on every tone that ever dared to cross after.

That is when your fight or flight suddenly kicks in. Well, more specifically, it kicks in while he is speaking, as he starts to swap the empty clip of his gun.

He underestimates you. Everyone does. Your father, your brother. The countless men lying dead littered across the hotel's 25th floor. It will be his mistake.

You latch forward, grabbing the vase from the coffee table in front of you. The weight of it in your hand drags you down.

With all the strength you can muster, which is quite a lot considering the massive amounts of adrenaline that are currently amping up your body - you throw it at him. It connects with his forehead sharply; a deep, irritated noise bursting from his throat as it crashes, splinters and falls to the floor.

You are braver, braver than you should be as your assault does not end there, your body pushing you forward, leaping over the table and crashing into his broad shoulders.

I will not die today

Body ramming into his, he stumbles, as your fist connects with his chin. You have only been partially trained in hand-to-hand combat, after pleading your brother for months until he eventually gave in. Sadly, he wasn't nearly as thorough and honest with it as he was training his drug dealer and gun runners. But now, it is the only thing you can rely on.

There is nothing else; no one else left alive in that building who might be able to help you. It is up to you. So, you might as well try.

And Oh, does desperation fire up your blood.

I will not die today

The diversion does not last long and he - John John John only human only human only human - grabs you by you waist hard, fingers digging into your flesh and into the expensive silk, before he slams your body into the ground. All air leaves your lungs with a dull sound erupting from your chest, just as pain blooms around your ribs.

You cough and he looks down at you, confusion making his brows twitch, before cold-hearted determination takes over once more. John aims his gun at you once more, pulls back the hammer and you do not even think about it, your leg rising as you kick against his hand. The shot misses, buries itself deep into the expensive carpet a few inches next to your skull. You have no time to do either: panic or sigh in relief; instead, you deliver him a kick to his stomach, fighting yourself back onto your feet, punching him straight in the face.

John grunts and grabs your wrist, but you see it coming and throw yourself into his wide frame, wrapping your other arm around his back and thus hooking it underneath his right shoulder, dislocating his arm and preventing him from aiming his gun at you. You claw onto him as he twists your arm close to his stomach, while you wrap your legs around him, making it harder for John to shake you off.

I will not die today

You kick and dig the heel of your foot into his thighs and the back of his knees and he grunts and buckles a little, but turns wild and relentless quicker than you can blink, throws the two of you into the next wall. You gasp sharply as your back connects with the large mirror, splinters digging into your back - not deep enough to actually cut skin, but it stings nonetheless, the impact making you dizzy.

Sharp pain shoots through your back and your neck, but you are not willing to give up yet, as raw energy and rage and desperation surges through your body - one of your legs coming loose and your knee hitting his stomach repeatedly, making John grunt in pain and you use your momentum to dig your hand deep into his back, holding onto him and then swirling out of the deadlock he has got you in, jumping his back like a monkey.

His gun clatters to the ground and for a split second, the room falls silent. Then, roaring like an animal gone wild, he grabs your calves and slams his back into the nearest wall, has you screaming with the impact. You can feel blood pouring from your nose, feel it trickling down your lips.

I will not die today

John is stronger than you are, so so much stronger - the apex predator: all muscle, unbreakable focus and the sheer will to kill. But you are not only a little quicker; you also really want to stay alive. It is a force he rarely encounters. And quite frankly, it irritates him.

He may be older than you, taller than you and stronger than you but you have something he does not have: you actually still got something to lose.

And you fight like it, too. All scratches and sharp yells, as you punch and scrabble at his shoulders and tear at his tie, trying to strangle him with it. John is struggling against it, gasping for air and winding beneath your assault and then his grip around your claves grows hard like iron, seconds before he pulls - throws you over his head like you weigh nothing. You land on the expensive carpet with a heavy thud - groaning as you crash onto your side with sharp pain shooting through your shoulder, down your ribcage.

I will not die today

John sputters and stumbles forward, looking for his gun but you are quicker, kicking it away with your foot. It clatters back onto and slides over the wooden floorboards.

For a second you consider your choices, fighting yourself back onto your feet but John - a practiced and seasoned fighter - beats you to it and lands a blow to your upper back, sends you back down with him - a mess of sputtering saliva and painful groans. His body topples onto yours and he quickly rolls the two of you over the floor.

John is heavy and warm on top of you, as he keeps you in a tight headlock, your chest pressed to the floor and neck bend in a painful angle. He presses his strong forearm down onto your windpipe and you choke and cough, feet kicking, hands dragging across the wood, clawing at it feebly.

You can feel his breath on your cheek, hot and damp. You can feel his torso pressing against your back as he kneels behind you.

I will not die today

Mustering all your remaining strength, you trash against him, ramming your backside into his stomach. He grunts and for a split second, his grip loosens. It is all you need. Throwing your elbow back, you hit him in the chest and he caves in.

You cough, crawling forward and then scrambling back onto your feet, one of your negligée’s straps falling down your shoulder in the process. You hastily pull it back up, seconds before John launches a cascade of punches onto you.

A few of them hit you as you try to block them; dull pain igniting in your body, blooming in your face and arms. Your breath goes heavy as you stumble backwards. You cannot do this. There is no way. You just physically can't.

He is stronger. Taller. Heavier. Deadlier. Your body and every single muscle, bone, nerve in it aches and you wheeze but he is already onto you again, half-tackles you and grabs your waist, ready to smash you back onto the ground.

You cling onto him with all your remaining strength, struggling against his huge frame, wrapping your hands around his neck in an attempt to get him to stumble.

His hair tingles on your naked arms. Oh wait --

Tearing at his hair - which has him grunting in both, pain, and irritation at the unusual attempt - you clumsily pull yourself up onto his shoulders, cutting his face right above his eyebrow with your nails in the process until you finally wrap one leg around his throat and close it around there tightly, choking him. John tries to pull you off him and succeeds after quite the tussle, only to find your frame clinging to him, legs and arms wrapping around his body, hands scratching and feet kicking.

I will not fucking die today

In an attempt to either get rid of each other or submit the last blow, to finally kill the other, you two swirl through the room - a deadly dance of torn skin, smashed glass panes and mirrors, bruises and cuts. Somewhere in between kicks and punches, he managed to pick up his gun - and right now, you are mustering all of your exhausted strength to prevent the barrel from pressing against your skull.

Eventually, John crashes your bodies through a large wooden door, and is not quick enough - unable to stop his own oxe-like strength - to stop himself from stumbling into the room. The two of you only come a halt as his knees hit something soft and ironically that is what finally topples both of you over, landing onto the mattress of your bedroom with a soft thud and deep, exhausted grunts.

Your ears ring, and you are ready to lash out at him again despite the physical exhaustion, to strike him square across the face, as --

There is something hard pressing against your crotch.

The world falls silent.

No. No, there's no fucking way. It's got to bea hidden weapon. Must be.

But clearly, it is not. There, between your spread legs, his hard cock presses snugly against your panty-clad pussy.

And he just feels so huge - mouth-watering huge - that your body responds in its own way, hips snapping up, stuttering against the hard bulge. John lets go off a shaky, ragged breath, hand still clutching his gun. And you know, that this is your window.

Feeling the warmth that his body and his hard dick are radiating through his expensive suit, you roll your hips once - a languid, slow motion, rubbing your pussy over his bulge.

And he groans. A deep, primal sound that sounds a little coarse. John is looking at you, starring you down, but there is a shadow dancing over his eyes, turning his brown eyes into deep and dark, black pits that gives him away.

He is horny. The Boogeyman is fucking horny. You would laugh, if the realization wasn't knocking all air straight from your lungs. Because it just another reminder, proof of what he actually is: human.

And what a sight he is to see - eyes turning darker every second, his chest heaving with every breath and making it seem like his shirt is going to pop a button or two any second now, his cock prodding against its restraints and your clothed cunt.

It makes you want him. The thought leaves you dizzy, makes you gasp.

Apparently, that is all he needs to roll his hips back into yours. And that - that is just unfair. It's playing dirty. It's, it's -- His dick feels huge as it trails along your folds, has the muscles in your abdomen clenching.

"Fuck", you breathe, a little overwhelmed with and helpless at the sudden surge of lust that ignites your body, the wetness pooling between your legs.

John is not saying anything, just stares you down while he continues to slooowly roll his hips into yours, grinds his cock against your cunt. Your pelvis twitches upward as you start to meet his movements, and then you can hear it. He let's go of a deep breath, and it sounds like the faintest moan.

You need to hear more of that. You need more of him, your cunt aching and hole clenching around nothing already.

"John", and this time you say his name - consciously - it sounds a different way of desperate: your voice reduced to a small whisper, torn at the edges by a wanton whimper ripping from your throat.

If it throws him off-guard he does not show it, does not let you see it. Instead, he grabs your chin hard, gaze locking with yours. Dark pupils blown wide, swallowing the honey-brown of his eyes, and your breath hitches.

"Yeah?", he rasps, and it does not take more than one long look from you for him to lean in, to press his lips onto yours.

The kiss tastes of blood and adrenaline and doom, and you relish in it. Relishing the way his lips move against yours and his beard tickles a little, relishing how his tongue presses into your mouth. It feels like he is eating you whole, licking into your mouth, one hand dancing over your waist - featherlight, like he doesn't know how to touch a body without hurting someone, destroying someone.

I will not die today, motherfucker

Your whole body now sings with it, the security of an impending victory, as you roll your hips into his once more, your tongue now licking back into his mouth. For a second you think about how to strike again, now that he is seemingly distracted, but all will to fight leaves your body as one of his hands brushes over your knee, wanders further and eventually rests on your thigh.

The touch is electrifying and then his hand grows braver, his movements more certain, as he grabs your thigh, feels you up. It happens so suddenly, that you gasp into the kiss.

John parts from you, his lips a little plush already. "Oh God", you whisper as you stare Death Turned Human straight in the face, not a single thought remaining in your skull despite your lust.

He doesn't speak, as he gently let’s go off your leg and straightens back up and for a second you think he is going to hurt you, with the way his brows are furrowed - but he doesn't.

Instead, he moves in, right over your comparably tiny frame - a mountain of a man. John kneels above you, his weight pinning you down while he straddles your thighs and Jesus fucking Christ - what a sight he is to see.

Dark locks falling into his forehead, a little sticky with sweat and the bits of blood from the cut your nails gave him moments ago - right above his left eyebrow, still lazily trickling down into his lashes. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, as he hastily gets rid of his jacket, carelessly drops it to the ground. His black button-down clings to his muscular body underneath his waistcoat and his equally as muscular thighs pin you down to the bed, black fabric nearly tearing at the seams. And then there is his hard cock.

It looks as huge as it felt, with the way it bulges his pants, the outline of it clearly visible as it buckles proudly against its restraints. You are certain, you will not be able to close your hand around it fully - not a chance.

One of his hands - the one lacking a finger, which you only now notice and what sends shivers down your spine - wanders over your body, pulling your negligée down in the process, right tit spilling out of the soft silk. He immediately grabs it, cups it with his large hand and squeezes. You mewl, marveling at just how big his hand is, just as his whole body is in comparison to you. His fucked-up finger digs into the flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

John's hand gropes your tit, before he impatiently pulls the neckline down roughly. You sigh, arousal shooting down your spine and tingling in your lower belly, as two of his fingers nudge your nipple, pinch it.

He watches your face intently, as he continues to grope you, rolls your nipple between his fingers. You mewl, breath accelerating a little but it is just not enough and you buck your hips upwards. John grunts in, what you assume is an approving manner, and let's go off your tit, reaches to his belt at his loins.

Quickly pulling a knife from God-knows-where exactly, a sharp blade enters your vision.

You blink, panic seeping through your lust and your legs twitch a little with fear. If John notices it, he neither shows it nor does he say anything, just moves the knife closer to your body.

The blade shines in the dim light as it dances over your exposed thighs carefully, the metal cooly pressing against your skin, before he flicks it and cuts your negligée open. The thin, soft fabric cleanly cut in half it now lazily slides from your aching body, falls to its sides. Your chest heaves, shivers running down your arms and back.

It happens so quickly that you can only blink. As your brain finally catches up with your eyes, you come to realize that he is holding a real fucking tactical knife. You have thrown one once - they are sharp as hell and deadlier than a bullet. The sound of fabric tearing easily, like paper, proves your point.

And John's movements with the blade are so fast that your breath hitches, a little afraid he might cut you. But he does not, instead, he quickly pulls the torn silk off you and away from under you, carelessly tosses it into the dark of the room.

The edge of the blade dances over your skin and you do not dare to breathe, as he trails it up and down your curves, gently nudges your nipples. "I could kill you", he says calmly and then, in lightning speed, presses the blade into the crook of your neck. Your head sinks back into the mattress, in an instinct to flee the sharp edge.

All it does is to expose your neck further and something gleams in John's eyes, as he presses the sharp tip down slowly, carefully nudging your skin with it. The metal is cold and hard and sharp and your breath hitches. Just a little bit more and it might burst your skin, draw blood.

But, to your own confusion, you do not feel threatened anymore. Oddly enough, your nerves tingle with excitement. You blame it on the already high levels of adrenaline that still pump through your veins, rushing back and forth from your brain and your lungs, but a small voice inside of your head whisper gently, deviously, that you know That's not it. And he knows it, too.

It's in his eyes as well, the sheer excitement of it all, the fucked-up pleasure it evokes in the both of you lays heavy in the air.

It turns you fucking on. It turns you on, that the man who - minutes ago - tried you kill you and did hurt you very fucking badly in the process of it, now decides to let you live.

It turns you on, that you are at his mercy.

It turns you on, that he decided to spare you - just for now.

It turns you on, that these large and strong hands holding the knife have that sort of power over you. And thus, as the blade nudges your head back further, you moan.

"I could cut your throat", John's voice is heavy and thick with arousal and you can feel your heartbeat picking up, breath accelerating. His gaze drops down, watches the rapid rising and falling of your breasts hungrily, while another soft moan escapes from your lips.

"Don't", you breathe softly.

The knife practically burns on your skin, and you can feel arousal flooding your clothed pussy, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction. John can feel your squirming underneath him, but he can also see your eyes turning watery and dark with lust, pupils blown and a pretty pink spreading on your cheeks, your breath growing shallow. And he just really needs to fucking taste you right now.

As quickly as it appeared, the blade vanishes from your throat before he twirls the knife like the ruthless, reckless professional that he is, and buries it deep to the hilt in the mattress next to you. The sharp sound as it pierces the thick fabric has the hairs on your body standing up, goosebumps rolling over your skin.

"I'll do it later", he rumbles - casually, like he is talking about doing chores or picking up groceries - before hunching over you, grabbing your chin with his fucked-up hand, and kissing you again. His tongue immediately pushes into your mouth, like he is starving to taste you.

John eats you whole, with the way his lips move against yours. His hand cups your face, tongue licking into your mouth, toying with yours. His kiss steals your breath and you start to get dizzy with it, hips bucking. You can feel his lips curling up and then he parts from you, leaving you a gasping mess, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"Let me touch you, John", you whisper, voice a little small because you do not know why you feel that way, and if he will even allow it. But you just need to feel him.

For a long moment his gaze dances over your face and something shifts behind his eyes, like a shadow gets lifted and then very quickly returns. Ultimately, he gives a court nod, so small you nearly miss it and gives you a little more room while straightening back up.

Carefully, as if not to spook him, you dart one hand out, place it on his chest. The muscle is firm underneath his suit and you run your hand along the lapel of his jacket, down and then back up, before it slips beneath it.

John's body radiates warmth under the black fabric of his shirt and your other hand comes up, before you shove the jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor next to the bed.

Your breath hitches.

He is wearing a holster, a reminder of his deadliness, of the gun laying somewhere next to you. Maybe, he sees the fear returning in your eyes, but he is quick to shrug the holster off, throws it into the dark where it clatters onto the wooden floor boards. What is left in front of you are broad shoulders and a muscular chest, the fabric nearly tearing at his movements.

As you run your hands over it, you cannot help yourself - you need to fucking feel him for real.

Quickly making work of his waistcoat and tie you toss both to the side carelessly, before your hands roam his broad chest. His button-down clings snugly against his upper body and you can feel the muscles work beneath the black fabric as your hands brush over them. You tug at the shirt, pulling its tails from his pants before hastily opening the first few buttons. The skin underneath is pale, littered by blue - red - black bruises, birthmarks scattered in between like stars. You pop open the rest of the buttons, greedy to touch him. And as the shirt falls to the sides your hands are already onto his chest, roaming over and admiring the muscular, defined canvas of strength, that violence has painted a pretty picture on.

John is watching you intently as you undress him and then explore his body, your pupils blown wide and dark, mouth agape a little. He is a little taken aback by it - by someone not seeing his body as the ultimate tool of death that it is, but as something else, that he cannot really pinpoint because he can't even look in the mirror without seeing destruction and decay. But the way your gaze wanders over his body, the way you touch him, is different from that and he has not felt anything like it in years.

And John wants. Carnal desire tugs at his brain, shoots arousal between his legs, makes his cock twitch and a low growl escaping his throat.

The sound gets you going: pushing yourself up with one hand, the other wrapping around his strong neck for leverage as you sit up, mouth immediately clutching to his throat. He tastes of sweat and after-shave - sharp and musky - and you run your tongue over his skin greedily, licking and sucking at the skin while your naked body presses against his.

It disarms him. The gentle touch that you put his body up to, while everything still aches from plowing through the better half of your father's militia and beating the hell out of you, confuses him. Your touch, your lips on his skin are soft and not aiming to hurt - instead, they grow more and more needy, wanton and hasty, as you lick over his bruised skin, tasting his sweat. Your hands over his abdomen caress his defined muscles, in awe of his utter strength, thumbs brushing through the soft and dark trail of hair leading beneath the waistband of his trousers. And all John can do, is watch, his gaze locking with yours as goosebumps erupt on his skin.

And you - oh you; your head swims with the way you turn this animal into a human again, unlock a different set of animalistic needs within him and hearing John's breath growing heavy really fucking does it for you, feeling his scarred and beaten-up skin underneath your hands, wrapping them around the deadly machine that is his body. It makes you want more.

Shedding his blood-stained shirt off of his shoulders, your hands roam over his upper back - feeling the scars there: of knives, larger and small ones and round ones of bullets that once pierced his skin. There is something else, a burn scar, in the shape of a cross and he hisses as your fingers brush over it, nails digging into the stunted skin.

It pulls John out of his stasis, reminds him of who he is and you can feel the air swinging with it seconds before he moves. His large hands wrap around your shoulders and then he pulls you off him, throws you back onto the mattress. You yelp, eyes growing wide as you watch his face as it turns from lightly dazed back to stern, wild, with his brows furrowed.

"That's enough", he says, voice coarse and it still feels like a small victory, even though he spreads your legs roughly, hands digging deep into your thighs - hard enough to bruise - before he kneels between them. He yanks your body forward at the back of your knees, watches your tits bounce and then leans in, his lips immediately attacking your throat, your neck.

His lips are surprisingly soft against your skin, his beard tickling a little as it brushes over your tits, your stomach, your thighs while his tongue licks fat stripes over your nipples and down down down your upper body, right to your navel. One of his hands creeps up your body once more and roughly cups your tit, squeezes, and gropes it, rolls your hardened nipple between his index and middle finger. His stunted ring-finger digs deep into your tit and you gasp, hips bucking. John's lips suck and nibble at your skin, before eventually ghosting over your pubic bone, teasing you before assaulting your thighs again, teeth biting down gently into the soft flesh. You gasp and moan while he gropes your body, inhales your scent - as you watch how his lips, tongue, and teeth dance over your thighs, moving closer to your cunt.

John finally, finally, puts his mouth onto your pussy, peppers open-mouthed kisses around your clit, before clothing his lips around it and sucking on it hard through your panties. Your hips buck as a high-pitched moan erupts from your throat, hands flying into his greying locks.

"Fuck", you whine, feeling fresh wetness flooding your folds, dampening the thin fabric further. John can see the outlines of your wet pussy pressing against your panties and parts from your clit momentarily, only to lick a fat stripe over your clothed cunt, watching it twitch.

"That's fucking pretty", he rasps, gaze locking with yours and you feel all air leaving your lungs. His eyes are so fucking dark, like gleaming black pits swallowing you whole, his breath a little flat with arousal.

You want him to fuck you. Really fuck you. To plow you open, rail you until you cannot sit nor walk. He is already so so close to you, but too far away at the same time. "Please", is all you manage to utter out. And it seems to be sufficient enough for him; seems to get across what you want, what you need.

John's fingers wrap around the front of your lace slip, tugging at the fabric - that rubs along your cunt at the sudden motion and has you gasping quietly - and then he pulls. The lace tears easily as he rips it apart, and cool air hits your wet and hot pussy, as he practically peels you out of your underwear, throws it to the side. The look on his face is wild and you can hear him taking a deep breath, smelling your arousal, before he spreads your folds apart with his thumbs, gaze wandering over your plump and flushed cunt.

Teasingly brushing over your clit with his thumb, John watches your reaction intently. And fuck, you do not disappoint. Throwing your head back, you moan, drawing in a deep breath through your opened mouth that heaves your chest, your eyelids fluttering.

You are dying for him to touch you and as he does, it feels like your body catches fire - lust washing away the dull pain in your limbs and near your ribs.

"Oh God", you breathe out as his thumb draws another wide and slow circle over your clit, your hands darting out and grabbing the sheets "Please."

And John complies, his thumb rubbing over your clit in a slow but steady rhythm.

Gasping, your hands clutch the sheets, knees darting away from each other, giving him more space. John accepts the invitation, grabs one thigh hard, fucked up ring-finger digging deep into your skin. His fingers move further, abandons your clit and dance over your folds, down to your hole. It flutters as two of his digits tease it, gently circling around it.

"Please", you whine once more, lifting your hips a little, a desperate noise leaving your throat. John smirks to himself, before pushing two of his fingers into you.

The stretch is sudden and bigger than expected and you moan coarsely, as he pushes his digits along your walls deeply and nestles them into your seeping hot cunt up to his knuckles. And Jesus, you feel so full already; your head swimming as you consider how big his cock must feel, then.

Your breath goes quick and shallowly as he starts to move them, and then he leans in. Nudges your clit with the tip of his tongue, licks over it.

You feel like combusting on the spot: your nerves tingling with arousal, your whole body still aching from the beating you gave each other earlier - the pain in your back blooming as you stretch it with your hips desperately shoving themselves near his touch - your pussy squeezing his fingers.

John pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, his tongue rubbing and circling your clit and soft, needy moans fall from your lips. Obscene, wet sounds fill the air, mingle with your moans and heavy breathing. His lips close in around your clit, sucking at it while his fingers rub along your spongy walls and your cunt squeezes them hard as fresh wetness floods your folds, your squirt wetting his beard and dripping down on the sheets below.

You can hear - feel - John humming against your pussy, peppering the wet skin with open mouthed kisses, licking over it, and tasting your slick.

You feel so fucking good - lust pulsating through your veins, loins on fire - and your head falls to the side, body rocking with sharp gasps and your mouth agape, eyelids fluttering as --

There's the gun. And the knife.

You could easily grab either one or the other next to you, pull the blade out of the matress or the hammer back; put a bullet right between his eyes or plow the blade deep deep into his skull. Killing the Boogeyman. Killing Baba Yaga.

That would do wonders to your family's business. It would emancipate you from it, you would be free. Free to rule.

"Thinking 'bout killing me?", John rumbles, tongue licking a fat stripe over your cunt, nudging your clit. Your gaze flickers back to him: hair a mess, eyes gleaming darkly, hands on your thighs to keep your legs spread. He does not look surprised. Neither does he look worried.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head: he is toying with you. Has been the whole fucking time. The wolf hunting the deer, running a few rounds through the woods to weaken it; its breath whistling with exhaustion, long legs buckling before it collapses - an easy kill. An easy kill for an old wolf, one, that can't quite handle a real hunt anymore.

But maybe, just maybe - judging from the look in his eyes - he got lost in his own game. Its reins slipped from his bloody hands, the wolf tumbling to the ground.

Looking back at him, your lips curl into a sweet smile. "Not anymore", your hand darts out, brushing the loose strands of dark hair from his face - the soft gesture leaving him visibly confused -, "John."

Two can play this game. And maybe, just maybe, the deer can tire the wolf out first.

Something gleams in John's eyes, dances over them like a shadow and he seems to accept the challenge - readying to tire you out - tongue licking over your clit once more, making you shiver and mewl, as he pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole. You feel empty and --

"Do you really think, you could kill me?", he rumbles, voice deep and rough around the edges, "Stupid slut."

And then, quicker than your brain can process it, his hand comes down on your dripping wet pussy.

Your breath hitches, topples over and leaves your throat as a raw, needy moan. Softly stinging pain blooms between your folds and sets your nerves on fire. Blame it on the bruises, blame it on the pain you both inflicted on each other moments ago, but: it riles you up. Mingles with your aching bones and aching cunt, has you arching your back.

"Y'really think you could kill me", he doesn't sound offended, not even amused - voice plain, like he is inquiring if you really believed the earth to be flat. Like you really are stupid.

And you start to feel stupid, too. There was never a chance. You never had a chance. Your death was sealed, determined the second John stepped into the hotel.

You were stupid to believe you could outrun or beat him. You are stupid. And John has every right to show you, teach you, punish you for it.

Giving your cunt another firm slap, John watches your hips twitch, hears your pussy squelching and soft moans falling from your lips. "Shit", you sigh and he slaps your wet pussy once more, feels your slick folds wetting the palm of his hand.

"D'you like that, girl?", and as your only response are wanton gasps falling from your mouth John chuckles deeply, gives your pulsating cunt another two firm slaps. Seeing how he is pulling you apart, how good he makes you feel really seems to do it for him, gets him quite talkative.

"Uh-huh", you make dumbly, quite illiterate, watching him stroking your flushed, hot cunt with two of his fingers. Shivers run down your spine.

And then he leans back in, licks a fat stripe over your sensitive, flushed cunt, from the hole up to the clit.

You squirm, mewl as his beard brushes over your overstimulated skin, leaving a slight burn that mingles deliciously with a fresh wave of arousal that floods your body scalp to toes.

The muscles in your abdomen clench as two of his fingers circle your fluttering hole and then push in, rubbing along your plush walls agonizingly slowly and you can feel yourself tightening around it. Your juices squelch from your cunt as you squirt against his tongue and your slick runs down your folds, wets his fingers and palm while his tongue laps at your pussy, tasting your sweetness.

John pushes is fingers deeper as you moan and sigh, hands fisting his hair and hips moving against his tongue, his digits thrusting into you.

"Oh god", you huff as his lips close in around your clit, sucking on it and the tip of his tongue flicking against it occasionally.

Another wave of fresh wetness floods your cunt as you squirt once more, wetting the sheets below, your slick running down John's wrist.

John parts from your clit, nudges it with his tongue, his beard glistening with your juices.

"Yeah, that's fucking it", another one of his thick fingers pumps itself into your tight little hole and his other hand - also slick with your juices - grabs your thigh, "That's a good girl."

You feel so full, your spine feels like it's on fire and your brain tingles with it, sends wave of pleasure down down down your body; muscles in your loins clenching, chest heaving. It becomes all too much as he leans back in, rubs his tongue over your clit, lips sucking and teasing your folds.

The slight burn of John's beard tickling your plush, hot cunt. His fingers working your open and stretching your tight little hole open far and wide, obscene squelching sounds filling the air as he works you open, brushing against your g-spot occasionally and making you see stars.

But it's too little. It's just not enough.

"Fuck", you whine as John's thick fingers brush over your g-spot with quite some force, tongue lapping at your seeping cunt, "Shit, please. Please, just fuck me, please!"

You can feel him grinning against your wet cunt, beard a little sticky with your juices, letting go of your pussy with an obscene pop. "Yeah", he licks his lips, tastes you on his tongue, "D'you want my cock?"

And that - that might be what makes you lose your mind. Because yes. Yes, you do.

You have been craving to touch it, to feel it since it had pressed against your clothed pussy earlier. Thus, all dignity leaves your body with one, clean whine that breaks free from your throat.

"Yes, fuck - oh god, John", you brabble, legs falling apart further, inviting him in, his digits sinking deeper into your soaking wet hole, "Shit, please fuck me, John - please, please, please --"

Pleas are still falling from your lips like a chant, as a surprising noise breaks the silence, so strangely beautiful that it has you nearly shuddering: John is laughing. It's a nice baritone sound, and the fine lines around his eyes crinkle with it - it's so beautiful, that it drowns the world out. You watch him in awe, as he shakes his head, avoids your gaze.

"Jesus. Look at you", he huffs, voice dripping thickly with amusement, "If you need it that badly--"

Straightening back up and kneeling between your legs, John slips his fingers from your cunt and makes quick work of his belt, trousers, and boxers. The second he frees is cock, you start to drool like a fucking pavlovian-dog.

His dick is so fucking huge. It is nicely curved and cut, the bulbous pink head glistening with pre-cum and a thick, pumping vein at the bottom that rakes from the base to the tip, as it rests between trimmed, dark pubic hair. His cock bobs against his abdomen as it bounces free, smears the pre-cum along the pale skin, twitches at the sudden contact. And Jesus fucking Christ, you just want to fucking touch it, feel its velvety skin in your palm. But you just know that you won't even be able to wrap your hand around its base fully, it's impossible, it--

"I-it won't fit", you whisper, a little taken aback by his sheer size.

"Oh, I'll make it fit, baby."

John takes his cock in one hand, thumb right beneath its head, and rubs it against your slit. And Jesus fucking Christ. Your hips snap up, meet his movements, and he grunts while he spreads his pre-cum along your cunt, gathers your slick. The thick head of his dick prods against your entrance and you take a deep breath, looking down between your legs. You watch how he slooowly pushes in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion, the delicious stretch making you moan.

His cock feels so fucking big, hot, and heavy, as he nestles the tip in, your hole clenching around it. John's brows furrow, and he doesn't wait long until he pushes his cock in further.

The thick base starts to stretch your slim rings of muscles, a sharp pain shooting through it. He can feel your hole protesting, can see you wincing. "Breathe, baby", he hums, "Let me do the rest."

His coarse voice mingles with his words and the waves of pleasure shooting through your body despite the dull pain, conjures up a pretty pretty image that floods your brain - there's sunlight everywhere, orange rays of it hitting a bed covered in white sheets, sweaty bodies on top of it; limbs entangled, hands intertwined with their golden rings shining brightly in the warm light, heavy breathing and sloppy kisses, and lazy thrusts as his cock fucks you awake. The thought makes you dizzy, your legs falling apart and hole fluttering open, inviting him in.

The slight burn leaves you a gasping, whimpering mess as he pushes himself in deep, nestles his huge cock in between your aching, hot, and tight walls.

And John feels like he is going to pass out. No blow to the head, no bullet to the chest, no knife to the stomach could ever make him feel as dizzy as the feeling of your hot cunt squeezing him does right now. His whole body is vibrating with want and lust and he just really hopes that you don't notice that he has gotten a little rusty. The thought quickly gets drowned-out as he looks down, where his thick cock practically splits you open, vanishes in your hole.

"Shit", he huffs out, places one large hand on your stomach and thrusts. Feeling himself moving inside of you has him moaning, gaze shooting up to you, meeting your eyes, as his hand presses down. "You feel me right here, baby?", he rasps and you nod, mouth agape by the sheer force of his thrust, tip of his cock prodding your cervix.

John can see his cock moving inside of you, the way your stomach bulges a little. He gets a little dizzy with, and then his eyes make the mistake of moving up to your face. And it takes a whole lot of fucking will-power of him to not just thrust and thrust and thrust and fuck you until you cry, bleed.

You are so fucking pretty. Mouth agape you watch how his cock vanishes between your legs, splits your cunt open, with his eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks flushed. Your lips are plush and red from his assault.

Your hands grip the sheets and your breasts heave with your deep breaths, that grow a little more flaccid. Next to you lays his gun, knife still buried into the mattress. His eyes drop to the weapons and his breath hitches. And for a split second, like a flash of light, he wonders what in God's name he's doing here. He is a professional. The Ballerina works like that. He doesn't.

A sweet, sweet noise rips him out of his thoughts. "J-john", you mewl, eyes still trained on his massive dick splitting you open, "I-it, it's --"

"Yeah?", he breathes, the sound all soft and careful around the edges.

"Heavy", you breathe.

"Does it hurt?", he kind of wants it to. Make you pay for what you did to him. He kind of doesn't want it to. Make you enjoy what he's got to give.

John realizes he is fucked.

You nod, head flying back into the cushions, while your brows dart together.

John's free hand flies to your clit, nudges it gently, before slowly rubbing wide circles over it. You gasp, as you feel fresh wetness flooding your cunt and dripping down your folds to where his cock splits your hole open, pools around it. He carefully pulls out a little and then pushes back in, assisted by your slick. The way you moan spurs him on and the circles on your clit grow faster and smaller.

Aching your back, you lean into the touch. "That's a good girl", he whispers, voice raw and coarse, dripping with lust and the exhaustion of holding back. John bottoms out, while continuing to rub your clit and he can feel your walls growing plush, your hole fluttering around his dick, relaxing with your hot, seeping cunt inviting him in. "Feels good?"

"Yeah, fuck", you feel like you are being split open, with his thick cock filling you to the brim and rubbing along your walls with every little movement, the thick head prodding gently against your cervix, "Shit, John."

It feels so fucking good, all thoughts being washed away from your brain as he starts to move carefully, thrusts into you once, twice. You moan, lips slightly parted, before your gaze flies to him.

And Fuck. John's chest is flushed a little, muscles of his abdomen flexing with every thrust while his gaze is trained down to where his cock fucks into you, brows darted together a little and his breathing audible.

"John?", you whisper, and his gaze immediately shoots up to you as your comparably tiny hand wraps around the wrist of his hand that is still rubbing your clit.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me."

For a long moment, he just looks at you and you think - no, you are convinced - that you can see a glimpse of the human being he once was. Caring, sweet and gentle; as he seems to really take it into consideration if you are ready yet, if you know what you are begging for.

Apparently, he does deem you prepared enough, and the soft gaze gets replaced by a dark gleam as all gentleness vanishes from his face once more. Without a warning, John rolls his hips back only to thrust into you again, deep, and hard, immediately picking up a quick rhythm.

It comes as a genuine surprise to you and you gasp, mewling but it quickly feels just so fucking good, practically lights your body up and leaves every nerve-ending on fire, each thrust has you moaning loudly.

It spurs him on, makes him grunt and for a while, you both just watch him gliding in and out of your tight hole, with him feeling your muscles squeezing him and you feeling his cock stretching your open further and further. Your lips as slightly parted and his brows are furrowed as he rolls his hips into yours and you feel time getting lost on you, the only thing of importance remaining is the feeling of him filling you up. John's hands roam your body, wandering over your thighs and your stomach, your hips before angling your leg, pushing the heel of your foot on his shoulder, and grabbing your ankle with one hand, his dick slips into you even further, balls slapping against your ass heavily with each thrust.

You can tell that John has not fucked in a long, long time. It's not the way he does it - all fluid, languid thrust of his hips, muscles dancing under the soft skin. It's mostly the way he pants and grunts - sounds just as desperate as you feel. And still, he has the stamina of a racehorse.

You can feel that he wants to prove it, too, as his free hand grabs your thigh and hoists your other leg over his hip bone, practically pulling your lower half off the bed in the process. Your pelvis now clings to his, obscene sounds of his cock fucking into your wet pussy filling the air while he huffs with his thrusts, yet does not slow down.

The grip on both, your ankle and your thigh are hard, and you are certain his hands will leave a bruise but you just cannot bring yourself to care. Deep down you know, that someone will see them: your maids, your friends, your family.

But all thoughts, all worries get swapped from your brain as your gaze wanders up from where John's dick hammers into you steadily, rakes over his defined stomach and chest and finally, finally lands on his face.

He looks downright, utterly, and breathtakingly -- pornographic.

John's dark pupils blown wide gleaming with arousal, his cheeks are slightly blushed and a thin layer of sweat makes him glow in the dim light of the living room falling onto the bed. It surrounds him like a halo, a Saint of Death and Decay, with his dark hair falling into his forehead and onto his shoulders. He brushes it out of the way with his stunted hand, a ragged breath making his chest heave. There is still some of your slick wetting his beard.

You can't help your mind from going there, from wondering how different things could have been. What it would be like if you had met me in a bar instead of him entering your suite, leaving the hallway behind him looking like a slaughterhouse. Maybe he would have laughed at your jokes, in the dim light of your favorite bar in the city. Maybe he would have liked the same music as you do. Maybe, just maybe, he would have brought you home only to stay the night and fuck you until you would have lost your goddamn mind.

Your hand wanders down your body, strokes your waist and hip in the process, before it languidly drops between your spread legs, two fingers darting out and rubbing circles over your sensitive clit.

John moves quickly, his usual deadly precision shattering your peaceful fantasy, his hand ditching your thigh and closing in around your waist. "Don't you fuckin' touch yourself", he growls, and it's the first time you hear real, actual emotion dwelling in his throat - not his toneless, cold and mechanical rumble. He sounds pissed. Offended.

And the best part is: it seems to get him fucking going.

John leans in, your calf still resting on his shoulder and the slight pain of the stretch is delicious as he nearly folds your body in half. You can feel his dick sliding in even deeper into your hole and you gasp and whine, one hand coming up to dig into his biceps to just hold on. Hold on, while he pounds into you with perfectly angled, deep and strong thrusts, hitting your g-spot with every single one of them.

You know that the suite's door is in shambles, that anyone could walk in here and see you having your brains fucked out by the man who is here to kill you - but you don't care. Part of it is, because the gun is still resting next to your head on the sheets. You could just grab it and shoot anyone dead in heartbeat, whoever is trying to disturb the pleasure that shoots through your body.

But it is also him.

It's the way John is towering over you, back hunched, looking all wide and powerful and deadly, with the way he shields your body from view and harm as he thrusts into you. As he pushes all his rage, adrenaline, and strength into your tight hole, groans, and pants into your ear.

There is nothing you can do, despite holding onto him, nails digging into his back, clutching his broad shoulders, fingers running over his tattoos desperately. He is fucking the living daylight out of you, your body moving like a ragdoll underneath the mountain of muscles and strength. Your cunt is being split open by his cock, as you feel him hammering into you and you feel like you are going to lose your mind, panting and moaning with each of his thrusts.

"John, fuck", you moan sweetly, eyes rolling into your skull as he pounds into you, "You feel so fucking good, shit --"

"Yeah", he huffs, his forehead slowly sinking onto yours, "You too, baby."

You can see his eyelids fluttering, feel his upper body heaving beneath your hands, smell the blood on his skin, mingling with his musky scent. Blaming it on the sickening cocktail of hormones that is flooding both - your brain and your body - you lean in, your lips desperately smacking against his.

And Jesus Fucking Christ. Does John kiss you.

Kisses you like he is starving for it, licking back into your mouth - his body pressing yours into the mattress with his whole weight and muscle, while still thrusting into you.

Your hands tangle into his hair, tugging at it. John moans against your lips and your stomach flutters at the sound, and you want more. One hand moves to lay at the crook of his neck and your tongue presses against his, licking back into his mouth. Adding some force to his neck you invite John deeper into the kiss, and he follows suite, steals you the last bit of air your lungs were holding. Panting you part from him, thumb brushing over the crook of his neck.

Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself. You feel so alive and you want him to wreck you, to leave something behind that you will remember for every day your heart continues to beat. Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself but to whisper: "Harder."

John blinks, hips stuttering. And then, he grunts. His hand digs into your waist as he grabs you there, hold you in place will his hips rut into you. Picking up a near brutal rhythm, obscene sounds of your slick being pushed in and out and in out of your hole as he jackhammers into your g-spot, the bedframe rattling as John's thrusts pound it into the wall - leaving you a gasping and moaning mess. His belt clinks with his thrusts and you cling onto him, sharp whines escaping your throat.

"John John John", his name leaves your mouth like a mantra, sharp and high-pitched. His head falls forward, dark locks brushing over your cheek as his temple rests against yours and then you hear it.

John moans.

It's a deep, carnal sound. Your stomach flutters and lust shoots through your body at the noise, your tight cunt squeezing his thick cock as you squirt around his cock like a broken fucking hose, wetting his pubic hair. You can feel it rubbing along your wet folds, the sensation making you mewl, leaves your hips shuddering.

"Shit", you breathe, hands cradling his muscular back and then you can feel his dick twitching inside of you, accompanied by yet another one of his sweet, sweet moans, "Fuck, John--"

He raises his head and your gazes connect, before he leans in, presses his lips onto yours once more. The kiss is surprisingly soft and in stark contrast to the way he ruts and pounds into you and then he hits the spot once more and -

Everything goes white as your muscles clench and unclench suddenly, as you nearly scream against his lips; your hole practically milking his cock as you cum, pussy gushing and squirting around him like a broken hose.

John continues to fuck you through your orgasm and his heavy breathing reaches your ears through the cotton candy, that slowly wraps you in as everything turns light and bright. He moans deeply against your cheek as he comes, too - shoots hot ropes of cum into you and paints your walls with it.

His movements still as he buries himself deep into you, cock twitching with each thick rope of his cum and you can feel him fill you up, as his massive frame slowly sinks down onto you.

Your legs grow heavy and the stretch of your left leg is turning painful and you - a little clumsily - pull it away from his shoulder, stretch it out. Your limbs start to shake and you close your eyes, drawing in deep breaths through your nose.

The room is silent, the air heavy with the musky scent of sex.

Your chest still heaves with the remains of your orgasm, bliss still spreading in your brain and your veins, making you feel like you are flying. Your heart is still racing, as you feel him moving again.

Blinking up at him, you can see him grabbing the gun.

"Don't", you say softly, voice coarse from screaming your lungs out in pleasure just moments ago, "Please, don't." You are not ready to scream yet again. Not ready to scream in pain, instead of pleasure.

John does not reply. He pulls the hammer back, checks the chamber - all with one hand.

"Kill him instead, please."

He freezes, eyes locking with yours. "Who?", he sounds just as exhausted as you. The wolf, tired out. The deer, bleeding, limping.

Call it Post Nut Clarity, call it Finally Taking Your Future In Your Own Hands, call it Emancipating Yourself. Call it Having Wrapped A Deadly Assassin Around Your Pinky.

You were not safer here. You never were. Just more isolated. Easier to locate.

Easier to kill.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head, your vision swimming.

See? I will not die today.

"My father. Kill him."

#i'm back girlies #john wick smut #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick imagine #smut #my writing #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves smut

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yandere-writer-momo · 9 months

Text

Yandere Baki Short Stories:

Awake

So I decided to make a second part to Wake Up due to all the asks. I combined a few of the asks into this little companion piece too! This is the last part so you guys can use your imagination to decide who she should choose. So leads enjoy!!

Kinda Angsty and there’s nothing adult in this. Just minor yandere behavior and the importance of knowing your self worth

Third part

Yandere Jack x Afab reader x Yandere Hanayama

………………………………………………………

What was it with television making that feeling of aha so dramatic? The sky didn’t cry for (your name) as she sobbed her heart out into her pillow. Jack wasn’t going to burst through the door like a shining knight to kiss away her worries and reassure her that he cared about her because he didn’t. At times she wished she could live in a fantasy world where everything was happy, happy, happy but alas, her world was nothing like that.

Jack only agreed to marry her because she bugged him about it. That it would be strange for a woman to travel with a man if they weren’t married. All of this was her own doing because she was so blinded by the love she had for him.

They were only married on paper. There was not a single moment of warmth between them other than the fond childhood memories she held close to her heart. She clung to his empty words of how she has been ‘his good luck charm.’ She truly didn’t feel lucky at all with how neglectful he was to her.

A part of her wished for her old Jack to return to her but she knew deep down, he was dead and gone. There was not an ounce of love or care in the man who would occasionally drop by their shared home. They were merely acquaintances who would say hi to each other every once and awhile.

They’ve never even been intimate before so she couldn’t delude herself into thinking he might have some form of care for her. Jack only did this at her insistence, not out of love but out of obligation. They were childhood friends and nothing more.

(Your name) felt herself grow exhausted as the hours dragged on. She was sure she looked a mess with tear stained cheeks and swollen eyes. It’s not like it mattered. Nothing mattered right now other than succumbing to her desire to sleep.

There was no point in letting herself cry over spilled milk. As much as she wanted to rot in bed and tell the world her woes, it wouldn’t change anything. The reality of Jack not loving her back wouldn’t change and the rose tinted glasses she put over her own eyes was too shattered to create that illusion again.

Tomorrow would be a new day. Tomorrow she would stop. She would stop the one sided conversations with herself and she’d stop going to every tournament and fight.

It was time to put herself first. She needed to love herself again while she reevaluated her marriage. (Your name) knew if she didn’t, she’d fall apart and there wouldn’t be anything that could glue the broken pieces together again.

(Your name) frowned at her reflection. She looked like someone hit her with a car, backed up, and then hit her again. Perhaps a little self care would help?

(Your name) shuffled through the contents of her drawers until she pulled out a face brightening mask. She needed a little brightness in her life that wasn’t the screen of her phone staring back at her as she watched three little dots flicker every once and awhile. She was not going to be putting anymore one sided effort into this tumultuous marriage… it was a dumpster fire she no longer had any interest in salvaging.

(Your name) pressed a kiss to her reflection. A few positive affirmations spilling from her lips.

“You are beautiful. You deserve love. You deserve…” she smiled warmly at her reflection. “Better.”

A few days had gone by and she finally felt a bit more at peace. Her reflection no longer looked as ragged and she was smiling a bit more.

“You are beautiful. You are worthy of love.” She whispered the affirmations to herself with a smile. This was a small step but it was helping her with her confidence. “Fake it till you make it.”

Today she was going to go out into the city and take herself on a date. She felt like she deserved one… one where she was the priority for once.

(Your name) slowly began to paint her face with a smooth foundation with a giggle. She could not remember the last time she’s dolled herself up like this for herself. She needed to be more independent and more confident in herself.

Maybe she’d treat herself to the new cafe down the corner? The place looked like it had some decent caffeinated beverages and some cutesy treats. Maybe she’d get herself some flowers too?

A bouquet of sunflowers and honeysuckle sat on the dining room table as (your name) enjoyed a meal she had made for herself. It’s been about two weeks since she started to put herself first. (And two weeks of her still rejecting Kaoru).

There wasn’t a single message or call from Jack so her recent misadventures must not have any effect on him. This only proved to her how little she truly meant to him…

(Your name) glanced over at the pictures that lined the TV stand and the few on the walls. It was time to close this chapter in her life.

(Your name) rose up from her chair to take down the memories that no longer made her heart flutter. Her fingers gently tracing over the old face of Jack. There was no longer a flutter in her chest when she stared at his hardened expression. The butterflies were dead in her stomach and now she felt… nothing.

She took her time removing each picture before putting them in a cardboard box in the corner of the room. She’d take them out to the dumpster tomorrow first thing.

(Your name) walked over to her purse and pulled out an envelope. She gave a sad smile to the envelope in her hands before setting them by the bouquet of flowers.

Inside the envelope were signed divorce papers. All Jack had to do was sign his name on the dotted lines and they’d no longer have to be around each other… no longer would he be trapped by her. Jack would be able to do whatever he wanted without a bird that chirped constantly on his shoulder.

“Happy birthday to me…” She whispered softly to herself, her fingers slipping off the simple gold band off her ring finger. “And thank you for everything.”

She’d start looking for apartments tomorrow, for now, she’d spend her nights in the room with her heated blanket. The blanket no longer a replacement for Jack, but a feeling of security.

Kaoru felt his breath hitch when he saw (your name) alone at a cafe from his limousine. It’s been the same routine for him for the last two weeks. His dark eyes studied how happy she looked… why was she in such a chipper mood today?

He recently noticed a change in her. One where she wasn’t as cold towards him but also still politely rejected his numerous advances. Kaoru also had seen the wedding pictures of her and Jack were removed from the TV stand yesterday. The few pictures that hung up on her living room walls were also gone from what he could see from the doorway… there was trouble in paradise… and Kaoru knew this was his chance.

Kaoru took in a deep breath before he turned to Kizaki, “I’m going to head out, Kizaki. Can you pick me up in an hour?”

Kizaki sighed from the drivers seat but nodded his head. “Of course boss.”

Kaoru exited the vehicle, his eyes didn’t leave (your name)’s form for even a second. Kaoru wasn’t going to waste this opportunity presented to him.

He would not be deterred from her rejection. Kaoru wanted her and he would have her. No matter what.

(Your name) hid her smile in her mug when a large shadow looked over her. It seems Kaoru had found her.

She turned her head to glance over at the large Yakuza.

“Hello.” She greeted him simply. “And what do I owe the pleasure of being in your presence?”

Kaoru just cracked a small smile at her, the yakuza gesturing to the chair in front of her. “May I sit?”

“You’re asking me like I have a choice? That’s funny.” (Your name) looked Kaoru up and down. “Take a seat.”

Kaoru chuckled and sat in front of her, the scarred man admiring her beauty. “You’re even prettier up close…”

“Always with the flatteries.” (Your name) chuckled as she took a sip of her hot beverage. “So what can I do for you? Or are you simply a moth drawn to my flame?”

Kaoru smirked, an itch stirring in his loins. She’s been a bit feisty as of late and he loved it. He liked that she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind to him. He found it even more attractive.

“So what if I am drawn to your flame?” Kaoru huskily whispered, his eyes wide when he saw the ring was no longer on her finger. That simple band of metal was gone…

(Your name)’s noticed Kaoru’s focus on her hand, the woman smiled at him. “You have quite an observant eye. I filed for divorce.”

Kaoru could hear the sadness in her laugh when she chuckled, his heart ached for her. The yakuza hesitantly taking her hand in his to give it a firm squeeze.

(Your name) gave him a soft smile. “So soon I will be a single woman. Hopefully that doesn’t make the chase boring to you.”

Kaoru’s heart thumped on his chest, a fire ignited in his soul. “No… no it doesn’t.”

(Your name) and Kaoru sat at the table, completely lost in their own world together. Neither one looked away from the other. This was the start of a new chapter… she just hoped she wouldn’t regret this decision.

Jack finally made his way into the home, the blonde grumbled when he smacked his head on the door. He was a lot taller since the last time he’s been here, but hopefully (your name) wouldn’t mind too much.

It’s been strange lately. She hasn’t come to any of his fights nor has she texted him. So he decided to hurry it up and come home to check on her.

Jack slowly made his way into the living room, his eyes narrowed when he noticed the wedding pictures weren’t up. Why were they taken down?

Jack made his way into their room, the room now bare save for the few items of his he left behind a few months ago when he was last here.

“(Your name)?” Jack’s voice quietly rung out throughout the house. But there was no response… why was it so quiet?

Jack began to open all the doors but there was no sign of her. Where was she? She always replied right away to him?

“(Your name)?” Jack went into the kitchen, his eyes wide at the wilted sunflowers and honey suckles on the dining room table. A big white envelope in front of it… but what caught his eye the most was the small gold ring that sat on top of it.

Jack snatched up the ring in shock. (Your name) never took off her ring… never. Had something horrible happened to her? Was she okay?

Jack tore open the envelope, his hands trembled at the contents inside… (your name) wanted a divorce… a divorce?

Jack took a seat at the table, the reality setting in. (Your name) had finally given up on him. She left him… but she had promised to never leave him even though he was difficult.

Jack reached for his phone and dialed her number. The dial tone only built up more distress in him as he waited for her to pick up.

“Hello? This is (Your name).” The giggle on the other end of the line gave him a moment of relief..

“(Your name)? Where are you-“

“I’m not able to reach the phone right now so please leave me a message. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Bye bye.” The relief was gone just like she was. Jack could only tremble as he sat at the table.

The blonde rose up from the table. His hands repeatedly dialing her number again. He wouldn’t give up. Jack made his way to the box full of pictures. His fingers fondly traced over her smiling face.

Each call went straight to voicemail now rather than the cute dial tone. Had she blocked him? Why would she do that….

Was there someone else now? Is that why she left?

Jack sighed, he was going to have to find her… and this time. He wouldn’t give her so much freedom.

He thought if he kept her at a distance, it’d keep her safe but he was a fool. The safest place for her was beside him.

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thecuriousquest · 6 months

Text

Mind Jack’s Late Night Catch

Yandere Hitoshi Shinso x Fem!Reader

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug @palesweetscherryblossom

Warnings: Yandere themes, SFW, kidnapping, Hitoshi is an incel, sexism, violence, blood/bleeding, chains (not sexual)

Prompt Request: G1 of any character of my choice “Here kitty, kitty”

@weowmeow I hope you enjoy!

Master List

Yandere Alphabet Prompt List

I haven’t written for Hitoshi in a while. Thought this would be a good one to do for him!

—————————————————————————

You race down the dark alleyway, bolting in different directions as your life depends on it. Of course it was him who had to find you! Fucking Mind Jack of all pros!

You wipe the sweat from your brow, jumping on a dumpster to reach an apartment’s fire escape. You hear him below you, the rustling of garbage beneath heavy boots.

“Here kitty, kitty. Why are you running from me?”

You can hear the smile in his voice. It’s unnerving, the potential holding deadly threats.

You clasp the bars of the fire escape and hoist yourself up. You hear his monotone voice trailing right behind you.

Running up the narrow stairs, having to turn in different directions, you move your body numbly, speeding towards the roof. You pull yourself forward with as much momentum as you can, but you feel something wrap around your ankle, yanking you down.

You smack your forehead and nose on the iron step. “Fuck!” you scream, blood spilling from your nostrils, the beginnings of a bump forming just between your brows. You look down at your ankle and see his scarf slowly unraveling as he makes his way towards you at an unhurried pace.

It’s as if he believes you won’t get away from him.

You stand, naucious from the violent fall. Still, you press onwards, not stopping. You know that once you get up to the roof, you’ll be able to unsheathe your wings and fly away. They’re too big and broad to let out of your back on the streets, and they’ll only weigh you down if you try to run with them out.

Damn oversized wings weighted down with what feels like swords instead of feathers.

Once on the roof, you focus on expanding your wings from your back. You feel your skin open up as the feathers begin to protrude, unfolding themselves bit by bit as they were stored up. You grunt, suppressing a cry at their release as you feel the blood spilling down your spine, gathering up in the back of your shirt.

It hurts. God, it fucking hurts. The pain making it feel like knives are dragging along your flesh. You feel like you weren’t made for this quirk. Yes, you love flying, but you fucking hate the process of letting your wings out to flap around.

Just then, as you’re only a third of the way through the process of your wings showing themselves, you feel that damn scarf wrap you up from ankle to shoulder. With one quick tug, you fall over, and your wings start to shove themselves back inside due to loss of concentration.

“No…no!” You look all around for an out. Your eyes scatter the vast roof, needing to find a way to get far from Mind Jack.

He squats down in front of you, taking your chin in between his hands. You don’t look at him. Your eyes still trying to find an exit.

He clicks his tongue in annoyance and shakes your jaw. Your orbs finally land on his violet eyes.

“There we go. Why don’t you just keep looking at me while I explain what’s gonna happen, cute face.”

Instead of seeing his dark grin under his mask, you can hear it in his tone.

You glare at him, waiting to hear what he has to say.

“You, my little criminal, are coming home with me so I can…teach you some manners. Yeah, a woman like you thinking she can get away with whatever the hell she wants? That’s the problem with you females these days. No regard for male authority.”

He lets go of your face to grab you by the hair.

“What kind of bullshit are you spewing?” You sneer at him.

It only causes him to pull you up by your H/C locks and into his chest.

“And that filthy mouth. I’m gonna have to do something about that too. It’s only fair, you know? I’m a hero after all. Heroes are supposed to help. I’ll help turn you into a proper young lady.”

The feminist in you straightens her back and bares her sharp teeth at him.

“You…you fucking pig. Incels like you need to die off. You should’ve been dry come on your mom’s tits.”

Mind Jack slams your face into the concrete below, right next to his boot. You reel with nausea for a second time, grogginess overloading your body. You can now taste metallic in your mouth, slippery and building up until it spills over the corner of your lips.

“You fucking asshole,” you gurgle around a mouthful of blood.

“For now, why don’t you tell me your name?”

“Go to-“ but your sentence dies off in that instant as your mind goes blank, and you don’t even realize how he is releasing you from his scarf and hoisting you over his shoulder with ease.

You’re completely unaware of the journey home as he uses his capture weapon to get there. Tucking you into his bed, shackling your ankle to the footboard, he looks down at you as he removes his mask.

“Go to sleep now.”

And you have no choice but to obey. Unconscious under the covers, you don’t even notice him pressing a kiss against your forehead before he crawls into bed next to you, holding your warm body close to his muscular build.

Tomorrow will be a new beginning for you, and he will turn you into a proper young lady.

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere themes #triggering content #triggering themes #my hero acedamia #my hero academia #yandere my hero academia #boku no hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #hitoshi shinso #mha hitoshi shinso #bnha hitoshi #yandere hitoshi shinso x reader #yandere hitoshi shinso #yandere shinso hitoshi

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zimcard-artblog · 2 years

Text

I've pulled a Callum Crown and Dial-Up'ed these fellas. Had this in my head for awhile and now I've drawn the scrybes if they were in the DT universe.

Grimora has an old typewriter for a head, of course, while running a small shop involving ghoulish items and even presenting pre-dial up collections for educational purposes. She would definitely get along with Gabby from the Phone Antique Shop down the street, have a nice cup of tea with the woman. She used to write obituaries back in the day, using both her head and quill to edit the papers, yet she moved onto opening her own shop as time passes by.

P03/Poe made designed its own monitor head fit to his needs, one of them being customizing icons to indicate who is currently fronting as he has DID. His prosthetic arm is actually Crown brand as he used to admire Callum Crown for a bit before working on his own things, owning a workshop to fix up tech and make his own gadgets. The stickers on his electric wheel chair were mostly from G0lly and even Unfinished Boss (the scratched doodles on the side of the chair.)

Leshy is, of course, the Leshy. How did the Dial-Up get to build a camera head onto his shoulders? Same reason how they managed to get BIGFOOT to have an object head during the Dial-Up. You know what they say: "If they could get Bigfoot to have an object head, they could definitely get Forest Peepaw". His camera head has some overgrowth there- which is good.

Magnificus has an antique rotary phone head he had customized in the past to his own liking. He is a street artist and also a hobo, yet still respected as an aspiring artist since he used to be quite the famous painter back in the days. He takes his current life as a boring yet deserved break but people refuse to leave him alone, wanting to know more about his works and most importantly the rumors of his past career. He has three fans who constantly approach him and ask numerous questions along with his criticism towards their own works.

Lonely Wizard, Pike Mage, and Goobert are huge wizard fans who have DnD sessions every now and then- hence the wizard hats. LW has a magic 8 ball for a head and is often known for its little performances involving singing and dancing, theater kid and whatnot. Pike has a Pike Weapon for a head which does raise the question if she's from the Dialtown Mob or not, often found talking to other weapon headed folks. Goobert has more of a rotary phone but shaped as a paint palette, having tried to customize his own head to match Magnificus' but it didn't turn out super well, he's an art student trying to paint.

Luke Carder has a Camcorder for a head, reflecting his career as a youtuber. Nothing has changed much as he's still the same guy who opens card packs.

Kaycee has a Floppy Disk Drive as a head and is also an indie game developer, she's doing her best in this dumpster fire of a town. Hah. Get it? Cause-- yeah.

More to come involving these AND working on Scrybing the Dialtown folks- making them Inscryption themed >:]

#ZCArt #Fanart #Inscryption #Dialtown #InDialtown AU #Leshy #Grimora #Magnificus #P03 #Lonely Wizard #Pike Mage #Goobert #Luke Carder #Kaycee Hobbes #Digital Art

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harunovella · 2 years

Text

could i be more obvious? ; e.y.

synopsis: It felt as if Eren spent his life chasing after you, but with bad luck came bad results... that is until a near fatal incident finally brings the two of you together. Of course, that was all thanks to his alter ego, Spider-Man... and who would've guessed that the man behind the mask was the man you had been crushing on, too? | spider-man!eren x fem!reader

cw: modern setting (high school/senior year), mutual pining + first dates (if that's even a warning?), loss of virginity/first times, oral (m → f), fingering, hand jobs... idk if i'm missing any! (MDNI!)

wc: 13k+

an: crossposting this on tumblr as I've been solely writing on ao3 only but thought I'd start putting my work on here too! this honestly was insp by a dream i had so don't mind me, i love the idea of spidey eren; title inspo ♥

Having a brain for a best friend was always a bonus when they helped advanced your super suit—at least, that was the case for Eren Yeager. Armin insisted in many necessary additions to (what once was) Eren's cheesy version of his spidey suit. Or, as he liked to call it, Mark I. A vibration was felt against his hip as he was in the midst of disarming one of the five thieves surrounding him. "Do you all mind if I get that?" He asked as he lifted a finger, his other now outstretched as a web had shot out and blocked one of the criminals from pulling the trigger.

The men all exchanged looks in confusion as the masked vigilante—hero—reached to his side and pulled out his sleek, smartphone. "What the hell—"

Pulling back and flicking his wrist as a web silence of the thug who spoke, Eren tapped the answer button after reading the name. "Armin, now is not the time, I'm in the middle of handling a robbery."

"Right now? You're about to miss prom!"

Growing wide eyed—as the white eyes of his mask grew, too—Eren cursed, "shit, I lost track of time!"

The sound of a gun shot and multiple whoa's on Armin's end caused him to gasp, "Eren, be careful!"

"Eren, you better not be endangering yourself!" Mikasa exclaimed.

"I— I'm okay!" Eren panted, dodging bullets before swiping his leg and knocking the man firing off his feet. Slinging some webs, yanking away the weapons, Eren kept his phone against his head, "I'll be there soon! I promise!" He shouted, hung up and webbed up the five men together. Hanging them upside down from the bank's ceiling, the crowd that was hidden cheered.

Letting out a sigh as he heard the police sirens, he took a few steps back to eye his work—he loved hanging up criminals from his webs. It made them look like they were about to be feasted on.

Turning away and eyeing the civilians that now stood from their hiding spaces, he saluted them, "your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man saved the day, yet again!" Waving, he looked out the window to see a collection of police cars lining up. Turning his attention down to his phone, he gasped at the time. "Shit— Gotta go!" He waved at the civilians before rushing out through a hole in the wall caused by the robbers.

"Spider-Man saved us!" A kid shouted as Eren rushed into the nearby alley, smiling to himself before he stopped at a dumpster. Reaching behind it and pulling out his duffle bag, he quickly removed his mask and pulled on his prom suit. Tucking his mask into the inner pocket of his jacket, Eren haphazardly tied back his hair before fleeing the area.

"Sometimes I wish we didn't know our best friend was a superhero," Armin said as he rubbed his face while Mikasa stood beside him on the balcony. "It's like living every day unsure of whether or not we will see him again."

"He'll be fine," the grey eyed young woman nodded. "I know he will." Hearing a grunt come from behind them, the two instantly turned, eyes now wide. "Did you really fly around in that?" Mikasa pointed at the suit the man before her was wearing.

Eyeing himself, Eren nodded with a smirk, "not a single scratch. Quite impressive."

Sighing, Mikasa walked over and fixed his hair, pushing aside the loose strands that were scattered all over his forehead. "What if someone saw you?" She asked, concerned.

Shaking his head, Eren buttoned up his jacket as Mikasa handed him his favorite rings. Slipping them on while Armin patted down his suit, he rolled his eyes, "not when I'm stories high. You can barely tell what the hell I'm even wearing."

"Yeah, well, with the cameras today, anyone can spot you," Armin shook his head before rounding his best friend, making sure nothing seemed out of place. Then, he handed him an emerald green tie, "I knew you'd forget it."

"Thanks, 'Min," Eren smiled as he tied up his tie around his shirt's collar, "what would I do without the two of you?"

"Perish," Mikasa casually said as Armin chuckled. "Let's get going, we only have our senior prom once." Turning and walking ahead as Armin took her side, Eren followed shortly after.

Mikasa was in a deep burgundy gown with a slit that her leg peeked through. The straps of her dress were thin and crossed at the back as she held a small matching clutch. Her lipstick—to no surprise just like her hair and nails—all black. It was her. Armin, on the other hand, wore a dark blue tuxedo and had a grey bow tie to adorn it. Eren? He stuck to a simple black suit, not needing anything fancy when he wasn't sure if and when he'd have to rip it right off. Of course he kept his super-suit on underneath, it was like second skin at this point.

"Wow..." the three said in awe, eyeing the ballroom with its large chandeliers and a flashing disco ball above the dance floor. The lights were dim and the decorations of stars and constellations made it feel like they were in a planetarium. Under the Night Sky was the theme their class voted on. So, as expected, many were wearing silvers, blacks, and any other matching shades.

"You guys!" A voice called out as the trio looked over, spotting a familiar face wave their hand. "I got us all a table!"

"Hey Sasha!" Armin waved as the three walked over, noticing that her boyfriend—Niccolo—and Jean were already seated. "Where's Connie?"

"On the dance floor with the ladies already," Jean pointed with his thumb as the trio looked over to see that Connie was—in fact—dancing with a group of girls who cheered him on. "For a man who attracts that kind of attention, it amazes me how he never gets laid."

"Does it really surprise you?" Sasha asked as she had taken her seat and began stuffing her face with appetizers. "I mean, he's an idiot."

"You're one to talk," Jean teased.

"I have a boyfriend!" She exclaimed, mouth full as Niccolo patted her shoulder, mumbling for her to calm down so she wouldn't choke. The couple matched, Sasha in a canary yellow, backless gown as Niccolo's bow tie was the same color.

Jean, on the other hand, wore a simple black tuxedo—one Connie apparently got the same of—as both wore ties in matching colors. Jean was pissed, to say the least, when he saw Connie had the same look, claiming he just got inspiration from him. It also didn't help that Jean had a burgundy tie to coincidentally match Mikasa, but now it looked like he was there with Connie as his date. "Don't even say it," the young man with the mullet spoke as Eren's eyes bounced between him and a wild Connie dancing afar.

Lifting up his hands in defense, Eren walked over and took the open seat beside him, knowing very well Jean was saving it for Mikasa. "Thanks for saving me a seat, Jean boy."

"You bastard, you know it's for Mikasa," Jean mumbled through tight teeth, earning a pat on the shoulder from the green eyed man next to him.

Taking a seat next to Eren, Mikasa looked up at Armin to see he was in a trance. Following his eyes and spotting Annie in the distance speaking to Hitch, Mikasa smiled, "go say hi to her."

Blinking with a blush, Armin nodded, "right... I'll— I'll be right back."

Turning his head to see what Mikasa and Armin were talking about, Eren's eyes landed on the small group in the distance. Annie standing with Hitch as they spoke beside another table. Said table had Bertolt, Porco, Colt, Pieck, and... "Where's Reiner?" Eren asked, eyes searching the crowd.

"Looks like he just got here with your girlfriend," Jean smirked, punching Eren's arm as the brunet hissed and flicked Jean's forehead.

"Asshole," turning in his seat and eyeing the entrance, Eren's eyes landed on the broad man walking in with a smirk on his lips. Reiner easily towered everyone around him, including the woman on his arm... you. Eren's heart skipped a beat. Your gown was insanely gorgeous, but not as gorgeous as you looked. The tied up spaghetti straps, the sheer green fabric of the skirt that had shimmering designs beneath, a matching shawl... oh, how you looked like a princess. It didn't help that you were wearing a green much like the tie he had been wearing. Definitely a coincidence... it wasn't like you knew, anyway.

"Don't stare," Mikasa patted Eren's arm as he blinked, unable to peel his eyes from you, your soft makeup and that updo of yours that had strands of hair framing your face. An arm snaked around your waist, pulling you in as Reiner held you close. That should have been him by your side. "Eren, you're being obvious..."

"She looks so beautiful..." he whispered, watching as you and Reiner greeted people, walking by his table and saying quick hello's before moving along. "Oh, god, she smells amazing—"

"How the hell did you get that?" Jean asked with a look of disgust on his face, Eren turning and glaring at him.

"Dumbass, she walked right by! It hit me!" He hissed.

"Damn, Eren, that could've been you if you didn't have such bad luck," Sasha pointed out, finishing her second plate as Eren sighed.

"Thanks for the reminder..." He groaned, slouching in his seat as his eyes shifted back to the direction you went in... watching you enjoy the night.

It seemed that was all he was destined to do at prom: watch you have fun with everyone but him.

Mikasa had insisted he get up and enjoy the evening, dance and be entertained, but Eren found himself sulking. Sinking deeper and deeper into his seat the more he eyed you. It was embarrassing at how long he had, occasionally looking away when you turned in his direction. He knew he should've joined his friends—hell, even Armin was having the time of his life on the dance floor with everyone else—but he had pictured this night so differently.

If it wasn't for the fact that he always had bad timing with you, maybe then he would've already had you long ago.

Eren wasn't much of an outcast or someone to look past, he made a name for himself all those years ago in junior high, back when he was chaotic. Always getting himself into some new mishap, always the center of attention with his eccentric personality. Of course, now as a young adult at the lovely age of 18, he liked to believe he was much more mature than he was then. Though, still a bit of an odd ball, he was well rounded. Mikasa and Armin would always be his best friends, but there was no denying that he had friends all over the school. Ranging from different ages and groups, he was quite the social butterfly. He knew so many people, he caught the hearts of so many girls... yet, he could never have yours.

Turning down various girls who asked him to dance as he stubbornly moped in his seat, Eren watched as his friends danced together to the upbeat music. Smiles plastered on their faces as they jumped and laughed altogether. Mikasa broke out of her shell alongside Armin as Sasha and Connie circled them with foolish movements that had the group in tears. Just as the upbeat tempo had everyone bouncing around, it soon slowed and turned into a smooth number. Jean took Mikasa to a side as Niccolo brought Sasha with him. Armin shyly approached Annie while other couples paired up. Eren's eyes (once again) landed on you as you stood to the side and watched happily.

How come you weren't joining in with Reiner?

Looking around for your supposed date for the evening, Eren sucked on his teeth before rolling his eyes at the sight of Reiner talking up a storm to Historia. Now's my chance, he thought as he stood from his seat and approached you. You stood with your hands held together before you, a gentle smile on your lips before your head turned at the sound of Eren clearing his throat. "May I have this dance?"

Eyeing the brunet before you, your eyes trailed over to the blond who was meant to be the one asking. Your shoulders dropped as you sighed at the sight of him so close and personal with Historia, though knowing fairly well he almost stood no chance. It wasn't like you had a raging crush on Reiner, he was a nice guy, but he was nothing more than your prom date. He had asked you. Why couldn't he act like the prom date he was supposed to be?

Noticing the way a small frown took on your lips, Eren bit on his own. This wouldn't have happened if he had asked you. This wouldn't have happened if he wasn't always being interfered whenever it came to you.

It all started back then in junior high; when he was the class trouble maker and you were the star student. He knew he was out of your league, being the chaotic boy he was, but that didn't stop him from falling head over heels for you: the teacher's pet. Eren always found himself in the messiest situations, and when he had, you always so happened to be there. Watching, eyeing him with such disappointment. His smiles always faded at that. Somehow, you always caught him at his worst but was nowhere to be seen at his best.

If it wasn't Eren being scolded outside of classrooms or in the principle's office, it was him getting his ass beaten—alongside Armin, Jean, and Connie—in a stupid Fight Club made for a bunch of 13 year old boys. And, like aways, you walked by at the perfect moment with your little group of friends to see him getting his ass handed to him.

Instead of making a good impression, to get you enamored in him, it always ended up being Eren embarrassing himself in front of you. He knew it was karma for how immature he was, why else wouldn't you give him the time of day? He was reckless, a ball of fire... and no matter how many times he tried to get you to be his, something always got in the way. Another mess to be dragged into, another look of shame from you.

Snapping out of his thoughts as he gazed down at you, Eren noticed the way your lips parted, how you were just about to speak before a tall blond interfered. "Let's dance," Reiner grinned as he took your hand and pulled you to the dance floor, leaving Eren there with tight fists and barred teeth. You gave him a sympathetic look before you were lost in the crowd. Reiner did it on purpose, he must've.

"Hey, let's get some punch!" Armin said as he popped out of nowhere, Mikasa appearing as well as she gently pulled Eren away.

"Always a loser, huh? Can never get the girl, can you, Eren?" Jean laughed, earning a threatening scowl from Eren.

"I'm going to get some air for a bit, you guys enjoy the night, don't worry about me," the brunet said, eyes low as he gently peeled off Mikasa's hand before walking away.

Wanting to follow, Armin gently tugged her back, "let him be... he's been struggling all night."

"But..." stopping herself, Mikasa nodded. "Fine..."

It didn't take long for Eren to slip past the crowd of students spread throughout the entrance of the ballroom. He took the first elevator that opened, slid in, and leaned his back against the glass wall. Rubbing his face with a sigh, Eren thought about you. Thought about how pointless it was to have a stupid crush on you for so long. Thought about how everyone was about to graduate and move on with their lives and he'd still be pinning over you. Maybe he shouldn't have come to prom. Maybe he should've just kept on being the good superhero he was and find another person in distress. It wasn't like fighting crime was uncommon, hell, he could do it right now. All he had to do was swing around and find someone in need within seconds.

Hearing the elevator ding as he snapped out of his thoughts, Eren made his way into the lobby and out the front doors. A gust of wind greeted him as he made his way down the long steps, stopping at the last few before sitting down. He just needed a breather, a moment to collect himself, to stop being such a pathetic man. Slow dances would end, everything would go back to normal. Maybe then he could distract himself with his friends, take photos in the photo booth, entertain their we have to do everything at prom since it only happens once! desires. He'd be a good friend and stop sulking around. Yeah, he just needed to breathe in some fresh (city) air, star gaze the few stars the light pollution allowed him to see, and force you out of his head.

Yet, not thinking about you was near impossible. You were on his mind 24/7. You were all he thought about when his thoughts weren't filled with his future and his alter ego. Why couldn't he just let you go? After trying for so long, after all the missed opportunities, all the signs that told him you were never meant to be... why couldn't he just give up? Why did he have to be so persistent and want you and only you so badly?

This is why you'll die a virgin. She will move on with her life and you will just be the man behind the mask who never got laid.

His internal monologue went on and on and he found himself sinking into his spot until, suddenly, he sprung up. His senses were going off, tingling around his head as he eyed his surroundings. His skin went cold, hair standing as goosebumps formed. He went rigid, his heart skipping a beat as his gut turned. He knew what this meant. He hated this feeling. Something bad—

His ears started to ring. It happened too fast, even for him. Debris was all over the place, he ducked forward and held his head out of instinct before turning around and eyeing the building he sat before. Jumping to his feet as hordes of people rushed out, a scorching fire blazed through the building, glass shattering and crashing below.

Pushing past the people as he looked around, much too many of them getting in his way, his eyes landed on his friends. Armin, Mikasa... Sasha, Niccolo, Jean and Connie... He spotted Annie and Reiner and— Where were you?

"Eren!" Mikasa and Armin exclaimed in unison as they rushed to him, both looking startled but luckily in tact.

"Where— Where is she?" He asked, his tall frame giving him the advantage he needed to search the crowd frantically. Lowering his focus to his best friends as they exchanged looks, the three of them then looked over at Reiner, who stood beside Annie, trying to catch their breaths. "Reiner!" Eren called out, forcing his way to him. "Where is she?!" He asked, grabbing the man's suit jacket. "Why isn't she with you?!"

Knowing who he meant, Reiner shook his head, "I— I lost her in the mess—"

"Lost her?!" Eren panicked. "How the fu—" biting his tongue, he shook his head before his body began to move. He didn't have to think it through. He had to do this. If you weren't down there with them, then you must've been still up there, trapped.

"Eren!" Mikasa called out.

"Don't go in there!" Armin exclaimed, the two trying to reach him, only to be pushed further away from the building as the crowd continued to gush out and way from the hotel.

Ignoring them and rushing inside, seeing how the lobby was full of smoke and debris, how the power flickered and the glass scattered across the floor, he made a beeline to the staircase.

The building had been cleared out, Eren saw no one rushing down the staircase as he pulled apart his suit and made his way to the fifth floor with speed. He rushed through the halls before tossing his clothes along the way, slipping his mask out from his jacket and onto his head as it helped filter out the thick smoke.

His voice boomed as he called your name, searching through the halls and bathrooms, opening and closing accessible doors. He tried not to make matters worse, focusing on his breathing and finding you. He learned this long ago after he decided he would become a hero to his people. He couldn't have a full blown panic attack now.

He continued to call your name, hearing the crackling of flames and the crunching of glass and other materials beneath his feet. Eren ran as fast as he could to the ballroom door's seeing them wide open as he slid right in, continuously calling your name. The round tables were destroyed, some engulfed in flames as others were shoved and tossed to a side. Chairs scattered, the decorations hung low and were cinched. His eyes landed on the expanding fire towards the kitchen at the back.

It must've originated there. Turning his attention away, calling out for you, Eren clenched and unclenched his fists. He was focused but he was uneasy. How many lives has he saved? How many has he lost? He hated thinking about the latter and he refused to add you to the existing list.

He had done anything and everything in his power to protect you when you were and weren't aware. You lived in a bustling city, danger was everywhere. Car crashes, kidnappings, violence and crime... anything that ever came your way, he was always there to prevent you from being a casualty. But now? Now he couldn't even find you and the anxiety was starting to rise up in his throat like bile.

Eren refused to believe you had perished within the flames, refused to believe that he couldn't save you. He cried out your name, almost begging for you to respond back. He screamed and screamed, and when he tried to scream once more, distant coughs were heard.

Snapping his head in its direction, towards the far left corner of the ballroom, near the glass windows, Eren rushed over. A pillar had collapsed and all he could see was a piece of cloth—a shawl. Your shawl. He called your name once again and you coughed in response. Quick on his feet, he yanked back the column with all the strength he could muster as his webs latched onto the concrete. Grinding his teeth and pulling back before it could collapse any further, Eren rushed to your curled body and pulled you into his arms.

In a matter of seconds he got the two of you out and over to the next building's roof top before another burst of fames exploded within the ballroom.

Lying you down carefully, head rested on his hand, Eren leaned in to listen to your barely there breathing. His heart raced faster than it already had. Thunder filled the night sky matching it's beat as rain began to scatter, drop by drop before showering you both. Removing his mask as he eyed your face, he brushed your hair away at the sight of the few cuts and bruises that scattered across your skin. Feeling your pulse, Eren cursed under his breath before he brought his mouth to yours, pinching your nose and performing CPR.

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

Please. Please. Please.

Hearing your cough again as he quickly sat up and eyed you, a pained groan left you as your eyes fluttered open. Eren gazed at you with relief as his shoulders slumped. Tears formed in his eyes at the sight, vision being blurred now not only by the downpour. He brought his hand to his face, rubbing it before he snapped his head up and looked at you. Your hooded eyes blinked a few times, blurred vision focusing. "E— ren...?"

The mask! My mask! Where is it?! Frantically searching around, a hand suddenly wrapped around his wrist. Slowly looking down at you, Eren bit his tongue. You weren't supposed to see him. You weren't supposed to know. You weren't—

Your hand reached up to his cheek, resting there as you took in deep breaths. "Eren..." you said again, this time more audible.

"Please... Please don't tell anyone," he shook his head as he shut his eyes. "No one knows... I made sure you would never find out but—"

"Eren," you slowly sat up as the man's eyes widened, hands reaching out to help you. "What do you... What do you mean?"

"I just can't have anyone finding out about who I am—"

"No," you shook your head, hand falling to his shoulder. "About... making sure I would... never find out?"

Gulping as he looked you in the eyes, now more worried about you knowing the truth than the building burning beside him, Eren took in a sharp breath. "I mean... You know who I am now... I save people... And I've... saved you a ton without you realizing."

A bit out of it as your mind was fuzzy and your breathing was still rather ragged, you eyed Eren curiously. His words slowly processed in your foggy brain before you spoke with a subtle blush, "you have?"

Awkwardly looking down at the mask he now held in his hands, fiddling with it, Eren took in a deep breath and nodded. "I kind of... watch over you... I shouldn't, there's plenty of other people out there to protect but, I— Nothing, never mind, just," looking up at you, he begged, "please don't tell anyone."

Nodding, you smiled softly, "I won't... Though I am sure Armin and Mikasa know."

Growing wide eyed as his lips parted, Eren only slumped in his spot, "you're too smart for you're own good..."

Smiling, your hand moved from his shoulder, now onto his as it clutched his mask, "thank you... You saved my life."

Looking deeply into your eyes as his heart fluttered, although in the darkness of the night, the faint city lights were enough to illuminate you. The subtle neon signs reflecting off of the two of you giving you both a soft glow amongst the rain that drenched your bodies. If he could stare there like that, gazing at you forever, he would. He really would. How did it take him saving your life to finally have a moment alone? He was amazed he wasn't completely tongue tied or choking. Maybe it was the adrenaline. It must've been that.

He felt a small shift, your bodies were leaning in to one another—or maybe he was imagining it—but he was sure your eyes were now on his lips as his were on yours. That is until distant yelling snapped both of you out of it.

"I should— You know I should leave you down there so no one thinks you're dead," he nodded as you did, too.

"What about you?" You asked as he held his hands out for you to take as you both stood up.

"Well, I left my suit in the burning building... and... Let's hope everyone was evacuated because if not, I really should go back in there—"

"Oh my gosh, Eren?" You shook your head as your eyes widened.

"I'm sure there wasn't anyone left! I know it for a fact!" He eagerly nodded, reassuring you... and himself. "I'll... do a double check?"

"Oh, god..." you sighed but Eren was quick to grab you and rush across the rooftop without a warning. You clung onto him for dear life, eyes squeezing shut as you felt the sudden force of wind against you and the pelting of the rain.

Settling in the alley in between the two buildings, Eren placed you down on your feet before he brought his mask over his face. "You should go back to everyone."

Nodding, you took a small step back as he flicked his wrist to shoot out a web. Just before he could leave your side, you caught his free hand. "I owe you my life, Eren. What could I do to repay you? Really, I mean, I was— I thought I was done for up there."

Grinning from within his mask, Eren straightened his back and puffed his chest, "go on a date with me."

Blinking a few times with round eyes, your cheeks flourished with heat before you nodded, "okay..."

Feeling his heart skip a beat as he bit back a scream of glee, Eren bowed his head before he took a step back, ready to make his way up the building. However, you stopped him again. You reached over and lifted his mask just enough to reveal his lips, placing a sweet kiss before lowering it again and stepping away. Stunned, Eren blinked a few times before he forced himself away from your side as you waved goodbye.

A yawn left your lips as you pulled back the sheets of your bed and slid underneath. After your encounter with Eren—Spider-Man—you were nearly trampled by all your worried friends. Eventually, you were taken to the paramedics to get your wounds cleaned up and to make sure you were okay and safe to go home. To your luck, Eren had saved you in time. Minus the small wounds and the slight struggle to breathe properly—which was temporarily, thankfully—you were able to go home.

It was late, your parents were worried sick but were thankful to see you were now safe and away from the catastrophe. No one knew what happened, everyone claiming a gas leak or a really bad accident in the kitchen... but you tried not to ponder over it. It was much too large of an explosion to be an accident.

About to lie down, a sudden knock on your window made you jolt in your spot. Furrowing your eyebrows and reaching over for the curtains, you tugged them open and gasped. Quickly moving over to the edge of your bed to unlock your window and slide it open, Eren greeted you with his boyish smile as he slipped inside.

No longer in his Spider-Man attire, he was in nothing but sweats, a sweatshirt, socks and slides. His hair was loose, reaching his collar bones, and his eyes looked tired. "It's super late..." you smiled as the brunet closed the window behind him before he sat on your bed with you.

"It's super early," he corrected, eyes wandering around your bedroom. Though the lights were off, he used the moonlight to help him eye your decorated walls and shelves, your dresser and vanity, as well as your desk. Soft colors all around, modern furniture, so organized and put together. Unlike the chaos of his teenage boy bedroom with a bed too small for his now long body and bedsheets that should be fore a five year old.

Watching him as you could tell he was deep in thought, you leaned against your bed's headboard. "Why'd you come?"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," looking back down at you, he smiled again, this time, a softer one. "Armin and Mikasa told me you were, but I needed to see it with my own eyes. I hope you gave Reiner an earful for what he did."

Nodding you chuckled, "I did, he apologized like crazy afterwards." Lowering your eyes from his own, you then realized the text written across his chest. "Paradis? Is that where you're going?"

Keeping his focus on you, grinning at the thought of you telling off Reiner for leaving you behind to die—though that really wasn't the case—Eren snapped out of it as he then nodded at your question. "Yeah, Paradis University."

"Me too!" You gasped, lifting your eyes with a grin.

Blushing, Eren awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, "I kind of knew that... That's why I applied." Hearing you gasp, Eren lifted his hands up in defense, "it was one of my choices anyway! But I heard you were going and after being accepted there... I decided to choose Paradis University, too."

"Eren... You were going to keep watching over me, huh?" Gently nudging his chest, you wore a small smile as the two of you looked down bashfully, only to look up in a gaze.

"Yeah..." Eren scooted closer, reaching a hand out and gently held your chin, thumb brushing your cheek as he eyed the small cuts that were now cleaned. A small bandage was plastered on the side of your forehead where a small gash had been, the sight making his stomach turn, but he was beyond happy to know you were okay. "I can't let anything happen to the woman of my dreams, especially now when I've finally got her. I'm just glad you're okay."

"Me too," you softly whispered, watching as Eren leaned in and gently pressed his lips against your own. It was a small gesture at first, the two of you testing the waters. However, he lowered his hand to the back of your neck as he scooted even closer, leaning into you and tilting his head as his lips moved against your own. Although this wasn't his first kiss—as he had his fair share at parties while playing games or while tipsy—nothing compared to kissing the woman he wanted for so long.

Pulling back to let either of you breathe, Eren chuckled, "you don't know how long I've wanted to do that. I never thought this day would come."

Chuckling, your hand reached up for his wrist, pulling it down before you interlaced your fingers with his. "Oh, I know. I'm sure everyone knew about your feelings towards me," you nodded as Eren sighed, not denying it. "Although you were quite over the top in junior high with all the chaos you created, I always admired you."

Growing wide eyed, Eren sat up, "really?"

"Yeah..." nodding as you looked down at your connected hands, you smiled, "you stood up for your friends. You cared for them deeply. You still do. I admire that. You have a big heart, Eren. And now you're a hero... You've matured so much. With great power... I'm sure came great responsibility."

"Oh, you don't know," he breathed, but he smiled. "It's worth it... I get to protect people. I get to protect the prettiest girl in the universe, too."

Giggling at his words as he smiled at you, you shook your head, lifting your eyes to meet his again, "I wish you took me to prom instead... Reiner's a nice guy, but he's a bit of a himbo."

Laughing at your words, Eren let out a small breath, "I wanted to but he beat me to it. Don't you know that I always lose when it comes to you? Every advancement I've ever made failed."

"You have me now, don't you?" You asked.

"I do..." he breathed. "So many years of lost opportunities due to outside forces were killer... but I finally got my moment. Though it was a terrible one that almost took your life, I would go through great lengths just to have you."

Reaching your free hand up to cup his cheek, your thumb grazed his cheekbone, "it amazes me how you never gave up."

"It's embarrassing—"

"It's endearing," you corrected as Eren looked through his lashes at you.

"I really like you..." he mumbled.

"I like you, too," you grinned. "Is this our first date?"

Softly laughing, Eren shook his head, "no... more like a pre date. I want to take you somewhere nice."

"What do you have in mind?" You curiously asked, only to see Eren go rigid as his eyes grew wide. "What is it?"

"I— Hah— I haven't thought about it..." he awkwardly admitted. "After so many years, you would've thought I would've had this planned out."

"It's okay," you nodded. "You can surprise me. After all, you can take us almost anywhere, Spider-Man."

Seeing you lean in as you winked, Eren bit his inner cheek, "I didn't think of that... but, you're right..."

Chuckling, you gently tugged him down to lie with you, rolling on your sides and studying every aspect of each other's faces. Hours passed you by without you realizing it as you shared small talk, voices low and fingers lingering on one another. Gentle touches and caresses as the sun eventually began to raise above the horrizon. You spoke about anything and everything, from things you loved to things you hated. Your passions, your favorite pastimes, greatest memories... even about Eren's many failed attempts to woo you, up until the both of you fell asleep in each other's arms.

The sound of knocking on your bedroom door caused you to jolt awake. Eren's eyes shot open as he quickly sat up, his instincts yelling at him. You hopped off of your bed as you grabbed him and pulled him with you, nearly shoving him into your walk in closet before closing the door. Without a word, and a bit disoriented, you rushed to your bedroom door and opened it.

Eren pressed his ear against the wooden door, hearing you speak to your mother. Sighing, he turned and reached for his phone that he had slept with in his sweats' pocket. Turning on the flashlight, Eren curiously peered through your closet. Your organized shelves of shoes; clothing sectioned by dresses, pants, and tops. Being the young man he was in a woman's closet, he couldn't help but snoop around. Lots of plush toys stuffed away—possibly from your childhood. Purses, backpacks, and wallets galore. Scattered awards and old text books and journals from previous school years stacked.

Then, a small, black box caught his attention. It was hidden underneath the hem of your hanging dresses. Pulling it out as he squatted before it, he stood again and settled it on one of your shelves before pulling it open. Reaching in, his heart sunk to the pit of his stomach as his cheeks burned. A little number—a lace thong—hung from his index. With wide eyes, he brought the little thing into his palm before looking into the box again and pulling out a matching bra. Nothing but lace and wire. Lingerie.

Yelping at the realization and the many thoughts that flooded his mind, he quickly covered his mouth with the back of his hand.

"What was that?" Your mother asked.

"Huh? Oh! I left a YouTube video playing, must've been an ad," you lied with a wave of your hand. "I'll come down soon," you nodded as your mother said okay before turning and leaving you be. Closing your door, you then rushed to your closet and opened the door. Eren spun in his spot and quickly hid his hand behind him, caught red handed. A small giggle left your lips. You recognized the box, you knew what it was. "It was a stupid birthday gift from my friends."

"Wha— Huh?"

Shaking your head, you walked over and pulled his hand from behind him, "my best friends got it for me as a joke. Said I should use it on someone."

"On who?" He asked rather quickly.

Biting your bottom lip, you grinned, heat burning your cheeks, "you."

"Me?" His eyebrows furrowed. "You're lying. Why me?"

"Like I said, everyone knows how much you like me," you shrugged. "And they swore I liked you, too..."

"Well, they weren't wrong," he teased as you rolled your eyes playfully. "Can I see you in it?"

Lightly swatting his arm, you crossed your arms, "not now..."

"Maybe some day?" He tilted his head, earning a subtle laugh from you.

"Maybe," you considered. "You should get going before anyone finds you."

"Right," he nodded, turning to take the box with him, but you stopped him with hands extended out. "What?" Eren whined.

"You're not taking those," you shook your head as he frowned, settling the box and lingerie in your hold. Closing it and hiding it once again as Eren watched you with a pout, you shook your head and pushed him out of your closet and towards your bedroom window. Opening it up for him, you stepped to the side, "I'll see you later."

"Fine," he sighed. Before he climbed out, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into a swift kiss. Leaving you buzzed and blushing, Eren slid out and made his way back home.

Later that day your phone had vibrated with a message from Eren telling you to be ready before sunset. You weren't sure when that was so you prepared yourself around mid afternoon, wondering what it was that Eren was up to. If this was your first date, he must've had thought of something quick to already have plans set. Since it was summer, you dressed in a mini dress; with a sweetheart neckline and daisy print, you paired it with white sneakers and a crossbody. Well aware that Eren was going to be having you stories high, swinging you in the air like Tarzan, you made sure purse was secure enough for you not to lose anything. As exciting as it, it was also terrifying. You weren't sure how he did it, but then again, he more than likely had been face to face with dozens of weapons that could easily take his life.

The thought made your heart skip a beat.

How did he do it? And how were you now going to live a life not knowing whether or not he was going to make it back okay?

Taking in a deep breath and forcing yourself to think about the present and only the present, you checked yourself in the mirror one last time—makeup perfect and hair styled nicely (though you made sure to carry around a hair tie for when things got messy)—you smiled. Tonight was going to be perfect. Nothing was going to get in the way. At least, you hoped.

Hearing a knock on your window, you turned from your vanity and grabbed your purse before rushing over, sliding the window open and smiling. "Hi."

Eyeing you from head to toe, Eren's heart fluttered within his chest as his lips parted, "you look gorgeous—" Clearing his throat, Eren smiled, "I mean, hey."

Letting out a soft laugh, you leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips as he was squatted before you on your window sill, "thank you." Eyeing his attire—a blue, short sleeve button up and black jeans, vans and his hair pulled back in his signature low bun—you smiled, "you look good yourself."

"I do, huh?" He asked, eyeing his attire before lifting his head, "my cologne kinda got swept away."

"By swinging here?" You asked as he nodded.

"Yeah... You know, I wanted to look my best for you and—" seeing you lean in as your face went towards his neck, Eren grew stiff.

"I can still smell it," you nodded as you stood up straight, now seeing the flushed look on his face. "What?" You chuckled.

"N— Nothing! Just... I don't typically have girls sniffing my... neck," he shyly spoke, causing you to grin. "Does it smell good?"

Laughing, you nodded again, "yeah, I like it."

Sighing in relief, Eren nodded his head, "thank god..." Realizing he said that out loud, he cleared his throat, "are you ready?"

"Mhm," you bit your inner cheek, pulling your purse over your shoulders. "Though, I'm kind of scared of the whole swinging around thing."

"It's okay," he smiled in reassurance, "I promise I won't let anything happen to you. Do you trust me?"

"Yeah," you breathed, a sweet smile on your lips. "I trust you."

"Then we're going to have a perfect night."

And true to his word, you two did. Though you clung onto him—again—for dear life, it actually was quiet... calming to see the city so high up above. The breeze that tickled your skin, being closer to the stars, hearing muffled cars... You wondered how often Eren swung around just for the hell of it. Maybe when he was bored or stressed. Maybe when he needed time away.

Eren had taken you to his favorite spot first: atop the tallest building in the city. You two watched the sun set from there, your shoulders pressed together as your hands held onto one another. You shared a few glances and kisses, taking a few photos of the sight before resting your head on him. It was possibly one of the most beautiful things you had ever experienced, and you were jealous Eren was able to see it almost daily—as he disclosed with you.

After that, he took you to dinner nearby, an exquisite restaurant he managed to get the two of you in. You had asked how and Eren mentioned how Spider-Man may or may not have made an appearance there and asked for a certain Eren Yeager to have access without questioning. It made you laugh without a doubt. It also made you laugh when he admitted to stealing some of his father's money in order to afford the dinner for you two.

(Eren was a pizza delivery boy, but the money he made was nothing compared to what was in his dad's wallet. He solely had the job to understand the morals and importance of the working class and making your own money. Even if your parents were bathing in bills. Grisha and Carla did not raise their son to be a snobbish brat... Though, Eren Yeager had tendencies of being a brat every now and then. However, not as bad as he used to be after gaining his abilities.)

You knew about the Yeager's, Grisha being a well known doctor in the city—and possibly the country—while his mother, Carla, owned a local restaurant and eventually opened up multiple locations across the country. After asking him why he didn't take you there, you should've expected the answer because my mom wouldn't let me hear the end of it afterwards. That also made you laugh.

"You know, pizza delivery boy, I have a job, too," you said.

"Oh, I know. You work at the local library," Eren said nonchalantly as the two of you had shared a dessert—beignets topped with ice cream.

"You are such a stalker!" You laughed as Eren shrugged. "I should be worried, is this okay to be dating you?" You teased as the two of you shared soft laughter. You were so engrossed in the moment that you didn't realize how quick Eren's reflexes and senses were.

From one second to the next, you went from sitting and giggling to being held tightly against Eren's chest, off to the side as a sedan had crashed through the window. Right into the table you two were once sitting at. Glass, concrete, the wooden fragments from the tables all scattered before you as panicked yells and rushing civillians snapped you out if it.

"Oh my god..." you breathed, shaking in Eren's arms. "You— You saw that coming?" You asked, peeking your eyes from the silver car, up to an upset Eren whose eyebrows were narrowed.

"My senses went off, just like when the fire erupted," he said, eyeing the damage before looking down at you, expression softening. "Are you okay?"

Nodding, you took in as deep breath, "yeah... thank you."

"Let's get you home..." He said, keeping an arm around you as he guided you away from the scene.

You couldn't seem to stop shaking, even the moment you made it back into your bedroom. Eren felt terrible, though none of it was his fault, he didn't like seeing you this scared. It also didn't help that this was your second near death experience, and if it weren't for him... He didn't want to think about it

You had quietly asked him to stay the night in which he didn't hesitate to agree with. After changing into your pajamas while Eren stayed in his own clothes—though you insisted it was okay for him to get comfortable—the two of you slept that night holding tightly onto one another.

Days began to pass and each night was much like the first; Eren visiting by sneaking in and staying over. Eventually, the days melted into weeks, weeks of the two of you secretly seeing one another without anyone knowing. You weren't sure how either of you didn't get caught, seeing as Eren was in your bedroom every night, and the two of you snuck around and exchanged glances in class and in the hallways more often than not. Maybe it was because the latter was already common as it was, seeing as Eren was never discreet when he would gaze at you.

On one night, however, you hung out with your closest friends for a movie night. Eren had been working that evening and you so happened to order from the pizzeria he had worked at. Though you had never ordered from there before, and weren't sure if the pizza was good or not—seeing as your secret dates with Eren always consisted of anything but pizza—you were curious. You also just wanted to see him in his cute uniform.

And you weren't disappointed.

The moment you opened the door to the delivery boy—your boyfriend—you grinned. Eren's hair was tied back in its usual low bun, a cap on top, a black polo with the logo etched on his chest, black pants, and black vans. "Oh, thank you so much..." leaning in and reading his name tag, you fought a laugh, "Eren."

Playfully rolling his eyes as he handed you the pizza box, you pulled out your cash and were about to hand him the money you owed, only for him to shake his head, "it's on me."

"Eren," you sighed, but he shook his head again, pushing the money away from him. "Can I at least give you a tip? Y'know, for looking so good in your uniform?" You teased, earning another roll of his eyes—and a blush, too.

"No," he shook his head. "I'm not taking your money." Seeing you pout, a small grin etched itself on his lips. "Though... maybe something like a kiss would suffice..."

Settling the pizza box to a side, you reached over and tiptoed, tugging Eren down for your lips to meet. Your arms moved to wrap around his neck as his now bare hands held onto your waist. He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip before you welcomed him to deepen the kiss. Your tongues intertwined as you breathed each other in, only to separate, leaving small pecks before completely pulling apart. "Thank you for the pizza," you breathed as Eren looked down at you with hooded eyes, his left hand reaching up to rest on your right cheek as his thumb brushed over your soft lips.

"I'll see you later tonight," he whispered, leaving a kiss on your nose before turning to walk away.

Of course, it didn't go unseen by your friends the way you looked so happy when you returned to them with the pizza. One of them pointed out how your cheeks were red, another mentioned how your lipgloss needed retouching as another acknowledged how your chin shined. It was safe to say you didn't hear the end of it that night, you were just glad they didn't know who the pizza delivery boy was... or the fact that you never confirmed nor denied their accusations of you making out with said delivery boy.

More days had passed, your graduation was nearing and you couldn't help but countdown the days until you were finally free. In the midst of working your part time job at the library, restocking the shelves with rented and new items, you softly spoke to your dear coworker and friend—Annie—about the approaching milestone.

"Just a few days to go," she huffed. "I can't wait to finally get out of there."

"You and me both," you sighed, thinking about the things you and Eren had planned. Of course, you also had your own friends to be around, but this newfound relationship you had with Eren—a man who could carry you around town like nothing—was beyond exciting.

Noticing Annie went silent, you looked over to see her reading something on her phone before she settled the few books in her hands away. "They need me up front," she sighed as you nodded, watching her go.

Turning to what you were doing, your eyes widened. Through the spaces open between the shelves, you spotted an oh too familiar brunet now peeking through. "Eren!" You quietly shrieked, pushing his face back as he laughed. "You may have spidey senses but I don't."

Rounding the bookcase, Eren stood beside you as you were now propped up on a step-stool. Taking the books from your hold as you were now face to face with Eren due to the added height, he left a sweet kiss on your lips before he pulled away to shelve the books. "You also don't have the height," he teased, placing the last book in its place on a higher shelf.

"That's why I have you," you poked his bicep before hopping off the stool. You pushed the nearly empty cart to a side before grabbing the step stool and settling it underneath said cart. Eren followed you around like a shadow as you shelved a few more books in a nearby aisle, quietly speaking to one another about your day and upcoming plans. As you finished up the last few books, pushing them into their places, you noticed Eren deep in thought as he looked off. "What is it?"

"It's so empty and quiet over here," he said. "Too quiet in the back..."

Smiling, you shook your head at the sight of his eyebrows narrowing, still deep in thought as he brought his hand to his chin, rubbing it. "Yeah, not many people come to this side, it's usually only needed for research on prehistoric studies."

Nodding, Eren then turned his head and eyed you, "has anyone ever had sex here?"

Laughing as you covered your mouth, you swatted his arm. "Of course that's what's got you deep in thought—"

"I'm curious," he shrugged as you sighed.

"I've caught a few... I didn't see too much, luckily, but I've had to kick them out. Most of the time they leave on their own will out of embarrassment, it's rare for them to make a fuss. Most people actually don't like getting caught even if they like the thrill of the idea." Seeing Eren grin, you shook your head, "don't get any ideas."

Lifting his hands in defense, Eren shook his head, "I didn't say anything. However... I would love to kiss you again. You know... A little longer this time."

Rolling your eyes as you grinned, you took his hand and guided him away, falling so easily for his trap. A trap that you were fully aware of and didn't even really consider to be a trap... More like temptation. You ended up on top of Eren in that same spot the couples you found having sex. Your lips moved desperately against one another, Eren's hands under your blouse as he untucked it from your skirt. Your own hands were in his hair, loosening it from the bun it was in as it fell to his shoulders. The sound of your breathing and subtle panting bounced off the bookcases. You were so glad the library was dead in that moment.

Eren's eager hands played with the back of your bra before caressing your back. His hands glided along your hips and belly, over your ribs and just underneath the wire of your bra. Your knees straddled him as you felt his bulge press against your heat, thin panties not doing you much help as you whimpered and may or may not have rocked your hips a few times. Eren noticed. He encouraged it as his hands slid underneath your bra to properly cup and squeeze your breasts. All while your lips sloppily met in a hungry kiss of tongues exploring and lips swelling.

Gliding your hands down his torso, feeling the outline of his abs against the graphic tee he wore, your hands reached for the belt of his jeans, only to stop as someone called out for you. "Ugh..."

"Dammit," Eren hissed as the two of you separated from the kiss. "Rain check?" He asked as he pulled his hands out from under your blouse, cupping you cheeks and kissing your lips once more. "We'll pick up from where we left off."

Eren was true to his word. Well, he planned on being true to his word. That night after both of you were free from your schedules, he took you out, swinging around the city. It was something he did almost nightly to get you accustomed to it. Though it still made you nervous, you were growing more and more confident in Eren. It wasn't like he'd let you fall... but being that high up was nerve wracking. Now lying on top of your school's rooftop, softly speaking to one another while stargazing, you found yourself to be the most at peace than you've ever been.

With your head resting on his shoulder as his arm wrapped over your hips, you lazily rolled on top of him before planting a sweet kiss to his lips. A small laugh left Eren before his hands reached up to cup your face. You smiled, your tongue swiping over his bottom lip before he gave you access. The two of you looked at one another with hooded eyes as your tongues met, Eren's hands moving to rest on your lower back before sliding down to your ass, cupping the cheeks as it made your skirt ride up enough to expose more skin. You shivered at that, even in the summer, the evening breezes had goosebumps forming on you.

The sound of a loud gasp caused the two of you to stop, you quickly lifting your head as Eren groaned in annoyance. There at the door of the stairs that lead to the rooftop stood a gaping Mikasa and Armin. "You—"

"You didn't tell us!" Armin finished for Mikasa, pointing a finger with cheeks tinted pink. Both him and Mikasa noticed the way their best friend had his hands gripping your bottom for dear life.

You were quick to sit up and adjust your skirt as Eren sighed, "sorry, babe..." Standing to his feet as he took your hands in his to help you up, Eren turned and let go one of your hands before approaching his best friends. "Yeah... we are together. No one knows..." using his free hand to scratch the back of his head, Eren looked at you for some help.

"He— He saved my life... and one thing lead to the next and we are dating," seeing their confused faces, you smiled, "I know he's Spider-Man. Just like you two do." Grabbing and lifting Eren's hand and folding his middle and ring fingers, you made him shoot a web. "See?"

Watching as the web landed across the brick wall of the staircase, both Mikasa and Armin then looked at Eren, then you. "So much to take in..." Armin whispered, but Mikasa took his hand in hers.

"As upset as I should be that you kept this from us... we can talk later," the dark haired young woman said with squinted eyes as Eren groaned. "We didn't mean to interrupt your date—"

"It's not a date," Eren grumbled with a blush, looking away.

"We'll get out of your hair, but we expect an explanation," Mikasa said, looking pointedly at him before pulling a still stunned Armin away, who was still trying to process what he walked in to. "Don't forget to invite your girlfriend to Jean's graduation party!" She said before she opened the door and brought Armin with her.

Watching the two go, you then looked up at Eren, "do they— do you three normally come up here?"

"Yeah... it's kinda our safe space... I brought you here because it's one of my favorite spots. Thought I'd share it with you. Should've considered the fact that they would possibly show up..." he trailed, rubbing the side of his face awkwardly.

Smiling, you gently grabbed his wrist and lowered his hand. "So, about that party?"

Graduation came and went faster than expected—but so did your time in high school. You walked the stage, got your diploma, and eventually found yourself properly meeting Eren's parents. Grisha was a quiet fellow, but he had a gentle smile on his lips the entire time his wife—Carla—gushed about her baby boy. Going on about his endless crush on you, how madly in love he had been for so long, all words that made Eren want to disappear into the ground beneath him. He was embarrassed to say the least.

Then it was your turn to be embarrassed, Eren meeting your parents as they recognized him as the son of their doctor. However, that wasn't what had you hiding your face in your palms—it was the fact that your father announced to your boyfriend that he recognized him because he's the boy my little girl would draw hearts over in the yearbook! Yeah... you weren't going to hear the end of that. It was safe to say you both were equally embarrassed over news you already knew. That everyone knew. Not one soul didn't know about your crushes on each other... even if it took this long to happen.

Eventually, you found yourselves together all night at Jean's party. You had no interest in announcing that you were a couple, simply holding hands and the occasional kiss was enough for word to spread like wildfire. Neither of you cared. Everyone saw it coming. However, it didn't prevent the onslaught of you two are together?! Probably why the two of you tried sneaking away after a few hours of playing games and drinking here and there.

"Shit—" Eren cursed as he tried to unhook your dress from the fence. The two of you—a bit tipsy—thought it was a bright idea to sneak into a nearby community pool. A giggle left your lips as he lifted you by your hips and removed the bit of material that got caught, holding you over his shoulder before walking away. On his little journey to one of the lounging chairs, Eren nearly tripped over his own foot as he settled you down. Crawling on top of you as his lips lazily met yours, the two of you sloppily kissed in between small fits of laughter.

"Shh— Shh..." you hushed, placing your index finger against Eren's lips. "Someone could— catch us."

"Doubt that," he scoffed before removing your heels, then kicking off his own dress shoes.

"What're you doing?" You murmured as Eren slipped off his socks and stuffed them into his shoes before lifting you in his arms. "Eren—"

"I've always wanted to do this—"

"Eren, you're crazy— don't!" Before you could protest any further, you found yourself being enveloped by the pool's water. Surfacing and catching your breath as you looked at a grinning Eren who looked a bit buzzed, you shoved his shoulders. "You—" pushing him into the water, the two of you messed around before Eren caught your wrists and pulled you into another kiss. One of his arms wrapped around your waist as his other held the back of your head, kissing you deeply, gliding his tongue along yours before the sound of footsteps and keys caught both of your attention.

Rushing out of the pool and grabbing your shoes, both of you slipped into the showers and covered each other's mouths as you watched the light of a flashlight flicker around. Eyeing one another as the footsteps grew farther, you let out tiny giggles before reaching for one another again. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his moved around your hips, continuing what was started in the pool.

"Can I take you back to my place?" Eren nearly whispered against your lips.

"Yeah..." you breathed with a nod.

With his swift movements, even while a bit buzzed, Eren was quick to take you away, back into the city. You both were freezing, instantly slipping into his quiet home—as his parents were already asleep—and into his bedroom. After handing you clothes to change into (as he did as well) he took your wet clothes and slipped out to leave them in the laundry room, worrying about the consequences of his mother finding your clothes later. Locking the door after his return, Eren found you sat on his bed, waiting for him.

The shirt he handed you slid over your left shoulder as the boxers you wore were loose at the hips and thighs, exposing skin as you sat there with your knees pulled in. Smiling at one another, the way your gazes grew soft in the darkness of his room that was lit by the moon, Eren quietly moved towards you. You moved deeper into his bed as he followed, propping himself up on one hand as his other cupped your cheek, lips meeting and hearts racing. "You could've showered," he mumbled against your lips, hands now in your wet hair.

"I could've... but maybe I wanted to share one with you," you muttered as your lips kept meeting halfway, small kisses being shared in between words.

Letting out a small sound, Eren moved to press his forehead against yours, "don't tempt me... I'll literally grab you right now and undress you and take you—"

"Slow down, cowboy," you chuckled. "We never got to finish what we started back in the library..."

Sucking in a deep breath, Eren lowered his head on your shoulder, already feeling himself throb at the thought of finally having you. "You're telling me we would've had sex in the library for our first time?"

Laughing, you shook your head, "not quite... we would've had some fun, maybe left to my place..."

"Fuck..." Eren breathed, "you really got me all worked up, babe."

Smiling, you lifted his head so he could look at you. Then, your hands reached for the hem of the grey tee he was in, tugging it over his head and tossing it before your hands trailed over his chest, then his stomach. Eren shivered at your touch, the way your fingertips brushed against every dip and curve of his torso, how your nails gently tickled his skin. He leaned down enough to close the gap between you as his own hands slid under the shirt you were. He knew you had nothing underneath, the pile of wet clothes not only including your dress, but also your bra and panties—his mother definitely was going to kill him if and when she found them.

Slowly but surely, the two of you undressed one another until you were completely bare. Your body beneath his as his was held up above your own. Your eyes darted across his skin, over every muscle and mark on it. A small scar or two from his childhood, the faint beauty marks that scattered his tan skin... His eyes did the same to you, but he couldn't possibly look away from your breasts. He was a man after all, he couldn't help himself... You were the woman of his dreams. His soulmate. The love of his life... and now he was going to be your first as you were to him.

"I've seen a lot of porn, I'm ready," he teased as you laughed, covering your mouth at the sound.

"You're such an idiot," you shook your head. "Touch me."

Sucking in a deep breath, his hands started at your shoulders before moving down your chest. Gently grabbing your mounds and feeling the flesh against his palms, his breath hitched as his heart raced at the sensation. Your bare breasts in his grip, all for him. He really hoped he wasn't dreaming.

Your hands caressed his shoulders and biceps, feeling the hardened muscles underneath. A small gasp left your lips as Eren's pointer and thumb tweaked your nipples, playfully fondling with your breasts as he grew more and more experimental. Kneading at them, Eren squeezed them together before burying his face in between. Another gasp left you as your blush deepened, but you couldn't help but laugh at his reactions.

"Can I take them in my mouth?" He asked.

"Do whatever you want," you nodded.

And that was enough for Eren to do all that he fantasized. He nipped at your skin, leaving marks behind on your collarbone and chest, and the fat of your breasts and just underneath them. Then, without any hesitation, he brought one of your nipples in between his teeth, gently nibbling before swiping his tongue along it, giving both breasts the same attention as he moved between them. Your back arched as subtle moans left you, your hands now in his wet locks as you closed your eyes for a moment.

Then Eren grew bold. He left a trail of kisses down your stomach, kissed your hip bones before kneading at the meat of your thighs. He left more red blotches in his wake before he parted your legs further and was greeted by your bare cunt. "Do you still want this?" He asked as you nodded. "Words, princess, use your words."

"Yes," you breathed.

With a lick of his lips, and a lick along your pussy, Eren began his experimenting. Everything he was doing to you was new to him. He saved himself for you because he swore he would win your heart someday. And he was glad he did. He may be inexperienced, but he wanted to grow with you. To learn what you liked. To know what made your body react. He wanted to know every bit of you and be the lucky man who got to please you.

Eren remembered a few things his friends had told him, and other things he read and saw online. He knew it was nowhere near the actual thing, but he truly wanted to make you feel just as good as he did. Even if he was nervous, he also was beyond excited in the fact that he was doing this to you. And his hard-on was an obvious reaction.

Listening to the muffled sounds you made as you used one of his pillows to block your moans, Eren swirled his tongue around your clit before swiping up your folds. He did that repeatedly, focusing on the way your hips jolted and your thighs clenched around his head. Smiling to himself at how wet you were—and how he was the cause—Eren brought an experimental finger to replace his mouth as he sat up. His fingers played with your clit before teasing your entrance as his other gently pulled the pillow from your face. "I want to see you..."

Sucking in a sharp breath as you bit your bottom lip, your hands moved to press against your face to cover it as his finger pushed into you. "Oh my gosh..." you breathed as Eren grinned, slowly pumping his finger in and out of you.

"Come on, look at me," he softly spoke, his free hand reaching out to pull your hands away. "I want to see the faces you make, I wanna remember them..."

Breathing heavily as you felt yourself falling apart, knowing very well you wouldn't last, Eren tested the waters as he added a second finger. As his pointer and middle pumped into you, he lowered his head again and kissed your clit before gently sucking on it. With a few more thrusts, you came around his hand, clenching your eyes shut in embarrassment. "Ere—" nearly choking on your breath at the feeling of your own release, your eyes fell open as Eren pulled away. You frowned at the lack of him in you, only to make a desperate mewl as he brought his wet fingers into his mouth, tasting you.

A look of ecstasy was written across his face, as if you were the tastiest dessert that ever existed. "Damn..." he breathed. "This was so much better than I imagined."

Blushing, you rubbed your face before Eren pulled your hands away again, leaning into a kiss as you tasted yourself on his tongue. Your shaky hands roamed from his broad shoulders, down his pecks and hardened abs. Your dainty fingers found his hardened length and wrapped as much as you could around them—which wasn't much. Your breath hitched just as Eren's did as your thumb pressed against his slit, the pre leaking and smearing as you brushed against it. Eren bucked his hips as the two of you found yourselves breathing into each other's mouths. Your tongues touching but lips hardly moving at the lack of focus. The hands on either side of your head balled into fists as Eren felt his chest tighten with each breath.

Your parted knees that Eren settled in between pushed further apart as you brought his length against your soaking pussy. A moan escaped the both of you at the foreign feeling, your hand slowly pumping his cock as Eren moved his hands to grip his sheets. "I want you to feel... as good..." you breathed, hand gliding along his shaft as Eren hissed, biting his tongue and nearly coming all over your hand in an instant.

"Sh— Shit... sorry... I didn't—" Taking in a deep breath as he clenched his eyes shut, you softly smiled as you leaned up to kiss him. Flipping the two of you over, a small gasp left Eren as you straddled him. "H— How do you... wanna do this?" He asked, looking up at you as you looked like an angel under the moonlight, silhouette hovering before him as he was now under your control. He wouldn't want it any other way... at least, not in that very moment.

"Raw," you smiled.

"R— Really? You— You on the pill?" He asked as you nodded.

"Helps with the bad cramps," you shrugged before aligning yourself with him. "Is this okay?" Seeing him eagerly nod, a chuckle left your lips before you sunk down, taking him inch by inch ever so slowly. The stretch made you hiss as your eyes pricked with tears, you bit your bottom lip as your hands pressed against his chest. Eren's grip moved to your thighs, fingertips digging into your flesh and more than likely leaving black and blues in their wake. He watched you with hooded eyes as you tried to take all of him—at least, as much as you could. It was no surprise that Eren was, indeed, packing. Your breathing quickened as you sat still, clenching your eyes shut before you shifted your hips. With the subtle rock, your eyes fell open and met with Eren's, a smile grazing your lips as the same went for his.

Then, as you began to move at a slow and steady pace, you grabbed his hands and interlocked your fingers with his, pressing them against the mattress on either side of his head. The two of you listened to each other's moans and panting breaths, Eren's eyes never left yours as yours never left his. You met each other halfway with each thrust, moving in sync as your bodies grew hotter and hotter, melting into one. Silent words being uttered along the way of praise and encouragement, enough for the two of you to reach your orgasm one after the other. Riding out before growing still for a few moments as you fell against his chest, Eren's hands left yours and caressed your back and hair as you took in deep breaths.

"Can we share that shower now?" Eren asked as you chuckled with a nod, lazily forcing yourself up and feeling Eren leave your body as you huffed. You almost didn't want to move, almost wanted him to stay in you for as long as possible, but a shower sounded very appealing.

Moving off of his bed and heading for his bathroom to pee, Eren soon followed after before preparing the shower, letting the steam cover up the small room as he locked the door behind him. Quietly, you moved your way into the shower and hugged Eren from behind as he stood under the shower head. You lifted your focus to watch his long hair stick to his skin as every inch of him was drenched and dripping. You followed suit, soaking up before you took care of one another, Eren washing your hair before washing his, the two of you lathering each other before rinsing off the suds. A few kisses were shared, some longer than others, lips lingering more as if you two fell asleep that way. Eventually, after exiting and drying off as much as possible—and changing into one of Eren's shirts as he pulled on a loose pair of sleeping pants—the two of you cuddled on his bed.

"I I love you," Eren broke the silence as your heart skipped a beat, your head resting against his chest, looking out his bedroom window as he stared up at your ceiling. "Yeah, I love you."

Smiling, you nuzzled his neck, leaving a few kisses before whispering in his ear, "I love you, too."

"Hmm..." lazily grinning, he extended his arm out as he flicked his wrist, a heart forming on his ceiling from his web as you looked up and lightly laughed at the sight. "After so long... After the many failed attempts... It took saving your life to finally win your heart."

"My hero," you spoke in a sing-songy voice.

"I'll always be your hero," Eren said confidentially, making you chuckle again.

"So cheesy..." you smiled "Thank you, Spider-Man."

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scandinavianfairytale · 2 months

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Doubt

Pairing: Tony Stark x Millionare Reader

Warnings: A few mentions of sex, but no act itself and a small age gap (7 years) between the reader & Tony 😊

"I think you two would be great together. He works a lot, you work a lot, he's rich, you're rich, he's a nerd, you're a nerd-"

"I get it, Pepper." You stopped your friend who has been trying to set you up with her boss for a few weeks now. She has seen you go through so many boring men that you were rolling your eyes immediately after someone offered a date to you. Experience taught you it will be a dumpster fire.

The last one turned out to be homophobic, ignorant and went into detail how his Christian ex-girlfriend was into public sex. As you listened to him you wondered if it wouldn't have been easier for you to just stay single. So you deleted all the apps and decided that you won't be going on any more dates any time soon.

And now Pepper has been pestering you about her boss.

Tony Stark.

In all honesty, a date with him worried you. He was a billionare, while you just made your first million, and you came from a humble home, still feeling weird and queasy when attending anything remotely fancy. The thought of dating a rich old(er) man confused you. There was a 7 year age gap, which doesn't seem much, but you've been dating guys your own age your entire life. And none of them could've ever imagined being as rich as you. Let alone as Tony Stark.

"Just go out on a date. I'm not asking you to marry him." Pepper pressed. Tony has been driving her insane, working at all hours, meaning that she was also working insane hours. So she figured...maybe if Tony gets a girlfriend, he'll sleep once in a while. And who would be better suited for him than her sharp-tongued and a newly turned millionare friend who was into robots almost as much as he was.

She has been trying for weeks to get you to agree. She didn't worry that much about Tony. If she was to mention a woman, he was on that subject immediately, requesting a date.

You, on the other hand, with your string of very bad dates...you were the tough cookie.

"One date." You stated.

"One date. If you like him, more dates, but for now let's go with one." Pepper smiled.

And then Natasha got involved. The sensual, no holding back friend that also knew Tony was "tasked" with your make-over. Not like in the movies make-over, the kind where she went through your closet and told you what to wear. She pulled out the black dress that was reserved for fancy dinners. Not a first date.

"He's a man. Not like the boys that you have been going out with. You need to pique his interest and you're not going to achieve that wearing those disgusting jeans." Natasha commented as she glanced at the jeans that you were wearing at that moment.

"He's dubbed as the playboy." You conutered.

"That's because playman doesn't exsist. Now go change."

As it turned out, the first date was actually really good. You actually had a good time. Tony picked you up himself and you went to a new art exhibition at the Met, followed by a dinner and a ride home. As you were about to exit his car, Tony took your hand and kissed the back of it.

"Thank you for the lovely time." He said with a smirk.

"Thank you as well. But please, let me get the next one." You smiled back as he let go of your hand.

"Deal. I do hope you forget that you promised to pick the tab."

"I don't forget things, Tony." You smiled before wishing him a good night.

As the weeks went on, you met with him several times. It was always interesting and you spent hours talking and he even made you laugh. You could feel hope and contentment bloom in your chest. That little anticipation whenever he called or texted.

And then it all came crashing down. You noticing that he started getting cold. He was texting less, no face times were requested. It just died down.

"He's busy with work." Pepper told you over the phone. Tony has been holed up in his lab for days, barely getting out of that room.

It's not like you weren't busy as well. You also had a demanding job and a life outside of it. And you understood the fact that he gets sicked into work, you knew from experience, but this was different. It hurt, because you got your hopes up. That he'd be different. And he was, much different than all other guys, but this time around you might've gotten attached. Which has never happened and it made you mad. Mad at yourself for feeling this, mad at him for doing this to you, mad at everything.

"I don't care how busy he is." You responded.

"Just be patient, he has never taken this much time for a woman before."

"That's because he immediately sleeps with them." You rolled your eyes, pacing around your still empty apartment.

"You still haven't slept with him?" Pepper stopped walking.

"Of course not."

"What do you mean of course not?"

"We barely spent 18 hours all together." Saying that aloud made your blood boil. How the hell were you feeling this way after 18 hours.

"You talk everyday, what do you mean it's been 18 hours? And so what?"

"I don't sleep with men I don't know. And if this is how he acts in everyday life, I think it's better I stop seeing him altogether."

"If you gave him a reason to continue trying it'd be for the best."

"If he's not interested in me with what he already knows, sleeping with me is not going to pique his interest. I'm done, Pepper. I'm not the type to sit at home and wait for a man's text. I don't care what his profession or reason is. This isn't me, nor is this my style."

You hung up the phone and angrily stared at the blank walls and the pile of boxes waiting for you to unpack them.

I can't believe that I'm feeling bad because of a man. You groaned before taking off your jumper and started unpacking. You put your phone on silent and threw it in the bedroom, away from your reach. You noticed how much it put you in a bad mood when you saw 0 messages from Tony.

It must've been a couple of hours when the doorbell broke your concentration. You made significant progress as almost all the boxes have been unpacked. In all honesty, you were mildly annoyed that you were abruptly taken out of your flow state as only 2 boxes remained.

"Why are you ignoring me?" Tony asked as you opened your front door, getting startled as you saw him standing there.

"What are you doing here?"

"You were not taking my calls. Can I come in?" He didn't wait for your answer and entered your apartment.

"I've been unpacking. And also that's rich coming from the man that has been steadily ignoring me for the past two weeks." You rolled your eyes.

Tony started opening your kitchen cabinets, looking through them. "Do you have any coffee? I could use a cup about now."

"You're not staying that long. And my coffee would be wasted on you." You snatched your speciality coffee from his hands.

"Why are you angry?"

"Because you showed up at my door, entered my apartment without my permission, and are now snopping around my personal things."

"You were angry before that." Tony pointed out and leaned on the windowsill.

"I was annoyed. Now I'm angry and annoyed." You glared at him.

"Okay. Why were you annoyed?"

"Because I feel like you're playing games." You confronted him.

"Regarding?"

"Me."

"I'm not playing games. At least not that I know of. Do you want to play?" Tony smirked and winked at you, making you roll your eyes. "Can you tell me what's got you upset?" He crossed his arms.

"It's been two weeks since we spoke. And then you show up at my place, accusing me of ignoring you."

"I was busy at the lab."

"I understand. I get how quickly you can get sucked up in work, I've been there. But I've never ignored someone I was interested in. A clear deduction from that is that you're not interested in me. Which is fine, but then you don't get to show up at my place, demanding attention. You don't get to act hot and cold and expect me to go along with it. I have an ego too. And also you pride yourself with being direct however you love playing games. There are hundreds of women who would love to play games with you, but I'm not one of them. I take no pride in becoming one of the notches on your belt."

"Great speech, a couple of things, though, if I may correct you." Tony straightened and walked towards you slowly. "I am interested in you. That's a given. How could I not be? Secondly I am direct and as such I can tell you right now that the reason why I was holed up in the lab for two weeks with no contact was because I needed to finish something before focusing on you. I want to spend more time with you. Take a trip or two." He paused for a second. "And have sex with you."

You let out a snort, feeling your face heat up slightly.

"Lots of sex." He was standing right in front of you, staring into your eyes. It made you insanely nervous, making your skin crawl, but in a good way (?).

"You made your point." You found your voicebut you knew it sounded breathless.

"Did I?" Tony asked before tipping your chin up and kissing you.

It was such a good kiss. God, you haven't been kissed this good in such a long time. Your hands pulled at his collar, trying to bring him closer to you, and together, you stumbled backward until his hand extended behind you, slowly pushing you into the kitchen wall and preventing your head colliding with the hard surface.

As you separated to catch a breath, Tony stared at you. "Still doubting my interest?"

"No." You replied firmly before reaching for him again.

Thank you for reading 😊

The GIF doesn't belong to me, belongs to the amazing creator 😊

My first Tony story! 🙌

#robert downey jr #tony stark #tony stark x reader #iron man #iron man x reader #iron man imagine #tony stark imagine #short story #fanfic #doubt #marvel

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xamiipholia · 3 months

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Carolyn Petit killing it as always. If you're not familiar with her work, I strongly recommend it! She's a wonderful writer and from one highly opinionated trans woman to another I always find her work insightful and deeply resonant even if I don't always agree. I think her post-game essay on The Last of Us Part 2 is essential reading on the game.

Anyway.

I'm wary of the word 'representation' but this- this is why we *do* need it. We need havens. We need art that reaches out and lets us know we are seen and loved - that we have a place in the world that in many ways feels increasingly hostile towards us.

We need stories like Baulder's Gate 3 and Mass Effect that let us carve our own paths and find connections that feel true. We need stories like Hades and Life is Strange: True Colors with strongly and lovingly defined bi characters with resonant arcs. We need stories like The Last of Us Part II that are about queer and trans becoming, finding refuge in each other and holding on to that as long as we can - unshakable bonds of love in a world that is collapsing at the seams and ready to pull us apart without mercy. We need lesbian women like Judy Alvarez who are painted with such crystal clarity and compassion while also being an absolute dumpster fire like so many of us are. We need stories like Horizon Burning Shores that arrive as politicians are trying to excise us from public life and dare to show us finding each other in a beautiful, reborn future and parting with the hope of what we could be someday.

We need all of this. We need more of this - stories that let us find our own way and bespoke, curated narratives. Stories that let us know we have a place in the world.

We don't get enough. We need more. And - I don't have the experience to speak on this with authority as it is not my lived experience but please feel free to reblog and add on - our mlm bros ABSOLUTELY do not get enough representation. Judy's story in Cyberpunk is, in my opinion, one of the best wlw romances in gaming but male V's romance with Kerry can't even be unlocked until a hidden 4th act of the game that isn't even available until you have the point of no return available to you. THAT - that's not cool. We need to do better. Our boys deserve better. We need rep that isn't lopsided.

Anyway thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 10 months

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Hello,if of course you wanted and if it was your will, could you write something about Thranduil. About how once, while returning to his Kingdom, he came across a slave trade where he saw an elven woman who was scared and emaciated. Thranduil is moved by this and buys her out, then takes her to the palace, though she is distrustful, appreciates him helping her, and over time I fall in love with him. You don't have to agree with this, but it may have been after Thranduil became King, but also before his son was born. Of course, if you want to write about it, and that would be your will...

Hello! I wrote this event taking place just after the sinking of Beleriand, with Oropher ruling Greenwood the Great and sections of Middle Earth being a bit of a dumpster fire after the War of Wrath. I hope you don’t mind the change. This is part one. Part two should be out in a fortnight, or just after that, and from Thranduil’s POV.

“A Better Future” Part 1

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Elf/Noldor |Third Person POV)

Themes: Angst | Dark

Wordcount : 2.3K words

Summary: An elf of the Noldor finds herself on the auction block, facing a dreary future.

A/n: For Lady Githa I drew inspiration from Six of Crows’ Tante Heleen. Most of part one is around reader's backstory, and there is only some dialog towards the end.

Minors DNI

Y/Ns POV

Y/n was still drowsy when she opened her eyes. She had seen herself with her father, listening to him play the harp and sing while her mother sewed away by the fire. There were hot pies and fresh fruit and cheese to nibble on, and her father would leave the harp to indulge in her thirst for tales of the Blessed Realm. Home was safe and warm, and everyone was alive.

Such a beautiful dream. And a dream it would forever be. Y/n threw back the rags that served as coverlets and sat up straight on the pallet that served as a featherbed. Her back ached after a night of fitful sleep. She glanced around the near-empty chamber, which was barely large enough for her. There were no possessions here, and she was not allowed any. Oh, she had been promised new garments, a hot meal, and a bath for this day, but she knew such gifts came with a heavy price. She had moved among the Edain long enough to learn this harsh truth. Y/n looked at the stone ceiling and sighed mournfully. Her fate will be decided today.

My fate was decided a long time ago, in another life, she thought bitterly. Her father had followed the sons of Fëanor and played a part in the second Kinslaying. All that returned of him was news of his disgrace and death, his role in the slaughter, and how he doomed his bloodline along with himself. As for her mother? She no longer wished to live. She followed the path of Miriel before her, lying down in a meadow and letting her fëa peacefully depart from her body. That was how y/n found her—a vessel from which the jewel had spilled. Alone and without friends, she performed the final rights for her mother before departing for safer pastures. Someone was bound to take pity on her and give her shelter; she was certain of it.

That was not to be. Door after door closed to her as soon as she made her name and ties known. Elves did not wish to sully themselves by associating with one bearing the blood of a kinslayer. The Edain did not want to offend wealthy elven patrons. Y/n had been forced to wander further and further east, year after year, alone and frightened, keeping to the outer borders of kingdoms and selling off her family’s possessions one by one in exchange for coin so she could have clothes and food. She watched in horror while smoke rose from distant battlefields, praying the fighting would never reach her. She trembled when she heard strange and terrifying roars. She listened to the songs about how the Valar finally sent their host to deal with a most wretched enemy, how the lands she once ran across as a child had been claimed by the sea. The grief of such a loss—of her home and her family—was so great that it caused her pain powerful enough to nearly cripple her. She bore it all silently. She had no choice, and she did not have a single creature to confide in. Finally, a mortal took pity on her, or so she thought. He offered her a roof over her head and a better future; all she needed to do was agree to his terms.

Y/n snorted in derision. A better future. If only she had listened to the voice within her, demanding that she refuse. This man would play her false, it said, and place her in a condition with no hope for escape. But y/n was desperate. What coin she had left on her person was all but gone. She was tired of wandering, with no home and no hope and no future to look forward to. She agreed. And felt nothing but regret over the choice she made.

Someone knocked insistently on the door. "I am ready," she called softly. Servants of the house walked in with a healer. Y/n was asked to lay face up and stay still. A flush crept up her throat, but she did as she was told. The healer pulled her rough-spun robe up to her waist and spread her legs, to examine her. Y/n felt a pinch and winced. Her cheeks were ablaze with humiliation. She was told this was necessary. Y/n did not want to think why.

The maids mouthed meaningless comforts while they led her to the baths. Y/n did not believe they meant a word of what they said. They were only loyal to the master of the house and did not spare a thought for her before this. She sat still in a copper tub and was bathed in hot water scented with fragrant oils. One maid carefully washed her hair before picking up a comb to brush the tangles. The other cleaned her feet and nails before scrubbing her back. She chatted incessantly while she went about her tasks. Y/n listened. Anything to distract her from what was about to happen.

"Everyone is talking about you," Eda gossiped, red-cheeked and excited. "Fights have broken out amongst the younger lordlings and..."

"That is quite enough from you, Eda," the other maid, Cwene, cut in harshly. She wanted to end whatever Eda longed to say. Eda bit her lip and nodded anxiously. They both went back to work, silent as the dead.

Y/n shivered and gulped in fright. She knew what was going to happen. She was to be indentured. The man who promised her a brighter future would sell her skills and her, to the one who was willing to pay the most. Those fortunate few who served those with fair hearts had the price of their purchase decrease over time and enjoyed a better life after that. Many more were given a price that only increased as the years passed. They had to toil day after day and year after year, slaves in all but name. Then there were those unfortunate few who faced the bleakest of all futures. Y/n did not allow herself to dwell on those others.

She thought, Perhaps I will be one of the fortunate few, and allowed herself to be helped out of the bath. Perhaps, I will be lucky.

Y/n let the maids lead her to another room and stood still while they toweled her dry and dressed her in silken wisps that made her blush. Then came her gown. It was so soft and smooth that it slipped over her palms like water. She could not remember the last time she wore anything so fine. It made her feel like a lamb being led to slaughter. Eda took her to a nearby stool and asked her to sit. She brushed y/n’s hair until it shone and arranged it in braids and coils. Dabs of sweet-smelling perfume were placed on each wrist and behind each ear. Finally came a pair of sandals crafted out of soft leather. Y/n sighed as if in a dream. The sandals embraced her feet gently, like lovers. Cwene held up a looking glass for her to see her reflection. Y/n was startled. She could not recognize herself.

"She looks like a proper princess now," was all Cwene allowed. Someone else arrived and knocked on the door to the baths. It was the master of the house.

"Take this one to the yard," he rasped to Eda. "The others are growing impatient."

The yard was all freshly cut grass and new flowers, and it was already full of Edain. They gaped at the elf on the raised dais, their looks making her skin crawl. A tall, beautiful woman with hair like spun gold and rubies glinting on her ears, fingers, and throat, climbed up the steps and came to y/n. She looked at her critically. Y/n buried a sob when she saw the rubies. They reminded her of her mother’s hair.

"Beautiful," she whispered, the sweetness of her voice doing little to hide the bitterness lurking beneath. She tilted y/n’s chin with the tip of an elegant walking stick. She wanted to see how her eyes caught the light. Satisfied with what she saw, the woman looked over y/n’s hair and ears, and even her teeth. "Her eyes are like jewels. But tell me, I pray you. Why does she look so gaunt and melancholy? Has she not been fed well?"

It was not said out of kindness. There was none in the lady’s hardened gray eyes. Y/n lowered her gaze and closed her own, as was expected. She did not say that she was given meager scraps because the master of the house did not wish to waste more coin than he already had on her. It could only go badly for her if she did.

"She has," Y/n’s master replied hastily. He crept up to her and dug his fingers into her arm, warning her to keep quiet. Y/n bit her tongue to stop herself from making a sound. "And since the lords that frequent The Blue Rose expect women fit for a king," he added, "This one will do nicely after a good meal, yes?"

"Indeed," the woman conceded, and looked y/n over again. She grabbed y/n's cheek hard, her nails digging into the skin. "Cry if you must," she whispered harshly when y/n, trapped and unable to move, whimpered. "Tear out your hair. I would too if I was in your place. But know this, elf. When the dust clears, you will be mine."

The woman turned to face y/n's master. "Your herald tells me she is untouched."

"Aye, lady Githa," came the reply. "The healer assured me of this."

"This truly is a most blessed day." Githa finally let go and laughed merrily. Y/n fell ill at the sound and found herself overcome with the shivers, but she welcomed the release from Githa's presence. She knew of The Blue Rose. Githa ruled it with an iron fist and was known to be a cruel mistress. The Blue, as it was more commonly known, welcomed the coin of high-born edain, some with tastes that could make one's stomach turn. At least, that was what the maids said. The women sent there never earned their freedom. Some, she had heard through careless chatter, did not even make it out alive. Y/n wanted to flee, to run somewhere no one knew of, and to hide. Since she could not, since she was already trapped, she prayed, hoping against all hope that she would not have to spend the rest of her days toiling on her back.

A herald came forth and called out her name and ties. His words were met with boisterous cheers. "She was born in the four hundred and fiftieth year of the first age," he continued, "and is skilled in both the high harp and the lute. The lady is also fluent in both Quenya and Sindarin. Her mother and father hailed from the Blessed Realm. She is meek and obedient, perfect for any household. And she is untouched. We have been assured of this. One such as her will not grace this dais again."

Loud applause rang out around the yard. Y/n’s master grabbed her arm so hard that it hurt. She was dragged to the center of the block and made to stand straight. The herald would call out a price. Someone would offer more. Y/n listened with growing dread as her purchase price rose higher and higher. The cries soon reached a fevered frenzy that shocked her. She heard the unmistakably musical sound of Githa, the woman who looked her over like she was nothing more than a prize horse to be broken in, whatever means necessary. Githa had coin. From the way she carried on, it was plain she had plenty. If someone shouted a price, she would go higher. One by one, those others would give their excuses and stop. Y/n heard names being called out. Only six remained. Githa was one of the six. Fear coiled within her belly like a snake.

How could you do this to me, father? She wanted to cry. How could you and mother doom me to such a fate?

Y/n heard more voices. Word had already reached the marketplace and spread like a forest fire. Many poured into the yard and joined the throng. They wanted to watch. Someone shouted out ribald jests. Lady Githa replied with equal humor. The others laughed. Y/n kept her eyes closed even as her blood ran cold. She pretended not to hear. Doom coiled itself around her like a chain so heavy she could almost feel it tightening over her chest, squeezing the very air out of her.

The herald called out names once again. Only two remained, he reminded the rest, but he invited everyone to indulge in the food and wine being served. Y/n could taste the bile at the back of her throat. Githa shouted another offer.

"Six thousand gold pieces!" The herald declared and received a roar of approval. "And we still carry on!"

The crowd encouraged Lady Githa and her rival, urging them to continue. Grief gathered around y/n’s heart like bees. There was no escaping her fate now. No one was coming to save her. Tears welled up in her eyes and broke free. Someone laughed.

"Twenty thousand gold pieces!" A deep voice boomed from behind the crowd. The yard went so quiet that y/n swore she would have heard a pin drop. "And an end to this wretched spectacle!"

Y/n heard the creak of floorboards. The herald went to talk with his masters. They were beside her, whispering to each other. Again, she pretended not to hear.

"We cannot deny them," one said.

"That one will slaughter all of us if we refuse," another said. "Or do worse."

"Aye," muttered a third. "But we must give Lady Githa the opportunity to make her excuses and bow out. She may not come near us again otherwise. Continue with the sale."

"Tw-twenty thousand!" The herald returned and announced the figure. They were going to continue. "We have twenty thousand! Do either of you wish to go higher?"

Moments passed. Y/n listened, thinking Lady Githa would call out a higher price and carry on.

"He can have her!" Githa cried after speaking with her rival. She sounded less than pleased. "We are finished!"

"Very well!" The Herald agreed. "Twenty thousand gold! Going once, going twice, sold! To… to the crown prince of Gr-greenwood the Great!"

The herald sounded terrified. The crown prince of Greenwood the Great, he had declared. Y/n had heard of this kingdom and how its king and his people survived the sack of Doriath. In all her wanderings, she kept away from this realm, no matter how tired or weak or hungry she was. She knew she would find no welcome there.

Y/n fearfully opened her eyes, certain the prince only brought her to punish her for the sins committed by her kin.

Tags: @deadlymistletoe

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