#what in the fuckboy

[strawberrysoop]

young justice has taken over my brain and theyre all i can draw lately <3 also i highly recommend clicking to view the top 2 bc tumblr cropped then bad in the format </3

[baflegacy]

i’ve been thinking about these specific pictures of amangela a lot and. And.

[wannabehockeygf]

So much to unpack in this photo fuck I can’t stop staring at it

[lenreli]

[yashley]

LVL 20 YASHA SAYS THE ONLY RIDING GOING ON IS ON ME

[buckevantommy]

it's so wild to look at s1!buck compared to s7!buck

[whos-hotter-jjba]

JoJo Showdown - Final Round

[waveoftheocean]

zoomed in wip for this week's wip wednesday! started drawing this on a whim and got very carried away :P

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Insisting Miles G. acts like Miles and isn't really hood/ghetto because 'Rio raised him right'-

Acting hood is not an indicator of bad parenting.

You can still be hood and a dork. You can have both parents involved in your life, raising you with dedication and kindness and still be hood.

Not all tough black guys are from fatherless homes with bad mothers.

Some (MOST) of them are just normal ass black guys with a mean resting face and little patience for disrespect.

Miles G can definitely act hood.

Now stop before I act hood

[neiptune]

'tis the damn season

❄️ eren x female reader

❄️ older brother's best friend trope

wc: over 5k

warnings: mentions of alcohol

a/n: it's been a while & literally can't believe i ended up writing for this maniac but it's december and i become weird around the holidays. enjoy!

It was almost Christmas, the first time he had shown up at your house.

You vividly remember each detail of that day: the smell of the gingerbread cookies you were baking with your parents, Tequila, your dog, running to the door as soon as it had flung open, nails impatiently scratching the parquet floors, paired with joyful barks that signaled your older brother’s long awaited return. Your mom’s puzzled face, as she was not expecting Armin to bring someone over with him, confusion quickly replaced by a warm smile as the his flight was cancelled due to a snow storm and he would’ve been the only one staying at our dorm for the holidays explanations were gently offered while taking coats off and hanging burgundy scarves on hooks.

“No need to make a fuss, he’s welcome to spend the holidays with us. Is this the infamous Eren?”, your mom smiled again as she cleaned her flour covered hands on her apron.

As you went to hug your brother, you were only able to catch a glimpse of the smile the stranger next to him offered to your parents.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry to barge in like this, Armin insisted–”

“Please, it’s Anna. And this is Conrad. We’re happy to have you here, why don’t you boys leave those bags and come sit with us? I’ll make some tea”

“Missed you”, you murmured into the collar of Armins’ sweater, and he lightly chuckled while gently rubbing your back.

“Missed you too. Let me see”, he pulled away from the hug and creases of fake concentration formed between his eyebrows, “definitely taller. And have you cut your hair?”

You rolled your eyes, fond and relieved smile stretching your chapped lips. He still noticed everything, the time spent apart since he had started going to college hadn’t changed that.

“Yeah, Jean preferred it longer, so...”

“I like the purple tips”, his voice was so morbid you couldn’t properly focus on your brother’s laugh.

The stranger was smiling, he seemed a little embarrassed still, as if he felt out of place in such a warm family reunion. It was weird of him, you thought, cause he looked perfectly in place while fondly scratching behind Tequila’s ears, eyes dangerously limpid and oddly familiar, though they definitely looked better in person than in the pictures you saw on Armin’s instagram account.

“Thanks”, you replied, painfully aware of how pathetically thin your voice had come out.

“I’m Eren”, the stranger offered a hand, warm as it enveloped yours while some stubborn snowflakes had finally began to melt in his brown locks.

“It’s so nice to finally meet Armin’s little sister. He never shuts up about you”

Your nose scrunched up in slight annoyance, cause you hated whenever his friends addressed you as his little sister. They were sophomores and you were basically done with high school, you weren’t that much younger anymore.

“He never shuts up about you either”, you retorted, letting go of his hand first and shooting your brother an amused look as he jokingly bumped his shoulder into yours.

What was soon to become a devastating crush had begun during that first holiday season, with Eren being around almost all day and insisting to help in the kitchen, participating in your traditional board game nights, Eren who had been thoughtful enough to bring both your parents a gift to unwrap on Christmas morning—a cashmere sweater for your mom, a Fleetwood Mac vinyl for your dad—Eren who had the warmest, brightest smile whenever you two engaged in heated discussions concerning music, movies or classes. He seemed to like talking to you, was always interested enough to ask questions, had Armin rolling his eyes when his cheeks would get dusted with pink each time you disagreed over something “essential” and he felt the responsibility to change your mind or, as he would usually put it, help you acquire the correct opinion.

You saw him again the following summer, shortly after you had graduated and were almost accustomed to the idea of soon moving across the country to begin your college adventure. His family situation was a bit messed up, with his parents getting a divorce and everything, so Armin had invited him to stay over for a few weeks. He was there when you would leave the house in short skirts and heels to attend alcohol fueled parties, almost always still awake and watching tv whenever you snuck back in the middle of the night, not once sober and shoes in your hand, shaking his head with an amused smile when you would bring your finger to your mouth and whisper a way too loud shhhh.

He was there when your stupidly loud friends would come over to pick you up for beach days, Tequila resting in his lap as he played video games with Armin, apparently deaf to Sasha asking you who the dream boat parked on your couch was.

He was also there to help you move into your dorm, him and Armin carrying boxes, comforter, blankets, a fan, sheets, books and even a printer up and down the stairs. Trost: same town, different college. Your parents were happy about you not having to be completely on your own as soon as you had moved out, and your brother wasn’t one to get annoyed by his younger sister living so close to him. Armin was genuinely happy he could be there for you and was determined to provide help, support, coffees dates and exploration routes to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

The only time you were alone with Eren for a consistent amount of time was when him and your brother were supposed to meet you at the movies, but Armin’s girlfriend ended up going through some sudden food poisoning and he didn’t want to leave her alone. You liked Annie, she was incredibly different from your brother but their characters balanced each other surprisingly well. She reminded you of Eren so much you often wondered if the two were friends. Stubborn, witty, stupidly good looking, popular as hell.

You thought something special was finally going to happen, as you sat so close to him you could smell the leather of his jacket and the amberwood of his cologne. Your heart was beating so fast it was impossible to focus throughout the entirety of the movie and when he offered to grab dinner in a taco place he often enjoyed going to with his friends, you couldn’t control the sweat covering your palms. That was until the most gorgeous girl you had ever laid eyes on suddenly came out of a shop and smiled, excitedly calling him and waving.

It was excruciating, really, watching him wrap his arms around her.

“This is y/n, she’s Armin’s sister. We were just about to go grab something to eat, why don’t you come along?”, he had never sounded sweeter.

You cleared your throat.

“Actually, I think I’m gonna go. My first class tomorrow starts quite early”

Eren tilted his head, confusion coating his emerald gaze.

“But you didn’t eat anything”

“Yeah, not really hungry. I’ll see you around”

You didn’t want to learn her name or acknowledge the amused look on her face. In about 30 seconds she was able to grasp something Eren hadn’t been able to get in almost three years.

His mom was out of town when he threw himself a birthday party during spring break the following year. Annie and Armin were still going strong and were a joy to be around, you and Floch not so much. Your brother disliked him and didn’t exactly make a secret of it. Still, you were determined to bring him with you, just in case the glorious Mikasa would be there as well.

She wasn’t. And Eren was so different from his usual self, that night. Some of your friends from college knew him, one of them even claiming to have actually slept with him, and the general opinion was unanimous: self absorbed asshole. A definition that was so far from the person you had come to know.

That night, however, proved your friends right. Eren was drunk, and rude, and mocking. Especially towards you. When you first arrived, kissed him on the cheek and gave him his gift (two tickets to a Blink-182 concert) he didn’t know what to say. He let out an incredulous snort and gave you a hug, your heart still stubbornly skipping several beats at the sudden, unexpected proximity. Then, he let go and Floch’s hand was on your waist as he wished him a happy birthday, man. Eren smiled thanking him, gave you one last glance before busying himself with taking care of his incredibly numerous guests.

He got wasted so quickly and you got so worried, cause he could barely stand and still hadn’t had the chance to cut the cake, you asked Armin to check on him.

“He was making out with Christa less than a minute ago, he’ll be fine”, he had muttered in his cup, a little tipsy himself.

“He emptied three cups of champagne in one go”

And he’s being an ass.

“Nothing unusual there”

“Where even is he?”

“Why don’t you go look for him?”, Annie proposed with a wink that, thank fuck, Armin absolutely missed. You shot her a glare and she defensively raised her palms.

“I’m just sayin’, he didn’t look great. Think I saw him go upstairs”

You took one final sip from the red cup in your hand and got up, scanning the room to locate Floch. He was chatting with another one of Armin’s friends, Connie, too busy in conversation to pay attention to you.

Making your way across the room, through the bodies of several equally drunk guests and up the stairs, you found yourself roaming through rooms you had never seen, timidly knocking on doors and waiting for a reply that didn’t come. The bathroom was your last resort and sure enough there he was, barely able to stand against the sink, a few strands of hair having escaped his bun, hands uncovering his face as soon as you peered through the door.

“Can I come in?”, you asked softly, too worried to be your usual nervous self at that point.

A nod was all you got and you quietly closed the door behind you, taking a hesitant step forward.

“You okay? I think you should drink some water”

“I think you should mind your business”, the words came out slurred but they didn’t sting any less.

“Fair enough”, you tried to crack a smile, “what’s all this about? Bad breakup?”

But Eren wasn’t Eren, so he wasn’t up for jokes. He was annoyed, and unpleasant, and clearly unhappy that you were around.

“What’s all that about?”, he asked, gaze flickering from your face to your shorter-than-usual dress.

“What do you mean?”, your voice came out as thin as it did the first day you had met him.

He uncrossed his arms and moved forward, his tall figure towering yours despite the heels. You could smell the alcohol in his breath from miles.

“Whose attention do you need? You’re here with your boyfriend, aren’t you?”

“Eren, you’re wasted”

So drink the goddamn water.

“I’m used to wasting”, he irrationally mumbled, gaze suddenly turning pensive as his fingers reached to grab tips of your hair, head slightly tilted to the side.

“You cut it again”, the observation shouldn’t have made your ears ring, blood pressure probably skyrocketing through the roof. It was unfair, the power he still held over you.

“I like it”, he almost whispered, gaze suddenly reflecting yours. A weird and not entirely uncomfortable silence settled between you two, your hair still in his hand, your heart basically trying to free itself from your ribcage.

I like you, you wanted to retort. It’s desperate how much I like you, really. But Eren’s features finally relaxed and he flashed you a gentle, familiar smile, the warmth radiating from his hand leaving your cheek suddenly cold as he patted your head.

“Thanks for checking on me. Let’s head back”

It’s your last year in college, the last opportunity to act and live as if you’re not supposed to soon become a functional adult, something you have a real hard time identifying with. You hold on tight to the familiarity of what you’re feeling traveling home for the holidays: excitement, nostalgia, sadness. Each time you come back you can’t help but notice tiny changes, small details that are suddenly out of place and remind you of the fact that you’re growing apart from what you have always known: your town, your parents, your house, even your room. Tequila is so much older now, your mom hardly dyes her hair anymore, your dad isn’t able to care for the garden as much, your favorite mug is nowhere to be found, there’s a new couch in the living room.

For once, Armin is home before you. He’s still in college, as an assistant professor, Annie has moved in with him and will arrive in a couple days, after your parents had insisted for months that she spent at least one Christmas with them.

The house smells like ginger and the freshly ignited logs in the fireplace give the environment that familiar warmth whose absence you can’t seem to get used to. It feels good, having a place to come back to. Having your brother instantly envelop you in his affectionate hug, witnessing the fondness in your dad’s gaze as he jokingly ruffles your hair and then kisses your forehead, a barely audible missed you, kid, mumbled with Armin’s arms still around you.

“It’s good to be home”, you smile, cheeks still cold from the ungodly weather you had to walk in after getting off the bus, cause you're still not interested in getting a driver’s license.

“Welcome back”, you haven’t heard his voice in so long and yet, it still sounds familiar. Perfectly in place, too. Like it belongs there, in your living room, right before Christmas. Warmth blossoms in your chest when you see him, arms crossed, gracefully resting against the door frame. He’s wearing a white, chunky sweater and his usual black jeans, he’s smiling and you have to resist the urge to go hug him as well.

“Hey, ‘Ren”, you resort to a simple greeting while you take off your boots, absentmindedly asking “spending the holidays with us this year?”

“Eren was nice enough to come say goodbye”, your mom sighs, putting her hands on his shoulders with an expression of both affection and gloom taking over her features.

And just like that, you stop. One boot removed, the other just unzipped.

“What?”, maybe you should be more attentive, camouflage the panic distorting your voice, but there’s no time left for such nonsense apparently. Goodbye.

“I’m moving to my dad’s”, his eyes haven’t left yours ever since he entered the room.

Blinking in confusion, lips parted, you just stare back. Armin clears his throat.

“He lives overseas”, your brother explains in a soft voice, sympathy evident in his eyes as he looks at you.

The ringing in your eyes becomes louder and louder, time freezing as the fire continues to crackle and Tequila’s paws on your thighs demand your attention.

You’d like to say something, ask questions. Something along the lines of are you fucking insane? or this is fucking ridiculous.

“I leave tomorrow. Wanted to thank you all for the kindness and hospitality you’ve let me abuse throughout the years”, he attempts another smile, one less convincing than the previous, eyes leaving yours to shortly focus on your parents.

“Nonsense. You’re like a second son to us”, your dad puts an arm around his shoulders and your mom gently removes a strand of his hair from his face, securing it behind his ear.

“And we expect you to visit, from time to time”

“Thank you, Conrad, Anne”, he gently squeezes your dad’s shoulder, in the same way Armin is squeezing yours.

You break your trance and abruptly bend over to put the removed boot on again, zipping the other one up and turning around in a swift motion to grab Tequila’s leash.

“That’s great”, you mumble, busy securing the leash on your very much now excited Barbado da Terceira.

“Honey, we just walked her—”

“It’s okay, mom, I felt like taking a stroll before dinner anyway”, you smile, intentionally avoiding the one gaze you don’t want to capture. Why would you need to, anyway? It’s already carved in your mind, skin, bones and all. You know every nuance of those eyes.

“It’s snowing”, Eren observes, but you barely acknowledge it by pulling the hood of your coat up.

“Can I come?”, Armin whispers in your ear while pretending to fix the hood for you. A nod is all you have the energy to give as a response.

He’s quiet as he walks with you, patient and considerate as always, never pushing your boundaries. But you don’t know what to say, even if you know he knows by now, cause how could he not? He has always been able to read you so well, ever since you were kids. And, frankly, you practically never found it in yourself to lie to Armin. First, it would’ve been pointless. Second, you would’ve felt like a dumb idiot, cause he’s the one person in your life who has always been there, no matter what. Which doesn’t mean that he’s always been indulgent.

You’ve had your fights, his integrity sometimes exasperating you: whenever he would tell you he was disappointed by some shit you had pulled, you would tell him you were, by contrast, absolutely delighted by the 40 inches long stick residing up his ass.

Very mature, he would mutter. But then he wouldn’t even give you enough time to feel guilty and reach out to make up, cause he was always, always the first one to plop next to you on the couch, or at the end of your bed, a soft wanna talk about it? rolling off his tongue.

“I’m sorry”, you mutter, eyes on your boots as they march through the soft snow, Tequila’s tail wagging happily in front of you.

“For what?”, your brother asks, not looking at you either. He knows it makes it easier.

“I’m overreacting”

“You’re taking a walk”

“You know what I mean”

Armin stays silent for a few seconds, then shoves his hands in the pockets of his olive green parka.

“Do you love him?”

You almost choke on your own spit and are forced to an abrupt stop, finally turning to look at him.

“No. Of course not. It’s a stupid crush and it’s gonna go away”

Your brother sighs at how defensive you get. You still did that, whenever he happened to be right. Whether you were aware of it or not.

“Since when?”, he asks, one eyebrow quirked skeptically.

You nervously shift your weight from one leg to the other.

“Doesn’t matter”

“Matters to me”

“Why?”

“You’re in pain”, his voice is gentle, coated with concern, which is almost, almost enough to make you burst into tears on the spot.

“Don’t use such big words. I’m just a little sad, s’all”, your pathetic attempts at dissimulating are not working one bit, but you’ve always been the stubborn one. He sighs again.

“I’m sorry I brought him. He just really wanted to say goodbye, thank mom and dad”

You faintly kick a bit of snow with the tip of your shoe.

“This is a me problem, not anyone else’s. You can bring him whenever you want, he’s your best friend”

“And you’re my little sister”

You roll your eyes but he doesn’t give you the chance to convey a sarcastic remark as he pulls you in for another hug, one hand resting on the nape of your neck. Defeated, you nuzzle against his shoulder and let out a shaky breath.

God, how did he manage to always make you cry on him? Endless breakups, failed classes, finished friendships, the unquantifiable amount of sorrow wetting his hoodies, coats and shirts throughout the years weighing on you. And for once, you truly feel little. Young, immature, so inexperienced you don’t have the means to explain the sorrow your heart is getting wrecked by.

I am your little sister, you internally scream as his grip around you tightens. I am so glad I still get to be your little sister.

According to your phone screen, it’s 3am. According to your body, it may as well be the middle of the damn afternoon cause you had failed to get a single ounce of sleep ever since you had excused yourself from what you were dramatic enough to mentally address as the last supper, went to bed and blasted your best punk rock playlist through your headphones.

Turning and tossing and turning some more ended up unnerving you to the point you snorted, kicked your covers away and got up. Which is exactly how you ended up tiptoeing downstairs, letting out a sigh of relief as you finally reached the living room without waking up the two lightest sleepers of the family: Armin and Tequila.

Both the tv and the Christmas tree lights are on, which is both odd and unacceptable, given your phobia of house fires.

“I always tell you not to leave this thing on”, you mumble under your breath, cursing your brother while trying to reach the socket behind the tree without making too much noise.

“You always tell me what?”

With some luck, the ungodly yelp you let out hasn’t reached the three people and the one dog snoring upstairs. Of course you panic, lose your balance and end up on your ass while simultaneously knocking over three to four decorations, a silver angel rolling all the way over to a pair of dark blue socks.

Shocked and panting, you bring a hand to your chest.

“Fuckin’— christ! You scared the shit out of me!”

Eren is trying so hard not to laugh he only manages to infuriate you more as he moves the glass of water to his left hand to offer you the other one.

You get up on your own—not without some difficulty—and shoot him a glare.

“What are you even doing up? It’s the middle of the night! And don’t you know that the cause of one in every four home Christmas tree fires stems from electrical problems? It has been reported by the NFPA!”

He watches as you bend down to pick up each fallen decoration and hang it once again, creases of indignation comically settling on your forehead.

“I’ll turn it off when I go to sleep, I promise. Let me have it just for a little while longer”

The softness in his tone catches you off guard and you suspiciously eye him as he sits on the couch, glass held with both hands, elbows resting on his knees. You hate the way he looks at you, the way he’s been looking at you ever since you had arrived. Like he knows, and finds it so pathetic he’s waiting for your fragile little self to just shatter right in front of him.

“Okay. I just wanted to get some water”, you lie, clearing your throat, “have a good night”, you hope it’s casual, the way you walk away. Or at least, attempt to do so.

“That’s it then?”, he calls after you, voice way too loud that causes you to instantly turn around.

“Keep it down!”, you hiss.

“Make me”

You stare, in utter disbelief. He’s teasing you? No, worse, he’s making fun of you? By what right, exactly?

“What do you want, Eren? I don’t have time for whatever this is”, still, you angrily march back and stand (figuratively) tall in front of his sitting figure. A figure that leaves his glass on the coffee table and gets up, eyes glistening with something you can’t quite pinpoint.

“What do you think this is?”, his voice is low this time, barely audible even, a tone in sharp contrast with his hardening features.

“I don’t know, you sleepwalking, almost starting a fire and then wanting to pick a fight?”, it sounds every bit as ridiculous and childish as you thought it would sound but you’re honestly done giving a shit.

Eren almost, almost bursts out laughing. He thinks you’re exasperating. He thinks you’re so goddamn similar to your brother. He thinks you’re a menace. He thinks he wants to kiss you.

“My God,” he whispers, nonchalantly brushing a strand of hair from your face, cracking a smile as he hears the distinct hitch of breath. “You’re so fucking dense”

“I’m not... I’m not dense”, you breathe out, far too appalled to collect your thoughts.

“You’re as dense as a brick, y/n”

He bends enough for his lips to graze yours, it’s not even a kiss, it’s more of a touch. A brush against. When he pulls back, the hand he was resting on the side of your neck rises up to your cheek, thumb stroking your parted lips.

“Dry as always”, he mutters. And it’s enough for you to take a sudden step back, eyes filling with tears of rage and outrage and humiliation.

“What the fuck? What was that? What do you think you’re doing?”, you snap, hands covering your mouth, eyes wide and shock vibrating throughout your body.

Eren isn’t one to panic, but this time he does. He doesn’t know what to say, equally stunned, scared even.

“I’m not gonna do it”, you frantically shake your head, bitter smile stretching your lips, “I’m not gonna be your little impulsive gesture right before you move across the fucking ocean. I never believed anyone who told me how much of an asshole you are, turns out I was very fucking wrong”

He blinks one time, two times, three times. Then it dawns on him and, once again, he has to suppress an incredulous laugh.

“Impulsive. You think that was impulsive”, words roll off his tongue almost mockingly, which only infuriates you more.

“Do you feel sorry for your best friend’s pathetic little sister? No, you’re looking for a final excitement, one last rush. Of course. Why the fuck else would you do it? God, don’t you feel even the slightest hint of sha—”, venom infused words are abruptly cut off from his thumb, once again on your lips, pressing just a little harder. How did he close the distance between you two so quickly?

“Can you shut up for three whole seconds and let me talk?”, as opposed to the words, his tone is actually gentle. Maybe it’s because, despite the darkness, he has noticed the tears glistening in your eyes.

You comply, too focused on stopping them from rolling down your cheeks in what would result in becoming one of the most humiliating moments in all of recorded history. Well, your history anyway.

Eren sighs while holding your face. He looks upset, perhaps mad, certainly conflicted.

“If you think”, he begins, voice dangerously hoarse, “I would play some sort of fucked up game with you of all people, you’re a goddamn idiot”

You quietly search for any signs of deception in his stare, only to find nothing but genuine concern and overwhelming honesty.

“You’re Armin’s sister. I wouldn’t dream of touching you. I couldn’t even think of—”, he takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes for a moment, “but you just were always fucking there. Always the brightest, funniest, kindest person in every room. With a crush on me, to make matters very fucking worse”

Maybe this was going to become one of the most humiliating moments in all of your recorded history, after all. You try to take a step back again but his grip grows tighter,

“And I enjoyed it, alright? The idea of someone like you, being into someone not nearly as smart nor selfless. If it would’ve been anyone else, I wouldn’t have wasted a second. But having been lucky enough to score both Armin and you in my life and risking to fuck it all up? Not even I am that stupid”

You gently remove his thumb from your lips.

“Why do it now, then? You’re leaving. You’re telling me all this and you’re leaving”, you fail to keep your voice steady and he sighs.

“I can’t do it if you don’t ask me”

“Do what?”

“Stay”

You smile a stunned smile.

“You want me to ask you to stay? Are you fucking kidding me?”

But he isn’t. It’s shocking, how much he isn’t.

“Don’t you understand? I need you to tell me. Put me out of my misery, please, just tell me”

You want to call him a coward so bad. You want to think he’s this pathetic, whiny person who can’t stand up for his feelings, someone that has been hiding behind some unnecessary, ridiculous hesitation. But you know him. You know he’s been looking after you for years, in his own, stupid way. He knew, probably from day one he knew, and has never made you feel lame about it, has never taken advantage of that juvenile adoration. Could you describe someone like that as pathetic? Could you even believe he wanted to kiss you just as much as you’ve been dying to kiss him for what felt like geological eras?

“Eren”, you mumble his name carefully, hands shaky and certainly way too cold to be pleasant rising up to rest on both sides of his neck. You hold him level in your gaze and take a moment to notice how pretty he looks, with green, red and yellow lights brightening his face at regular intervals. “I know you’re technically older than me but I swear if you get on that plane, I’ll kick your ass”, you ignore the flush creeping up your throat and give neither of you the time to even crack a smile as you slot your mouth to his. And if it isn’t the best, most satisfying feeling in the world to have his palms flatten against your back, pressing you firmly against him but still not hard enough, you decide, as your arms wrap around his neck.

If you had enough air left in your lungs, you would probably throw your head back in laughter for the joy of his hesitation disappearing into thin air as the tip of his tongue teases against your own. He drags you with him as he clumsily walks backwards towards the couch, a chuckle escaping your lips at last as you ungracefully straddle him and bump your head against his in the process.

“Should this feel wrong?”, he pants, your hands anticipating his to brush some hair back from his face. The pressure from his fingers on your hips feels blissful.

“Does it?”, you ask, leaning forward to start tracing his neck with soft, explorative kisses that earn a soft groan.

“Not one bit”, he rasps, one of his hands leaving your hip to sneak up under the fabric of the old sweatshirt you usually sleep in, causing goosebumps to blossom on your feverish skin. You smile against the flesh of his neck, gently sucking right where his fluttering pulse resides. Another low groan vibrates against your lips and you feel one hand on your cheek, gently pulling you away just enough for a half-lidded gaze to find yours.

“Behave”, he warns quietly and you have to suppress a chuckle.

“Kiss me?”, the request comes out sheepishly, because that look in his eyes makes you feel vulnerable, wide open in front of him, with nowhere to hide anymore. And as much as you know you’re an adult who’s doing nothing wrong, nothing to be ashamed of because the person underneath you seems to want you just as much as you want him, Eren is still Eren. And you still feel like a kid, a younger, awkward sibling.

But then he turns his head to the side, just enough to take one of your fingers in his mouth and gently suck on it. The simple gesture sends shock waves through your entire body.

“Ask again. Without overthinking”, he mutters before slowly nibbling at your fingertip, the hand under your sweatshirt lightly stroking your skin.

“Kiss me”, you breathe out and his hand rises all the way up to your ribs, the other skillfully closing around your throat to bring you close as his lips press softly to yours. His kiss is sweet and yet deep, needy. He kisses you until his lungs start burning from the lack of oxygen, but even as he takes a second to catch his breath he refuses to let you go, your laboured exhales burning on his lips, glossy with spit.

“You’re not gonna leave, are you?”, the question comes out in a whisper and Eren lets out an airy chuckle, forehead suddenly resting on your collarbone as he tries his best to be quiet. Cause there he was, struggling to keep himself from devouring you on the same couch where he had watched a Christmas movie with your family just hours prior, and there you were, still asking dumb questions. He wants to wonder how oblivious a person can truly be but would it make sense, honestly? With Armin being his best friend? He’s had plenty of experience already with unawareness and guillibility, it’s just his luck that he now has to double it.

So Eren sighs, pushing back some hair from your face, marveling at how much he misses your lips on his already.

“I wouldn’t want to get my ass kicked”

[kana7o]

Sketch comm for J! What just washed up on the beach 😳

[eddiesxangel]

Fuckboy!Eddie texting you “come over” at one in the morning.

Replying to fuckboy!eddie “no you come over” because you’re a lady

[floralparadise]

─•~❉𖥸❉~•─

Which type of love interest would you be in a dating simulator?

The sarcastic fuckboy who secretly has a heart of gold

Upon first meeting, you might seem insufferable, but it's only because you don't have time for what others might think of you.

You're independent and confident, and you know what you want. That intimidates people, and you know it. But deep down you know it's all a show. You desire to be loved as much as any other person, but you don't want to get hurt and thus it's difficult for you to appear vulnerable to others.

You'll try to mask your feelings with humor and aggressiveness when you feel someone might be getting too close to home. But those who have the patience to endure your cold exterior will be rewarded with the most caring and loyal person in their lives. You're the ride-or-die kind of type, and once you fall in love, you do it deeply and unconditionally.

Tagged by @sunhated ,

Tagging @flxshy , @fallesto , @daedapix , @kiyokatokito , ||Only tagging a few I've interacted with, don't feel like you have to do it though. Anyone else who wants to do it go ahead I'd love to see your results!!||

[hydrachea]

Everybody say thank you Takasugi for always threatening the game's rating with your very presence!

[lovelyrockstar]

oh my fucking god

[testure-1988]