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rinsaint · 10 months

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Webs of Fate - Miguel O'Hara (Part II)

Sequel to Web of Secrets

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 5.2K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut, time jumps, not really comic accurate (canon events), semi public piv, 18+

Part I Part II Part III (coming soon)

You are all back at the Spider-Verse Headquarters and the atmosphere is tense. Everyone is still high on adrenaline from the mission. You’re nursing a deep gash on your arm but your spirit is far from broken.

Miguel, however, seems to be on the verge of an explosion.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT OUT THERE SPIDER SUN?” he bursts out, his voice echoing through the HQ.

You're taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“That reckless behavior! You could have been killed!” he roars. “Why didn’t you retreat when you were injured?!”

“Because there were lives at stake! I can handle myself, Miguel!” you shout back.

“You think this is a game?! You think being part of this team is just for kicks?” Miguel’s face is red, his voice strained.

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare question my dedication!” you yell, your own anger now matching his.

The team is watching, shifting uncomfortably. Gwen looks at Jess, who shakes her head. The room is thick with tension.

Alright, if you are being honest with yourself, your recent actions in the field could definitely be classified as reckless. Perhaps even bordering on idiotic - not that you’d ever confess that in front of Miguel. You didn’t know where your mind went. Wait, no, scratch that. You knew precisely where your thoughts were, every mission since you discovered your pregnancy has been like this; your spider senses dulled, focus scattered to the wind, and reflexes that would’ve made a sloth proud.

And then there was this mission – your first one in quite a while alongside Miguel. He was bound to notice.

So you were fighting an Electro variant from an alternate universe, alongside Jess, Gwen, Ben and Miguel. The electric villain was throwing bolts of energy left and right and everyone was giving their all. You noticed a civilian trapped under some debris. You made a beeline for them, not thinking about anything else.

As you lifted the debris, an energy bolt flew straight for you. Usually, your Spider-Senses would have alerted you but not today. It hit you square in the back and sent you flying.

You hit a wall but ignored the pain as you scrambled back to your feet. A sharp ache spread across your arm but you gritted your teeth and kept fighting.

Miguel yelled, “What the hell are you doing?! Fall back!”

But you didn’t, you kept pushing forward.

He landed next to you, his eyes filled with anger and something else, maybe a hint of worry. He grabbed your waist to pull you back. But as another energy bolt was coming your way, you shoved him out of the path, taking the hit for the second time. So yeah, you could say that this mission wasn't exactly the shining star in your superhero career.

“ESTÚPIDA! So damn stupid. I won’t fucking watch someone throw their life away recklessly!” Miguel was now yelling loudly in oyur face for everyone in the HQ to hear.

“Oh, please. What’s it to you? Since when do you care, Miguel?!” you shout back, finally having enough of his insufferable attitude. “All this time, you’ve treated me like I’m dispensable. Like I don't matter! Well, guess what? I can fight, I can make decisions, and I don’t need you to approve them!”

“Don’t!” Miguel's voice cracks, and for a brief second, there’s a look of hurt on his face that surprises you. But his rage quickly replaces it. “I cannot do this anymore with you, ¿me entiendes?” he yells.

The room falls silent. Everyone’s gazes dart between you and Miguel. You can feel Gwen’s worried eyes on you, and Ben Riley. looks like he wants to intervene, but this moment is too charged.

You take a deep breath, tears welling up. “I can't do this anymore either,” you whisper.

“What?” Miguel's voice is barely audible.

“I can't keep fighting for a team where I’m not respected or trusted. Where you treat me constantly like a liability, like I am worth nothing to you,” you say, your voice steadier now.

“You don’t know what you are saying,” Miguel says, his tone slightly softening.

You turn around, your eyes welling up once again and open a portal to your universe. “I do, I quit” you say, your voice breaking.

You reach into your pocket and pull out your transdimensional gizmo, the small device that every Spider-person uses to travel across the multiverse. It's an intricate piece of technology, a blend of science and magic that fits in the palm of your hand.

You toss the device on the table in front of Miguel. It skids across the surface before coming to a stop right in front of him. He looks from the gizmo to you, his expression unreadable.

"Take it. We don’t need it anymore." You say defiantly, meeting his gaze.

Everyone knows the implication of you returning the gizmo. Without it, you're effectively stranded in your universe, unable to return to the society. This isn't a decision made lightly, it's a point of no return.

As you step through the portal, you glance back one last time. You see Miguel’s face, contorted in pain, but he doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak and he doesn't stop you.

Your heart is breaking, but you can’t stay here. Not when it’s this painful.

You turn away and head toward the portal room, with one hand lightly grazing your tummy. Gwen calls your name, but you don’t stop.

In the dim light of the room, the world seems to fade away as you lie there with Miguel on top of you. You are under him, breathless, your fingers running through his hair. His body pins you down in a tender, electrifying way, and you can feel the rhythm of his heart beating against yours.

His fangs graze the curve of your neck lightly, eliciting a shiver that runs through you. In response, he nuzzles into you, his breath warm against your skin.

"Ever think about what we're doing?" he asks in a whisper that vibrates against your neck.

"Constantly," you respond, your fingers tracing the curve of his broad shoulders, "but I don’t regret it, not a moment.”

He lifts his head, his red orbs searching yours. “Neither do I,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. His hand reaches up to trace the contour of your face.

"You know," you whisper, your hands continuing caressing his back, "I always wondered what it was like in your universe, in your time."

He shifts a little, propping himself up on one elbow as he looks down at you. His eyes, usually as unreadable, now seem to crack open; emotions swirl within them like stars.

"It was great, you know," his voice is gentle, each word enveloping you. "No, more than that – it was perfect," he corrects himself. His eyes never leave yours as he continues, "I had my Gabriella. Ah, you would have adored her." His voice softens to a mere whisper as if speaking her name too loudly might shatter the memory. "She was this incredible burst of life just like you. My own little sunshine. I didn’t know my heart could hold so much until she came into my life."

"The way she would throw her head back and laugh, it was like music. Her tiny hands – so soft and gentle. I remember how one of them always found mine, and the world felt... right." He continued, "I was never alone, never empty." He swallows hard, as if trying to keep the flood of emotions from washing over him.

You cup his cheek gently, smiling up at him. "You don't have to be alone, you know?"

He lets out a dry chuckle. “Sometimes it feels like there's no other option. It’s my fate."

“What scares you the most, Miguel?” you suddenly ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitates. “To lose myself… to forget what it means to care for someone,” he finally confesses.

“You won’t,” you assure him, your thumb stroking his cheek. “Not if you don’t let yourself.”

“¿y tú?” His voice is husky. “What’s your biggest fear?”

“To be forgotten,” you whisper.

He lowers himself and presses his forehead against yours. “Imposible,” he breathes. “You’re the sun. No one forgets the sun.” He pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer until the world outside disappears.

Suddenly, his wrist console beeps, yanking him back to the present. "O’Hara, are you okay?" Lyla's voice echoes in the room, breaking the silence. He blinks, his gaze focusing on the holographic screen displaying the mission details in front of him. "Yeah, Lyla," he responds, his voice a bit hoarse. "Just remembered something," he murmurs, and refocuses on the screen before him.

Amidst the sea of codes and numbers, Miguel finds himself struggling to focus. His thoughts still are consumed by you, and a heavy realization crashes down upon him like a tidal wave - he’s lost you forever.

He always knew that this was how it was meant to be. This was the only logical conclusion, the inevitable outcome that he had tried so hard to deny. He was aware of the potential repercussions, the cosmic imbalance that could be brought about by your intertwining fates.

Lyla had warned him multiple times, cautioned him against letting you close. But how could he have possibly resisted you? You, who shone brighter than the sun, who captured the hearts of everyone around with your aura and your kind soul. Your beauty was unparalleled, and your laughter had the power to fill a room, casting away shadows. He was a moth drawn to your flame, hopelessly captivated from the very first day he met you.

But you were never meant to be his story, not the path his life was meant to tread. You belonged to another world, another universe.

"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" Lyla breaks the silence with her smooth, computerized voice. “No,” he interrupts her sharply, his voice a little too forceful.

But Lyla isn't easily deterred. "You know it was dangerous from the beginning, Miguel," Lyla continues. "Engaging with her like that...it could have caused irreparable damage to the multiverse."

"I know," he replies curtly.

Unyielding, Lyla continues, "This was never supposed to be a canon event. Her universe is not meant to mix with yours. It's fortunate that she left when she did. The damage could've been—"

“I KNOW!” Miguel suddenly erupts, his voice thundering through the room. He screams, his frustration boiling over, "¡Ya lo sé, Lyla! ¡Basta ya!" ("I already know, Lyla! Enough already!") With a loud grunt, he sweeps his arm across his desk, sending his keyboard, mug, and various other items crashing to the ground.

There is a deafening silence as Miguel breathes heavily, his chest heaving. His eyes are wide, his face is flushed and his fangs are bared. He never loses control, not like this.

Lyla, for once, remains silent.

3 months later…

Back in Nea Yorkey, Earth 586 , you are perched on the rooftop, absentmindedly rubbing your stomach. Time has passed since you left Nueva York and Miguel, but your feelings for him are still a tangled mess. Damn these pesky pregnancy hormones.

For once, it’s pretty calm out there. No honking horns in traffic jams or the usual buzz of people everywhere. It’s like the city hit the pause button and honestly, it’s kind of nice. The streetlights are like tiny fairy lights all over, and the tall buildings around you feel like they’re keeping you company.

The cool breeze brushes against your face, and you can't help but be lost in your thoughts. Thoughts of him. The relentless flood of emotions is almost too much to handle.

The flashback hits you hard, placing you right back in Miguel's office late one evening. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your backside planted firmly on his desk amidst strewn cables and metallic pieces and half-empty coffee mugs.

"Miguel, someone will catch us," you had warned, your breath hitching as he nipped at your skin, his hands deftly moving to undo your skintight suit. His hair was a little longer then, the ends tickling your forehead as he kissed you.

He had just chuckled, the sound deep and throaty, making your heart flutter. "They know better than to disturb me," he'd responded confidently, his lips trailing fiery kisses along your jawline.

Usually, Miguel was cautious about showing any sign of affection when others might be around, even if 'around' meant anywhere in the sprawling headquarters of the Spider Society. Yet, that night, he seemed to throw caution to the wind.

In his enclosed office, late into the evening, he let his guard down - a rarity. His lips were insistent against your skin, his touch setting you alight. You remember how the soft glow of the desk lamp had caught in his eyes, making them appear even more mesmerizing.

As he was holding your ass up steady and pounding into you, in a pace and fervor you never experienced before, you hear his communicator ring vibrating. You instinctively attempt to pull away, assuming he would answer the call, but he holds you tighter, his lips never leaving your skin.

His free hand pulls up a holographic screen,which flickered to life above the desk, revealing a slightly pixelated image of Jess. You panic for a moment, worried that she might see you in this intimate moment with Miguel, but he just shook his head slightly, reassuring you that she can't. He must have filtered the video feed on his end.

“Yes, Jess?” Miguel’s voice was steady, but his breath ghosted your neck in short spurts. He continued with his action, his thrusts a little slower but deep, nevertheless. You clamp your teeth down onto Miguel's shoulder in a desperate attempt to stifle the moans escaping your throat, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. You can barely contain yourself. Miguel's soft, amused chuckle vibrate through you as he wraps his arms around you protectively. Asshole.

“We’ve got an anomaly on Earth-4067, seems like a temporal rift,” Jess's voice came through the hologram.

“Have you tried the Q-particle stabilizer?” Miguel asks, his voice so casual it's almost disarming. His eyes meet yours, a playful glint in them.

“Yeah, but it didn’t work. The rift is actually growing,” Jess responds, the worry in her voice increasing. “What do you think we should do?”

“Alright, I want you to reconfigure the dimensional frequency to match the rift. Then patch the satellite feed through the Alchemax algorithm, reverse the temporal frequency by 4.7 hertz and use the resonance pulse to stabilize the rift,” Miguel articulates with authority as he continues to pick up his pace. You’re close to the edge, with the euphoria threatening to make you cry out. The sheer pleasure is now tinged with a faint edge of pain, and a wave of panic crashes over you. The thought of Jess possibly hearing you is nerve-wracking, and you’re now fighting to suppress your screams.

Your breathing becomes erratic as you whisper in a hoarse, needy voice, “Miguel, ‘m close."

"I know, mami. Come for me," he whispers back, his voice filled with a playful mischief that seems to defy the gravity of the situation. His hot breath against your ear sends shivers down your spine and the wave of pleasure crushes down on you.

“Miguel, are you sure about this? I mean, if something goes wrong…” Jess hesitates.

“I’m sure, Jess.” Thrust. “Do.” Another hard thrust. “it.” Miguel’s voice turns forceful.

“Okay, I trust you. But... are you alright? You sound kinda breathless,” Jess's suspicion returns.

“Oh, just...uh...running some diagnostics. It’s a bit stuffy in here,” Miguel replies with a smirk on his face, his fingers now gently brushing against your bare heated skin.

The rooftop is silent again, and you're still rubbing your belly, where the life you and Miguel created is growing. A bittersweet tear rolls down your cheek as you wish, not for the first time, that things could have been different.

You don’t know how long you are sitting there, taking in the city scene. But it was getting dark, when a familiar figure swings onto the rooftop. It's Gwen, carrying a small package in her hand. “Gwen? What brings you to Nea Yorkey?”

She walks up to you with a soft smile, "Do I need a reason to visit my favourite Spider-Ma? I've got something for you."

You raise an eyebrow as she hands you the package. As you unwrap it, you find a tiny Spider-Man hat, similar to the one Mayday usually wears. And to your surprise, there’s a tiny anarchy pin, attached to it.

"From the group," she says softly. She adds, pointing at the pin, "This bit here, that’s from Hobie." Of course it is.

You’re moved to tears as you hug the hat close. It's a simple gift, yet it means so much. You feel a lump in your throat, and Gwen steps forward, wrapping you in a warm, comforting hug.

"I...I miss all of you so much," you manage to whisper, your voice choked with emotion.

"We miss you too," Gwen replies, her voice equally soft.

You pull back, wiping your eyes. Gwen tries to lighten the mood, "So, any guesses on the gender? I bet it’s a boy."

You shrug, a small smile tugging at your lips, "I don't care what it's going to be. I just want them to be healthy."

Gwen grins, "Just remember, if it is a boy and he turns out to be a handful, you owe me a soda."

You both sit on the edge of the rooftop in a comfortable silence, legs swinging over the city, the conversation turns more serious.

"So," you venture, "how are things back at the Spider Society?"

Gwen’s expression turns contemplative. "It's been... strange since you left," she admits.

"Strange how?" you prod.

"Well, you know how Miguel was always a little on the, uh, grumpy side?" she says, making a grimace.

"You mean being a brooding fortress of doom and gloom?" you quip, and Gwen chuckles.

"Yeah, that. Well, he's gotten worse since you left. Like, way worse," Gwen's face turns somber as she continues. "He’s even more closed off than before. His temper’s shorter, he barely communicates, and he's been pushing everyone away. Miguel’s basically got everyone on lockdown. No unauthorized visits between universes. There’s this... I don’t know... this cloud hanging over him, you know?”

Your heart tightens as you take in her words. You had no idea that your departure had such an impact on him, or anyone for that matter.

“He doesn’t talk about it, but I think he misses you,” Gwen adds, looking directly into your eyes.

You are torn. Part of you wants to be angry at Miguel for how things went down, but another part aches for him.

Gwen nudges you. "Maybe he needs his sunshine back," she says with a gentle smile.

You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of Gwen’s words sinking in. “Don’t be silly. I was never his sunshine.”

4 months later…

Beneath the pale glow of hospital lights, pain and joy mingle in the delivery room. The grip you have on the sheets gets tighter as you push to usher your baby into the world. Your hair is sticking to your forehead, your breath comes in heaving gasps, exhaustion painting dark circles under your eyes.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, a portal flickers to life outside your window, and Gwen, Peter B., and Hobie emerge.

“Make way! The party has arrived!” Peter B. exclaims loudly.

“I don’t believe in parties.” Hobie says as he struts in, clad in his Spider suit with a leather jacket over it, pins and patches proudly displayed.

Gwen knocks at your door. The midwife, busy with you in the labor, answers.

“Uh, who are you?” the midwife asks, slightly agitated.

“We’re friends of hers,” Peter gestures towards you, “is it a good time?”

You hear their voices, but you cant muster up a response all you can do is scream and push.

“Blimey, I didn’t think it’d be like somethin’ outta Alien! You alright there, love?” Hobie’s eyes go wide, as he enters the room.

You can't help but laugh through the pain, "Oh, just peachy, thanks for asking."

Gwen steps forward, immediately grabbing your hand, her voice soothing, “Hey, you’re doing great. Is there anything we can do?”

“You could get Hobie out of here,” you jest, rolling your eyes, but your smile betrays your appreciation. Another loud scream follows.

“You got this, luv!” Hobie shouts. “Just imagine the bloody contractions as guitar riffs! You’re about to release the raddest album in history!”

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you hear the cries of your newborn baby.

“Congratulations, it's a boy!” the nurse announces, handing the baby to to you.

You can’t help but laugh. Gwen steps closer to the bed and takes a peek at the baby. Her eyes light up. “Told you, it’s a boy. He’s absolutely beautiful,” she whispers.

Hobie chimes in. “Alright, let’s get a proper look at the little bloke!” He leans in, and his face softens. "Oh, look at 'im!" Hobie exclaims in his thick British accent, peering at him. "Little blighter's a spitting image of 'is mum, ain't he?” No. You see it then, the dark eyes with a hint of red glow echo the intensity of his father's gaze, the dark chocolate hair and the sun kissed complexion. He looked undeniably just like Miguel. You cant help yourself but fall immediately in love with your and Miguel’s little boy.

As they prepare to leave, Gwen, Peter B., and Hobie each take turns holding Gabriel and whispering well-wishes to him.

“I can’t thank you guys enough for being here,” you say, wiping away a tear.

Peter’s mask is off and he’s beaming. "We couldn't miss this for the multiverse!"

Gwen follows suit, "Yeah! Plus, Hobie wouldn't let us hear the end of it if we didn’t."

“We’re family,” Peter says firmly. “Across universes and timelines. We’re always here for each other.”

With that, the trio put on their masks and with another whoosh, they're gone.

1 year later...

One year has passed like a whirlwind. You've established a balance in your life. By day, you are a doting mother, and your world revolves around a little ball of energy named Gabriel. His laugh is the music that fuels your day, and his tiny hands holding yours make everything seem alright.

At night, though, you become someone else. Clad in a white suit adorned with golden sun patterns, you swing through the skyscrapers of Nea Yorkey as the Sun Spider. Your heart swells with pride, knowing that you’re keeping the streets and your little boy safe.

Your neighbor, Melissa, sometimes babysits Gabriel. She is a cheerful, quirky 16-year-old neighbor who dreams of becoming an Instagram influencer. You trust her (her career choice not so much) and, most importantly, Gabriel adores her.

Up until today, you believed that he hadn't inherited any powers. However, today was the first time he climbed up a wall and spun a web, without the aid of a web-slinger. It was the first time you witnessed him display such powers, and naturally, you were impressed. However, you also realized that being a mom would now involve dealing with a whole new set of challenges and responsibilities, making everyday life more exhausting than before. But you are up for the challenge;

Meanwhile, in the Spider Society’s HQ in Nueva York, Lyla’s holographic screen blinks red as she detects an anomaly in Earth 586 - your universe. She reports it to Miguel, who is still his grumpy self, seemingly even more irritable with each day passing.

“There’s a presence in Earth 586 that does not belong,” Lyla reports in her emotionless tone.

Miguel, sitting at his desk, sighs deeply. “Assemble the team. Pavitr, Lego Spider-Man, and... let’s bring in the newbie, Miles.”

Minutes later, the trio is briefed about the anomaly – a two-year-old child. They are to extract the child and bring it back.

Back in your universe, you're facing off against a notorious villain – The Shocker, who is on a rampage downtown. His high-frequency shock waves shake the very foundations of the buildings around you.

“Not tonight, Shocker,” you quip as you dodge a blast. “I’ve got a bedtime story to read!”

You're agile and sharp, but you can’t wait to get back home to Gabriel.

In your apartment, Melissa is on the couch, engrossed in her phone. She doesn't notice Pavitr slyly slipping into Gabriel's room. He can’t help but feel conflicted, seeing the innocent child asleep.

“This is the target?” Pavitr speaks in a hushed tone into his communicator. His voice is laced with doubt.

“Yes, proceed,” responds Miguel firmly.

Pavitr gently picks up Gabriel, cradling him in his arms. “Sorry, little guy,” he whispers and slips out.

Outside, they gather near the portal. Miles, who is visibly excited to be on his first mission, can sense the tension among the group.

“That was… too easy,” Pavitr murmurs, still holding the sleeping child.

Through the swirling portal, they make their way back to Nueva York.

Meanwhile, you web up The Shocker and leave him hanging for the police.

Back in the Spider Society's HQ in Nueva York, the team stands in a specialized containment room with the toddler still peacefully sleeping nestled in a makeshift bed of spider-web, completely oblivious to the attention he's attracting. One by one, members of the Spider Society trickle into the room, drawn by curiosity and concern.

Miles, who is new to the Spider Society, looks at the child with confusion. "I don't get it, what's so dangerous about a kid?" he asks.

Pavitr looks conflicted, “We have to determine where he came from and why he is considered an anomaly.”

Lego Spider-Man remains silent, trying to analyze the situation. He finally speaks up. "We should be cautious. Just because it's a child doesn't mean it's not potentially hazardous to the multiverse."

Miguel enters the room, his face cold and emotionless. He glances at the sleeping child, then at his team. “It doesn’t matter what it is. Anomalies threaten the balance of the multiverse. Every anomaly has to be returned to its home universe. That’s the rule.” he says sternly.

"But he's not an anomaly, boss," Jess adds, gazing fondly at the child. "He's a little boy."

Miguel’s gaze is unwavering, ignoring Jess. “Lyla? Whats the status?”

Lyla's holographic form flickers into the room. "This entity possesses unknown powers," she declares, her voice ringing out with clinical detachment. "And according to my scans, it doesn't belong to any known universe. Therefore, it cannot be returned. It must be... eliminated."

Miles' eyes widen. “Wait, you mean…?” he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

Pavitr steps forward, his fists clenched. “We can’t just... There must be another way.”

Back in your universe, you swing closer to your apartment, but your spider-sense starts are tingling with a ferocity you’ve never experienced before. Your heart races, and you quicken your pace. Bursting through the window, you find Melissa still sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

"Where is he? Where’s Gabriel?!" you shout, panic straining your voice.

Melissa's eyes go wide as she looks up from her phone. "What? He's in his room, sleeping," she says, but her voice falters when she sees the terror on your face.

You rush into Gabriel's room and find the crib empty. Your knees buckle, and a guttural scream escapes your lips. The room spins as you run back to the living room, grabbing Melissa by the shoulders.

"Did anyone come in? Did you see anything?!" you practically scream at her.

“I... I didn’t see anyone. I swear!” Melissa's voice shakes.

Your heart feels like it's tearing apart. You look around the room, desperate for any clue. You need to find your son, and something deep within you tells you that the Spider Society is where you need to go. You have to find a way to travel through the multiverse without a gizmo and the time is ticking. You have to find your son.

Back in the HQ in the midst of the tension-filled room, Gwen stands up, "Miguel, you can't be serious," she pleads, disbelief resonating in her voice. "We can't just... kill a baby.”

Miguel's eyes narrow. "Sometimes tough decisions have to be made for the greater good.”

Just then, little Gabriel wakes up. His big eyes wander curiously around the room, and he starts to make happy babbling sounds. Unfazed by his surroundings, he looks at each of the Spider-People with fascination.

As Peter B. is about to reach down to pick Gabriel up, the toddler crawls quickly over to Miguel. His little face lights up with the purest of smiles and he reaches his tiny arms towards Miguel as if trying to give him a hug.

The room seems to collectively hold its breath. Even Miguel seems taken aback.

Pavitr can't help it, “He seems to have taken a liking to you, boss.”

Gwen smiles, her eyes watering up. “See? Even this innocent soul can sense there’s still good in you.”

Tiny fingers grip at the fabric of Miguel's suit, baby Gabriel coos and giggles as he clambers up the towering figure. Planting tiny baby kisses on any part of Miguel he can reach, the toddler's joyous laughter rings in the silent room. "Vete, Vete." Miguel mutters. And despite Miguel's cold exterior, Gabriel is unphased, drawn to him as though an invisible bond exists between them.

Miguel looks frustrated and uncomfortable with the baby's affection. He awkwardly picks Gabriel up at arm’s length. But the little one is relentless, trying to cuddle into Miguel’s chest.

Annoyed, Miguel places Gabriel into a containment field made of energy beams, to keep him in place. The baby, though restrained, is still reaching out to Miguel with his tiny hands, cooing.

The room goes quiet again, and Gwen speaks, her voice soft.

“Look at him, Miguel. Please. You can’t tell me that this doesn’t affect you in any way.”

Miguel's face is tense, his jaw clenched. His eyes dart between Gwen and Gabriel. All eyes are directed towards Miguel. The room feels like it’s waiting for something to shatter.

“We do what needs to be done, no exceptions.”

a/n: Honestly, I can't begin to express how much your support and kind messages mean to me. I literally started crying when I saw how much love this story received. It means the world to me. Truly, thank you. I'd love to hear your thoughts, and if someone could give me a heads-up on whether the tag list functioned properly, that would be great. Also, apologies for any inconsistencies or logical errors regarding the multiverse or canon theory. I watched the movie but I'm not 100% sure of that's how it works.

Once again, I really do appreciate each and everyone of you. Please, don’t forget to take good care of yourselves and stay hydrated! ILYSM

P.S I still can’t reply to your comment but if I missed your tag or you want to be tagged for Part 3 please comment and I’ll add you.

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rinsaint · 1 year

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Well hello there.

Credit: 444Jaeger instagram

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rinsaint · 1 year

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“You promised you’d never leave me..”

The words were quiet, your cheeks flushed as tears rolled down them, your body wanting nothing but to yield to the man inside of you; your mind wanting nothing but to push him away, to reprimand him, yell at him for leaving you.

Soft lips trailed hurried kisses across your face and down your neck, Eren desperately trying to make up for his fault, to heal the emotional turmoil he inflicted on your heart. “I know, I know,” his voice was heavy with regret, eyebrows knitted as he let his body do the talking, soft thrusts reinforcing the feeling of love despite your obvious anguish.

“You promised me, Ren,” your voice broke, eyes glassy and full of unshed tears, your hands coming up to hold his face, to make him look at you, to look at what he’d done.

“I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry,” Eren choked out, green eyes reflecting yours with his own batch of tears, eyelids squeezing shut as he burrowed into your neck. He continued to rock into you, your bodies entangled into an ironic hold, your broken heart weaving itself back together with every word spoken by him.

Sadness filled the bedroom as you both yielded your most vulnerable emotions, shared sorrow and guilt seeping from your movements. But relief was also present, the fact that you were both safe and back together written by your arms clinging to each other, tear-coated lips twining together in ushered kisses, your legs cradling his hips as he pushed into you, his form completely enveloping your own in a tight, hug-like hold.

Both of your bodies were flushed from exertion, muffled cries turning into heavy breaths. “I love you-” he whispered, leaving a gentle kiss to your forehead, “-I love you. I love you. I love you.” With every word another kiss followed, to your cheeks, your nose, and finally your mouth.

His tan skin glowed in the setting sunlight, the bed sheets strewn about, your bodies entangled in a loving lock, hushed words of reassurance flowing from his mouth as he replaced your sadness with pleasure, love etched in everything that he did, whether it be leaving kisses along your breasts, hands cradling your head, or hips connecting with your own.

The past didn’t matter now that he was in your arms again, every broken part of you healing with him, his existence being the only thing that ever made you feel whole in the first place.

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rinsaint · 1 year

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𝑰𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔: 𝒀𝒖𝒖𝒋𝒊 𝑰𝒕𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒊 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

word-count: 2.2k

summary: yuuji finally gets a chance to tell you how he feels.

warnings: language, insecurities, emotionally-abusive partner. gets a lil ~spicy~ but nothing explicit. yuuji being a protective cinnamon roll.

Considering he’s a pretty positive guy, it says a lot that Yuuji can’t stand your boyfriend. The first time he met him, just the way he had his arm thrown across your shoulders made your friend sick to his stomach. He felt slimy after shaking the asshole’s hand, having to stave off the urge to wipe his palm on his pants.

At first, it was stuff he could brush off…underhanded comments your boyfriend would make that Yuuji would simply roll his eyes at and mumble a smart comment about. “Small” things according to you, like canceling plans just as you finished getting ready to leave. It didn’t seem like such a “small” thing to Yuuji though, who kept you company for the hour and a half you were getting ready—Who wanted nothing more than to crawl through his phone screen and wipe the disappointed pout off of your face, show you just how pretty he thinks you look.

Yuuji didn’t know if he could take watching the reject apologize again and again, and for you to go back to him every single time.

Yuuji doesn’t deserve you. He knows that. But fuck it if fucking Daiki does either. He’s shown time and time again that you aren’t his top priority, while you’re firmly positioned at the top of Yuuji’s list no matter what world-ending situation you find yourselves in. He texts you when he’s going past the grocery store to ask if you need him to bring anything back, and always buys you your favorite snack when you insist you don’t need anything. His favorite thing to do on a Friday night is to drive through the countryside with you, windows down and music blasting out into the night. He’s the one who calls to make sure you’re safe at home after a weekend outing.

So when you call him at two in the morning, sobbing through the speaker that your friend sent you a video of your boyfriend grinding on someone in some downtown club, Yuuji’s at your place in less than fifteen minutes.

Keep reading

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rinsaint · 1 year

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a/n: I started writing this on Jean’s birthday but obviously didn’t finish it in time hehe. anyways here it is, happy belated birthday jean boy!!

[ snk/aot masterlist ]

pairing: jean kirstein x fem!reader warnings: none word count: 0.8k

summary: “Jean walks you back home after your first date.”

The one constant across the world was sunsets.

Whether it be inside the walls or on the other side of the sea, on clear days such as this one, the dying rays painted the sky in the same hypnotizing palette, and you and Jean had the chance to bask under it as he walked you back home.

The silence was comfortable and felt fitting after an entire day of engaging and heartfelt conversation. You saw no need to fill it, but Jean couldn't help but comment, "It's so pretty."

Looking up at him, you meant to agree—the sky was pretty—but his gaze was on you instead of the scenery overhead. The cheeky smile tugging at his mouth at the sight of your widening eyes proved the compliment had indeed been intended for you, and you quickly glanced away.

Still overwhelmed by the burn of his attention on your face even after your surprise had been overcome, you struck up, "That restaurant was very nice. You didn't strike me as the type who liked such fancy places."

"I don't. I just wanted to impress you."

So much for regaining your composure—you cleared your throat. "You didn't have to go that far to impress me. It must've been expensive."

The way his lips twitched to suppress a grin didn't escape you. "It's okay. A friend of ours works there; he treats us well."

"Is it the blonde chef?"

"Niccolo, yes."

"He looks nice."

"He is. He's a Marleyan."

"Oh, well, I guess there are good people everywhere."

"We hope so," Jean sighed, and only a few moments later you were climbing the stairs to your house. "Actually, I meant to tell you earlier, but we're traveling to Marley soon. So with the preparations and all, I might not be able to stop by as much."

Now feeling more like yourself, a dash more confident even, you leaned against the doorframe and unabashedly stared up at him through your lashes. "That's okay. Good luck with your trip. I hope it goes as planned."

Your tone must've snapped something inside of him because, as he awkwardly towered over you, the narrow front step door barely giving him room to stand a few inches away from you, it was now his turn to get all rattled. His cheeks were soon dusted with a light pink, and all he managed was a nod and a muttered, "Thank you."

You couldn't help but chuckle softly. It was simply adorable and most appealing how he could go from being so mischievous to nervous in a matter of minutes.

"What?" he mumbled defensively.

With a shake of your head, you asked, "Isn't there something else you forgot to tell me?"

One of his brows quirked in confusion.

"It's your birthday today."

Shock instantly overtook his traits. "How did you know?"

"The cake Sasha and Connie got you last night was from our bakery."

"Fuck," he quietly cursed as he rubbed the back of his neck, reaping yet another sweet laugh in response. "It's just I didn't want to make our first date about myself. But yeah, that's why Commander Hange agreed to give me the entire day off."

Reaching inside your purse, you handed him a small box. "Happy birthday then."

"You shouldn't have," he whispered, guilty despite the butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

"I wanted to impress you," you countered, watching as he unwrapped his gift. "Thought it'd go nice with your suits."

"It would. Thank you. I'll wear it in Marley," he smiled, carefully folding the tie and putting it away in his pocket.

At the meeting of your gazes, Jean felt all the nervousness flood him again. You, on the other hand, didn't seem to be all that bothered, eyes shining with unfamiliar anticipation as you pressed your back against the door and sank your teeth in your lower lip.

Dates etiquette wasn't his forte, nor were ladies in general. His life choices had never allowed him to explore that scope. But what your body language screamed now even the most inexperienced of men could easily read.

Before he could form a coherent reply, however, his mind was thrust into an even bigger mess at the feeling of your hands on his chest and a soft peck on his chin.

"You're so tall," you chuckled, still pressed up against him, palms sliding to his collar. "And this is where you're supposed to kiss me."

A shriek escaped you when his arms winded around your waist, effortlessly lifting you to meet his lips this time in a chaste and mellow kiss. Once on your feet again, you brought him down to you for a proper one. The taste of the coffee you had with dessert greeted your tongue as it swept along his lips and dipped inside. making him all the more intoxicating. His labored breathing and harsh gripping of your hips as he allowed you to guide him through what you could tell was his first kiss made him all the more intoxicating, and reluctantly you pulled away to inquire between pants, "When do you have to get back?"

"Not for another hour."

reblogs and comments are appreciated!

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rinsaint · 1 year

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literally had a dream about demon!osamu (me getting dreams about anime characters?? must be the blue moon or something) and i had to write it down. also tried out a different format this time.

~~~

demon!osamu being captured when he was separated from the group and ended up being imprisoned in the king's dungeon. metal cuffs imbued with a spell seals his demon powers. cuffs around his hands and feet were chained to the wall and there was a metal collar around his neck. the barrier surrounding the king's castle also serves as a way to keep him in and to prevent other demons from rescuing him

demon!osamu wondering where his friends and family were. no doubt his brother, atsumu, would be searching like mad to find him. kita would be holding atsumu back. no point in searching if there were no leads. suna would be scouting the lands for information. then kita would make a plan. he could envision his twin brother's frustration at the fact that he had to wait. just thinking about his family makes osamu's heart ache. he wants to go home.

demon!osamu being in the cold, dark dungeon for months without any contact. compared to before, he doesn't try to pull against the chains in an effort to break out. he hates that he has gotten so weak. he spends his days slumped against the wall and leaning his head against the wall, his wings folded in an awkward position and his curled horns by the side of his head throbbing because they were snapped in half from when he was captured.

demon!osmau seeing you, a servant, in the dungeons, the first person he has seen in months since he was thrown in here. there was fear in your eyes, which makes sense. he was a demon, anyone would be afraid. he watches you with half lidded eyes, seeing the slight tremble in your legs. he wonders why you were down here. no one came here months ago, so why now?

demon!osamu sees the tray in your hands and then the smell of rotten flesh attacks his nostrils. he curls his lips in disgust, turning away. apparently you brought him "food". you must be a new servant. the king probably didn't care if you wanted to bring him food or not, letting you do as you please because the actions of servant didnt concern him. though it was weird that despite your fear, you willingly came down here to give him food. why is that?

demon!osamu turns away from the tray of rotten animal flesh. he may be a demon, but he has standards when it comes to food and he is not willing to eat that. from the corner of his eye he sees you take the tray and leave the dungeon. osamu is back to being alone in the dungeon.

demon!osamu sees you a few days later. he didn't expect you to return, this time with a tray of fresh animal meat. he doesn't get it, why do you willingly come down here? it's not your obligation to feed him. though, he is more receptive of the fresh meat, moving his head forward. you leave the tray in front of his cell and leave. osamu finishes the meat, the first meal he has had in months. hours later you come back to retrieve the tray, no words passed between you two.

demon!osamu and you repeat the same routine. you came by every few days to leave him a tray of fresh meat and come back later to take the tray back. then you started coming everyday to give him food. osamu watches you intently each time, how you keep your head down as if to avoid his gaze, but at the same time he notices how your eyes stray towards him occasionally before darting away.

demon!osamu getting tired of the same meal, the same taste of animal meat on his tongue growing bland. so he stops eating it one day and when you returned to pick up the tray (an empty tray), you're confused to find the slab of meat still on there. you stand there, unsure of what to do.

demon!osamu smells something interesting, his eyes landing on your form. specifically, they hone in on your pocket. you catch his gaze, hands reaching into your pocket and pulling out something wrapped in cloth. unwrapping it, he sees there was two onigiri inside. perhaps it was your snack. you hold out the onigiris to him, silently asking if he wanted them. osamu still says nothing, but his eyes say it all. you leave the onigiris by the metal bars and he reaches over to take them.

demon!osamu takes a bite and is very much pleased with the new flavors hitting his tongue. it was delicious and he much prefers this over animal meat. something simple, but oh so satisfying. the two onigiris were gone instantly and he's already yearning for more. he hears chuckling and he turns to look at you. this was the first time that you've stayed when you brought him food.

demon!osamu sees you smiling and he's stunned. 'you liked it that much?' you ask him, genuine. it was the first words you've spoken. he sees how kind your eyes are, and maybe that's what gets him to talk (and the yummy food you've given him). 'where didya get them?' he asks and you answer,'i made them.' you paused before saying,'i can make more for you.' osamu's rendered speechless, staring at you with wide eyes. again, going out of your way to do things for him, a demon that you don't even know.

demon!osamu waits for you to come down to the dungeon each day, wondering what new onigiri will you bring for him. he's become a taste tester of sorts, trying out new combinations of flavors you made. sometimes you bring him other types of food, changing up the menu so he doesn't get bored and has something to look forward to.

demon!osamu looks forward to see you more than the food you bring as time goes by. he becomes more willing to speak and banter with you and you open yourself up to him as well, staying for longer periods of time with him. he loves hearing you talk about how you made the food for him, envisioning you in the kitchen cooking, cooking for him. you fill his lonely days in the dungeon with warmth, as if you were the sun and you brightened the place.

demon!osamu asks you one day on why you decided to feed him. it was something he always thought about. you were under no obligation to do so, but you did. you reached through the gaps of the metal bars and laid your hand over his and said,'no one deserves to go hungry, 'samu.'

demon!osamu yearning for your presence when you're not here. he's a little sad every time you leave, but he reminds himself that you do more than enough. he shouldn't wish for more than what he already has, but he thinks about it. he's greedy, but he was a demon after all. now you visit him more than once each day whenever you get the chance, talking about things that arent related to food. osamu loves to hear about your day, about your chores and where you go. but then your words end up reminding him about when was free, able to explore and fly through the air. he's reminded of how he's been imprisoned for so long. has his family given up looking for him? no, they wouldn't. he shouldn't think like that. the dull ache throbs in his heart, and he grows quiet, stuck in a faraway place.

demon!osamu thinks about how he would love to carry you in his arms and soar through the air and show you sights you've never seen before. he can show you rare ingredients and cook with you. it was a nice thought, but the rattling chains remind him of where he is.

demon!osamu lets you feed him when he's too weak to do so. there are days when it's too much for him to lift his arms and reach for the food. you're gentle with your actions, placing the food near his lips and placing your hand under his chin to catch any food that may fall. you wipe his lips after, and if he has the energy to tease, he'll lick your fingers. he likes that surprised squeak of yours and that bashful look.

demon!osamu lets you caress his face and touch his broken horns, a true sign of trust. your hands fit through the gaps of the metal bars and you hold his face. he sighs, leaning forward. he releases a frustrated noise when his forehead meets the metal bars ('damn cage,' he grumbles). he watches as you touch his horns, your fingers barely grazing the area where the top half was snapped off. the area was rough, but you're so gentle with him. there was worry in your eyes, and he reassures you that it'll heal in time ('dontcha worry 'bout that'). would heal a lot faster if he wasnt in these chain and out of the barrier though.

demon!osamu is livid when he sees you all roughed up. a deep, guttural growl rumbles from his throat as he attempts to stand, the cuffs harshly rubbing against his skin and the collar around his neck damn near chokes him, but osamu doesn't give a damn. he's seething with anger, demanding,'who did this ta ya?' the demon blood in his veins is singing with vengeance.

demon!osamu is shocked to hear that the reason for your roughened appearance was because of his twin brother, atsumu. he learns that you were searching for ways to disable the barrier and in your trip outside of the king's land and away from the barrier, you were attacked by atsumu because you accidentally stumbled upon osamu's family in the forest. but you quickly explained how you were trying to help free osamu and now you were working together with his family. still, he's going to smack his brother for hurting you.

demon!osamu being so relieved to hear about his family in so long. you tell him how they were doing and how they never gave up looking for ways to free him. especially atsumu. him going on a rampage, not eating or sleeping, sounds exactly like what his dumbass brother would do. but, osamu thinks with a softened smile, he's glad to hear just how hard they were all fighting for him. and of course there was you, looking for a way to free him as well.

demon!osamu hears commotion from above and wonders what's going on. suddenly you stumble into the dungeons, blood running down the side of your head. before he could ask what the hell was going on, you opened his cell with the key you had in your hands and undid the cuffs and collars. the barrier was down, you said.

demon!osamu feels his strength returning to him. the sounds of rapid footsteps alerts him. the king and knights has come to the dungeon. the king is furious, specifically towards you. spewing horrible insults, promising you torture and death.

demon!osamu stands to his full height, standing in front of you protectively. his wings unfolds to its full length. he was a large demon, and the aura he emits is powerful. the knights shake before him in fear. good, they should be. 'i'll make ya pay fer hurtin' them,' osamu vows.

demon!osamu shields you with his wings when the wall next to you is destroyed. his eyes widen when he sees that it was atsumu. his brother has rage filled eyes, glaring at the humans. ' 'm gonna kill all of ya!' atsumu roars, landing next to osamu. his eyes land on you and osamu is quick to push his twin back. 'not them, ya hear? they're with me.' atsumu is confused to say the least, narrowing his eyes. ' 'samu what-' 'focus on what's in front of ya, idiot,' osamu huffs, but really he is glad that his twin is here.

demon!osamu and atsumu's power increases exponentially when they're together. the sight of two powerful demons was enough to have the king and knights running away. osamu turns around, picking you up easily in his arms. he wants to get away from this place. 'ya can have yer fill, 'tsumu,' osamu brushes off his brother who wants to rip the king and knight to shreds. osamu doesn't care for blood right now.

demon!osamu takes off into the air with you in his arms. he feels your arms tighten around his neck (' 'm not gonna drop ya, relax'). it's been so long since he's stretched his wings, felt the wind against his skin, breathed in the air. he takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. he feels your fingertips skim over his neck and he looks down, seeing the pained look in your eyes. a dark red mark was around his neck, reminder of the collar. but it was just a memory now, it was behind him. now, he has you.

demon!osamu asks you if you'll make him more onigiri. you smile up at him and reply with a hearty ,'of course.'

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rinsaint · 1 year

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𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧

bertholdt x fem!reader

MDNI! modern au, college au, cowgirl position, mentions of a breeding kink, fingering, bertholdt is the best boyfriend, no power dynamics but i guess bertholdt is a pleasure/soft dom??? you can read it in that way if you’d like but he just takes care of his girl, that’s all

WC - 2.2k

A/N - my first smut :D can you tell im ovulating LOL also it’s kinda bad :( and unedited :( and not proofread :( so enjoy at ur own risk!

bertholdt is a gentleman - in every way.

never let’s you open up your own door, walks on the outside of the sidewalk, gets you flowers every week, even learned how to arrange flowers just so he can make them prettier for you, walks you to your dorm every night, will even rush to you if he’s not on campus. he has to make sure his girl is safe. they’re simple acts, really.

and those are not the only things he does to let you that you’re loved.

he takes all these pretty photos of you like it’s his god given right, calls you more than just the classic pet names but will call you his flower, his petal, his dove, his song, his love, his life, isn’t afraid to hold you in his arms anymore.

ah yes, bertholdt hoover is a true gentleman, in every way. kind and polite to everyone, is gentle with all the things he holds in his giant hands, treats you like you’re an angel (and you are).

that includes in the bedroom.

the giraffe of a man makes sure to always brings your small hand in his giant one to his lips and gives it a peck before he makes you feel things you’ve never felt before. he holds your naked body close to him and has his mouth on your mouth, creating an aura of your deep love and devotion to each other. He always makes sure you cum first, that you’re always ready before he enters you. He will never go too fast or too hard unless you tell him to. bertholdt prioritizes your pleasure over his, even if that means he doesn’t get to cum, seeing you orgasm is the closest he’s felt to godliness. he lays you down on his pillow, always spends hours loosening you up by having his fingers coax your warmth open, his mouth on your clit gently sucking on it as he feels your pussy getting soaked and your natural smell entering his nostrils. sometimes he holds your hips to his face and just devours you right than and there because he’s so desperate to taste you. will inhale your natural scent like it’s his favorite perfume, and it is.

you’re being too good to him, bertholdt thinks. he has no idea why he deserves the way your cunt hugs him but nonetheless, he owes his life to you.

youre a good girl - telling him earlier how you’ll take his heavy balls with no prep, only with the bottle of glistening lube he witnessed you lathering onto your cunt so you can “feel all of him” you claimed.

“at least let me make you feel good too.” bertholdt pleaded with you.

“no,” you briskly told him as you unbuckled his pants, “you feeling good will make me feel good.”

now here you are, your back glistening with sweat, your knees spread against his hips as you bring yourself up and down on your boyfriends cock, tightening yourself on the head of his long shaft when you bring yourself up, humping yourself foreword when you bring yourself down to feel him hit that certain spot that only he can reach. youre chanting his name as you tighten around him every time the curve of the head of his cock hits your sensitive walls in the most delicious way possible as you try your hardest not to cum, unaware that bertholdt is doing the same.

bertholdt can die like this.

it’s one of the most beautiful views he’s ever seen. beats any starry night, city lights, or any pretty sight.

the warm light from the lamp casts a shadow over you two - you sitting on top of him with your chin angled towards the ceiling and your features contorted in pleasure while bertholdt sits back and admires the beauty of your backside. a frank ocean song is in the background and for the first time, bertholdt can’t recall which one it is.

his head is against the one uncovered pillow he has on the bed his feet hang off of; a heap of hair is matted against his forehead as his body grows more warmer than usual, his left hand caresses your breast, playing with your tit and his right is on your hip, trying so desperately hard to slow down your bouncing. your hands hold his against your body as the only thing on your mind is the need to make bertholdt cum.

bertholdt’s eyelids are starting to feel heavy but he cannot dare to even lose a second of the sight in front of him.

bertholdt witnesses the way your hair falls out of the bun you put it in a few moments earlier and how it paints your back into an art piece that should be in a museum - but even artists cannot capture the way beauty drips from your body. you look back at him, with those pretty eyes and the way they compliment your skin tone, opening those pretty lips and begging him to

“cum inside me!”

bertholdt swears he might go insane.

your thighs burn as you fuck yourself onto your boyfriends cock until you can feel him in your throat, pretty eyes closed in pleasure as you can feel your brain becoming mush when bertholdt halts your hips against his pelvis just so he can bury his cum into your tight cunt.

bertholdt sits up and lays his forehead against the top of your head, trying to find himself in the smell of your sweat and hair products.

“wanna make you cum again!” you eagerly told him as you move your head away from his forehead to look up at him while you can feel his cock softening inside you.

“let’s take a break baby.” bertholdt catches his breath as he lays you against him, the two of you now laying down together.

“didn’t feel you cum.” he mumbles against your ear while he mindlessly traces little inconceivable patterns on your body.

“told you i wanted to make you feel good.” you beamed, swearing you could still feel bertholdt deep inside you.

“not the point,” he gently pulls you off his softening length out of you, groaning when he’s seen a bit of his seed escape. he sat up and sits you on his right leg and widens your legs for you as you hiss at the seemingly cold air you didn’t realize was coming from the fan in his room due to the warmth you and your boyfriend were creating.

“let me take care of you.” bertholdt whispered against your neck, suckling at just one of your many sensitive spots.

you think it’s unfair how’s he’s always pleasuring you but never him. he’s the kindest. too kind for his own good sometimes. you see the way people walk all over him, how people take his kindness for granted, how he’s always at his limit but never goes past it. you just wanted to take care of him.

“but you always do.” you protest against his advances even though you can feel that familiar wetness between your open legs right now. sure you wanted to take care of him, but god his dick fucks you too good - for youre own good.

“and?” bertholdt chuckles. “it’s my duty.” he half-jokingly said, knowing it really is his duty to take care of his girl. he trails his palm on your thighs to your increasing wetness, kissing that sensitive spot on your neck that you just love so much. his hands are bigger than any you’ve ever seen; bertholdt himself is bigger than any person you’ve ever seen. standing over 6’4, your big and broad man is fully dedicated to you and only you.

“bertholdt,” you close your thighs with his hands still in between them and turn yourself to him, closing your arms around his neck. your face is stern as your eyebrows slightly furrow in frustration “don’t you get it? i just want to take care of you the way you take care of me.”

bertholdt pushes open your warm thighs once again, you leaving an arm around his neck to accept the fact that your about to get your shit rearranged just from your dork of a boyfriends fingers. the need to make you cum fulfills bertholdt like his life depends on it. “you already have,” he whispers into your neck as he litters your neck in hickies.

the sound of your slick separating in between your folded lips makes bertholdt groan. “let me take care of you,” he whispers once again against your pretty neck, catching your lips in his, colliding his tongue with yours to taste you.

bertholdt lathers his middle and ring finger in your juices and presses his palm onto your clit, getting a moan out of you. wet with your natural slick and his seed, his fingers create the the same sound it did when you separated your legs. he has his palm giving slight pressure to your clit while his long and thick fingers stretch out your tightness and reach spots in your velvety walls no man ever has. he presses them up against you walls, stimulating all the sensitivities.

you moan into his mouth as he enters his fingers in and out of you with his own calculated routine he created as he took orgasms out of you throughout your whole relationship. he’ll thrust his fingers deep into you to stimulate your sensitivities closer to your cervix and once his fingers come back forward, he thrusts up to stimulate that special spot right behind your clit he knows you love so much all the while giving pressure to your sensitive nub with his palm every time he thrusts his finger back into you and putting pressure onto your abdomen to tie it all together. bertholdt knows all your special spots that make his girls head feel mushy - kisses on the side of your neck, massages your waist when youre on top, holds your hips firmly against his to the point it creates bruises (that he knows how much you love), pressure on your abdomen, tongue wrapping itself around your nipple, the many spots inside your pussy, hell, even on your pinky toe (but he’s the only one allowed to know this) - stimulating all these spots has his girl thinking he pays for it.

you separate your lips from his, a strand of saliva still connecting both of you two as if your guys lips want to stay together. bertholdt brings his big head down to your breast and collides his mouth onto your sensitive and hard nipples, wanting his senses to be filled with you and only you.

“want you to take care of me!” you plead to your big and broad man.

you’re chanting his name as if he’s your god begging for mercy with your legs start to tremble from the increasing speed of his fingers and the way they’re abusing your gummy walls as he fucks his cum back into you while simultaneously increasing your wetness. as with his long fingers increase the sound of your slick + the mixture of bertholdt’s cum and your pleas fill the air, bertholdt can feel your cunt invite both of his fingers. he can feel your clit getting swollen and your pussy getting warmer and warmer as it grips around his finger.

bertholdt takes his mouth off of your breast, a whine coming out of your lips from the loss of contact, “gonna cum? hmm?” bertholdt looks up at you with lidded/dazed out eyes as he can feel himself hardening. you nod at him with teary eyes and pretty whines. maybe you’ll take care of him like you claimed.

“mhmm!” you plead to him, over and over again, as you begin to raise your hips with the increasing, excessive pleasure bertholdt is sacrificing to you. but bertholdt doesn’t allow you to raise your hips to escape the pleasure. instead, he puts his mouth back onto your mouth, missing the taste of your tongue on his, his fingers fucking his special technique into you at a speed that should be illegal, the sound of your gushing, throbbing cunt decorating the room, his palm continuously making your clit throb as your sweet spot radiate your whole entire body. “more! more! more!“ you plead into his lips as he presses deeply against your abdomen, the pressure from your abdomen being your final straw as bertholdt has his pretty girl gushing onto his fingers/forearm.

you cry out in pleasure as you writh into bertholdts side as you can feel your cunt spasming and your legs shaking. bertholdt has his mouth on yours once again, you losing yourself in the way his tongue swallows yours while also simultaneously looking for your mind. you let go once again and whimper once you feel your body calming down. bertholdt holds you impossibly closer to his side as you overcome waves of the mind blowing orgasm bertholdt pulled out of you just from his fingers.

“all good?” bertholdt asked.

“more than good!” you beam at him, tiredness still evident in your voice “you always treat me so good.” you ponder.

“i can still feel you inside me,” you breathlessly tell bertholdt as you lay your head on top of his shoulder blade - still trying to find where your mind went.

bertholdt grows worried “is there something wrong?”

“no!” you reassure him, “i just love when you fill me up.” you gently smile at him, still getting over your orgasm. bertholdt thinks you’re the prettiest like this, well he has this revelation everyday - you’re the prettiest when you’re waking up, you’re the prettiest when you take your morning pee, you’re the prettiest when you poke fun at annie’s sidepart and you’re the prettiest right now, sitting on his lap, your head laying down on his shoulder blade, looking up at him with dazed eyes and a gentle smile on your lips.

bertholdt sighs happily, “come on,” bertholdt picks you up in his arms.

“where are you taking me?” you ask him.

“gonna take a bath together.” he whispers to you, a bit shy even when he just had the same fingers holding onto you inside your pussy.

“awww,” you coo up at your big and broad man giving him that pretty smile he loves so much “you’re a very fine gentleman my love.”

hope you enjoyed! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

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rinsaint · 1 year

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anymore uncle!atsumu thoughts? i love how you write him and osamu bickering like how you did for the recent little story you posted of atsumu hogging his nieces

always happy to talk about uncle!atsumu :)) how about uncle!atsumu being jealous of uncle!suna?

where atsumu heads over to osamu's place to spend some quality time with his adorable baby nieces, but what does he find? suna leaning back against the couch cushions, little angels against his chest and their tiny hands holding fox plushies (a gift from kita). atsumu stares at suna for a solid couple of seconds before pointing an accusing finger at him, as if suna trespassed.

'what are ya doing here?' he asks, his eyes narrowed.

'i was invited, actually, unlike someone who drops in whenever they want,' suna replies, a smug smile on his face that atsumu wanted to smack right off. but he won't, because he doesn't want his nieces to get a bad impression of him.

'well, i have uncle privileges,' atsumu scoffs. 'i can see ma nieces whenever i want. they need their uncle tsumu time.'

'it looks like they're perfectly fine with uncle suna time.' suna nods down at the girls who were giggling and babbling.

atsumu is offended. he is betrayed, flabbergasted, backstabbed, so wounded. this cannot be happening. his nieces won't even look at him. they won't even make grabby hands at him! they were just patting and poking at suna's face, showing toothless smiles at him.

'ya bastard, sunarin!' atsumu cries out. 'ya takin' them away from uncle tsumu time!'

'watch yer fuckin' language.'

osamu makes his presence known, wearing an apron and holding a tray of food. he shoots a glare at atsumu which the blond athlete returns.

'me? yer the one who said fuckin'-'

'i don't understand how (y/n) puts up with the both of you,' suna deadpans, shaking his head before shifting his attention to the two girls in his arms, tilting his head. 'what do you two think? your dad and uncle are headaches, aren't they?' he pokes their cheeks and they laugh.

'shut yer trap,' atsumu huffs, rolling his eyes.

'quit yer whinin', 's annoyin',' osamu dismisses his brother, placing the tray of food down on the coffee table before sitting down on the opposite couch from suna.

'dont ya see, sunarin's hoggin' the girls!' atsumu throws his hand up in the air. he plops down next to his brother, still shooting daggers at suna.

'yer the one to talk,' osamu snorts.

'too loud, don't you think? maybe I should take you back to my apartment, it's a lot quieter,' suna suggests to the twin girls, as if expecting they would respond.

it was meant to be a joke, but osamu doesnt take it lightly. 'dont even think about takin' ma girls.'

suna holds his hand up. 'easy, i'm not seriously taking them.'

suddenly, the girls start squirming in his arms, foxes falling to the ground as they start whining. immediately osamu stands up and reaches over to take his daughters in his arms, shushing them gently. ' 's alright sweetpeas, 'm here now.'

'uncle tsumu is too,' atsumu pouts, earning him a kick from his brother.

they settle down and it was during this time that you dropped by, greeting atsumu and suna before giving osamu a kiss. just to irk his brother, osamu chases your lips again for longer, deeper kiss which causes atsumu to gag from beside him.

'hi there sweeties,' you coo at your daughters, taking them in your arms. 'have fun with your dada and uncles?'

'sunarin was hoggin' them!' atsumu is quick to tell you, as if they were kids tattle telling to their teacher.

'suna barely gets to see them, atsumu,' you say and from the sidelines suna wears a smirk. 'you see them a lot more often.'

'and now...,' you pause to nuzzle your noses against your daughters. 'it's mama time!' your girls cheer, clapping their hands. you walk away towards the bathroom for a nice bath time.

'hey wait a minute, they still didn't have their uncle tsumu time!'

' 'm kickin' ya out.'

'yer heartless!'

#so cuute #my heart

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rinsaint · 1 year

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the prince and the servant | ushijima wakatoshi

pairing: ushijima x fem!reader

genre: fluff, royal au, secret affair.

words: 2.4k

repost!

haikyuu masterlist

When you were thirteen you met Prince Wakatoshi for the first time. You were sent to serve him and the King some tea while they played shogi in the castle garden. Maybe it was the nervousness of serving them alone or maybe it was the good looks of the throne heir that startled you enough to miss the cup and spill the hot liquid on the Prince. You were ready to be yelled at even though apologies fell out of your lips nonstop. Instead, the olive haired gave you a subtle smile and assured you that accidents happen and everything was okay. You did catch the way his cheeks were red while he talked to you, but you figured it was because of the heat spreading from his wet shirt to the rest of his body.

Exchanging glances in the dining room, soft smiles and small jokes. That’s how it all started.

As a servant you didn’t have the courage to initiate a conversation longer than needed with him, he was the heir of the Shiratorizawa Kingdom after all and you were just a plebeian.

When you were fourteen the prince asked his personal maid to give you a letter. You were intrigued by it, and honestly rather afraid of the envelope content. From the way it was given to you, you knew you shouldn’t let any of the other maids see it, so you hid it inside your dress and only opened it in the privacy of your room - which was not private at all since you shared it with your older sister and a few other servants - at night.

You read the handmade words carefully, with the help of a small candle. You had to withhold your surprising gasp when you realized the letter was actually a love letter. It was beautiful, to say the least, not only his handwriting but also his words. It was kind of obvious some adult helped him write it since there were words that were out of the vocabulary of a fourteen-year-old, but it only made your heart flutter with the effort and the feelings put into it.

The next day, you woke up a little earlier and asked your sister to help you write one back. “Who’s the prince charming?” she asked, unbeknownst that it was the prince himself. “Oh, it’s the son of a farmer that sells milk to the castle.” you lied. It was better to keep this secret for yourself, you thought.

You hid the response on the tray of breakfast you were supposed to give to Wakatoshi, under the bigger plate so no one would see it. He couldn’t contain the smile on his face while he was reading it, it wasn’t as sophisticated as the one he sent you, but he could see that his feelings of admiration and interest for you were reciprocated.

The Prince ran to tell his father about it and the King was more than happy to know his son’s crush liked him back, why wouldn’t they anyway? The only issue now was to not let the Queen find out about the two love birds, and King Utsui was more than willing to help them.

When you were fifthteen you found yourself eager for the weekends. Wakatoshi’s mother always went to her homeland on Saturdays and only returned Sunday evening, so not only the castle’s workers had way less work but you could meet with the heir of the throne for longer than usual.

You would sit with him in his father’s office since no one was allowed to enter without the King’s permission. You had many activities planned for your encounters, but your favorite was when he would read for you while you rested your head on his lap, both laid in the big comfortable couch. Sometimes he would brush his fingers through your hair or hold your pinkie with his, the gestures made both of you flustered and your hearts beat fast. It was a simple thing, but it always made your week.

Utsui could hear your giggles from his room - that was connected to his office -, even though the walls are thick. It surprised him how you could always make his son laugh freely. Wakatoshi was collected and stoic while you were cheerful and clumsy, the difference might be shocking but you completed each other. While he was your calmness and you were his turmoil, a getaway from all the responsibilities and boring classes of the heir life.

When you were sixteen he took you to the garden and asked you to be his girlfriend. You obviously accepted, and by the presence of the full moon he took your face with both hands and pressed his lips on yours. It was a simple, gentle kiss, but it was enough to send butterflies to your stomach and make your legs numb.

Wakatoshi had read books about love to you before, and as you reciprocated the kiss you realized that all those pretty words and cliche stories were actually true.

Sneaking out at unholy hours to sleep and cuddle with him and coming back to your room before everyone wakes up, stealing kisses in dark halls, passing love notes to one another, it all seemed like a fantasy.

However, life is not a fairytale.

When you were seventeen, the King died, and with him, the security and faith you had on your relationship. He was your biggest supporter and had embraced you warmly, giving you his blessing on the affair. With him by your sides, you knew that someday you would be able to live the rest of your life with the Prince.

Wakatoshi was devastated, and more than ever, he needed your support and presence to get through such a hard time. It broke your heart to see him trying to hide his tears and puffy eyes, he wanted to look strong, he was the next king in line after all, and with his eighteenth birthday coming up it was only a matter of time before the throne was his.

His mother was always strict and cold, while his father was gentle and welcoming. The lack of affection from the Queen was always replaced by the endless love the monarch had for his son, but now that the latter wasn’t there, Wakatoshi knew everything would change.

You would have to be extra careful since the ruler would keep the Prince close and busy. Your encounters on the weekends became rarer even though seeing you was the only thing that kept him going.

When you were eighteen, reality hit you. Rumors of a princess from a close kingdom coming to visit started to flow throughout the castle, along with a little chit-chat about her becoming the Prince’s wife soon.

Deep down you knew it was all too good to be true, there was no way a no one like you would actually have a future with him. And now that you can’t see him so often, your insecurities only grew.

You found yourself slowly distancing yourself from him, after all, if he was going to leave you to marry a princess, it was better to keep your distance so it wouldn’t hurt as much when it happens.

Wakatoshi didn’t understand why it was so hard for him to talk to you, he needed you more than anything and you weren’t there. He became more impatient every time you said you were busy or didn’t respond to his notes anymore.

Unfortunately, the said princess arrived at the castle, which meant he was also busy, being obligated to spend time with her so he - his mom - could decide either to marry her or not. But just the thought of being in the same room as she made his stomach turn, it didn’t feel right, it seemed as if he was cheating on you.

So, one night he walked out of his room and went to yours, fully aware that both of you might have been caught. Imagine your surprise when you saw him standing by your door in all his seriousness, you could see there was no escape for you at that time. Before you could even protest about him sneaking out so relentlessly, he took your hand and started dragging you through the halls.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He asked once you reached his room.

“I’m not avoiding you, I’m just busy, you are too.”

“We always made time for each other.”

You looked down, embarrassed. He took a few steps closer to you and cupped your cheek with one hand. You couldn’t help but gather tears in your eyes, he held you so gently, as if you could break at any given moment, and you couldn’t find it in you to push him away again.

“What’s wrong, love?”

Love. That’s what you felt for him. It seemed wrong, it felt like you weren’t worthy of it, but you did love him, you always did. That’s why you couldn’t lie to him. When you were together, titles didn’t matter, you were you and he was he, actually, you were his, and he was yours, nothing could truly change that.

Yet, you couldn’t be selfish. You couldn’t, and wouldn’t, ask him to give up on his kingdom to be with you. He was raised to be a king ever since he was born and he loved his country, you just had to get over the fact that you were never meant to last. Life is not like the stories you read growing up, there wasn't an end where the Queen would approve your relationship and let you become his wife. Still, your heart was telling you to be selfish, to fight for what’s yours.

Tears started streaming down your skin, shining in the dark by the light of the moon that came through the window.

“I don’t want you to marry her.” You cried. “But you have to marry a princess and I can’t bear to see you with someone else.”

“What? What makes you think I will marry her? I love you.” He took your face fully in his hands, lifting it so you would face him.

“I love you too. I love you so much it hurts.” You yelped, tugging at his shirt.

“You’re the only one for me. I already told the princess I’m not interested in marrying her.”

“But, you know we can’t be together-”

He shut you up with a deep kiss, and although it felt wrong, forbidden, you kissed him back.

“I’ll find a way.” He assures you. “I don’t care what my mother or anyone says, I’ll make you mine.”

You kissed him again, more passionate and desperate than the previous one. Stumbling in your feet, Wakatoshi led you to his bed, laying you down so gently, so carefully.

“I love you more than anything.” He stated. “I would do anything for you.”

There was nothing more than sincerity in his words, and that night you had hope again. Your insecurities were washed away as he dragged his lips along your skin, mumbling more ‘I love you’s through the night.

Your heartbeat so fast you thought it would jump out of your chest. Those three words weren’t enough, even actions weren’t enough to describe what you felt for each other.

There was love and admiration stamped in the way he touched you softly, the way he kissed you, the way he held you tight against his chest. There was devotion in every move, every sound. Maybe it wasn’t enough, but just by the way you looked deep into each other’s eyes, you knew that everything you felt was reciprocated.

When you were nineteen, the Queen was impatient. Wakatoshi declined every princess and royalty member his mother invited to meet him. It was past the time he became the King, yet, she didn’t want him to take over the throne without a wife.

He was prepared for this day, you, on the other hand, were almost shaking in fear. It was certain she would throw a tantrum when she found out her precious son was having an affair with a servant, you knew that from the beginning, but you still feared her.

“Mother, I already know who I am going to marry.” She sighed in relief.

“Oh, finally! It’s Inarizaki’s Princess, right? She is lovely.”

He cleared his throat and took one glance at you, who stood in the corner of the room as always. He was nervous, but being in your presence always made him calmer, you were his safe place after all.

“She’s not a Princess, Mother. At least not yet.”

“Huh?” The Queen narrowed her eyes, confused.

The Prince extended his hand your way, indicating for you to join him. With your head down, you walked up to him and he intertwined your fingers together, giving your hand a little comforting squeeze.

“This is Y/n, my fiancée.”

The Queen laughed.

“As much as it’s funny, this is not a joke, Wakatoshi.”

“And it isn’t. I’m going to marry Y/n and make her the Queen.” He said with his head high.

The ruler’s smile faded as she understood her son was serious about it.

“She’s a maid.” You flinched slightly as you felt the disgust in her voice. “She’s probably just seducing you so she can get the thr-”

“Don’t you dare talk about Y/n like that.” He said harshly.

No one had ever talked back to the Queen, not even her husband. Her blood boiled as the Prince stood before her stubbornly, unwilling to follow her orders.

“I will not allow you to become King if you marry her.” She said proudly, sure her words would make him change his mind.

You look at him wide-eyed. He loved his Kingdom, he loved the people, he wanted to become King. What you didn’t know was that he wanted to be your husband more than anything.

“Then you better find another man to take the throne.”

Now, at age twenty-four, you wait for your husband to return from the field every evening. You didn’t have the luxury of the castle, but after working various shifts in different places, you managed to buy a small farm.

Wakatoshi comes home tired, but with a big smile plastered on his face. He never regretted abdicating his title or his kingdom. He was more than happy with the modest life you two built.

He loves coming home to you, eating a simple yet delicious meal you prepare for him, then sitting on your porch with you in his lap, reading love stories to your couple of twins while caressing your big baby bump. He wouldn’t trade his family for anything.

likes and reblogs are more than appreciated!

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rinsaint · 1 year

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Once Upon a Time: prince!hq boys x f!reader

my piece for @introloves' ouat collab & my first time writing for haikyuu mwahaha >:)

tried to limit myself to 2 for each team but there's still a dense handful of prince boys i wish i could've written for sighs... but i talk too much!! go read & be wooed by ur prince charming!!

characters: sawamura daichi, kageyama tobio, oikawa tooru, iwaizumi hajime, futakuchi kenji, aone takanobu, ushijima wakatoshi, shirabu kenjiro, kuroo tetsuro, kozume kenma, bokuto koutaro, akaashi keiji, kita shinsuke, miya atsumu

cw: teeth-rottingly sweet love at first sight, fluffy meet cutes, reader is a different role in each, some cursing, mentions of animal death in iwa's, use of pet names "darling," "my joy," and "jewel"

word count: 4.4k this came out way longer than i expected

prince!daichi x princess!reader

the kingdom of karasuno had recently been flourishing under the sawamura family's rule, gaining favor from all across the region

so it was no surprise when your own family received the news that they were to host the year's end-of-season celebration ball; you told yourself it would be like any other, nothing new nor special

but that was before you knew about him

prince daichi swept you off your feet that night, and it was definitely not just the dancing

you tried not to compare him to the dreamy love interests of the romance novels your friends had been lending you, but he easily ticked off all the important boxes

his leadership, his protectiveness, his humility, his dedication... you could only imagine how thankful his parents were to have him as their first son

with the way he always inspired you, always kept you on your toes, could you truly be faulted for falling in love much faster than you'd ever admit?

Despite an easy and comfortable life growing up, you would have never considered the "perfect moment" ever possible.

Until, perhaps, that night.

That night when the entire ballroom fell silent, when the herald called out, "Announcing the arrival of His Royal Highness, Crown Prince of Karasuno, Daichi Sawamura!"

When he appeared at the peak of the lofty staircase, bowing gracefully amidst the clapping, and when his eyes swept over the crowd, somehow choosing to lock onto yours.

Your heart thumped over the music, muffling out the rich notes of the orchestra. The crowd parted to make way, each of the prince's painfully slow steps bringing him closer to you.

Stopping short of your lavish gown to briefly bow, Prince Daichi smiled at you, eager and genuine. "Your Highness," he said, offering his palm, "may I have this dance?"

That was surely your perfect moment.

You swallowed down your lightheadedness and smiled back. "I'd be honored to."

prince!kageyama x lady!reader

at every seasonal gathering for the royal family and the noble houses, prince tobio was only ever present for the banquets, nowhere to be seen for the other activities

according to the gossip, he spent all—and really, all—his time horseback riding, but considering that he kept winning international races, it was likely true

you inevitably decided to investigate and kind of, maybe, just a bit, sneak into the stables to skip the jousting event and instead look for him

sure enough, prince tobio was there, utterly dumbfounded by the fact that a noble lady like you would be there to watch him

like? really?? watch him???

it took a while for him to realize, but your genuine interest in his passion was irreplaceable, and he couldn't imagine training the same way ever again without you to support him

If the deafening creak of the stable doors opening wasn't embarrassing enough, the prince's stare definitely was.

He didn't miss a beat. "What are you doing here, My Lady?"

You struggled to word out a casual response. What were you to say? That you wanted to see him?

"I was curious about horseback riding, Your Highness," was what you decided on, surprisingly close to the truth. "Would it... be okay if I watched you practice?"

You couldn't help but notice how all the horses seemed so accustomed to him. The riding uniform fit him so well, too; not to mention the reigns of a spotted steed that looked so right in his hands.

"You..." Prince Tobio started with a frown, making you wince. This was going to be a no. "You wouldn't get bored?"

Oh?

You shook your head earnestly. "Of course not, Your Highness! I'd love to learn from your work ethic."

"That's... I see," he said, visibly trying to wrap his head around your words. He led his horse out of its stable. "Come on. I'll show you where to sit."

prince!oikawa x witch!reader

long ago, your mother thought it would be fun to curse the newly-born prince, tooru oikawa

it was a cunningly subtle curse, too: he could never succeed at something, no matter how small, unless it was his hundredth time trying

that's why it shocked her many years later to learn of the prince's countless accomplishments

so she sent you, her daughter, into the kingdom to make sure her precious work hadn't gone in vain

but the more time you spent there, the more you warmed up to him

you told yourself that it might have been easier if his face wasn't just so fucking pretty, but you knew it was much more than that

you weren't sure how to explain to your mother that prince tooru had bested her yet again—except this time by stealing her daughter's heart

It had been three days since the prince started to pick up archery. You had been keeping distance around the practice grounds while counting each shot, ready to intervene when—

An arrow struck the target's outermost ring with a thwack.

Shit, had you lost count? The last miss should only have been eighty-seven!

"Ah, so that was the hundredth," Prince Tooru mused, voice carrying throughout the clearing. He turned to stare right at your hiding spot. "Am I right?"

You flinched from behind the thick tree leaves. You were caught, but also... He knew of the condition?

"No need to fear," the prince chirped out again. "I don't bite... even if you may be here for malicious reasons."

What else was there to do? You silently urged your broom to hover down into view, keeping multiple feet between you and him.

Prince Tooru looked you up and down, then smirked. Something as small as that really shouldn't have done things to you. "We can talk later. For now, darling, you're welcome to watch."

He returned to position, knocking a new arrow. "I want you to see exactly how I plan to hit that bullseye."

prince!iwaizumi x huntress!reader

prince hajime of aoba johsai was known for his combat prowess as much as for his royal blood

jousting, sword fighting, dragon taming—you name it, he could do it

but that didn't mean you expected to run into him one day as you were hunting late in the afternoon for fresh dinner meat

who would have thought you were chasing the same deer as the damn prince, right?

that encounter may just have been the luckiest thing to ever happen to you, though, because you're sure the prince didn't just randomly decide to constantly return to your local woods after that

guess who gained a permanent hunting buddy and mentor? and a big fat crush

In the moment it took you to process the spear that was definitely not yours in the deer's abdomen, a man's cloaked figure emerged from the bushes. You gasped.

Even under the gradually setting sun, you recognized that face from portraits of the royal family all around town. With that speed and skill alone, you should have already recognized him as the hero of the stories told in local taverns.

You dropped onto a knee to bow, properly shouldering your bow. "Your Highness."

At this, Prince Hajime noticed your presence. "Oh, fellow hunter. Nightfall is near, I believe you should—" His eyes widened, mouth agape, as you stood up and pulled back your hood.

You raised an eyebrow. "Should...?"

He broke his stare, ears a pinkish color. "Never mind," he muttered, clearing his throat. "Is... is your town nearby? It would be terrible of me to not escort you home."

It was your turn to heat up. "I—I don't think I can accept that, Your Highness."

Prince Hajime chuckled. "I insist." He gestured behind him, almost shyly, to where a horse must have been waiting. "Shall we?"

prince!futakuchi x mermaid!reader

you and your brethren had already met with the royal family, but it was always at their castle for annual celebrations with the land's other magical creatures

so never in a thousand years would you have imagined crossing paths with prince kenji on your beach after visiting a friend in town

and never in a million years would you have imagined that you'd notice him a minute too late, already having stripped down to your underwear and dipped in the water to transform

after the initial embarrassment, you eventually learned that things had been pretty stressful for him, and the beach was the perfect place to get away for a bit

you also just happened to be the kind of company he needed

actually, scrap that, you were the company he wanted; why else would he keep returning at the same time and place?

Just as you were about to swim off home, a bundle of land-dweller clothes in your arms, a long whistle cut through the air. You hurriedly turned to see...

"Prince Kenji, Your Highness!"

He acknowledged your greeting with a nod. The tides lapped at his bare feet a few ways away, pants rolled up to his knees.

Realization knocked you in the face. "How long have you been there?" you asked, heart sinking.

"Long enough," he said nonchalantly, lips curling up just a little.

You flushed head to tail. "Can I help you?" you veered, not wanting to address the other issue. "I doubt you came here merely to sightsee, Your Highness."

He stepped closer to you, wading deeper into the water. "Trust me," he said, eyes not leaving yours, "the eye candy is more than enough help."

In that brisk moment, you wished you could've dissolved into sand.

Prince Kenji laughed, waving a hand. "No, but really..." He looked up, sighing deeply. "Would you mind staying a bit? I... need a stranger's opinion on something."

prince!aone x witch!reader

prince takanobu was used to people taking one look at him and reacting with fear

so when you—who claimed you had nothing to fear because of your magic—were brought into the castle one day to explain a prank you pulled on the villagers (you swear it was harmless), he had to admit that he saw an opportunity

and thank heavens that he found the perfect opening to steal you away, or else that opportunity might've slipped

fortunately, the confidence you instilled in him that first time was enough for him to seek out your little cabin in the woods after that

your easygoing nature allowed him to truly enjoy his time with someone else, even if the jinxes and hexes you talked about were a bit unconventional

"Thanks for saving me, Your Highness." You huffed out a skittish chuckle. "His Majesty's stare almost tore me apart back there."

The prince's lack of a response was odd, though definitely not unwelcome. You'd already guessed this much when he was able to sweep you out of the throne room without as much as a word.

You glanced over to study his stone-set expression. "Do you, uh, go out often, Your Highness?"

Prince Takanobu's surprise lent itself to you rather generously this time. He looked to you, shaking his head; and somehow, you understood all the intricacies and nuances of what that meant.

Your next words were rooted in experience. "It's quite... hard to get people to understand, right?"

This time a nod, albeit with hesitance.

"People are fools, Your Highness," you sighed. "I, for one, think you're wonderful to be around."

To prove your point, you reached into your cloak for a small, crescent-shaped magical relic. You held it out, the prince accepting it in his palm. "Here! It'll help you find me after I'm sent home."

He tightly clutched it in his fist, making you smile.

prince!ushijima x maid!reader

the new maids, guards, and helpers that came in every few weeks was something prince wakatoshi ushijima was more than used to

because if the bustling palace surely reflected anything, it was that the kingdom of shiratorizawa was a handful to govern

he noticed, however, that a certain someone in the newest batch was having more trouble adjusting to the work regime

it wasn't flashy or anything, but he did his best to show you that he cared! and that was enough to help you settle in and open up

but damn shit, once you did, you sure did learn how to pull at his heartstrings, even if it was only through little things like greeting him good morning and bringing him water while he worked

and what else was the prince to do but express his unabashed, unfiltered honesty about wanting to court you?

"Excuse me, Miss?"

You hurried to turn around and bow waist-deep, the prince's unmistakable baritone voice catching you off-guard. "I apologize for loitering around the halls, Your Highness. I'm merely, uh..."

"Lost?" You looked up at his tone. It wasn't condescending in the slightest, only genuinely inquisitive. "You're part of last week's newcomers, correct?"

"Y—yes, Your Highness." Impossible. He had noticed you?

"The breakfast hall for staff is in a separate wing, if that's what you're looking for. I could show you, if you'd like."

Head held low, you mumbled, "I wouldn't want to be a bother..."

"Of course not," Prince Wakatoshi said, a-matter-of-factly. He gestured down the hall. "Shall we go?"

He wasn't smiling or anything, but you felt far from uneasy. Everyone talked about the prince like he was some untouchable, distant force; but his down-to-earth respect for you was like a refreshing splash of water to the face. You wouldn't have had it any other way.

Feeling seen and safe, of course you didn't say no.

prince!shirabu x princess!reader

for most of crown prince kenjiro's life, his family always reminded him that for their small kingdom to flourish, they'd have to make connections with a much stronger one

so by the time he came of age, a betrothal with you—the princess of a more powerful neighboring kingdom—was almost immediately arranged

if anything, he realized that he felt sorry for you, who'd have to deal with his ass from now on

but when you introduced your sweet self, he instantly felt more sorry for himself

there was just something about your work ethic and skill, the way you carried yourself, the way you somehow knew just how to make him smile

how the hell was he gonna keep his sour composure around someone like you?

The moment your betrothed stepped out of his carriage upon arriving at your palace, you could tell he wasn't one for the whole introductions thing. To compensate, you did your best to bridge a conversation after being left alone in the parlor for lunch.

"Honestly, I'm surprised," you laugh a little. "You don't seem like someone who'd agree to something like this, Your Highness."

Prince Kenjiro scowled. You opened your mouth to apologize, but he spoke first—softer than you expected.

"I figured that I could've found a different way to seal the alliance if I tried hard enough. But this—" He gestured between the two of you. "—would bring sure results. I'd be a fool to waste that and throw away a secure opportunity."

You smiled softly. "That's truly respectable of you."

His eyebrows raised just a bit, but he quickly glanced away. "And that's excessive flattery from you, Your Highness."

You stifled a giggle. "Try maintaining eye contact," you said, leaning across the table to gently tilt his cheek your way. "I'd hate to have my fiancé looking like he lacks confidence."

This time, there was no hiding the bright blush on the prince's face.

prince!kuroo x lady!reader

as the daughter of a duke, you had grown up as an acquaintance of prince tetsuro's

but it was still a surprise when your parents told you that the king and queen had wishes to make you his bride

as it was your duty, you had already resigned yourself to commit, but the prince definitely knew how to make things fun while you got to know each other more

your chemistry was electrifying; you were sure your father would have your head if he knew of your behavior

though to be fair, after all the touching hands under the dinner table and lidded looks behind other nobles' backs, you both still got work done at the end of the day

and as a royal power couple, that's what counts, right?

You arrived with your escort to the balcony overlooking the palace gardens, finding Prince Tetsuro already there. He greeted you with a charming grin and customary kiss to the back of your hand.

"I'll admit, Your Highness," you said with a small smile, "I hadn't realized that Their Majesties thought of me in that high of a regard."

"If only you knew." Prince Tetsuro leaned against the railing with a chuckle. "In fact, they believe there is no better woman in the kingdom than His Grace's daughter to meet my expectations."

He sent you a waywards glance, a playful glint in his eyes. "And, well, I'm inclined to agree."

You sidled up next to him, a sudden confidence rushing through your veins.

"But just so you're aware, Your Highness..." You drawled out his title, subtly brushing your fingers against his. "You're not the only one here raised to have certain expectations."

A firm hand to your chin has your face tilted to meet his. "My Lady," he shot right back, feigned shock melting into a smirk, "do you not believe I have the capabilities to fulfill such expectations?"

"Would you like to prove it to me?"

prince!kenma x scribe!reader

it was no secret to anyone in the castle—even to someone like you, who was always cooped up in the library—that the kozume family's only heir to the throne was not very fond of people

he had, what, two friends at most? but even the kuroo and hinata royal families only visited every few moons

it had been like this for years, so you never expected him to show up at your little corner desk one day out of the blue

surprising you both, he came back another day, and then another

he appreciated how you liked to spend time in your own made-up world almost as much as him

sooner or later, your special reading nook became a threat to his favorite spot in the castle; his room had more privacy, yes, but the library had you

"Y—Your Highness?"

The knock on the bookshelf had startled you, but to see Prince Kenma standing a few paces away and a stack of thick books cradled in his arms... quite frankly, wow.

He sighed, pointedly avoiding eye contact. "Yes, miracles of miracles, I'm out of my room." It was completely deadpan. "Hurrah."

You laughed sheepishly, putting down your quill. Did your expression give that much away? "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I ran out of things to read." After heaving his book pile onto another nearby one, the prince turned to you. "Is that manuscript you're transcribing any good?"

"It's—ah, it's actually an original work, Your Highness."

"Oh?" Prince Kenma stepped over, fingers nimbly spinning your parchment for him to read. You got a better look at his face—loose strands of hair framing his features, eyebrows knitted together just in the slightest... honestly, wow.

You ignored your heart pounding. "I could... show you more of it, if you'd like."

He... smiled? Tiny, yet still, a smile. "Sure, go ahead."

prince!bokuto x commoner!reader

the bokuto royal family knew there was no restraining their son, but they also knew that he was capable enough to fend for himself

this made prince koutaro's independent visits to town continuous and commonplace

but the day that he met you in front of the flower stall changed his life forever, and he promised he wasn't just being dramatic

he always so eagerly doted on you, showed you around the palace, and never took the shit about how "odd" it is to love a commoner

and he really was indescribably grateful that you stuck around and dealt with his eccentricity

so in return, he made it a point to be part of your simple life in any way that would make you comfortable! any "lowly" errand, he'd do in a heartbeat just for you

"That'll be—" The florist cut herself off with a gasp, focus drifting behind you. "It's Prince Koutaro!"

You spun around, only now taking note of the crowd that had started to gather. In smack center was indeed the prince, beaming and waving. As amazing as it would be to see him up close, you would rather not get caught in a stampede. Now, if only you could chart a safe route home...

"Hello, Miss! The pretty one in front of the flowers!"

What?

Murmuring, the mass of people shuffled aside. Within seconds, Prince Koutaro stood before you, golden eyes swirling with awe. "You're... woah."

You almost trip over your feet in your rush to bow. Maybe if you did, you would have hit your head hard enough and woken up.

"At ease!" He encouraged you with a hearty grin. "Something tells me I've been waiting for someone just like you."

You tried to ignore the loud ooh's of the crowd and the even louder beating from your chest. "Oh, Your Highness, you flatter me too much—"

Prince Koutaro shook his head fervently. "Of course not! I'm glad to finally meet you, My Joy."

prince!akaashi x fairy!reader

on good days, the crown prince liked to think he was a fairly patient man

and apparently, the royal court thought so too, always asking him to handle the fussier villagers who came to them with concerns

while prince keiji was happy to help, he would still rather spend his time writing and studying poetry by himself

it was after an exhausting, long week of dealing with outrageous complaints that he just wanted to catch a damn break without anyone to bother him

he figured nobody would go to the pond by the edge of the forest just to look for him, and he was right; except he hadn't considered the possibility of someone beating him there

but before getting too disappointed, it dawned on him that you were an actual fairy—cheeky, but also wise and clever and fascinating

so of course, he couldn't complain, especially when your cryptically profound understanding of his situation gave him a reason to come back

A regular visit to your regular spot—that was the plan. Meeting the prince, however, wasn't necessarily a bad change in those plans.

The sound of a horse's whinnies interrupted the mindless threading of your fingers through the water. You looked up just in time to watch a certain figure dismount, satchel overflowing with scrolls and journals.

The prince's eyes widened as they met yours from the other edge of the pond.

You spoke before he could, sitting up a bit straighter to grin crookedly. "Your Highness! Are you here for a break, perhaps?"

Still taken aback, he nodded slowly. "How did you...?"

"I get the feeling." A faraway smile settled on your lips. "So trust me when I say I won't disrupt your peace."

A softened look crossed Prince Keiji's face. "Thank you," was all he said, before the pond officially grew to be a place you both could escape to.

prince!kita x fairy!reader

many things were disputed by the townspeople of inarizaki, but whenever the words "prince shinsuke kita will someday make a wonderfully fine king" were spoken...

well, let's just say you couldn't name anyone who would've disagreed

whenever you were called to court meetings as the official fairy ambassador, you couldn't help but be a stuttering mess under the prince's gaze

you knew the various gifts that his godmothers gave him at birth weren't the only reason he was as amazing as he was, but a part of you still cursed your kin for helping to raise such a damn perfect man

the rest of the noble houses and magical creature ambassadors probably thought that fairies were naturally nervous beings

but by the way the prince always complimented your wings and invited you to walks and dinners after meetings, you were sure he was already onto you

"So, our chef's been testin' new desserts, right?"

You nodded, but hurriedly glanced around the empty hall, ready to bury yourself permanently in your cove if Prince Shinsuke was actually talking to somebody else.

"And I heard that your people love honey," he continued, "so I know you'd be perfect to help taste test 'em." If he noticed your desperate fumbling, he didn't comment.

"As in—you mean—" You breathed shakily. "Is that a... dinner invitation, Your Highness?"

"If you're up to it, then hopefully, yes."

You hated your fluttering wings for giving away your excitement. "I—I'd love to! Can I ask who else will be there?"

"Actually..." The prince glanced out the nearby window before returning to you with a secretive smile. "Would it bother ya if it was just us?"

You lied. "No—uh, not at all, Your Highness!" You knew you'd fare terribly in a one-on-one dinner with him, and that did bother you.

"Wonderful." He winked. "I'll see ya in the dinin' hall at sundown."

prince!atsumu x maid!reader

the royal twins were known for being the most rowdy, rambunctious pair that the miya family had ever seen

but as someone who worked in their castle, you knew that wasn't the whole story! well... for one of them, at least

always appointed to kitchen duty, you very often found yourself working alongside prince osamu, who frequently volunteered to help

over time, it led you to wonder what the hell prince atsumu was up to while his brother was here humbling himself in your scrubby kitchens

you thought maybe the gods had heard you, because the very next day, it was him who showed up to substitute his brother

the banquet that night was not as delicious as it usually was

but after that day, you eventually learned that your sudden reassignment to the residential areas of the castle may have been a stunt on prince atsumu's part to see you more

"Prince Osamu, thank goodness, the pudding—"

"I'm afraid ya got the wrong prince, Miss. Samu's feelin' a tad bit ill today."

You whirled around, almost dropping your ladle at the sight of the blonde head standing at the door.

"You..." you breathed, eyes widening. You swept into a deep bow. "Prince Atsumu, Your Highness."

"Ya know..."

He stepped forward, swiftly bringing the back of your hand to his lips. "My brother hadn't mentioned that his cookin' buddy was such a fine jewel," he said, making you heat up. "Now I'm almost wishin' he caught the jibbers much earlier."

He blinked. "Don't tell 'im, of course."

You laughed. "I think I can do that."

Prince Atsumu eased back into a smile. "Right, so... pudding, eh? Fair warnin', Jewel, I'm more fit to diplomacy than stirrin'."

"No worries, Your Highness." You beamed, handing him a large spoon. "I make quite the fine teacher."

writing so many different kinds of scenarios was exhausting but super fun lol 😭

i love fantasy settings so this was very self-indulgent despite the nobility rabbit hole i accidentally fell into while searching something up,, whoops i guess! LMFAO anyway hope u all enjoyed :3

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rinsaint · 1 year

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What are your thoughts on Suna x reader who wears a purity ring and everyone makes fun of them for it until the walk into class one day and see that they are not wearing and they only get they answer as to why is when Suna asks reader to meet him in the school gyms locker room

suna definitely is the type to make fun of reader for being the innocent christian girl. He would tease and bully you every day just to get a rise out of you. He would never miss up the chance to rile you up and watch you get flustered.

so when your math teacher told you that you would have to tutor suna rintarou, it made you slightly annoyed but nonetheless, you still obliged.

even if you would never admit it, there was some tension between you and suna. His constant flirtatious act towards you made butterflies swarm in your stomach. But you couldn’t do anything about it, your family didn’t want you to be with someone until you got married.

not like you had a chance with him anyways.

or so you thought, you’d never thought you find yourself on your bed as suna rintarou’s hands roamed your body. He squeezed the sides of your hips and you let out a whimper as he starts leaving kisses on your neck.

was this really happening?

You could have ever imagined that something like this was going to happen. Being in a christian family, you had made a purity pact with your mom and dad, the ring on your finger being a proof of that. But suna is too intoxicating, the way he treats you, the way he lets his flirty comments slip pass his mouth, the way he smirks everytime you stutter out a response from his teasing, the way his rings fit on his fingers and how he knowingly knows what to say to fluster you up, is all too much. But you liked it.

You let your head fall back as his fingers starts to rub circles on your clothe clit, “mm i wonder how your family would react if they saw their little angel spreading her legs right now.”

“S-suna-“

“Call me rin, yea?”

You made eye contact with him as his finger pulled your panties aside, teasing your hole, he slips two fingers in slowly, watching as you arch against him. His fingers pumped in and out of you, you gripped the back of his hair as he left noticeable marks on your neck. Suna felt you clench around him and he sped up his pace.

“rin.. i-i think m’close” you whined, you could feel sunas smirk that always has you weak in the knees against your neck.

“well cum for me then pretty.”

your toes curled and your vision was blurred and went white as you blissfully came around rins thick fingers. You gripped onto his fingers and felt his movement when he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, overstimulating you.

“r-rin i cant please.”

“yes you can angel, and you will, give me one more yeah?”

5K notes · View notes

rinsaint · 1 year

Text

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞

bertholdt x fem!reader

modern au, college au, established relationship, slight music nerd bertholdt, bertholdt is above 6’4, reiner ships you and bert so hard (´◡`)

wc - 4.0k

warnings - kissing, overthinking, insecurities abt relationship, kinda bad 😭

a/n - wrote this on a whim when i was on my work break so it’s not the best 🙁 unedited and kinda messy

bertholdt loves it when it's just you two.

having his head cuddled between your plush thighs as you play with his brunette shag you hoped he never cut - watching the princess diaries in a comfortable silence you two shared so often that came with a growing mutual understanding of your budding relationship. he kisses the side of your plush thigh once in awhile when you run your hands over the side of his head in that way you always do when youre positioned like this on nights like these - when reiner is gone slaving away at practice right before the big game and it's just you two showering each other with affection.

that's until reiner comes back to his shared apartment with his best friend of over 5 years.

"reiner!" bertholdt slightly yelled like it was bloody murder. bertholdt quickly stood up, getting his abnormally big head (and big body) away from your thighs trying to act like nothing was happening - which was exactly happening. bertholdt accidentally pulled you off the couch as he frantically got up, a thud coming under you and a sympathetic look coming from bertholdt. sure - bertholdt loves showering you with his affection, but he'll never actually parade it in front of others, including the person who has seen him naked several times.

"what are you doing here?" he stupidly asked like him and reiner haven’t been living together for a whole year now.

"oh you know - coming back to my lovely home after a long day at practice.” reiner explains as he drops his gym bag and take off his sneakers, not acknowledging his best friends awkwardness to make him and you feel better.

it’s been a routine for the past couple of months. he’ll come home, see you and bertholdt cuddling, lost in your own world, and bertholdt being abruptly deported from his own little world with you whenever reiner appears into the living room.

reiner finds it slightly entertaining, not just how embarrassed bertholdt gets but the way bertholdt can easily be this close to you; you’ve created your own world with each other, speaking a language only you and bertholdt can understand. sure bertholdt’s awkward tendencies get in the way of him showing his love for you but reiner can see the way you love each other when he sees you two giggle at the plural form of ball.

and when you scold him for eating peanuts ever since he found out he was allergic to them because during your guys first date, they brought out a bowl of peanuts as an appetizer and apparently peanuts aren’t supposed to hurt your mouth like that (yet he still eats them).

and when he makes CDs for you filled with the static noise he calls music reiner and annie can’t stand yet you somehow like it.

and when you made reiner secretly steal all his pants one by one so you could tailor them to fit into his long legs.

and when bertholdt loves you to the point where he creates and you love him to the point where you can invent.

and when bertholdt gets too lost in his head, and reiner or annie never know what to do, but somehow you’re the only who could find him, and when bertholdt makes sure you don’t ever get lost, ever.

and when reiner comes home, after a long day at football practice, and he catches a quick glimpse into your shared world with bertholdt, speaking your own language, and he sees how he becomes you and you become him in the way you two hold each other. reiner likes this bertholdt, don’t get him wrong, he also likes awkward bertholdt a lot as well but he knows bertholdt is a lot more than an awkward sweaty lanky mess. he’s just happy that bertholdt has someone to be himself around - even his awkward self. and reiner would totally try pushing bertholdt to be more comfortable with holding you in front of others but right now, he smells like wet grass and total ass and he can’t feel his legs; trying to push bertholdt out of his box will have to wait.

apart, scratch that, a good chunk of you finds it insulting. like him being your boy and you being his girl is hell on earth. you know bertholdt loves you. of course he does! you’re his own prayer. but sometimes - he gets up a little too fast whenever reiner comes home, and it makes you do the unthinkable; overthink.

which is exactly what you’re doing right now as bertholdt helps you up the floor and you could feel his once dry palm, which he used to play with the side of your thighs as you played with his hair, now moist do to his nervousness. you sighed under your breath and grabbed your jacket and bag from the front door.

“alright, gonna take this as my sign to leave.” you said avoiding eye contact with bertholdt and reiner while zipping up your jacket.

bertholdt knows you’re annoyed. and he knows you’ll tell him that it’s fine.

“good luck tomorrow reiner!” you yelled as you were making your way out the door.

“wait!” bertholdt ran after you, swiftly putting on his house slippers, “let me walk you out!” bertholdt grabbed the top of the door frame preventing it from slamming, ducked his tall body under the door frame, and gently closed the door making sure he wouldn’t bother reiner.

you waited for him as he jogged a short distance to catch up to you.

“hey,” he greeted you like you weren’t hanging out the whole day.

you know you should say hi back, you always do, but you know what he always does? he always pushes you away when reiner comes home. and it’s not his fault for being so shy, but still, can’t a girl hold her boyfriend in peace?

“are you mad?” bertholdt asked with the worried look on his face he always seemed to have.

“no.” you briskly told him, keeping your eyes forward.

bertholdt sighs as he pushes the button for the elevator to go down. your arms are crossed as you wait for one of the elevators to be available. usually you and bertholdt would talk about everything and nothing - why he hates his philosophy professor, king krule possibly coming to paradis, if you should get those jeans from jaded london, giving him a fake palm reading just to touch his hands, looking at the view from the window in the elevator room and people-watching into the apartment complex across the street - but right now, it’s silent, and not the comfortable kind you two always have but the “please don’t be mad” kind.

“are you sure you’re not mad?” he asks, a little exasperated watching you walk into the elevator while you try to avoid eye contact. he walks in after you, distracted from how worried he is about you, the tall oaf ends up hitting his head on the sill of the elevator.

“Ow!” he rubs his forehead with his pointer finger and his thumb trying to numb the pain. he ducks down to the mirror of the elevator to check for any bleeding and catches you trying not to laugh your ass off at your oaf of a boyfriend. you have the prettiest smile, he swears. he tries to suppress his own smile as he hears you fail and you erupt into snorts and giggles.

“do I have to hurt myself in order for you to acknowledge me?” he jokingly asks.

“yes.” you respond as you still have a grin on your face from your fit of laughter not too long ago. bertholdt presses the button to go down to the garage, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek to reassure you about whatever you’re upset about.

bertholdt walks you to your car, still a little cautious around you.

“what’s on your mind? i know something’s wrong.” bertholdt steps in front of you, preventing you from going any further to your car. bertholdt isn’t letting you go to sleep tonight feeling like this.

“it’s nothing really.” and it really is nothing, to you at least but not to bertholdt.

“it’s something.” bertholdt quickly retorts gently bringing his hand to yours.

you’re a little emotional, you’ve always been.

“can you just hold me? there’s no one around.” you reassure him. bertholdt’s heart stings at your act of reassuring him. bertholdt looks around for a moment and hugs your body to his in the empty parking garage, feeling your specific type of inviting warmth to his chest and having the smell of your vanilla coconut leave in conditioner scent hug his nose. he’s leaning against your car as you lean into him.

“are you mad because i pull away from you whenever reiner comes home?” he gently asks as he gave you a kiss on your head.

“im not mad, just..”

bertholdt gives you all the time to continue.

“just..are you embarrassed of being in a relationship with me or something?” you look up at him, slightly teary eyed, hoping he wouldn’t notice. but he does; because he wants to make sure you’ll never get lost.

“no! of course im not!” he furrows his eyebrows at you. you stare up at him looking if he’s telling the truth. and you know he is but overthinking gets the best of you sometimes. “you should be the one embarrassed to be in a relationship with me!” bertholdt jokes to make you feel better.

you smile as you hug him tighter, “never.”

“it’s just sometimes i feel like you are embarrassed of me.” you push the side of your face into his chest, avoiding eye contact once again.

“I’m not.” and he isn’t. bertholdt looks down at you with sympathy in his eyes, rubbing and kneading your back. he knows you deserve someone who can hold you whenever they please.

“you know how shy I get.” bertholdt reassures you that it’s his problem, not yours.

“i know.” you tell him. “i don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I just want you to hold me, just right now.”

“trust me, holding you doesn’t make me uncomfortable.”

bertholdt holds you in his strong arms like you’re a dove. every touch from him is carefully placed. you pout your lips signaling for a small kiss. as soon as he reaches down to give you a quick kiss, the tip of his ears red from his meekness, here comes porco galliard and his loud ass car beeping twice at you two. your eyes crinkle at his cars bright ass headlights and bertholdt lets you go from his grasp, not wanting porco to see the monstrous act of holding his girlfriend.

“give this to reiner for me!” the boy named after a pig yelled through his rolled down passenger window and threw out reiner’s jockstrap, bertholdt catching it as he let out a sigh of dissent. porco irresponsibly and annoyingingly, may I add, sped out of the garage, bertholdt yelling at him to slow down.

your eyebrows furrowed in distress when your giant of a boyfriend let you go. you watch as he slightly jogs after the speeding car and yells at the pig man driving it to slow down. bertholdt walks towards you, the dissatisfied look in your eyes wishing he kissed you a few moments earlier. bertholdt gives you a sympathetic smile as he held reiner’s jockstrap in between his fingers.

“bye,” you curtly smile back and tried as fast as you could to get into your car as you ignored your boyfriends goodbyes.

bertholdt watched your car drive out of the parking garage, a disappointed groan coming from his body.

the olive skinned boy closes his apartment door with a sigh. it pains him to know that there’s apart of you, that may grow into a chunk, that thinks he’s ashamed of you. and you know he isn’t, but he knows how you overthink. hell, he can’t blame you. if he was in your position, he would think the same thing too.

but bertholdt is shy - painfully shy, almost like he’s cursed to be this way forever, and it’s not like he doesn’t want to hold you the way he does behind closed doors in front of others. if bertholdt could, he’d have you attached to the hip.

bertholdt is just…how you say - modest.

one touch, and he knows he’s gone.

it took him at least three months into the relationship for him to even comfortably hold you, and took him another three for it to become a regular thing. every touch from your fingertips is a modified blow, and bertholdt is made of glass. the first time you molded your hands to the side of his face, he swore he shattered into a thousand pieces. and you put him back all together. you touch him like a prayer, a prayer only you two understand. the first time you touched bertholdt, when you held his face, or when he laid his head in between your thighs, or when his senses are overloaded with you - bertholdt feels his heart take root in his body, discovering something he doesn’t even have a name for.

so it’s not that bertholdt is embarrassed, he just craves even the slightest brush of your fingertips against his skin too much.

“You forgot your jockstrap.” bertholdt throws it to a now freshly showered reiner, who is currently eating his second bowl of lucky charms right now.

“thanks.” states a tired reiner.

reiner put his now empty bowl in the sink while bertholdt got ready for bed.

“goodnight bertholdt.” reiner slaps bertholdt’s flat ass.

“goodnight reiner.” bertholdt does the same to reiner.

reiner yawns and before closing his bedroom door, he peeks his head out, and with tired eyes and a tired voice, he tells his best friend since middle school,

“if you could slap my ass every night, you can hold your girl without being a scaredy cat about it by the way.”

bertholdt looks back at him with a surprised look on his face.

“you should hold her more.” reiner states before he kicks his bedroom close and going to sleep for his game tomorrow.

and bertholdt agrees.

these intrusive thoughts aren’t letting you sleep. the many times bertholdt has pushed your affection away in front of others is making you cringe and the little voice inside your head is not letting you forget them. there’s a devil and angel on your shoulders arguing whether he really loves you or not. you’re being dramatic, no you’re not, yes you are. all you really want is your boyfriend to hold you. is that too much to ask? you wanna cry but you don’t let yourself, bertholdt would let you. you let out a frustrated sigh and grab your phone from your nightstand. a second ago it was only 12 but now it’s almost 3 o clock in the morning. to hell with these intrusive thoughts.

bertholdt <3: Just wanna say goodnight and I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. I hope you feel better in the morning, I love you.

sent at 12:25

you roll your eyes at the text message sent by your boyfriend but can’t help but feel a teensy bit better, but not enough to fall asleep. a glass of warm milk and those melatonin chocolates bertholdt bought for you will do. you find your roommate pieck awake at almost 3 in the morning making herself a cup of tea in her jaw titan mug.

“he did it again.” you tell her as you get out the carton of milk and pour it into a glass.

“again!?” pieck suddenly drops her spoon into her cup of tea.

“shhhhh!” annie is in her room doing the right thing you’re supposed to do at 3 in the morning, sleep. annie is also possibly the lightest sleeper you’ve ever come across and even pieck’s soft voice can wake her up.

“did you tell him how you feel?” pieck asked more quietly this time as she blew at her hot tea.

“yeah.” you sighed, waiting for the microwave to be done warming up your glass of milk.

“and?”

“and…he told me that he wasn’t embarrassed of me and he was just shy.” you take your too hot glass of milk out of the microwave and ended up yelling, possibly waking up annie and praying you didn’t.

“shhhh!” pieck pulls her finger to her lips.

you and pieck stay quiet to listen out for annie’s footsteps, and luckily for you two, you heard none.

“well that’s good right? he’s not embarrassed of you!” pieck says, a little more quiet this time, just in case.

“yeah but, your pig of a boyfriend, who’s headlights are way too bright, came to drop off…something reiner forgot and he let go of me like i was burning hot.” you drink all your milk in one go and let the chocolate dissolve in your mouth.

“but you are burning hot.”

“pieck,” you smile at her playful flirting while staying stern to let her know now is not the time to flirt

“why the hell are both of you still awake?” annie opens the door to her room glaring at both of her roommates.

“what the fuck annie!?” you yelped in your normal voice not having to whisper anymore.

annie makes her way to the fridge and grabs a water bottle, gulping it down like she’s been stranded in the Sahara desert for eternity.

“you two suck at whispering.” annie states throwing away the now empty water bottle.

“what could you two be talking about this fine night?” annie sarcastically asks.

“your bestie is a scaredy-cat and can’t hold his girlfriend in front of others.” pieck jokes.

“pieck!”

“bertholdt?”

“who else?” you confirm

“you can’t make him do anything that makes him uncomfortable, bertholdt’s always been like that.” annie defends her best friend as if you were talking bad about him in the first place.

“im not.”

“well it sounds like you are.” annie’s a good friend, you note.

“i never took a dig at bertholdt as a person, you know how I feel about him annie, i just…feel like he’s embarrassed of me.” you look away from her, a little embarrassed yourself.

annie scoffs, sitting down at the kitchen table “he is not embarrassed of you stupid.”

you look at annie a bit relieved.

“he’s just meek, okay? trust me, it gets to me sometimes too. bertholdt always seemed like he would be meek forever..”

“that’s not a bad thing.” you retort

“can you let me finish first?” annie continues “but, and I know you know this, he’s destined to be more than that.”

“he is already more than that.”

“i already know that.” annie says

there’s a bit of an awkward silence and pieck has awkwardly been stirring her tea the whole time.

annie sighs, “he seems to be a lot more confident ever since you’ve been with him and….” annie hates that she’s admitting this, god she prays you and pieck learn to whisper so she won’t ever have to say something like this again to anyone.

“I like that he’s happy with you.”

your eyes brighten up with joy.

“really?” you smile brightly.

“yes really.” annie sighs once again.

“thanks annie.” you give her a hug and she awkwardly pats your back. you make your way back to your bedroom, with a lingering smile on your face. you text bertholdt goodnight and you know he’s gonna worry over the time you sent your text (3:15 in the morning) but at least now your intrusive thoughts have stopped.

annie doesn’t see you as a friend like pieck or the rest of her friends do. you’re just her roommate. but ever since bertholdt has been dating you for the past 9 months, he does things like hum while doing basic tasks, developed an actual sense of fashion, listens to actual good music and her favorite? tells her and reiner that he loves them every night in their groupchat.

“annie?” pieck says quietly, her tea gone cold.

“yes pieck?” annie sighs, once again.

“do you like bertholdt, in the way Y/N likes bertholdt?” pieck is also a good friend.

annie turns to pieck a bit dumbfounded “pieck, I am literally a lesbian, god.”

“oh thank god.” pieck lets out a breath of relief.

annie goes back into her room, her head now hurting.

you have no idea how football works.

you chant offense when it’s defense, defense when it’s offense, don’t even know what it means to be flagged. yet here you are, giving all your undivided attention to the very homoerotic game that is football, trying to ignore your intrusive thoughts about your boyfriend. all you really know is reiner’s jersey number.

the score is currently 14 - 7, halftime is in three minutes, and under these late night stars, the crowd is starting to get rowdy. eren jaeger is sat three seats beside you yelling at jean kierstein about how much of a pussy the opposing team is. jean kierstein’s face is tomato red as he tries his hardest not to punch eren in the face. armin is right in the middle of it wishing he never came. mikasa knows that these losers wouldn’t even survive in a football game but she can. your roommate pieck just wants to support her boyfriend, and bertholdt and your other roommate annie are just supporting their best friend.

you don’t understand the hype for college football games. the aftermath was always so depressing. men fighting over two groups of other men cuddling each other, underage college students getting alcohol poisoning, people you’ve seen post environmental activism infographics on their instagram stories littering like it’s nothing.

you’ve seen the worst minds of your generation at a college football game.

bertholdt knows you have no idea what’s going on. he’s talking to annie about the game, while also trying to subtly explain to you how it works and annie has no idea why bertholdt is explaining the game to her. If bertholdt keeps this up, annie will probably have to beat his ass.

“the titans just got flagged? wow I wonder what they got penalized for.”

“yeah our defense, who stop the other team from scoring, have been doing really well this season!”

“our offense, who have the ball currently, have been kinda sloppy this quarter, don’t you think?”

Bertholdt is lucky halftime is about to start.

“I’m gonna go get something to eat.” annie states, annoyed by bertholdt.

“get me a korean corn dog please!” you yell after her. she flips you off as she walks away, which means yes, you will get your korean corn dog.

that silence between you and bertholdt appears from last night again, the “please don’t be mad” kind, and you don’t like it. you can feel bertholdt’s doe eyes on you and you know he’s worried about you. he let you go home feeling like an embarrassment to him and he has so much to make up for.

you two don’t really get into the typical fights, sure some misunderstandings, but nothing like this before. you’re overreacting, you know you are. but you can’t help but feel so insecure.

“you should stop explaining how football works to Annie before she beats you up.” you tell your oaf of a boyfriend in a way to let him know him that you don’t want it to be like this any longer.

“if she beat me up, would it make you happy?” bertholdt jokingly asked, a little relieved.

“very.” you gave bertholdt a toothy grin. you give him the most brisk kiss on the cheek, you don’t even think your lips touched him.

“thank you.” you tell him because you know the only reason why he even is explaining football to annie, who probably understands it way more than you and bertholdt, is because he thinks you need space from the passive aggressive predicament you got into last night. (which is far from what you need)

you’re eyes are guided back to the big jumbotron in the center of the field, watching the two dogs who represent the two teams race against each other. bertholdt keeps his eyes on you and observes the way your face lights up when you see the brown labrador dressed as an armored titan race against a black great dane dressed as the colossal.

“bertholdt that black dog resembles you so much!” you tell him in the nicest way possible as you point at the screen. ymir bursts into the most disrespectful laughter possible, her and her girlfriend historia sitting above you and bertholdt.

“ymir stop being mean!” historia scolds.

bertholdt doesn’t care though, he does look like a dog to a certain extent, and he doesn’t care - as long as he can see you smile. he disregards ymir’s snorts, he ignores eren and jean’s arguing, he hasn’t noticed that annie’s been gone for longer than usual, he forgets what breed the dogs were and which one won, the cheering in the stadium has suddenly stopped - all he knows at this moment is you. here you are, his girl, the biggest smile on your face accentuating your cheekbones with your eyes crinkling in the corner. he swears you have the prettiest smile. it makes his brain go fuzzy, makes him forget everything around him -

your intrusive thoughts have gotten the very best of you, all of last night and up to today. there’s that voice in your head who keeps on telling you that you’re not worthy of being shown off, that being with someone like you is an embarrassment - how dare anyone love you? but right now - bertholdt feels so honored in this current moment sitting this close to you and having the privilege to see you smile. he looks like an idiot probably as he admires you from his seat that his tall body can barely fit in. but he doesn’t care - all his inhibitions have left and you’ve replaced them.

reiner can’t wait until this game is over with. he’s sat on the metal moist bench with his helmet off squeezing his water bottle into his mouth as his bandages are being renewed below him by the teams nurse. the black game paint he painted across his face has became grey and smudged and his hair is soaked from how much he’s been sweating. there’s about three minutes of halftime left and he’s spending those three minutes watching the Jumbotron across him.

“pucker your lips and get ready for the kiss cam titans!” came a booming voice from the intercom.

the first couple weren’t even a couple and the girl ended up moving away when the guy motioned a kiss towards her.

the second couple gave each other a meek kiss and the crowd boo’d at their lousy excuse of a kiss.

the third couple was a girl in the middle of eating a korean corn dog and the giraffe of a man totally entranced by her cheese pull.

reiner’s eyes widen as he sets his eye on the dork of a couple who were cuddling on his couch last night.

bertholdt is looking at you like you’re the only person in this whole stupidly funded football stadium. you have a bit of mustard on the corner of your lips and your inhaling the cool night air to cool down the burning piece of fried cheese in your mouth. you look to bertholdt and stick your tongue out and point at it with sad eyes.

“I burnt my tongue,” you said with your tongue still sticking out.

“you’re on kiss cam you idiots!” ymir smiled at the both of you and playfully pushed bertholdt’s towards you.

bertholdt doesn’t even know he’s on kiss cam. he barely felt ymir push him over to you. he sees you look over to the jumbotron and grow embarrassed as you use your hand to cover your face. out of nowhere, you’re hit with the massive weight that is the whole crowd’s judgement. somehow, you’re the one filled with inhibitions and bertholdt isn’t.

“bertholdt…” you whisper to him, “we’re on kiss cam!” you say this like it’s the worse thing in the world.

all bertholdt hears is kiss and that’s what he does - in front of thousands of people, all of paradis’ college towns watching on their TVs, in front of eren jaeger and jean kierschstein who’ve stopped arguing due to how surprised they are, in front of armin arlert who’s just glad they’ve stopped arguing, in front of mikasa ackerman who has never felt so much second hand embarrassment in her life just from you eating your corn dog, in front of pieck finger who’s smiling so big because you were just telling her last night how you felt bertholdt was embarrassed of you, in front of annie leonhardt who can’t help but roll her eyes at you two, in front of ymir who’s cheering bertholdt on, and in front of reiner braun, who’s annoying the nurse who’s bandaging his calves from his constant movement as he stands up and cheers for his best friend since middle school.

bertholdt is carefully cradling your face in both of his hands, like you’re his own personal prayer, his own personal heaven, his own angel; they’re large and warm up your cool face and his fingers reach to your scalp. you didn’t expect this from him, you even thought he would just walk away pretending to not even know who you are (and if he did that, you would give him something to be embarrassed about). but here he is, his lips on your lips, kissing you like this is what mouths are for. finding warmth in his mouth, you relax into his lips and hold his hands closer to your face.

neither you or bertholdt can hear the crowd cheering you guys on as bertholdt’s lips put you into some sort of trance just like how your smile induced his. it is every kiss bertholdt owes you every time he pulled away in front of others. it is the song baby by donnie and joe emerson that is the first track on the CD bertholdt gifted you when he asked you to be his girlfriend. it is the last track - ‘baby’ by ariel pink. it is bertholdt’s hands cradling your face up to reach his lips and your hands on his, your mouth becoming his mouth, it is you who breaks into shards and it will be him who will put you back together.

once you both pull away due to the ear-paining air horn signifying that halftime is over, the kiss cam screening had already been over with. bertholdt’s olive skin heats up, his lips covered in your gloss and your lips a bit swollen.

you look up at to him with bright but bashful eyes, and you smile.

and he swears you have the prettiest smile.

319 notes · View notes

rinsaint · 1 year

Text

i'll fetch you anything you like.

featuring. aki hayakawa x gn!reader

content. MDNI, smut, riding, begging, crying, smoking, light masochism, burning (reader puts a cigarette out on aki), mild codependency, pet names (loverboy, darling), gender neutral reader, agab not mentioned, sub!aki + dom!reader, a little angst, pining, kissing, vague love confessions.

word count. 3.2k

synopsis. aki's smoking is a nasty habit, but you're certain you can get him to quit. also, aki pines.

notes. minors don’t interact. anyways how’s this for a first post ( totally normal abt aki hayakawa )

Aki Hayakawa is an orphan in every sense of the word.

Literally being the one most people associate him with, but—Aki comes to a realisation when he's maybe thirteen or fourteen that the word runs deeper than that. It's not as if your entire life is defined by your relationship with your parents, after all; even people who have ones that are alive become something other than offspring in their life. Husband, brother, uncle, father. But orphan sticks, no matter how many people you fill your life up with to replace the parents you lost. Aki thinks there is something in the word that rings of loneliness; he could father a hundred children, become grandfather to two hundred more, gain friends and a partner, and still he would be Aki Hayakawa, orphan.

Alone.

"That's a bad habit."

Aki's fingers don't pause in their ministrations, thumb pressing down on the jut of the lighter as it zips to life. The cherry of his menthol cigarette glows in the blue-dark of the office. The sky outside the thin window is pale with the gloaming, and he breathes a haze of gritty smoke over it, sullying the view.

You've made yourself at home on his desk, legs swinging leisurely. You must be cold in only his work-shirt and boxers that cling to your hips and thighs. You watch him passively, head cocked.

"One of my least dangerous ones," he intones, which is true enough for a man who has three years to live at most.

"Oh? What tops the list?"

Aki eyes you serenely. "I dunno if you've heard, but I work for this place called the Public Safety Division."

Your laughter breaks the delicate quiet like a flock of birds taking off from a tree. "Put it out. I hate the smell."

Aki's dark brows crinkle. "I'm not wasting a perfectly good cigarette. If it bothers you so much, eat it."

"Eat it? You freak."

"At least then someone's getting something out of it."

You hop from the desk, yawning. In the dim light that is starting to grow just a little brighter, Aki can see the beginnings of bruises on your throat and collarbone, vanishing in an ugly rainbow trail down to the hastily-down buttons of his work shirt. Your socked feet pad along the threadbare carpet on your way over to him, and Aki inhales deeply. Maybe if there's enough smoke in his lungs it will encourage him not to breathe; that way, he won't do that god-forsaken embarrassing thing he does when you get close. His heart stutters, and it makes his breath hitch audibly. The worst part is you seemed to be goddamn attuned to it—there seems to be little you like more than knowing you have an effect on him.

Aki doesn't stop you when your fingers come up to encircle his cigarette, brushing his as you pluck it gently from between his lips. He hates that even the smallest kiss of your skin against his still sends liquid lightning zipping through him, like he's that seventeen-year-old he was when he met you, the one full of spite and anger who hadn't been held since his mother died.

You pull the cigarette away, still lit; the butt glows red and angry between your delicate hold, gleams in the reflection of your eyes. When Aki meets them, he feels his mouth go dry; your pupils are large and black, engulfing iris, barely blinking as you look up at him.

"Bet I can make you quit," you say.

Aki snorts. "Better men than you have tried."

"Anything can be unlearned," you counter smoothly. "All bad habits go away with a little punishment."

Aki feels his heartbeat quicken, tries not to let the way that one word sets his blood alight show on his face. "Hm," he says noncommittally, but frustratingly, he doesn't think he's fooled you for a second.

Your serene smile curved into something sharp as easily as breathing. "Gimme your hand."

And Aki does, though he knows where this is going. You turn his hand over gently at the wrist, leaving it palm-up, fingers splayed in your grip. You hold him so gently it makes him shiver. Carefully, slowly—Aki thinks, giving him much time to pull away—you raise the burning end of the cigarette and plant it in the centre of his pale palm, a stinging kiss. Aki hisses, grits his teeth, but dutifully doesn't move even as his hand twitches involuntarily at the contact. Just as tears start to needle at his eyes, you twist the butt and pull away, leaving a shallow pool of grey ash, a black soot mark, and a stinging red welt like a patch of burning leaves.

His eyes are glued to the masterpiece you've made of his boring skin. The burn throbs unpleasantly, but something low and hot has come alive in his abdomen at the lingering kiss of pain. It satiates something inside him just smoking the thing could never hope to touch. He likes the futility of feeding himself his own death, sure—makes him feel like he has marginally more control over it, despite what the Curse Devil might have to say about it. This sort of pain is different; it goes straight for the gullet, and it makes it all the more sweet that it's you doing it.

A stupid, lonely part of Aki—orphan—wants to believe you're doing this because you care for him. Because you want him to live as long as possible. The grown, cynical man he supposes he's become thinks you must be just as fucked up as he is. It doesn't really matter either way; Aki's loved you for years, and he's astonished he's even gotten this far with you, and he'll take anything you deign to give him, pleasure or pain because it's all sort of the same to him anyway.

You unscrew a bottle of drinking water and hold it over your discarded blazer, soaking the lapel before pressing it to the burn. Aki grunts, eyebrows knitting up as a strange cocktail of relief and pain throbs slowly through his body. Your hands holds the wet fabric over his one, like a ribcage encasing a beating heart. Oh, Aki would let you hold his heart in your hands, and who cares what you decided to do with it? It's hardly his business; it belongs to you anyway.

He leans in to kiss you, gets close enough to brush his lips against yours and feel his pupils dilate before you turn your head, ducking. Aki feels his heart stutter anxiously as you turn your serene face up to him.

"Hate the taste," you say.

Aki frowns. "I barely smoked it for thirty seconds."

"It lingers."

Aki isn't stupid; this is part of the punishment. And the goddamn annoying part is that it's working. Even as you take his other hand to hold the soaking blazer against his burn and turn away, every fibre in his body wants to stop you. Turn you back around, pin you against the wall, swallow any complaints with his lips. He wants to make you melt against him, wants to melt himself under you in that way you always manage to do to him. He likes feeling like he doesn't have to think with you; just await whatever comes next, pain or pleasure, and he'll take it because it's you.

But Aki doesn't move. He's not a problem dog. He stands quietly and nurses his burn, tracking you with his eyes as you re-dress yourself, his shirt tucked into your slacks, tie wound through the collar, work boots laced up to the ankle.

"I gotta run home and shower," you say, tugging your blazer on. "I'll see you back here in, like, an hour."

Aki nods. "Okay."

The grin you flash him is little more than poisonous; it makes it heart skip a beat. "How's your burn?"

He swallows around a dry throat, holding your stare with a touch of timidity. "What burn?"

Delight shivers over your expression like wind ruffling a field of grass, and you stride the length of the cramped office and kiss him. Aki grunts, rendered thoughtless the moment your mouth touches his, your hands in his collar and his hair; his hands go slack, blazer fluttering to the ground, and the welt on his palm stings horribly when his hands come up to latch around your shoulders and neck. He pulls you closer, a little frantic, and he has barely a moment to reflect on how worrying it is that he's this desperate for your touch after being denied only once, but before he can think to dwell on it you're parting your lips and he's tugged your body flush against his own. He's so close he could drown in you. For a moment, he wants to.

Far too soon, you pull away. You're delighted. "Good," you murmur, and he hates how his heart leaps into his throat. "You're so good, Aki."

His face is on fire. "I'm not a dog," he manages.

"Sure you are," you say matter-of-factly. "And I'm Pavlov. I'll break that nasty habit of yours if it's the last thing I do. Give you something else to focus on. Okay?"

Aki licks his dry lips. "You can try," he says hoarsely, hoping it doesn't sound as much like an invitation as he thinks it does. The impish smile you give him implies he's shit out of luck.

Aki is in hell.

He knows this, because every time the two of you have hooked up since your little conversation in his office, he hasn't been allowed to kiss you if you detect even a whiff of smoke on his breath. It's killing him a little, to be honest. Fucking without kissing just feels wrong. It makes him forget it's you, sometimes, his vision of you sliding out of focus 'till you could be just anyone. And Aki doesn't fuck just anyone. He fucks people he loves.

He loves you. But he can't have you. And he can't even kiss you so he can pretend he has you, if only for a minute. It's just fucking, a tumble of sweating limbs and gasps and grunts, of a thrilling cocktail of pleasure and pain and almost-confessions bitten back at the last second, hidden in the crook of your neck.

Your shitty wooden headboard creaks into the shitty thin bedroom wall, and Aki spends a moment in lucidity to send a silent apology to your neighbours. One arm braces against the wood, flexing with every fast jerk of his hips, and you're under him, eyes clenched shut and meeting his thrusts in a way that has Aki wondering why anyone could think being on top had to mean being in control. He's oiled to your machine, matching the rhythm of your hips and trying not to drown as your back arches up from the sweat-damp sheets, stomach curving into his, one arm holding fast around his neck.

You feel so good he could cry. Not that that would be an irregular occurrence, or anything—he'd practically sobbed the first time you fucked, and back then you'd been all fluttering concern, stopping even though he tried to sputter please, Christ, don't stop, I'll die if you stop, please. He supposes you're kind, in your own way. You'd stroked away his tears and kissed his damp face.

"Aki," you groan, bringing him forcefully back to the present; his dark bangs dangle in his eyes as he looks down at you, mouth agape and head cloudy. "Wh-what's got you so wound up?"

As if you don't know. Aki grits his teeth.

Your hand makes patterns on the damp nape of his neck as his rolling hips slow, as he breathes deep to try and regain a semblance of his dignity. "Loverboooy," you croon up at him, your free hand gripping at the junction between his hip and thigh. Aki grimaces; he hates that nickname. "Talk to me."

Aki glares at you. "You know—I want—you know. St-stop it."

He whimpers somewhere high in his throat as your body tightens around him, free hand coming up to scrub down his face. "D-don't!"

"Sorry, sorry," you laugh. "I'm sorry. Why don't you tell me what you want? Maybe I'm feeling nice."

It feels like a trap, like luring his feelings into the light just to snap a bear trap over them. But Aki wants, he yearns so deeply and desperately that he's just about willing to risk it. "Want to kiss you."

Your eyes gleam. "Do you?" you ask, as if this is news to you.

His arms shake. "Please."

God, he's pathetic. He's so used to being in control, to tailoring every facet of his life meticulously, grooming and tidying and cleaning. He knows the exact amount of calories he should eat per day. He puts his shoes on a rack so he never tracks mud onto the tatami mats. His shower utensils are organised in the order he uses them—shampoo, conditioner, face-wash, scented gel. He likes being in control. He thinks, anyway. You make him reevaluate. You make him reevaluate an awful lot.

You toss your head back against the pillows; you have the audacity to laugh. "Saw you smoking earlier," you tell him, and Aki's stomach goes cold. "Mm... full pack, too. A new one? When'd you buy that."

"Th-that was hours ago." And it's true; when Aki learns you're coming over, he puts his cigarettes in a locked draw and puts the key somewhere difficult to reach. "It won't still taste. I've eaten. I brushed my teeth."

That's just good manners.

"It's the principle of the thing, loverboy," you say, and your hand comes up to his chest and rolls him over. Aki gapes, whining at the loss of contact only to choke on his own voice as you sling a leg over his hips and slide him back into you. Your nails scrape red railroads down the pale skin of his sternum at the stretch, and Aki watches, mesmerised as you start to move, the flex of the muscles in your thighs, the vein bulging in your throat as you toss your head back. He wants to be all over you, a hand on your neck feeling your pulse go berserk for him, his teeth in your skin as proof he was there, nose buried in your hair, dirty and rough and the exact opposite of the way he usually wants you. That is—soft and kind, romantic, slow and heady as syrup.

He wants kisses that taste like tears, whispered confessions into bedsheets. He wants, painfully, the constant assurance he can never ask for. I love you. I love you. Oh, Aki, I love you.

"Kiss me," he gasps instead, writhing against the bedsheets, head thrown back at the brutal pace you set him. He's so close, teeth gritting and muscles locking up but without a kiss it feels cold and incomplete. "Please, please, kiss me, please—"

"You're a brat, Aki," you hiss, and Aki's heart twitches in his chest; he can hear his pulse in his skull. "You ignore the one rule I gave you, and you still think you get to ask for what you want?"

"It's a bullshit rule," he snaps. "I—I can't just, hah, I can't j-just turn it, off, oh, fuck—"

"You okay?" you ask in a fleeting moment of mercy. Aki's eyebrows knit up. "Am I—is it too much?"

Aki shakes his head. "I'm okay," he mumbles pitifully. "I'm close."

"I know, darling," you murmur. "It's okay. I'm gonna give you what you want. And you're gonna give me what I want. Deal?"

"I—I..." Aki chews the inside of his cheek till copper floods his mouth. "I'll try? I'll try, I swear."

You still for a moment. "You mean that?"

Aki nods frantically. "Yes, I—if that's what you want, anything, anything you want, please..."

The beam that breaks out on your face is a million watts. "Aki," you breathe, and finally you lean forward 'till your chest brushes his. Aki can't breathe, transfixed by every swoop of your eyelash and chap in your lip as you lean close. When you speak, you're so close that your lips brush his, and he has to keep every muscle taut to stop himself leaning forward and closing the gap. "Aki, I want you to live a long, happy life. You get that, right? Why I'm doing this?"

He feels his stomach flip, can barely comprehend the words through his dazed mind. His glazed eyes follow you, thunderstruck. "What—what d'you mean?"

"I care about you," you murmur. "I want you to live as long as possible. Want you to stick around with me."

With you? It's a wonder his heart doesn't explode. For a fleeting moment, there exists a future beyond the Gun Fiend, beyond Denji and Power and Nyako, one where he can love you freely. Tears needle at his eyes. It all seems so impossible.

Aki forgets himself, surges up to capture your mouth, but you turn at the last second, planting a kiss to his cheek before focusing on his jaw, his ear, capturing the lobe between your teeth and sucking gently as your hips resume their rhythm. You're faster now, gasping for breath, Aki's hands sliding over the skin of your hips and torso for a lifeline. You tongue at the cords in his neck, the shell of his ear and the sensitive divot just underneath till he's squirming.

Your hands are everywhere—scraping nails across his twitching abdomen, running up the valley between his pecs, tweaking a nipple and pulling. And Aki groans and gasps, every hint of pain from your lovely hands sending him rocketing closer towards the edge. Tears bead at his lashline.

"'M close," he gasps again.

"That's okay, loverboy," you say sweetly, words buzzing against the skin of his throat, and Aki shudders, arching impossibly closer to you. He can feel every nerve in his body sawed open and set alight, impossibly sensitive, boiling with love, and as he comes he buries his face into the crook of your neck with a hoarse cry. Two lone tears streak down his flushed cheeks.

You're not far behind, and Aki wouldn't dream of pulling out, so he squirms and gasps and whines with the prickling of overstimulation as you chase your own high. "Sorry—fuck—you okay?"

"I'm, I'm good," Aki whines. He cracks one steely blue eye open. It stands out against his red skin; he's so flushed as to look sunburnt.

"'M almost, fuck, almost there. Hang on for me?"

Aki raises shaking hands to grip your hips in answer. You laugh between pants, baring down at him.

"That's my boy."

You don't kiss him when you finish, but it's alright. You flop down beside him, taking in deep lungfuls of air, nuzzling your lips to the salt-sweat cooling on his chest. Usually, round about now, Aki would roll to reach his bedside cabinet where his open pack of cigs lay in wait. The lighter is right beside him, open and tempting. He can almost hear the flick of it, the zip of the flame bursting to life, the sizzle of the cherry scorching beneath that controlled flame. The grit of smoke in his mouth and down his throat, emptying his lungs of fresh air.

The pack goes untouched. Aki winds an arm around your shoulders and holds you close, your cheek against his thudding heart.

You don’t kiss him, but it’s alright. Aki’s not a problem dog.

He’s going to earn it.

You don't kiss him. But it's alright.

Aki's going to earn it.

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rinsaint · 1 year

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cw: virgin/inexperienced!reader + based on irl experiences

sucking him off for the first time and after finishing in your mouth, breathily asking, "are you sure this is your first time?"

- sakusa, ATSUMU, bokuto, KAGEYAMA, KUROO, kenma, akaashi, oikawa, daichi, suga, tendo

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rinsaint · 1 year

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𖧧 𓂃 12:32 AM with ran haitani.

⚠︎ tenjiku!ran, gn reader, probs ooc.

bzzt bzzt.

the vibration and quiet chime of the cell phone to your left pulled you abruptly from the warm embrace of sleep that had just begun to seep into your bones. the crack in the window allowed the night air to overtake the room, leaving a chill across your skin. falling asleep on top of your duvet left one bare and alone to fight against the fall temperature. the sun having taken rest from your corner of the world didn’t exactly aid in providing any warmth either.

sleepily reaching and feeling around for the small device that had disrupted you, your eyes squinted against the harsh light suddenly blasting your pupils, vision blurring and spotting as they took the extra couple seconds to adjust.

with a huff out your nose and to the count of 3 in your head, out of bed you rolled. you rubbed at your eyes, a feeble attempt at getting them to refocus in the dark as you walked to the window to pull back the curtains. lo and behold, ran haitani was parked just outside, lazily leaning over his bike's handlebars. he gave the engine a rev when you made eye contact. loser.

making little haste, letting ran get just that much more chilly while he waited as a punishment for waking you up, you grabbed your coat and made your way out your front door. your hands fumbled with the keys a little in the darkness when locking the door.

ran watched as you trotted over to him, sitting up while that signature smirk of his came into your view.

“were you sleepin?”

an odd way of saying hello, haitani.

“how could you tell?”

ran kicked a leg over his seat to turn and face you, opening a perfect spot for you to stand just between his thighs. muscle memory did what it does best and brought his hands to their rightful spot on each of your hips. his thumbs teased the hem of your shirt, dipping underneath to rub your skin with uncharacteristic delicacy. his grin melted into one of fondness when your hands also found their place holding his biceps.

“cow lick.” he tilted his head up to gesture at the bump of hair on the side of your head you’d been laying down on.

your right hand quickly abandoned its post to smack his shoulder and smooth out said hair— hair he hadn’t given you time to brush. it was his doing. deliberately. absolutely.

ran’s chest shook with a low chuckle, moving to help fix the area of frizz.

“what are you doin’ here?” you asked once satisfied with your hair. ran’s hand fell back down to your waist, drawing your body closer to his inch by inch.

“so i need a reason to come ‘n see you now? can’t just stop by to see yer pretty face?”

“no. a reason for waking me up might be nice, though.”

his braids swayed as he shook his head. through wispy eyelashes and heavy eyelids ran studied you, losing himself in the alleviating quiet that came alongside silent admiration. apparently, he was lost in it long enough to warrant you cocking your head to the left and pinching his cheek to gain his attention.

“quit staring at me like a weirdo.”

ran’s chest rumbled again, the chuckle slipping past his lips.

“can’t help it, try and quit bein’ so nice to stare at.”

before you could conjure up a response to continue any sort of banter, the hands on your hips pulled you forwards, and a pair of lips caught your own. ran grinned when he felt your hands slide up his arms to hold his jaw, welcoming your cold palms against his skin, and his front teeth nearly knocked against your own.

he held you there for as long as he could, against him, balancing on his bike, fog from hot breaths between kisses puffing into the air for as long as he could. it was only brought to an end because you remembered that, despite the late hour, you were in the middle of the street.

ran chased your lips once you’d pulled away, a thumb on the corner of his mouth gently pushing him back.

“you know, you still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.” he gave a melodramatic huff, rolling his eyes. ran haitani, ever the drama queen.

“i told you, i just wanted ta see ya. don’t need a reason other than that, pretty.”

ran threw a leg back over his bike, pushing the keys into the ignition and letting the engine come to life with a roar.

“‘m hungry, get on. we can hit the convenience store up the road.”

you squinted at him.

“i’ll buy you anything you want.”

you squinted more.

“and i’ll carry the bag.”

okay now come on, who would say no to that?

you quickly hopped onto the bike behind him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and wasting no time nuzzling into his scarf. for someone so lanky, he was surprisingly huggable.

“you know me so well, haitani.”

ran patted your thigh with the hand not holding his clutch, the wheels beginning to roll underneath you as you took off.

“i know you so well, pretty.”

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

#hes my bf #🤗#[ ☆ ] — reblogs !!

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rinsaint · 1 year

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cw: drug use; alcohol consumption; dubcon bc they’re intoxicated; reader implicitly pressures atsumu into smoking; shotgunning; praise kink (receiving) for atsumu

atsumu doesn’t mean to stare. there’s actually not a single thought running through his brain. it could be the intoxication but the alcohol makes him quite honest.

because he knows.

this power, it’s all on you.

all he can do is fixate on the way your mouth puckers, the small lines that form whenever you take a hit from your pastel pink pen. your cheeks hollow in the most irresistible way and by the time he realizes he’s staring, you’re blowing another cloud of smoke out. and now he can’t help but he drawn in by the soothing exhale of your cloudy breath.

he doesn’t realize you’re looking at him until he hears your chuckle. it sounds too cocky, knowing, and atsumu feels suddenly so exposed that he flusters. his cheeks puff into a huff as he turns his face away so he can glare at the ground.

“what are ya laughing at?” and suddenly atsumu is sober. there’s clarity in his vision and it’s no longer fuzzy and this feeling that sits deep in the pit of his stomach feels so heavy and so real, he slumps forward, chest to his knees and index fingers dragging into the grass because he can no longer carry it.

“i’m not laughing,” you try to diffuse.

atsumu hums, unbelieving. he’s never been to a college party, never had the chance because he decided to make a career for himself right out of graduation. but bokuto’s just signed to msby and he was invited to the celebration so now he’s here in a room full of strangers and a very busy bokuto, drunk and star of the show.

atsumu had been okay with nursing a beer at the corner of a couch. he was fine with watching a drinking game ensue that he had no idea how to play and as the night went by, he even tolerated the five minute conversations people liked to have whenever their eyes caught his lone figure.

and instead of standing up after a small lull of conversation, you’d invited him outside. he followed you out the door he’d entered the first time only just a couple hours ago, stalled by a quick grappling of a hug from bokuto that begged him to promise he’d come back, went down the stairs with his eyes on your footsteps, and followed you blindly to a small enclave near an overgrown tree and bench.

your arrival signaled a hurried scuttle and snapped twigs. atsumu peered into the dark but found nothing but hushed breaths and when he sat down next to your unbothered figured, it was all gone.

it was just you, him, and his intoxicated mind that just couldn’t stop staring.

“i’m not,” you reiterate.

atsumu tilts his cheek against a knee and looks up at you. you look at him back, lips forming back into this amused expression that makes his throat clog because with the way that you meet his gaze, he wants to think he’s the reason why you’re looking so beautiful like that.

“you’re so cute.”

he can’t help but preen knowing he’s right and then when you reach for the back of his head to ruffle the hair at his nape, he melts. you giggle again.

atsumu wants to be ashamed but he only lights at your attention. the world tapers around the edges once more as he enjoys the lightness of his being.

“where has bokuto been hiding you?”

there’s no way he can answer, not when all his brain can register is the way your nails scratch into his scalp and how heavy it makes his body.

you remove your hand to inhale from your pen one more time with your eyes locked on his. he breathes with you.

you point the device at him “would you like to try?”

atsumu’s eyes flicker down. it’s a long, rectangular thing, nothing much different from his lessons in geometry. two short ends, one for a plug and another to aspirate, connected by two long ends.

yet it’s still foreign. there’s a glassy look in your eyes and it reminds atsumu of those silly mirrors in the fun houses his ma would take him to when he was younger that made your reflection all distorted; and the clouds you make smell like watermelon but with a twist.

it’s all things atsumu knows about. just… different.

“oh.” you say like you finally understand. the grin on your face grows as your hand retreats. “a goody two shoes. i get it. so that’s why i’ve never seen you before.”

and the judgment makes atsumu go petulant because he’s never been fond of assumptions, especially wrong ones like yours. how did you even come up with that? atsumu? a goody two shoes? there’s no way.

he’s a member of the miya twins of inarizaki. he started fights in the school gym and would incessantly get scolded by kita all the time. what do you mean goody two shoes?

he snatches the pen out of your hands and inhales with his whole chest. you don’t even bristle. instead, your eyes watch him, utterly focused on his expression as if he was reacting just the way you expected.

it comes out harsher than it goes in. the smoke quickly warms up in his lungs that in the middle of his exhale, he can’t help but cough nonstop. he’s back with his chest on his knees, hunched over the bench, as it racks through his whole body. you smooth a palm down his back but it does nothing to soothe him. by the time that he’s done, atsumu’s cheeks feel hot and he’s lightheaded. he can’t tell if it’s the drugs or from the coughing fit.

you pull a water bottle from out of nowhere and he immediately accepts. atsumu’s throat feels raw and clawed through like a monster had climbed out the depths of his lungs and no amount of cool liquid can tame its wreckage.

“that was a big one,” you say impressed, still running your hands up and down his back. he can’t help but feel pride just to hear your praise.

atsumu is melting again. his limbs go loose and he barely registers the small thud of the water bottle when it fall from his grip. physical sensations are so overwhelming, so so much that it’s all he can focus on. the press of your fingers, so warm and hot even with the buffer of his shirt. every digit forms a permanent mark against his skin.

then you go back up to his nape and atsumu cannot help but prickle. his whole body shivers as his shoulder pull back at the complete contact between your body and his. there’s a small dampness that forms beneath your fingertips that pulls his skin taut. atsumu doesn’t realize his hums have turned into small, micro moans that are muffled by the jeans at his knees.

you run your hands down his back. “would you like another hit?”

he feels like he’s floating, like he’s coughed all the weight inside his body and finally he’s been let go. like a balloon that’s been let loose. so it’s easy to consider. the coughs were painful though. and he has to clear his throat bc the fire still won’t go away.

but your hand drifts down to his biceps. they create patterns and curly around his arm and down his wrist. then you get to his hands, the ones that are dangling, and your fingers lock between his.

“it doesn’t hurt as bad if i take it first.” he looks up and you note quickly the question in his eyes.

you point at your lips, his hand still in yours. “i hit it first.” then you pinch atsumu’s bottom one. “then i’ll give it to you.”

“and it won’t hurt?” he has to clarify.

you grin. atsumu watches the way your lips split. “yeah, i’ll make sure of it. do you want me to show you?”

atsumu nods. he sits up when you ask him to and when he does, you lean in closer, so close that you’re somehow in his lap. with your hands around his shoulders, he finds his traveling to your waist and immediately, he cannot get enough.

they trace the seams of your clothes, dip underneath the edges of your wear for a taste. then he completely stills when you fully press your hips against his. atsumu’s head feels like it’s about to explode, completely overstimulated by the feel of your warmth and the cool kiss of the night air and the smell of liquor on your lips.

you quickly grab his hand and place it at your hips, making sure that half his palm is touching the skin beneath your shirt.

“you can keep touching me.” you assure. your confidence makes him nervous but with your permission, he can’t stop himself. they travel up your shirt, full palms pressing into your skin. “whatever distracts you.”

then you shuffle to make yourself comfortable. you pull yourself closer to him with your chests touching.

“ready?” you ask. atsumu nods. his tongue suddenly feels full of cotton.

without breaking eye contact, he watches you inhale. you hold it in your lungs, lips rolled inward as you look him down your nose. and then with a small tilt, you lean forward.

instinct tells atsumu to open his mouth just the smallest bit. you slot your lips between his, and as you exhale, he breathes in.

the taste is just as intense but instead of watermelon, all he can think of is the taste of you on his tongue. despite being an athlete, his lungs feel so full that they could explode by the time that you’re done. he immediately exhales when the two of you separate and just like you said, it was painless.

“look at you. what a goody two shoes, following my lead so well.” you gaze at him proud. “what a good boy.”

it’s another assumption, but this time, you’re not wrong.

#[ ☆ ] — reblogs !!

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rinsaint · 1 year

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۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ ɪᴛ’s ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ ! — ᴊᴇᴀɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

༄ؘ ˑ contains: best friends → lovers , mutual pining , costumes errywhere , dry humping , m!oral , jean whining n whimpering hehe , reader bein kinda bossy >:7 , black coded!fem!reader , vaginal sex , creampie [ maybe more idk bro it’s 3am @_@ ]

༄ؘ ˑ wc: SIGH 4k :/

༄ؘ ˑ a/n: this is for the if you really think that you can stomach me collab by the light of my life @strawberrystepmom !! i wanted to post it in october but i’m useless so forgive me T^T lil talk about protection in there—communication is sexc!! also pls use condoms + practice safe sex xoxo

"these are all awful." you whine, sitting against jeans headboard and scrolling through his 'costume ideas' pinterest board.

he’s got his head underneath the desk, trying to fish out the mario kart disc thats fallen down the back, so his response is muffled. "they’re the most popular ones from the last decade!"

"jean, i am not wearing any of these."

he shuffles back out, dust covered disc in hand and pouting down at you. "there isn't one that you like?"

"not remotely."

"you’re being picky." he says, slotting the disc into the console and tossing you the player 1 controller.

"i’m being honest." you mutter, scrolling past a particularly awful rendition of a cops & robbers costume. he flops onto the bed and rests his head on your shoulder, peeking at the screen.

"y'know I worked really hard cultivating this. hours of research and painstaking decisi—hey!" his head knocks against the headboard when you yank yourself from under his weight.

"you're so annoying.." you mutter, navigating the homescreen and selecting grand prix. the character and course selection are accompanied with jeans babbling (we’ve gotta pick a good one—the standards are high! maybe i should just pick and force a decision on you—) that earns him unconvinced grunts and looks of skepticism.

the subject gets temporarily lost in the chaos that naturally ensues when jean selects rainbow road, 3 minutes of screaming and curses and shuffling onto your knees to get a better vantage point. it isn’t until the final lap when your item box is shuffling that you pipe up, “i guess we don’t have to do something matching..”

jean almost veers off of the track.

he frowns, glancing at your profile as he tries to maintain his first place spot. “…what?” he says. you’ve always dressed up together. since you were kids halloween had been your guys’ favourite holiday, and yet here you were suggesting that you break a years long (albeit unofficial) october tradition.

“i mean we could just go as separate things? if that makes it easier.” and it seems like appropriate timing when you unleash a blue shell and obliterate jeans universe.

you’re glowing, shrieking in triumph as you pass the finish line and leave jean in the dust. he watches your characters parade around the winners podium with a clenched jaw and sinking feeling.

“sure.” he agrees, tight lipped smile making you pause. you didn’t really expect him to agree—you’d only suggested it in case he had a particular costume that he was set on wearing. jean had always been the one to pick your costumes, you just went along with it, and always ending up looking decent so you couldn’t complain. he was always more into the whole idea of dressing up anyway. but you hadn’t really anticipated him ditching your thing in order to.. what, impress some new college friends?

you blink at him, a protest like the cork of a wine bottle, stuck in your throat and threatening to choke you. “cool.” you manage, “just.. let me know what you’re going as, yeah?”

“tryna scope out the competition?”

you give him a good natured shove, rolling your eyes as a smile fights it’s way across your face.

something like that, you think.

this was a bad fucking idea.

as the rhythmic percussion from the speakers gets close enough to rattle your bones, it starts to set in that jean was right. people have taken their costumes really fucking seriously. there are a few token stragglers: eren, in a hoodie and a purge mask and a short, raven haired senior with faux fangs and devil horns. but for the most part all you can see is elaborate sfx gore, girls in animal ears and enough fabric to border on public indecency. and everyone looks great.

you feel pathetic, turning up in a matching costume unbeknownst to your best friend. what if he’s mad? you’d gone from feeling somewhat pretty to utterly mortified in the span of a tacky monster mash-grime remix. your internal debate of whether to bolt back down the road and uber home is interrupted by connie (gruesomely accurate stitches and foam kitchen knife complementing his chucky outfit) who tackles you in a bear hug that reeks of tequila.

“y’look great!” he slurs, clinging to you for so long that he starts swaying.

stifling a laugh, you detach from him and start guiding him back inside. “thanks con, you too.” you shout over the music.

after successfully delivering connie to mikasa (in a very expensive looking black swan costume) you start to navigate the crowd in an attempt to find something to drink.

jean had been developing a steady buzz in the hour or so that he’d been here. he wasn’t having fun. you’d rejected his offer of a ride and for some reason it had given him the urge to drink his blood volume in vodka cokes. he’d made pretty good headway so far, drowning out the compliments on his frankenstein costume with deep gulps from his glass. it felt weird, not having your complimentary figure beside him to admire all night.

somewhere between the fourth beer and third shot of rum he decided that he was mad at you. but it had dissipated pretty quickly—he was refilling his glass when he caught a glimpse of you.

connie was half-slung over your shoulder (gripping you awfully tight and saying something into your ear that has jeans teeth grinding together) but he could still clearly see the monikers of your costume. white streaks in your hair. blackened stitches along your jaw that mirror his own. jean feels the air get punched from his lungs when his eyes scan over your dress. the sheer, pale fabric practically glowing in the dim lighting. there’s a white corset that hugs your waist and follows the curve of your hips that jean can’t seem to tear his gaze from. the whole ensemble.. it’s hauntingly beautiful. you’re beautiful.

jean swallows down a forbidden feeling that claws at his ribcage, tears at the flesh of his throat in its frenzied attempt to escape.

he bolts down the hall to connie’s room, shouldering past vague acquaintances and slipping into his friends bathroom. the white knuckle grip that he has on the sink isn’t doing much to help ground him. his heart hammering in his chest and his head spinning unfortunately isn’t entirely the alcohols fault. scooping some cold water into his cupped hand, jean gulps it down and tries to cool the heat painting his cheeks and swirling in his gut.

bride of fucking frankenstein. is that why you’d asked what he was dressing up as? he groans, pressing the chilled tips of his fingers into his temple, mindful of the black face-paint stitches adorning his forehead. jean has spent almost 2 decades carefully steering you towards costumes that were safe—cute and perfect for the best of friends. jean has long since had his grand epiphany, long since resigned himself to keeping it all to himself, long since mourned the loss of what might have been. but he cannot risk a lifelong friendship with you on a gamble of ifs and maybes. so he straightens his jacket, plasters on his brightest smile and heads straight for you.

“well well well.” he drawls, coming up behind you as you’re mixing a drink. the sound of his voice has you sucking in a breath and turning to him with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“couldn’t help yourself, huh? guess you’re just obsessed with me.”

you grin, glad that he seems like the jean you know and love. “please, this was a last minute ditch effort.” you shoot back, “i just couldn’t find anything else that looked okay!”

“ohh of course. forgive my wildly inaccurate assumption then.”

you chuckle, handing him a drink as you pour yourself another. “seriously though, dyou hate it?”

jean frowns over the rim of his cup, taking in your doe eyes and vulnerable expression that point to you being serious. “hate it? what would i hate it?”

“i don’t know.. you wanted to dress up alone this year so.. i thought you might be disappointed.” he stares at you blankly, cup hovering away from his lips. he’s got such pretty lips, you’ve always thought so. it would be.. weird to tell him that, right? though it’s probably weird how hard you’re staring at them right now and—oh god you’re staring.

“you wanted to dress up alone!” he says, confused.

“wh—i didn’t! i suggested it for you but.. i love our couples costumes.” you give him that shy smile that he adores and jean feels his insides turn to jelly. you have to know what you’re doing. you’ve baited him—hook, line and sinker and like the lovesick little guppy that he is he’s latched on and being stripped of oxygen.

“couples costumes?” he breaths.

“yeah i mean, we’re kind of like a couple.” you shrug, and jean almost faints. “we do everything together.” oh god, you need to shut the fuck up before you ruin everything. before he calls you out for overstepping and—

a whirlwind of colour that takes the form of sasha in a willy wonka costume (complete with crumpled wrappers spilling from her pockets) is suddenly ushering you both towards your group of friends before jean can respond and you can apologise. she pushes you down into the circle that’s forming, empty bottle of corona sitting menacingly in the centre.

jean groans, running a hand through his hair in a way that you can’t look at for too long or you might do something you’ll regret.

“what’re we? 16?” sasha just sticks her tongue out and slots down between macro and an on-the-verge-of-passing-out connie.

the games a hybrid—spin the bottle and 7 minutes in heaven, with people bending over the circle for a peck on the lips while the current 2 victims occupy the storage closet at the end of the hall. you find your eyes are focused on the fascinating items on the shopping list stuck to the fridge as jean locks lips with a pretty little blonde girl—hitch, you’re pretty sure. you don’t notice the glares that your best friend sporadically shoots in reiners direction when the bulky blonde kisses you for a little longer than necessary, earning whoops and cheers from your giddy friends. when the flick of erens wrist dictates that you and jean are next for the closet, the whole group groans.

“what?” floch says, clearly confused as to your apparent reputation.

“these are the worst.” mikasa deadpans, earning a playful shove from you.

“we are not!”

“what, they fuck super loud or something?” floch asks. jeans cheeks are reddening at the implication.

“hardly.” connie mumbles, suddenly following the conversation. “last time they were in there forever, found ‘em passed out after watchin’ a movie on his phone.”

you smile, pushing yourself up and extending a hand to jean. “i’m thinking insidious 2? maybe the conjuring?”

“stop. you know hocus pocus is more my speed.” he matches your smirk and laces your hands together, your friends’ booing accompanying you down the hall as you make your way to the closet.

you’re both settled on the floor, backs against the shelves and scrolling through jeans phone to find a movie. it’s dark, the only light coming from the small screen, but he can still see the outline of your figure in his peripherals, pressed up against him with your head on his shoulder, where it belongs.

“hey.” he finds himself blurting out. it’s the familiarity, the closeness that’s loosening his lips and making his iron resolve crumble.

“hey.” you smile up at him, and as he skims over your face, long lashes swept with mascara, pointed brows and lips sculpted with a dark crimson that almost looks black, jean has the startling urge to confess that he’s hopelessly, desperately in love with you.

“did you mean it? before..”

“what?”

“that we’re like a couple.” he presses.

“oh, i—” theres an apology on the tip of your tongue that somehow morphs under the intensity of his gaze, warm eyes piercing even in the low light. “i mean, we are, aren’t we? strangers always think we’re together. we’re just not, ah.. intimate like a couple.”

jeans ears are ringing. what might have been is beginning to look like what could be, what’s right at his fingertips.

“do you want to be?” it’s barely a whisper, his face so close to yours that when he swipes over his lips you can feel the heat from his tongue. your gaze flickers down, glued to his lips, and without a second thought you find yourself nodding.

“are you sure?” this time, he’s so close that you can feel the syllables against your lips.

“kiss me.”

and jean does not need to be told twice.

it’s a chaste thing, a sweet thing. just skin against skin. you both share a sigh against eachother and it’s filled with so much relief, so much longing that it’s only natural for his hands to make their way to your cheeks, coaxing your head back as his tongue starts to lick into your mouth.

wet smacking and heavy breaths are fogging the space of the closet as your hands curl around his wrists. jeans hands cup your jaw, a breathy chuckle bubbling up when he rests his forehead against yours. it’s so infectious that you find yourself giggling along with him, mirroring the shapes he traces into you on his pulsepoints.

“you have no idea.” jean finds himself mumbling between slow savours of your lips. “god, you drive me crazy.” and you do. he thinks he can feel his fucking brain chemistry altering with every brush of your tongue against his own.

it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore the desire pooling between your legs at the feeling of your best friend cradling your face like you’re made of glass and kissing you until you’re dizzy. your limbs feel phantom as you slowly push him against the shelves, your thighs finding purchase surrounding his long legs and hands slipping into his hair. his phone is still on somewhere, cool-blue light casting shadows over your figure. even straddling him, you’re only marginally taller, but jean loves it, your pretty face there for him to behold and your tits squished against the confines of your corset at the perfect level to latch onto. your cleavage being on display is more of an obvious byproduct of having breasts as apposed to a purposeful attempt at being alluring, but jean thanks whatever deity is looking over him and happily sucks a trail of bruises into the soft skin before him. he can feel your breathing increasing with every graze of his teeth, every violet mark etched into your skin. and when he delivers a particularly harsh nip, your thighs clenching around him and your grip on his nape tightening, jean thinks he has to be ascending.

the tent in his pants is considerable, poking into your core even through the whispy layers of your dress. large hands have settled on your waist when you start to rock in his lap, a sputtering groan spilling into your chest as his dick twitches in anticipation.

“fuck, jean—i need you.”

he’s frantic, bunching up your dress to expose your bare thighs and dampened panties. he perches you over his dick, stifling a moan from the pulsing heat of your cunt radiating against his bulge. the movements of your hips are aided by warm hands settled on them, grinding you against his cock as you gasp and moan at the friction. he almost whines in response, fingertips digging into your soft flesh. “don’t—oh shit—don’t have a condom.”

he can’t form a sentence, let alone a coherent thought. but like the angel that you are, you do it for him, tug his face back from where it’s buried in your neck, smiling fondly at his lidded eyes and parted lips. “i mean, i’m clean. and.. on birth control.” you whisper, as if he wasn’t nursing you day and night after your IUD appointment. tucking a strand of hair behind the reddened tip of his ear, you press your lips to the stubble that peppers his jaw. it’s rough, mildly grating in a way that brings heat to the surface of your skin and has you wondering how it would feel against your inner thighs. “and i trust you.” you smile.

a confession is dangerously close to bursting from his chest. jean might as well just plunge a fist through flesh and bone, part his ribcage and present his beating heart to you. he would do it, if you asked.

“fuck, are you sure?” he’s blindly scrambling for his phone. “i—i’m clean and everything but are you sure?” and suddenly the screen is being lit up in front of you with goddamn test results. you laugh, because it’s so sweet and so jean—giving you peace of mind despite your assurances, checking in on you again and again because he cares. you pull up your own recent results and present it to him, his eyes barely flicking over it before his gaze is relocked with yours. you chuck your phone to the side, palming his bulge in languid strokes with your free hand and shuffling down the length of his legs. “never been more sure of anything.”

jeans so hopped up on endorphins, on the taste of you and the arousal searing his skin that he hardly notices you flicking the clasp of his belt buckle. he’s shook from his stupor when he feels the cool air hit his dick, tip shiny with so much precum that its started to drip down to his balls. you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the slight curve of his shaft, the bulbous head and mushroom tip, the length of it has your eyes wide and mouth pooling with saliva. you delight in the way his cock twitches and he shivers when you blow against his wet slit. and when you wrap a hand at his base, immediately pumping him with slickened strokes, he reels, arching into your touch and slamming a hand over his mouth to muffle his groans.

oh god, oh god you’re gonna ruin him, thumbing his slit and squeezing his cockhead until he’s leaking into your hand and planning your honeymoon. pink darts from between your teeth and you press the flat of your tongue against him, salty liquid bursting across your tastebuds that has you humming and taking the tip of his dick into the wet heat of your mouth. jeans nails are digging bloody crescents into the skin of his palm as he tries to hold back the sounds of his pleasure, but when you suckle on his slit and swirl your fucking tongue against the sensitive underside of his cock, jean feels his balls tighten and flames ignite under his skin.

“shit—shitshitshit wait!” and you’re pulling off of him with a lewd pop and a ditzy smile. there’s a string of saliva and pre that tethers him to your lips and jean doesn’t think you’ve ever looked so beautiful.

“god you’re so..” jeans panting, scouring his lust-dipped brain for a word that does you justice. his reaction has you preening, dragging down your panties and pecking his lips with a grin. “so’re you.”

your thighs return to their place around his hips, the bare heat of your sexes mingling when you press your clit into the underside of his shaft from its place against his stomach. jeans hands are guiding your mouth to reconnect with his, desire clawing at his chest. “let me taste you.” he breaths.

your pussy flutters at his request, baritone syllables making more slick ooze from your slit. “as much as i would love that,” you link your hands around his broad shoulders, pressing your weight into your knees to position his cock over your dripping entrance. you can see the beginnings of a protest shaping his pretty lips that you’re quick to silence, “i want you to cum.” and when his dick is enveloped with hot, wet softness, jean can’t do anything but gasp.

while the tightness of your cunt is threatening to milk him dry, he knows this can’t exactly be comfortable for you, the wetness of your shared arousal doing little to compensate for the lack of prep. gentle rolls of his hips accompany soft words and presses of his lips to the trail of bruises along your chest. “shh, you’re okay. it’s just me, just focus on me.”

slippery circles are pressed into your clit that have you relaxing under his touch and clenching around his cock simultaneously. “look how good you’re doing, baby.” he whipers, your hazy eyes blinking down to where you’re connected. you haven’t taken all of him, though he doesn’t seem to mind, his thrusts picking up and settling into a pace that has your toes curling. one of your hands slips from around his neck in a stubborn blur. he has to cum first. jean does more for you than he probably realises, doting on you like the angel that he is. they’ll be time for more later. but he has to have the first. your fingers trail the soft skin of his sac, nails grazing the cropped hair at his base that has him shuddering beneath you. you can almost feel his load churning under your touch when you roll the heavy weight of his balls between your fingertips.

electricity is sparking between you—it’s under your skin and in your gut and tethering the beating muscles in your chests.

“i—have wanted you—” his words are choked, impending orgasm a breath away, “—for so fucking long. i fucking—i love you. i’m so fucking in love with you.” his confession comes as he does, searing heat from his release coating your insides and splashing through the depths of your cunt. your foreheads are pressed together as you gasp and whisper against his lips, jeans hips fucking his load into you as he helps you chase your own high.

“i love you. always have.” it’s a little slurred, a little breathy. but when jean feels your pussy squeezing him in a vice, slick sounds of arousal bouncing off of the dark walls of the closet, he doesn’t think it could be any more fucking perfect.

reiner has his tongue shoved down bertls throat when you both emerge, blinking at the harsh light. the group doesn’t even give you a second look, at first. when reiner pulls back, leaving the brunet with pink cheeks and wide eyes, jean is the one to clear his throat and direct their attention to your disheveled figures.

“we’re, uh, we’re gonna head out.”

your hands are intertwined. which isn’t a foreign feeling at all, though his cum dripping down your thighs is certainly new.

“no fucking way.” connie seems to have sobered up exponentially, eyeing your mess of hickeys, wrinkled clothes and jeans wild hair.

“i’ll be damned.” erens smirking with his brows raised as you manoeuvre the little crowd and head for the door. throwing a quick wave over your shoulder, you flash a sheepish smile to your friends, stumbling out a goodbye as jean tugs you out the door.

“uh, happy halloween guys!”

as soon as the door slams jeans pulling you in for a kiss. his lips are quickly becoming your favourite thing so you are not complaining, looping your arms round his waist to pull him further into your orbit.

“so.” you muse, “what’re we now? like.. fuck buddies?” you joke.

jean thinks on it, dramatically squinting his eyes and humming in thought. “i’d prefer the term smash bros.”

the look of disgust that colours your face as you shove him away and head down the street has laughter bubbling in his chest and his hands pulling you flush against his chest.

“you’re so stupid.” you pout, barely masking your adorable smile. “can’t believe i slept with you. can’t believe im in love with you.” you’re teasing him, taking his lips for yourself and giggling against him. but if he’s being completely honest with himself, jean can’t fucking believe it either.

#: @luvkun4 @sheluvzeren @oxygenstarrved @wh0reforlevi

#i need jean 💔💔#jean x reader #jean x reader smut #jean x black reader #jean smut #[ ☆ ] — reblogs !!#so so cute

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