LOVE LOCKED,

i hate the way i need you!

[mg63k]

miya   ♡ sheher. blk. 19. note: i try to be more active but fail :’) so this is another attempt! might write from time to time.

navi  ꜜ

#꒰ thoughts <3 - any rambling or nothing regarding fanfics haha :’D

#‧₊˚꒰ ୨\ sinful - suggestive/nsfw stuff (MDNI)

#꒰ haikyuu ヾ☆❜ - anything haikyuu related (mainly fics)

# ₊˚๑ angel’s favs - my fav fics + fanart i cant forget because i love so much

# ᘎ﹒ sunarin ! - all sunarin ff’s i reblog

[mg63k]

ive been so inactive omg

[seeingivy]

how to fight 

roommate eren x f!reader 

**read the mini series masterlist here 

content warning: baby (LOL), porco + pieck softness, porco x y/n family feud, someone calls hitch a snitch, fight between u and eren :( 

an: sorry for da holdup. I was trying to map out how I want the rest of the things to go before I write the rest of the chapters but I think i’ve got most of it down. fun things in store :D and for the anons who are requesting scenes and dialogue for this story in the ask box….all in good time you guys. im taking very detailed notes keep it coming. 

- 

You lean over, pressing your fingers against the side of Ethan’s cheek, his breath ghosting against your hand. You swear he gets bigger every time you see him, his tiny hands huge compared to when you saw him last. Therapy is expensive, your best friend’s newborn baby is free. 

Porco’s big eyes, Pieck’s soft nose - the perfect mix of the two people you love the most. Something about him - his life being confined to Porco, Pieck, and occasionally you and Gabi- was soothing. He doesn’t have to worry about these things - about your friends ditching you, having a crush on your roommate, who is dating a girl you can’t help but hate. 

You hear Ethan’s breathing hitch in his sleep, the thought leaving your mind, as he turns over on his side to face you. His fingers are clutched around yours, his hold soft. You silently wonder what else he’ll inherit from them. Pieck’s smile, Porco’s ashy blonde hair, the distinct Galliard dimples. 

“Why are you staring at my kid like that?” 

You turn to find Porco glaring at you, his permanent ever annoyed look pressed on his face. He’s going to get wrinkles by the time he’s thirty. 

“Praying he doesn’t get your receding hairline, Galliard.” you whisper, your hand moving back to Ethan’s little tuft of hair. 

“I get you’re having some whole crisis thing but do you have to take it out on me? You’re freeloading in my house right now.”

At the sound of Porco’s voice, significantly louder than your quiet whispers, Ethan eyes immediately flutter open, his tiny little cries filling up the space of the room. 

“Good job, Pock. Now he’s crying.” 

“Shut up.” 

Porco rolls his eyes at you, reaching to take Ethan from the crib. He’s lifted him up, whispering soft coos into his ears as Pieck rushes in the room, her fingers swiping the tears off of Ethan’s cheeks. Sparkling black hair, soft smile - the same as when you met her. 

After a few minutes, Ethan calms down, his tiny little eyes fluttering back to sleep. You take him from Porco, who begrudgingly hands him over, and set him back down in his crib. You linger for a few seconds, your face pressed against his crib as you watch his listen to his breaths, his tiny chest moving up and down with each one. You only move when you’re forced to - by Pieck linking her arm with yours, leading you downstairs. 

“Who woke him up?” 

“Twerp.” 

“Pock.” 

You both turn to glare at each other, as Pieck hands you the plates to set at the table. You and Porco move around each other, shoving each other each time you pass by.  

“He’s trying to kick me out. After I so graciously dropped everything to come spend time with you guys. Babysat your kid for free.” 

“He’s your godson. You should have come sooner. And stop using my kid to run away from your problems, Y/N.” 

Three days ago, Eren told you that he thought the two of you were a mistake. That he was dating the girl who in all senses of the word was everything you weren’t and he had been. Off and on, for a while. Screw you for wanting to get away from that, be surrounded by two people who actually wanted you around.

You couldn’t face Eren. You couldn’t handle him making you breakfast in the morning, listening to the music you liked, brushing his hand against yours when he walked past you. So you decided you weren’t going to. Not until you had to. 

So you picked up your keys and drove two hours to Marley, to visit Porco and Pieck. And their five month old son, Ethan. Your godson. 

“Leave her alone, Porco.” 

Pieck squeezes your shoulder as the three of you settle into the table to eat. You can feel the tears rising to your eyes, the thought of returning and leaving the little bubble you were in for the past few days, to find Hitch and Eren in your apartment. 

“I just wanted to see you guys. You always made me feel better. Ethan too.” 

You look up to find Porco looking at you, his expression uncharacteristically soft. Somehow his annoyed face is better than this. 

“Hey. Want me to beat him up, twerp?” 

“You can’t hit a girl, Porco.”

“Clean out your earwax. I meant your roommate, but I can get Snitch if you want too. Pieck’s got real bony knuckles, I’m sure it would hurt.” 

“It’s Hitch, honey.” 

“Same thing. Who names their kid a verb?” 

“Pock, a lot of names are verbs. Like Bob or Sue.” 

“Being a smartass isn’t a good look on you babe.” 

You press the back of your hands against your cheek, wiping your tears off, as you laugh at Pieck and Porco’s bantering. You don’t miss the way Porco tangles his hand into hers, Porco raising Pieck’s hand to press a kiss to it to shut her up. You remember the first time he did it, on that stupid bench you met them on years ago. 

Pieck moved into the house across from you, when you were in the third grade. She was four years your senior, a very cool seventh grader. You distinctly remember her marching over to your yard, big black combat boots, right to where you were playing with Gabi. 

You saw her the next day at school, her ankles tangled over each other as she sat alone on the bench outside your classroom. Alone. You walked over, pushing yourself into the seat next to hers.

“Hi Pieck.” 

“Hey kid. Enjoying recess?” 

You nodded, playing with the ends of your hair as she looked down at you. Some part of her was always intimidating. Like she was ice cold. But the way she smiled was soft, the lines by her eyes spreading when she did. Contradicting, in every sense of the matter. 

“Yeah. Did you make any friends yet?” 

“Just one. His name’s Porco.” 

“Don’t you want more?” 

“Not really. He’s all I need. Him and you, of course.” 

You remember your heart swelling in your chest - the thought of a seventh grader, big and mighty, wanting to be friends with you. The two of you sat in silence, swinging the ends of your legs on the bench. 

You had always appreciated that about Pieck, even at eight years old - that the two of you could sit in the quiet, without having to say anything. Porco idled by a few minutes later, taking the seat directly next to Pieck. 

“Who’s the twerp?” 

“My friend, Porco. This is Y/N.” 

He nods, wordlessly splitting the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he had in half and handing one piece of it to Pieck. You never understood it, the gesture. Or when they started dating. You just remember one day, their hands were pressed together on the bench. They never let go after that. 

You’ve tried to make sense of it. At their wedding, right before Pieck walked down the aisle, you turned to Porco and asked him why he gave her half of his sandwich, sat with her on the bench, pressed his hand against hers. You figured he’d say something cheesy you can tell his ugly kids. 

“I just felt like I knew her forever. I saw her on the field, staring at the sky, and just wanted to be near her.” 

You still didn’t understand, but you nodded, turning your head back down the aisle that Pieck was going to walk down in a few seconds. 

“Don’t settle till you find that guy.” 

“Which one, Pock?” 

“The one who knows the second he meets you.” 

“You’re corny. I hope your vows are better than this.” 

And they were. You feel Pieck reach over the table, crushing your knuckles in her hand. You look up at the two of them, at the soft little life they live. Sweet tea in the summer, hands pressed together, no other people involved. Except for you, of course. 

“I’ll leave after dinner, guys. I should go back anyway. But I might come back the second I see him.” 

“I’ll leave the door open, kid.” 

“Thanks Pock.” 

You feel the tears welling up in your eyes, again, this time falling down your cheeks. The two of them get up from their chairs, their arms around yours.  You squeeze their arms, focusing on this sensation as you brace yourself for your return home. 

Therapy’s expensive, but violent threats and your best friends are free. 

- 

You jam your door into the key, making it back to Shiganshina a little close to midnight. You thank your stars for Eren’s soccer practices being early in the morning, which virtually guarantees he’ll already be fast asleep in his room. 

You swing the door open, flicking on the hallway light as you silently move around. You find that the apartment is slightly messier than usual, Eren’s things strewn all across the room. You leave for three days and he thinks he owns the place. 

As you move to put the dirty dishes in the sink, you hear Eren’s door swing open immediately, cursing yourself for choosing the loudest chore to complete. You should have just put his hoodies in the laundry or something. 

“Y/N?” 

His voice is hoarse, like he’s struggling to get the words out. You look up and find him inches away from you, his arms pressed into the chair. His green eyes are marked by a rim of pink, his shoulders slumped over. 

“Hey Eren.” 

He leans over, pressing his forehead against your shoulder and squeezing. His eyes are still half closed, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. You can smell his minty soap wafting off of him and lean back against the counter to distance yourself from it. 

“Am I imagining you or are you really here?” 

“Really here, Eren.” 

You feel his hands tense on your shoulders, his fingers lightly pushing into your skin. 

“I haven’t seen you in three days.” 

“I went to see Porco and Pieck for the weekend.” 

“It’s Tuesday. You could have at least let me know before you left.” 

You hum in acknowledgement, still rinsing the dishes in the sink. You try to focus on the sensation, the warm water splashing against your wrists and the cold plates against your hands. You try to ignore his words, each one leaving stinging, burning, agony in your chest. You’d run back to Porco and Pieck’s now if he wasn’t standing right there. Even the smell of him is petrifying. 

You feel him forehead get heavier on your shoulder, pushing farther into you. 

“I was worried about you.” 

Screw him. Screw him, his stupid words, his sweet smell, and his sad little face for making you feel this way. For wanting to reach forward and press yourself against him till he felt better. For him to wrap his arms around you, press featherlike kisses to your cheeks until you felt better too. You shrug him off, the movement making him stand up straight. 

“Sorry Eren.” 

“It’s okay. You wake up Porco and Pieck with your morning concert while you were there?” 

You clench the plate pressed in your hands so hard it shatters, the glass spreading across the length sink. 

“Screw you, Eren.”

“What?” 

“I’m so sick of you making fun of me all the time. If something I do annoys you, you should just tell me instead of making passive aggressive comments.” 

You watch the confusion spread across his face, as he leans over to take your hands out of your sink, where the shards were still lying against the drain. You pull your hands back, pressing them into your sides as you can feel your searing growing in your chest - in anger, irritation, hurt.

“Hey, what happened? You could never annoy me, peaches. I was just teasing you.” 

You shake your head, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. No. You were not going to cry in front of him. 

“Hey, hey. Talk to me. What happened?”

“You happened. I’m not something for you to laugh at Eren. I have feelings too, you know?” 

You push past him, swiping your things off the counter, and slamming your door shut behind you. You feel bad about it, leaving him there when he was just trying to comfort you. But that’s just the thing. The hand that burned you can’t make it better, can it?

- 

taglist: @maliakealoha @smolone88 @mykyoon @squirrelspoetry @roronoazorosbxtchh @fell-4-u @erensleftnutt @thelazylemur @mg63k @filunara @mblrrr @spidersinmybutthole @lezsie @erensmoodygf @maesthebestmonth @nanamiswife22 @lalalucidity @lapin0u @cullenswife @leafguitar @saiyasworld @rebeccawinters @mrs-sullys-blog @red-moon-dream @icansmellsouls @luvinclouds @katestrophes @amourely @6sakusa @miralbdo @k0z3me @celiniverse @txminie-blog @erenspersonalwh0re @s0f14sbs @violetmatcha @sweetenertea​ 

[mg63k]

happy pride month!!

[seeingivy]

fall concert

roommate eren x f!reader 

**find the mini-series masterlist here 

content: mentions of drinking, annie and jean are horny drunks, eren being a simp, touching ur thighs? idk, scars again, reader tries on clothes and gets frustrated so like that kinda, stranger things joke

an: ok I delayed letting things crash and burn so my moots who have finals can be happy for a few more days. ok enjoy bitches there’s more jealous eren where we’re coming from

- 

“Eren. Why are you…twitching?” 

You had been watching Eren for a better part of the last five minutes. The two of you were studying, your papers sprawled around the table as you finished up the last of your assignments. He seemed flighty, more than usual, like he was going to fall off of his chair any second. 

“I’m not twitching.” 

“Yes, you are. The entire table is shaking. Do you need to take a break or something?” 

You look up from your laptop again, Eren’s glasses perched at the top of his nose. You never known he wore them until a few days ago, when the two of you started studying together at home. 

“Can I try them on?” 

“What? Why?” 

“I just wanted to see if I look as cute as you do when you wear them.” 

You watch his cheeks turn a bright pink, as he very begrudgingly hands them over to you. You place them on the bridge of your nose, securing your hair behind your ears, and giving him a big smile. 

“Do I look cute?” 

“Yes. Very cute. Now give them back.” 

You twist them off your face, placing them back in Eren’s hands. 

“I’m lucky you don’t wear them all the time. I’ve got a whole thing for glasses, going on.” 

You try to ignore the fact that Eren has been wearing them ever since you said that.

He stops twitching and reaches in his bag while responding. 

“Ah. I just…have something for you.” 

You get up from your chair across from him, sliding into the one directly at his side. You hold out your hands in front of him, shaking your fingers at him to give it to you. 

“Okay. Hand it over, Yeager.” 

He places a small, white envelope with your name scribbled over the top into your palm. You give him a reassuring smile before sliding your fingers under the envelope, ripping it open. It’s a piece of paper with a green sticky note pressed on top. You run your hands over the sticky note, recognizing Eren’s handwriting immediately.

y/n. since you give me my own personal concert every morning when you take a shower, i figured id repay the favor and take you to a real one. 

You rip off the sticky note to find a concert ticket for the Monsoons, one of your favorite bands mind you, at the stadium in the city. You scan your eyes over the ticket, realizing Eren had bagged you floor seats for the concert, which was on Saturday. 

You look up at Eren, who was still nervously twitching in the seat next to you. You spring over the chairs, knocking both of you to the ground as you wrap your arms around him. You’re basically screaming at him - thanking him for getting you floor tickets, asking how much they were, that you needed to get an outfit. 

He sits up on the floor - where the two of you are still sitting after you knocked him down - and takes your hands into his. 

“Do you always knock people over when you’re excited or is it just me?” 

“Just you.” 

He rolls his eyes, prodding his fingers into your forehead, murmuring something about how ridiculous you are under his breath. 

“Plus. No one ever does stuff for me like this.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah. I think it’s the first time someone has ever surprised me with a gift or something I wanted.” 

“Well, that’s stupid. You can expect it from now on.” 

You press yourself into Eren’s chest, wrapping your arms around his again. You can feel your cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so hard and your head pounding a little, the excitement of the moment finally catching up with you. 

- 

You groan in frustration, hanging the last dress you had picked out back on the rail as you swipe your shirt back over head. 

You had been trying on dresses for a better part of the last hour - trying to find a perfect one for the concert, which was tomorrow. You had no luck - the color was unflattering, showed off too much skin, didn’t fit right. 

You feel Eren rap his knuckles against the door, asking if you were done yet. You open the door, groaning at him. 

“That one was somehow the worst one.” 

“You didn’t even show me any of them. I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” 

You shake your head. That would be embarrassing. Not that you care much about that type of stuff - Eren has literally watched you parade around in your pajamas before but this was somehow different. You tried to avoid this situation altogether - Eren taking you dress shopping - but he was the only one who was free to give you a ride. 

Armin’s parents were in town, so Armin and Annie were immediately out of the picture. They’d still be joining you at the concert tomorrow, since Eren had bought them and Jean tickets as well. Jean had lacrosse practice so he couldn’t take you either. Not that Jean or Armin were better options, but they were better than Eren. It felt too vulnerable and personal to tell him any of this and you didn’t really want him to pity you either. But here he was, watching you drown in your frustrations. 

“This is so stupid. This is why I hate shopping, nothing ever looks right on me and I just end up irritated at the end of it.” 

Eren can see the frustration building up - by the way your shoulders are tensed up and your eyes are all pinched together. He can’t figure out how to fix it - he can’t really tell you that you’re his favorite thing to look at, that sometimes he can’t keep his eyes off you no matter how hard he tries, can he? 

“Can I pick one for you?” 

“What?” 

“A dress. Let me pick one out for you, it’ll take like five minutes.” 

“You can try. I’m sure it’ll still look stupid anyways though so don’t waste too much time.” 

He watches you slump onto the seat in the changing room before running out into the store, scattering the aisles to find the perfect dress for you. He’d done this hundreds of times - helped his mom, Mikasa, his brother, Armin - find the perfect clothes to wear. Some part of him found it relaxing, picking out the fabrics and looking at all the different colors. 

His mom looked best in neutrals - dark browns and creams. He thought it made her eyes look the best, her brown eyes sparkling gold in the sun. Mikasa was best in red, maroon specifically, and Armin always looked best in blue (which was a no-go, he does have blue eyes and all). 

But you? You’d look good in any color, in anything. He’s trying his best not to dismiss the way you’re feeling, after discarding all the dresses you had already tried on, but he’s positive you’d look great in any of them. He’d be able to say it too if you actually let him see you try them on. 

He settles for a light green slip dress, the neckline surrounded by embroidered lace work. He tries to ignore the thought of you slipping it on and rushes back to the dressing room to hand it to you. 

You’re still sitting on the bench where he left you, folding all of the other clothes you had tried on. He grabs your arms to pull you up, handing you the dress he had picked out. 

“Don’t be offended if I don’t end up getting it, okay? That’s more about me looking bad in it and less about what you picked.” 

“You’re not going to look bad in it. At least let me see when you try it on, okay?” 

“You know most guys hate this type of stuff.” 

“That’s not true. Armin does this with Annie all the time.” 

“Armin’s whipped for Annie though. He’d probably willingly run over coals, happily mind you, if she asked him to.” 

Eren watches you close the door to try the dress on and nearly panics. Oh god. You know. You have to know that he likes you. Why else would you make that comment about Armin and Annie, who are dating? 

“Um.” 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, Ren. I just…can’t really get the zipper up.” 

“I can help you…if you want. If that’s okay. Or I can grab a girl to do it for you.”

“No, no. It’s okay. I don’t mind if you do it.” 

You slide the door open, signaling Eren to join you in the doorway. You turn around, swinging your hair over your shoulder, for Eren to zip up the dress. 

It’s in this moment that Eren silently thanks the gods for inventing zippers and putting them back at the back of dresses where people can’t reach them. He’s going to explode, right here and right now. 

He reaches down, slowly zipping it up while observing every little thing on your back - the freckles sprinkled all around, your soft skin against his knuckles, and your smell wafting in the air. Stupid fucking peach smell. This has to be some type of psychological Pavlov classical conditioning shit the way his heart pounds every time he smells it. 

“Do you like it, Y/N?” 

You turn around, smoothing down the fabric of the dress and turn towards Eren. He’s watching you through the mirror, your eyes fixed on your frame as you look at the dress. 

“Yes.” 

“Oh, thank god. I was actually going to have to strangle you if you disagreed with me on this one.” 

You reach forward, pulling him into your arms. 

“Thank you, Eren. You’re really sweet. I’m sorry for taking so long and getting so frustrated. I just hate this kind of stuff.” 

It’s Eren’s turn to feel his cheeks burn, using his hands to rub small circles into your back. 

“It’s okay. I know it’s not everyone’s thing. Mikasa and my mom are way worse, trust me. Don’t even get me started on how picky Jean is.” 

He feels the tangling in his chest settle at the sound of your laugh, your eyes beaming into his. 

“I used to like it at one point. Like picking out new clothes, making new outfits. But, I don’t know. Floch thought it was dumb sometimes so I kind of stopped.” 

“Floch?” 

“Oh, right. He’s the ex-boyfriend I told you about.” 

He reaches for your hand, running his fingers over the scar between your knuckles again. He had to fight the urge to not kiss your hand or kiss you every time he saw it, the anger rising in him at the thought of you being hurt like that. 

He settled for just running his fingers across it, every time it caught his eye - when you were watching a movie, handing him his keys before he left, saying goodnight. He’s not sure what he was trying to accomplish, if it even did anything, but you always smiled or squeezed his hand in return, so he never stopped. 

You immediately pull your hand back, holding it in your other one against your chest. Too much. This is too much. Eren picked out a dress for you, you told him about Floch, again, and you’re standing so close. 

“You okay? Did I do something?” 

“Yeah. No, you just make me nervous sometimes.” 

“Uh huh. And what is it that you think you do to me?” 

“Annoy you?” 

You watch his features press in frustration as he gets up off the wall, leaving your dressing room. 

“You’re impossible, kitty.” 

“Stop calling me kitty.” 

- 

Eren’s hands are shaking again, pulling back the zip of the dress. You have to be doing this on purpose. 

You look pretty. So, so pretty. Your hair is out of its usual loose bun, light waves pressed through your hair. The front pieces are braided back and he can’t help himself. He reaches forward, twisting the end of the braid in his fingers. 

“Does it look fine?” 

“It’s pretty. I like it.” 

He can’t breathe. He’s going to take you to a hundred concerts if it means doing this every time. He wants to run his fingers through your hair, watch your nimble fingers braid through them. And he wants to hug you, just so he can smell in that sweet, flowery perfume you sprayed on, in earnest. And your stupid freckles on your back- he wants to draw out constellations on them, see which part of the sky you’re walking around with everyday. 

“Ren. You good?”

“Ah, yeah. Sorry. Got distracted.” 

“By?” 

You swing around, your eyes peering into his. He’s not sure what you did, maybe the black around your eyes, but your eyes are prettier. Bigger. They’re glimmering. He can’t even look at you without panicking. 

“You have freckles. On your back.” 

He watches you twirl around, craning your neck to see them in the mirror. 

“It’s not a bad thing, Y/N. I like them.” 

He watches the smile spread across your face, as you reach into your drawers to finish off your makeup. He can’t help but watch you, mesmerized by different colors you were putting on your face. 

“Is this your first time watching someone do makeup?” 

“No. I’ve seen my mom do it a few times.” 

He sees you nod, turning back to press a light green glitter to your eyelids and then spreading some across the length of your collarbones.

“You’re almost done?” 

“Yeah, just two more things and then we can go meet them.” 

You pour out a small amount of concealer onto your hand, spreading it across your shoulder where your scar from falling off the bike was. 

You feel Eren reach for your fingers, stopping you before you can fully cover it up. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Just covering it up. It’ll just take a few seconds.” 

“No. I gathered that. I’m asking why.” 

He lets go of your hand, leaning over the counter as you sit there and think. Why do you cover it up? 

“Um. I’m not really sure. I guess I’ve just always done it.” 

“Well, don’t.” 

You stare at him, his face scrunched up in frustration. You watch his expression change, immediately back-tracking from what he just said. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean, you don’t have to. If you think people won’t like it. It’s normal, you know. We all have scars. And yours is nice. I mean, it’s not nice that you got it but I like it-“ 

You put your hands on his shoulders, squeezing twice which stops his talking all together. He sticks his forehead on your shoulder, resting against your frame. You can’t help but laugh. 

“Eren. Why are you…word vomiting today?” 

“You make me nervous.” 

Ah. 

“And what is it you think you do to me?” 

“Shut up. You’re not funny.” 

He lifts his head up, looking back at your eyes. You’re quite literally beaming at him and in this moment he swears you could be the sun.

“I’m already having fun. I appreciate you doing this for me. And I won’t cover up my scar, if you like it that much.” 

He nods, watching you rub your fingers into the leftover product on your hand. You both walk out of the bathroom, grabbing the last few things left on your counter. 

“Wait. I got you something.” 

He watches you hop into your room, coming back out with a nicely packaged green box. You hand it over to him, balancing on the balls of your feet as you watch him open the package. 

You watch his eyes widen as he pulls the silver chain out, twisting it in his fingertips. 

“You always wear your key necklace. I just thought it would be nice to get you another one. Since you got me very expensive concert tickets and all.” 

“You didn’t have to.” 

“I know that. I wanted to.” 

He smiles, holding open his arms to hug you. You happily oblige, pressing yourself against him. He leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head, before letting you go and holding out the chain for you. You can feel your brain malfunctioning - full on 404 error, rainbow pinwheel, nothing. 

“Can you help me put it on?” 

You nod. You can feel your fingers shaking, understanding why Eren was so distracted when he helped you with your dress. Well, you didn’t kiss him before so you’re at some unfair advantage. 

Some part of this feels too intimate, helping each other get ready, him watching you do your makeup, putting on his necklace - like you were a pair of lovers or something. 

You hook the latch, lightly tapping on his shoulder to signal you were done. The two of you lock up your apartment, walking down the hall to meet Armin, Jean, and Annie. 

“You kiss all your friends?” 

“Yeah. Armin loves my soft little pecks.” 

- 

“You come around here often?” 

“Shut up, Jean.” 

You can’t help but laugh at Annie and Eren’s quick retort. Some part of you thinks they practice it when you’re not around by the way it’s so perfectly in sync.  

“You two can stop pouting. I made the same joke about Armin earlier. I wouldn’t dream of bothering your precious Y/N or your sweet Armin, Annie.” 

Jean swings his arms around you and Armin, teasing Eren and Annie on. The five of you pile into the venue, scanning in all your tickets, and are immediately thrown off by how many people are there. You swore you were only there for five seconds but when you turn your head, the four of them are gone. 

You back out of the crowd, making your way to the benches to text them. 

to “jean stfu” 

you: why did you guys leave me behind,,,, ur so mean :(

armin: where did you go? we thought you were right behind us 

annie: were you holding on to anyone? 

you: no,,

jean: eren, start holding on to your girl or we’ll start doing it for you

eren removed jean from the group chat 

annie: add him back tomorrow. he’s doing too much. 

You feel a hand on your shoulder. Eren. 

“Were you planning on just standing there or following us?” 

“You guys just moved so fast! I literally turned my head and you were gone.” 

“Right. You’re almost literally in the same spot.” 

“Well, I was just looking for you guys.” 

He rolls his eyes, locking his fingers as he walks through the crowd with you this time. He’s holding you right against his frame, leading you in front of him so he can keep his eyes on you. He successfully gets you to where the three of them are standing. You gravitate towards Annie, taking the spot next to hers. 

“Find your girl?” 

“Yeah. She was where we left her, at the entrance.” 

You shift in your spot, craning your neck to see if you heard what you think you heard. Probably not. Right. Because why would Jean call you Eren’s girl? Again? And why would he not correct him? 

The five of you stand there for a few hours, screaming through the opener, and waiting for the show to start. You and Jean talk about how Eren used to be as a kid, you play rock paper scissors with Armin, and braid Annie’s hair while you wait. 

“Hey. Can we get drinks before it starts?” 

Armin nods. You go up to Eren, tapping on his shoulder and breaking him out of the very intense conversation he was having with Jean about something you couldn’t quite hear.

“Hey. Can I have my wallet? Armin and I are going to get drinks.” 

“Sure you’ll make it to the back without getting trampled? Do I need to carry you on my back?”

“Oh, shut up Ren. Wallet please.” 

He smiles, placing the wallet in your hand. You link hands with Armin, walking towards the back where the vendors were standing. The two of you break apart, Armin going to the vendor on the right and you heading to the one on the left. 

As you stand in the line, you look down and realize that Eren handed you his wallet and not yours. Asshole. You pull the cards out of his wallet, trying to shuffle for his credit card to buy the water. As you swipe through the cards, you find two polaroids tucked in the back pocket, pulling them out. 

The first one is a picture of a group of Eren and his friends. You can recognize Armin, Jean, and Mikasa, his childhood best friend that he had mentioned before. You wrack your mind, trying to remember if Eren or Armin ever mentioned that they grew up with Jean too. 

You focus on the other two people in the picture, the ones you can’t recognize. One is a girl, with short brown hair tied up into a ponytail at the top of her head. She has her arm swung around another guy, with short buzzed hair. You can identify Armin’s neat handwriting at the bottom, “the scouts” inscribed onto the polaroid. 

You tuck the photo back into the pocket, twisting the other one in your fingers to get a look at it. You drop it the second you flip it over, immediately crouching on the ground to find it. 

The polaroid is of you. You and Eren. You have your arms swung around his neck and you’re kissing his cheek. You run your fingers over the picture - trying to smudge the ink, flip it over for any words, find any explanation to when this picture was taken. You can’t even remember it. 

The girl in line behind you taps on your shoulder, signaling that it was my turn to go in the line. You tuck the picture back into the wallet, buying the waters and turning back to Annie. As the two of you link arms again, making your way back to the vendor, you can’t help but feel your head running at a million miles per hour. 

When did you guys take that picture? Why did you kiss his cheek? Why did he keep the picture in his wallet? Or not tell you?

You loop your arm with Armin’s again, the two of you bustling your way through the crowd back where you were standing. You hand the water bottles to Eren, Annie, and Jean, the latter of which mentions “he could kiss you two for this” which just pisses Eren and Annie even more. 

You make your way over to Eren, taking the spot next to him. He leans down, moving closer to you so you can hear him. 

“Hey. Having fun?” 

“Yeah.”

“That wasn’t very convincing.” 

“No really, I am.” 

He squints his eyes at you, before turning back to the stage. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

Before you can ask, the music starts blaring over you, the two of you thrown out of your thoughts as the music starts. That’s fine. You can settle for asking him later. 

The crowd gets closer around you, nearly shoving as you push to the stage. Before you can move out of the way, you feel Eren wrap his arms around you, stopping you from getting lost again. You look up, his head right next to yours. 

“Thanks.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

Towards the middle of the concert, a very tall group of people stands right in front of you. You shake Annie, who you had been holding hands with for a good part of the concert, the two of you rolling your eyes at them. 

Armin taps on her shoulder, lifting her up by swinging her legs around her shoulders. You look up, watching her laugh as she sticks her hands in Armin’s hair. 

You feel Jean reach for your shoulder, leaning his head near yours. 

“I can do that for you. If you want.” 

“I’m going to hurt you, Jean.” 

“I’m just kidding, Eren! You’re just so easy to mess with.” 

You turn to Eren, who’s still standing behind you. 

“Are you sure it’s okay?” 

“Yeah. Get on.” 

He bends down and you swing your legs over his shoulder, placing your hands in his air, as he lifts you up. You try to avoid the burning sensation of his hands resting on your thighs, thinking back to the time he touched them while the two of you were sitting on his bed, and focus on the music. You reach over and link hands with Annie in the air, the two of you singing to the music together. 

Eren avoids the burning sensation he’s feeling in his entire body from holding you like this. The ends of your dress are piled up near the top of your legs, which leaves just his hands touching just your thighs. He looks up, to find you entirely distracted, screaming the song with Annie. Probably fine then. 

The second the concert ends, Eren slowly sets you down, steadying you as your feet hit the ground. 

“You good?” 

“Yeah, thanks Ren.” 

Annie and Jean find their way next to the two of you, devious smiles pressed on their faces. They’re drunk. Not that you aren’t either, but they’re definitely worse than you. 

“Are you good, my sweet precious little Y/N?”

“Yeah, thank you Eren.” 

You laugh at their high pitched voices, the two of them mimicking you, as the five of you trudge out the crowd. 

“Shut up. You’re not funny. I’m going to hurt you, Annie.” 

“Shut up, Eren. That’s basically what you said to her.” 

“That wasn’t even close!” 

Jean swings his hand around your shoulder, leaning a majority of his weight on you as you leave the venue. 

“You can do way better.” 

“Way better for what?” 

“Then Eren! You know him - he’s all annoying and egotistical and shit.” 

“Not all the time! I feel like that was just at the beginning.” 

“If you were my roommate, we’d be dating already. Scratch that, married.” 

Eren’s going to kill Jean. Like actually. He’s been trailing behind the two of you, helping Armin drag Annie back to the car. He’s not even sure when Annie and Jean found time to drink during the concert, but here they are. Wasted. 

Does Jean think he doesn’t want to date you? Eren wants to date you. He wants to date you so bad. Press soft kisses to your hair when you wake up in the morning, sleep in your bed, watch you steal his clothes. He wants to date you. 

The second the five of you reach the car, you prop Jean and Annie against the car, wobbling in your stance. You grab onto Eren, as Armin starts attempts to shove Annie in the back of the car. 

Jean gets up off the car, placing his hands on your shoulders. 

“Nice scar.” 

You pale, forgetting that you had forgotten to cover it up since Eren asked you to. You grab the loose ends of your hair, brushing it over your shoulder. Eren catches you doing it and now he’s actually going to kill Jean. 

“Hey. Can you grab water from the people at the end there? Annie will probably vomit the second we start driving.” 

The second you walk away, it’s Eren’s turn to shove Jean in the car. 

“You’re pissing me off, Jean. Get in the fucking car and shut up.” 

“Mad your little girlfriend likes me?” 

“She doesn’t like you.” 

Annie sticks her head out the window, grabbing Eren’s face with her hands. 

“You’re an idiot. How do you know she doesn’t like Jean?” 

“Annie, my sweet. Get back in the car, yeah?”

How does he know that you don’t like Jean? Like he manifested you just by thinking about you, Eren feels you next to him again, leaning against his arm. The two of you are standing outside of the car, watching Annie fight with Jean over Armin. 

“Oh my god. They’re such horny drunks. Let’s leave while we still can.” 

You stick your head into the window of the car, wishing luck to Armin as Jean reaching up to lock his fingers with yours. 

“Marry me, Y/N?” 

“Okay, Jean. Sure.”  

You and Eren walk away from the car, Jean still moping in the front seat as you walk away. 

 -

You and Eren make your way back to the apartment - your feet, ears, head aching. The two of you are sluggish, basically drinking any water in the nearby proximity and hopping to the nearest chair. The two of you sit there, your heads leaning against the back of the couch as your exhaustion seeps in. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” 

“Tired, kitty?” 

“Ew. Yeah. Had a ton of fun though.”

Eren’s reeling. See, he had a plan. He was going to take you to the concert, bring you home, and kiss you. 

The truth is, he can’t really wait any longer. Every single thing you did was driving him crazy - every time he woke up next to you when he accidentally fell asleep in your bed, watching you come to all his games, buying him the necklace. He likes you. Too much. He has to do something about it. 

But now he’s not sure. Do you like Jean? Did he misread you and him all together? He knows that the two of you were friends - but he thought he was just like Armin to you. He feels your head plop on his shoulder, you settling your head on his frame. 

“You okay? I feel like I can see the steam coming off your head from thinking so hard.” 

“Yeah.” 

“What are you thinking about?”

“Do you like Jean?” 

You’re quiet. Too quiet. Oh god, you like Jean. Eren’s going to kill him. Or Armin, for introducing you. Or you, for liking him. 

“Would it bother you if I did?”

“Maybe, a little bit.” 

“Just a little?” 

“Okay, a lot.” 

You laugh, nuzzling your cheek into his. Idiot. 

“It would bother me too.” 

“What would?” 

“If you liked Jean.” 

The two of you laugh before sitting there in silence, pressed against each other, pondering over each other’s words. He doesn’t want you to like Jean. You don’t want him to like someone else. The two of you can settle for that, for tonight at least. 

“Do you have my wallet? You never gave it back.” 

The wallet. The picture. This is your chance to ask. 

You turn to face him, resting your hands on his biceps. 

“Eren.” 

“Kitty.” 

“Stop that.” 

He laughs, turning his head to the side as he does. 

“You’d tell me if I forgot something right? Like, if I did something weird while I was drunk, you would remind me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Absolutely positive.” 

You pull the polaroid out, handing it to him.

“Papa. You lie.” 

He laughs at your joke, twisting the polaroid in his fingers. 

“Okay, Eleven. That’s enough. I totally forgot this was in my wallet when I handed it to you. Are you mad?” 

“No. I’m kind of sad, actually. I don’t even remember the first time I kissed you.” 

He leans over, his lips a few feet away from yours. His green eyes are glimmering, a look you can’t place in them. 

“Then do it again.” 

“What?” 

“If you can’t remember, then just do it again.” 

You stare at him for a few seconds, his eyes still staring into yours. He can’t be serious, can he? He does look serious. He’s still sitting across from you, leaning on the couch like he’s waiting for it. Like he’s waiting for you to kiss him.

You lean over, pressing yourself against his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. You lean forward, shakily mind you, and press a kiss to his cheek. 

The two of you stay like that, you in his lap and Eren smiling at you, for a few seconds. You can’t stand to look at his eyes, the thought of him looking at you embarrassing you. You dig your face into the crook of his neck, trying to hide your flushed cheeks. 

“All quiet now?” 

“What else do you want me to say? I just kissed your cheek. It’s your move, Eren.” 

You feel his fingers around the side of your face, lifting it up so he can get a good look at you. He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, smiling at you. 

“I want to kiss you. I want to kiss your sweet, perfect lips so badly you don’t even understand. But I have to do it the right way, okay? Think you can wait till tomorrow?” 

“What’s tomorrow?” 

“Just wait and see, silly girl.” 

You come to find out that tomorrow is not what you were hoping for. Not in the slightest. 

- 

taglist: @maliakealoha @smolone88 @mykyoon @squirrelspoetry @roronoazorosbxtchh @fell-4-u @erensleftnutt @thelazylemur @mg63k @filunara @mblrrr @spidersinmybutthole @lezsie @erensmoodygf @maesthebestmonth @nanamiswife22 @lalalucidity @lapin0u @cullenswife @leafguitar @saiyasworld @rebeccawinters @mrs-sullys-blog @red-moon-dream @icansmellsouls @luvinclouds 

[mg63k]

OWAAA NOOO WDYM DOWNHILL 🥹🥹🥹

[hqkalon-deactivated20230608]

my goal this summer it to give off lana del rey energy

[mg63k]

I FEEL U SO BAD

[mg63k]

should i make a masterlist ^-^

[mg63k]

also i just woke up to a bajillion likes THANK U BBYS 🥹🥹

[mg63k]

WHAT DRABBLES SHOULD I MAKE TODAY HMMM 🫡

[kebma-deactivated20231017]

"there ya go, just like that, darlin', now bend yer legs a little more- woah there," suna laughs as he catches you smoothly.

"rin," you frown, still wobbling a little on the skateboard, "i can't do this."

"sure ya can, just gotta practice with me a little more, then ya'll be skatin' right along side me."

he attempts to unwrap his arms from you, but you grip him tightly, shaking your head.

you can feel your face burning as you lower your head.

"can you um... hold onto me for a while? i really don't wanna fall."

suna smirks widely.

"sure ya don't just want me to keep holdin' ya, baby?"

you hit his chest.

"rin," you glare up at him, "stop teasing me, i just don't want to fall, dickhead."

"yer so mean to me," suna fake pouts, but his arms stay still.

you take a deep breath and push away, but continue holding onto suna's hand.

"now just push off with yer foot there, yep just like that, ya got it. yer doing so good."

your tongue sticks out in concentration as you attempt to balance while still holding your boyfriend's hand.

for a split second your gliding along the pavement smoothly, then suddenly the board hits a crack and you're pitched forward.

you yelp loudly as suna grunts and stumbles to catch you, rolling over and falling unto his back instead. you land on top of him, fall completely cushioned.

"rin? rin are you okay?!"

"ow," he groans slightly, lifting his head up, "are ya hurt at all?"

"me?!" you shout, slightly panicked at seeing the bloody scrapes on his legs, "what about you?"

you roll off of him and stand up, checking over the rest of his body. suna sits up and inspects his legs.

"i'm fine, s' parta the job description."

"this isn't a job, dummy," your eyes are beginning to water, suna looks at you in shock and stands, cupping your face.

"hey, hey what's wrong, baby? what's got ya upset?"

"i- i hurt you, and i can't stand on the stupid- on the stupid board."

"trust me, i've been hurt way worse than this before, i can show you some of the x-rays later," he chuckles, you look up at him, eyes still a little teary.

"promise you're okay?"

"i promise... ya know what would make me feel a whole lot better though?"

"what?" you sniffle.

"kissin' yes pretty lips."

suna tips his head down and pulls you up into a kiss.

"did it work?" you ask, pulling away and smiling a little.

"can hardly feel it anymore, sweetie."

for: @httpghostface

[mg63k]

THIS WAS SO ADORABLE IM FANGIRLING

[mg63k]

i ended up not redoing my tags

[mg63k]

UODATE tags are REDONE say goodbye to miffy

[specialmoogakii-deactivated2025]

"Imagine if cove didn't reciprocate your feel-"

[mg63k]

​I THINK ABOUT THIS EVERY DAY AND I DONT LIKE IT

[mg63k]

just fixed my settings so now people can requests littol things ^_^

[shibaraki]

A FISH OUT OF WATER ┊ MIYA ATSUMU

synopsis: you are his constant in a life shaped by an ever changing element. he wants you. but you are the most oblivious creature he has ever met.

tags: GN reader, merfolk au, merman atsumu, human reader, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, falling in love, courting behaviours, obliviousness, cultural differences, first kisses, getting together

wc: 3.5K

↱ written for the mermay collab hosted by the teahouse server ↲

As a child Atsumu never understood other finfolks fascination with humans, good or bad. Ma was never reluctant to explain, rather, he just didn’t care to ask. There were far more important things to do in the reef. Like hunting shelled crabs, riding the currents, and eating oysters so he could spit pearls at his brother's head until he gave chase.

But three moons before his twelfth birthday, he found you.

Suspended in the water, bubbles dwindling around your frame as the fight bled from your muscles. You sank into a lifeless repose. A human. Small, smaller than him. Thoughts whirring to a stop, his mind blanked, and his tail propelled him forward in a blink.

You were light in his arms at first. Breaching the surface had been the scary part. Worse then, as he needed to drag you up onto the shore where he could be seen. The section of beach close by was secluded. Shielded by large rocks, tide pools formed in the crevices. Atsumu deposited you onto the sand, hissing at the tides that crawled behind and splashed at your chin as if to scold them.

You convulsed and curled in onto yourself like the tiny dumbo octopus that lived in the crevasse near his home. Water spurted from your nose and mouth. It gathered in the corners of your eyes and rolled down your cheeks. Atsumu stared as you wailed and felt his own tumultuous emotions swell dramatically. Restless under his skin was the urge to calm you. To comfort you. But he had never been any good at that kind of thing.

So he reached out to pat your leg. It was covered in clumps of sand. Your shorts and shirt were drenched, and one of your feet had lost a flip flop. Then he repeated what Ma always told him, “Don’t worry, guppy. I’m here”.

That distracted you enough that your attention fell on him. Your immediate petrified screech reverberated harshly in his sensitive ears, both pressed flat to his head as he hissed and squirmed further back into the ocean to escape the sound.

“A—A monster! Get away!”

An odd sense of vulnerability washed over him. Embarrassment, shame, anger. At that moment, Atsumu decided all his assumptions must have been correct. You were clearly a few fish short of a shoal. “M’not a monster,” he’d shouted back, fins flared irritably. “Be grateful I saved yer life, Ugly! Ugly, ugly, ugly!”

Your face scrunched up at the insults, covered in salt water, tears and bile. A dull ache struck against his skull, hard and sudden. You had kicked him in the head and ran away.

Osamu laughed at the mark upon his return. Atsumu endured, kept his mouth shut and resolved never to go back to the surface. Ever! But curiosity still drew him back the next morning. And the next. Every day he checked, you were there, standing awkwardly on the beach and squinting at the horizon. Searching.

Ma’s voice echoed through his thoughts while he hid from view. Atsumu was great at lots of things. Loads better than Osamu. Racing, hunting, splitting shells, tying knots, playing ball. Not so great at making friends. Try to meet ‘em where they’re at, she said. Smile. Be nice. Find what they like and ask about it.

When he finally plucked the courage to make his presence known you’d been back in the tide pools. The ends of your shirt pulled out to hold all the shells you were collecting, heavily weighing on the wet fabric. A few tumbled down as you crouched to pick up a limpet, mouth curling into a pleased grin. Limpets are boring, he thought. And an idea struck.

Diving lower, Atsumu combed through the sand and seaweed until he spotted an iridescent spiral of orange and purple. The snail went helplessly as he clasped it between his webbed fingers, shooting for the rocks. You were still there, filling the silence with a directionless hum.

Atsumu broke the surface quietly. Enough distance between that you could not kick him again. “Hey!” he called, hands thrusted out toward you, head already turned toward his shoulder to brace for another scream. “Got a snail. Wanna see?”

Nothing came. He hadn’t realised how much your acceptance meant to him until then—when you crouched excitedly close by, unheeding of the tide soaking you further, and gasped as he presented the gift. Relief burst in his chest, warm and tingly to the tips of his fins at the careful prodding of your fingers to the creature in his palms; so intense that a wave of luminescence washed through his scales.

“I was looking for you,” you later admitted, voice softened in apology. “Thank you for saving me. I’m sorry I kicked you and called you mean things”.

Atsumu detailed the slight pout to your lips. Knees shifting in the sand. Eyes wide, gleaming hopefully as you waited for his reply. Something fluttered in his stomach the longer you looked at him. Horrified, the longer he looked back, the more it dawned on him that you were not ugly at all.

“Good. So y’should be,” he grumbled, smacking his tail up onto the shore. Heat blotched across his cheeks when you glanced at it in awe. Timid, he added, “…S’fine though. Didn’t hurt”.

Smiling gleefully at that as his gaze darted back and forth, you held out your pinky and promised to always be his friend.

Time elapsed. Seasons passed. No longer a juvenile, his colours started to come into full bloom. Rich gold around his hips and waist, tapering into black toward his large ruffled tail fin. Even his hair lightened as he took to adulthood. After his twentieth birthday the months seemed to come and go faster than he liked. You were his one constant in a life shaped by an ever changing element. Atsumu’s blatant affection for you remained his worst kept secret but none of the finfolk scorned him for it.

Osamu’s steadfast teasing was the only downside. Offhanded or feigning disinterest, he’d always ask, “What d’you keep doing up there?”

Atsumu bounced a hard clam off his brother’s thick skull, “Nothin’. Told’ya a million times, I just like the surface”.

“Uh-huh. Does the ‘surface’ in question happen ta’ have a name and a pulse?”

“You’ll soon have neither if you don’t shut yer trap, ‘Samu!”

Summer comes along and once again, Atsumu decides to remain in the reef. There’s a new den for him in the alcove, carved out from the outcropping of rock with his own hands, right next to a dense forest of kelp. The afternoon sun filters through it in rays as the currents shift, dewy light dancing on the walls.

Two years he has been eligible to migrate and find a mate. This will make it his second absence from the celebrations. Ma never pushed him despite the worry written plain on her face. Osamu only pinned him with a knowing look as he went. It will be the longest they’ve been apart from one another and he doesn’t like it.

Realistically he still could have attended—should have, maybe, lest the other pods find his refusal disrespectful. But Astumu had no compulsion to go. The very idea of leaving you threw his instincts into high gear and he needed to race the currents just to calm the urgency wracking his bones. Because somewhere amidst the years spent with you he became aware of the voice clamoring in the back of his head. One that had been growing in intensity for some time, but hadn't been quite as loud as it was until the elders advised him to take a partner.

You were his mate.

Atsumu had been subconsciously courting you since you were children. Bringing you food and gifts, letting his display scales flash lurid in your presence. He kept guard as you slept on the sand, picked the seaweed and dirt from your hair, swam in synchrony with you when the tides were calm, wrapping your legs around his tail until you become a knot of a person. In hindsight, it was embarrassingly obvious—

Yet you are still blissfully oblivious to it, and that nags at him like nothing else.

Raking claw tipped fingers through his hair, Atsumu paces the length of his den with thoughts of how to be more deliberate in his courtship. Human relationships were complex—purposefully difficult, in some cases. You might respond better if he simply confessed what his intentions were.

You’ve promised to come by the cove as soon as you’re free today. Adulthood came with plenty of changes for you as well as him. You have to work more than he likes. It means less time together; hours spent with other people, any of which could stake their own claim and take you from his reach.

Agitated, Atsumu darts to the surface the instant the sky settles into evening. The sun spreads a blush across the ocean’s surface, tepid but pleasant when it kisses his cheeks. Your distant figure is climbing over the rock formations with careful movements. At first he lingers in the deeper water, submerged below the nose to watch like he used to all those years ago.

“‘Tsumu!” arms high in the air, you wave and bounce on the balls of your feet when you spot him. Lazily, he rides the small wave that floods onto the shelf you are standing on, arms folding on the craggy surface to keep his upper half above water.

There’s a bag over your shoulder. It drops low with the weight it carries. “Look what the tide dragged in,” you let the bag drop, contents half spilling out across the floor. Familiar things. Suncream, bottled water, a change of clothes. Your foot comes to rest atop the worn volleyball as it rolls toward the edge, flinching when he splashes at you in retaliation. “You’re here earlier than usual. Did’ya miss me?”

Atsumu bobs, eyes rolling. “Was too busy making up my new den to think twice about’cha, sunshine,” he cracks a grin. You bat at the hand that threatens to circle around your ankle as you lower yourself to sit on the shelf’s edge, legs swinging over the depths.

“All grown up and living on your own now,” you pat his head in what is intended to be condescension but only ends up conveying fondness for him as your fingernails scratch gently at his scalp. “Proud of you”.

“Stupid,” he mumbles, tipping into the touch without shame as he bobs in the water. Peeking up at you through the hair drying unruly over his eyes his heart sits prominent at the back of his throat. You’re in your swimsuit under your clothes again, he notices. “Ya gonna get in with me today?”

“Planned on it,” you replied coyly. Atsumu inhales deeply. Gills flutter. He feels his fins flare around his hips and smothers the need to hide himself, nudging his cheek to your bare thigh. A beat passes and your smile dims somewhat, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately, ‘Tsumu”.

He rumbles his disapproval. Turning to nose at the skin there, Atsumu loosens his jaw and gently pincers your flesh between his teeth. Just enough to serve as a warning. The muscle and sinew remains relaxed despite it all, entirely sure he wouldn’t hurt you.

A heavy warmth drapes over his being at the heat, blood and beating heart echoing through your veins. “Gross,” you say without malice, flicking his temple at the lave of his tongue over your nonexistent wound.

“Ugly,” he returns, affectionate cadence unrestrained. You temper a smirk, kicking water his way as you tug your t-shirt over your head. Atsumu sinks into the sea’s cool embrace while you undress. Years ago you would have shied away from his blatant staring.

You’re welcoming to the arms that circle your waist as you turn to lower your body into the water. Atsumu doesn’t need to hold you up anymore, not like when you were young and easily drawn into the stronger currents, but he does so regardless. It earns him a soft huff, and a weak protest that is patently for show, but you let him.

A pleased sound vibrates in his throat before he can bite it back. You’re truly the softest thing he has ever laid hands on. Your fingers trail along his biceps, tracing the scales decorating his shoulders. Bioluminescence pulses through them with a shudder and you laugh at him, though not unkindly, “You’re lookin’ a lot brighter lately”.

Your ignorance is a blessing sometimes. Hiding his face in your hair his tail undulates and pushes your entwined bodies back toward the reef. Pride swells as your thighs cinch around his hips. The tides break around you, paving a pathway of foam from the shore to the corals. Below are vibrant formations, each unique and intricate, shelter for shoals of fish darting from the shadows stretching across on the seabed.

“Hey… can I ask you something?”

“Just did,” Atsumu snarks reflexively. You tighten your hold around his neck, leaning back to glare at him. You are about as intimidating as a sea bunny. He hums, “Alright, I’ll bite. What is it?”

Something flits across your features. Hesitance, maybe. Then your anxieties are spilling out into the open, “Why’d you split off from your group? Are they mad at you or something? If it’s because of me—”

Words stutter into a pitched plea for mercy when he pointedly tucks his chin to suck a mouthful of water into his cheeks. You flinch preemptively, throwing your hands up to your face. Atsumu holds a moment longer, pursing his lips as if readying to fire. You push at his chest in a fit of nervous laughter, “Okay, okay! I get it, it’s not my fault—don’t spray me!”

He doesn’t spit it at you. The seawater falls from his lips, trickles over his chin and returns to the tide. “Yer ability to overthink never fails to amaze me,” your breathing hitches as he brings your foreheads together. The flustered look you cast him makes him squeeze tighter, unwilling to let go. “They’ve gone to the mating grounds, that’s all. Figured it was as good’a time as any to find my own territory”.

You pause, a crease forming between your brows. “The mating grounds? You’ve never mentioned that before”.

Atsumu shrugs. The movement ripples out around you in broad rings. “Never needed to,” he says. “Wasn't important. M’here, aren’t I?”

“Why?” the pressure from your thighs lessens, just a fraction, but he’s already scrambling to cup the back of your knees and keep them there. You freeze. Scrutinising any minute change to his expression, eyes bright and flickering. Atsumu avoids your gaze with his inner cheek between his teeth. Slow, a smirk pulls at your lips. “Don’t tell me you’ve got no suitors”.

Atsumu chitters, displeased. You shouldn’t find the idea amusing. He wants you to hate it. Sulking, he says, “Glad ya think that’s funny”.

Your face falls, then. And you are seeking the strong grip he had on you before, clutching at his shoulders. Your hands slide carefully up the column of his neck, featherlight over his gills. A shiver breaks out across his skin as you take his face into your hands. “Hey, no. I didn’t mean—” you stop to sound a frustrated groan. “I didn’t mean it like that, ‘Tsumu. I just—I thought you were joking. Why wouldn’t a mer like you have everybody vying for your attention?”

His mouth shapes around a small ‘o’. Then it draws wide, crooked and teasing. “A mer like me, eh?” he echoes, slipping back from your grasp to circle you in the water as a thrilling static buzzed under his skin. Urgency grips him and hems his scales, saturating them with rich gold hues. “Like what?”

“Stop fishing for compliments, loser. You know,” you struggle to tread water and spin to track his circular motions, pushing a vindictive wave of water at him. “You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen”.

The glow from his display is bleeding into the blue-green waters and attracting the attention of the reef dwellers but he’s too pleased to be mortified. He halts his stalking, crowding into your arms, “Y’think I’m—?!”

Your fingers thread into his hair. With all your might you dunk him under, cutting his sentence short as a wave rushes to fill the space in his open mouth. He laughs through the descent of your body, the force having pushed him low enough that he is facing your bare stomach. Remaining there, even as you relinquish your grip.

Other finfolk never really commented on his colouring. They hadn’t attempted to initiate courtship, either, not with his priorities elsewhere. You have praised his scales before but this feels different. In the context of being wanted—desired as a partner. Maybe it’s just pretty words. But you would not have submerged him in a fit of embarrassment if there weren’t some truth in it.

Fins vibrating eagerly, small trails of bubbles rise to the surface. You're patting at his arms now, worried why he won’t come up, expression distorted by the water. He sinks forward, face pressing up against your midriff. Your abdomen immediately clenches. Nails dig into the curve of his shoulder as he mouths at your sternum. Arms rise to wrap around your waist and your knees flank his ribs, squeezing tight.

A mer’s senses are that much sharper here. He feels your stuttered breath, hears your heartbeat quicken, smells the beginnings of arousal. It tastes like victory, overwhelming all rational thought. Head to tailfin his instincts are begging to drag you to his den and fuck you to sleep.

But he can’t. Not yet, and not the way he wants to.

Pushing into a soft, resting stomach, Atsumu takes a breath, shakes himself from his reverie and blows hard against the skin. You immediately convulse, trying to squirm out of his grasp. Overhead, your sweet laughter; muffled by the white noise around him but just as euphonious.

You’re panting when he finally resurfaces, your head tilted to keep your chin above water. The tide must be coming in. He supports you against his chest, making you a few inches taller. “You dickhead. Fishbrains,” you chide breathlessly, betrayed by the fond look in your eye. “Shit. Don’t do that again”.

“Mean. What happened to gorgeous?” Atsumu’s pout trembles, struggling to keep his amusement at bay.

“I'll take it back!”

“No take backsies,” he croons, nuzzling at your jawline. Dangerous. “Glad ya think I’m hot and all but that’s not the only part of courting. Like, proving yer able to take care of them. Hunting an’ preparing food. Presenting gifts. Helping them groom. Keeping guard. S’why it takes the whole summer”.

As he speaks a slither of dread settles heavy in his gut. The memories practically flit across your face, visibly connecting the dots. “But you’ve always done those things—” your voice loses strength, mouth opening and closing a few times before finishing, “for me…?”

The sky is bruised. Clouds have gathered by the cliffs, and the sun is almost tucked beneath the horizon, casting a final burst of orange across the glittering ocean’s surface. His display dims. “Yea’,” he clears his throat, summoning a playful tone, “Real sharp, angel. I sure know how to pick ‘em”.

Any confidence he had slips between his fingers like dry sand the longer the silence draws between you. A sad note catches in his throat. His gills twitch as he waits with bated breath. Warm, soft hands come to cradle his face. Your thumb sweeps gently back and forth beneath his eye.

You don’t laugh. You don’t even splash at him. Rather, reverently, you say “…‘Tsumu”.

He peers up to meet your gaze. Softened by dusk, you are watching him through lidded eyes, crinkled at the corners. A sharp sensation frissons up his spine. You tilt his chin, bringing him into a chaste kiss. Atsumu shudders, hands pawing desperately at your hips. You pull back a hair’s breadth only to kiss him again, full lips sliding together, a more deliberate press that grows fervent at the cautious lick of his tongue.

When you seek air with a sharp inhale your eyes flutter closed for a moment. Atsumu doesn’t bother to dull his purr, nor the soft flow emitting from his tail, forming a golden ring of light around your entangled bodies. Mirthfully, you murmur, “I can’t believe it. You like me”.

It feels right; like finally letting himself have everything he’s ever wanted.

He laughs quietly, tucking a kiss beneath your ear, “Somethin’ like that”.

[mg63k]

i ended up not redoing my tags

[mrs-kurooo-deactivated20240222]

WHERE WE BELONG | kuroo x fem!reader

-> synopsis: absence makes the heart grow fonder

-> cw: NSFW, MDNI 18+, smut, lovemaking, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, creampie, lots of kissing, it’s emotional okay they’re in love >:(

-> wc: 1.7k

-> a/n: a repost cos i was thinking about this and him and yeah :( this was the first smut fic I ever published about a year ago so I changed it up a little out of sheer embarrassment over how bad it was 😀

The house feels larger each day, the rooms stretching around you and echoing your every footstep. Meals don’t taste as good and the bed is always so cold without him to keep you warm. There’s no chatter to fill the silence, no cackling to warm your heart, no arms that wrap around your waist when he comes from work. You miss his lips on your skin and the way his hair tickles your neck when he buries his face there and it's been far too long since you’ve felt the whisper of his breath over the shell of your ear.

Kuroo isn’t due back for another few days thanks to a special volleyball match he put together for the world to see. You’re proud of him, you really are, but you can’t help the ugly bitterness of resentment that rises like bile in your throat every time he hangs up the phone - because it’s just been too fucking long. Mentally, you curse his employers, the association, hell, you even curse his coworkers for not being competent enough to maybe take some of the weight of his shoulders. They’ve taken your husband far away from you, where you can only reach him by the stupid rectangular device currently sitting in your palm. 

But you know him. You know that he’s doing what he loves and you know that he’s happy doing it so you force yourself to push down your childish emotions each day and keep waiting.. Rereading his last text message for the third time, you heave a sigh, tossing it against the cushions of the sofa as you lean back and close your eyes. 

I miss you too, baby. I’ll be back before you know it. 

At some point, you doze off, neck bent to the side awkwardly as you sleep. There’s a distinctive click that causes you to stir, followed by a creak and then a dull thud that jolts you from your slumber. You sit up, wide eyed and dazed, wondering why you can hear the sound of the door.

Cautiously, you stand from your seat, blood running cold when the soft pad of footsteps quickly approaches you. You can’t move, completely frozen in place. 

The living room door swings open. 

And you almost scream. 

Tears spring to your eyes as you stumble over your own feet, skirting the coffee table, your heart pounding in your chest.Your beloved husband strides towards you, neither of you able to stand the distance much longer. With a sob, you throw yourself into his arms, warmth blooming under your skin as he wraps them around you. He squeezes you tightly, laughing wetly as he holds you close, his chest finally loosening once he breathes you in. 

“Hi,” you sniffle, peering up from his chest with a wobbly smile, your eyes fluttering shut as his hand comes up to cradle your cheek and brush away your tears. 

“Hey,” he whispers back.

“You’re home early.”

“I am,” he chuckles, resting his forehead against yours briefly before he leans up to press a tender, lingering kiss right between your brows. You melt further into him, bones softening as his lips move to your temple. They glide over your cheekbones, kissing his way down to your lips where he smiles against the corner of your mouth before finally slotting against it. Both of you release relieved sighs as you fit back together, slowly reacquainting yourself with the other and savouring each and every kiss. 

Kuroo tilts his head to the side to deepen his kisses, hands skimming over your waist to squeeze at your hips before travelling back, palms heavy and warm with desperate need as he drags them over the curves of your body. Your own hands tangle in his dark hair, tugging gently as your tongue runs across the seam of lips and meet his when they part, a soft groan vibrating in your throat. 

You’re both suddenly overcome by the need to be as close to each other as humanly possible. His hands move again, smoothing over your ass and resting at the backs of your thighs, tapping twice to signal for you to jump up into his arms. Legs now wrapped tightly around his waist, you cling to him as he navigates you to your bedroom, almost bumping into the door frame when you distract him with a well placed lick over the pulse in his throat.

“Watch it,” he breathes playfully and you giggle against his skin, pressing your lips against it in apology. Once he lowers you onto the bed, Kuroo pauses in his affections, his eyes caressing your face with adoration before he surges back in for more. Articles of clothing are hurriedly tugged off, fluttering to the ground as skin finally meets skin. 

“I missed you so much,” he murmurs, nosing  at the curve of your throat before his lips part around the flesh, sucking it into his mouth and coaxing blood to gather under the surface, leaving the area flushed - a tender bruise will greet you come morning. 

Hands guide lips, each brush of his fingertips followed by a soft kiss. Over your neck and collarbone and shoulders until he rests his forehead between your breasts. The heavy thud of your heart knocks against your ribcage, a steady beat that he touches his lips to reverently, before giving in to his impatience and continuing his journey down the planes of your body. 

Warm lips flutter over your tummy, before finally pressing against the insides of your thighs. Without prompt, your legs part further as he raises them to rest over his shoulders, finally faced with your slick pussy. 

“Tetsu, hurry.” Your whine turns breathy as he drags his lips over your sex, tongue flicking softly over your clit. He laps at you slowly, lovingly, collecting your liquid arousal on his tongue with each swipe. Heat pools deep in your belly, and you clench around air, longing to be full and warm after so much time apart. 

A pitchy moan escapes your lips, as Kuroo continues to taste you deeply, tongue fucking into you and stroking at your walls. Your core feels tight, burning hot as he gently works you up, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs and breathing heavily into your pussy, losing himself to your heady flavour. 

“Baby, wait.” He hums, pulling back briefly to peek up at you through his lashes. Your heart almost stops at how beautiful he looks down there, cheeks flushed with black swallowing the gold of his eyes.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His voice is soft, eyelids lowered as he gazes at you. You swallow hard, unabashed from the desire clouding your mind.

“Want you inside me. Please, I need you. I miss you.” you beg. 

“Shh, I’m here, I’m here.” He moves to hover over you, leaning most of his weight on one forearm, the other hand sliding down your hip to wrap your leg around his waist. 

His cock is throbbing, aching to be encased in your warmth once more, to be hugged and held by your insides. The flushed head catches your clit as he runs it up and down your slit a few times, gathering your slick before the nudge of your hips urges him to slide home. 

Inch by inch, he eases himself inside, almost overwhelmed by how warm and welcoming you are. Simultaneous moans of relief pierce the air and it takes every ounce of self restraint for Kuroo to still his hips once he is fully sheathed. 

“I’m home now,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your cheek with a shaky sigh. “I’m here.”

“Missed you,” you mumble. Tears gather at your waterline as his hips rock back in his first thrust. Slow and languorous, Kuroo makes steady love to you, kissing your lips, your face, your neck, any patch of skin his lips can touch. 

“I missed you too.”

Your arms clutch him tightly, holding him close as your heaving breaths and the soft slap of skin fills the air. Unhurriedly, you fill each other with the love you’ve been holding in after over a month of separation, warm pleasure building in your bellies. 

Kuroo soaks up the soft moans that slip from your throat when he angles his hips just so, watching enraptured as crystalline tears slip down your temples. 

Your chests are pressed flush together, hearts bumping, straining to leave the confines of your bodies and meet. To close every millimetre of space that once yawned between you like a chasm. 

“I love you,” he whispers, and your heart swells, more tears spilling over. “I love you.” 

He grunts softly in your ear, squeezing his eyes shut as hips pick up pace and his fingers find your clit, rubbing small circles into the hardened nub. 

I love you, fuck, I love you.” His love overflows, waves of pleasure cresting and crashing into you as you climax with a keening moan, your husband quickly following suit and sloppily thrusting as he does so. Your muscles tighten and relax, pussy clenching around his cock as warmth floods your body and soothes you completely. 

You’re boneless in his arms, still breathing heavily as his weight blankets you comfortingly. 

“I love you too. God, love you so much,” you slur, still holding onto him as he catches his breath. He raises his head, his own eyes sparkling with wetness as your foreheads meet once more, your panting breaths mingling in the short gap between you. A gap that Kuroo closes after a moment, kissing you slow and sweet before his lips shower your whole face in tender adulation. He kisses away your tears, huffing out a soft laugh as you thumb away the couple of drops that manage to escape his own eyes. 

“Don’t pull out yet.” You squeeze down around his softening length for good measure, giggling when he gasps softly. “I just wanna be close to you like this for a little bit.”

He nods, carefully manoeuvring you so that you can lay more comfortably together as he holds you. Dipping your head down a little, you drop featherlight kisses to his chest, mimicking his earlier sentiment by resting your forehead around where his heart is. You can feel the soft lub-dub of every beat in your ears, pulsing with life under your head, every breath reminding you that he is finally here, with you. 

He’s home. 

[glotoru]

SHE’S MY COLLAR. eren jaeger

── eren knows you, he can deal with you; but sometimes, your obsessions can be too much, even for him.

content contains : nerdy!eren x dumb!gf so real, reader is needy and obsessed with eren, nsfw, unprotected sex, riding, dumbification, ‘just the tip’ moment, size kink kinda, slight cervix kissing, dick drunk reader & pussydrunk eren, creampie. wc: 2.2k. minors do not interact thanks &lt;3

god, you’re annoying sometimes.

unfortunately, you can never seem to realize that your boyfriend is a busy person—or anyone, really, for that matter. it’s like you believe everyone is just as carefree as you; leaving things up to the ‘fate of the universe’ and ditching responsibilities to constantly hang out with eren, essentially leaving him to deal with your eccentricity and fixations.

and it comes as no surprise to learn that he just happens to be the latest one.

it’s different from your other ones—they were much easier. because he could simply just take you to the nearest parlour and buy you scoops and tubs of your favourite ice cream, or spend his latest internship check on your wardrobe and be done with it for a favourable amount of time. but with this? you’ve been as insatiable as they come.

eren can count on two hands how many times you’ve begged him, with tears clumping your dark lashes and patchy mascara, to get away from assignments, studying, classes—even work—just to come see you in the past week. and of course, they all ended the same way; with swollen lips, limbs sore from how you held your legs to your torso as he rutted his hips into the fat of your ass, your messy cunt full of his cum, and both his face and sheets stained with your juices. he doesn’t doubt he’s been shooting blanks for the last few times, too.

but still, the worst part about it all is the fact that he just can’t bring himself to say no to you—despite all of his damned efforts to do so.

“‘ren, you should pay attention to your girlfriend.” you groan, neck curling backwards as you crane your head up to look at him. you’re planted near his left leg as he works away at the desk in his bedroom, completely ignoring your words while pages of code reflect on his glasses. “i don’t wanna sit down here anymore.”

‘i’ve been paying attention to you all week’, he wants to say—but would rather opt for the regular ‘im busy’ rather than anything else that could potentially hurt your feelings. and eren knows you’re immune to it, how if you had a dollar for every time those words left his mouth, you’d be fucking millionaire most likely—but he does it anyways.

it’s laughable, how you offered to sit there yourself as opposed to his lap because he said you would distract him if you did. yet here you were still doing the same thing; looking up at him with that subtle pout and eyes full of adoration of some sort—the kind that has his dick swelling at an embarrassingly quick rate.

“can you take a break? i miss you s’much it hurts.”

eren recognizes the drag in your voice in almost a second. as if uttering a silent prayer, he keeps his breath in the tunnel of his throat when you lazily hug him, hardened nipples brushing against his bare leg through the thin fabric of your tank top. he knows he’s taking you for granted. shit...just how many guys would pay money for this sight; the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on asking him for attention. in all honesty, you’re not the best influence, but it’s gruelling trying not to give in to you.

“fine.” the four letter word is all you need as an invitation to jump from the seat near his chair and into his legs, which widen just a teeny bit for your comfort as you straddle him.

the feeling of your arms wrapped around Eren’s slender waist whilst burying your head in his chest burns through his clothing and into his skin. instead of focusing on how your acrylics gently rake up and down his back, he chooses to open up his phone, mindlessly swiping between different page screens and periodically opening up the ‘settings’ which seem to be so important.

honestly, you just needed to be close to him; close enough to bunch his shirt in your hands while you get a whiff of his body soap and cologne—the same one lingering in your apartment, your clothes, everything. but ugh, his scent alone isn’t capable of grant your contentment; you need him inside of you—his muddled moans flowing into your mouth as you tangle your fingers within his hair, the way his brows pull together when he frantically rubs and your clit, desperate to get you crying for him.

the thought of him alone is more than enough to get you off, and just for a moment you forget eren’s there. too stuck in your head and up in the clouds, you fail to notice the way your body subconsciously rocks itself on his lap, arms tightening in the embrace as you tense from the slight stimulation to your cunt.

and eren. . .he watches with wide eyes full of surprise, his phone falling to the floor with a thud. there’s no other way to describe the sight other than pretty—your eyes are squeezed shut with fickle breaths and lips jutted out into a pout; the same pout you give when it’s just not hitting right. but he can feel all of you rubbing against his crotch, even the damp spot forming on the centre point of his grey sweatshorts.

fuck, he concludes that you must not be wearing anything under the satin shorts hugging your legs. sooner or later, you’d be the death of him.

eren jaeger: death by pussy.

doesn’t sound too bad, considering what he knows he’s in for.

“i need it eren, can’t cum without it.” you ramble the same words that you’ve been saying for the last week, eyes glossed over when you look up at his flushed face. when he tries to speak, you’re quick to cut him off, “just the tip, promise—i promise…”

eren’s almost unsure how he finds himself mindlessly nodding along, as if your whines and pleas are like a coercive drug, “just the tip…”

you repeat those three words over—like it’s more of a mantra to yourself rather than a word of reassurance to your boyfriend—as you clumsily pull one leg out of the confinement of your shorts, giving him the perfect view of your sheened over pussy. just the tip, you mumble, drooling at the sight of eren tugging his pants further down his legs to free his dick, all achey and upright, standing against his torso as he breathes heavily.

your cunt throbs when you line yourself over him, dragging his leaky tip across your folds and sensitive clit. it’s easily one of the best reliefs you could ask for, eyes flitting around in the back of your head as you lean into his shoulder. poor eren could probably cum straight like this, seeing you use him like a damned fuck toy—seeing how horny you are for only him.

his moans only add fuel to the fire, pushing you to try your luck at sliding down his bulbous head before stopping right where it ends. he’s just so big, stretching out your hole with just the tip alone—leaving you to mutter a string of jumbled up curses as your body leans forward into him.

“does it feel good, baby?” the hoarseness in his voice is difficult to miss, it’s as if his throat is closing up with every passing moment. you’ve never tried this before, but the vice grip your cunt has on the most sensitive part of him has him wishing you’d done this much sooner.

“yeah—yeah, it feels really-”

your last word comes out in choked whine, breath hitching when his middle and ring finger find their way to your clit, tracing feather-light circle on the bud.

you want eren to make you cum—you’re so desperate that you resort to steadily rutting yourself down on his tip, focused enough to not break your promise to him. there’s a steadily approaching burn in your thighs: it’s a burn that makes you want to cry, makes you want to beg him to make the pain go away and make you finish—but you hold your tongue.

eren’s lips can only part at your unexpected determination, showcasing the sharp bottom teeth that look so much like fangs. you don’t think when you move a hand to his flushed face, your thumb messily slipping inside his mouth and padding the surface of his canines. your other hand makes its way to his glasses, gently pushing them back up the bridge of his nose before meeting his swollen lips with your own.

the residue of the strawberry cake you fed him hours prior is still lingering on his tongue, you can at least make that out as you swirl your own in his mouth.

the voice in your head chanting ‘just the tip’ is growing fainter and quieter, as if it’s moving from the front of your brain all the way to the back of your head, alongside all of the other forgotten things that seemed to hold no importance to you anymore. you want to feel all of him, the pulse of his cock that seems to barely match his heartbeat, the prominent vein running up the length, and the delicious curve that jutted up right against your walls.

“‘ren, don’t wanna hold out anymore.” relentless is what you’re becoming, tired of the way that your pussy grows achey with every passing moment—it’s not enough.

“you said just the t-tip.”

“i don’t fucking want just the tip!” the tears brimming your eyes are growing more apparent, to the point where eren can’t just simply ignore them. “gotta—you gotta let me have it all!”

eren feels like he’s lost his mind: you’re already driving yourself onto his dick, a silent scream falling from your lips as you split yourself open with his sheer thickness. your hands reach to grab whatever they can, one on the back of his searing nape, and the other on top of his own.

the sought out feeling of being full makes your head almost go haywire, stumbling over words as he bottoms out, tip feathering kisses to your cervix, “i’m sososo obsessed with you eren.”

and as much as he hates to admit it, he’s sososo obsessed with you too. despite all of his complaints, there’s still a longing to give you everything you want—need, even. he can’t help but sigh when your walls start to flutter around him, as if your pussy is welcoming him like it always has.

with your guidance, he moves a hand up your shirt and towards to chest, taking your puffy nipples in hand, rolling and prodding at it before messily taking one into his mouth.

“just…right there—”

your words are less than coherent—too busy slamming yourself back down onto him to make any sense to your boyfriend, who looks at you with his brows pulled together. it’s the same look he gives when he wants to say how ditzy you can be sometimes, but you just can’t help it!

there’s a thickening ring of cream near his base, and the squelching sounds of your cunt fucking him dumb overpowers any other sounds in the room. you sniffle and whine as your pace falters, legs giving out from your sporadic bouncing as you fall into eren. it’s almost a wonder how ‘just the tip’ turned into his tip and much more, but you don’t care enough, too eager to grind your hips along his pelvis, barely moving on his length as you play with your clit.

“you can’t do that...” he finds himself mumbling out. how is it fair for you to do all of this to him, making his dick a fucking mess just to finish it all by your self; without him. “c’mon baby, that’s so unfair” he continues to mumble about how ‘unfair’ it is as he grabs a vice hold of your hips, steadying them in place for a moment and lifting you off of him, just to slam you back down with a pace more fervent than before—one that knocks the fucking wind out of your lungs and roughly brings you back down to earth.

and the trip back down hits as hard as his thrusts. the pace is unforgiving, one that you almost didn’t know he had—barring your body to his chest to easily make you meet him halfway as he fucks up into you with low remorse. his eagerness has dick slipping out of your hole and sliding up against your swollen clit, involuntary spreading the mix of your slick and his pre everywhere between the two of you.

“feel’s so good—yeahyeahyeah—don’t stop ‘ren…” you babble run on sentences that would’ve made zero sense had eren not known you. but he does: he knows the way your brain seemed to shut down while fucking you, and how your velvety walls essentially have been warped by his cock pummelling into you at any given moment.

the arch in your back is irregular, dipped beautifully for eren to hesitantly trace lines up and down the expanse of bare skin. your pussy is the best (and only) one he’s ever had, and there’s nothing that’ll ever change that fact.

because who else’s moans will sound like a god-gifted symphony from heaven? who else’s cunt will tighten around him like so the way you do when you’re cumming, translucent white slick dragging down all over and down to pants? who else will whine and cry his name the way you do? who else will make him happily empty his balls inside of them just because they begged and asked?

nobody.

after all, you’re one of a kind.