No Megumi Crumbs In The Epilogue Should Be Considered A Crime. A HUGE Chunk Of The Manga Was Dedicated

⌞ϟ⌝ 'flash, flash !'

synopsis ○ flashing them, fem!reader

eren, armin, jean, connie, reiner, levi, erwin

warnings: nsfw content, mdni !, swearing, kms joke

author's note ୨୧ anon request!

waking up freezing and shivering, teeth chattering every night because your husband is a blanket hog. you know it's not on purpose. he just can't help it. doesn't even know he does it most times. you'd think after years together you'd be used to it, but waking up curled into the fetal position as you try to retain even a smidge of warmth is something you don't think you'll ever adjust to.

so you reach behind you, feeling your spouses large form wrapped snug as a bug in your shared blanket and you grip onto the fabric. you pull as hard as you can but you don't manage to move him even an inch. you try once more...same result.

"ken..." you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself. no response. "kento..."

he doesn't budge. you're tempted to just get up and go grab another blanket, but your husband, despite his seriousness, can get quite pouty when you do that. so you tap him hard instead sure to jab him in the spot you know is his most sensitive. this seems to do the trick as he grunts in response.

"I'm cold," you tell nanami and he sits up quickly, realizing what he's done. his pajama top hangs off one shoulder. his blonde hair is pointing every which way and sleep is heavy on his eyelids, threatening to weigh him down again any minute.

"I'm sorry, love," nanami speaks, voice rough and deep with exhaustion, but the sincerity in his apology clear.

then he's throwing the blanket back over you both. only he adds in a little extra warmth as he wraps his arm around your waist and throws a large leg over your body.

nanami buries his face in your neck, adjusting himself so that he can be as close to you as possible. only a few seconds pass before you hear his light snoring behind you. and you know the warmth you feel is from more than just his touch.

Soccer player Toji who is known for being cold and unnerving, becomes the talk of the town after being spotted at the local pharmacy still in his jersey top, clutching a box of sanitary pads and tampons for his mystery girl.

Soccer player Toji, who only ever occasionally indulges in a quick fuck and doesn’t spare a glance to the girls looming around him, spends an entire hour at the florist picking out the right flowers for you, his mystery girl.

Soccer player Toji who asks Shiu to turn the car around and bails out on the frat party at the very last minute because he checks the date on his phone.

“What’s so important that’s got THE Toji Zenin skipping out on free booze and a quick fuck.” Shiu laughs as he brings the car to a halt in front of his apartment.

“My girl’s got her period startin’ can’t leave the lady alone in pain.” He grins cheekily as he slips out of the car and the statement leaves Shiu so baffled that he sits in the driver’s seat, unable to move, watching Toji’s figure disappear into the building as the cars line up behind him.

Soccer player Toji who doesn’t even think twice before leaving his spare jersey in your room. He knows game day is just around the corner and the girls are gonna swarm him again, trying to convince him to let one of them wear his jersey (courtesy to Gojo who started the trend of choosing a random girl to give his jersey to for game day) and he’d rather die than see anyone but you wear his jersey.

Soccer player Toji who knows you want to keep you guy’s relationship private for the sake of your privacy and sanity, but he also knows how much it irks you to see girls shoot their shots at him so he gets your initials tattooed on his shoulder and the way whispers fill the gymnasium when he walks in wearing a tank top, showing off the tattoo fills him with pride knowing you’re somewhere in the crowd, smiling softly.

Soccer player Toji who is so insanely whipped for you, his mystery girl, that it becomes a common occurrence for people on the campus to see him at the florist every Saturday, walking out with carefully assorted flowers always wrapped in the same felt paper of your favourite colour.

Soccer player Toji who glances at bleachers everytime he scores a goal to make sure you see him winning.

Soccer player Toji who is literally head over heels for you.

i’ll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

✰ warnings: +18 Minors Do Not Interact +18 (sorcerer suguru geto x non-sorcerer fem reader, manga and anime spoilers, angst, dead bodies, blood, regrets, mentioning of depression)

✰ a little note: it was something i had written before. since i’m in an angsty mood lately, i wanted to edit and share it. i hope you like it.

September 2007

Suguru Geto’s Family House

ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★

Deciding what is right and wrong has never been easy. Some powerful people choose to kill the weak for a better life. Because, after a certain point, dealing with their incompetence is nothing but a waste of time. The weak, who can’t even help themselves, ruin not only their own lives but cause the strong to lose themselves as well.

I was not weak. I never was.

Being born lucky wasn’t my choice. My mother and father couldn’t have known either.

Until recently, I believed that Jujutsu sorcerers lived to protect regular humans. But all of that was nothing more than a fucking lie.

Monkeys should disappear. Only then could sorcerers like me live in peace. Special people like us don’t need to waste our time protecting monkeys who do nothing but create trouble.

This is my truth. I don’t give a damn what others think. I was never able to laugh in this world. At least in the world I’ll create, I want to be happy.

“Suguru… what have you done?”

Standing in front of my father’s corpse, I turned toward the only voice in the world that could calm me.

I never wanted her to see this.

“Don’t look at me like an idiot, Suguru! I’m asking what the fuck you’ve done.” She spoke to me, her eyes filling with tears, and she was visibly furious.

God, I love her face so much.

When I looked back at my father’s corpse and then at her again, I didn’t know what to say. God, I hated this. Explaining what I had done was difficult while she looked at me that way.

I never wanted her to see me like this. I didn’t want to pull her into my darkness as I drowned in it. I knew she had seen and understood everything. She hadn’t left my side, not even for a moment, while I was depressed. But she didn’t deserve this.

“What do you want me to explain?”

She furrowed her brows as if she couldn’t believe what I was saying. “GET A GRIP, SUGURU! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO… TO YOUR FAMILY?”

Because they are nothing but monkeys standing in the way of the world I want to create.

Except for you. You could never be like them.

“They are not my family.”

As if her legs couldn’t support her body anymore, she collapsed to the ground. With eyes red from crying, she looked at the lifeless bodies of my parents lying on the floor.

“How… how can you say that? They loved you so-”

“DON’T YOU DARE FINISH THAT SENTENCE!”

“WHAT? DID IT BOTHER YOU THAT THEY LOVED YOU, GETO?”

I walked over to her, grabbing her arms and pulling her up. I pushed her body against the nearest wall, looking at her with a fury I’d never shown before. She, on the other hand, watched me with disappointment.

“Of course I know.” I replied calmly, as if all my anger had vanished. “Do you think it was easy to see the love in their eyes for me while I killed them? But they aren’t like me. Love can’t surpass everything.”

“I’m not like you either.”

No, you’re not, but I don’t care. I could never hurt you.

“And I… I love you too.” She closed her eyes and continued speaking. “I’ve known you since I was ten, Suguru. You were always the person I dreamed of.”

You’re that person for me too.

“I knew you were different. Not because of your special powers. You were the person with the most beautiful heart I had ever known, Suguru. That’s what made you special.”

I wanted to die. I wanted to shatter into millions of pieces at that moment so I wouldn’t have to hear these truths spoken by the girl I loved.

“Do you remember the day I confessed to you? We were on the balcony of this house. Just the two of us. I thought it was the perfect time to tell you everything inside me.”

Yes, I remember. I still remember every detail, from the blue dress you wore to the messy bun you had in your hair.

You were beautiful. You always are.

Still with her eyes closed, as if afraid to look at my face, she continued speaking, “God, I was trembling with excitement. I was so curious about what you’d say. You were always kind and caring toward me, but I didn’t know if you wanted something more.”

I did. I do. I’ve loved you since I saw you when I was ten.

“When I clumsily told you everything I felt, I couldn’t even look at your face.” She laughed after her words. “I was so sure you’d reject me. But you didn’t. Instead, you pulled me close and hugged me. Then you whispered in my ear that you loved me.”

Yes. That’s what I did. In that moment, I was the happiest person in the world. Every time I tell you I love you, I’m the happiest person in the world.

Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at me with a genuine smile. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I wanted to destroy anything that made her sad and make her smile again. But it was me who made her cry. Damn it, I was the one who caused the person I loved most to cry. And no matter what I did, I would never be able to fix that.

“I can’t believe it’s been three years since that day. I’ve loved you since I was ten, but it took me four more years to finally tell you. But I didn’t care.”

Please, stop.

“I didn’t care about your special powers. Or the millions of girls who wanted you. I still don’t.”

Please. Enough.

“When you were depressed, I did everything I could. Even when you tried to push me away, I… I insisted on staying by your side. I knew you were struggling.”

“Please stop…”

She didn’t stop. “I told you everything would pass, that you’d smile again like before, because that’s what should happen. You would be with Satoru and Shoko. You’d protect people like me, people who have no power. And—”

“Stop—”

“You’d be with me.” She looked at me with tearful eyes again. “Damn it… we’d be happy together. We’d go to see the northern lights we always wanted to see. You’d buy me that ring you promised. We’d have a family.”

“I still want that—”

“HOW CAN YOU STILL WANT THAT?” She began shouting. “HOW CAN YOU LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND SAY YOU STILL WANT THESE THINGS, SUGURU? WHEN YOU’VE FUCKED EVERYTHING UP? WHEN YOU’VE BECOME A MERCILESS KILLER?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that the part of me that’s still good wants to live the life you described.”

“STUPID, STUPID, STUPID,” she kept hitting my chest with her fists, cursing me with every word. I deserved every blow for each moment I hurt her. I wanted to be better for her. I wanted to be the man she deserved. I should have shown up as the man she once knew and fixed everything.

But I couldn’t.

With my hands pressed against the wall on either side of her, I cupped her face and did what I had longed to do.

Her lips were still so soft. Kissing her felt like a drug. Even if I knew it would eventually kill me, I still wanted her.

I was a damn addict. I was addicted to everything about her. And I never intended to break free.

I kissed her as if I knew I’d never see her again. Her fists stopped hitting me. This time, she clutched my white shirt tightly, pulling me closer as if she wanted me even nearer.

There wasn’t a single moment when I wanted to be away from her.

Breaking the kiss, I rested my forehead against hers. I don’t know how long we stayed like that. Silently crying without saying a word.

She was the one who finally broke the silence. “Are you going to kill me too?”

She could have said anything to me. Called me a coward or someone who didn’t understand love. No words could have hurt more than what she just asked.

I let out a small laugh. “Kill you? Shit, maybe I should, but I can’t. Do you know why?”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at me with heartbroken eyes.

“Because I can’t imagine a life without you. Even if I never see you again, just knowing you’re alive is enough for me to keep going.”

“Weren’t you the one who just said love can’t surpass everything?” She spoke with a bittersweet smile.

“Yes, but you… you’re different. When it comes to you, everything stops.”

Still smiling, she wiped away my tears with her fingers, placing kisses on my cheeks.

“I know you love me, Suguru, but there’s no going back from here. You made your choice.”

Yes, I did. I wish some things could have been different.

“Do you know what’s worse? I still love the new version of you and I don’t think I could ever stop loving you.”

Please, don’t. Because no matter what, I won’t stop either.

She held the hands that caressed her cheeks, lowering them so I’d let go. I knew she was going to leave. Staying with me would only make things worse. Her soft lips, her warm body and her beautiful laugh were gone.

In truth, they’d been gone for a long time.

“I hope you find happiness in the new world you create, Suguru. All I wish is for you to smile again, like before.” She placed one final kiss on my lips and started walking toward the door of the house where I’d killed my family. When she turned back to look at me once more, she said, “Maybe we’ll meet in another life, right?”

My freshly dried tears began to roll down my cheeks again. “I’ll find you in every life, my love. I just hope that in the next one, I’ll be the man you deserve.”

She didn’t respond to my words. She only smiled, and then walked out the door.

After she left, my eyes drifted once more to my parents’ lifeless bodies, lying in a pool of blood.

There was no turning back from the path I had chosen. The only thing left to do was to try and find a way to smile once in the new world I wanted to create for sorcerers.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

suguru art in the cover made by @reynisxxsimart

boyfriend!toji who doesn’t know why but he feels this weird jealousy everytime he sees you meet your friends and greet them all with a big hug. you never did that with him. you relationship was still fairly new to the both of you, but you kissed you fucked you even held hands sometimes when walking around. but, what toji was now realizing, was that he wanted a hug. well, he wanted a hug from You. not a casual little hug, a hug. holding each other. he didn’t know how to broach the subject without sounding needy and like the complete opposite of how he usually acts. he had never cared about this kinda stuff with other people, he’d never experienced it growing up and he thought he could live without it. until you. until you showed him that wanting to be held was normal. he’d been thinking about it for a while until one night, as the two of you got ready for bed it simply slipped out.

‘how come you don’t hug me?’

immediately you stopped plaiting your hair and turned to him with a shocked look.

‘what?’

‘how come you don’t hug me? like when you see your friends or you say bye you hug them. you don’t hug me.’

as soon as he said it he felt stupid. a grown man like him, older than you and he was sat here asking for a fucking hug. what if you turned the question around and said ‘well you don’t hug me’ what would he say? that i’ve never done that before sorry i don’t know how? his thoughts came to a stop when he felt a small hand grab his own larger one.

‘i- toji im so sorry. i’m sorry i didn’t think that was something you wanted.’

fuck now he’s made you feel bad.

‘nah doll you don’t have to say sorry, its nothing let’s just go to bed’

‘no toji please. let’s talk about it.’

you lifted the blanket and made your way over to his side of the bed so you could sit face to face. everything about you was so soft, so kind. such a complete contrast to himself. he was panicking, he didn’t do stuff like this, never talked about stuff like this.

‘honestly toji, i really just thought you weren’t a touchy person. i’m sorry for just assuming especially considering everything you’ve been through,’

‘no please doll. i wasn’t trying to blame you for anything. i just’

his palms were actually sweating, but your face. god your darling sweet face, looking at him like he hung up the stars in sky. like every word out of his mouth meant the world to you. you would wait for him to get the words out no matter how long he took.

‘i don’t know to be honest. you’re right i’m not a touchy person i’ve never really hugged anyone. but i want that. with you. and im sorry, i should be the one to initiate it i just didn’t really know how doll.’ his voice was so quiet, just a rough whisper.

he looked up to stare into your glassy eyes when you leaned in and kissed him. a small whisper of a kiss.

‘can i hug you?’ you said with your lips pressed against his.

he knew you knew he would prefer not to dwell on it.

and then he wrapped his arms around your back so tightly like he was showing the universe just how bad he needed you. he pulled you into his lap and let his cheek fall to your shoulder. he felt your arms wrap around his neck and you fingers stroking the hairs at his nape.

neither of you spoke, you simply sat and held each other and made a silent promise to maintain the closeness from today onwards.

‘thank you for telling me toji. you big baby.’

‘yeah that’s enough. time for bed.’

your giggle was music to his ears.

SURPRISE! MLB!MEGUMI MINI ANNIVERSARY CHAPTER DROPPING TOMORROW (12/1) AT 10 PM PSTTTTT !!!! <3333

i said a had a little treat for you guys at the end of the week didn’t i??? ;)) WHOS READY TO SEE GUMI BEING A CUTIE PATOOTIE FOR HIS PRETTY LITTLE THANG ON THEIR ANNIVERSARY ??? 🫦🫦😩😩 I SURE FUCKING AMMMM !!!

I CANT WAIT FOR YOU GUYS TOO REEEAAADDDD AAAHHHH !!! MWWWWAAAAHHHHH MWAH !!! <333

I LOVE YEEEWWWWW !!! <333 HAVE A GOOD DAY !!! <333

is that a fucking SLUT I see?

disequilibrium

tags: armin x reader, modern au, mutual pining, secret crushes, yearning, drunk armin, sober reader, armin makes the first move, groping, foul-mouthed armin, making out, handsy armin, men who BEG, doesn't go past heavy petting - no dubcon

warnings: sexual content - MDNI; inebriation, mentions of drinking

It takes so little. A look. A breeze. Then his eyes are on you, and you know, with no uncertain doubt, that something is just about to give in. Or the one in which you and Armin are left alone in the midst of a party, and Armin makes his feelings clear to you.

word count: 2.7k

When the evening had just begun, early summer night hot and humid, the lot of you stuffed giddily around a table bearing drinks and cards alike, you knew something, eventually, would somehow give.

You aren't sure what it was, even now. If it was the air around you, tense and thin on that humid night; if it was the way he would pull himself towards you, as if magnetised by some unknown, incorporeal force, arms touching the whole night; if it was something else.

The truth, you think now, is that it must have been something else altogether; something you had no way of knowing, or naming, or stopping in any shape or form.

It's a casual evening. Early June summer break in full swing for the lot of you, being college students; cards and shot glasses set haphazardly at the table as the sun sets slowly and the group trickles, one by two by three, into Eren's home. You come with Armin, your college group mate, bearing wine you will not drink, and though you are new and foreign here still, having met his friends just the few months prior, you are met with glee and hugs and pats on the shoulder, and a place is set for you with just as much ease.

You had met Armin first, a year ago; a stupid-long project in a stupid-hard class bringing the two of you together, twining you both in a friendship unlike any either of you have had before, and inseparable is what you are called now, though you tell yourself, with no grief spared, that you find the idea quite absurd. You tell yourself, firm and disciplined, that friends is all that you are – even if he is the first thought in you when you wake, and, more often than not, the last before you sleep.

Friends is what you simply are, and friends is what you simply will be; or so you say, on some mornings as you wait for his inevitable text; or so you say, some nights, when you remind yourself that a mistake should not be made when it comes to a matter concerning him.

And it doesn't take much for the party to come into a full swing of things; music unwinding, cards shuffling, laughter bubbling, and you watch, contently, sat comfortably upon the corner on a sofa, as the life around you buzzes. Armin sits by you, like he always does, arm brushing yours once every while, reminding you of him there; shoulder leaning into yours, smile soft and knowing, and it curls around you like it always does, swelling large within your heart. You are new here still, sometimes awkward and quiet, but not always, and not for long; Armin helps you, leading with words and with gestures, inviting you, often and loud and enthusiastic, to join the conversation; and it awes you, really, with how effortless, how easy it is for this shy, quiet boy to transform into such fervour when he is surrounded by those he loves. He welcomes you with sheer abandon, and you find that his friends, in turn, do so, too; and it's easy, when he is here – everything always is when he gets roped into things.

It magnetises you, effortlessly. You find yourself watching him, smile full of teeth and lungs full of laughter; you find yourself involved and participating, and though you don't drink you watch as they do, and things don't shift until they do, and when they do, you are gone beyond comprehension that something, something had given way.

It's so slow at first; you don't truly notice a thing. When he'd lean into you when telling a joke; when his arm would brush and linger next to yours while telling a story; when you would catch him, once, then twice, then again, looking at you. Not just in jest, or in camaraderie, but these lingering, intrigued glances that would cross to your eyes, then, seldomly and just briefly, to your lips.

When he would say your name, requesting you to agree with him, or to add onto a story which you had been witness to; mouth curling around the syllables, lulling in ways that has you squirming beneath this newfound, strange heat within his gaze, and it has you wondering, mind adrift and groundless, if you had gone mad. If it is just you, losing grip on reality as those nights of dreaming had begun to catch up with you, or if it is him, truly, looking at you in this way.

Something is giving, slowly; unwinding, like a broken clock, or like a ribbon too-tight and breaking, and the more he drinks, the more you feel it, and you think it will, eventually, simply snap.

It doesn't.

At least, not the way you expect it to.

You don't expect just how quick the room clears out when Connie demands pizza; when they all conglomerate, agglutinate into a band ready to get them all food. You don't expect to be told, the only sober person here, to watch the house; you don't expect, most of all, for Armin to stay behind, too.

You don't expect the look he gives you then, when it is all quiet and lone, save for the ticking of the grandfather clock stood firm by the wall. Cold, you think at first, but you are wrong; it takes a glance, and a second, averting and shy in ways you had not expected yourself to feel around him, but then you do; you do look. He watches you with a hawkish look to him, careful and curious, lips parted and cheeks pink from the alcohol, and you would breathe were you able to, but you simply cannot. You sit there, your breath baited and gaze locked, waiting – waiting for something; waiting for it to give.

You think not to say something, but you do not need to; he reaches for you, quiet and wordless, his thumb brushing haphazardly at your cheek. Soft and gently uncoordinated and skin warm against your cheek, his hand touches a strand of your hair, brushing it, thereafter, behind your ear.

You inhale then, finally; sharp and loud enough to hear, and in the moment between this and air filling your lungs, he leans in swiftly, eyes focusing furthermore on you, steeling in a way that you can't quite read. "Can I kiss you?" He asks you then, with no abandon or reservation, words clear and understandable, and yet it still has you shocked and disoriented, your newfound air lost somewhere in your chest.

He waits, in this brief moment. He waits and he watches you, eyes half-lidded and dark and patient, and you think to say no, you think to move away quickly, your body in protest at the thought alone; not for your sake, not for lack of want or need of it, but for his own, for the mistake he is about to make under inebriation, and your lips part to say it, they do, but his thumb brushes against your bottom lip and it silences you so thoroughly that not a sound leaves your throat, and it's enough. It's enough for him.

He leans in, both gentle and quick; lips soft against your own, low notes of vanilla and rum buzzing within his breath, and it's gentle at first – so gentle it has you leaning into him, towards him, south pole to north and inescapable black holes. "Armin," you whimper weakly, once tepid coils superheating quickly, disastrously, and there's both a push and a pull in you as you push away and yet pull him to you, desperately, fists curled into his shirt.

"Let me kiss you," he pleads in response, quick and merciless, palm enveloping your jaw. He watches you and gasps for air, leaning further into the steel grasp you have on him. "Please, Y/N. I want to kiss you," he leans in, lips touching your cheek. You feel him whisper; you feel the breath of his fan against your skin, warm and intoxicating. "Please," he says, and you can't say no, not anymore; skin on fire and needy in his grasp, knees shaking and voiceless, you allow it. You lean to him, and in the act of it you tell yourself that it's just a small gesture; a mistake, the tiniest the two of you could make, a thing to forget once morning comes – and as you do, Armin follows suit, leaning into you, too.

And this, this gesture and this kiss, once soft and delicate and innocent, sizzles and sets itself afire; he kisses you deep and sloppy, your skin heating at the touch of his alone, and his tongue ventures forth with sheer abandon as both his palms grasp and hold you firmly at your jaw; he kisses you fierce and needy; he kisses you in ways you thought Armin never could, and your head spins and spins, and in seconds of you sitting flushly side by side you are pulled forward – all of you, bone and skin and muscle and sinew, as if you were weightless to him – and you find yourself straddling him, your thighs parted and digging into his hips. His arms circle your waist and pull you forward taut and firm, and you feel the sofa dip beneath your knees; you think, here, your skin hot and sweaty already, your lips tender from his teeth, that you should stop and scold him; you think, here, that you should stand and leave, but you are sealed to him, drawn in ways that you could not stop if you tried, and in the feeling of his tongue against yours you think, what of another mistake? What of another mistake, with him?

His hands sit still and prim for just a moment, gentlemanly in the way you have known Armin to be, and then they, too, begin to roam haphazardly; exploratory in ways so unlike Armin that it has your head spinning, and you keen in earnest then – muscles taut, back arching, needy in ways that you have had yet to find yourself to be, and as your skin covers in gooseflesh in the wake of his touch, you find yourself heating more, and in this you find yourself thinking, knowing, admitting that you had wanted this, mistakes be damned; you had wanted him, even if it meant disturbing this delicate equilibrium between the two of you, and here, right here, beneath the hot weight of his hands, beneath the needle of his gaze, this disturbance, this imminent disequilibrium feels worth it beyond measure.

As if feeling it, as if on the same, wordless cue that you were, Armin shifts and deepens the kiss, hands squeezing at your waist as you sigh into his mouth, and you feel yourself shifting, too; hands digging greedily into his scalp, thighs shuffling, ever so slowly, closer towards him, and it is then that you gasp in both pleasure and a startle, feeling as his palm drags itself beneath your skirt and across your thigh. You watch him break for just a moment, his hand squeezing, fingers dipping gently into the flesh mere inches from the apex of your thighs, and he does not move forward, he does not touch more, but he chuckles when you look at him, smiling wicked and self-satisfied when he murmurs: "I knew you would sound pretty when you feel good."

And then he kisses you again; his hand squeezing once more, if just for him to hear you make that sound again, and you whine at his attention when he moves his mouth towards neck, lapping and nibbling like a dog starved, and you feel, with a striking lucidity, as cohesion begins to slip your mind with a violent swiftness. You feel his palm circle to your stomach, fingers soft and gentle as they climb up and up, and a thigh of his brushes against a thigh of yours when he pleads, lips at your throat: "Can I rub you against my cock?" Armin begs, quiet and husky and so needy and foul that you find yourself in lack of thought. "Please," he whines, kissing at your clavicle, and your hands dig into his hair, tugging desperately – to stop or to continue, even you do not know.

"No," you gasp out, voice found within your throat at last, feeling his teeth graze gently against your pulse, and your thighs shake as you feel his hand slide lower at your rejection; for a moment, far too brief to fully register, you think that this alone will make him stop and reject you in return, but he just hums, pulling you closer; kissing you further.

"Alright," he murmurs into your lips, and then his hands are on your cheeks again, pulling you lovingly to not stop kissing him; and you submit, you allow him, you let his tongue glide softly against your own, hums quiet and gentle and hands warm on your skin, and it is here, amidst the delicate affection, that you finally find the strength to break away.

"Armin," you say, and to this he just smiles; as if sated by the sound of his name alone. "Armin, we've got to stop now," you tell him, watching, breath baited, as his smile slowly turns into a feather-light pout. "You're too drunk," you gasp, still short on air, and you feel, in distinct, precise detail, as his palm slides down the slope of your back.

"'M not," he replies, head leaning back into the backrest of the sofa. "I could do this all night," he says then, smile coy and mischievous and boyish, and it squeezes something fierce in your chest; he is quiet, for a moment, holding onto you so carefully. Time thins in this one moment, insular and private, quiet in a way you have had to yet experience with Armin until this exact bundle of disjointed seconds, and it is in this quietude that he says it. "I want you, Y/N," he whispers, not needy or desperate but fervent, cerulean gleaming with something you can't place or name, and the words alone make your skin heat in ways that you can't simply shake off.

Your breath shakes, in response. Your hands tremble. You shift and settle, leaning them onto his shoulders for purchase, and you try to catch your breath as his hand curls around your wrist, waiting. And he just watches you like this, that silver, bewitching glint swirling within his eyes; waiting for you to reject or accept him, to have him like this or never again. To this you lean, helplessly, to kiss him on the cheek, and it gives a finality to this dance, one the both of you acquiesce in your own ways – you, with leaning backwards, and him, with this committed, quiet grunt. "Let's see what you think when you're sober," you tell him then, waiting, quite pitifully, for your thighs to stop the trembling before climbing off.

And he just laughs. Hearty, and light, rumbling in his chest, as if he were truly amused by what you had said.

"Sweetheart," he says then, cheeks pink as if in some delight, and then he smiles at you with that gentle, bright smile of his that makes your heart squeeze swiftly and violently. He, warm, and welcoming, and hushed in his voice; knuckles brushing against your knee and hair tousled and so, so beautiful; he tells you, with no untimely restraint: "I think of you every day of my life. That won't be a problem."

And he lets you go like this; fingers brushing against the fabric of your sleeve, eyes tracing the slow, methodical movements of your body as you disentangle from him. He is quiet, he says not a word; he simply watches you, all the way through the remainder of the night, eyes warm and knowing, speaking of words whispered against the precipice of your skin when no one else could hear; even when your friends return; even when you all part.

And come morning, when you wake with a gasp and a memory of dream full and heated; when the screen of your phone lights up with a singular message beholding a singular line; when you smell him on you still, incorporeal and unbearably real upon your skin, you know, then, that nothing will be the same again.

dividers by saradika and cafekitsune

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reblogs are dearly appreciated 💗

Phantom Parade screenshots

imagine husband!nanami who can’t say no to you when you say “please?” with the most heart melting, unfathomably precious, pleading look ever.

“only because i love you so much.” he sighed. because he only loved you.

his hand patted the back of your thigh, before gently kneading the skin as you stood between his legs applying the pink clay mask to his face. “you almost done?” he asked, his gaze following your eyes deeply. if you hadn’t known any better, you’d think he was trying to fluster you on purpose. but really, he just adored you so much. how pretty he thought you were, and all his.

nanami truly thought you were the perfect one for him. not once had he ever thought he could meet someone as lovely as you. yet here you are, filling the hole he once had in his heart. you never needed to beg him for anything, he was always the one who begged you to let him take care of you.

“almost done, ken.” you murmured, your tongue subconsciously poking past your lips in concentration. a low chuckle rumbled from his chest, his hands moving to hold the plush of your hips. “i love you, sweetheart.”

oh. . . how much he loved the pink tint that grew on your cheeks when the words lovingly roll off his tongue, oozing out like warm honey.

you averted your gaze shyly, a habit nanami both adored and disfavored, until his thumb ran across your bottom lip to coax you into looking at him again. “i love you.” nanami repeated, a faint smile adorning his tired features. you could never get enough of him. just like how he couldn’t get enough of you.

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