#I love her I love how she can’t sit normally even with a skirt on she’s just like me for real | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

coryosbaby · 3 months

Note

i need more felix shit from u 😣😣

—Jealous Girl !

Fandom: ‘Saltburn’

Pairing: Felix Catton x fem! Best friend! Reader (also minor mentions of: Oliver quick x fem! Reader)

Synopsis: Tension and jealousy finally come to a head after you see your best friend Felix fucking another girl.

Content warning . Drug & alcohol use, watching without permission? possessiveness, friends to lovers with slight angst, dark! Ish reader // degradation & praise, facefucking, pnv, size kink, choking, breeding, mean! dom! Felix

If you ever explain how your best friend usually treats you, it can only be summed up into one word: gentle.

He treats you like glass. A beautiful, priceless artifact that requires great care. He pays for everything you own— your dresses, handbags, shoes. Even where you live, the infamous Saltburn estate. Every time he speaks to you, it’s like he’s speaking to a pet— sweet, gentle, but commanding all at once. In his eyes, you’re an innocent angel…or, as he puts it, a sweet bunny.

And you fucking hate it.

It doesn’t bother you in the sense that Felix cares for you; quite the contrary, in fact. You like his warmth, how protective he is, how sweet and kind he can be.

But he treats you too kindly. Too much like his other friends, too much like his sister, too much like a companion.

Not enough like a lover.

It seems that he’s completely oblivious to your longing stares, the way you follow him around and practically worship the ground he walks on. He never seems to grasp why you sit in his lap at parties, squirming around just a little too much, or why you cuddle up to him in his room when you’ve had a nightmare in your skimpy nightdress. He stares off into a space between and kisses girls right in front of you.

You want him to treat you like the sluts he brings home.

The whispers of how the boy fucks is something you’ve grown accustomed to. The girls you had become acquainted with who had slept with him, giggling to you about how much of a good lay he was. How mean, how brutal he was. How big he was.

‘This doesn’t bother you, does it? God, I know it’s weird because he’s your best friend ‘n all, but I don’t understand why you haven’t done him yet. I would’ve thought… y’know, given how close you two are...’

It makes you sick, knowing he does it to other girls and not you.

And now, sitting on a couch at one of Felix’s infamous Saltburn parties, you watch as he does it once again.

Your nose slides across the glass table in front of you. Two people sit beside you, making friendly conversation, but you can’t focus on them. Your nose is filled to the brim with glittery white powder as you stare at Felix’s new side piece through your faux lashes.

He’s got her in his lap, this girl. Olivia is her name, or something like that. You don’t like her. She’s too needy, clinging onto him a little too much for just a simple hookup. His hand grabs her hip as she presses kisses to his neck. He’s laughing, splayed across the leather couch across from you, as she whispers dirty phrases into his ear. You can tell that that’s what she’s doing because she’s grinding against him like a bitch in heat. It makes you stomach churn.

“(Y/N!)”

Your head looks up, and Farleigh stands in front of you. You give him a smile, though it’s mostly fake. You love him, but you can’t stop thinking about Felix.

Felix and her.

Farleigh chats with you about some guy he’s about to go and hook up with, telling you his whereabouts as a safety precaution. You nod to him as he leaves.

Felix has his hand up her skirt, now. He’s gripping her ass and rocking up into her clothed cunt.

You can’t look any longer.

You stumble to your feet, the room spinning a bit before turning to normal. An intoxicated kind of giddiness flows through you, and you brush past the couch and try to get Felix off your mind. You spot one of his new companions— Oliver. He’s quite handsome, you think. A little weird, a little quiet, but he’ll do for sure.

It isn’t long before you’ve got him in between your thighs in an empty corridor, a buzz flowing from your toes up to the crown of your head as he thrusts his tongue mercilessly into your drenched heat. He draws circles into your clit and laps at you like he’s parched. Oh, he’s good. Practiced, precise. He loves to please.

But he isn’t Felix.

Although Oliver’s tongue is skilled, it isn’t necessarily that that gets you to your peak. When you cum, you think of a familiar brunette with an eyebrow piercing, a wide smile, and dreamy eyes.

You let Oliver fuck you against the wall, after that.

It feels good. He’s big, rough, mean. Just how you like it.

Just how you want Felix to be.

You decide not to return to the party.

—

Your bare feet pad against the tiles of the Saltburn estate, your heels in your hand . The hallway is empty, save for one or two stragglers. No one really comes to this side of the house. You’re attempting to walk— or in this case, stumble— to your room. But everything is blurry, your feet dancing, and—

Shit, is this even your hallway?

You don’t know, really. You’re drunk, high. You don’t give a shit.

Your fingers are dancing across the walls, admiring the intricate paintings placed on each one. You lick your lips and taste a tequila shot, your dress askew. Fuck it.

You’re admiring The Fallen Angel by Alexandra Cabanel when you hear them.

It starts out slow— a deep, guttural moan, from the door to your left. It translates into a familiar voice, growling.

“What?” It teases. “Is my cock too much for you? Too big, huh?”

And then another sound comes through the thin walls and slightly opened door. A high pitched whine, pleading.

“Felix! Please, it feels so good.”

Your brows furrow. Drunken confusion. You silently creep up to the door, wondering. Your eyes peek through at the scene.

The color drains from your face.

Of course it’s Felix. Felix and her.

He’s got her bent over an expensive wood table. He’s pulling her hair, pressing his hips into her with every push and pull. She’s got her mouth open as her eyes roll back in ecstasy, and her cunt swallows him whole.

Your shoes drop to the ground in utter shock.

Now that seems to grab the pair’s attention. Felix looks back, and his eyes catch your dilated ones. He curses, slipping out of her and trying to conceal himself as he pulls his pants up. The girl catches sight of you, too, and she’s instantly pulling down her top and throwing her clothes on.

“Christ, Bunny!” Felix exclaims, flushed. “The fuck are you doing all the way over here?”

Your bottom lip wobbles, but you won’t cry. Not in front of him. Not in front of his whore.

You turn before you even know what you’re doing, and you scurry away from the scene with tears running hotly down your cheeks.

So much for parties.

—

When you wake in the morning, you’ve got a pounding headache and you’re sprawled out on your bed.

Your body aches, and you whine as you turn over on your side. The memories of last night flood back into your psyche, and you want to throw up. Of course the one thing you don’t want to remember is buried so prominently into your skull that it’s the first thing you think about.

It’s not like Felix hasn’t fucked anyone before. But seeing it, actually watching him do it to another girl, makes you sick. You don’t know how you’re going to look him in the eye at breakfast.

You stand up on wobbly legs. You make your way to the bathroom, throw your guts up at least twice, and then brush your teeth. A warm shower calms you down, though your head still hurts. You’ll have to take some ibuprofen later.

You make your way to the dining room in a juicy tracksuit and brown ugg boots. You slide a pair of sunnies on your face to protect you from the blinding sun, letting out a pained moan when it shines through the large stain glass window.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Farleigh coos from the table. You give him the middle finger before plopping down in a seat beside Oliver. His eyes scan over you, taking in your appearance. His knee bumps against yours, and he whispers a quiet ‘good morning’ to you.

God, he’s a clingy little shit, isn’t he?

Felix’s eyes follow your every move. Usually you sit next to him in the mornings, but as of right now, why bother? The closer to get to him, the more vivid the image of him fucking her comes into your mind.

You swallow down a few pieces of toast and some orange juice. Elsbeth is talking about a party reserved for Oliver for his birthday, one that they will host this weekend. How absolutely and utterly fan-fucking-tastic.

Oh, well. You’ll be able to dress up, at least. That’ll probably be the best part.

You ignore Felix for the entirety of the day. There’s still that fire coiling in your gut everytime you look at him, that hot bubble of rage and jealousy. Oliver looks up at you through long eyelashes during a game of tennis, and you find the way to satiate that heat.

—

It’s an awful idea. A terrible, mean, despicable idea.

You knew Felix would be out. It was around five pm— the time when he usually begins coming back to the house from his afternoon run. He would be back in twenty to thirty minutes.

“You’re incredibly fucked. Do you know that?”

Oliver whispers it huskily, pleased, as you push him down on a set of familiar satin sheets. You smirk, your cunt grinding down onto him.

“And you’re not?”

He grunts as you unbutton his shirt. You kiss down his chest, soon getting rid of your bra and top. You rock back on him slowly, teasing. His hand moves around to grope your ass, but you grab ahold of his wrist.

“Are you going to behave?”

A smirk plays on his lips. You want to slap it off of him.

“No.”

You snake your hand down to his bulge, giving it a considerable squeeze. He lets out a tiny gasp, biting his lower lip.

“What was that?” You say, almost threatening.

He gulps. He looks almost cute with the blush dusting across his face.

“Yes.” he whispers. You ghost your fingers over his waistband.

“What was that?”

“Yes, I’ll behave.”

He hisses it, and you’re pleased.

“Good boy.”

And then when he’s inside you, you bounce on him like your life depends on it. You look up above Felix’s bed, at the framed picture of you and him. He had hung it up, and for that you’re thankful. You concentrate on the way photo Felix’s fingers tightly grip a shot glass. Oliver lets out tiny whines as you clench around his cock, and you grind your clit against the base of him. You know that Felix catches you both when you look back at the slightly cracked door and see him there— blue headband, muscle tee and shorts. When you lock eyes, he moves away from the door and down the hall with a clenched jaw and cheeks blooming red.

—

The days pass from one into three, and soon it’s Oliver’s birthday. Felix has avoided you, much to your dismay. You thought he would give in sooner. If you didn’t know any better, you would think that he was trying to pretend the situation didn’t happen altogether. But the hard stare he gives you whenever he sees you, the clenching of his hands, and the plain ignorance of your presence gives him away.

You’ve decided to dress as a Bunny for Oliver’s infamous costume party. Your favorite animal, but also another way to piss Felix off. Wearing a pink bodysuit, sparkly fishnets, and pink bunny ears, you make your way into the party beside Venetia, who’s ranting about her current situationship with some girl she met at a club. Scanning the crowd, you take notice of Felix from across the room. Angel wings sit on his shoulders, his eyes lined with a black eye pencil. He’s wearing a white wifebeater.

You go to the bar and take a few shots to stifle your nerves. Felix’s eyes follow you as you grab a bottle from the bartender and make your way outside.

It isn’t long before you’re absolutely plastered. Giggling to yourself, you make your way towards the hedge maze in the backyard. Felix’s voice, the one he hasn’t used to talk to you directly for a few days, interrupts your diddle daddling.

“We need to talk.”

You keep walking, him trailing behind you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Felix.”

His big hand grabbing your arm and spinning you around to look at him surprises you. He glares.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You back away, winding through the labyrinth of bushes. Felix groans as you begin to skip around each corner.

“This isn’t a game, y’know!” He calls, as he tries his best to keep up with you. It isn’t long before you’re both standing in the middle of the maze. The stone statue overpowers the both of your bodies as it leers down in a violent pose. You smile crookedly when Felix stalks over to you, making a beeline for the other side of the statue. It doesn’t seem to be funny to him.

He catches you when you least expect it, grabbing you by the shoulders.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, (Y/N)?!”

He yells it, infuriated, deep vocal cords strumming. It makes you jump. He never calls you by your real name.

He purses his lips, anger evident on his face as you smile up at him still.

“‘M jus’ having fun, Fel. Whats wrong with that?”

“What’s— what’s wrong with—“ he laughs, dry and humorless, as he pushes you away from him. “Whats wrong is that you fucked my friend in my room! What the hell went through your head?!“

You clench your teeth.

“I don’t know, Felix,” you utter sarcastically. “I really don’t know. Call it irritational horniness. But tell me. Are you mad? For once, once in your fucking life, are you mad?”

“Of course I’m mad!” he seethes, as if it’s obvious. “But why do you want that? What prompted this?”

You avert from his piercing gaze, turning your back on him. Your cheeks are flaring with heat from how he’s treating you, your inner thighs wet and sticky.

God, this is so wrong.

“I think you know.”

Genuinely confused, Felix throws up his hands. He’s exasperated.

“No, I don’t. I don’t, (Y/N), so tell me. Tell me the damn truth!”

“The truth?” You say, finally. “‘S that what you want?”

You whirl around, anger finally taking over in your usually pliant, doe eyes.

“The truth, Felix, is that you treat me like a kid!” You yell. Your voice cracks, and you hate it. “You treat me like a fucking child! Like your friend! Like a… like a—“

Your breath heaves, and you try to find the words you’re looking for. Felix looks at you, his brows furrowed.

You can’t open your mouth anymore, too distraught, too open. You’re saying all the things you promised you’d keep buried deep inside you.

Felix takes a step forward. You take a step back. Your lower back hits the stone statue, and you wince at the way it digs into your skin.

“What are you saying?” He asks, careful with his words. You laugh bitterly in his face— at least, as close as you can get to his face. He towers over you like a giant.

“I’m saying that after all this time, after all these years, I thought you’d notice how badly I want you. But clearly not, with the way I caught you fucking that cunt last weekend.”

The words finally come out— slurred because of your drunkenness, dry because you’ve given up. You’ve given up on Felix, on the possibility of him ever returning the feelings you’ve always had for him. You’ve given up on your friendship, on his kindness. You don’t want it anymore. Why continue this if it’s only going to hurt you?

The boy is stunned into silence for a mere moment.

“What?”

You turn away from his stare, looking down at the ground.

“You heard me, Felix.”

His eyes follow your lips, nose, eyes. His lips part ever so slightly, and his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black as realization settles over him.

“So that’s what you want?”

It comes out hushed, like a secret. His breath is hot against your lips as he leans in close to you.

“All this time you’ve been acting like this.. all because you want me to fuck you? Because you’re jealous?”

You stare up at him in a daze, silent. Your cheeks flare with embarrassment. You jump when Felix lets out a chuckle, something grating and deep, that permeates your bones and worms its way inside your guts.

“God, you’re sick.”

He scoffs, moving forward on his long legs. His big hand wraps itself around your hair and tugs. You let out a gasp as he tilts your head back, the burn of your scalp making your legs clench together.

“You’ve been torturing me for weeks—“ he spits, yanking at the roots of your hair even harder, and you let out a squeak. “— Not speaking to me, making me question what I could’ve possibly done wrong, fucking my friend in my bed, all because you want to me treat you like some whore?“

Your mouth gapes open, and you’re frozen like a deer in headlights as Felix finally gives you what you want. He continues to speak, but not before his knee is coming up to rub in between your thighs. It’s such a sudden movement, so aggressive, that your legs buckle and you grab onto his shoulders for purchase. His hands splay across your hips, moving you in tandem across the fabric of his jeans.

“Don’t worry.” He says. “You’ll never have to worry about that again.”

“Felix—” you start, but his hand slapping you clear across the face makes you lose all words. Your cheek flares with heat from his hand coming down on it, and you grasp the red mark in pain.

“Was he good?” he growls, grabbing the hand touching your face and putting it in his much larger one. He places it over his crotch, and you feel the giant bulge against the fabric. “Was he as big as me? Did he fuck you the way you thought I would?”

You shake, stuttering on every phrase in your vocabulary. Felix grinds into your hand.

“You think that I don’t want you like this?”

It comes out strained, tortured. Like it’s painful for you to even assume that. Your mouth waters at the feeling of his girth underneath your palm.

“I’ve never been this hard for anyone,” he breathes. “I jerked my cock every night when you were in my bed because I thought it was the closest I could get to you. I fucking…God, do you even know what you do me?“

He works his thigh against your pussy, and you whine desperately as you pull away from his assault on you. You kiss your way down his chest, worship his body, lave your tongue over the skin peeking out from his unbuttoned shirt as you sink down to your knees. Your hands fumble with his belt, waiting for the moment when his cock will be released and you’ll finally get what you’ve been begging for. He grunts, tilting his head as he watches you desperately fumble with the leather around his waist.

“Already trying to suck me off? You’re even more pathetic than I thought.”

You press your mouth against his thigh and practically drool at his words. He looks down at you like a God, golden angel wings splaying out in the moonlight for you to gape at. How ironic it is, that he decided to wear this costume tonight.

“All for you, Felix,” you say, pulling his cock out of the confines of his jeans. You gape at his impressive length.

“That’s right,” he agrees, his thumb brushing over your lip. “Now put me in your mouth. Show me how much of a fucking slut you are.”

You do as you’re told, tongue lolling out to lick a stripe up his shaft. He clenches his jaw, watching as you hold eye contact with him when you take his dick into the warm, wet confines of your mouth. His hand wraps around the nape of your neck and he pushes you down onto him. Choking, your nose hits the soft bed of pubic hair trimmed neatly at his base. Your eyes roll back as he begins to fuck your throat, pleasure and electricity flowing through your head and down to your toes. The corners of your mouth burn as he stretches out your mouth.

“Didn’t know you could take dick so good,” Felix muses, his balls slapping against your chin. “If I would’ve known how badly you wanted this, I would’ve slid my cock inside you the night you caught me with that girl.”

That girl. He can’t even remember her name. It satisfies something dark that’s been blooming in you since you saw him sticking his dick where it didn’t belong.

You moan around him, spit trailing down your neck as you tongue at his slit. Your hands grip his big, meaty thighs, and it occurs to you just how strong he is. He could break you, rip you apart piece by piece, and you couldn’t do anything about it. The thought arouses you to no end.

“You pissed me off so fuckin’ much that night, y’know that?” He rambles, his thighs squeezing the sides of your face. He’s practically trapping you against his cock, and you try your hardest to breathe through your nose but you can feel your vision blurring at the edges. “You caught me in the middle of it, didn’t even say sorry. Didn’t help me finish. You’re a sick little bitch for watching me fuck her. I bet you touched yourself after that, didn’t you? Touched your little cunt thinking about the way I used her?”

You whimper around him, your fingers attempting to move down and rub against your clit. But Felix lets out a sound in the back of his throat and kicks your hand away.

“Don’t. You don’t get to cum tonight. You put your hands on me, or you don’t put them on anything at all.”

Your hands wrap around the back of his thighs, then, as you hollow your cheeks around him. You’ll do anything he demands you to.

After a long moment of being face fucked with only a few breathing breaks in between, your throat is scratchy and raw. Felix yanks you off of him, and you wheeze as you’re thrown to the ground, your hand going to your throat as your eyes drip with citrine tears. Felix stands for a moment to let you catch your breath. He’s still your best friend, after all— he cares about your well being, as angry as he is right now.

It isn’t long, however, before he’s grabbing you up by your elbow and bending you over the marble statue. Your cheek lands on the cold stone, the crotch of your bodysuit is ripped open, exposing your lace panties and the fat globes of your ass. You stick yourself out for him, moaning as he rips your underwear off of you and throws it on the ground. He spreads your legs and coos at your dripping cunt.

“Oh, look at that,” his fingers go to either side of your pussy lips, spreading them apart and revealing your teeny tiny hole. “It’s clenching s’much, isn’t it, sweetheart? It’s all swollen ‘n red. It’s been so worked up all night, I bet.”

“Felix,” you cry, a blubbering mess. “Please.”

He chuckles, rubbing the tip of his finger against your clit. You quiver underneath his touch, gasping when his aching cockhead suddenly brushes up against your entrance.

“I want to know how badly you want me. Tell me, darling. Tell me how pathetic you are.”

“I want it,” your voice comes out small, weak. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t feel my legs. Wan’ you to stretch me out on your fat cock, Felix. Give it t’me, pleasepleaseplease…”

He lets out a dreamy sigh, feeling you trying to clench around the tip of his cock, trying to suck him in. Your head is fuzzy, your cunt throbbing. You need him more than you need air.

“Okay,” he lets out, whispering. It’s an oddly gentle tone, and you know it’s because this situation could change the outcome of your friendship forever. “Okay, sweetheart.”

He pushes forward, the fat tip of his cock popping into your entrance, and you let out a mewl. Felix is big, and not just in his height or his shoulders. He stretches you so deliciously to the point where it’s borderline painful.

“Oh my god,” he grits his teeth, his head tipping back. “God, you’re a tight little thing. So tiny..”

You know he’s talking to your pussy now, drunk off the way you’re wrapping around his shaft. He moves slow, gentle strokes against your aching pussy, his fingers digging bruises into your hips as he struggles to contain himself.

Your cheek is smushed against the hard surface below you, but that doesn’t stop you from speaking.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, moaning. “Destroy me, rip me apart.. I don’t care, Felix.”

He moans along with you, a sound of pure, unleashed pleasure. His hips speed up, and he fucks into your cunt with reckless abandon as your nails dig into the marble below you. His cock is so deep that you can almost feel him in your throat.

He angles at a spot inside that has you keening, your hips fucking back onto him as he rams into you. Your nails scrape against the statue, tears running down your cheeks.

“Felix,” you moan out, but it’s hard to speak as the breath is being knocked out of you.

“Mmm,” he hums, grabbing your hips. “‘M gonna cum. ‘M gonna cum in your sweet little pussy.”

“Please,” you gasp. “Please, fill me up, fill up my pussy!”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” His arms lift your body up, and his biceps curl around your neck. Your eyes widen as he tightens his grip, placing you in a chokehold underneath him. His hips slap against yours, his steady words bordering on a whine. “You want me to cum inside you? Get you all pregnant and full? Mmm, that’d be a pretty sight, wouldn’t it…”

You clench down on him. He growls, a sigh of your name tumbling out of his mouth. His hips stutter. And with one last harsh thrust, he’s cumming. His warmth fills you to the brim and spills over the cusp as he fucks into you, teeth scraping against your neck as he bites down and leaves a mark. Sweat drips drown your temple, small pants escaping your lips as you try to swallow oxygen into your lungs. Felix’s arms are still wrapped around you neck, but they aren’t wrapped tight enough to cut off your air completely.

Definitely tight enough to bruise, though.

He slows, after a few more moments. You still grind onto his overstimulated cock, and he squeezes your throat in warning.

“What did I tell you? You don’t get to cum tonight.”

Your face becomes blotchy with tears, and you sob as he pulls out of you. His cum spills down onto the concrete floor, your pussy gushing with his seed, and you want to scream.

“But Felix,” you babble, grabbing onto his arm as he tucks himself back into his pants. “No, baby, please—“

“This is what you wanted,” he replies, nonchalant, as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out. His glances down at the creamy spend that had fallen out of you and onto the ground. Grabbing you by your hair, he pushes you down onto your knees. He gestures to his cum, licking his lips.

“Now clean that up,” he demands. “Wouldn’t want to leave a mess, would we?”

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry

#bunny writes ͟͟͞☆#Felix Catton #Felix Catton x reader #Felix Catton x fem! reader #Felix Catton smut #Felix Catton fanfic #Felix Catton blurb #Felix Catton one shot #Felix Catton Drabble #Felix Catton Saltburn #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #saltburn fanfic #Felix Saturn #Oliver quick #Jacob Elordi #dom! Felix Catton #sub! reader

2K notes · View notes

theragethatisdesire · 1 month

Text

quick bright things - eren jaeger x afab!reader, 18+!!

okay hi. after my many-months writing hiatus, i am offering up this humble creation. welcome to the world of quick bright things, caught somewhere between a fairytale and a shakespeare play and a priceless piece of jewelry. this was inspired by....a lot of things, from midsummer night's dream to saltburn to the secret history to romeo & juliet like, you name it and i've probably crammed it in here. eren is a lot different than i normally write him (or read him, for that matter), i hope you all find him as lovely as i do! this will be 2 parts (for now...), i'm not sure what else to say except i'm happy to be back and i hope you all love part 1 ₊˚⊹♡

pairing: eren jaeger x reader

wc: 10.4k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

cws: alcohol, swearing, smut, fingering, reader has female anatomy, wet dreams, allusions to cannibalism (idk that's a stretch it's more of a metaphor), exhibitionism, cum-eating, creepy stepsiblings, rich assholes, throat-closing amounts of sexual tension, i honestly don't even know what to put here

without further ado...

"Last year I abstained / this year I devour / without guilt / which is also an art."

“Now don’t forget: university is for discovery, for adventure.” Your mother tucks the front of your shirt into your skirt, tugs at your collar until it’s sitting prettily against the cliff of your collarbones. It’s not a good fabric, this shirt; it’s cheap and scratches uncomfortably at the summer sunburn still lingering on your chest. “It’s for finding your passions, your life path, yourself…”

“Darling, you’ve been philosophizing since breakfast. You’re going to give the poor girl a conniption.” Your father chuckles lightly, swinging the hammer at the wall of your dormitory and finishing the hanging of one of your many posters over your creaky, lofted bed. The posters are bright and colorful, almost garish in the pristine, ancient light pouring in from the windows. With a slow blink, you realize you’re going to take them down later, that they feel incongruous with the dust particles and the oak furniture.

“It’s alright, really.” You manage a smile of compromise, lips clamped tight to hold the flutter of nerves in your throat at bay. “I think I’ve got it from here.”

There’s an expectedly teary goodbye, a small monologue from your father about how much you’ve grown, and a few reminders from your mother to separate the darks and the lights when you do laundry, to focus on your studies. Just before she slips out behind her husband, she grabs you by the shoulders and presses her lips to the side of your head, kisses a blood-red print into the shell of your ear.

“Don’t forget. Find something.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Whether it started with that conversation or with the buildup that accompanied the thirty-six months of monotonous paper-writing and numb boredom of your first three years at Oxford, you can’t be sure. In truth, maybe your first three years weren’t all that boring, and they only seem so by comparison of everything that came after, but you can’t be entirely sure of that either.

What you can be sure of is that something down the line—between meeting Sasha in that class on Milton and squeezing her hand as the plane landed and the dozens of bottles of champagne you’ve consumed over the last weeks—something led you to this moment, standing in this kitchen somewhere outside Verona with your bare feet against the hot clay tiles, staring at the sharp angle of an unfamiliar, tanned collarbone.

He’s coated in linen: a half-unbuttoned, burnt-orange drape of a shirt is rolled carefully up around strong forearms, and one large, boyish foot peeks out from his baggy jeans, propped up on its throne upon the opposite knee. A golden cross winks at you from his chest, nestled in the sparsest dusting of chest hair and dripping with the same peach juice that’s sliding down his Adam’s apple, from his strong chin, from the crooked smirk that’s pointed at you like a knife.

You recognize him before he speaks– this must be Eren. Sasha’s mentioned him enough times: the shock of rich, dark hair, the lakewater eyes, the way he leans back in his chair like a king and cocks his head like a trickster. This is Eren, and you tell him so.

“Guilty.” The sun compliments everything about him but his smile, a little too sharp with too much danger behind it. It’s a smile made for moonlight. “And you are?”

A memory surfaces in your mind, a cautionary childhood tale. “You can never let a fairy know your name,” Emma tells you, graver than death, crouched in the bushes beside you, “or they steal you away, and you can never be human again.”

“Well?” Eren says expectantly, head leaning even further to the left. He’s studying you, the baggy linen pants pooling around your toes and ruby-studded ears poking out of a fray of frazzled bedhead. You feel naked, feel a wild urge come over you and wonder how his eyes would glow at you if you were. You shiver, goosebumps raising in the stuffy summer air. When his lips twitch, you realize Eren’s noticed; you feel feverish.

You mumble your name at him, as if it’s something given unwillingly. Waking the espresso machine seems like the right thing to do with your hands, and you’re grateful for the noisy mechanical sounds it provides to shatter the still morning. You bring an absentminded hand to rub over the tip of your ear, feel if it’s grown to a point yet.

“We haven’t met, have we? I feel like if we had, I’d remember.”

God, you wish he’d stop talking.

“Well, do you go to Oxford?”

“Sometimes.” You roll your eyes, and he laughs, little bells and glass shattering. “I’ve been abroad for the last semester. I flew in from Egypt a couple of weeks ago.”

“Hm,” you hum to yourself, choosing a small red cup for your morning coffee. You aren’t sure what to say; the most exotic place you’ve ever visited was a seaside town three hours from your house.

You can hear his newspaper crinkling; the sound of him putting it down betrays his arrival behind you, but you still don’t expect the puff of warm breath over your shoulder. He comes into your space like he belongs there, like there’s never been a door that wasn’t held open for him to stride through. “Are you still asleep?”

Before you can answer, you hear a shriek from down the hallway, and you breathe a little sigh of relief, thanking whatever ancient gods that belong to the hills you’re in for the interruption. Venus springs to mind, and you swat her and her entourage of Graces away from you with a huff.

“You absolute asshole!” Historia comes barreling into the kitchen, dramatic, fluffy dressing robe spilling out into the unrelenting summer heat behind her. You realize that in the three weeks you’ve spent with her, you haven’t once seen her in the actual kitchen, watching the way the breakfast chef’s eyes widen at the sight of her as he hurries by with an armful of eggs.

“Stori!” Eren elegantly catches her best attempt at a tackle with the good grace you assume he does everything with, breaking out into a warm peal of laughter. “Since when do you not love a surprise?”

“Since always.” Historia’s face is scrunched up where she’s buried it into the crook of his neck, forehead red with the effort of squeezing Eren as hard as she can. “You could have at least called, I mean– ugh, I didn’t even get the chance to get your favorite–”

“Relax.” Eren urges her, rubbing soothing circles into the small of her back. He carries them both over to his seat, plopping down and curling her up in his lap like a child. Eren holds his cup of coffee to her lips temptingly, and Historia shoves it away with another scowl. You hide your giggle at her antics behind your espresso, not wanting to remind them of your presence, but enjoying the show all the same. “Brat.”

“Ow,” Historia hisses when he pinches her thigh, expression lightening when she catches sight of something on the wall. “I always forget how pretty the kitchen is here.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“Still getting dressed.” Historia’s blue eyes turn to the frescoed ceiling with an irritated huff. “You know he can’t stand to be seen in his pajamas.”

“That’s because he doesn’t wear any,” Eren remarks with an eye roll of his own. “You could have called to let me know we’d adopted such a pretty houseguest for the summer.”

Your face burns with acknowledgement, and you can feel your toes curling into the clay bricks of the floor hard enough to scrape the tip of your pinky. Eren seems satisfied at your bewilderment, letting his eyes drag over your hardly-covered chest lazy as a wandering mouth.

“Why would anyone wear pajamas under those heavy duvets? It’s almost thirty-two degrees out.” Armin breezes in in a feigned display of nonchalance, but you can see the way his eyes skim over Eren like a ship narrowly avoiding an iceberg. The Titanic was inevitable, and so is the gravity of Eren sitting golden on the other side of the room.

“You look good, Min.” Eren squints his eyes at Armin’s shirt, nearly identical to his own. “Where’d you get that?”

“You left it last summer,” Historia hums, tucking her head under Eren’s chin and nuzzling into his chest more completely. Armin makes a soft snort of irritation, grabbing for a fig in the bowl of fruit on the counter and beginning to rummage through the cabinet drawers.

“Do you want half a fig?” Armin’s cool gaze slides to you, and you shake your head, feeling a little underwater as two lifelong relationships unfurl in front of you, your mind still fuzzy from last night’s wine. “Historia?”

Historia says no as Eren says yes, and Armin makes his sound of annoyance again before continuing his rummaging, muttering about the inconvenience of finding a knife.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” Sasha, still disheveled with sleep and grinning bright as Christmas morning, pops her head around the doorway. “Shouldn’t you be overseeing the construction of your pyramid?”

“I’m not dead, Sasha,” Eren laughs—it really is distracting when he does that—pulling Sasha onto his other knee, ignoring Historia’s grumbles of discontent. The NYU Men’s Lacrosse t-shirt that Sasha cropped too short rides up, exposing the swell of her breast, but no one acknowledges it. Eren’s hand tucks in snugly around the curve of her hip, easy and natural, and you wonder if his fingers have ever itched to travel up under the hem of her tiny sleep shorts.

“Not dead yet.” Historia glares up at him venomously, reluctantly making room for Sasha to pile onto Eren and smother his face with kisses. Sasha pulls away from him suddenly and frowns.

“Peaches?”

“Where are the knives in this fucking kitchen?” Armin’s growl of frustration is loud enough to make you jump, and Sasha giggles at you.

“Jesus, Armin, you’re going to kill her, and it’s not even noon.” Sasha slips off of Eren’s knee, practically bouncing over to where Armin’s viciously jiggling a locked drawer. She slides open the drawer next to him and draws a long, wide knife from it, passing it to him with the blade extended and her eyes on you. “Did you meet Eren?”

“Careful of his hand!” Historia squeals, shooting an arm out towards Armin as if she can deflect the tip of the blade from across the room.

“It’s fine, Stor.” Armin’s voice floats across his nearly-bare shoulder, mild and careless as it grazes the collar of the too-big button down sliding off of his slim frame.

“That knife’s a little big for a fig, Sasha.” Eren stands, placing Historia on the table and pinching her cheek when she scowls at him.

“There’s no such thing as a too-big knife– listen to me. Did you meet Eren?” Sasha’s fingers are gripping into the flesh of your arm– hard. Your eyes widen in surprise at the urgency in her eyes, like if you haven’t been introduced to Eren, there’s grave danger afoot.

“We met.” It happens quickly and easily, the slide of his heavy arm around your shoulders. You can feel your body tense under the lazy weight of him, big hand wrapped around you like it belongs there. “I don’t think she’s particularly fond of me.”

Eren shoots you a wink that you’re sure is intended to mean something, a reference to an inside joke that you have yet to establish, maybe.

“I didn’t say that,” you say in your own defense, wanting to yank Sasha to the side and demand to know why she hadn’t warned you that Cupid himself was going to greet you in the kitchen this morning. Armin slices the fig neatly in half, a strangely practiced motion performed by small, soft hands. He offers it to you again insistently, and frowns when you shake your head.

“I said I wanted it, ‘Min,” Eren says with a hint of red to his words, snatching the halved fig from Armin’s hand and biting into it voraciously, little pieces of the flesh spattered around the corner of his mouth.

“You’re such a brute,” Armin scoffs, picking the meat of his half out gingerly with an oyster fork that you don’t remember him grabbing from the drawer.

“Why don’t you like Eren?” Sasha pouts at you, grabbing the hand that’s squashed between yours and Eren’s hips. Your palm feels hot against her fingers.

“I said I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t say much of anything, to be fair.” Eren’s got the fig pressed to his mouth, digging his teeth and tongue around in the husk of it obscenely enough to make your cheeks warm. Being so close to him is filthy, that cross around his neck is looking you straight in the eye to make sure you feel it.

“Eren’s always a pest,” Historia provides from her perch on the kitchen table, picking at her perfectly manicured toenails, “why would she like him?”

“You like him plenty,” Armin says, not looking at her. It’s not the first time that’s been brought up, if Historia’s answering sneer is anything to go by.

“You’ll love him if you give him a chance.” Sasha smiles hopefully at you, nodding.

“Yeah,” Eren grins down at you, teeth colored with fig, “give me a chance.”

“Eren, you’re going to scare her off,” Armin says with a roll of his eyes, peering around Eren’s broad shoulders to look you up and down. The way his eyes drag over you makes you feel like there might be a stab wound somewhere on your person that you don’t know about yet, the adrenaline of the moment keeping you numb.

“Back off her, Eren,” Historia echoes, “she’s fun, I don’t want you to make her leave.”

“She’s not going to leave.” Eren looks directly at you as he says it, something in his smile growing imperceptibly darker. A dare. How much will you let me get away with?

You stare and stare at him, ignoring the continued bickering of Armin and Historia in the background. He’s golden and blood-red, oil smeared on his forehead and a crown of thorns nestled in his dark thatch of hair if you look close enough. If you’re not imagining it, his hand might be tightening around your shoulder, maybe he’ll leave a purple bruise on it.

“Of course not,” Sasha interrupts your thoughts, thumbing at your cheek affectionately, “she belongs here. With us.”

“She’s our little fairy,” Historia giggles dreamily, referencing the long-winded fairy tales you drunkenly make up every night, casting each other as heroines and knights and dragons.

“Right,” Eren agrees, not breaking your gaze, “our little fairy.”

The only thing that comes to mind is your childhood friend, Emma, looking on at you sadly with her muddy toes, watching the wings sprout from your back.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Days lug themselves by, barefooted and dragging their heels, and most of the time, even the monotonous rise and fall of the sun doesn’t help to differentiate one calendar block from the next. Like a bat, or maybe a slinky, silvery fish in an underwater cave, you rely on your other senses to track the passage of time.

For example, today, you know it’s a Wednesday because Maria, one of the three house chefs, brings fresh peaches up from the co-op down the hill every Wednesday. Sasha’s spent the last thirty minutes hand feeding you peach flesh as you lounge by the pool, insisting that you suck her fingers clean of juice and feeding you little sips of champagne each time you sober up enough to tell her that that’s lewd. Historia swats at you and giggles at the smacking and slurping sounds you make around Sasha’s fingers, oiled-up palm landing on oiled-up hip with a wet slap; Armin admonishes her quietly from his seat beside her, insisting the girlish noises emanating from the three of you are tearing him from his book. You can feel Eren watching, too– that’s all, though. Always just watching.

You wonder how opaque the lenses of Armin’s sunglasses are, perched haphazardly on your nose, wonder if they’re doing a good job of masking the slow lick of your gaze over Eren’s skin, wonder if you care. Maybe the champagne is finally getting to your head.

“We should go in soon,” Historia sighs, a hand tossed across her forehead. She’s a little movie star, built for the golden age. “It’s so hot.”

“It’s always this hot,” Sasha argues, and you can practically hear the furrow in her brow, not willing to take your eyes off of the trickle of sweat running down Eren’s chest to see it for yourself. You’re really getting the hang of it, this opposite-sense thing. Everything’s upside down here in the heat.

“She’s getting hungry,” Armin supplies, wiping the sweat off his palms to reach up and turn the page of his novel. Brideshead Revisited. A little on the nose, isn’t it?

“I am not!” Historia hates when people point out her appetite, but not really. She kicks up a fuss because it’s “ladylike”, and she’s advised you to do the same.

“You are,” you sigh, really feeling the heat sink into you even with the heavy, lazy movement of lolling your head to face her, “you always get hungry around this time.”

“What time is it, then?”

You don’t reply– you don’t know the answer.

“I think we’re all hungry,” Eren, ever the peacemaker when he can find the time to be so, sits up, letting the shirt that’s been shading his face fall into his lap. Your eyes track its descent– even that seems slow. He says something to you, managing a crooked grin while he squints in the heat of the sun, but you don’t hear it.

“Huh?”

“Everyone except you, anyway,” he repeats himself, reaching over Sasha and smearing his thumb through the peach juice collected on your chin. Eren’s thumb disappears between his pink lips, and when he sucks on it with a satisfied hum, your jaw clenches hard enough to hurt.

“I guess it’s getting close to dinner,” Sasha says regretfully, picking her wristwatch, a priceless Braus family heirloom, up from a puddle of orange juice and tanning oil. “We should probably clean off.”

“I might even shower twice,” Armin rubs a hand over his belly with a grimace, “this tanning oil makes my skin greasy.”

“I feel disgusting,” Historia agrees, sliding red toes into her sandals and standing with a dramatic stretch.

“Filthy,” Eren murmurs in agreement. He’s still staring at you.

“I’ll be in soon. I’m so close to the color I wanted for today– I just need, like, ten more minutes.” You peel down the strip of bathing suit stretched over your hip, showing off the distinct mark of yesterday’s color and today’s tan.

“You’re crazy,” Sasha scoffs, throwing some designer sarong her mother lent her over her shoulder, “I’m melting.”

Armin and Historia pause their bickering over who gets to wear Armin’s Cucinelli belt to dinner—Armin wants it for his trousers, Historia for her maxi dress—just long enough to offer a momentary goodbye, breezing along into the house with Sasha. You settle back into your chair and take a deep breath, letting the sun sink into you just long enough to forget that you’re not alone.

“Open up.”

You’ve been enjoying this game of trading one sense for another, and you keep your eyes shut firmly, letting your jaw fall open and your tongue hang out. A piece of peach, fleshy and dripping with juice, finds its way onto your tongue, pinched too roughly between strong fingers. When you close your lips around the fruit, the fingers stay with it, frozen in their pinched position and forcing you to suck the peach from them, to swallow around them, to run your tongue along them and get as much of the meat as you can. When the fingers withdraw from your lips, you open your eyes and gasp quietly.

Eren’s leaning over you, a solar eclipse that smells like tan skin and sounds like Campari, and in the silhouette of the sunlight, you think he’s smiling.

“You’re still hungry,” he says, a question that’s left its punctuation mark behind. You think of Historia, of the improper shame of revealing your appetite. You dodge.

“I’m never hungry.”

“Never?” Eren crawls over you to kneel between your legs, propping one of your ankles up on his shoulder. The game you started is ripped out of your hands, chess pieces flying into the pool, scattering across the table, knocking over bottles and matchbooks. It’s so silent out here in the sun it hurts, and you almost miss the constant buzzing horseflies of early summer.

“Never.”

“If you’ve never been hungry,” Eren muses, tilting his head so that his cheekbone fits into the sensitive arch of your foot, reaching a hand down to splay it wide on your belly, “you’ve never been full.”

“How do you figure?” Your words come out throaty, waterlogged.

“Can’t have one without the other.” Eren shrugs, turning his head to the side. His lips brush against your heel, your Achilles’, the swirly seashell dangling from your anklet. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, toes twitching behind his ear. “I don’t believe you, anyway.”

“No?” You try to tilt your head coyly, like your heart’s not clawing and scratching against your throat to get to him. Hungry, indeed.

“You wouldn’t stare like that if you didn’t want to.”

You’re taken aback, but not enough to fall out of the moment– Eren’s lips closing around the knob of your ankle slowly, like the pit of a fruit, make sure of that.

“Didn’t want to what?”

Eren’s hands meet the cushion on either side of your head hard enough to rattle the chair, his long, tanned body stretching over yours. He’s close enough to brush his nose against yours, but you can still see the hazy green of his eyes flicking here and there on your face: from your eyes to your lips to the beauty mark on your cheek. Your poolside lounge feels more like a butcher’s block under your taut spine.

Sasha’s told you about the wolves in these hills, that they howl murder at night, but they’re sleepy and indulgent in the heat of the sun. One of Eren’s canines catches the light and glints at you as he grins.

“Eat yourself sick.” He practically spits it into your mouth, one thigh pressed into where you’re sticky and sinful, and he chuckles under his breath when you shudder under him, feverish in the late-afternoon heat.

Before you can even think of biting back, Eren’s off of you, picking your sandals off of the ground and sliding them gently onto your feet, stopping to run his palm from your ankle to your kneecap with an appraising hum.

“We should head inside,” he says evenly, offering a hand to pull you to your feet, “I’d hate for us to miss dinner.”

You don’t have anything to say back to him, letting him lace his fingers through yours like lines in a play, interspersing seamlessly with the summer scenery. Eren leads you through the kitchen, waits patiently for you to take your sandals off, and waves you on your way up the stairs, saying he needs a cigarette. As the distance between you grows, your mind grows clearer, and you turn on your heel, calling down to him from the top of the stairs.

“Eren? Eren? Where are you, Eren?”

“Call me something else,” Eren pokes his head around the corner, smoke pouring from the grin on his face, “whatever you want, really. Make your own name for me.”

“You stare at me, too,” you say, tearing through his impishness. Eren cocks his head, unperturbed, smile growing wide as he nods.

“I do.”

“So you’re…” You can’t bring yourself to say it, not where it might echo in the cavernous hallway, where it might take the form of a confession. You scamper down the stairs, nearly sliding on bare feet, almost crashing into Eren when he appears at the foot of the staircase, catching you with two broad palms on either side of your ribcage. You pluck the cigarette from his mouth, stick it between your own teeth, narrow your eyes accusingly, and whisper: “You’re hungry too.”

“For every man hath business and desire, Such it is.” Eren takes the cigarette back, pulling on it and making a clear show of trying to hide a smirk.

“Hamlet?”

“A woman with teeth and a brain,” Eren tilts his head at you, “aren’t you something?”

“Do you always quote Shakespeare when you want to fuck somebody?”

“Only when I want to fuck you.” Eren stubs the cigarette out on the ancient oak of the staircase railing, grins up at you brilliantly, smiles brighter when he notices how obviously flustered you are.

“I need to go take a shower,” you say hurriedly, choking on the remnants of your shame and your confidence as they burn out in your throat, making an attempt to back up the stairs away from him. Eren laughs at your attempted escape, catching you by the wrist and pulling you close to him, close enough to dizzy you on the tendrils of smoke still sticking to him. Your breath stills, your heart slows as Eren wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you together, skin on tacky skin.

“Oh, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” Eren coos to you, mouth moving against your cheekbone. “C’mon, just one bite.”

“He that is proud eats up himself,” you hiss a quote back at him in response, ripping yourself from his grip and scrambling up the stairs, heart pounding and cheeks burning. You can hear a lovesick sigh follow you up to your room, and hope that the slam of the door behind you is enough to keep it from touching you.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

The murky waters of your vision ripple out into clarity, and you’ve found yourself in a forest. You’ve been here before, you recognize the tall, thick trunks and the bed of fallen leaves under your feet. You’ve been coming here since you were a little girl, been wiggling your toes in the greenery since before you could remember. You never come alone.

It appears just as you remembered: a blinding glimmer of light, a flame for a head, and ribbonlike wisps of energy that beckon you like arms, like love. One step towards it, and it disappears, vanishing into nothing with an echo that might be laughter. You think it’s happy to see you.

When it reappears a few feet away, you take your first steps, sighing at the feeling of the wild enveloping you, of the prickling of your skin, kissed by the chill winding through the trees. You wish you could explore this place, so familiar and so strange all at once, but you know you have to keep moving, keep following the lights as they lead you deeper and deeper into the forest. They won’t hurt you; you aren’t sure why that’s true, aren’t sure why you keep moving. You just know better than to stop.

They lead you over a familiar path, winding past a creek, over a bed of flat stones with an ice-cold creek running over them. You never tire here, legs pumping and arms working to push yourself faster. You’ve never caught the lights, and you aren’t sure if you ever will, but again, you know better than to doubt. It feels like hours, feels like minutes, feels like purpose, chasing these lights through the forest, but suddenly, something’s new.

There’s a little chirping sound, almost conversational and too high-pitched for you to understand; you’re not even sure if you recognize the language. It ricochets around the bones in your body, touches something ancient in their marrow. You almost jerk your head to the right to find the source, but you resist, pushing ahead on your path as the lights lead you deeper. You get the feeling that you’ve gone off-script somewhere, that this is a part of the forest you haven’t seen before, but the warmth in your bones shoos your doubts away. You’ve never been this far, but it feels like home.

A growl curls around the shell of your ear, plants fear right in the center of your chest. Your eyes widen at the light before you before it disappears; you frown at the next one, not daring to speak but demanding an answer anyhow. The lights will save you, won’t they?

Shrieks from overhead, guttural, animalistic calls, howls and chatters of excitement; you never presumed to be alone in this forest, but you never presumed to be in danger, either. The lights urge you on, vanishing and regenerating at an alarming rate, your feet drumming against the forest floor faster and faster. A sliver of moonlight begins to glow from the trees a ways off, an indication that there’s a clearing ahead, and you shove the bile in your throat down, swing your arms faster, ignore the frantic fluttering of your pulse in time with the bestial chorus ringing clearer and louder from the trees with each passing second.

You do, against all odds, manage to launch yourself into the clearing, and the moment you feel the soft cushion of moss under your feet, as opposed to the branch-littered, crunchy path of the forest, you nearly stumble to your knees as your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness of the clearing. The grumblings of the woodland entities have quieted, an almost awestruck silence settling in the open space around you.

“There you are.”

Your head snaps up comically fast– “You?”

“Me,” Eren says, that razor-sharp, moonlight smile lighting up his face. He looks…right here, as if the forest is extending a sense of belonging, as if he’s been here longer than the ancient trees themselves. Even the little crown nestled atop his head is fitting: a tangle of brambles and thorns and leaves tucked into his dark locks. Is that a throne under him, that mass of branches and leaves and some silvery metal you can’t place?

His eyes glow in the starlight, illuminated with a certain hunger that you can feel reverberating through your bones. It should be frightening, but it’s enticing. You feel welcome.

“What are you doing here?” Your tongue is slower on the uptake than your mind, and you can feel the suspicious expression folding your facial features, hiding the thrum of anticipation the sight of him brings.

Eren cocks his head pityingly, smiling at you in a way that would seem predatory if it wasn’t so entirely disarming, so entirely inviting. Your feet are bringing you closer before he even speaks— you know why you’re here before he says it.

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren beckons you onto his lap, firmly grabbing your shoulder and silently demanding you straddle him when you try to turn away from him, “you’re beautiful, so…alive here.”

He takes a bit of your hair between your fingers and rubs it, satisfaction flickering over his face. It’s then that you realize how little fabric covers you; really, it’s only a thin, wispy excuse of a dress, hanging in tatters around your body and leaving your skin free for the taking. Taking notice of your dress leads you to take notice of another pressing matter: Eren’s naked beneath you.

“Where are we?”

“Does it matter?” Eren reaches up to toy with your hair again, smiling gently. He tilts his head up, asking you for something you can’t identify, but that you already know you’re willing to give. Your soul, maybe.

Your lips meet his in a tentative brush, a motion that feels shy, but practiced. It’s a reflex, an instinct, to kiss him this way. Eren groans gutturally against your mouth, pressing into you deeper, digging his fingertips into your bare skin. The chorus of inhuman chatter erupts around you both again, and you jump, almost pushing away from him before he stops you with a firm hand against the small of your back.

“Sh,” he whispers, nipping at your chin, “don’t pay them any mind. You’re with me, remember?”

It’s difficult at first with the ever-growing hum of life around you, but it grows increasingly easier to melt into him, to lose yourself in the rhythm of him. He’s thick and hard underneath you, pressed right where you’re already slick and ready for him, and he’s got a tight grip on your hips, working you against him to make sure you feel it and oh– do you feel it.

A debauched gasp pours from your mouth to his; Eren sinks sharp teeth into your bottom lip with a grunt of approval, pulls you up to situate you over his twitching cock. You can feel the lecherous eyes of the woodland creatures, spirits, monsters, whatever they may be around you, looking in on the sticky, tangible arousal building between your bodies. The steady glow of Eren’s eyes, the prick of the thorns in his hair under your fingertips, the insistent weight of him pressing against the wet heat of you: all of it keeps you grounded, keeps your hips rolling into Eren like your life depends on it, like it’s what you were born to do.

“Are you ready?” Eren murmurs, quiet as the grave, stilling your hips and lifting you.

“I’m not sure, I–”

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren interrupts, “so long for you– you’re ready for me, I know you are.”

And with that, he’s sliding you down onto his cock, splitting you open, dropping your jaw. The cacophony from the forest grows deafening, but the glowing eyes in the brush streak and blur as your eyes flutter closed, a stuttered moan falling from your lips.

“Oh–”

“Knew you were ready,” Eren sinks his teeth into your collarbone, lets you wiggle and roll your hips until he’s situated comfortably inside of you. “You were born for this. For me.”

You can’t even bring yourself to disagree, to refute, to question. It’s godly, the way he fills you, the twinge of pain in the pit of your belly that doesn’t waver, no matter which way you squirm. The longer you sit, perched upon him– you feel something akin to divinity, akin to prophecy ringing through your bones. You were born for this.

“Eren…” It’s more of a sigh than anything, a confession and an admittance of guilt, a repentance. He likes the way it tastes, you can tell by the way his hands grip you harder, roll you along his cock faster with an urgency that betrays his calm, adoring gaze. He’s sinking his claws into you, bit by bit, and you’re better for it. You belong here, with the night on your skin and Eren nestled inside of you.

“Don’t ever leave,” Eren smiles gently, as if it’s a choice, “stay with me forever.”

The pleasure’s beginning to peak in your stomach, the howls swirling in the air around you start to feel more like a blanket, the moonlight like a crown. His hands are so hot they almost burn, his tongue licking up your neck feels like a baptism. Your back is arching, your blood is rushing, the stars are speaking to you– what are they saying?

Your fingernails have left angry indents in your throat where you’ve clutched into the skin in a desperate attempt to regain your breath, shooting up out of your slumber with a vicious jolt. Your head spins with the sudden movement, the antique furnishings of the room bleeding into candlelit blurs as you heave for breath.

“Sleeping?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the gravel of Eren’s voice, having believed yourself to be alone. Some instinctual part of your mind almost remembers falling asleep on the loveseat in the glass-enclosed sunroom earlier, one too many martinis to thank for that, but you can worry about that later– Eren’s your priority now, shirtless and leaned against the doorframe with one eyebrow raised and a very telling flush rising to his cheeks. The chilly wetness between your legs brings your dream to the forefront of your mind. Had he heard, somehow?

“What are you doing down here?” You do your best to narrow your eyes into something convincing enough to pass for annoyance, unsure if you’ve managed to pull it off with the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

“Water,” Eren says simply, raising a glass you hadn’t noticed he was holding, “but it seems like you might need it more than I do.”

“I don’t–” He ignores you, crossing the room to hand you the ornate glass. Your throat is dry, and so you drink, eyeing him suspiciously as you sip.

“Dreaming?” The corner of his mouth twitches almost imperceptibly.

“Nightmare.” You push yourself up to sit, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. “How’d you know?”

A long pause, Eren’s eyes dragging over you slowly, your skin burning. “You were squirming.”

“It was disturbing,” you say truthfully, looking over your shoulder and half-expecting to see some horrible monster leering at you from the doorway, salivating over you and Eren, “but I’ve had this same dream since I was a kid. Part of it, anyway.”

“Need company?”

“No,” you say quickly, shaken by the dream and how low Eren’s pajama pants hang on his hips, “I just need to get to my real bed. I’m sure sleeping outside had something to do with it.”

“That’s not true.” Eren’s scooping you up into his arms before you can open your mouth to argue, as if you even would. This isn’t unusual for him; you’ve grown used to his tendency to touch you, to hold you close to his chest as though you belong there. It echoes in your head, you were born for this. A shudder wracks through your body. “Cold?”

“Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your own voice. Eren nuzzles your head deeper into his shoulder, lets you get a noseful of the scent of him. Dewdrops, mankind, a rotting forest floor. It gives you a disconcerting sense of deja vu.

“Sleeping outside is good for you,” Eren goes on, scaling the stairs with impossible ease, “my mom used to tell me that.”

“Is that so?” It brings a sleepy little smile to your face, despite yourself: the image of a messy-haired, fussy baby Eren, curled up in his mother’s lap and looking up at the night sky.

“Sure.” You can hear the nostalgia in his voice. “The stars can talk to you that way, through your dreams. They show you where you’re supposed to go.”

Your blood runs cold at that– does he know? How could he? He’s a man, not a mind-reader, not a mystic. Right? You let him carry you to your door in silence, the only noise being the padding of his bare feet down the Turkish carpet runner in the hall. When he gets to your door, Eren finally starts to move to let you down, and your mouth moves without your permission, voice small and echoing in the still nighttime air.

“Eren?”

He freezes, muscles locking you in place against his chest. “Yeah?”

“Was I talking in my sleep?”

Eren settles you on your feet before answering, leaving one lingering hand on your hip and bringing the other up to brush at your cheek. Your eye must have been watering– his thumb catches a stray tear. His smile is a little too sharp when he answers.

“No, why?”

“Just wondering.” Relief courses through your body, but your muscles stay taut under his touch.

“Okay,” Eren looks you up and down one more time, as if he’s making sure you’re all there, “goodnight, then. I hope your dreams get better.”

When he turns to go, the broad silhouette of him growing darker as he retreats, you remember something fragile underneath the floorboards.

“Wait, Eren! You forgot your water.”

“My what?” When he turns to face you, he’s still grinning– baring his teeth, more like. You think you’re imagining the glow in his eyes, too fresh from that dream.

“Your water. I think I have a cup in my room if you need it.”

“Oh.” Eren waves a hand nonchalantly through the air, catching a stray stream of moonlight. You can see the dust particles dancing around his hand, enchanted by his movement. “Wasn’t thirsty."

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

It’s a slinky, dazzling dress; Elie Saab, Spring 2005, maybe? 2006? Sasha had lent it to you, insisted upon you taking it, really. It’s got to be worth at least your years’ rent payment, dripping with Swarovski and cut low and square across your chest, and easily the most decadent thing you’ve ever worn but– it’s family dinner night. No expense is spared.

Historia sits across from you, reaching one dainty hand out for Armin’s negroni, nearly dipping the massive drop-pearl charm on her bracelet into the first course: a cold, cucumber soup. Armin nudges her meaningfully, scowling and handing his glass to her, glancing apologetically at the stiff-backed butler across the room, who wasn’t looking anyway. Sasha’s at the head of the table, working on Historia’s serving of the cucumber soup, dunking focaccia bread into it in a voracious manner that you’re sure wasn’t outlined in the etiquette courses she’d endured as a child. And he’s next to you, naturally.

His dinner jacket looks out of place on him, oddly enough: angular and overly formal, as well-fitting as it is. You wish it was a little greener, a little more playful, something to match the Eren you’ve gotten to know under all the glitz and glamour. It’s too human for him, really, but that thought makes you shudder faster than you can shove it to the side.

“Wasn’t that the girl from Luxembourg?” Sasha asks through a giggle, finally leaning back to allow the butler to collect the remnants of her first course. Historia frowns at her, gulps back nearly half of Armin’s cocktail.

“No, the girl from Luxembourg was a slut. He wouldn’t have touched her.”

Armin and Eren exchange a look that implies that, whoever the slut from Luxembourg might have been, she didn’t escape their clutches unscathed. Historia notices the guilty smile dimpling Eren’s cheek and smacks Armin in retaliation.

“Ouch, Stori!” Armin scowls right back at her; if you didn’t know about Armin’s father’s remarriage to Historia’s mother, you’d think they were actually related.

“She was a slut,” Historia sniffs, finishing the rest of Armin’s cocktail in a second swig.

“It was Eren’s idea– you’re always punishing me for what he does.” When the staff place the second course, some sort of ceviche, in front of him, Armin crosses his arms over his chest and looks away like a huffy child. Sasha laughs and swats at his shoulder.

“Don’t pretend you don’t have your own hand in things. You can’t blame everything on Eren.”

“Maybe he can,” you shrug, the champagne going to your head. You’re feeling impish, feeling like one of them. Wildly, you reach a hand up to pinch at Eren’s cheek, smiling to yourself when you feel it turn warm under your fingers. “I mean, just look at him. He’s a devil.”

“Am not,” Eren scoffs, slapping a hand on your leg and shaking it playfully, “you weren’t there anyway. Min’s very convincing when he wants to be.”

“I am.” Armin smiles at you, head tilting intrepidly. “I can get Eren to share anything I want, I bet.”

It feels loaded, like a challenge, and Eren’s fingers tighten where he’s gripping your leg. When you chance a glance to the side at him, his jaw is tense, gaze focused on Armin like a threat, like a predator.

“Not anything,” Eren says, voice low and dangerous, more somber than you’ve ever heard him. Armin’s face falls for a millisecond, scrunching his nose at the murderous glint in Eren’s eyes, before he clenches his jaw and glances between the two of you with a haughty smirk.

“Est-ce vrai? En êtes-vous sûr? Tu l'as dit toi-même - je suis convaincant quand je veux quelque chose.”

“Ne commencez pas avec moi, pas pour ça.” It’s hardly louder than a murmur, but the threat carries all the same. You look to Sasha with widened eyes, hoping for a translation, but she’s chewing slowly on a bite of her ceviche, looking at Armin, Eren, then Armin again with a strange expression you’ve never seen before.

A heavy silence settles over the table, Eren’s fingertips leaving sore spots through your dress where they’re digging into your thigh, and Armin’s eyes dancing over Eren’s face, that same smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Daring.

“You two are so in love,” Historia gripes with a roll of her eyes, smashing the carefully-cubed ceviche on her plate into a mush. You eye the smear of meat on her fork disdainfully and set down the bite you had been about to pop in your mouth, opting for your glass of bubbles instead.

The jokingly grumpy lilt of Historia’s comment seems to cut the thread of tension that had grown taut between the two men, as Armin allows Sasha to pull him away from Eren and back into his corner of the table with her and Historia. Their conversation drones on, the ethics of Eren and Armin’s tendency to tag-team women fading into the background as you wait for Eren’s hand to slip from your thigh. It doesn’t.

His thumb rubs idly over the slit of your dress, brushing it back and forth over your bare skin for just long enough to get you used to the pressure of his palm beaming heat through the thin fabric, get your guard down. And then his fingers slip underneath, grabbing into the hot flesh of your thigh.

You jump ever so slightly, flighty as a fawn, and Eren chuckles under his breath beside you when you choke a bit on your champagne. He’s cool—stoic, even—as he bashfully bats away the scandalous insinuations of Sasha and Historia’s storytelling, the lewd raise of Armin’s eyebrows at the mention of a certain leggy redhead in Prague. His hand stays steady, possessive and permanent on your leg. When Armin and Historia start arguing over yet another of Armin’s alleged missteps with one of her college friends, Eren takes the opening to lean into you, murmuring into your ear.

“What’s got you so jumpy?” His breath puffs out hot and sensual against the shell of your ear, and you can feel your earring lifting with the movement of his lips. He’s so close.

“Not jumpy,” you answer under your breath, trying to keep your composure.

“Hm,” Eren hums, leaning back just enough to study your profile, “wasn’t sure if you’d dozed off, started dreaming again.”

Your head whips towards him in what is surely an uncouth accusation of insinuation, borne of shock, but luckily, Armin’s too busy being hand-fed ceviche by Sasha and scolded by Historia to notice. Other than his eyes, Eren’s stiller than death, watching over the antics with the littlest smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. His eyes, though, flick down to you, glinting like a dare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means something?” It’s a challenge, and you realize too late that the rope around your ankle has cinched, and you’re caught in his trap.

“No,” you say, hoping for more conviction in your voice, but it comes out as a breathy whisper. The corner of Eren’s mouth twitches, and it pulls an irritated huff from you.

“Tell me about your dream. The one that woke you up the other night.”

“Tell you– w-what? Here?”

“Yes, here,” Eren repeats you, quiet and calm, keeping one eye on your bickering friends to ensure you’re kept all to himself, “unless it’s something you can’t share.”

The blanching of your face tells him everything he needs to know, and that sickening admission almost overshadows the fact that he knows. He undeniably knows, now; maybe not the specifics, but enough to know that you had woken up sticky and gasping after a sinful dream. Maybe he even knows it was about him.

You’ve given up on trying to understand the otherworldly elements of Eren; the way he seems to appear at inopportune moments and know what you’re thinking at every turn, but this is too much. You quickly realize that while you’re not sober, you’re certainly not drunk enough to deal with him, and you finish your glass of champagne in a single gulp.

“You’re one to talk about sharing,” you hiss at him, trying to will away the goosebumps prickling your arms as his fingers inch higher, skating along soft skin. Eren’s demeanor falters, if only for a moment– he looks frustrated.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Eren leans into you, brows furrowing. “I don’t share just anything, and especially not just because ‘Min wants a taste.”

“Am I yours to share?” That heavy swig of champagne has gone straight to your head it seems, as you turn your face up to him defiantly, finally saying the quiet part out loud. The weight falls off your shoulders like a head, and you can almost feel the itch of the guillotine at your neck as the words leave your mouth. Eren, ever the gentle executioner, only lets the calm fascination return to his face, brings his fingers further up your thigh.

“Tell me about your dream, hm? They’re not listening, it’s just you and me.”

He’s only inches away from where you’re already beginning to grow hot and wet– he hasn’t even done anything, and you want to chastise yourself over the undeniable need beginning to bubble inside you. Eren’s smiling so sweetly, as if he’s lulling you into a sense of complacency, and your tongue hangs heavy in your mouth, eager to spill your secrets.

“I…I’m scared.”

Eren’s eyebrows raise and his smile grows a bit toothier, disbelief written plain on his face. “Of me?”

“Sometimes,” you say, small and honest as the grave, “it’s like you aren’t real.”

“I’m very real,” Eren insists, two fingers pressing against the damp silk of your panties, his eyes lighting up when you stifle a gasp, “doesn’t that feel real?”

“Wait–”

“The dream,” Eren says again, increasing the pressure of his fingers, “were you scared of me there, too?”

“Yes,” you whisper, ashamed and painfully cognizant of the feel of him between your legs, “I was in a forest, running after the little lights, they– I’ve seen them for a long time.”

“Since you were a child,” Eren repeats your confession from the other night. He’s reading you, you realize, not like a book, but like a poem. You couldn’t put the difference into words if you had to, but there’s a certain melody to the flickering of his gaze over your hot face.

“They’ve never led me anywhere before,” your words hitch in your throat, stopped dead when Eren’s fingers start rubbing circles over your swollen clit. The silk is thin and soaked, and his fingers slide over you in a way that feels god-given. Your jaw hangs ever-so-slightly, the butlers coming to change the course. You wait for Eren to slip his hand out from under your dress, fearful of the staff watching as he toys with you, but he only nods encouragingly.

“Keep going.”

“Um,” you stammer, swallowing thickly and glancing at the plate of bleeding, rare filet in front of you, “they took me to a clearing in the forest. There were creatures, ones I’ve never seen before.”

“Did they hurt you? Any of them?” A furrow appears between his eyebrows, deep and concerned. Some small part of your brain, muted since Eren’s hand slid beneath your dress, worries itself with why Eren seems so disquieted with your dream– it’s not like you actually could have been hurt, it was only a dream. Wasn’t it?

“No, they stayed away. They just made a lot of noise, but they all got quiet when…”

A knowing smirk. “When?”

“When I saw you.”

Eren pats your thighs gently, urging them apart; he looks relieved, exhilarated, unreal. If you didn’t know better, you’d think his eyes were glowing in the candlelight. Armin, Historia, and Sasha’s clamor across the table grows louder with each passing second, but as soon as you begin to wonder if you should be doing a better job of hiding what’s very clearly happening under the slit of your dress, Eren’s fingers have wiggled their way beneath the fabric of your silk thong. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, eyes widening.

“I was glad to see you,” Eren says quietly, “in the dream, I mean.”

“You said you’d been waiting for me,” you whisper, keeping your voice low to hide the whine scratching at the back of your throat, “that you’d been waiting a long time.”

“I bet I was,” Eren hums thoughtfully, grinning viciously when he sinks a finger into you, clearly relishing the way your fingernails tighten into his wrist. “I never lie.”

“Even in a dream?” You feel fuzzy and warm, blinking moony, worried eyes up at him. Eren shakes his head in confirmation, curling his finger and making your thighs clench. “You put me in your lap, and–and, you had a crown. It was nighttime, I think, and the moon was really bright. You were inside me.”

Eren slides another finger in to match the first, and you’re hardly able to stifle a moan when it comes fluttering through your teeth, a breeze of a sound compared to what you’re struggling to keep captive in your chest. Eren’s other hand reaches forward to grab a small piece of the carved steak, brings the meat up to your mouth and brushes it over your lips.

“Eat,” Eren instructs, smiling placidly as you mindlessly obey, biting into the red meat, “but keep telling me.”

He waits patiently for you to chew around the bite of steak he’s offered you, eyes searching you for something– what it is, you can’t be sure. Your mind is wobbling around the flashes of memory of your dream, distracted every few steps by an overwhelming rush of pleasure from between your legs, Eren’s fingers curling incessantly against your walls. You swallow, never taking your eyes off of him.

“You fucked me.” The confession is breathless when it leaves you, and even through the haze of what you pray isn’t a rapidly-approaching orgasm, you don’t miss the way Eren’s shoulders stiffen, the way his eyes flash.

“Did I fuck you, or did you fuck me?” Eren murmurs back to you, mischief in his eyes and a tense gravel to his voice. “You said you were in my lap, after all.”

“I—oh, god—I don’t know,” you’re barely able to keep your voice low, a little whimper interrupting you, “Eren–”

“Keep going, it’s okay,” Eren’s fingers don’t slow– in fact, they begin to move more harshly, “you’re safe with me, you know that. I showed you in the forest, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.” You can’t stop your forehead from falling onto his shoulder, teeth digging into your lip so hard you aren’t sure if that coppery taste is from the steak, or your own blood. The conversation in the room, despite being made by only three people, feels like a deafening rush in your ears.

The realization hits home that Eren’s going to make you cum all over his fingers in front of your friends, the staff, and your dinner, and he’s going to wrench it out of you in a matter of seconds, if the tightening of your gut is anything to go by.

“What else?” Eren practically growls in your ear, low and hoarse. “Is there anything else?”

“You asked me– fuck, you asked me something.” Your hips are canting forward into his palm, your face tacky and warm thinking about the couture fabric under you, now drenched in your cum and sweat. “Eren, you have to slow down, please–”

He’s merciless, pumping his fingers into you ceaselessly, rendering you a lost cause. “What did I ask you?”

“You asked—oh, my god—asked if I, if I would stay with you forever.”

“What was your answer?”

You can’t respond, not with the way you’ve stopped breathing to swallow down the debauched moan bubbling in your chest. Your entire body tenses, strung tight as a bow around Eren’s fingers as the knot in your stomach unravels, cool, inevitable release finally crashing over you. Eren works you through it, murmuring little hushes into your hairline, and placing a comforting hand over your fingers that are digging into his wrist, smiling against your forehead as you slide your hips back and forth over his hand.

You manage to pull the whole thing off impressively subdued, no more than a tinny whimper leaving your lips, only to be absorbed by the sleeve of Eren’s dinner jacket. When you dare to sit up, to meet Eren’s eyes, he’s still looking at you expectantly, as if that wasn’t enough.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” you whisper, waiting for Historia to chastise you, or Armin to make a lewd comment. The three of them are still arguing, Sasha stealing bites from Armin’s plate each time he turns to snap at Historia, who’s now sitting amongst a crowd of empty crystal glasses.

“What was your answer?” Eren says again, pulling his fingers from you and smirking at the glisten that stretches down into his palm.

“I woke up,” you say with shaky conviction, trying to glare at him.

“Are you still scared of me?” Eren asks innocently, picking up a piece of his steak with his hand and feeding it to you again. Your cum mixes in with the flavor of the steak, gives it a certain tang and salinity that makes your heart beat faster, even though you’ve just floated back down to consciousness.

“I– I don’t think so, but…” you trail off, looking down at the plate. Eren brings another piece to your lips, letting you bite half and giving the rest to himself, not missing the opportunity to suck on the tips of his fingers. Your thighs press together when his eyes flutter shut, knowing what he’s tasting and watching him revel in it.

“But what?”

“I don’t think I understand you,” you confess breathlessly, “I think that’s what scares me. I spend all day looking at you, and I never feel closer to understanding you, to really touching you. It’s like you’re not…” you trail off in search of the right word.

“Real?” Eren cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Human,” you say without entirely meaning to, widening your eyes at him in apology. “I’m sorry, not in a bad way necessarily, but– you feel…like you’re above me. In a sense.”

“Above you?” Eren frowns, forgetting his dinner entirely and looking straight at you with rejection written all over his face, wrinkles you want to smoothe over with your thumb.

“I just…” you sigh, finding it harder to meet his gaze by the second, “I don’t understand what you want with me.”

“Still?” Eren tilts his head. “Even after that?”

“The dream?” You nearly chuckle in exasperation. “It was just a dream, that’s all.”

Eren frowns a little, reaches for your glass of champagne– oh, god, when had that been refilled?– and hands it to you. He watches you take one sip, and then another, that concentrated pull of his eyebrows never ceasing until you reach a shaky hand out for your fork, beginning to feed yourself small bites of steak. His perplexed expression ripples out into one of contentedness, smiling gently as he watches you take care of yourself.

“All days are nights to see till I see thee, and nights bright days when dreams do show me thee,” Eren finally says, looking at you very much like you’re supposed to be parsing something out from his quote.

“On to the sonnets now, are we?” You cock a playful eyebrow at him, despite your tired, slouching posture and your repeated attempts to keep your guard up. Eren grins mischievously, leaning in as if he means to press the tip of his nose to yours.

“I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say–”

“If it be love indeed, tell me how much?” You’re quicker than him on this one, a vicious little smirk cutting across your face when you manage to cut him off. Eren’s eyebrows raise, impressed, but you don’t keep him down for long.

“There’s beggary in love that can be reckoned,” Eren finally says, twirling the ring on your pinky absentmindedly. You don’t even remember when he laid his hand atop yours, but it feels heavy and comforting, and so you let it lie there, just for the time being.

Your post-orgasm exhaustion hits you like a train, the temptation to slump against Eren’s shoulder winning out over your propriety. You’ll sit back up by the fourth course, you tell yourself, nibbling on a large piece of parsley that had come as a garnish on your plate. Eren doesn’t seem to mind the weight of your fuzzy head nodded into the cotton of his shoulder; in fact, he seems to adjust himself so you can nuzzle closer, eyes blinking owlishly as you reach for your glass of bubbles. You’re teetering dangerously close to the edge of unconsciousness, and you almost wouldn’t care, until something catches your eye.

Over the rim of your glass, Historia is staring at you. It’s not a look of admonishment, but more…caution? Concern? Pity? All you can discern for certain is that Historia must have seen everything Eren did to you, everything he’s still doing to you, taking a caviar bump off the back of his hand and laughing at Armin, shoulder shaking under your cheek. Historia’s brows furrow at you, her bottom lip wavering slightly.

You sit up suddenly, ignoring the way the room spins with the speed of your action. Eren turns his head to you, surprised, only to follow your gaze across the table to Historia. You’re trying to keep from looking at him, but you can’t help yourself, watching his expression crumple into something stern and disparaging.

Historia withers for only a moment, before narrowing her eyes at him threateningly. Eren squeezes his hand around yours. Sasha shoves Historia admonishingly for not listening to her joke. Armin’s eyes focus in on where your fingers grip your champagne flute hard enough to turn white.

You think you see a few pairs of familiar, glowing eyes in the bushes outside, peering in on the scene at the table. You think you need to go to bed.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger fanfiction #aot #aot fanfic #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x you #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #that's all for now folks!!!!#more to come in part 2<3

272 notes · View notes

thecuriousquest · 6 months

Note

S + 3 with Tengen please 🫶

Back to the Beginning

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @palesweetscherryblossom @chickennugnugnug

Warnings: Yandere themes, SFW, Reader tied up and gagged (not sexually), abusive behavior/punishments mentioned, implied kidnapping, nudity mentioned

“Nothing is ever enough for you, is it?”

I’m fucking screaming because I love Yan!Tengen!!! Thank you, Anon, for giving me this prompt! 🖤🤘

Yandere Alphabet Prompt

Master List

—————————————————————————

Utterly ashamed of themselves, Hinatsuru thought it would be a good idea for her, Suma, and Makio to kneel with their foreheads to the ground as they break the news to their husband.

The flashy white haired man clad in dark clothing removes his shoes by the door, lowering the weapon off of his back carefully and putting it in its proper place. All the while, he regards his wives with a raised brow.

“Hinatsuru, care to explain what’s going on?” He can’t help the smile curling his lips. His wives’s antics always bring him amusement.

“It’s…Y/N, Tengen. Please, don’t be mad at her. We found her trying to claw at the window again. She was bleeding from her nails and fingers, so we bandaged her hands and tied her up for her own safety. She’s resting in the bedroom now.”

Suddenly, their antics aren’t all that funny to him.

“I see. You can get up. I’ll go deal with the brat.”

He hears Suma whisper something about you deserving punishment for worrying them and angering him, but he chooses to ignore it as he enters the room all of you share. Sitting down on the bed, he scans your body as you wriggle around with your hands tied behind your back and a gag in your mouth.

“I’m assuming Makio or Suma gagged you?” He doesn’t go to remove it however.

The cloth in your toothy cavern collects drool, feeling damp. You try to get him to take it off of you, but your words come out muffled.

“Yeah, calm down.” He rests a hand on your hip, patting the area lightly. “Do you know what it’s like trying to protect someone so ungrateful? Do you know what it’s like giving them everything and getting nothing in return?” His hand begins caressing your thigh, smoothing over the bare flesh where your skirt splits.

Pulling you close to him, he gathers you into his lap, holding you there securely as he gazes into your eyes. “Nothing is ever enough for you, is it?”

You kick your feet lightly, only trying to create enough movement to escape his grip. It only causes him to hold you even tighter. “I don’t want to have to go back to how things were in the beginning, but I will if I have to.”

That causes you to go still, eyes widening like that of an owl, orbs shimmering with dampness as you remember things you have tried to block out.

The starvation, the vulgarity of his hands on your body, the beatings that would leave you vomiting late into the night, the nights where he would leave you naked and bound to shiver on the floor.

You weren’t allowed to sleep in his bed until you became a “good wife”. He reminded you of this often until you broke, until you one day chose his kindness over his cruelty.

The Hashira presses a kiss against your neck, sighing into you. “I’m going to leave you like this. I’ll check on you tomorrow. Once you learn to behave, we can go back to normal.” Standing up with you in his arms, Tengen takes you down to the sake cellar with you screaming behind the gag. You kick your feet and thrash your shoulders and you rear your head back in anguish.

All too soon, you find him putting you down in the corner of the room, placing a cuff on your ankle which locks you to a deadbolt on the floor.

“Remember, only good wives are treated with my kindness and respect. When you can show me that side of you, then I’ll let you out of here.”

You sob as he turns his back to you, retreating up the stairs. You had tried to escape the Uzui house, and where did that get you? All the way back to where you started.

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere themes #triggering content #triggering themes #demon slayer #yandere demon slayer #tengen uzui #uzui tengen #yandere tengen uzui #yandere hashira #kny tengen #demon slayer tengen

298 notes · View notes

lovesickonmybed · 2 months

Note

bully ellie is really really mean and i really really want her, so I want to ask what would be her reaction to reader in a date with someone like her (a loser)

bully!ellie my beloved. she's soooooooo mean and so jealous that anyone is hanging around her nerd but her. in my mind she's pretty possessive over reader even though they aren't together and she bullies her. i think ellie finding reader on a date in general would make her lose it, but finding you with another loser would make her 10x worse. this was gonna be short but it turned into a mini fic. pls feel free to send more bully!ellie stuff bc i love her.

i urge you to not buy any of the last of us games, including the remaster as the creator, neil druckmann is a zionist. the second game is based off of the israeli occupation in palestine and you can learn more about that here.

masterlist | info abt palestine | donate to gaza

Maybe y'all are out at a coffee shop or something, sitting in a booth near the back talking about your favorite movies when Ellie walks in. You're sitting facing the door and she spots you immediately. She looks pissed when she sees you and walks over without a plan for what she'll say or do. You sigh and look away from her, dreading what's about to happen, your date looks around confused until her eyes land on Ellie.

Ellie sits down at your booth, shoving your date to scoot over, shooting her a mean glare, "When did you two losers get together?" she snarks, raising an eyebrow and looking between you two. Your date scoots closer towards the window and looks Ellie up and down fearfully.

“Ellie we’re just trying t-” you try to speak but she’s quick to cut you off.

“Trying to make small talk before you lose your virginities to each other because no one else wants to fuck either of you?”

Ellie’s response shocks both you and your date, your eyes go wide and your jaw drops. Your date quickly scrambles to try speak up but Ellie narrows her eyes at her threateningly to shut her up. “Don’t try to deny it, I could smell you desperate losers from a mile away. You,” she points to you and smirks, “You’re probably wet at just the idea of having her lazily attempt to fingerbang you in the back of her moms Honda. She won’t get you to cum you know.”

Your face heats up with embarrassment and you look down and take a sip of your water as Ellie continues to humiliate you and your date. Ellie turns to your date to address her, “You were gonna give her an awful fuck weren’t you? Y’know Dina told me that she heard you talking to your little friends in the locker room about how you finally came for the first time just last week. One sad little orgasm doesn’t mean you should promise little losers like them,” she motions over to you and chuckles, “a great night. It’s not fair to get her hopes up like that.”

Your date looks down, very clearly feeling humiliated by Ellie and her words. “P-Please move,” she mutters to Ellie. Normally Ellie would tell her to speak up and humiliate her further but she’s already quite satisfied with the girls humiliated state and gets up for her to exit the booth. As the girl pushes past her Ellie is quick to grab her waistband that’s showing over the top of her skirt and pull hard enough to get her to yelp. Your date rushes off out of the coffee shop, stuffing her pulled panties back into her skirt as she rushes out to her car.

“Seriously, Ellie? You had to ruin a date for me too?” You groan, your head falling into your hands in frustration.

Ellie rolls her eyes and takes a sip of your date's discarded drink, “I saved you from having to fake an orgasm for a girl who can’t even get herself off. You should be thanking me, loser.”

“In your dreams. You just ruined my chance with her and she left without paying!”

Ellie rolls her eyes and throws a $10 down onto the table, “There, I even paid. Happy now, loser?” Ellie walks closer to you and grabs your hand, pulling you to the edge of your seat. She closely examines your makeup and outfit, smirking to herself while she does, she extends her hand to you, “Get up, you’re coming with me.”

“No I’m not,” you cross your arms over your chest in defiance, looking up at her with a glare.

“You are, you don’t have any other way home now that your little date is gone. Lets. Go.”

You think it over for a second before sighing and taking her hand, letting her help you up from the booth. You follow her out to her car and get in the passenger seat begrudgingly. As you buckle up she reaches over and lifts your skirt and looks down, “You wore some pretty panties for her loser, shame she didn’t get to see them hmm.”

You groan and pull your skirt back down, crossing your legs. “You’re the fucking worst.”

“And you eat it up, nerd.”

#ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #bully!ellie williams #bully kink

160 notes · View notes

lunarmoonanons · 8 months

Text

Wilted Rose

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Can you please write an angst fic where Maegor and his Tyrell wife’s youngest son is revealed to be allergic to the flowers in his mother’s garden so Maegor has all the flowers removed?

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Sequel to Dragon's Rose

Masterlist

It was widely debated on whether or not Maegor loved his children. He had a fondness for his girls and was proud of his sons. Having nine children made it difficult to zero in on that integral feeling of love. For he was still strict with all his children. People agreed that he loved his Tyrell wife, but many said that only happened after she gave him children. He was strict with her as well.

YN loved her children, even though every time she looked at her sons she always saw Maegor’s face. She would spend a lot of time with her children. Her favorite time’s with her children were in the gardens that hosted her favorite flowers. Even though she was a Tyrell, her favorite flowers were lilies. She had her own path of lilies back at highgarden, and in an attempt to keep his wife happy Maegor had her favorite flower littered around the gardens of the Red Keep.

YN started to notice something wrong with her youngest son, Laenyx. The four year old loved spending time with his mother, and since he was the youngest son he was allowed to be coddled and babied. So whenever she was in the garden, the little boy was right behind her. Holding her skirts and smelling the flowers with his mother. Though lately when he would smell the lilies with his mother he would sneeze and cough violently. His skin would turn red and patchy, becoming unbearably itchy. Eventually YN couldn’t bear seeing her son suffer when in the garden, so she reluctantly removed herself from the garden.

It was widely noticed at the dower mood of the queen. How depressed she became at the loss of her precious outdoor time. YN felt like a bot of her soul was gone at the fact her body was trapped in the red keep she hated so much. Eventually Maegor grew to notice his wife’s depressed mood. Normally he would let her be, and attend to his other wives. But YN was his favorite wife. His successful and loving bride. So he resolved himself to fix her sour mood.

“There’s no need to stand.” Maegor said as he entered his wife’s room. She was sitting by the fire, reading a book.

“What can I do for you husband?” YN asked, placing her book down and tried to wrap her robe around her body as a weak attempt to hide herself from him.

“I would ask what I can do for you, dear love.” He knelt in front of her and took her small hand into his.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I’m perfectly happy.” YN tried to assure him.

“Now I am not stupid, YN. I am observant and I’ve seen your unhappiness, the whole of the Keep has.” Maegor began to rub his thumb over her knuckles. “Now tell me what is wrong.”

YN looked away and bit her lip. Trying to navigate what she wanted to say without having him feel the need to impose himself in her life further. “I’ve just.. missed the garden these past days. That’s all.”

“Then why do you deprive yourself of them? I’ve not made it impossible to see them.”

“I Know. I know. But it’s the lilies.” YN looked at her husband who nodded at her to explain. “Laenyx is intolerable of them. The maester says his body cannot tolerate the pollen and fragrance they give off. And he spends all his time that he can with me. So I can’t have him suffer just because I want a walk in the garden.”

“I see.” Maegor stood up.

“I didn’t mean to keep this from you!” YN hurriedly explained. “It just you have so much to deal with already and I spend all my time with the younger children anyways tha-”

“I will see what I can do.” Maegor interrupted.

“But… there's nothing to do. It's just the body’s nature sometimes to reject certain plants. I don’t think you can do anything for me.” YN stood up.

Maegor held her face in his hands and placed a kiss on her forehead. “YN. You are my wife. You have given me nine children. If I fail you now then I am a pathetic husband. You will have your walks in the garden.”

With that he left the room and YN collapsed to the floor, taking in deep breaths. Even after all this time, she still feared what Maegor would do. Especially in the name of love for her.

Few days later, YN was in the children’s room playing with her youngest two. Laenyx and his sister Daela jumped around their mother as she smiled and tickled them. Their time together was cut short by a guard coming into the room.

“Excuse me, your majesty. But the king would like to see you and your children in the garden.” YN stood and picked up her little girl, holding her son’s small hand in her own.

Once they made it to the garden. YN noticed the fragrance of lilies burnt wafted through the air. She looked around the garden and noticed her flowers were gone. A fire just outside the garden caught her attention, making her unable to notice Tyanna coming up behind her.

“Maegor has done a great service for you, little rose.” Tyanna whispered in her ear, making YN jump.

“What do you mean?” YN held her children closer.

“Here he comes now. Ask about the flowers.” With that the strange woman slinked away.

YN looked around and saw no lilies, She saw roses, daisies, and many more. But none of her dear lilies. Maegor came to her and kissed her forehead. YN swallowed her sadness and looked up at him.

“I have given you a new garden.”

“Where are my lilies?” YN asked.

“I had them burned. Now there is nothing to stop you from spending time with our children in the garden.” Maegor stated as though he did her a great favor. “Now you shall be happy in the garden, with all these new flowers. Isn’t that wonderful?”

YN blinked away her tears quickly before Maegor could see her sad expression. She plastered on a pleasant smile and gave Maegor a kiss. “It is a lovely gesture. Isn’t that right Laenyx? Thank your father.”

Laenyx nodded and gave his father a hug. YN continued to smile the rest of the day, never letting anyone see her crumbling soul. Her lips remained stretched until she made her way to her bed. She sat on the edge and placed a pillow over her face, gripping it tightly as she muffled her scream against the fabric. The scream turned into a sob and she held the pillow close to her face until she was all cried out. Those lilies were her own little escape from Maegor. And like her family, he took them away as well. It felt like every little thing that was hers was slowly slipping away from her grasp. She wondered when he would take her children from her. Her little lilies.

#hotd #maegor x reader #yandere maegor #maegor targaryen #tyrell reader #house targaryen #maegor the cruel

171 notes · View notes

lovehealsandlovehurts · 2 years

Text

Only Mommy can see you like this

Warnings: mommy kink, dumbification, pet names, fingering, finger sucking, edging, gentle slapping (on the hand), possessiveness, oral fixation

Summary: Professor Wanda gets jealous of you while teaching class and decides to make you stay after to remind you who you belong to.

word count: 2.8k

gif mine

You had no shame in knowing you were Wanda's favorite student. You two had a relationship for a while, it was delicate and passionate, better than anything you have dreamed of. You curled up to Wanda's side almost every night, falling asleep in her arms or on top of her chest. Sometimes you'd wake up to her spooning you, laying soft kisses on your cheek, and telling you it was time to get up. She'd make you breakfast in the morning and help you get ready for class, making sure you had everything you need. You’d often sit in her lap while you eat, hearing her remind you of how in love she was with you. When you were sick she’d call off work, tuck you in bed and tell you to rest while she takes care of you. Daily inspections were a thing she enjoyed. She loved dressing you up in short skirts, dresses, loose shorts, anything that would make it easy for her to touch on campus. She would slip her hand between your legs and tease you, making you walk around school with a wet spot on your panties. When you’d come home she’d wrap you in her arms and hold you tightly, saying how much she’s missed you.

Getting to your lesson was starting to get harder and harder, you had to watch her look so good in front of everyone, and think about all the things she did to you in private. You noticed Wanda occasionally looking at whoever was sitting next to you, a spark of envy ran through her eyes and she turned away, continuing teaching class. She knew that you were hers, but that didn’t stop her from being jealous of everyone who looked your way.

Wanda called out your name right before the bell rang, asking you to stay after class. She wore a dark sweater, dress pants, and short heels, leaning back in her chair most comfortably. You watched everyone leave and saw her lurking across the room from behind her desk, making sure no one stayed in class except you.

She made her way across the hall to where you were. You decided to sit far away from her, knowing you wouldn’t be able to control your thoughts if you sat any closer. She looked at you, noticing you sitting at your desk with your legs crossed. She didn’t say a word, just stared up and down at your body, her stare making shivers run down your spine. She looked at you like she hasn’t seen you in so long, her pupils dilating every time she took a closer peek. You loved the comfortable silence you had with her, you both could not say a word for hours and still enjoy each other's presence.

Wanda took a seat right next to you, slowly moving her chair closer to yours. “I missed my prettiest girl,” she said, laying her hand on your thigh. You swallowed your spit, feeling a tingly sensation build up between your legs, it was so easy for her to make your brain melt away, even when she hadn't done much to you yet. You felt a heat wave flush your cheeks, it was a natural thing that happened every time she complimented you. Suddenly you started to feel shy, stuttering your words and trying to sound normal. You failed to say anything back as you looked at her eyes, they looked down at where she placed her hand. Wanda moved her gaze to look at you and you froze, seeing her green eyes pierce through yours, god, she was so beautiful, you wanted to kiss her, but you sat there paralyzed, waiting for what she’d do next.

“I can’t stand anyone looking at you,” she whispered, moving the palm of her hand through your thighs. You melted under her touch, further feeling electrified by the skin-to-skin contact.

You knew she was possessive of you, she wanted you to know she couldn't stand the thought of anyone other than her occupying your mind.

“Mommy needs to touch you,” she said, her voice soft and quiet. You wished you could answer but you couldn’t think, your brain solely focused on the way her hand felt on your body, and the raspiness in her tone. Your legs only pressed harder onto one another, feeling all nervous and jittery. You tried to think straight, realizing you had a class after this, and she might too.

“What if… someone will see” you managed to say, surprised you let the words out without mumbling. “No one will see angel, mommy needs to inspect your princess parts, don’t worry about anything else okay?” she sounded so sweet, how could you disagree? she always made you feel safe and like everything was going to work out perfectly. She had every situation handled and you never had to ponder what to do next.

“Okay” you managed to whisper, you couldn’t do anything else but obey her, it felt so right, being completely under her spell.

“I’m gonna take these off, alright bunny?” she said, moving her hands to pull on your pants. It was cute she asked, but there was no need for her to, you’d do anything she wanted.

She pulled your pants down and you lifted yourself from the desk, helping her to do so. She got down on her knees, most likely messing up her fancy pants with the dust that was on the floor. The sight of her kneeling in front of you made you tingle. You sat back down and closed your legs, feeling all giddy and wet, god she had an effect on you.

“Let mommy see,” she said, placing her hands on your knees. You kept your legs shut, feeling nervous about how soaked you were. She didn’t want to pressure them open, instead, she looked up at you, letting worry overflow her face. The way she cared for you made your heart warm. “Why don’t you open your legs for mommy, what's wrong?” she asked, her tone so loving and gentle. You wanted to jump into her arms and straddle her. “I’m-” you wanted to speak, but you couldn’t, her hands on your body made you feel weak. You took a deep breath in, wanting to answer .“So icky and wet” you mumbled.

“Oh baby,” Wanda said, placing a gentle kiss on your knees, her touch was so comforting, it made your anxiousness disappear. “Mommy will make it better,” she said, running her hands through your legs. You knew she was right, she always managed to make everything better. “Let me take care of you,” she said, her face so delicate, looking up at you. You slowly pushed your legs open, exposing yourself in front of her. She smiled, setting her hand on your clit. Your body jerked up, feeling her put her finger on your panties. She stroked your bud with her thumb, moving in small circles. “See, it’s not hard to listen to mommy, is it?” she asked, teasing you. You couldn’t possibly answer with the slow and steady way her fingers moved on you, making your thoughts fade away.

“You’ve been thinking about mommy all this time haven't you?” she asked, teasing your spot. You wanted to tell her everything, how she made you feel, how you missed her every time you didn’t see her. How you couldn't pay attention to anything in class because you kept having nasty thoughts about her. Your body felt so hot, so hypnotized by her touch, you couldn’t do anything but let soft moans escape your mouth.

Wanda lowered her face down and pressed her lips against your clit, you gasped, feeling her mouth touch you through your underwear. Your hands wandered down, grabbing onto her head, desperately pulling her close. She kissed your spot through your panties, nibbling on your clit. Her lips played with it, shifting it in different directions. You tilted your head back, allowing yourself to focus on the way she felt.

She pulled her face away from your core, and you gasped, feeling her touch slip away. You knew she wasn’t leaving just yet but you simply couldn’t wait, you wanted her now. She sat close to you, the heat of her body blending with yours. She placed her hand on your panties, and you whined, glancing up at her. You needed her so badly, every second passing by just made you more obedient.

She tilted your panties to the side, looking at your pussy. Her face admired everything she saw. Wanda always made your insecurities go away, her praise and reassurance made you love yourself more. “So pretty," she said, slipping a finger into you, you couldn't help but moan, feeling her fill you up. You shifted your gaze at her face, only to be greater with a smile, her eyes full of lust and satisfaction.

“This little cunt is all mommys” she teased adding another finger in. They slipped easily into your hole and you shifted your body, feeling them curve inside of you.

“More…please” you whispered, wanting to be completely full of her. Her eyes turned away from her fingers to look at you. You saw an evil smirk run across her face, her facial expression changing. “You’re such a needy baby aren’t you?” she said, pulling her hand away, the emptiness of her hands leaving you almost made you cry. “No, please,” you said, hearing your voice shake. “I’m sorry” you mumbled, you weren’t sure what you were apologizing for, you just wanted her back, you were far too needy to think.

“It’s okay, sweet girl,” Wanda said, giving you a gentle kiss. Her lips felt so soft and plump, that you couldn’t help but shift in your seat, trying to move closer. You wanted to kiss her more but she slid her fingers back into you, catching you off guard.

You opened your mouth, gasping in the air with every move she did, she had three fingers buried deep inside you, aggressively moving them in. “Perhaps next time mommy will bring her cock with her, fill you up and make you walk back home with your pretty holes stretched out, hm?” she teased, thrusting into you. Her words only made your brain fuzzier, the thought of her fucking you with a strap just made you clench harder around her fingers.

You nodded your head again, looking at her with puppy eyes. “Yes,” you said, feeling yourself come close. It was ridiculous how fast she drove you to the edge. You let out a loud cry, not being able to keep your mouth shut. She felt so good inside of you, her fingers moved so perfectly into you, it's like you were created merely for her.

"Shh, you have to be quiet, I don’t want anyone coming here and seeing my little girl” she whispered by your cheek, her breath grazing your skin. “Only mommy can see you like this” she murmured, her voice low and husky. You tightened your jaw, feeling your teeth grind together as you did your best trying to keep quiet. She looked at you, analyzing your face, she enjoyed seeing you attempt your hardest to please her. “You’re so beautiful... you look so pretty when mommy takes care of you” she said with her fingers ramming into you. “Nobody deserves to see you like this, only mommy,” she said, her words making your brain feel all hazy. “Mm- mommy, gonna cum” you whispered into her ear, her face was so close to yours. She watched her fingers move in and out of you and admired the mess you left behind, your thighs were soaked and you were sure you made a mess of her fingers too. “Hold it for me, be a good baby,” she said, her pace not slowing down. You felt your stomach tense up, needing to release the pressure that’s built up within you. Your body was getting warmer with her every move. “Please, I have to, I have to” you whined, hoping she'd give you what you craved. Your hand moved down to touch your pussy, and she slapped it away, letting her fingers out of you.

You buried your face in her neck, groaning and shifting in your chair. The slap wasn’t too hard, it felt more like a gentle reminder. Wanda smelled so good, the scent of her hair made you think of home. You needed her so badly, that the uncomfortableness between your legs was becoming unbearable. You suddenly didn’t think about your next class or someone walking in, all you needed was for her to make you feel better.

“Only mommy can touch you baby, you can’t touch yourself” she whispered, kissing your forehead. She spoke the words like it was something so obvious, yet something you forgot. “You’re a smart girl, don’t you know that?” she asked, and you nodded immediately, wanting to show her you understand. You loved being under her control, having her tell you when you can let go. Even though letting go without her didn’t feel good at all.

“I know,” you whispered, looking at her face, you could study it for hours, memorizing every detail. She smirked, her eyes widening as she slipped her fingers back into you. Your eyebrows frowned, feeling her moves become quicker, You couldn’t help but close your eyes and embrace the feeling. Her grip was so strong, it hit all of the right spots inside of you.

“Do you?” she said, the sound of her voice blending with your skin slapping together. “Say it out loud like a good girl” her tone wasn’t demanding, she simply asked and knew you were going to answer. You practically grinned your hips on her fingers, chasing her touch, feeling yourself leaking more onto her. “Only mommy can touch me” you managed to whisper, gasping in the air while she moved into you.

“That’s right” Wanda whispered, kissing your face. You could tell she smiled, hearing the words leave her mouth, it felt so good to be constantly praised by her. You felt yourself come close again, her every move sensing sensations through your entire body. Wanda loved the soft moans leaving your lips, you somehow managed to stop them from becoming louder, putting effort into following her asks.

“Mommy's perfect little toy,” she said, speeding up her pace. You quickly moved the palm of your hand onto your lips, silencing the scream that was about to leave your mouth. She smirked looking at you, hearing muffled moans escape your mouth. “You’d do anything for mommy, wouldn't you? my good girl” she said, hitting the back of your inner wall. You could barely hold it anymore, feeling your tummy clench as she moved into you. You wanted to let her know you were close but you figured she knew, not slowing down on her pace. “No one can have you, no one, you’re mine” she kept repeating, relentlessly fucking into you, she wanted you to cum hearing those words, making sure they were engraved in your brain. You nodded your head, feeling your muscles release. You got high off the wave of intense pleasure that ran through your body. Your thighs trembled, as your brain slipped far away, almost into a state of unconsciousness. You leaned your head back, absorbing everything in. You couldn’t help but shift your head to your side and kiss Wanda's lips. You did so passionately, barely being able to breathe. Her fingers left your body and she quickly put them inside your mouth. She looked so happy, seeing you suck on them like an obedient little doll. She loved stuffing things in your mouth and seeing you drool in front of her. She pushed them deeper down your throat, seeing your eyes dilate at her sudden movement. Her face looked so pleased with you, a spark of madness running through her eyes.

“My best girl,” she said, taking her fingers out of your mouth. “See how good you taste? This is why mommy can’t get enough of you” she whispered in your ear. You were fully enchanted by her, listening to her words like they were a lullaby., Your chest moved up and down, trying to control your increased heart rate. She pulled you into her arms, resting your head on the silky material of her sweater. She looked up at the clock to see how much time had passed. You suddenly felt grumpy, knowing you’d have to put your clothes back on soon and leave. “I need you to sit closer to me next time so I can keep a better eye on you,” she said, her voice soft and caring “I will,” you said, curling up in her arms to cherish the last few moments you had with her.

taglist: @ripofflizzie @goldenretrieverswifey @lovelyy-moonlight @gkfsktf @kaiparson @mik3swife @demiismylord @sandyche3ks @nikkinss @alwaysgoodnight @ageofolsen @jlslvr @boobiluvr @littlegaypersonsstuff @bananineno @luciiana @lijo-8 @naslt @rogueismymilf @dilfsandtherapy @salvatwh0r3

tags: @itz-hunter482 @astralqche @animesailor8 @radgae @choppedpolicestarfish @livloveslizzieolsen @apolloswan @wandasdolly @honeyurfamiliar @its-wednesday-my-dudes-ahhh @wandasmadness @riveramorylunar @romeo-the-cactus @slut4milfs69 @blandsashimi @webheaded-weirdo @faithd21

the rest has to have tags off bc I couldn't tag you!

#mommy wanda #mommy wanda maximoff #professor wanda #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x y/n #sub reader #wanda maximoff reader smut #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximommy #wanda x reader #wanda maximilf #soft wanda maximoff

2K notes · View notes

writers-ex · 11 months

Note

hi! can i have the itzy members (separately) walking in on normally stoic reader crying bc she's insecure of her body? have a nice day<3

yes bc we all need some fluff rn lmk if this is ok anon <3

yeji

our kitten would be heartbroken to hear you say how much you hate your flabby arms and that no matter what you do or how much you diet and workout they stay the same, always hiding them behind long sleeve shirts yeji would cup your face ever so gently and kiss your lips before slowly pulling away to take off your shirt and rub your arms, she kisses your shoulder and goes all the way down to wrist before doing the same on the other arm whispering that these are the arms she gets to run into at the end of the day, your arms are her safe place and she treasures them just as she would any part of your body

ryujin

seeing you cross your arms and tugging down at the crop top she bought you to hide your stomach ryujin would sigh and stand in front of you while telling you to hold your arms out to the side, crouching down ryujin takes a good look at your stomach before placing a light kiss in the center making you gasp and whine for her to stop but she warns you to keep still as she stands back up and puts her hands on your exposed skin pulling you close as she rubs every inch of your to stomach all as a small smile grows on her face, no matter how much or little your stomach grows you’re ryujin girl, and she adores every inch of you

chaeryeong

seeing you always wear baggy pants or long skirts chaeryeong can’t help but notice you never like to show your legs or more specifically your thighs, one day while the two of you are watching a movie she sees your lower body covered with a blanket and pulls it off making you look at her confused but instead of explaining she scoots closer making you lay on the couch and places her hands on the waistband of your sweatpants, pulling them off slowly you cover your face as she sees the stretch marks and scars all over your thighs, instead of being disgusted she just traces each line with her finger tips humming to herself as she watches you gasp from such a loving touch, once she finishes she lays ontop of your chest and rubs a hand against thighs looking up at yiu chaeryeong repeatedly tells you thank you for loving her and proceeds to describe your beauty in the cheesiest and sweetest words she knows

lia

it’s not that you were insecure of your looks it’s just that you can’t help but compare your features to other girls and wonder why lia hasn’t fallen for their charms yet instead of staying with you, no matter all the amount of makeup and contouring you do it just doesn’t compare to the other girl’s beauty, lia happens to walk into the bathroom seeing you get ready for the morning your face turns red as she stands there gawking at you and before you can plead with her to forget what she saw lia walks toward you and cups your face smiling brightly, calling you her star she kissed every little detail on your face from your beauty mark to your eye bags to even the dimple you have repeating over and over again how much she loves you promising to stay faithful to her amazing one of a kind girlfriend-you

yuna

while yuna is playful and always teasing you she never once makes a comment on your body shape, you wonder if there’s something wrong with how you look, does she like it? are you eating too much? too little? hips wide? no hips? all those thoughts run through your mind as you take a moment to criticize your build, too lost in your thoughts you fail to see yuna standing there watching you twist and turn your body until she can’t sit still and gives you a back hug, resting her head on your shoulder as she kissed your neck, mumbling how beautiful you look all your negative thoughts vanish with each kiss and compliment your curved or built stature softly pulling you to the bed for some much needed cuddles

129 notes · View notes

thebunnednun · 3 months

Text

LA!Buggy the Clown x Fem!Reader Enchanted meeting Part 2

Clown fuckers of the world unite!

Part 1

Chapter 2 my loves! I forgot to mention this in my last post but please comment your thoughts! I want to see what you all found humorous and what you’d like to see more of. If there are any tags I missed feel free to comment on them! :3 <3 Btw, the reader almost kisses the clown. ON WITH THE SHOW!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I can’t fucking believe you convinced us to do this.”

Zoro was being a drama mama in the corner of the massive tent you built. Who knew that a 120-berry tent would come in handy? After a little bit of sweet talking you managed to convince some of the entertainers to sell you a tent the Russian circus could be proud of.

Everyone was able to fit inside and even used the piles of salvageable goods for makeshift walls. Zoro had gotten ready in a black fitted vest and some casual grey slacks. You were applying some smoky black eyeliner and purple eye shadow with a light hand. “Sanji finally got Usopp to stop crying. I don’t think it’s healthy for him to be here right now. I mean he finally put down that piece of wood.” This ship was more than a vessel, it was your home. Where Sanji cooked meals, and everyone took their place beside each other.

“Yeah, well, it would boost morale. Let’s try to put on a brave face for the others tonight." Your offer of reason just made him sigh, "Fine. But then back to reality." You roll your eyes and shoot him a smile. You knew Zoro was just being a butthead. Exiting your “room” together allowed you to bump into Robin and Chopper. “Looking cuter than usual, papa.” Chopper basked in the compliments and gave you a twirl. He found a big red bowtie and some matching blue shorts.

Robin was wearing a royal blue jacket that resembled a ringmaster's coat. She offered a warm but tired smile. “Where’s Usopp?” “Right here my sweets!~” Sanji emerged with a red-eyed Pinocchio. Sanji was dressed in simple black and blue attire while Usopp managed to find something of a forest green. You yourself decided on a vampy look. A black dress with red mesh for sleeves and a pair of deep red chunky heels. Who gives a shit about practically when you look sexy?

Luffy emerged scratching his rear with Nami swatting his hand away. He was in his usual chances but was convinced to put on a normal T-shirt with a star design. Nami looked like a magician's assistant with a similar smoky black vest and plum skirt combo that complimented her figure nicely. Brooks looked as though he was auditioning for the part of a lion with how voluminous his fro was looking.

You nodded at each other and he spoke, “I’d say we clean up rather nicely for having just been shipwrecked.” It was good to see him returning to his elegant self. “Of course, we can’t just parade around as is. So.. I brought masks!” You gleamed while holding up a shopping bag. A mix of groans and snickering.

Everyone took a mask that hid their face completely or partly. To be fair, it would be easy to spot the Straw Hat crew even without the literal skeleton following around. Seeing the sun begin to dip you all decided to get going before night. On the way everyone soon fell into pleasant conversation while following you and Zoro.

“Okay, first we eat! Then, we can play games.” Luffy cheered while running to the outdoor food court. Zoro (finally smiling) rolled his eyes and chuckled,” I’ll go with him and make sure he doesn’t eat the stall itself.” Robin took Chopper to the bounce house while Sanji’s interest was captured by a woman in a red leotard. Usopp was looking around some of the merchant stalls and you were happy to trail behind Brooks as he began to try his bones at ring toss.

The night was a serene affair with warm, salty air, and a gentle breeze that stirred the surrounding foliage. Sitting on a bench overlooking the vast expanse of the ocean, you felt a sense of happiness and contentment. As you looked around, you noticed that the darkness of the area was a bit creepy, but the beauty of the surroundings made up for it. Your friends had survived a shipwreck and were now enjoying the town's festival, but you had no idea what it was about.

Looking over the crowd, you saw many people, including children, wearing masks of all shapes and sizes. As the newest member of the group, you didn't even have a wanted poster yet. Since you always hid your face, there was no point in wearing a mask, right?

Just as you were about to remove your sweaty mask, you heard deep chuckling, sounds of thunder, and children screaming. The mixture of sounds was strange and unnerving, and you felt a sense of curiosity rising within you. Turning away from the ocean, you followed the sounds and found yourself making your way towards the fun house.

Children began to pour through the back doors of the fun house as you did your best not to bump into anyone. Coincidentally, Brooks and Usopp had the same idea. “AHH Y/N DON’T DO THAT!” Usopp shrieked, jumping into Brooks' bony arms and immediately falling. The surrounding children found this amusing. “It’s not MY fault if you’re so jumpy.” You dusted off your heels and looked around. Things seem to be calmer now but something about the house seemed…. Off.

Brooks seemed to sense your discomfort. “Maybe the lady would prefer if we left this area? We could still catch up to the captain and grab some tea before the show.” You shook your head, ”Nah, I’ll be okay. Let’s go in together though. There’s something strange about this house.”

Taking one last look at the outside the three of you stumble into the “fun” house. ‘Fun house my ass,’ you thought while trying to regain your footing. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness you realized it was indeed an old house. However, it was decorated more to the liking of some 1860s vampires. There was the faint smell of mothballs.

“This looks more like a horror house,” Usopp quipped and began touching the walls. Brooks was silent looking at a skeletal dummy in the corner. You placed a hand on his scapula,” Yeah buddy, try not to think about it too much.” Slowly you all made your way into a corridor that split into different hallways. “Do we split or stay together?” You wondered out loud.

“Ya don’t get a choice, sweetheart.” A gruff voice answered.

Suddenly the floor gave out from under your doormat, “Y/N!!” the unusual duo screamed with hands outstretched. You slide under the floor, barely missing their fingertips. A metal slide was delivering you somewhere but there could only be a basement under the house, right? Seeing a neon light at the end of the circular tunnel you stopped yourself before falling out completely. You placed a hand out to feel some surface before slipping and dropping onto a concrete floor.

“Fuck,” this was harder than the sandy landing you were blessed with earlier. After regaining your breathing and sitting up your eye finally adjusted and noticed that the neon light was actually multiple lights. Surrounding you was a maze of silly mirrors that distorted your image completely. “No wonder those kids got out. But NOOO I just had to bring Scooby and the gang in here!” You rubbed your sore ass before dusting off. Thankfully, your heels weren’t broken and you didn’t feel any bumps on your head.

But, getting outta this one was going to take some skill. You notice that the wood surface you felt was another trapdoor that spits you out. However, it was already closed, and no telling when it would open again. Your only option would be to try the maze and do your best. Sighing you pulled out a little tube of red lipstick from your cleavage. Better to Hansel and Gretel your way out than be lost the whole night. That was if you made it out at all. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. The staff has to do a sweep and my friends wouldn’t leave without me anyway.’

The thoughts you offered yourself held comfort. But you’d be lying if you didn’t feel scared. Particularly, it felt as if someone was watching you. Looking around the room and doing a little head shake you strolled up to one of the mirrors and fixed yourself before uncapping the deep red lipstick and touching up your lips.

However, your gaze wandered and you could see something watching you from behind another mirror. “Ah!” you turned around suddenly with your back against the cold glass. Nothing, of course, was there. Simply a figure of your imagination.

But, you knew something was there. And you began to mark each mirror with an angry red slash. Looking over your shoulder gave you little security.

Wait….

Great, now you were hearing things. Because you could’ve sworn you heard a faint,” Yo ho,” and the sound of men's boots following you. “I need to get the fuck outta here.” Step, step, step, step, silence. What was the voice you heard before you fell? It was too deep to be Usopp but also not mature enough to be Brooks. Maybe someone over a monitor was watching you guys? Finally, with mercy, you reached a door that led to a staircase. Taking small quiet steps you held your breath and felt relief when you heard no sounds behind you.

Just as you were about to reach the door it was flung open and strong cold hands grabbed you. “Y/N!!!” You felt a familiar long nose and afro in your face crushing you into a tight hug. Your sweet goofballs have found you! Returning the hug with much vigor you breathed a sigh of relief. “Now don’t you ever disappear through the floor again!” Brooks scolded, waving his arms widely. You let out a soft giggle and he couldn’t help but let the anger melt away. “I can’t promise anything. But what happened to you guys?” Usopp began to spin a wild tale about fighting off monsters and being the one to locate you. “There is Pinocchio ass goes again,” mumbled Brooks rolling his sockets. You could see why those kids were scared. But something deep down inside told you that it wasn’t because of the mirrors. “Let’s get outta here already. I’m sure the others are looking for us.”

The trio made their way to the food court where Luffy was arguing the advertised size of a Jumbo Philly cheesesteak hotdog with an embarrassed Nami and Zoro patting his stomach. Robin was enjoying some warm tea in a travel mug and Chopper had gotten you a big soft pretzel. “Nice job papas,” you mused and rubbed his head affectionately. Sanji strolled up (having just been banned from the kissing booth) and handed Nami a cake plushie. “Something sweet for someone sweet~” She rolled her eyes but accepted the plush peace offering. You tried to shake off the past events but could see Brooks whispering to Luffy and Zoro.

They looked at each other and continued to talk in hushed whispers.

Looking around you realized the booths seemed to be… Deserted. There was no life in them anymore. “I think it’s time for the show. Let’s get going.” Zoro took the lead and everyone gathered their goods. He bumped his hip with yours slightly and you looked up from your pretzel. The green bean haired male raised a single eyebrow at you and you shrugged looking ahead. It’s not like you actually got trapped down there. It was just.. nothing. “It was nothing,” your explanation is accepted, for now, as the Green giant hummed in response. You decided to hang back a little and joined hands with Robin and Nami. Chopper got to ride on Usopp's shoulders for the sake of time.

Arriving at the big top you all paid 4 bounty a ticket. It was a little dark when you first stepped in. Looking around you decided to take hold of Zoro's arm for a little help walking. Luffy whipped out a wad of cotton candy and you traded half your pretzel for it. A hum of excited children and families surrounded you all as everyone took their seats in the middle of the stands.

Suddenly, the spotlight came on and a huge puff of smoke developed inside the ring. Whipping your eyes, you found yourself staring at all the performers. You even saw the lion from earlier! Searching for the man that gave you the flier your eyes tried capturing everyone from the sea of entertainers. Acrobats, jugglers, contortionists, and… a single clown?

His eyes were closed but he stood in the center of all the chaos. Around you, children and parents lost their minds cheering, clapping, and waving to all the performers.

Finally, the clown opened his eyes. He wore a ringmaster's coat, nothing like Robins, and sported a blood-orange pirate hat. Two blue ‘ribbons’ (you guessed) hung from either side of his hat. The boots he wore didn’t look like performance shoes either. And the makeup he wore didn’t look like a typical clown. He had painted his mouth into a permanent blood-red smile. And then you noticed his nose. It looked as though he tapped a rather large orange to his face.

Wait. Did you just see the nostrils twitch as he breathed?

“Huh, that’s pretty strange-” “BINKY?!” Luffy shouted prompting Nami to immediately slap her hand over his loud mouth. “SHHHH!” she hissed into his ear. But she herself looked slightly worried.

The clown man immediately seemed to shift his focus on the group ahead of him. Zoro was now sitting tensely and at attention. “Psst, whose Binky?” you whispered. “Tell you later. Right now, we all need to leave this circus.” Your brow furrowed. Leave? Over a pirate clown?

“There’s no way we could get up without him seeing us,” said Usopp, putting a hand on your shoulder. You could tell his energy was off. “I knew I remembered that voice from somewhere.” Luffy’s smile deepened into a frown. Everyone was acting so fucking weird. You were about to voice your concerns when a familiar voice cut you off-

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, children of all ages, thank you, truly. It will be my personal pleasure to entertain you all this evening.~”

The clown had now stepped closer to your group. Zoro tugged your sleave but you couldn't help take your eyes off the flashy clown before you.

“Oh…”

You caught yourself about to speak but quickly bit your lips together. Not to be dramatic, but his eyes were a really fucking pretty shade of green. The blue tones around his eyes complimented them so well. You didn’t hear much of what he said, only noticing when he waved his hands at the other performers who either disappeared or got into place.

Zoro couldn’t help but spare you a glance. “Y/n, are you seriously checking out the clown?!” He grunted through closed teeth. Quickly, you shook your head no and looked around that stadium. Luffy was still frowning. Nami was holding onto his arm and you could see Robin pull Chopper into her lap with Sanji putting a protective face on. “Damn, clown,” was all you heard from the seats next to you.

Placing your hand over Usopps, you try to offer him some comfort by running your thumb over his hand. The first act was a simple trapeze act with the performers mixing it up at the end by juggling and riding a unicycle out. Then there was the lion and sheep man but the routine wasn’t comedic. However, you couldn’t stop sweeping over the crowd looking for that green-eyed clown.

And from the looks of things he had no problem finding you.

“Mmm,” you let go of your ruby lips to see him transfixed on your face, head tilted. Almost like he was studying you. You quickly looked away from the act and touched your cheek. Wait, Fuck. You must have dropped your mask in the funhouse when you fell. Looking out the corner of your side, you could still see him staring at you curiously. You decided to close your eyes and try to land back on earth.

‘Everything is going to be okay. I’m safe right here and Zoro will tell me what happened when we get back to the ship.’ The reasoning was stopped when you heard loud screams.

“OH MY GOD!”

A mother (presumably) had cried out along with many other children.

Opening your eyes, you saw the clown's body standing perfectly still as the lion’s face made a puffy expression.

“HE ATE HIS HEAD! HE ATE HIS HEAD!”

Regrettably, you couldn’t stop the, “Oh Shit!” that came out of your mouth causing you to gain a few harsh glares from the parents around. Unconsciously rising to your feet, you leaned in closer to see the damage done. “Where’s his blood?” A few children began to cry a disembodied voice could be heard from the lion.

The sheepman ran over, opened the lion's jaws, and the clown's body walked over and plopped his head back on like nothing happened. The stands fell silent once more before more cheering and screams EXPLODED from the people around you.

“Y/n sit down.”

Oops, forgot you were still standing.

The clown seemed to be drinking in all the attention and flashed an admittedly sexy smile. He raised his arms over his head and a hush fell over the people. “Thank you all for your attention. Now for this next act, I need a volunteer please.” If you weren’t interested before you sure were now, even if you didn’t raise your hand. Zoro, clearly annoyed began to tug at your hand, “Y/n sit-”

“Would the young lady with the cherry red lips please step forward?”

You were blinded once more by the other spotlight as you held your hands up to protect your vision. The light dimmed a bit and you could see everyone, staring at you expectantly, excluding your crew mates.

They were busy staring at the clown in front of you with an outstretched hand. Taking his cue, he shot you a wink and urged you forward. If only your feet would cooperate.

“Don’t be shy now. I don’t bite~” he teased while flashing his teeth. You’d be lying if you said that didn’t do something for you. Not to mention there was this little heartbeat down there that started-

“Aww, maybe she’s shy. Everyone! Let’s give this young lady a round of applause!”

He raised his arms once again and began to clap along with everyone. A single gloved hand shot out towards you urging you to take its hold. Softly pressing your smaller hand into it you were then gently tugged forward towards the ring.

However, you couldn’t feel your legs and as you stepped forward your heels betrayed you again, leading you to tumble down the stands into the arms of the clown before you with your lips-”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And that wraps up chapter two, my loves!!

Part 3 Here!

Please remember to follow and like! Also don't be shy in the comment section! Requests are also open. See you all soon! <3

38 notes · View notes

klausysworld · 1 year

Note

Hey 👋🏻 You write very well🥺 Can I request something? If you liked the idea you may write it I would love to read😊

Student Teacher Trope between Klaus and Reader where she hides her feelings towards Klaus meanwhile all students swoon over the teacher. Obviously one day he makes her stay and dot dot dot. Please don’t hesitate on making it as smuty as you want😂. Thank you🙃

Something about this picture just-

His little secret?

PT2

“I don’t care what you say he is fucking hott” my friend exclaimed as we walked down the school halls

“I never said he wasn’t hot, I’m just not seeing why everyone thinks he’s the best thing on the planet. Someone actually broke up with their boyfriend just to look, and i quote ‘more available for him’ because apparently he might want someone more vulnerable and pathetic. What is a pedo?” I asked and my friend slapped my arm

“We’re literally in college, we’re of legal age and he can fuck anyone he wants, any time he wants if he likes” she dazed as her eyes trained forward. I turned my head to see just the man, Mr.Mikaelson heading right towards us, our eyes locked for a split second before i rolled mine and gave my friend a look

“Really-“

“Shut up he can hear us” she whisper yelled and i sighed

“No he can’t” i mumbled turning to look in his direction, he was leaning against the doorframe to his classroom, talking to a student though as soon as i looked over his eyes flickered to meet mine. His hand came up to a little wave as a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth

“Never mind he can definitely hear us” i whispered and she grabbed my arm dragged me away

“Oh my god he waved at you” she was bouncing on her feet as a huge grin spread across my face

“Oh my gosh we’re to be wed!” I cried out sarcastically

“Really!!?”

“Nope now lets get going” i walked off towards our first lesson of the day and she made a sound of disappointment

“But I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we just…I don’t know sat in his office for a little bit”

“Ew the both of us and him? Let’s face it half the school would pile it” i scrunched my nose up and she grumbled

“Fine I’ll just go” she muttered

“You care about your grades” i reminded and she sighed

“Not if he’s an option”

“Teachers don’t even get paid much”

“He’s a professor and his designer jacket says otherwise. So does the brand new suit that he’s currently in that he looks- ugh just delicious in” her head was thrown back dramatically as i laughed

“Oh yes very sexy indeed, do you think he’d take me against his office walls? My dark red underwear watches the paint sir, would you like to compare it?” I asked rhetorically with a hand over my heart

“How do you know what colour the walls are?” She asked with an eyebrow arched.

“I’ve gone in a couple times, you know for papers and stuff, he’s sent me to grab things for him a few times” she made an ‘mhm’ as we kept walking

“Well if you ever get to be in there with him do tell” she whispered with a wink before we split off to our first classes

So first and second sucked

And now we had the legend himself.

As soon as i got stepped through the doors i sighed, running my hand down my face to mentally prepare myself for everyone to gawk and whisper over him

I quietly made my way past his desk to my seat which was way to close to the front than i would normally be but my best friend insisted we sit right by him at the start of the year and I wasn’t expecting a fucking god to turn up

Like yes he’s hot and yes he’s very fuckable but when everyone says it i get annoyed so I’ve decided not to fawn over him every second.

But then again…when you’re actually sat right infront of him, close enough to smell his cologne and able to see every detail of his skin, the way his shirt is a little too tight around his biceps as he removed his blazer. Lets just say my legs stay clamped together as i try my best to focus on the task at hand.

My skirt was way too short today to be sat infront of this man. I shifted in my seat as my eyes travelled to his hands that were scribbling something down while he spoke to the class. Such a rich voice, deep and throaty, i looked back to his face, such beautiful eyes, almost sapphire colour with with a shine of electric blue in certain lights.

God he’s just so dreamy…

And he is looking right at me. Shit what did he ask?

“Miss y/n, the answer?” He asked, both brows risen as i opened and closed my mouth a few times

“Uhm I’m not sure?” I asked in a confused tone and his gaze darkened

“Have you been listening for the past 20 minutes?” He questioned and my eyes grew wide, i wiped my head round to the clock to see we were indeed 20 minutes in. I heard his throat clear as i turned back to him with a nervous smile

“Eh well no…not really” i muttered honestly and the corner of his mouth twitched like it did earlier

“Whilst i admire your honesty i am afraid i will need to be seeing you after class, you’ve missed some important parts of the course while in your dream land” he replied seeming amused with the situation, at least he’s not mad.

“Yep sure, sorry sir” i mumbled before smacking my head on the desk a little too loud and silently telling myself to fuck off. I could hear my friend snicker as she rubbed my back

“Oh how i wonder what you were fantasising about” she whispered to me and i smacked the back of her head. She gasped a tad but too loud drawing attention. His attention.

“Miss y/n would you like to step outside?” Me and my friend glanced at each other panicked and she mouthed a sorry as i grabbed my bag and walked out.

He was still talking. I could just leave right? Skip the rest of the day and try again tomorrow. Good plan, I’m proud of myself. Just i took a step backwards away from the door he walked out infront of me. Hands behind his back as the door clicked closed

“Leaving?” He asked with a certain glint in his eyes

“No…just um”

“Don’t lie, you were honest earlier, I don’t appreciate liars” the authority in his voice had my body running hot.

“I was gonna leave, yeah” I murmured with my head down slightly. I glanced up at him to see his eyes narrowed in thought

“Go for a walk, and return at the end of the day, i would like to see you in my office” he got quieter with the last sentence and he was now much closer to me, oh god i could feel his body heat. My eyes flicked to his and I swallowed thickly as i weakly nodded my head. His eye line lowered before returning to mine

“Your skirt…” he started

Go on say it’s too short

“It’s pretty” he muttered, his fingers touched the bottom of it, brushing over the tops on my thighs as i sucked in a breath, god it was like everything in me was begging for him to fuck me, I wouldn’t care if every other person in the building came to watch as long as he touched me.

“Thank you sir” I uttered and his tongue darted out to wet his lips

“I’ll see you soon miss y/n” his hand lingered dangerously close to my surely damp underwear before he walked back into his room.

I groaned as I lightly hit the wall and stormed off now both normally frustrated and sexually frustrated

Anyway

I took my walk, and got lunch and then went home and slept.

I now sluggishly made my way to his office, most people were gone, a few people walking out. I was a little late.

I knocked on his door lightly almost hoping maybe he had gone home. That thought was short lived as the door opened, he coaxed me into the room quickly and guided me to sit in the chair opposite to his. Rude, we got shitty chairs and he got a fancy leather, vintage looking seat.

“You’re late” he stated as he sat down

“I was asleep” i told him mid yawn and he hummed

“Are you awake enough to be learning or should we reschedule?”

Yes fantastic.

“Good idea, I’m exhausted! Will come back tomorrow instead, great plan, right well, eh bye” i quickly rushed towards the door but an arm round my waist pulled me back to his chest making me squeak in surprise

“Now now, that was just rude” he whispered lowly into my ear, fuck he was hot. It felt as though my clit was pulsing. His hand was fiddling with the top of my skirt and I couldn’t stop myself from propping my ass out slightly, pressing against his crotch making him grunt. A very sexy grunt.

I could feel him becoming hard against me as he sighed and brought his other hand to rest on my left thigh.

“You shouldn’t be presenting such a lovely ass to any man like this sweetheart, especially your professor.” He told me as his hand moved higher up, pushing the skirt up as he gripped my upper thigh, so fucking close to my cunt it was unbelievable.

“You shouldn’t be hard for your student” I responded quietly

“I wouldn’t be hard if i knew you weren’t soaked” he whispered, a finger pressed to my entrance through my panties making me gasp and take a step away from him. He didn’t stop me as i span around and took a step back towards the close door, when did that close?

“You’re my teacher- you could be fired and i’d be called a slut. Literally any other girl in any of your other classes will be perfect for what you want! I’m gonna go home and I’ll see you later- at school- in class with other people and with a longer skirt.” Just as my hand twisted the handle he was back infront of me, hands on my shoulders making heat rush through me at the contact. My heart thumped loudly in my ears as his face neared mine

“What exactly do you think that i want?” He asked huskily

“Well i think it’s obvious to assume you want sex” i laughed breathlessly and he frowned a little

“But you do not?” He asked, his head tilting in question

“I don’t want the reputation that comes with it” i whispered

“I will keep you a secret my love” he muttered, he then pressed a soft kiss to my jaw making my eyes close momentarily

“You don’t like liars” i mumbled but he kept leaving kisses down my neck, finding the spot where my neck meets my shoulder and sucking with a hum. The little whimper that came from me had him licking a bold stipe over the newly formed hickey

“No but i like you more than i care about a small lie” he muttered into my skin

“How many other girls have you had in this office?” I asked trying to clear my thoughts

“None, only you have been in here, i only ever send you to get my papers and I’ve only kept you behind” my head tilted back in response inviting his greedy lips to colour me purple

“You could have anybody else” i mumbled and he huffed into my shoulder before pulling away, a darker look in his eyes

“I want you, do not act as though you weren’t lusting over me only a few hours ago, did you know that you fiddle with your hair? You pen was in your mouth, you were taunting me. But when i told you i didn’t like you to lie you obeyed, because you want to be good for me, look at me and tell me that you want me to step away, you can go home if you want to sweetheart but it won’t lessen my admiration for you” i blinked in response unsure what to do next. I could feel my thighs growing sticky as they pressed together. He took in my silence and nodded

“Okay” he uttered taking a step away from me, his hands missing from my body and his lips gone from my skin.

“I didn’t ask you to step away” i whispered looking up at him through my lashes

“What would you like me to do?” He asked moving forward

“Kiss me” i barely murmured before his lips were on mine, soft and full as he pressed me into the door, hands on my face as i moaned quietly against him. His hot tongue slipped into my mouth immediately claiming mine, I didn’t even want to put up a fight for dominance. Everything about this man screamed authority and i loved it.

“Jump y/n” he muttered into me and i was fast to wrap my legs around his waist, my skirt was pushed all the way up, my panties pushed right against his hard on.

“You’re going to be so beautiful on my cock one day, my love” my mouth gaped slightly at his words, his lips were back at my throat going down between my top

“I don’t think anyone else should see you walking around with such a low cut top” he muttered, his tongue swiped over the swells of my breasts. His hands coming to push the sides of my breasts pushing them forward out of my bra to wrap his lips around one of my nipples. His teeth scraped the sensitive bud making me gasp and arch towards him, he groaned as he tugged at it, my hands gripped his hair, such perfectly done hair. He never failed to dress his best.

“Such sweet sounds” he murmured as he pulled away with a small ‘pop’. His index and thumb pinched at the wet nipple while his mouth went for the other giving it the same treatment before slipping them both back into my bra

“I’m afraid we don’t have a lot of time in here, there are other teachers waking around and i can’t have anyone see you so vulnerable” he whispered kissing my lips again

“If you just want a quick fuck it’s fine” i muttered reaching between us to remove his belt. His hand grabbed onto mine halting my actions as i held the leather accessory

“I thought you understood, i like you, i care about you and you are not just a fuck release. I want to have you properly, forever” he told me as he took my face in his hand

“You want me to be your little secret” i replied with a confused frown

“Well yes but…only until you have finished your education, then we will be together publicly” his face was so serious he couldn’t be lying

“Together” I uttered and he responded with a kiss to my lips. Loving but hungry as his hips ground to mine, quiet throaty moans falling from his tongue into my mouth. His hand moved round to run down my back, it rested over my ass and he squeezed gently at the flesh

I wrapped my arms around his neck as he walked towards his desk. He sat me down ontop the polished wood, it was cold against the backs of my thighs but i didn’t mind, his hands were all over my body keeping me warm anyway.

His fingertips played with the waistband of my panties pulling at them making me lift my hips letting him pull them off my legs. He stuffed then into his drawer as he pulled away form my face

“Spread your pretty legs” he murmured running his hands along my upper thighs. I opened them across the desk letting him see how wet i was

“You’re dripping onto my desk love” he muttered as his fingers moved to spread my lower lips. I moaned softly, my hands moved to hold onto his forearm pulling him closer to my desperate cunt. I could feel the heat inside me begging for him and i urged him to keep touching

“Please sir” i whispered.

“You can call me Klaus, we are to be together, you cannot call me your professor forever” he smiled slightly at me and I returned it shyly. God what was he doing to me. This morning i was rolling my eyes at the thought of swooning for him and now i was begging him to finger me?

His middle finger brushing over my clit had my thoughts rushing away as i moaned much too loud making him chuckle

“Remember there are others hear” he reminded while flicking his finger over my slippery sphere. My body tightened momentarily as i whimpered. His fingers moved quick and pressed down a little heavier every however many seconds. The pressure on my clit made the pressure inside me grow too. The sensitive bundle of nerves had my hips lifting to meet his touch, what i imagine to be a ball of electricity spinning together was forming in my lower abdomen

A finger pushing inside of my fluttering walls, i moaned loudly and he shushed me, he leaned down to push my face into his neck while he slid his finger in and out of my body, his thumb was quick to keep my needy clit company. My lips latched onto his smooth skin, i sucked harshly in hopes of leaving my own marks on him while he added another finger.

“Say my name” he muttered, I whimpered softly and his other hand patted the top my ass

“Say it”

“Klaus!” I moaned into his neck giving in to his command

“That’s it love, keep going, quietly” he whispered as his fingers curled inside of me. The electricity growing while i chanted his name

“Good girl, good girl” he repeated as he managed to get a third finger inside me. I could feel my walls stretching around his hand as I squirmed in pleasure

“Oh god- I’m going to cum on your desk” i cried throwing my head back

“Yeah? You gonna cum on my hand love?” He asked huskily

“Fuck- I’m- and you’re- oh god” my mind was running a thousand miles per minute as i took in the situation. Despite how wrong everything we were doing was my body craved him. His fingers were reaching just the right spot inside me to have my legs shaking, my walls squeezing his hand tightly while my nails dug into the wood below.

“Be the good girl i know you are and let go for me, come on darling” he encouraged making me muffle my moans into his neck again, my blunt teeth nipping his skin.

A hand brushed at my jaw as his thumb stroked my cheek. My mouth hung open though no sounds escaped as I finally came around his fingers, i could feel it spill between my thighs to the desk while i panted with my head tucked under his chin while he whispered sweet things to me.

Just as i was about to say something we heard someone knock at the door, blood drained from my face as i clutched his shirt

“Shh sh” he hushed while pulling me down from the desk

“Who is it?” He called

“Mr Mikaelson? I’m on my way out now, there’s only one or two others here, have a good evening” one of the other teachers yelled through the door

“Of course, you too miss” he replied while he threaded his fingers through my hair

“That was terrifying” I uttered and he laughed breathily

“Perhaps next time we’ll go to my house” he offered tilting my jaw to look at him

“Uhuh and the time after that maybe I’ll be waiting under the table for you” i giggled and his eyes blackened

Before he could speak however my phone went off, my mother.

“Oh i have to go” i mumbled and he nodded

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning yes?” He asked while he quickly wiped my legs with some hand wipes he had on his desk

“Can i have my underwear back?” I questioned trying to control my blush

“I’m afraid i need those, I think I’ll make a collection hm?” He smirked as he kissed my lips once more

“You are a dirty man” I muttered

He simply hummed in return and tugged my skirt to cover a little more of my ass

“Careful when you walk, although a pretty skirt, it is a tad bit short” he muttered feeling my ass through the material

“Should i pick a longer one?” I asked pushing back into him again

“Absolutely not”

397 notes · View notes

sensei-venus · 1 year

Note

anyway I might be a masochist or a straight up wh*re but I can’t get the thought of og cobras with a chubby!reader out of my head and teasing her in school, staring at her, flipping her skirt up (Dutch would do it all the time imho) and telling her how hot she is, how that outfit looks so good on her, etc and she’s thinking that they’re just being dicks to her because she’s chubby and then one day she just has enough of it and confronts them and tells them to stop being dicks and they’re just like oops-

because I 100% agree that those boys are giant himbos so they were being genuine and flirting and teasing her because they like her and think she’s hot and they don’t realize that she thinks they’re being mean to her and they’re like “oh my god no-“

and yeah it ends up in a giant orgy of them showing her that they’re actually serious 🤤

No! I definitely get this and I love it. Honestly I love the trope where the more “bad guy character/s” pick on their crush but it's actually because their kinda stupid to the fact what they are doing can be seen as mean.

Half of them just think they are giving her compliments. And when she gets upset or mad they think she's trying to play with them, trying to play hard to get.

Bobby and Jimmy always give her straight-up nice compliments, like how her new hair style is cute or how pretty she is. They always take notice of her looks or how she's acting. Both of them are the first to know of she is doing something new with her make up or skin routine. Both of them are just overly sweet to her even if the other guys aren't.

Johnny and Tommy are the ones glaring her down from afar. They both talk about how hot she looks and how sexy she is. They don't go to overboard with the comments but they can't help but admit how attractive she is. As long as Dutch isn't around it's pretty tame conversations.

The minute Dutch is around, oh no because this guy can't keep his mouth shut for the life of him. He's always spewing something and he has no filter on his thoughts either. Everything always gets nasty when he's around and talking. All the bous could be sitting around and talking a out the pure thing they know about Reader, but then he opens his mouth.

Dutch is the starter if jerk circles and he knows it. It's all his fault and he's happy about it.

Besides Bobby, Johnny is actually one of the sweetest in the group. He's the first one to say something to her when they are all around. Yes his comments may be....a tad bit gross or borderline inappropriate but he's trying to be nice. He just doesn't seem to get that you can't say “Wow your tits look great stuffed into that shirt babe.” to someone and they automatically think you're a great guy.

Insert Johnny getting backhanded multiple times but never dodging. All the other cobras won't admit it but they think it's hot to see her get so mad.

Dutch definitely flips her skirts and dresses like a lot but never in front of too many people. Dude gets off on panty shots way to much. Of course the other boys don't mind it either. They all end up popping boners a lot because of Dutch’s gross stupidity.

They don't really understand until one day it goes a bit too far.

Dutch tries to pinch her hip to get her skirt to ride up just a little because he wants to get a good look at her thick thighs. They're so soft and pillowy. But her on accident actually snap her painted which makes her yelp and shoot up with a huge blush on her face while trying to hold her skirt down. She turns around and tells them off for once, not carrying about her normal shyness. She calls them assholes and morons and that she's tired of their bullying. They kinda scratch their heads at this because, like, their not bullying her? They wouldn't be complaining her left and right and trying to see up her skirt if they didn't actually like her.

At that moment they start to put together the pieces and realize the mistake. She actually thought they were picking on her and trying to make her into a joke.

After the incident they try to think of a way to get her to see they actually meant all of the nice things they said to her.

Which ends up being them inviting them over to Bobby’s, where they spoil her for the night with food and a movie. This ultimately ends with them in Bobby’s decked-out basement having a huge orgy. Jerking each other off before fucking the chubby girl. Taking turns using all her holes, and after a while, she gives them up. They switch from her mouth to her pussy to anything else she wants. It's pure bliss all night long.

And after the night is done, Reader fully understands that her new group of boyfriends isn't that bad. Their just stupid, aggressive himbos. But she wouldn't trade them for anything after finding out the truth, and giving them a lesson.

127 notes · View notes

daisyblinder · 1 year

Text

Legs up / Arthur Shelby x reader

🦋 Warnings: Postpartum check ups by a gangster husband. Talking of intimate contact and some intimate contact

🦋 Summary: After giving birth Arthur's wife is worried about perineal infection. So she asks her husband to check it out

“I’m really not sure is it supposed to be like this. I asked Ada and she said it was normal but what if it isn’t? What if I get an infection? What if that affects the milk and it hurts Hilda?”, Y/n rambles as she starts to clean up the dishes from their dinner.

Glancing at the cradle where their little treasure slept soundly, she winces as she takes a step too fast.

In the cradle, little Hilda was swaddled warmly. Only a week old darling she was but she was already the holder of the keys to her parents hearts.

“Should you call the midwife then or Pol?”, Arthur asks putting a cigar into his mouth fishing for a match to light it but then he looks at the cradle. Shaking his head to himself he takes the cigar out of his mouth and smiles softly at his daughter.

“Yer dad ain’t gonna do these things with ye in here. Mum would have me hide for it”, he whispers at the sleeping infant.

Y/n sighs at his question and leans against their sink. “I was wondering could you check it?”, she says with a grimace as Arthur’s eyes almost bulk out of his head.

“H-How? Love, I know yer bits well but I have no fucking clue what they’re supposed to look like now”, he stutters lifting his hands up eyes still wide.

Y/n takes a step back from the sink and goes to take her seat back at the table wincing on the way as she feels the stretch in her lower body. “You know what infection looks like, please. If it looks bad I’ll call Pol or the midwife but I really don’t feel comfortable lifting my skirts at them. I feel a lot better with you inspecting down there”, Y/n says blushing.

Arthur stares at the table in front of him with his ears red. This felt different than being intimate with his wife, this felt even more intimate.

Arthur was no nurse of a midwife, but he did know what infection looked like. He could help his love. Y/n’s winces had been worrying him. They had gotten better at the course of the week but it still stung his heart to hear her whimpers when she sat down or walked too fast.

“Alright”, Arthur sighs rubbing his hands over his face. “Legs up”, he says gesturing at the table.

“Wh-What?!”, Y/n stutters as Arthur stands up and offers her his hands.

“Sit on the table and put them legs up”, he repeats not looking at her in the eye, his whole head getting redder by the minute. Thank god Hilda was asleep and too young to witness her parents do this right next to her napping spot.

Y/n takes his hands and lets him help her up. “Thank you”, she whispers and lifts on the tips of her toes to give him a soft kiss.

Arthur returns the kiss equally softly before putting his hands on his sweethearts waist and lifting her gently on their dining table, lifting her skirts up and propping her legs on two chairs, before kneeling on the floor between them.

“Lift yer hips”, Arthur orders softly and pulls his wifes knickers down so that he can take a look.

Y/n leans back on her elbows looking at the ceiling as she can feel the eyes of her husband inspecting her vulva. She can feel her face becoming hotter and hotter by the minute in her vulnerable position.

At the same time warmth soars in her heart. She felt safe, little embarrassed but safe. Not many men in Birmingham would do this for their wives.

“Does it look bad?”, she asks her voice high as she hears her husband muttering.

Arthur’s head pops up from between her legs at her question. “Can’t see a bloody thing”, he mutters biting his upper lip before standing up and leaving the room.

Soon enough he returns with an oil lamp kneeling back down between her legs. “It ain’t that red”, he says outloud after a while.

“Is it really swollen?”, Y/n asks now trying to peek at him.

After a moment of silence her man answers “A little I’d say”

“Are you sure it’s only a little?”

“I luv ya but I can’t bloody remember how puffy yer pussy was before Hilda came out”, Arthur says exasperated. Y/n has to look at the ceiling to cover her laugh at his dedication. “I’d say it don’t look that bad”

“Can you touch the spot, you know between, well you know!” Y/n asks timidly. She has tried to test how sensitive the space between her vagina and anus was but she knew that it was different to poke at it by herself. She was always prepared for it.

“Between yer pussy and bumhole?”, Arthur checks bluntly already done being timid about the matter at had. It was more important to know she was alright than be prim and proper.

“Arthur!”

“We are far too gone to be shy about this Y/n. I’ve been ‘ere before and I’m yer husband. So I was right wasn’t I?”

“You was”, Y/n sighs and she feels gentle touches on her perineum. “Ow”, she yelps at a more firm poke.

“I’m sorry”, Arthur is stood up from his spot kneeling on the floor, in an instant to check on her.

“It’s alright darling”, Y/n says smiling softly. “Do you think it’s infected?”

“Nah, if it were I’d say you’d have more trouble sitting and it wasn’t that bloody red”

Before either of them can react, the door to their dining room opens.

“What the fuck?”

Thomas Shelby was rarely just completely and utterly confused. But now he was too confused to move. In front of him was his brother’s wife lying on the dining table, legs propped up on two chairs, skirts up to her chin, Arthur between her legs and their babes cradle next to them.

“Tommy out you dumb bastard!”, Arthur growls at him helping his wife to lift up from the table and lower her skirts.

Tommy cackles a laugh and goes to wait outside. He can hear their conversation from his spot next to the doorway.

“Arthur I’m going to die of humiliation. Please bury me in our back yard, oh goodness this is not happening”, Y/n sounded truly appalled by what had just happened.

“Hey-Hey! None of that. It’s his bloody fault. He can’t just walk into our ‘ome like that. Oh don’t cry. Come ‘ere”

Feeling a little bad Tommy peeks into the kitchen. A small smile spreads to his face as he sees Y/n burrow herself against Arthur.

“I never want to see your brother again”, her voice is muffled against his brother’s chest. A small smile spreads to Arthur’s face as he presses his lips against her hair.

“You was worried about yer still healing body and I helped ye. That’s that. Tommy can rip ‘imself a new one if he laughs at ye for it”

Oh so that’s what you was doing.

Tommy smirks before he leans back into the hallway. He wasn’t cruel but he was no saint. And he really needed some business done today, so he calls for Arthur.

“Oi doctor Shelby, you have more than one patient today. Don’t worry: most of them have issues with the upper end”

#arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby #peaky blinders #thomas shelby

368 notes · View notes

rays-of-fire-and-ice · 1 month

Note

Hi! congrats on the anniversary 🫶

For the fanfic request: Ichihime + second date ( first kiss ) 🍓🍞

As the Rain Falls

Rating: K/General with mild themes

Setting: little over a month after We do Knot Always Love You

Synopsis: Ichigo and Orihime go on their second date, both anxious and excited about their new relationship, but Ichigo has things on his mind he can’t shake off.

AN: First up, a sincere apology for how late this is!!! >_< I must admit, I kept getting writer’s block with this one, but I still wanted to persevere with it and try to write for different characters and a different ship.

At the same time however, I'll admit I’m nervous about this. I've never written a fic where Ichigo and Orihime are the main characters, and I know that they'll be written out of character as a result. And it's me, so this is probably more angsty than you wanted ^^;

I tried, and hopefully it makes for an entertaining read.

Hope you enjoy this one!

_______________________________

Ichigo tucks his hands into his jacket pockets and bounces his knee as he looks around AB Cookies.

Arisa, who is currently at the counter, told him Orihime was getting changed and should be out soon. It had been only two minutes since then, but why did it feel like longer?

He sits in the corner at one of the few indoor tables, mostly ignored by the customers coming and going from the store. All around him, the room is brightly coloured in pastel hues and styled in a way that makes it appear homely and cute. If not for Orihime, he wouldn’t normally come to a place like this.

When another minute passes, he thinks to pull out one of his textbooks and study while he waits. He only gets as far as frowning at his backpack. Why is he so nervous? It’s not like this was their first date – that’d happened just over four weeks ago – so where is this anxious, fluttery energy coming from?

He blinks at hearing Orihime’s voice drift from the back. He straightens when she emerges from the doorway behind the rows of breads. She’s dressed in a bright sweater and skirt, and her boots clack on tiles then the wooden floors when she lifts the counter top and steps out to his side. She smiles widely when she glances at him, and he can’t help but smile back in return – she’s one of the few people who has that affect on him.

She only gives him her full attention after she says goodbye to Arisa, who in turn thanks her for her work. He stands up, shouldering his backpack as she approaches.

“Kurosaki-kun,” she greets. “Sorry for you keeping you waiting.”

“It’s fine, you didn’t take that long,” he says. He tips his head towards the exit. “You wanna get going?”

They end up in the main street of Karakura Town, walking towards the shopping district. Cars rush by and people crowd the streets. Above them is a mostly blue sky, but clouds linger.

“How was your day?” Orihime asks.

Ichigo shrugs one shoulder. “Nothing much. Just went to lectures mostly.”

“Which ones were they for?”

“English studies. What about you? Anything happen today?”

“A lot, actually. I told Ari -- Oh, wait!” She comes to a stop and reaches into her bag. “Are you hungry?”

Before he can even respond, she pulls out a bread bun and breaks it into halves. “It’s got red bean paste and strawberry in it,” she says as she offers one half to him. “It’s spares from the batches I made this morning, and I thought, since you were up early…”

He smirks fondly as he takes it from her. It’s so typical of her to think of something like this. “Thanks, I think I need this.”

She practically glows, and he has to bite into the bun to not embarrass himself with a stupid grin and chuckle. He hates how this reminds him of the way his father acted around his mother. He hopes to never be like that with Orihime, but even so, there are those moments where she gets to him, where her happiness and excitement become almost infectious.

“Is it good?” she asks.

He nods, mouth full, and it only makes her beam wider. He bites harder into the bun the next time as heat rises up his neck.

“So, I made that new donut for Arisa-san and Ichinose-kun,” she says.

“Oh, the one with seaweed, strawberry, and cashews?” he asks, trying to keep the wariness out of his voice; these new recipes she comes up with always mean a lot to her, even if he can’t comprehend them.

“Yes! Although I had to change it. I think I brought them around to it after create one without the cashews, but I'm starting to wonder if maybe peanuts might work better.

"I-Is that so?"

"I just think it needs a salty or nutty element! It still tastes good with jut the seaweed and strawberry though. They’re thinking about putting it in the front.”

Despite his reservations, he can’t help but he proud of her and his smile returns. “That’s great, Inoue.”

Something must show in his expression, because a faint blush colours her cheeks. “A-Anyway, after that I was speaking with Arisa-san…”

They keep walking down the street as Orihime talks and occasionally nibbles on her half of the bun. He listens to her, and as she carries on about her work – about the small things like finding a gacha trinket on the ground on her way to work, and bigger things like a corporate event who requested catering from the bakery – they wonder from the streets to a nearby park.

For not the first time, he thinks about how peaceful its' become. He still fights Hollows, but isn't as often as it used to be. There’s no looming threat over them, nothing to stop them from being by each others’ side. It’s why, along with seeing how happy Renji and Rukia were, and the former’s encouragement, he finally decided to ask Orihime out.

Their first date had been clumsy in the first hour. He’d planned dinner and a movie, a typical date night according to Keigo and Tatsuki. After Ichigo arrived late and Orihime got flustered trying to reassure him it was fine, the air had been awkward around them. Just the week before he’d confessed to her, and she did the same, and now it’s apparent their feelings for each other were more than either of them thought. Gradually, after they'd finished their dinner and they left to go see the movie, things eased.

Perhaps that where these fluttery nerves came from, left over from their last date. He'd thought he'd be more relaxed consider today’s date was even simpler: a walk in the park, then find a restaurant for a late lunch. It’d been Orihime’s idea, claiming she didn’t need to do anything fancy or complicated with him. He can’t help but suspect she had him in mind though, knowing he’d be tired from his studies and late nights of fighting Hollows and performing konsos on a wondering Souls.

Yes, he thinks as he finishes off his half of the bun, he’s grateful for this peace.

However, like how Zangetsu’s voice had haunted him in the months after the Arrancar’s invaded Karakura Town, there’s a part of him that lingers in the back of his mind, skeptical. It makes him notice the crowds all around them. Parents watching their children run and play around the park. Couples occupying benches or walking past them in their own worlds. A group of teens in school uniforms hunched over a manga magazine, laughing at something they’ve read. Everyone here had been under threat just over three years ago, and they hadn’t even known it. He’d defeated Yhwach, and yet he’s still haunted by ‘what-ifs’. What if he hadn’t defeated him? What if another threat lurks right beneath them, one that hasn’t been seen yet?

“Kurosaki-kun?”

Ichigo blinks out of his reverie. “Ah, sorry.”

Orihime blinks up him in concern, and had brought them to a stop at the park’s fountain. “Is something wrong?”

He thinks to hold it back in, to do what he always did and bottle it up. He’d stew on it, but it would pass or continue to linger somewhere within him, as everything else had. But what had helped him get over it? Rukia had, and Chad, and Uryu, and Renji, and Orihime. He should be able to tell her anything, especially now that they’re going out.

He doesn’t want his mood to bring the date down, and he knows if he says it’s nothing, she’ll drop it, not wanting to pry further. Even so, he knows she’ll worry about whatever is bothering him. He can’t do that to her.

He’s not sure where to start, but he opens to his mouth to say something.

And then there’s a plop on his head.

____________________________________________

Orihime had imagined scenarios like this many times. Ichigo would grab her hand and they’d rush down the street, the rain falling over them as their feet splashed through puddles. Somehow, the clouds would be thin enough that the sun would peak through, making colours more vibrant beneath the glittering rain. At some point, in slow motion, Ichigo would look over his shoulder at her, hair somehow unaffected by the rain and haloed in a lighter shade of orange. smiling confidently, and saying something heroic or sweet.

And right now, Ichigo turns his head over his shoulder, cringing with his bangs plastered to his forehead, panting for air, and trying to blink the rain from his eyes. “You okay?”

She too has to get rid of the drop falling around her eyes to see him, wiping them and a strand hair stuck to the side of her face away with the heel of her palm. “Y-Yes! But where are we going?”

The rain comes down in torrents, drenching them in less than a minute. Around them, everyone is rushing out of the park and back to the shops that line the streets. She considers asking if they can head back to AB Cookie, but considering how soaked they are, she doesn’t want to cause any trouble for the staff in cleaning up after them; they’d probably make puddles in the middle of the store.

They run across a zebra crossing, and then next thing she knows, Ichigo brings her under the awning of a closed up shop. They almost hit the shutter door, stumbling under the shelter.

They take a moment to catch their breaths, with Ichigo hunched over and Orihime leaning against the shop’s garage door.

“This rain came out of nowhere!” she says. “The forecast was sunny. Guess I should’ve known better when I saw the clouds.”

Ichigo rises from his hunch. “You can’t predict the weather, Inoue.” He half teases and half reassures her, and she’s grateful for it.

“It’s still a shame we can’t go to the park now,” she says.

“We'll go another time. There's other stuff we can do. Unless you'd rather head home."

"Maybe we should wait until the rain stops...or there's less of it."

He only hums in acknowledgement.

It’s only then she realizes he still hasn’t let go of her hand, and she fears looking down at their joined hands and drawing attention to it will make him want to pull away. She discovered very quickly he got embarrassed by PDA – whether it was between them or with other couples. It’s oddly cute to her, and she herself still wasn’t sure if she likes it either. Holding hands like this, though, is something she’s always wanted.

The skin of his palm and fingers is rough from callouses, but the back side is softer than she expected. And it’s warm despite the rain.

Without meaning to, she squeezes his hand, and he looks down. Instead of pulling away, he tilts his head to the sky, almost shyly. She withholds a bewildered giggle. He can still surprise her, it seems.

It’s a minute later when the rain lessens.

“It’s not as bad now,” she says.

“Yeah…” He’s not fully there, his gaze turned up at the clouds. The rain affects him in a way she doesn’t fully understand yet. In the years since she first met him, whatever grips has gradually faded from what it used to be.

“We can probably head…” she starts, but trails off.

Now what? They can’t go to the park, and they can’t go out to lunch with their clothes so drenched. Maybe they should call it a day, and try again for next week sometime. But as Orihime eyes Ichigo, seeing the slight clench in his jaw and the way his eyes narrow at the sky, she knows she can’t leave him alone.

“Um…”

At her nervous fidgeting, he blinks, coming out of his daze, and looks to her. “What is it?”

“We can, um…w-we can head back to my place. It’s close by, so…”

Orihime tries and fails to push the heat rising to her face. Yes, Ichigo has been to her place many times before, but not since they started dating. Who knows what could happen? She tries to dismiss the sparkling fantasies that threaten to take over her mind.

“If you’re okay with that," he says, "just until the rain stops.”

“Of course!”

“Well, then, thanks.” He gentle pulls on her hand. “We should get going.”

He begins to lead her back out into the rain again.

“Actually…”

“Hm?”

At his raised brows, Orihime quickly bows her head. “Ah, yes, sorry! I uh, just…actually, nevermind!”

“Hey, come on. What is it?”

Orihime drops her rueful smile with a defeated chuckle. “It’s just that, after our date, I planned to go to the convenience store to pick up a few things. With this rain though, it’s probably better that we just head back.”

“We can still stop along the way. You’ll need help carrying things, right?”

She’d never point it out, but there were times she senses an eagerness from him, one he’d keep reserved under many layers. It’s another endearing quality she secretly loved about him. With a nod, she says, “Then, if it’s not too much trouble….”

He gives her a small smile. “It isn't, Inoue.”

She has to turn away as her heart skips a beat.

They make a quick dash to the convenience store that’s a few minutes from her home. She stops under the entrance’s awning and grabs the end of her skirt to wring some of the rain water out. She barely hears Ichigo’s quiet chuckle over the rain. “Don’t think it’ll make much of a difference.”

“Well, we might end up making puddles in there,” she reasons.

“It’ll be fine, we’re not staying long, right?”

As soon as they enter the convince store, Orihime bows apologetically to the cashier. Ichigo just sniffs, trying to cover up another chuckle. She’s quick to go the aisles for milk and despite the slight indignation rising in her, Orihime is glad to see faint amusement in Ichigo's expression.

She’d also imagined a scenario like this, albeit without them being wet and cold. Somehow, though, she liked how this was turning out instead. Maybe it’s knowing Ichigo is following her as she went down the aisles, his footsteps always behind her or at her side. Maybe it’s the fact that when she picks up a cup of noodles, he asks what she’ll make with it, and even as she lists off all the ingredients that sound odd to put with it, he offers weary encouragement. Maybe it’s discovering he likes a particular brand of rice crackers when she goes to pick up her usual one, and explaining to him why she prefers this one over the others. They’re small, mundane things, but every little part of it is something she can say she’s experienced with him now.

Everything comes to a halt when they get to the freezers. Orihime almost frowns when she has to crane her neck to see the milk she normally buys. “They must have moved everything around, these never used to be so high up.”

She opens the fridge door and stands on her tippy toes.

She stops when Ichigo steps up behind her and reaches his hand into the freezer. “I’ll get it.”

Her back is almost pressed against his chest, and as she turns to look at him, she’s struck once again by how tall he is. From this angle she can admire the strong line of his jaw, and watches a raindrop roll off it and hit the collar of the shirt beneath his jacket. Once he hands her the milk, she snaps out of it. “Ah, thank you!”

However, neither of them moves. Orihime stares up at him, and he stares back. Her heart flutters at the hint of softness in his gaze. It’s nothing like her fantasies, where there’s sparkles and flowers magically appearing around them. She swallows, unsure if she’s bold enough to do what she’d always wanted to ever since he confessed to her.

Before she can think any further, Ichigo clears his throat and abruptly turns away. “Sorry, I, uh…”

Orihime shakes her head and takes the bottle of milk from him. “Ah, i-it’s fine! I, um…hey, look, there’s my favourite icecream! I should grab a tub while I’m here!”

She quick to move away, and she’s certain the heat colouring her face will dry her scalp in no time.

Several minutes later, she pays for the milk, a tub of biscuit and tea flavored ice-cream, three cups of noodles, two ramen kits, and a packet of rice crackers.

When they step back out, he holds out his hand. “I can carry it.”

“There’s no need.” When his hand doesn’t drop, she takes out the milk. “If you’re sure.”

__________________________

Whenever Ichigo enters Orihime’s house, he’d find his gaze wondering over to Sora’s photo. It happens not long after he takes his shoes off and he steps into the main room, and today is no exception as he removed his jacket and hangs it on a free hook; it drips over his shoes. He only looks away when Orihime puts the shopping bag on the kitchen counter.

She puts away the ice-cream, and it prompts him to hand her the milk again. “This too.”

She comes over to him, takes the bottle, and as he makes to step into the main area, she holds up her hand.

“Hold on a second,” she says before turning and putting the milk in fridge.

He doesn’t move beyond the tiny foyer, waiting for her after she dashes off to the bathroom. She comes out with two towels and holds one out to him. “It’s not much, but maybe for your hair?”

“You didn’t have to,” he says. But the it occurs to him he’d probably drip all over her floorboards. “You sure you’re okay with me coming in?”

There’s a pause, and a faint blush rushes up in her face. “O-Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Think I’m going to make everything damp,” he says while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

“Oh, no, it’s fine! It’ll dry eventually.” She lifts the other towel. “If you’re worried, you can always put this over the cushion at the kotatsu.”

He normally wouldn’t care, but he takes both towels from her. “Yeah, sure.”

“Make yourself comfortable,” she offers. “I’ll just go get changed and then make some tea. Or would you like hot cocoa? I got some a few days ago, I haven’t tried it yet.”

“Tea is fine.”

She smiles with a nod before going to her bedroom.

He remains near his shoes, drying off his arms, face, and hair before going to kotatsu. After laying the second towel down over the cushion he sits. He continues patting down and drying his hair as he waits. He ignores the rain thrumming gently against the windows, and once again, his gaze wonders to Sora’s picture. A bowl of nashi pears lies on one side of the photo, and a recently lit incense stick on the other.

A part of him wishes he’d properly met her brother while he was still alive, so that Acidwire and the night he was brought to the Kurosaki Clinic weren’t the only memories he had of him. Compared to everything else, however, it feels like a distant memory, and it thankfully ended in a better outcome than others.

Orihime emerges from her room, now dressed in a new sweater and jeans, and a headband pushes her damp hair behind her shoulders. She hums while boiling the water and taking out the teapot. Watching her brings a sense of calm to him, and a relief that doesn’t surprise him as much as he thought.

It’s not the first time Ichigo wonders if everything they’ve been through has affected her. Does she still have bad dreams? How much had she told Tatsuki? Were there things she hadn’t told him yet? Would she ever tell him?

And perhaps that is what bothered him most. He, Orihime, and their friends had to live with those memories, and all of consequences that came with them as the world went on ignorant to what had almost happened.

He’d been almost ordinary once, going to school and getting into trouble with humans. At the time seeing the Souls always reminded him he was anything but normal, and since becoming a Shinigami, any chance of him being fully human had been dashed.

It had been his choice, one he didn’t truly regret despite everything that came after. He had been powerless to help others in need, to protect those he cared about, and Rukia had given him that chance on that fateful night.

But Orihime had been ordinary – or at least, more ordinary than him.

He didn’t know much about her parents, but of what little he did know, he knew they were the kind of people he would’ve kicked to the curb. And yet she had gone through that and was still able to smile, just as she had with everything that happened in Los Noches.

So caught up in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice her approach until she sets a mug down in front of him.

“Here,” she says. “It’s just black tea, I ran out of green. Didn’t think to get it while I was at the convenience store, silly me.”

He manages a faint smile. “It’s fine, thanks.”

She settles down to right, wrapping her hands around her own mug. After a moment, she says, “Before…there was something you were going to say. Do you still want to say it?”

He stares down at his dark reflection in the tea, considering. “It’s nothing major, and it’ll pass.”

She shuffles, and then her hand slides along the table and into his view, stopping centimeters from his. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” she reassures. “I don’t want to upset you.”

“You don’t,” he says, raising his gaze to her. “You never have.”

It’s a bold confession from him, and he’s saddened to see her withhold a wince. Perhaps there are still some things she holds from the past, misplaced guilt in her role of situations beyond her control.

“Inoue.” He gingerly takes hold of her fingers, and struggles to find the right words. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Maybe it is.” She brings her hand around his, her grip warm and firm. “Whatever we face, it’s together, right?”

For a second he’s brought back to facing Yhwach. He’d asked Orihime to be his shield, to fight at his side against a foe of unknowable strength, for a future that wasn’t guaranteed.

How could he have been so foolish right now?

He can’t help but smile ruefully to himself. “Yeah, of course.” Then, after swallowing thickly. “Are you happy?”

It’s a sudden question, one he hadn’t thought to ask but had come forth anyway. Sensing how loaded it is, Orihime looks out the window in thought for several heartbeats. Her lips form a slow, sweet grin. "I am."

He tries to ignore the skip of his heartbeat, and the uncomfortable way his throat constricts. Before he can say anything, she continues, and her smile wavers slightly. "What about you, Kurosaki-kun? Are you happy?"

He thought it would take him longer to answer, but it comes to him with a few memories. The first is returning to everyone after Yhwach’s defeat. Despite the mix of emotions -- the melancholoy of Yhwach’s final words and the pinch of fear for the unknown ahead of them -- it all dulled away to an intense relief at seeing his friends. Uryu stood far away, watching as everyone rejoiced at seeing one another. Ichigo knew a conversation would be had some point, but the fact he was there was enough hope for him for now.

The second was his high school graduation. He grumbled on the day it on the day, and despite how mundane it would seem to many compared to what he’d achieved in other worlds, he felt a small sense of pride at having finished it. Isshin of course was an embarrassment on the day, one minutes shouting his praises about Ichigo and the next weeping about how he's grown so much. He'd taken a picture of him and his friends together, one that Orihime had a copy of on the wall near her bedroom door.

The last was watching Renji and Rukia get married, seeing their friends and the Shinigami happy for them. It was only then the peace truly hit him, that maybe he can gather the courage to tell Orihime how he truly felt. And the excitement and anxiety that came when she said she was free three days from then.

The nerves from before hadn't just come from a change in their relationship, from friendship to something more, but from the thought it could be disrupted by a new threat. But he had chosen this dangerous life, and she had joined him and others in it. They all know the risks, but they didn't have to always be hyper-vigilant. They had to live.

“Yeah, I am.”

At her widened grin, he remembers for a short period of time after Yhwach’s defeat when Orihime had put on smiles, attempting to mask the sadness and pain she truly felt. According to Tatsuki, it had been while he was in his comatose state after Aizen’s defeat. In both cases, that gradually changed.

In the face of everything that had come before and because she had the courage to in the face over everything that tried to take it from her, she still smiles and laughs. She helps others and protects Karakura Town. He can see why otherwise would under-estimate her – he may have once himself – but in truth, she’s probably one of the strongest people he knows. He’d grown to love her for those reasons and more.

And he loves her for it. He gets strength from her because of it. He can go into this peace with her because of it.

It’s only then he realizes he’s gotten closer to her, so much so her face takes up most of his view. She stares at him wide eyed, her lips parted and her cheeks flushed as she tries to stammer out his name. It's just like before in the convenience store; she'd captivated him with just a look.

“Ah, sorry,” he chokes out, but he barely leans back. It’s as if he’s frozen in place, and the only way to come unstuck is to lean forward.

With one last gaze flickering to her lips, he leans in. She does the same before he closes his eyes. He’s be ashamed to admit he’d imagined this at more than once, but it’s not how he expected it to be. It’s soft and awkward, both of them frozen in place, afraid to move despite how misplaced their lips had locked. He pulls back a little and tries again. If Orihime’s quiet, pleased sigh and the way his heart beats faster is any indication, it’s better.

A warmth spreads through him, radiating from his chest and thrumming through his fingers. He’s light-headed as they pull apart, and when their eyes flutter open, his heart skips a beat at seeing the softness in her expression. He’s with her, holding her hand,

When the haze of whatever this is has worn off, he’ll elaborate further on what bothers him. And when he does, she’ll listen intently, holding his hand, and smile when he he’s done, and be glad he told her. More than that, however, she’ll be glad they can go together into this newfound peace.

Dealing with the memories of the darker and weaker moments had become easier him and the others as time went on. He, Orihime, and their friends kept walking forward in the face of it, and eventually alongside it, and one day, past it as they forge their futures.

#ichihime #ichigo kurosaki #orihime inoue #bleach #fanfiction #blog anniversary requests

21 notes · View notes