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euphemiaamillais · 3 months

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playing dangerous pt 2 - coriolanus snow 🎀

coriolanus snow has always wanted the perfect woman. he’s searched high and low, among the likes of heiresses and actresses, and even—though he’d never dare admit it—district girls. he’s given up hope, until he finds you. you’re perfect—innocent, beautiful and obedient. he’s been watching you for months, and one night, he just can’t resist taking you home and making you his.

cw: 18+//kidnapping//eventual stockholm syndrome//mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation//emotional manipulation//mentions of sex/sexual harassment

part 1 is here

you wake to the sunlight streaming through the french doors the next morning. your head is pounding, not doubt from the posca. while it had sent you into a dreamless sleep, you can feel a throbbing hangover coming on. there is little noise in the house, nothing but your breathing gracing your ears, and for a moment you forget where you were.

but when you feel the restraint around your wrist, you remember that you were in some strange man’s apartment, subject to his every whim. which, so far, you were thankful, had only been eating the food he’d brought you.

the door opens, and he comes in baring more food. this time, an assortment of spreads and toast. at least he has the decency to feed you well, though you can’t help but wonder if the food is laced with poison. you’re too starving to think too much about it though.

‘good morning,’ he grins, a positively psychopathic gaze in his eyes. he sets the tray down, and presses a kiss to your forehead. ‘did you sleep well, darling?’

you shudder at the pet name. ‘well, my wrist really hurts,’ you pout, wondering if he will be swayed by your wide eyes. ‘do you think you could loosen the restraint?’

you’re also aware of your bladder pressing against your stomach, full from last night’s posca, and you’re reminded of how desperately you need to go.

‘once you’ve eaten,’ he promises, and turns to start buttering the toast. the sweet aroma of jams and spreads fills your nose, your mouth watering. ‘what would you like, princess?’

you glance at the array, and decide on a thick pot of strawberry jam. you’d eat that every morning at home, with a cup of tea. alas, there only seems to be a very milky cup of coffee on the tray, but it’s better than nothing.

‘strawberry jam, please,’ you offer a smile, and he begins to spread the confiture across the golden toast. it does look delicious.

‘there you go,’ he hands you the toast. he’s even sliced it into little triangles, worried that you won’t be able to eat it in such big slices, seeing as you’re just so delicate.

he watches you eat it up like it’s your last meal, surprisingly ravenous for a girl your size. your tongue glides over some of the jam, and he feels his hands clench as you do so. it’s so seductive, even though you mean it with complete innocence. he can’t help but think of you doing that as you suck his cock, pink tongue gliding over the aching tip of his shaft…

‘thank you,’ you offer, seeing how he eyes you.

he hands you the cup of coffee, a little embarrassed that it’s so milky—he was distracted by the thought of you, waiting for him in that room, that he’d poured too much in. you accept it, a little disgusted by the bitter taste—you were never one for coffee—but down it with a forced smile on your face.

‘good girl,’ he coos, placing one hand on your thigh. ‘you’re so good to me, don’t you know that?’

he looks crazed, blue eyes glistening with insanity, praising you in spite of only knowing you for what, twenty-four hours? you wonder if your parents have thought to go looking for you. your mother is probably weeping. your stomach churns at the thought.

‘would i, uh, please be able to use the bathroom,’ you are clenching your legs together in desperation, bladder throbbing with need.

he tilts his head, but sees the way you gnaw at your lips. he can’t have you wetting yourself again, now that would just be humiliating.

‘alright. but you’ll have to let me in there with you,’ he admits, and you cast him an exasperated look.

‘no!’ your eyes swell up in mortification. ‘please, it’s so… embarrassing…’

he sighs, moving his hand further up your thigh, fiddling with the hem of your silky slip. ‘if you want to use the bathroom, i’ll need to watch you in case you try to hurt yourself. i can’t have you bleeding out on the tiles…’

he winces a little at the thought of you trying to slit your wrists with his razor, too distraught at the idea of having to be his that you’d rather be welcomed into the arms of death. no, you wouldn’t allow that to happen. you’re his girl.

‘oh..’ your voice trails off. you find it hard to rebut him, you’re so desperate to go. ‘okay.’

you cede all right to him, losing what seemed to be the last bit of your autonomy left. he loosens the restraint, and you clutch your wrist, nursing the nagging ache that has been bothering you all night. you see the french doors, and debate throwing yourself off the balcony. however, it’s foolish. falling that far would be terrifying—worse than a life spent with this man, whatever his name is—and so you follow him as he guides you to the bathroom.

the apartment is more gorgeous than the bedroom. high walled and of black marble, it stretches out across what appears to be the entire floor—and you come to realise that it’s the penthouse. whoever he is, he must have a lot of money. you’re not very interested in politics, but you know president ravenstill has many cronies—perhaps he’s one of them.

the bathroom is cold when you enter, but you’re so desperate to go that you rush to the toilet. you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; you look awful. your hair is matted, and you’ve got a few fresh bruises trailing up your arm; pink and purple dots spoiling the skin. you don’t smell great either, and eye the beautiful shower in the corner.

he is watching you like a hawk, and if you weren’t in such a great need to go, you probably wouldn’t have been able to. you feel a wave of relief wash over you as you finish, and go to wash your hands with one of his fancy soaps. when you’re done, you turn to him, a tender look on your face.

‘would i be able to use your shower?’ you ask, biting at your lip. his heart pounds in his chest. his cock stirred a little at the thought of getting to see your naked form. not that he’d fuck you just yet, but the notion that he’d merely get to see you was too much.

‘of course, sweetheart,’ he nods, grabbing two towels from the cupboard by the sink.

you go to turn the faucet, getting splashed a little by the hot water. it feels delicious against your freezing skin, though. you turn back to glance at him, willing him away with your mind, but he remains.

‘would i be able to do it, alone?’ you ask softly, but he shakes his head. your heart drops.

‘i’m sorry princess, you know my rules. i’ve got to make sure you don’t hurt yourself. i couldn’t have that now, could i?’ he asks, tilting his head. you shake yours in response, and more than humiliated, you begin to strip yourself off.

he watches as you pull your slip off, revealing an elegant figure, a perfect ass, and long legs. you shiver, more out of embarrassment than cold, deeply ashamed to be exposing yourself to a man. nobody’s ever seen you this naked before, and you’re shy about the way you look. he’s begging you to turn around so he can see the front of you, but you attempt to manoeuvre yourself so that he can’t see your breasts or other parts.

the water warms your skin, and you toss your head back in delight, feeling it soak your hair and wash away the grimy feeling. you face away from him, and when you have to reach to grab the soap, do your best to move in a way that he can only see your back. it’s the least humiliating way. you’d never thought any man but your husband would see you like this, but clearly, he had other ideas.

coriolanus had to settle his breath in attempt to fight the growing erecetion in his trousers, seeing you so bare was too exciting. he wishes you’d turn around, wondering how pretty your breasts would look, how pink your nipples would be, and if your cunt was as lovely as he’d imagined. he wanted so badly to touch you, to slip his fingers inside of your tight pussy and watch you writhe beneath him. he wondered if you’d ever touched yourself—he doubted you had. you were too innocent for that.

you lather the shampoo in your hair, feeling great relief as you wash your scalp clean. you run your fingers through the mats, wincing a little as they tug. he’s got some lovely smelling soaps, you have to admit, and while you let the shampoo sit, you rub your skin with one that smells like roses. you take care of course to wash between your thighs, embarrassed that you’d supposedly wet yourself the day before, and freshen yourself up with the scent of the rose soap.

soon enough, you’re smelling lovely; it’s potent but in a clean way, the smell pleasant to your nose. you finish washing the shampoo out, and go to scramble for the conditioner when you realise that it’s not there.

‘excuse me,’ you attempt to shout with your back turned to the wall.

‘i can’t hear you, princess. turn around,’ he laughs a little, watching as you squirm, terrified of exposing yourself to him.

‘please, i just want the conditioner,’ you beg, feeling like a pathetic fool, having to plead for something as simple as hair conditioner.

‘you have to turn around for me to give it to you,’ he warns, holding the bottle in his hands.

you sigh, and remembering the knots in your hair, realising you have little choice in whether or not to turn around. you can’t have those clumps getting any worse. so, deeply ashamed, you surrender yourself to him, sliding the shower door open and stretching a hand out.

‘see, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?’ he inquires, and seeing the cruel look in his eyes, you shake your head, afeared of what he’ll do if you utter something that won’t please him.

‘you’ll learn,’ he warns as you grasp for the bottle, his other hand gripping your wrist before you can move away. ‘that i always get what i want. okay, princess? you can’t just hide yourself from me.’

he brushes your wet hair to one side, fingers trailing down to your bare breast. he doesn’t dare touch you too much, but ghosts his fingers over to remind you that this is his now. you belong to him, whether you decide to obey him or not. he knows you’ll learn to love him soon enough, and be a drooling mess, begging for his cock to fill you up.

‘so pretty,’ he murmurs, and you shudder, feeling cold droplets of water hit your back. the shower is still running, and you’re aching to get back in and finish washing your hair.

he lets you go, but watches you with scrutiny, admiring every footstep you take back to the shower. you’re so beautiful, and all his… how utterly perfect you are. after what had seemed like a lifetime of searching, he’d finally got what he wanted.

now all he had to do was make you his, in body and in heart.

—

you’d dried off after your shower, and he’d given you a robe to wear because your slip needed to be washed. you feel horribly naked, wishing there was something to wear other than a robe. it would be easy for him to take advantage of you, hands roaming up your robe to caress your thighs, and god knows what else. you’d never been touched by a man before, having only had a few stolen kisses with some of your classmates at the academy, but you were too shy to have let any of them take you.

and besides, your father was insistent that you had remained pure until he found you a suitable husband. preferably one of president ravenstill’s many sons. you got more for a virgin, as disgusting as the notion was. they were a rare commodity in the capitol these days.

once he had tied your restraint back—to your other wrist this time, he really was so kind—he pressed a kiss to your cheek and told you he was going out. you were upset, he hadn’t told you how long he would be, whether or not you were going to be alone for the rest of the day, but you didn’t press further. at least you wouldn’t have to worry about him assaulting you any further. god knows what he’d do if he sat with you, barely clothed, for more than a few minutes.

so, quite bored, you sit and run your mind across who he could possibly be. he’s got an almost familiar face; noble, an aquiline nose and the most piercing blue eyes you’ve ever seen. he can’t be that much older than you, twenty-two at most. perhaps he was a senior when you were a freshman at the academy? you remember that year well, that girl lucy gray had won, though it you were advised to forget about it, with the threat of dr. gaul turning you into one of her creations if you didn’t comply with the secret-keeping.

you’re sure you went to school together, but you can’t place his name. he’s probably from one of those old families, judging from the fact that he’s got connections with president ravenstill and how his apartment is carved out of fucking marble. your family is wealthy, sure, but you’ve never seen an apartment like this in your life. has he been watching you since your days at the academy? the thought sends a shiver down your spine.

you wonder why he even chose you, of all people? what kind of person would kidnap someone instead of talking to them? he’s obviously got psychopathic tendencies. and he’s mentioned he wants you all for himself—why could he not just have approached you and asked if you wanted to go to a restaurant in town? you would’ve accepted; he’s handsome and wealthy.

there is something brutal about him, you think. some notion of possessing you that makes his blood run hot. he can’t let anybody else have you, it seems, which is why he won’t even let you go free from the room. you’re too scared of death to try anything foolish like suicide, but perhaps if you managed to slit your wrists artfully enough you’d just end up in hospital. your parents would be able to come get you.

if he decides to touch you, you could always cry rape. that’s if the authorities would listen. but from the looks of things, the peacekeepers would do very little, and his connections that he’s mentioned would probably leave him with legal immunity. it’s a hopeless and dire situation.

you find that your face has been stained with tears—you’ve been crying, it seems. you were so caught up in your thoughts that you had hardly noticed how distraught it had made you. your lip trembles when you question whether or not you’ll ever go free. what if he keeps you here forever? what if you’re never able to go outside again, to feel the snow on your cheeks, the sun caressing your neck with its warm rays? it’s too awful to bear.

—

he returns home in a good mood, and when he opens the door to your room, there’s a smile playing upon his lips. he’s carrying an array of bags, looking almost like the women who spend their hours shopping at the ominous capitol mall. you eye him curiously, wondering if he’s come true on his promise and purchased you something more than a flimsy slip to wear.

he sets them down at the end of the bed, and undoes your restraint, which leaves you feeling more suspicious. it usually takes more convincing than a sad-eyed gaze. you crawl to the bags, your curiosity getting the better of you, and open the largest one.

there’s a lot of pink tissue paper, scented with the potent aroma of lavender, and you pull it out a little carelessly. he sees the joy light up on his face when you pull out the first dress. it’s simple, but you do have to admit, very pretty. it’s made of black satin and is quite short, but it will do—perhaps he intends to let you leave the house after all.

you dig through the rest of the bags, quite pleased with what he’s purchased you. clearly he had somebody help him; while he has good taste for a man, he obviously wouldn’t know much about what you liked in particular. you were grateful for the sweaters and tights, thinking about how frigid it was.

the last bag he pulls out from under his arm. it’s small, and the tissue paper has a familiar scent you recognise; not like the lavender of the other ones, but a more sensuous musky smell. you recall your friends going into that store to buy things to wear for their boyfriends. you shudder thinking of what he could’ve purchased for you.

he slips his hand inside the bag, and pulls out a tiny, silky thing that you’re sure will barely even cover your ass. at least it’s not as blatantly obvious as a lingerie set, but you’re still aware of his intentions.

‘i want you to put this on, now,’ he commands, handing the slip to you. it’s a soft pink, and the hem is edged with chantilly lace. if it wasn’t from him, you probably would’ve actually liked it.

‘do i have to?’ you ask, and are immediately met with a warning glare. you’ve stepped too far—and he hoists you up from the bed.

he grips at the sleeves of your robe, pulling you flush against him. his breath is heavy, and his eyes are brimming with anger. your heart pounds, and you’re certain he can hear it. hear your fear.

‘you will do as i say,’ he seethes, using one hand to undo the tie of the robe, aggressively shoving it off your shoulders.

you shiver, the robe falling to the ground, and you cling to grasp at your breasts, covering yourself up for shame. he grabs the slip, careful not to ruin it, and forces it over your head.

you were right about it being tiny. he stands back and admires you, the way it hardly covers the top of your breasts, leaving little to the eye, and how the hemline comes just under your ass.

‘turn around,’ he says, an awaiting gaze on his face.

you turn, and hear him groan a little, the soft curve of the bottom of your ass sticking out of the slip. he’s so blatant about his desire, dressing you up like a little doll and making you spin for him, showing yourself off to him. it feels unnatural, vain in fact.

‘god, you look so fucking perfect in that,’ he sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist. you feel something hard pressing against your ass, and try not to let yourself tremble with fear.

‘so pretty, baby,’ he presses a hot kiss to the nape of your neck, lips moving down your collarbone. ‘i could just eat you right up… you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

you say nothing, too shocked for words. you feel his teeth graze against your shoulder skin, sucking a soft bruise—marking you as his own.

‘hm? why won’t you speak. i love it when i see your pretty lips tremble around the words. you’re scared, aren’t you?’ his breath is hot against your skin, but you feel so cold. his hands are like ice.

‘i’m sorry…’ you offer, but he gives your hip a pinch and you cry out.

‘you’re sorry? that’s not good enough. i need to know how thankful you are that i’ve bought you such pretty clothes,’ he scowls.

‘thank you,’ you realise you don’t know his name, and thus the words fall flat.

‘thank you? come on, that’s pathetic, sweetheart,’ he laughs, the sound ringing loud in your ears.

‘i don’t even know your name,’ you attempt to face him, but his hold is so tight that you’re locked in.

‘mhm…’ he sighs. ‘i’m sure if i tell me you’ll remember. we were at the academy together, but you were so small then. probably too afraid of the seniors to say a word.’

your mind flashes back to being fourteen—it’s not that long ago, and yet it feels like a lifetime has passed. his sandy hair and icy blue eyes—of course. he was the mentor of lucy gray… the one who had turned her into such a spectacle. coriolanus snow. you remember now. he disappeared for a few months, sent to 12. you paid little attention to politics, you were too young to care.

‘snow,’ you murmur, and he nods, a proud sound coming from his lips.

‘there you go,’ he coos, stroking your arm. ‘see, you’re not completely stupid? all that babbling and yet you were still able to recall my name.’

you’re so pathetic, he thinks. so stupid that you’ll probably be in love with him soon enough. he thinks about how desperate you’ll be for his cock, begging and whining like a little whore, mouth agape and waiting to receive him. he’s reminded of the hard bulge that’s pressing at your ass, and wonders if it’s too soon to satisfy himself with you.

‘i just can’t wait to have you,’ he whispers in your ear. you feel your stomach churn with terror. ‘can’t believe you’re not even wearing any panties… what a fucking whore. you didn’t even think to put them on.’

he’d bought you many pairs of lace underwear, but you’d left them at the bottom of the bag, too ashamed to even dare putting them on. in hindsight, you only left yourself more vulnerable. there was nothing keeping him from slipping his hand between your legs now.

‘please…’ your lip trembles. ‘i can’t do that.’

your legs shake a little, and he shoves you down on the bed. he stands above you, locking your legs between his thighs, and crosses his arms in disappointment.

‘but i’ve been so good to you,’ he clicks his tongue in displeasure. ‘i bought you all these pretty things… and you won’t even wear them for me!’

‘i’m sorry,’ you plead, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. ‘please—i’ve never done anything like that before. i wouldn’t even know what to do!’

a malicious grin plays at his lips. ‘oh, but that’s even better. i can teach you how to please me. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? getting on your knees for me and showing me how well you can take my cock? or perhaps i can take you from behind…’

you squirm, trying to scramble away across the bed, but he pulls you right back to where you’re sitting.

‘shhh, i won’t hurt you, i promise. you’re like a little doll. i couldn’t bear to break you,’ he coos, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. ‘you’ll be good for me, won’t you?’

‘yes,’ you force yourself to reply, the threat of his touches more than enough to get you to obey.

‘yes what?’ he quirks a brow, a warning gaze in his eyes.

‘yes sir,’ you reply, watching as a look of satisfaction crosses his face.

‘such a good girl, hm?’ he sticks a hand between your thighs, tracing the sensitive skin.

you can’t help but gasp—his cold hands make your skin dance with goosebumps. you hate that there’s a tingling coming from your core. your body is betraying you, signalling that you want him to touch you again.

‘look at you squirm, it’s pathetic,’ he laughs, gripping your thigh with his big hands. ‘i’ll leave you for now, sweetheart.’

he removes his touch, and begins to walk to the door. you notice he’s not tied your restraint this time, and choose not to say anything. a devious look draws upon his face.

‘don’t think you’ve escaped me yet. i’m still waiting for you to thank me properly,’ he warns, and you sink back into the bed, feeling utterly hopeless.

what are you supposed to do? surrender yourself to him willingly, or let him have you one way or another? there’s very little choice in the matter.

—

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kidovna · 1 year

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Will and Mike, 1991

the buttons under the cut

for love and for life, we are not going back

No blood for oil

Earth Day

No Reagan

Silence = Death (Pink Triangle CW: the holocaust)

Nuclear Arms

Will Powers (the album)

NASA

The Hellfire Club and Peace sign pins are self explanatory <3

This started because @astrobei said "Mike's the type of guy to look intimidating in a leather jacket from behind, but he turns around and he's wearing a ghostbusters t-shirt" and @cherbearsz reminded me that Will would probably start wearing brighter colours again when he's starting to accept and love himself :')

#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things #byler fanart #mike's mullet was enabled by suni and cher but i'm very attached to it now #i discovered buttonmuseum.org while researching for this piece and its my favourite archival website now

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m-ayo-o · 2 months

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hello 💕 just wanted to let you know I'm a big fan of your stories... I am obsessed with bunny and megumi 🫶🏻🫶🏻 please pretty please could you write a little extra something where he asks bunny what does she want for valentine's day and she tells him she really would love it if yuji comes spend the night with them again 🥺💕

* ✦　˚　. r e d r i b b o n ★⋆. ࿐࿔

hellooo thank uuu lovely ! REQUESTS ARE STILL CLOSED : written in the past! 🍒 nsfw ! explicit sex, aged up yuji x bunny girl reader, cw: light bondage, oral, explicit sex, messy cum... hybrid fics 💕 valentine's

You're being shy about it. Coy, even. But Megumi can sense that you're just itching to ask him something.

You know he's not massively interested in valentine's day. The cards, chocolates and love letters? They're a gimmick. He'll do that for you any day. And he does. He leaves you notes, he buys you flowers- your favourite kinds that make your nose twitch with happiness when you inhale their scent, and he gets thoughtful gifts for you year round.

His attentive nature leaves you not wanting much for valentine's day.

Apart from a certain someone...

After your last encounter with him you really wish you could have just another night with Megumi's pink haired friend.

"Yuji..."

You sigh out his name when Megumi asks what you'd like for valentine's.

"Yuji?"

He's a little astounded but he finds it kind of funny. He could tell you really enjoyed spending time with his sweet friend while he was away.

So he calls him and they make a plan.

Needless to say, you're tripping over yourself when you're guided into your apartment to find Yuji tied up in red ribbons on your bed. There's one around his mouth that already looks damp from his breath, one around his chest, and his big forearms are tied to the bedframe above his head.

"Oh.. Yuij..." you come out of your little daze, stepping over to the bed and getting on top of him where he lies.

"Bunny," your owner addresses you, "can I tell you something funny?"

You look back at him and nod, while you get settled on Yuji's lap.

Your owner asked you to wear pretty red underwear today and you didn't really think too much about it. But when he strips off your dress to reveal your cute body wrapped in red, Yuji whines and your eyes go all wide and dazzled, darting back to him.

"You asked for each other," Megumi chuckles, "for valentine's."

It's not as if he feels left out or anything. He gets you all year round. It's just the fact that, on this special occasion, you thought of each other and it's just so adorable to him.

You sigh with happiness and your ears flop, looking at Yuji, the sweet man who makes your heart melt.

"You two look so cute. Enjoy your valentine's gift, sweetie." Megumi pecks your cheek and gets settled on the chair in your room, his hungry gaze lingering over your bodies, waiting to see what you'll do to each other without his firm and guiding hand.

You're feeling a bit lost at first, but before long you're placing kisses over his handsome face and undoing the ribbon on Yuji's big chest. Admiring the pretty bows tied around his wrists, you start to wonder how he got in this position, realising that Megumi must've done it. That only makes the situation ten times hotter.

Your body starts moving and your pussy, that's covered in the tiniest triangle of red material, grinds over Yuji in his tight red boxers.

You notice his arms start to flex. His biceps bulge and he tugs at the ribbon.

Megumi clears his throat and shoots Yuji an icy glare. The man below you stops his listless movements and lets you continue.

You kiss his cheek, his neck and his gorgeous pecs, stopping to suck on his hard, dark nipples, continuing down his torso to find his abs. You kiss each defined muscle and move to his waist, making him jump with the ticklish feeling of your soft lips and eyelashes fluttering over his skin. But it just makes you kiss him harder, because when he starts to giggle and squirm, his stomach tenses and you can see his muscles moving. Your mouth waters and you start sucking him there, leaving little red marks and working your way further down.

Megumi feels kind of proud, seeing you mark him like that, knowing how often he does it to you.

Yuji's starting to whimper into the ribbon now, feeling you kiss his v taper and his hips. It tickles in such an intense way, and with your mouth getting so close to his crotch, he can feel his cock starting to fill up real quick.

"Mmhh-- mfmm---"

Your warm and pretty face dives between his thighs and Yuji starts moaning through the red silk. He wants to touch your ears so bad. They look so fluffy and cute and he really wants to play with them while you nuzzle into his crotch. You press your face on him there, feeling his warm, hard dick, and you suddenly jump when your cheek gets a little bit wet. You inch back and notice a damp spot on Yuji's red boxers and your eyes get that excited look in them again. You press your face closer and your lips find the darker patch on his shorts.

"Mm!"

He uses all of his power to keep his hips stuck to the bed, almost wishing that Megumi tied his whole body down.

You stick your tongue out, innocently tasting the nectar he spilled, not entirely realising that it's the most sensitive part of Yuji's body right now.

Your lips pucker and you keep kissing him there, smooshing your cheeks into his length and rubbing him up and down through his boxers.

Megumi knew you'd end up doing something like this. You always beg for cock, but when one is given to you, you have no idea what to do with it. He seriously wants to step in right now and at least tug Yuji's shorts down for him. He's got such a look on his face... almost like he's drunk. A hot, pink blush covers his cheeks and his eyes open and close lazily. He looks dizzy.

"Baby," Megumi coos, approaching you and touching your back, "take Yuji's cock out, you're torturing him."

He caresses your snowy tail and starts rubbing his thumb over your ass that's barely covered by the thin string of red.

You look between your owner and Yuji, realising what kind of state he's in, and you pull his waistband down slowly and watch his cock bounce out.

You'll never get over how big he is.

You wonder how he even got inside you before.

But he did, and you're determined to do it again. So, with Megumi's guidance (he couldn't help himself) you place your lips around Yuji's cock and your owner moves your head up and down. He knows exactly how much you can take. But Yuji doesn't. He starts moving his hips now, making you gag, getting both of their dicks harder. But no, Megumi doesn't allow it. He pins Yuji's hips down and encourages you a little more, before lifting you off and bringing you to sit up on Yuji's lap.

Your pretty, pink haired friend looks like he's about to hyperventilate, so you plead with Megumi to take the ribbon off his mouth and he agrees.

"Bunnyy---" Yuji sighs and pants, catching his breath, "bunny-" and as soon as his lungs are filled, you hear his request, "bunny, pl- please sit on my cock baby-!"

His thick and muscular arms start straining again and it looks like he's going to cry.

"Please, please I can't wait- f- fuh-- feels hot-!"

Megumi knows exactly what he means. It feels like he could cum from only a couple of strokes of your pussy.

And he does.

Bucketloads.

In your hole, dripping from you, down his shaft, over his balls, all over the sheets. You're both absolutely drenched by the time he's finished.

And your owner, like the devil on your shoulder, tells you to keep riding him to fuck him through the overstimulation (because Megumi secretly loves Yuji's sweet whining noises when he gets like this).

So you ride out the best Valentine's Day of your life on Yuji's cock, with Megumi's hands on your ass and his lips on yours.

You kiss and fuck all night long, till Yuji is done and Megumi can take his turn.

"happy valentine's, sweetheart" ︎your owner murmurs in your ear, pressing kiss after kiss to your neck before you pass out from pleasure.

megumi | yuji

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mostlyhornyandsad · 3 months

Text

chapter 1 : 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤

summary: You've finally been given your own case, youve made it so far, guess it's smooth sailing from here on right? RIGHT? just some minor complications though. {office romance,love triangle e.w x r! x a.a }

CW: smut, fingering r! receiving, implied that they are lawyers but not very very clearly specified a/n: pretty basic first chapter but im soo excited for this

you've been working under the supervision of a junior partner, but now it's your turn to handle things. You're so fucking ready for it. tomorrow you'll finally get assigned your first major client, but today, today you're going to get fucked stupid

so now here you were, with three of a stranger's, whose name you've come to know is Ellie, fingers deep inside you. You're pushed against the wall of some filthy bathroom and she's got her hands covering your mouth as she tries to keep you quiet. one of your hands is against the door, pushing against it for support and your other hand is on Ellie's hip trying to pull her in closer. She is wearing one of those wife beaters (horrible name btw), she's clearly not wearing a bra inside because her nipples are hard against her shirt. are those pierced????. her chest is against yours, she's pulled your tits out of your dress so she can look at them bounce she fingers you into next week. tears are dripping down the sides of your face, and they're wetting the hand that's keeping you quiet.

"such a slut huh?"she says, like shes asking you a question .

you not your head no as her thrusts only get harsher

"only sluts get fucked open in some bathroom no?"

"imnotaslut" you mumble against her hand "what'd you say?"she says condescendingly as she peels her hand off of your mouth to let you speal

"im not a slut" you repeat. She looks at your tear-stained face, and the slight pout on your face and can't help but think you're kinda adorable. She leans in to kiss you and presses her pink, slightly chapped lips against yours. She's still fingering you so you're letting out little whimpers. ellies a little distracted by your mouth, she wants to give it all her attention, and she wants to keep kissing you, her hands pull out of you and you sigh out in frustration because she's taking away your release.

she grins as she notices and starts to run her fingers through your folds, she rubs lightly, just enough to give you something but not enough to make you come . "please" you beg as you let your head fall onto her shoulder. Ellie, she can smell the sweet fruity smell of your shampoo.

she slips her middle and index finger into you and you're leaning your head against the wall. she starts moving in faster as she relishes the pathetic little sounds that are leaving your mouth. She moves in to kiss and leave marks on your neck as she fucks you harder.

"Ellie" you call out to her. You're gonna cum .

she curls her fingers harder, her long slender fingers fucking into that spot inside. your pussy clenches around her and you're arching your back as you cum all over her fingers.

one of her arms is holding onto you so you don't fall, and your legs are kinda weak. She made you come so hard you still kinda feel her inside even though she's taken her fingers out . once she thinks you'll be alright on your own she lets go of you and walks towards the tissue dispenser, takes one out, and runs it under a tap for just a second so its wet enough that it doesn't irritate your skin. She walks towards you and places her legs between your knees hinting at you to spread your legs and you do. she cleans up the little mess you made on your self.

"Are you feeling alright ?" she asks you as she throws the tissue in the bin and washes her hands.

"yeah im good" you say as you smile at her. "do you want me to go down on you?" you ask her.

"maybe some other time," she says smiling back at you. She can tell you're already worn out. "do you want me to drive you home?"

"id like that"" .............................................................................................................................

the drive back home is surprisingly not as awkward as you'd expect it to be, it's just comfortable silence even though you don't know a thing about her, except her name, that you know. Ellie. you don't expect this to lead to anything, you know how these things go.

meet a hot girl at a bar, fuck, leave.

You've done this quite a few times before. you haven't dated in a while, not since you graduated college. You've still had crushes from time to time though.

"do you do this often?" she breaks the silence. theres no judgement on her face , just curiosity

"have sex with strangers?" you say although you're aware you might come off a bit crass.

she laughs at that, it's such a rough sound, it's so fuking sexy.

"yeah, have sex with strangers, do you do that often ?" she says. it feels like it should be a rude question but you don't mind answering

"yeah," you say before you realize why she might be asking."I'm totally clean through, no STDs up in here," you say as you turn to look at her.

she laughs again with that sexy sexy voice of hers, you should totally record it and make it your ringtone. nvm, that's creepy.

you have no problem being upfront about all this. sex is probably the one part of your life where you can actually let go, the one part of your life where you are okay with giving up control, that's not something that comes easily to you

"do you?" you ask.

"not really," she pauses "sometimes"

you let out a mhmm sound in response.

"you seemed pretty experienced though," you say. was it your intention to indirectly tell her that she fucked you good? yes, yes it was.

"oh yeah? how do you mean?" she says playing into it.

"you definitely seemed like you knew what you were doing with your..." you gesture to her hands that are on the steering wheel. Ellie laughs again, this time with a slight blush tinting her cheeks, it's cute, she cute

"This is it, right here," you say as you point to the apartment building to your left and her car slows to a stop. "thank you for driving me back home".

"no problem. i had a fun time." she adds.

"i had a lot of fun too," you lean in and leave a kiss on her cheek as you walk out of her car and into your apartment building . you might not ever see her again but it sure was a good time .

.............................................................................................................................

It's finally here. You've been waiting for this your whole life, well not your whole life but quite a while. Everything you worked for is finally paying off

"so I trust you'll handle it well, you can always ask for help if you need it" Amani informs you, you can tell she's proud. You've been working under her so far and she's everything you'd expect from a powerful woman in a high position. She is everything you want to be

"yes, I understand," you say restricting your reactions to slightly aggressive nodding and smiling. if you could've, you would be screaming, jumping, and hugging Amani. not like she would've been surprised.

"oh and yes, the new associate will be your second chair, ill send Miss Williams to meet you at your room once she gets here"

"Okay, I'm looking forward to working with her," you say. "I'll do so so good by the way"' you tell Amani, barely containing your excitement

"the case files will be brought to your room soon, make sure to go through them thoroughly." she says smiling at you. "I know you'll do very well" she adds before she walks away.

...........................................................................................................................

you're noting down your plan for the day onto your notion, something you do every day to keep yourself organized when you are interrupted by knocking on the door.

that must be ms. williams

"come in," you say as you stand up and wipe your hands onto your shirt. the door opens and your eyes widen when you realize who you're meeting. five foot-seven brunette with green eyes and freckles littered over her face,. She is looking back at you with pretty much the same expression. her mouth, which was on yours last night, parted in shock. oh fuck

you can see as she mentally gets it together, nods politely, and stretches her arm out for you to shake her hand.

"williams" she says out loud confidently. "ellie williams " she adds

you let out a small laugh when you introduce yourself. again.

these fingers were inside me yesterday

"so we'll be working together," you tell her with a small smile on your face. this is all you've worked for, you're not going to screw it up now. She seems nice, you can be friends, right?

" let's not let anything get in the way of that. no reason to be weird about this right?" you add.

"of course, no reason at all."

a/n: okay so super predictable first chapter, but i have soo many thoughts on this, and ive mapped out a rough idea and I can't wait

abby will be in next chapter<33 my gfs i love them

if you saw grammatical errors, pretend you didn't :o

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #abby anderson x reader #ellie x reader x abby #tlou smut #lesbian smut #ellie williams x reader smut #x reader smut

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theragethatisdesire · 11 months

Text

dall'inizio - eren x reader, 18+!!!!

welcome back to the ti penso universe everyone!!!! this is a continuation/prequel of the little series we've followed from my first eren x reader fic. i was really interested to see how they met and ....unsurprisingly, it's a one night stand that doesn't turn out as planned. this one is also super fun because we get to hear from both eren AND reader alternatively, plus reader is a confident, bad bitch and we love that for her. this one goes out to @philliam-writes bc ik you love this eren as much as i do!!!!!! here's ur part 3 bestie >:)

if you'd like to catch up and meet our eren x reader, find them here:

(1) ti penso ogni giorno

(2) nel bene e nel male

pairing: eren x afab reader

wc: 6.7k

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: smut (duh), consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol/drug use (just weed nothing crazy), cussing, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a lovestruck idiot (and so are you if you're being honest)

title (as always) means "from the beginning" in italian i'm obsessed with them <3

“You look like a whore,” Ymir says bluntly, dragging her eyes over your outfit– or, lack thereof.

“It’s not that bad,” you wave her off, turning back to the mirror to tug at the hem of your little black slip. You do look like a whore, but it’s intentional. You haven’t gotten laid in three months– your friends have been calling you dramatic, but that’s a lot, okay? You’re in college, you’re supposed to sleep around, right?

On top of that, your last few situationships just haven’t quite…well, they weren’t bad, but they didn’t scratch the itch. You desperately need a fuck– not just a fuck, a good fuck, and you have a feeling tonight’s going to be the night. It’s Halloween, the international holiday for running around in basically zero clothes, and you’ve taken great care to adhere to that tradition.

“Are you a mouse?” Historia wrinkles her nose at you from her spot at the vanity in the corner. She’s in a dalmatian costume; cute, spotted ears sticking up from her blonde hair, blue collar tinkling when she cocks her head at you.

“I’m a fucking cat,” you mutter, drawing a black triangle of eyeliner on the tip of your nose, “I didn’t have time for a real costume.”

“She just wants to get laid,” Mikasa announces, pushing through the studio apartment door with a huff, arms laden with plastic bags that are making a tell-tale clinking sound, “it’s been like, two whole weeks.”

“Three months!” You correct her, defensive.

“I understand,” Ymir, appropriately dressed as Cruella de Vil, grins, “it’s been…what, Stor? Two hours?”

“Ymir!” Historia, scandalized, flushes a furious red. Both you and Mikasa are unphased; in the last four months they’ve been together, the three feet they’re sitting from one another now is the farthest apart you’ve seen them.

“I’m not a whore,” you turn around, hands on hips, “I just…it’s been awhile since I had good sex. Floch was–”

“The worst?” Mikasa finishes for you. You hate how well she knows you; even after less than two years of knowing each other, she can practically read your mind.

“Yeah, you may have mentioned that once or twice,” Historia turns back to the mirror, immediately disinterested. “Or a thousand times.”

You throw your hands up, turning back to the mirror to finish your whiskers. “So none of you can blame me.”

“While you two,” Mikasa points between Ymir and Historia accusingly, “have been screwing like rabbits, and you,” her black-painted fingernail finds its way to you, “have been trying to figure out how to sleep with half of Manhattan, I took the liberty of actually making plans for us.”

“Jean’s?” You raise a knowing eyebrow at her, grateful to put someone else in the hot seat for the night. Mikasa’s cheeks tinge pink. Busted.

“He’s throwing a party, yeah,” she answers slowly, trying to talk her way around her obvious attraction to him, “but it’s not those douchebags he usually hangs out with. My best friend from home, Eren, just got into town, and,” she looks at you pointedly, “some of his friends are actually cute.”

You’re unconvinced. “Pictures?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Mikasa bites her lip mischievously, “but if you take a few tequila shots with me, I might be persuaded to show you one or two.”

You’re dubious. Mikasa’s definitely shown you a photo of these guys before, and you don’t remember a standout in the lineup. This Eren character, however…Mikasa has a framed picture on her bedside nightstand of them in high school, and you remember him being sort of cute. Dark, short-cropped hair, big green eyes so wide and earnest that he almost reminded you of a movie character. That picture was three or four years old now so…who knows? Maybe he’d grown into his features.

“Eren’s a no-go, though,” Mikasa continues, knowing your exact train of thought of course, pouring out shots of lukewarm, cheap tequila. Your stomach gurgles in protest at the smell as you accept yours. “He’s a nightmare to women, trust me.”

“Who knows,” Ymir pipes up, nodding her head towards you, “she’s a nightmare to men, so.”

“I am not a nightmare,” you narrow your eyes, “I just don’t like to be tied down, that’s all.”

“You’ll have to be at some point,” Historia argues, smiling when Ymir slips a hand into hers. You wrinkle your nose, uninterested.

“It’s 2018, Stor, not very feminist of you,” you tut, throwing back your shot and practically choking it down. Ick.

“I’m a lesbian, how much more feminist can I get?”

“Touché.”

“Just promise me you won’t get wrapped up with him?” Mikasa eyes you, still not trusting the glint of curiosity in your eye.

Ymir crosses her arms over her chest. “Are you positive you like Jean and not this Eren dude?”

Mikasa makes a fake retching sound. “Eren’s practically my brother. I’ve seen his bare ass more times than I can count. Way past the attraction threshold, trust me. I just…I know him. And I know you,” she glares at you, “it’s a toss-up as to who would do more damage to the other.”

“I’ll behave,” you placate her, throwing your arms around her shoulders, “…maybe.”

Eren might puke. No, wait, he’s going to puke– oh, no, just an unbelievably loud burp. Eren smiles contentedly, feeling much better even as it stinks up the entire taxi. Connie leans over Armin, scrunches his nose and squints his eyes.

“That fucking reeks, dude!”

“Sorry,” Eren shrugs, turning his head back to the window and ignoring Armin and Connie’s complaints. They were all a few beers deep- what did they expect?

Eren’s lived a few hours outside of New York City all his life, but he’s never been, except maybe once or twice for field trips as a kid. He never remembered it looking like this, though: each little apartment twinkled like a star, giving the wall of skyscrapers the appearance of the night sky. Even as the cab screeches and jerks in the Lower West Side traffic, Eren feels like he’s in a spaceship, free and flying amongst the stars.

Maybe he could talk to Zeke, convince him to move their little operation out of their garage and into the city. There was money here, right? And plenty of musicians who weren’t quite good enough to get signed by any major labels…

“Mikasa says she and her friends will be over in five,” Armin squints at his phone screen, holding it far away from him like an old man to type a response. Eren nearly rolls his eyes.

“Would you just get some fucking glasses already?”

“Annie said they made me look nerdy,” Armin shrugs. Connie groans.

“You two broke up like, a year ago–”

“Six months,” Armin corrects him, eyes growing sadder by the second.

“Okay, six months, whatever, we’ve got to get you laid tonight, dude.”

Eren lets the two slip into an argument about the “appropriate amount of time” to wait to sleep with someone after a breakup, much preferring his unusually contemplative mood to Connie and Armin’s bickering after their four-hour train ride together. He smiled to himself; God, it would be good to see Mikasa again. He wouldn’t have admitted it at gunpoint, but she was practically his mom growing up, and she’d been gone for over a year, only visiting for Christmas. Rumor had it that she’d been spending a lot of time with Jean as of late, so he needed to see what that was all about, too.

And who had Eren been spending a lot of time with lately? No one but bar rats and slim pickings from the frat parties at Trost University near his hometown. When was the last time he’d even gotten laid? A month? Two? Her name had been Jenna…no, Jenny? Josephina? Fuck, he should remember that. Eren needs to get laid, regardless, but if he dares to step near any of Mikasa’s friends, she’ll kill him, he knows that from experience. Then again, maybe this weird-ass Jean situation would come in handy. If Mikasa ends up distracted…

“Excuse me!” Armin disturbs his thoughts once again; Eren scowls. “Excuse me, sir? I think we’re here.”

Eren pays for the cab. Armin had bought the train tickets and the chain-gang costumes they were all currently sporting, and Connie was always flat broke, insisting his music career would work out soon. That could be Eren’s fault, though: Connie was one of his and Zeke’s first “clients”. None of them even bothered keeping up with the money exchanged between each other anymore; Connie had been in their kindergarten class, Armin’s mom had changed all of their diapers, Mikasa’s parents were the “cool parents” that let them smoke weed in the backyard, Jean’s mom made the best potato salad. They were a little family, separated by life and college at the moment, but a family all the same. Eren felt a little tingle of appreciation in his stomach as they climbed the stairs to Jean��s walk-up.

“Jaeger!” Jean was dapping him up and smacking a fist against his back before Eren could even properly look around the dark apartment.

“Kirstein,” Eren returns his embrace and has to shout over the music, suddenly smacked with a wave of homesickness at the familiar smell of weed and Jean’s tacky Hugo Boss cologne.

“Make yourself at home, dude,” Jean’s nearly inaudible over the thumping house music. He’s got some stupid mummy costume on that exposes his lean stomach, basically just shirtless and wrapped in toilet paper. Eren stifles a laugh, looking around the apartment for any other familiar faces.

Reiner approaches him next, a goofy, drunken grin splitting his face wide open, tackling Eren in a bear hug. Most of the greetings go like that; I miss you! How are you? How’s the business? Are you still in Shiganshina? It makes Eren’s chest tight, makes him miss the closeness of the people he loves. He was just always fucking working, helping Zeke with paperwork, running around town talking to clients, pulling at his face late at night looking over the finances of everything. He feels wound up, ready to burst, but the blunt and beer Bertholdt just handed him should fix that, at least somewhat. He needs…fuck, he needs to get laid.

His eyes search the room, looking for the one person he’s looking most forward to seeing, but he doesn’t find Mikasa where he expects.

She’s perched on Jean’s lap, giggling over her drink as Jean waves his arms wildly, telling her a story. That bizarre sight only holds Eren’s gaze for a moment, though, because there you are beside her, grinning wickedly with one of those stupid vapes between your teeth.

Eren stops dead in his tracks, speechless. Where do they even make women like that? He goes bottom to top, letting himself be impressed with how well you’re balancing on those high heels, ravishing every naked inch of your exposed legs until he reaches the hem of– fuck, is that just lingerie? Whatever little black thing you’re wearing, it makes his heart race, makes his pants tight. It’s low-cut in the chest enough to tease, a little collar around your neck, and your face…even your face makes him hard, so beautiful in the low lighting, eyes glimmering. You look evil and fun and sexy all at once, and Eren’s sold within the first ten seconds of seeing you.

Before he can make a beeline in your direction, he realizes he’s taken his gaze off of Mikasa and Jean long enough for them to approach him, Mikasa throwing her arms around his neck.

“Eren!” She squeals in his ear, clearly already drunk. Eren chuckles, trying to rein himself in enough to hold a stable conversation. The little black dress flashes behind his eyes as he smiles down at Mikasa.

“Hey Mika,” he ruffles her hair, making Mikasa grumble and reach towards her head to right what he’s ruined. His eyes wander back to you; you’re watching him too, sizing him up. He wonders if you like what you see, pulls at the zipper of his orange jumpsuit to inch it down, reveal some of his stomach. Eren’s not conceited per se, but he spends an unhealthy amount of time in the gym, and he knows it shows. As your gaze travels down to where he holds his zipper, Eren can’t look away, knows it must be obvious that he’s distracted.

“Bro,” Jean snaps his fingers in front of Eren’s eyes, looking over his shoulder to see what Eren’s staring at. He turns back with a smirk. “Yeah?”

Fuck, now Mikasa’s looking off in the same direction, returning her eyes to him with a scowl. Drunk or not, she never fails to scare the shit out of him. “No. No fucking way, Eren.”

“What?” Eren sips his beer innocently, shrugging. He was only staring…for now.

“She’s my best friend, Eren, no,” Mikasa says, firmer this time.

“Thought I was your best friend?”

“Didn’t she just break things off with Floch like…” Jean trails off at the withering glare Mikasa shoots him, turning red.

“She’s off-limits.” Eren nods, her words going in one ear and out the other. Mikasa’s scolded him before, and she won’t stop anytime soon, so what’s one more? She can read his mind, evidently, because she reaches up and pinches his cheek, yanking him down to her level.

“Ow!”

“Off. Fucking. Limits.” Mikasa seethes. “Do you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah I- fuck, let go! I hear you Mika,” Eren rubs his sore cheek, frowning. He can see you laughing at him, eyes barely visible over the edge of your drink. Great, Eren thinks; getting a talking-to from Mikasa like a child was not the first impression he wanted to give you.

Mikasa’s grabbing Jean’s hand and pulling him back towards the crowd, presumably to play guard dog for you, but before she can get him too far, Jean leans back towards Eren, cups a hand around his mouth.

“She’s single, bro,” Jean manages to get out before Mikasa pulls harder, “go for it!”

Eren grins. If Mikasa wanted to bite his head off for this, now he could blame it on Jean. What the hell was he supposed to say to you, though? You’re leagues above the girls he’s been pursuing. If Eren’s honest with himself, he’s intimidated by you, but his only solution is to throw some more of his beer back for liquid courage. He’s always loved a challenge.

When he pulls the cup away from his face, you’ve appeared in front of him, smiling demurely and nearly making him jump out of his skin.

“Hi.”

The second you saw him, you were hooked. He was gorgeous, dark hair pulled into a little half-bun on the back of his head, pretty eyes, and tall and broad to boot. He was almost stern-looking, dark eyebrows shielding his eyes. Dark and mean, just the way you like them.

Mikasa had given him a massive hug, interrupting the clear eye-fucking you were engaged in across the room; so that was Eren? Her long-lost best friend that was always too busy to visit? The happy kid from the picture? You watched her scold him, giggling to yourself at how childlike he became, crumbling under Mikasa’s pinch and pouting when she let him go.

You had no choice, really. Your promise to Mikasa had flown out of your mind the moment you saw those full lips pursed around the blunt, blowing out a puff of smoke, stretching into a wide, dangerous smile. You’re an only child and admittedly, a bit spoiled, so when you want something, you get it.

“Hi,” you can’t manage anything more clever, not face to face with his bare chest. Jean’s apartment is stuffy, and you catch the gleam of sweat on his chest in the LED lighting. You lick your lips.

“Hi,” Eren responds stiffly, looking as surprised as if you’d just punched him in the gut.

“You’re Eren, right? Mikasa’s friend?”

Eren hits his blunt again, nods slowly. “I don’t think we’ve met though, you’re…?”

You give him your name. He smiles and repeats it, rolling it around on his tongue and getting a taste for it. You can already see little hearts in his eyes, it makes you grin to yourself. You had expected him to put up more of a fight; there’s a dozen girls in this room alone that would fall all over themselves to get him in bed, but he’s enraptured by you, eyes never leaving your face. You’ve got him.

“A cat, huh?” Eren addresses the costume, dipping his head in the direction of the little black ears on your head. You’re suddenly embarrassed, feeling a bit silly.

“I, uh, didn’t really have time to shop,” you shrug, pulling at the hem of your dress. Eren’s mouth quirks up. “A prisoner?”

“Yeah, I didn’t get to pick. I like yours, though, it fits you.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “A cat fits me?”

“Yeah,” Eren says, growing surer by the second, “I don’t know. Just fits. S’cute.”

You’re embarrassed by the giddy flutter in your stomach. God, he’s delicious. “You think I’m cute?”

“I think lots of things about you,” Eren replies, voice low and sultry and hardly audible over the music. His eyes widen like he hadn’t exactly meant to say that out loud, but it’s too late now. You grin, all teeth and bad intentions.

“We just met,” you point out. Eren’s confidence has returned, he boldly brings a hand to the spaghetti strap of your dress. His fingers are hot– why do men always run so hot? His touch almost burns.

“You wore this,” he rubs the fabric between his fingers, “and expect me not to have a few thoughts on it? Wasn’t that the point?”

The breath leaves your lungs. Your confidence fizzles at the same rate as your arousal grows. There are plenty of hot guys here, but you might have jumped into the deep end with this one. Something flickers in his eyes, something hungry.

“Why don’t you tell me about these thoughts of yours?”

“I will,” Eren nods, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, “later.”

“Later?”

“We’re at a party,” Eren takes the empty cup from you, replacing it with his own, much larger hand, “shouldn’t we at least dance a little?”

Before you can argue, he’s pulling you out into the center of Jean’s obnoxiously spacious living room, into a jungle of sweaty, gyrating bodies. You’re close enough to the speakers now that the bass pounds through your body to the same rhythm as your heart thudding in your chest. The crowded, makeshift dance floor pushes you into Eren, skin against skin. You have a fleeting moment to be grateful that you’re likely now obscured from Mikasa’s view before a pair of strong hands around your hips prevent any more conscious thoughts from taking shape in your brain.

“One of my thoughts,” Eren’s right beside your ear now, voice echoing in your brain, “is that I like you. Like this body.”

“T-thank you,” you stammer out, wanting to facepalm at not only your stupidly simple response, but the weakness in your voice.

“Move it for me.”

You obey him, letting your body move with the music, trying not to get too caught up in whether or not you look ridiculous with how you’re pressing your body into his, arms thrown around his neck. Eren seems to like the way you move on him, pushing and pulling your hips in the rhythm you’ve set, looking down his nose at you with bloodshot eyes.

Your panties are growing wetter by the second; he’s intoxicating, the feel of him against you, firm and tacky with sweat. His hands are tracing up your sides, dragging slowly as if he’s memorizing the curves of your body. You haven’t known him long enough to want him the way that you do, humiliated by the carnal desire simmering in the pit of your stomach, but you’ve had enough tequila not to care. The whole thing is too similar to what you really want, and you make it through a solid seven or eight songs before you can’t take the stifling tension between the two of you any longer, thick enough to cut with a knife.

You lean up on the tips of your toes, wobbling in your heels, and grab him tight around the neck, pulling him to you. Your lips finally meet; Eren’s slow to respond as you’ve caught him off guard, but he catches on quickly, lips falling open so you can kiss him deeper. His lips are softer than you expect, supple and giving as they move with yours. You trace your tongue through his teeth, hardly suppressing a whine. He tastes good, like cheap beer and weed and lust. You drink him in, a satisfied hum buzzing in your chest.

Without warning, Eren practically rips you off of him. “Not here.”

He’s dragging you through the people around you, knocking them out of the way and not stopping to apologize when he gets offended looks. He pulls you into what you know to be Jean’s room, wastes no time in shoving you up against the door and blocking you in with his wide shoulders.

You swallow hard; you’ve underestimated him.

“Another one of my thoughts,” Eren mouths at the area beneath your ear, makes you groan, “is that you’re pretty. Like, very fucking pretty. Bet you’re twice as pretty under this dress.”

“I think you’re pretty, too,” you manage to say, forcing the words from your mouth. Eren chuckles, smiling against the shell of your ear.

“C’mere,” he tilts your chin up, kissing you again. It’s troublingly gentle, long and languid as your mouths move against one another. He kisses you like he loves you; the thought makes alarm bells ring in your head, and you nip at his bottom lip to break up the emotional momentum, sink your teeth into it. Eren pulls back, chuckling down at you. “You’re mean.”

“Only a little.”

“Is that what you like?” Eren thumbs at your mouth, slipping his finger between your lips. You suck greedily, rubbing your tongue against the roughness of his fingertip. “Like it a little mean? Between you and me, I like ‘em a little mean, too.”

You nod, gently biting on his thumb. Eren groans, a low rumble deep in his chest. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with you.”

He’s pulling your dress over your head before you can stop him, sucking in a sharp breath when he gets an eyeful of your lace-clad breasts, the tiny thong you’ve slipped over your hips. Stronger than you’d expected, Eren pulls you up to wrap your legs around his waist, slamming your back against the door with a loud thud and knocking your stupid cat ears to the floor. You can hear a few sounds of surprise from outside; surely that got a few people’s attention, but you’re lost in him, whimpering at the feel of his jumpsuit costume rubbing against your clothed center.

Eren’s sloppy, placing open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to suck a bruise underneath your ear. You gasp, canting your hips into his stomach, desperate for friction. You’re normally not so uninhibited, but Eren’s doing something to your head, has your mind spinning. He’s carrying you over to the bed, dropping you down onto Jean’s sheets. Eren leans down to pull your heels off, a sweet gesture if you could find the presence of mind to acknowledge it. You feel a flicker of guilt about doing this in Jean’s bed, but when Eren starts sliding a hand up your thigh, it flickers away into nothing, swallowed by your bottomless want.

“Look at that,” Eren smirks, rubbing his fingers over your panties, “soaked. This all for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine, hips jerking up towards his touch. It is for him, it was from the moment you laid eyes on him, and you both know it. His hands are everywhere: unclasping your bra, pulling your panties down, palming at your tits. You arch your back up to him, offering him your chest; he responds by closing down on one of your nipples with his teeth.

“So pretty,” Eren’s murmuring around the mouthful of your flesh he’s got, twisting the neglected nipple of your right breast between his fingers, “so pretty.”

“Eren,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair, pulling it out of its bun and wrapping the hair band around your wrist. His mouth is hot, scalding, even, but you pull him closer to you anyway, pressing his face into your tits. Eren doesn’t seem to mind, letting you move him this way and that, show him what you like and how to pull those pretty moans out of your mouth. Before long, he’s kissing his way down your stomach, hands gripping your hips like a lifeline.

“Want a taste,” Eren sounds more like he’s talking to himself than to you, “need to taste this pussy.”

“Eren,” you reach for his hair, trying to pull him back up to you. While you’d love to see what the mouth that had just kissed you breathless could do between your legs, the thumping music outside is an annoying but consistent reminder that there’s an entire party outside and you’re in Jean’s bedroom. The clock’s ticking. “Want to feel you, we don’t have time for–”

“Don’t have time?” Something wicked lights Eren’s face up as he shimmies your panties down your legs. “Believe me, it won’t take long.”

“Eren,” your protest is feeble but earnest, and you make another attempt to reach for him when a long, thick lick up your center renders you near-unconscious. You moan, a little louder than you would have liked to.

“See? Gonna make you feel so good, trust me,” Eren’s punctuating each word with a little kiss somewhere on your pussy: your clit, your lips, right over your fluttering entrance. You have no choice but to whimper and nod, canting your hips up towards him. You look down, immediately regretting it: Eren’s wiggled out of his costume, naked and beautiful and staring up at you from between your legs. You’re hardly able to swallow the inhuman sound that threatens to rip from your throat.

Where he’d been cool and calculated pulling you onto the dance floor, you quickly learn that Eren eats pussy like he can’t control himself, like his life depends on it. His massive hands wrap around the tops of your thighs, securing you against his face as you try to squirm away. He licks into you enthusiastically, moaning against you at the taste, sending a succession of vibrations through you that go straight to the fire in your stomach.

When his lips close around your clit and suck hard, you have to slap a hand over your mouth to stop a wail from reaching the ears right outside the door. Eren takes the opportunity to sneak a finger into you, curl it right against that gummy spot in your walls that has you seeing stars. As he works his finger in your cunt, he kisses his way back up to your mouth, greeting you with a sloppy kiss.

“Feels good, right?” Eren’s face is literally dripping with you, a sharp-toothed grin barely visible in the dim light.

“Feels good,” you whimper, daring to look down to where he’s grinding his palm against your clit. You can see the veins of his muscular arm straining as he pumps in and out of you; it’s a lewd sight, one that makes your head spin. “‘S so much Eren, I— fuck.”

“Yeah?” Eren’s smile grows darker, another finger slips into you easily. You’re practically dripping onto the sheets at this point, rolling your hips against his hand with your mouth hanging open. It’s humiliating but too gratifying to stop. “Gonna cum for me? You can do it, give it to me.”

“God– close, so c-close,” you can barely find the words to respond, the pressure in your belly swelling at an alarming speed. You’re going to squirt, you know you are, should move off of Jean’s bed or warn Eren or do something, but it’s too late.

You thrash in Eren’s grip, cumming so hard you think you can taste blood where you bite your lip. You can feel the wetness spraying from you, soaking Eren’s hand and the sheets and your inner thighs, can distantly hear your pitiful cries, but you’re powerless to do anything about it until the mind-numbing orgasm’s run its course. Eventually you do settle, babbling incoherently into Eren’s shoulder about Jean’s ruined sheets, about how you’re sorry for making a mess. Eren shuts you up with his mouth on yours; you can hear the distant rip of a condom wrapper.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he laughs, rolling on top of you and lining himself up, “gonna have to keep you.”

Before you can even think to offer to return the favor or make a sarcastic remark about how you’d never let anyone keep you, Eren’s pressing into you, and your mind short-circuits. Shit, maybe you’d let him keep you.

You hadn’t gotten a good look at him in the darkness, but he’s big, bigger than you’ve ever had before, and big enough that you realize this when he’s not even halfway in.

“Eren…it’s so– s’big,” you hiccup into his shoulder, fingernails clawing into his biceps.

“Is it too much, baby?” You hate pet names, hate them, but from the greek god splitting you open right now, you love it, want to lick the word right out of his mouth and taste it on your own tongue. The genuine concern glittering in his eyes, the little furrow between his brows as he pauses, frowns down at you, fuck, you might be in love.

“No, not too much– feels good.”

Eren’s grin is feral. “Yeah? Tell me.”

“Feels so fucking good,” a little giggle sneaks out from your clenched jaw, Eren smiles wider and cups your face to kiss you again, far too gently to match the way he’s stretching you, bullying your cunt into the shape of him.

“Feel full?”

“Mhm,” he’s bottomed out now, impossibly deep, and you give him a little roll of your hips to show him just how okay you are, that you’re ready to see what he can really do.

“You’ve got–” Eren rolls his hips experimentally, punches a moan from your chest– “the best fucking pussy. So tight for me.”

Ordinarily, dirty talk makes you cringe, but something about the way he words things, as raw as if his inner monologue is spilling out of him, turns you on, makes your cunt clench down around him. That makes him happy, he sucks in a breath of air and starts pounding into you hard enough to make tears well in your eyes, hard enough to make you squeal in a way no one else ever has.

“Taking me so fucking well, baby,” Eren’s hands are grabbing your face, his lips pressing into your forehead, “never gonna let this pussy go.”

You grant him a long moan of agreement, so cockdrunk that for now, you’re more than happy to sign your freedom away to stay in this bed, pinned underneath him for all of eternity. He’s fucking into you so deep he’s practically in your throat; your breath comes out in short little huffs, choking on the brutal pace of his fucking. And god, he’s so big, but you’re taking him somehow, like you were made for it.

Eren moves one of his hands away from his face to swat your fingers away from where you’re digging into his arms, surely close to drawing blood.

“Fucking hurts,” he hisses, “just as mean as you are pretty, y’know that?”

He easily manhandles your arms above your head, pinning them above you by your wrists. The way he stretches his body to do so changes the angle he’s fucking into you at; now he’s hammering into the spot inside of you he’d found far too quickly with his fingers. Your eyes shoot open at the change, and Eren doesn’t miss it. He smirks.

“Right there?”

“God, yes, please– right there,” you sound pathetic, the few surviving rational brain cells you possess are laughing at you, but there’s no help for it. He’s already got you spiraling towards cumming again, the wetness from your cunt creating a sucking sound where he’s moving in and out of you.

“Fuck, m’close. Think you can cum again for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe, tilting your head up to nip at his neck, a tear or two running down into your hairline. You can do anything he asks, you think, anything in the world just for him, for how he’s making you feel. Eren practically growls, pistoning his hips faster.

“Need you to cum for me, okay beautiful? Cum right now.”

“S-so close– I– Eren, oh my god,” you’re babbling, eyes rolling back into your head. Eren smashes his lips to yours, grinding his hips into your clit and shoving you over the edge for the second time that night. You sob and convulse around him, back arching desperately and pressing your chests together. You’re seeing stars as he fucks you through it, grunting in your ear and growing sloppy as you tighten around him.

“Fuck!” Eren bites into your shoulder, hard enough to bruise, stilling his hips as deep inside you as he can manage. Your fucked-out brain wants the condom off, wants to feel the full warmth of him as he cums inside of you, grinding his hips against yours. Before he’s finished, Eren moves back to your mouth, kissing you deep and slow, a kiss that means a whole lot more than what you’ve just done together as a party rages just past the door.

As you’re panting beneath him, trying to ground yourself and come back to reality, Eren rolls off of you, whips the condom off, and to your surprise, takes you into his arms, pulls your head to his chest.

“You okay?”

You’re so blissed out right now that it’s a laughable question, and you giggle, watery and light into his chest. “More than okay.”

Eren laughs at that, a real laugh from deep in his stomach. The sound of it makes something warm and happy spark in your chest. “That good, huh?”

“You’re alright.” You’re trying to keep your eyes open, more than aware that your teeny tiny thong is on the floor and you’re naked in the arms of a stranger in Jean’s fucking bed, but Eren’s so warm, so comfortable, your eyes are fluttering despite your protests.

“Oh?” Eren’s voice raises in pitch, gets breathy. “Yes, Eren! Right there, Eren! I’m cumming, Eren!”

“Oh my god, shut up!” You smack at his chest, cheeks burning, but you make no move to roll away from him, preferring your snug little hovel against him to the loud, smoky party that awaits you should you leave.

“S’okay,” Eren presses a kiss to your hairline, “I like that you’re loud.”

“Not loud,” you grouch, resolving to let yourself enjoy just a few minutes of keeping your eyes closed before you return to the party. The last thing you remember is Eren humming, tracing circles into your shoulders with his fingers. You think you recognize the tune; it’s a love song.

–

“Jaeger!”

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god, is that Jean? What time is it? Eren!”

Eren’s first peaceful sleep in months is disturbed rather rudely, in his opinion; he shields his eyes from the brightness of the overhead light, peering through his fingers to see you, hair a rat’s nest and smudged makeup in rings around your eyes. He scowls at the warm, empty spot next to him in the bed that you’ve already leapt out of, frantic with energy even through your hangover. You’re alternating between running around the room naked, trying to find your dress, and shaking him urgently. He bites back a grin; so you are real, and just as hot as he remembered.

“Chill the fuck out, Jean!” Eren shouts, using far more energy than he can afford to expend if he’s leaving the bed anytime soon. The alarm clock on the nightstand reads 7:01am. Shit. “We’ll be out in a second!”

“Get your ass out here, Eren!” Shit. Mikasa’s here too? Oh, he’s dead the second he leaves this room. All the better to stay put, then.

“Get up,” you hiss at him, looking every bit of a pissed-off racoon as you scrounge around on the floor.

“Need my hair tie back if you want me to get up.”

“Ugh, here,” you fling it at him, hitting him squarely in the forehead. Eren chuckles, pulling his hair off of his neck and into its usual bun. He feels empty, feels alone, realizes that he wants your touch, the same body-to-body contact that he’d enjoyed last night..

“They’re fine,” Eren grumbles, hoping you can’t see the amusement written on his face, “we’ve got a few more minutes.”

He reaches sleepily for you, pulling you back into the bed with him amidst your whispered protests, pulling your lips back to his where they belong. He kisses you slowly, indulgently, convincingly. Your skin against his does wonders for the soul-crushing anxiety he’s been putting up with over the last few months. You’re like a drug to him; just one hit and he feels worlds better, feels like he can actually get through everything weighing on him for now. Jesus, even your morning breath doesn’t turn him off; his cock twitches in interest beneath the covers. Cute when you’re angry, he thinks to himself. He has a feeling you’d smack him if he said it out loud.

“We can’t,” you breathe into his mouth, pushing weakly at his chest. Eren loves the feel of your palms on his chest, necessarily resistant in the name of a one–night stand, but lacking the force to prove your point. You want him too, he realizes. The thought goes straight to his dick, and he takes a deep breath to keep his composure, to stop himself from jumping all over you with Mikasa and Jean right outside. He’s rather impressed with his efforts, rubbing small circles on your lower back instead of grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling you into his lap like he wants to.

“We can,” Eren murmurs back, already ten times happier than he was a moment ago, “just want to kiss you, that’s all.”

That makes you pull back, fix him with a stern look. “I don’t want to come off as a bitch, but I don’t really do the morning-after thing. Don’t you live, like, five hours from the city anyway?”

Eren’s not the brightest when he’s tired, and he’s even stupider around beautiful women. He cocks his head at you, smiling. “Mikasa didn’t tell you? I’m moving to the city in a few weeks.”

You eye him suspiciously. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Eren’s bullshitting, bullshitting very badly and he knows it, “just have to get some things worked out with my brother and our business. Get the operation moved here, that’s all.”

He knows your type: flighty, heavily anti-commitment, and meaner than a snake when you’re cornered. But Eren hopes, he hopes stupidly and against all reason because even if it was just a night, he meant what he said in the throes of passion. You’re funny, you’re interesting, you’re sexy, and he doesn’t want to let you go. He wants to fuck you stupid, just like he did last night, for the rest of his life.

He can’t say any of this out loud, of course, but what if he’s not bullshitting? What if he can convince Zeke to move their amateur record label into the city, where they can pick up real artists, and he can fuck you stupid whenever he feels like it? Maybe he can even learn how you like your coffee, what your bra size is, where the junk drawer in your apartment lives. Eren doesn’t know you, he knows that, but he inexplicably wants those things, wants the mundane parts of you for himself.

“Get the fuck out here, Jaeger, that’s my fucking bed!” Fists pound against the door, threatening to barge into your little sanctuary. Mikasa’s calling your name from outside too, voice harsh and angry. Eren waits for you to scold him, waits for you to shove him off of you and tell him to fuck off.

To his surprise, you make no move to get up and offer him a sheepish grin, shrugging shyly as if you’re not fully naked in his arms. “I guess I’ll see you around, then.”

Eren’s heart swells. “I’m not chancing that. Give me your number.”“You can earn my number if you buy me breakfast,” you scoff, “and help me find my dress before Mikasa kills us both.”

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren yeager x readaer #eren x you #eren jaeger x you #eren smut #eren jaeger smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #aot x you #aot x reader #ti penso uni #ti penso universe #i love them this makes my heart warm!!!!!!!!!

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dellalyra · 10 days

Text

𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙬𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣’𝙨 𝙙𝙖𝙮

ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴇxᴛʀᴀ

A/N: hello it is i pixie emerged from hibernation to drop you this month late extra of our favourite family and then crawl back into my lair.

cw: the usual swearing, mentions of sexism, menstruation and female reproductive system, suggestive ending.

“No way! See I heard it had something to do with that little twerp from the Zen’in clan. Navel - or nacho or whatever the fuck his name is.”

“Ugh - why does that not even surprise me. He’s such a shithead, like you should have seen the look on his face when my mom interjected at a Jujutsu higher ups event she muscled her way into. Honestly it’s gotta be like - microscopic. Oh and it’s Navel now - never using Naoya again.”

Shoko and you had just been out on a girls day out, just the two of you - a visit to the arcade, lunch, some shopping and an exhibition on the human body. It had to be done, girl time was integral to maintaining a sense of sanity when the other 50% of the friend group was G.S squared.

The gossip had continued back to the dorms, where you both stood holding bags of snacks and the days haul while you put in the key code.

The door swung open and there stood Satoru Gojo, and Suguru Geto - both decked in pink party hats and shouting ‘surprise!’ (okay, gojo was shouting - geto was just saying).

“Jesus Christ!”

“What the fuck?!”

The camaraderie that came from the jumpscare resulted in Shoko and you both swearing and jumping in surprise at the sudden appearance.

Before either of you could react any further to it, long arms still a bit unaware of his strength, tug you both into a bonecrushing hug.

Shoko twists Satoru’s nipple through his shirt so he shrieks and lets you both you (you hide your disappointment).

You look at Geto, who winks with a devilish smirk and turn to the wall where the table is laid out with both you and Shoko’s favourites and a giant handmade poster on the wall with “Happy International Women’s Day” in large bubble writing.

Suddenly the confused silence was broken as a cheerful voice started singing, and was then accompanied by a louder Satoru.

“Happy InternationalWomen’sDay to you, Happy InternationalWomen’sDay to you! Happy InternationalWomen’sDay Shoko and Y/N, Happy InternationalWomen’sDay to you!” echoed with far too many syllables in the tune of ‘happy birthday’ across the room as Haibara emerged from the kitchen, with a strange red blob shaped cake in his hands followed by a very unhappy looking Nanami Kento.

The cake was placed on the table as you and Shoko looked at it in confusion - it was a red colour frosting on a cake shaped like a weird triangle with two squiggles coming from the sides joined to two cupcakes. For the life of you - and Shoko too if the look on her face was anything to go by - you had no idea what the cake was meant to be.

Suguru’s smirk was unnerving as he looked between you both.

“Shoko-senpai and Y/N-senpai! So strong, and powerful, and clever and pretty! Not that being pretty is important for being a woman - it’s just a bonus - not that it’s not great that you’re pretty, because it is, like it’s amazing! If I was into girls I’d definitely be into you both! But it’s not what makes you amazing!” Haibara says, clapping his hands.

“The strongest, most powerful, clever and cunning and most beautiful girls! We couldn’t do any of this without you. Well, I could -” Satoru starts.

“Satoru.” Geto warns.

“Okay, maybe I sometimes need backup and you girls are definitely the best choices after Suguru!” He finishes.

“That was barely complimentary.” Nanami scowls.

“We love and respect you both!” Satoru says.

“Some love you more than others…” Suguru smirks.

“Equally! Equally! We love you all equally and in a very friendly, respectful, and caring way!” Satoru says, kicking Suguru’s shin.

This whole time, you and Shoko had just been staring between them all.

“What the fuck…” Shoko whispers.

“Ditto…” You pipe in.

Satoru pops pink party poppers in both your faces and then Suguru uses the distraction to place a party hat on both your heads.

“Shoko - you save our asses, sometimes literally on an almost daily basis. Your no nonsense attitude and ability to care for us all and unflappable nature is a core reason we’re all here and we would be lost without you. You’re also underhandedly funny, and we’re very thankful to have you in our lives.” Suguru says, smooth and steady as always, and elbows a fidgeting Satoru.

“Y/N! You - are so awesome! You’re smart, and funny, and kind, and you make sure we’re all safe and strong and it’s so cool when you kick ass and I love exorcising with you - and your cursed technique is so cool and you work so hard and I don’t really respect many people but I definitely respect you! You’re also beautiful but that’s not important - not that you’re not like, importantly pretty! Because I think it’s very important that everyone knows you’re so pretty!” Came a gushing scramble of words from the usually overconfident Satoru - because complimenting the one person who has ever made him nervous was a bit of a shock to the system of the Honoured One.

For a moment, you and Shoko just stood in bewildered silence - still holding hands from when you walked in.

Before you look at each other, and simultaneously double over in hysterical laughter - clutching onto each other for support.

“This was so fucking strange, but I love it - we love it. Thank you boys, for this. It’s really appreciated.”

“That’s because we - appreciate you!” Gojo says, pointing between the four boys.

You hug all the boys, while Shoko inspects the cake on the table.

“Is this a Magikarp or something?” She asks, head tilted as she examines the red blob.

“It’s a uterus!” Haibara exclaims.

After trying to figure it out - the cupcakes where the ovaries should be and the triangle the uterus itself… it makes slightly more sense - but maybe International Women’s Day would be spent with an anatomy lesson from Shoko.

“Kid, listen - today we are going to be extra respectful of our girls, yeah?” Satoru says, opening the bag of pastries he had bought for breakfast the night before after Megumi talked him out of attempting to make pancakes. Megumi nodded, and placed the two bouquets of flowers on the two chairs his mom and sister usually sat in.

“They’re both very, very important to us. Sometimes, kid - the world is really shit for girls. A lot more than it is for us. Things that might be a bit difficult for us - not for me, but others - would be really hard for girls.”

“Periods.” Megumi grimaces, but nods solemnly.

“Yeah. But other things too. Like sometimes girls get less money for the same jobs, and people try to tell them how to look or how to act - or, no joke, tell them what they can do with their own body! Even simple stuff, like sometimes it’s dangerous for girls to go certain places, or people might expect less from them just because they’re girls.”

“Even for Mama?” Megumi asks, confused because from his perspective, the woman who has raised him the past 2 years is the most powerful (second to Gojo, but don’t tell him that) and formidable person he knows, and the kindest and funniest.

"Sometimes especially for her. Y/N is really strong, yeah?" Gojo asks, taking out a jug of juice and placing it on the table, before scribbling on one of your cinnimaroll post it notes and sticking it on the jug.

"Yeah." Megumi nods.

"Do you think that's scary?" Gojo asks.

"I think it's cool." The boy shrugs.

"Some men don't. They think she doesn't deserve it, or she is too weak to hold such a power - did you know your mama had more disciplinary meetings at school than I did?" Gojo says as he switches the kettle on.

"Why? Yaga-san said you were a nightmare student." Megumi is shocked at the thought.

"I was. But what's the difference between me and your mom?" Gojo says, pulling down 4 mugs. One with two puppies, one with the Winx Club characters on it, another with ‘Daddy Cool’ in big obnoxious yellow writing and the last with the BTS logo in purple.

"She isn't annoying."

"Okay, rude."

"She's a girl."

"Yep. That's why. Your - your Uncle Suguru was special grade too - and he and I did some crazy shit - and we got slaps on the wrist mostly, but your mom was late with a mission report one time because she was sick and they gave her extra work for a month. Aunty Koko too."

"But why?"

"Because weak men fear powerful women."

"That's dumb."

"Super dumb."

“Something girls in my class get notes sent home even though they didn’t do anything really bad.” Megumi scowls.

“That’s why we gotta fight to make sure we’re not part of the problem, and stop boys who are.” Satoru says, placing the heated pastries on the table.

“Like fighting them?”

“Sometimes they’re not even worth the effort, kid. Just stick up for girls and never treat them as anything less than a boy - okay? There’s shit girls deal with that we will never go through or understand.”

“Oh, like the stuff you and mama talked about with the girls my age in the Zen’in clan?”

“Your cousins, yeah.”

“And why the higher ups are dicks to mama’s family?”

“Exactly! You’re so smart you have to have gotten it from me.” Gojo smiles, hands on hips in his frilly apron.

“That’s not even possible.”

“Yes it is, I made it possible.” Satoru’s just winding the 9 year old up at this point.

“You’re impossible.” Megumi growls.

“Your hair’s impossible!” Satoru blows a raspberry.

“A slow start to the day is impossible, apparently.” Came your voice from where you stood leaning against the archway to the kitchen, a sleepy smile on your face in your fluffy blue robe and bunny slippers. Tsumiki padded up behind you, much brighter and a definite morning person.

“Happy international women’s day, my amazing girlie pops!” Satoru claps and scoops you both into the air with ease, giggles resounding through the room.

Megumi just scrunches his nose, staring bewildered at where the man gets his energy.

“Thank you, ‘Toru. You’re very sweet to do this.” You kiss him with a smile and walk to sit down at the table.

“Not as sweet as that a-” Satoru starts, but is swiftly cut off my Megumi’s disgusted groan, unable for his guardians flirting just yet.

You sit down and sniff the bouquet on your chair, delighting in the assortment of your favourite flowers, as Tsumiki does the same beside you.

“Happy women’s day, mama and Tsumiki.” Megumi nods, quiet but clear.

“Thanks, ‘gumi!” Tsumiki smiles, ruffling her younger brother’s spiky black hair.

“Thanks, sweet boy.” You wink at him.

As you go to pour yourself some juice, you can’t stop the giggle at the stick note on the carton.

‘Respect Women Juice’

“Yo, mini-me, did you grab the Doriyaki on the way home?” A 44 year old Satoru asks his 17 year old son who’s entering the kitchen.

“Yeah, I got extra too because ‘Rai’s been crabby so I think she’s due shark week.” The boy says, snatching a mochi from the box before Satoru could.

“Your mom too…” Satoru’s head turns sharply.

“Oh shit.”

“It’s happened…”

“We can do this - dad.” His son says with a straight, serious face as they both examine the calender.

“We just gotta be the best husband, son and brother ever.” Satoru nods.

“Well… that won’t be hard.” Akio smirks, only 2 inches shorter than his dad and growing.

“Of course it won’t. We’re the strongest.” Satoru says, doing his ridiculously intricate secret handshake with his son.

A moment later, two sets of feet pad down the stairs.

43 year old you and your 14 year old daughter walk into the room, your arms snugly wrapped around your little girl’s shoulders.

You knew what to expect on March 8th every year by now, it had been 25 years of it.

“Happy international women’s day, my incredible wife and mind blowing daughter.” Satoru says with a smile and open arms spanning half the kitchen.

“25 years of this and it still gives me butterflies, thank you ‘Toru.” You say, pressing a kiss to your husbands jaw by dragging his collar down to meet you.

“Thanks dad, thanks ‘Kio!” Mirai claps and hugs them both.

“Thank you, mochi.” You say, also dragging your too-tall son’s collar down to press a kiss to his cheek.

As you all sit down to breakfast, and chatter aimlessly, Satoru pulls you to sit on his lap as always.

“Oh, ‘Rai, I’m gonna go into the mall to pick up my new Nikes too - do you want to come?” Akio says, and even though this is a regular occurrence - it warms your heart every time to see that your two babies aren’t only siblings, but also best friends - genuinely enjoying each other’s company and actively seeking each other out. Something tells you that will never change, either.

“Sounds good, do you still want to try that new boba place? The one with the cat logo?” Mirai says, googling the opening times and showing it to her brother.

“Bring me back a brown sugar milk tea?” You plead, the same look on your face as when 17 year old you got excited for boba dates with Satoru.

“Course, Mama. Papa, do you want one?” Mirai asks, her long snowy white hair bushy and wild from bed head inherited from you.

Satoru smiles, hand rubbing circles against your hip as Mirai types his order into her notes.

“Is Aunty Koko still coming over tonight?” Akio asks, looking up at you with eyes just like his father’s.

“She is, I think Uncle Cho too. I was thinking we’d order pizza.” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yes, mom - you actually have mind reading technique I swear.” He pats your head as if you weren’t his mother.

The two kids wander to get dressed, leaving you still sipping coffee curled against your husbands broad chest.

Your phone dings with a notification from the family group chat, and Satoru nudges you to open it.

A selfie, clearly taken by Yuuji, face scarred and older but beaming expression unchanged - featuring a taller, sharper 31 year old Megumi with a toddler in each arm, looking out over the ocean at sunset.

“They seem bigger every time I see them.” Satoru laughs.

“The twins or Yuuji and Megs?” You giggle.

“Both. Still can’t believe ‘Gumi had the audacity to grow up so much. I specifically told him to stop.”

“Eh? Satoru - imagine how I feel! Both our sons are at least a foot taller than me! Try talking to a kid when you need a step stool to look them in the eye!” You poke his cheek.

“Nawh, poor baby. You’re as pocket sized as the day I met that pretty girl holding a ladybug waiting for introduction at Jujutsu Tech. Gonna carry you around in my pocket.” Your husband teases, squishing your frowning cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah - alright daddy long legs.”

“Seriously though - we should take another trip to Malaysia, get Cho to stay with the kids. We can ask the boys where they stayed, looks pretty as hell.”

“Let’s do it, pretty boy.” You kiss the corner of his lips.

“You know… the kids are gone all afternoon…” He says, large hands squeezing your waist.

“They are… and it just so happens I just bought something very, very pretty to try on.” You raise an eyebrow, biting your lip.

“Oh? A private fashion show?” He says, thumb on your lower lip.

“Just for my ‘Toru.”

“Invite really fuckin’ accepted, princess.”

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #dad!gojo

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kiztae · 1 year

Text

give you everything ― k.taehyun x f.reader

word count: 1,9k.

genre: best friends to lovers, love triangle (sort of), angst, suggestive.

summary: when your ex-best friend gets drunk at a party, you take care of him. however, past memories and feelings come back and things take a turn.

cw: metions of alcohol consumption, slightly under the influence, making out, marking, grinding.

note: my first work and first post on tumblr, hope you enjoy it.

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

“i need to get you away from all this.” you say while looking around the room and then back at him. “c’mon, get up.”

after sitting beside taehyun for what felt like hours, you got up to get him out of the room.

taking care of him meant you had to constantly bring him glasses of water and make sure he kept himself conscious. taehyun doesn’t usually drink a lot, so this is new to you.

he always thought people who got too drunk at parties were dumb for doing things like that in public. but now, he’s the one sitting on the floor against the wall, trying to regain his composure.

you grab taehyun’s arm and then place your hand on his waist to hold him up next to you. his ears show a shade of pink at your bold touch but he keeps it hidden. he tries to shrug you off and mumbles something about not wanting to move, but you’re not letting him stay there any longer.

“i don’t wanna leave. i'm fine y/n... really.” he says while talking at a slow speed, like he was fighting for those words to come out.

you ignore his remarks as you walk out the room. once you reach the hall you take a glance at the rooms and decide that the bedroom at the end of the hall would be a calmer place.

“all i want is for you to get better, and that room was the worst place to sober up. you’re already doing good, so just do as i say okay?” you retort as you make your way to the center of the room and reach for the bed, sitting him on the edge of it.

“whatever.” he slurs while lazily looking around the room and then at you.

you take the bottle of water you had brought and then hand it to him as you sit down on the other edge of the bed. as he drinks the water you look up to the ceiling and start reflecting about the past.

it has been a while since you talked to taehyun. after you started to go out with his best friend nicholas, things felt more distant. not awkward, just, distant.

you met taehyun through nicholas a while ago. you guys went bowling and he introduced you to some of his friends: taehyun being one of them.

after that bowling night, taehyun reached out to you to hang out more often. and so, you two became best friends. you would eat out, watch movies or most of the time, just talk.

however, he wasn’t the only one hanging out with you. you were still going out with nicholas regularly at that time, and you guys were closer than ever. taehyun knew this, and for some reason it bothered him. he didn’t want to accept it, but he couldn’t deny the fact that he liked you, from the very start. he knew it was wrong, how could he like the same girl as his best friend? so, he decided to keep quiet and he never said anything ; until one day.

it happened around two weeks ago, on a wednesday afternoon: you and taehyun were eating some sweets after walking around town. he always bought you sweets, he knew you loved them. you two decided to eat them while sitting in front of the shop. you had called for an uber and while waiting for it you two chatted about whatever crossed your mind.

“hey,” taehyun cut the conversation while he stared at the cars passing by “i need to tell you something.”

“sure... what is it?” you said keeping your eyes on the cars, slightly concerned by his serious tone. you both wouldn’t look at each other.

“i..” he paused. “i had feelings for you.”

you frowned and kept looking at the road, you were about to say something in response but he cut you off.

“but i don’t anymore. i liked you and it’s in the past.” he continued while avoiding your gaze. “you’re going out with nicholas and he’s my bestfriend. i don’t want to lose him, or you.” he states.

“i liked you too, a while back.” you stared at the cars going at a fast speed as you reflected on this. you recently had a feeling he liked and you kept it away for the same reasons as him.

“it’s all in the past, right? we-” taehyun asked you, but it felt like he asked himself that too. “we’re good like this, right?”

“i-“ as you try and answer him, your uber calls. you look at the car and then back at him as you walk off, sighing. “i have to go.”

“how’s nicholas doing?” says taehyun from the other side of the bed, suddenly cutting your train of thought.

your best friend is doing his best to sober up and here you are thinking about useless things. get a grip y/n, you thought.

“he’s okay. haven’t seen him in a bit tho.” you reply while looking to the side.

“oh. why?” he asks while staring at you.

“i told him i didn’t want to see him for some time, i’ve got some stuff i need to sort out.” you sigh. why would he ask about him now? it annoyed you, for an unknown reason. “anyway, i think you’re feeling better aren’t you?”

he let out a small chuckle and he waved the empty water bottle at you. “yup, all thanks to you.”

he looked a bit tipsy but that was it. he definitely felt better and you deemed it to be the right time to leave the room. you stood up and rearranged your dress that had ridden up to your thighs. taehyun’s eyes lingered on them until he looked up to you.

“wait, you're leaving?” he questions while looking disappointed.

“yeah.. i think you’re good, so i'm gonna go back to my friends.” you answer while looking back at him and giving him a small smile. you turn your back and reach for the door until you feel something grab your hand.

“but i don’t want you to leave.” taehyun says as he grabs your hand and stands behind you.

you ground yourself and resist the urge to turn around. you can feel his breath behind you as he sighs. your cheeks start to warm up at the thought of him being close to you again.

“can i-” he looks down “can i kiss you? please y/n” he says quietly.

you turn around and look at him. your flustered expression must say it all since he talks again before you can reply.

“just-” his eyes are fixed on yours “just once, it won't hurt us, i swear.” then, his eyes travel down to your lips.

“no..” you look down “taehyun i’m sorry but i don’t think that’s good neither of us.” you retort.

he sighs and lets go of your hand to run his hand through his hair in frustration. he felt bad after asking for that so shamelessly. “i’m sorry.”

you don’t know why but your heart aches. you know it wouldn’t be right so you reach for the door again, without looking back. you’re about to step but you pause and look down, burying your face in your palms.

“fuck.” you groan in exasperation. you stood there for a few seconds until you could feel taehyun's smirk from behind you.

taehyun’s eyes lock with yours as you turn your head to the side and you feel like your breath got caught in your throat. his eyes are slightly glossy as they burn into yours. you look down at his lips and then look back up to meet his piercing gaze.

“i knew you’d stay.” he whispers as he glares at you from the bed. he stands up and snatches your waist to hold you.

taehyun keeps pulling you into his embrace and you swear both of his hands on you, could break your waist. his touch makes your head spin and your breath quicken.

“just a kiss.” he slurs as he joins his forehead with yours and presses his body closer to you, making you feel all of him. you feel the heat coming off his body, and his breath is so clear against you that it makes your face feel hot. adding the scent of vodka and sandalwood radiating off his body, you become gradually intoxicated by him.

“taehyun..” you hesitate. your voice comes out so low, that if it weren’t for the proximity between you both, he wouldn’t have heard it. “just one kiss.” you comply.

finally gaining confirmation, he wastes no time in grabbing the back of your neck to pull you closer and connect his lips with yours. his other hand travels down to grasp your hip with so much force it makes you let out a small gasp. taehyun’s kiss is ignited with desire. it’s so rough that it almost feels desperate.

you feel like your legs are gonna give out any second with the way he handles you, turning into mush. his tongue slides against your bottom lip asking for permission, you let out a small moan as you open your mouth for him and he swears your moans could kill him. he never lets his mouth leave yours as he clumsily brings you to the bed in hurried movements.

he sits down and lifts you onto his lap without effort. god, those gym sessions really pay off, you think. his hands roam around your body and he feels whatever he can, making you let out shaky breaths between actions. your crotch lands on his suddenly causing friction.

you moan at the sudden contact and you break the kiss. your eyes trail down his body: his ruffled hair, now red and puffy lips from all the kissing, his toned biceps, and lastly, his defined v-line exposed by his shirt that had ridden up. you felt a pool form between your legs as you stared at him in awe.

taking advantage of your ogling, taehyun started doing the same to you. he studied your face, glowing with the glints of light that came into the room, then he observed your body, starstruck by the way your chest was heaving with each breath you took. it was as if he was memorizing every part of you, in fear of never seeing it again.

“a kiss isn’t enough.” he groans as he latches onto your neck and starts to kiss and bite every spot on it. “i need all of you.”

you latch onto him as his hands grip your ass, while he keeps his attack against your neck and collarbone, marking you. with one sharp bite on your collarbone your body reacts instinctively and you rub yourself against his crotch, making him let out a broken whimper.

“oh god” he says between bites. “you’re gonna kill me y/n.” he growls, holding on to your hips to keep them in place with so much force that you’re sure it will bruise you.

“taehyun...” you call in a broken tone. “give me more.”

he’s certain that he’s done for once those words leave your lips. he inches you closer to his crotch and makes you rub against it again, kissing you furiously. you pant, feeling his hot breath against your skin. he feels like his entire body is in flames, his mind clouded with you. your body, your voice, your scent, all of you, in his hold.

“don’t worry baby. i’ll give you everything.”

©kiztae 2023

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cishetlessfashion · 7 months

Photo

Goth/emo trans queer fashion for anon

Sacred heart shirt Queer as hell patch Protect trans lives enamel pin Pink and black checkered beanie Pink triangle bat enamel pin Skull and crossbones long sleeve shirt From razor to rosaries MCR patch Bleached skeleton hoodie Gloomy bear charm We’ll Carry On MCR enamel pin

#trendercore #transgender #cw q slur #cw pink triangle #cw demonic imagery #goth #emo #cw sharp objects #cw self harm #cw razor #cw religious imagery

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comatosebunny09 · 1 year

Text

@renhoeku made me do it.

cw: explicit content, crack

“K-Kyojuro,” you mewled, your eyes aglow.

“Shh,” he whispered, a slender finger held to your lips. Your silence seemed to sate him. The blond bent down to eye-level with a smile canting his lips, clasping your chin, drawing your gaze to his. “Do you trust me?” he murmured against your mouth, eyes half-slit like Cheshire Cat.

You were dizzy from the heat rolling off his skin. From his sweltering breath, hints of sour cream and onion clinging to it. Were those chives? You were too horny to care. You nodded drunkenly, painting a hazy triangle between his eyes and mouth. He grinned in reply, nails blazing a slothful trail down the column of your throat.

“Goooood giiiirl.” His praise never failed to make your tummy flutter. Or perhaps it was gas. Nevertheless, Kyojuro had taken an interest in a lock of your hair, twirling it between his index and thumb. Your cooter-cat throbbed, baring down on the neon-pink silicone egg nestled within. “Shall I tell you what I intend to do to you, then?”

“Y-Yes,” you exhaled, falling further into his web, his breath causing vertigo to sweep through you.

“Well, my love. Firstly, I am going to stick my 🍆 in your 🥙.”

You blinked against a lazy wash of pleasure, unsure of what you’d just heard. “W-What?” Confusion hung between your brows, the amorous air waning.

“Secondly, I want to 💦 🔫🐬 until you 🫧.”

“Kyojuro, wait. Wait, what the fu—”

“And then, my love! Oh-ho-ho! Then, I plan to 🤌🏼🤌🏼 your 🌭 until you ☄️ while I’m—”

“Kyojuro, stop it! You’re scaring—”

Dolphin sounds ensue.

#rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #rengoku smut #rengoku crackfic #crack fic #demon slayer crackfic #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kny fanfic #demon slayer fanfic #kny x you

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akkkkollle · 2 years

Note

How about a love triangle with Sanzu and Rindou? Rindou likes Sanzu, but Sanzu is completely obsessed with reader and reader likes Rindou. How chaotic isn't it?

The ideal ending would be them initiating a poly one but i would leave it up to you if you wanna end this on a good note or just

A n g s t

Anyways have a good day and thanks!

Pairing: Sanzu × M!Reader, Rindou × Sanzu, M!Reader × Rindou.

Cw: Sanzu yandere(?) (It's Sanzu, well...), hints of sex, jealousy, angst to fluff, katana.

Heavy footsteps resounded along the corridor as you walked along it. You looked around this quiet and dark corridor in the headquarters. Why did Rindou call you here? Well, it doesn't matter. You still love him and trust him.

As you approached, you could see him. He's as irresistible as ever. He is standing with his back against the wall, wearing his green suit, which he always wears. His long purple hair is slightly disheveled, which makes you want to fix it. And his face... It's tense.

-So why did you call me here? - you ask, forcing him by inertia to turn his head at your voice.

- Serious conversation. - you sigh, standing in front of him.

The look of his purple eyes completely pierces your figure, making you slightly worried.

-Did you call me here to kill me? - you say mockingly.

- Sort of. Sanzu. He... What is your relationship like? - you make a surprised sound and he looks away, forcing you to exhale.

- And what kind of relationship do we have? No. We just... I don't know, acquaintances, maybe friends? - he visibly calms down when he hears this. - And why are you interested in this?

- Not a word to him, understand? - you nod. - I like him.

You feel like your heart literally crumbles into a billion little pieces when you hear this. He loves him. You feel either nausea or tears coming, but you ask the next question.

- Ah, and why do you ask what his relationship with me is?

- He came in your shirt today. - your eyes are widening. Where did he get...?

- Hey, idiots! What are you two whispering about?! - you both turn around at the sound of the voice and there is a pink misunderstanding.

- How long have you been here? - Rindou asks, his cheeks are slightly covered with blush, making your heart skip a beat.

-It doesn't matter, jellyfish! You offended M/n!

And only now he looks at you, there are tears in your eyes, but you, not wanting to cry in front of them, swallow them. He awkwardly takes your hand and squeezes it. Your pulse quickens slightly, and calmness appears on your face. But this idyll is torn by the sound of a katana. You both barely have time to pull your hands away.

- Don't touch him! You are not worthy of him, my M/n, worthy only of the best, and not of some there—! - your hand falls on his mouth when you put him on the floor.

He just looks at you in disbelief, but shuts up and sheaths his katana, looking at the two figures looming over him.

- So, - you begin, - so you like him, and he likes me, and I... I love you.

- What are you...? - his voice is heard.

- I'm sorry, I don't know. I just like you, but you like him! But he obviously likes me! Our feelings are not mutual from all three.

A heavy sigh escapes Rindou's lips as he looks at the figure sitting in front of him, and at you.

- So maybe we should make them mutual? - suddenly he offers.

-What?

- Well... Polyamorous relationships. A threesome, no difference. So we will satisfy our feelings a little.

You're thinking about this idea and it seems pretty good. Although... To tolerate this pink jerk, who will obviously become more clingy... Well, you can try.

- I don't mind. - and you shrug your shoulders. - And you?

- I agree to everything that M/n agrees to! - you both sigh, hearing these nonsense.

-But take off my shirt anyway. - he chuckles, smiling at you.

- Why? Will you fuck me?

Silence reigns in the room. And then the sound of your retreating footsteps from this asylum. And then the run of Sanzu, who apologizes. And then the run of the purple-haired man, who is trying to calm him down. It will be a strange experience, but definitely interesting... Especially when you and Rindou do take off Sanzu's shirt, well, more precisely yours, but his.

#Akkkkollleworks #top male reader #dom male reader #seme male reader #x male reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokrev x male reader #Tr x male reader #tr x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #rindou x reader #rindou x sanzu #Sanzu x male reader #sanzu x reader #sanzu x rindou #sub tokyo revengers

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a-lonely-dragon · 7 months

Text

Strike! - Chapter 3

Montgomery Gator x F!Reader

CW: None

AO3

Navigation: Chapter 1, 2

Monty, regrettably, had been right. Your pathetic knot didn’t hold the gauze together for longer than a few minutes.

Perhaps you shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, the animatronics are programmed with extensive first aid protocols for their young charges. If only your good ol’ employers had kept the first aid stations as well-stocked at the bots’ protocols.

Sitting in the sparsely furnished break room, you fiddle with the gauze on your hand, a sad lunch of wilted salad sitting abandoned. A sun-faced clock ticks loudly in the quiet, leering down at you with white, painted eyes.

What had Monty been doing, lurking around the course so late? You were under the impression that during the night, the animatronics were confined to their greenrooms for recharging, at least that was how it’d been a few months ago. Plenty has changed since then, you suppose. Maybe it was some new security protocol that management had “forgotten” to mention to you. It certainly hadn’t been in that stupid pamphlet.

Your phone vibrates against the table and your hand shoots out to grab it, nearly knocking over your water in the process. With bated breath, you navigate to your email, praying to anyone who will listen to the prayers of exhausted employees that someone’s finally seen your qualifications—and then promptly deflate, tossing your phone aside. Just spam.

You glower up at the clock. At the hands creeping by, at the hours you had left before you could get home and take care of your hand properly. “What’re you smiling about?” you mutter up at it.

The door flies open, nearly sending you into cardiac arrest. You hiss in pain as your knee slams against the underside of the table.

“Oh! So, they didn’t fire you?”

You grit your teeth as the very last person you wanted to see sweeps in, a wide smile on his face and a takeout box in his hands. When he sets it on the table, you catch sight of a label of a popular restaurant back in the city. Your stomach churns and your mouth waters, but you refuse to be jealous of Magnus, of all people.

“Nope,” you say, refusing to meet his eye. Not for your lack of trying, asshole.

Magnus is all legs and self-satisfaction. His tight white top is dotted with pastel green triangles and bubblegum pink circles, workout shorts practically painted over his lean thighs. He’d been relocated to Chica’s Mazercise, it seems, and by the smug expression he wears as he takes in your loud button-up, he considers it the superior position.

“They threw you in the swamp, huh?” He chuckles and begins to unpack his lunch. “It suits you.”

Don’t take the bait, you tell yourself, and start cleaning up the untouched salad. You hope the message is clear, I’d rather starve for the rest of my shift than be in a room with you.

Magnus shovels a forkful of steamed vegetables into his mouth and watches you with a raised brow. “Aww, don’t feel too embarrassed. The shirt’s cute.” On the table, your phone announces itself with another vibration, screen lighting up with a notification.

Heat gathers in your cheeks and you snatch your phone off the table before he can read it. Because you know he fucking would.

“What? Got dirty texts coming in?” He laughs at the idea, giving you a disgusting view of half-chewed sesame noodles.

“Hey, did you finally apply for a new job? Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t bail the moment they sized down the bowling alley. I mean, I would’ve if I were you. Can’t imagine how hard it’ll be, not being able to spend all your shifts just bowling with the star—”

Annoyance lances through you at the implication, but you keep quiet and toss your trash away. Magnus had a chip on his shoulder for no good reason, showing his true colors not long after he’d been tasked with training you way back when you first started. If there was a silver lining to being transferred, you supposed it would be getting away from him. Rodney wasn’t exactly a step up, but at least he barely spoke to you other than to give you orders.

“Good luck getting that crazy gator to give you special treatment.”

Anger flares in your chest and you round on him, not missing the way his lip quirks in satisfaction. “I never got special treatment—"

BEEP BEEP. You glare at the Fazwatch, at the numbers counting down the minutes to the end of your break.

“You better get going, wouldn’t want to get written up,” Magnus drawls, breaking apart chopsticks. “No Glamrock to cover for you, now.”

You clench your jaw, turn on your heel, and storm out of the break room.

---

You met Bonnie for the first time a week into the job.

If the back hallways and utility tunnels were a mind-boggling maze to someone who’d been traversing them for months, they were an impossible labyrinth to newbies, and especially to newbies with trainers who spoke a mile a minute when telling you how to get to the nearest employee break room.

You’d given up trying to find it at your Fazwatch’s fifteen-minute warning and simply plopped down on the grody concrete floor, gobbling down your sandwich miserably. You hoped you could find your way back to the bowling alley in time.

Heavy thumps preceded the animatronic that rounded the corner, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Bonnie!

You’d seen him around the bowling alley, but only from afar. Up close, you couldn’t help but take in every detail of his look. The shiny blue casing, the bright eyes that flashed as they scanned you, the sharp claws meant for shredding bass.

Pizza mascots had come a long way since your childhood, that was for sure.

You’d expected him to keep going, he was obviously on his way somewhere, probably a birthday party or a VIP meeting, avoiding the crowds of the Pizzaplex by lieu of the utility tunnels. It came as a great shock when he stopped in front of you, lifting a grand paw in greeting.

“Well, doesn’t that look appetizing! I mean, it’s no carrot cake, but to each their own, right?”

Bonnie tilted his head at you curiously, awaiting your answer. Instead, you could only fumble around a question of your own in response as you scrambled to your feet.

“Are you, uh, lost?” you asked, then cringed, because of course the animatronic with a computer for a brain wasn’t lost in his own facility.

Bonnie flashed a smile. “Nope! Are you?”

With an embarrassed wince, you nodded. “I was trying to find the break room, but I got pretty turned around. . .”

“I can take you there, if you’d like. However, you’re scheduled to be back from your break in seven minutes, and it’ll take about four to get to the break room!”

“Yup.” You sighed. “That’s why I’m eating here.”

“I can help you find your way back, since you’re a Bonnie Bowler,” he said, punctuating the sentence with a cheeky wink.

“No, no,” you said immediately waving away the suggestion. If there was one rule your manager had hammered into your brain amongst the dozens of others, it was not to interfere with the main animatronics. They were there for the guests, and you were there to make sure the rest of the guests’ needs were met in the meantime. They weren’t paying you to have fun or hold up the stars on their way to make money for the company.

“Really?” For a creature made of metal, he did a fantastic job of expressing disappointment. “Are you sure?”

No. “Yeah. Thanks, though,” you added, dropping your gaze.

“How about directions back to the alley? I even know a shortcut. I’ll tell you if you promise to keep it a secret!”

You’d smiled at him then, amused by his words and his determination to help. You made it back to work with a minute to spare and swore you’d find a way to thank Bonnie when you saw him next.

---

Monty seems to have gone by the time you return, the golf course yours once more. You begin to tap away at your Fazwatch to put in a maintenance request for the bridge, only to stop short as you find a STAFF bot in a hardhat and a yellow vest already at work.

Apart from you, Monty, and whoever the security guard was, there was no one else to have put in the request. You certainly hadn’t. So that left the gator or whoever had an eye in the sky. Unless the security guard was going above and beyond the call of duty, you were sure it was Monty. It was his course, as he’d said.

An uncomfortable thought surfaces. What if he’d mentioned that it was your fault the stupid railing had broken in the first place? He hadn’t seemed to care that much, in all honesty, but he was notoriously unfriendly towards staff members. It didn’t seem like a huge stretch for him to do his job of making sure you received first aid and then reported your ass for carelessness.

It makes your skin crawl with unease, not knowing. As much as you wanted to bail from the ‘plex, you weren’t stupid. Without any income, you’d burn through your meager savings in less than a month. And if that happened, well, you’d have to suck up your pride and call—

You shake your head. There was nothing you could do about it now. Whatever was going to happen would happen. With the high turnover here, you were probably overdue for a firing, if not a write-up.

When Rodney finally reappears, it’s a few minutes before the end of your shift and you’re vacuuming in the gift shop. You stiffen when he approaches you, preparing for the worst, only to receive a heavy clap on the shoulder and a “good work, kid” before he’s gone again. You stare after him, still unsure if he knows about the railing.

The feeling follows you out of the front doors of the Pizzaplex and all the way to the end of the ocean of a parking lot. You slump into the driver’s seat and start the car, eyes drooping. How you manage to make it home without crashing, you’ll never know, but after locking the apartment door behind you, you’re going through the motions, throwing a frozen meal into the oven and tossing your clothes into the washer. When your meal’s eaten and your clothes are tumbling about in the dryer, you shuffle off to bed, eager for a dreamless sleep.

You plug your Fazwatch into its charger and snuggle under the covers, unlocking your phone one more time to check your email, just in case something materialized in the last few hours.

Your breath catches and you shoot up in bed.

There’s just a single new email, and the sender? Fazbear Entertainment’s automatic email. This alone sends a spike of anxiety through your chest, but then your eyes dart down a line and—

Subject: MISSING: SECURITY REPORT

#montgomery gator x reader #dragon writes #animatronic boyfriend #five nights at freddy's #fnaf security breach #security breach #fic

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