#idk what else to say about that except that the good parts are really good and there's definitely something there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

evanpeterswhoresblog · 3 days

Note

BBYG PART TWO OF GUILTY AS SIN PLEASE I LUV UR WORKSSSS

i hope you guys enjoy this!! i had a lot of fun with it. it’s technically part two but i gave it a different title sorry :)

~~~

Fresh Out The Slammer

James Potter x f!reader

warnings: smut, protected p in v, fingering, slight oral (f receiving), very slight underage alcohol but barely, morally idk how good this is, lmk if i missed any

summary: after you and Remus finally split, you and James finally come together…

word count: 2.8k

a/n: another taylor fanfic hahaha (i love this) lmk what you guys think of the end i thought it was really clever but maybe that’s just me being overconfident…

~~~

I did my time

Now pretty baby I’m running back home to you

Fresh out the slammer

I know who my first call will be to...

~~~

When you look back on your days at Hogwarts, you always wonder why you and Remus stayed together so long.

It was a week after your monumental conversation with James on the grass that your overdue breakup occurred. You had tried your hardest to give your relationship one last try, you really did. But one night as you laid next to the tall lanky boy, all you could think about was a certain pair of hazel eyes. A pair that didn’t belong to the boy next to you.

That was the final straw.

“Rem,” you said, your voice cool. “I think it’s best we break up.”

You kept your eyes on the canopy above, but you could feel him shift beside you. “Really?”

“Yes. In fact, I think this is overdue. Don’t you think?”

“I suppose so...” he replied.

You turned to look at him. Unsurprisingly, he was sitting calmly as could be with a book in one of his hands. A sigh escaped your lips, but you didn’t say anything else. Instead, you simply stood and began to dress yourself. He was the one to speak again.

“Would it be all right if we remained friends?” He asked his eyes on you for what felt like the first time in a while.

“Of course. Let’s not make it odd for everyone else,” you answered.

He looked back down at his book. “Right. Good night then.”

On the walk back to your dorm you named every reason in your head why you broke up with Remus. He was distant. He didn’t know how to treat you like a true girlfriend. The spark had died between the two of you. The relationship had truly just run its course. But as you stepped into the common room your eyes found the most significant reason.

You refused to put him on your mental list.

~~~

You didn’t know if it was out of respect for Remus or if it was intentional at all, but James waited a few weeks before making any sort of move on you. You were glad. Adjusting to a single life was strange. You no longer spent time alone with Remus, you no longer cried or had fits because of his behavior. He was simply another one of your friends. You liked him better that way.

When James did give you a sign, it was far from subtle.

It came during Charms in the form of a small piece of paper. Of course, Charms happened to be the only class the two of you had together that Remus was not in as well. In fact, the only other member of your friend group who was in the class was Peter and he never paid much attention to anything. So, when you felt the piece of paper hit your lap, you didn’t hesitate to open it.

How’s the single life treating you so far? -J

You turned your head to look at James, a smile on your lips. He was already looking at you, a similar smile on his face. You felt your cheeks heat up as you scribbled your reply and threw it back to him.

It’s better than I expected, most things are the same.

He was quick to throw it back.

That’s true except now you’re free to do whatever you’d like..

You held in a breath.

More like whomever I’d like

You let out a shaky breath at his reply.

Yeah? Well, you know where my bed is

For a few seconds, you stared at the note, not sure if you should write anything more. You turned back to look at him and your eyes instantly met his. He looked at you with a gleam that you hadn’t seen in a boy's eyes in a long time, at least not one directed toward you. So, you picked up your quill and wrote back, not a single guilty thought crossing your mind.

I suppose I’m going to know what it feels like soon too

~~~

Another long week passed before anything happened between you and him. And each day that passed only filled you with more desire. You felt almost giddy at the thoughts. A secret hookup with James Potter. It was something you’d imagined for a long time, but for so many reasons you never imagined it would actually be brought to life.

But it was.

One night, there was a party in the Ravenclaw common room that everyone was attending. Everyone except you. Or so you thought.

“Are you sure y/n/n? It’ll be so much fun,” Lily questioned. You were all in the Gryffindor common room. Everyone else was getting ready to leave, but you sat on the couch in your bedclothes.

“Yeah, I’m not really in the party mood tonight. Plus, I have some work that still needs to be done,” you answered honestly.

“Boring!” Sirius exclaimed. “Don’t worry lovely I’ll make sure to save some alcohol for you.”

“Thanks, Sirius,” you said with a laugh.

“Let’s go, Wormtail, Moony, Prongs.”

“Actually, you lot can go without me. I’m not feeling the greatest.”

Your eyes shot to James. What was he doing? You noticed what he was wearing. A wifebeater and flannel pants. You swore you never wanted to shag him more than at that moment.

“Are you serious?” Sirius groaned. “Whatever mate you’re no fun. We’ll be back later.”

“All right, have fun,” James replied.

“Bye, y/n/n!” The girls sang as they left.

You waved them all goodbye before getting up and turning to the staircase. You could feel James’s eyes burning into you from behind.

“Seems it’s just the two of us for once,” he said, his voice quieter than before.

Your stomach filled with butterflies. “Yeah, it seems that way.”

“I was wondering if you could help me with some Charms work, I know you have the homework as well perhaps we can do it together...” From the tone of his voice, you knew it wasn’t true. But still, you turned and gave him a slight nod. “It’s all in my dorm, let’s just go up there to do it.”

Deep down, you knew you should’ve felt bad. James was your ex-boyfriend’s best friend. If any of them knew about your sinful thoughts, you’d surely be thrown out of the group and shunned. However, while that knowledge made you feel uneasy, it didn’t stop you from following him up to the dorm.

The second the door closed behind the two of you, James’s lips were on yours. Though it came as a surprise, you didn’t hesitate for even a second to kiss him back. His lips were warm and soft, just how you had always imagined. It was messy and quick and when he broke it you found yourself breathless. All you could do was stare at him, your cheeks pink.

“James I-”

“We can take our time if you’d like, I’m sorry I’ve just wanted to do that for so fucking long,” he replied as if he could read your mind.

“Me too, you don’t understand.” You inhaled deeply and took a few steps deeper into the dorm you were all too familiar with. Only this time, you sat on a different bed. “This doesn’t feel real.”

He sat down next to you on his bed, his glowing hazel eyes locked on yours. “Believe me, I understand everything.”

“I just... want you,” you mumbled. It felt so good to finally say it. You placed one of your hands on his thigh. “I want you a lot.”

He smiled in a way that practically sent shivers down your spine. “I want you too.”

“So, take me. You don’t... you don’t have to be gentle,” you whispered with a confidence you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Instead of answering you with words, James leaned closer and caught your lips in another kiss. This time though, it wasn’t messy and rushed. No. It was passionate, it was a kiss that would leave you giggling on your bed when you looked back on it. As your lips moved against his you followed his lead and laid back on the mattress with your legs parted for him to slip in between.

His hands were far bigger than yours. When he slid one of them up your thigh you almost couldn’t remember how to breathe. You kissed him harder and weaved your fingers through his soft curly hair. He toyed with your shorts for a moment before carefully slipping his hand beneath the fabric. It would be an understatement to say you were wet. You were soaked. And you could feel James’s smirk on your mouth when he discovered this.

“Are you always like this?” He mumbled.

You shook your head. “Only when it comes to you.”

“Good.”

He wasted no more time and moved his fingers under your knickers, finding your clit almost instantly. You gasped, one of your hands gripped his strong shoulder tightly, and your eyes squeezed shut.

“James,” you moaned.

He began to trail wet kisses down your neck as he continued to rub soft circles on your clit. Never mind thinking straight, you couldn’t think at all. Your stomach was warm, and waves of pleasure coursed throughout your entire body. You swore you’d never felt anything as good in your life. But when your hand brushed against his shirt you sighed.

“Take it off, take everything off. Please,” you whispered frantically.

You opened your eyes to see James’s bright smile. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Without another word, he leaned back and pulled his shirt off. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring. His muscles were toned, yet he was still skinny. You wanted to kiss every inch of his body, but you settled on dragging your fingers up and down his chest for a few seconds.

“Your turn,” he said.

You silently sat up and lifted your tank top over your head and threw it down to the floor. Perhaps it was the amount of lust that consumed you, or perhaps it was the amount of comfort you felt with James. Either way, you didn’t cower or feel insecure as his eyes moved across your naked breasts. In fact, you felt confident. So, you laid back down on his bed and began to pull your shorts and knickers down, your eyes not leaving his.

Only when you were fully naked did you feel a slight feeling of insecurity. James must’ve noticed this though because he leaned over you and pressed a sincere kiss to your lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. He brushed a hand over one of your breasts. “So perfect.”

“Fuck me, James, please I can’t bear it any longer,” you replied quickly. It was true, you’d already waited so many months in silence. How were you expected to wait even a second longer?

“I think you can afford to bear it for a few more minutes. I want to have my way with you first.”

You were going to protest, but before you could he slid his hand between your thighs. He swirled his fingers over you, collecting your wetness before eventually carefully moving one of his fingers inside of you. You threw your head back and gripped his sheets hard. It was an even better feeling than you’d imagined. He kissed you hungrily as he slowly started finger fucking you.

As if that wasn’t enough, he kissed down your body minutes later before ending with his face between your thighs. You couldn’t contain your whimpers and moans. If anyone was near the Gryffindor boy's dorm, they’d surely hear you. The fact neither of you thought enough to cast a silencing charm only made it more thrilling.

By the time you reached your first orgasm, you were quite sure you’d never felt anything nearly as good in your life. Remus never cared enough to spend his time pleasuring you, at least not after the first few months. But James cared a whole lot. He touched you with his tongue and his fingers till you were shaking and panting for a break.

When he did stop you watched through heavy lids as he wiped his mouth on your thigh and began to pull down his last remaining articles of clothing. His eyes were glowing, and his glasses were almost falling off his face. You decided then that he was by far the most attractive boy you’d ever seen. And when your eyes trailed down his naked body you found yourself an even bigger reason as to why that statement was true.

“Are you on the potion?” He asked as he began to move over you.

“Yeah,” you answered, your voice weak.

He smirked. “You’re a dirty girl hm?”

“For you yes.”

“How so?”

You smiled sweetly and reached up to remove James’s glasses. “Truthfully? Sometimes I touch myself when I think of you.”

“You’ll have to show me next time.” He shifted and you felt his tip brush against your entrance. Your breath caught in your throat. “Is this what you think about?”

“S-Sometimes yes,” you said with a shaky voice.

All you could do as he slowly began to thrust into you was gasp and wrap your arms around him, your nails digging into his skin. He was big and you were still sensitive from how hard you previously came. Those factors only amplified how good he felt. Once he was fully in, he leaned down to connect your lips in another heated kiss before truly starting the shag.

Though Remus would fuck you hard, he never fucked you the way James did. James went hard, he went fast, but he also showed he still cared. At one point, he removed one of your hands from his back and pressed it against the mattress, lacing his fingers through yours. And his lips were either on yours, on your neck, or whispering sweet praises. Even the way he said your name was enough to tell you how much he cared about you.

You didn’t know how long it went on, but it was long enough that he started to grow tired. At that point, you’d already reached your second orgasm, so you decided he deserved a break. With all your strength, you flipped your positions and took some control. You lowered yourself onto him and nearly came a third time from the sounds he made.

When everything was done and over, the two of you laid next to each other out of breath and shocked at what had transpired. You felt your heart pound in your chest and a sticky feeling between your thighs. You turned your head to look at the boy next to you. He, of course, was already looking at you, his glasses back on.

“That was...”

“Better than any of my fantasies,” you told him.

“Mine too,” he agreed with a smile.

You bit down on your lip. “So now what?”

“Perhaps another go?”

That was an offer you could never refuse.

~~~

Hours later, past midnight at least, the door to the boy's dorm opened and the other three Marauders stumbled in. Sirius was far too drunk; he could barely stand up straight. That left Remus and Peter to stand on either side of him with their arms wrapped around his back protectively. All their eyes found you and James after a few seconds. The two of you sat on his bed, a foot of papers between the two of you.

“Oh, hello y/n,” Peter greeted you.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” Remus questioned.

Sirius only gasped overdramatically. “They’re shagging! Prongsie and Lovely are shagging!”

You rolled your eyes and stood up. “Why don’t we get you to bed?”

“Can I have a go first? Before bed? Please! Is that all right Moony?” Sirius stumbled over his words as his friends dropped him into his bed.

“Nobody’s having a go unless it is Moony,” James said.

Remus turned toward you, a questioning expression on his face. “What are you doing up here?”

You pointed at the many papers on James’s bed. “Charms homework, I told you lot that’s why I wasn’t going to the party. James felt a bit better, so we just decided to work on it together.”

“Will I be allowed to use that work?” Peter asked innocently.

“Of course, Pete,” you replied. You turned back to James’s bed where he still sat, and you began to gather your work. “I should be going then.”

You held your papers close to your chest and tried your hardest not to look at James. You knew if you did, something on your face would clearly show what had really gone on. So, you kept your head down and moved as fast as you could to their door.

“Same time next week then?” James’s voice caught your attention as you were about to leave.

You looked over your shoulder and nodded, trying your hardest not to blush. “Or sooner, I’m very eager to get this work done.”

“All right, sooner, goodnight then,” James replied with a knowing look.

The last thing you heard before leaving was the innocent voice of Peter asking if he could join in and the loud laugh that James let out.

291 notes · View notes

iloveyouitisruiningmylife · 11 months

Text

spending my whole life trying and trying and trying and trying to be good enough for people who don't give a fuck about me

#im so tired living seems pointless why am i doing this what is the reason #the firm i work at is going thru a merger so it's releasing all the interns except 2 #i went into her office and said that id like to stay here bc my dad said so bc i got in cause he was friends with the head #and she said ill think about it based on performance ive not decided yet #and this other guy he went in to tell her that cool he'll leave and she told him that she was hoping that he'd stay #he literally does nothing but play games on his phone he doesn't work at all #i have no idea what he has that i don't #but just. im stuck like this forever right never ever good enough for people i like or care about #not for parents they have a diff fav child not for ex gf not for bestie who has a boyfriend much better at loving her than me #not for that one guy who rejected me in interview bc i don't read the newspaper and didn't know the date of the finance act #im so fucking sick of this i never even wanted to this fuckinh course and obviously even my best isn't enough and ofc im not good enough #for anyone in this field and ill just struggle and struggle and struggle all my life just to earn some fucking money so i can live away #from my sociopathic parents #and the worst part is that i can't stop feeling like maybe it IS me yk maybe i am the problem maybe im not trying hard enough #but how else am i supposed to handle this i prioritize my studies and lose all my friends i prioritise my friends and fail in d #exams #and the trauma keeps on coming every fucking day bc sociopathic parents but i jsut push it down and say not rn i will cry at night anx then #never cry #i wish someone would just tell me that idk you're wrong you're not made for this you really do have some mental illness and you're really #trying your best and do something that's easy and that you love doing #oh god this is now a ventpost #mes

44 notes · View notes

arthur-r · 2 years

Text

i ran out of storage while drawing this so i had to add the white parts in markup and call the rest of it good but this is “self portrait with future beard and pending scar” and i drew it after surgery this morning

#the outfit is stuff i have in real life and so is the scar except it’s not a scar yet it’s a wound #that’s what my mom keeps on telling me when i say wow this is such a cool scar #which is what i say to not terrify myself about how i might always have this scar #anyway if i had still been in ibispaint for the end of this i would’ve added some bright light behind me #because that’s what i was planning on but then i ran out of storage #anyway hi i did the surgery this morning and it went good the IV hurt and the anesthesia was scary but everything else was good #anyway i was gonna fix the shape when i was still in ibispaint but i would need 250 megabytes of storage and i don’t have it :(#so markup is all i have now shdhdf i can’t erase i can only draw on top #which is mostly how i draw anyway but still #anyway the surgery to make my face look regular again all the way would cost money and not insurance at all #so unless it heals really good on it’s own i might look like this forever #so i started thinking about forever and i reassured myself by adding a beard to the picture. and so. that’s why i drew this shdhdf #anyway i missed my dynamic brush and this was my first time using it in a lot of months and i had missed it shdhdf #idk if this is like. good. to people who aren’t on anesthesia. i will have to find out in the morning #but i wanted to break to you guys that it might never go away. but i did that by drawing instead of a picture #because i get nervous on the internet and especially today #and anyway i hope i still like this in the morning but mostly the point before is i have a scar there now #cause that’s what i had to get to not have a tumor there now. and so it’s better and it’s okay but also makes me nervous #but i’m gonna grow up and it will still be okay and this is scary but the worst dangerous part is over #and this is just maybe what i look like right now and maybe it will heal. but i will just have to find out #me. my post. mine.#my art #delete later

10 notes · View notes

louebel · 8 months

Text

— [ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 . . . 𝟐 .ᐟ ]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: sanji, zoro, mihawk, buggy × gn!reader 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: not proofread and rushed,, it's not as wholesome as the first and more calm + horny my bad, lowercase, gets a bit explicit with sanji and buggy at the end... i am deeply sorry not. rest is sfw, fluff, and... fluff. usage of "baby, sweetness, honey, good boy" (and... others? i forgot) in all of them except zoro's, lots of caresses and kisses! these are rather short,, anddd dripping divider by @ benkeibear :) 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you couldn't help but share the sudden warmth you felt with them, resulting in... a lot of kisses! ... and more. part one is here!! though idk should i repost it? since it's in my archived blog— eh idk maybe not.

— 𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈, wc. 699

"sanji... honey..."

a very pleasant smell engulfed the kitchen. sweet and homely, a dish that piqued your appetite. seagulls could be heard outside the sunny, the sun rising slowly to greet all those who continued their lives.

and then there were you two, already awake. sanji always got up earlier, and so you did too, wanting to keep him company at such early hours. you could still hear sanji's wails and the rivers of tears plopping onto the wood at your kind gestures, and you swore you saw the sunny sweatdrop that day. (you were definitely not imagining things...)

"hmm? yes, love?"

his voice was your greatest weakness. freshly awake, groggy with sleep... if only you could both rest right now — what you'd do to feel him tend to your scalp, brushing his treasured fingers upon you, perhaps humming a tune in your ears. you remembered his words: "because my love for you is so profound, i can't contain it" and now, every time he murmurs, you melt a little more, thinking of what he said. of course, not all the time, sometimes he just does it.

sadly, however, you couldn't go back to sleep. he had to cook, and he was going to treat you with the most delicious, mouthwatering breakfast ever, but you'd still be disappointed since what you wanted was... something else. you were so spoiled...

"i think i could get something else for breakfast... it's fine, right?"

now, you know sanji despised wasting food. it wouldn't really be a problem considering luffy, but... why didn't you say anything?

he glanced at you from his shoulder, a bit perplexed. he felt his heart flutter as you approached him, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your face on his tender nape.

"sweetness?"

"... those are definitely sweet," you pointed at the pancakes, already smiling, "but i think you're sweeter."

it was only morning, damnit. and yet here he was, already blushing, cheeks tinted a lovely shade of pink. a small chuckle rumbled from his chest, the cook lowering the heat as the first batch was ready, before turning to you and pressing a tender kiss upon your forehead.

"you do, love?"

"mhm. and, you know, i'd really like if you gave me some of your love right now. i think that's the most sweet... 'm thinking about just sitting here and kissing you all over while telling you "i love you, i love you, i love you" ," you brought his hand to your chest, smiling at how his visible eye softened. "feels really warm right here, just thinking 'bout it..." you were so wonderful that sanji might just die on the spot.

"oh, love... you can't just say those things so early..."

"hmm? and why not?"

"... m—might faint."

fainting in your arms didn't sound so bad though, he thought dreamily.

"ppff... if you faint, i won't shower you with kisses."

"i won't faint."

you giggled at his suddenly determined tone. tenderly brushing your lips around the side of his neck, you nudged his jaw, sliding your hands under his shirt, feeling him tense beneath your skimming fingers. his flesh felt firmer to the touch, lineaments of his abdomen and torso defined with each part you mapped.

"hmm... i love you so much, sanji. really love you, hon."

"... a—ah, getting handsy, aren't you?"

you loved how he got so flustered with just a couple of touches. he shuddered as you placed your hand on the crook of his neck, pulse quickening beneath your thumb. he was rather sensitive, there, too...

"you— you know, i, hnngh, think you're the sweetest..." he whimpered, his slender fingers finding your tantalizing ones.

"hmmm? is that so, honey?"

"y—yes — ohh... love..."

you were gliding dangerously lower...

"mmm... you're so hard, sanji." oh... "i think you should relax a bit before cooking..." oh my... "it's so early... you need proper rest." ba-dump.

"... i—i do, don't i? heh... hehe..."

"yeah, you do. come on... i'll show you just how sweet i am. will give you all my love. you want that, baby?"

"oh, ooh please... goodness, don't—don't hold back, mon ange..."

"mhm... good boy. relax..."

and soft moans soon filled the piquant kitchen — followed by smooches, wet sounds, and declarations of love from both ends.

you truly were the sweetest in his eyes.

— 𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐀 𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎, wc. 388

"zoro... your face looks pretty kissable today."

sometimes, zoro had no idea what went through your head. you've both been sitting on the deck, zoro against the mast and you lying your head on his lap. he was going to take a nap but it seemed you were feeling chatty, so he decided to entertain you for a little while before he dozed off.

he had no idea what you were thinking, but he liked it.

"does it?" he mumbled, gazing down at you to see you shift in his lap, eyebrow raising as you got up and cuddled to his side, chin on his shoulder. he tilted his head slightly, seeing your pupils dilating at the sight of him; already quite big as the sun was setting. he smirked, though the expression on your face only made his heart beat faster.

you looked completely smitten.

"yep. very."

"hmm..."

smooch. smooch. smooch.

"oi..."

and he probably did, too, in his own way. he couldn't see it, but you did. how he relaxed, how he so softly sighed. you smiled, realizing just how much he laid himself bare to you. it wasn't the same trust he shared with luffy, no. it was something more intimate. something... sweeter. and with each osculate to his neck and jaw, zoro loosened just a bit further, his consciousness slowly slipping away.

"hm. thought you said my face." yet, he still taunted you, with that stupid smug grin on his lips. you rolled your eyes, continuing to pamper him with love.

"shut up. mm..."

smooch.

"love you, zoro. so much."

you slowly pushed him down on the floor, the swordsman tensing a little before following your silent command. you lay on his body, his arms splayed on the wood, eye closed as you kissed his eyelid, brow, and nose. a reddish hue colored his cheeks, chuckling as your tiny, adoring pecks tickled his skin.

so lovely.

" 'that so..?"

"yeah."

your eyes mitigated further, noting the corners of his mouth curve up more. you were lucky...

"mhh... y'know, i think you look pretty kissable today, too."

he'll rearrange his naps, just for you. with a kiss to your lips, he sealed the unspoken "i love you" with his tender actions — his heart all yours.

and he'd care for your own... like one of his swords.

— 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊, wc. 338

perona was speechless. she knew, she knew. she knew that you were dracule's lover...

"miiiiihaaawk... will you look at me?"

but what she witnessed was as surprising as the first time you told her that.

you grinned at the sighing warlord, shutting his book as you've been pestering him for minutes. arms wrapped around him, kisses to his neck — he wasn't a man easily swayed, even by you. the armchair leaned back as he finally eased, your form against his soft.

"... do you have nothing to do?" he huffed, rather tired of your games. interrupting him was almost sin; perona had no idea how you lived. were these the privileges of being dracule mihawk's partner? he treated you so differently... how could you even fall for someone as brooding as him? every time she did something nice, like give him pastries or clean the castle as she had nothing to do, he'd ignore her completely. (though he appreciated it.)

"i do. i'm loving you." yet here he was, letting you speak and do as you wished with a faint smile on his face. he looked like a big cat.

"something other than that."

"hmm... no. i wanna love you right now."

the longer she watched from her little corner, the more her mind crumbled.

"... you're impossible."

"but you love me too. like how i love you. i love you a lot."

you were so... mushy. something that did not connect to mihawk at all — unless you were around. his actions conveyed what he felt, even if they were scarce at the moment.

"you..."

"like, a looot. you know? a lot. i really do."

but... no words would topple from his mouth, perona was sure of that.

"i reciprocate." incredibly sure.

"c'mon, say it." there was no way.

"... i love you too."

"there you go. good boy."

he could only sigh at your antics — though inside he felt as warm as a star. after that, perona left her hiding spot and dragged her jaw that sat on the floor.

— 𝐁𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐍, wc. 426

buggy was not happy.

he was not happy you gave him a kiss, in front of his whole crew, completely unbothered as you pretty much established he was yours. he did not like it. at all.

"just..! what do you think you're doing?! kissing me out of nowhere? they have no idea we're together! what if someone took a photo!—"

"did i tell you?"

"—tell me what?"

you chuckled while he blinked. it was always funny how simple it was to make him stop; one word and he'd immediately listen to you. it was as if his own temporarily had no weight, just to hear your own thoughts, only to slander them later or actually agree with them.

most of the time, he ended up stuttering. you loved how much he hated you teasing him; it became your favorite pastime.

"you look incredibly cute." your grin always meant trouble.

"my nose looks redder than usual??"

your chuckle the last sound he heard,

"no. you, look, cute. cute. adorable. precious." and your words forever his downfall.

you could see his cheeks gaining color, a pretty rouge that matched his lipstick and nose, mirth decorating your face at the view. he was just so, so so cute. but when he snorted and flailed his hands around with parts of his body floating at the use of his devil fruit... that's when he got even cuter.

"y—you say that all the time!" he squeaked and pointed at you, stomping closer to you to somehow look "threatening". in reality, he was just a cub. you kept on smiling, looking at him with an adoring gaze that managed to make his poor heart stop — your affection a treat he relished.

"i mean it." plus, when your voice had that adoring tone... he could do nothing but take what you said. maybe he was just making a big deal out of things...

"w—well! of course you mean it, hahaha! i'm... buggy the... aah..."

his eyes almost popped out of his sockets as you got closer to him; wrapping your arms around his waist, teeth nibbling his neck. a tiny, soft moan that made you shudder left buggy's lips, already trembling.

oh...

"... mm... love you so much, baby. 'm sure they don't mind the kiss... come here."

he could barely get a word in, before his squeals and whimpers reached even those outside, as all of his skin got caressed by your lips. soon, he was screaming "i love you too!" and your stunt was the last thing he thought about.

#one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x you #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #vinsmoke sanji x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x reader #mihawk x reader #mihawk x y/n #mihawk x you #buggy x reader #buggy x y/n

4K notes · View notes

vypcr · 2 years

Text

reblogging my pinned, especially when we’re not even mutuals, is an insta block 🤷‍♀️

#[ooc]#honestly babes it just shows you didn't even pay attention to what was in the pinned post itself which is like #the most basic surface information about how this blog operates so disregarding that is not a good look #if you don't even read the pin and see the part that says 'private' then that tells me you didn't really look at my rules either #you're not gonna be the exception here #especially not when my impression is that you followed based solely on what my muse looks like lol bc you obvs didn't look at anything else #how could I NOT get that impression?????#it's happened here and on my oc so there's a recurring theme here #plus people have been too weird about tory on this hellsite and I get weird inappropriate anons about her from time to time so #idk man I'm just tired I'm skipping straight to the block button lmao #some of y'all cannot fucking behave so yeah I'm hella protective #like if I even *slightly* get that kind of vibe it's an instant no for me #I don't know you I don't owe you the benefit of doubt. people on this site act like disrespectful clowns way too much for that.#god ignore this besties I'm just. so tired.

0 notes

broshot · 11 months

Text

chubby girl chasers??? (jjk men who would LOVE to have a chubby gf!!) part 1 (part 2 link here and it's also at the end)

cw/tw: mentions of body image issues, mentions of nsfw in some (all??) parts, all characters are of age, (idk what else to put but english isn't my first language so sorry for bad writing)

---

gojo satoru

if you've ever seen my posts you could've guessed this tbh (I live love laugh gojo) he's so lovely

would hype you up NONSTOP and oh my gosh if you decide to wear more revealing clothes (or clothes that cling to your body) he'd be ON HIS KNEES worshipping you tbh

he just loves your plush and soft body SOO MUCH (he loves you as a person more ofc) but the way he can just come home after a long day and lay his head (or his whole body..) on top of you, he absolutely loves it. he loves all of you, seriously, he sees nothing wrong with you. you're perfect and he definitely tells you that too. not a day goes by without him calling you perfect.

and he loves when you dress up. tight clothes are his favourite because they allow him to see your perfect figure, and don't worry, no one would even have a chance to say anything bad about you or even look at you in a non-positive way. he's the strongest, he'll personally make sure that no one can make you feel bad about yourself.

missionary is his go to position. he wants to see your gorgeous body and gorgeous face as he fucks into you. you feel waaaay too good around him, he thinks he's lucky to be the one who gets to fuck you. you look so beautiful under him (you always look beautiful) and he's so lucky to be the only one who gets to see you like that. he's a praiser in and out of the bedroom, I swear. and if you wrap your legs around his lower body.. he loses it.

(read these fics (fic 1 is my personal fav) if you wanna know how I picture gojo in bed: fic 1, fic 2)

---

toji fushiguro

OH he would just love grabbing your plush thighs as he buries his face in between them and eats you out. would make you sit on his face (doesn't care about suffocating, he's strong so you don't weigh anything to him really). would love laying on your soft thighs and your stomach (makes you play w his hair, he's such a softie for you).

if you're insecure about yourself because of your body he'd praise the shit out of you (he'd praise you no matter what you're insecure about, if you're insecure). bro would surprisingly be your personal hype man tbh

"what did you just say about my gorgeous girlfriend? repeat that and you're dead." no one is allowed to say anything bad about you (there's nothing bad in you ((except for him, get it, nothing bad in you and he's bad and he's in you.. yeah not funny is it)) so why would anyone have the right to say anything bad). he makes you wear clothes you want to wear, makes sure you can have the style you want to have because no one should have the right to make you feel uncomfortable in clothes that you love. if you want to wear the tightest clothes there is, do it! he makes sure no one says anything to offend you or make you feel bad. he's famous of being capable of THINGS :heart: so no one would even dare to say anything but positive things about you- there's nothing but positive things about you.

---

yuuta okkotsu

bro was in love with a curse I don't think he really cares about looks LMAOO no but this man would literally love you more than anything. your weight is not a problem for him, why would it be? he loves everything about you, your personality, voice, looks, humor, style.. just everything.

his favourite thing is to fall asleep on top of you (his head is usually on top of your chest, stomach or thighs. I don't make the rules, he LOVES falling asleep on you. he's shy with his words tbh but he hypes you up despite that. you're insecure about your body? why? you're perfect, what is there to hate? he doesn't get it, you're the most gorgeous human being in the whole world. (prettier than everything else too, don't get me wrong). and he definitely will tell you what he thinks about you. endless praising tbh

he loves when you ride him; the feeling of your thighs on each side of him as he fucks his hips upwards into you?? he's in heaven, overstimulated by the pleasure and he loves it. will definitely tell you too (I'm a whiny submissive yuuta believer, he whimpers). he loves how soft you feel inside (and outside). he'll def massage your thighs when you ride him (or at least grab them).

---

megumi fushiguro

are we surprised? no we're not!

fav hypeman! he'd literally blush whenever he sees you, you're just way too out of his league (he thinks you're too gorgeous to be in love with someone like him) and he's your boyfriend?? he's the luckiest man alive.

he loves how you look all the time, especially when you're confident. if anyone dares to make you feel insecure about yourself, they will face the consequences. and trust me, no one wants to face those consequences (they're both painful and awfully humiliating. megumi knows how to make people regret things). he's shy about his feelings tbh but you'll hear endless compliments from him. he compliments you when he first sees you in the morning and throughout the day too. there won't be a day when he doesn't compliment you. he loves to see you when you're confident and loves to make you feel confident too.

and he loves your hands; he loves how they feel, he loves how they look.. he just loves your hands SO MUCH. he loves holding them and caressing them and kissing them. he loves how they feel and look around his dick...

he loves kissing you. his hands will be caressing you while his lips are sealed onto yours. if his hand is on the back of your neck, he'll softly pinch it (he loves the extra softness on it, I hope yall know what this means). he'll pinch your back too, your thighs, the sides of your stomach.. it'll definitely be a bit ticklish but you can't blame him, he loves everything about you way too much.

---

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I love chubby chasers tbh (I love chubby women pls) also I don't really like how this fic turned out but that's okay (it makes me wanna cry tbh but I hope yall enjoy!!!)

I got lazy so lmk if you want a part 2 (I have a lot of characters in mind for this)

3K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 1 month

Note

hi :3

everytime i send you a request my personality’s different HAHA

okay, sooo, i was thinking (rare occasion) about your casual dominance story (LOVE btw)

so, how about that EXCEPT reader is the casually dominant one >:)

feel free to ignore this, ik this isnt like what u normally do

love ya MWA

Okay so I swear I tried to do dominant reader but it just turned into this, idk how it happened. She’s not super dominant but she’s not submissive and she definitely gets her way, so I hope you like it <3

cw: alcohol, suggestive content + a bit of light degradation, mdni please

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 601 words

You find the marauders in the living room. At the center of the party, as usual.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Sirius’ eyes find you instantly. He grins. Remus follows his gaze, and immediately starts talking to James about something else. “I was just thinking about you.”

“You’re always thinking about me,” you say, bypassing the space he makes for you on the couch to sit in his lap.

He scoffs, settling his hand on your thigh. You know he can smell your conditioner. You hope he dreams about it. “Sweetheart,” he replies, breath warm on the shell of your ear, “you’re projecting.”

You let your head fall back on his shoulder, batting your eyelashes up on him. “That’s a five dollar word there, baby. You taking lessons from Remus?”

Sirius makes a sound like he’s choked on a laugh. He covers it up by taking a sip of his drink. His cropped shirt lifts when he raises his cup, and you swiftly turn around on his lap, covering the slice of abdomen from view.

He raises an eyebrow at you. He knows what you’re doing, but he hardly minds. You’re conveniently placed to feel something stiff and familiar poking at your heat through his pants.

You grin and shift a little, delighting when his cheeks pinken.

Black fingernails dig into your thigh in an attempt to still you.

“Doll,” Sirius says warningly.

You ignore him, plucking the cup from his hand and swirling it, sniffing at the liquid inside. Sirius holds your stare as you take a sip.

“How many of these have you had?” you ask.

“That there’s my second.”

You hum, taking another sip. Strong, but not bad.

“I’m gonna finish this one off,” you tell him. “I think you’re good for tonight.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “And why’s that?”

You lean in close, wrapping one hand around the side of his neck and murmuring against the shell of his ear, “Because it’s no fun fucking you if you’re already stupid when we start.” You back up an inch, looking into eyes now eclipsed by pupil. “Okay, honey?”

Sirius swallows. You feel the movement of his throat under your hand and stroke the side of his jaw with your thumb. Roll your hips again, just because you can.

He takes in a sharp breath, hands clamping down on your hips to try and keep you in place.

“Sirius, mate,” James says from the other side of the couch, “are you alright?” His brow is creased in concern, but you can see the tensed muscles around his mouth from the effort it takes to keep from smiling. Beside him, Remus is doing a much better job at exercising his poker face. “You look like your drink’s gone down the wrong pipe or something.”

Sirius might normally see the knowing in his friend’s look, too, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. “I’m fine,” he says, voice impressively blase for someone who seems like he could cum in his pants with a couple of strategic movements on your part. “Just thinking it’s time me and my bird get out of here.”

“What?” You make a show of leaning away from him, and the shift in your weight has Sirius gripping desperately at your hips. “Babe, it’s so early. We’ve only just got here. Let’s give it an hour at least, yeah?”

“Really?” Sirius asks quietly, urgently.

You take a slow sip of his drink, letting him see the way your throat bobs when you swallow.

“Yeah,” you exhale as you finish. “Why, are you in some kind of hurry?”

342 notes · View notes

livelaughlaios · 18 days

Text

I think one of the things Dungeon Meshi is definitely about is how different people deal with being an outsider/marginalised/neurodivergent/what have you and basically what im getting at is that Kabru is TEXTBOOK "high functioning [insert diagnosis here]". Its that how they say it still? Don't care.

Basically. This man shows up and you listens to him talk and see how his party treats him and you think. Oh this is a cool guy who has his shit together. And then after like two pages you find out that he has constant flashbacks to Utaya that make him completely freeze, anxiety attacks, thought spirals, is incapable of analyzing his own feelings, is a stuttering mess when the stakes are high, has never done a chore in his life, keeps putting himself in triggering situations and re-traumatising himself, and the icing on the cake is when you read the extra material and it turns out he regularly forgets to eat and lives in a depression nest of dirty clothes and self-medicates insomnia with alcohol and also is 22. Which also kind of puts Misilril not wanting to let him go in another light - yeah for sure she's controlling and infantilising and also its not like she was really helping his issues but also she was not entirely wrong in her judgement. This man does NOT know how to take care of himself. He knows how to do the bare minimum so when he shows up at work the next day he can fool his coworkers into thinking hes got it together enough. For a bit.

He is DEEPLY unwell and he knows it but he is carried by the desperate wish to avoid another catastrophe. If he stops for a moment he KNOWS he'll collapse so he doesn't.

I also think this is why him acting nurse to Mithrun is such an important part of his arc. Its like. This person who has spent all of his adult life focused on a single objective disregarding everything else is faced with what happens when you do that for too long. And the result is a wet tissue of a creature who looks like he doesn't know where he is most of the time.

He is a man on the brink. I have no doubt he felt relieved when he decided he could trust Laios - not even in a Labru way, straight up because he knew he could not keep going like this.

But also like. Of all the characters in the manga, I think Senshi and Kabru are the most lonely ones. Except Senshi seems to be OK with solitude - for sure it's not entirely healthy to be alone for as long as he was but he definitely did well enough. He is very good at taking care of himself. Meanwhile Kabru *knows* a lot of people but can you really say he has friends? Rin, maybe, arguably, but even she does not seem to truly know him, you know? He keeps himself hidden from everyone. I think the only time we see him entirely honest is when he says to Laios that he wanted to be his friend, and hes so shocked when it comes out, you can tell he did not mean to say it. And differently from Senshi, he does NOT fare well alone. He likes people, he needs people. Again compare with Mithrun - he has like a squad of people taking care of him. If Kabru had a breakdown of that size can you say his party would go out of its way to help? Im not sure. Not because they're bad people, but because he's simply not that intimate with any of them.

Idk man it just struck me all of a sudden. Laios is weird and offputting and doesn't care about other humans the way Kabru does and YET he is infinitely more successful at building deep, meaningful relationships and taking care of himself as well. I think this is part of why Kabru is so fascinated with him as well. He can tell Laios has something he doesn't have. Wait this is turning into a whole another post I'll write this next time.

#kabru #dungeon meshi spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #meta #meowing to myself #this is why ive grown so attached to him i realised. i mean who said that. now if youll excuse me i have to go wash a week worth of dishes

244 notes · View notes

1d1195 · 8 months

Text

Right Here

Hi, idk if you all know this about me, but I love tropes. ALL of them. All. of. them. So here they all are: one bed, nightmares, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, childhood "friendship," coworker Harry, grumpy/sunshine (I'll let you guess who's who), etc. etc. etc. (Don't look too close this is Zipper but reveresed)

Other warnings: angst

9.2k+ words

“Business or pleasure?” The driver asked.

She stated “business,” immediately. Whereas Harry said, “a bit of both,” with that devilish smirk of his and looked at her with delight in his eyes. He seemed to get more enjoyment out of his comment as she glared at him.

In Year 2, Harry was playing with a few of his friends by the slide. He wasn’t really aware of what was happening but there was a girl in his class playing with a couple of her friends when the screaming started. There was a huge to-do; parents were called, the principal was involved, and the girl that seemed to be at the center of all the drama would not stop glaring at Harry.

But Harry didn’t like girls. He was six. He wanted to hang out with his friends at recess and maybe learn about the shapes and the planets if he had time. So, he didn’t really care that she glared at him. Or that he had to write an apology letter (that his mum told him how to write in his six-year-old scrawl). It was just another day in the life of a Year 2 student. He didn’t even know why he was writing the little note to her. He didn’t know what happened or why he did something wrong.

Year 2 turned to Year 3 and soon Harry was kissing and hugging his mum and sister goodbye as he went off to university. He was studying English Literature and Communications. He wanted to be a book publisher—mainly because he wanted an excuse to read all kinds of books. Moreover, he could read really good books before everyone else did. Eventually, he hoped to open his own publishing company, but he would need a business partner for that.

That was still a long way down the road. For the time being, he would enjoy university: friends, girlfriends, classes, his part time job, and everything in between. His only downfall was listening to his professor who suggested he get a minor in business—especially if he planned on own his own company. Even if he didn’t fully run the business side of things, it was good to have a general idea. Some key words and concepts would be helpful. More so, if the business partner wasn’t someone he trusted.

But Harry was awful with his business classes. The very first one he took was the bane of his existence. He strongly considered never opening his own company, he would just get the other person to handle it. Needless to say, he was recommended for tutoring two weeks into the class.

That’s where he found the glaring girl. Obviously, no longer seven. She was twenty, like Harry. And she was lovely looking. Except for the scowl on her face directed at Harry. Surely, she hadn’t harbored a grudge toward Harry since she was seven?

Oh, but she was. She was curt while she tutored. Everything Harry did was wrong. She managed to correct his mistakes kindly, but he could tell it pained her. There was a lot of sighing and eye-rolling involved. But she was good, he’d give her that.

Harry tried to be friendly, but she clearly wanted no part of it. “I am not here for small talk with you, Harry,” her voice was flat. She didn’t want to talk about the weather, or parties, or anything that wasn’t part of Harry’s class. When she came to help him at the designated time in the library with tears in her eyes, she sat down, took a deep breath, sniffled, and started her help with his homework.

“Hey, we don’t have t’do this now, beautiful. You’re obviously upset—”

“What do you care?” She interrupted.

“Jesus,” Harry shook his head in disbelief. “What is your problem?” She rolled her eyes, tearfully. “Y’can’t seriously still be mad about Year 2.”

She shook her head. “Just...shut it,” she snapped and turned her attention to Harry’s assignment. He sighed, looking at her like she was on the verge of a breakdown but did as she wished. Listening intently to her lesson, Harry felt this pull of how sad he was by her anguish, and he didn’t even know what it was. He kept watching her expressions, judging her tone, in between her explanations. He was worried there was something seriously wrong.

Despite her anger towards him, he didn’t want her to be upset. He worried someone had hurt her or upset her in some way—in a way that he could fix. It didn’t occur to him why he wanted to help her until well after three other classes she tutored him in for his minor over the last two years of university.

He got very little information out of her about anything that didn’t pertain to his classes. He knew she was grumpy in the afternoon and much preferred to tutor in the morning when her mind was fresh. That was when he got a glimpse of her gentler side—for only a second. She liked coffee a lot, she smelled fresh of her shampoo, and her eyes were brighter. She would ask if he had a good weekend or if he had any fun plans. It was the only time she offered up anything to him.

If it was any time past two in the afternoon, she wanted nothing to do with pleasantries or Harry, it seemed. But she was paid to tutor him, and she did it well. Harry never would have made it through his business classes without her. He was forever thankful for her help, even if she didn’t want to be thanked.

“Harry, would you like to go to this conference?”

He looked up from his desk where he was reading a riveting historical fiction novel that was passed up the chain to him. Harry thought it would be a NYT bestseller for sure. “Me?” He asked, clearing his throat and putting his pencil down. One thing he hated was marking up people’s hard work in any color pen—but especially red. It felt very secondary school of his coworkers to do it that way. Someone pored over this writing and of course no one expected it to be perfect, not even the author. But there was something so ugly about red ink marking up something that your blood, sweat, and tears went into.

Harry would quit writing if he saw even one smidge of red ink on his work.

Which is why he edited and didn’t publish his own work.

Harry had been a senior editor for four years, now. He loved his job. It was everything he hoped for: he read so many good stories and felt he was still learning so much. He was promoted from junior editor to senior editor after two years. He still hoped to own his own company one day.

“Yeah,” his boss rolled his eyes. “Who else would I send? Someone from the business administration team will attend as well,” he explained.

Harry smiled; he knew the second the title left his mouth exactly who would be attending the conference with him. She was going to hate it. “I would love to go,” Harry nodded excitedly. “But between you and me, I don’t want anyone t’get jealous that m’going. D’you think y’can keep it a secret?”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugged. Harry loved this office. It was so carefree. When he had his own company, he would want it to be exactly like this. If he could own this one, he would. He liked all of his coworkers and would want to keep them alongside him.

Including the girl from the admin team that constantly glared at him during work parties, meetings, and office breakroom run ins. If she wasn’t there, then it wouldn’t be worth it.

When Harry saw her interact with their coworkers, he couldn’t help but fall more in love with her. She was so utterly beautiful, funny, and of course, absolutely brilliant. There wasn’t a question she didn’t know how to answer. There wasn’t any advice she couldn’t give. She was never condescending and was extremely helpful. Even when Harry needed her help—which was so rare he only recalled it three times in the entire seven years they worked together. She didn’t sigh, didn’t roll her eyes although he was sure she wanted to.

So, nothing made him happier than annoying her to pieces.

He told everyone he had known her since Year 2. Left notes for her on her cute little lunch box in the fridge, would constantly send random items to her office (his favorite was the look on her face when he sent her a bouquet of balloons. It didn’t do anything, but people said Happy Birthday to her all day, and she had to say it wasn’t). He would tell people they were best friends and watch her blush bright red trying to get out of it. There were so many fake secrets he told the person he was near making direct eye contact with her, just to piss her off.

It worked every time.

He worshipped her, honestly. How could he not? She was brilliant and beautiful. The whole package. Even when she was a bit crabby, he thought she was simply the cutest and went on adoring her from afar.

Harry couldn’t imagine how fun a work trip would be with her.

She hated flying. It was necessary but she hated it. The space was almost too small. It was stuffy and gross in a lot of ways. The seats were cramped, and it was just awful. She had her headphones in place, a relaxing, quiet playlist, a good book, and her travel pillow around her neck. She was more than ready to begin the flight. The conference was a treat, it was shorter hours than her regular workday and then she could meander the town as much as she pleased. It was going to be a great trip and she had been looking forward to it for the last two weeks.

But then Harry sat right beside her. “Hey beautiful,” he smiled sweetly. She stared at him. This had to be a joke.

“You’re kidding?”

“What?” He smirked impishly stowing his bag beneath the seat in front of him. “Excited t’see me?” She flushed that beautiful shade of red that he loved so much on her cheeks. “Ready for our vacation?” He asked. “Bring a good book?”

The plane was suddenly even smaller. She thought she was going to be sick. A whole five days with Harry. Five. She was going to lose her mind. She closed her eyes as the plane jolted forward. Harry was doing all the things he wasn’t supposed to be doing. Fidgeting with the tray table and the like. She wanted to scream.

How could she possibly get stuck with him?

Harry didn’t say much to her throughout the flight. At least not after asking if she was comfortable, which was objectively nice if she couldn’t stand him so much. He grabbed her bag from the bin overhead, made sure she didn’t get lost on her way to baggage claim, and held the door open for her when they reached their Uber. “Business or pleasure?” The driver asked.

She really wished Harry wasn’t so goddamn hot. It should have been a sin to make someone so alarmingly attractive. Soft brown curls that looked like they were made to slip between her fingers. He had green eyes—how was that even fair? Those dimples made her stomach flip. He was incredibly tall and so fit; she thought about falling at his feet every day she saw him at work and just ending her silly grudge.

But she never forgave him for that day in Year 2. Call her stubborn, call her stupid. She didn’t care. It ruined a huge chunk of her young life and made her miserable.

Four days and twenty-two hours. She could survive.

“Me and the missus need a place t’eat, do y’have any suggestions?” he asked, reaching for her hand like they really were a couple. She yanked it out of his grip. She wanted to kill him. More so because she hated the way her heart took off when he touched her and the idea of being “the missus” was...ugh.

She was worried Harry wouldn’t survive the next four days, twenty-one hours, and fifty-eight minutes.

They arrived at the hotel and Harry was once more a gentleman, even though she didn’t want him to be. He grabbed her suitcase and sweetly pushed it through the lobby to the front desk. “Hi,” Harry said cheerfully. She wanted to shower, get out of her plane clothes, and get away from Harry. His chipper attitude was making her grumpier than normal. “I have a reservation under Styles,” he explained. “Here for the convention,” he added.

The man behind the desk nodded, smiling pleasantly as he tapped away on his computer. “It says two guests for your name,” he informed him. Her heart dropped to her feet.

“No, it doesn’t,” she murmured, but she knew it was right.

Harry was smiling like an idiot. This was too good to be true for him and his endless bouts of annoying her. “That’s correct,” Harry nodded.

“Are there any other rooms?” She asked. She already knew the answer, but she would kick herself if she didn’t at least check.

“No, I’m afraid we’re really booked with the convention.”

She didn’t dare ask if there were two beds because she already knew that answer too.

“It’ll be fine, lovie, don’t worry,” he promised. Part of her thought he really meant it too, sensing how upset she was. She was so overcome with frustration; she almost didn’t notice the new name he gave her. That it wouldn’t be torture for her to be in the same little space as Harry for the entire five days. Her heart started erratically beating at the thought. It felt like the sides of her brain were caving in like the walls surely would be when they got to the room.

She would lay ground rules. She would go buy a roll of tape and cut the room in half. Harry wasn’t going to ruin her little reprieve from work. He continued to be kind and pulled her bag to their room. “I would like to shower,” she told him as she eyed the single, king-sized bed in the middle of the room, mocking her. He settled the bags on opposite sides of the room. He chose the side closer to the window for her.

“I’ll be right in,” he winked at her.

She felt the heat rise to her cheeks, which she knew was exactly what he wanted. “What if I don’t want the window side?” She asked instead.

“Well, that I don’t really care, lovie. M’taking closer t’the door in case someone breaks in. Wouldn’t want you t’get hurt.”

She just wanted to annoy him the way he always annoyed her. Maybe make him move the bags around and then move them again which she informed him she did want the window side. But she didn’t expect him to be so nice. Didn’t think he would give a reason that was kind enough to care about her well-being. Even when she was grumpy toward him.

If her cheeks were going to be red the whole week, she was going to lose it. “Don’t come in the bathroom or I’ll murder you,” she rolled her eyes.

“I would never do that,” he rolled his eyes right back at her. “I was jus’ kidding.”

Unfortunately, she believed him. He seemed genuine, as much as she wanted to kill him.

The shower helped her relax marginally. At the very least she got the feeling of the plane off her. “I ordered some pizza. Y’like peppers and onions on yours, right?” Harry, knowing exactly what she liked, furthered her agitation.

“Yeah,” she mumbled.

“I’d like t’shower too. D’you think y’can get the pizza when it arrives and actually get mine too?” He smiled at her knowingly; like he thought she might not take his pizza from the delivery guy in protest of the whole situation.

She rolled her eyes but had to hand it to him because it did sound like her. “Yes, Harry.”

“Hey beautiful?” he said softly. She hated that she looked up, answering to his pretty pink lips calling her ‘beautiful.’ She shouldn’t have. First and foremost, she thought he was wrong. Maybe it was because of all the drama of Year 2 but she never had boys of any age fawning over her after the slide-incident. Not the way they ogled and adored her friends. It did a number on her self-esteem. While she tried to put up this front that she didn’t care about whether she was beautiful or not, it was hard to believe someone like Harry would recognize her as even pretty.

Secondly, it made her stomach flip when he said it and she hated that. It was unfair he was pretty and unfair he could make her crazy with just a word. “M’not so bad,” his face looked apologetic—like he felt bad for existing. “I promise, it won’t be that bad this week with me.” She nodded sullenly, ran her brush through her hair. “’Ve left some notes on the table there for the pizza,” he tilted his chin toward it.

“You don’t need to pay for me.”

He smiled. “Course I do, lovie. S’my treat.”

She hated the way she answered to ‘lovie’too.

She sat in comfortable silence while she ate her pizza. While eating, she looked at the itinerary on her phone. Made plans in her mind and thought about some of the things she wanted to do during her free time.

“Oh good, m’starving. Smelled it while I was showering.”

She did a double take, her jaw falling open instinctively. She nearly dropped her pizza on her lap and then her phone right after it. Harry was hurrying across the room to get to his pizza. A towel low on his hips showing off glistening, taut muscles. Her heart hammered against her chest. “Jesus,” she whispered to herself looking away.

“Did y’say something, beautiful?” He asked, taking a bite of his pizza. She shook her head. Once more, angry she answered with the word ‘beautiful’. His hair was dripping, and she followed the little droplets as they slid down his broad shoulders and across his defined pectorals. It wasn’t fair. She wanted to hate him easily. But his pretty tattoos and his gorgeous body were making it so difficult.

“I’m think I’m going to sleep on the floor,” she told him. He frowned around a bite of his pizza. When he finished chewing, he had a bit of grease on each corner of his mouth. She wanted to reach out with a napkin and wipe it away.

Or lick it away, along with the rest of his body.

“I’ll be the perfect gentleman,” he promised. “M’not gonna let y’sleep on the floor, lovie,” he rolled his eyes. “If you’re that uncomfortable, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

She couldn’t help but feel bad that her awkwardness, her annoyance for Harry, would have him sleep on the floor. He didn’t truly deserve that. This was a work trip for him as well, after all.

Maybe if he was fully clothed, she would have taken him up on his offer. Accepted him sleeping on the floor in her place. But her modern-woman, intelligent brain that she had spent years cultivating so she was independent, and worked so hard to make sure she didn’t go ga-ga over a man was malfunctioning from travel...and knowing she was stuck with Harry in such close quarters for almost a week.

Plus, Harry had the prettiest stomach she had ever seen on a man.

Her primal brain, the one that seemed to be screaming from between her legs, couldn’t help but feel bad for him.

“It’s…fine,” she mumbled focusing on her pizza and phone again.

“Are y’sure, beautiful? I don’t want t’make y’uncomfortable.”

She believed him. He seemed so eager to please her and ease her worries. She nodded. “It’ll be fine,” she was telling herself in hopes it would be true. “But I’m making a pillow wall.”

He smiled around his pizza.

“Would y’prefer I sleep with or without a shirt?” He asked. Harry went to use the hotel gym and then took another shower. She used the time to read her book and sit on the balcony while the sun was setting. It wasn’t a picturesque view or anything, but the sky was a bunch of beautiful hues of pink, blue, and orange.

When Harry exited the shower, it was awkwardly silent for a bit. Harry tended to his after shower-care. She was looking at her book but not reading. She yawned, and that was when Harry asked his question. The inquiry felt like a double-edged sword. If she said with a shirt, it might imply she wanted to hide him from her view because she couldn’t help but look at him. If she said no, it would make it seem like she wanted to see him. “Whatever makes you comfortable,” she decided on.

He smirked and pulled his T-shirt off. “‘Fraid you’re not privy t’that sleeping habit, lovie.” She wondered if anyone had ever been murdered with a hotel phone cord. She felt extremely self-conscious about her t-shirt and leggings combo. “Feel free t’do the same, beautiful,” he grinned wickedly at her as he slipped into his side of the bed. She had two pillows under the blankets and two on top. She was certain that even if she had her own room, it wouldn’t be enough distance between them. “What if I want another pillow?” He asked mischievously.

“Go fuck yourself, Harry,” she grumbled.

He frowned. “C’mon, lovie. S’not so bad.” She didn’t say anything in response and turned to her side facing away from him. She scrolled mindlessly on her phone. “D’you want t’watch something together?” He asked.

“No, thank you,” she murmured quietly. “You can though,” she shrugged. “I’ll sleep through most anything.”

He nodded. “Okay...well...good night, beautiful. Sleep well,” he said sweetly.

She didn’t fall asleep right away. Instead, she imagined the nice museum she saw online. The picturesque street about a mile away with cute little shops. There was the coffee shop she wanted to go to. All the things that Harry couldn’t ruin with his annoying little remarks.

Or his stupid hot body.

Other than some gentle laughter, she didn’t hear or worry about Harry sleeping less than six inches from her own body. The pillows provided the perfect barrier between them so that she could sleep easily knowing that he wouldn’t bug her.

Only four days until it was over. She could do this.

Harry heard her phone drop from her hands to the floor about an hour later. He hurried to her side of the room and made sure her alarm was set, locked her phone, and placed it on her nightstand. He saw the way she seemed to shiver in her sleep. Probably because she was right under the vent. The space between her brows puckered due to her discomfort. He draped the blanket that was at the end of the bed over her. Almost immediately, the skin between her eyebrows smoothed back out. He wanted to kiss her in the very same spot but of course would never do that without her permission.

The movie Harry was playing was funny and he enjoyed it immensely. True to her word, she slept through his laughter and the sound of the movie itself. She was wiggly when she slept. The pillows and blankets balled all around her and Harry wondered how she slept like that each night. It looked nearly painful at times.

Of course, the movie came to an end, and she was still sound asleep when Harry finally turned the TV off and hunkered down into his side of the mattress. He tried not to disturb her pillow wall, but she had managed to throw all of them every which way. He smirked to himself, shaking his head at her.

Harry must have gotten only an hour of sleep under his belt when he woke up to her kicking and mumbling under her breath. The light coming through the window allowed for his eyes to adjust a bit to the darkness against her figure sprawled in the sheets. He shook his head glancing over at her in complete disarray. Her body was still twisted around the pillows and blankets. Harry was left with just the sheet. He smirked at her.

He threw his arm over his eyes and ignored her fitful movements. But they kept going and going. The mumbling too. He felt bad about whatever she was dreaming about, but he didn’t dare touch her. If she woke up to him touching her, even if it was for comfort, he was certain she would kill him.

Harry was a pretty heavy sleeper himself, so her fussy movements didn’t bother him in the slightest. Whatever she was dreaming about had to be a kick for sure and for that he felt bad.

But then Harry heard small whimpers coming from her and he felt his stomach knot. It felt like he was dying at the mere sound of her discomfort. The anguish he felt coming from her was brutal and he wanted nothing more than to hold her and fix it. “Oh, hey,” he hummed, sitting up against the headboard. He looked her over and thought incurring her wrath would be well worth it if he could stop her from whimpering miserably. “Lovie? Y’okay?” He gently shook her by the shoulder. She seemed to be fighting whatever she was dreaming about, and the blankets were keeping her trapped. Harry grabbed the pillows that were on top of her. Her arms were nearly swaddled against her body with the blanket wrapped around her and pulled up to her neck tightly.

Harry flicked the light on his nightstand so he could get a better look at her.

The poor thing was glistening with sweat around her hairline, tears were leaking from her closed eyes, and that space between her brows was cinched together like she was in pain. “Oh, no,” he murmured and crawled out of his side and came around to her side. “Hey,” he cooed. He crouched in front of her and began tossing the pillows to the floor. He unraveled the blankets from around her. “Lovie,” he murmured. He called her lovie at the start of the evening and he couldn’t stop. He loved to call her beautiful and enjoyed how readily she answer to it. But something about her sweet face just made the word ‘lovie’ roll right off his tongue. It was effortless; like it was the only thing he should call her. Once she was without the swaddle of blankets, and the pillows attacking her, she was practically gasping for air in her sleep. “Lovie, you’re having a bad dream,” he gave her a good shake causing her eyes to flash open. Harry gazed at her in alarm. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to hide from Harry. But it was far too late for that. “Are y’okay, beautiful?”

She ignored him. Her breathing evening out. She turned away from him. “Lovie...”

“Would you stop calling me cute names?” She asked, the exasperation thick in her voice. But she was still distraught. He could tell. He was quiet for a minute letting her work through whatever just happened. “Please don’t tell anyone about this,” she whispered.

He blinked. He felt so sad she believed so little of him. “I would never tell anyone anything ‘bout you—”

“You whisper about me all the time,” she snipped.

His mouth fell open in disbelief. “Lovie, you have t’know I don’t whisper anything ‘bout you. M’telling them how pretty I think y’are and how you’ll get all flustered that m’whispering nothing ‘bout you. They know I adore you and think nothing short of wonderful things ‘bout you. Y’seriously don’t get it do you?” He felt so utterly annoyed by her, himself. He thought she was lovely and yes; she was fun to annoy but he would never say anything about her that hurt her reputation. He was sad she thought he would. It never made sense for her to dislike him so intently. He never really cared and turned it into a joke. But knowing she truly didn’t like him made his heart heavy.

She refused to look at him. It was silent for several beats. Harry stared at the back of her t-shirt, her shoulders trying to find an easy rhythm. He wanted her to explain it. Right now. In the middle of the night when they were stuck in a small hotel room together. “Why did you trap me in the slide?” She whispered.

Of all the things he expected her to say, that was not one of them. “What?” He shook his head.

“In Year 2? You and your friends trapped me in the slide, now I’m embarrassingly claustrophobic. If I have anything covering my face, I have a meltdown. It feels like I can’t breathe. If someone...holds me the wrong way for too long, I get overwhelmed. It’s ruined so many relationships and it’s...” she sniffled, her shoulders staggering a bit at the effort.

He frowned. “Is that why you hate me?” He whispered. She didn’t answer him. “Lovie, I had nothing to do with that.”

“Well, they blamed you.”

He sighed. “So, all this time you’ve hated me, and it wasn’t even my doing?” He asked.

It seemed to appeal to the logical part of her brain. She was still for a moment longer, her breathing evening out. But then she rolled to her other side and stared at Harry. He hated the tears that stained her cheeks. That little crease between her eyebrows. He reached out and pressed his fingers there to smooth it out and she let him. It didn’t even bother him that she hadn’t liked him for so long.

Her lips rolled into her mouth as she thought over the last twenty-something years of their lives. It may not have bothered Harry but now it bothered her. “Why have you liked me even though I’m so...crabby toward you?”

He smiled excitedly. Like he was getting a Christmas present or told he won a raffle. “What isn’t there t’like ‘bout you, beautiful?” His hand cupped her cheek and his thumb gently rubbed at the stain of salt on her cheek. The back of her head was warm with sweat and if it wasn’t so late at night, she would feel more self-conscious.

“You’re a glutton for punishment.”

It was progress though because she didn’t push his hand away from her face. “Can I get back on the bed? I won’t touch you, but I don’t want you t’have the pillows and blankets attack you.”

“You can touch me,” she mumbled.

He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Oh yeah?” He rose from the floor to head back to his side of the bed.

She rolled her eyes at him. “I hate you.”

“I don’t think y’do, actually,” he said smugly.

“Are you going to annoy me the entire time?”

Harry turned off his bedside lamp and crawled under the sheet. “Probably.”

She sighed; he imagined her pretty eye roll the way she always did. Harry put his arm behind his head, closed his eyes and tried to drift off to sleep. “You really didn’t trap me in there?” She asked.

Harry turned to his side and looked at the shadow outline of her staring up at the ceiling. He wanted to reach out and trace the shape of her profile, follow it down her arm and hold her hand. “Even as a six-year-old, lovie, I couldn’t hurt you. If...I knew...I would have gotten y’out of there so fast,” he promised. “Poor baby,” he murmured and bravely reached out and grabbed her hand. She didn’t pull from him. She let his fingers fit between the spaces of hers, gave her a gentle squeeze.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know why you were mad,” he shrugged.

“You were really just going to let me hate you for the rest of our life?”

“Hate and love are very close together in the brain,” he said knowingly. “Given y’said the rest of our life,” he smiled excitedly, “I had a feeling y’couldn’t keep it up forever. And I’d wait forever for you, beautiful.” He sounded so arrogant she wanted to hate him just to spite him. But she couldn’t argue with him. It was exhausting hating him. Being in the hotel room with him—especially when he was in a towel—was ruining her grumpy front. Even with sleep still on her brain, she couldn’t help but think about how gentle he was with her and her anxious mind. He was so utterly accommodating and kind to her. He would have slept on the floor if she asked. But she rather enjoyed the feel of his fingers holding hers. “Do you have nightmares a lot?” He asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She shook her head. “Not anymore...Only when I get all twisted like that. I usually sleep better with a weighted blanket to help my anxiety about it. It also keeps me in place, mostly. I’ve had a lot of therapy to help cope with it and the blanket usually helps but obviously y’can’t really travel with a fifteen-pound blanket.”

“Can you snuggle?” He asked.

She blinked at the darkness in front of her. “Can I what?”

“Can you snuggle with someone?” He repeated.

She bit the inside of her lip. “As long as my face isn’t covered,” she muttered. “But it’s definitely been a problem in past relationships if that’s what you’re asking me ab—”

Harry had his arms looping around her and he pulled her toward him so quickly, she barely had time to process. His body spooned behind her, one arm snug beneath her neck and the other draped around the front of her hips. Her heart rate had to be approaching a hundred and fifty. “Is this alright, beautiful?” He murmured into the back of her hair. She was speechless, truly. Harry holding her like...like she didn’t just have a major meltdown. Like he adored her still. “Lovie?” He said, nearly releasing her when she didn’t answer. Worried that her heart rate was too high—he could practically feel it through her back pressed to him. Maybe this was too much.

But right as he started to pull away, her arm pressed against Harry’s. She sighed softly. “No...m’fine,” her voice was quiet.

“Are y’sure? I don’t want t’upset you,” he promised. “Been dreaming ‘bout snuggling with you... but not at the expense of your comfort or anxiety,” he assured her.

“You dream about cuddling with me?”

“Among other things,” he spoke to the back of her hair, his lips smiling against her head.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“I really didn’t think y’could hate me forever, lovie.”

She was quiet for a few moments. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. It was the first time she ever apologized to him. His heart skipped a beat.

“I know, beautiful. How would y’have known, though? I wish y’told me, but I know why y’didn’t.”

More silence. Harry’s bare stomach was touching her t-shirt, his legs were crooked up against the back of hers. They fit like puzzle pieces. She bit the inside of her lip feeling exhaustion pull over her mind. How was she supposed to sleep knowing Harry was sleeping right next to her?

“Good night, lovie,” he murmured.

She sighed, relaxing, and drifting to sleep almost immediately.

The first day of the conference went by quickly with not much to really show for it. Harry enjoyed it immensely and had a thousand new ideas that he suggested to her over their lunch together. She enjoyed it as well but after her night snuggled up to Harry nothing else seemed remotely important.

“Hey, lovie?” Harry said, trying to retrieve her attention. “Did y’have plans this afternoon? M’gonna catch up with a friend,” he nodded toward another table. The idea of Harry leaving her alone actually saddened her, but of course...they’d have the night.

Unless the friend was a girl. In which case he very well could not come back to their shared room. She nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. Have fun,” she encouraged.

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Keep the bed warm for me, yeah?” He winked at her as he pulled away.

She thought maybe killing him would still be an option.

She perused the little picturesque street taking a whole bunch of pictures and stopping in nearly every shop on the street and making a purchase in almost every single one. It was actually really nice. Not too hot, not too cold. She even sort of wished Harry had gone with her on her little adventure. She thought he would have liked some of the shops as much as she did.

It was precisely when she wished Harry had gone with her that she realized she really liked him. All this time.

Maybe he was right, and her brain mistook her affection for him as hatred. She wasn’t ready to say love yet. Even if her subconscious was screaming about how lovely he was.

Even last night when Harry was comforting and gentle about her phobia. He didn’t make her feel bad...in fact he made her feel normal and wonderful. The new information about the slide was a revelation. She had spent so many years with ill-harbored feelings toward Harry. It seemed wasteful after last night. He was kind, understanding, attractive—

She was not in love with him.

She couldn’t be, right?

He was annoying. Even if he wasn’t whispering about her, he was still making her feel grumpy. The constant gag gifts and deliveries were vexing beyond compare.

But those dimples when he smiled? They could undo all those negative emotions she felt. She was certain that there was some pheromone or chemical released in the air when he smiled. One that made her mind momentarily forget that he had been the cause of the slide thing.

However, that wasn’t true anymore.

So...

No. It’s like meeting someone for the first time. You don’t love him.

Not when he called her beautiful or lovie. Not when he openly flirted with her or held her against his warm body in the middle of the night and kept the nightmares away. She did not love him.

But maybe she just really, really, really, really, liked him and wanted to spend all her extra time with him now and show him the little shop she found because she smelled three different kinds of soap that she thought he would enjoy.

Obviously, that wasn’t love.

She looked more like some shopping bag monster than girl, when she made her way into the hotel elevator. Harry was already in the room when she got back. “Have fun?” He asked, putting the new file he brought with him and his pencil aside. His smile was so bright she really wondered how she could have ignored him for so long.

“Did…you catch up with your friend?” She asked. She was gone for almost three hours, she worried that she would come back to find Harry with someone, or someone in the shower...

Or in our bed. One part of her mind was grumpy at the thought. Not our bed. The one brain cell left on the rational side of her mind shouted back.

Harry began untangling her wrists and fingers from the bags she held while her brain had its own conversation. The bags left angry red marks on her skin. He nodded, placing the bags on the floor. “Yeah, jus’ had a quick stop at the pub for a drink,” he gently massaged the inside of her wrists. “I missed you,” he said cutely. She stared at him almost suspiciously. Like maybe all of this was a trick. Her distrust seemed palpable because he frowned. “I did, beautiful. Really missed you,” he brought her wrist to his lips and pressed a kiss on the soft inside skin. She missed him too. Even before she went to the shops, she was dreading leaving his side, but she wouldn’t tell him that. Her face must have softened a bit because the left side of his face turned up in a gorgeous half smile. It made her wonder how Harry had decided on editing and publishing and not modeling. “Would y’like t’get dinner with me?” He asked.

“Like a date?” She blurted out before she could stop herself.

“Yes, lovie. Like a date,” he rolled his eyes.

She frowned. “I don’t really have anything...date-worthy to wear.”

“Well, y’could go naked, but they might throw y’out.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Y’look beautiful now. I’d take y’out in the sexy pajamas y’wore last night.”

She wondered briefly if Harry had ever been hit in the head over the years and suffered irrevocable brain damage. “Sexy?”

“Your leggings?” He smiled mischievously. “M’almost jealous of ‘em touching all of your legs.”

Definitely hit in the head.

“Can I just...have a few minutes to touch up?” She asked, ignoring his comment.

“Course, beautiful. Not that y’need it.” He was good. She would give him that. He was very good at making her feel gooey and pretty. Harry said all the right flirty things. Dinner would be fun, and she was quite hungry.

She exited the bathroom after touching up her makeup and switching out her casual business blouse for a tank top with a cardigan. She swapped her slacks for a pair of jeans. The flats she wore stayed to complete her outfit.

“Will you marry me?” He sighed dreamily as she exited the bathroom.

He was going to give her an aneurysm.

“Shut up, Harry.”

“Ve’been waiting for this date for...” he smiled. “Oh, I don’t know, lovie. Least since university.”

Harry had to have a death wish. “You’ve...liked me? Even though I was mean to you?”

“A glutton for punishment, as it were,” he winked bringing her words back.

She grabbed her little cross body bag and Harry followed her out their hotel room door. Since the slide incident, she had been to at least four different therapists to help alleviate the worry and fear she had. In all honesty, she was much better than she used to be. The airplane was a little daunting during takeoff but that could have been due to a fear of flying, not claustrophobia. Her small attic or the cramped closet in the hall of her place didn’t bother her any longer. Being on a train in public transport rush hour—even when the train came to a standstill in the middle of the dark tunnel—didn’t really bother her anymore. It was only when her face was covered for too long without her ability to get out quickly, sleeping, plagued with nightmares, or swaddled in her blankets too tightly that she felt the waves of anxiety suffocating her like that day on the slide.

Or when the elevator clanged to a stop and jolted her so hard, she nearly fell into Harry.

It was three seconds of pure silence before she realized what happened. Before Harry realized.

“Shit.” Harry whispered.

“Oh no,” her pulse quickened. Her head started to ache, and it felt like the elevator was suddenly the size of an Amazon box and she was crammed inside. It took her a moment to realize the wheezing was coming from her.

“Hey, hey,” Harry quickly grabbed her shoulders. Her eyes welled with tears, and she was heaving on her breath. One of his hands reached for the emergency button causing a monotone ring to take over all sounds in the small space; the volume was louder than her heavy breathing. “Lovie, tell me what t’do,” he begged. “M’sorry,” he whispered. She felt lightheaded and scared. So scared she obviously was having trouble breathing. She worried that she would pass out right into Harry’s arms.

“M’scared,” she croaked.

“I know, beautiful,” he squeezed her shoulders. He held her away at arm’s length afraid to bring her closer in case it would make matters worse. All he wanted to do was wrap her close and console her. “But...s’okay,” he promised. “Really, s’okay.” It wasn’t; he wasn’t trying to make light of her fear either. He knew how bad it was because he had spent the last twenty years waiting for this moment. For her to say she didn’t hate him. For the last ten, he longed for a date. One measly dinner to change her mind. But the broken elevator was going to ruin it all. Honestly, that didn’t even matter to him. All of it didn’t matter. He had to try something to ease her worry. Something to help her scared mind. “I would never let anything happen t’you. Would never let anything hurt you,” he was gazing right into her eyes. He definitely didn’t cure her, but she could feel how devastated Harry felt. He meant it; he wouldn’t let anything harm her as much as he could possibly control. “Deep breaths? Does that help?” He asked. She nodded. She tried but it was hard, the air she sucked in and released was shaky and not very deep. It was hard to think about breathing deeply when all she could think about was dying in this tin box. “Easy, lovie. S’okay,” he squeezed her shoulders again.

The alarm was plain on his face, and she wondered if he wanted to hold her. She wanted to be held but wasn’t sure it would work. Her stomach felt so knotted. Thought maybe she would throw up and she couldn’t imagine a worse first date with Harry than throwing up in an enclosed space. She sank to the floor, her legs scrunched up so she could rest her forehead against her knees. Harry crouched in front of her, clearly still nervous and unsure of what to do. The one part of her brain that still had some rational thought left thought it was a travesty that she would lose Harry from this. She thought if she made it out, she would have to just go home. She couldn’t share a bed with him.

“They’re probably getting someone t’help right now, beautiful. S’okay,” he placed his hands on her ankles. It seemed like the safest option. He was so mortified this happened. To her of all people. The ringing of the elevator seemed to die down with the ringing in her ears. “Lovie?” He asked; he felt anxious that she was breathing so hard. She looked at him, her vision blurred by the tears. “Tell me what t’do,” he begged. He felt so useless. So worried that she was going to pass out or have a meltdown that she would inextricably link to him and never forgive him. After he just made some progress.

He thought about her six-year-old self. Trapped in that slide, her little brain all terrified. He wondered if that little version of herself still existed inside her. It hurt him to think about that poor little girl scared to pieces. He leaned forward and pressed his lips on her forehead and kept pressed there for a moment. That moment in time seemed to stretch on for eternity. But, as he kept his lips on her skin, he noticed her breathing slowly calmed. Her muscles seemed to relax.

“That feels nice,” she murmured almost serenely. He smirked against her skin. Slowly, he pulled away. Her eyes watched Harry with worry, but he slid beside her before he moved too far away. The shaky breathing picked up just a little. Her heart still fluttered with anxiety. She rested her cheek on her knee facing him.

“I...I could...do it again if y’want. If y’think it would help,” he suggested, turning toward her a little more head on. She lifted her head, it felt so achy and heavy. Harry cupped her face and pressed his lips on her skin again. She sighed softly. The ache seemed to ease at his touch.

Ugh. Harry was medicine that she didn’t know she needed. He dragged his lips across her skin, peppering her hairline with soft little presses. She wondered if he would always be this gentle with her.

She still wasn’t sure how she felt about her mind thinking about things like always with Harry. She was fairly certain she would die of humiliation the moment her brain returned to normal once they got off the elevator. There wouldn’t be an always after this. Harry would think she was nuts or ridiculous. There wouldn’t even be a sometimes.

“Are y’okay, lovie?” He hummed against her skin. “As y’can be right now?”

She nodded, feeling utterly safe with Harry beside her. She enjoyed the way his hands felt on her skin. His lips on her face. It was too bad she didn’t know all these years he had nothing to do with her childhood trauma. She thought she really could be in love with him.

It took an hour, but they were finally freed of the metal tin. The moment she had fresh air, she felt infinitely better. Harry could see it on her face and in her body language. She was entirely at ease. Back to normal. After a flurry of questions and the hotel offering a few extra nights, they left for a nearby restaurant. Harry held her hand, fingers twisted together. He didn’t say much, because he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say after that. He knew she had to have felt so exposed and vulnerable.

“We...don’t have to go out, if you don’t want,” she mumbled.

Harry frowned and stopped the pair of them in the middle of the sidewalk. “Do y’want t’go back?” He asked.

She bit the inside of her lip. “I’m sorry.”

He blinked in surprise. “For what, beautiful?”

“For being crazy?” Did he forget what just happened?

“Crazy?” He repeated in surprise. “Lovie, s’not your fault. M’glad you’re okay.”

“You’re not...you don’t think I’m...weird?”

His heart felt such sadness for her. “No, lovie. Course not. Think you’re lovely. I was so scared y’were going to hurt yourself in all the worry. M’so glad you’re okay. M’sorry y’had to—why are y’crying, beautiful? Are you alright?” He asked, her eyes spilling with tears. He thought he might cry right with her. Harry had a good six or seven inches on her and he bent his knees a bit so he could be eyelevel with her teary gaze. His hands cupped her face just like on the elevator and he looked pained that she was crying.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t know why she was apologizing. But he let her and pulled her toward him, careful not to cover her face with his embrace. She sobbed into his chest. Harry kissed the top of her head. “S’okay, beautiful. Don’t know why you’re apologizing. But s’okay.”

It felt so embarrassingly awful that she and Harry would never be.

They ordered takeout, had a drink while they waited—barely speaking as they did, and headed back to the hotel. Of course, they took the stairs. She didn’t even feel like eating as she sat across from Harry on the balcony. He ate his veggie stir fry quietly while she poked at the pasta in her takeout box. “That’s pasta, you remember?” He smirked at her. “You’re supposed t’eat it,” he encouraged. Trying to joke so she would feel a little better.

She couldn’t even muster an eye roll for him. Ending before they started...after a whirlwind of one night and day of the convention seemed utterly unfair.

“Lovie?” He asked quietly. She didn’t respond. She was worried she would cry. “Beautiful,” he murmured setting his food aside, crouched beside her seat and pushed her food to the side as well.

“I...I think I really like you,” she whispered.

He smiled. “Well finally, lovie. But y’don’t have t’cry ‘bout it, m’right here,” he gave her knee a gentle squeeze. Like he was consoling her.

She shook her head. “S’not fair to you or all that time I wasted. And I’m so weird.”

“You’re not weird, lovie,” he promised.

“Yes, I am, Harry.”

He shook his head. “Y’seriously going t’continue pushing me away when m’literally on my knees in front of you, beautiful? I don’t care if y’weird or not. I don’t care if y’cry on elevators or if y’sing in the shower. You’re m’favorite person t’annoy and I want t’do it, knowing I can kiss you after every joke,” he looked up at her eyes from his crouched position. “Y’don’t have t’waste any more time, lovie. M’right here.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, worried she was going to say no or something just because she was so nervous about all of it. It was twenty years of disliking Harry (well, not really, but yes really). That was twenty years of hating small spaces of getting nervous in crowds and explaining to boyfriends that she couldn’t attend some events even when she wanted to.

But Harry didn’t care.

And she believed him.

She should have begged him to leave her alone because it wasn’t fair to him, and she truly believed that. Harry was so much kinder than she ever, ever imagined. Now he was right, of course. He was right here. Right in front of her. Literally on his knees telling her he wanted her. Despite everything. So instead of opening her mouth where she might say no, she nodded slowly.

He sighed with relief and wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her toward him. He carefully squeezed her rubbing his hand up and down her back so soothingly she wanted to cry some more. Harry had the gentlest touch, and it was melting her—inside and out. She sighed into his chest, arms wrapping back around him. She even pressed her face right into his T-shirt and didn’t feel the creeping sensation of doom surrounding her. Instead, all she could smell was the scent of Harry’s laundry detergent and the very essence of Harry.

“Thank you, beautiful,” he sighed into the top of her hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. He pushed her away from his body but kept her in between his arms. He really loved touching her face. “Can’t wait t’join you in the shower, now,” he winked.

She rolled her eyes. He wasn’t going to quit, that much was certain. “You should be better than that detachable shower head,” she murmured.

He stared at her fully for at least half a minute, unable to speak. He cleared his throat after what seemed like a lifetime and then kissed the center of her forehead followed by the tip of her nose. Right before he kissed her lips for the first time in their lives, he whispered, “that I have t’see, lovie.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use

Please let me know if you'd like to join the taglist, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

833 notes · View notes

theragethatisdesire · 1 month

Text

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

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

pairing: eren jaeger x reader

wc: 10.4k

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

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

without further ado...

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t forget. Find something.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, you wish he’d stop talking.

“Well, do you go to Oxford?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s your brother?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Peaches?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said I didn’t say that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What time is it, then?”

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open up.”

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

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

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

“I’m never hungry.”

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

“Never.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Didn’t want to what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eren? Eren? Where are you, Eren?”

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

“Hamlet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There you are.”

Your head snaps up comically fast– “You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are we?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I��m not sure, I–”

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

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

“Oh–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sleeping?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Need company?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eren?”

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

“Was I talking in my sleep?”

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

“No, why?”

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

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

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

“Wait, Eren! You forgot your water.”

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

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

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

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

“Tell you– w-what? Here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I…I’m scared.”

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

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

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

“Wait–”

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

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

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

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

“Keep going.”

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

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

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

A knowing smirk. “When?”

“When I saw you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was your answer?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But what?”

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

“Real?” Eren cocks an eyebrow at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

271 notes · View notes

wonderlandwalker · 20 days

Text

Shining Bright | James Potter x Reader

Marauders Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: You and James reunite after the winter holiday, reminiscing old memories and stumbling into new ones. Except Sirius doesn't know you're dating yet, and James is not particularly good at hiding it anymore.

Content Warnings/Tags: Smut, fluff, angst kinda idk, Reader is Sirius' sister (how do I even tag that), 18+, hinting at abuse, simping, traumatizing bystanders, not proofread just go with it, no use of y/n, ignore any plotholes

Word Count: 4.0k

A/n: I listened to the hazbin hotel soundtrack on repeat while writing and I'm praying it doesn't show. This was gonna make this longer but then I got impatient so lemme know if you'd like more. Not kidding when I say it's not proofread this came straight out of my notes so sorry for any mistakes, will come back later to fix them xx

The black family siblings were all as bright as the stars they were named after, James knew this for a fact. Sirius was the brightest star in the night sky, scorching others with his light in a way you couldn't look away from even if you wanted to. Regulus, not as blinding as his brother, but shining in his own right amongst those who took the effort to look for the constellation he carried with him. And you, you were a puzzle James couldn't yet solve, the light luring him in like that spark people spend their lives looking for, never sure if they'll ever get to hold it.

After Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor in his first year, your parents had been very strict about who you socialized with, not wanting any further damage to the oh so carefully crafted family image. Not that it mattered, you and Sirius found plenty of ways to talk, most people didnt care enough to snitch and the ones who did were familiar enough with what you both were capable of to watch their tongues. Sirius was more loud and proud in his defiance, living up to his namesake in the sky, but you were better at hiding it, playing into the part people expected. Yes, Sirius was a fallen star, and your parents had worried he’d drag you with him, but you only shined brighter in his absence, trying to make up for the light lost as if something wasnt permanently dimming it.

And that's exactly what he was worried about right now, because you were never really yourself after a holiday at the Black family manor, always a part of you left behind, a part dimmed. But James was your sun, always there shining bright enough to ignore anything else, because with his light you were never truly dulled. He had missed you, he had missed you so much, your relationship was fresh, but he had been head over heels from the first time you kissed. He had been replaying the memory in his head so often he could almost see it.

You were slytherin’s head girl, just as he was gryfindoors head boy, and you had run into each other while doing rounds of the hallways. Typically this would be a job for the prefects, but for some reason the both of you had decided to take over their duties for the evening, you called it luck, James called it destiny.

It was simply banter while walking down the halls, and it was mostly at James’ expense, but he wouldn’t trade the moment for anything. He was loud with his body, moving his hands as he talked and sometimes kicking his feet ahead of him, but you were more quiet, more calculated. So James did what he always did, talk. “I had a dream once about a glass of strawberry lemonde except it was only as big as my pinky finger, and there was this duck who tried to keep stealing it from me.” You stop in your tracks as he finishes his rant, staring right at him. “Oh my god, I had the exact same dream.” “Really?” his eyes were wide as he saw your face change.

“Are you crazy, of course I didn’t.” You fell back into step and he hurriedly caught up with you again. “Well you never know, Sirius and I have the same dreams sometimes, I mean we’re basically brothers-”

“Does that make me basically your sister?” Your eyebrows were raised at him as you asked your question, and he had to do his best not to trip over his own feet as he answered.

“What, no!-” his face had turned bright red rather quickly, and you would probably never admit this to him, but you had found it quite endearing. “I don’t, I just don’t think of you as a sister, definitely not a sister.” Somehow you had turned him into a nervous wreck in under a minute, and you were quickly getting addicted to the effect you had on him, letting him tumble over his words further.

“Like, if I married you, Sirius would be my brother but you wouldnt be my sister, you know. Those two things don’t have to go togethe-” his thoughts slowly trailed off as he turned his head to look at you, a bright smile now evident on your face, and if this is how your face lit up, he’d gladly make a fool of himself for the rest of his life. “You’ve been thinking about marrying me?” Your head was turned up towards him, challenging him to continue his train of thought. He looked frantically around him as if searching for an answer, hiping the right thing to say would magically appear, but of course it didnt. “What, of course not, I don’t wanny marry you. Wait- no i mean, hypothetically I would but-” “You can relax James, I’m just messing with you” Your shoulders were slightly shaking, suppressing laughter he was desperate to hear. “Right” The tension seeped out of him right as he started laughing himself, and it was so infectious you couldnt help but join him in it.

The two of you fell into an effortless silence as you continued, and James was about to break it before you beat him to the punch.

“You know, right now would be a great moment to kiss me” he was sure he would get whiplash from the way his head turned towards you. The look on your face didnt give anything away, and for a moment he had wondered if he had made it up. “If that's the sort of thing you’d want to do” you were looking down at your shoes now, roles reversed as you had become the nervous one, and for another moment he just stared at the blush creeping up on your face before he realised he should probably say something, anything.

“Don’t you think this is wrong? '' Alright, maybe that wasnt the right something to say, but he genuinely pondered before you put his worries to rest. “dont you think that’s up to us to decide?” You were looking up to him now, eyes enchanting him with a single glance.

“If Sirius finds out-” “I won’t tell if you don’t”

“Well- “James, do you want to kiss me or not?” “Merlin, yes.” with that the last of James’ self control was lost, and he pushed you into the wall behind you as his lips found yours, dedicated to explore you for as long as youd let him. You melted into the kiss just as quickly, leaning your body into him as he pressed up against you. James was eager with everything he did, and this was no exception. His hands didnt know where to go, never staying still for long as they roamed your body, you couldve sworn they were little rays of sunshine, lighting you up everywhere he touched. Your own hands found their way to the nape of his neck, tugging at some hair, resulting in a small moan leaving him, and after the taste you were desperate for more. James found himself in a similar situation, completely forgetting his surroundings as his mouth made its way to your neck, trailing kisses down from by your ear to your pulse point until you were silently moaning his name, begging him not to stop, not that he’d ever dare to.

He continued his assault on your neck, his hands trailing up higher and higher underneath your shirt, longing to feel more of you, you tugged at his hair again and led him back to your face, connecting your lips once more, this time more sloppy, your patience completely gone.

James was ready to drop to his knees for you, and he would have if he didnt hear someone nearly shriek behind him. He turned around, coming face to face with a second year Hufflepuff who looked close to fainting, stuck in place at the corner she had just turned.

“Shit” he mumbled as he leaped forward, not sure whether to comfort the girl or scold her for being out past curfew. As James looked back at you you were close to losing it, and he couldnt deny the humour of the situation himself. In the end the two of you walked the girl back to her common room, not too worried about the situation with how in shock she seemed to be.

So yes, winter break had left him simply wishing to be near you again, and now he was so close he could almost already feel you in his arms again. He had debated telling Sirius, it would be so much easier, since he had moved in with the Potters a while ago and James was struggling to keep his yearning for you to himself, he was sure his parents had figured it out already, but simply choose to let him deal with it on his own for now. Everytime you send Sirius an owl he wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him, hoping that information about you would fall out like loose change.But he knew Sirius couldn't know, he knew that. Everyone assumes it's James who can't keep a secret, always wearing his heart on his sleeve, but really that's only because he's never really had a reason not to. Truly, it was Sirius who couldn't keep a thing to himself, once he knew, half of Hogwarts knew, he just couldn't stop himself from talking about the things that excited him, which was one of the qualities James so adored, but not one which would play in your favour at the moment.

You were still living with your parents, still subject to their ways and while James had begged you to come live with him as well, you were hesitant. Hesitant to leave Regulus behind, hesitant to leave the life you had grown so accustomed to, even if it wasn't a good one. The both of you knew your parents would never approve, sure, James held the pureblood status, but it had lost its value the moment he harboured Sirius.

And so when the winter holiday came to an end and they once again reached Hogwarts, James was the embodiment of pure excitement. He was glad no one was questioning it, most likely brushing it off as joy at reuniting with his friends, which wasn't entirely untrue.

For a little while he truly got lost in seeing everyone again, trading stories with Remus and Peter about what they had been up to, discussing pranks that needed to be set ij motion to make up for lost time, but when the start of term party took place and he walked down to the common room with the others he froze in his tracks, because there you were. For a split second he wondered if it had been a dream, he had been having them so often now, but Sirius rushed past him to envelop you in a hig so tight you spilled half of your drink over yourself, cursing at him in such a soft tone of endearment as you hugged him back.

"I've missed you, you know" Sirius was beaming at you, doing a quick double check of you, something James used to not think much about until je started doing it himself after he found the strange bruises none of you dared to speak of.

"Yes Siri, I do know" you chuckled back at him, and in that moment all the worry disappeared.

"I've missed you too"

The rest of the group caught up with the two of you, and it was Remus who first spoke

"It's good to see you back" he acknowledged with a small nod, not one for big gestures, but you had all learned it truly was the thought that counts.

"It's good to be back, now if you'll excuse me, I have to go change so there's no longer firewhiskey all over my shirt" You gave a pointed look at Sirius, but his antics were nothing new to you.

"Just use one of my sweaters so you don't have to go all the way back to the slytherin dorms, I have some extras upstairs" sirius nudged his head towards the stairs, you gave him a final hug as you moved to take him up on his offer.

As you walked by him James could smell the blend of vanilla and rosemary that was still there despite the liquor, it intoxicated him like a drug he was already hooked on, finally getting a fix of it after so long apart, and he had to remind himself not to grab you and kiss you right then and there.

You disappeared from his sight as you went up to the dorms and it only took another second for James' brain to spring to action.

"I gotta go"

"What, why? We just got here" he knew he would need a better excuse, but the fuses in his head weren't connecting.

" forgot my wand" is what splurged out

"Why would you need your wand we're-" thankfully it was Sirius's short attention span that came to the rescue, because the moment he saw Marlene he made a beeline to go see her. James wondered if he had it in him to explain his actions to Peter and Remus, but neither of them seemed to mind much, so he sprinted off to the stairs as well.

As soon as he got to his dorm, he reminded himself to knock, not wanting to startle you.

"Merlin Sirius, how am I meant to find anything in this mess?" James creaked the door open to see you rummaging through your brother's trunk, still looking for the sweater you had come up here to find.

"Why don't you just wear one of mine" even the idea of it already made James's head dizzy. Your head spun around as soon as you heard his voice, and for a moment the two of you simply stood there, looking at each other like a long lost treasure. But it didn't last long, because right after James crossed the room in record time, he took you in his arms, connecting his lips with yours as if you were his last source of oxygen. The kiss was heated and filled with lust from the both of you, and James could finally let himself go, finally let his thoughts out and make them reality once more.

That’s why he decided not to waste any more time as he gently nudged you towards his bed, making sure you wouldnt hit the headboard as the both of you laid down. He remembered the path he was trailing down your neck with his eyes closed, had remembered the way your breath hitched and your hips squirmed everytime he did so. All he had to do was follow the same signs and you were a mess underneath him in no time. His hands made their way up underneath your skirt, massaging the skin underneath his fingertips as he heard you moaning out his name, pleading for him to keep going, and he was more than happy to fullfill your request. He continued his way down until he came face to face with your whiskey stained shirt, not thinking twice before taking it off you, but from how you were quick to connect his lips with yours once more you didnt seem to mind. But James was a man on a mission, and it was not one he was willing to abandon. So he willed himself to ignore the whine that left you as he moved away from the kiss, knowing you’d forgive him for it soon enough.

He found his way to your chest and took in the sight for sore eyes you were to him, once again glowing underneath him. He was starting to suck bruises onto your skin, love marks he knew only he would see, and when he would next time he’d be just as eager to leave even more of them behind. Having you like this again, feeling the heat of your skin against him, your hands tugging at his curls as he could hear more and more moans slip out of you, it got him hard in his trousers simply thinking about all the things you’d let him do to you, all the things he’d do for you. He was rutting his hips into the mattress, desperate for the friction of it, his hands krept up further towards your cunt, inching further up until he could slide your underwear to the side and feel just how wet you were for him. His mouth was still busy on your chest as one of his fingers found its way inside of you, making you arch your back towards him. “Fuck darling, your pussy feels just as good as I remember” You wanted to reply to him, telling him how good he felt inside of you, his long hands reaching places you never could on your own, but your words failed you as just another moan left you, your exterior having crumbled down in a matter of minutes thanks to the one and only James Potter, but he seemed to know exactly what was going on.

“I know baby, I’ll take good care of you don’t worry”

He had never broken a promise before, and he wasn’t about to start now, he added a second finger, crooking them inside of you towards the one spot that would turn your vision white as if you were staring straight into the sun itself. If this had been any other moment you might have been embarrassed about how fast you were starting to reach your high, but James wasnt the only one who had been waiting for this, dreaming about seeing each other again, counting down the days. It took him only a little while longer, encouraged only further by your laboured breathing until he was sure he was about to reach his own climax simply from the sounds you were making underneath him as he coaxed you through it. But he didnt give you much time to recover, not letting you catch your breath as he went further down the bed until he could start kissing your thighs, giving in to the urge to bite some of the fat leading up to your cunt, it made you produce a small shriek, and it encouraged him even further.

So he wasted no more time, attaching his lips to your clit and lapping at it like a man starved, wanting to make you cum again, wondering how fast he could make you come undone again. His tongue hungrily took in all the juices from your previous orgasm and from the next one creeping closer and closer. His nose kept bumping against your clit as his mouth was now on your opening, not quite reaching the spots his finger could but oh so heavenly in a whole other way. He was dangerously close to his own high now, rather sure he’d reach it the moment you started spasming underneath him from the overstimulation. But he wasnt letting down just yet, doubling down on his efforts as he felt you grow restless, gracing his ears with whimpers and whispers reserved only for him. He could tell you were about to tip over the edge, knew you and your body well enough by now to see the signs before you even registered them yourself. “You can let go, I’ve got you” he accentuated his words with a soft squeeze to your inner thighs as he could feel you melt into him and took everything you would give him.

“I’m pretty sure you just beat your record” you were breathless but you were already softly giggling as a wide smile broke on his face, proud of himself for his endeavors but furthemore proud of how he had been able to get you to let your walls down around him, how you had let him help you disassemble them brick by brick with each passing day. It was still early in the relationship, but James had never been so sure as to the fact that he loved you, because your presence made him shine even brighter than he already did, and he wasnt sure how much longer he could keep it contained. He moved back up the bed, caging you in with his arms as he leaned down to kiss you, no longer hurriedly or messy, but soft and delicate like the first rays of morning light.

Just as he did so however, someone came barelling in the room, and James cursed himself for not having locked it.

“You better not be cutting one of my shirts into a tank-top again- holy fuck” Sirius very nearly landed face first into the hard wood flooring as he caught sight of the two of you before he he steadied himself on the dresser. The both of you shot up from your positions on the bed, and, ironically enough, approached him as one would a startled deer. “What in Merlin’s beard were you two just doing” He looked as if he was contemplating life itself, and you almost felt bad for him

“What, nothing, you’re drunk-” James tried to defend, but you were rather sure there was no way out of this one.

“I’m not drunk, I’m sober and that's the problem” He was flailing his hands around now, and it was hard to suppress the laugh bubbling its way up your throat.

“Don’t laugh, this is not a situation to laugh at” he was trying to be stern, but it didnt quite suit him.

“It’s alright Sirius, James and I have been seeing each other for a little while now” He was no longer shocked, no, his current expression better resembled being offended.

“And neither of you told me” he was nearly shouting now, but the party downstairs was loud enough that it didn’t really matter anyway.

“We haven’t told anyone, and youre not exactly the best at keeping secrets.”

“Excuse me, I’m great at keeping secrets, I never told you he’s had a crush on you since third year, but apparently I should have”

“Completely forgot I ever told you that” James’ shoulders had lost their tension as he stood next to you now, slowly reaching out for your hand.

“I will go now before either of you scar my eyes any further” Sirius said as he made his way back to the dorm door.

“Oi Moony, wait till you hear- fuck I can’t tell you” He had made a complete mood shift once more as he turned fuzzy, wanting to tell someone the news immediatly.

“It’s fine, Remus knows.” You tell him, interlacing your fingers with James’ in the meantime.

This time he looked betrayed again, halfway down the stairs already as you could hear him yelling. “You knew and didnt tell me?!” and it was faint, but you could make out Remus’ voice as well. “Of course I knew, I have eyes” The two of you looked at each other as he placed a simple kiss on top of your hair, a small gesture of affection that would become increasingly more common with time. He turned around briefly to grab something from his trunk and before you could register it he had already asked, the shirt in his hand.

“Still gotta change your top, why don’t you take my jersey” It made your heart flutter as you slipped the item of clothing over your head and you went to follow Sirius downstairs, figuring this was as good a time as any to tell everyone.

343 notes · View notes

buckyhad · 7 months

Text

Sweet

Pairing: Dark!teammate!Max Verstappen x reader

Tw: NC, purity ring, smut, reader is 18, Max is 25, idk what else

Based on this request!

Max just couldn't understand how someone as nice, caring and dumb like you got into one of the most dangerous sport. After getting tired of racing in NASCAR, and almost retiring from motosport, Christian Horner saw the opportunity and got you a seat as their reserve driver.

Nobody thought it would go well, racing in such a different category and skipping all the previous steps to F1, it was just failure in plain sight. But when Daniel Ricciardo, their second driver broke one of his bones and you got in the seat, it was amazing. You loved Danny, he was so funny and such and amazing coworker who loved to tease you.

"What's that ring you got there?" He asked wiggling his brows, making the blood rush to your cheeks, you weren't ashamed of anything, it was a part of your identity, but something about him asking that in front of Max, who you knew would make fun of you, made you blush.

"Mmm, it's a purity ring" you stared at the floor.

"Oh, that's cool" he said smiling.

"A purity ring?" Max scoffed "what time are we in? In the 1800?" He laughed leaving you to deal with the shame in the form of prickling tears in your eyes.

"Not cool mate" Daniel shaked his head.

"Not cool how she's so proud of that thing, like everybody else is worse than her" he shrugged.

You rushed out of the garage, the word shame wasn't enough to describe how you felt right now.

Walking to the McLaren's garage, you saw Lando, changing your path towards the brit.

"Hey sweet" he hugged you sideway.

"Hey Lan" you smiled.

"Want to help me take some pictures?".

"Sure, would love to"

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

Making your way back to your garage to finally get ready to race, starting to feel anxious about facing your teammate again.

You never felt ashamed of your ring, but it was itching in your finger, begging to be taken off and be hidden.

Looking to both sides you decided to take it off and save it on your pocket, finally reaching your side of the garage to start getting ready.

"Good luck sweet" Daniel said, bumping his fist with yours, frowning when he saw your naked finger.

"Thanks Danny, I wish you could be racing in my place" you said hugging him, needing the comfort of your friend.

"Well, I dont, you're going to do great".

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

In fact, it went amazing, taking your first win on the Monza track? A dream come true, except for the part when you had to face Max again, breaking his almost record wasn't in your plans.

Showering and hiding away in your driver's room was the best idea on your mind. Not having to face your furious teammate.

Well it was a good idea, till he opened the door that you didn't lock well.

"Fucking hiding from me? Not even going to apologize for what you did?" Max was towering over you, looking down at you from your place on the sofa.

Starting to tremble a little, not liking how mean he was being "I'm sorry Max, I really didn't mean to" you hugged yourself "But I'm happy I won, it's my first win" you whispered the last part.

"And why should I care? You fucking ruined my record!" You flinched at his raising voice, not being used to be yelled at "You pretend to be so nice and sweet, but then you go and ruin everything for me, and I don't even get a real sorry? You are a bitch" he spat.

"I'm not!" You said standing in front of him "I've been nothing but nice to you, I don't know what you want from me" you saw his face change, frowning and a twisted smile appearing.

"Apologize" he said "You're not a dumb kid that doesn't know how to say sorry, you're fucking 19"

"No, I wasn't wrong, you don't deserve it" you shaked.

"Seat" he demanded.

"Wh-"

"Stop playing dumb, you heard me" he pushed you down "Going to teach you how to say I'm fucking sorry"

You watched in horror how he started to undo his jeans, trying to stand again, failing when he bloked you.

"Be nice" he growled "Open your mouth"

"No, go away Max" you cried.

"Open" he said squeezing your cheeks with his hand, hurting you till you gave in, his fingers pressing down on your tongue, letting you taste your own tears "If you bite me, it would be worse, be nice, like you always are, okay?" When you didn't respond he got his face closer to yours "Okay?" Shaking your head 'yes' to reply his demand.

Finally taking his aching cock out of his tight jeans, proding at your lips "Open" he said once more, smiling when you did as he said "That's it, sweet, so good" you flinched hearing your nickname coming from his mouth.

He started to fuck your mouth at a slow pace, moaning quietly "Fuck, relax, breath through your nose and you would stop choking sweet" he told you with a sigh, keeping his moves going "That's it, much better" he caressed your hair, making you cry even more pushing at his thighs, he pulled out.

"You got what you wanted Max, please go away now" you cried.

"Oh sweet, I just started" he chuckled "Take your pants off" he kissed you cheek "And put the ring back on" watching you fish the ring from your pocket, putting it on and freezing, he sighs "come here" he said pulling you by the loop on your jeans, taking it off himself.

"Max, please, stop" you whispered, trying to cover yourself.

He didn't listen to you, putting his hands on the back of your thighs pulling you on top of him.

"Please, I'm not going to said anything, I swear" you cried.

"Put your hands on my shoulder" he ignored you again, kissing you while moving your panties to the side, thrusting inside you little by little, not letting go of your lips.

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

The next day, arriving to film some content for the team, you went to say hi to Daniel.

"Hey" you hugged him.

"Why the fuck does Max have your ring on a fucking chain?".

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

A/N: Hellooo, more dark content bc is never enough, hope you enjoy it, love yall🤍

#max verstappen smut #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #dark!max verstappen #max verstappen x oc

891 notes · View notes

yuri-is-online · 2 months

Note

I was thinking back to the Halloween Event in TWST and that moment where Ace yells at Malleus for kidnapping Yuu (and other other students, he guesses) and IDK, maybe it's just how I look at Malleus' face and tone, but I could just picture him looking at Ace and thinking "Ah yes. He shall make a fine Queensguard for when I marry the Prefect"

I think you might be the only person who saw that scene and saw something other than aceyuu and o7 props for that know what you like and make everything about it, that's what I say!

I did sort of tear my hair out about this for a bit because my initial reaction was to say "I don't think Briar Valley recruits from outside countries" but that's not really true. I seem to remember that Sebek's grandpa isn't originally from Briar Valley, he's from the Sunset Savannah but he is still a fae so maybe they only make exceptions for other fae? Either way I can't really see Ace accepting a body guard position, he'd probably find it too boring ha. And I don't think Malleus would think to offer that since he would much rather leave guarding his spouse to Silver and Sebek. Lilia guarded both his parents after all, it just makes sense for him to trust his guards with his spouse too. His friends have more than proved themselves capable of such an honor.

I think the scene showed how much Malleus likes being treated like a person. He put Ace's friend in danger and Ace is chewing him out like he would anyone else, and it's someone Malleus cares about too so he's extra appreciative! It's good to know the people you care about have people around them who do too. He might not think to hire him on as a guard, but I could absolutely see him giving Ace and Deuce honorary titles as blessings because of how much he appreciates all they did for Yuu while they were at school. It is part of his role as Briar Valley's king to bestow gifts after all.

Now historical fantasy au Ace as an actual card soldier and Queensguard to Royal Riddle? That I can see.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #malleus draconia x reader #i have an actual idea for a fantasy iseakai ish ayuu that would be a multi part fic #i was keeping it offline since i thought i might want to do something original with it but nah #it takes too much from other things to feel like my own #but i can't decide who yuu's getting shipped with sjknfdjdfng #problems for later me i suppose

187 notes · View notes

hxneybimbo · 2 years

Text

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: bit of smut, ANGST, insecurities, unrequited love. Mentions of previous relationships with Steve and Billy

Author’s note: LMAAAO I should be writing smut instead but a girl was sad and felt like writing some angst. This is just a drabble and frankly, I LITERALLY just wrote it. Idk what else to add and it seems unfinished but I’m satisfied :)) also lmao idk how to write angst so 👁👄👁 I apologize if it’s awful

PART 2

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Everything was falling apart, spiraling into utter chaos. And no matter how much you tried to piece everything together; to be disillusioned and happy—it was all going downhill. You’ve been walking down an empty, random road. You don’t know if you’re lost, frankly you don’t care. You’re feet are starting to hurt but all you can really care about is the fact that you feel used.

“Ed—Eddie, I love you,love you-“ You whined, cunt clinging onto his fat cock that thrusted in and out of you. Your lips slightly bruised from the kiss from earlier. All you can think about is how good you feel, how the kisses Eddie gives you are sweet and perfect.

“Fuck— I love you” Eddie moaned lowly against your ear, eyes clenched and sweat dripping down his neck. Your heart fluttered hearing those words and you smile. You never get tired of hearing them fall from his lips.

“M’gonna cum, shit! Love you,Chrissy-“

Immediately, you freeze underneath him and your eyes are wide while he pulls out and spurts his cum all over your stomach. All you can think about is the name he spoke, the name that didn’t belong to you. You push him off you and hurriedly shove on your clothes, ignoring his call of your name and rush out of his home.

You’re quite used to these feelings that never seem to go away. You’re used to being used, to men who never seem to love you the same way you love them. They take bits and pieces of you, borrowing those pieces and never returning them once they got what they needed.

You let them and you don’t know why; maybe you’re just stupid. You cling onto this pathetic hope, hoping that they’d stay—hoping that maybe if you don’t say anything and continuously love them, they’d love you.

It doesn’t matter how much affection you give them or how much you do for them—it never did. They never bat an eye at you and they don’t fucking care no matter how much you wished they did. You think back to your previous relationships and how they unsurprisingly failed. Steve Harrington was your very first boyfriend and you always knew he wasn’t completely over Nancy. But Steve fucking Harrington showed interest in you immediately after getting dumped by Nancy. You always had a crush on him so why wouldn’t you say yes to dating him? He dumped you after six months of dating. You didn’t realize you were a rebound until that night. You tried to make him happy, you really did because he was sweet and you genuinely loved him.

With Billy Hargrove, you at least didn’t have to suffer as much. He was honest, brutally to the core. You were just meant to be a quick fuck but it turned into more. Except you loved him and he didn’t. You knew that fully well and you didn’t expect anything from him. You deluded yourself for a bit until he grew tired of you, until he told you that he didn’t love you. It hurt being told: “I don’t fucking love you.” It fucking stung and it ruined your week.

And god, did you hate yourself for doing this to yourself. You can’t blame them since you did this all to yourself. You let them use you because you don’t know any better. You don’t know what it is to be loved and you assume that everything—the lingering touches, warm smiles, sweet words—is them showing you their form of love. You think you know, but you fucking don’t.

You thought you did with Eddie Munson, you really did. You thought that Eddie—sweet, gentle Eddie Munson who could never hurt you—loved you. But you realize that just because someone tells you that they love you doesn’t always mean that they truly mean it. They’re just saying three, stupid, insignificant words just for the fuck of it. I love you. I. Love. You. IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. Whydontyouloveme?

You love Eddie but he doesn’t love you. You think he’s crueler than both Billy and Steve. They didn’t lie to you by uttering those three words. They didn’t make you feel like you were on Cloud 9 as if nothing mattered in the world because all those pretty, addicting feelings made you feel good. He made you feel good about yourself, about loving him and being loved.

You feel like a child sometimes with each boy, plucking onto petals of flowers and wondering if he loved you or not. And really, he didn’t love you.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #billy x you #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things angst #eddie munson angst

4K notes · View notes

m1ckeyb3rry · 2 months

Text

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // TWO

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: You arrive at the Royal Fire Academy for Girls and meet your roommate.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.1k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: oc warning from this chapter onwards ig?? i had to make up students for the fire academy so if you don’t like that then idk what to tell you except that you should probably read something else 😔 but even though jia-li and kaho are not canon characters their brothers are!! we will meet them eventually HAHA although i’m sure some of you might be able to guess who they are based on that

To His Royal Highness The Prince,

I have arrived at the Academy safely. Ty Lee and I were given leave from classes today, to allow us to acclimate to the environment of the school, but tomorrow, we will join the others in our year for lessons. I promise that I will work hard, so that Your Highness’s good name is not sullied by poor performance on my part.

If it does not trouble Your Highness greatly, and if it is not presumptuous of me to make a request like this, please feed Bian a treat when she reaches the palace. She is working hard, too.

Ever Your Highness’s humble and obedient servant, Ursa

P.S. Regretfully, I must report that I have still regained nothing in the way of my memories.

The messenger hawk that Prince Zuko had given you was a beautiful animal, almost draconian in appearance, with eyes like amber and a queenly crest of russet feathers. She had an enormous wingspan and talons so large that if you handed her a scroll, she would be able to take it between them and then fly away without waiting for you to strap it to her back.

“Woah, so pretty!” Ty Lee said as the Royal Falconer wheeled the caged bird into your room, vocalizing your exact thoughts at seeing the magnificent hawk. “I’ve never seen one so big.”

“Pretty’s one word for it,” the falconer said, shaking his head. “She’s likely the finest bird Agni’s ever seen. Actually, she was meant to be a coronation gift for Prince Zuko, but he came to the aviary the other day and told me to give her to you.”

You were so enraptured by the hawk that you almost did not notice what the man had said, but when his words registered, you immediately straightened your back and gave him an incredulous look.

“This bird was meant to be the prince’s?” you said.

“She was, but like I said, she’s yours now,” the falconer said. “By order of that very prince himself.”

You bit your tongue, feeling equal parts embarrassed and guilty about the gift. Although you knew he was doing it for his own reasons, you still thought it was strange for Prince Zuko to be paying so much attention to you. Even if he had saved you, what cause was there to give you such a grand bird? A normal one would’ve been fine. A smaller, more average messenger hawk was probably more fitting for who you were, so why instead was the finest bird Agni had ever seen sitting before you?

“Does she have a name?” you said.

“We don’t name the hawks,” the falconer said. “You’re her owner now, though, so if you want to, you can.”

You thought about it for a second. “Bian.”

The falconer wrinkled his nose, giving Bian a look that she ignored entirely, too busy preening her feathers to notice. You waited for him to say something, anything, but it took him a while before he did.

“It’s an interesting name,” he said.

“Is something wrong with it?” you said. “I don’t know why I chose it. I can change it, if you’d like.”

“It’s not my place to be demanding you change your own hawk’s name,” he said, bowing at you.

“Wait,” you said. “Before you leave — must I keep her caged all of the time?”

“It’s not really common for anyone to do otherwise,” the falconer said. “But I suppose she won’t go anywhere unless you tell her to, so it’s fine if you let her out.”

Although he was obviously hinting that you should not do it, you leaned over and unlatched the door to Bian’s cage. You weren’t sure why, but something about seeing her trapped like that made you feel claustrophobic yourself, like the metal bars were encroaching on your neck, like it was your flight which was restricted.

Bian did not move for a bit, and then hesitantly, she peeked her head out of the door. When she realized that she was free, that the door was open, she flapped her wings, and with a great gust of wind, she took off and perched on your windowsill.

“They should know how to take care of her at the school, since most students bring their own messenger hawks, so you won’t have to worry about her there,” the falconer said. “And if you ever come to the palace again, you can leave her with me.”

“As you say, sir,” you said. “I don’t know enough about messenger hawks and their care or keeping, so I will defer to your expertise when it comes down to it.”

“Good,” he said. “Have a nice day, Miss Ursa.”

“And you as well,” you said, waving at him before racing to the windowsill to admire the roosting Bian. She peered at you suspiciously, but when you raised your fingers and rested them on the space between her eyes, she did not so much as snap her beak at you.

“Be careful!” Ty Lee said. “Messenger hawks usually aren’t that friendly. They’re a postal service, not pets.”

“It’s alright,” you said, stroking Bian’s head, smiling as she closed her eyes and crooned at you. “I think she’s different. Well, at least, I don’t think she’ll bite me or anything like that. She’s nice.”

“If you say so,” Ty Lee said. “Though I think I will stay far away, if that’s okay with you.”

“That’s your prerogative,” you said. “But I’m not putting her back in that cage, so don’t expect that.”

“Sure, I won’t! Anyways, she’ll live in the school’s aviary while we’re there, so it’s not a big deal,” she said.

“Oh, true,” you said. “Do you think they’ll let me visit her still?”

“They wouldn’t stop you. How else would you send letters? Although, I can’t really understand why Zuko even gave you a hawk in the first place. Who are you going to be writing to?” she said, picking her bag in one hand and yours in the other.

“I think he wanted me to write to him,” you said, whistling at Bian, who whistled back before she realized you were actually calling her, at which she rustled herself alert. “Bian, do you know where the Royal Fire Academy is? That’s where we’re going. You can either come with us or fly there on your own.”

Bian cocked her head before diving back into her cage, landing on the perch and tucking her head under her wing. You glanced at Ty Lee, who shrugged, obviously as confused as you were.

“I guess I won’t close the door, but if she wants to be in there of her own volition, then I can’t take the decision from her,” you said.

“At least it’ll be easier to take her to the academy,” Ty Lee said. “Speaking of which, we should hurry up and go — I think the carriage driver is waiting for us.”

The carriage was covered in gold and brandished with the emblem of the Fire Nation. A dragon moose was in the harness, dozing off, its ears drooping lazily as it napped. The driver himself was in a similar state, resting his chin in his hands, his hat low over his head to protect him from the sun.

“Sorry we’re so late!” Ty Lee chirped at him. He awoke in a flurry of flailing limbs, looking around wildly before letting out a deep breath when he noticed that it was just you and Ty Lee. “The falconer came to give Ursa a messenger hawk, so that took a bit of time, but we’re here now!”

“It’s not an issue,” the driver said, patting the dragon moose on the rump and swinging off his bench, taking the bags from Ty Lee’s hands. She relinquished them easily, watching as he put them under your seats in the carriage, and then she turned to you.

“Give him Bian’s cage, so that he can put her in there as well,” she said.

“He won’t put her under the seat, right?” you fretted, gripping the bars of the open cage.

“Of course not, silly! He’ll just put her on the carriage floor or something, and we’ll have to sit around her,” she said.

“Okay, if you say so,” you said. “Sir Driver, please take the utmost of care with Bian when you put her away.”

“You don’t have to be that formal with him,” Ty Lee whispered to you as the driver gave you a strange look before grabbing Bian’s cage, though he did gentle his movements when you frowned at how rough he was being. “He’s just a driver.”

“Sorry,” you whispered back. “I would just feel bad if I didn’t address him politely.”

“They’re used to it,” she said, leaping into the carriage once the driver had left and extending her hand out to you to help you in. You grabbed onto it and let her pull you in beside her. Bian squawked indignantly when you narrowly avoided kicking her cage over, and you muttered an apology to her as you sat across from Ty Lee, folding your hands in your lap and crossing your legs at the ankles.

“Is the academy far from here?” you said.

“Not by much. It’s a quick journey, since it’s inside of the volcano as well,” she said.

“Volcano?” you said.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot you wouldn’t have known much about that! The Fire Nation’s capital is inside of a dormant volcano, but of course, the entire city isn’t actually located in the main crater. Only the most high-status dwellings and government buildings are here; everything else is on the sides of the volcano, just because there isn’t enough space for them here,” she said.

“The Royal Fire Academy is included in that?” you said.

“It’s where all the children of the Fire Nation elite go to school,” she said. “Naturally, it’d be in here, too!”

“Ah, that’s sensible,” you said, for you hadn’t thought that through until she had mentioned it. In fairness, you also hadn’t known that the inner circle of the Fire Nation was located inside the crater of a dormant volcano, but then again, what could be a greater representation of the nation’s pride than the subjugation of nature’s own version of fire?

“It’s a very beautiful building,” Ty Lee said. “From what I remember, anyways. Nothing’s as beautiful as the palace, but the academy comes close. And the grounds…you’ll love them, Ursa! Even though I didn’t like my time there that much, I still have some good memories of just how amazing the gardens were. I can’t wait to show you around!”

“I can’t wait to see everything,” you said. “Is there a library?”

“Duh,” Ty Lee said. “It’s a school. Of course there’s a library. Do you like reading or something?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember, but I’m sure that I’ll be much behind everyone else, so I’ll probably need to do a lot of catching up so that I can still get good marks. A library is my best bet at finding the information I need,” you said.

“You’re so studious,” Ty Lee said. “I’ve always just thought to myself that as long as I pass, it’s fine!”

“The prince has gone through so much effort to ensure my acceptance in the academy,” you said. “The least I can do for him is prove that it wasn’t a waste.”

Ty Lee beamed at you. “You’re amazing! I bet he’ll be really grateful that you’re so dedicated.”

“It’s good to hear that,” you said. “Besides, maybe it’ll help jog my memory if I read about history and science and other such things. According to Prince Zuko, I was a soldier before he found me, but I doubt he knows anything about my hobbies or preferences, so there’s no telling what might spark something in my mind.”

This was the true reason. Though it wasn’t a lie to say that you wanted to make the prince happy, your own identity was more important to you. The memories of the girl named Ursa, who she had been, who she had loved…you wanted to know all of it. You wanted to know who you were, not in anyone else’s words but in your own.

Ty Lee did not seem to judge you. She only smiled sadly before turning to look out the window, an obvious sign that the conversation was over.

She had been right; the journey to the academy did not take much longer than the duration of your conversation. You were there before you knew it, before you were really prepared for what that meant, but it was irrelevant. Your personal feelings on the matter weren’t important, because this was where you would now spend your time. You were going to be a proper Fire Nation girl, a lady, one who could rejoin society as someone that even a prince might be proud of.

Bian was carted off to the academy’s aviary before you could even think to wish her farewell, but beyond promising yourself you would visit her later, there was nothing you could do about it. That was because a tall, stately woman before you was now commanding all of your attention, her pinched face souring when she saw your plain clothes and meager possessions.

“So you are the Ursa that the prince insisted attend my school,” the woman, who must’ve been the Headmistress, said. “And here we have the infamous dropout of the academy, Ty Lee.”

Something about the Headmistress seemed to cow even the perpetually sunny Ty Lee, for she only ducked her head and folded her hands behind her back in deference.

“Yes, Headmistress,” she said. Following her example, you hoped you were doing it correctly.

“Yes, Headmistress,” you said.

“You two are probably the most sorry students I’ve seen in all my years at this institution,” she said. “You’re lucky that you are who you are and that you know who you know. If it weren’t for the royal family’s interference, then mark my words: you would not be standing here now. Neither of you.”

“Thank you, Headmistress,” Ty Lee said.

“Thank you, Headmistress,” you echoed.

“Luckily, two of our students still don’t have roommates, so there’s at least space for you both to stay. For as long as you can bear to, anyways,” the Headmistress said, the latter part of her statement pointed at Ty Lee, who did not even argue. “Ty Lee, you will room with Kaho, and Ursa, you will be with Jia-Li.”

You had been hoping that you would get to stay with Ty Lee, but there was only so much that you could expect to go your way. Although you had no idea who Jia-Li was, you hoped that she would at least be friendly enough that you could live with her without much complaint.

Ty Lee did not seem optimistic about the proposition of rooming with Kaho. Her sweet face crumpled, but she did not speak up. You wondered what kind of person Kaho could be, if even Ty Lee did not want to live with her.

“Yes, Headmistress,” you said, speaking for the both of you when it became evident that Ty Lee was far too distressed to say anything.

“I will show you to your rooms. You arrived too late to attend today’s classes, so you will be excused, but I expect the both of you to be present tomorrow. At this school, education is our priority, and special admission or not, no one is exempt from this,” the Headmistress said.

“Of course, Headmistress,” you said once again. “I am eager to begin learning.”

She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye before turning away. “Good. Enthusiasm is the first step to success. We’ll see; maybe we can make something halfway respectable out of you after all.”

The room you were to share with Jia-Li had a heavy, plain door, though two placards hung on it, the left emblazoned with the characters of your name, the right with hers. The Headmistress did not even wait for you to enter before marching off with Ty Lee, presumably to where Kaho’s room was.

You opened the door gingerly, cringing back preemptively in case Jia-Li was of an easily startled temperament. When there was no blast of fire in your direction, you stepped in, admiring the small room and getting your first glance at your new roommate.

She had long, silky hair tied in a ponytail with a red ribbon, and her eyes, which were trained on a scroll, were the same color as volcano-glass. The bed on the left of the room was clearly hers, as its blankets were messy instead of neatly made, and she was sitting at the desk by its foot. There were paintings hung on her side of the room, but the side that must’ve been yours was noticeably bare, likely in preparation for your arrival.

“Are you Jia-Li?” you said when she did not look up. She dropped the scroll in her hands and sprang to her feet, her cheeks flushed and her palms clasped together in apology.

“Yes, I am! I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you coming in. Are you Ursa?” she said. You wanted to say no, because you still didn’t feel very much like that was who you were, but you just nodded your head.

“It’s nice to meet you. I think we’re going to be roommates?” you said.

“Yes, they brought your things up just now. It’s nice to meet you, too! My last roommate left after losing an Agni Kai, so I’ve been living on my own for a bit. It’ll be nice to have someone here with me again,” she said.

“Do you get kicked out if you lose an Agni Kai?” you said.

“No?” Jia-Li said. “It’s just a dishonorable thing. She got so embarrassed she had to leave, but it’s not like anyone made her go. Actually, she lost to Kaho, so no one was even judging her for losing. Kaho’s only lost an Agni Kai once, and that was to Princess Azula, so it doesn’t even count.”

There it was again: Princess Azula. She must’ve been Prince Zuko’s sister, but everyone said her name differently. Almost reverently, though they never said the prince’s name like that. It was strange. You weren’t sure if you ever wanted to meet the princess, if she inspired this kind of terror in people.

“Sorry,” you said. “I probably should’ve known that. Actually, I probably did know that, but — I’m not sure if they told you or anything, but I don’t have any memories.”

Jia-Li blinked. “They didn’t mention it, but that’s good to know. Who are you the daughter of? They must be pretty distraught that you’re like this.”

“I don’t know. I’m not the daughter of anyone,” you said. “If I have parents or siblings or a family, they are lost somewhere in my mind, along with everything else I cannot recall.”

“Not the daughter of anyone? Then how’d you end up in the academy? It’s infamous for being selective and only open to the children of the nobility,” Jia-Li said. It didn’t seem like she was upset or scandalized by the fact that you, her new roommate, were just some ordinary girl — she just appeared to be confused.

“Actually, I was found by Prince Zuko while injured and taken to the palace to be healed,” you said. “Now that I am in a somewhat better shape, he arranged for me to attend the academy so that I can rejoin Fire Nation society in a proper way and understand what kind of world I am living in.”

Jia-Li’s jaw dropped. “You’re the one here on the royal family’s scholarship?”

“I didn’t know that was a well-known thing…” you said, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly, stepping into the room fully. Jia-Li’s face lit up as you opened the bags Mai had packed for you and began to shake out your things to set them up in the room.

“Kaho’s been furious since she heard about it!” she said. “She’s always tried to gain favor from the royal family and failed, so to hear that a girl is coming to the academy that has the very thing she lacks has had her in knots.”

The name Kaho was familiar to you, and not just because Jia-Li had mentioned her earlier. You tried to think about where you might know her from, and then you realized that she was Ty Lee’s roommate, the one that she had been upset about.

“Is she someone dangerous?” you said.

“Depends. Are you talented with bending?” Jia-Li said.

“I’m not even a bender,” you said. Jia-Li winced.

“Then yes, she’s dangerous,” she said. “If I were you, I’d steer clear of her.”

“Are you a Firebender?” you said. Jia-Li smiled, holding out her palm, where a small flame blossomed.

“I’m passable enough. Certainly, I’m no prodigy, but I can do most of the intermediate forms, and I’m starting to try some of the more advanced ones, too,” she said. “That, combined with my brother’s friendship with Kaho’s, is enough for her to mostly leave me alone.”

“I’ll do my best to avoid her,” you said. “Though I don’t even know who she is, so it’ll be difficult.”

“I’ll look out for you,” Jia-Li promised. “Actually, my best advice would be to avoid people you don’t know in general. Most girls here aren’t that nice.”

“But I only know you and Ty Lee,” you said. Jia-Li nodded.

“That’s enough. Two friends is more than most people have, and it’s better to have two actual friends than ten false ones,” she said.

“How do I know that you’re an actual friend?” you said before clapping your hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

She laughed. “It’s okay. That’s a good question; one whose answer you will have to determine for yourself. However, whether you think I’m a true friend or not, you’ll have to live with me, so for both our sakes, I hope you come to a more positive conclusion. In the meantime, though, I have to go to afternoon lessons. I’m assuming you’ve been excused from them?”

“Yes, I have been,” you said. “I’m to start with classes tomorrow.”

Jia-Li made a face. “Lucky. You should try to get some rest while you can.”

“I already can’t. I need to spend some time reviewing so that I’m prepared for class tomorrow. I’m already starting off at a disadvantage; I have to do what I can to close the gap between me and everyone else, so that my performance does not reflect poorly on the prince,” you said.

Jia-Li looked impressed. “I’ll leave you to it, then. If you ever need help with your homework or studying or anything, let me know. I’m not the top student at the academy or anything, but my grades are decent.”

“Who’s the top student?” you said. Jia-Li gave you a knowing look.

“It was Princess Azula, before she left, and ever since, it’s been Kaho,” she said.

“Not exactly a person I should be asking for tutoring, then,” you said in defeat.

“Not exactly,” Jia-Li agreed. “Anyways, see you tonight!”

“Tonight? Is something happening?” you said.

“Yeah,” she said. “We’re sleeping. In the same room. As we will be, until the end of the term.”

“Oh, right. I forgot,” you said. Jia-Li smiled, patting you on the shoulder as she walked out.

“Bye, Ursa,” she said.

Once your things were unpacked, you thought about trying to find Ty Lee, but Jia-Li’s warning about Kaho still rang in your head, and considering Kaho was Ty Lee’s roommate, it would probably be best if you avoided that area overall. Besides, you didn’t know where their room was, so even if you weren’t afraid of meeting Kaho, you wouldn’t be able to find Ty Lee anyways.

You were just about sitting down to write a letter to Prince Zuko, telling him about your first day, when someone burst into your room. It wasn’t Jia-Li — you didn’t think she possessed that much energy — but it was still someone familiar to you: Ty Lee.

“You must’ve read my mind,” you said. “I was thinking about how I’d like to meet you.”

“Ursa, things are just horrid! My roommate is Kaho, and she’s just like I remember her being!” Ty Lee wailed, throwing herself into your arms. You barely had the self-possession or advance warning to catch her, and then the only thing you could do was awkwardly pat her on the back, looking around and wishing there was someone else here to help.

“Do you know Kaho from before you left the academy?” you said.

“Do I ever,” Ty Lee muttered. “She’s the reason I’m even friends with Azula.”

“How does that work?” you said.

“She’s insane, that’s how,” Ty Lee said. “Kaho, I mean. She was jealous of how much attention the boys at the Royal Fire Academy for Boys were giving me, so she challenged me to an Agni Kai! Mind you, I’m not even a Firebender.”

“I thought you could only participate in an Agni Kai if you were one, though,” you said.

“Yes, that’s right. She knows that, too. It doesn’t stop her from going around and calling one for at any inconvenience, no matter her opponent’s bending status. The thing is, technically, nonbenders are allowed to call someone else — namely, a Firebender — to represent them in the match,” Ty Lee said.

“Is it common to do that?” you said.

“It’s not really a rule that’s put into practice often, as most people wouldn’t challenge a nonbender to an Agni Kai — excepting Kaho, of course. Anyways, Kaho was the best Firebender in the academy, so no one dared to stand against her, even with that rule in place; no one, that is, but Azula.

“She agreed to be my proxy, though I think that’s just because she was annoyed with how Kaho liked to lord her prowess over everyone. Of course, she won, because she’s the most talented Firebender in the world, and ever since then, she’s been my friend,” Ty Lee finished.

“That’s great,” you said. “Though I’d expect it doesn’t endear you to Kaho any.”

“Not at all!” Ty Lee said. “And now you’re telling me I have to live with her? The Headmistress did this on purpose!”

“How can you know that? Kaho and Jia-Li were probably the only ones needing roommates. It was either me or you,” you said, leaving out the fact that you were secretly pleased that it was her and not you.

“Why didn’t she just make those two stay together and let us be roommates?” Ty Lee said. “I mean, really! Kaho leaves Jia-Li alone, something about their brothers being friends, I think, so they would’ve been fine as a pair, and of course we would’ve had so much fun together. But no. I swear, the Headmistress is punishing me!”

“What for? We just got here,” you said. She gave you a dull look.

“Well, I mean, I did drop out and run away to join the circus, you know…” she said. “It wasn’t the best look for the academy, that’s for sure. She definitely hates me for it.”

“That’s true,” you said. “You should just spend as much time as possible in my room.”

“Sure thing!” she said, like she had been planning on doing that anyways but was pleased to have an official invitation.

“I hope Jia-Li doesn’t mind you being here too much. Did you happen to know her, too?” you said.

“Not that well,” Ty Lee said, tapping her chin in thought. “But I think she was nice. I can’t seem to remember anything about her that particularly stood out, which could be good or bad, depending on how you look at it.”

“Hm,” you said. “She did seem to say that she was pretty mediocre all around, so it checks out.”

“Sounds about right! But forget about our disappointing roommates. Do you know what time it is?” she said, raising her pointer fingers.

“I still don’t understand why it’s that time, but yes, I do know what you’re about to do,” you said.

It was something like a ritual for you two, now. Every day, without fail, Ty Lee would jab you with her pointer fingers, always causing your knees to feel weak and your pulse to grow shallow for a moment. You always asked her what she was doing, but she refused to elaborate, promising that she’d tell you one day.

Not today. Not tomorrow. But one day.

To my dear Ursa,

You don’t have to follow such strict protocols and rules of etiquette when you write to me. I know that I am a prince, but in truth I rarely ever feel like one, so it is strange for me when you act as if I am royalty. You may pity me for saying it, but since I know you so well am your benefactor, I will disclose that the habits of my banishment have yet to fade. And in those days, I was never referred to by such titles, so please stop. It is especially strange to hear you calling me such things.

I am glad that you were given time to settle in. Mai told me she was not sure that the two of you would be afforded such grace, but we are both pleased to hear that you were. I hope that your lessons go well, and that your classmates are kind and helpful. I also hope that, if you cannot have Ty Lee as your roommate, you get someone who is friendly to you.

You needn’t fret about doing well in your classes. I am confident you will, and that you will uphold my good name if I even still have one. Worry only for yourself. Try to avoid trouble, if at all possible, but write to me if it finds you anyways. I will do what I can to help you. I will always do what I can to help you.

I gave Bian a treat, as you asked. She was happy. I give you leave to make requests of me freely. It is not a problem for me to oblige you.

Yours, Zuko

P.S. I am sorry to hear that you still remember nothing. Please write to me if that changes.

P.P.S. Do not sign your letters off like that again. You are not my servant.

#zuko x reader #zuko x y/n #zuko x you #zuko #avatar the last airbender #atla #reader insert #the glass princess #canon au #m1ckeyb3rry writes

168 notes · View notes

bingoboingobongo · 1 year

Text

something to be grateful for

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley (Call of Duty) x Reader

Type: Smut (minors dni), fluff

Summary: Ghost’s never celebrated Thanksgiving before. For one, he’s not even American, and two, he never had anything to be thankful for. But this year? This year he’s thankful for you.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: use of feminine body parts, explicit language, fingering, choking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), guided masturbation (?)

A/N: welp. idek what to say. this started out as a fluffy thanksgiving drabble and now it’s this. is it good? idk. is it bad? idk. is it accurate? idk. my experience is in the negatives so this is just an amalgamation of all the knowledge i have gained from reading/reddit threads. happy thanksgiving to all who celebrate, and as always, likes/reblogs and constructive criticism as always appreciated, enjoy :)

Masterlist

Before the 141, Ghost had never celebrated Thanksgiving. He had heard of it, of course, but he would never partake in it. For most of his life, it was just an odd American holiday, a way for them to show their gratitude by gorging themselves on turkey and pies and mashed potatoes. He always thought it was a dumb tradition. If you were really thankful for something, you should show it everyday, not just once a year. But maybe that was just him being bitter, he knew, after all, life had dealt him a shitty set of cards, and he never had much to be thankful for.

Until he joined the 141; until he met you. Ghost had served in the military before, he had liked people before, but there was nothing quite like the 141, nothing quite like you. For one, the 141 was a multinational special operations task force, unlike his last battalion, which was full of Brits. The 141 was filled with operators from all sorts of places, Britain, Scotland, Australia, the Czech Republic, and of course, America. Even though he rarely engaged with the other soldiers, except for Price, Soap, Gaz, and you, he had heard them whispering to each other about Thanksgiving a few weeks back.

And you. There was something different about you. Maybe it was the fact that you were in the 141 with him, that he saw you almost constantly, that he didn’t have to leave you for months at a time. Or maybe it was something else, maybe it was the way you never took yourself too seriously, even when you were in the field; maybe it was the way you hummed to yourself whenever you reloaded your gun; or the way your laughter tugged at his heartstrings whenever he heard it over comms. Whatever it was, it set you apart from everyone else he had ever liked.

He was still thinking about you — not that that was uncommon, he was always thinking of you — when he heard an awkward knock at his door, followed by a muffled call of his name. He looked up from the book he was supposed to be reading, his hand instinctively reaching for his mask on his bedside table. Tugging it over his face, he made his way to the door.

Usually, he could tell who was coming to his room just based on their steps in the hallway. Price’s were solid and firm, like him. Soap’s were heavy and brushed against the floor a lot, as if he was trying to make as much noise as possible. Gaz’s were usually light and quick, like he was rushing somewhere but didn’t want to run. And you, your’s were short and cheery, and almost always accompanied by the sound of you humming. But he didn’t hear any steps recently, not that that was surprising. The rest of the task force had spent the last few hours celebrating and the noise made it hard to hear anything. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t care. It was probably someone’s birthday.

Someone called his name again and carefully, he opened the door a few inches, just enough for him to see out of. He looked down to see you, wearing sweatpants and a tank and carrying two large plates of food. “Do you need something?” he asked.

You hummed, “Can I come in first?” you asked, lifting the two plates up for him to see.

He looked back into his room, checking to make sure it was fit for you to come in. He turned back to you, widening his door and stepping to the side to let you in. He watched as you set the food down on his desk and looked around his room. For some reason, he didn’t know why, he felt slightly nervous as he watched you take in his room. He hadn’t done much to it, the walls were light gray and completely barren; his desk was empty except for a few books, a laptop, a cup of pencils and pens, and an old journal he barely used; his blankets were folded and placed neatly at the end of the bed, which was pushed against the wall, and the only thing that signified that anyone had used it was his slightly crumpled pillow and the book he had left behind.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence, “what do you need?”

You hummed absentmindedly, tilting your head to read the books on his desk. “We missed you at dinner,” you said finally, turning around to look at him.

“Who’s we?” he asked.

“Everyone. Me, Soap, Gaz, even Price asked if you were coming.”

“I never come to dinner,” he said, “why’d everyone start caring now?”

You rolled your eyes in disbelief, “Because those were all normal dinners. This was a special dinner, we thought you’d come join us.”

“What’s special about this dinner?”

“What's special?” you asked, your jaw dropping, “what do you mean ‘what’s special?’ It's Thanksgiving, Ghost.”

Oh. He never knew the exact date of Thanksgiving. He knew it was near the end of November and that was pretty much it. If he was being honest, he had assumed it had already passed. “I don’t celebrate,” he told you, “and what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with the others, celebrating? And what’s with the food?”

“I know you don’t celebrate, '' you said, “but neither do Soap or Gaz or Price or like, half the people here, and they’re still hanging out with us. And since I knew you wouldn’t come to the party, I figured I’d bring the party to you.”

“I’m not really a party kind of guy,” he said, watching you scrunch your nose in annoyance.

“Fine,” you said, rolling your eyes, “then we can just have a lame Thanksgiving in here. What plate do you want?”

He sighed, if there was one thing about you it was that you were stubborn as hell. If you had set your mind on celebrating with him, it was going to take a lot to get you to leave, not that he minded. To be honest, having dinner with you wasn’t the worst way his night could’ve gone. He walked over to the desk, examining the two plates. “They’re the same thing,” you said, “just one has apple pie and the other has pumpkin.”

He turned to you, “Which one do you want?”

You shrugged, “I’m fine with either. You pick.”

He reached for the plate with pumpkin pie, offering the apple one to you. “Sit,” he said, nodding to his bed as he sat down on his desk chair a few feet from you. He watched you take the plate and sit on the bed, scooting carefully until your back rested against the wall.

“Dostoyevsky?” you asked, looking at the book he had left behind.

“Crime and Punishment. You read it?”

You nodded, “Back in high school. I actually really enjoyed it.”

“Me too, figured I’d reread it though. It’s been a while.”

“Oh wait,” you said suddenly, scrambling to put your food back on the desk, “don’t eat, we gotta say what we’re thankful for.”

He leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes as he put his plate down. “Do we really have to?” he asked, “I don’t see the point.”

You scoffed, “The point is expressing your gratitude, Ghost. That’s why it’s called Thanksgiving.”

“But if you were really thankful for something, you would show it everyday. Not once a year.”

This time it was your turn to roll your eyes. “Wow, great philosophy, Ghost,” you said sarcastically. “But for the rest of us who aren’t as noble as you, Thanksgiving is a time for us to remember to be grateful. Besides, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you actually follow your little philosophy,” you said, shooting him a pointed look. “Alright I’ll go first. I am thankful for,” you paused, biting your lip as you thought of an answer. You looked good when you did that, he thought. He wished he could be the one biting it though. “I’m thankful for the fact that I’m alive right now,” you said, “I’m thankful that we don’t have to be in the field today, and I’m thankful for you.”

“You’re thankful for me?” he asked.

“Of course I am, you’ve saved my ass like twenty times in the field and you’re a nice guy anyways. I like hanging out with you.” God, he wished you liked him in other ways too. He knew you would, if you would just give him a chance, he could show you. Show you how good he could be to you, how good he would make you feel, how hard he would make you orgasm. He would make you scream so loud the entire base heard, even with all the noise they were making. “Your turn,” you said, blissfully unaware of his thoughts.

“Do I have to do three?” he asked.

“Mmm, yeah. Why not?”

He sighed, “Alright, I’m thankful for… I’m also thankful for the fact that I’m alive and we don’t have to be in the field today, and,” he paused, trying to think of a third option. “I guess I’m thankful for you too,” he said.

You scrunched your nose at him, “You literally just copied everything I said, Ghost. And also, you suck at showing your gratitude for me every single day.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you give me a chance to make that up to you then?” he asked, his voice lowering.

You stiffened, clenching your thighs together. Was he going where you thought he was going with this? He couldn’t be right? He was your boss, he wasn’t supposed to think of you that way. You weren’t supposed to think of him that way. With his head buried in between your thighs or his hand wrapped around your neck as he slammed into you. “What do you mean by that?” you asked, your voice a lot smaller than you intended.

Shit, Ghost thought. What was he doing? Why did he say that? Why did you clench your legs together like that? Was he turning you on? Was he making you wet? God, he hoped so. He hoped you were thinking the same filthy thoughts as he was. You pinned underneath him with your legs wrapped around him as he thrust into you, or you on your hands and knees with your ass pressed out for him. Fuck, he could feel his cock twitching in his pants already. “What do you want me to mean?” he asked slowly, leaving you to decide how the night would go.

He watched as your eyes flickered down to his cock. He looked down too, he could see it pressing against his sweatpants. He looked back at you as you licked your lips, shifting your weight on your thighs. You slowly brought your gaze up to his, “I want you to mean,” you whispered, so quiet you didn’t even know if he could hear it. “I want you to mean that you want to fuck me.”

It was quiet for a moment, and you held your breath for what felt like forever until he spoke again. “Take off your pants,” he whispered. You didn’t move at first, just stared at him with those big doe eyes of yours. “Don’t make me tell you twice,” he said, his voice laced with lust and menace. You sprang into action, scrambling to kick off your pants as your mind raced with ideas of what he would do to you.

You sat on your knees in front of him, your hands toying with the hem of your tank. You watched him lean forward in his seat, his head nodding at your legs. “Open your legs,” he said, “I wanna see how wet you are.” Fuck, his voice was doing things to you, you could feel yourself get wetter everytime he spoke. Slowly, you opened up your legs, memorizing the way his pupils dilated at the sight of you.

“Touch yourself,” he whispered.

“What?”

He looked back up at you. “I said touch yourself. Rub your clit for me.”

You watched him tilt his eyebrows at you as if to encourage you and you bit your lip. You snaked one of your hands down between your legs, sucking in a breath as you began to rub small circles on your clit. The friction of your underwear was working wonders on you, sending jolts of pleasure up your body whenever the cloth rubbed it the right way. You threw your head back, letting the feeling wash over you as you clenched around nothing.

“Look at me,” you heard him say. You picked your head off the wall, focusing your eyes on his. He wasn’t staring back at you though, he was staring at your cunt, at the way your fingers circled the bundle of nerves at the top, the way your underwear was starting to darken with how wet you were.

You wanted to touch him, or for him to touch you. You stifled a whine as you thought about what it would feel like to have his fingers inside of you. You started to rub your clit faster, biting down on your lip as you tried rocking your hips against the bed.

Meanwhile, Ghost was watching you like you were the most captivating thing in the world, and you were. He could feel his cock getting harder in his pants as it strained against the fabric of his boxers. He had to swallow down a groan when he heard you start to whine. He could see you fighting the urge to close your eyes as the pleasure washed over you, your hand working on your clit furiously.

He grabbed your wrist, effectively stopping your wrist. You looked at him confused, your chest heaving. He didn’t say anything, just looked at you slowly before lowering his gaze to your core. You watched with bated breath as he stood up from his chair, his hands still on your wrist as he moved to the bed. Slowly, his hand lifted yours away from your clit, laying it next to you. He moved his hand to your cunt, his fingers sliding over your folds, admiring how wet he could tell you were even through the underwear.

“Ghost,” you whimpered, looking up at him.

His eyes snapped to yours, “Tell me what you want darling,” he whispered, his voice sultry sweet.

“Touch me. Please,” you mewled.

“I am,” he said, and you could see his mask shift as he grinned.

“Ghost,” you whined, “you know what I mean.”

“Actually,” he said, pulling his hand away from you, “I don’t.”

You huffed at the lack of contact. “I want… I want you to finger me,” you said, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Perfect,” he said slowly. His hand slid down your panties and he let out a groan as his fingers came into contact with your wetness. “Shit, all this for me?” he asked, causing you to look away. “Not so fast,” he said, clicking his tongue, “eyes on me, remember?”

You nodded, training your eyes on his as he continued running his fingers through your wetness. You whined as you felt his finger brush over your clit, your breaths shallow as you tried to focus on his eyes. “Ghost,” you whimpered, gripping onto his wrist when you felt him stick a finger inside of you.

He looked up at you lazily, his finger pumping in and out of you. “You like that?” he asked in that gravelly voice of his, causing you to clench around his finger. You nodded, a moan slipping out of your mouth when his palm brushed against your clit. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, think you can take another?” he drawled, one of his hands snaking up to grab at your tit.

You whined, nodding your head fervently. “That’s my girl,” he said, adding another finger. You let out a gasp as he started using his thumb to rub steady circles on your clit, your thighs trembling as you tried to keep them open for him. Your mouth fell open as he continued fucking you with his fingers, the sound of his fingers fucking your wet cunt filling the room. You moaned as you felt his fingers curl up inside of you, hitting your sweet spot. He added a third finger, drawing another moan from you as you threw your head back, too consumed by the pleasure he was giving you to remember what he said.

He growled, the hand on your tits snaking up to wrap around your neck as he forced you to look at him. You whined, your hands wrapping around the hand on your throat as his fingers continued thrusting into you. You rocked your hips against his hand desperately, crying out his name as you felt him scissor his fingers inside you.

“Ghost,” you cried, your voice breathy as he kept fingering you. You could feel your orgasm growing, your entire body growing warmer and the knot in your stomach getting tighter as you approached the edge. You didn’t even need to tell him you were close, he could feel it in the way your body began to stiffen and your cunt squeezed him tighter. He kept working you, his fingers sliding and scissoring inside of you until you were at the very edge of the peak, ready to fall over. And then he pulled out.

You whined, your chest heaving from your lost orgasm. You stared up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “What was that for?” you gasped.

He chuckled, admiring your lust-blown pupils. “I want your first orgasm to be with my cock inside of you,” he explained, pulling you up from your knees.

He laid you on your back, letting out a whistle as he peeled your underwear off of your legs. You pushed yourself onto your elbows, watching him with wide eyes as he pulled off his sweatpants. You could see his cock straining against the thin fabric of his boxers, and you licked your lips as you watched him pull it out.

“You like that?” he asked, and you nodded. “You wanna suck it?” Another nod. He let out a low chuckle at that. “Maybe another time. Right now, I just want to be inside you.” You felt your heart flutter at his words, so this wasn’t a one time thing. There would be more times. What did he want out of this, did he just want a fuck buddy? Or did he want something more? You swallowed, silencing your thoughts as you watched his hand pump his cock as beads of precum pooled at the tip.

You sucked in a breath as he leaned over you, one of his hands caging you in as another lined up his cock with your entrance. You gasped as you felt him stretch you out, your eyes squeezing shut. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, you just didn’t realize how big he was. “Shit,” he groaned, dropping his head to your chest as he continued pushing into you, “you feel so fucking good.” You whined, your hands sliding under his shirt to feel his back.

You mewled as he bottomed out inside of you, your chest heaving as you clenched around him. It felt so good to have him inside of you, it was like he was made for you. He stretched you out so perfectly, leaving you teetering between the edge of pain and pleasure. Slowly, he started moving his hips, dragging his cock in and out of you. “Ghost,” you whined, “give me more.”

You heard him curse to himself, “Are you sure?” he asked.

You nodded, letting out a moan as he began thrusting into you faster. Ghost groaned as he fucked you. You felt so good squeezing around him. How long had he wanted this? He couldn’t remember. He could barely think, if he was honest, his whole world was consumed by the way you took him in so easily. He snaked a finger down to your clit, reveling in the way you moaned so loudly for him, reveling in the sounds of his cock slamming into your tight cunt. He slammed his hips into you harder, savoring the way your mouth dropped open and your eyes squeezed shut whenever he hit your sweet spot. He could practically feel his chest swell with pride as moan after moan fell from your lips, your voice raw from crying out his name.

You could feel your orgasm coming again as he continued fucking you, the coil deep in the pit of your stomach tightening and threatening to burst. You could barely even register the sounds coming out of you, they sounded foreign and distant, unnaturally high pitched and whiny to be your own. “Ghost,” you cried out, wrapping your legs around his waist, trying to push him deeper inside of you. “I’m—”

“You about to cum?” he asked, recognizing the way you stiffened and clenched around him. You nodded furiously, your eyebrows knit together. “Fuck, the way you’re squeezing me I’m about to cum too,” he said, with a low chuckle, “go ahead and cum for me darling. Let everyone know how good I make you feel.”

You cried out his name, squeezing your eyes shut and throwing your head back as the coil in your stomach finally snapped and your orgasm washed through you, racking your body with delicious waves of pleasure. You could feel him continue to thrust into you as you rode out your orgasm, your mind hazy and lust-drunk. Through lidded eyes, you watched his hips begin to stutter inside of you. You watched him dip his head in his shoulders, moaning your name as he came inside of you.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, with him on top of you, slightly heavy but not suffocating, both of your chests heaving as you thought about what happened.

With a grunt, Ghost pushed himself off of you, stopping to admire your lust-blown pupils, messy hair, and unfocused eyes. He watched you blink slowly, your eyes turning to his as a smile came over your face. “What?” he asked, standing up.

“Since your whole thankfulness philosophy says that if you’re grateful for something you should show it every day, does that mean we’re gonna be doing this every single day?”

He rolled his eyes, “You still on about that?” he asked, making his way over to his bathroom and wetting a towel. “I thought we already established that my philosophy needs some work.”

“Does that mean you don’t want to have sex with me every day?” you asked, sucking in a breath as he wiped you down.

“That’s not what I meant, don’t put words in my mouth,” he said, pulling on his sweatpants before tossing you yours. “Put your pants on, the food you brought’s cold now, let’s get another plate,” he said, glad that the mask hid the childish smile. You rolled your eyes, tugging on your pants but leaving your ruined underwear on his bed. He could keep it, you had plenty more.

Ghost chuckled as he watched your legs buckle when you tried to stand, letting you struggle for a moment before he went over to help you. In a way, he could sort of see why people celebrated Thanksgiving. Before, he never had a reason to. He wasn’t American, he didn’t have any friends or family to celebrate with, and he didn’t have anything to be thankful for. But now? Now it was different. Now he had you.

#bingoboingobongo.com #ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost modern warfare 2 #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost smut #ghost fluff #ghost imagine #ghost angst #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley cod #simon riley mw2 #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #simon riley x reader

2K notes · View notes