#it was easy to think of the women because I left so many out of that list I made a little while ago

[humanityinahandbag]

I'd like to tell you all a story about my grandmother.

My grandparents raised their children, four girls (one of them my mother), to be fighters. My aunts marched in Washington for women's rights with babies strapped to their chests and like to joke that all of the grandchildren who came from that line (including myself) were born with picket signs in their hands.

But it started with my grandparents. They fought hard for what they believed in. They marched against Vietnam. They marched for Martin Luther King. They marched for women's rights. They marched for a better future.

But let's talk specifically about my grandmother for a moment.

My grandmother unfortunately passed away in 2016. She had to watch the first Trump election and did so knowing that it would probably be the last election she'd ever see. And there is some argument there that she could have given in to fear and defeatism. She could have decided none of it was worth it, and she could have decided that fascism had won and the world was over.

But she did something else instead.

To give some context, my grandparents had friends who were Republicans. I say were, because they shifted from the normal Republican towards the MAGA Republican we see today. And despite a very clear message from my family about how we felt, they were more than ready to still come to the funeral as if everything was normal. Like their beliefs were normal. Like they were welcome to celebrate someone who had fought so hard for the rights of other people.

These were people who would have absolutely used their rhetoric to scream and shout if they were left out or disinvited.

And so my grandmother, even past her final moments, pulled the most brilliant, petty move I've ever seen.

She'd decided ahead of time that everyone who had known her was more than welcome to attend but that she wanted everyone attending the funeral to donate money. That was the requirement to be invited. And so everyone did just that. There was no talk about what the donations were for, just that they were appreciated. I want to say that the assumption was the money would help pay for funeral expenses and give the family some support while we grieved.

Except that wasn't the case.

Because in those final moments of the funeral, the rabbi stepped forward to thank everyone, and then very cheerfully announced;

"Arlene was so happy to know just how many people were coming to join us here today. She couldn't have been more proud of her family. And I'm sure she would have been elated to see just how much money you all gave today to Planned Parenthood."

When I say that the faces of those people are enshrined in my memory, I mean it. The anger, the devastation, the rage, the betrayal. It was an absolutely gorgeous display of true defeat at the hands of a boss ass old lady who literally fought with her last breath and threw up both middle fingers all the way out the door.

What I'm saying is this.

It is very easy to feel defeated. It is very easy to think that everything is over, and there's nothing left for us to do. It's very easy to say that fascism won, that fear won, that hate won.

But that's only true if you let it be true.

There is always more that we can do. There is a future that is still worth fighting for. And it's more than possible, even when it doesn't seem like it.

And fighting is going to look different every time.

Some days it will look like picket signs in our hands.

Some days it will look like spending time with friends and family and people you love and knowing that you have a community that supports you and your vision of a brighter future.

And some days, it's pulling absolute natural level 20 petty trickster shit even after you've left the world.

Because you can always make an impact and you can always add a little brightness to life, and if that means tricking a group of MAGA idiots into throwing their money behind Planned Parenthood in the middle of your own goddamn funeral then that's what it means.

Keep fighting. People have done it before you. People will continue to do it after you.

And enjoy the little victories.

(Even the petty ones)

[scara-writes]

sweetheart

Yandere Emperor X Consort! (F)Reader X Yandere Crown Prince(platonic)

милашка-sweetheart according to google correct me if im wrong!

CW: kidnapped, reader is look down upon by the nobles, infantilize, forced pregnancy, dehumanizing, mentions of attempt suicide, false rumor, power imbalance, worshipping, delusional(?)

NOTE: Crown Prince is at the age of 16(he is your first/oldest son). Reader is around 36-38. Emperor is two year younger than the reader. Also I don't speak russian everything is google (the empire is not based on irl russian empire but a fantasy world like the manhwas/shoujou isekai we read) and english is not my first language you can clearly see when you read the story. This is purely a fiction and I do not mean to offend anyone.

I DO NOT CONDONE ANY ACTION IN THIS FICTION.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Running is not ideal for a 5 month pregnant woman like you.

When you tried to seek help from your parents for the first time, they never helped you because who would believe an illegitimate daughter who was frowned upon by nobles.

You are an illegitimate child of the duke and a humble maid who passed away shortly after giving birth, but despite this, you are a physically and mentally healthy child. You even managed to withstand the attempts of your stepmother and your half-sister to discredit you in the family, and didn't even find a help to your neglectful father who busies himself of taking home many women from brothel.

That was in the past but you were desperate when you ask for their assistance. However, you never heard from them ever since you bore your first child, Ize.

Ize your son. Your lovely crown prince son grew up to be like your husband with his teachings. You tried to persuade him to never listen to his father but he only shook his head and told you that all his teaching that he was learning from his old man was to protect you.

Afraid that it will stress you even more in this suffocating high walls to protect you during your pregnancy and well being, Ize-the crown prince would be willing to act like a little kid for you. He would occasionally brew you a cup of tea that you enjoy or give you a handmade gift, such as an embroidered handkerchief, to show you that he was thinking of you and that said skill you taught him when he was a child. Knowing the child, this kind of acts is for him appease the worries you have;he is different behind closed doors of your confined palace where your eyes and ears can't reach; your crown prince son is a different person who will be willing to shed the blood of others just for you.

And it seems that the morals that you taught him must have been thrown out of the window thanks to your husband.

So here you are after escaping from the hundreds gazes of a watchful loyal hounds around your palace you escape, it wasn't easy since you are carrying the emperor's second child. You heard on a passing by servants that the two tyrants had a meeting with the other nobles and the neighboring kingdom, this is a rare occurrence that the two left you alone. It took you an hour to escape the royal grounds before exploring around the town till you found a port that would take you to another country. This is your only chance to escape that suffocating palace that those two tyrants confined you in. Your Husband, Yuri can't leave you alone not when he found out that you are with his child-a second child at that. Even before you were pregnant with his first child, his wary gaze and infantilization to you had multiplied tenfold.

Your husband spread the rumors about you being mentally ill. But why would he do such a thing? You reflected to yourself and it devastate you to realize it was his scheme to prevent you from seeking help from his subjects to escape. Only the royal physician and your husband were aware of this bogus illness. It felt betrayal that he has to make that action so he can confide you more.

Your husband's scheme worked. Even your own son believed the spewing lies coming from his father, and the nobles never gossip about you as if it was a taboo ever since you were married to the emperor. Speaking ill about the emperor's consort was just as good as the reaper visiting you by the second you speak those words. Only praises coming from their filthy mouths were allowed.

No one bats an eye on you, even the servants who serves under you. They will bathe you, serve you food, refreshments, but none of them will engage or start a conversation with you. When someone last made an effort to assist your escape, a kind servant at that. The lowest mining pit, which is worse than death, The emperor bestowed upon them to be sent the servant's family, including the said servant. High ranked criminals labour in a pit there for 18 hours with a maximum 4 hour break the rest of the hour are for necessities like sleeping, with much less food and income. In short, a death torture for them.

You implore your husband to kill them rather than send them there, the only thing he said to you that it wasn't your fault they were sent there. Something along the lines of—"you were acting like this because of your condition. That servant was attempting to kill you." He told you that in front of other servants. Everyone compliments his action for 'protecting' you. His cunning red eyes looks at you that none of the servants and nobles noticed but you did. It was a warning for you to behave or he will do worse.

Yuri has never harmed you, physically. but he will harm others who want to separate you from him.

The only time you regret your decision is when you met Yuri—he was about to meet his demise by the hands of his brothers if it weren't for you stumbling to see him in the middle of the night on an alleyway of the tsvetok village struggling to breathe from the deep pools of his own blood. So you drag his half dead body into your abandoned chamber—which is rarely visited by servants—that your father bestowed for you when you were born. Aiding his deep wounds, helping him heal up, befriending him, falling in love—

You purse your lips and gave a small wince feeling your belly is starting to ache, the kick from your unborn child thumps under your long dress.

My child please, Now is not the time! you gently brush your belly soothingly before leaning on the lamp post that dimly lit the night. You sigh in relief when you felt the baby inside of you cease on kicking. Although you were a little further from the palace when you looked behind you, you still needed to move quickly. Right now, you assume that Yuri or a servant that was suppose to serve you had definitely find out that you were gone this afternoon and notify the knights and some of high ranking mage to find you immediately, but the sun had already been sunk by the evening. They must have been having a hard time finding you. A little more 18 minute walk and you'll be able to ride on the ship that will help you travel to another empire, or any nation.

"ort---s--ing!" you turn to your left to look one of the vendors of the nights were gossiping. A woman with her husband was panting, assuming he was running to deliver a news to his family. His cloth headband on his raggedy hair is soaking. He took a deep breath before repeating what he said earlier. A dread of fear rise from your throat as he uttered his next words,

"The Emperor's Consort is missing! The Emperor's knights are blocking all way out!"

You heart felt like dropping when you saw a nearby knight were looking one by one at the women nearby, specifically women who are similarly pregnant like you. Speaking of the devil, they are already here!

Knights in horses, mages running around the busy street. Some of them stopping women who has similar hair color as you to assess if they found the right person.

"Oh my! I'm hoping the consort is doing okay! She must have acted such way due to her failing mental state. The emperor must have been worried sick, I can't imagine the devastion look of the emperor especially their son!" said the woman to her husband.

You hid your hair with your cape and quickly blend in with the busy road of the night town. Muttering, "excuse me!", "Apologize!" As you force your way around the crowd. One arm around your belly to protect child, while your hand went to sling your bag with clothes and some gold coins. as you bump so many people on the crowd. You look edges of the town, at the gate, to see all the possible exits were starting to get block by the imperials knights and mages. You bit your lips frustration as you felt the hope of getting your freedom back is slipping away from your grasp.

Your plan of getting to the port has been discarded after seeing a two mage and three knights were on their way there. Even if you did go in town's gate the gatekeepers will inspect people who are exiting and entering.

But...

You look at the old man who was riding a donkey with his carriage towards to exit of the gate, fruits were laying under the cloth. An Idea quickly pop your head but you are desperate to leave this suffocating country so you have no choice but to execute it.

Your silent foot falls went behind on a slow moving carriage before climbing up silently and quickly, in your haste and desperation movement, you didn't feel as though you had torn your cape at the wooden edge of the carriage before taking the fabric that was covering the fruits that keeps them from dust and dirt. You carried a handful of fruits before slowly sitting down beside it then covering yourself with the said fabric and the remaining fruit fast enough before the knights from the gate of this region would notice you. You wince when one of the fruit hit your belly but not enough to endanger the baby.

"Have you seen this lady?" A man in his mid 60s look at the paper, he squint his eyes as he held his old lightly crack glasses to take a better look. Your (e/c) eyes look at the gapping hole of the carriage and gulp fearfully when you saw your portrait on the paper holding by the imperial knight.

"O-oh...sa-aw her!" you held your breath when the old man spoke. The two knights look at each other before listening to the next word of what the old man would say.

He lick his dry lips before continuing, his voice's struggling due to his old age, "If I-Im..not mistake-en the lady in the p-picture look like the lady I saw by the lampost o..on the rozahk street!"

You exhaled in relief since you mistakenly believed that the elderly man had just seen you, but he actually noticed you five minutes' walk from the gate to roza street. However, this would also let them know that you are actually close by.

The imperial knights gave the elderly merchant a nod as they hastily walked around the city, alerting a nearby mage to use a spell to track you. They quickly tell their subordinates for a new command.

You felt the carriage starts to move. Hugging yourself for reassurance especially at your upcoming baby that everything will be okay.

You weren't escaping just for yourself but for your second child that will be born. You don't want your kid to become like their older brother and learn from their father. Ruthless, and doesn't have a compassion to another human. You want your kid to have a brighter future, away from the blood shed. You hope that if you got caught or killed by your husband in the future. You will tell your second child to run away and never look back, when you are gone.

You ignored how uncomfortable it was to sleep in the fruits. You close your eyes and see the farm neighborhood that the carriage passed as well as the slowly dissipating kingdom that was beginning to appear as a dot on the horizon.

The abrupt shake of your ride woken you up. You hear noises outside the carriage and glance through the hole to see that light was creeping through, signaling that it was dawn but sun has yet to come in the horizon. What is happening?. You peek above the cloth seeing that you don't have enough visual on what's happening. A dusty road lay in front of you, and woods surrounded you. You turn around to look behind you and realize that the palace is no longer in sight. A sense of relief that you were indeed far from that prison.

A bunch of voices caught your ears, you turned to look to your right.

Your whole body went pale.

Your son-the crown prince was chatting with each of the roadside merchants who had just exited from their vehicle not far from where you were. The imperial warriors and mages that were conversing with the other sellers the same task as your son was doing just behind him.

You curse yourself, how did they come here to fast?

You need to leave before they notice that you are inside this carriage. Just as you swiftly escape your imprisonment. You carefully stood up, removing the fabric that was covering you and the fruits, ignoring the woozy and aches from your muscle pain for not moving too much from the entire night.

A creak was heard in your vehicle when you tried to climb down. Snapping your eyes back at them, to witness if they heard the mistake you made. To your relief, The prince and the other guards were still busy interrogating.

They didn't hear me..

You reach down and starts to stalk away from them, your hands were trembling. Stepping back to reach the wood just a 5 meters behind you. It didn't matter if you get lost in the woods, as long as they don't catch you.

No, you would rather live in a woods, in a forest where no one can reach you.

As you step forward carefully in to the woods, you didn't notice from your cautious and anxious state that your boots crack a twig, just like the cliché you previously read. The nearest knight snaps his head at the sound. He was perplexed before realizing that the woman from the paper in his hand resembles you.

"Her majes-"

You dash toward the woods. The imperial knights sought to catch up to you, as you heard him behind. You grab a nearby rock and shot it directly to his skull, and it hits him.

You ignored the yelp as he yells your honorific causing the nearby knights hear him and went for his aid, before they realize what he was yelling and starts to chase after you.

You felt the dress that was getting stuck on some of bushes and dried branches, resulting to have your dress to be ripped.

Heartbeat were thumping agressively, adrenaline were rushing around your body. One of your hands went up to your belly protecting it from getting injured despite your legs were now full of scratches and bruises from the twigs, and sharp edges of these woods. You feel your legs ache.

"Mother!" You faintly hear a galloping horses along with your son's voice behind you.

Your mistake was to look behind you while running away. You saw how your son and his guards were starting to gain just to bring you back to that hellhole. Your son Ize was reaching up his hand to take you back, his red orbs were full of concern and anxiousness.

"Mother! It's me,Ize! Please, slow down you will hurt yourself!"he yelled."Mother! Think about my sibling! Your child! Listen to me! Don't let this illness take over you!"

Poor child, he thought all of this nonsense that you are doing was because of your bogus illness.

You were about to stop when you saw a nearby cliff but a trunk made you tripped.

You screamed feeling a misstep when you realized you are falling, instinctively cradling your pregnant belly, protecting it as you roll down from the ground. A piercing scream was heard—from your son. Your head colliding to the three and it felt like your head would split open.

Your eyes were blurry from the impact. Touching your belly if there was injury. Atleast trying to feel your lower part if there was bleeding through your thighs other than your legs.

You look up at the steep cliff to see your son was sliding down, crying out your title as his mother. You saw his red orbs were full of tears as it glides down to his cheeks. The last thing you saw before your vision was consumed by the darkness was his hands reaching up to your head.

You were awoken by the sound of the chirping birds coming from the balcony.

You coughed, feeling the dryness from your throat. You eyes were blurry for a few minutes before clearing to see that you were back to the same imprisonment.

But....

It wasn't the same room you shared with your husband. Are you...even in the palace?

You took your time to assess your surroundings only to realize that the room has similarities of the royalties room that are exiled but it looked renovated, one of your husband's brothers used to live here before taking his own life. You felt grim about the thought of it.

After his brother's passing you heard from one of the maids that he turned it into a vacation palace for royalties.

It was different from the last time you saw it. It was much more cleaner and better. It looked good after it was renovated.

Wait, the baby.

THE BABY!

You eyes quickly gaze down to your belly. Hands quickly feeling around them, you exhale in relief when you felt a small kick from your stomach. You felt your tears at the edge of your eyes. It was a miracle that the heavens hadn't take your unborn child away.

I'm sorry baby...

They would have died from the stupidity you'd done!

You laid down to your right side of the bed and cradle in your stomach muttering a soft apologies and starts fluttering your eyes to go back to sleep.

But somethings not right. You felt like a pair of eyes watching you, looking at you.

Observing you.

You opened your eyes and look up only to see your pair of red eyes staring down at you.

Your husband, the emperor sitting on a wingback couch, his face resting at his hand while the elbow is resting at the arm of the couch beside him is a kettle with a cup that rest on top of the bedside table.

You feel your body tense up, you tried to get up and turn to look at your husband.

"Y-your majesty." You called but it sounded like a whisper. You don't know what he will do to you. Sure, he never hurt you physically but this is the first time you'd gotten far away from the place he imprison you in.

You gulped, will he hurt you this time?

"I-I'm... I.." you cannot come up a word,an excuse, what if he gets sick of you? What would happen to your child?

You felt your breath shorten. Tears are starting to swell up in your cheeks.

A rough hand brush on your cheeks before cupping it. You found your partner is already beside you on the bed.

He didn't speak he just let you weep as he brush away your tears. You stammer your words wanting to apologize. The emperor handed you a cup of water and you took it quenching the thirst from your larynx.

Once you drank it all, you hiccup trying to stop your tears from coming out. You felt his hands caressing your belly. "H-husband.."you gulped.

"hush,милашка."he commanded and you held your tongue and closed your eyes when he leans on your cheeks before engulfing you with his arms around you. You felt suffocating around him like a snake coiling around your body.

You feel tensed as he starts peppering kisses on your shoulders and neck before resting his lips to your earlobes, you shudder when he kissed it.

His right hand from your waist slid up under your loose sleeve before sliding it down, your emperor leaned down giving your shoulder a hickey. You whimpered trying to push him away but he hadn't budge an inch. Once he was satisfied he let your skin go with a pop before looking at the red mark he left.

The same hand went to brush your hair, tuck it behind your ear before leaning his forehead against yours. His red eyes held adoration, affection, but most of all obsession.

"милашка." He muttered closing his eyes sighing, he brush his lips against yours before deepening it.

He kept calling you, held you in his arms gently. The same arms that has full of blood that slay so many heads to get to the top of this food chain.

He laid you down before kissing every finger tips of yours and then clasping it with his rough hands as he called for you.

"милашка...."

".... my милашка..."

He pressed one kiss on your collarbone. "None of this is your fault..." He told you.

"... This illness will be the death of you."

Your heart broke for him. He really delude himself that everything you did to get away from him was because of your 'illness'.

"... Everything will be fine, darling. I will take care of you." He dampened his lips one last time onto your lips before leaving you in your new confinement.

[realcube]

i’ve been thinking about this and definitely need a second input because i can’t get it out of my head— what positions do the haikyuu boys like to eat 🐱?

handstanders: lifts you up by your legs, usually over his shoulders, until you’re almost lifted off the bed with blood rushing to your head.

couch munchers: has you either spread eagle on the couch with him knelt down between your legs, or turned around with you knelt upon the couch/chest pressing against the back cushions, if that makes sense.

“squatters”: usually has his head resting upon something while he lays down, letting you stand over his face and squat down so that he has entire access to your 🐱 while you’re able to reach down and jack him off.

doggy enthusiasts: the classic from the back, has you bent over anything while his hands grip both your asscheeks & hips while burying his face between your thighs.

HOW HQ BOYS EAT IT

a/n → omg anon i hope you know how chuffed i was to receive this ask. i had matchups n fics to write but i HAD to stop everything to write this ARGH.

tws/tags → pussy eating (duh lol), fem!reader, daddy kink (in atsumu's) and semi-public sex (in hinata's)

handstanders

kageyama, yamamoto, goshiki, tendou, ushijima (no bed involved tho, good luck lol) MVP ;; NISHINOYA — was hitting it from behind while you were laying on the bed and got carried away; decided he needed to make you feel even better, the best he possibly could. so he held your legs against his shoulder and lifted you up by the hips and went for it, tongue eagerly thrusting between your folds. meanwhile your back is bend to an ungodly degree and your gripping onto the sheets for dear life.

couch munchers

tsukishima (lowk), kenma (highk), osamu, suna MVP ;; DAICHI — it was so easy for a sweet little late-night romcom date to devolve into something dirtier. it started when you'd shoot him lovey-dovey eyes whenever the on-screen couple would kiss, so he'd chuckle and peck your cheek. but he could tell how needy you were by the way you feebly gripped onto his shirt and his short locks of hair. and he wasn't one to say no to his favourite girl. so that's how he ended up knelt on the floor, lips fixed to your sopping cunt with your trembling legs wrapped in his strong arms, while you were slumped back against the couch cushions.

"squatters"

kuroo, terushima, iwaizumi, matsukawa MVP ;; ATSUMU — loves 69, but at the same time he wants his mouth to make you feel so good that you're physically unable to suck him off because you're moaning too much or arching into him impulsively. still, he can tell when he's fucking you right because your hand's rhythm on his cock becomes feverish and hurried, desperately jerking him with every ounce of coordination you have left while moaning his name into the emptiness of the bedroom. "fuck yeah, baby." he murmurs against your hot cunt, "faster for daddy."

doggy enthusiasts

oikawa, hanamaki, lev MVP ;; HINATA — points for frequency, skill and spontaneity. you're one of the many women brazil shoyo has brought home with him, but definitely his favourite, and he wants to get with you some more while the night is still young. but you've never seen such a big house before and you insist he show you the amenities first before you even think about getting in bed with him again. so hinata figured he'd show you the balcony first. it overlooks his massive backyard: a gorgeous sight as he has you bent over the railing, feasting on your pussy from behind. the cool air nipping at your damp folds, exposed from how crudely he hiked up your dress.

(some of my own)

facesitters basically like the "squatters" except they insist you sit on their face. none of this "kneeling" or "squatting" shit. put your whole body weight on them; they can take it! in fact, they revel in being suffocated by your ass and thighs. they don't wanna breathe in anything that isn't you.

tanaka, kyoutani, iwaizumi, ushijima MVP ;; BOKUTO — you squirm as you are straddling your boyfriend's face, trying your best to shift your weight onto your knees so you are politely hovering above his face, opposed to sitting on it. but when he notices that is what you are trying to do, he pouts and moves his strong hands onto your thighs, and pushes you down onto him. you gasp at the sudden and harsh contact of your wet pussy against his mouth, but you can tell by the way he keenly welcomes your folds between his lips — and how he smiles against your flush skin — that he loves every single second that you are on top of him. he keeps his hands on your thighs to hold you securely in place while he tongue-fucks you senseless.

classics

where you are laid down on your back in bed, and they are also laying down but on their front, with their head buried between your thighs. preferably with your legs wrapped tightly around their head.

ennoshita, yaku sugawara, kita MVP ;; AKAASHI — eating pussy is an art form to him. he kisses all over your inner thighs before he starts, leaving tender love bites across you (which he will kiss better later when they start to feel sore). licks between yours folds, the flat of his tongue stimulating every inch of your needy pussy, until you're soaking wet and denching his cheeks. the tip of his tongue flicks and teases your clit, and his fingers continue that work after his tongue plunges into your hole. he's slow and sensual, pleasing every stretch of your gummy walls. his nimble fingers slide into you whenever he pulls his tongue out so he can kiss your legs and whisper affirmations against your warm skin. he tell you how well you're doing and how perfect you are.

standers

you stand up with your legs slightly apart and he kneels down before you.

sakusa, kiyoomi, omi, sakusa kiyoomi (he's also all of the above but this one is his fav) MVP ;; SAKUSA — whenever and wherever. he is partial to the shower; he likes the soapy water running down your hot figure. but if you're looking tasty, he'll get on his knees and you know what to do. he'll initiate when you're standing over the stove, trying to make dinner but you're the only thing he wants to eat. he just loves making you feel good; when his tongue is bringing you so close to your orgasm that your legs start trembling around him, and he has to grab hold of your ass in attempt to stable you. he'd spend most days with his mouth connected to your cunt if he could, soaking up your juices and having you desperately ride his face.

[yanderefarm]

I need us pretending/threatening Emil with a divorce even after saying we wouldn’t 🙏🙏

this is a part 2 to this story

in your villain arc fr. i know if emil knew how you were manipulating him and playing him like a puppet he wouldn't even be mad he'd be like "thats hot wtf"

cw;; drugging, cheating, non-con (implied), abuse, manipulation

oh your poor husband, he's so pathetic and easy to break.

after your brutal breaking of his body with the cheating scandal you had been oh so generous to help him rebuild his all his lost favour. his ever loving husband who loved him past his worst flaws gave him a better reputation just by staying by his side. all he had to do was give into you, take you places, stop holding you at arms length like he was afraid of you running away and getting close to him at the same time. really all you wanted was more of his love and if that meant you had to break him down to nothing then you guess that's what you would do.

you walked into his office to find him surrounded by people, a familiar sight since his last scandal. you pushed past them to his desk, watching emil flinch away from your presence. you didn't need to yell and get angry this time, you knew exactly how to break him.

"i want a divorce."

you placed the newspaper on the desk to punctuate your sentence, the headline was a young noble woman's testimony of how the king had cornered her at the last royal banquet. another lie you had paid a pretty penny to get out there. you knew emil's head had been fuzzy since the last scandal, all it took was hiring a woman from a family desperate for money to force herself on him and then lie about it. he didn't even remember the night, he couldn't argue with you about it.

you heard his pathetic sob. that sound he would never usually make in front of anyone else. you turned back to see him still surrounded by his advisors and other noblemen but among their shocked faces you could see your husband had tears in his eyes.

"out." you ordered and they very quickly filed out leaving you two in a familiar position.

you walked back to the desk and stared down at him. your husband, already a broken and confused mess, hung his head like a kicked puppy dog so you couldn't see his eyes you could only hear him crying. you let out a heavy sigh.

"what am I supposed to do, emil? you clearly don't love me."

"that's not-"

"how many more women do i have to find out about before you admit it?"

"i don't remember that night... i don't think- i-"

a silence formed between you both only interrupted by his crying.

"i remember that night. i remember you left the party early to get some fresh air and you didn't come back."

he was shaking.

"..... if you had just talked to me we could have come to an agreement about concubines. if you didn't want to be with a man all you had to do was tell me. you don't have to keep humiliating me publicly and then lying about it."

"im not ly-"

you slammed your hands on the table making him flinch.

"you are. you're lying to me. you slept with the maid and then you lied about it and i forgave you. i forgave you because i thought you would learn your lesson."

"please... please punish me again please anything else... kill me, torture me, hate me, anything but leaving me..." he finally looked at you and you could see his pink eyes were cloudy and confused as tears dripped down his face.

".... that's pathetic emil. you want me to beat you but..." you forced your own tears along with your voice cracking. "you can't even say you love me."

emil tried to stand up, stumbling against the desk as his legs wobbled underneath him.

"don't leave me. please." his hand weakly grabbed your wrist

"do you love me?"

"yes."

"how am i supposed to trust that? how am i supposed to trust you? can you even say it? can you tell me you love me?"

"i...i...."

you ripped your hand away from him making him stumble again.

"I'm going to get the divorce papers ready. you're going to sign them."

you turned on your heel and left your husband sobbing in his office.

your plan to make the great emil landorr your mindbroken bitch was going along perfectly. it was going to be harder to drug him when you moved into the queen's palace but you were confident that the separation would drive him just as crazy.

[leah-lover]

Second chances.

Alexia putellas x coach!reader.

Summary: new job, old friends , and memories your tried to forget. Will you be able to dodge the past as you navigate your new job?

“ More news arrived from the RFEF who have promised that they were going through a systematic change after the Luis Rubiales scandal. They have announced this morning the arrival of a new head coach to lead the women’s team in the upcoming euro cup which will be held in switzerland. The 33 years old coach came from the united states where she led her team to victory in the nwsl. Her name may sound familiar to you because she was a part of Vilda's coaching staff until she decided to step away for unknown reasons. Although she has never coached a national team before, the new RFEF president is confident she will heal wounds left by her predecessor mostré tomé and restore the team to its winning ways.” says the reporter on the TV. you were sitting on your couch listening to her talking about your new job with player’s files in your lap. The international break was in 7 days and you needed to get familiar with everyone and have a clear plan of your strategy. 

Being back in Spain brought back so many memories. You haven't come back since everything went down and you quit your job. You swore you would never come back to work with the RFEF however seeing everything unfold in the news you knew that agreeing to come back was more of a necessity than a choice. You loved the girls very much and you knew that they deserved better than what they got and you were adamant on giving them the best. Moreover, the new president was a woman you knew and was friends with. You trusted her and agreed to give her a chance. Besides Barcelona was the best city in the world, you couldn't pass up the chance to come back home. 

As soon as you accepted your position, you contacted old colleagues, ones that you knew you could trust,  and combined them with some of the existing staff that you were 100 percent sure were a safe fit for the new environment you were hoping to achieve and formed your new staff and announced it to the media. The fans were shocked at the amount of changes you made and their comments were very supportive of your decision which gave you a boost of confidence. 

All you were thinking about was this team. You held and attended meetings all day long. You practically lived on your desk but it was all worth it because it all led to this phone call you were pursuing since the day you got to barcelona. You waited in front of your laptop anxiously waiting for your star player to join the zoom call. Shortly after you see her face pop on your screen. 

“ hola.” you say enthusiastically. “ hola.” she replies. She looked much older since the last time you saw her, which was 4 years ago. 

“ Thanks for agreeing to this call. It  truly means a lot.” you say playing with a pen in your hands. 

“ yeah it wasn't easy but i thought why not hear you out.” she replied. 

“ So I am gonna get right to it. I want you to be back in the national team. You are the best center back i know, i want you to be in the te am, and you deserve to have a place in this team.” 

“ I see you haven't changed, you are still as honest as you were but I would have to decline.” responded mapi. 

 “ I am turning things around maria. You know me, you know my story, you know everything. This time is different. I came back to make things different. You watched everything happen in front of your eyes. Do you truly think I could make someone feel the way I felt back then?” 

Mapi stayed quiet, she was perhaps thinking about that night you decided to leave everything behind. The night the idea of las 15 was created. 

“ okay.” you hear her say. “ I will come to this camp.” you are overjoyed “ you wont regret it leon.” 

 Your happiness was cut short because you remembered that you had to do this 2 more times with pina and leila. After 2 very long phone calls you got them to trust you and to agree to the return to the national team. You then drafted the call up list and sent it to your assistant. 

The days leading up to camp went by quickly as your plans of the first steps towards rebuilding were coming to fruition. 

You were sitting in your office when  you heard a knock on the door, it was your assistant coach informing you that the players began   to arrive. A wave of nerves watched over you but that was to be expected. You were a part of this team before and you hoped they would welcome you back with open arms. You were wearing casual clothes so that you won't be seen as authoritarian. You settled for a white t-shirt, black pants and shoes, and you wore your hair down. Your objective was to appear normal and friendly to the members of the team you weren't familiar with. You headed straight for the conference room and waited for the first people to arrive. Shortly after that Irene walked through the door. You were instantly transported back to 4 years ago which is the last time you and the captain have spoken. You closed your eyes briefly to try and get the bad memories away and open a new chapter with the captain. You shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with her and the rest of the barca group but quickly moved on to the other members that had joined. After they were all settled in their chairs you noticed the absence of the person you were most afraid to see, alexia putellas. Before you accepted the job you wrote down a pros and cons list. The first reason you put on the pros was the paycheck and the glory. However for the cons the first thing you wrote down was alexia putellas’s name. Seconds after you thought about her she appeared. She was just as beautiful and charming as you remembered. She immediately came to you but without sharing eye contact with you. She went in to kiss your cheek as a way to say hello and you did too. She still smelled like before and her smell still had a magnetic power over you. She then took a seat next to Irene and you pulled yourself together again and started your presentation. 

“ Hello everybody and welcome. You all heard of me, some of you even were a part of my team when I was working here which feels like a lifetime ago. But in that lifetime this team has risen from the underdog to the most favored and feared team in the world. I am here to continue that legacy and help the team strengthen its roster. But I am also here to create an environment, a culture, and a safe space for you all.  You all are the best in Spain and you deserve to be treated like it. This culture I am trying to create involves no tolerance for homophobia, transphobia, racism, or sexism. I urge you to report any case of abuse or mistreatment from my staff or your teammates. I tried my best to employ people I trust and are advised to report anything that made you uncomfortable.  So Without further or do let's talk strategy.” 

You go over everything you expect from the team and how the strategy is going to change. You then instruct your team to go rest so that training may begin tomorrow at 9 am. 

On their way out you called for the captain to have a word with them. Once the room is empty you quickly say ” so you heard everything i said, i just want to make sure that you two know that i mean Plus the captaincy is going to change. Obviously, you two are the captain and vice. You can come with me with any concern or question about anything.my door is always open.  I am appointing jenni as the 3rd captain.” 

“ That wouldn't go over well with the federation,” said irene. 

“ Well, I don't care. They knew who they hired. Plus I don't play by their rules.” you respond. The captains share a satisfactory look with you although you haven't looked at either of their eyes, then leave. 

Your transition to head coach seemed to be seamless. The players were responding to your advice and strategies. The media seemed to be happy with the changes you made and especially with the arrival of mapi leon. The vibe of the club overall was great, and you were getting comfortable in your new spot. However, it was all about to change at the pro match press conference. The conference itself went great. You and the vice captain answered all the questions given to you without any mishaps. But once the media left and you were left alone with alexia,  you felt yourself suffocating so you quickly got up to leave.  

“ You can't avoid me forever,” said Alexia calmly. 

“ Who said anything about avoiding you?  The conference is done, so I am leaving. If you want to talk to me about anything, my office door is always open.” you say with a cold tone not bothering to look at her. 

“ You don't talk to me like you never do. Besides you won't even look at me." Alexia sounded sad. All you wanted was to take away all her pain but you couldn't. 

“ I talk like this to everybody.” you hear her get up and see her in front of you. Not looking her in her eyes  would prove her point, and doing it would rip you to shreds. You suck it up and look at her hazel captivating eyes. “ Happy now?” you respond. “ We can't continue like this, we have to talk about that night.” 

“ alexia there is nothing to talk about. I forgot everything that happened ,I moved on. I am your coach right now. If you have a concern about anything football related, come to my office.” you were lying straight to her face. You didn't move on or forget what happened. You just hoped your tough girl act would hold with her. 

Game Day was always fun for you but this time around it had a little nervousness attached to it since it was your introduction as the new coach. You started your day witha call from the RFEF board wishing you good luck and re-stating their confidence in you. You revised your strategy, confirmed you starting 11, and headed to the bus so that you would head to the stadium. You decided on a blue suit and let your hair down. You looked both masculine and feminine   which summed up your personality perfectly. 

Once you arrived at the stadium you gave the girls a motivational speech, headed to your seat in the sidelines and waited for the game to begin. You weren't a loud manager. You just sat there, observed the play and took notes. You trusted the girl’s judgment and gave them some autonomy when it came to the style of play which rewarded you with a goal in the 8th minute by aitana bonmati. The 1-0 unset turned into 6-0 by the 76th minute which made you proud of your debut. However it all turned into chaos when alexia putellas fell on the field. You panicked as the paramedics ran to her. You watched  intensely as they examined her and waited for the signal that informed you that you needed a substitution which you got almost immediately. Your heart broke for the recently healed midfielder but you had other things in mind. You called for Teresa Abelleira and subbed her in. The game ended in a 7-0 win. You shook hands with everybody, did an interview but the thought of alexia didn't leave your mind.  As soon as you were done you semi sprinted to the locker room. Once you got there you found irene. 

“ Is it the acl again?” you ask worryingly. 

“ No, it's just a muscle strain and her knee is acting up again.”  you breathe for the first time in an hour. 

“ This is happening because of you.” she says harshly.

“ Excuse me.” you couldnt believe what you heard. 

“ You shouldn't have come back here. You taking this job was a mistake. You have opened up an old wound and this is just the beginning.”

“ I am going to have to stop you right here. First,  I am your boss not your buddy from back in the day so you are going to have to take a step back and show some respect. Second, you have the nerve to talk to me about making mistakes  knowing that you ruined my life not too long ago.

“ She didn't sleep last night. That's why she got injured today. I am worried about my friend.” 

“ You should have thought about your friend 4 years ago.” you say as you enter the medic’s room leaving her behind. 

You found alexia with tape on her knee and achilles. Her eyes were closed so she didn't see you come in and sit next to her. 

“ I am willing to talk about that night this time only. Say everything you need but once I leave this room you are never going to bring it up again.” 

The only way to make it out is through. You thought.

[ckret2]

Does Bill Cipher actually has any morals he goes by? I re-read your Human Bill Cipher AU Fanfiction - cause it's a hecking masterpiece and I LOVEEE it - and when he and Mabel were planning his escape and fake his death Bill said Mabel had too many morals... So it made me wonder do you think he has any either Canonly or in your universe? 💛

I think he does, canonly. They're not very nuanced or very consistent morals, but he does have them.

In The Book of Bill, one of the most striking scenes was when he taught the Puritan women witchcraft to fight back against their ludicrously oppressive husbands—because he didn't get anything out of it. He didn't try to use the women to further his goals, he had no particular beef with the Puritans beyond simply observing them and disliking them: he just objected to what was going on (on the grounds that it was boring, but I don't think that's the whole story), so he taught 'em some magic, gave 'em some boxed wine, and had a girls' night burning men at the stake for funsies.

And that was it. Then he left.

When he discusses his glory years in the Nightmare Realm, one of the first things he says is "I freed prisoners from bondage, mental patients from asylums, and dollars from bank vaults." That last bit is obv just robbery, but the first couple? Releasing people from captivity.

He says the Henchmaniacs discovered 8-Ball chained up in a prisoner pit—and bam, then 8-Ball was in Bill's gang. He made a deal to free Gideon from prison—and he may or may not have directly caused that to happen, but he didn't not cause it to happen.

The very first canonical crumb of intel we got about Bill's backstory was that he "liberated" his dimension. Whether or not that's what he actually did, I believe wholeheartedly that it was either what he tried to do or wished he'd done.

We know Bill's been held captive multiple times (bare minimum: whatever he did to get his mug shot taken as seen on Time Baby's announcement; his arrest after his O'Sadley's bender; getting trapped in an orb by a wizard; a couple hours in the US Military's hands; and, of course, Theraprism). He says after his O'Sadley's arrest, "I don't care for captivity" (quite understated, since we know that as he said those words he was hiding the fact that he was metaphorically gnawing at the bars of his cage in Theraprism) and "Those six hours felt like an eternity." One of his former victims wishes "therapy" on him because "it would drive him insane"—and considering that this victim was currently indefinitely involuntarily committed, I doubt he was talking about cursing Bill with once-a-month outpatient sessions.

Bill hates captivity, more than anything else. And more than that: Bill hates seeing OTHER PEOPLE in captivity.

If he sees an abused housewife, he goes "girl, you should literally murder him, and I'll help." On thorny ethical & political issues like "when is incarceration justifiable for punishment and/or the public good?" his answer is "never under any circumstances, blow up the prison." Or on "when is it morally justifiable to deprive a mentally unwell person of their freedom for their own and others' safety?" his answer is "never under any circumstances, blow up the mental hospital."

He talks a lot about hating rules, law, and order of all kinds ("why should cause precede effect? who voted on the laws of gravity?" "You have primal needs for chaos that are being repressed!") and it would be easy to write that off as him just inventing a political position that gives himself an "I can do whatever I want" card—except, he stands by those words. He goes out of his way to liberate people for no personal benefit.

But this is where the "not very consistent morals" part kicks in. Because, like,, he's got no problem with keeping an entire town captive in his petrified throne.

Sure, when Gideon betrays the town, Bill's happy to spring him out of real adult prison—but when Gideon betrays Bill, Bill's just as happy to stick him in a tiny cage to do cute dances for all eternity.

How dare the Pilgrims form a high-control cult that bans thought and imagination—but Bill can form a high-control cult that cuts off an entire town from news of the outside world, to the extent that he won't even let them travel for medical emergencies, and it's just peachy, he's doing them a favor really!

If Bill is the one who's been wronged, it's perfectly fine for him to crush people in an iron grip, because what he wants is more important than what those other terrible people wanted—because those other terrible people are oppressors, and Bill is a liberator!

Bill always makes exceptions for himself.

But, all the same—off-kilter and inconsistent though they may be, he does have some moral beliefs, and he can be outraged into action by what he perceives as moral injustices.

[mugiwara-lucy]

While I am VERY HAPPY with the Early and Mail in Voting Turn Out for Democrats I am VERY STRONGLY URGING people to continue!

Why? Because a little good bit of info just cropped up!

Huh....and here I thought he knew NOTHING of Project 2025?? 🤔

Everyone (NON MAGA) knows this old fucker is KNEE DEEP in the Project 2025 cookie jar.

So we will NOT have to worry about living in North Korea/Russia and China; here is the link below to register to vote along with the deadlines varying by state! Also, your own vote isn’t enough! Get as many people as you can to vote for Kamala be it your friends, cousins, parents, grandparents, old friends from high school and college, coworkers, boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives, stepchildren (if they’re 18 and over) and the list goes on and on but every vote counts! ALSO PLEASE check your registration DAILY because MAGA WILL purge your voter registration!!!

And early voting has started! And if you don’t wanna vote on November 5th, Early Voting is another option! Like I said get as many people as you know and try early voting that way you can avoid MAGA fuckery on November 5th! Here’s the link down below listing the dates by state:

And Mail in Ballots are ANOTHER option I highly recommend!! And like I said get as many people as you can to take advantage of this option! BUT if you decide to go with Mail In/Absentee Ballots; PLEASE mail your ballots at the ACTUAL USPS office!! That way MAGAts won't fuck with it.

Now we all enjoy the lives we have right now right? Where we can basically go as we please, worship whatever religion we want (or not) and be with whoever we want.

IF Trump worms his way back into the White House because we had a low voter turnout like he did in 2016, just think about it; we had Roe v Wade, Affirmative Action and Chevron overturned. I bet all the money in my savings and checking accounts that Interracial Relationships, Women’s right to vote and Gay Rights will be done away with. BET MONEY.

Or…:they’ll be “left to the states” 🙄 Because we know that’s going so WELL with abortion.

Not to mention, what happens in America has a trickle down effect for the rest of the world so if we get fucked, the rest of the world gets fucked too.

Please, let’s NOT have another 2016.

Thank You 🙏

[lowryuk]

Behind Her Back.

Pairing: BSF’s Boyfriend!Eren x Toxic!F!Reader, slight Jean x F!Reader

Word Count: 11K

Summary: Your best friend's boyfriend seems to have caught feelings for you. Too bad you don't reciprocate.

A/N: Hiiii!! I apologize in advance for this messy fic lmao. I still think it's a bit cringy but I can't let go of 11K words so I revised it as best as I could. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! As always, if you have questions, feedback or want additional h.c, my inbox is always open:) I hope you enjoy <3

(Warnings are below undercut)

Warning(s): rough sex, jealous!eren, toxic!reader, cheating, angst, oral (69 with jean specifically), sex in the woods, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, light choking, semi public sex, squirting, oral (m receiving)

The cafeteria is buzzing with noise. The hum of casual conversations, the sharp clatter of trays, the soft, cheesy pop music playing from hidden speakers overhead. You're sitting beside your best friend, absently dipping your fries in ketchup while she raves about her perfect boyfriend. 

"I really think he’s the one," Mikasa sighs dreamily, twirling her straw in her overpriced smoothie. "He’s so sweet. Like yesterday? He Doordashed me dinner because he was too tired to come over. He’s been working out so much lately. Said the coach has been giving him an earful."

You bite down on your fry to hide your smirk.

Because you know the truth.

Eren wasn’t too tired to come over

He was too busy fucking you.

Last night, while Mikasa was waiting on her food delivery, Eren had you on your knees, his fingers tangled in your hair, your lips wrapped around his cock, watching his head fall back against the wall as he groaned your name. One second, you were teasing him with slow, deliberate strokes of your tongue, and the next, he was yanking you up, bending you over, and slamming into you so hard the bed frame nearly cracked against the wall.

"You should really go, Eren," you had whispered mid-thrust, breathless and taunting, your lips curling into a wicked grin. "Your girlfriend’s gonna think you’re cheating." 

His teeth had grazed your jaw as he chuckled darkly, his hands gripping your hips even tighter. "I am cheating."

And God, you fucking loved it.

This wasn’t the first time. And it damn sure wouldn’t be the last.

Eren had first laid eyes on you at a frat party, long before he started dating Mikasa. That night, you had walked in wearing your short, red dress that defined all your curves. You flashed him a look that felt like a challenge. Since day fucking one, Eren knew you were going to be a big problem. 

It was bound to happen. 

At another party. You flirted shamelessly, left lingering touches, watched the way his eyes darkened when you leaned in too close.

He was confused because, weren’t you his girlfriend’s best friend? Was he being tested? 

He should’ve walked away. You were off-limits. Forbidden. 

But when you pulled him into an empty room, pressing your lips to his, he stopped questioning and started taking.

His girlfriend hadn’t been at the party, she had been sick in her dorm, completely unaware that her best friend was letting Eren touch her like she belonged to him.

Eren had tried to stay away after that. He really had.

But fuck, you were addictive. A pretty little tease with a filthy mouth and no morals. And he was a man with no self-control. So when the opportunity came again, he didn’t hesitate.

What was supposed to be a one-time mistake turned into two. Then three. Then it just… never stopped.

You couldn't even lie, Eren was phenomenal in bed. Mikasa wasn’t exaggerating about that part, or the size of his dick, either. But while you saw Eren for nothing more than a good fuck, he saw you as something else entirely.

An obsession.

Eren had been with plenty of women before. Too many to count. Girls threw themselves at him constantly. Pretty, easy, and desperate for a taste of him. But none of them compared to you.

You were his best-kept secret, his favorite sin. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get you out of his fucking head.

So as Mikasa keeps talking, going on and on about how sweet Eren is, how she sees a future with him, you barely hear a word of it.

Because you know the truth.

Eren Jaeger? Sweet?

Not even fucking close.

Mikasa could glaze him all she wanted. She could shove her perfect little life in your face—the fraternity president boyfriend, the money, the daddy-pulled connections.

But at the end of the day, you knew the real Eren.

The Eren who fucks you raw in your dorm and stays after, tracing invisible patterns into your skin.

The Eren who grips your chin and forces you to look at him when you moan someone else’s name just to piss him off.

The Eren who wishes you were his.

You slide your phone into your lap, unlocking it with a swipe. 

You: You're such a liar. You weren’t tired last night.

A response comes almost instantly.

Eren: My dick begs to differ.

You stifle a grin, tossing a casual glance at Mikasa. She’s still talking.

Completely unaware.

You type back.

You: Still in class? 

Eren: Yeah

You: Bet you wish I was under the desk right now ;)

Three dots appear. Then disappear.

Then, finally,

Eren: Don’t start.

Oh, but you already have.

And you both know he’s weak for you.

You smile at your phone, and from the corner of your eye, you notice Mikasa’s gaze flick toward you.

Immediately, you turn it off.

Now she’s intrigued. Nosy, like always.

"Ooh, who are you texting?" she asks, leaning in.

You flash her a teasing smirk. "Mr. Hottie."

Mikasa groans. "Ughhh, when are you gonna tell me his name? It has to be someone I know, you just don’t wanna admit it."

Oh, you know him alright.

You glance at the time and quickly push your chair back. "Shit, I gotta go, or I’ll be late for class. See you later, Mika."

And with that, you’re gone.

Now, you’re probably thinking—why the fuck would you sleep with your best friend’s boyfriend? She’s your best friend since high school! Why would you betray her like that? 

Simply put, your “best friend” is a raging, entitled, insufferable bitch.

Spoiled. Bratty. If it’s not her way, be prepared to never hear the end of it. She bullies, belittles, and flaunts her privilege like it’s a goddamn badge of honor. Her parents’ status opens every door for her, and she acts like she earned it.

You were just fucking done with it.

Done with the way she pretended to listen when you opened up about your childhood—the way she nodded along when you told her you grew up dirt poor, how you fought tooth and nail for a scholarship just to be here.

And then, the second you were done talking, she’d flip her hair and say, “Ugh, yeah, I totally get it. My parents refused to get me a new car last year, and I was like, hello? I deserve it?”

Like your struggles were even remotely fucking comparable.

But you swallowed it. Bit your tongue. Let it roll off your back.

Till you couldn’t.

Because it wasn’t just the privilege. It was the way she spoke to you.

The way she constantly, subtly, masterfully reminded you that no matter how hard you worked, you’d never be her equal. She was Queen B. You were just a worker. A pawn. A disposable sidekick for her to play off of.

The comments were always so backhanded. Dripping in fake innocence. She would tear you down, crush your spirit, and then blink at you with wide, clueless eyes, acting like she had no idea her words had left you raw.

You weren’t fucking stupid. 

She knew exactly what she was doing.

And how exactly did you know? 

Because in high school, there was a rumor. A nasty, vile, rumor that circulated around the small town you grew up in. It nearly destroyed you, your reputation and your chances of going to post secondary. 

It said your mother—a single, struggling woman who worked herself to the bone to keep a roof over your head—was a whore. That she sold her body to pay the bills.

And her daughter?

Did it for free.

For years, you never knew who started it.

It wasn’t until a friend of a friend circled back to you and informed you that it was Mikasa who started it. All you could do was scoff, because of course she was the one behind it. 

She had spread that rumor like wildfire, laughing behind your back as she watched you fall apart. She never even had the decency to own up to it.

So now?

She wants to talk about sex work?

Fine.

Because now, you do it on the daily.

With her fucking boyfriend.

The same one she wants to build her perfect little future with. 

The same one who spends half his nights inside you.

And if she ever finds out?

Oh, well.

Guess you’ll cross that bridge when you get there.

–

You're making your way to class when a hand grabs your wrist and yanks you behind a pillar.

Your heart jumps. You let out a startled yelp, but the second you meet those emerald eyes, you smile.

"Eren, you scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry," he mutters, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all. His hands are already sliding down your waist, fingers digging into your ass, greedily.

You giggle, shoving at his chest. "You have no shame."

"Neither do you."

And before you can argue, he kisses you.

It’s deep and lazy, like he has all the time in the world, like he wants to drag this moment out, but you pull away first. He groans, resting his forehead against yours, fingers toying with your necklace.

"Your girlfriend is so fucking insufferable," you mutter.

Eren chuckles. "Tell me about it. Was it the 'spending the rest of our lives together’ speech, or the thirty-dollar DoorDash?"

You roll your eyes. "Both."

His lips twitch as he plays with a strand of your hair. 

"Anyways, I gotta go." You step aside, adjusting your skirt. "See you later." Before you could leave, Eren grabs your hand and you look back at him, confused. "Later, as in, I should come over tonight?"

You smirk. "No, you horndog. Fuck your girlfriend once in a while."

And with that, you’re gone. You don’t notice the way Eren’s jaw clenches. You don’t see the flicker of frustration flash through his eyes.

Fuck.

What were you doing to him?

It was supposed to be just sex.

But lately, he’s been wanting more.

At first, it was little things.

A good morning text after a night together. A goodnight text even when he was lying beside Mikasa. The way he found himself sticking around after you fucked, lingering in your bed instead of leaving like he should.

When Jean started sniffing around, Eren almost lost his shit.

He wanted to put his fist through a wall when he overheard Jean saying, “Yeah, I might ask her out. She’s fucking fine”

Instead, Eren forced a smirk and lied through his teeth.

"She’s not looking for anything right now, man."

"Really?" Jean frowned.

"Yeah," Eren shrugged, keeping his voice casual. "She’s a heartless bitch when it comes to rejecting guys. Spares no feelings. Wouldn’t want that to be you, bro."

Jean hesitated, and that was all Eren needed.

But no matter what he did, you wouldn’t see him the way he saw you.

Every time he tried to test the waters, to gauge if you felt even an ounce of what he was feeling, you’d shut him down.

Remind him about Mikasa.

Mock him.

Push him away.

Eren fucking hated it.

Because most girls would beg for him.

Want him.

But you acted like you couldn’t care less.

And that’s what made him want you even more.

–

You’re sitting in your English class when your phone buzzes against the desk, over and over again. A quick glance at the screen shows the group chat completely blowing up.

Mikasa: OMGGG guess what!! 👀✨ Mikasa: The frat rented out a whole-ass campground for the long weekend!! Right by the lake!!

Mikasa: Pack your shit, we’re goingggg!!

Your brows furrow. Weird. You had just seen Eren, and he never mentioned it. But whatever. Maybe it just slipped his mind. Either way, now you had a whole weekend away to look forward to.

The weekend arrives and it all comes way too fast. Between last-minute shopping and shoving random shit into a bag, you barely have enough time to think. Mikasa reassures you that the guys are handling the food and tents, so all you need is clothes.

By the time she pulls up outside your dorm in Eren’s car, you’re already exhausted. The trunk pops open, and as you’re tossing your bag in, Eren leans in. For a brief moment, it’s just the two of you.

"Nice of you to finally tell me about this trip," you murmur, narrowing your eyes at him.

Eren smirks, completely unfazed. "Didn’t wanna give you time to back out."

You roll your eyes, about to step away, but before you can, he delivers a quick slap to your ass.

You gasp, whipping around, but all you get is a wink before he grabs your bag and hauls it into the car. Cocky bastard.

The ride there was hell on earth. Mikasa won’t shut the fuck up, going on and on about something you couldn’t care less about. Between her constant chatter and the winding roads making your head spin, you feel a migraine creeping in.

At some point, exhaustion wins. You close your eyes, resting your head against the window, and let sleep take over. When you blink awake, the car is parked, and Mikasa is gone. Your door is open, and Eren is crouched beside you, holding out a water bottle and two Tylenols.

"Thought you’d need this."

Blinking at him, a little dazed, a little confused, you hesitantly take the bottle from his hands. He tilts his head, watching you closely. "You gonna take them or just stare at me, princess?"

You scowl but grab the pills, washing them down quickly. As soon as you do, he smirks, pleased with himself. And then, so quickly you barely register it, he leans in and presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead. You don’t even have time to react before he’s grabbing your bags and slamming the car door shut. You sit there, stunned, pulse hammering in your ears.

By the time you and Eren make it to the campsite, everything is already in motion. The guys are halfway through pitching the tents, coolers are being unloaded, and Mikasa is, as expected, barking orders at people.

Armin, clipboard in hand, waves you over. "Sleeping arrangements are set," he says, glancing at his notes. "You’re with Jean."

Your brows raise. Jean Kirstein. You’ve heard of him. Seen him around. He’s one of Eren’s best friends.

And when you look up, Eren is already staring.

Jaw clenched. Hands flexing at his sides.

You smirk, shouldering your bag.

Oh, this was gonna be fun.

Jean was cute. A nice guy. The type you’d absolutely hook up with, but date? That was still up in the air. Hey, maybe he’d surprise you.

As Armin points you toward your tent, you can feel Eren’s stare burning into your back. You don’t have to turn around to know his entire body is humming with irritation. But you just shrug it off.

Jean grabs your bags before you can protest, carrying them effortlessly to the tent. When he unzips it, you’re surprised to find everything already set up. An air mattress, his sleeping bag, soft LED lights strung along the sides.

"Damn, you came prepared," you comment, impressed.

Jean grins. "Had to. Can’t let my tentmate suffer, can I?"

He helps set up your stuff, too, cracking jokes the entire time. He’s easy to talk to—funny, charming, and flirty when he wants to be. You like that.

The frat had a whole day of activities planned, but the lake was the biggest event. 

From swimming to tubing to jet skis, the day is packed with water sports. 

And to your luck, Jean was great with all of those. He grew up swimming, meaning he was a natural in the water. He shows off a little, diving in perfectly, flexing just enough to make it noticeable, but you don’t mind the view.

At one point, when the boat ride gets too bumpy, you end up in his lap. Another sharp wave hits, and Jean groans into your ear, his hands gripping your waist instinctively. You bite back a laugh, looking up at him.

"Sorry," you giggle, sliding off his lap.

He smirks. "No complaints here."

Later, when it comes time for jet skiing, you hesitate. The water is a little intimidating, but Jean works his magic, coaxing you into trying it out. "I won’t go too fast. Promise," he says, holding out his hand.

And true to his word, he keeps a steady, comfortable speed. Eventually, once you start feeling the adrenaline rush, you tell him, "Okay, faster."

You’re laughing, wind in your hair, having the time of your life. You don’t even notice Eren watching from the dock, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles go white.

And then, Jean takes your hand. Just casually, as you walk down the dock, fingers laced together. It’s innocent, playful.

But to Eren, it isn’t. It’s a fucking slap in the face.

–

Later that evening, after everything settles down, you make your way to the outdoor showers. The sun is low in the sky, the lake reflecting the warm orange glow. You’re about to rinse off when suddenly, a hand grabs your wrist and yanks you towards the other side of the shower, out of sight from everyone.

"What the fuck—"

You look up, and it’s Eren.

His jaw is tight, green eyes burning with jealousy. He cages you in, pressing you back against the rough wood. 

"What the hell is going on between you and Jean?" he demands, voice low, angry.

You blink at him, feigning innocence. "Um, nothing? Why? What does it look like?"

"Don’t play stupid," he grits out, stepping closer. "Ask to switch tents with someone. Connie’s sharing with Sasha—switch with Connie."

You scoff, crossing your arms. "Why would I do that? I like my sleeping arrangement."

His nostrils flare. "Seriously? Fucking stop. It’s not funny."

"Eren," you sigh, rolling your eyes, "you need to cool it, or you’re gonna blow our fucking cover."

Before he can argue, you see Jean approaching over the hill, carrying a towel. You had asked him to hold it up for you for privacy while you used the outdoor shower.

Eren sees him. And sees red.

His nails dig into his palms, rage vibrating off him in waves. He wants to snap. Wants to grab you, throw you over his shoulder, drag you back to his tent, and make you remember exactly who the fuck you belong to.

But he can’t. Because if he reacts, he’ll blow this entire thing up.

So instead, he turns on his heel and storms off. Doesn’t look back. Doesn’t risk another second of watching you strip in front of Jean.

Because if he does, he might actually lose his mind.

–

The fire crackled, sending sparks into the night as the group huddled around, sharing ghost stories, stuffing their faces with s’mores, and laughing at stupid inside jokes. There weren’t enough chairs for everyone, which meant Mikasa was on Eren’s lap… and you were on Jean’s.

Not that you minded. Beneath the shared blanket draped over the both of you, Jean’s hands roamed your bare thighs, his touch slow and lazy, like he was memorizing the feel of your skin. It was soothing, almost enough to pull you to sleep right then and there. But the way his fingers occasionally squeezed, tracing patterns along your inner thigh? That kept you very much awake.

Eren, across from you, was the complete opposite. Stiff. Silent. Seething. His fingers tapped against the armrest of his chair, his jaw shut so tightly you swore you could hear his teeth grinding. He wasn’t paying attention to the conversation, didn’t even acknowledge Mikasa’s attempts to pull him in. No, his eyes were locked on you. 

Yet, all you could do is enjoy Jean’s presence. He leaned in, voice low in your ear. “Tired, sweetheart?”

You hummed. “Mhm. Long day.”

Jean’s fingers crept up your thigh. “Wanna turn in?”

Eren dropped his beer bottle, and the sharp crack of glass shattering snapped both of your heads up. He glances down at the shards of glass, his breathing heavy, and when Mikasa gasped and bent down to help clean up, he went back to his tent without a word.

Jean's face twisted in concern. “Damn. What’s his problem?”

You shrugged, playing dumb. “Beats me.”

–

The air in the tent was thick, humid from the warmth of two bodies pressed close. You were snug in your sleeping bag, wrapped in layers of fleece, but even that wasn’t enough to keep out the night’s chill.

Jean, already tucked into his own bag, turned his head to look at you. “You’re shivering.”

“I’m fine,” you whispered.

He smirked. “You could just share with me. My sleeping bag’s bigger, and I’m very warm.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Jean didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, actually.”

The bastard. You laughed, shaking your head. You were tempted. It was cold, and you were shivering. And Jean was very warm. So, after a beat, you gave in, slipping out of your bag and into his.

Jean pulled you close immediately, wrapping his arms around you as if he’d been waiting for this moment all night. “Told you,” he murmured against your ear.

You weren’t sure how it started, only that it happened fast. One second, you were tangled up in blankets, pressed chest to chest, and the next, his lips were on yours. Desperate. Starving.

You moaned into his mouth, fingers tugging at his hair as his hands roamed your body, slipping beneath your shirt, palming at your breast. The heat between your legs pulsed when he gripped your hips and pulled you onto his lap, and fuck—the hardness pressing against you had your breath hitching.

Jean groaned, head tipping back. “Shit, sweetie. You feel so fuckin’ good.”

You gasped, grinding down against him, feeling his length strain against his boxers. His fingers slipped between your legs, rubbing slow circles over your clothed clit, and when you whimpered into his mouth, he grinned.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured.

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “I wanna suck you off.”

Jean let out a shaky breath, nearly losing it right then and there. “Fuck. Come here, baby.”

You didn’t waste a second. You shifted, turning around to face the opposite way, your ass now right in his face. The both of you hurriedly shoved your pants down, hands fumbling in the dark, and the second your tongue traced the tip of his cock, his mouth was on you.

It was filthy. The wet sounds of slurping, the stifled moans swallowed against skin, the quiet squeak of the air mattress beneath you, it all filled the tent in a sinful symphony. His tongue lapped against your folds, fingers digging into your ass as he devoured you. You moaned around his length, sending vibrations down his cock, and Jean shuddered.

“Shit—gonna cum,” he gritted out, hands gripping your hips as he thrust up into your mouth.

You let him. You took it. Let him fuck himself into your throat until he was spilling on your tongue, groaning against your soaked cunt as you came with him.

The moment was hazy, the world tilting as you collapsed beside him, exhausted and spent. Jean pulled you close, pressing lazy kisses to your forehead as his fingers traced gentle circles on your back.

“Fuck, that was good,” he murmured.

You hummed, barely processing his words as your heavy eyelids fluttered shut. Jean played with your hair, his touch lulling you to sleep, and the last thing you remembered before drifting off was the sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

–

The next morning, you woke to an empty bed.

The space beside you was already cold, but you didn’t panic. You recalled hearing the soft shuffle of movement sometime before dawn, Jean whispering in your ear about an early morning fishing trip with the boys.

The chill morning air nipped at your skin as you stepped out of the tent, stretching your sore muscles. Mikasa was already awake, curled up in one of the camping chairs, a thick blanket draped over her shoulders. A steaming cup of coffee rested between her hands, and her dark hair was messy from sleep.

When she spotted you, her eyes lit up with amusement. “So… is Jean Mr. Hottie?”

You froze. Oh, fuck.

She grinned, completely oblivious to the way your stomach dropped. “Because last night? You guys were so loud!”

You swallowed, trying to play dumb. “We were?”

“Yeah! It sounded like two grizzlies fighting over a salmon.” She laughed, taking a sip of her coffee.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s the stupid air mattress.”

Mikasa snickered, shaking her head. “Eren and I had to mute it out with our own ‘stuff.’ Hence why I’m so tired.”

Your whole body stiffened.

You didn’t want to hear this. You hated hearing this. But you forced yourself to stay neutral. “And how did that go for you?”

Mikasa sighed, leaning back in her chair. “He just made me suck him off.” She frowned, staring into her cup. “I don’t know… he’s been really cold toward me lately. Do you think he’s getting cold feet?”

Your chest tightened. You shouldn’t care. You didn’t care. This wasn’t your problem. This wasn’t your relationship.

Still… even though you hated Mikasa, even though you had no real loyalty to her, something about these conversations always made your morals check in.

You exhaled through your nose, keeping your voice light. “Have you tried talking to him about it?”

“I have, but every time I bring it up, he just shuts me down. He’s not like how he used to be.”

Right. Before he started fucking you.

You forced a small smile. “I’m sure he’ll bounce back. Being the president of the frat isn’t easy work. Maybe he’s just stressed.”

“Maybe…” Mikasa muttered, but she didn’t sound convinced.

Before she could press the conversation any further, you stood up, brushing invisible lint off your sweatshirt. “I’m gonna go wash my face.”

–

By the time you finished getting ready for the day, the guys were back from their fishing trip. You spotted Jean first, looking bright-eyed and grinning as he sauntered toward you.

“Hey, sweetie,” he greeted, his voice warm as his hands instinctively found your waist. You smiled up at him, letting him pull you into his embrace. 

Your eyes scanned around and sure enough, Eren was staring again. 

His fishing pole was still slung over his shoulder, his damp hoodie clinging to his body from the early morning mist. His face was unreadable, but his eyes? You couldn’t tell, because today it was softer. Was it betrayal? Sadness? Hurt? 

Something twisted in your chest. Guilt? Remorse? You weren’t sure.

But whatever it was, you shoved it down. Because Eren had no right to look at you like that. He had a girlfriend. He was supposed to be exclusive to her.

He couldn’t have her and you and expect you to stay loyal to him.

So, instead of addressing the look in his eyes, you smiled at Jean, letting your fingers trail along his arm. Loud. Clear. Intentional.

Eren had no claim over you, and the sooner he accepted that, the better it was for both of you. 

–

The day had been perfect. Almost.

It was a full itinerary—archery, swimming, drinking. The usual camp shit. But don’t even ask about archery, because it was a fucking disaster.

You weren’t just bad at it, you were embarrassing. Every shot went wide, some arrows even bouncing off the ground pathetically before reaching the target. At one point, you nearly took out Connie’s eye, and he screamed like it was a drive-by.

Jean had tried to help, standing behind you, adjusting your grip, guiding your movements. But it was pointless. You were terrible and he knew it. But still, he stayed behind you, his hands firm on your arms, his voice warm in your ear.

“You’re just too tense,” he teased. “You gotta loosen up.”

“Oh? You offering a massage?”

His fingers squeezed at your waist, making you laugh. “I don’t do freebies, sweetheart.”

–

By mid-afternoon, the energy had shifted. Not with you. Not with Jean.

With Eren. 

Because sometime between lunch and now, he and Mikasa had fought.

Not just a spat. Not their usual bickering where she scolded him for being reckless and he brushed her off like it didn’t matter.

This was different. This was loud. This was heated.

Mikasa had cornered him, voice low but sharp, pleading with him to tell her what was wrong. Why he was so cold. Why he barely touched her anymore. Why he never looked at her like he used to. Why she felt like she was losing him.

Eren just stood there.

Face stoic and silent. 

He didn’t care, just walked away.

Didn’t comfort her. Didn’t tell her she was overthinking. Didn’t reassure her with the soft words and tender touches she so obviously craved.

Mikasa had been devastated.

Everyone had heard it.

And now, they were talking.

Because no one knew why he was acting like this. No one understood why he seemed like he’d rather be anywhere else, with anyone else.

But you knew. 

–

Later that night, the fire popped, sending flickers of orange light across the group. The smell of roasted marshmallows filled the air, mixing with the night’s chill. You sat in Jean’s lap, your legs wrapped in a cozy blanket as his arms circled your waist, idly tracing patterns on your skin. The moment was easy, the perfect mix of warmth and comfort.

Sasha was going off with one of her ridiculous spooky stories, but your attention was scattered. Your focus wavered, till a giggle made your head turn. 

Eren and Mikasa were wrapped up in each other. You didn't need to look closely to see it. His arms around her waist, his lips moving against her skin, and her soft giggles that were too loud to ignore. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

Whatever. If Mikasa was finally getting the attention she wanted, good for her. It was about time.

You didn’t care. Honestly, it was a relief. You were tired of hearing her complain about Eren’s distance, about how he wasn’t paying attention to her. Now she had him, all over her like she always wanted. Let her have it.

You shifted slightly in Jean’s lap, your focus still on him as he teased you about your less-than-stellar archery skills. You were ready with a snarky comeback when a low moan cut through the air, sharp enough to stop the conversation dead in its tracks.

Everyone’s heads snapped to the source—Mikasa, her head thrown back against Eren’s shoulder, eyes shut tight. And it clicked. You didn’t need to see any more than that to know exactly what was happening under that damn blanket.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up, and Jean’s chuckle joined yours. It was too much, Mikasa’s constant complaints, her needy energy for attention, and now here she was, practically giving a live show in front of the group. You looked around, finding everyone else’s uncomfortable glances and subtle eye-rolls.

Connie, ever the asshole, barked at them to take it to the tent, and without missing a beat, they both got up, retreating into the shadows with their drama. That was definitely a mood killer, though. The atmosphere was completely shot, and one by one, people filtered back to their tents, eager to end the night and pretend they didn’t just witness the latest episode of “Mikasa and Eren's Fucked Relationship.”

You're back in the tent, leaning back into Jean. The fire’s warmth long forgotten, the awkwardness lingering in the air like smoke. You felt exhausted from the day’s events and all the noise, so when Jean’s arms pulled you closer, you didn’t protest. You let yourself melt into him, a small, content sigh slipping from your lips.

You were already halfway to sleep before Jean could even try to make a move, and he didn’t push it. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tighter as you drifted off, the tension of the day finally leaving your body.

It was peaceful, despite everything else that had happened. For now, all that mattered was this quiet moment.

–

It was about 2 a.m. when you woke up, shivering slightly in the cold air. Jean’s grip on you had loosened, and the warmth of his body was now distant. You shifted restlessly, frustrated by your inability to fall back asleep. Grabbing your hoodie and sweats from the edge of your sleeping bag, you quietly slipped out of the tent, careful not to wake Jean.

You were almost two steps away from the tent when you heard the zipper of another. Your heart skipped as you glanced over and saw Eren emerging from Mikasa’s tent. What the hell?

He noticed you instantly and came toward you, his figure still shadowed in the dim moonlight. “You need to use the bathroom?”

You hesitated, thinking fast. “Yeah,” you lied, giving him a small nod.

“Alright, I’ll walk with you.” He started toward the washroom, falling into step beside you, his breath visible in the cool air.

“Did I wake you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual.

“No,” he replied, his voice low, almost too casual. “I’ve been up for a while.”

“Oh. How come?”

He shrugged but didn’t offer any further explanation, and you didn’t press. The silence between you both was thick, the only sound being the crunch of your footsteps on the dry leaves.

When you reached the washroom, you hesitated. “Actually, I don’t really need to go,” you admitted. “I just couldn’t fall back asleep.”

Eren gave you a look that you couldn’t quite read, then raised an eyebrow. “Wanna go for a walk instead?”

You didn’t see any harm in it, so you nodded, letting him lead you away from the camp and into the woods. The further you went, the quieter it became, the sounds of nature surrounding you. But it felt awkward—strained. Neither of you spoke for what seemed like forever.

Finally, Eren broke the silence, his voice unexpectedly sharp. “So, do you really like Jean that much?”

His question caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected him to come at you like this. Still, you kept your cool, even though your heart skipped. “Yeah. He’s sweet. Why?”

Eren didn’t respond right away. You could feel the weight of his silence hanging between you. So, you decided to fill it. “I see you and Mikasa worked things out,” you said, forcing a neutral tone. “I’m really happy for you.”

Eren scoffed in disbelief. “Don’t feed me that bullshit. You’re her best friend.”

“And you’re her boyfriend,” you shot back, meeting his eyes.

Eren stopped walking for a moment, his gaze intense, almost too intense. “Yet you’re the one I can’t stop thinking about.”

When Eren pulls you closer, you don’t even question it. Something in the way he moves, the way his breath quickens as he closes the space between you, feels like fate, like something you can’t fight even if you tried. And you’re not trying. In fact, you lean into him, just a little, just enough to feel his chest against yours, his body heat enveloping you.

His hands are on you, firm, possessive, like they were made to touch you. Like they belong there. Your breath catches as his fingers dig into your sides, pulling you closer, and fuck, it feels like he’s branded you. You’re hyper-aware of every inch of his body pressed against yours. You can’t escape it, don’t want to.

He’s close, so close that the air around you feels charged. And before you can even process the thought, you close the gap. Your lips crash together, urgent, desperate, like you’re both starved for this moment. His kiss is hungry, raw, taking as much as it gives, and you can feel the desperation in every movement. It’s a whirlwind. Fast, unrelenting, pulling you right under.

Eren’s hands roam down your body, his grip tightening as he presses you up against the rough bark of the tree. You wince at the sensation, but the pain is nothing compared to the heat coursing through your veins. His lips are everywhere now, dragging along your jaw, your neck, but each touch only makes you want more.

You gasp when his lips find yours again, and this time, you kiss him back with everything you’ve got. It’s wild, it’s chaotic, but it’s exactly what you’ve been waiting for. His body presses you harder into the tree, the bark digging into your back, but you don’t care. You welcome it. It’s not enough to stop you. Nothing can stop you now.

His tongue slides into your mouth, and your hands instinctively grip the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer, if that’s even possible. His breath mingles with yours, and you can feel the heat between you, pulsing with every second that passes. You don’t know how long this moment lasts. Time seems to blur together as you lose yourself in the kiss, in the feeling of his body against yours, in the madness of it all.

Eren grips your thighs and lifts you like it’s nothing, pressing you flush against the tree, his body caging you in, heat rolling off him in waves. The rough bark digs into your back, but the only thing you can focus on is him; his scent, his strength, the way his chest rises and falls against yours.

Your legs tighten around his waist instinctively, and you can feel him straining against the fabric separating you. You grind against him, dragging your hips down to feel all of him, and the groan that rumbles in his chest is so fucking deep, so fucking wrecked, it sends a shiver up your spine.

“Fuckin’ hell.” His voice is a low growl, his forehead pressing against yours for a split second before his mouth is on your jaw, your throat, biting and sucking, leaving his mark on your skin. Branding you.

Your head tilts back, lips parting as a soft, needy moan escapes you.

“I want more,” you breathe into his ear, voice wrecked, desperate.

Eren stills for a second—just a second—before he exhales sharply, a low, dark chuckle vibrating against your throat.

“Yeah?” His voice is gravel, his fingers already yanking down your sweats with one rough tug, leaving them bunched around one ankle. His own pants are pushed down just enough to free his cock, and when you feel the heavy press of him against your soaked folds, you whimper.

Eren groans when he slides his fingers through your slick, spreading it, feeling just how fucking ready you are for him.

“You have me fucking crazy,” he mutters, dragging the tip of his cock through your wetness, teasing you, making you feel every inch of him before he even gives it to you.

His green eyes find yours, dark and burning.

“Gonna fuck this pussy till you’re a crying mess on me,” he breathes, voice thick with lust, his fingers digging into your hips as he lines himself up. “Won’t fucking stop till you’re leaking with my cum.”

Then he sinks in.

Your mouth parts in a silent gasp as he stretches you, fills you to the fucking brim, the thick weight of him pushing deep, deep, deep until he’s buried fully.

For a second, neither of you move.

Eren groans, low and wrecked, his hands gripping your hips as he lets you feel it. Lets you feel just how deep he is, how perfectly his cock fits inside you.

Then he pulls back just enough to slam back in.

You choke on a moan, nails digging into his shoulders as he starts fucking you in earnest, hard, fast, deep—every thrust pushing you higher, higher, higher.

The sound of his skin slapping yours fills the night, filthy and obscene, mixing with your gasps, your moans, the broken curses that fall from his lips.

Your head tips back against the tree, mouth falling open as he hits that spot, over and over, and your body reacts on instinct, pulling him deeper, gripping him tighter.

“Shit—” Eren grits his teeth, his pace never faltering. Never slowing. His hands grip your ass tighter, spreading you open so he can fuck into you deeper, harder, rougher.

“How the fuck—” His voice is low, his forehead pressing against yours as his pace turns brutal. “—was this pussy ever meant for anyone but me?”

You can’t speak. Can’t think. You’re already losing it, your body coiling so tight you feel like you might snap.

And Eren can feel it.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he groans, his hand slipping between you, fingers rubbing your clit in tight, perfect circles. “You gonna cum for me, baby?”

A sharp cry tears from your throat as your body clenches around him, tightening, squeezing, fucking drowning him. His thrusts grow erratic, hips slamming into you like he’s trying to fuck you into the tree, into the dirt, into the fucking ground.

Then his hand moves from your waist to your throat, wrapping around it, tilting your head up so he can watch you fall apart.

“That’s right,” he grits out, his cock twitching inside you, his voice turning ragged as his hips stutter against yours. “Fucking take it.”

And when you cum, when you fucking explode around him, clenching so tight he can barely fucking move, Eren follows, groaning deep in his chest as he buries himself as deep as he can, filling you up to the fucking brim.

His hands grip your thighs tight, and before you can even catch your breath, he shifts, hiking your legs over his shoulders. The new angle makes you gasp, makes you feel him even deeper, the thick, swollen head of his cock pressing into that sensitive, aching spot inside you.

“Fuck—” Your voice is already wrecked, but Eren doesn’t slow down.

If anything, he picks up the pace.

His hips snap forward, slamming into you with a force that knocks the breath out of you, his cock dragging along every nerve ending that has you seeing fucking stars.

Your fingers claw at his arms, at his shoulders, at anything you can grab onto, but he stops you, trapping your wrists above your head with one hand, pinning you to the tree. His body keeps you in place, fucking into you so deep it feels like he’s about to split you open.

Your body starts trembling, tightening, your orgasm building too fast, too soon. And Eren already knows.

“You gonna cum already?” he taunts, voice rough, his forehead pressing against yours as he watches you fall apart beneath him. “Thought you could handle me, baby.”

“I-I—fuck—” Your words are lost in moans, gasps, pleasure coiling so tight it’s unbearable.

Eren just grins, his free hand dropping between you, rubbing your clit in tight, merciless circles.

Your body reacts instantly, your back arching, your mouth parting, your legs shaking as that coil inside you snaps.

You cum hard, thighs clamping around him as your pussy squeezes his cock so fucking tight he groans, his rhythm faltering for a split second.

But he doesn’t stop.

Doesn’t fucking let up.

“Too much,” you cry, voice breaking, your entire body shaking beneath him.

“Nah,” Eren growls, driving into you harder, deeper, faster. “This is exactly what you fucking wanted.”

Your moans turn helpless, breathless, your body over-sensitive, overwhelmed. He’s fucking you like he means to ruin you, to break you in. 

His teeth graze your jaw, your throat, his grip bruising on your waist as he pounds into you, relentless.

“This pussy is mine,” he mutters, voice low and dark in your ear. “Fucked Jean with it once and now you think it belongs to him? Nah, baby. You were fucking made for me.”

Your stomach tightens, pleasure crests again way too soon, way too strong.

Eren can feel it. He can fucking tell.

“You gonna cum again?” he grits out, his hand tightening around your wrists, his other still playing with your clit, determined to push you over the fucking edge.

“Eren—fuck—” Your words dissolve into moans, your entire body jerks, locks up, the pleasure hitting you so hard it almost hurts. Your pussy clenches around his cock, the tight, pulsing heat pulling him even deeper, and when his fingers press against your clit, you fucking squirt.

It’s sudden, involuntary, completely out of your control, your release gushing out around his cock, soaking him, dripping down your thighs.

Eren groans so deep it’s nearly a growl, his movements stuttering for just a second before he starts fucking into you again, riding out your high like he’s trying to force another one out of you.

Your head falls back, dazed, wrecked, gone. Eren catches your jaw, forcing you to look at him, to stay present as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“Look at that,” he breathes, watching the mess you made. “So fucking pretty when you lose it on my cock.”

He grabs your hips, holds you still, buries himself deep, and groans. Hot, thick ropes flood your insides, and the sensation makes you clench, whimper, tremble, your body barely able to take it.

Eren stays inside you, filling you up, holding you there as he catches his breath. Your vision is hazy, spotty, your body still trembling, your lungs struggling to keep up. 

For a moment, silence lingers, but then he speaks.

“I don’t like you with Jean.” 

Your stomach twists, but you don’t let it show. Instead, you tilt your head, smirking just a little. “Well, then it’s a damn good thing that you’re not my boyfriend.”

His jaw tenses.

His hands on your hips tighten, like he wants to hold you there, make you stay, make you fucking listen.

But before he can, you slip out of his grasp, his cock slipping out of you with a messy, wet sound, cum still dripping down your thighs as you pull your sweats up. You don’t look back.

He’s left gutted, fists clenched, watching you walk away like he isn’t about to fucking lose his mind.

–

The next morning, nobody suspected a thing.

You had slipped back into the tent before sunrise, body still aching, used, sore in ways you had no business being.

Jean didn’t stir when you nestled back into your sleeping bag, didn’t notice you were gone. And since the camp hadn’t erupted into chaos, since Mikasa wasn’t ripping through the trees looking for her boyfriend, you figured Eren had kept his mouth shut.

You were limping, not enough to draw attention, but just enough that your gait felt unnatural. You played it off, rolling your shoulders, stretching like you had just slept in a weird position.

The morning was peaceful. The fire crackled as everyone moved around lazily, cooking breakfast, packing up their things. Mikasa leaned into Eren’s side like everything was normal, talking to him about something you weren’t paying attention to.

Eren didn’t respond.

Not to her.

After breakfast, the gang started packing up. The tents came down, bags were loaded into cars, and you made your way to Jean’s, tossing your stuff into the back seat.

It was the obvious choice.

Jean had offered, and his car meant six peaceful hours without sitting next to Eren or Mikasa. Sure, it’d take longer since Jean was towing the boat, but it didn’t matter.

His company was what you needed.

–

You head back to the campsite to see if everyone’s ready to leave, and there she is.

Mikasa, glowing.

She’s practically vibrating with excitement, beaming as you overhear her telling Eren about the scholarship she just won. The scholarship.

The one you needed to fund your education.

The one you had spent months working for.

She wouldn’t have even known about it if it weren’t for you. It wasn’t like she needed it anyway. Her well-off parents were paying for everything, while you were fighting just to stay afloat, trying to avoid living paycheck to paycheck.

Her voice is light, effortless, as if this hadn’t been handed to her on a silver fucking platter.

"It’ll open so many doors for me," she says, smiling so wide it makes your stomach twist. She is completely oblivious to the way your fists curl at your sides.

Like her life wasn’t already a series of open doors. Like this wasn’t everything to you. Like you hadn’t been grinding, sacrificing, bleeding for this chance.

And now it was gone. Because Mikasa’s dad pulled a few strings. Because she applied behind your back. Because she never once stopped to think that maybe she didn’t deserve it as much as you did. 

Everything was a competition to her and she always needed to win. Even if she has to play dirty. 

You try to breathe. You try to swallow it down. You tell yourself it is what it is. But it feels like something lodged in your chest, sharp and suffocating.

When Mikasa walks over later, her voice all bubbly and sweet, like she wasn’t standing there holding your future in her hands, you know you’re not going to be able to hold your tongue.

“I can’t believe I got in!” she gushes, oblivious. “I’m so excited. This is going to change everything for me!”

Your jaw locks.

Your nails dig into your palms.

And then, before you can stop yourself, it slips out.

"You're lucky, Mikasa. You have all the connections. Your dad can get you whatever you want."

The smile falters. Her brows knit together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Your throat is tight. The anger has been simmering for years, and now it’s boiling over.

“I didn’t have a dad to pull strings for me,” you snap, voice sharp enough to cut. “My mom doesn’t give a shit about me. She’s too busy with her boyfriend to notice that I’ve been scraping by for years. This scholarship was my way out, Mikasa. It was my fucking chance.”

Mikasa blinks. “I… I didn’t know—”

“Yes, you did.” You let out a bitter laugh. “If you ever actually listened when I talked, instead of scrolling on your phone the whole time, maybe you would’ve picked up on it. I needed that scholarship. You didn’t.”

Your voice cracks, heat rising in your chest.

“Your parents love you. They support you. You’ve got a safety net, Mikasa. You’ll always land on your feet. Your name alone opens doors. Your family makes sure of it.”

You take a shaky breath, eyes burning.

“Meanwhile, I’m out here breaking myself just to prove I belong. To prove I deserve to be in the same fucking rooms you walk into without trying.”

“That’s not fair,” she says, voice small. “I worked hard for this.”

You scoff. Hard?

Hard is what you’ve been doing your entire life.

Hard is working double shifts while keeping your GPA spotless. Hard is knowing no one will pull strings for you, that if you don’t fight tooth and nail for what you want, you’ll get nothing.

Mikasa will never know that struggle.

And she sure as hell didn’t have to fight for this.

“You don’t get to act like we started at the same place,” you say coldly. “You don’t get to pretend like you needed this the way I did.”

The words land like a slap.

Mikasa stares, lips parting like she’s going to say something—but she doesn’t. Because what can she say?

Nothing she says will change the fact that she took this from you.

And for the first time ever, you can see it in her face.

She knows it too. But she won’t back down. Not when everyone’s watching. 

Her voice trembles when she says, “That’s not my fault. You think I don’t work hard for everything I’ve got?”

But you laugh. It’s bitter, sharp, cutting. “You don’t have to work as hard as me, Mikasa. You never did.”

“Don’t make this about me!” Her voice rises, frustration cracking through. “I didn’t ask for your shitty family life!”

Your chest burns.

You’re done biting your tongue.

“Maybe you didn’t,” you spit, “but you sure as hell flaunt it. Maybe you should try living in the real world for once.”

You turn, because if you look at her for one more second, you might just lose it.

But it’s too late. You’re already unraveling. The words keep spilling out, and you can’t stop them now.

“You have everything, Mikasa. A mother and father who care about you. A future. I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing. I just wanna be something more.”

There’s a pause. Just long enough for you to feel the weight of your words settling between you.

Mikasa’s eyes glisten. She takes a step back. “I never meant to hurt you, okay? I don’t—”

Then you bring up something that makes her blood run cold. 

“I know it was you. You were the one who spread those fucking rumors about me.”

She freezes. 

Her mouth parts but she doesn’t deny it.

Her silence is confirmation enough.

Your stomach twists.

You already knew. You always knew. But hearing it like this? Watching her stand there, caught?

It’s infuriating.

“I was in a dark place,” she says finally, eyes teary, voice pleading.

But that just makes you laugh. 

“Don’t give me those fucking tears. That’s not a fucking excuse.” You take a step closer. “You were in a dark place?! What could possibly put your perfect life in a dark place? Please, Mikasa, fucking enlighten me.”

She swallows. “I don’t know! Everyone fucking likes you! You don’t even have anything!”

You still.

Your breath catches, before you bark out a laugh.

“That’s not an excuse to be a raging cunt.” Your eyes flicker over her, disgust curling in your stomach. “You are a spoiled, entitled, selfish brat.”

And then, before you even realize it, you say it. 

“That’s why your fucking boyfriend—”

Silence.

Your heart stops.

Mikasa’s eyes go wide.

And when you glance around, everyone’s watching.

Jean. Armin. Connie. Sasha.

Eren.

Your stomach plummets.

You almost finished that sentence. Almost.

Before you could do anymore damage, you walk away. 

–

He finds you at the edge of the trail.

The same place where he had you up against a tree last night, fucking you like you belonged to him.

You don’t even look at him when he sits beside you.

His hand grazes your back.

And you shrug him off.

“We can’t hide this shit forever,” he says finally, voice low.

You let out a breath. “There’s no ‘we,’ Eren. She’s your fucking girlfriend.”

“Don’t give me that shit.”

“Fuck off, Eren.” Your voice is exhausted. “If you came here to fight with me, get the hell out of here.”

His head tilts. “You talk so much about Mikasa being a raging cunt, but so the fuck are you.”

You turn to him, eyes flashing.

“At least I have my reasons,” you snap. “How would you understand? You’re just like her.”

That fucking gets him.

Eren stands, his chest heavy with the weight of everything that just happened. He doesn’t look back as he walks away from you, his footsteps quick and determined, like he’s fleeing from the consequences of his own actions.

When he finally reaches the campsite, Mikasa is waiting. Her eyes are wide, frantic, a twisted mix of confusion and rage. The moment he steps into view, she pounces on him, her voice sharp with accusation.

“Where the hell have you been? Why were you with her, Eren? I’m your fucking girlfriend. Why the hell aren’t you comforting me?” she snaps, eyes blazing, breath coming in quick bursts.

Eren doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down. He stands there, silent for a moment, the weight of what’s coming crashing down on him.

“I don’t love you,” he says, voice low but filled with finality. “I don’t think I even like you anymore.”

Mikasa’s face goes pale. Her eyes narrow, disbelief spreading across her features, but it doesn’t stop there. She starts piecing it together, her mind racing as she realizes what’s been happening.

“No…” Her voice trembles, cracking, but she doesn’t want to hear the truth. “You can’t—no, Eren. You’re not saying this. You can’t do this to me.”

The anger she should feel doesn’t come. Instead, it’s replaced by a seething, twisted pain that claws at her chest. But it’s not anger at him. It’s not his betrayal that makes her burn.

It’s you.

Her gaze flickers to the distance, searching for you in the crowd, the realization like a punch to the gut. There’s only one thing she can think of now, one thing that matters.

You.

“Fuck this, Eren. Fuck you. How could you? How long, huh? How long have you been fucking her behind my back?” Her voice cracks, not from sadness, but from fury.

Eren doesn’t flinch, doesn’t try to explain. He lets the silence hang heavy in the air between them, his expression closed off.

Mikasa’s panic sets in, her thoughts scattering like a thousand pieces of glass. “Tell me. How long? How long, Eren?!” she demands again, voice rising.

“Three months,” he repeats, his voice steady now, like the admission has ripped the last of the care he had for her away.

Her stomach turns. She can’t process it, can’t understand it. Her mind races, but there’s only one thing she knows for sure—you are the source of all of this.

“I’ll fucking kill her,” she mutters to herself, though the words are so cold, so full of venom, they sound like a promise.

Eren doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

But when you walk back into the campsite, the tension reaches its breaking point. Mikasa’s eyes flash with rage, and without a second thought, she launches at you, like a predator finally cornering its prey.

But you don’t back down. You meet her halfway, ready for the fight, your fists clenched, your heart pumping with raw emotion.

The guys scramble to separate you two, but Mikasa’s too far gone, her insults flying from her mouth like daggers. “You think you’re so special, don’t you? Always playing the victim while everything gets handed to you.”

You scoff, glaring at her. “Daddy’s money and connections don’t buy you love, sweetheart. Maybe you should try being real for once instead of hiding behind all that privilege.”

Mikasa’s face turns red with fury, her body trembling with rage. “You don’t know shit about me!” she yells, and with a final, desperate shove, she tries to break free of the guys holding her back.

But the damage is done. The words you threw at her hit their mark, and the final straw has been broken. Eren watches, torn between his loyalty to Mikasa and the bitter, gnawing pull toward you, but in the end, he knows he’s already made his choice.

And as Mikasa glares at you, the hate in her eyes burning bright, it’s clear that nothing will ever be the same.

–

Once you return to campus, you shut everyone out of your life. Mikasa, Eren, Jean—every single one of them was cut off. Jean’s absence stung the most, to be honest. If you had approached things differently, maybe things with him could’ve been something real, something meaningful. But now, you just didn’t have the energy to care.

The rumors that Mikasa had forgiven Eren and that they were "on a break" reached your ears, but honestly? You didn’t care. The whole situation had been toxic from the start, and you wanted no part of it. You needed space, and for the first time in a long while, you had it. You focused on school, threw yourself into your studies, and let the noise of the past fade into the background.

You didn’t avoid Eren, but you didn’t engage either. You saw him around campus sometimes, mostly in that hallway on the way to your English class. Every time you passed him, you could feel his eyes on you, a silent plea begging for your attention, for an explanation, but you kept walking, never giving him the satisfaction. It wasn’t like you didn’t notice him, it was just that you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. He’d made his choice, and you’d made yours.

As the months passed, you quietly accepted that life went on without him, without any of them. Your focus was on your future, and it was a future you had earned for yourself. A future that would take you far from here, far from everything that had tried to destroy you.

Switzerland.

It wasn’t just a dream anymore. It was real, and you had earned it. A different scholarship, a fresh start. You didn’t tell anyone. Not Mikasa. Not Eren. Only a brief post on social media, a congratulations from your university. But seriously, who paid attention to those?

Apparently, Eren did.

You were just about to leave that night. Your flight was at 3 a.m., and your mom was picking you up to take you to the airport. You were packing up the last of your things when you heard a knock at your dorm door. Your heart skipped, your pulse quickened as you opened it to find him standing there, his face drawn and his eyes red.

“Hey,” he said quietly, almost like he didn’t know what else to say.

“Hey,” you replied, voice soft. You didn’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t this. Him. Standing there, looking like he had the world on his shoulders.

He glanced behind you, his eyes searching, “You... leaving tonight, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, keeping your tone even. “Flight’s at 3. My mom’s taking me to the airport.”

There was a pause, thick with the weight of everything unsaid between you two. You could feel the tension in the air, like something was about to snap, but you weren’t sure if you were ready for it yet. The silence lingered, stretching between the two of you like a chasm neither of you could cross.

Finally, Eren broke it. “Can we talk?”

You hesitated, your heart a tangled mess of emotions, but after a beat, you stepped aside to let him in. You didn’t know what was going to come of this. Whether he was here to apologize, to beg, or to finally face the mess he’d left behind. But you knew one thing for sure.

You weren’t the same person anymore.

As the door clicked shut behind him, the weight of the past seemed to settle between you both.

“How long are you gone for?” 

“About a year.” 

Eren's eyes lingered on you for a moment, his gaze heavy, as though he were trying to process the weight of your words. The room felt smaller now, suffocating in its silence. His hands flexed at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you, to pull you back into some kind of connection, but he didn’t. He knew better, or at least, he had to.

“A year,” he repeated, his voice strained. “That’s... a long time.”

You nodded, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as if protecting yourself from whatever emotions he might try to stir up. You had spent too long building walls, too much time turning your back on everything that had hurt you. You weren't sure you could let it all come crashing down just because Eren had decided to show up now.

“Yeah,” you replied, your tone cool. “But it’s not just about the time, Eren. It’s about the opportunity. I’m not going to sit around here, stuck in the same toxic shit we’ve all been drowning in.”

Eren pulls back slightly, his hands still lingering on your waist as his eyes search yours, trying to read the unreadable. You feel it—a magnetic pull between you two, something that’s been brewing for months but never fully realized, at least not until now. His lips are so close to yours, and your heart is pounding, warning you to stop, but your body betrays you.

“I’m sorry,” Eren whispers, his breath warm against your skin. “I never meant for things to get so fucked up between us.”

You swallow hard, torn between the anger that still simmers beneath the surface and the undeniable chemistry that has always been there. His fingers trace the line of your jaw, brushing against your lips with a touch so tender it almost feels like a confession.

You know what’s coming, and part of you doesn't want to stop it. Maybe it's because this moment feels like the last chance to feel anything with him, good or bad. Maybe it's because you're both so damn tired of pretending that everything’s fine when it’s been anything but.

Eren’s face inches closer, his lips barely grazing yours as if asking for permission. And you let him, giving him the slightest tilt of your head, just enough for his lips to crush against yours in a desperate, searing kiss. It’s not soft. It’s not tender. It’s raw, filled with every unsaid word, every mistake, every broken piece that’s never been repaired.

When you finally pull away, both of you are crying.

Eren rests his forehead against yours, his hands cupping your cheeks like you’re something fragile he’s terrified to break any more than he already has. You feel the tremble in his fingers. Hear the rasp of his breathing. See the way he’s trying, trying so hard not to lose you completely.

“I’ll wait for you,” he says, voice cracking. “If you want me to. I’ll work on it, on me. On everything. I’ll be the man you deserve. Just… just give me the chance.”

You close your eyes, letting the weight of his words sink into your chest. They hurt. They heal. They tear you open.

“But if you meet someone in Switzerland,” he adds, voice barely above a whisper, “someone who makes you happy... then that’s enough for me too. I’ll be happy if you’re happy.”

The sincerity in his voice shatters something inside you.

You don’t say anything. You just pull him into you, fitting yourself against him like you always have and he clings to you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. He tucks your head beneath his chin, wraps his arms around you so tight it almost hurts, but you welcome the ache. It’s real. It’s him.

He kisses your face, your cheeks, your jaw, your lips, each press lingering longer than the last. When his mouth finally claims yours again, it’s different this time. Tender. Slow. A kiss that tastes like goodbye.

You let him touch you. Let him push you back onto your bed, hands slipping beneath your clothes, stripping you down to nothing but need. You let him take you one last time—slow, deep, desperate. You let him stay inside you longer than you should, clinging to the illusion that maybe this could last.

That night, you fall asleep wrapped up in each other’s arms, breathing in the same broken rhythm. 

No guarantees.

Just two people, loving each other in the only way they know how — raw, scared, and with every shattered piece laid bare between them.

–

The sheets are cold when you wake.

An hour had passed. It’s time to leave.

The faint smell of him still lingers, sandalwood, something clean and worn, but Eren’s gone. No note. No goodbye. Just the imprint of his body on the mattress and the sharp ache settling deep in your ribs.

For a moment, you just sit there, clutching the blanket to your chest, trying to convince yourself it doesn’t matter. That this is easier. Cleaner. No teary farewell. No begging each other to stay. Just a silent ending to a story that was never supposed to last.

But it does matter.

Of course it fucking matters.

You drag yourself out of bed, moving on autopilot as you gather your things. Every minute ticking by feels louder, heavier, dragging you toward something you’re not ready for. Your chest tightens when you spot the hoodie he gave you last night crumpled on the floor. For a second,  a stupid second, you almost pick it up. Almost tuck it into your bag like a lifeline. But you don’t. You leave it there, like he left you.

–

Switzerland is supposed to be a fresh start. A clean break.

But no matter how far you run, you can’t outrun him.

It starts small. A little fatigue, a little nausea. You blame it on the stress, the traveling, the way you haven’t been eating properly since you left. But then the sickness lingers, creeping in every morning like clockwork.

And that nagging thought in the back of your mind, the one you’ve been ignoring, the one you don’t want to acknowledge. 

Until you have no choice.

So now you’re here, sitting on the cold tile floor of a tiny apartment bathroom, staring down at two pink lines that might as well be a death sentence.

Your breath shudders. Your stomach twists.

Pregnant.

Your fingers grip the test so tight, your knuckles turn white.

No. No, this—this can’t be real. You were careful. It was only one night. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

But the proof is right there in your hands.

And just like that, the world tilts on its axis.

Because no matter how hard you tried to leave Eren behind, he never really left you at all.

[villainbait]

Dangerous Intentions

Pairing: bodyguard!au Sylus x heiress!reader Rating: T | Teen | 16+ Tags: crack, fluff, angst if you squint, tension, secondhand embarrassment, mc!reader is a spoiled brat, bodyguard!sylus, bodyguard sylus au, teasing, verbal teasing, playful teasing, hair washing, sylus washes your hair Summary: Sylus is your bodyguard and it's time to go home.   Word Count: 2k

Chapter Two

A/N: I'm so sorry I'm feral for Sylus throwing the reader over his shoulder. It will happen again. @obahajimarkkeu I hope this satisfies a little of that bodyguard!au craving you have. Thank you for tagging me, it was fun to write this. c: ♥

“Get up.” A large, calloused hand plucks the book you were using to hide your eyes and sleep off of your face. You wince at the sudden brightness, blinking blearily up at the person who disturbed your cat nap before immediately scowling when you see it’s Sylus. 

It had been two weeks since the last time someone had attempted to kidnap you and your dad had had enough. His solution? Hiring this…pretty boy. Sure, Sylus looked big and physically tough, but he was so painfully handsome that you wonder if his only skill was dazzling his opponents with that face of his. The other women at your school had been annoyingly persistent since he started accompanying you every day, asking you so many questions about him you wanted to tear your hair out.

“Go away." You tried to snatch the book back but he held it out of reach. "Aren’t you supposed to, like, lurk in the shadows or something?” 

“Yeah and I was happy to do that until I received a call that your presence is requested at home.” The scowl vanished and you sighed dejectedly, slumping further into the chair of your college’s library. 

“Now I want to leave even less.” 

“Tough luck, princess.” Sylus sounded bored, checking his phone. When you didn’t move, he leaned down and grabbed your arm, trying to tug you firmly out of your seat. “Let’s go.” 

“No.” You gave him a petulant look and put all your weight onto the chair.

Sylus sighed. “Do we really have to do it this way?” 

“Do what–” A squeak left your lips as Sylus plucked you from your chair and hoisted you over his shoulder without warning. Your surprised outrage made your classmates turn and stare, which only made you poorly attempt to hide your face. “Put me down!” You hissed, punching him somewhere around the kidney. Sylus grunted but scooped up your bag and started walking towards the exit without releasing you. People stopped to stare and your face heated with embarrassment. This was seriously shaping out to be the worst day ever.

“Seriously, I can walk–Sylus!” You tried to kick your feet but Sylus wrapped an arm around your thighs to hold you still and you froze at the feel of his warm skin against yours. You shouldn’t have worn the skirt today, but it was too late to regret that now. 

When he finally got back to his car he opened the door and practically dumped you into the backseat. Before you could make a scathing remark, Sylus shoves your bag into your face and leans into the backseat; looming over you with a disgruntled expression. 

“Be a good girl and stay quiet.” He slammed the door shut and rounded the car, sliding smoothly into the front seat. The purr of the engine roared to life in the silence and surprisingly you listened to him. Not because he told you to, but because you couldn’t think of anything to say, replaying the entire humiliating scene over in your head the whole way home. 

A little while later, you came out of your dad’s office looking wilted and dejected to the point that Sylus almost felt bad for you. That was, until you caught his pitying glance and snapped, “What do you want?” Well, now he doesn’t feel as bad for you anymore. 

When he doesn’t rise to your bait, you seem to deflate a little. “Forget it.” You wave him off and trudge up to your room. Opening the door, it was easy to see why Sylus called you a princess, your room looking like something straight out of some fantasy period. A big round bed sat to the left and its gauzy canopy invited all manner of mischief as they fluttered in the wind from the open window above an alcove. The soft colors of the room were airy but still carried a hint of decadence, the soft lilac and muted cream a contrast from the garish pink that such room designs usually boasted. 

You tried to slam the door in Sylus’s face but he caught it easily, chuckling as he followed you inside and closing it with a gentle snap. This was the part you still hadn’t gotten used to. The last kidnapping attempt had taken place from within your bedroom, so you weren’t allowed privacy even in this sacred space. 

“...Can’t you wait outside, just this once?” You asked quietly, the desire to be alone so you could process the events from today overriding your desire to be a brat.

Sylus clicked his tongue, waltzing over to the alcove and glancing out of the open window. “I can't do that, princess.” You scoffed at the nickname and grabbed your things to take a bath in the adjoining room, determined to be alone one way or another. “Wait,” Sylus’s arm shot out to stop you. “Let me check it first.” 

“If you’re so worried, just sit with me while I take a bath.” You blurted and the bold suggestion was meant to be biting, but the perk of Sylus’s eyebrow made you realize the other implication or whatever. A slow smirk spreads across his face as if you’ve finally said something interesting. “Sure, why not.” 

“I-” You didn’t want to back down now but this was quickly getting out of hand. 

Sylus chuckles at your defiance but doesn’t relent, following you into the bathroom after giving the all clear. He had been nice and ran the water while he was checking and the bathtub was almost full. It, like the rest of your bedroom, was fit for royalty. It was perched on a small dais. 

“At least turn around while I get undressed,” you huffed and expected Sylus to make some comment about how he needed to see you at all times. Instead, he surprised you by turning on his heel without argument and withdrawing his phone.

After what seems like forever and hearing the soft splashing sounds from behind him, Sylus talks to the wall. “Are you sure you don’t want my help?” 

“Unless you’re gonna wash my hair, just stay facing the wall the whole time.”  

“Is that what you want?” Sylus can’t keep the mirth from his tone as he hears the splash of your body sinking into the water. He appears nonchalant, scrolling casually through an app. “Surely, someone as spoiled as you can manage even that much.” 

“Shut up.” You retorted lamely and reached for your shampoo bottle…only to find it empty. The urge to throw the bottle at Sylus’s back was tempting, but his idea of retaliation when you’re stuck in the bath like this was enough to keep you from doing something that stupid for now. Instead, you summoned your courage and put on your nicest voice. 

“Sylus.~” You sang sweetly and saw him visibly tense. His words were deceptively calm. “What is it?” “Can you get me the bottle of shampoo under the sink…pretty please?” Your saccharine words dripped in a way that was disconcerting, the juvenile way of saying please making Sylus recoil slightly, but he was never one to back down from a challenge; even with bait as obvious as this. Ever since your father introduced you as his new charge, Sylus couldn’t help but tease you at every turn. 

“If you wanted me to wash your hair that badly, you didn’t have to pour the entire bottle in the bath with you.” He raised an eyebrow. “You could’ve just asked.” 

“That’s not–It was already empty–I would never!” The more you protested, the redder your face got at Sylus’s implication. “Do you really think I’d do something like that?” 

He doesn’t answer, letting you stew in your malcontent. Sylus finds it cute how demanding you are in one breath, yet so flustered the next. It makes him want to mess with you even more and he slowly saunters over to where you held your arm stretched out, waving it pointedly for the bottle. 

He sat it just out of reach and you blustered, sinking back into the safety of your bath water. “What are you doing?” 

“I told you I’d wash your hair for you, didn’t I?” He shrugged out of his jacket and laid it across the counter.

“What if you get your clothes wet?” You asked. 

Sylus shrugged nonchalantly. “They’re just clothes.” 

He began to roll up his shirtsleeves and the way his veins stand out on his powerful forearms made you realize just how vulnerable you were in the bath alone with him. There was a heady sense of anticipation in the air when he kneeled next to the tub, new bottle in hand. 

“Turn around.” His voice was gentle, almost intimate and you complied without argument for once. He lathered shampoo in his hands and you jumped when his fingers slid through your hair and began to massage your scalp.

“I thought you’d be used to something like this, princess.” Sylus teased and you tried to turn your head to glare at him but he forced you to keep your head straight. “Of course not, no one’s washed my hair for as long as I can remember.” You don’t know why, but it sounded sad and a little pathetic when you said it out loud. His hands paused at your words, soapy and tangled in your hair. You made a soft noise of impatience that seemed to snap him out of whatever faraway thought he had and he resumed his task.

The way his fingers feel at every pass of your nape makes you shiver, curious if Sylus is aware and touching such a sensitive spot on purpose. Your thoughts drift dangerously and you fantasize how his fingers would feel massaging other parts of your body with the same thorough care. Before you can stop yourself, a soft moan escapes your lips and you feel him freeze behind you. You forget how to breathe and sit there, frantically trying to figure out what you could possibly say that wasn’t the truth. You’d die before admitting to Sylus what it was you had been thinking about.

Sylus gently disentangles his hands from your hair and you still haven’t said anything, but neither has he. His fingers trail in the water to rinse them, before dipping beneath them and you gasp when his fingers ghost along the top of your thigh. 

“You should be more aware of men, sweetheart.” He leaned in so close you could feel the flutter of his breath against your ear and you swear you felt the ghost of his lips on your throat, but maybe you just imagined it. You sucked in a sharp breath at last, but your question was a strangled whisper.

“With you around, do I really have any reason to be worried?”

Sylus didn’t answer, his sanguine gaze roving over your body partially obscured by the milky water. It felt like he could see everything with the way he stared, but you didn’t move away or cover yourself. A tense silence stretched between the two of you, punctuated by the soft sounds of your mingled breathing. 

His brow furrowed and he withdrew. “You can do the rest yourself, can’t you?” The warmth ebbed from his voice and his gaze grew cold, withdrawing from the bath and leaving the room abruptly; the door snapping so loud it made you jump. His rejection stung worse than the news of another threat against your life your dad had received earlier, and you sank down into the milky depths to soothe your injured pride.

As the water cooled, you were starting to wonder if having Sylus as your bodyguard was the most dangerous of all.

[yearsbecomingcool]

i wanna live in your laundry | jason hochberg

donate to gaza here | masterlist

pairing | pervy!jason hochberg x f!reader

synopsis | after catching jason in the act you decide to dish out some punishment

warnings | pervy!jason, creepy/pervy behavior, voyeurism, panty sniffing, non-con elements, f!dom, m!sub, insecure!jason, scent/musk kink, humiliation, degradation, mommy kink, punishment, spanking, edging, reader calls jason puppy, masturbation, handjobs, and praise.

word count | 6.4k

a/n | this is very out of character for jason but i still tried to keep the fic true to his personality in the film in other ways. i'm considering doing a fic like this for bobby too because he's his own kind of pathetic and i love it. this fic is not an endorsement of this kind of behavior. the title came from i wanna be your dog 2 by ajj and it's so jason coded to me.

taglist | @slaytheusurper @fandomblogs-stuff @spookyscarydemonbabe @jaybe-jaybe-nott @fftdvu @kawaii1kitten @zoovweemomma @samslvrgirl @syriouslysyri @imyprice @theatomiccowgirl

Jason Hochberg has never had it easy socially, he had it even worse when it came to romantic relationships. Years of being asked out as a joke and rejected before he could even open his mouth led him to despise the thought of a romantic relationship completely. He didn’t despise women, however, he knew not everyone was out to get him but he also thought he’d never have a chance with a single soul on the planet. He became quickly acquainted with his left hand and enjoyed it’s company often, fantasising of pornos he’d watched, the actresses face replaced with whichever crush he had at the moment. Last year it was Claire, he got close to a relationship with her but ultimately ended up staying friends instead. He enjoyed his friendship with Claire and quickly after the rejection permanently erased her face from his spank bank. This summer, his seventh summer at Camp Pineway, you became the object of his affection…and his fantasies. It was impossible to not fall for you the moment he saw you pull up in your beat up sedan. 

You got out of your car, slinging your backpack onto your shoulder, a set of sunnies sat atop your head. You looked like a dream in your dark blue muscle tee and light wash cut off shorts. Jason was quick to run over to you, “You must be one of the new counselors! I’m Jason, camp leader, it’s great to see a new face.” He beamed at you with rosy cheeks and an outstretched hand. 

You clipped your keys onto your belt loop and took Jason’s hand in yours with a firm shake as you gave him your name. “So, Jason, how many years have you worked here?” You ask as you open up your trunk. 

“Let me help you with those, eh?” He offers, reaching for two of your suitcases. “I’m a six year veteran, if you have any questions I’m all yours,” he chuckles.

“Thanks, Jason, I really appreciate it,” you smile back at him. You grab your remaining bags and he shuts the trunk for you. “I’m in bunk seven, mind showing me to it?” The way you look at him makes him feel like he could melt, he’s completely smitten from just a few minutes with you. 

“It would be my pleasure! This way m’lady,” he beams as he starts on the path to your bunk. He knows this camp like the back of his hand, taking a shorter route despite his urge to take the scenic route and steal a little more of your time. “Have you ever worked as a counselor before?”

You haul your duffle bags, your backpack slung over your shoulder. “I have not, I went to Pineway a couple years as a kid but went off to college after high school. I’m still in it but I needed a summer job and working with kids seemed a helluva lot better than another year getting berated as a waitress so…”

Jason chuckles, “Pineway is the best place in the world, it gets better every year if I do say so myself. I think you’ll have a good time here, it’s a lot more peaceful than you’d think even once the kids get here.” As the two of you approach your bunk Jason hops up the stairs, opening the door for you and propping it open. He bows to you playfully as you walk inside, you look back at him with a laugh. 

“You’re definitely making it sound nice, if everyone else is as kind as you I think I’ll have a pretty good time.” You set your bags down on your bunk, Jason setting your suitcases at the foot of the bunk you’ve claimed. 

He smiles shyly at you, his cheeks flushed. “Everyone is great, I think you’ll love ‘em. I could um give you a tour of the camp after orientation, John and Kathy are leaving me in charge of it this year.” He’s proud of how much he’s moved up since his first year as a counselor, getting a small bump up in his pay and the promise of more responsibility this year made him more eager to return despite his moms protests. 

“I’d like that, it’s been too long since I’ve been here, I hardly remember where to find the mess hall,” you joke. You sit down on the vinyl mattress and look up at Jason. He leans on the bunk across from yours with a smile, his arms folded over his chest.

“I won’t let you get lost, I’ll even draw you a little map if you need it,” he offers.

You chuckle, “You don’t have to do all that, I’m sure I’ll get around just fine. The tour will definitely help me out though…y’know I think I remember seeing you at camp when we were kids. You’re like what, three years older than me? I remember you always looking out for everyone, making sure everyone was included. I should’ve known you’d become a counselor one day, it makes a lot of sense for you.” 

He blushes as you bring up his days as a counselor, “You remembered me?” He asks almost in disbelief, he’s not used to being thought of often.

“Of course I did! You were always nice, it made the two summers I attended a lot better.”

His whole face is red by now, “It really warms my heart to know I made your summers better…I hope I make this summer just as good for you.”

You get up from the bed, stuffing your phone into your back pocket. “I bet you will, you’ve got this relentless kindness about you, it’s nice. You uh, you wanna introduce me to the other counselors? I’m interested to see who I’ll be working with.”

He heads for the door, holding it open for you. “Right this way, m’lady.” Despite the cringiness of the phrase you can’t help but smile, his dorkiness is a quality that’s starting to grow on you. 

Orientation goes by quickly, you try to ignore the groans that fill the room when Jason takes up the phones. “Just remember the basic rules! No drinking, no drugs, no smoking, and most importantly no Games of Thrones spoilers!” The other counselors roll their eyes at his outdated reference, but in an attempt to not leave him feeling insecure you give him a pity chuckle. He meets your eyes and gives you a thankful smile, the rest of the counselors are already headed to their bunks to get changed to go swimming in the lake leaving the two of you alone in the mess hall.

“I think you owe me a tour, sir.” You move to stand next to him.

“You know what? I think I do, why don’t you come with me to put up the phones and we’ll head out?” He offers. Normally he’s not supposed to let anyone know where the phones are being held just so no one sneaks their devices but he’s already got a soft spot for you so he’ll bend the rules just a little. 

“Sounds good to me!” You follow him out of the mess hall and out to the office where Jason locks the phones up in the safe. He smiles when you turn away as he puts in the combination, you didn’t even have to be asked. 

He stands from where he was crouched down next to the safe, turning back to face you. “So…do you want the tour now or after the lake visit? I don’t want you to miss out on a fun time with the rest of them…” He says, scratching the back of his neck nervously. 

You cock your head to the side, hands moving to your hips as you take a minute to think. “How about you show me the way back to my cabin and we’ll both get changed into our swimsuits and throw some clothes on under. I’ll meet you back at the mess hall and we can go on that tour and end it at the lake, yeah?”

Jason smiles, “Sounds like a plan to me. Follow me!”

He holds the door for you once again, bowing to you playfully. He leads you back to your cabin, pointing out a few notable spots on the way over. “That picnic table over there by the bathrooms, that is where I had my first kiss,” he beams. 

You look up at him, your sunnies pulled back down over your eyes. “You had your first kiss at summer camp? How old were you?”

“13. I don’t think I was that good…but I guess no one is at first,” he chuckles. 

You smile, “I’m sure you’ve gotten better…”

Your little comment makes his heart race and his cheeks flush once again. “Haven’t had any complaints yet…” He says shyly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

When the two of you once again return to your cabin he’s quick to get ahead of you, opening your door once again. It’s a habit he started as a kid after his mom gave him a talk about proper manners, it’s one he has no intention of stopping anytime soon. You lean against the door frame as you smile down at him on the steps, “I’ll meet you back at the mess hall in ten so we can start that tour, yeah?”

He nods, “Yes ma’am. I’ll meet you there!” He heads off back towards the mess hall…at least until you turn back around and shut your door to change. His curiosity gets the best of him and he sneaks around the back of your cabin where he knows he can get a step up on a stump to take a peek into your window. It’s wrong, he knows it’s wrong, but he can’t stop himself. He watches as you bring your suitcase up onto the bed, unzipping it to look for your swimsuit. He watches as you look through the clothes, pulling out a red bikini. His cheeks heat up as he sees your hands go to the hem of your muscle tee, pulling it off to reveal a white lace bra underneath. You undo your shorts, shimmying them down to reveal a matching pair of panties. Jason knows this will be burned into his memory for awhile, he’ll make good use of it tonight when his hand is wrapped around his cock in the shower stall. As you reach back to undo your bra Jason ducks back down, hopping off the stump. He heads for his cabin to change and try to get his raging boner to chill out. 

He shuts his door behind him and pulls the curtains shut, he shoves his shorts and tighty whities down quickly, spitting in his hand a few times before wrapping his hand around his cock. He throws himself down onto his bunk, his bed already made. He shuts his eyes and thinks of you undressing, the way your ass looked in your panties is driving him insane. He wants nothing more than to sink to his knees and worship you, but you’d never want him, at least that’s what he tells himself. He forces himself to be quick, letting out a strangled moan of your name before grabbing his tighty whities off the floor and using them to clean himself up. He stumbles over to his suitcase, his legs still feeling a bit weak as looks for his swimsuit. He slips on a blue pair and grabs some hand sanitizer from his suitcase, cleaning up his hands as best he can for now. He slips a pair of sandals on and heads back out to the mess hall to meet you. You’re already waiting for him, a smile on your face as you sit on the porch of the mess hall. You give him a wave as you see him walking up. 

“I hope I didn’t have you waiting too long,” he waves, reaching down to offer you a hand up. You take his hand and let him help you up.

“I was only waiting a minute or so, don’t worry,” you smile. 

“Well then, let’s get this started!” He says cheerfully, leading you to the showers. He leads you through the entire camp, giving you a run down of all the different buildings and throwing in a few personal stories here and there. Finally the two of you make it down to the lake where the rest of the counselors are already partying, completely ignoring Jason's speech earlier about no drinking, drugs, or smoking. You glance over at the cooler, eyeing the different drinks packed into it.

“You know…it wouldn’t hurt to have a drink or two y’know…let loose a little before the campers get here,” you say, nudging Jason with your shoulder. You look at him with pleading eyes, pouting your lips ever so slightly.

He looks down, “Oh, I-I don’t know, John and Kathy-”

“Aren’t here right now,” you cut him off.

“But they might be back soon, I don’t know how they’d feel if I got drunk,” he says softly.

“No one’s saying you need to get drunk, just share a drink with me? You won’t even feel it, it’ll just loosen you up a little. It’ll be fun, c’mon,” you plead. The way you’re looking at him makes it hard to say no, he watches as you bend down to grab a Mike’s Hard from the cooler. He can’t look away from how your shorts ride up as you bend over, the denim becomes tight against your skin and he can’t get enough of it. You stand back up and look over your shoulder with a smile, “These are good, you even try ‘em?”

He smiles shyly, “I’m not much of a drinker but I think so. Maybe at a party or something.”

“Then we’ll split this one and that’s all you gotta have today, hm?”

He blushes, “You drive a hard bargain…”

“But you’ll split it with me, won’t you?” You ask, starting to walk over to a set of beach chairs sat on the shore of the lake. Jason follows behind you, watching as you set the drink down between the chairs. You kick off your shoes and undo your shorts, his mind flashes back to you changing earlier in the cabin and he forces himself to look away. He sits down in the chair next to you as you undress, reaching down to open the drink, forcing his eyes onto the lake ahead of him.

He takes a quick sip, enjoying the fruity taste of the drink. “It’s not so bad.”

You sit down next to him, now dressed in just your swimsuit. “Told ya so. Give it here, I want a sip.” 

He looks over at you as he hands it to you, watching as you take a swig from the bottle. You take on a little more than you meant to, he watches as it dribbles down your chin and onto your chest, it slips between your breasts and disappears into your top. He can’t peel his eyes away, that is until you clear your throat. He looks back up at you and your outstretched hand, you’re offering the bottle back to him. He takes it, taking a much bigger swig this time. 

“You gonna come swimming with me? It’s hot out here, it’d be a shame to waste the chance to cool off like that.” Jason is unsure if you’re flirting or just being friendly, he decides on the safer option, of course you’re just being friendly. 

“You go on in, I’ll uhh, I’ll finish this for us and join you later.”

You get up from your chair and smile down at him, pulling your sunnies back up to the top of your head. “Grab me another when you finish that one off, please. Strawberry if we’ve got it.”

“Will do,” he says, tipping an imaginary hat.

You giggle at his dorky gesture and head into the water. Jason’s eyes don’t leave your ass till it disappears under the water. It’s going to be a long summer.

Jason has spent the summer pining over you and perving on you. He’s ashamed of it but he can’t get enough of you, he knows you’ll never give him a chance. Why would you? There’s better options all over camp and he knows you’d never go for a loser like him. He’s started a routine, sneaking off into your cabin when you’re off at an activity with your campers or at a meal. It’s wrong, so wrong, and he knows it but he can’t bring himself to stop. At first he’d just snoop around, look at what you’d packed. He’d look through your panties and swimsuits, imagining you in the matching sets, imagining being the one to undress you. He wants to touch you more than anything, which is why he escalates to sniffing your pillow and your blanket. He’ll do whatever it takes to even get a whiff of you, burying his face into your pillow, palming himself through his shorts. He imagines you coming undone on his tongue, using your pillow to muffle your sweet sounds. Eventually that’s not enough. He can’t help but eye your laundry basket, a pair of your used panties sitting atop the pile of clothes practically calling out to him. He reaches towards the pair, frilly and light blue, his hand shaking slightly as he snatches the pair from the pile. He brings the crotch up to his nose, inhaling the scent. It sends a shiver down his spine and the blood rushing straight to his cock. They smell fresh, probably the pair you’d worn yesterday, soaked in your sweat and your juices. He fights the urge to lick the fabric, to suck at whatever's left of you on it. He’s pathetic and he knows it, nothing more than the gum on the bottom of your shoe. He likes it, he likes knowing he’s beneath you like this. In a sick sort of way it gets him off even more. 

You’re off at the arts and crafts building with your campers, at least that’s where you’re supposed to be. Unbeknownst to Jason you’re currently walking back to your cabin to take a nap, Claire and Shannon offered to help look over your campers so you could rest. You haven’t been completely unaware of Jason's perving, you’ve noticed how he looks at you, even played along a couple times. You like to see him squirm, to see him adjust his pants to try and hide his growing erection. You honestly didn’t mind it, you thought he was pretty cute even when he’s telling his corny jokes and making outdated references that leave everyone else rolling their eyes. There was something appealing about his unrelenting positivity and his determination to be true to himself no matter how much the others made fun of him for it. You’d be lying if you said you’d never fantasized about him, he’d be the perfect submissive. He’d kiss the ground you walk on and you wouldn’t even have to ask. You were too nervous to make any real moves yet, you don’t want to mess up your first year as a counselor. While relationships between counselors aren’t explicitly against the rules, you know John and Kathy look down on it, so you’ve kept your flirting playful and your fantasies between yourself and your fingers. 

Jason is sprawled out on your bed, his shorts and underwear shoved down to his ankles. He’s using one hand to hold your panties to his nose, giving into his urge to lick and suck at the crotch. He inhales your scent as his other hand is wrapped around his cock. He’s stuck on a certain fantasy, you bringing him back to your cabin after a long hike in the hot sun. You’re a sweaty mess and he’s the one in charge of cleaning you up. He imagines you shoving him to his knees, instructing him to remove your shorts. His hands would shake slightly as he undid your shorts, pulling them down your legs, he’d help you step out of them. The way he’d look up at you would be all it takes to get you wet. He imagines your fingers curling in his wavy blonde locks, pulling his face against your crotch. He’d inhale your scent and whine pathetically against your clothed cunt, the fabric soaked in sweat, molded against your cunt leaving nothing to the imagination. He’d suck your clit through the fabric, your fingers tightening around his hair, pulling him further in. You’d grind against his face, using him like a toy. He’s so wrapped up in his fantasy, eyes screwed shut as he lets out soft pleas, that he doesn’t even hear the door creak open. 

“Holy shit!” You exclaim, dropping your backpack to the floor. You stand in the doorway in shock as Jason yelps. At first he grabs your blanket to cover himself but realizes that’s probably just going to make things worse, he quickly reaches down to pull his pants and underwear back up. You shut the door, pulling the shade down over the window and approaching Jason where he still lays on your bed. He’s still pathetically trying to cover himself, your panties still in his mouth. You grab his wrists, pulling them from his shorts and pinning them above his head. His eyes go wide as he looks up at you. 

“You goddamn pervert! You have a lot of explaining to do, huh?” You climb onto the bed, straddling his waist and holding him down. You can feel his hard cock underneath you, you can see just how much he’s affected by the feeling of his cock against your clothed cunt. You grind your hips down against him and laugh as he moans against your panties. You reach down with one hand to pluck the pair from his mouth. “I guess you can’t do much explaining with these in your mouth, huh? You’ve got a chance now, so go ahead, lead counselor tell me exactly what the hell you were doing.” 

All Jason can do is breathe heavily as he looks up at you. He’s speechless, he never thought he’d get caught. You grind your hips down on his again and he lets out a strangled moan. 

“Start talking. I could always tie you up, pants still down and go get John and Kathy. You don’t want that, do you Jason?”

He shakes his head no, panic clear in his eyes.

“So start fucking talking.”

He gulps, “I-I’m so sorry…I just…god, there’s no excuse…” He babbles pathetically.

“How long have you been doing this? I bet you thought you were slick, huh? You thought I didn’t see how you looked at me? Honey, your eyes have been all over me since day one. Tell me the truth and maybe I’ll be nice, yeah?”

He turns his head to the side, but you grab his chin and pull his face back to look at you. “This is the first time I’ve done this…sniffing your panties at least…I, I uh I’ve come in here a few times before, looked through your panties, sniffed your pillow and your sheets…touched myself in your bed. It’s disgusting, I’m disgusting, I’m so sorry. It should’ve never gotten to this point I just-”

“Shut up. I need to decide what to do with you. This is pathetic y’know, you could’ve been straight up with me. I’ve been into you the whole summer you fucking dork.”

“What? You have?! Why didn’t you say anything?”

You giggle in his face, “Do you have any idea how fun it’s been to watch you squirm? I would’t’ve given that up for the world. You’re fun, Jason.”

“Maybe you’re the perverted one,” he shoots back.

“I’m not the one sniffing panties and jacking off. What else have you done huh? I know this can’t be all the pervy shit you’ve done,” you tease.

“On the first day…I-I watched you change into your swimsuit. I just watched you take off your shirt and your shorts, I looked away when you were about to get fully naked…”

“Holy shit…since the first day? Wow Jason, I think you need to be punished.”

His cheeks flush and he nods, “I-I think I do…” 

You climb off of Jason, releasing his wrists. You take a moment to decide what to do as you watch him lying there, his hands kept where you left them. He’s obedient just like you knew he’d be. You glance down at his leaking cock with a smirk. “Bet you need release hm, pretty boy? Poor cock is just aching, tell me just how much self control it’s taking to not trail your hand down to your cock. You need to wrap your hand around it and finish yourself off, hm?” You tease in a condescending tone. You kneel down next to the bed, your head level with his. He looks over at you, his cheeks flushed and his pupils dilated. “You don’t deserve that though, Jason. You could’ve been a good boy and asked politely for what you wanted. Instead you chose to be a pervy little freak, you’re lucky I’m so merciful. Thank me for my mercy.”

He gulps before opening his mouth to speak, “Thank you…Thank you for your mercy.” 

You reach out to cup his cheek, “That’s the good boy I know. You’ll be good for mommy, won’t you? Say it.”

You smirk as he responds shyly, “I-I’ll be good for mommy…”

“Good boy, you learn quickly, hm? You still need to be punished though, I can’t just let you get away with this or leave you thinking it’s alright to do. I need you to take your punishment like a good boy, you can do that for me, can’t you Jason?” You run your fingers through his hair, stroking him like a dog.

“Yes ma’am,” he whimpers.

“Always so obedient Jason, I see why they made you camp leader,” you smirk. You smile down at him, once again admiring his poor leaky cock. “Roll over for me, puppy.” You chuckle, gently tapping his cheek.

He’s as obedient as ever, rolling over with a pathetic whine. You glance down at where his tighty whities and shorts sit on his thighs, not high up enough to cover him but in just the right spot to make movement a little difficult. You spot his name written on the waistband of his dorky underwear and let your impulses take over, you quickly reach down and curl your fingers around the thick waistband. Jason’s expecting you to pull them down but to his surprise, and embarrassment, you pull them up hard, giving him a humiliating wedgie that rivals some of the worst he got in high school. He lets out a strangled yelp, embarrassment filling his stomach as he feels the cotton fabric forced between his cheeks. He’s transported back to high school, cornered by his bullies, his dignity pulled out of his pants and shoved straight up his ass. You let go, the waistband pulled up to his mid-back now snapping against his waist. You grab his wrist when he reaches back to readjust and maintain at least some dignity, you hold his hand away from it as you take a second to admire your work. “Sorry puppy, with your name on the back of your waistband you were practically begging for it. I couldn’t help myself,” you giggle. You grab his waistband again, this time pulling his underwear and shorts down to his ankles, leaving his ass exposed. 

“When’s the last time you got spanked?” You ask as you pull his belt from his shorts.

He props his chin up on a pillow, “Not since I was a kid…I’ve liked the idea of a woman doing it to me though…”

You chuckle, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. “Has a woman ever dominated you before Jason?”

He shakes his head, “Not until now. I’ve always wanted it…I’ve only been with one other person before…it was quick, not personal…”

“So I’m fulfilling your fantasies right now, Jason?” You smile.

“You are…I didn’t hate the wedgie all that much either, it’s humiliating, so humiliating…but I like you being mean. I like when you laugh at me,” he admits. 

“You’re cute…but that won’t get you out of a punishment, pretty boy. Does ten strikes sound good to you, puppy?” You ask gently.

“Yes mommy,” he says, any ounce of shyness completely absent from his voice now. 

“Such a good puppy,” you coo. 

You fold the belt over itself, running the leather over his pale skin. A shiver runs down his spine and he grips your comforter. “Do you wanna count for me, puppy?”

He nods, “Yes ma’am.” You ruffle his hair, almost as a thank you for his obedience.

You pull your arm back before swinging it back down, striking his ass hard. He yelps, toes curling in pain and pleasure from the first strike. You let him take a second to compose himself before he lifts his head, “O-One,” he whines. He sounds so pathetic that you just wanna roll him back over and get him off right then and there.

“You okay, puppy? Do I need to be more gentle or was that alright?” 

“I-It was okay, I’m okay. I can handle it, I just haven’t felt that in a long time…but this time I liked it. Please don’t stop, let me finish out my punishment for you,” he pleads. He might just be the best boy you’ve ever had.

“Just let me know if we need to stop or if I need to change it up, yeah? You took that first one so well for me, puppy.” You reach down to caress his cheek and Jason leans into your touch like a cat being pet, you fight the urge to pinch his cheek. 

The next one you decide to do a bit softer, enjoying the whimper that falls from his lips after the belt comes down on him. He takes less time to recover from that one, a whimper, “Two!” coming from his lips soon after. You run your hand over his reddened flesh, the contrast of your cold hand and his warmed flesh causing him to jump up a bit, letting out a soft noise of shock. 

He takes the rest of the strikes even better, toes still curling, whimpers still falling from his lips. Once you’re done you lean forward to peck his lips, when you go to pull away he raises his hand and grabs you chin, pulling you back in for a real kiss. It’s tender yet passionate, the yearning the two of you have felt over the course of the summer falling apart on your lips. When you pull away the two of you are smiling. You sit back on the floor, letting him take a few minutes to rest. “I’ve always loved your smile, y’know. It’s so unique, so cute, so…you,” you giggle.

“That’s what you noticed about me, my smile?” He chuckles.

“Mhm, it’s nice. It kind of represents you in a way if that makes sense.”

He smiles, “It does…I think we’re gonna have to do some emergency laundry. I’ve made a bit of a mess…” He says shyly. 

You sit back up on your knees, “Are you good to roll back onto your back for me?” 

He nods, rolling onto his back, hissing slightly at the pressure now on his ass. His cock is red and leaking, practically calling out to you to touch it and relieve his tension. He’s made a mess of his thighs and your comforter, but you’ll clean him up…eventually. You sit on the edge of the bed, turned towards him. “Can I touch you, pup?”

He nods with a whine, “Please…”

You spit into your palm a couple of times before wrapping your hand around his cock. He whimpers pathetically, hips bucking up into your hand. You can tell it won’t take much to get him there. You use your other hand to hold his hips down, smirking at him teasingly. “You’re so pretty, Jason.” 

He blushes and turns his head to the side with a shy smile. “You’re pretty too…”

“Sweet boy, I’m gonna make you feel so good. Reward you for taking your punishment so well…” You smile down at him, beginning to stroke his cock.

He throws his head back with a whine, his eyes screwing shut with pleasure. 

You giggle, “Don’t come too quick now, puppy. I just started.” You keep a slow, almost teasing pace as you stroke his cock. His whimpers and whines are more entertaining than anything you could even dream of finding in the rec room. You smirk as you watch him fall apart under your touch. You’ve done this a few times before, had a few pathetic subby boys but none as fun as Jason. He’s so sensitive, reacting to every touch and move as if it’s the first time he’s ever been touched. You can’t help but praise him, “You’re so pretty, Jason. You take everything so well, such a good boy, always a good boy.”

He writhes as you praise him, toes curling, hands gripping at the sheets as he tries to hold it together. You don’t even have to tell him to wait for your permission, it’s like he already knows. “You doing alright puppy? Does it feel good?” His moans and whimpers are a dead giveaway as to how it feels but you’d like to hear it from him too. 

“Feels so good, mommy,” he whines, his face scrunched up in pleasure. 

“How bad do you need to come, puppy?” You ask as you move your other hand to start fondling his balls.

As he feels your hand he gasps, biting down softly on his lower lip. “S-So bad mommy! Please, god I-I can hardly take it…” He begs pathetically. He’s squirming like a worm on a hook.

“Yeah? Do you deserve it?” You tease with a smirk, pulling out all the tricks to get him closer and closer to the edge.

“Y-Yes…I deserve it. I do. I took my punishment like a good boy, remember? You said it yourself! Please…need it so bad, mommy. I’ve been a good boy…” He begs, hips bucking wildly into your closed fist. He’s practically fucking your hand and you can’t say that you don’t enjoy the sight. No other man you’ve had has been this pathetic, this squirmy, this whiny. You’re eating it up. 

“You deserve huh? Such a good boy…I guess I’ll let you have it, puppy, since you earned it and all.” You speed up your movements, tightening your hand ever so slightly and earning a gasp from his lips. It only takes a few more seconds of absolute bliss to send him over the edge. He moans your name pathetically, hips bucking as he comes all over your hand. He makes a mess of your palm, his thighs, and your comforter. You work him through it, watching as he slowly comes down. He pants like a dog in the heat, catching his breath slowly as his eyes flutter open to look at you. 

“I think I might’ve passed out for a second,” he chuckles, stumbling a bit over his words. 

“That good?” You laugh, moving to wipe your hand on your already ruined comforter. 

He nods, a goofy grin on his face, “That good.”

You look at the mess he’s made, shaking your head and putting your hands on your hips. You look at him in mock disappointment, “Look at the mess you made, Puppy. You better clean it up for mommy.”

He sits up quickly, “I will, I swear!” He reaches for his discarded underwear to wipe himself clean.

You roll your eyes and laugh, scooping your discarded panties off the bed, “Use these, you were making a mess of ‘em anyway.”

He takes the pair from your hand with a shy smile, “Sorry again about that…”

“As creepy and perverted as it was…it was also really hot, so uh, just keep ‘em. When you get sick of ‘em why don’t you return them, clean this time, and I’ll swap you for a new pair, yeah?” You offer, watching as he wipes up his thighs. 

His eyes light up, “Really? You’d let me do that?”

You nod, “Mhm, it’s hot knowing you’re getting off while sniffing them. It’s pathetic…but I like pathetic.” 

“I’ve been called pathetic a lot over the years as an insult, y’know. But when you say it somehow it never feels mean. You say it like it’s a term of endearment.” 

You lean against your bunk, “For me it is a term of endearment, at least with you. You’re not pathetic in the way other people have meant, not to me. I like you a lot, I’ve enjoyed our time together this summer.”

He looks up at you like a lovesick puppy, “I-I have to! I really like you…if breaking in here to sniff your used underwear didn’t make that obvious enough…”

“It might’ve made it ever so slightly obvious,” you chuckle. “You should probably get dressed and clean my comforter up for me…”

“Oh! Yeah, duh, sorry.” Jason goes to stand, hitting his head on the bunk above. You hiss as you cringe at the sight, his hand flying to his head as he sits back down. “Might’ve gotten a little too excited…”

You nod and laugh, “Yeah, you might’ve.”

He carefully stands and redresses, you grab your panties from off the comforter and stuff them into his pocket. “Don’t wear ‘em out, I actually really like that pair.”

He blushes and looks down at the floor, “I’ll do my best.” He gathers your comforter from off your bed, balling it up to hide the cumstain on the dark fabric. He heads for the door before stopping in his tracks and turning back around to face you. “Wait! You never got to come.”

“You can repay me another time, I can handle myself for now, puppy. You might wanna change and maybe shower before you go back out to help with activities, yeah?”

He nods, “You’re probably right…”

You walk over to him, wrapping your arm around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. It’s short and sweet but enjoyable nonetheless. “Be good for me, and uh make sure you bring that back later.”

“Yes ma’am. I’m camp leader for a reason, you can count on me!” He beams before heading out the door, completely oblivious to the fact that your panties are poking slightly out of his pocket. Your hand goes up to your face, stifling a laugh as you watch him walk off. You’ll let him figure that one out on his own.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Found | Platonic Yandere Demon Queen

Thinking about how society treats pregnant women. It’s a freshly new concept that pregnant women have autonomy and independence. More often than not when women are identified as pregnant there’s a trend of infantalizing. In a backward sense of thought a woman dealing with carrying life is reduced to a tired, stressed, and moody woman that must be appeased. Cravings demand she want pickles and ice cream. She’s got it! Don’t have this meal have this one, it’s better for your baby's health! Oh listen to Fur Elise it’ll calm you and make your baby smart! Tantrum at 3 in the morning? Don’t pay her any mind. 

Not all of the people caring for pregnant women do this negatively. Many times the concern of friends and family can ease the entire process. What’s more not all of the typically overreaching behaviors are unfounded, during a pregnancy there’s so much happening with the body the brain can be especially fragile. 

All that being said when the Demon Queen announced to her generals that she was expecting, immediately her subordinates silently moved to support their Queen on a much….deeper level. 

“My Queen I have some unfortunate news.”

“Speak General Mordecai.”

“The….raspberry jam reserves are no more.”

“I see…then break out the grape. It’s not my favorite but it’ll be due until we can get a new shipment.”

“That’s the thing….there are no grape jams left either.”

“…AAAAAAAGGHGHGH”

It’s a small dangerous line her generals tread on. Between receiving demands for jams to attacking the human kingdoms it’s left many exhausted. But there’s hope as the 10th month of her pregnancy concludes. Her army and its leaders will be assured further tantrums that result in heads being cut off will only be because she is dissatisfied with their work rather than her paranoia about her changing shape. 

But alas nothing is ever easy in the demon army, when the emergency messenger wyverns fly to the top-ranked generals with grave news. 

“The Queen’s child is….dead?!”

Children are a gift….miracles that can last as long as the tallest tree or end in a second faster than you can blink. Unfortunately, the Queen’s miracle was exactly an hour which meant a month of devastation for everyone. Of course, a mother’s grief is immeasurable and tragic but a the Demon Queen was a mother is even worse. Every day her generals stomached the thick and violent aura that oozed from their leader for meters long. Even the humans felt it; their crops drooping as if sharing her sorrow. Other forms of magic degraded at the glum influence her power held. 

In a moment of respite, the highest Demon General and the Exalted Hero came together. 

“This can’t go on….the magic this world has is sure to dissipate with this much despair.”

“I…agree…but grief isn’t something to be done away with, so simply.”

“I do have…one idea.”

“I don’t trust your judgment, Hero.”

“Sometimes neither do I, but I wouldn’t be the hero if I didn’t try!”

“.....Your optimism is nauseating. After this, I’m going to intensify my efforts to smite you.”

“Wow, thanks.”

The Exalted Hero’s glorious plan could only be enacted by the Demon Queen’s highest-ranking general. Strong enough to withstand the toxic magic-draining aura she exuded with little trouble. Her pride long out of reach as she rotted in the opulent and soft expanse of what would have been her nest.

“My Queen, would you like to overthrow the village on the outskirts of town? It’s been long since we’ve terrified the humans you and I.”

“...YoU DArE IntErRuPT mY BrOodING!?”

After sustaining some minor injuries a broken horn he stood by her side as she annihilated the entirety of the outer village of humans, sending a pillar of purple fire. Of course, only a few foolish humans attempt to intervene before she quickly snaps her fingers and their heads go flying. The humans are so full of non-magic that they are unburdened by her presence and she finds little enjoyment in making them writhe before dying. Her first officer knows this has done nothing but stave her boredom as the few who remain scream in agony or attempt to run. Without calling attention he steps away, picking a random home currently on fire. He steps inside hardly caring for the gaggle of gasping humans crawling helplessly around. It isn’t until he sees the singed doll on the ground does he fully inspect the home. Going deeper within as he hoped he finds precisely what he’s looking for.

When he returns to the Queen’s side, the boredom on her face hasn’t changed and he’s sure in a moment he’ll be ordered to level the town but first–

“Mordecai you can begin the—”

“WAHHH!”

The cry of an infant has the Queen sprinting, breaking the sound barrier to the burning house. On the doorstep is a naked babe, face contorted as they cry something fierce. Dismissing the nearly charcoal human reaching out the Demon Queen picks the baby up, cradling them into her chest.

“You poor poor dear, what Mother would leave you unattended during such a tragedy?”

The crying calms as she rocks the baby, waiting for its grabby hands pulling at her enchanted armor just like her own child did for the hour she knew her. Barely feeling the clasp of burnt fingers wrapping around her ankle she shakes her boots and steps on the weed pulling at her.

“Mordecai I leave this mud heap to you. Leave no trace.”

“Yes, my Queen.”

“Oh and announce to the armies that my child has been found.”

The Queen’s teleportation and the dissipating fog of her magic-draining cloud made the general smile. Far away the Hero has to refuse the help of the orphanages, they so gallantly encouraged. While the general hated the hero with all his being, the plan was diabolically perfect. What grieving mother would resist an orphaned crying babe? This mother just so happened to be the Queen of Demons with despair deep enough to cripple the entire living world—and now she was happy again.

“All of my demons, behold! The heir to the New World!”

“RAAAAAAHHH!”

Lucky you. The human baby of the feared Demon Queen set to inherit the world their mother was set to conquer. Surely their only real obstacles will be navigating the demon hierarchy and even that will be limited. For now, the Demon Queen has a child and absolutely no one will threaten the happiness of her darling baby.

More? Who am I kidding I'm definitely writing more of this 🖤🖤🖤🖤

[zae-heeyyy]

Erudition

Summary: Arthur teaches you how to read. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 2,790 Tags: smut, high honor Arthur Warnings: 18+ MDNI

a/n: I spent an unnecessary amount of time perfecting this one. Tried my hand at sketching/tracing/cut and pasting pieces of Arthur's original journal to make this one (don't look at it too close lol). Hope you enjoy!

Edit: If you didn’t know, it was common for adults to be illiterate in 1899 due to the lack of widespread public education.

erudition: the quality of having or showing great knowledge or learning; scholarship.

Poor Hosea had tried everything in an effort to teach you how to read: encouraging you with kind words first, then employing tough love tactics when your stubbornness hindered your progress. On one particular day, you had enough of each other. In a rare moment of weakness, he slammed his hand on the table when you refused to try.

"Wanna be an illiterate ninny your whole life, do ya?" A scowl etched deep lines on his face, and you stormed off, not saying a word. A cough riddled him, and he bowed his head in part frustration and part regret for letting himself lose his temper with you. He only wanted the best for you, even if you didn't want it for yourself.

A particular contemplative cowboy had been watching a short distance away, a pattern Hosea had noticed lately. Still coughing, he waved him over.

"Ah, Arthur. I know you're smarter than you look. Maybe you can reach that girl. I've done all I can, I fear." He pressed the book into Arthur's hand in more of a silent demand than a request. Arthur nodded in understanding, sighing, wondering how he'd been demoted from gang enforcer to teacher.

Cursing under your breath, you prayed that Arthur would just walk away, not because you didn't like him, but because you liked him too much. You and the other women got a kick out of watching him do chores around camp, his shirt nowhere to be found. He was damn gorgeous and didn't have a clue. Nobody else had a clue, either, that you wanted him. You wanted him in many ways and cared about what he thought of you.

The hope that he'd refuse Hosea's request or come another time fell short when his figure towered over you, shading you from the high noon sun. You kept your head bowed, refusing to meet his gaze until he tapped the book's hardback cover, bidding for your attention. Your eyes met his sheepishly. Reading him did not come easy either, especially in your interactions. Something about the way he carried himself around you left you feeling unsettled. There was a perpetual tension that he seemed to shed in the company of anyone but you. You didn't quite get it, though, because he always remained gentlemanly despite it all.

"C'mon." A sculpted, outstretched arm reached down to you, and you took it reluctantly, letting him lift you up from your spot. Following close behind, you let him lead you to the outskirts of camp near a boulder and a broken wagon. The cacophony of camp faded away as you joined him on the ground, your backs against the rock. You sat expectantly, concentrating on your fidgeting hands and fighting off the urge to cry.

"You just gotta focus," he said, opening the book to where you last left off and putting it back in your hands. Shaking your head, you tried to blink away hot tears building up behind your eyes.

"Don't want you to think less of me, Arthur. Don't wanna do it." Keeping your voice steady and suppressing the lump in your throat proved increasingly futile.

"Hush and focus." His tone only made the mystery of him hazier. How could he so easily switch between evil debt collector, out for blood, to nothing short of a gentle giant, so comforting and protective? The thought only made your vision cloud up more.

Blinking rapidly, you took a deep breath to calm yourself before reading the words on the page aloud. You could only get through the first sentence before your voice betrayed you, shaking unevenly, accompanied by a saline drop rolling down your face and onto the page.

"Hey..." Arthur clutched your chin and turned it to face him, forcing your eyes to heed his. "You gotta stick at things. I know it's hard, but that ain't no reason to cry about it." A rough thumb wiped away your tears. He scooted closer to you, wrapped one arm around your shoulders, and held the book with the other hand. "Just relax. It's just me and you out here. I ain't gonna think less of you or let anybody else, for that matter. Forget about all that." You held one side of the book with your left hand, and he had the other with his right, " Here, start again, slow now."

Goosebumps prickled your skin as a wave of calm washed over you. Arthur stayed patient while you composed yourself and read through twice, the second time outshining the first. He nudged you with his elbow, flashing a toothy grin. "See? Not so bad," he remarked. With another breath, not as shaky as your other ones, you closed the book and returned it to him, feeling more accomplished than you had in a while.

Now that your attention wasn't being spent so much, the pounding in your ears grew louder, the source of the sound leading to none other than the relentless beating of your heart. The musk of tobacco and leather infiltrated your nose, making you suddenly aware of how close you were to him. He removed this arm from your shoulders, the missing weight of it making you feel unexpectedly empty. Before he could scoot away some more, you turned to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you, Arthur, for helping me. I know I'm not easy to work with." He smiled shyly and dipped his head, avoiding eye contact. A silence fell between you, and you spoke again, dismissing yourself. "I should probably get back to it." You gathered your skirts to stand, and he wrapped his fingers around your wrist before you could walk away. Even though crimson had crept up in his ears and neck, he kept his face impassive as always.

"When Ms. Grimshaw can spare you, come find me, and we'll keep at it."

So you did. You'd meet in the clearing behind the rock on the rare moments of shared free time, continuing the routine, and you were getting better every day. Then, Arthur brought you a mystery book that he'd found or stolen, and it was nothing like a Penny Dreadful, too complex and challenging for you to decode. You felt like you'd taken one step forward and two steps back.

And just like you'd done with Hosea a few days ago, you tried to storm away from Arthur. You didn't get far before his hands were on your hips, dragging you down into his lap. Faces inches apart, his hot breath warmed your face as he spoke, eyes stern.

"You can't just throw a tantrum whenever life gets hard, woman." Huffing in defiance, you opened your mouth to argue, but you closed it promptly, keenly aware of the change in his demeanor. Your eyes were on his, but his were on your lips. He licked his own, face set with resolve. Letting his forehead press against yours, he kissed you. Without a thought, you kissed him back, melting into his arms. Gaze intense, he tore away from you, talking low and firm. "You're gonna sit your pretty self down and do this, alright?"

Your hand went absentmindedly to your lips, drawing them in as you tasted him. Who knew a kiss was all you needed? With a gentle shove, he settled you back on the ground beside him, retrieved the book, and opened it once more.

When you finished, you looked at Arthur, and he was staring back at you with a cocky grin. It was the first time you'd read with no mistakes. You threw yourself back into his arms, climbing into his lap, a knee on either side of him. Holding you firm by the waist, Arthur didn't hesitate to kiss you again this time, letting desire he didn't even know he had guide him to you. He could have you like that for hours, and he did, only easing his grip on you when you heard pans banging, alerting you to dinner.

Arthur had discovered the key to motivating you, and since then, you discovered a newfound love for reading. You eagerly awaited your lessons, knowing the handsome outlaw's lips would be there for you when you finished.

Arthur was happy to help, but it wasn't just about the makeout sessions for him. Of course, he could die a happy man with you on top of him, but he loved how your eyes lit up when you made progress. He loved seeing you feel confident. He loved making you happy.

Though he wouldn't dare complain, he couldn't help the nagging feeling that Hosea had knowingly arranged this? Arthur tried to go unnoticed in his subtle observations of you, attempting to conceal the fact that he was sweet on you and had been for a while.

"Can't con a conman, Arthur," his surrogate father once told him. Maybe that wasn't just about robbing. The gunslinger wanted you so bad after all this time, needed you, and hoped you needed him just as much. He'd made himself free today, waiting patiently for you to finish your chores, keeping himself occupied with minor tasks. Just as you finished, you watched him disappear behind the grass and head to your spot.

You joined him; the book rested in his lap while he smoked a cigarette. You took the cigarette from him, having a drag yourself and giggling at your own mischief. He snatched it back from you, pretending to be annoyed but smiling nonetheless. Taking one more puff, he snuffed it in the grass. Before he could make another move, you took the book from his lap, replacing it with yourself. Your hands went to the nape of his neck, drawing his lips into yours. He kissed you back, entertaining you momentarily, but withdrew with his hands still resting on your backside.

"Read first, then I'll take care of ya', sweetheart." His eyes were half-lidded, and his voice lowered a few octaves, both weighed down with desire. You huffed and unmounted the cowboy, opening the book and reading, anything to feel his touch again. As you finished the last paragraph, your attention shifted to his hand kneading circles into your thigh. Breath thickening, his other hand fell to the hem of your dress, making it ride up as his hand traveled slowly up your leg.

The reading grew choppier now, your attention too consumed by his touch. You stopped reading altogether when his hand snaked over your thigh, and three of his fingers pressed against a warm, damp spot in the center of your bloomers. Flushing, a faint gasp escaped you.

"Gonna need to get these off, darlin'," he huffed into your ear. Wasting no time, you tossed the book aside and lifted your hips to slide the garment down around your ankles. Desire almost overpowered him; he wanted to devour you, to have his fingers and face buried between you, but he had a job to do, and he always finished the job.

Stopping, he moved his hand from your heat to your thigh and reached across you to grab the discarded book. Clearing his throat, he thumped the book, "Another page." Incredulous, you blinked a few times, gawking at him.

"Arthur, how do you expect me to focus when—"

He cut you off with a curt whistle and a stony glance, "Shut it, woman, and read." His grip tightened on your thigh. Those pools of blue and stern tone sent another jolt through you; god, if only he knew what he did to you. Like you were hypnotized, you opened the book, still very aware of your aching womanhood. He kissed your neck, his chest vibrating with amusement.

"Good girl," he murmured in your ear.

You were wrapped around his finger figuratively, and you craved to be literally, too. As you began to read aloud again, his hand smoothed over your thigh and landed right where you wanted it. He glided a finger up and down that sacred site, stopping on your clit and rubbing tiny circles there. Involuntarily, you arched up into his hand, and his name fell off your lips in a moan, your focus tearing away from the printed words at your hands. Then he stopped, taking away that sweet attention you loved so much.

"Shhh...Keep going;" his voice was low and deep, and he kissed down your neck to your shoulder. He moved his hand back when you started again; it was the most fluent you'd ever read. You don't know how you managed. As soon as you finished the last word on the page, you tossed the book and grabbed Arthur by the hairs on the back of his head, tugging him towards you and tasting him. He groaned and let a finger slip inside of you.

You gasped at the invasion, raising your hips off the ground and tilting into him. Pressing his lips to your ear, he kissed it and whispered mischievously, "You tryin' to get us caught?" You could feel him smile against your ear, and you pulled him to you once more, letting his mouth muffle your sounds of ecstasy.

He loved the way you felt, so velvety, slick, and tight. He teased you, pumping you with just one finger, then lightly circling your clit just to stop and caress you all over. You knew, and he knew, that he could bring you to that peak at any moment, but he didn't want it to be over just yet. He'd dreamed what you felt like for so long, how you'd respond to him, and now that it was reality, he wanted to savor every minute.

You were rocking your hips now, trying to feel any semblance of friction, trying desperately to reach the climax that Arthur kept you right on the edge of.

Then he sank two more large digits inside, making you press your head on his shoulder and squeeze your eyes shut. He waited for you to adjust, kissing your ear and talking you through the girthy new additions. His thumb back on your clit caused a shiver to run down you as you relaxed.

"There you go," he mumbled in your ear, and you knew it wouldn't be long then. His thumb never left, keeping a constant speed and pattern as he worked you. Your stomach burned as that sweet, sweet tension built inside of you. Arthur buried his face in your neck, focusing on bringing you bliss. "That's it, sweet girl. Give it to me."

He groaned along with you as your embrace on his fingers tightened, and your body shuddered. He kept his hand there as you came down, relishing in the way your insides squeezed and released him over and over again. His head spun when he removed his fingers from you; you were so wet, all for him. He'd been so focused on you that the bulge in his pants went unnoticed until now.

Meanwhile, you had replaced your bloomers and smoothed out your skirt, trying to reset after the fireworks behind your eyes had exploded. You giggled, seeing Arthur give attention to his own building arousal. You beamed at him, all cheeky and coy.

"I think I hear Ms. Grimashaw looking for me," you teased, standing and dusting your skirt. His face fell bewildered, and you couldn't look at him in fear that your innocent act would falter. "Gonna have to bed me properly if you want more, Mr. Morgan."

With that, you winked at him and walked away, leaving Arthur with just his hand and imagination to satisfy him. You'd decided to join Hosea at a table, taking a piece of discarded newspaper and reading it yourself. He watched, a proud smile growing on his face. It only took Arthur five minutes to calm himself, reappearing from the treeline with eagle eyes that focused only on you.

Crazed, he approached you, placing a heavy hand on the small of your back before removing it hastily, remembering he was out in the open now. Hosea's eyes shifted between you discerningly. He coughed and gestured to the paper in your hand. "Well, Arthur, it seems you're a better teacher than me, after all." Neither of you caught the hint of amusement in his voice. You patted Hosea's shoulder and stood.

"Thanks, old man. I love reading now. In fact, me and Arthur are gonna go to town right now for some more Penny Dreadfuls. We'll bring you another paper, too."

Arthur perked up at this new suggestion and followed after you, practically tripping over himself as you headed towards his hitched horse. Hosea returned to his newspaper, kicking his feet up and chuckling to himself knowingly. His hunch had been right about you two, after all.

[eringobragh420]

࣪ ִֶָ☾. LOVE IS MADNESS (1/?)

➔ Pairing — Vampire!Damian Priest ❤︎ f!Reader ➔ Summary — Damian has to fight feelings for the new dancer he just hired to work at his nightclub. How long will his fighting last? (1/?) ➔ Word Count — 2.7k ➔ Warnings — Blood-drinking 18+ ➔ Notes — I think my writer's block has been Hulk smashed. ➔ Taglist — If you’d like to be added, please click here!  ➔ Support — Buy me a coffee! ☕ ➔ MASTERLIST

Closing the driver’s door of your vehicle, you stood in front of Crimson Kiss—the most popular nightclub within hundreds of miles for varying reasons; reasons most people didn’t speak out loud. You’d never actually been inside, but many of your friends had, so when you opened the front door, you weren’t quite as shocked at the ornate decorations, or how much larger it seemed on the inside than the outside. And you shouldn’t have been surprised by how utterly dark it was, but a chill still zoomed down your spine when the door snicked behind you, every ray of the setting sun blotted out by specially designed tinted windows.

A man behind the bar spotted you hovering near the entrance and called you over. You opened your mouth to tell him you had an interview, but your eyes climbed dozens of shelves of expensive liquor, each level illuminated by purple LED lights along the bottom. And then there were the darker bottles, the ones with thicker liquid and less alcohol. Everything was spotless, sparkling, and you were afraid even to touch anything for fear of leaving fingerprints. 

“What can I do for you?” the handsome bartender asked, Irish accent coloring his words. You wondered briefly—because it wasn’t so easy to tell in such a poorly lit environment—if he was like you or if he was like … 

You heard your name. Not from the bartender, though, from behind you. The voice was like that of a villain in a superhero movie—deep, dark, menacing even—causing a bit of apprehension to worm its way inside your stomach before you could force yourself to turn around. You came face-to-chest with a man probably closer to seven feet tall than he was six feet. He wore a black, three-piece suit, and as your eyes climbed his formidable frame, his pecs and biceps threatening to pop every seam, your heart accelerated, but your lungs froze and refused to expand. Swallowing—because somehow, you reasoned, swallowing was going to fix your broken chest cavity—your gaze continued upward to a light beard, perfect pillowy lips, ending on a pair of ocher eyes that promised to devour you at the very first opportunity. Describing this man as beautiful would have been the understatement of the century, maybe even an insult, but it’s the only word that came to mind. Also, man might have been incorrect as well, you thought, because standing so close to him was like standing next to an open refrigerator. 

You suddenly felt the most peculiar urge to warm him up.

“Is that you?” he asked, brows rising.

Your eyes left his so you could concentrate on what he’d said before that. “Oh, yes,” you replied, recalling the way he’d said your name. “Sorry—” 

“Follow me.” He turned and started walking, one long stride of his equaling three of yours, and you were practically jogging to keep up.

Great first impression, you silently berated yourself, but hopefully it wouldn’t impact his decision to hire you too much, considering the position you’d applied for. Surely he’d had women gape at him before, if only because of the sheer size of the man. And there was that word again—man—but you had no idea how else to refer to him, how he referred to himself.  Did it even matter? 

You followed him through the club, but where you thought he might lead you down a hallway to an office to conduct the interview, he turned instead into a room with dark-colored couches along three walls and a platform in the middle, complete with two shining stripper poles. The LED lights and the walls in this room were vermillion. Well, you supposed, the decor matched the job. The enigmatic man gestured for you to take a seat on one of the surprisingly comfortable pieces of furniture while he perched on the edge of the platform in front of you, unbuttoning the single button on his suit jacket while crossing one ankle over the other.

Damn his legs are long, you thought, unknowingly licking your dry lips. 

“My name’s Damian. I own Crimson Kiss.” You weren’t aware of a time an owner had interviewed you for a position and not some lower level manager, but you wouldn’t dare complain. The longer you were able to look at Damian the better.

“Nice to meet you,” you stammered.

“Do you know what job you’re applying for?” he asked with a voice so deep, you felt the vibrations in your chest. 

“Yes,” you replied. 

“Which is?”

You weren’t sure where this line of questioning was headed or what kind of answer he was looking for. Had he not even looked at your application? “Dancer. And donor.” 

“Do you know what that means?” Damian pressed, tilting his head. His black hair was straight, half pulled into a ponytail, and came down a little past his shoulders. He wore a silver necklace with a pendant you couldn’t quite make out and rings on nearly every long, thick finger. “To be a donor?”

You rubbed your lips together. “It means … someone can order me off the menu.” You tried to make light of what was clearly about to be an uncomfortable conversation, and when the corners of Damian’s flawless lips twitched upward, you knew you’d succeeded at least a little bit.

“That’s one way of putting it,” he said. “Have you done it before?”

“Donated? Or just …?”

“Donated. I’m not interested in extracurriculars.”

Well you don’t have to be a dick about it, you thought, catching yourself before you rolled your eyes. “Yes, I’ve donated before. In fact, I was a fan favorite,” you touted, grinning pridefully.

“And why was that?” Damian entertained.

“I’m AB-negative,” you said, as if revealing the grand secret to the universe. Damian’s brows rose and he nodded slowly, and you felt a bit disappointed in his less than enthusiastic response. At your last job as a donor, customers would practically break down your door for just a taste of the blood that coursed through the veins of less than one percent of the population. The only blood type rarer was Rhnull, or golden blood, found in roughly fifty people across the globe. Of course, it had been your uncommon blood that had cost you that job and a lot more and inevitably brought you here searching for another one. “Apparently it’s pretty tasty,” you added as an afterthought.

“Well, lucky for me, this interview involves a dance audition and a taste test.”

You’d been informed of these requirements beforehand, in more than one email, and you hadn’t been surprised or even offended—how else were you supposed to get the job? What you hadn’t anticipated, however, was Damian. You’d danced and donated for men and women alike who could have rivaled the beauty of both James Dean and Marilyn Monroe, but Damian was … something else entirely—literally and figuratively. His sharp, mahogany eyes regarded your reaction, which was calm and controlled, before he spun gracefully on the heels of his shiny shoes and sank into the cushion beside you. Where he should have thrown off heat, his cooler temperature wracked your body with chills, and your eyes snapped shut as if it might shroud your embarrassment from him.

“Sorry,” you sighed, glancing back at him after a moment. 

Damian smirked and shook his head, raising his hand. “Don’t worry about it. I have that affect on people.” You nodded, breathing a laugh. “Which do you wanna do first?”

Knowing the blood traversing through the labyrinth of your veins was already a winner, the decision was easy. “I’ll dance for you.”

The grin from before was gone, and his eyes you’d swear had been tinged chestnut a second before were now sable-shaded and starving. Starving for what, exactly, you didn’t know, and you weren’t sure you wanted to know. He gestured with one huge hand toward the stage, and you inhaled long and slow before standing from the couch, those ever-changing irises of Damian’s studying your every move as you climbed the few steps to the platform.

“Hey, Jey,” Damian suddenly hollered. You turned back to him as he leaned forward and removed his suit jacket, folding it and tossing it over the arm of the couch. He left on the satin, onyx vest, and unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves before rolling them up his sinewy forearms. “Play her something she can dance to.”

And how in the fuck were you supposed to concentrate on dancing if you couldn’t stop gaping at the owner of the club you were trying to get a job at? Maybe that was his intention—to rattle you and see how you handled it, using himself as the bait. If that were the case, you were failing miserably, and probably had lost the job already.

But as soon as the music started, a song you were familiar with, you effortlessly slipped into the space reserved only for performing. You weren’t dressed in something you’d usually dance in, nor was the outfit particularly sexy, so you had to rely more than usual on your natural talent and past experience. Your hips rolled with the beat, and you twirled a couple of times around one of the poles, but the show didn’t really start until you floated off the platform and made your way to Damian. Your eyes locked for the first time since the music had begun, and your breath hitched as his gaze burned a hole through your very soul. His arms were stretched out beside him along the back of the couch, and when you were within feet of him, his dense thighs spread like the lewdest party invitation you’d ever seen. Was this the final test? 

If it was, you decided, you weren’t failing this one.

You’d read the rules concerning dancing for clients, specifically the one which stated it was at the dancer’s discretion as to whether or not they became physical with their client. And if there was ever a time to become physical with a “client”, it was right fucking now.

Your hands settled steadily on a set of unforgiving abs, his frigid temperature seeping through his clothes to kiss your palms, and you once more had to hurl aside the frightening desire to just wrap yourself around him like a human heated blanket. As your hands ascended Damian’s broad, sturdy chest, slipping along the silky vest, you climbed slowly onto his lap, his thick thighs easily supporting your shins, and you hooked your feet along the backs of his knees with the intention of boasting one of your favorite moves. But your body stilled the moment Damian wrapped his fingers around your wrist, goosebumps perking up from the sudden chill blasting your skin, and he lifted your hand from his chest. Your gazes hadn’t once disconnected since they’d met minutes ago, but you severed the link now that he was touching you.

The tenderness with which he cradled your arm was a shock in and of itself, though you weren’t sure why—just because he was … different … didn’t mean he couldn’t be delicate. Just because he was gigantic didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of handling pocket-sized things, which, at the moment, was you. He brought the underside of your wrist to his nose, and you felt air rush along your skin as he inhaled a scent only he could smell. You’d been told once that some of them even had the power to sniff out the trace amounts of gold in human blood. 

What could the owner of Crimson Kiss smell within you?

“Oh, christ,” Damian rasped, hooded eyes falling closed, his plump, icy lips massaging the slightly transparent skin on your wrist, just above the prominent blue veins branching off into your forearm and hand. Your other hand still perched on his chest fisted a small portion of his vest. “Are you ready?” he rumbled, eyes remaining closed, mouth still flush against you.

You swallowed and licked your lips before nodding, a whispered yes floating on the air, and once permission was granted, Damian’s mouth opened. Not a second later, you felt the familiar sting in your flesh of a retractable, razor sharp tooth, though, curiously, where there should have been two insertions, there was only one. And before you could begin picking apart the reasons behind one puncture instead of two, Damian’s dampening mouth applied just the slightest suction, his cheeks sinking, and your eyes rolled back. 

It wasn’t the actual drinking of your blood that was causing your thighs to tremble or your stomach to roll or your heart to hammer—no, you couldn’t literally feel that. It was the sucking on a sensitive patch of skin by a devilishly handsome man who could simply whet his appetite with your AB-negative or drain you completely and kill you within minutes. It was the graceful way with which he cradled your arm after bringing his other hand across his chest to support your elbow. It was the twitching of his brows and the fluttering of his eyelids as he enjoyed you. And only because it happened last, it was the fluid, almost unnoticeable, rocking of his hips that, thankfully, were not pressed against yours. 

This wasn’t something you should be doing with your potential boss, but forces beyond your control kept you planted in Damian’s lap, left your wrist to be devoured, and unfisted your hand so you could splay it across his pec. The muscle flexed, and he had to be doing this on purpose. And what if this was the test, and you should have never touched him at all, and he was simply entertaining himself before he sent you on your way?

“Hey, Damian, do we have—” You jumped, head turning, hand crumpling Damian’s vest again, and there was suddenly a raven-haired beauty standing in the entranceway. “Oh, sorry,” she stammered, “I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t,” Damian mumbled into your wrist, and you switched your attention back to him and the rather precarious situation that was now being witnessed by someone who, you assumed, was another employee of Crimson Kiss. But it didn’t matter. All at once, nothing mattered, except watching Damian lick his own lips free of any of your leftover blood, his chilly tongue swiping across the obvious puncture wound in your wrist, and your spine was wracked with shivers. “Do you have any of that—?”

A hand appeared between the two of you—elegant, feminine, tattooed—holding what appeared to be a roll of the sticky tape they wrapped around your arm after a blood draw. In black. Fitting. Damian released your elbow to take it from her, tugging at the edge with his lethal teeth until it began to unravel, and he wrapped it a few times around your wrist. The entire interview may have been on the edge of inappropriate, but you’d never been treated so well after a donation, no matter how big or small. Especially not by the owner.

“This should be fine in an hour or two,” he said, eyes rising to yours. Eyes that were still ebony were now ringed in red because of you and your rare blood. But like the wound on your wrist, they would be back to normal in a few hours. You could only nod in response—breath, words, basic brain functionality all stolen by Damian. “You can start tomorrow night.” He stood suddenly, wrapping an arm around you at the last second as he took you with him, dropping you unceremoniously to your feet before he came to full height. He grabbed his jacket from the arm of the couch and brushed a hand over his hair despite nothing being out of place.

As he headed out of the room, he stopped, turned to the woman who’d interrupted you, and glanced over his shoulder at you before speaking loud enough for you to hear. “She’s gonna need extra security.” 

Smiling warmly as she approached you, the woman replied to Damian, “I’ll call the Guns.” She extended her hand, and upon placing yours within her grasp, discovered she was like you. “I’m Rhea. The GM.”

Taglist: @southerngirl41 @femdisa @riverina69 @rollinssection @paramedicnerd004 @mandmilovehim @brianochka @yourmommyagone22 @sweetmoonlove0214 @partypoison00 @lils2795 @aureliacorvina @magicalbuttertarts @madimcg14 @thealliasylum @lov3rla03 @plaidpajamallama @princesstiti14 @the-whatever-22 @jeypunkk @madhatterbri @atomicskincareeyelinerkid @pittieprincess22 @cyberdejos2 @brideofinfamy @rainbowdreams-x @headcaseproductions1 @bearbutlikeprincessbear @terrortwinunicorn @dontcrykeepyourheaduphigh @loki69zowens @fearlesschimera @rockerfairy93 @misslackey @nichole1989 @hc-geralt-23 @miss-kuki-nz @damianpriestfangirl82 @elaineoneill570 @infamousvampcx @rheasfingerpuppet @gracy09 @lizzycaraballo-blog @rk-ho @bloodline-fanacc @moonlightsinner @skyesthebomb

[loverslodge]

not my professor

summery: Ari falls in love with a girl who studies in the same university has him.

pairing: professor!ari Levinson x reader

warnings: fluff, SMUT, swearing, size kink, begging, age gap (reader is mid 20s and Ari is mid 30s)

A/N: i am slut for Ari Levinson

Ari didn't think that your presence would affect him that much. But he did this on purpose this time. He promised himself he won't but the heart wants what the heart wants.

He first saw you in the main cafeteria. You were getting yourself two large hot chocolates with five packets of sugar each to go. You looked calm but the amount of hot chocolates you were going to consume said otherwise. He found it amusing. He unknowingly followed you but sat close to hear what you were talking to your friends.

“You’re gonna kill yourself with that much amount of sugar and hot chocolate.” Your friend tried to throw away your packets of sugar.

“Then at least I will die happy.” You hide your sugar packets in your jacket.

Ari found it funny. He was worried about you, yes but he found you funny and witty. He didnt see you the rest of the day after you left for your class, only to catch a glance of you leaving the campus.

…………………….

The next time he saw you was when you were in the book nook for your department. His office was moved in that room with two other professors who, he didn't know, were your professors.

He got to know about your focus when you were exiting the office of one of your professors with a friendly smile on your face. He found out you were a masters student and you were there for just one more year.

He was relieved that you were here only for a year but it also came as a jerking shock to him that if he wanted to know you, he didn't have time.

You were not part of his focus. You were nowhere near him but he was still a professor. The only way of knowing you was by a chance encounter or a social event where you would want to attend.

He was struggling. He was never the one to struggle. He always had it easy with women because he was the one being approached and not the other way around.

To him, this was all new because not only did he want to know you but also the important fact that you were unaware of his existence. He wanted you to know about him, think about him and spend time with him.

Seeing you so close to his office created weird feelings in him. He hadn't seen you smile. Now he had. He wanted to reserve that smile. The way your eyes crinkled and grew smaller when you smiled crinkled his own heart. His blue eyes got wide and dark just seeing you smile, imagining what else he was missing out.

You were so close to his office that all he had to do was open the door and he could easily pull you in. He shook his head, trying to remove the arousing thoughts out of his head.

You waved at someone and you immediately left the room, leaving him with those thoughts he had to manage behind the desk, thinking about his boring lecture.

…………………..

“Hi! I am looking for this book but i cannot find it in the shop. Can you check if you have it?” He heard a very familiar voice near him.

He turned around to see you standing in the bookstore, looking for a book. His heart raced. It was like the universe was sending him a chance. He was going to grab this chance by the throat and choke in.

He followed you to the shelf where you were told you would find your book. He wasn't being creepy, at least that’s what he thought. He was going to approach you today.

He saw you peruse books after grabbing the one you needed. He had seen you scrunch your nose in disapproval when you had picked the book reluctantly. It was part of your assignment and not a book you would ever want to read, you knew that book was definitely going to get gifted to someone as a birthday present.

He saw you step into the romance section and he saw your eyes sparkle with joy. He saw you pick so many romance books, only to put them back because you couldn't afford to buy them all. He saw you eye them sadly. He would buy them all for you, he thought.

You were about to leave the store when  a surge of courage stepped in him. “Hey.”

You turned around with eyes wide. You thought you had stepped in the person’s way or something. Why else would a man that tall and that attractive talk to you? “Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be in your way.”

“Oh no! You're not in my way. I just- I have seen you around the university and wanted to introduce myself.” He stepped a little closer to you, enough to not invade your personal space. “I'm Ari.”

“Oh, um- i’m-” you were a stuttering mess but you managed to say your name. He found it adorable seeing how pink your cheeks had turned.

“Can I see what book you have?”

“Yeah. If you want it, I can give it to you after next week.” You were too eager to get rid of the book.

“Sure. I can give this back to you after I'm done reading.” Ari wanted a reason to see you again.

“Oh no! I'm asking you to keep it. I, um, I don't like this book. It's not really, uh, my style.”

“Oh! But what if I want to see you again after this? How will I find you then?” Ari was done playing around. He went straight for the kill.

“Oh!” Your shock was very evident to him. “I, uh, you want to see me again?”

“Yeah. You are pretty and I would like to get to know you.” Ari really wanted to approach you slowly but his brain short circuited when he talked to you.

Your wide innocent eyes and your soft voice was killing him. He wanted to tell you how much he liked you but he knew it was too soon.

“You think I'm pretty?” You never thought of yourself as a pretty person. This was the first time someone had called you pretty. Your cheeks tinted with more pink and you look down, unable to look into his captivating blue eyes.

“Real pretty.” Ari walked a little closer to you. You made no effort to create space between the two of you. “But, I have to tell you something, honestly. Will you listen?”

You look back to him and give him a nod, your eyes full of anticipation. “I am actually a professor in your university. I saw you in the main cafeteria but I couldn't just approach you.”

You couldn't tell him that your insides were melting. Not just because he was bigger, taller and prettier than you but also because he was a professor. Not yours though, you knew all of your professors. But he was one and all your bottled up fantasies were slowly opening up.

“A professor?” You tried to act as cool as you could.

“Not your department though.” Ari got defensive. He didn't want to think that there was no chance. He was worried there would be an immediate rejection without a consideration.

You just looked at him with wide eyes. You were trying to process a lot of things at once. One of which was climbing him like a tree.

“This is coming off as creepy. I'm sorry. I'll just go.” Ari was ready to leave. Your silence was enough to tell him he was rejected. He didn't want to push it.

“No! Wait! I'm sorry. I just- you're gorgeous. It's hard to think someone like you would be interested in me.” You held his wrist and you were trying to scramble together your thoughts. “It's- I don't mind that you are a professor. I'm just, um, not good at social interactions. Also, I have never had someone ask me out before, openly, so, uh, i'm sorry you felt rejected.”

His wrist was burning with your touch. It was as if he was getting electrocuted. He walked closer to you and he saw your eyes darken and dilate for a few seconds before they turned back to their innocent selves.

“So you are not rejecting my advances?” Ari wanted a verbal confirmation from you. When you nod, he lifts your chin up. “I want your words. Give me your consent, please.” Ari practically begged for you.

“I am not rejecting your advances.” Your soft tone caught him and he was elated. If he was in the privacy of his office or his home, he surely would have yelped in cheer.

He hummed in happiness and brought out his hand for you to hold. You looked at his hand quizzingly and took your hand to hold. You were a blushing mess. His hand was so much bigger than yours. Your mind was going on overdrive. He chuckled when he saw you trying to hide your red face. He was going to love making you blush everyday now.

…………………….

He wanted exclusivity. He was too afraid to ask. What if it is too soon? You have been dating for over two months. You went to his office once, because you were worried your professors would see you and ask questions and you had no answers.

This was your second time visiting his office. He had told you that you were allowed at any time to find peace. You liked that. You liked to read in silence and his office really was perfect. You were working on your creative writing pieces and so you thought his office would be the perfect destination for that.

You grabbed your hot chocolate from the cafeteria and took the elevator to his floor. You opened his office doors and there he was, staring at his computer with glasses on and his hair flowing. If your pussy was a faucet, it would be leaking.

“Hi.” You set your things down on the coffee table across his desk.

He looked up and a very loving smile spread across his face. He looked stressed, he was stressed, but seeing you made everything so much better. He opened his arms, inviting you.

You walked up to him and stood between his manspread. Your knees touched the edge of the chair and his arms wrapped around your waist. You automatically cup his cheeks and your thumbs started smoothening the mild dark circles under his eyes. He closed his eyes to savour that moment with you. You have a small smile on your face and so does he.

“Can I, uh, ask you something?” Your soft voice opened his eyes. There was a hesitation in your eyes and voice. Your hands had left his face and were fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt. He sat straight in the chair but he still held onto you.

“What is it, baby? Talk to me.”

“Not to pressure you. I was just, I know it's too soon, but, um…” Ari held your hands and caressed your knuckles. You took a deep breath and looked into his eyes with what looked like determination. “Can we, uhm, be, um, together?”

“But we are together, baby.”

“No. Not like that. I mean, um… uh, never mind. It's fine.” You tried to walk away but he tugged on your hand and settled you on his lap. You yelped in surprise and tried to wriggle out but he tightened his hold on your waist. You huffed out.

“Baby, don't shy away. I think I know what you want to say. I was thinking the same thing.” He played with your fingers on your lap and kissed your cheek.

“How do you know what I was thinking? You're not a mind reader.”

“I don't have to be a mind reader to know that you want me to be your boyfriend. Exclusively.” Ari brushed your hair back.

You gasped and then scrunched up your nose in disgust and then chuckled. “Eww. it feels weird to call you boyfriend. You're a man not a boy.”

“That’s the issue? That I'm a man?” Ari lifted up his eyebrows. He was in a teasing mode now.

You hit him lightly on the chest, earning a light chuckle from him. “You know that is not what I meant. But, to answer your question, yes, I would love to be your girlfriend. Exclusively.”

“Oh so that's how this is going to be. You're in charge.” Ari pulled you even closer by your waist and cupped your neck.

His lips were hovering over yours, looking for permission. Your smile faded as your eyes darkened. You liked this. Being in charge but also letting him take charge. You seal the deal with a kiss. You cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer as your lips worked well with his.

His hand from your waist slipped into your shirt to hold your back. You hum into the kiss and he angled his head for a better angle. This is why he loved having you in his office. He can kiss you any time.

You pulled away slowly, resting your forehead against his and breathing heavily. Ari had that tendency on you. He always took your breath away. You were so close to saying ‘i love you’ to him but held back. It was too soon.

You pecked his lips again and got up to work on your writing. He looked at you for some time and then went back to grading.

…………………….

Six months of your relationship with Ari had flown by. All in all, eight months since you first met Ari. He was a very understanding man. You were very stressed with your semester and had no time except several makeout sessions in his office.

You had fallen in love with him. He was caring, kind, understanding and above all, he held almost all of your fantasies. You had not revealed it to him obviously. Who in their right mind would tell their boyfriend that she would like him to go feral on her or that she would like it if he ate her out for hours.

Ari had noticed some things though. He had seen how when he did certain things, your eyes darkened with lust. He was impressed by the amount of control you had. He hadn't touched you intimately. He had wanted to, so bad, but he wanted you to initiate.

The fall semester was over and the winter break was here. You weren't going home because of your internship. You had told Ari about it. When he got to know you got the internship of your dreams, he had bought your favourite cake and cooked your favourite cuisine at his apartment.

You had brought a wine bottle to match the cuisine and you had stayed over at his place for the weekend. You were a bit disappointed that he didn't do anything except cuddle and kiss but you were also glad he was letting you take the lead.

All of your roommates had left for the winter and you were alone. It was a big ass apartment and staying alone got a bit creepy. You mustered courage to ask Ari if you could stay with him that winter. He had said yes.

Ari had hid his enthusiasm really well when you initiated something. He picked you up from your place and went back to his place with a stop at the local Target to grab more snacks and food you liked. Not that he didn't already have his place stocked with your things. You liked wine so he insisted on buying at least 3 bottles which sounded ridiculous to you but he had bought them behind your back.

You had shared his room and his bed before so it wasn't a problem. He had actually bought a new dresser for your clothes saying he was going to buy one anyway your reason was just an added bonus.

He also bought a big standing mirror and a vanity table for you which made you blush even more. You hardly used makeup because of your anti-social nature but he still considered the possibility and that won over your heart even more. His consideration was making you hornier or you were just done with your periods. Who's to say which is which.

Ari helped you unpack your things. You had grown more comfortable around him but you still blushed heavily from time to time and he loved that he still affected you.

Ari saw you buzz around the apartment and put your things beside his, making it feel more at home. After unpacking your things, the place felt more lived in and he loved that. Maybe he should ask you to move in? But he should say he loves you first. Or should the both of you just get naked and have each other all over the apartment? Ari was thinking too much.

You both were tired so after dinner it was straight to bed. It felt very domestic. You loved it. You snuggled into Ari’s chest and he pulled you closer than ever. Both of you sighed in relief in a sync and sleep enveloped, leaving all those extra thoughts for the next whole month.

You had woken up all warm, toasty and horny, thanks to your large boyfriend. He had no right to look that hot and bear-like in the morning. You wiggled your way out of the bed and cleaned yourself up. You wanted to make breakfast for him. The first ever.

Ari wanted to see your face the first thing he woke up but instead he saw an empty bed. He sprung up thinking that yesterday was a dream till he heard light singing in the kitchen. He cleaned himself up and followed the voice to the kitchen.

The sight he saw made his heart skip several beats. You were singing along one of your playlists and dancing a little while flipping pancakes. He felt like this is the moment he would want to live again and again for the rest of his life. Your soft voice singing stirred places in him that shouldn’t stir.

“Morning, baby. What are you making?” Ari announced his arrival before he wrapped his arms around your waist.

You squeak in surprise but regain composure. “Morning, babe. I'm making pancakes. A lot of ‘em. I thought we could have brunch instead of breakfast.”

“Sounds fun.” He trailed kisses all over your neck. Soft moans escape your lips and you lean further into him.

“Ari…”

“I love you, baby,” Ari whispered in your ears.

“I love you too, babe.” You were a blushing mess but you finally said it. It felt like a boulder was lifted off your heart. “I've been meaning to say that for so long. But I thought it was too soon so I held myself back.”

“Nothing you do too soon, baby. I too wanted to say it long ago but I thought you wouldn't like it.” Ari moves away from you and you turn to him.

“We've got to stop thinking that it's too soon. Nothing is when it comes to us, right?” You cup his face and peck his lips. You turn back to finish the last of the pancakes.

“You are always right, baby. Now let's eat. You sit and I'll grab the juice and syrup.”

The brunch went by peacefully and now you had enough courage to ask him to get you off. Honestly, you found it embarrassing in yourself that you had to masturbate when you had such a hot boyfriend at your disposal. His thick fingers had to be put to better use than making a class schedule.

He was working on the sofa and you approached him with hands on your back. You were so nervous, you didn't want him to know that you were fiddling with your fingers.

“Do you want something, baby?” Ari does not look up from his laptop but he can sense you have a question.

“Canyoueatmeoutandhelpmegetoff?”

“What?” Ari swore he heard something really provocative come out of your mouth but he wanted to confirm. He always paid attention to what you said but with the speed you used, he wanted you to verbalize it again.

You took a deep breath and tried to look him in the eye but couldn't. “Can you eat me out and help me get off?” You practically whispered.

But Ari heard you, loud and clear. He threw his laptop on the sofa. He walked to you and hoisted you on his shoulder like a sack and gently laid you on the bed.

“I want you to tell me if you feel uncomfortable. I will stop. No hard feelings, okay?” Ari was hovering above you. It was turning you on seeing how large he looked.

You nodded but he tsked. “I need words, baby. I am not doing anything until you verbalize yourself. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He cupped your cheek and pulled you in for a hot searing kiss. Your hands wrap around his neck and hair while he starts wandering his hands all over you. You squirmed when you felt his hands on your exposed waist. You hadn't realized he had lifted your t-shirt to expose your stomach.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want clothes on or off?”

“Um, off?”

“Are you confused, baby? If you're not ready, I will get you off with clothes on, it's fine and if you want to get off alone, I will go to the living room.”

“I want you. I really do. You make me so horny. Your thick fingers, larger than life body and your kissable lips makes me want to do so much but then i become so conscious about how i look and you wont like it. But I desperately want your fingers inside me, your lips on me and your body crushing the life out of me. Please.”

“My god, baby! Why didn't you say you were in so much need? You are beautiful with clothes and you will be even more beautiful without them. I don't love you just for your body but also because of that smart brain of yours.”

Ari removed his shirt and his pants, standing before you in just his boxers. “Now, let me help you out of your clothes so I can fulfill that fantasy of yours.”

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your shorts and dragged them down along with your drenched panty. He held back the need to dive between your legs since he wanted to take it slow for you. He tried not to touch you till he had your t-shirt and bra off.

He let himself tower over you and let you take him in. a whimpered moan escaped your lips seeing him so big all ready to please you. “I'm going to touch you everywhere, baby. Yes?”

A breathy yes fell out of your mouth and his hands cupped your breasts. “Kiss me again, Ari, baby, please.”

He let himself fall on you, trying not to crush you entirely and pulled you in for another searing kiss. This time he had no clothing getting in the way so he started kneading your breasts and pinched your nipples. You moaned in his mouth and bucked your hips up to try and grind against him.

Ari trailed his lips and kisses along your neck and collarbone. You held the back of his head and guided him where you wanted his lips and he let you. Today was about pleasing you and he was going to let you take the lead. He did not leave any part of without a kiss but he also tried to hold back marking you.

“Will you mark me, Ari? Please? Mark me as yours.” You whined so well for him. Your demand spurred Ari to a frenzy. He latched his lips to your neck and sucked and bit till he was certain he left a significant number of marks.

He trailed down to your breasts that were kneaded well. He also marked your breasts as his and sucked your nipples so well. You were a whimpering and moaning mess. While your one hand was buried deep in Ari’s hair, the other was clutching the bedsheet.

You were dribbling out of your pussy and Ari was taking notice of it. “Baby, I'm moving down. I can't let you go to waste, now can i?”

You couldn't form words and whimpered yes barely fell out of you. Ari hummed on your lips, giving you one last kiss before moving down, between your legs. He even left marks on your inner thighs.

He had seen you dribble all over the bedsheet and he was pleased that he was the one making your pussy crave. After leaving one last kiss on your thigh and he dove right in to devour you.

You moan Ari’s name out loud and clutch the bedsheet tightly, arching yourself off the bed. Ari pushed your legs around his shoulder to get into a better position and laid down on his stomach. He wrapped his arms around your legs to keep you from squirming away.

He was loving this. He had been craving this. He had been dreaming about this since he met you. Seeing you writhing under him while he devours you was his very first fantasy.

He was taking his sweet time. He licked, sucked and kissed your pussy very slowly, savouring every moment. You whined and whimpered, making him smirk. He let his tongue play with your clit every now and then, increasing your simulation.

“Please.” The words barely came out of your mouth. The knot in your stomach tightened and you gripped his hair. You adjusted his head to focus on your clit and he readily agreed.

“Gonna cum, baby?” Ari kept on fucking you over his mouth.

“Yes, please Ari. I'm gonna cum. Please.”

He increased his speed and the knot broke, making you convulse and arch on the bed with Ari lapping up all the juice you released. He drank up every last drop you had to offer. When your body rested back on the bed, you realized you had been crushing Ari in between your thighs.

“Oh I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.” You tried to sit up and move but your weakened body and Ari’s hold on you made you lay back in the position.

“That was fucking sexy, baby. You can crush me between your thighs any time.” Ari sat up on his haunches and grabbed the bottle of water from the bedside and gave it to you.

“Now, are you still willing to have my fingers inside you after this or do you want to do it tomorrow?” Ari didn't want to overwhelm you.

“Maybe you can use your fingers some other time but I want something else right now.” You had received a boost of confidence after the mind-blowing session.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” Ari brought his hands to your cheeks and caressed them lightly. He loved how fucked out you looked, all thanks to him.

“I want you in me.” You sat up and grabbed the waistband of Ari’s boxers, trying to pull them down.

“Are you sure? This is a bigger deal than my fingers.” Ari wanted you to make a confident decision.

“Oh I'm counting on it to be bigger.” You pulled his boxers down and gasped. He really was bigger. You gulped and looked at him and a small smirk came on his face.

Ari let you get rid of his boxers and he was back sitting in between your legs. “I will ask again, baby, are you sure?”

“Yes Ari, I am sure. I have been wanting you for a while and if I don't do it now, I am pretty sure I will take a few more months and I don't want that. I want you. Now.”

Ari leaned over his bedside table to grab condoms but you held his hand and shook your head. “No. I want to feel you, Ari. take me raw. Please.” You gave him your best pout to which he sighed and retracted.

“As you wish.”

Ari sat back and brought your pussy closer to his cock. Your pussy juice was giving him enough lubrication. He rubbed his cock on your folds a few times. You whine and pout at him. You were being impatient and Ari loved seeing you beg for him.

Ari very slowly slid his tip into you. You gasped. He slid further in and he saw you arching your back, matching his speed as a loud moan escaped your mouth. He jerked you on him a little and your ass met his thighs, hilting the cock deep into you. He waited for you to get adjusted to him.

Ari looked at you to get some sort of response. Your eyes were closed as you relished in being filled by Ari. “You can move now, Ari. I'm okay.”

He moved again and he still maintained the slow pace that he had set. You moaned and whimpered but you needed something more. You were not able to think what but that only made you whine louder.

“What do you want, baby? Why are you being whiny?” Ari maintained the slow pace, he slowed it down even more and you whined again.

Ari caught on to what you wanted but he wanted to experiment. He moved out of you, leaving just his bulbous tip in you and slammed into you with speed. You moaned his name loudly and arched your back and went crashing back down.

He sped up into you and you groaned feeling satisfied with the manner. But in the middle of a fast thrust, Ari slowed down again. Your eyes met his and you saw a glint of playfulness in them. You tried to wriggle out of his hold.

You made a plan that if he wanted to play then he would learn a lesson to not mess when you were horny for him.

Ari caught onto you again and tightened his hold around your thighs. During this time, your legs were wrapped around his waist which was advantageous to him now. You whined again and he stopped completely.

“Your whines are not going to get you fucked, baby. Use your words.”

“Please Ari.” You were slightly overstimulated which made tears fall, covering your face.

“Please what, baby.”

“Fuck me harder please, Ari. don't go slow. I'm very needy for you.”

“Now that wasn't hard to say, was it, baby?”

You started fucking into faster and harder. He leaned over and crushed you under him while he kept on digging himself into you.

“Oh f-f-fuck! Ari! You fill me up! This is so good! Fill me up s’good, Ari! Fuck!”

His lips on yours and he kept the pace, drowning your moans into his mouth. The kiss was sloppy and none of you cared. Your breasts were entirely pressed against his chest and the rubbing of your sensitive nipples against his chest spurred you on even more.

Ari’s cock was being tightly clenched by your walls and he let out a loud moaning groan. “Fuck, baby. You're milking me so well.” He thrusted even deeper. “Make me cum, baby. Milk my cock.”

The knot in your stomach got tighter. “Cum in me, Ari. please.”

“Fuck.” Ari sped up his thrusts and brought his hand to rub your clit. His thrusts got sloppier to tell you that he’s almost there and your walls got tighter around him that told him you were close too.

“Cum, baby. Cum for me.” You spasmed on the bed as you found your release and ropes of his cum filled your tight pussy up.

He felt boneless and he just fell on you, crushing you under him. His cock was stirring in you, releasing the last of his cum. Your hands went to his hair and his back, caressing him and soothing him from the high. He hissed in a slight pain but then remembered why. You had, without realizing, scratched up his back with your nails, not that he minded. He loved this wild side of yours.

You might not tell him, but he knew his strength and so he slipped out of you, making you whimper and rolled to the side. His cum dripped out of your pussy and that sight alone could’ve made him hard if he had not seen your fucked out and tired face. Your eyes were completely glazed over and your limp hand was reaching for him.

“Baby, let's get you cleaned up. Then I can cuddle up to you.” Ari got up from the bed and turned on the shower and brought it to a warmer temperature that would help you soothe.

He carried you to the shower and held you, bathed you. You did the same to him, at least trying. He cleaned himself off and you. He dried you with your towel and he dried himself off with his and sat you down on a comfy armchair in the room while he changed the sheets. You tried to help him but he shushed you and forced you to sit down.

He brought you to bed and cuddled you after making you drink ample water. You weren't going to sleep, he knew that, no matter how tired you were. Why? Because you were sometimes neurotic and it was not time to sleep.

“I'll fall asleep at this rate. Let's order dinner and then cuddle.” You sat up and turned to him. None of you had bothered to get dressed and your marked up body was fully visible to him. He was pleased with himself.

“Okay. let's get dressed and ill order us some pizza?” You nodded and you both got up.

He saw your naked self walk closer to the mirror and look at all the love bites he had left on you. The bright smile on your face, seeing you marked by Ari made him melt. He had never thought he would see a girl so pleased with his work.

After dinner, you both cuddled up in bed. He was playing with your fingers and you slowly hummed yourself to sleep. He looked at you and kissed your forehead, letting sleep catch up to him too.

…………………….

Time flew faster and you had moved in with Ari. you were working in the publishing house you’ve been wanting to and Ari had become a tenured professor at your alma mater.

It had been a year and a half since you graduated and moved in with Ari. your parents had met him and they liked him, even with the age difference between the two of you.

You wanted to get married to Ari. You had admitted that to yourself a month ago.

Ari wanted to get married to you. He finally had the courage to ask that to you after almost four years of togetherness. You will say three but he begs to differ but at the end of it all he always says that you are right.

You were out shopping for new books again with him. You were looking through the books when a gorgeous cover attracted you. You pulled it out and looked at it. It was a hardcover and it had beautiful art design on it of a couple in their coziest outfits. The title of the book said ‘Will You Marry Me?’

The couple on the book cover looked eerily similar but you paid no attention. You opened the book to see two rings laying in it. You gasped. You were about to put the book away when you felt a familiar pair of arms around your waist.

“The question is for you, baby.”

“Do I get to keep the book? Or is it the case? Whatever it is, do I get to keep it?”

“That's more important than the actual question?”

“Obviously! It's gorgeous. I'm not going to throw it away.”

“Yes, of course you get to keep it. It's yours. Now, answer the question, baby.”

“I thought the answer was obvious.”

“How?”

“I asked to keep the book.”

Ari turned you around and kissed you deeply and passionately in the bookstore, with no care of who was watching. He gave you a huge smile and slipped the ring on your finger and you did the same.

“Thank you for getting a ring for yourself too.”

“Of course, I knew you would have dragged me to the jeweler to get a matching one for me.”

“I want the world to know that Professor Ari Levinson is no longer up for grabs.”

“Point taken, Mrs. Levinson.”

[b14augrana]

Scrubber

Your first time with the national team, hoping you’ll find yourself being of importance to the team with your Vidić-reminiscent play style

Barça Femeni x teen!reader

pt. 6 masterlist

Warnings: the rfef ⚠️⚠️, a teeny bit of badly translated spanish and like one sentence of catalan, angst if u squint 🙂‍↕️

A/N: our scrubber is back 🥳🥳! this part is longer than usual, i hope you enjoy 💝

You couldn’t remember anything between landing in Denmark and waking up in your hotel room. You were still in the clothes you had travelled in, and neither Irene or Alexia were in the room… until the door opened and both of them were.

“(Y/N), get up, we’re going to breakfast,” Irene said, yanking the covers off. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, adjusting to the light beginning to peek into your room as Irene pulled up the blinds before her and Alexia left the room and left you to get ready.

It’s like you were on autopilot the whole time as you got into your Spain training kit and took the elevator down to the cafeteria. When the elevator stopped and the doors opened into the hotel’s foyer, it was easy to tell where the cafeteria was because of the voices you could hear.

Tentatively, you stepped into the room. Your eyes scanned every table for any sign of your Barça teammates, the only people you wanted to see right now amongst the abundance of other women that were now your new teammates.

When you saw Aitana and Irene’s heads amidst the crowd, your muscles relaxed with relief, and you made your way over to them swiftly.

“Buenos días,” you mumbled, sitting down beside Aitana, yawning as you cracked your neck. “Buenos días, (Y/N),” the brunette replied, smiling at you.

The room was packed with women, all wearing the same training gear as you. Some of them you recognised from times you versed then with your club; Laia Codina from Arsenal, Alba Redondo from Levante, Laia Aleixandri from Manchester City… and some Madridistas.

One thing about you was, you were passionate about Barça. In your eyes there was no ‘best club in the world’ debate, let alone best club in Spain — that title immediately went to Barça.

You were a Barça fan before you were a player, hence why you have always been well-versed in the club’s history, and therefore the history of the rivalry between Real Madrid and FC Barcelona.

You had bad experiences with Madridistas. El Clásicos were already competitive matches (for one side, at least), so you didn’t really like the way you were almost seemingly targeted by your rivals, due to your age. Irene and Mapi were never pelted by so many balls and forced into so many one-on-one duels.

Even though you were more than capable of crunching them, it exhausted you. You woke up the next morning with bruises you didn’t know had formed and grazes in odd spots that made you wonder what kind of tackles you were performing to get them in such areas.

The wingers gave you the most problems. They constantly cut into the middle, choosing to take you on. Part of you couldn’t blame them because you wouldn’t want to take on Lucy, Ona or Frido either, but what the hell?

The room was definitely not devoid of Madridistas. You could see Misa, their goalie, sitting with Alexandria. There was another face you recognised from those El Clásico matches, but it was a vague remembrance that made you think long and hard to remember the name. You only remembered her nickname within your Barça teammates; la hija de Frido.

Whatever. You’d figure it out later.

“Are you going to eat anything, nenita?” Irene asked from across the table, and you nodded hesitantly.

Leaning over, you whispered, “Can you come with me? Please?”

She nodded with a smile, standing up. “Aita, come with us. We’re going to get some food.”

You were always grateful for your Barça family. They’ve always been your big sisters, people you can trust and find comfort in, your second family.

(Except, they were basically your first family.)

You were more grateful for them than ever today, because this Spain camp was intimidating and scary, you knew nobody except your club teammates and you were pretty much lost.

All you wanted to do was cling onto Irene or Alexia or Aitana the entire day and never leave their side. Even as you were getting food and piling breakfast onto your plate, you stuck to Irene like glue.

With your plate in hand, you walked cautiously to balance all the food and prevent it dropping. You found yourself feeling way hungrier than normal, and you blamed it on the nerves as you placed your food onto the table.

"Irene, watch my food please," you said once she returned to the table with her own breakfast, "I'm going to get a drink."

"That's a lot of food, but I'll look after it anyways," the woman laughed, sitting down and dragging your plate beside hers. You returned to the buffet table and as you were debating on making yourself a cup of tea or just having a glass of ice water, another woman approached you from the side, bumping your shoulder.

Your lip subconsciously curled up, your nose scrunching. Your head snapped sideways to look at whoever it was that just bumped you, and a dirty blonde-brownish ponytail swished in your face.

It was the girl whose name you didn’t know, the Madridista. She was putting a couple slices of toast onto her plate, and it seemed like she hadn’t even realised she bumped you.

But it didn’t make sense. It was a solid shove which definitely wasn’t accidental..

Grabbing a glass from the collection on the table, you walked past her slowly, waiting for the perfect moment. As she placed her plate down and picked up a spoon to load some strawberries onto it, you took an extra step closer to her and shoved her shoulder with yours.

The strawberries she had picked up on the spoon all dropped back into the container upon the impact. You hurried over to the water jug to pour some into your glass, not looking at her for a moment despite being able to feel her cold glare on you.

Your shove was a bit harder than hers had initially been, but that was because you were bigger and probably stronger.

You returned to your table quickly, and Irene pushed your plate back towards you before you had even sat down.

“Who’s that girl, over there?” you asked Aitana and Irene, discreetly gesturing to the table behind you where she sat.

“You mean Misa?” Aitana questioned, and you shook your head. “No, the other one, the one she’s talking to.”

“Ohhh, that’s Athenea,” Aitana replied, and the name was suddenly very familiar to you. You had vivid memories of her getting sat by Frido during multiple Clásicos, and it was apparent that Aitana was reminiscing about the same events due to the laugh she was trying to suppress while talking about Athenea.

“She just bumped me off,” you explained, and Aitana’s eyes widened. “Did she apologise?”

You shook your head, giving her a shrug in return, “No. I couldn’t help myself and shoved her back, but I seriously didn’t mean to do it as hard as I did,” you responded, sighing.

Aitana rubbed your back and smiled, “Don’t worry about it, just eat. You need energy for training.”

As you put a piece of waffle into your mouth, you tried to recount all the interactions you’ve had with Athenea — there was the time you two-footed her out of nowhere when she managed to get past Irene, the time you had an aerial duel with her and she headed your shoulder instead of the ball, the time she lost the ball to you and it resulted in a goal…

You also remembered her unnecessary physicality when you didn’t have the ball, the snarky remarks she’d make to her teammates about you and your own teammates, and other coarse behaviour she displayed throughout each Clásico.

You went to stab another piece of your waffle until you realised you had eaten it all, along with the hash browns, fruits, toast and scrambled eggs.

Irene and Aitana had also finished their breakfast, and while Irene took a sip of her coffee, Aitana did the same with her orange juice.

“Vale,” Irene spoke, placing her coffee down, “Preparémosnos para entrenar.”

You were nervous for training. You weren’t sure if they’d be like Barça in terms of utilising your skills; would they be accepting of your play style or completely discard it, forcing you to play differently?

Your play style was an important part of you as a player, but also you as a person. It was the manifestation of your passion for Barça and the pride you felt whenever you got to wear the blaugrana.

It was also an ode to your idol who demonstrated what it means to give your all for the badge. Without your play style, you’re nothing.

It was the only thing you could think of as you strolled to the training pitch, boots in hand. You deliberately waited for everyone else to leave so you could loom behind them, and you planned to keep it that way until you found someone you properly knew.

Captain Irene was occupied with talking to some other players and Alexia was nowhere to be seen, but luckily Aitana was stretching by herself on the side. There was also Cata, but she was in the goal, getting warmed up by Salma.

You almost sprinted to Aitana, relieved that you didn’t have to spend another second wandering around aimlessly.

“Aita," you said, dropping your boots on the ground before sitting down, shaking your slides off and loosening the laces of your boots.

She got up from her lunge position and smiled, "Hola. Where's Ale?"

You shrugged and returned to trying to get your boot on. "Stupid sock boots..." you grunted, the elastic sock snapping against your ankle, making you wince.

“Why are you on your own?” you asked her, tying the laces of your boots as you watched her extend her leg outwards and reach over to touch her toes.

“I thought you’d want to be without the others for a bit,” Aitana responded simply. She was right — it was a huge relief to find her amongst all the clusters of people.

You missed Frido. You missed Mapi and Patri and Pina. You missed Barcelona.

You wished you could skip straight to playing football without having to introduce yourself to anyone or learn their ways. Obviously, that wasn’t the case.

“I’m scared, Aita. What if they think I’m too physical, or I don’t play– ‘Spanish’ enough?” you ranted, folding your arms across your body.

Aitana sat back up, letting go of her foot to cross her legs as she gazed at you and began to speak.

“Pequeñita, if you’re worried about fitting in, don’t be,” she started, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“You were there at the back when we needed you the most as our last-ditch defender, our last hope. If you weren’t so physical and dedicated to defending and not ‘Spanish enough’, we wouldn’t have a Champions League.”

You were born and raised in Spain, you knew Barcelona like the back of your hand and you spoke both languages. You were Spanish through and through, despite living in France for a couple odd years. You were Spanish. It was your idolisation of a non-Spanish, non-La Liga player that set you apart from the others.

You were about to respond, but your words were cut short by a tap on your shoulder. You glanced up, expecting to see Alexia, but it was Irene standing behind you.

“(Y/N), officials of the federation want to meet you,” she said in a low voice. You caught on to the way she glanced around, making sure nobody was around to hear.

Your eyes narrowed while Aitana’s widened, and you looked at Irene with an expression of uncertainty. “Do I have to go?”

You didn’t necessarily want to go, but you knew you weren’t left with much of a choice, and Irene’s nod confirmed that for you. You sighed, getting up from the grass and brushing off your shorts.

“Thank you, Aita,” you said, referring to the talk you two had earlier. She smiled and reached her hand out to squeeze yours gently, and you returned the gesture with a small smile of your own. “I’ll tell you everything!”

You left your gear in the care of Aitana as you and Irene made your way to the head office. You were nervous and a bit scared of what was about to happen, because the personal stories you’ve heard about the federation haven’t been good ones. Nonetheless, you walked beside Irene and waited in front of the mahogany wood door as she knocked on it, and it opened to reveal about three officials sitting around a table.

Your skin felt hot and feverish as you stepped over the threshold. The amount of eyes on you was unsettling, and if Irene wasn’t beside you, the feeling of discomfort blooming in your stomach would be way stronger.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” the man at the door asked, and you nodded nervously. Your eyes flickered up to Irene whose jaw was set, her cold glare fixed on the man as he spoke to you, “Please, sit.”

You slowly walked to the nearest seat and sunk into it. Irene did the same, pulling out a seat beside you and crossing her arms across her chest.

A man across the table began to speak once you two had taken your seats, “(Y/N), we’ve been very eager to meet you ever since your debut in Liga F.”

You clenched your jaw, unsure of where this conversation was going. You simply nodded, trying to hold your tongue and refrain from speaking for as long as possible.

“You’re very talented, especially given your age. Barça’s prodigy, the new stargirl…” he continued.

Leaning across the table, he spoke, “I’ve never seen a player that plays like you, especially in Spain. Have you always played for Barça, or wanted to?”

Your answer came without any hesitation. “Barça is my home. I am Barça through and through, forever. I’m just inspired by someone else whose passion aligns with mine.”

“You’re different. I’ve seen your play style, and it goes hand in hand with fearlessness and elegance. That’s why we called you up because after one of our best defenders withdrew from the squad… we haven’t been the same.”

You didn’t need a rocket scientist to figure out who he was referring to. Your hands gripped the armrests of your seat as you responded, “I can’t replace the likes of Mapi.”

You were already sick and tired of this conversation. The mention of Mapi unsettled you all over again, because you knew that something happened between her and these very same officials that led to her withdrawing from representing her nation, and you didn’t want to be in the company of the people that forced her to feel such a way and make that decision.

“We’re working on fostering a healthy environment at our camps–”

Irene stood up, her chair scraping across the floor with an unpleasant noise that grabbed everyone’s attention. “Work harder. I don’t want anyone playing another season under poor leadership,” she snapped. Her arm shot down to yours, tugging you up gently. Her tone was everything but gentle.

“My player needs to get back to training. We’re done here.”

You were eternally grateful for Irene. You got to your feet and quickly exited the room, aware of her storming out and slamming the door behind you two.

“The federation has lacked a ‘healthy environment’ for a while,” Irene frowned, slowing down in pace and breaking into more of a stroll.

“Don’t let their shitty leadership make you feel bad about this opportunity. Just like everyone else, you’re here to play football and win the Olympics. Forget the federation.”

It was easier said than done — both of you knew that — but neither of you said anything about it as you walked back to the pitch.

When you entered into the grassy clearing, Aitana and Alexia were nearby practicing their headers. They stopped when they noticed you and Irene, and they quickly came over to you guys.

“What happened?” Aitana asked, her expression slightly concerned, much like Alexia’s. You told them about everything that happened in the meeting (with some help from Irene), and at the end of your explanation, the two Spaniards didn’t look any less concerned.

“We’re praying the new coach and president do something to change the culture in the federation,” Alexia finally said, and you sighed. “Let’s hope so.”

“La hija de Frido is staring,” you grumbled, earning a laugh from Aitana who glanced in her direction. Indeed, Athenea was looking at your group with a firm glare, her Real Madrid teammate on the side trying to grab her attention.

“What’s wrong with her? Did something happen?” Alexia asked, and you shrugged. “She doesn’t like me that much, I think. Maybe because, y’know, she’s not exactly a challenge for me to defend…” you said with a nervous smile. Aitana’s laughter only increased, and a smile appeared on Alexia’s face.

“Barça es la millor!” she cheered happily, embracing you in a side hug.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

For the blog event, how about Ruggie introducing his granny to Leona? Granny Buchi being a strong/confident women making the best of her situation (plus Leona all around attitude towards women) makes me think he’d respect her.

Leona Granny Killer Kingscholar Part II :v (Part I here!)

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

“…san………… eo…na… san…… Leona-san!!”

The lion beastman released a growl as he reluctantly pulled himself up. As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, his senses readjusted to his environment—the humid warmth of the Botanical Garden, the cool shade provided by a broad leaf, the colors and shapes of the surrounding plants and flowers.

A scraggly boy with a cap of dirty blonde hair stood over him, dressed in the warm yellow vest and armband of Savanaclaw. Leona would know that easygoing smile anywhere.

“You’d better have a good excuse for interrupting my nap, Ruggie,” he grumbled, laying an arm over his knee. His head still spun with distant recollections of an unfinished dream, something about a singing meerkat and a warthog.

"Nishishi, of course I do," the hyena smirked, his ears wiggling excitedly. "There's someone important I want'cha to meet!"

He stepped aside, thrusting his arms out and wiggling his fingers in fanfare. "Ta-daaah! Meet... my granny!!"

"Your... granny?!"

A stooped elderly woman shuffled into view. Fabrics of all patterns and sizes were draped on her small frame, and her sandals were greatly frayed. They told the same story: clothing chosen by necessity and practicality, not fashion.

Her face, withered by laugh lines and crow's feet, told of her legacy without words. Here was a woman who had laughed and cried, struggled and fought, since taking her first breath. She was a survivor.

The woman squinted at Leona (he vaguely recalled Ruggie lamenting that his family was not able to afford vision correction), then smiled. "You're Ruggie's friend the prince, ain't 'cha? It's an honor to meet you, sonny."

On shaking knees, she descended into a bow.

Leona blinked. Called a cursed child by the palace servants, robbed of his right to the throne, he hadn't expected an ounce of recognition from any of his people. Yet here she was, genuflecting to the scorned second born.

"... Raise your head," Leona ordered. "There's no need for that. I'm no king."

"I ain't bowin' to ya because of that! I'm payin' my respects to the man that turned our lives ‘round."

“… What’s Ruggie been running his mouth about now?”

“Just the truth! You know me, Leona-san! I’d never lie.” The impish grin on Ruggie suggested otherwise. “You tutor me and give me free stuff—like clothes you don’t want anymore. I even get to bring back extra dough while being a student thanks to babysitting… er, I mean running errands for you! It’s really upped our quality of life.”

“That it?” Leona scoffed quietly. “I don’t need praise for doing so little. This is nothing.”

Improving one family’s life isn’t worth much. Not when there’s so many others that need it too.

“No, Ruggie’s right. You don’t need to be humble,” Granny Bucchi crowed. She placed a hand on Leona’s—and he almost flinched at how small she was, how she shook from old age. "I'm a good judge of character. I don’t believe all the hooey they say about ya. When I look at you, Leona-sama… I know our country’s future is in good hands. I can only hope I live long enough to see it!!”

The elderly hyena laughed at her own dark joke. The laughs quickly devolving into coughing and wheezing, Granny Bucchi nearly folding in half.

“Oi, take it easy,” Leona muttered. He moved an arm behind her to offer support and placed his body in front of the woman, preparing to catch her if it came to that.

“What a gent,” Ruggie snickered, earning a languid look from his dorm leader.

“Only a heartless monster would stand by and let a woman keel over,” he scoffed. “… Hey, you good?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, brushing him off. “Appreciate the concern, youngster.”

“… Right.” Leona rescinded, as per her request.

“See? What’s I tell ya, Granny? Leona-san has a biiig heart after all,” Ruggie teased. “He helps out little old ladies!”

“Little old ladies?” The lion scoffed, his tail flicking. “Don’t insult your grandmother, Ruggie. This woman single handedly raised you from your diapers. She clothed you, bathed you, fed you, and loved you. She’s resourceful. A survivor. And she made you one too. You owe a lot to this ‘little old lady’—so show her more gratitude than that.”

Ruggie stared at him, jaw open. “Ehhh… You’re seriously gonna lecture me in front of my granny?! You’re so mean to your right-hand hyena!!”

Granny Bucchi hooted. “Hahahah, I like you! You put my Ruggie in his place. Nothin’ like the usual royals. You’re a man of the common folk.”

“Hah.” Leona failed to suppress a chortle. A man of the common folk, huh? “I wonder…”