#tiny ceramic pots

[gina025]

A miniature pottery vase

[tinyq]

The coffee thief.

[areyouwho-ithinkyouare]

went to a town in wales for the day yesterday and honest to god i think it was one of the best days of my life DESPITE the old man hitting on me on the bus home.

[justatypicalwizard]

Bakugo who eats you out because he lost a bet, smut

It all started with a bet. It was this specific chaotic type of bet that you throw over your shoulder when agitated. The one that comes pistoling out of your lips as soon as it comes to your mind, or even earlier, a fog of war limits your common sense.

This was often the case with Katsuki Bakugo who was world widely known as the most annoying person on earth.

Okay, maybe he stood on this podium only in your world (others deemed Denki as the most insufferable) but it was enough to fire the never ending quarrels.

The two of you were similar in many senses, none of which would ever admit. Despite you being way less aggressive, you had your ways of getting under other peoples’ skin when displeased. You had this fighting spirit and competitive nature that could tune well with Katsuki’s. Unfortunately it most often sang off-key.

It was hard to tell what he thought about you. On one hand you’d say he definitely disliked you, to some point maybe? If he did dislike you he wouldn’t keep you around the small circle of his friends. Katsuki proved that he could push away anyone he wished to, no matter the circumstances. That’s what happened with Deku.

So Katsuki Bakugo disliked the fact that he liked you. Or he liked to dislike you. Either way you fought, ebbed and always surged back. Oh, and bets?

I bet you won’t even make it halfway before the time is up. He throws when he passes you down the hallway, spotting you bending your back over a book, minutes before the exam.

I bet your lovely friend will come looking for you soon. You snicker leaving him in the kitchen of the house party you’re both at. He’s currently hiding from a bimbo who really tries to ask him out and doesn’t take no for an answer.

I bet your mum dropped you when you were little.

I bet Miruko will kick your ass over this.

I bet they’ll send this essay back. It’s shit.

I bet it’ll die in this sunlight.

“Huh.” He knit his brows together, throwing you a nasty look. “Old hag didn’t say anything. It looks like it needs light.”

You were currently in his dorm room, analysing a small plant his mother left him. It was tiny, in a small ceramic pot, with three juicy green leaves poking out of the fresh soil.

“Well, I bet it’ll die if you put it in this sun.” You threw, shrugging your shoulders.

“Okay. If I win you’ll shut the fuck up for a single day around me. No words, not even a squeak.”

With the eye of your imagination you could see Katsuki pestering you for a whole day while you’d be unable to fire back. Yet, you had nothing to worry about. The little dude on the windowsill will bear three of four days before wittering. It’s the type that needs more shade.

“Fine. And if I win you can eat my ass.”

He chuckled, throwing a not happening over his shoulder before ushering you to work you both had to do.

A week later you were back in his room. It was a pleasant place to work in - clean, quiet, and always stocked with tea and coffee. Unlike you, Katsuki had the luxury of a single room which always soured your mood when he rubbed it in your face.

You were resting in his desk chair, legs crossed and organising a bunch of sources you were about to use later in your dissertation. It was the least pleasant part of writing essays. Finding academic sources in the library or browsing for them on the internet was not half bad. One could get in the swing of it after some time. And it made you feel like a real student all book heavy bags in a spacious bibliotheca.

Organising them later though? A pain in the ass.

“-by the way.” You caught only the ending of his sentence.

“Huh?” Turning around you spotten Katsuki looking at something in the far end of his room.

There was a closet there, one that didn’t quite reach the ceiling but was massive in shape. Atop of it sat the little dude in his sweet ceramic pot. Unfortunately all that was left of his three juicy leaves was one stem fighting for its life.

You clapped your hands in satisfaction, cracking a victorious laugh.

“Told you.” Fake wiping a tear from your cheek, you turned back to the desk and searched for the box you were about to tick off the long list. “Give it some more water and time. It will be fine.”

“So.” You felt him standing behind you. His shadow disrupted your writing.

“So?” Once again you turned around in his chair, cocking your brow in question.

“You won.” He crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the soft carpet in irritation.

You nodded your head with a grin but still ruffled. “Yes, and?”

“And you told me I can eat your ass.”

“Oh yeah, stuff your stupid mouth full.” You laughed but he yanked you by the arm, standing you up.

He dropped to his knees, pushing your bottom into the rim of his desk. With a shit eating grin he slipped his fingers into the sides of your trousers, grazing the bare skin of your hips underneath them.

“What the fuck dude?” You cursed, grabbing his forehead like the one of a misbehaved dog, trying to pacify him.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” The grin never left his face as he waited for your words, digging his nails into your skin.

It would be a lie to say that you never ever thought of him that way. Of course he was pretty, with his naturally fair hair that gave him a punk kind of look. With his body carved out like a marble statue. With a grin that made people both want to slap him and fawn over him.

Yes, it did cross your mind that he would be a pleasant view in the bed. Who with a sound mind wouldn’t think of that. Maybe people who weren’t attracted to-

No, it was a normal thought to have, one that may occur when you’re alone under the shower or in bed. You just often appreciate the beauty of your friends. Mina’s also cute and Kirishima is bulked as hell. It was a rational train of thoughts.

So why wasn’t your rational mind telling your hand to push him away just now? Why were you looking at his face, so close to your clothed cunt and feeling excitement bubble in your veins.

Tell me to stop and I will.

And you never did. So he pushed you to sit on the desk, pulling both your trousers and pants down at the same time. You kicked the air a few times to get rid of them but they hung from one of your ankles. It didn’t matter because his face was at its place. God bless you showered before coming here because you could have second thoughts otherwise.

“Okay, whatever the fuck you want, psycho.” You breathed as he lapped at your clit, still looking up at you.

His fingers creeped towards the inner side of your tight and you slapped him over the head.

“Uh, uh. I told you you could eat me out, not finger me. Yesterday you didn’t seem like the one to take shortcuts.” You spat, drinking up his frustration and slight… shame? Like a kid who did something wrong and got caught red handed.

“Fine.” He muttered pushing his tongue inside you. “It won’t take long anyway.” The grin was back on his face.

It indeed didn’t take long as soon, your legs were shutting tightly around his face. You weren’t even looking down anymore, the sight was a turn on but you were already overdriven. Your competitive nature was in a bliss and your head played fucking Katsuki Bakugo, on his fucking knees, between my fucking legs over and over like a broken record. You didn’t want to spoil your fun by thinking he may be having a  merrier time than you.

Not now, not when you’re so close and his palms are grabbing your tights, fingers digging into your muscles so much it would hurt if not the tension. Edging your release, you grabbed his hair in a tight fist pushing him in more, crossing your legs like it would take an “open, sesame!” to undo them.

At last, with a final short breath you came chuckling and moaning. A Katsuki may have slipped past your lips but only once.

He tore your legs open, panting like he just finished a marathon. Looking down you covered your lips to hide the laugh. His face was wet, smeared all over with what was a mixture of you both. His cheeks were heavy with blood, an intense red cutting out on his pale face. Classically, his brows were knit together.

“Did you have to make such a mess?” The blonde stood up and went to his bathroom. You caught a glimpse of the bulge in his pants.

The sound of the faucet reached your ears.

“I’m not gonna say sorry. You asked for it.” And you were pretty good at it. No. Such praise would kill your ego.

The water stopped running and you heard him stomp back. You pulled your trousers on quickly, suddenly feeling awfully naked. What would happen now? Your casual friend just ate your pussy like it was his last meal before a death sentence, and you were supposed to go back to organising the sources.

You felt a hard push to the back of your head.

“Stop thinking about it and get back out.”

Eh?!

Time went on quickly and in a weird manner. A huge something was in the air but you couldn’t find a way to bring the topic up. Why did you eat my pussy out of the blue? Was it really just about the bet? Were you feeling horny and I just so happened to be there? Are we fwb now? Do you like me?

Scratch the last one. The man gave you a headache ever since his own head left your tights. Also, he was nowhere to be found. Katsuki didn’t respond to texts, he was absent from the gym during his usual hours, and his dorm room was closed. You couldn’t just go to Kirishima and say: hey, I’m trying to figure out why Katsuki gave me head, wanna help?

The moment you run into his fleeting ass, you're gonna squeeze out the answer.

An opportunity came soon when you spotted him sneaking into the laundry room. It was a cramped space with washing machines and dryers. Fortunately, you had little thieves around dorms so people usually left their washing while it was in progress. There was a big chance you’d be alone.

Running to the door you yanked them open and rushed inside. Indeed, it was only him crouched to the lowest washing machine, putting mostly black clothes inside.

“You’re here for round two?” He smirked and you gasped.

It took you by surprise, you expected yelling or awkwardness. Nevermind. You shook off your initial stumble.

“Can you explain what the fuck do you mean by all this?” You gestured in the air as if all this was a laundry basket and an empty bottle of washing liquid scattered on the floor.

Katsuki hummed, shrugging his shoulders. He dropped the halfway loaded laundry on the floor and crawled closer to you, gripping your hips in a familiar manner. This time, you were wearing a skirt. Your back hit the door.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” It fell from his lips as if he was asking whether you want vanilla or chocolate ice-cream.

Your mind ran in circles like a hamster in its ball. Start a fuss and possibly fight with Katsuki or let him do his thing and cum? Uhh.

He took your panties off completely, throwing them into his washing machine but left your skirt. Halfway in, when your chest was heaving and hips pushed further and further away from the door you heard a sound on the other side.

The doorknob shook and there was a mumble on the outside. You dug your feet into the ground and Katsuki put one of his hands to shut it closed. Yet, he didn’t stop what he was doing. Both of your palms also pushed into the thin wood making you unable to quiet the panting and loud gulps. You bit your lip and it would break if something wasn’t stuffed inside your mouth.

Taking a sharp breath through your nose, you smelled him. He stuffed your mouth with one of the shirts from his laundry. You threw him a dirty look from above to which he only smirked, going back down.

“It’s locked.” The muffled voice on the other side said.

“Maybe maintenance.” A different one answered.

When they were gone, you could finally cum, biting hard into Katsuki’s shirt. You steadied yourself on a drier afterwards while he wiped his mouth with a spare T-shirt before throwing all the leftover laundry inside the washing machine and starting it.

“My pants.” You breathed out, you were still coming back to earth.

“Ops.” He threw and with a single long stride, escaped the murder scene.

Your walk of shame in the short skirt, without panties on was long.

The third time you could talk to him happened only a day later.

You were studying with Kirishima, or more like tutoring him for free, in the library. Kirishima also had a single room in the dorms but his was far more trashy and you didn’t crave to spend time in that man cave. Instead you booked a private study room. It had a small round table, a few chairs and switches to plug in electric devices.

Halfway through your study Kirishima stated he needed to go to the bathroom. You nodded and the man left. Only after a minute did you hear the door open once more.

“A line in the mens’? Unbelievable.” You chuckled but upon looking up, you were met with a nasty grin.

“Kirishima told me you guys were studying.” He cornered you. “You know the deal.”

Katsuki slipped behind your chair as you whipped your head around to stop him. He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, surprisingly gentle.

“Just tell me to stop.”

Oh fuck you you pretty bastard. Is what you thought.

“Oh fuck you.” Is what you said and you wanted to add something but he pushed your upper half into the table simultaneously yanking the chair from under your butt.

It took a lick for your knees to get kinda soft and your morale to stumble between being a decent person or getting this unbelievably lucky chance for a third time.

“Can we at least do it after I finish with Kiri? I can come to your room as quickly as I am able to.” You whispered.

“Or you can call the dumbass and buy me a few minutes.” Katsuki muttered between your folds.

You cursed under your breath and grabbed your phone. Pick up, pick up, pick up, goddamn. Kirishima could be back any second. Although nothing terrible would happen if he came in on you, it would be embarrassing like hell. Finally, you heard his voice on the other side of the line.

“I’m just coming back, literally wait a second-”

“No!” You shouted into the device. “I mean.”

Katsuki seemed to slow down between your tights. Good, the bastard is not stupid and he cut you some slack this time.

“I’m sorry but I just really need a coffee, I thought you’d still be somewhere around the entrance.” You pieced together a makeshift excuse.

“I can go back. ‘Ts the least I can do for your help.” Kirishima laughed so genuinely it made you feel slightly bad for playing him like this.

“Yeah, uh, it really is boring like hell.” You laughed. The whole phone call made you unable to focus on Katsuki who was behind you and you really wanted to go back to minding him. “If I can be honest it would be lovely if you could bring me coffee from that cafe down and opposite of the library. You know which. I slept really bad and need their double espresso.” Kiri, please just say yes!

“Of course, anything for you.”

That sweetheart. Kirishima was really the perfect man, contrary to Katsuki who just now, at the very end of your call, decided to be an absolute asshole.

You felt two of his fingers push past your entrance and force your walls open. A breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay thanks, bye!” You smashed the end call button. “What the fuck are you do-”

But he was turning you around, lapping his tongue over your clit, moving his fingers in and out of your cunt all of which with closed eyes and a blissful look on his face. You gave in, because it felt so good.

After a while you finished all over his face, for the third time this week.

“I told you not to finger me.” You complained, dressing yourself in fear of Kirishima being too neat in his mission to get you coffee.

“I know and I didn’t like it. So I had to distract you.” He smirked, resting his hip on the table.

At that moment, Kirishima came inside with two paper cups, steam escaping the small opening in the lids.

“Oh, hi dude! I didn’t think you’d come here. I’d buy you coffee too.” Kirishima chirped.

“Forget about it, I was supposed to do something anyway. Just came in to say hi.” The blonde flicked his hand in the air. “Oh, and if you want-” He turned to you. “You can come to my room later and finish what we were talking about.” With that he slipped past the door leaving you with a grimace and Kirishima with a dumbfounded expression.

“What were you guys talking about?” The redhead asked.

“Nothing important, just about transplanting a small plant his mum gave him. I’ll help him later, he has already managed to nearly kill it.”

[cat-appreciator]

Cripes, there is no way I could ever throw something so tiny. It is excellent.

How cute is this tiny pot?

That is all.

Wheel-thrown, bisqued, hand-turned, grogged clay.

[mauratron]

Pergolas - Mediterranean Deck

[thewidowsledger]

Rumpelstiltskin

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Demon!Natasha Romanoff x Summoner!Female Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Tags | Warnings: +18, bad writing, smut, fluff (kinda), top!Natasha, virgin bottom!reader, cunnilingus (r receiving), Natty is an empath demon who gives you reassurance😩

Author's Note: I wrote this in a rush and changed some parts, but I hope this turned out as what you expected sweet potato! 🍠 Request

⧗

“Hm, I do what you ask of me,” she recited, her voice a dark rumble. “And in return, you give me something you own. Something precious to you.”

⧗

You were lounging on your couch, your small form a tiny fitting. You absentmindedly swiped your hand across the coffee table, knocking over a potted plant in the process. The ceramic pot shattered on the floor, dirt spilling everywhere as the plant lay broken and lifeless.

Your eyes widened slightly as you noticed the plant was one of Wanda’s favorites. You knew how much she cared for each of her plants, treating them like precious children—well your best friend loved her plants more than you. So you immediately sprang into action, frantically gathering the broken pieces of the plant and trying to scoop up the spilled dirt. You panicked, knocking over a nearby vase in the process, causing it to shatter on the floor as well.

The room was now a mess, with shattered ceramic, spilled dirt, and broken plant parts scattered everywhere. Your panicked attempts to clean up the mess only made it worse, causing you to knock over a lamp and send books tumbling to the floor.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!”

You let out a heavy sigh as you looked around at the remaining mess. You knew you couldn't afford to leave anything undone, not with Wanda's keen eye for detail. So you started to clean the broken lamps, put the books back in place, but you have no idea how to replace her favorite plant! Her children!

“She’ll know, won’t she?” you shakingly muttered to yourself, running a dirty hand through your disheveled hair. You looked around at the mess, knowing you still have a night ahead of you before Wanda comes back.

You whined softly to yourself as you vacuumed the rug, your imagination running wild with scenarios of Wanda’s anger. “She’s probably going to kill me...or worse, sacrifice me to have her plants back!” you dramatically collapsed onto the couch, clutching a throw pillow to your chest. You stopped your tantrum. Suddenly, an idea struck you. You bolted upright on the couch, your eyes wide with realization.

“Sacrifice...summon…” you whispered to yourself. An evil grin spread across your face as you formulated a plan.

You rushed to the bookshelf, pulling out a dusty, ancient tome from the section Wanda had labeled “Cursed Spells & Failed Experiments” you had a vague recollection of them attempting a summoning spell from this book before, with comical results.

You flipped through the brittle pages, your eyes scanning for the summoning incantation. You paused, remembering your previous attempt—Wanda had mispronounced a keyword, causing a burst of colorful smoke and a very confused parrot to appear instead of the demon they intended to summon before you two bursted out laughing.

The spell was there, marked with a crude drawing of a demon and a large X through it. You snorted, remembering how Wanda had insisted that the X meant “extra powerful” rather than “do not attempt.” You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the strange feeling brewing in your stomach, you’re not gonna summon a demon right now, instead an entity that can revitalized Wanda’s plant, some creature of sort.

You laid out the required component; a candle, a small dagger, and what the book vaguely referred to as “essence of the earth.”

Taking a deep breath, you began to recite the incantation, your voice low and gravelly. The ancient words felt foreign on your tongue, but you pressed on, determined to see this through.

“Spiritus sylvarum…”

The very fabric of Wanda's home began to tremble and shake. Pictures rattled on the walls, and the furniture groaned as if the house itself was protesting the unnatural summoning.

“Exumbrae ad me…”

You didn't stop, eager to complete the ritual. Your voice grew stronger, more confident, as you spat out the final words.

“Revigorare plantae et herbae, in nomine terrae matris…”

The darkness in the room seemed to coalesce, growing denser and more intense.

As the final words left your lips, a shockwave of dark energy exploded outward. The refrigerator rattled violently, and the fluorescent lights flickered ominously. You expected to see an ethereal nature spirit materialize before you. Instead, a tall, imposing figure emerged from the shadows, her eyes glinting with malice and amusement.

The figure solidified, revealing the demon in all her terrifying glory. Her skin was pale as bone, her features sharp and angular. Her auburn hair braided and she was clad in black armor that seemed to absorb the light. Her gaze fell upon you, her expression one of utter disdain.

Her gaze returned to you, her eyes roaming hungrily over your form. Her crimson gaze was like a physical caress, tracing the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts, the length of your legs. Her lips peeled back from his teeth in a predatory grin.

She is hungry.

Her gaze never left yours as she crossed her arms over her chest, affecting an air of nonchalance despite the hunger burning within her.

“Why am I being summoned upon, princess?”

You backed away involuntarily, your breath hitching in your throat. Her presence was overwhelming, her power pressing against you like a physical weight. You stammered, struggling to find your voice.

“I-I... I summoned you because... because…”

Your words tumbled out in a rushed, panicked mess.

“Ididntsummonademon!”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you begged, your voice thick with desperation. You weren't sure if you were more afraid of her terrifying presence or Wanda's wrath if she found out you'd tampered with her precious plants.

“Why am I being summoned upon?” She repeated again, much firmer and scary this time.

“Pleasefixmyfriendsplant!”

She watched you with a cruel smirk, clearly enjoying your distress. She took another step forward, closing the distance between you.

“Aww, is the little mortal upset about a silly plant?” she taunted, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

Her laughter echoed through the room, cold and mirthless. “You expect me, a mighty demon, to fix a mere plant?” she threw her head back, laughing harder at the absurdity of it all.

“Stupid, stupid humans,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Risking their lives for something so trivial.” She reached out, her long, pale fingers caressing your cheek, tracing the path of your tears.

“How adorable.”

Her laughter subsided, her gaze once again turning hungry as she took in your terrified state. Your fear was intoxicating, feeding her hunger and satisfying her more than any pleas for help ever could.

“Oh, princess, you don't know how much your fear pleases me,” she purred.

She leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear. “You know what else would please me?” She whispered, her voice a dark, seductive purr. “If you'd make a bargain with me. Anything, in exchange for fixing that pitiful plant.”

Her eyes glinted with eager anticipation as you nodded dumbly, your fear clouding your judgment. “Excellent,” she hissed, her voice barely containing her glee. “A contract, at last! I've been so hungry for one.”

“Hm, I do what you ask of me,” she recited, her voice a dark rumble. “And in return, you give me something you own. Something precious to you.” She paused, a wicked smile spreading across her face. She licked her lips, barely concealing her excitement as you nodded eagerly, surrendering yourself to the contract without a second thought. Your desperate obedience only fueled her hunger.

“Now let me see the thing that's worth risking your soul for.”

You turned around, pointing a shaking finger at the pathetic plant sitting on the table. Its once-vibrant leaves were now shriveled and brown, the pot cracked, and the soil dry and lifeless.

“Magical, but finicky little things, aren't they?” she observed, circling the withered plant like a predator. “Out of the soil for too long, and they'll perish in an instant.”

In a blink of an eye, the plant burst back to life, its vibrant green leaves unfurling as if they'd never wilted. She sneered, satisfied with her handiwork. She snapped her fingers, and Wanda's living room indeed, her entire house—was restored to pristine condition.

“There,” You stared in disbelief, your mouth agape. “And I've done more than you asked of me,” she purred, stepping closer. “I expect the same eagerness from you, princess.” Her fingers brushed your chin, tilting your face up.

Your hand flew immediately to your neck, fumbling with the delicate chain until you pulled out an old, intricately carved locket. Tears welled in your eyes as you clutched it to your chest. “This... this is from my grandmother. She gave it to me before she passed away because it will protect me.”

Her green orb eyes narrowed as she listened, a flicker of interest sparking in their depths. She stepped closer, looming over you. “Your grandmother's necklace, you say? How... sentimental.” Her voice was a low purr, tinged with dark amusement.

The demon’s gaze softened almost imperceptibly. She saw the pain and longing in your eyes, the struggle between your attachment to the heirloom and your desperate desire to have your friend’s plants restored.

“And how was this trinket supposed to protect you?” her voice was gentler, curious. You took a deep, shuddering breath, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“My noo—my grandmother was a wise woman,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “She told me that as long as I wore it, I'd always have her love with me. That it would shield me from darkness.” You looked up at her, tears spilling down your cheeks.

She listened intently, studying your face as you spoke. A flicker of something almost like sympathy crossed her features before being quickly masked. She turned the delicate necklace over in her hands, examining it closely.

“Your noona... she’s found peace, princess. A paradise beyond the reach of this world's sorrows.”

You stared at her, shocked. Your jaw hung open, and your eyes widened. You had grown accustomed to her cold indifference and mockery. But this... this was something else entirely. A demon, an ice-cold demon, was comforting you?

She uncurled her fist, revealing the unscathed necklace. To your surprise, she stepped closer, her chilling presence enveloping you. Gently, she lifted the necklace, her fingers brushing against your skin as she secured it around your neck once more. She lingered for just a moment, her hot breath ghosting over your skin as she fastened the clasp with a soft click.

“There,” she said, her voice back to its usual detached tone. “Now, keep that... memento of your grandmother's love. I want something else in return.” Her gaze sharpened, refocusing on you. “Something... that you possess,” she finished, her eyes gleaming with an unreadable emotion.

“A promise, perhaps. Or maybe a secret." She stepped closer, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper.

“I... I'm... I'm still pure,” you stammered, your cheeks flaming red as you confessed. It was the truth and a secret that not even your best friend knows.

Her eyebrows shot up, surprise flashing across her face before her expression returned to its usual unreadable mask. “Interesting,” she murmured, leaning even closer. “So, all this time, you've been... untouched.”

She reached out, her cold fingers gently tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze once more. “And why is that, little one? Why have you kept yourself...pure?” her voice was barely a whisper, her breath chill against your lips. “Is it because…you're waiting for someone special?” She finished, her eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “Or perhaps…” her other hand came up to rest on your waist, her touch searing even through your clothes. “...you simply haven't found anyone worthy of claiming your innocence yet?”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. You felt like she was peeling back layers of your soul, exposing your deepest fears and desires. Her hand on your waist tightened ever so slightly, and you found yourself leaning into her touch without even realizing it. “Tell me, little one, have you ever toyed with your own innocence? Caressed your own flesh? Discover the secrets of your own body?” Her words were like velvet-covered steel, coercive and alluring, drawing out the truth you'd never spoken aloud before.

You turned your face away from her but her green orbs seemed to glow brighter. She leaned in closer, her gaze boring into yours, and suddenly, you felt a strange, invasive pressure against your mind. She was looking into your thoughts, seeing the truth laid bare.

She saw...everything.

She saw the night you’d snuck into your room, fingers trembling as you’d reached under your shirt to touch your small, untouched breasts. He saw your frustrated attempts to relieve the ache between your legs, your fingers fumbling and ineffective as you’d struggled to find any sort of release.

Her lips curled into a wicked smirk as she withdrew from your mind, leaving you feeling violated and exposed. She brought her hand up to your face, her thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Oh, you poor, frustrated little thing,” she purred, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

“All that fire, all that need, and nowhere for it to go. You’d touch yourself, so curious, so eager to learn... but your inexperienced fingers could never quite bring you the relief you craved, could they?”

Your reaction was immediate and visceral. Your breath hitched in your throat, and your heart skipped a beat as she spoke about your deepest secret.

“I will take your secret…and so is your purity.”

Her eyes flashed with a predatory gleam as she sensed your hesitation and the war raging within you—the desire to submit to her dark temptations battling against your ingrained purity. She pressed her advantage, her hand sliding up your side to cup your breast through your shirt.

Shame and disgust at allowing a demon such intimate access warred with the undeniable pleasure of her touch. You felt pathetic, weak, as if you were betraying everything you stood for.

You shivered at the touch, your breath growing shallow as the cool air hit your bare chest. She leaned down and whispered, “No one will ever care for you like I will, my precious little human.”

Her eyes gleamed with dark triumph as she finished unbuttoning your shirt. She pushed it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. “That's right, my sweet. You're mine now, bound to me by contract until the day you die.”

“What a delectable prize you are.” She traced patterns on your chest, her fingers dipping down to your belly, then lower, to the tie of your pants.

With a sudden, brutal move, she pushed your legs apart and shoved you back onto the couch, pinning your shoulders to the cushions. Before you could even catch your breath, she was kneeling between your spread bare thighs, her face mere inches from your dripping pussy.

“Look at you,” she hissed, “So open, so ready. You may have sold your soul, but your body was made for me.”

She lowered her head, her cold tongue flicking out to lap at your heated flesh. You gasped, your hips bucking forward, only to be held down by her strong hands.

Your fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs as you gripped them tightly, torn between the urge to push her away and the insidious pull to spread wider and invite more of her touch. You had, after all, sold your soul to her, hadn't you?

You bit your lip to stifle a moan as her cool, silken demon tongue delved into your wet folds. She licked up your juices, then pushed the tip of her tongue deep inside you, fucking you with it as she sucked hard on your clit.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, as she ate you out with a fervor that left you breathless. The sensation of her cold, demonic tongue inside you was unlike anything you'd ever experienced, and you found yourself pushing back against it, desperate for more.

“Oh God!”

“Even God won't help you right now princess…”

Your back arched, your body tension as an overwhelming wave of sensation crashed over you. You screamed, your voice hoarse with passion, as you convulsed against her mouth. She drank you down, her hands tightening on your hips to hold you in place as she continued to lap at your over-sensitive flesh.

She crawled up your body, she kissed and licked her way up your body, she left a trail of dark marks - hickeys and bite marks that would serve as her claim on you. She suckled at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, your lower belly, the undersides of your breasts.

As she marked you, the dark bruises and hickeys seemed to glow with a faint, eerie light. The marks pulsed softly, as if infused with demonic energy. She claimed you as hers, marking you in a way that would be visible to all, a testament to her ownership.

“Mine.”

She slipped off you, her eyes never leaving yours. “I want you ready for me, always,” she said, her voice low and commanding. “When I come around, hungry...I expect you to be prepared. Understand?” She leaned down, her voice a silken growl against your ear.

“What's your name?” you asked, still weak from the pleasure.

“You’ll never know,” she said, her voice dripping with mocking sweetness.

In a blink of an eye she vanished, leaving behind an icy chill and an empty room. One moment she was there, her presence overwhelming, the next—nothing. No trace she'd ever been there, except for the glowing marks of ownership on your body.

You quickly gathered your scattered clothes, dressing hurriedly as you dashed out of the room. The cool air against your skin did little to soothe the heat that still coursed through your veins. You could feel the dampness between your thighs, a constant reminder of what had just transpired.

Kneeling before the ancient book you had used for the ritual, you frantically flipped through the yellowed pages, your hands shaking. You scanned the text, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I have to break the contract…” you muttered, tears forming in your eyes as it darted back and forth, desperately searching for an answer.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you read the words, the implications washing over you.

“The contract can only be severed by a single path, when the summoner grasps the true name of the evil being they've bound, and utters it forthwith.”

“You’ll never know.”

⧗

Author's Note: I hope it makes sense why Natasha's name was not mentioned one bit in this fic...if not, here's an explanation.

[ilsanslut]

꒷♡꒷ STUCK!

♰ featuring: nagi seishiro + shidou ryusei (separate) [blue lock]

♰ note: thank you all so much for supporting my last work as much as you did. it really means so much to me that people genuinely enjoy my writing and my content! now, as my second-ever work, i would appreciate it greatly if you would continue to support my work by reading, liking, and reblogging! also, I tried to make their sections as even as possible, but i'm a ryusei simp so uhhh enjoy!

sypnosis: in which you find yourself stuck in a rather precarious position and your boyfriend decides to "help" you. not without proper payment first, though. wc: 3.4k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. SMUT. fem/fem-bodied reader. stuckage. shidou is a warning on his own. accidental choki abuse (nagi). dry humping. degradation. unprotected sex. rough sex. creampie/breeding. spanking. name-calling/dirty talk (ryusei). ꒷꒦

NAGI SEISHIRO.

It was a normal weekend, unlike any other. It was just before noon, and you were cleaning your and Seishiro’s shared apartment while he was at the gym with Reo. You were diligently working to remove the accumulated dust from your wooden dresser with a disinfectant wipe that had a coconut scent when, all of a sudden, your hand bumped into something rather hard.

“Choki!!”

You shrieked, watching in horror as your boyfriend’s beloved potted cactus flew off of the dresser and knocked into the wall behind it. Everything moved in slow motion, and you could only gawk in horror as the pot spun once, twice, and then tumbled behind the dresser. You grimaced inwardly, awaiting the sound of shattering ceramics and the dull shuffling of displaced dirt, but it never came. Instead, the sound of the pot sliding down the wall and "gracefully" hitting the floor was heard instead.

With baited breath, you grabbed your phone, turning it to flashlight mode. You used it as a visual aid as you peered behind the dresser to assess the damage, sighing with relief when you saw Choki, Seishiro’s child, lying almost undisturbed between the wall and the backboard of the dresser.

Now here comes the difficult part, moving the dresser.

Kicking off your fuzzy house slippers to give yourself some traction, you grabbed the back end of one side and mustered all of your strength to shove the heavy thing out of the way—slowly, of course. Choki’s life was at stake here. However, you were only able to move the heavy thing out of the way just enough so that you could slip part of your body inside to reach for the plant. It was still a very tight fit.

Getting on your knees, you maneuvered between the tiny space you created, squeezing your arms, shoulders, and ribcage between them until the tension finally gave way at your waist. Breathing out in relief, your fingertips finally managed to grace the pot’s edge, pulling it into your grasp.

“Got . . . cha . . !”

You tried to shuffle backward, but you couldn’t. Attempting once more, you would come to realize that the dresser and the wall had some sort of death grip on your hips, rooting you in place. You were stuck. Trapped. And Nagi wouldn’t be home for another 30 minu—

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

You breathed, overjoyed at your boyfriend’s sudden voice. He always had the habit of moving in complete silence, despite his massive size. You hadn’t even heard him come home.

“Sei, oh, thank god! C-Can you pull me out? I think I’m stuck!”

You could barely make out the sound of his soft footsteps padding against the wooden floor as he made his way over to you. You could feel the heat radiating off of his body as he stood behind you, yet he made no effort to save you just yet.

“How did you even manage to do something like this?”

His confused tone held an unamused lilt, one that made your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“I was cleaning the dresser, and I accidentally knocked Choki over. They’re fine! B-But I can’t get out . . .”

Still nothing.

Was he mad? Disappointed? Since you could not see him, you could not tell. You were aware, though, that his gaze was "burning" into you. You shifted, partially in discomfort, as you made a point to wiggle your hips so that he could focus on the task at hand. As a result, you could hear him drawing in a sharp breath through his teeth. Before you could ask him what he was doing, you felt him kneel behind you. His two strong hands came into contact with the exposed skin around your hips, where your shirt was rising. He did not pull, though. The opposite happened; you felt him pressing against you, his bulge delightfully nestling against your folds through your thin pajama shorts.

“Seishiro?!”

He effectively silenced your confused warble in exchange for a surprised squeal when his open palm placed a firm smack on one of your cheeks. All the while, he shamelessly ground himself against your core, stating, “That was for Choki." You swore that you could hear the pout in his voice when he spoke.

“Removing you would be a hassle. Besides, I’m tired.”

B-But what about me?!

You wanted to protest, however, you refrained. You felt his lithe fingers pinch the fabric just over your clit as he pulled it to the side, resting it against your ass and exposing your pretty folds to his prying eyes. You heard his hands rustling with his sweatpants and boxers before you felt him tapping the pretty pink-flushed tip of his cock, which you loved so much, against your sensitive bud causing you to keen and your toes to curl.

“Wish you could see how pretty you look right now.” He mumbled, teasingly pressing the head of his cock against your entrance a few times, but never pushing in fully.

“I-If you got me out, Sei, then maybe I could . .” Your voice was unsteady as your anticipation began to build in the form of your puffy folds beginning to leak for him, the lewd sounds of it squelching around his tip echoing in your quiet room.

He answered you with silence and actions rather than with words. In one swift motion, he pushed entirely into you, and without waiting for you to adjust, he began to thrust his hips into you at a steady pace. You clenched around him, nails scratching against the backboard of the dresser, the wall, the floor—anything to brace yourself from your boyfriend’s fervent pace. Once he got started, he wouldn’t stop until he spilled entirely inside of you, filling you to the brim with his cum.

“S-Sei, it’s too much!” You mewled, yet your body writhed with pleasure. You always said this, and yet, he knew you could take it. You've done it many times before. That’s why he reached further into the space you had created to bunch up the back of your his shirt and used it as leverage as though he were pulling your hair to pummel into you faster and deeper. Your ass rhythmically pounded on his pelvis, sending a lewd ringing through your own ears as it echoed off the bedroom walls. Something about this precarious situation you were in mixed with the feeling of Seishiro’s cock hitting those sweet spots inside of you, enthralled you more than usual. You were close and he could feel it.

“Gonna cum f’me, already?” He grunted as his other hands squeezed your hip, their blunt nails digging into your flesh. His moans were heavenly, a sound you longed to hear, as your walls fluttered around him. The hand that was on your hip pressed itself against the edge of the dresser, shoving it effortlessly to the side and thus freeing you from your confines. Although he appeared so unsuspecting, Seishiro’s strength, when he decided to use it, was frightening. Your lower half fell to the ground, your breasts and cheek smushing against the wooden floors as you felt his soft fingertips rubbing fast, furious circles around your clit.

“Oh my god, S-Sei, I-I’m gonna—”

“C’mon, make a mess for me, pretty.”

You did exactly that, creaming delightfully around his cock while mewing in ecstasy. Before long, you could feel Sei's hot seed bursting inside of you and filling up your pretty pussy to the brim, as well as his hips stuttering against you. Both of you were panting as he pulled out of you, your releases dribbling out of you and pooling beneath you onto the floor.

You finally managed to get off your sore knees and elbows as you turned to face your lover with trembling limbs. It was at this point that you noticed Seishiro's eyes, which were burning with something fierce and unknown, were boring into your own. His eyes resembled that hungry expression he would have when his ego started to rule him on the field.

“Let’s do it again, Y/N. On the bed this time.”

God, he was going to be the death of you someday.

SHIDOU RYUSEI.

You had a rather eventful day. Starting off leisurely in the morning, you and your boyfriend Ryusei enjoyed a pleasant brunch together before deciding to head out to the beach that day. You had to pick a spot with some privacy because Ryusei insisted he was only there to “freshen up his tan”, which required him to be in the nude, while you were there to enjoy his prescene, the sound of the waves lapping against the shore, and the sensation of sand between your toes. Only a short while ago, the two of you finally arrived home. Ryusei was currently taking his own shower, as you had already finished yours.

Relaxing on the couch in nothing more than an oversized shirt and your panties, you had decided to turn on some Netflix with the intention of finding either a good or a fun-bad horror flick to watch, when all of a sudden, the slippery lotion residue on your hands caused the remote to slip from your grasp and tumble onto the floor and skid beneath the coffee table. You groaned, head tossing back with exasperation, as this minor inconvenience was nearly enough to ruin your entire night and make you not even want to watch a movie anymore. Nonetheless, you sulked off the couch and sank to your knees, searching for the offending culprit beneath the coffee table. Somehow, it had managed to slide to the other side of the room, mocking you as it lay motionless between the walkway in the middle of the coffee table and the television. Any normal person would’ve simply gotten up and walked around the table to retrieve it, however, you were not like most people. I mean, look at your taste in men, for starters. Not to mention, you’re incredibly stubborn.

Instead, you crept beneath the table's glass top and between the second shelf, stretching your slender fingers as far as they could reach until they touched the black exterior of the remote. However, it was a little too far away for you to grasp, and your touch, combined with your wooden floors, only served to push it further away from you. You swore, glaring at the thing as though it had just offended your loved one, huffing in defeat as you decided to rise and walk to the remote.

But you couldn’t.

Your brow furrowed in perplexity as you placed one palm flat on the ground and the other on the surface beneath you, attempting but failing to push yourself back. You were wedged between the table's glass top and bottom shelves, flat on your chest. The more you wiggled, the further you seemed to wedge yourself in between the two surfaces that held you taut.

You stopped, dumbfounded. As much as you dreaded calling Ryusei for help because you knew he would taunt you endlessly instead of helping you . . . you did not have many other options.

“Ah, Ryu!!” Your voice carried through the hallways, hoping that he was out of the shower to hear you yell.

“. . . Yeah, babe?”

His voice made your heart lurch in your chest. You were already debating whether you should just say nevermind and try to wiggle out on your own, or put your pride aside and ask for his assistance. In the end, the latter would be victorious.

“Could . . . Could you come here for a second? . . . Please.” Your plea was quiet, your cheeks already burning with shame as you awaited your impending doom.

You raised your gaze towards the master bedroom, where he was currently. How cruel fate was to put you in a position where you would be forced to watch him approach. Each second felt like an eternity until you heard the soft padding of Shidou's feet leaving the carpeted bedroom to shuffle along the wooden floors, only to abruptly pause.

Sheepishly, you peeked up at him through your lashes to where he stood, chest bare, droplets of water dripping from his unstyled hair and body, a towel that he used for his hair wrapped around his shoulders, and a towel wrapped dangerously low around his waist. His face was expressionless, his fuchsia oculars taking in the scene before them in silence. Your shy, embarrassed gaze, the position of you between the coffee table, and the cursed remote only inches away from his own feet.

“—You’re stuck, aren’t you?”

How you wished you were facing the other way to avoid seeing the way that maniacal grin that nearly resembled the Joker's formed on his face and how his cat-like eyes narrowed at you in amusement at your misfortune.

“ . . Yes.”

He barked out a laugh at you, his head tossed back in sheer, unabashed mania, much to your chagrin. Even though you knew this would happen, your cheeks couldn’t help but burn with frustration and shame. “I know, very funny. Now, could you help me out here, please? My knees are getting sore.”

Despite your whines, his mockery would continue, his large hands grasping both ends of the towel that rested on his shoulders as he waltzed over to you leisurely. “Hmm, I dunno, babe~.” He continued walking until he crouched right before you, his legs spread wide enough for you to see that he was already semi-hard beneath the fabric. Of course, he would be aroused by your misfortune. Tearing your gaze away from his manhood, which was only inches away from your face, you peered up at him only to see him grinning mercilessly down at you with mischief twinkling in his eye. “I gotta admit, I like this view of you. How’d ya know doggy was my favorite position~?”

Probably because you’ve put me in it multiple times before, asshole. You wouldn’t say that, though. You didn’t want to prolong your torment any further.

“Ryuseii.” You whined, mustering your best pitiful glance in an attempt to draw even an ounce of sympathy from your demon of a lover. “Please?” You tried with a pout.

You couldn’t tell if your attempt worked, however, with the way Ryusei’s feral grin would reduce to a playful smirk, you figured that you have gotten through to him. He raised his hand, patting your head twice and making sure to tousle your hair while he was at it. “I’ll see what I can do, cutie.”

He made a move to rise to his feet but paused mid-squat, “No promises, though.”

You waited until he was out of your view to roll your eyes at him, hands bracing themselves against the floor as you awaited to be freed from this nightmare. Ryusei sank to his knees behind you, humming aloud as though he were trying to make a big play out of figuring out how to get you out—or how you got there to begin with. His slender digits grasped at your waist, tugging halfheartedly. You knew better than anyone that Ryusei was capable of hoisting you into the air and tossing you around as though you were nothing. That being said, it was beyond obvious to you that he was obviously making a poor attempt on purpose.

“Wow, I dunno, Y/N. You see pre-tty wedged in here . . Maybe this’ll help.”

You had no idea when he had the opportunity to do it, but he had dropped his towel somewhere along the way, and you could feel him rubbing his semi-hard on against your panty-clad ass and making your clothed folds the focal point of attack.

“Ryusei—!” In frustration and arousal, you laboriously dragged out the syllables of his name. As much as you wanted to be mad at him, you knew that something like this was coming.

“Mm, yeah, keep saying my name just like that, baby.” He sighed blissfully, shamelessly now humping himself onto you until he was full mast, his hardened shaft twitching excitedly between your pillowy ass cheeks while his blushed tip beaded with pre. “Hah, shit, that’s it. ‘Could cum right now, all over ya’. You want that, angel? Want me to paint this pretty ass—” He paused, raising his palm high into the air before bringing it down unforgivingly against your rear to accentuate his point. “Look at that. Ya want me to paint this pretty ass with my nut, hm?”

"Yes, please, Ryu . . ?" You said against your better judgment as your thighs pressed against one another and your teeth dug into your bottom lip.

He chuckled throatily, already pulling your panties down your plump thighs until they rested on the backs of your knees. He lined himself up with your already drooling cunt, not wasting any time to push into you with one single thrust. He bottomed out inside of you, drawing all of the breath from your lungs. His pelvis pressed flush against you, blunt nails biting into the flesh of your hips and ass as he greedily pulled you against him. It was almost as if he were trying to force himself further into you than he already could. You whimpered beneath your breath, clenching around his cock as you felt his balls pulsing against your sensitive clit. He had only just entered you, and already he was about to cum.

“Greedy fuckin’ pussy.” He snarled through clenched teeth, picking up his pace. “Grippin’ me so tight, suckin’ me in so good, ngh—s-so desperate to be stuffed with a cock.”

His thrusts were sloppy and uncoordinated, but he did everything he could to keep bullying his cock into you, drool dribbling over his parted lips. It should be illegal for you to feel this good. It wasn't fair. He wanted to ravish you—take his time turning your cunt into his personal little pocket pussy, his perfect fucktoy, already premolded to the shape of his dick. But damn, he was about to bust, and you were approaching your climax too.

His pace grew relentless, barely giving you time to breathe or even think as he forced your hips to fuck back onto him, drawing a helpless gasp or delighted moan from your pretty lips with each impassioned thrust. You squirmed in his hold, your breath coming out in hot tufts as your end grew near.

“R-Ryu, baby, hah, mphf!!” You could barely get the words out as he fucked you within an inch of your life. “I-I’m close! M-My clit, please! I c-can’t reach it; touch me, plea—”

“No.”

His response was curt—simple, snarled out in what could only be described as a ferocious growl. His movements grew sloppier, his hips faltering in their pace as his cock throbbed heartily inside of you, ready to burst. “You cum on my, ngh, fuckin’ cock or not at all. Ya hear me, y’little cock-lovin’ slut?”

You whined in protest, to which the forward brought his palm down heavily on your already reddening cheeks from just his grip on you alone. If he could’ve reached you, he would’ve had a vice grip on your hair by now. “Answer me, bitch.” He spat with false malice, “Y’gunna cream around my cock? Make this fat dick a mess, hm?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Came your loud, unabashed chorus of unfiltered, unadulterated moans of sheer bliss.

Neither of you could hold back anymore. Ryusei spilled rope after rope of his hot, sticky seed into your abused cunt while your pretty folds creamed around his shaft in a way that could only be described as tantalizing. Silence, aside from both of your spent keens and blissed panting, filled the air around you. Once he was certain you were plugged full with his cum, Ryusei effortlessly snatched your body from between the coffee table, causing your exhausted body to collapse into his lap. As exhausted as he was, he made sure to cup your head so that it didn’t hit the ground too hard. He was always the sweetest when his post-nut clarity hit him. He took in your expression, noticing that your eyes were half-lidded and glassy with fat tears spilling from your waterline; your drool-covered lips were plump, red, and raw with the faintest of indentations along them from your pearly teeth; and your body convulsed and twitched ever so slightly from the sheer intensity of your orgasm. Not to mention the utterly fucked-out and euphoric look on your face.

. . . Ah, shit. He was hard again.

“Still with me, princess? . . Good. Come suck this cock clean and let me ruin that pretty face of yours even more~.♡”

ⓒ vampiie 2023 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form/means. please do not share my work to tiktok or any other site.

[erwinsvow]

𝐢 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮

summary: jj's made a bad habit of sneaking into your bedroom at midnight.

word count: 3.5k

now spinning: radio by lana del rey

author's note: finally some jayj!! <3 writing this felt like coming home. i hope i did him justice! tags: adorably in love jj and reader. smut but make it cute (heavy grinding/petting, jj calls you princess b/c duh<3, he uses a condom bc no breeding kink here! jj sucks your tits through your (his) shirt because..yah)

JJ makes his way into the window of your bedroom, trying to be as quiet and careful as he can.

You stand back a little, trying to give him enough room to get in, but just as he swings his other leg over, he stumbles and a small succulent in a ceramic pot on your windowsill goes flying.

You freeze, scared that the thud of his leg on the window frame was enough to wake up your parents—who unfortunately share the room right next to you. JJ’s hands stick out immediately to catch the little plant, and then somehow, he juggles it into place while steadying his feet. 

You let out a sigh of relief, and he places the little plant safely on your nightstand.

“That thing’s a troublemaker. It’s always the quiet ones, huh?” He whispers, already knowing from all the previous times how thin your walls are.

Time before last, he leaned back against the headboard too hard while you were riding him, and just the noise of it hitting the wall was enough to result in a knock on your bedroom door. He blames you for that one, though, and the next time your parents come in, they notice you’ve moved your bed across the room. 

“This one was your fault,” you reply, unsurprisingly giddy now that your boyfriend is here. 

“Nuh-uh, princess, that was all you. Why’d you leave the cactus there, huh? You tryna get me caught?” 

You shake your head but you can’t stop the smile from spreading across your face and the quiet laugh from escaping, trying to explain that it’s not a cactus, but the words melting on your tongue. You watch as JJ carefully closes the window—he’d prefer to leave it open so he can sneak back out without much noise, but you get cold, so he pushes it down as gently as he can.

You can’t help it—you always end up staring, eyes fixated on his arms and the way they stretch and flex while he adjusts your pink curtains and makes sure no one can see inside. You don’t care if the neighbors watch. Let them, you think, JJ and I will give them a show.

He turns around to really take a look at you, mind always going a mile a minute thinking about how deep of a slumber your parents might be in, if he remembered to grab a condom (he’d forgotten it earlier in the month and you’d been so disappointed, he had to eat you out for an hour just to apologize), and then he thinks he wouldn’t be so upset if he did forget it. Finally he wonders if you have any snacks in your bedroom, which you normally don’t, but he’s feeling hungry today. 

When he finally takes you in, you’re standing there with that pretty smile he loves so much, the sleep sets you used to wear every night forgone for one of his big t-shirts instead, the ones with tiny holes near the hem, one that’s probably been passed around between him, Pope, and John, but has now ended up in your closet as a permanent piece.

You told him a story a while back, about how your parents question why you never put on pajamas straight after dinner anymore, like you used to. It’s because JJ’s shirts are your pajamas now and you can’t let them see. 

“Why don’t you just, y’know, change after they go to bed?” He asks after hearing that story, rubbing the small of your back under the very same shirt, wondering how smart a girl as you are didn’t think of that idea first. 

You don’t answer straight away, instead pressing your face further into his chest and inhaling that scent which is so uniquely JJ—ocean and sand and that car smell since he was probably working on something before getting his favorite text of any night from you, from anyone, really—They just went to bed.

You mumble something into the skin of his sternum, unintelligible and quiet, and he has to use his other hand to move your head up.

“Sorry, princess, getting some static here. Repeat that for me?” He cups his ear to listen in, which makes you laugh.

“Just wanna feel close to you,” you repeat, even softer, immediately resting your face back on his chest once you finish. 

You’re sure he doesn’t understand what you mean, because it’s deeply rooted in you, that you hate the way your parents treat JJ. They’re not so rich or Kooky to judge him for not being so, and they’re overprotective of you, always have been, but they act so differently around him. They barely give him a chance, no matter how much you affirm that you’re so happy, that you’re only that way because you’re with JJ now. 

They look at the stuff that doesn’t matter—the motorcycle he rides, ignoring the pretty pink helmet he got for you sitting next to his own. They don’t know that he worries about keeping you safe, so much so that he borrows the Twinkie twice as much as he used to, because the idea of you getting hurt on his bike scares him. It scares him enough that he didn’t let you ride with him forever, that it took months of begging to even make him consider the idea. 

They look at his clothes and his shoes and don’t like that they can’t invite his parents over for dinner, don’t like the idea of you going to his place but don’t like him coming over either. When they do finally grant your permission to hang out with him at your home, you have to stay in the living room the whole time, television on and playing some stupid movie you could care less about—but at least JJ’s here, at least he’s holding you. 

You feel embarrassed, about the reason why you wear his shirt, about how your parents behave, about how you can’t do anything at your house but watch reruns and eat some snacks, your parents wafting in every now and then to make sure nothing’s changed. 

And he tries, he really does, which makes your heart thud and causes a warm, happy tingle to extend from your ears to your toes. He shows up with flowers for the house, a bottle of wine for your parents, a bone for your dog.

He’s trying to save up for a car so your parents don’t associate him with the roar of his bike taking off and the danger he’s putting their daughter in (you almost cry when he tells you this, partly because it’s so sweet, partly because you love that bike, love everything about that bike—your pink helmet, holding onto JJ’s stomach on a ride, the way he sometimes props you up on it and tells you he’ll reward you if you’ll be good for him—which you always are. 

Putting on other clothes—clothes that don’t belong to JJ—in front of your parents so they don’t feel uncomfortable at the sight of you in his shirt, is a sacrifice you refuse to make. It’s your way of rebelling, as insignificant and silly as it is, affirming that you’re not gonna cave and end your relationship because they don’t approve. It’s hard, for a people-pleaser like yourself, taking a stand against your parents. You don’t possibly expect him to understand, but you think he does that day, with the way he smothers you in kisses all night, and continues the affection on your sofa the next day, no matter who’s watching.

He snuck in that night too—pulling a pair of socks from his pocket for you. 

“Got you some more clothes of mine, so you can take your little stand without it being so obvious-” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because you leap into his arms to hug him so tightly, he can’t catch his breath for a minute.

That had been months ago. Since then, you and JJ spent nearly every other night together, trying as hard as possible to stay quiet and not get caught. He seems more worried about it than you do, like tonight. 

“Your dad doesn’t have any firepower in the house, right? Like any bazookas or something?” he asks, walking closer to you, away from the window. You shake your head, laughing silently. It’s harder and harder not to be all smiles around JJ anymore. “Good,” he says, not as quietly as before. He brings you in for a hug, arms tight on your back, face buried in your hair. “Missed you, baby.”

You hold on with your little grip for as long as you can, finding it even harder to let go after hearing him say those words—you’d seen him earlier today, briefly, but this was his first time sneaking in since yet another scare a few days ago.

You only pull away because he does, taking off his hat and setting it on your yellow quilt. He sits down, beckoning you over, and you respond immediately, crawling into his lap like you always do. You could sit like this forever.

“It should be illegal for us to go this long without seeing each other,” he murmurs against your shoulder, before pressing a gentle kiss to the skin. His shirt hangs off of you, giving him easy access. 

“I saw you this morning, silly,” you whisper, not moving, head buried into his neck.

“For like a minute,” his hands go to your hips, adjusting your position to get you more comfortable in his grip. His fingers press into the skin there, available since you were only wearing panties under his shirt, no shorts to get in the way. “Can’t do anything to you in a minute.”

“That’s not what I remember—” but before you can finish, he silences you with a kiss, soft and chaste. 

“Hey,” he starts, while you begin to giggle at the memory. “I thought we weren’t gonna bring that up anymore. S’your fault, anyways.” He trails off, kissing you again. “That sundress has magic in it, or something, not normal-” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, deepening the kiss, your whole face feeling hot now at the mention of the memory—the first time the two of you had done anything more than making out.

“Woah, woah,” he says, pulling away again, making you groan in frustration. “Did you lure me here under false pretenses? Are you tryna take advantage of me right now? Because I came here to cuddle-”

“Shut up, Jayj,” and you go back to finish your kiss, your hips moving by themselves. You don’t realize you’re doing it, you never do, until JJ tells you. His hands move down, grabbing the fat of your ass and squeezing while he makes you do all the work, for now, at least.

You work yourself up quickly, you always do when you’re with him, and you could finish just like this if he lets you, grinding your cunt against his hard-on, multiple layers of clothes between the two of you. 

He likes to see you get worked up, so he’ll let you do it for a little bit longer, lips still attached, his tongue in your mouth. He slides his hand around where your panties rest on your hip, knotting his fingers between the fabric, his other hand resting on your hip and loosely guiding your motions.

“Feel good, baby?” he finally asks, not loud but not as quiet as before, either. You don’t care much at the moment. 

“Uh-huh,” you whine, feeling yourself get closer, something in your stomach winding up tensely and making you want to increase your speed. You try, but JJ’s hand controls you, tightening up and squeezing like it’s a warning—slow down. 

“Can’t make a mess like this, remember, pretty girl?” he asks but you’re only half there, half paying attention. Your eyes are squeezed shut, skin feeling so ablaze that you’re sure there’s beads of sweat lining your neck and face, hands gripping the material of JJ’s shirt while you rock yourself back and forth. 

He watches carefully, eyes raking in your pretty face all twisted like this, your lips swollen and red from the biting since you can’t make any noise, your hardened nipples poking through the material of his shirt. He wants to wrap his mouth around one and play with it using his tongue, not even bothering to lift the shirt out of the way, but he refrains, since he knows you’ll cum in seconds if he does, and if you cum, he’ll cum.

“Don’t care,” you exhale, breathy and pitchy. He doesn’t even remember what you’re talking about. “I want your mess-” and your head tips forward, resting on his shoulder while he still moves you with his big hands. 

It’s all of it, all at once—the fact that you haven’t been able to do much of anything, but especially this, with JJ in days, how hard he is and how good it feels to rub your pussy against him instead of your pillow, the fact that despite his shorts and your underwear in the way, you can almost feel the veins of his pretty dick, the ridge that usually has him slapping a hand over your mouth because you can’t help the noises that come out when you feel it inside you. 

You’re so close—and you don’t care about the condom, about how everything’ll be sloppy and sticky after this, so you try to go even faster, until you feel the entirely too-strong hands of your boyfriend manhandling you, pulling you off and laying you flat onto the bed in one motion.

“Wha- Jayj,” you whine again, so much louder than you thought it would come out. Your heart’s thrumming in your ears, brain turned to mush and clit throbbing from the sudden lack of contact. 

“Shh, baby, you’re gonna get us both killed-” and you look up at him with wet eyes and your signature pout, the one that gets you anything you want—midnight trips for ice cream, convincing him to sleep over even when he knows your parents will pop in when it’s morning, going on a ride on his bike when he’d thought it was way too dangerous. “M’giving you what you want, okay, so settle down-”

You try to be as good as you can, watching patiently while your thighs tremble and an uncomfortable, hot wetness pools between your legs. JJ pulls off his shirt, frees his dick from the constraint of his shorts, and lets out a little hiss when he sees the wet spot on his clothes from where you were just having fun. 

“Dirty girl,” he says, but he’s smiling, not upset. “Made a mess already, even without me.” You let out more shaky breaths at his words, half-listening, eyes focused on the pink color of his thick cock, the way he strokes himself before putting the condom on. Your mind has turned off, every single thought except JJ leaving your head.

“Gonna be quiet this time?” he asks softly, lining himself up with your wet cunt, eyes almost rolling back into his head at the way you suck him in. You’re all tense, stomach in knots and pussy clamping just thinking about every inch he’s going to give you, the stretch he puts your tight hole through. You don’t mind much though.

“Your fault,” you mumble, in a daze. You love everything about JJ, the way his hair falls over his eyes when he’s hovering over you like this, when he licks his lip when he rakes his gaze across your body, how he smirks at you when you get like this.

He lowers his face close to yours and your eyelids flutter shut, expecting a kiss, but instead he buries his face into the crook of your neck, biting and sucking on the skin while you try to stay silent, and then he buries himself into you, all the way all at once, and you strangle a scream back so it dies in your throat. 

It’s like it’s the first time, every time, with the way he feels inside, the way you’ve never really gotten accustomed to how big JJ is.

“Sure, baby, my fault,” he finally agrees, letting go of the hold his teeth have on your skin. That'll leave a bruise tomorrow, and the rush he feels from that goes straight to his dick. “This one’s my fault too.”

You don’t pay attention to his words or the stinging sensation on your neck, because the entirely overwhelming feeling of JJ inside you, slamming in and out while you’re forced to stay silent, fogs your brain. JJ hovers over you, and your hands find their way around his neck, snaking into his hair, pulling gently while he lowers himself for another kiss—hot, wet, even messier. 

He keeps you this way often, so he can swallow your moans and let you be as loud as you need without much as much of a risk. Your bedroom fills with the slap of skin on skin, his hips ramming against yours.

You’d cry out because it hurts, but the way JJ fills you is anything but painful—it’s excruciatingly good, makes your toes curl while you feel that tense knot in your stomach beginning to unravel by itself, JJ hitting that sensitive part of you deep inside.

But it’s always more than that—it’s his the messy press of his fingers against your clit, the way he dips his head and takes your pert, clothed nipple into his mouth and swirls his tongue, and then when he hears you getting loud, he goes back to kissing you, quieting you. He thinks about everything so you don’t have to, heading tipping back onto the pillow and squeals leaving your mouth without a second thought. 

You knead your fingers into his hair, holding him in place so he doesn’t pull away from the kiss, because you know you’re about to get loud.

He does pull away—easily fighting your weak grip to bring his mouth to your neck, kissing the love-bites he already left there. You feel JJ’s hot breath on your ear, already a mess, already close, but you tip over the edge when he talks to you, as quiet as he can. 

“Come on pretty girl, make a mess for me-” and you follow his instructions without another moment’s hesitation, the walls of your pussy fluttering and then clamping tight around him, moans swallowed into his mouth as he kisses you again. You writhe around, toes curling, entire body tensing, staring up at your pretty boyfriend for as long as you can before your eyes shut, mind numb from pleasure. 

It doesn’t take much for JJ after that—the feel of your nails scratching his back, how your pussy clenches around him, the moans he wishes he could hear loud and clear. In a final lustful, selfish thought, he imagines you screaming under him, begging for more, not satisfied until he makes a mess inside your little cunt and fills you up. He spills into the condom seconds after, grunting into your neck and wishing the two of you were anywhere else but the bedroom next to where your parents are asleep. 

The room is silent again, save for the heavy breaths leaving both of you. JJ moves first, carefully settling next to you because the bed creaks on his side. He sits up against the headboard, safe because they’re on the opposite wall now, and moves your tired, languid body into his arms, head resting against his chest. 

“Well, you made a mess, alright. Hope you do your own laundry.” You giggle, hand coming up to rest above his heart, fingers tracing patterns into his soft skin.

He sighs quietly, a gentle sign he likes your touch. You could fall asleep in minutes like this, the heat from JJ keeping you warm, the content feeling in your heart making you smile dopily. JJ notices, leaning down to give you another kiss.

He stares into the distance with a hand stroking your back, under his shirt. He looks around your cute room—the overflowing bookshelf, the photos taped up on the walls (mostly of the two of you, he thinks with a touch of smugness), a pile of his shirts that are now your sleep clothes folded neatly in your hamper, freshly laundered. 

JJ thinks he’d do anything to stay like this, with you resting in his arms, forever. 

“I’m gonna do it, I swear,” he starts, not as quietly as before. It’s a gentle sentiment, like he’s reading you a vow. “I’ll do anything I have to, I’ll make ‘em like me. One day I’ll show up here and they’re gonna be happy to see me. I’m gonna get better.”

“You’re already perfect, Jayj,” you whisper back, eyes closed because you feel tears lining up. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You don’t have to do anything. I love you.” 

He smiles again, eyes closing. He’s about to say it back when there’s a sharp knock on your door, and the handle starts to turn.

[infamous-light]

You Belong to Me Ch. 7

Alcina Dimitrescu x F! Reader

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6

AO3: You Belong to Me

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu's obsession knows no bounds as she becomes increasingly possessive over you. Will you succumb to her dark embrace, or find a way to break free before it's too late?

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: Yandere, possessive/obsessive behavior

You sat in front of an open hearth, trying to keep warm as the flames crackled and danced before your eyes.

The heat was a welcome relief against the evening chill that seemed to seep in through the floorboards. Winters were harsh in the village and the biting cold had a way of sneaking in, no matter how well you tried to insulate the house. Outside, the wind howled, rattling the windows and making the old timbers creak in protest. You pulled your blanket tighter around your shoulders, the soft wool scratching gently against your skin.

The thick smell of wheat porridge wafted through the air as your mother stirred the pot over the fire, the wooden spoon moving in slow, precise circles. The rhythmic motion of her hand was soothing to watch, each turn and swirl a gentle reminder of the care she put into everything she did.

The main door creaked open a second later and your father stepped in, bringing a gust of frigid air with him before closing the door behind him. He hung his scarf and jacket on the coat rack, the woolen fabric glistening with tiny crystals of frost. His face was dried out from the cold, and he brushed a few stray snowflakes from his hair, shaking them off like tiny diamonds that sparkled briefly in the firelight before melting away. He took his boots off next, placing them by the door to avoid tracking in the snow.

“It sure is getting chilly out there.” Your father said, walking over to you with a smile that conveyed both his relief at being inside and his joy at seeing you.

“Yeah, I can feel it from here.” You replied, grinning up at him.

He sat down next to you, stretching out his hands toward the fire to get warm. He sighed contentedly as the warmth seeped into his fingers, gradually thawing the stiffness brought on by the cold.

“The goats are finally resting in their barns,” he continued. “I’ve placed enough deep straw bedding to keep them warm overnight.”

“Good,” your mother said with a warm smile, not looking up from her stirring. She then placed the wooden spoon aside, tapping it lightly against the rim of the pot to shake off the excess. “Well, I’d say the porridge is pretty much done cooking.”

The aroma of the grain and spices grew stronger, mixing with the faint scent of burning wood and the earthy smell of your father's clothes.

She brought out some mismatched but well-loved bowls, their chipped edges and faded patterns revealing the many shared meals you all had together over the years. She started filling the steaming porridge into each bowl, the sound of the thick, hearty mixture pouring out and settling in bringing a sense of comfort and routine. As she handed the bowl over to you, the warmth from the food seeped through the ceramic, warming your hands and bringing a smile to your face. Your mother finally looked up, her eyes softening with affection as she saw your pleased expression, and in that moment, everything felt right in the world.

Suddenly, a loud, insistent knock on the door startled you all.

Your mother’s smile faltered, and she exchanged a quick, concerned glance with your father. He frowned and stood up, walking over to the door. As he opened it, the hinges creaked ominously, and you strained to catch a glimpse of the visitor. You heard a man's voice, though you couldn't quite make out what he was saying. The words were muffled and indistinct, but the tone carried a weight that made your stomach churn with unease.

Your father's body tensed, his shoulders stiffening. Your mother, noticing the change, got up and walked over to him, her movements quick and anxious.

“What's going on?” She asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Your father turned to her, his face ashen and drawn. “They've come for her.”

Your mother gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. “No, they can't have her.” She said, her voice cracking with desperation.

The sheer terror in your mother’s voice sent a cold shiver down your spine, a fear you had never seen in her before. She took a step back, her body shaking, and you could see the tears welling up in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

“What's wrong?” You asked, your voice trembling.

Your mother turned to you, her eyes wide with fright. “You are to be taken to Castle Dimitrescu,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You are to become a servant there.”

Every muscle in your body froze.

The thought of leaving your home, your family, and everything you knew to serve in that oppressive castle was more than you could bear. The stories you had heard while growing up, whispered in hushed tones by the other villagers, had painted a picture of horror and despair. Each tale was laden with vivid, terrifying details that seemed to seep into the very fabric of your nightmares. They described how the matriarch of the castle – known as Lady Dimitrescu – and her daughters fed upon the blood and flesh of the women who were brought to them. How these women were consumed in grotesque rituals or used as experiments in the depths of the castle. And it was only women who were chosen for this fate, as Lady Dimitrescu had a perverse preference for their suffering.

The legends were so ingrained throughout the village that they seemed like an inescapable truth, a dark cloud looming over every woman who resided here.

The truth of the matter is: once taken to Castle Dimitrescu, there was no return.

“I don’t want to go.” Your voice wobbled.

The words seemed to catch in your throat, stifled by the heavy weight of fear. Your mother rushed over to you and hugged you. Her arms wrapped around you with a fierce, protective desperation, as though she could somehow keep you safe just by holding you close. You glanced over at the doorway and saw four men standing there, their expressions grim and resolute. They were clad in dark, somber attire that seemed to blend in with the night.

“Please, not my daughter,” your mother begged. “Don’t take her from us.”

Her voice was filled with anguish, a mother's final plea to protect her child.

The man at the front of the group grimaced, his eyes filled with reluctant sorrow. “I’m sorry,” he said, his gaze shifting downward as if he could not bear to meet your mother’s eyes. “Mother Miranda ordered five women from the surrounding villages to be brought to Lady Dimitrescu before the night ends.” 

You saw your father’s fists clench, his knuckles turning white against the strain. “What would it take to make you look the other way?”

The man’s eyes hardened, narrowing into cold slits that revealed nothing but a steely resolve. “You know we can’t take the risk of accepting a bribe.”

Your father's anger flared as he took a threatening step closer to them. “You know what they’ll do to her if you bring her to that cursed place!” He shouted, his voice rising in a desperate plea.

Your mother started to sob quietly.

“I don’t like it any more than you do but we don’t have a choice. This is Mother Miranda’s order.” The man said through gritted teeth, his voice strained and edged with frustration.

The men took a step forward just then. They advanced with a sense of purpose, the weight of their boots crunching ominously in the snow. Your father, however, remained unmoved, blocking the entryway with a defiant stance. His broad shoulders were squared, and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. The man at the forefront held your father's gaze with a cold, unflinching stare.

“Please don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be.” The man's voice was a low, urgent plea, tinged with the barest hint of exasperation.

Your father’s response was immediate and resolute. “I won’t let you take my daughter.”

There was a tense silence between everyone.

Then, chaos erupted.

The men surged forward, their coordinated assault forcing their way past the doorway with brute force. Your father grappled with them, his movements desperate and frantic as he tried to hold them back. He fought with a mix of rage and terror; the strain etched deeply into his features.

Amid the struggle, one of the men seized your bicep with a rough grip, yanking you away from your mother’s tight hold. His fingers, rough and unyielding, dug in mercilessly, sending a jolt of pain through your arm. Your mother’s eyes widened in horror as she reached out, her fingers grasping at the empty air where you had been moments before.

“Please, stop!”

The sound of her voice – caught between a scream and a sob – was a heart-wrenching plea that echoed in the small space, mingling with the grunts and shouts of the men. Before your mother could take a step toward you, she was pulled back by another man, who held her in place with an iron grip. Your father, still battling fiercely against two of the men, was eventually subdued and forced onto the floor.

You cried out, your voice hoarse and ragged, as you were dragged outside toward a waiting carriage. The night air hits you like a freezing wave, its sharp bite cutting through your clothes and chilling you to the bone. In the distance, you could hear your mother and father calling out your name, their voices filled with anguish as you were shoved into the dark interior of the carriage. As the door slammed shut behind you, you startled at the sight of four women huddled inside, their faces pale and stricken with terror. Their fearful gazes met yours. A sorrowful cry from outside snapped your attention away from them, the sound of your parents’ despair cutting through you. You turned back around and peered out the small, grimy window of the carriage.

The last thing you saw was your parents, their outstretched arms reaching out desperately toward you. Their muffled cries of your name echoed in your ears, haunting and heart-wrenching, as the carriage rolled forward, carrying you further from everything you had ever known.

***

You woke up abruptly, your body drenched in sweat.

The sheets were twisted around you, damp from your perspiration, clinging uncomfortably to your skin like a second, suffocating layer. The air felt heavy and thick, making it difficult to breathe as your breaths came out in short, panicked bursts. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear the persistent fog from your mind and make sense of your surroundings.

The familiar bedroom of the Lady’s soon greeted you with an eerie calmness.

Slowly, you sat up, feeling a strange lightness in your limbs. They no longer felt like lead and there was a faint sense of strength returning to your muscles. The lingering effects of the drug must be lessening, you thought, as you felt it in your veins, a weightlessness, an inkling of the energy that used to be yours. Your head no longer throbbed with the same intensity, the pain receding to a dull ache. For the first time in what felt like ages, there was a glimmer of hope.

Perhaps the worst has passed.

The lightened mood inside of you shifted as the bathroom door swung open with a soft creak. Lady Dimitrescu emerged, wearing a thin bathrobe that hugged her hourglass figure, the damp fabric accentuating her curves. The robe's hem skimmed her mid-thigh, revealing her long, slender legs. The front of the robe also hung open loosely, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her smooth, porcelain skin, her large breasts almost on full display. Her hair, still damp from a recent bath, cascaded in dark, wet strands that clung to her neck and the side of her face, framing her features in a way that heightened her already natural beauty.

Lady Dimitrescu paused as she saw that you were sat up in bed and wide awake. Her eyes narrowed slightly. She seemed to take a moment to assess your condition. After a moment of silence, she spoke, her tone soft yet probing. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked, her voice deceptively gentle as she watched your every reaction.

You fiddled with the edges of the bedcover, glancing away before answering, “I feel a little better.”

Lady Dimitrescu hummed thoughtfully, as if she were considering your words carefully. She made her way over to you and you almost blushed as she leaned down, her ample bosom close to your face. She pressed her hand to your forehead, her touch cool and firm, yet unexpectedly soothing. A smile appeared on her face as she pulled away, a satisfied gleam in her eyes.

“I'm very pleased to see that you're feeling better,” she said. “You've been through quite an ordeal but you're recovering nicely.” She straightened up, towering over you once more. “However, you still need to regain your strength. I believe a bath would do wonders for you. Freshen up and prepare yourself for the day. Breakfast will be brought up shortly.”

“Yes, my Lady.” You murmured.

You gazed up at her expectantly, waiting for her to lift you up.

She smirked in response. “I trust you’ll be able to walk there on your own. Consider it a small test of your progress.”

“O-Okay.” You nodded weakly.

You moved your legs over the edge of the bed and hesitantly climbed down. Lady Dimitrescu's gaze lingered on you, her eyes tracking your every move with an intensity that made your skin prickle. Your legs wobbled as you took your first few tentative steps. Each small stride was a monumental effort that required all your concentration. You could feel the heat of her body and the soft rustle of her bathrobe with every step you took. You glanced back to see Lady Dimitrescu towering behind you, her expression unreadable yet undeniably predatory.

The corner of her lips twitched slightly as she glanced back at you. “Go on. You're almost there.” She purred.

The bathroom door loomed ahead like a distant finish line, each step feeling like a marathon. You took a few more big steps, legs trembling with the effort. With a final, strained push, you collapsed against the doorframe, steadying yourself.

“Well done, pet.” Lady Dimitrescu praised, her tone a mixture of amusement and approval. “It seems you can walk on your own again without any assistance.”

Her words sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, and you felt a bit embarrassed at her praise. You lowered your gaze, trying to hide your reaction, but you knew she could see the faint blush that had crept up your neck. Lady Dimitrescu turned away, seemingly satisfied, and sat down in front of her vanity. She picked up her hairbrush and began to comb it through her damp strands with long, slow strokes.

Turning away, you stepped into the bathroom, the tiles cool under your feet as you carefully walked over to the circular bathtub. You reached out and turned the faucets on, the metallic handles cold against your palm. The hiss of water starting to flow was a soothing sound, mingling with gentle splashes as it began to fill the large tub.

As the water reached the desired level, you dipped a hand in to test the temperature, letting the warm liquid swirl around your fingers. Satisfied, you began to undress. The soft fabric slipped smoothly from your shoulders, cascading down your body and pooling at your feet. You stepped out of them, feeling a slight shiver as the cool air brushed against your bare skin.

Carefully, you eased yourself into the bathtub, the water embracing you with a soothing warmth. You leaned back, allowing the water to envelop your body completely. The heat seeped into your muscles, easing the tension that had settled there. The sensation was calming and after a few minutes, you reached for the small shampoo bottle, the familiar floral scent wafting up as you opened it. Pouring a generous amount into your palm, you worked it into your hair, massaging your scalp with your fingertips.

After rinsing the shampoo out, you repeated the same action with the conditioner. You picked up a washcloth next and lathered it with your favorite soap. As you began to wash your body, you started with your arms and worked your way down, the soap forming a frothy layer across your skin.

Feeling thoroughly cleansed, you decided it was time to get out. You reached for the fluffy towel lying nearby and stood up, letting the water cascade off your body in shimmering droplets. Wrapping the towel around yourself, you stepped out of the tub. With each step away from the tub, you noticed how your muscles felt more invigorated. The simple act of moving your limbs felt easier and more fluid.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, steam fogging up the edges, and noticed how refreshed you looked. Despite the harrowing experience of the past few days, your complexion seemed clearer and the shadows under your eyes were less pronounced. It was a small comfort, but one that did little to alleviate the deeper anxiety of what became of your current life. As you turned away from the mirror, a stark realization hit you: there were no fresh clothes available.

Oh god, you had to leave the bathroom. Naked. In front of the Lady.

You wrapped the towel tightly around yourself and slowly opened the bathroom door. You were met with the sight of Lady Dimitrescu seated at her vanity; her tall frame elegantly poised as she applied a final touch of her signature red lipstick. Her eyes flickered toward you, a knowing smirk playing on her lips as she observed your state of undress.

The towel clung to you like a thin shield, providing minimal cover against her lingering gaze.

“Um-do you have any clothes I could change into?” You stammered.

“They're resting on the dresser nearby.” She replied, her tone casual yet edged with an undertone of amusement.

You nodded, eager to escape the uncomfortable intensity of her gaze, and made your way to the dresser. On it, the clothes were neatly folded, each item arranged with meticulous care. However, the attire looked distinctly more refined than the drab uniforms worn by the rest of the staff. A recent memory resurfaced, and you remembered that a few days ago you were being measured by Irina for some new clothes. Ones that would be of the highest quality, befitting your new role.

The outfit was a sheer white button-up blouse paired with a sleek black vest. The ensemble was complemented by black pleated pants and polished black dress shoes that gleamed with a mirror-like finish. You gathered the clothes and shoes and quickly made your way back into the bathroom, eager to get changed. As you closed the door behind you, a low, melodic chuckle from Lady Dimitrescu reached your ears, making you feel even more self-conscious.

It didn’t take you long to get dressed as you stepped back into the bedroom, feeling the smooth fabric settle comfortably against your skin. Each piece fits perfectly, hugging your body in all the right places.

Lady Dimitrescu let out a pleased hum as she observed you, her eyes appraising you from head to toe. “You look quite fetching.”

“Thank you, my Lady.” The words left your lips almost automatically.

Then, something between you two shifted. There was a deep-seated hunger in her eyes, an unsettling gleam that made you nervous. You couldn't shake the feeling of being prey under her gaze, every instinct urging you to run.

The moment ended when a firm knock on the door echoed throughout the room. Your attention snapped toward it, making you jump a little. Lady Dimitrescu turned her head slightly to the door, her expression shifting from predatory to mildly annoyed.

“Enter.” She commanded.

The door opened and a maid entered. You recognized her from the kitchens, where you had seen her in passing but you had never spoken to her before. She seemed to be one of the more reclusive staff members, avoiding interactions with anyone outside her immediate tasks. You can’t say you blame her. The maid kept her eyes lowered, her posture stiff with fear and respect. She rolled in a cart with breakfast on it, the dishes clinking softly against the tray.

“Set it on the table.” Lady Dimitrescu ordered.

“Yes, my Lady.”

The maid obeyed quickly, her hands trembling slightly as she arranged the meal on the table. You watched her, feeling a pang of sympathy. Living under Lady Dimitrescu's rule was clearly a nerve-wracking existence for everyone in the castle. Lady Dimitrescu's eyes returned to you once more, her gaze softer now, but still holding that unnerving intensity.

“You may get started on breakfast, darling. I still need to finish up.”

You gave a brief nod, feeling a strange mixture of relief and apprehension, and walked over to the two high-back chairs positioned by the coffee table. You settled into one of the chairs, your eyes still drawn to Lady Dimitrescu as she resumed her morning routine. The maid, with her eyes still cast downward, continued to unload several dishes laden with a variety of delicacies from the cart.

As she picked up an empty plate and set it down before you, you noticed the corner of what appeared to be a folded-up note tucked discreetly beneath it. Your heart skipped a beat. The sight of the note sent a surge of hope through you, but also a wave of fear. What if Lady Dimitrescu noticed the note? What if this was some kind of trap? The fear of imminent punishment or discovery tightened around you like a vise. But this could possibly be Catalina’s doing as well. She did say she would find a way to get you out.

You glanced up at the maid, her demeanor appearing almost composed as she moved with an air of indifference. She had her back turned to the Lady and with a quick, deliberate look, she directed your attention to the note before her gaze flickered back to you. Her eyes seemed to convey a silent message; a hint of encouragement mixed with an unspoken warning. You shifted your gaze over her shoulder and saw that Lady Dimitrescu was preoccupied with opening one of her face creams.

You reached out cautiously, your fingers brushing the edge of the plate to retrieve it, the note pressed firmly underneath. As you lifted the plate, you made sure the note remained hidden, held securely against the porcelain by your trembling fingers. With a quick, almost mechanical motion, you grabbed a vine of grapes and placed it on your plate, trying to appear nonchalant as your mind raced with what could possibly be written on the note.

The maid finished placing everything on the table and glanced at you one last time. After a final, measured look, she turned away from you.

“All done, my Lady.” She said, her tone smooth and respectful.

“Good. Now leave us.” Came Lady Dimitrescu’s cold reply.

The maid responded with a quick, respectful nod before curtsying again and retreating with measured steps. The sound of the cart gradually faded as she wheeled it out the door. You could almost hear the echo of her footsteps as she disappeared down the corridor, leaving you alone with the solitary note that now held your full attention.

Your pulse quickened, a jolt of anxiety mingling with anticipation as your fingertips twitched against the note. You needed to know what it said. With your eyes remaining fixed on the Lady, you slowly began to slide the note out from underneath the plate, careful not to make a single sound. With a careful touch, you thumbed the corner of the note open, your heart racing as you unfolded it. The words on the piece of paper came into view, stark and simple, and you could hardly suppress your widening eyes at the revelation.

Main house key

Miss Bela's bedchambers

[gina025]

Mini vase 🏺

[zoropookie]

HOW HATERS ARE BORN (HHAB)

♡ chapter thirty-three — give it time (💋)

“I’ll admit, you made it look like a home.”

You looked around, enamored by the mutable blend of the other’s home. There was oddly a cozy charm that bled in the space, a mixture of contrasts that you wouldn’t have thought he would involve himself with.

There were soft shadows playing against the walls, promenaded by the warm and golden glow of the lamps. It was really elegant in here, yet, meticulously chosen to make you feel comfortable enough to sit down on the obviously expensive furniture.

“Didn’t know you had a…knack for interior design either.” You said hesitantly, looking at a very abstract tiny statue of a triangle on one of the shelves. Even thought you were interested, it still just felt like a painted on canvas for you. Kind of like...the idea that there can be paint on a canvas, but it doesn't make it a painting. "Learning a lot more about you everyday."

"It wasn't my idea," He sighed. "I told the interior designer 'not too many colors', and I guess she thought I was talking about completely mute."

"Feels like a sanctuary," you murmured.

Despite the dismissive words he gave you, the effort that was put into everything was clearly crafted and corroborated. You walked over to the books sitting on the coffee table, the only things out of place from the rest of the textures, reading the hard cover and smiling.

"You're really considering it?" You asked, to which Kuni turned towards you, "Taking care of the orchard outside."

He shrugged, his eyes moving back to making tea in the kitchen. "I don't have a choice. It's either me who does it, or it dies."

"That's not true, you can always pay someone to do it for you. I know there's a lot of people who may want it for themselves, it's completely healthy." You rambled, trying to see it through the long windows. "I take it that was a housewarming gift too?"

"From Furina. Came with the house, thought it'd be funny to see me struggle with something mundane."

"I heard," You grinned, not being able to keep your laugh in. "Love that for you, it's like a package deal! Did it work?"

He sighed again, running a hand through his hair at the thought. "I guess, I don't know," He started pour the tea once the pot began to steam. "I know her goal was to drive me insane. A constant reminder that no matter how far I try to distance myself from complications, they find a way to root themselves in my life."

"Hey, I wouldn't see it as that." You chuckled, the sound mixing with the soft clinking of the ceramic cups he was setting on the table. "It's probably just a way to keep you grounded after everything."

"I don't see the appeal in tending to trees."

"Maybe it's not even about that," You mused. "Maybe it's just about finding a healthy medium in your life, don't suppose you had that before, right?" You said, teasingly.

He rolled his eyes at you, a humored smile tugging at his lips. "You're one to preach about silver linings."

Your jaw dropped, a small scoff coming from your mouth. "I actually came here to truce, thank you very much. Even though you're the one who tried to run away from me — news flash, didn't work, genius. Still pissed off about that. I'm glad that Furina is looking to help you as much as she's looking to out you."

"Running away is my thing." He squinted playfully, "Like she's big help anyway. The only reason she's in on it is because she wants us to have this romance trope going on for real this time. It's stupid as fuck."

You paused at his words, feeling yourself swallow a big lump some of the tea nestled in your mouth. You shivered at the heat that washed on you, pursing your lips in thought as you let the conversation simmer. The two of you standing in a companionable silence. The trees outside rustled gently in the breeze, their leaves a vibrant contrast to the muted tones inside.

"I mean, I don't know," You paused, cringing as your fingers tightened on your cup. "I don't think it's stupid."

Kuni stiffened too, gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet yours. There was a certain look that you've never seen before from him. You couldn't decipher his actual feelings. "I figured."

Your cheeks flushed. "Holy shit, never mind if you were expecting it already." You hissed to yourself, trying to ebb how much embarrassment was on your skin. "Look, I need to check into my hotel soon—"

"Sit down." He cut you off, assertiveness in his tone enough to get you to immediately listen, plopping back down. There was an unexpected gravity that was with him, another departure from his nonchalant attitude.

Your heart hammered rapid fire in your chest, a mix of fear and total apprehension were doing a waltz on your general disposition. The more time you were here, the more you worried about the next time you'll make an absolute fucking fool of yourself. You fidgeted with your fingers.

"What really brought you here." He asked, expectantly. "First thing you give me is a hug, and some words of affirmation. You're not here just to catch up, especially after I blew you off."

"I wanted to see you again." You admitted, the weight of your own words pressing down on you. "You owned up to it, left your part of the Internet in a spiral, and then didn't bother to talk to me after that."

He was looking at you, you sensed it. And it wasn't like you could look at him back, otherwise you were going to melt. It was different seeing him from up close, it was an original experience to you if you could name it anything.

His eyes were searching you, despite all you said, as if trying to decipher if you were being genuine. His eyes bored into you like a tiny laser burning your skin. He nodded, a sliver of understanding crossing his face. "You gave me the impression that you were done. I left it at that."

"Yeah, well, I felt like the only one who could leave it at anything was me."

Despite how sticky and tense it was again, you felt relieved that he wasn't as malicious as he was behind the screen. You were relieved that at least the worst of it was over. But it didn't didn't help the burning in your chest, the aching of the bubble in your throat. "Ei really made you do all that stuff? It's not because you really do hate me, right?"

There was no more pretending anymore, no more hiding behind false bravado or dissing each other behind screens like pussies. It was only raw honesty, vulnerable and exposed.

"(Y/N)." His expression softened, a silent dilemma clear on his face. He gathered his own courage, squaring his shoulders a bit and looking at you again. "I'm sorry."

You felt dazed, electricity in the air around you, the world officially tilted on its axis to you. "What?" You accentuated snippier than you intended.

"You were collateral. Nothing that you did deserved what happened to you. Makes sense that you did what you did, you weren't the problem." He explained, shoulders slumped again. "I was behind what I did, at the end of the day; Ei just told me to do it. I'm sorry for being part of the reason you couldn't bounce back. I know if the situation were different, I'd leave you alone."

People kept saying that to you these days, that nothing that happened was because you deserved it. Maybe you never quite got the picture until Kuni said something along the lines of it. You never thought that him apologizing to you would garner the oddest reaction out of you.

Because why was it sexy..? Stop.

"And," He sighed, grabbing your attention lightspeed again. "I would consider liking you more if this all didn't happen. You're alright."

His admission of everything was catching you off guard left and right. You had no idea what to feel with the prominent knot in your stomach. "Do you like me?" "(Y/N), I don't want to—"

"I'm alright, in your words, but do you like me?" Your tone solidified with each word slowly jutting out, assertiveness hardening your composure. "Tell me. Look at me and tell me."

The uncertainly stretched on for what was practically indefinitely. He held his breath, as did you, waiting for his response. Your heart was ruthless against you, beating against your body. He sized you up, seeking an answer for himself.

"...Yeah?" He admitted, voice barely audible as he tried to find his own words. But everything he did think of was so unlike him, out of his personal way of handling things like this. "Yeah. I do."

You blinked, both of your eye contact filling a certain, more romantic space that neither of you even thought was there before today. But the more you realized it, the more you realized that maybe the sexual tension was always there.

previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

YOU ARE on your way to being one of the hottest streamer in your nation at the moment, racking a monthly average of 10 million viewers, but something specific bothers you about it. you know that a lot of people hate you, but there's this one account. one account that's been following you since the early days of your career. they leave a flood of rude comments in your stream, your moderators banned each account they made, but they keep making more. you are at the end of your tether. but you are yet to find out that this persistent cockroach is none other than your friend's friend (and the only other streamer that's bigger than you), scaramouche.

taglist ♡ @thystarsshine @veekoko @gumickajolli @simonisferal @kamiboo

@justpeachyteastea @feiherp @pinkismyfavcolor @aether-darling @kunisnaomi

@keiiqq @mine-lu @featuredtofu @danhenglovebot @k4zushi

@kyon-cherri @b4tm4nn @iiinaurate @quacking-simp @auroratumbles

@kookiibun @ulquiorraswife @amvpk01 @simplysm1le @h3xi2g0n3

@alatusorrow @scaranthropy @mellowberrie @magica-ren @vernith

@kabukipookie @bananasquash @suqarlaced @dellalyra @lightyagamifan

@yourfavoritefreakyhan @heartsforseo @yomishen @pwushizz @swivy123

@strxwberryfetish @ibyobi @ashfrommars4 @chemiru @ainnofinway

@agaygothicmushroom @levianamor @dragontammerz @wth121 @lylovw

@morgyyyyyyy @lovemari @suniika @littlesliceofcheese @yumejo89

@liuaneee @franaby @tiddieshakeshownu @mimi3lover @kavineyah

@kittywagun (bold users means i'm having trouble tagging you)

[harrywavycurly]

What You Deserve Part 13: Not Like Him

Masterlist: Here

🚨THIS CHAPTER GOES INTO DETIAL OF WHAT YOUR EX HAS PUT YOU THROUGH SO READ THE CW/TW VERY CAREFULLY PLEASE🚨

CW/TW: Mentions of toxic behavior, gaslighting, tiny bit of eluding to your ex getting physical with you (no actual descriptions of the abuse is mentioned), language, mentions of drinking, yelling, emotional manipulation.

Tag List: @littlered0000 @saramelaniemoon @ali-r3n @sapphire4082 @sweetmoonlove0214 @eddies-girl-22 @darknesseddiem @peaches-roses-sins @blckburd @comeonatmebruh @daisy-munson @cultish-corner @mrsjellymunson @aol19 @micheledawn1975 @2000babies @marshmallowgem @ang3lc @angelina16torres-blog @transparentenemypenguin @alilstressyandlotdepressy @josephquinnsfreckles @plk-18

A/N: I know it’s been ages but I just had a spark of inspo for these two so I think it’s time you tell Eddie more about your last relationship but as always Eddie is wonderful with a dash of protectiveness tossed in for the girlies who asked for it, enjoy✨

“I don’t know how you drive this thing sweetheart it’s a bit like driving a boat.” You send Eddie a glare from the passenger seat as he pulls into your driveway and he just bites back the smirk that’s itching to take over his face when he looks over at you, he knows his mistake so he’s quick to give your thigh a little squeeze with the hand that’s been resting there since he decided to drive you home from your shift at Family Video about half an hour ago. “I mean that in the nicest way possible of course because you know I adore Dave.” He adds making you roll your eyes as you reach down to grab your bag but of course Eddie beats you to it, taking his hand off your thigh so he can lean down and grab your backpack before getting out of the car.

You watch him sling a strap of your backpack over his shoulder as he walks around to your door so he can open it for you. This being one of the things that took a few months to get used to and even now sometimes he shoots you a warning look before he gets out of the car as a reminder for you to stay seated until he comes to help you out. As much as you want to keep up your annoyed act the moment the door opens and he gives you his signature Munson smile you can’t help but return it with a smile of your own as he holds out his hand for you to take. Eddie gives your hand a firm squeeze once you take it and allow him to help you out of your car, you don’t even try to take your bag from him because you know it’s no use so instead you just let him close your door with his free hand and begin leading you up your fairly new front porch.

“Before we go inside I need you to acknowledge the non dead plants I’ve had for over two weeks now.” Eddie looks around the porch and smiles when he sees two potted plants on a little table in the corner next to a rocking chair. “I think I want to get some fairy lights so it’s more cozy out here when I’m having my coffee or just being a nosey neighbor.” You explain as you dig around in your pocket for your house key and Eddie just nods as he sees a few other little decorations you’ve added like the ceramic turtle that’s next to the bottom step that has a boot brush where the shell is and he can’t help but wonder if you got that for him so he doesn’t bring his dirty boots into your house after working on cars all day.

“I’ll get you a few boxes and put them up this weekend.” He tells you as you unlock the front door, now normally Eddie would unlock and then open the door for you because he is programmed to be a gentleman especially with you but he knows this moment is something you’ve been waiting on for the past three weeks ever since you agreed to move into his old trailer that he gave you a tour of about a month ago. “Also I’m very impressed with your plants baby good job on keeping them alive.” He watches your cheeks turn his favorite shade of pink as he leans over and places a kiss to the heated skin.

“Thank you.” Your voice is a soft mumble but you know he hears you because of the smile he gives you. “Well uh here she is.” You let go of Eddie’s hand so you can open the front door and walk in first allowing you to hold the door open for him. You try to hide your nervousness as you watch him take a few steps inside what used to be his home, a piece of information you didn’t take lightly when you finally told him you’d like to move in and started to slowly make it feel like yours because a part of you still wanted Eddie to feel somewhat at home here even though his actual house is now fifteen minutes away and contains a few more bedrooms.

“It looks great Princess.” You smile and rub your lips together as he makes his way further into the living room looking at the bookshelf you have tucked away in the corner. You watch him slowly reach up and run a finger over the spine of a worn out copy of The Lord of The Rings and you can’t help but feel anxious so you take a few steps towards him and before you can’t stop yourself words are leaving your mouth a mile a minute trying to fix the issue your mind has created before Eddie can get upset.

“I found a box of books and stuff in the closet of the bedroom and figured they deserved to be put out because what kinda book just wants to be shoved in a box in the back of a closet ya know? But if you want them back that’s fine too I’m so sorry I-I should’ve asked you first before just-” Your rant is cut off by Eddie dropping your backpack to the floor and turning so he is facing you allowing him to gently place both hands on your face so he’s cupping your cheeks, his thumbs softly rubbing over your cheekbones.

“You don’t have to apologize for putting books on a bookshelf.” He reassures you but he knows you need a little more than that so he leans down and places a kiss to your forehead making you sigh as your hands come up to wrap around his wrists. “I used to read these over and over because it was my escape from the world around me and I left them here because I didn’t feel like I needed them anymore but I’m glad you found them.” He gives you a smile as you squeeze his wrists letting him know you’re listening to what he’s saying. “What’s mine is yours right? So feel free to read them or if you want I’ll happily read them to you.” Eddie watches you relax as you take in every word he’s telling you.

“I just-I don’t want to make you mad.” You explain and Eddie just nods his head in understanding because he knows, he knows you’re used to the men in your life being easily set off so you’re always ready to try to apologize or makeup for whatever it is that made them upset. “But uhm I like the idea of you reading them to me? I’ve never read them before but I know they are like about magical rings and stuff?” Eddie just smiles as you let go of his wrists and his hands fall from your face as he turns to take another look at the bookshelf.

“I don’t want to spoil it too much for you but yeah it has magical rings in it.” You just watch him look at a few of your personal books before he turns and heads towards the kitchen with you following behind him. “I like how cozy it is in here.” His voice is soft and soothing as he takes a look around the kitchen. You have a basic coffee maker on one counter with your mug collection in the cabinet above it, a green and white rug underneath your small kitchen table that has a few photos hanging on the wall behind it and that’s where you find Eddie pausing for a moment and you automatically know which photo has caught his attention.

“Figured you’d hang this up somewhere.” You smile as he looks at the same photo you found the first time he showed you the trailer, the one of all the members of the Hellfire Club but more importantly the one that shows you how long his hair was at one point in his life and how long he keeps reminding you he is more than happy to grow it for you if you’d like him to. “Know you love the hair.” He looks at you and you feel your cheeks get warm at the playful wink he shoots you before he walks over to take a look inside your pantry and fridge.

“I know I need-”

“We can go grocery shopping tomorrow after I pick you up from work.” Is all he says as he softly closes the fridge and you just nod and begin to mess with the ring on your index finger, the giant skull one Eddie not so subtly left for you a few days ago with your morning coffee and a note saying he hopes you’ll wear it more than he does since he can’t have it on when working on cars or teaching classes at the gym. But deep down you know it’s just his way of giving you something he saw caught your eye and he knows you’re too shy to actually tell him you like it enough to ask him for it.

“May I?” You look up from the spot on the floor you found yourself staring at while lost in your own thoughts just to find Eddie motioning towards your bedroom door with a raised brow.

“Oh yeah sure go on in.” You offer him a small smile before he turns his attention back towards your bedroom door giving the knob a hard twist making it open, a trick you take a mental note of because you often find yourself fighting with the old doorknob trying to get it to open for you when you’re rushing around in the mornings.

You don’t follow Eddie into your room, you just give him space to allow him to see how someone else decided to go about decorating the room that he once spent so much of his time in. You quietly turn and head out into your living room and sit on your cream colored couch and wait for him. The bedroom isn’t that big so you know it won’t take him long but still you don’t want to make him feel rushed with you standing in the kitchen watching him from the doorway. Eddie can’t fight the grin that immediately takes over his face as soon as he enters your bedroom, the feeling of being surrounded by everything you is the same feeling as being wrapped up in a blanket fresh from the dryer, soft and warm. He notices a few photos of you and Steve on your little desk in the corner and he tries to burry his jealousy at the fact the two of you don’t have any photos in your space yet but maybe that’s something he can ask if you’re comfortable with later on. He runs his hand over your comforter and he finds himself not satisfied with the softness of it but that’s an easy fix, well easy if you’re in a good mood and are willing to go shopping with him but that can wait for another day because right now he is just focusing on the fact he’s standing in your bedroom in a house that you allowed him to help move you into and pay for.

It’s not at all lost on Eddie the main reason you’re even in his old home to begin with, you need to live somewhere you feel safe being alone at and your old place just isn’t an option any longer due to your ex boyfriend. Eddie doesn’t take your safety lightly, having already had a security system installed and a new ring doorbell camera set up before you moved in for extra peace of mind. It also helps that almost everyone in the trailer park has known Eddie since he was in middle school so once he told them he had someone he cared about moving in you were almost guaranteed to be monitored by the neighborhood watch, no one would be stopping by without Eddie hearing about it one way or another.

“I love it.” Eddie doesn’t miss the way you jump slightly at the sound of his voice as he enters the living room but he doesn’t comment on it, instead he just gives you a warm smile as he takes a seat next to you on the couch. “I really mean it baby I think it looks great and I like the little things of mine you decided to put out with your stuff.” You look down at your hands that are in your lap so Eddie just reaches over and places one of his hands on your knee and gives it a little squeeze making you finally meet his gaze.

“I wasn’t allowed to-or uhm more like he didn’t like it when I had a bunch of stuff out everywhere so I’ve never gotten to just decorate the way I’ve wanted.” You have to look away from Eddie’s intense stare as you talk and while normally he is very big on eye contact while speaking he knows not to push it with you when it comes to you talking about your ex, only having brought him up one other time so Eddie just sits and lets you talk while his hand gently rubs soothing circles on your knee. “He used to make me feel like I was such a mess all the time because I liked having things out like my book on my nightstand or a stack of magazines on the coffee table and one time he-he just ripped them all up when he came over after a bad day at work and I-I felt so bad for making him upset that I just made sure to never leave stuff like that out anymore.” Eddie tries to not let his emotions get the best of him so he just nods his head letting you know his listening but when you let out a shaky breath he has to physically stop himself from storming out of the house and finding the shitty hole in the wall bar he knows William is more than likely at right now and giving him a piece of his mind without exactly using his words.

“He would get so mad at me for the smallest things like one time I was making coffee too loud so he just took the pot and threw it on the floor and then got upset at me for the mess I made him make.” You swallow the lump that’s forming in your throat as you feel Eddie’s hand give your knee a firm squeeze reminding you that he’s here. “God he was so good at making me feel like everything he did to me was my own fault and that it was just him giving me what I deserved because if I was just a better girlfriend he-he wouldn’t have to drink so much and if he didn’t drink so much then he wouldn’t get so mad and if he didn’t get so mad then-then that night wouldn’t have happened and-” Your words get lost in your throat as you feel a few tears slide down your face as you sniffle and turn to look at the bookshelf, your eyes landing on one of Eddie’s old ones.

You don’t know why you felt the need to unload all of this on Eddie right now of all times but you couldn’t stop yourself and you know at the end of the day it’ll just help him better understand why sometimes you look at him like he truly isn’t real because you really aren’t used to nice guys. A big part of you wants to tell him everything so it’s all just out there and he can get the full picture of who William was and get why you need him to be patient with you but it’ll come with time and as Eddie loves to remind you, the two of you have all the time in the world because he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. But sometimes you do find yourself wishing William wouldn’t have left you feeling so broken because Eddie treats you in a way that makes you feel a little nervous at times but you know it shouldn’t because he’s just treating you the way you actually deserve.

“You know it wasn’t your fault right?” Eddie’s voice is soft but with a slight edge to it because he needs you to fully grasp what he’s saying as he reaches over with his free hand and tucks some of your hair behind your ears as you look back down at your hands. “You didn’t deserve to be treated like that and I’m so sorry he made you think otherwise.” His hand slides to the back of your neck making you relax under his touch and before you can process what’s happening Eddie is ever so gently pulling you into his chest as he drops his hand from your knee so your hands can grip onto his dress shirt that you know is going to need to be dry cleaned due to the wrinkles and tear stains you’re causing.

“He wasn’t worthy of you and he knew it that’s why he tried so hard to make you think you deserved his subpar treatment because he knew the moment you realized he wasn’t good enough or worth your time it would be over for him so he tried to manipulate you in all the worst ways possible in order to get you to stay and I’m so sorry you had to put up with that.” Eddie places a kiss to the side of your head as he begins to run a hand up and down your back as you rest your cheek against the soft fabric of his work shirt. “But I’m so proud of you for leaving him baby that’s the hardest thing to do in those kind of situations but you did it.” You sniffle as a few more tears stream down your cheeks at Eddie’s words because while your friends had told you the same thing it just felt different hearing it come from him.

“You’re nothing like him.” You mumble and you know it’s an obvious statement but you haven’t said it out loud to Eddie before and you just felt like he deserved to hear you say it. “You make me feel safe.” Eddie feels like he could actually burst the moment the words leave your lips, he just smiles and places a few kisses to the side and top of your head.

“You’ll always be safe with me Princess.” You just let out a hum in response and smile to yourself as you snuggle into his chest.

“You think Wayne would like how I decorated?” Eddie looks around for a moment after you ask your question and while his dad may have liked some questionably tacky nascar or other random goodwill finds of his own and preferred a more brown centered color pallet he doesn’t feel like he’s being dishonest at all when he answers.

“Oh yeah baby he’d love it.” He feels you smile against his chest as his hand continues rubbing soothingly up and down your back. “Especially your mug collection.”

[ansitru]

I found these tiny ceramic flower pots and now I'm having ✨ideas✨

[useless-catalanfacts]

There are some toys that children always love. One of them is tiny versions of cooking utensils and dishes. Here's some of them found in Catalonia from different moments of history.

Left: A tiny vase and/or lid (3.2 cm long) made of thick ceramic. Local production, 4th century BC. Museu d'Història de Barcelona.

Right: Little cup (6 cm), made of thick ceramic. Local production, 4th-3rd century BC. Museu d'Història de Barcelona.

Two pitches and a toy pitch (12 cm tall) found at the bottom of a well. This well was built in the 15th century and was stopped using when the city hall built a water fountain in 1636. The pitches had to be lowered with a string, sometimes the string would snap or the pitch would hit the well's walls and break. For this reason, archaeologists found 145 broken pitches at the bottom of the well, and this toy. Little pitches used by children to carry water have been found before in Catalonia, but this one is so little and would be able to carry such an insignificant quantity that it could only be a toy. Museu de Banyoles.

Left: Tiny dish (1.5 cm), imitating the common brown ceramics with green glaze that were common at the time. Local production, 16th century AD. Museu d'Història de Barcelona.

Right: Tiny bowl (1.7 cm). Local production, 16th century AD. Museu d'Història de Barcelona.

Tiny jar (4 cm). Ligurian maiolica ceramic of the series "a tappezzeria" with "tre nuvolette" decoration. In the base, it has the Savona coat of arms used as a workshop seal. Even though this was made in Liguria (Northern Italy), this was found in Barcelona. At the time, there was a lot of commerce between these two places, particularly for ceramic chinaware, with many upper class families in Barcelona buying imported Ligurian dishes, plates, bowls... It seems like they also did it for their children. 16-17th century AD. Museu d'Història de Barcelona.

Tiny reproductions of common ceramics of the Early Modern period found in el Born archaeological site, 17th century-1717. El Born CCM.

Picnic basket (17 cm long), 1952. Museu d'Història de Barcelona.

Cooking tools toys: pot (10.5 cm), heater (3.5 cm) and whisk (12 cm). Second half of the 20th century. Museu d'Història de Barcelona: 1, 2, 3.

And thinking of our own childhoods, I'm sure we can all remember some more.

[yolkby]

I need a set up for photoshoots lol

Ceramics would fix me 😔