BYSTANDER, G.SUGURU

BYSTANDER, G.SUGURU

❪ ♡ ❫ ─── ( synopsis ) in which the neighbor becomes a bystander in an explicit window show.

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — reader discretion is advised: female reader, female anatomy described, profanity, exhibitionism, oral (m.receiving), masturbation (f.solo), drug usage (weed), if you squint a lil dom!geto, voyeurism, artist geto, wc: 1.6k, in need of editing, minors dni !!

part i. part ii. part iii.

THE LARGE WINDOW WAS SOMETHING YOU HAD TO GET USED. You thought about putting curtain ups, but you adored the way the natural sunlight gleamed into your newest condo. Or the fact that you had a perfect view of the apartment across from you. You weren’t even aware that someone lived in the apartment until you were near the window and saw a male figure walking around carrying around art supplies. Your curious eyes squinting to get a better look at the person, but you just couldn’t see that far.

As you ate dinner alone, you would find yourself peeping at the man across from you. He always seemed to be cooped up in his artwork. Rubbing his hands that were covered with paint onto his sweatpants or ripping a piece of paper out from his sketchbook. You found yourself wanting to get a closer look, intrigued to get a closer look at the mysterious man. So you brought a pair of binoculars. Cheeks burning in embarrassment as you realize you were a peeping Tom. How desperate could you be to invade a man’s privacy like this?

One evening when you were twisting and turning in your bed, you gave up trying to sleep. Your feet dragged across the wooden floors towards your kitchen to make your favorite tea that usually helped you fall asleep. As you walked by the huge window where the moon illuminated inside your place, your eyes nearly popped out of your head seeing the view. Your hands frantically picked up the binoculars as you looked directly towards the artist’s apartment. There he was sitting in one of his living room chairs, a rolled blunt in between his lips as another woman was in between his legs. Your heart pounded in your chest watching his fingers comb through his long jet black hair as the woman’s head bobbed up and down on his cock.

You kept mumbling to yourself that this felt so wrong. But your eyes couldn’t pry away from the sight. The way he inhaled and exhaled while a smoke cloud swirled above him as he held the rolled substance in his hand. His other hand was placed on the back of the woman’s head moving with her movements. He was enjoying the wonderful feeling of being on cloud nine due to the weed he was consuming and then being brought back down from his high due to a woman’s lips wrapped around his cock. You felt the growing heat in between your thighs as you put the binoculars down, your hands growing sweaty at the thought of what you just witnessed. You wanted to close your eyes and hopefully, when you opened, you were just hallucinating…dreaming maybe. High off the same thing, the artist was smoking. When you brought the binoculars back to your eyes, your heart seemed to drop in your chest. There he was, the artist giving you a sly wave. If you squint hard enough, you would even admit that he was giving you some cocky smirk.

He knew you were watching.

You watched through the binoculars as he gently nudged the woman off him. The woman’s face was covered with her own saliva as he gripped at her hair dragging her closer to the huge window just so you can get a better look. Your heart seemed to beat faster as you tugged one of your dining room chairs closer to the window, your thighs clamped shut to ignore the ache from your pussy that was begging for attention. As your eyes peeped through the binoculars once more, the woman continued to suck the artist off. His rolled blunt was in between his lips as he would toy with the woman’s brunette hair, eventually putting it in a ponytail to stop her saliva from colliding with her hair.

“Shit.” You muttered to yourself, the little things like that turned you on. You couldn’t help but play with the band of your pajama shorts. You were aware that if he knew you were watching, he could most likely see you.

You would put the binoculars down for a second as you tugged your shorts down. You stepped out of them letting them decorate your wooden floors as you sat back down in the chair you pulled up. Your eyes once again peeking through the binoculars once you picked them back up. The artist's large hand was placed on the window keeping his balance from the sensational pleasure he was receiving.

Your eyes peered at the man as his head fell back in complete bliss. Seeing the way his hips thrust into the woman’s mouth caused your fingers to climb into your panties. Your fingers rubbed at your folds, shocked at the fact that just by being a peeping Tom, you’ve grown wet. Brain rotting with the thoughts of the artist in the other building as you massaged your own cunt, your other hand gripping at the binoculars to get a perfect view of the artist.

Your lips parting slightly to let out a soft whimper as your fingers made a circular motion on your clit that was begging to be touched. The sight of the artist getting a blowjob from another woman caused you to be soaked below, if only you were the one whose lips were wrapped around his cock. The thought of it caused you to push two of your fingers inside to feel around your damp walls. Your fingers stroking eagerly to hit that one spot that caused your toes to curl up in pure bliss. Binoculars glued to your eyes as you watch the artist stare in your direction. A smirk on his face as he would quickly put the blunt he was smoking out. You watched as his muscles flex at each movement the brunette made on his dick. Your teeth grind against your lower lip as you removed your fingers from yourself. Your own wetness glistening your fingers that now were rubbing at your clit.

You watched as the artist’s hips thrust forward. The brunette that was on the floor hands grasped at the rug under her knees trying to hold her balance due to the sudden aggression from the man in front of her. Saliva dripping on the floor and on the brunette’s lap as tears trickled down her cheeks. The actions you were viewing caused you to rub even faster, you could feel the heat pooling in the pit of your abdomen. You watched as the artist’s head fall back as the brunette-haired woman used her hands to massage his shaft. Mimicking his motions as your head also fell back and once again insert your fingers to push around your wet walls. Your imagination lets you wonder and wish that the artist’s fingers were the one inside you, edging you on bit by bit. A moan hitched from the back of your throat as your vision was getting blurry. The last sight through the binoculars you caught a glimpse of before you were pushed into your orgasm, was the artist removing himself from the woman’s mouth. A mixture of his cum and the brunette’s saliva dripping off the artist’s cock.

The binoculars clattered to the ground once you felt your own walls clutch around your fingers. Your chest rising up and down as you seemed to slump in the wooden chair you were sitting in. Sitting in your own pool of wetness as you could see that the artists finished up also. The girl who was blowing him off was walking out of the living room to clean herself up, her face a sloppy mess as she licked her lips of any cum that spilled out her mouth. You quickly grabbed the binoculars, your cheeks steamed with embarrassment as you couldn’t even believe the action you’ve just done. When you peek through them to end your night, you see him staring right back at you. A grin on his face as he gave you a wave right before he turned his living room light off most likely to go join the woman he just face fucked.

You placed the binoculars down and started to clean the mess you made. Your mind is still racing due to the actions you just committed. It was such a new thing and your friends wouldn’t even believe you if you told them what you did. You pushed the chair back into the dining space of your condo and eventually went to go shower. Praying that the steam of the shower would push out the thoughts of the artist that was living rent-free in your mind.

The following morning you seemed to doze off on your living room couch last night, a fluffy blanket tugged on your body and your television was on. As you sat up rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you seemed to begin to remember the events of the following night. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest as you jolted up going towards the window. You couldn’t see the artist walking around his apartment, nor did you see the brunette woman that was wrapped around his cock. But you did see something. You grabbed a hold of your binoculars, peeping through them for one last time and your lips parted to let out a scandalous gasp.

There stood in the living room close to the large window that the artist once was using as support last night was a painting. A painting so explicit that it caused you to place your hand on your chest in disbelief. The painting was a painting of you last night. On the canvas was an explicit painting of you masturbating at the view of him. You couldn’t help but notice the details he put into his work, especially considering that you live in an apartment building across from his. He had to have such a vivid imagination to create such a piece.

And in the corner, you saw his signature in black paint.

Geto Suguru.

The artist's name was Geto Suguru.

true gift

A god like Naoya is about to see how his little mortal is hiding a true gift.

REQUEST.  deity au + virgin sacrifice for naoya + reader with worship kink

CONTENT/WARNINGS. virginity loss, naoya isn’t nice, mentions of blood,  murder, abduction, praise kink, slight degradation, fingering, overstimulation, slight breeding kink, creampie, orgasm denial, mentions of slavery, face fucking, reader is willingly consenting to pain, reader is a masochist, naoya is a sadist 

NOTES. ah…it feels so natural to write naoya…also can someone send me some good erotic hentai panels, yay <3

Keep reading

call it what you want

part 2 of dazzling haze, mysterious way

(eren x female reader) college au, enemies to lovers

wc: 8k+ lmao

warnings: cursing, alcohol, suggestive

Sure, you've babysitted his little sister for one afternoon, but Eren doesn't expect you to actually show up at the nye party he's impulsively invited you to. Not one thing about that night he was able to predict

“Didn’t you say this was going to be a low-profile thing?”

Connie snorts, taking a step back to admire the order of the bottles placed on the kitchen counter for a second, only to disrupt it and rearrange them completely.

“You always force me to lie” is his casual reply. Armin sighs, irritated.

“I just wanted to keep it chill for once. And, ideally, not wake up in a puddle of your vomit”

Jean chuckles at that and lands a not so gentle pat on his friend’s back.

“Cheer up, ‘Min. I’ll take care of that for once”

“And who’ll take care of you?”

“Our lover boy, of course” Jean sneaks behind one of his best friends, who’s sitting on the counter right next to the bottles, feet dangling nervously and phone in his hand.

“The fuck—” Eren gasps when two hands painfully squeeze his shoulders and not so gently shake him twice.

“Are you gonna tell us? ‘Cause if you keep staring at that screen, you’re gonna burn a hole in it”

“There’s nothing to tell, get off me” he slaps Jean’s hands away with a glare that only makes his friend laugh harder.

“Can’t remember the last time you had a crush” Connie grins, finally satisfied with the order of the bottles and ready to engage in the next activity that requires his undivided attention: annoying the shit outta Eren.

“I don’t have a crush”

“So you just wanna fuck her?”

“I’m sorry, when did I give you the impression that this was any of your business?”

Jean hums solemnly. “He’s getting defensive. Definitely a crush”

“Y’know, I heard Mikasa may come tonight” Armin casually takes another sip from the cup of tea he’s holding in his hands. Jean’s reaction is immediate, eyes like saucers as he runs to him and what, how do you know, where did you hear roll off his tongue in rapid succession. Eren shoots Armin a grateful look and seizes the opportunity to get off the counter and out of the kitchen. The guest bathroom is the only place where no one, not even Connie and his narrowed gaze will follow, and he needs a second to collect his thoughts.

He remembers the day Connie’s mom had ordered the pink microfiber toiled lid cover he now sits on, because he was there that afternoon and she had specifically asked for his opinion about it. As he unlocks his phone and taps on the cracked screen to open his instagram directs again, teeth mercilessly dig into his lower lip when he reads the same thing he’s been reading over and over again under the only message he has sent you.

Seen 18h ago.

To be absolutely fair, you never promised anything and he had barely mustered the courage to do something as trivial as following you on social media the day after christmas. It took you eight hours to follow him back but still, you did. He liked the story showcasing your brother unwrapping his gift but you didn’t like his story back, the one displaying Gabi carrying around her brand new speaker while blasting love story by Taylor Swift at full volume around the living room.

He shouldn’t expect a reply, after all. His message merely consists of Connie’s address followed by a just in case you change your mind. Still, as Eren leans back and rests his head against the cold, marble tiles, he can’t help but close his eyes and replay the stupid scene in his head once more. How your name had slipped past his lips for the second time that day, the casual question and the puzzled look on your face. Your I’ll stay home with my family, I don’t love parties. The pathetic disappointment crawling all the way up to his stomach as he mumbled a fair enough. Goodnight, then.

“This is fucking ridiculous” he mutters to himself, lightly bumping his head on the tiles behind him. So what if you don’t reply, if you don’t come? You don’t even like him, don’t even bother hiding the fact that you find him unpleasant to be around. He remembers how tense you were in his car, the way you could barely bring yourself to look at him, always facing the other way, a look so flat as you grumbled you seem like the type of person to do that, get away with things.

Eren conveniently erases everything else from his memory. Your smile, the jokes, an airy laugh, you’re good with kids and at drawing too, hardly held back giggles as he handed back his finished drawing, how your hands looked while slicing up ingredients and you seemed to belong in his kitchen, on his couch, at his table. The way he had shortly wondered how it would feel to lift you up on the same marble counter you were working on, jeans pulled all the way down to your ankles, legs looped over his shoulders as he crouched down, never breaking eye contact, fingers tangling in his hair tugging tugging tugging against the strands hard enough to make him groan-

“Okay, no” he grumbles, shutting his eyes again. The issue here is clearly coming from his groin, Connie and his bet be damned. It’s not that there’s anything special about you or wrong with him for caring so much about a stupid text, it’s just plain, ordinary sexual frustration. You’re a stuck-up tutor girl who accidentally happens to also be oddly attractive and nice to kids, s’all. It’s not like he doesn’t have any other options.

Eren unlocks his phone again, this time tapping on Wildcats, his basketball team group chat. A few seniors are part of the team as well, which always comes in handy when throwing parties.

(Eren, 3:56 pm) who’s coming tonight? Connie’s, 9pm

(Erwin, 3:57 pm) hard pass, I can only have him throw up on me so many times

(Niccolo, 3:58 pm) lmao

(Niccolo, 3:58 pm) I feel brave, I’ll come and bring food

(Bert, 3:58 pm) Reiner has to pick annie up so we might be late

(Eren, 3:59 pm) just be here before everyone’s too wasted to open the door

(Marco, 3:59 pm) @Eren can jean give me a ride?

(Eren, 4:01 pm) he will if you lie and tell him mikasa is coming with you

(Colt, 4:02 pm) holy shit, he’s still on that?

(Floch, 4:04 pm) sorry guys, already made plans

(Porco, 4:04 pm) I’ll be there just fucking stop spamming this chat

(Niccolo, 4:04 pm) @Floch you finally getting laid?

(Eren, 4:05 pm) be useful for once in your life and bring pieck @Porco

(Porco, 4:06 pm) eat shit yeager, stop sticking it in my sister

(Eren, 4:06 pm) she didn’t mind last time I checked

(Niccolo, 4:07 pm) king shit

(Porco, 4:07 pm) @Eren you’re repulsive

(Eren, 4:07 pm) don’t be late buddy

Eren smirks as he gets up and slips his phone, promptly put on silent, in the back pocket of his black jeans. He feels better, definitely closer to getting his shit together, your features slowly blurring out in the corners of his mind. As if.

“Are you taking a shit in there, man? I swear if you’re sending nudes from my goddamn bathroom—” Connie’s brutal knocks make him jump and he’s quick to open the door only to be met with a killer glare.

“Can’t even jerk off in peace” Eren mutters, theatrically wiping one of his hands on his jeans as he passes his horrified friend by.

As he gets back in the kitchen and hops on the counter, he’s finally more present and actually updates his friends on the new guests he had just invited, much to Armin’s annoyance. They’ll spend the afternoon playing call of duty, filling out bowls with snacks and then they’ll order enough pizza for an army as soon as the first guests start showing up.

Armin suspiciously eyes his best friend as he throws his head back in laughter at Connie’s expression when Jean voices his predictions on how many people will get drunk enough to jump naked in the jacuzzi sitting outside in the garden. Something has shifted and it’s too early for him to tell if it’s for better or for worse, still, he hopes it’s not one of those times when Eren screws everything up for himself without even realizing it.

Armin’s the only person who knows about you and the afternoon spent at his house, the fact that he had invited you to the party and has been nervously waiting for a response for an entire day. By now he’s known Eren for enough years to sense that nothing good would come from the sudden spike in energy he’s witnessing. Especially because all at once he seems too focused on Connie and Jean jokingly wrestling by the sink to notice how the screen of his phone, now sitting on the counter right next to his thigh, lights up.

You shuffle nervously in the backseat for the nth time and there’s no need to peer at the designated driver to guess that she’s rolling her eyes once more.

“You okay?” Christa turns to look at you from the passenger seat, worried frown barely twisting her delicate features.

“She’s fine” Ymir mutters under her breath, making your eyebrow twitch.

“I’ve been better” you grumble between gritted teeth and she huffs out a laugh.

“Better? As in wearing sweatpants and watching it’s a wonderful life with your dad while choking down jumbo blueberry pop tarts better?”

“Remind me why we’re even going to this stupid party?” you conveniently ignore the mean words directed your way and keep doing what you do best: pout and complain until Ymir is so exhausted she has to drop the mean act and actually feel bad for what she’s putting you through.

“Because we had no other plans, one of our new year’s resolutions was to try new things and you look hot in that dress”

You narrow your eyes as Mikasa, sitting next to you, chuckles.

“Do not lie to my face, you’re just happy you get to drink for free”

She shrugs and you groan.

“Maybe we’re gonna have fun” Mikasa timidly suggests and you direct a skeptical look her way.

“I’m just happy I get to spend the night with my best friends” she adds, gently nudging you with her shoulder.

“Oh don’t mind her, she’s just annoyed Eren Yeager turns her on” Ymir’s comment earns her the lightest slap on her leg from her girlfriend.

“I think I just barfed in my mouth a bit” your nose scrunches up in fake disgust.

Liar, Mikasa mouths and your knee bumps aganinst hers. Shut up, you mouth back.

When you had first told them the Eren Yeager had invited you to a party, their eyes had nearly popped out of their heads. You had to go through the entire day spent at his house, patiently explain that nothing had nor could’ve happened, carefully leave out any reference to the warmth of his chest pressing on your back whilst making dinner or the goosebumps you got from the feeling of his fingers under the collar of your jacket.

He’s hot and you’re a woman, no need to make a fuss about it. You’re allowed to admit how attractive he is, even if you can’t stand him. Even if you couldn’t believe he had actually followed you on instagram, the notification popping on your screen nearly giving you a heart attack. He has over 8k followers, barely any pictures (most recent one is from six months ago, depicts who you can only guess is one of his friends from behind, sitting on the hood of a car and wearing a black hoodie with a white writing that says get off my dick), but shares stories regularly and reposts stupid videos downloaded from tiktok.

Your friends had forced you to get out of your white sweatpants, wear the damn black sequin dress jacket and actually get out of your comfort zone for once. You’re not going for him, you’re going for yourself. You want to indulge in some fun, do something different, let go for once. It’s not going to be that bad, right? It doesn’t mean anything, that he’s invited you to the party. It doesn’t mean anything, that you’re going. Besides, Armin is probably going to be there, a prospect that soothes you.

As you get out of the car ever so carefully (it’s been a minute since you’ve last worn 6 inch heels), you watch as your friends to the same, Mikasa and Christa holding the paper bags with the wine bottles you have brought as a gift. Ymir pulls out her key fob from the pocket of her coat and the familiar chirp of her car’s locking mechanism echoes in a night that would be quiet if it weren’t for the loud, banging music coming from the villa at the end of the driveway.

Ymir casually throws an arm around your shoulders and lightly squeezes you against her for a second.

“If you feel uncomfortable at any moment tell me and I’ll kick ass” she whispers in your ear, managing to make you smile. They all look so nice. Mikasa with her black jumpsuit, Christa with her navy lace dress, Ymir absolutely rocking that burgundy flare pant suit.

It’s gonna be alright, you decide, as you all walk up to Connie’s front door and gingerly ring the doorbell. The door swings open in a second, making you slightly wince, and you recognize one of Eren’s friends right away.

“Hi, Jean” Mikasa smiles and the tips of his ears become pink.

Right, you remember, they know each other. They were assigned to the same group project last semester and they had hit it off, something you really don’t understand because every time you’ve seen Jean around campus he’s always been quite loud, obnoxiously jumping on Eren’s back or lying on the grass with one hand behind his head, eyes closed with Armin unsuccessfully trying to wake him up by slamming a notebook on his forehead. But when Mikasa is around he becomes quiet, almost shy, attentive with words and gestures. She finds it adorable and you do too: must be nice having someone who turns into the best version of themselves just for you.

“Mikasa! I’m so happy you made it! I mean— that you all made it” his gaze flickers to you for a second, then he steps aside, allowing you to get in.

Christa has to turn her head to hide her smile as he offers to take off Mikasa’s coat and is then forced to collect everyone else’s as well. Arms full, Jean leads the way to the living room, where everyone is, and indicates the kitchen with a struggled motion of a hand.

“Help yourselves to anything, I’ll be right back!” he smiles to Mikasa one last time before quickly leaving the room, headed upstairs.

You nervously look around, relieved as you take note that almost no one has noticed your arrival. However, Connie Springer, the host himself, comes out of the kitchen and instantly opens his arms in a welcoming gesture as he approaches your little group.

“Girls, hello! What can I get ya?” his smile is wide and genuine so you can’t help but mirror it.

“Thanks for inviting us. We brought these” Christa gently offers the paper bag in her hand and Mikasa does the same. Connie promptly accepts them with a small bow.

“Ah, you didn’t need to. I’m sure we’ve seen each other around campus but it’s nice to officially meet y’all, I’m Connie!” his grin is so infectious even Ymir cracks a small smile. As introductions are made, she asks if mixology is allowed and his eyes glow with genuine excitement as he asks her to follow him to the kitchen. She looks at Christa to silently ask if she’d be alright and she squeezes her hand twice with a smile and a small nod.

“Ohmygosh, hi!” you stumble as you suddenly find yourself wrapped in an tight embrace, with a high pitched voice ringing in your ears. You pull back just enough to be met with a pair of big, familiar and currently quite clouded eyes.

“Sasha!” you smile and hug her back, as an attempt to both reciprocate her affection and keep her steady on her feet.

“I didn’t know you knew these maniacs! M’so happy you’re here!” she kisses you on the cheeks and you giggle, catiously untangling yourself from her arms as Mikasa’s hands ghost over her shoulders, just in case.

“Girls, this is Sasha, we have the same major. Hey, are you okay? Do you need some wat—” Sasha literally throws herself over to your friends, hugging them both at the same time and chanting about how delighted she is to meet such beautiful women on such a fine night. You’re still laughing when your gaze casually meets a familiar one that has your insides twisting. There’s a girl sitting on the couch next to him, so close her thigh is basically flush against his, and some guy with blond hair is talking to him. But Eren Yeager is looking at you, eyes boring into yours as he slowly gets up and leaves the beer bottle he was holding on the coffee table. The dark haired girl looks displeased by her leg being left suddenly cold.

It’s embarrassing, really, how fast your heart is beating as he makes his way through his other friends to approach you, sage eyes never leaving yours, as if he can’t quite believe you’re actually standing there. You can’t quite believe it yourself, to be honest.

“You came” the blunt, almost breathed out observation serves as a greeting and you give him a coy smile, one that, paired with the outfit you’re wearing, is almost enough to shatter all the progress he feels like he’s made throughout the afternoon.

“My friends insisted and I thought it might be fun after all” your shoulders shrug out of a weird, awkward rigidity.

“So, polemic and skeptical” he can’t help but crack a smile.

It’s infuriating, really, how good he looks in just a pair of black jeans, a white shirt and some consumed dr martens. His hair is left down for a change and you feel the sudden urge to tuck the strands framing his face behind his ears.

“Can I get you anything?” Eren clears his throat and you blink as you realize you’ve been staring, letting the silence stretch way past a reasonable interval. Damn it.

“Uh, sure. Yeah. A beer?” he has to fight back another smile at your quizzical tone.

“You got it”

But the opportunity to get you a drink is taken from him as a heavy hand lands on his back, the blond guy with an undercut from before materializing next to him and offering you his hand.

“Hey, I don’t believe we met. I’m Porco” he smiles as his grey eyes light up. Uncertain, you smile back and introduce yourself, squeezing his hand. He turns to Eren, who is glaring at him in a way that makes you think he’s trying to burn a whole in his forehead.

“You can’t keep all the pretty ones to yourself, man. My sister’s waiting for you, remember?” Porco grins and squeezes his shoulder one last time before looking back at you. “We’re missing some players for beer pong. You girls wanna join in?”

“Yes!”, Sasha hollers and you turn around to find her squeezed between your friends, who are doing their best to keep her from collapsing on the floor.

“You’ve played enough, Sash” Christa chuckles at her pout. She offers to sit with her and cheer for your team in case you want to play and a newfound confidence warms your chest as you turn back to look at Porco. He’s good looking, seems nice and you’re there to have fun. To experiment. He doesn’t look like a bad place to start experimenting from and, most importantly, no one’s sister’s waiting for him.

“Me and Mikasa will play. Get yourself a good team” you smile and the pleased laugh he lets out heats up your cheeks. Eren, who hasn’t looked away from you once, wishes he still had that beer bottle tucked between his fingers to hold onto.

Letting go is fun, you decide.

You, Mikasa, Jean and Annie, some girl you had hit it off with right away, ended up winning against Porco’s beer pong team and they were all forced to pass around a cup filled with scotch whisky (singleton of dufftown, 54 year old, single malt) to honor the bet you had previously agreed to.

Throughout the entire night, both you and your friends have easily warmed up to the other guests. Ymir’s drinks became an instant success and she is happy to sit down and discuss different mixology methods with Annie, Connie and Jean, although you suspect the latter is just joining the conversation because he gets to sit next to Mikasa. Sasha’s had some water and a slice of pizza, so by now she’s feeling good enough to excitedly guide Christa and some guy named Niccolo through the best things she got to eat over the holidays and the topic she’s thinking of centering her senior thesis presentation around. You’ve been mostly standing in the kitchen, because it’s fairly quieter than the dining room, comfortably leaning against the wooden table to chat with Armin, Porco and some nice guy named Marco.

You’ve had two beers so far, not enough to get you drunk but a decent help nonetheless. You’re relaxed enough to have a friendly, far from awkward conversation with guys you have barely just met, laid back enough not to remove one of their arms from around your waist as you ask Armin about the new students he’s offered to tutor for the new semester, unbothered enough not to replay the scene of Eren Yeager sitting in a corner of the dining room lazily making out with couch girl in your head. It’s perfectly normal, it’s what he does. And it doesn’t faze you, the fact that he hasn’t talked to you all night. He’s invited you to a party only to ignore your very presence at said party. Normal. What he does. Again, not fazing you.

When Marco and Porco excuse themselves to take a short smoke break, the latter gently squeezing your hip before leaving the room, Armin clears his throat in a way he hopes sounds natural enough.

“So” he casually swings his cup filled with jungle juice, the orangy liquid dangerously swooshing around the red plastic “you babysit, huh?”

Oh no.

“Not often” is your cautious reply.

His blue eyes bore into yours. “I heard you’re great”

You hum, pensive, leaning against the table a little more. “I try. Most of the time s'just an excuse to watch disney movies”

He slightly pushes his lower lip forward, giving his cup another swing. “Heard you’re also good at cooking”

With a sigh, you surrender. “Armin, just get to the p—”

“I think he likes you”

Trying your best not to choke on your own spit, you blankly stare at him waiting for a hah, you totally fell for that. But it never comes. Armin just keeps staring back at you.

“You’re drunk” you state matter-of-factly, to which he finally cracks a smile.

“This is my first drink of the evening”

“I see. You’re just insane, then”

“Is it really so hard to believe?”

You frown. “What? That your friend, currently sitting in the other room with someone else’s tongue shoved down his throat, likes me? M'gonna have to say yes”

Armin scoffs. “You’re too smart to let his dumb act fool you”

Your ears start ringing as a result of your body heating up at an alarming speed, increased blood flow and everything. There’s really no point in arguing with him because you can feel your insides twisting once more. Desperate times call for desperate measures so you grab a clearly used cup from the table behind you and down its content, some amber-colored liquid that pleasantly burns your throat and explodes like fireworks in your chest. It’s Armin’s turn to frown at the fact that, clearly, you are letting Eren’s dumb act fool you. But if you are, it means there’s a chance you’re not as indifferent as you want him to believe. Which, finally, gives Armin something to work with.

“Listen…” he almost whispers, one hand gently grazing your arm, but Connie suddenly bursts into the kitchen, whining (more like slurring) about you missing all the fun as he grabs you both by the wrist and quite literally drags you out of the room. Armin decides to empty his cup in one go instead of risking to spill the drink on his light blue shirt and the way his nose wrinkles in distaste makes you giggle.

Someone has dimmed the lights to the point where you can barely see your feet as you stumble behind your abductor and now the beat blasting from the speakers connected to god knows whose laptop makes it impossible to hear anything else. All furniture has been pushed to the sides of the room, which now looks like a temporary but not least frenzied dancefloor.

“Connie, I don’t—” you attempt to free yourself but he only drags you more energetically towards the mass of bodies clashed together and yet still managing to take up the whole space in what's a definitely not narrow room. Your alarmed gaze meets Armin’s resigned one but you soon lose sight of him as someone else grabs you by the arm and pulls you right in so violently your bodies collide and you almost tumble on the floor.

“Sasha!” you groan in a faint attempt to escape her grabby hands, but she just shakes her head and yells an excited dance with me! right to your ear, making you wince.

Soon, however, your brain is saturated enough with the sweet liquor you’ve downed in the kitchen for your body to move on its own accord. Maybe tomorrow you’ll remember why you never mix when drinking, and possibly curse Ymir for sharing a video of you clumsily jumping around with Sasha and Connie on her instagram stories, but right now, this very moment, feels glorious.

You’re unaware of your surroundings and so deliciously ignited by a newfound boldness, there’s really no time to think or wonder or notice one of the very few people who aren’t dancing, leaning against the door frame and unable to cast his eyes away from your figure, discernible to him even amidst the throng of bodies taking up the makeshift dancefloor. It’s a fun sight, really, you arm in arm with two of his closest friends, Connie suddenly breaking free to gracelessly twirl both you and Sasha at the same time. She ends up colliding with Armin’s back and grabs him by the hand, yelling something right to his ear as she forces him to keep up with her moves, absolutely oblivious to the grumpiness sharpening Niccolo’s features. You’re having a good time, it seems, and it’s amusing how you jump around on those hellish heels when one of the most iconic (according to whoever lacks basic music taste, he believes) pop hits of the early 2000s comes up. The beat is so deafening Eren can’t hear himself think, which is a good thing, especially after the extra ten minutes he’s spent in the garden freezing his ass off following the annoying-to-a-whole-new-degree conversation he’s had with one of his teammates, who had casually offered him a cigarette after bumping into him on his way out with Marco.

So smart. Yeah.

She can keep up. He knows.

Holy shit. And she gets to be beautiful too. Accurate.

It’s fun, getting to look at you as you accidentally bump into Reiner and start apologizing at the top of your lungs, a loud, unbroken string of oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you okay, oh my god, I’m really sorry, that have him and Bert look at each other and erupt in laughter. It’s fun, until it’s not. Porco is laughing too as he gently grabs you by the waist to balance you on your feet and against his chest, a position you seem to appreciate as you welcome his touch and lean on him, your head lazily resting on his shoulder. You’re both out of step and he must point that out in your ear because you giggle and shrug, your hands covering his only to guide his arms further around you.

Eren isn’t really a drinker. He doesn’t like how alcohol tastes, never needs liquid courage, merely indulges in a beer or two at parties or celebrations. But holy fuck, if he isn’t on the verge of downing as many drinks as needed to get absolutely shit faced.

“You okay?” someone shouts so close to his ear he almost feels his brain rattle.

“What?” Eren shouts back, glad to have an excuse to finally look away from the dancefloor. Colt repeats the question with an even higher pitch.

“I’m great!”

His friend rolls his eyes and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t take it personally!”

Eren frowns and follows his gaze, only just locating Pieck in the middle of the dancing crowd, smile fondly mirroring Marco’s. He almost throws his head back in laughter but is able to hold back, placing a hand on Colt’s shoulder in turn instead.

“All good!” and his friend smiles at that, giving him a thumbs up as he takes a sip from the cup he’s holding.

But, honestly, all is very fucking far from being good. Because Eren is left staring at you once again as the song changes and a lo-fi house mix starts blaring from Connie’s speakers which are, incomprehensibly, still not detonating. You’re nothing more than a silhouette in a light so dim he can’t quite discern your features anymore and still his jaw clenches as you turn around and wrap your arms around his friend’s neck. Eren exhales through his nose because how could this be happening? How is Porco the one getting to feel the back of your thighs, to take a handful of your ass in his hands? How are you pressing your body flush against him as he leans forward just enough not to leave any more distance between you two, the sight of your lips on his sufficient to make Eren's stomach churn?

“Be right back” he doesn’t even look at Colt to make sure he’s heard the deafening yell that bubbles from his throat as he turns his back to the mess he’s witnessing and makes his way upstairs, away from the pounding beat that’s making his head throb.

Two seconds after Colt is left alone by the door frame, you take a cautious step back, hands sliding down to Porco’s biceps to balance yourself.

“I need a second!”, you shout, to which he frowns, so you repeat yourself leaning a little more into his ear and there’s really no time to check if he’s heard you because two palms flatten against your back and lightly shove you out of the mob and towards the couch pushed to the side of the room. You clumsily land on it, heels be damned, and Mikasa almost trips on you in an attempt to sit down more gracefully. For what you’re able to see in the semi darkness, her cheeks are flushed and some strands of raven hair are sticking to her forehead.

“What’s wrong?” your first instict is to be alarmed as you grab her by the arm and offer your ear for her to shout into. Has Jean been grabby? Is she uncomfortable? Why are her brows so furrowed?

“What are you doing?” she asks, voice oozing disapproval as you blink in confusion.

“I was dancing?” you ask back, to which Mikasa rolls her eyes. The exasperated sigh she breathes out loud, clear, intimidating despite the banging music. She leans over to shout something back in your ear as a response but you only manage to catch a bunch of disconnected words instead of a rational sentence. Tongue, wrong, mouth.

“My tongue is wrong?” you cup her ear with your hand in an attempt to make sure she, as opposed to you, understands what you’re saying. Mikasa is annoyed but still, she indulges in a giggle.

“Your tongue was in the wrong mouth!”

“Why isn’t yours somewhere else right now?” you pull back slightly in hopes she can see your narrowed eyes. Mikasa lightly slaps your arm, a blush creeping up all the way up to her cheeks.

“Don’t deflect!”

Your throat is sore from screaming so you simply roll your eyes and pull out your phone, frantically typing in an empty text box and then proceeding to hold the screen in front of your friend’s face, the sudden light making her eyes squint.

He’s hot and he likes me, when will that ever happen again?

Mikasa snatches the phone from your hand and types back.

It’s already happened. Go find him.

Your gaze flickers from the screen to her, disbelief embedded in your features. Why is everyone convinced something as unthinkable as Eren Yeager being suddenly interested in you is real? Why are you getting shit for making out with a guy when he’s been making out with someone else all night?

You’re so fed up and tired of having to explain yourself and worn out from the tension clenching your limbs. As you take the phone from Mikasa’s hands one last time, you refuse to look at her.

I’m gonna go find a bathroom.

The room is slightly undulating as you get up and it takes a second to make sure you’re steady enough on your feet to walk away. Mikasa calls your name but you dismiss her concern by gesturing vaguely with one hand, not even bothering to turn around.

Throughout the years, movies and shows and books have taught you that bathrooms are upstairs at the end of the hallway, usually on the left, so that’s where you decide you’re headed to.

You stumble on the stairs, a hand is kept on the handrail for good measure as you grumble to yourself that maybe a pit stop in the kitchen to get some water would’ve been a smart move. Heels annoyingly click on the linoleum flooring as you arrive at your predefined destination. You abruptly let yourself in a random room by pushing a barely closed door open and squint your eyes for a second, not expecting the light to be on. Eren looks up from the bed covered with coats and jackets he’s sitting on. The beat of silence stretches for a moment too long: he doesn’t cast his eyes away and you awkwardly stand with one foot in the room, the other still by the door.

“Everything okay?” you hear yourself ask.

“You alright?” he inquires in synch.

He chuckles, you smile. Bathroom be damned: freshening up can wait a few minutes, you decide as you step in.

“No, don’t—” Eren suddenly raises his voice with an urgent pitch that makes you wince as you shut the door behind you, brows furrowed in confusion “close it” he sighs, hand coming in contact with his forehead with a loud smack.

Huh?

“D’you suffer from claustrophobia?” it’s incredible, really, that you’re able to spell out such a big word at the moment.

“Handle’s broken” he groans.

Oh.

You give it a hesitant try and sure enough it sinks easily under your grip, the door remaining locked. Great.

“Can you call someone?”

“Phone died. Can you?”

You promptly unlock your phone and select Mikasa’s name to tap on in your most recent calls list. Nothing. You try both Ymir and Christa next but who knows where they left their phones, it’s almost midnight and you doubt anyone’s stopped dancing to check their messages yet.

“Someone will come looking for us eventually” you shrug and walk over to what you can only guess is Connie’s bed, only to sit on the cream colored carpet on the ground, back pressed against the bed. Your shoulder is close enough to long legs wrapped in dark jeans and you have to resist the urge to lean into one of them as you stretch your own towards the wall, too tipsy too care about how exposed your legs actually are.

“What’re you doing here anyway? Everyone’s dancing” you hope you sound casual enough.

“I fled to avoid killing whoever is in charge of that playlist” his tone is playful, something that, for some reason, fills your chest with relief.

“So you’re a music snob” you glance up at him “who would’ve guessed”

“It’s called having taste”

Your snort comes out as a badly concealed laugh and he shortly turns his head to look at the wall on his right, to hide his own smile. He can tell it’s going to be a short-lived resistance but he isn’t willing to cave in to your warmth so easily. It’s immature, the annoyance churning in the pit of his stomach: he doesn’t own nor he has claimed you but he can’t bear the thought of Porco’s hands on you, the way you had melted into his touch, how your fingers must’ve tangled in his hair—

“Eren, d’you want to fuck me?”

He freezes, breath hitching in his throat. The first thing he registers, is how freakishly good you can make his name sound. The second, is the way your lips must’ve wrapped around the words fuck me. Certainly good enough to make his cock twitch in his briefs.

“What?” his voice comes out uncharacteristically choked and you look up at him through thick lashes, gaze so innocent he has to inhale deeply through his nose.

“S’that what you want? Why you’ve been so nice to me?”

It’s a pin-drop feeling the disappointment that suddenly washes over him like a tidal wave, sharp and powerful in its density. It’s like his stomach is crumpling up like a piece of paper, abdomen so squeezed he feels on the verge of throwing up right then and there.

“Can you elaborate?” he politely asks, as if one of his hands isn’t clenching the sleeve of a random leather jacket from the pile of outerwear scattered on the bed he’s sitting on. You shrug.

“Everyone’s been implying weird stuff ‘bout you liking me and I thought yeah, he’s been unusually nice but he probably just wants to fuck, s’all”

Is that what alcohol does? Turn you into this inhibited, brutally straightforward person?

Your words sting. Not because they’re true but because they could’ve so easily been true and Eren knows that all too well. He’d lie if he said he didn’t enjoy having a reputation, getting stopped by other students willing to compliment him on a particularly good game, having girls casually stop by his table at the campus cafeteria, receiving smiles and salacious proposals and having notes slipped underneath his door when they know he’d be in his dorm.

Eren dates but doesn’t actually do relationships. Being casual about flings means he gets to have more options and keeping things relaxed, temporary even, means he both doesn’t have to give in to actual intimacy and handle someone else’s depth. But that’s the thing: he doesn’t engage with any of that if he’s not absolutely certain the other person is willing to stay on the same, exact page. Not that he’s always been this considerate, by any means, but he’s learned his lesson and now strives not to be too bad of a person.

Has he fantasized about having his head buried between your thighs? Has he wondered how you’d look underneath him, if you’d ever want to be there in the first place? Yes. Does he like the idea of you thinking he’s spent an entire afternoon sketching candy cane forests and gingerbread houses, washing the dishes cause he could guess your tiredness, making hot cocoa to make you stay a little longer, inviting you to the stupid party, all just because he wanted to get in your pants?

No, he hates the idea. Fuck the idea, actually.

“If you believe I can only be nice to someone if I want to fuck ‘em, you’re not so different from what you think I am” he mutters bitterly, words cutting through the air like a knife slicing through softened butter.

Truth is, he’s being unfair and he knows it. Deep down he just didn’t believe you’d be the type of girl to be able to let go, enjoy a party, make out with some random guy and let him touch you in front of everyone. He didn’t think you’d be easy to charm but, hell, he at least hoped he’d be the only one attempting to.

“Well, you’ve only ever been an ass to me” your reply is just as bitter.

Has he? Well, it’s possible.

“You’re not a walk in the park yourself”

“Excuse me?”

He huffs.

“It’s practically impossible to approach you. And you’re judgmental, all the time”

You prop your elbow on the bed to gain some leverage as you turn your body towards him, mouth indignantly open to let out a string of protests.

“Don’t even get me started on the polemic tone” he rolls his eyes and you have to fight the urge to clench your fingers around the duvet.

“Okay, first of all, you just lack basic human courtesy” you intentionally ignore the being judgmental accusation because, much to your annoyance, it’s legit. Each time you’d get a glimpse of him or his friends around campus you’d only be able to think about how insufferable, obnoxious, annoying they were. A single night with them and you’ve already found out how sweet Jean can actually be, how friendly and genuine Connie is, how no one has made you feel uncomfortable or unwelcome even though you’re a stranger to all of them. Each of them went out of their way to make sure no one felt left out and that’s something you never would’ve guessed about some of the most popular people who usually roam around your school shouting loud, inappropriate jokes and randomly start piggyback ride challenges across campus.

“S'that all you got?” his chuckle is, for a change, infuriating. You want to slap his stupid knee. “You didn’t seem to mind my courtesy degree back at mine”

Yes, because you were actually surprisingly nice to be around.

Eren’s eyes are on you in a second while you struggle to come up with an effective comeback.

“Was I, now?” a smirk stretches his lips and you’re horrified to find out you’ve actually voiced your thoughts out loud.

“Let’s not talk” you cross your arms ovef your chest and lean with your back against the bed once more, face heating up so quickly you’re not sure hiding it it’s of any use.

“Or we could let this pointless hostility go”

“I’m not hostile, just reasonably annoyed”

“So we should just sit in silence?”

You’re certainly obstinate enough to let your non-reply speak volumes and it takes a whole lot of resistance not to snap at his chuckle.

And so minutes pass, the only sound punctuating the quiet being the muffled beat coming from downstairs, bass still managing to rattle your very bones. You could pull out your phone again, check social media to kill time, play a game of sudoku, but you don’t. Instead, you just keep staring at the wall, hyperaware of yet another not-entirely-unpleasant proximity.

It’s so fucking annoying, the effect he has on you. There’s something wicked about him, some sort of mysterious way that pulls you in, closer than what you’d like, words making blood rush to your head only to be turning you into a godforsaken, flustered mess the second after. You feel in this sort of haze whenever he’s with you, but it’s not a dark, smoky one: it’s ignited, blinding, dazzling. Like an obscuration of better judgment and rationality that feels just too threacherous to give in to and yet so appealing.

“I’m sorry” it’s soft, sudden and almost a whisper that causes you to glance up at him once more “I can be annoying but I’m not a bad guy, y’know”

You’re startled by his change of tone and feel the sudden, unwanted urge to get up and sit next to him. Threacherous indeed.

“It’s fine” and it really is, for fuck’s sake “I don’t think you’re a bad guy”

Your mind is slowly starting to gain back its clarity and you realize that you’ve actually, non ironically asked Eren Yeager if he’s only treating you like a human being because he’d like to have sex with you. Christ, someone can’t come open the door and let you out fast enough.

“Just an ass?” he asks and you’re relieved to recognize the playfulness embedded in his tone once again.

“Just an ass” you confirm, forcing yourself not to add a lenient sometimes at the end.

Eren sighs but you can tell you’re past the unsettling tension just experienced. As he slides down to sit on the carpet, awfully close to you once more, you’re left thinking about two distinct things: how freakishly long his legs are compared to yours and the fact that holy shit Eren Yeager has just actually apologized to you.

“Are you not enjoying the party?” the question comes out naturally as you carefully avoid his gaze, one ankle crossed over the other.

“What makes you think that?”

“You sitting in a room on your own right before midnight?”

With the corner of your eye you’re able to catch his shrug.

“As I said, bad playlist. Terrible headache”

“You left her alone”

“Who?”

“Your girlfriend”

A pause.

“Why’re you not looking at me?”

Reluctantly, you do. And there’s nearly not enough alcohol left buzzing through your veins to bear that gaze.

“She’s not my girlfriend” he spells out the words attentively, taking his time. Which makes the moment weird, uncomfortable, borderline intimate. God.

“Okay” you mutter back, uncertain. It’s pathetic, honestly, how thin your voice comes out.

He seems on the verge of saying something but that’s when you hear it: someone’s calling your name from the hallway. Is it Armin? No, his pitch is not that deep.

As he gets closer, you recognize him. It’s Porco. Of course he’s nice enough to come looking for you while your best friends are apparently too goddamn busy to give a shit.

Eren hasn’t cast his eyes away from your face, now so intently turned to anxiously look at the door handle being lowered multiple times to no avail. Porco is knocking, your name becoming a question as he waits for a reply that never comes. Why you keep sitting there in silence is something you can’t quite understand but it just happens. You don’t call back, you don’t frantically ask him to get Connie and the key to let you out. So, eventually, the handle stops moving and Porco’s voice fades once more. And Eren doesn’t ask why you haven’t moved, apparently more uncomfortable than relieved at the idea of the door being pushed open. He doesn’t, because he feels the same. And he’s done trying to give the feeling a name. Who cares?

“What if I do?” he mutters, certainly patient enough to wait for your gaze to meet his.

“What if you do what?” you dare look up from your lap at last, you dare let his challenging eyes bore right back into yours.

“Like you” the casualness with which he bares the very words that cut through the sudden, sweltering heat of the room, is jarring. Eren assesses the incredulous look taking over your features but doesn’t make fun of it. He wants you to take him seriously, just this once at least.

The music downstairs is suddenly turned down and you swear you can hear the echo of your pounding heartbeat, which is odd, because one would think the high-pitched buzzing in your ears would be enough to cover any other sound.

“You don’t know me” and he can’t fucking help it, the smile that rises to his lips. Because it’s not a protest, it’s not repulsion. It’s just doubt. And he can handle doubt.

“I’d like to start” you can barely register that his leg is flush against yours and so warm as he gets a little closer “if you’ll let me” and that right there is probably your favorite version of him: cautious, attentive, charming.

A deafening countdown begins a floor down as he waits, patient. You get closer, pulled in by the familiarity of his scent and sure enough you’re back in the blinding, gleaming haze he carries with him. Eren gets closer too, noses grazing and lips ghosting over each other as one of his warm, solid hands chastely closes around your knee, a gesture so simple and yet still capable of making you shiver. His breath is warm on your lips as he exhales gently, praying you can’t catch the desperation embedded in it.

Loud cheers erupt from a distance that seems infinite.

“Okay” you whisper.

Innocence Part 2

Pairing: Neteyam x fem!Metkayina reader. Reader is 18, Neteyam is aged up to 19. Part 3 in the works. 

Summary:  You’re the youngest daughter of Tonowari and are very sheltered and innocent. After you’re punished for sneaking away with Neteyam, you worry about when you’ll see him next. 

Warnings: Angry parents, mature themes, size kink, fingering, slight dacryphillia, awkwardness? I’m not really sure how to write warnings but there you go.  Please keep in mind I have 0 experience writing the scenes at all, so they may be super awkward. I apologize in advance. 

word count: 9,593 

Notes: I tried getting this out asap, so there may be some grammatical or spelling errors. I tried to tag as many people as I could, so I’m very sorry if i missed you! Once again, I want to thank all of you for the amazing response to part 2!!! I really, really hope this lives up to your expectations and is as good as the first part :) Also, I use a dictionary I found online for most Na’vi words, but they don’t have a word for punishment, so I used the French word for revenge. 

As the ilu came around the bend, finally nearing Awa’atlu, you felt your stomach drop. You could see the red glow of the torches from here, surprised to see so many of your clan out this late. They should have been at home eating or sleeping, not out here searching for you. 

“Oh Great Mother,” You groaned. “The whole village is still awake.” 

Neteyam stopped the animal in the shallow water just outside the village. The two of you reluctantly dismounted. You brushed the hair out of your face as you stood from the water, and started towards the village. A hand grabbed your arm, stopping your movements.  

“Y/n, look at me.” Neteyam tugged you around to face him, his hand coming to hold your cheek. “No matter what happens tonight, we will be okay. They might try to punish me, they might try to keep you from me, but I will come back to you as many times as I have to.” 

He hoped you could tell how serious he was. He had never felt this way about anyone, and Neteyam could only pray that you felt the same. “I know that Eywa has fated us to meet,” He placed his hand on your chest, over the space where your heart beat. “I can feel it, here.” He tapped the spot, drawing a short, dry laugh from you. 

He pulled you into his arms for a tight hug, arms around your neck. You instinctively melted into his embrace, wrapping your own arms around his body and pressing your head to his chest. Having Neteyam’s arms around you made you feel safe, cherished. He was so gentle with you, holding you like he thought you were going to float away if he let go.

“Y/n?” Your sister’s voice brought you back down to earth. You quickly pulled away from Neteyam, turning to face her. 

She rushed over to you and yanked you into a hug. “Where have you been? We have been looking for you everywhere.” Her voice was relieved, glad you were home safe. Tsireya pulled back a bit and her gaze shot towards the Omatikaya boy standing stiffly behind you. “What are you doing with him?” She was confused, eyebrows furrowed as she looked to you for answers.

“Are you okay?” She asked, voice dropping to a low whisper.   

You thought about lying to her, but Tsireya was the one person you had never been able to keep secrets from. She would see through any story you tried to tell her. Instead, you reached for her hand and attempted to explain yourself. “Sister, it is not what you think. You know mom and dad never let me do anything, and I knew if I asked to leave they would say no….” You trailed off, giving her a meek smile.

“He’s my friend.” 

Tsireya was relieved that nothing terrible had happened. However, she knew how trusting you could be; You never questioned other people’s intentions, choosing to only see the best in them. She worried that he had taken advantage of you. 

“Have you mated with him?” Her question was aimed at you but her eyes were focused wearily on Neteyam.

The man in question was quick to defend your honor. “No! We have done nothing like that.”

You felt your ears begin to warm. You didn’t think you guys had done anything bad, but your activities early had felt special, private, and…kind of dirty.

But you knew, or rather you thought you knew, that mating was the forming of tsaheylu, which you guys hadn’t done. So you hastily agreed with Neteyam.

Your sister’s eyes widened as she looked between the two of you, inspecting the red hue on your ears and the sheepish look on Neteyam’s face.

“But you did something, didn’t you?” You assumed she was referring to the way Neteyam had touched you earlier, and you remembered him briefly mentioning “potential mates.” Did she mean to ask if you kissed? This whole process was confusing, and you made a mental note to ask her later. 

Keep reading

Know Your Place

Pairing: Naoya x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Misogyny, Abuse, Rape/Non-Con, Humiliation, Degradation, Feet Stepping

Summary: You should have known better than to believe that Toji could protect you from the Zenin forever. Once a Zenin woman, always a Zenin woman and Naoya intends to make sure you fully understand that.

Growing up as a female in the Zenin clan means you’re always expected to serve, to look beautiful. Never speak unless requested to. Never look any of the men in the eyes. Obey. Be submissive and demure.

There are thousands of rules and dozens of leering eyes ready to punish you for a single minor infraction. So as much as you hate the life you’ve been born into, you know better than to act out and bring attention to yourself, knowing full well especially now as an adult woman that the price of transgressions are too high to pay.

You’d be incredibly fortunate for the usual heavy backhands Naobito and Ogi Zenin would grace your face with when you were still a minor, for the cruel condescending words Naoya would sneer at you. Those were child’s play compared to what’s in store for you now and you shudder when you remember the images of fellow female servants who had attempted to escape only to be easily captured, clothes stripped and body laid bare for the entire clan to see. You remember the fear that would make you tremble as the men howled in laughter and jeers as they took turns smacking their victim’s ass, pawing and groping her body. You remember sobbing when you were forced to watch as fists, cocks, objects that you thought were far too large were shoved between flailing legs.

But nothing keeps you in line more than the cold dread you’d feel heavy in your chest when you’d be forced to clean out the room of one of your ex-maids, preparing the room for the next poor soul born into a never ending life of servitude. As much as you hate this life, it’s still better than being tied up and forced to be nothing more than a Zenin sex doll, used by every man in the clan until there’s nothing left but an empty husk of skin.

So you keep your head down, ignoring the cruel words and predatory gazes that follow you. You enjoy the few moments you have in the servant quarters alone with your fellow maids, giggling and whispering to each other, pretending that you’re just normal women. Those friendships you form warm your heart and you take solace in the sympathetic glances and warm brief squeezes of hands when a Zenin man is particularly harsh in their treatment of you.

Maybe that’s why you can’t keep your body still when the woman who shares the same room as you accidentally spills hot tea all over Zenin Toji. And despite how terrified you are of Toji’s hulking figure and blood-stained reputation, you throw your body in between him and your friend, creating a feeble physical shield for her from his wrath.

A part of you is together enough to vaguely acknowledge how strange it is that Toji hasn’t roared a single word yet, hasn’t laid a hand on you. But you’re not foolish enough to think this is over and you throw yourself to the floor in a degrading groveling bow, begging him to forgive your friend, to have mercy on the both of you.

You know exactly who Zenin Toji is and you prepare yourself for the feeling of his infamous sword slicing through your neck. What you aren’t prepared for is the way he lets out a boisterous laugh, green eyes glimmering in amusement when he sees the bewildered look on your face as you tentatively peek up at him.

“You’ve got guts. Tell you what. I’ll forgive you and your clumsy friend if you become my personal maid. Deal?”

It’s a rhetorical question and you stiffly nod your head, tears forming in your eyes as you imagine the rest of your life chained to Toji’s bed, stuck in the lair of a beast.

Except your life isn’t anything like you had imagined and you’re stunned when Toji barks at you to go retire to your own room and get some rest so you’re ready to keep up with tomorrow.

Life is...surprisingly normal. Well as normal as it can be in the household of one of the top Jujutsu sorcerer clans in the world. You scowl at Toji as he teasingly throws a pile of sweat stained clothes and towels on top of your head as he walks out of the bath.

“You’re getting a little stronger, little lady. I almost even felt the punch you threw at me in training today.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the slight quirk of your lips and swell of pride at his backhanded compliment.

Toji isn’t anything like the rest of his clan and it goes deeper than just his lack of cursed energy or his supernatural strength. He’s kind. Okay, maybe that’s a stretch, but you genuinely believe he has a good heart. Not once has he ever spoken maliciously to you. Not once has he ever laid a hand even borderline inappropriate or suggestive on you. And sure, you don’t necessarily enjoy doing his dirty laundry, cleaning his room, and making his bed every day and night, but he makes it easy to forget that you’re just a lowly maid.

He talks to you as if you’re his equal, carefully listening to you, acknowledging your points (even if he mocks you when you do say something silly or that he disagrees with). He invites you to eat meals with him. He trains you deeming you too wimpy to last long without at least some basic defense skills. Your time with Toji is one of the few moments of happiness you know and you greedily indulge.

But unknown to you, your new proximity to the black wolf of the Zenin clan has more than one eye looking at you in interest and above all, Zenin Naoya can’t stop fixating on you.

Naoya has always had a strange mix of respect, disdain, and jealousy towards the older man and he can’t help himself from wanting what Toji has, especially when the both of you look so irritatingly happy chattering away with each other as if you have no cares in the world. How dare a lowly Zenin servant look so carefree. How dare curse-less Toji make a mockery of the rest of the clan by living a shame-free life despite how hard they try to humiliate him for it.

Has Naoya ever been happy? Ever been relaxed?

He can’t remember ever laughing as hard as Toji is now in response to something you’ve said or done. He can’t remember smiling so freely like you are as you playfully slap Toji and try to get him to stop teasing you. A green eyed monster slithers inside of him and before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s making his way towards the both of you.

“Aren’t you two as unseemly as usual. I know you don’t care for our clan’s reputation or rules, but really? Parading your slut around so shamelessly? That’s a new low even for you.”

It’s adorable how you scurry away, cowering behind Toji’s broad figure, fear written all over your face. And although Naoya had done this to get under Toji’s skin, he can’t help but wish the older man would storm off and leave you behind in his clutches. He wonders if you’d be this scared and docile underneath him, wonders how tight you’d be while you tremble in fear while he sinks inside of you…

His thoughts are abruptly interrupted as Toji snorts, slinging a muscular arm over your shoulder and dragging you off with him, subtly tucking you safely into his side and away from Naoya’s hungry gaze.

Usually being ignored and dismissed would rile him up more, but as he watches the two of you amble away and sees your innocent and confused face, unsure what had just happened and what’s causing Toji’s strangely touchy behavior, his appetite is whetted and you’re what he’s craving.

What he hadn’t accounted for is how protective Toji is of you. So strange for a man who doesn’t seem to care about anyone except himself. But Naoya supposes that’s just a testament for how good you must be in bed. He can’t think of any other reason why Toji would waste his time and efforts on an insignificant woman like you.

You’re never left alone long enough for him to corner. Just when he sees you by yourself and swoops in to shove you in a spare room, Toji suddenly looms beside you, green eyes sternly pinning Naoya down with a warning. And as much as Naoya would love to rise to the challenge, he knows that he doesn’t stand a chance against Toji, so he slinks away in defeat, again and again.

It only makes him want you more and he grits his teeth as he slams into one of the whores in his bed who vaguely reminded him of you if he squints in just the right way.

He supposes he should be more remorseful as the news of Toji’s death spreads like wildfire through the Zenin household. But all he can see is a light at the end of the tunnel. It takes every last bit of restraint in him not to immediately hunt you down and devour you, but he bides his time. After all the teasing and taunting you’ve put him through just one taste isn’t going to satisfy him anymore.

No, he won’t just ruin you and throw you away after a single night. He plans on dragging this out, using you, tasting you until it fully sinks in that this is all you’re good for, that he owns every part of you inside and out.

His cock twitches at your swollen face covered in salty tear streaks. You look so pathetic, so scared when he takes his time strolling into your room, kicking your roommate out and locking the door behind him. It’s just the two of you and he feels the rush of power thrumming through his veins at how you tremble and cower before him. If only you were naked and not in those dreary mourning clothes…

But he has ample time for that and he wants to enjoy corrupting you, take his time watching your downfall.

“You’re my maid starting now.”

You mutely nod, but make no move and Naoya scoffs.

“I know Toji was soft with you, but let me set expectations straight. I’m nothing like him. Now get moving.”

“But this is my room-”

You yelp in fright as Naoya’s hand grips the front of your shirt and hauls your body until you’re forced to press against his body, feeling his breath against your face as he sneers at you.

“Sluts don’t get the luxury of their own room or bed. Toji spoiled you. Now move your stuff to my quarters. The only place you’ll be sleeping from now on is my floor or my bed. Understood?”

It’s a rhetorical question and all you can do is crumple to the ground when he lets go, staring unseeingly at Naoya’s retreating back as he exits your room, the weight of your new reality crashing down on you.

Sleeping on the floor is humiliating and uncomfortable. Naoya makes it a point to “accidentally” step on you when he gets on and off the bed, rudely nudging you awake with his feet, resting his soles on your face until you’re flailing around to breathe. But it isn’t as bad as wondering when the worst is to come.

At least you’re clothed. At least your innocence is still intact. So as much as you feel like nothing more than a dog, you take it. After all, your new life isn’t so different from your life before Toji aside from your new sleeping arrangements and the headache of being in close proximity to Zenin Naoya.

It’s entertaining enough in the beginning, watching you curl up on the floor like an obedient puppy, admiring how you never talk or lash out when he literally walks all over you. He even buys you a pretty new collar with his name engraved on it linked to a leash he holds in his hand or leaves tied to his bed.

But unlike a real pet you never warm up to him, always looking at him warily, body tense and nervous in his presence. Not once do you look at him with even the slightest hint of affection or fondness you used to stare at Toji with. He supposes that can’t be helped and he doesn’t care for anything disgusting like your love. But you don’t even seem remotely attracted to him as a man and that’s something his ego won’t allow for.

He knows women can’t stand his attitude. But he also knows that at their base, all women are sluts easily swayed by his good looks. He can’t even count the number of women who’ve insulted him to his face only to end up in his bed, moaning and screaming his name and their love for his cock.

You were supposed to be no different. But your continued disinterest in him infuriates him to the point where petty humiliation isn’t enough to sate his hurt pride.

“Strip and get in bed.”

You’re frozen stiff and he sneers at you while you’re on the verge of terrified tears.

“What? I’m not good enough for you? Don’t act like you aren’t used to this. I’m sure your old master had you warming his bed all the time-”

“Toji would never!”

Even he’s stunned by the weight of his backhand hit as it makes contact with your face, by the venom in his voice as he spits out his next words.

“Don’t you ever say that name in my presence again.”

He takes a few seconds to calm his breath, the crimson of the blood trickling from your nose grounding him as he finds his center once more. But then a thought crosses his mind as that red river finds its way to your lips.

“As punishment, let’s make sure you know what your mouth’s purpose is from now on. Words are wasted on a dumb whore like you anyway. Kneel and open wide.”

It’s oddly arousing watching your tears and blood stream down your face as you choke on his cock. Your efforts are half-hearted at best, but he doesn’t mind. Not when the instinctual way your throat flutters around him as he roughly thrusts his hips into your tight mouth suffices. He can see why Toji kept you around and he groans as his hand slips behind your head and pushes you until your face is squished against his abdomen.

Your mouth feels amazing and your muffled screams for air only add to the vibrations around his shaft. It’s enough to have him spilling down your throat and he keeps you tightly pressed against him, forcing you to drink every last drop he gifts you with. And only when your throat finally stops its forced swallowing does he release you, leering down at your pitiful form heaving for breath.

The bitter taste of his seed is all you can taste, all you can focus on as you greedily inhale much needed oxygen. You pray that he’s done, but you whimper when a strong hand easily pulls you up and begins to pull off your clothing. Instinctively you try to push the invasive appendages away from you, but you freeze at Naoya’s growled threat.

“Don’t make me hurt you any more than I have to.”

You know it’s not an empty threat. You’ve seen the quite literally broken bodies of women who had resisted too much against the Zenin men, against Naoya specifically. So you limply drop your arms to your side and stay still as he humiliatingly gropes and examines you like merchandise.

All you can do is clench your eyes shut as Naoya’s hands grab your breasts, kneading and weighing them in his hands, cruelly prodding and pinching your nipples to see your reactions. All you can do is bite back a muffled yelp when he forces you onto your knees and forearms on the bed, squeezing and smacking your ass, spreading apart your cheeks to closely look at your fluttering holes. All you can do is cry into the sheets as he fingers you open, breaching both untouched openings, his thick digits stretching your tight walls apart and taking their time to thoroughly defile you, using your own slick to loosen your ass.

You try to disassociate, try to imagine that this is just a medical examination. But your fantasies are shattered when something hard and thick slaps against your inner thigh as Naoya rearranges himself behind you, rubbing the head of his cock back and forth against your dripping entrance, coating his shaft with your juices.

“Naoya! Sir, please. I’ve never...You can’t-”

Your pleas are cut short as his hand painfully strikes your ass.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re ruining the mood with your sniveling voice. Remember what I taught you? Sluts don’t get to speak freely. They only get to moan and thank their masters.”

You don’t even know if you can speak even if you wanted to, not when his cock is forced into you in one go, the thick and lengthy shaft ruthlessly tearing you apart. It fills you, stuffing you full, and you don’t think there’s even room left in your body for words. The only thing you can release is a strangled scream, eyes and mouth blown wide open, fingers clawing at the sheets as you try to remotely ground yourself as the foreign sensation overwhelms you.

But Naoya has never been a patient man and there’s a certain sense of entertainment from watching you struggle and writhe underneath him. He begins a relentless pace before you can adjust to the feeling of him inside of you, hips slamming in and out of you, heavy balls bouncing against you.

You’re so tight, so hot, so wet and he can feel a rush of power from the confusion he begins to see setting on your face as forced pleasure begins to mix in with your fear and pain. Moans and high-pitched keens are finding their way in between distressed cries and he smirks at the way your eyes begin to roll back in your head, the way your hips begin to meet him halfway, greedily pushing back against him when he teasingly slows down his pace.

He laughs at the humiliation and embarrassment running rampant on your face when you whine as he abruptly stops

“Wow you really are a slut. You fucking love my cock, don’t you?”

He rolls his eyes as you adamantly shake your head in denial, bored by your playing hard to get act. But as he admires the way your pussy lips obscenely envelop his cock, your pretty puckered hole beckons to him.

“You’re fucking filthy, clamping down on me like a bitch in heat from just a thumb in your ass. You like that? Like having all your holes filled? Maybe when I break you in, I’ll share you with the rest of the clan. Bet you’d love that. Love having cocks in every hole, using every inch of you.”

Your orgasm takes the both of you by surprise in its speed and intensity and Naoya howls in laughter as he resumes fucking you, chasing his own high with his thumb still lodged in your ass, groaning in pleasure at how he can feel the tremors of your orgasm, the way your body convulses in the aftershocks of pleasure and onset of overstimulation.

You’re breathtaking like this, fucked silly, delirious, just a warm body and toy for him to do with as he pleases and it doesn’t take long for him to join you over the edge and add to the sticky mess already inside of you.

With a lewd pop he retracts his thumb from your now lewdly fluttering hole, shoving it into your mouth for you to clean and he smiles at how mindlessly obedient you are as you suck and lick the digit clean like it's your favorite lollipop.

You grimace when he finally pulls out, already feeling his cum beginning to leak out of you and you try and find the strength in your trembling and used body to push yourself off the bed. It’s time to retreat with your tail between your legs and you want nothing more than to spend the rest of the evening in the shower, harshly scrubbing every evidence of your utter defeat and conquest under boiling hot water.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You open your mouth to speak, only to quickly clamp it back shut, remembering how your words only seemed to dig you deeper and deeper into trouble.

“You’re going to wash me and yourself and once we’re clean, you’re going to remain naked and in my bed until I’m ready to use you again. Think of it as a promotion. No more worrying your stupid little head about cleaning and laundry anymore. You’re being upgraded to my personal sex slave and bed warmer. Come on, I don’t have all day.”

You wonder if this is what it feels like to walk the plank, to approach your own death sentence as you robotically trail after Naoya’s figure towards his lavish bathroom. And as you lay in his bed that night, pristine and bare like a glorified sex doll, his broad arm possessively slung around your waist and forcing your bodies to mold together, you bid farewell to your past life, dreading what the future has in store for you.

〈 loosen up 〉

Sanemi x Reader x Giyu

Note: I can’t stop thinking about this really specific idea.

Additional note: it’s literally been 2 months since I touched this draft & idk where past me was taking it… but the show must go on so here it is.

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In an effort to smooth things over between the two men, Tengen suggested that everyone goes out clubbing. You thought it was kind of ridiculous considering neither Sanemi nor Giyu would ever step foot in such a place. That was… until Shinobu presented it as a challenge, leaving no room for the two men to deny unless they wanted to be known as cowards.

That’s how you ended up here, in the middle of a crowded dance floor, stuck between both men.

The night had started off innocently enough, everyone was dressed accordingly and ready to forget the week’s tension. By the third round of drinks, you’d already lost Mitsuri and Obanai somewhere in the club. Tengen and his wives were off on the dance floor and Shinobu was having some sort of conversation with Kyojuro and Gyomei.

This left you alone with the two feuding men, sending glares to each other over the tops of their liquor. ”you know… it must be fucking exhausting putting this much effort into hating each other.” neither man spoke, instead they everted their gaze to anywhere that wasn’t each other. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was sexual tension.” You forced a sip of your drink in order not to laugh.

Both men turned to look at you again with break neck speeds, as if you had just uttered the most asinine statement they had ever heard. Honestly, you may have. “Why the fuck would you say something like that?” Sanemi’s voice was a harsh whisper, yet you were still able to hear him perfectly over the pounding music. “Because you two have so much tension it’s almost unbearable to be around the both of you. I think fucking each other would be more effective than fighting.”

You couldn’t lie, the drinks were making you feel some type of way. But of course you couldn’t let either of them know that. You had caught their attention in the worst way possible, Giyu’s mouth hung open slightly as his eyes shifted between you and Sanemi. “What makes you think i’d ever even kiss him.” You freeze, eyes locking with Sanemi before flicking over to Giyu who’s mouth now hung wide open.

“That’s fucking rude.” Giyu barked back, brows furrowing in genuine offense. Maybe you weren’t the only one feeling a certain way because of the drinks. “I’m un-kissable?” He added after Sanemi didn’t budge. You were waiting for some sort of smart ass remark to follow, instead it was a genuine question. Sanemi’s head tilted, smirking a bit as he spoke. “Well… i imagine you have no skills in that area whatsoever.”

“Are you implying he’s a virgin?” Of course, the drink returned to your lips in effort not to laugh. This time, Sanemi burst out laughing, completely missing the way Giyu’s face was turning red. “I’m not a fucking virgin.” Giyu’s words didn’t really help Sanemi’s laughing, the scar covered man nearly doubled over in his seat.

"When is the last time you fucked someone? huh, Shinazugawa? Tell me how long it's been." You couldn't lie, you'd never seen Giyu that mad. Your eyes shot over to Sanemi, watching the man stop laughing as he slowly straightened. "Last month actually." There was an air of confidence in his posture as Sanemi leaned back, reaching for his drink and bringing it to his lips.

"Last month." you echoed, trying to figure out who the person could have been. It must have been a one night stand because Shinazugawa wasn't actively pursuing anyone as far as you remembered... unless. "Don't tell me it was Kocho's sister!" You had already forgotten about why this conversation had started in the first place. Giyu on the other hand only seemed to be getting more worked up with each passing second he was ignored.

“No it wasn’t Kanae! I’d never!” He was turning red anyways. A scoff caught your attention again, head turning to see Giyu getting up from the table. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?!” You we’re starting to get up as well, not willing to let Giyu leave just as things were getting interesting. “I’m leaving.” Deadpanned, as always. “No the fuck you aren’t, we aren’t done here.” Sanemi was throwing the rest of his drink back as he stood.

Once again, both men were locked in a staring competition. "We aren’t done here? What are you? My fucking dad?” You held in a laugh, eagerly anticipating Sanemi’s response. “What the fuck does that even mean? I’m calling you a fucking pussy for running away from this conversation.” Your eyebrow raised, eyes darting between the two men as you feared the conversation would turn into a brawl rather than the threesome you were secretly hoping for.

“I’m a pussy? What are you, twelve? What kind of insult is that?” You watched a scowl quirk at the corners of Sanemi’s lips. “What is with your stupid ass questions about who I am? Figure yourself the fuck out cause you’re pissing me off.” They were getting closer, so close their chests were nearly touching. “I think the offer to fuck still stands.” You seemed to pull them from their daze. “Better yet! How about we dance, Hmm?”

“Dance?” Sanemi was looking at you as if you sprouted mushrooms from your head. “We’re in a club, we’ll get kicked out if you two start fighting so why don’t we just get… all this pent up energy out on the dance floor instead?” To your shock, Giyu was grabbing your arm and leading you away from Sanemi. That’s where you were now… your back pressed to Sanemi while your front was pressed to Giyu.

“Still angry?” You nearly purred, one hand pressed firmly to Giyu’s chest while your hips swayed with Sanemi’s. “Shush.” Giyu was struggling to maintain eye contact, even in the dark dance floor with only colorful LEDs and lasers to see his face. You couldn’t deny that you liked the feeling of Sanemi’s hands on your waist, his hips swaying with yours as he held you tightly to him. If you weren’t mistaken, you were beginning to feel something a bit…

“Are you really getting off to this, Shinazugawa?” Giyu taunted over the top of your head, smirking as he pulled you just a bit closer to him. “Sure fucking am? Why wouldn’t I?” The man behind you held no shame, even as your face began burning up he continued to gloat. “You’d probably have come by now if our roles were reversed. Y/n needs a man who can last more than thirty seconds… Tomioka.” You groaned, it seems their bickering would never end.

“Is that a fucking challenge?” Giyu’s hands were lowering to where Sanemi held your waist, eyebrow cocking upwards in defiance. “What? To see who can last longer? By all fucking means… so long as you’re okay with it?” Sanemi’s voice was in your ear now, earning a desperate shiver in response. “Oh… why not… just not here… I’d rather it be in someone’s bed.”