#Now I just need a title and someone who holds me back from creating yet another season classification for 2024 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

The Dateable's Making You Flustered

Request: Flustered scenarios with the dateables

A/N: Sorry for the bit of delay!! I really need to work faster with these (1k each)

Barbatos:

It’s been such a long time ever since the butler has felt some sort of attraction towards somebody. It surprises even himself and he’s able to see into the future. Yet, when he was given- or rather forced- into a day off, the first place where his mind had wandered had been to you. It was you that he thought of first. He didn’t have a clue on what he wanted to do, but when he was told that he had the day off- no exceptions- his mind had automatically gone to spending time with you. Barbatos wonders what changed that made you so important to him- he wonders when it happened, how it snuck past him and caught him by surprise.

He invited you on his day off, had sent you a quick message asking you’d like to accompany him around Devildom to pick up a few things for himself rather than the usual outing to the market. You had graciously agreed and now he stands beside you, his hand on a book and you peering to see what’s written on it.

“What’s the book about?” You ask, haven given up on trying to figure out what it was that had gotten his attention.

A few demons reach around and pull a book away from the shelf, talking excitedly to one another and he moves to stand closer to you. He smiles at you and holds the book close to him, already deciding to purchase it. “It’s an old tale from Devildom, similar to your Hansel and Gretal but this one is a bit more heavy.” You give out a hum, pleased at his answer and nod your head. “If you’d like, I could lend it to you once I’m done.”

“Oh!” You gasp, grabbing at the same book and holding towards you. “I’ll just take one with me,” you offer and he can’t help but feel a little disappointed that you didn’t want to take his. “This way, we can read at the same time and then discuss. If it’s supposed to be similar to Hansel and Gretal, I’m sure that I’ll enjoy it. Plus-” you look up at him, your smile kittenish the book pulled to your chest- “it can be like our secret book club. I’ve been needing an excuse to go to the castle and visit, so this will be perfect,” you say excitedly, see-sawing between the tips of your shoes and back to your soles.

“You don’t need an excuse to visit the castle.” He hooks his arm with yours, slowly pushing you away from where a growing crowd of demons appear. “You know you’re always welcomed. The Young Lord would never dare to shut the door in your face.” He stops near the corner end of the store, his eyes attracted to a few trinkets where he reaches for.

The book is lowered and you shift your stare to where you both once stood. “And you?” His attention is grabbed immediately and he looks at you with a confused stare. You meet his eyes for a moment before you pull away. “Would you mind if I came over?” You clear your throat and look down, your bottom lip pinched between your teeth. “I wouldn’t want to…” you trail off, clearly unable to find the proper words. “I wouldn't want to distract you or make your work any more difficult than it already is.”

He can feel the back of his neck grow hot. He can’t be mistaken by what your words mean. You want to know what he thinks of you, if you’re welcomed in his eyes. His shoulders lower and he smiles at you, his hand reaching out to take your book from your hands. When you look up at him, he has his gaze kept on the title of the book, following the rise and fall of each letters.

“You’re always welcomed.” He takes in a small breath and fixes his gaze back to you. “You could never be a distraction for me. If you wish to have a secret book club with me, then I am more than honored to be your guest.” He clears his throat and looks away from you, his smile slowly growing but wavering as he lets out a shaky breath. “You make work easier. I enjoy my job, but I must say that when you’re around, the only thing I can think of is finishing in order to spend more time with you. Being around you is… nice.” He returns his stare back to you. “I’ve been around for a very long time, but when you’re around me, well, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so young. I’m not sure what it is about you-” he raises a hand and holds your cheek- “but I find myself happy whenever I’m with you. So please, never think that you are a bother towards me. You’re always free to visit- whether it be for our secret book club-” he returns the book to you, smiling when your fingertips brush against his- “or just because, I’ll always make time for you.”

It might be cruel of him, but he can’t help but smile and let out a quiet chuckle when you press your face against the book. “Barbatos,” you say in a hushed whisper. He only hums in response, glad that his words had such an effect on you. You look up at him with a faux pout and furrow of your brows while he stands there with a wide grin. Your eyes turn away from him and you finally let a smile appear. “Thanks for the reassurance,” you mutter.

“Of course. Nothing that I said was a lie, so it was quite easy to let the words out, you know,” he teases, grabbing the book from you before you have another chance to hide yourself. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to see in the store, or do you wish to go somewhere else?”

“I uh-” still flustered, you rub your cheek where his hand once was- “can we check out the manga section?”

He hooks his arm through yours, his body close enough to where he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume. “Lead the way,” he says, following your footsteps through the store. He isn’t sure when his feelings towards you had changed, he doesn’t even recall the giddiness of when it all started, but he doesn’t mind it. It’s a nice change of pace. You’re something unpredictable and reckless, and something soft and fragile, and he welcomes having you so close to him, to where he could lean over and press his lips against the crown of your head and keep you protected under his touch. Barbatos welcomes the change that you brought and while the change wasn’t originally for him, he enjoys that it is for him now, that you’re the one that gets to be close to him and that gets to have the pleasure of having you wanting to visit him.

Simeon:

Who could have ever thought that he, an angel, would fall in love with a human? The very thing that an angel had created a war for, the very thing that caused him to lose those close to him, and the very thing that had shown just how different he was from someone he had considered a brother, he now commits the same unholy act. He must be a hypocrite. He is a hypocrite. The very thing he turned a blind eye to and here he is, so undoubtedly in love with a human that he fears his wings will be ripped from him, his blood staining his clothes and his halo broken beyond repair. Terror makes his blood run cold and yet, he cannot look away from you. Simeon keeps his gaze upon you with a mixture of hesitation and melancholy and you just smile back at him, the phone in your hand shared between the two of you as you watch a parody of a teen romance on an application.

“It’s amazing how much people have grown to like this er, show?” He asks, still unsure of what to call it. “It’s considered a show, right?”

Your shoulders raise in a shrug and you give him a small, tight lipped smile. “I guess. I think most people refer to it as a series.” The phone is lowered and it returns to your lap. “It isn’t wrong to call it a show, but since they’re short little bursts of episodes, I think people find it easier to call it a series, but it can go any way.” You move away from him, scooting until your thigh is at an angle and your knee is pushed against his. “Anyways, to answer your question, yes people do like it. I think since it’s like a parody but also suspenseful with the cliffhangers, it keeps people entertained.” He nods his head slowly, and he tries to ignore the rush of cold that is now at his empty side. “Did you like it?”

His eyes slightly widen, and his lips pull into a thin smile. “I- Well, considering the fact that it’s written and done by one person- I- It certainly is different than the things I usually consume, but-” He struggles to find a way to finish his thought without offending you in any sort of way and ends with a stiff nod of his head.

It’s a tense moment that doesn’t last long enough to linger on when you suddenly laugh. Your laugh is loud as it effectively gets him to snap his mouth shut. Your hands are waved in front of you and your knee leaves his as you curl onto the couch. “You don’t have to force yourself to like it, Simeon, I only wanted to show it to you, because you asked what I was watching.”

He appreciates you giving him an easy out, and he releases a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. It’s a slow release and suddenly he can breathe again. “Well thank you for sharing it with me. I appreciate that from you.” Silence lingers and it isn’t like before where it’s tense, it’s lighter now, but it still feeds him an odd sense of air where he’s stuck between a breath, his eyes stuck on you.

Once more, your laughter fills the room and it’s short and sweet, a gift given to him for just the moment. “Of course, Simeon. I like spending time with you, and I especially like sharing my interests so I guess, thank you for allowing me to do that.” Your hand reaches towards his and he sees the slightest pause from you, the way your fingers twitch until you allow yourself to hold his hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

Warmth returns to him, something akin to a summer’s day in the Celestial Realm, and even though all air has left him once again, he is breathless in a way that matters, weightless and joy illuminating him. When he meets your eyes, he cannot look away and he cannot help but return your smile. The clock ticks onwards and he’s left with a heavy heart. He’s read about the perfect moment, thought about writing something so trivial and false, and yet, the perfect moment sits before him with their hand in his.

“I have to be honest with you,” he murmurs and his eyes feel hot, a lump forms in his throat that makes his words sound tighter. “I- I don’t-” How could he ever phrase what he wants to tell you? How could he drop that sort of confession on you? You know the story, would you ever want him to actually confess to you, to repeat the past mistakes and know the horrid outcome? He frowns. His eyes are stuck on the floor, running along the edge of the carpet and he can feel your gaze on him, your eyes that are heavy with concern and ever the angel, Simeon spares you and gives you the easier answer. “I’m thankful to have met you,” your name is a sweet whisper on his lips, a taste of sweet peach that makes his heart full and heavy. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as wonderful as you. I see you and I think that I’ve found something even more pure than an angel.” With every word, his hand turns to slip into yours, his gloves thin enough to feel the small crevices and calluses on your hand. “Even if you are human and you’ve committed sin, I still think that you are the most pure of them all with your kindness and generosity.”

He isn’t sure what he had expected, but he hadn’t expected to have you plant your face against the soft back cushion of the couch, your face held there for moments. Your hand slips away from his and he’s left holding empty air. His hands fret over your body and when you pull away, your face is flushed, your hands covering the lower part of your face as you look at anywhere but him.

“Simeon,” you whine, closing your eyes tightly. “That’s really sweet.” Your voice is high-pitched and your eyes open once more, as your hands finally lower. “I think I might actually die, that was really nice and something that I don’t hear often.” You finally look at him and your smile is ever growing. “Especially from an angel,” you say with a half-hearted chuckle.

His smile is soft and to him, it dulls compared to your brilliance. As if you were a puzzle, he fits into your hand with ease and grace. “Well if you were to die, I would return you in any way that I could.

Solomon:

He’s human, ageless and immortal, but human. He’s lived and loved, lost and grieved, and he’s gone numb and distant to emotions. He didn’t mind it, he welcomed it. He hated losing and hated the people that he lost and the empty space that they left. He promised that he wouldn’t ever want to feel that sense of sadness ever again. Then you came into the picture. He’s been called shady and worse words than that, but you don’t call him that. You hold his hand and you welcome him into your arms. You go on and on about the human in him and how you love that he’s there with you. Solomon isn’t sure when it was that he broke his own promise, but when he looks at you, he’s willing to love again and again.

The kitchen is a mess and powder covers the counters. His hands knead the dough and the smell of garlic and onion sizzled with oil is heaven in the air. You measure the ingredients and whisk at the eggs. It’s domestic and it’s something that leaves a storm of butterflies in his stomach. He could watch you forever, in the kitchen, with an apron tied around your waist, flour in your hands and the tip of your tongue peaking past your lips as you concentrate on rereading the cookbook. It’s domestic and it’s something he had long forgotten that he wanted.

“I have the ingredients memorized, I could simply tell you what to add,” he muses, returning to forming the bread into its shape.

“Knowing you, you’ll add something in there,” you quip, your smile now directed at him, with your tongue still pinched out. “Plus, it’s just reading. I can read,” you say with a defensive tone. “Just start dressing the bread with garlic and then we can get on with breading the chicken.” You jerk your head to where the chicken rests on the cutting board, the flour beside it.

“Okay,” he sings under his breath, returning his attention to the dough before him. The room is filled with a song from the Human Realm, a classic that has him feeling warmth in a kitchen that is not his, but with a person that is. It makes him long for another time, but when he catches you in the corner of his eye, he’s glad where he is. “I like your song choice,” he says, instantly biting the inside of his cheek once the words had left his mouth. It’s been so long since he’s ever tried to have an actual connection with someone, and he’s sure he wasn’t ever this awful at it.

“Yeah?” You step close to him, holding your hand out. “Care for a dance then?” Your smile is crooked and eyes gleaming with excitement as the song is replayed with a touch of your hand.

He’s frozen for a second, stuck in time, and rooted into place, his hand moving through thick amber as he lets his hand rest in your palm. The room is spun, colors mixing with each other and slowly blurring until he stands still, pushing you away and pulling you close, laughing and letting his hand rest against your side, his hand feeling the soft curve against your ribs. Your hands are powdered and his smell like bread, and your laugh is young and youthful. He can’t help but follow, letting his smile break out and hand slipping out of yours, to encase you in a hug where he traps you into a swaying motion.

The song fades and he’s forced to pull away, to step away from you and there’s hesitation is his steps and movements. His hands linger for a second too long, his eyes still stuck on you and his smile much softer than it was before. It’s a few seconds of silence where you take in deep, heavy breaths, and sway lightly to the song that approaches.

Your name is said and it’s sweet like honeysuckle and addicting like a drug. It’s a night where he invited you over, and now you two are busy making dinner in the kitchen and you’ve given him instructions and kept a close eye on what he does. Your perk your head and nod, allowing for him to continue. “Thank you for coming over,” he says with a tight smile on his lips.

“Anytime, Sol,” you respond, coming beside him once more. You bump your arm into his, leaning to look at the garlic mixture in a bowl. “You know I like spending time with you, so anytime you need a cooking partner, you can always call.”

He doesn’t say anything, only nodding and trying to keep the butterflies in his stomach at bay while his heart beats frantically against his chest. You move away from him, returning to where the powder rests in a bowl and he’s left without, and while the distance is short, it’s something that is unwelcomed. He’s left with dough in his hands and you’re away from him, and loneliness settles.

“Can I call you whenever?” He asks, an easy smile on his lips, but there’s a plea in his words. He’s never been the needy type, but he needs you.

“Of course, you can,” you respond and you’re as kind as ever. You turn away and close the bag of flour, pushing it aside to clear the space at the table.

Like a drug that leaves his mouth dry and heart racing, feeling as if he’s about to die, he calls your name. You’re so close to him and yet, you aren’t close enough. He needs you. He needs you beside him. And he takes the first step, standing in front of you with a red kissed face as stares at the cabinets against the wall. You call his name and your hand is tender against his neck, leaving a white stain that snows onto his shirt.

“I just wanted to thank you. I know how busy you can get and I just-” he can feel the telltale sign of tears and he wonders when he’s gotten so emotional- “I like spending time with you. I like your music choices and I like it when you cook with me- even if it’s just you giving me instructions- but I like it.” His tongue touches against his lips and he looks at you, fiddling with the end of his shirt. “I think you’re great and I just need you to know that if you ever need anything, I’ll be more than happy to help. I would do whatever it would take to make you happy because you have a really nice smile and I don’t think you should lose that.” His heart echoes and his smile is gentle and nervous. “Thank you for being with me.”

You stare at him and he wonders if he had overstepped only to gasp when you bury yourself against his chest, patting at his shoulder and pulling away with a hand covering the lower half of your face. “Solomon,” his name leaving your lips sends a jolt of electricity through him, “I’m glad. Thank you,” you whisper. Your hand reaches to pull his away from his shirt and you hold it in yours. “I like being with you too. Us humans have to stick together, right?” You say softly, letting your fingers run over his scarred knuckles.

He nods silently and leans over, his lips pressed against your forehead. “Yeah, us humans have to stick together,” he whispers against you, smiling when he feels your own lips against his knuckles. He’s with you, at this very moment, he stands in a kitchen with music playing, holding you close to him, and for a moment, he can pretend that this won’t ever end, that he won’t ever have to move away from you and risk losing you.

#obey me #obey me swd #om swd #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me simeon x reader #obey me solomon x reader #i hope you like it!#and that it was in charcater #i feel like i always sturggle for barbs

795 notes · View notes

nightowlwriting · 3 years

Text

summary: steve is acting weird. avoiding you, being snippy and mean, leaving the room when you enter. all you want is your boyfriend back, but all he wants is to pretend you don't exist. when he's almost hurt on a mission, you do what you're made to do.

word count: 11k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, powered!reader, insecure!reader

warnings: steve is mean to the reader in the beginning, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, canon-level violence, brief ptsd symptoms, slight description of blood, brief mention of racism in the '30s & '40s

brief mentions of: reader's parents being toxic, homelessness, past accidents, ableism in the past & present

note: this one hurt me lmfao. idk why this went the way it did but i'm not mad at it // also i am a queer, trans, disabled american. i have fundamental disagreements with things that marvel/the mcu as it stands for and some of the more nuanced things that you might not notice unless you're looking for it. this will take place in my writing because i cannot separate myself from the lens in which i consume/create content.

title credit: lil nas x

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his. Sure - he’s clever, righteous, courteous… You can’t forget he’s also drop-dead gorgeous because every trashy gossip magazine in a three-state radius of New York doesn’t let you forget. Neither does the sight of him waking up in your bed every morning. (Well, actually, maybe that would remind you if he was still fucking doing that.)

But lately, you’ve had to rely on the fucking tabloids to catch a glimpse of your super-hero boyfriend. The university class you had picked up on a whim at the end of the summer - Life & Times of the ‘30s and ‘40s - avoids any mention of Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. Not that your classmates do because, Christ on a bike, those magazines manage to catch pictures of you and Steve in moments that you don’t even remember. Plus, you’re an Avenger too. It’s bound to catch some attention when you waltz into a college classroom.

You’re sure if you were an undergrad trying to fill a gen-ed requirement and were sitting next to someone who could kill you without blinking but also dating Captain Rogers you’d be a little distracted too. You try not to blame your classmates too much, but they do make it hard to concentrate with their -really dating Captain America?- and -wonder if I could get an autograph- whispers. None of that matters because you’re learning, really studying, in between missions and missing Steve and believing that maybe the gossip reporters are right.

Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

You grit your teeth and push the thought away. It does you no good right now, while you’re training with Peter. He’s working his way up to bona fide missions and, because you’re the only one on the team who has experience with real-life teenagers outside of saving their lives, it’s up to you to get him to the level that he needs to be. Plus, the mission where he’s going to get his gills wet is just you, Tony, Steve, Nat, and Bucky. You’d much rather be the one to train him because you won’t traumatize him.

Right now, though, you’re just kicking his ass to try and get rid of some of the tension in your body. You feel a little bad about it, but when you started as his mentor you told him point-blank that you’d never go easy on him. That meant if you were having a bad day he either needed to up his game or he’d have a bad day too. It appears he’s taken that to heart as he struggles to dodge the hits you’re throwing his way. He lunges out of the way when you try to land a right hook but practically walks into the leg sweep that sends him crashing to the ground.

“Awe,” Peter groans, letting his guard down. You take the momentary lapse of focus to grab him by the collar of the hoodie he’s wearing and haul him to his feet, jerking one fist back to cold-clock him but he beats you to it. You hear the sound of your nose cracking before you feel it but then the pain rushes you all at once. You’ve had worse but coming from Peter, the move surprises you. You don’t yell out but he does when you push him away from you and call the fight off. Peter practically yelps your name, hands up by his head as he watches you bend at the waist, both hands over where your nose is absolutely gushing blood. “I am so sorry, I just reacted-!”

“It’s fine, Pete,” You shake your head and stand straight again, the blood beginning to leak through your fingers, “Just go get me a towel, okay?” Peter practically trips over his feet to get something for your nose and as you track him on his way into the locker rooms, you see Steve, Bucky, and Nat. The latter are looking your way, eyebrows raised like they’re asking you if you’re okay. Steve hasn’t even broken stride in his conversation so you wave them off with a bloody hand. Peter’s back in a flash, pressing a wet towel into your grasp and snapping you out of your self-pity party. “It was a good hit,” You compliment as you wipe your face off, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Prob’ly wouldn't have landed it if I had.”

He wrings his hands, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s a good thing, Peter, means you’re getting better.” You deadpan, checking to see if your nose has stopped bleeding yet, “I don’t think you actually broke it, but I’ll go down to medical to check later.” You do your best to clean up your hands with the wet towel, but it’s so soaked with your blood that it mostly just smears it around. You grimace and shake your head. “Well, I should go now before our sparring match ends up looking like I murdered you.”

“I’ll go with,” He offers, “I’m the one who broke your nose.” You let Peter walk you down to medical even though you were originally going to refuse. Perhaps petty, but it was the way that Steve didn’t even look your way as you left that made you let the teenager walk you the two floors to where you’d be able to clean yourself up. He hums in the elevator and you know that he wants to ask you something - it’s the way he holds his mouth when he’s prying for information or keeping a secret that tips you off. Finally, just before the elevator opens, you sigh and turn to him.

“What, Peter?” He grins but then it falls when he has to skitter after you down the hall. Maybe that’s why it falls - the question he asks next nearly sends you to your ass.

“Is everything okay with you and Captain Rogers?” He easily catches up to you when you stop in your tracks, ignoring that you’re still bleeding a little bit down your face and you might be dripping blood everywhere from where it’s run down your arms.

“What?” You do your best to look confused like everything is fine, but Peter is perceptive. He may fumble around and be pretty awkward, but those are really just teenager things that he’ll hopefully outgrow. You should have known that when someone caught onto how bad things are on your end, it would be Peter. (You wonder if Nat or Bucky has brought it up with Steve, considering he’s spent more time with them in the past week than he’s seen you in the past month.) “We’re fine.” Your words are stilted as you begin walking to the medical wing much faster than before.

“I just thought I’d ask, well, because I’ve sort of noticed… Something just seems off, you know? Like, you two used to spend a lot of time together, and maybe it’s the recon mission coming up, but I was just thinking that you two really barely look at each other even when you’re in the same -”

“Peter!” You say his name much louder than either of you expected and both of you jump. “Peter,” You say softer, looking at the glass door to the medical wing instead of him, “Just leave it, okay? It’s nothing you have to worry about, kid.” Peter ducks around to open the door, forcing you to look at him. “He’s just focused on his stuff and I’m focused on getting you whipped into shape for this mission. We only have two days.” Once you’re inside and surrounded by the medical crew Tony keeps on staff, he thankfully drops it. You love Peter, you do, but it’s a lot like having a little brother. You can only love them so much before you want to fucking strangle them. Eventually, as the doctor checks to make sure he hasn’t broken your nose, you have to order him away to go study or something. “I’ll join you later,” You promise him as the doctor prods at your tender flesh, “I have an essay due soon.”

That’s another thing that’s been bugging you that Peter surely picked up on. Nearly everybody knew you were taking a course at the local community college, but nobody knew what it was about. You’d wanted to keep it a secret until you told Steve, but the day you had registered he’d flown out for a two-week mission without telling you or saying goodbye. After that, you decided it didn’t really matter if anyone knew what class you were taking, and keeping it a secret sort of spiraled from there. If they wanted to know they could look it up. Maybe it was petty, but you just wanted the class to be over and done with so you could forget that you really only picked it up so you relate to your boyfriend more.

If you can even call Steve your boyfriend anymore. You’re not so sure where you stand and, honestly, you’re really close to giving up on the relationship as a whole but you can’t do that. Before you were dating, you were friends, and Steve… He never gave up on you. Not once. How could you repay him by giving up on your relationship? The one that you thought was The One? Even if it hurts, even if you’re unsure more than sure these days, how could you? Somewhere, though, you know you deserve better. You don’t deserve the sinking, dark feeling that lingers in your gut for most of your days now or the way that you second-guess every move you make - even in the field. It’s dangerous but you can’t do anything to fix it.

You’re too scared. You know that eventually, it will happen, he’ll break up with you, but you’d like to put that day off for as long as possible. To relish in the love he once had for you, how pure and powerful it was. You’re sure that you’ll never experience anything like that again.

Hell, you might never fall in love again.

Those thoughts don’t do anything to help you, though, so you try not to have them. You get clearance from the doctor and get cleaned up as much as you can without taking a full body shower. The idea to go back to your room and take one crosses your mind but you know that Steve’s probably done training, probably heading back for his own shower, and you don’t want to open that can of worms. Instead, you go to the common room and drop into the couch between Peter and Tony. They’re talking about something something science something something, but you pull your stack of books and notebooks out from the shelf underneath the coffee table and continue outlining your essay from where you left off. The assignment was focused on how the end of WW1 changed American life and then how life changed leading up to and during WW2 but that had hit a little too close to home for you, so you’re writing about the racial tension and overall racism of the times. Tony and Peter keep talking over your back and then you hear footsteps heading toward the common room.

You barely look up when they enter - Nat and Bucky - because it’s fine. It’s normal. They’re just two of Steve’s best friends, that’s all, nothing to be jumpy about. You don’t even register that emotional pain that hits when you realize that, yeah, you’re not one of his best friends anymore. You doubt you’re even considered a friend in his book.

You groan and lean back into the couch, bringing your study materials with you. Peter glances over, skimming over your page and a half of shorthand, and gags. “Jesus, can you write like a normal person?”

“Oh, sorry,” You say lazily, not looking up as you continue to scribble in your incomprehensible code, “I do forget that some of us had privacy at home.” You lift your lips just a little bit to let Peter know you’re kidding, looking up at him through your lashes as you slouch next to him. He looks red in the face. “Besides, once you have to start doing mission reports you’ll be begging me to learn my shorthand and use my stenography machine.”

“I keep telling you that I can update that ol’ thing,” Tony draws your attention. For the first time, you realize that Nat and Bucky are on the loveseat looking at you expectantly. Steve is standing in the corner over their shoulder reading a book from the bookshelf in front of him. His back is tense and he looks like he’s not reading, just listening. You force your eyes back to Tony on your right and shake your head.

“No, because then you’d know my shorthand and it makes me too happy to see you spend hours trying to decipher it.” His eyes wander to your essay again, trying to find any patterns that he can use to figure out what the hell you’re writing on anything ever. He’s opening his mouth to make a smart-ass remark that will no doubt lift some of the weight off of your shoulders when another voice speaks up.

“Wow,” Steve doesn’t even look at you even as he says your name sardonically, “Way to be a team player.” Your mind comes to a screeching halt, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s playing at. Even Bucky and Nat look surprised at the cold way he spoke to you, Tony and Peter both gasping from your side. You can’t say anything, throat tight and burning with tears as you stare at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows. What do you say to that? How do you respond? You know it wasn’t a joke because he’s not laughing, not smiling, not even looking up from that fucking book in his hands. You can’t tell if you’re more hurt or embarrassed, but either way, you don’t want to stick around for someone to get the nerve to say something.

Instead of replying, you slam your textbooks shut and bundle everything into your arms. You doubt Steve even notices that you’re making such a hasty retreat but if he does, he doesn’t say a fucking thing. You feel like you’re in high school - practically running through an empty hallway with your notebooks and textbooks pressed to your chest, trying not to cry. It’s ridiculous. You’re a trained assassin, you’re an Avenger, you are strong and powerful and yet… And yet. You’ve given so much of your heart and soul to Steve Rogers that he can knock you down eight pegs without even trying. Without even looking at you. You can’t wait to go on this fucking recon mission, where you can put all of your focus on making sure Peter is doing okay and gathering the intel. Where you can stop thinking about how easily Steve Rogers seems to be pushing you to the side.

You spend the next two days writing your essay, ignoring almost everyone, and working on your essay. On the day of the recon mission, you’re running out the door for your eight a.m lecture, printed essay in hand, and reminding Tony that he promised to pick you up on campus after class for the mission.

You’re lucky that you went, too. You hadn’t counted on the professor making everyone stand up and tell the class the subject of their essays - didn’t realize that it would be twenty-five percent of the grade on the paper. You’ll never understand college professors and the weird shit they do, but the class is informative and entertaining. He goes around the room, starting on the opposite side of you, so you’ll be last. Great.

Several students did their papers on the propaganda of the time, one student was brave and did her essay on the ethical dilemma of the super-soldier serum and eugenics, and most of the other students focused on pop culture and how it changed. When your professor looks at you it’s almost like he’s expecting you to have done nothing but fawn over Steve and Bucky, considering you know them personally. He looks surprised when you clear your throat, stand and say: “I focused on the casual and institutional racism that faced non-white Americans at the time.” You almost preen when he looks impressed and then the shame fills you. It’s just… You want Steve to be proud of you. You want him to congratulate you on going back to school, even if it’s just for one class. You want him to be happy and surprised that he was the inspiration for taking the class.

Though, lately, the class has been more for you than for him. You like learning new things, pushing the boundaries of assignments, making people uncomfortable with the truth of the times you’re studying as told to you by two people who lived it. It’s nice. Normal.

Everyone needs a little bit of normal.

But, honestly, normal is fucking boring. By the time your class is over and you’re handing in your essay it’s like ants are crawling over your skin. A combination of nerves from the upcoming mission, a head full of fog from whatever is happening with Steve, and a little bit of fear at the thought of taking Peter into the field has you bolting for the door the moment your essay is taken from you. You’d worn your tac-suit underneath a pair of baggy sweats and a loose hoodie, so you don’t even bother slowing down as you head toward the car that Tony has waiting for you. He’s in the front seat, grinning at you from underneath his aviators and Peter is driving.

You slip into the backseat without thinking or looking at who’s there, tossing your bag in the back and peeling your hoodie off. “God, Tone, we’re goin’ to die before we even get to the mission with Petey driving.” You toss your hoodie back to join your bag and finally see who’s sitting next to you.

Of course, it’s Steve. He’s looking at you - but not really. He’s looking through you, like he can’t stand that you’re both crammed in the backseat of Tony’s electric car. His gaze catches you and holds you in place. Everything around you goes cold and fuzzy, making you miss Peter’s indignant complaining that he has his license so he should be able to drive… And then Steve scoffs and looks out his window, ignoring you. It stings but you have a job to do. You make some witty retort back to Peter, but it falls flat as you struggle out of your sweats. This is what life is, you think. Relationships aren’t meant to be forever - you learned that at a young age.

Until your accident at fifteen, you had watched your parents run out of helium, their relationship expanding and cooling in arguments, in days spent not talking, in trips to your grandparents without the other, in passive-aggressive computer searches for divorce attorneys left open for anyone to see. Then, after you were trapped between those machines - after you spent hour after agonizing hour with electricity pressing between your atoms, being torn apart and rebuilt as a young god - after that day you watched them expand against each other before the neutron core of their relationship collapsed on itself and the resulting supernova sent you to the streets. But then Fury found you. Then Tony, then Nat, then Steve.

Your parents exploded out from each other and the shockwaves ruined your life. At least now, your relationship with Steve is ending silently. There’s no explosion, no collapse, no rapid expansion to take over your cosmos. Your relationship with Steve is simply approaching the event horizon, where it will hang in the air until one of you takes the final step and you both become frozen, two collapsing objects on opposite sides of the universe. Maybe that’s what you already are. You feel so far away from him in the back of Tony’s car - like he’s eons and light-years away from you - and you feel so cold. Frozen, down to the bone. It makes you stiff in your replies to Tony and Peter, slow on the uptake when the car pulls up to the quinjet, nearing stasis and unable to respond when Nat asks if you’re okay.

Finally, you turn to look at her, nodding. “Fine,” You clear your throat, “Been a rough day.” You do your best to smile at her, but your face feels heavy. Your chest feels cold and tight, making you worry about your performance on the upcoming mission. When Peter shakes his head next to you, discreetly telling Nat not to press, you’re focused on Steve and the electricity humming in the most base part of your body.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. You turn away and force yourself to smile, throwing a weak and numb arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Are you ready for this, Pete?” You jostle him back and forth, leading him toward the sitting area behind the cockpit. “Gonna get your ass kicked?”

“Please,” He shoves you off, nervously laughing, “Not with the skills you’ve taught me.” He mimics throwing webs, making hissing noises under his breath, and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head.

“You’re payin’ my medical bills when I have to save your ass, Spidey.” You shake your head and strap in next to the wall, Peter taking the seat to your right. Tony, from the aisle across from you, points a thick finger your way.

“You don’t pay medical bills anymore,” He waggles his finger, “So you’ll just have to make him do your homework for a week.”

“Mister Stark!”

“He’ll have to earn shorthand to do your essays,” Nat chimes in from between Bucky and Steve, who are both doing their best to not look at you - or anyone really. “You willing to share that with him?”

You lean back in your seat and jab at Peter with your elbow. “Hell no, so I guess Spider-Boy better do his best.” The arachnid in question grumbles, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.

“No pressure, right?” He complains, “Not like I’m already nervous or anything.”

“You’ll do fine, kid,” Bucky pipes up, drawing your eyes back to Steve, “It’s goin’ to be a cakewalk.”

“Don’t jinx it, Barnes,” You warn half-heartedly, tucking in on yourself, “We need this to be easy.” From the look on his face - everyone’s face, really - you know that they heard you loud and clear when you were really saying I need this to be easy.

After an uneasy laugh from Bucky, a claustrophobic silence settles over you all as the jet begins to take off. You’re in for an hour ride and plan to spend it going over battle plans with Peter when harsh whispering catches your ear. It’s Bucky and Steve nearly crushing Nat between them until she gets up and sits across from Peter, rolling her eyes. Still, you try your best to run him through the actions you both had planned - the names, the setups you needed to execute them, everything. If something happens to Peter, you’ll never forgive yourself.

And then, cutting through your soft promptings to Peter and his equally soft replies, Bucky’s voice. “Leave it, Steve. Until after this mission.” Even Tony looks up from his tablet, curiosity piqued. Their faces are both red, set hard and angry at each other and your stomach drops. What the hell is going on that Steve ‘Till The End Of The Line Rogers is fighting with Bucky You And Me, Pal Barnes? You must shift, or lean too far into Steve’s eyesight, because for the first time in what feels like years he is looking directly at you - and seeing you, too. It makes your pulse jump and, almost instinctively, you want to reach out and ground yourself on the rubber of the seat underneath you.

You don’t get the chance, though, because Steve speaks. “No, why should I? This is clearly affecting the team.” He’s still looking - glaring - at you like you’ve done something wrong. “What’s the point of waiting? I’ve been waiting to talk about this.”

“Bo, I don’t think this is the time,” Bucky looks over his shoulder at you, then, and you know what’s coming. You know that it’s time, that Steve is about to break up with you in front of your teammates. Your friends. Your family. You steel yourself for the anguish you’re about to feel and then jerk your chin out, hardening your resolve.

“Buck, it’s fine. If Steve wants to address something, he can.”

Natasha says your name, a low warning over the hum of the quinjet. “I think he should wait.”

“Well, I’m not goin’ to wait!” Steve unbuckles himself and stands, “I have tried waiting, and look at where that has gotten me.” He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out a breath. You unbuckle and stand, too, unsure of where this is going. “You need to,” He holds one hand out, pointing at you while his voice shakes. You notice his hand is shaking, too, but fractionally. If you didn’t know Steve as well as you do you may have never noticed it. “You need to get it together.”

“I need to get it together?” You question, eyebrows nearly hitting the ceiling with how fast they shoot up. You’re not totally sure you’ve heard him right because what do you have to get together? The broken shards of your relationship? The information and research for your final paper? The awful way you’ve let yourself be treated for what seems like forever?

“You heard me,” Steve says, at the same time Bucky leans his head back and groans deep in his chest. “What? Someone had to say it.”

“We should wait for this,” Nat speaks up again, but lifelessly. She knows now that you and Steve are both on the warpath, neither of you are going to stop. (That’s also why the two of you work together as a couple so well. Very rarely are you both so worked up about something that you can’t back down, so the other is always there to meet you halfway and get you back to earth.)

“No, no, no,” You say, near hysterically, “No, he wants to do this now? Before a mission? Instead of the fuckin’ weeks we had to hash whatever crawled up his ass and died out? Be my guest. He’s already dragged everyone into this by treating me like a pariah.” You’re not sneering, but your teeth are gritted so tightly together you can hear them scraping and feel a tension headache beginning to bloom in your temples. Bucky looks… Almost incredulous at your statement. Like putting the blame on Steve is a dick move or something.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Steve is curling his lip, glaring at you. There’s something behind his eyes, but he’s buried it so deep that you can’t reach it and figure out what it is. “I’m the bad guy, right. Right, right, right.” He scoffs, shakes his head, and then he’s running his fingers through his hair like he really can’t believe what you’re saying to him.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” You throw your hands out to the side and let them slap back down on your thighs. “You ignore me, you make me feel like shit, you talk down to me like I’m some insignificant foot soldier. How else am I supposed to take that, Steve?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ask me what’s wrong? Maybe ask me why I’m acting like this, instead of ignoring all of your problems like a child?” He mirrors your moments, but the sound his hands make when they hit the outside of his suit is more powerful than yours. Fueled by anger, you think. Anger and whatever the hell was in the serum Erskine pumped into Steve.

“Ask you?” You repeat, near-hysterical, “Ask you? Oh yeah, let me get right on that. Hey, Mister Rogers? Mister Captain America? Mister Ignores-His-Partner-For-God-Knows-Why? Hey, just why are you doin’ that?” You’re surprised that you’ve said something so snotty, but you don’t back down. (Steve looks surprised, too, and Bucky has stood up next to his friend like he’s about to start berating you as well. At least he looks more cautious about it, like he’s not totally sure that this fight should be happening.)

The more surprising part of your fight is how fast it’s shut down. Tony and Nat stand at the same time and exchange a glance like they’ve surprised each other. “That’s enough,” Tony starts.

Nat cuts him off. “I don’t care if you fight this one out instead of talking, but if you do it before this recon mission you two are going to blow it. Do you understand me?” She looks dangerous, the sharp edge of a knife spiraling through the air. You force yourself to look away from her, from Tony, from Bucky, from Steve. She’s right. You know she’s right - especially on this mission. Peter is there, going to be in real danger even though there’s not supposed to be one Hydra agent in a four-mile radius. You have to clear your mind and focus on protecting him.

Steve seems to think the same thing because he stands down. When you watch him collapse in on himself, Bucky’s arms around his shoulders, into the little quinjet seats your everything aches. Heart, lungs, eyes - everything. Even though you don’t know what’s going on, what could have possibly happened to make your relationship sink this quickly and out of the blue, you still love him. He’s still The One for you. You still want to be the one to comfort him and make him feel whole when he’s struggling.

But you can’t. You can’t and it kills you.

The heat of battle makes a lot of things fade into the background. Important things like why the fuck are there Hydra agents here? and Steve is going to break up with you when you get back on the jet and Tony swore on the fucking limited edition AC/DC vintage tour poster he has in his office that this would be an easy in/easy out information mission. None of that matters, though, because you’re in deep shit. There are seventeen of them, all primed to the teeth with weapons made to take your team down permanently.

You’re practically glued to Peter, calling out commands and plans for him to initiate. It’s when all of your plans fall through that you take a hit from a heavy fist on purpose, hitting the ground hard. “Plan F, Spidey, Plan F!” You cover the instruction with a groan and then you’re back on your feet, working your way toward him.

“Plan F?” Tony says, somewhere above you in his suit. Your comms crackle ominously as another heat-seeking grenade is launched, interfering with the radio waves your tech relies on. You don’t worry about it, because you know Tony is on it. He’s your eyes in the sky.

Peter is the one who answers his question, watching your close hand-to-hand tilt out of your favor briefly. “Plan Fuck It, Mister Stark.” He grunts as he webs up a Hydra agent, jerking him away from where he was about to slip a knife up and under Natasha’s kevlar. You finally drop the guy in front of you, ignoring Steve’s disappointed Language! and toss one of your knives toward Nat for her to use. Tony is still laughing in your ear, wheezing as he drops down and snags the rifle from one of the snipers and then takes back off.

What your little protégé failed to mention about Plan F is that it’s not just chaos, but controlled chaos. You let loose, letting a soft current cover every inch of your skin as Peter switches to his conductive webbing and takes special care to not web any of his allies. Except for you - if you’re in the way and he catches you in a web it doesn’t matter because you’re you, alive with electricity that drops the men that get caught in the web, too. You rip out of the webs and turn the current off when one of your teammates gets too close.

More Hydra agents are pouring out of the woods, topping out their numbers around twenty-five. That’s twenty-five too many in your opinion, especially when you can see Peter getting tired, his anxiety spiking, his moves having more and more hesitation behind them. You need to get this over with quickly, but you don’t have the options to do that. Steve, Bucky, and Nat are really the heavy-hitters - you, Pete, and Tony are the only ones without serums despite all of your individual abilities. Desperately you reach out for a web that’s still connected to Peter’s arms, pulling him out of the way of a baton that’s about to come down on the back of his neck.

The baton the agent is wielding glints in the coming dusk, freezing you as Peter scrambles past you with a quick apology. You’ve seen that before - seen it, felt it, know it like the back of your hand. There’s no way that you could ever forget that weapon. The man stumbles when his hit doesn’t connect but then rights himself and searches for a new target.

A long, black baton that splits into two prongs at the end is heavy in his hand. Electricity crackles between the bulbs at the end, flashing in the setting sun and your memories. The man only has one, but if it was hooked up to a machine, spinning. If there were four, five, six. If you were pinned between them, screaming in the pain as they rewrote your DNA… You’ve only felt it once, but you’ll never forget it.

And now, you’ll taste it again. On purpose this time. The man holding the stun baton is going for Steve’s back - his strong back, the one that protects people, the one that holds the weight of the world, the one that lays in your bed, the one you see whipping out of rooms as you’re entering just so that he doesn’t have to look at you - and you can’t let that happen. It only takes ten amps to kill a regular human, but you know those things are cranked up to twenty minimum. You don’t want to see how many amps of current it will take to stop Steve’s heart. You’re between the baton and Steve before you can think about what you’re doing or what comes next, the hard bulbs settling unyielding into your side and cranking out maximum power for maximum damage as soon as the current is connected and able to flow from one bulb to the other.

The pain hits you and your throat catches on it. It burns through your body, setting everything on fire - your chest hurts as your heart protests the electrons and then your powers kick in, sweeping them into your very atoms and cells. You’re a live wire now, ears humming and body thrumming with power you’ve only dreamed of. It hurts, and it burns, and you feel tears rising in your eyes because you’re back there - back begging for death or for life or for God and god at the same time - but then it’s over. The man sees that you’re not seizing up, not dropping dead in front of him, and he takes three steps back.

It’s not far enough.

You’ve only felt like this once before - right after you were unhooked from the machine that changed your life and brought you to your new family. You remember how you looked when you were put in front of a mirror with all of the pent up electricity circling your body - how your eyes were filled to the brim and dripping with bright and blue electricity, the way it was jumping across your body, how you didn’t need to breathe because your body was fully saturated with pure, unadulterated power. You wonder if you look like that now and assume you do because you can see the bright blue reflecting in the terrified eyes of the Hydra agent.

Your suit, unlike everyone else’s, is not grounded. It’s metal, metal, metal. You’re made to conduct, born for it, and the earth beneath you comes alive with bright white as you release all of the energy, the power, surges down and out. You’re practiced. You can reach out and feel the synapses and neurons of every human being in the clearing, know exactly where your teammates are standing, and know exactly how to target everything but them and the pitiful amount of electricity their brains carry. You grin, something truly feral and unhinged, and you can see the fear in the Hydra agent. Then, you let go.

You know that everyone is going to be pissed. (Maybe not everyone.) You’re not built for this, not made to take down nearly twenty fucking people at once. As you let go, you feel what they feel. The seizing muscles, the stopping of their hearts, the inside of their bodies crisping against their bones. At that moment, that delicious moment, you see the universe.

You become God. You become everything - your mother and your father and God and god and anyone else who’s watching your life from the ether. You become the judge, jury, and executioner of souls that you don’t know from Adam. You become lightning, and thunder, and exposed nerves of the cosmos at the same time. The world bends to your will and you relish in it, taking that power in your fist and wielding it to protect the man you’ll love for the rest of your life and the family that you’ve made. You will stop at nothing to end this, even if it means turning yourself inside out to do it.

You damn near do turn yourself inside out too, but that doesn’t matter, does it? The blood spilling from your ears, nose, and eyes feels like heaven. It’s hot, and thick, and it’s proof of the power that your body holds. You’re a temple and a sanctuary, a war-room and a bunker, a field of flowers and a sun-dry desert. It does not matter if Steve doesn’t love you at that moment, because you are love and hate wrapped into one package. You are everything and nothing, spread thin at the beginning and the end of time.

And then none of that is true. You are just… You. Standing in a clearing, surrounded by twenty-something dead Hydra agents and your terrified, terrified family. It hurts to breathe and you can taste blood in your mouth, but that’s an afterthought. Steve is still standing behind you, but he is alive. That is what matters.

This is what love is, you think.

Pain and pleasure.

Even if he leaves you, you will always love him.

Pain and pleasure.

You’re weak at the knees when he finally turns to see you - and you’re a sight. Struggling to stand, fingertips blackened with soot but not burnt, blood pouring from your nose, ears, eyes… You look like death, but you feel like life. Someone says something behind you - Peter, maybe? Or maybe Tony, in your comms? - but you don’t hear it. Everything tunnels out, your weak knees finally collapsing as you keel backward.

Steve bears down upon you almost immediately. You’re halfway to unconsciousness when he wraps you up in his arms, keeping you from falling in with the pile of bodies around you. He’s saying your name, harsh and soft and then in a voice like he’s ordering you to wake up. You loll about as he drops you down onto a patch of clear grass, hands searching your body for wounds. When he skims over your side, where the baton has burnt through your suit and your flesh, you surge back toward being able to have cohesive thoughts. The pain brings you back, hands wrapping around Steve’s arm and calling out his name. “Steve! Fuck, that hurts!”

“Honey,” He breathes, “Fuck, we have to get you back to the jet.” His jaw ticks, hair dirty and loose from its normal style. “Why’d you do that?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer from you, ordering Peter to web something up to carry you over your protests.

“I’m fine,” You argue, only slurring slightly, “I feel fine.” But you’re going to let Nat and Bucky load you up on the webbed stretcher anyway because it’s the first time Steve has cared for you in a long time. You want to relish in this moment, the way that he didn't say your name but called you honey.

Well, and because Natasha slides a thumb across her neck over Steve’s shoulder in a silent threat.

You groan when Bucky accidentally grabs your calf where there is an absolutely awful stab wound, but you wave off his apology. “How could you have known?” To be honest, you hadn’t even known it was there until his Vibranium hand was slipping against it and sending shockwaves of pain through you. Peter is next to you the whole time that you’re being carried back to the jet - Tony staying back to begin scanning the bodies of the Hydra agents for the information you need and any other information they may be carrying. The poor kid is nearly at a breakdown, so you reach out to him and shake his arm when his fingers twine with yours. “Chill out, kid, I don’t know how you got it into your head that this is your fault, but it sure isn’t.” He sniffles, but hands back with Steve as Bucky and Nat get you situated in the small medical room of the jet. They transfer you and then make to leave, only Bucky hesitating near the door.

“Stevie’s goin’ to be here soon and… I don’t know what made you do what you did but you have’t explain it to him. He’s bendin’ over backwards to figure it out, and we don’t have’a clue. Came out’a nowhere.” He looks at you for another moment before shaking his head and stepping out of the room. Your head is spinning, partially from what Bucky just said and partially from the pain and stimulus of electricity. You wait there, then, because this is it. This is the event horizon. You wait there, eyes closed, until you hear footsteps approach the med room, and then the door slowly opens. Steve says your name, holding all the finality and weight of an atomic bomb. You don’t open your eyes until he swings a chair next to the stretcher and lays a hand on your calf.

“You don’t have to do this,” You finally say, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. “I know that you don’t want to.” Steve only scoffs and begins to wash the stab wound using a packet of soap and a water bottle. You say his name twice before he looks at you, something between hate and hurt curdling into a glaze over his eyes that stops you in your tracks.

“Just let me do this. It is the least that you can do.” His words are painful and stilted, like it’s taking force to push them past his teeth. You lay back down and close your eyes, content to just feel the pain of Steve beginning to stitch you up and then dress the wound before you feel the pain of Steve leaving you like you knew he always would. (Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his.)

When he’s done he sits back and puts his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He heaves a heavy sigh and then shakes it off, “I’ll dress your burn, and then we’ll talk.” And normally, yes, you would agree but this is too important. You want to get it over with so you can lick your wounds metaphorically and dress them literally - and then you want to go home, you want to pack your bags, and you want to disappear and remake your life somewhere else.

Some far-off place where everyone you know won’t take one look at your face and know that you’re still painfully, deeply in love with Steve Rogers, end of your semester be damned. Family you’ve made be damned. You can’t sit around and be in love with him like a neon sign on a dark highway while it’s painfully clear that he hasn’t had a sign on his highway in a long time.

So instead of agreeing, you swing your legs over the stretcher and swallow your flinch when the burn pulls tight. Steve opens his mouth to argue but you give him a tight-lipped shake of your head and his jaw snaps shut. “No,” You say, voice not giving in to the emotion swirling in your chest. “I have let this go on long enough.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because Steve fucking scoffs again and looks away from you. “One day was long enough.” He says, cutting straight to your core. Okay, ouch. You take a deep breath and shake your head to try and bite back the tears that are inevitably rising in your eyes. If one day was long enough for him to realize he doesn’t want to be with you, why did he let it go on for nearly a full year? Why did he spend so long leading you on, pulling you by a thread before garroting your heart with it? What was the point?

“If you want to leave me, just say that,” You reply harshly, standing and wobbling away from him. He just watches you go, watches the way you struggle past the lead weights your muscles have become, the way you’re starting to feel the stab wound on your leg, the way the skin on your burn is beginning to blister and only just now losing its heat. He just watches you, where the Steve that loved you once upon a time might have helped. You turn your back on him, hands on your hips so that you can hide the way that you’re crying and your hands are shaking.

“If I want to leave you? If?” He says. You hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, “I think after what you’ve done, it’s not an if, sweetheart.” The way he says it tastes like iron. Steve never calls you sweetheart like he never calls you by your name. It’s always honey, lover, dovie. You don’t turn to face him because you’re struggling to keep yourself above water. “I spent so long thinkin’, wonderin’, askin’ myself - God damnit, will you look at me?” You turn slowly, not because you’ve never heard Steve speak like that but because his voice is desperate and raw. When you turn, you’re not sure what to expect. Maybe him, standing in front of you, broad-shouldered and disappointed like in those PSA’s he had to film once. Maybe he’d be angry, hands clenched at his sides and eyes narrowed like he gets in meetings when he doesn’t agree with something but he’s out-voted. But you never expect to see him crying, lip wobbling, folded in on himself like a young boy instead of the strong, invincible man you’ve come to love.

He looks so different.

It hits you, then, that you’re not looking at Steve Rogers. Not really. He's not Steve Rogers, not Captain America, not even Captain Rogers. You see him as he was - before America spat it’s untruths all over him and injected him with a serum that changed who he was, is, will be. He’s not the able-bodied man that you know, not strong and unreachable, not the heartthrob that overshadows the team during press events. He’s not America’s Darling, not really. Not where it counts.

You’re looking at Stevie Rogers. Stevie Rogers who, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to die before he made it out of toddlerhood or soon thereafter. Stevie Rogers who the doctors said wasn’t supposed to survive. Stevie Rogers who grew up sickly, rattling painful breaths and never playing ball with the neighborhood boys. Who couldn’t walk until middle school when he got his braces off. Who never had a partner because Bucky, strong and handsome and tall Bucky, was always deemed the better option. Who believed in his country so much that he tried to sneak into the second world war, subjected himself to a painful medical procedure so that he could change his very DNA to be what the world wanted him to be.

Captain Steve Rogers. Captain America. Strong, blond, patriotic, resilient.

You’re sure that if men don’t want to go to therapy now, in the modern age, they certainly didn’t want to go in the ‘40s. So where did that leave Steve, your Steve, standing in front of you and looking small, and broken, and sad, and alone? Did they expect him to take his new, taller, working body and run with it? Did they not think about how he would lose a part of himself in the process? How did they expect him to go from disabled to abled without some disconnect?

You think about the You That You Were Before and the You That You Are Now, and how you lost a part of yourself when the accident gave you your powers and how you’d lose yourself if someone figured out a way to take them away. You Before formed your identity around being normal - living in a shitty home with shitty parents, sure, but normal - and You Now form your identity around your powers, your team, your job, your love. If you lost those things, what did you have left? Who would you be?

When Steve lost his identity and became everything that America wanted everyone to think that America was, what did he have left? Sure, he could tell himself that he represents America - strong and patriotic and just - but it must have conflicted with everything he knew about himself before that. You know that disabled people now know that American society is unjust, unfit for them with abled people not willing to make room to allow them to thrive. You can only imagine what it was really like for Steve in the ‘20s and ‘30s and ‘40s. What he had to do just to survive. (Medical experimentation, you remind yourself. Did they know it wouldn’t kill him? Did they know his body wouldn’t rip itself apart with the new sinewy muscle they were packing on? Did they care? Or was he just a body they saw as broken? A project to fix? To turn him into something more like them and call it patriotism?)

You shake your head at him, still filled with despair, and try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Stevie,” You start, pet name easily replacing what you had been calling him because it’s not fair to shoe-horn him into a body that doesn’t feel like his own. You wonder if he still expects the bone-grinding pain that he used to tell you would happen when it rains. He raises a hand, a strong and family hand, shaking his head.

“I just need to know why I wasn’t enough for you,” Steve looks sad, slouching in on himself like he’s expecting to get his ass handed to him in another alleyway and hope Bucky is there to save him. “I need to know why you wouldn’t just break up with me if you wanted to see other people so badly.” You suck in a shocked breath because, okay, that’s not what you were expecting. Between that and the paradigm shift you’ve had on how Steve must view his identity, body, and self, you’re stunned. Steve continues like he doesn’t even register that you look shocked and pale and now you’re crying because he thinks you’re cheating on him? “And I get it. I get it. You have no idea how much I understand. If I were you, I wouldn’t want me either, okay?”

You cut him off there because what the actual God damn fuck is he talking about? “No, Stevie, I’m not cheating on you.” You shake your head again and this, your statement, lights a fire in him. He still looks like Stevie rather than Steve, but there’s anger there. You imagine that’s what it might have looked like moments before he got himself in trouble back before he was serumed. “I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah?” He challenges, jaw ticking and chin jerking up, “Oh, yeah? You can’t lie to me. I know, okay? The act is up, it’s over, I know, okay? You can stop pretending.”

“Steve, I do not fucking know what you’re talking about but I”m not cheating on you!” You raise your voice, not really angry but more out of necessity. You need to get it out of his head that he is anything less than everything you want - that you could possibly love anyone more than you love him.

“I wanted to clarify something for you,” Steve says like he’s reading an old script from when he was just a beefy, red/white/blue stage prop for the American military, “I am excited to meet with you, but there are some rules. Do not talk about Captain Steve Rogers. I don’t want to hear about him,” As he continues to recite something that has clearly hurt him, you go lax. You know exactly what’s happened - your fists unclench, your jaw drops a little bit, and it feels like someone has gutted you, “I think it is wise to keep work and pleasure separate, and it’s a rule I will enforce heavily. I look forward to seeing you again.” He’s sneering at the end, tears falling down his ruddy cheeks.

“Steve,” You try again, but he cuts you off.

“Am I just work for you?” His voice is shaking more than you thought possible, and so are his hands. You’ve never seen Steve so off-kilter, so thrown, and it breaks your heart that yes, technically, you’re the cause of this. Before this, before this horrible misunderstanding, your relationship with Steve was the paragon of trust so neither of you cared if the other read emails or texts. You remember the email - the email from your fucking college professor - because it had made you so angry that he’d referred to your relationship with Steve as something as simple and base as just pleasure - like you could even put words to the galaxy of a relationship you had with Steve - that you’d gone to the gym to work off some of that irritation. You hadn’t wanted to take it out on anyone accidentally. When you came back from the gym, Steve was gone on that two-week mission that he’d left on without saying goodbye.

Oh, God. You feel sick to your stomach as the paradigm of the way that Steve’s been treating you shifts violently to the left. You have to physically hold yourself up and try to speak past the lump in your throat. Steve looks… Brokenly smug. Like he knows he’s right, but he’d rather gnaw his own legs off than be right.

“No,” You croak, “No, Steve, you’ve got it all wrong.” You want to reach for him, but it feels like the room is closing in on you. You’re second-guessing everything now - especially what you’ve just said. How many people said the exact same thing to him pre-serum because they said something meant for Bucky to him? How many times did he hear that when he was getting a new diagnosis, hoping for the best? How many times had his own mother said it to him when he told her something someone had said, fresh-faced and not yet used to the way that abled people sometimes treated disabled people? You think you might be sick. “That email was from my professor, Steve. I’m not cheating on you, I’d never.” He laughs darkly and sits back down in his chair, head in his hands again. You try to gather the strength to move toward him when you see his shoulders shaking, a telltale sign that he’s crying.

“A professor,” He says with a watery laugh, “Right.”

Finally, you realize that he needs you, needs to know you love him, that you’d do anything for him. You can iron out the kinks later - figure out why he didn’t want to come to talk to you past the original hurt, why he treated you so coldly, why he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do this to him - but now, you need to show him that you’re here. That you choose him. That you’ll always choose him.

You make your way to him and set a shaking hand on his shoulder. For a brief second you think he’s going to shake you off but then Steve’s hand shoots up and latches onto where your hand is resting, dipping his head to press against your arm. “Stevie, please,” You say, unsure of what you’re asking him to do, “I picked up a class, just one, and it’s… I picked it up for you, it’s about the ‘30s and ‘40s and…” He looks up at you and he looks so broken - face ruddy and wet with tears, lip wobbling, chest heaving as he tries to not sob. His brows are knit and he looks confused, “I just wanted to be able to understand you better. You had to leave so much of yourself at the door when you joined the Avengers, had to leave so much of yourself in the ice… In Erskine’s lab… Stevie, I just wanted you to be able to be you when you’re with me. I wanted to know the you that you were before you became Captain America.” Your voice is shaking, knees knocking together, and honestly? You feel like you might blackout.

“What?” He rasps, “What?”

“He sent that email because too many kids signed up for his class thinking that they’d be able to look at pictures of you and Buck for a semester. Emailed me directly because he knows we’re…” You choke on your words, shaking your head because you’re not even sure there’s a we anymore, “Because he knows I’m on the team. Didn’t want me walking in and making his class about just a few years in the ‘30s and ‘40s rather than the culture of the time.” You don’t know how else to explain it to him, but Steve isn’t saying anything - practically isn’t moving or breathing- so you continue to try and explain what’s really happening as best as you can, “And - and that email made me so angry because he singled me out, didn’t email anyone else about it, and I left to try and work some of that out; I didn’t want to take it out on you, or let it spoil - let it spoil… But when I came back from the gym, you were gone. You were gone for two weeks and I didn’t know why.” You’re crying harder now and pretty sure that within the next sixty seconds you’re going to collapse if you don’t sit down.

Steve shakes his head, still looking like he doesn’t understand. “What?” He says for a third time, “A class? A college class?”

“I just wanted to feel closer to you,” You confess, “Just wanted to understand a fraction of your life without making you do the heavy liftin’ and teachin’ me. Shouldn’t have’t do that,” You’re sobbing, barely biting out your words as you realize that something you’ve done to strengthen your relationship with Steve has destroyed it, “Shouldn’t have to explain a whole different time just to feel loved, Stevie. Should be able to be with someone who understands without you havin’ to explain.” You’re not sure you can say Peggy’s name out loud, and you hope he understands what you’re saying without making you actually say it, “Should’a been able to have love with someone who knew, and I know I’m nothin’ compared to what you should’a had, but I want to be. I want to be in the same ballpark instead’a watchin’ from the stands.” You wipe your face with your free hand and look away from Steve when he stands in front of you. You don’t want to see the look on his face - what he’s thinking about what you’ve said.

He says your name and you glance at him, but his expression stops him in your tracks. Where Steve looked broken and hurt and fuming with anger to hide the anguish, now he looks stricken. You shake your head, “No, no. I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty-”

“You think that I care about whether or not you can understand the ‘40s?” He cuts you off, hands moving to curl around your biceps, “You think that I care whether or not you can relate to a time in history when you weren’t even thought of?”

“Of course I love you. I love you more than anything in this world, but you shouldn’t have to not care, Steve,” You argue, shaking your head, “That’s what I’m trying to say. You should be with someone who understands without explanation. I just wanted to give that to you - didn’t know that this would happen.”

“I should be with someone who loves me,” He argues back, “If you love me, that’s all that matters. My past be damned.”

“But your past is you!” You try to pull away from Steve, but he anchors you there. You’re dizzy from being so close to him after this long, but also because of how many different twists this situation has taken. You can barely keep up with how bad your communication with Steve has become - barely keep up with how you need to fix it, or how to fix it. “Your past is you,” You repeat when you realize that Steve isn’t going to let you go. “And you shouldn’t have to give that up so that someone will love you.”

“But you love me,” He says desperately, ducking his head so that he’s nearly nose to nose with you, “You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” You say, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of being so close to Steve, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, or anyone else. I’ll even stop goin’ to class if you want me to - Steve, I just can’t do this anymore. Can’t do this thing where you don’t talk to me about what’s botherin’ you.” You’re choking up, barely whispering, but you know he hears you. YOu can feel his warm breath on your face, “Nearly fuckin’ killed me.”

“I thought it was goin’ to be easier,” He breathes, nose bumping yours, “When you eventually decided to leave me for him. Thought I was savin’ myself some trouble.” You can practically taste his tears as they fall again, “Buck and Nat tried to tell me that you weren’t - that you wouldn’t - but I just couldn’t believe them.”

When you open your eyes, his are closed. This close to him you can see the soft freckles that are blooming over his eyelids, his soft eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. You can feel him breathing, feel him nearly pressed against you in a way that feels hauntingly nostalgic and terrifyingly fleeting; like you’ll be able to feel his warmth for years to come, but he’s about to disappear. “That’s okay,” You finally whisper, “It’s okay that you didn’t believe them. That you thought what you thought. It’s okay.” He shakes his head against yours, opening his mouth to protest, but you refuse to let him feel guilty about feeling this way - you have plenty of time to sit him down and talk to him candidly about the way he acted because of these feelings, anyway. “If I would have been in your place I’m not sure I would have believed them.”

“I treated you so badly…” He shifts and wraps his arms around you. It’s almost immediate - you relax into his arms and wind yours around his waist, keeping him pulled against you as he presses his face into your neck and you press your cheek against his chest. “So awfully.”

“We’ll talk about that, okay? But later. Right now you just need to know that I love you, Steve. I love you more than I can tell you - more than I can express.” You want to kiss him, but you can’t. Can’t kiss him, you need to wait for him to kiss you, for him to close that gap and show you that he still loves you like you love him. “We’ll have to have a talk, a long and hard conversation about this, Stevie, but for now… For now, I’m just content to be with you, okay? MIssed you so much.”

He sighs, nose pressing against yours again. “Missed you too, dovie. Missed you more than I can even say,” His voice breaks as his lips brush yours. Your relationship is not without its flaws and problems - Steve’s actions when he thought you were cheating on him are proof of that and, well, the fact that you didn’t realize what was happening, why it was happening, or a large part of your boyfriend’s psychological makeup having an impact on your relationship while it went unknown by you… There is a lot of work for the two of you to do, a lot of work to do, a lot of communication to be done… But you’d do it all for Steve, over and over again.

When he presses forward and presses his lips gently to yours, you know that he’ll do it all for you, over and over again, too.

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine

461 notes · View notes

lacheri · 3 years

Text

follow me

I do not consent or allow this to be posted on Tik Tok, or any other social media

pairing: switch!Eren and switch!fem bodied reader

content: college au, OnlyFans/sex work, masturbation (m), praise kink, oral (f and m receiving), squirting, penetrative sex, drug and alcohol use, classic college party, Eren is down horrendously bad, I believe in long haired Eren supremacy, minors DNI

summary: when jean finally convinces eren to crawl out from under his rock to join society on instagram, he finds there’s a whole lot more than just pictures of food. there’s you.

wc: 15.4k (I know it’s a long one, hope you enjoy tho)

Eren Jaeger had recently found himself in a very, very deep hole. It all started innocently, when one of his best friends Jean had convinced Eren to crawl out of his hole and create an Instagram to join society.

“C’mon Eren,” Jean had teased over a week ago as they studied out on the lawn of their school. “You have no idea what you’re missing out on. No one even uses Facebook anymore, it’s all for moms who want to brag about little Timmy’s genius for figuring out one plus one equals two.”

“What do you even do on Instagram?” Eren’s brows knitted together in confusion, Jean whipping his phone out to show Eren exactly how to use it.

“You post pictures,” Jean navigated to his profile, tapping and sliding down to show Eren all of Jean’s shameless selfies.

“Of just yourself?” he breathed, not comprehending the appeal at all. Don’t people look at his face enough?

“Well, you can post anything you want, that’s the beauty of it. Plus, when you’re not doing that, you get to see and like other people’s pictures.”

“But it says here you follow, 1,536 accounts? And you have 5,000 following you back?” Eren asked incredulously, surprised about how popular his friend’s online persona was. “How do you even know that many people?”

“You don’t,” Jean shrugged, making a few taps to his home page as posts began to load up. “Celebrities have Instagram, our friends have Instagram, fuck, every attractive person on the entire planet has one.”

“How do you even find these people?” Eren’s questioning never seemed to end, the concept out of his comprehension. Facebook was one thing, he personally knew every single one of his friends and family there, and honestly he really enjoyed people just talking about their day to day ordeals.

That’s when Jean forced Eren to hand his phone over and download the app. Jean snapped a quick picture of Eren, to which Eren had no reaction time to. Before he could protest, Jean had already uploaded the candid with some random song lyrics as the caption. To be honest with himself, Eren had to admit that Jean had taken a very flattering picture. He had his knee brought to his chest while his arm dangled over, back slumped and relaxed while he sat on the blanket they had set down before lounging there, hair in his signature sloppy man bun. It was mid day, so all the shadows casted behind his body as the sun’s rays illuminated every high point and contrast of his stoic face.

After a few follow backs from his friends, Armin and Mikasa, he had accumulated a few dozen likes, and Eren couldn’t help the feelings of instant gratifications wash over him, “Okay? So, now what?”

“Now,” Jean began to instruct him, putting the phone back in Eren’s hands after showing him the basics of social media. “Go to my page, and start following whoever you want from my following list. There’s some really hot girls.”

And when Eren laid in his dorm bed that night by himself, he did just that. He really didn’t want to give Jean the satisfaction of showing him who he followed, or why he decided to. His finger scrolled and scrolled through the following list on Jean’s Instagram, hitting the follow button on a few bands he really enjoyed. But then, his hand stopped at one username in particular. The avatar showed a pretty girl, smiling brightly into the camera, sun’s golden rays blooming behind her hair.

Eren tapped on the username, and the first thing he took note of was the bio. ‘Connoisseur of mimosas and rock and roll’, he had to smirk at that, what a simple sentence to sum yourself up with. His eyes flickered to the link in her bio, titled, OnlyFans. He titled his head, Jean hadn’t mentioned what OnlyFans was? Did everyone have an OnlyFans too, like Instagram? He tapped on the highlighted link to be met with a page of prices. What the fuck was so exclusive about it that he had to pay ten dollars for a single picture? As he scrolled down a bit more, he noticed the pricing rising to the final payment cost.

“200 dollars for a personal Snapchat and to talk to me every day?” he read aloud, mouth open in disgust. “What the fuck is this?”

He hit the done option in the upper left corner, returning to the Instagram page in question. He tapped on the first photo, the girl’s back facing the camera, completely bare as her hair trickled down the center. She was sitting in a pretty pink bath, floating flowers all around, staring out a window, captioned, ‘wishing you were here’. His gaze lingered on the dips of her waist, before scrolling down to see the girl in some more clothing. This one was a much prettier picture, glasses set on the brim of her nose while she sat comfortably at a wooden table in a library. She stared directly into the camera, a pretty smile on her face while her hands sat perched under her chin. Some books were open on the table, and Eren took note of the quilted skirt peeking out from the under the bottom, her knees tightly crossed. ‘finals week is going to be the death of me, thank the universe for coffee’.

Eren back tracked out of the photo after double tapping, trying to drink in a comprehensive idea of what exactly people were paying so much money to see. He scrolled, and landed on his answer. The girl sat on a stool, phone angled in the mirror to take in her frame, wearing nothing but black lingerie and heels with a smirk on her face, the caption simply, ‘follow me on OnlyFans, link in bio’.

‘Hey Jean, what’s OnlyFans?’ Eren typed a quick text to his now mentor, patiently waiting as three bubbles appeared from his friend’s end.

‘Lol I see what you’re using Instagram for now, Jaeger’, was Jean’s only reply, and Eren could feel himself getting frustrated. Before he could type back an angry text, those bubbles popped up once again. ‘It’s basically porn, you pay for people’s pictures and videos’.

‘Why would someone want to do that? It’s free almost everywhere else’.

‘Because, young grasshopper, girls are hot and I’m trynna see some titties’.

Eren rolled his eyes at his friend’s stupidity. Deducing that Jean was obviously one of these paying customers, Eren felt a little more secure in himself as he tapped the follow button on the girl’s page. What he wasn’t expecting though was a notification informing him she had followed back, followed quickly by another one liking his only post. Eren couldn’t hold back a blush, heart thumping in his chest. Did this girl think he was good looking?

The thought didn’t sit for long as yet another notification popped up, this time a comment. The girl had simply put a heart eyed emoji, followed by a fire emoji. Eren retreated in haste back to her profile, analyzing every picture and caption.

That had been a month ago, and now Eren had a full blown addiction to the website, more specifically her Instagram. Eren was even paying for her OnlyFans now, making excuses that the money he spent would be used for coffees and lunches anyhow, and he really had to nip his caffeine addiction in the butt so he might as well spend his cash on her.

She had just posted a photoset, one of many on her page, completely naked aside from a gold necklace adorned on her neck, a simple initial of ‘E’ rested prettily on her collarbone. It was like she knew Eren was devouring her social medias on a daily basis. It was all for him, Eren had concluded. There was no coincidence that she had followed and liked his own page, it was all fate and meant to be. Eren had figured out how to DM someone, thanks to Jean showing him how to during one of their classes, and he had taken full advantage of the girl’s inbox. Unfortunately with no reply or read receipt to even prove she had received his messages, introducing himself and showering the girl with compliments. Oh, Eren was down bad. He even brought himself to pay out the $50 tier on her OnlyFans for the month, tired of entering his card information for every daily post.

His dick twitched hard as he drank in her form, curvaceous and beautiful and feminine. It wasn’t even like he just wanted to fuck her either, if he needed relief like that he’d just hit up one of the handful of girls he had saved in his contacts. Eren Jaeger wanted to take this girl out on a fucking date. They had so much in common, they were practically soulmates. She liked and followed all the same bands Eren did, posted on her stories all about her favorite foods and her zodiac sign. While he didn’t really believe in that shit, his Google search history of checking if Aries was compatible spoke to something completely different.

And then Eren began noticing something. How the library she frequently posted pictures in was the same library on campus. All the restaurants she went to were in an hour radius of him, half of them being his usual hangout spots. She lived locally, which thoroughly surprised him. Had he seen her around before? No, definitely not, he would’ve definitely remembered her pretty face. None of the girls that he knew looked like her, and if Eren didn’t know what a woman’s body felt like, he would’ve sworn her body was made of plastic.

Eren was practically an expert at Instagram now, and had plenty of opportunities to follow other beautiful women, but he chose not to. He felt guilty one night as he maneuvered through another pretty girl’s pictures, quickly retreating back to the comfort of his favorite girl’s instead. This was one of the reasons Eren had fought getting online for so long, whenever he found something he liked, he got obsessive.

His attention was drawn back to her naked photos, and he slipped his hand under the fabric of his sweatpants as he began to fuck his fist to her pretty image. All for him, he panted as he imagined what she would look like in front of him, beautiful and begging for his touch.

“Thank you so much,” you smiled graciously at the Starbucks employee in front of you, taking your large iced coffee from his hands.

“No problem, have a great day!”

You tossed your hair behind your shoulder as you turned around, the smile still vibrant on your face. Today was a good day, you decided almost as soon as you woke up. After studying for finals for nearly two weeks straight, you finally had a day off to enjoy yourself. Your best friend, Sasha, had convinced you to go on a small shopping day with her. You eagerly agreed that morning, toothbrush forgotten in between your teeth as your fingers rapidly tapped away to schedule a time. You were running out of sexy outfits for your OnlyFans content, and frankly, you really need some new summer clothes. Spring was drawing to a close, and you couldn’t just wear hoodies and leggings all year round, no matter how much you wanted to.

The mall was about two blocks away from the Starbucks, and as you chugged down your coffee, you slid your phone out of your back pocket of your jeans to see multiple notifications from Instagram. Just more people liking your posts, and some DMs, but you just rolled your eyes. You got tired of explaining on your stories that they were broken, and Instagram had no intent on trying to adjust it so you’d be able to view your messages and reply. You sighed, slipping it back into your pocket as you made your way through the entrance of the shopping mall.

Sasha was seated at a table in the cafeteria near the entrance you had just walked through. She jumped out of her seat, a wide smile on her lips as she strutted up to your form.

“You ate without me?” you pouted, smelling the leftover scent of pizza wash over you.

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I’m still hungry,” Sasha waved her hand. This girl had the fastest metabolism of a person you had ever met, so her statement didn’t really phase you.

“Okay, so, before I spend all my money and forget, we have to go to the lingerie shop,” you stated, stomping your way to the escalators.

“I’m guessing your OnlyFans is doing good?” she asked, knowing just how expensive this certain store was as she lingered behind you.

“Dude, you literally wouldn’t believe it,” you sighed dreamily. “If I had known how much money I’d be making, I would’ve done it way sooner. You should seriously consider making your own.”

“Nah, I’ll just let you have the spotlight on this one,” she snickered as the both of you stepped on the moving staircase. “Are they all creepy old men?”

“No, surprisingly, there’s a few people I have classes with that follow me,” you gossiped. “You know Jean from economics?”

Sasha nodded, eyes widening, “No fucking way, he’s my friend! I’m not that surprised though, he’s always talking to girls and asking for their Instagrams.”

“He’s never even talked to me, right? But he buys every single post I put out! Which is crazy, considering it’d just be cheaper for him to buy the subscription,” you shrugged, stepping off the escalator and walking shortly afterwards into the lingerie store. “That’s what most my viewers do, anyways.”

“Seen anyone else interesting?” Sasha hummed, eyeing the various garments surrounding her in intrigue.

Your eyes honed in on a strappy bright red one piece, “Just a few of his friends, I think. One of them is pretty cute, actually, but he’s only got one picture up.”

“You talking about Eren?”

You nodded, eyes lighting up, “Yeah, do you know him? I’ve never seen him around campus before.”

Sasha was beginning to plot, “Yeah he usually hangs out with Armin and Mikasa, but he goes to a lot of house parties. You know, actually, I think Jean is throwing one soon. He rented a cabin for after finals, you should come!”

“Won’t that be weird?” you scrunched your face, picking up the red one piece and moving onto the next garment that caught your eye. “Like I said, I’ve never even talked to him.”

“Yeah but you know Mikasa and me,” she raised her thumb towards herself. “Eren will be there too.”

“All I said was that I thought he was cute, Sasha,” you laughed her off. “But I’ll think about it. Text me the details and I’ll let you know if I’m free.”

“Something tells me Jean would be very happy to see you there,” Sasha chuckled, you giggling in response to her suggestive comment. The two of you picked through the selection of skimpy clothing, taking it up the cashier to check out.

You walked out of the store together, giggling over small banter. Your trip to the mall was quick after that, and in the end you held a grip full of medium sized paper bags, walking outside the mall with Sasha.

“Oh, hey!” Sasha suddenly quipped, placing her bags on the sidewalk, pulling her phone out of her crossbody bag. “We should take a picture!”

“Sasha I’m not even wearing lipstick,” you half heartedly complained, getting ready to pose next to your best friend.

“Literally, you’re so fucking hot,” she deadpanned, turning her head to look you directly in the eyes. “Shut up and get in, bitch.”

You threw your head back in laughter, leaning in on the left side of her frame, pushing your hair framing your face behind your ear. You smiled widely while Sasha did the same, hearing a soft click of her phone, indicating the photo was taken. Your phone vibrated in your pocket, bringing it out to see a notification stating she had posted it to her story. You’d repost it to your story later after you grabbed food, you decided, the conversation turning to the topic of where the two of you would eat before heading back to your apartment to get drunk in celebration of your semesters ending.

Eren and his two friends sat crowded in Jean’s dorm room bathroom, passing around a blunt. He could hear Connie coughing harshly as it was passed to Eren, the boy taking a deep drag of the backwoods cigarillo. Exhaling slowly, Eren brought his phone out of his hoodie pocket to open it up to change the song playing, his phone instantly opening to Instagram.

Distracted now by his favorite obsession, he glanced at the stories section, her name front in the line, glowing in that now familiar pink and purple circle. Eren couldn’t have tapped faster, and when he did, his mouth hung open.

“Yo,” Eren spoke loudly, shoving his phone in Jean and Connie’s faces. “Sasha knows this girl?”

“Yeah, they’re like best friends,” Connie quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t know her?”

“No, I just saw we had mutual friends,” Eren’s eyebrows knitted together. “How come we’ve never hung out with her before?”

“I don’t know actually,” Jean said, exhaling the blunt after it was passed to him from Eren’s fingertips. “I had a class with her this semester, she seems nice.”

“You’re only saying that because she’s hot,” Connie chuckled. “I bet you’ve never even talked to the girl.”

Jean’s face ignited in a fierce blush as he found interest in the ceiling tiles, “Shut up. It’s harder to talk to girls than it looks. You should know that, Connie.”

“Hey! I talk to girls!” Connie leaned up from his seated position on the floor.

“Idiots,” Eren sighed, rolling his eyes. “Neither of you have any game.”

“Not all of us are as gifted as you are, Eren,” Connie protested, a smirk spreading across his lips. “You could talk to a fucking mouse and it’d figure out someway to talk back.”

Eren rolled his eyes again, harder this time, “You just talk to girls like they’re human beings, it’s not that fucking hard.”

“Oh yeah? Betcha’ won’t be saying that whenever you see that girl around,” Jean teased, finally passing the blunt to Connie in the rotation, Connie muttering something about hogging it.

Eren shifted uncomfortably on the closed toilet seat, “Whatever, Jean.”

“Speak of the fucking devil!” Jean shouted, scaring the very high pair of boys at the suddenness. “Sasha just texted me asking if she can bring her this weekend to the cabin!”

Eren’s heart erupted into a flutter of uneven beats, his face heating up. This girl he had been drooling over was going to be at a party, with him? He suddenly felt like a teenager, the idea of seeing his precious addiction face to face giving him full blown anxiety.

Soft thuds of the bass of the stereo filled the room, catchy pop music drawing Eren out of his stupor to gaze hastily around the room, searching.

“What’s up with you tonight?” Armin had asked him, drawing his attention away once again. “It’s been an hour since the party started and you’ve barely drunk anything.”

Taking note of the full red solo cup in his hand, flickering his gaze between the liquid and his best friend, Eren shrugged and tipped the rim back in his lips, opening his throat and taking large gulps until the cup was empty. “Happy?”

Armin laughed loudly, although only having two strong drinks, his best friend was beginning to feel the numbness of intoxication, “You’re really out of it tonight, everything alright?”

“Yeah I’m fine, just waiting for the smoke sesh so I’m not cross faded,” Eren smirked, lying easily. “Last time I got too drunk and decided to rip Jean’s bong, I woke up in some random front yard with one shoe on.”

Armin shook his head in disbelief, “You really need to start making better life choices, Eren.”

Eren shook the empty solo cup in front of his friend, “I’m trying here.”

Truthfully, the reason Eren wasn’t halfway to getting shit faced was because he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the girl of his dreams. She still hadn’t shown up yet, and Eren was getting anxious that she wasn’t going to show. Sasha and Mikasa hadn’t shown up yet either, which gave him a resemblance of hope that the three of you were together, and on your way currently to the party. His heart thudded heavily in his ribcage as he heard the jingle of the front door turn, and his attention was fully concentrated on the door frame ahead of him. His jaw dropped at the sight, his breath caught in his throat.

You asked Sasha earlier that day what you should wear to the party, and Sasha had just waved and told you whatever you felt looked the best. Not exactly helpful, you had just decided on black ripped jeans and a low cut shirt, paired with your favorite leather jacket and trusty Vans. You felt incredibly undressed as Sasha drove to Mikasa’s house, watching her modelesque frame saunter out her front door towards the back car doors.

“Mikasa, you could make a paper bag look hot,” you showered her with appreciation, her face blushing in response as she tugged her long sleeved body con dress towards her knees. “Fuck, should I have worn a dress? How nice is everyone else dressed?”

Sasha couldn’t have given two fucks about how she dressed in front of her friends, adorned in blue skinny jeans and a causal crop top, although her face was beat to the Gods, “Shut the fuck up, you’re one to talk about making paper bags look good. Besides, knowing the boys they probably made minimal effort, probably all wearing sweatpants.”

The three of you snickered at this, and Sasha pushed the car into drive and set out on your 45 minute journey into the mountains. Nerves hadn’t set in until you were face to face with the cabin door, nervous that the girls’ friends weren’t going to like you. Putting a brave face on, Mikasa grasped the door knob and pushed it open, the three of you gliding in.

Eren honestly had wanted to drop down to his knees and kiss the ground you walked on. You were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Your eyes were searching, for what neither of you knew, until your eyes had finally landed on him. You smiled politely, moving your hand up in a quick wave to both him and Armin.

Eren couldn’t fathom moving any single part of his body, so awestruck by you. Jean shook Eren out of his dumbstricken state with a hard pat to his shoulder, “Why don’t you go introduce yourself, Eren?”

“Fuck off, horse face,” Eren spat, trying to will himself to either make strides towards you or to break his gaze, neither working. “Why don’t you?”

“I’d love to,” he smiled wickedly, inspired by liquid courage to lock arms with Eren and force him closer to the trio of girls that had finally made their appearance. Armin followed behind, Connie emerging out of the bathroom to give his hello’s to his best friend Sasha and company.

Eren could hear his heart beat in his ears as he stopped right in front of you, forcing his mouth closed in a tight lipped grimace. He felt like a fucking teenager with a crush.

“Hi,” you introduced yourself, smiling widely. “It’s so nice to finally meet you guys!”

“Nice to meet you too!” Armin spoke up, oblivious to his friends’ reaction to the fresh pretty face of yours.

Jean and Connie wouldn’t admit it, but they were feeling their own nervousness. Jean’s out of guilt as he scanned your body top to bottom, Connie’s natural shyness kicking in due to the newcomer. Both were able to overcome it though, and offer up their own introductions. Your eyes landed on Eren once again, tilting your head, waiting for his intro.

“I’m Eren,” he swallowed. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you looked down, smiling softly. You raised your hand then, looking up at the boys in front of you, revealing a handle of vodka. “I brought a gift with me too!”

“My kinda girl!” Jean spoke just a bit too enthusiastically. “Shots, shots, shots!”

Connie pumped his fist, chiming in, the rest of the party joining as well as the crowd made their way into the kitchen. Eren purposely hung back, trying to keep as close to you as possible.

“You happen to bring any chasers with you?” he had leaned in, tickling the side of your head with his breath.

“No, I totally forgot,” you sheepishly admitted.

“Looks like we’re all gonna get plastered then,” he chuckled smoothly, sending goosebumps down your body.

“Is it really a party then if at least one person doesn’t have their head in a toilet?” you had easily quipped back, feeling more comfortable now that the introductions were out of the way.

Eren hummed in half hearted agreement, feeling slightly more relaxed himself. Besides, his attention was being grasped by the plastic shot glass being shoved in his hand, as well as your dainty one. The group held up the shot glasses, a few phone cameras capturing the moment to post on their stories, and you all swung your heads back to allow the bitter liquid to trickle down your throats. Eren made a mild face, taking a stolen glance at your own to see your grimace, sticking your tongue out in disbelief at the taste.

Another hour had passed by, and Eren was running out of reasons to follow you around the cabin as you shifted between conversations to get to know the group of friends better. You hadn’t really noticed him trailing behind you, nor did you really care because you were very quickly warming up to Eren. It also didn’t hurt that he looked exceptionally better in person. His hair was lazily swung into a half top bun, wearing a couple of gold chains with his white tee tightly hugging his torso, tucked seamlessly into black ripped jeans displaying his muscular knee caps. Eren was definitely a looker, you shifted your gaze up to his face as he made some witty comment to Sasha, his eyes flickering to your face to catch your reaction.

“Oh my god, there was this one time,” Sasha spoke your name. “She had gotten so high during last year’s spring break, and the two of us and Mikasa came up with the brilliant idea of becoming one with nature. So, naturally, we ran to Walmart and bought this tent on clearance. Turns out it was made for kids, so none of us actually fit inside when we got back to Mikasa’s house. Mikasa and I curled up in a ball, surrounded by snacks, and this smart girl over here decided it was the best choice to just lay out on the lawn and pass out.”

“I wanted to watch the sun rise!” you laughed, trying to quickly explain yourself to Eren’s amused smirk. “And the grass was just so nice that night!”

“The grass was basically straw,” Sasha countered teasingly. “Twenty degrees outside, absolutely freezing. She was MIA for like a week afterwards with a cold.”

You shrugged carelessly, “Worth it.”

Now the two of you had sleeping on lawns in common? Eren scoffed inwardly. Yup, it was official, you were his soulmate. Still though, the topic of why you were so casual in person while your naked pictures existed online tickled his thoughts. He was hoping that somehow it’d get brought up naturally in conversation, saving himself the embarrassment if you were to get offended by his questioning. So far it seemed you liked him, not having said a word about him trailing after you like a lost puppy. Jean had been sending him knowing looks all night, Connie shooting two thumbs up at Eren while Armin looked on in confusion.

Mikasa had strolled out of the bathroom finally, joining the trio who stood casually in the living room, simply stating, “I’m starving. You guys think they deliver pizza out here?”

Sasha’s eyes widened in excitement, “I don’t care if it takes an hour to get here. We’re ordering right now.”

Already ahead of the two, your phone was pulled out in your hands to open up the Dominoes app, punching in the location of the party and placing the order online. Eren watched this all, peering over your hands to see the total.

“Guys, we should chip in,” Eren called out, grabbing the boys’ attention. “We’re ordering pizza.”

“No, no!” you protested, confirming the order. “It’s really fine, my treat.”

“But that’s really expensive,” he frowned, the group all joined together in the living room.

“Don’t worry, she’s got that OnlyFans money,” Sasha waved off Eren’s concern.

“OnlyFans?” Armin questioned, darting his eyes in between Sasha and you. “What’s that?”

Jean hid his blushing cheeks and your eyes flickered to him, then back to Armin, “I sell naked pictures online.”

“So what, a bunch of old guys give you money?” Armin had asked innocently, not judgemental in the slightest.

You giggled, relieved he wasn’t asking in a demeaning manner, “Actually, you’d be really surprised about who you know follows me. There’s a lot of people from school.”

Eren’s blood ran cold as he felt a sudden onset of embarrassment. Did that mean you had known this entire time Eren was one of these followers? If you did, you didn’t let on to it, smiling shyly as the questions ended. Eren hadn’t been done with the conversation, but pride from exposing himself in front of his friends kept his mouth shut.

It was around one in the morning when the party was at its peak. Sasha was being held up by her legs by Connie as she did a keg stand, you and the group cheering the girl on in your own drunken hazes. She tapped the large can, indicating she was finished, Connie settling her down on solid ground as she belched loudly.

“That was fucking awesome, Sasha!” you giggled, throwing your arms up and around her. You were definitely feeling the shots you had been feeding yourself all night, holding your red solo cup high above the girl so it wouldn’t slosh on her.

“You should totally try it!” she encouraged devilishly.

You pouted then, taking a moment to consider, “I’ve never done a keg stand before, what if I can’t do it?”

“I’ll help you!” Eren all but pounced on the opportunity, your smile turning into a tipsy giggle. “It’s not that hard, you just keep chugging until you can’t anymore. I’ll hold you, you got this.”

You lightly blushed, nodding your head at the encouragement, bringing a fist to your chest as a salute, “I’ll do it! We gotta’ put on a cool song though, if I’m going to fail miserably I might as well have a good song to do it to.”

Mikasa volunteered, as she was already DJ, having the best music taste out of everyone in the group. She dug her phone out of her pocket, switching over to a ‘Pursuit of Happiness’ remix. Connie whooped at the choice, and everyone began to chant your name as you hovered by the keg, very nervous. Eren then placed his large hand on the small of your back, leaning in to reassure you once again. You gulped, nodding that you were ready to get into position.

“Okay, so you’re going to lean your arms on the top of the can, and I’ll grab your legs. Like when you were a kid and you’d do that stupid wheelbarrel thing,” Eren easily explained, chuckling lightly. “Use your hands to let me know when you’re done.”

You did as you were told, resting your upper body against the keg as Eren hooked his arms around your calves. He couldn’t help but admire how strong your legs felt in his grasp, and how right it felt to finally have some bodily contact. He had been trying to figure out a natural way all night, and he was bubbling over in excitement, the chance had arisen, glorious in the promise of touch.

You placed your lips hesitantly around the tap, opening it up into your mouth, and began to chug. ‘Chug, chug, chug!’ was chanted all around you, even Mikasa joining in on the fun. Fists bumped in the air, and you felt like the coolest fucking person in the world. Doing a keg stand wasn’t exactly in your goals list, but fuck did it feel like it should’ve been as your ego inflated.

“That’s it, you’re doing great!” Eren’s thumbs brushed the inside of your knees, leaning in to whisper. “Good girl.”

You sputtered around the tap, choking harshly. You removed your mouth quickly to gasp for air, and the tap shot up all over your shirt, jacket long forgotten resting on the sofa in the living room. Eren moved your legs down to the floor quickly seeing this, and wrapped his arm around your waist to steady you as your arm shot out to grab onto something, in this case his other arm.

“You alright?” Jean asked, a look of concern washing over his features as you finally got some air into your lungs.

“Yeah,” you coughed again, blushing in embarrassment. “I definitely made a mess though.”

“I brought some extra clothes with me,” Eren offered quickly. “One of these idiots always manages to somehow spill something within the first hour of drinking. I’ll show you where my bag is at.”

You smiled in appreciation, biting your tongue to accuse him of purposely throwing you off your game with his little praise that had your knees buckling. He unwound his arm, taking your hand and leading you to the staircase by the entryway, your smaller form following behind him as he thudded up the stairs. Three doors greeted you at the top, and he led you into the master bedroom, plainly decorated and lacking personal belongings. You watched as he chucked a duffle bag onto the mattress, unzipping it and going through his clothes. He found a sweatshirt, smirking inwardly as it had been one of his old sports ones with his last name embroidered on the back. Proud he could provide a claim to you, he extended it to you, and you gladly accepted it.

“Well, you did really well in the beginning there,” he chuckled, whisking his stray baby hairs behind his ear. “Sucks about the shirt though. The first time I tried to do a keg stand, I barfed everywhere.”

You laughed lightly, fingering the hem of your shirt, “I guess it could’ve been a lot worse. Still, at least I can check this off my bucket list.”

Eren’s eyebrows shot into his hairline as you lifted your shirt to reveal your bare stomach, and he whisked his body completely around so you didn’t see his reddened cheeks, “You could’ve asked me to leave.”

Behind him, you let a mischievous smirk cross your lips, “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Eren’s mouth fell open at your bold statement, letting his words leave before he could stop them, “You know?”

“Of course,” you discarded the sodden shirt to the floor, sitting on the bed instead of tossing the sweatshirt on. “You’re my favorite viewer.”

He caught your movement in the corner of his eye, and he turned his head to take in the sight. Fuck, you were even more beautiful in person. Your bra was white and pretty and dainty, pushing your tits together, accentuating cleavage that Eren wanted to bury his face in. His gaze moved up to your face, smiling so innocently at him as he let out a dark chuckle, “Is that so?”

You hummed, leaning back to expose your form a bit more, feeling confident from the alcohol, “You like every one of my pictures, you buy all my content, you’re pretty cute, of course you’re my favorite.”

Eren’s ego soared as he turned his body completely towards you, taking a small step forward, “You’re just so beautiful, how could I not? I do have to ask this though, how come you never answered any of my messages?”

“Oh, my DMs are broken. Instagram doesn’t let me view them or respond,” you explained easily. “You know, you could’ve hit me up on OnlyFans, I definitely would have answered you.”

A blush crept up on Eren again as he averted his gaze to the floor, “I didn’t think about that.”

You giggled softly, “What’d you send me anyways?”

“I asked you out on a date,” he admitted, growing more nervous. “Told you that you were really pretty. Y’know, stuff you probably get all the time.”

“Most of my messages are from guys trying to take me out drinking and to get a quick fuck,” you scoffed. “Y’know, if the offer is still on the table, I’d really like to take you up on it.”

“Really?” Eren’s eyes met yours in surprise, you watched his Adam’s apple bob along his throat as he gulped. “You’d want to go out with me?”

“Yeah, who else is going to hold me up when I try to do a keg stand again?” you smiled sheepishly, batting your eyelashes. Eren’s hands twitched at his sides, fuck, you were so pretty.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked seriously, his gaze hardening as he felt a wave of possessiveness. In his mind, you were already his girlfriend. You had accepted his date, and he’d be damned if he didn’t try to push his luck further.

Eren had never felt the way he feels right now. He took immediate notice of your blushing cheeks, your confident lean turn into a shy arch as you pushed your body into a hunched over seating position. Eren had experience with girls, that everyone knew as a fact, he was very far from being a virgin. You made him feel like a fucking virgin, heart beating wildly in his chest. All he wanted to do was to grab you and hide you away for his own greedy pleasure, the darkest parts of his mind tickled by the thought. He had laid a claim to you way before he had ever met you, and he wouldn’t let you escape now that he had you here, alone.

You didn’t answer his request, you pushed yourself off the mattress and met his staggering stance halfway. Unknown to his wicked thoughts, his past month of obsessing of you, you leaned up, gently brushing your lips against his. No one had ever asked you this simple question before, instead just taking the action as if they had owned you, and you thought to yourself that you could really love this boy who presented himself so innocently to you.

The soft placement of your lips to his was not enough, and Eren buried his mouth with your own, moving both of his hands to cup your face. He could feel your jaw beneath the pads of his fingertips as you attempted to meet his pace, sensual and passionate. The need for air forgotten for the both of you, sucking in deeply through your noses as the space continued to close between your bodies.

“Gonna take you someplace real nice,” muttered Eren as he pulled away slightly to gaze his half lidded eyes on your fluttering eyelashes, your gaze now hidden from him. “I know you like that one place in the city, I saw your little post of you wearing that tight dress. You looked so fucking pretty.”

Tingles shivered up your bones, a sharp intake of breath as you fluttered your eyes open to take in his deep lustful expression, “I’ll wear it for you, if you want.”

“Wear my necklace too.”

You pulled away completely this time, baffled, “Your necklace?”

“The one with the ‘E’ on it,” he breathed, moving forward to accommodate the sudden distance, his lips meeting the corner of your mouth. You realized then what he was referring to, a small smirk uplifting his kiss. You wouldn’t tell him though that the necklace in question was just some random trinket with no meaning you had purchased, or that you hadn’t even recognized the pretty cursive as a letter. You figured out very quickly Eren’s little crush was a bit more involved than just him attached to your hip at this party. No, it was way deeper than that. All of the likes, the money, the new information of messages made sense to you. Eren had believed you were his, and he had sought out confirmation all night to prove it.

“Okay,” you played along to his fantasy, an expert since it was your job online already to provide this to your viewers. “What else do you want me to wear?”

“There’s this one set of lingerie,” Eren was the one to pull back now, letting his teal eyes trail downwards to your chest, displeased by the lack of skin shown to him in that instance. “The black lacy one, fuck, wear that. You look so fucking sexy in that.”

“You don’t like when I wear white?” you pouted, bringing your hands to rest against the peak of your breasts, framing them like a picture.

“I like anything you wear,” a smirk crossed his features, eyes locked in on your tits. “Or what you don’t wear.”

You were met with two choices then. One, kiss Eren and get dressed and save yourself for your date, or two, fulfill his now present fantasy of his that was beginning to morph into your own. You mentally battled the decision in your mind, feeling the desire curl in your stomach at each option. If you were to give in now, Eren might not want to continue to chase after you, the promise of an actual date forgotten. Not to mention the party of people down stairs, the thud of music softened behind the closed door of the bedroom indicating it was still in full swing. Eren saw your hesitation, and let his hands travel to your elbows comfortingly.

“I know we technically just met,” he started, eyes now locked in on yours in genuine honesty. “But I really like you. You’re all I’ve thought about for the past month, so if you don’t feel comfortable going any further, that’s okay, I’ll wait. I’ve waited this long.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you bit your lip as you watched his teal orbs flicker to your mouth. “It’s just — oh God, this is embarrassing to talk about so soon.”

“Shh, it’s okay, I won’t judge,” he cooed, bringing just a hand up to soothe over your cheek.

“I’m not exactly quiet,” you admitted, gesturing towards the floor. “I don’t really want to be the girl who fucks someone at the first party they show up to.”

Eren hadn’t predicted you to be loud in his fantasies, but he was really wishing he had. He held back a groan at your confession, images of what could be filling his dirty mind, “Fuck, okay, no problem. I don’t have any condoms with me anyways.”

“Actually,” you drawled. “I’m on the pill, so as far as that goes, that doesn’t really matter. I’m clean too, I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.”

Boxes were being ticked quickly off of Eren’s checklist, and he let his jaw hang open, “I’m clean too, I don’t fuck anyone without a condom, to be honest.”

I’m going to fuck her raw, is all that was going through his mind. Treat her so good, take her out wearing her pretty little dress and treat her like a fucking princess.

“Please tell me you’re free tomorrow,” Eren pleaded. “I’ll take us fucking anywhere you want.”

“I am, actually,” you batted your eyelashes.

“Cool,” he muttered, beginning to feel drawn into your lips again. As you began to lean back in, a sharp knock sounded at the door.

“Hey! Everything alright?” you both froze, recognizing the voice as Armin’s. Of course he’d be the only one to dare interrupt, and the party below had discouraged him. Eren had taken you upstairs, and while they were all aware of the possibility of the two of you would be hooking up, Armin was more concerned that one or both of you had gotten sick and were in need of help.

“Yeah, we’re fine! Be out in a second!” Eren shouted, feeling suddenly frazzled from the intense interaction between you two. If Armin had opened the door, seeing the two of you locked in together so closely, making out feverishly, it would be completely mortifying. Especially since it wouldn’t be the first time Armin had accidentally seen his best friend in a suggestive situation.

You pecked his lips quickly then, breaking out of his embrace to throw his sweatshirt over your head. Eren was counting backwards in his head to rid himself of the half erection in his pants, nearly impossible as he thought about how pretty you looked in his clothing.

“C’mon,” you tugged at his hand, urging him to follow you back downstairs. “We have a pizza to eat and friends to convince that we definitely didn’t just fuck for ten minutes.”

The group hadn’t made a single comment when you two rejoined the party, only just knowing smirks from Jean and Connie to Eren. Sasha had wiggled her eyebrows at you, and you quickly pulled her and Mikasa into the bathroom to recap what had just occurred upstairs. The girls clapped drunkenly at your news of a date, incredibly excited that their best friend was finally going out with a boy. The night had ended around three in the morning, bodies scattered throughout the house to pass out wherever they pleased. Eren had continued to stay by you the rest of the night, this time, not shy at all as he stole touches to your back. And when it came time to pass out, you felt smugness as he rested his head on your back while you laid on your side on the same bed upstairs, his arm thrown tightly around your waist. Sasha curled up in front of you, your own head snuggling into her shoulder as the room spun you into a deep slumber.

You sat at a vanity in your apartment bedroom the next evening, applying various makeups to your face. Mikasa had awoken you and Sasha pretty early the next morning, wanting to go home so she could get ready for her job. Eren snored quietly behind you as you tried your best to maneuver out of his grasp, and the three of you cleaned up the cups and plates scattered around the house as a thank you to Jean for the invitation. Sasha had driven you all the way back to your place when you realized you were still wearing Eren’s hoodie, and you smirked. Now he definitely had a reason to get you on this date tonight, you had something that belonged to him.

When Eren had woken up, he truly believed for a few minutes that you had just been a dream. Pictures and videos posted all over Instagram had shown him differently though, the two of you leaning against each other on the leather couch smiling drunkenly on Armin’s story had his heart pounding. His arm was around your shoulders, your head was tilted in the crook of his neck, and then Eren remembered that he was going to see you again tonight. He took a screenshot before the story moved on to a video of the group in a heated discussion about music tastes, a quiet chuckle made its way out of his throat as he recounted memories that would become very fond to him.

He had posted the picture then to his Instagram, a few others followed after that included him and his other friends. Eren tagged all of the people, but most importantly, the picture of the two of you was the first in the line up of the photo set. A few messages hit his inbox after he hit the post button, some classmates asking if you were his girlfriend, because you were wearing his sweatshirt in the photo. He decided to not respond, because as much as he wanted to tell them yes, he knew he’d be jumping the gun. His heart raced as a notification popped up — you had liked the picture, and added a comment, ‘last night was a movie’ with a kiss emoji. When he refreshed the page, your lit up story showed him that you had even reposted his photo set. His ego soared, his affections no longer one sided, and he couldn’t fucking wait to take you out later and show you the best time he could.

Eren had gotten your phone number from Sasha not long before your date, asking for your address and trying to pick out a time to head out to dinner. You tapped a response quickly, and looked at the clock to gauge how much time you’d need to be fully ready. That had been about three hours ago, your body had been scrubbed and shaved, hair curled prettily down your back as you added the final touches of lipstick to your lips. The dress Eren had talked about was laid out on your perfectly made bed, a pretty satin champagne colored fabric, and your apartment was fairly clean, fully expecting his company after the date of all went well. You dressed yourself easily, slipping on black heels when you heard the chime of your phone, letting you know Eren was awaiting you outside.

When the elevator doors chimed open as you walked into your lobby, you saw from the entrance doors Eren leaned back casually against the Uber he had offered to pay for. His attention immediately focused on your form as you exited your building, his gaze flickered all over your body.

“You look incredible,” Eren easily complimented, pushing himself up to stand straight. He leaned in to kiss your blushing cheek as you muttered a quiet ‘thank you’, and he pulled the door handle of the sleek black car, ushering you inside. He slammed it closed after you had positioned yourself comfortably, giving the driver a soft greeting as Eren circled around the back, getting in on the opposite side. The directions were already plugged into the driver’s GPS, and it took less than twenty minutes to get to the restaurant in question.

This gave you enough time to take in Eren’s appearance, and damn if you wouldn’t have allowed yourself to do so, the sight practically mouth watering. His hair hung low in a messy bun, a few complementary strands hanging out to frame his sharp jawline. His torso was adorned in a sheer white long sleeve button up, a small portion of his chest revealed as he had left the top buttons alone, chains hanging against his collarbones, silver in color this time. Black slacks that tightened around his thighs and calves had you biting your lip in appreciation, his legs spread as he took up space in the backseat.

“Staring isn’t very polite,” he had leaned in, taking notice of your devouring gaze.

“Stop dressing like a whore and maybe I won’t stare,” you teased back, chuckling quietly when he swatted your exposed thigh lightly. He kept his hand there for the rest of the drive, enjoying the comfortable silence as the quiet hum of the radio filled in the gaps.

When the Uber had slowed to a stop outside of the fancy restaurant Eren had insisted taking you to, he swung the door open before you had a chance to reach for the handle on your side. He raced to the other side of the car, pulling open the door and extending his hand out for you to grasp onto. You circled your fingers around his palm, and he tightened his grasp as you swung your legs over the flooring, and stood before him. The two of you thanked the driver, and he sped away shortly after. Hand still locked in with yours, Eren led the way inside the opened doors of the restaurant. Inside, a hostess wearing a very classy black uniform greeted the two of you.

“Reservation for Eren,” he spoke smoothly, and your eyes widened in surprise, expecting to have sat and waited for at least a half an hour before you had been seated.

“Right this way,” she smiled politely, two menus in her hands as she welcomed you into the dining area. You followed behind Eren, realizing that this place must’ve been a lot more expensive than you originally had gauged. All the guests appeared in their very best formal attire, and the chatter was soft as the beautiful notes of a piano resounded throughout the space. While you couldn’t pinpoint exactly where the music was coming from, you had a strong feeling that there was a physical player somewhere in the midst, it sounded so clear and professional. When the hostess had sat you down in a booth secluded against the furthest set wall, she smiled politely once more and informed you that the waiter would be with you soon.

“Eren,” you hissed as you sat opposite of his smirking form. “This place is stupid fancy!”

“Don’t worry about it,” he waved easily. “I got it, I promise.”

“How are you able to afford this? I’ve got a little bit of money and even I couldn’t go some place this nice,” you questioned, feeling a small pang of guilt. He was going to go broke trying to treat you to a very nice, albeit expensive, meal.

“My dad is a doctor,” he shrugged, picking up the menu and eyeing over their drink selection. “He sends me money whenever I come around and help around his office.”

“Following in the family footsteps?” you tried at the conversation, realizing you virtually knew nothing about the boy in front of you.

“Nah, I’m more into the business side of things,” he smiled up at you then, showing off his pearly white teeth. “What about you? What are you majoring in?”

You spoke of your major, Eren carefully listening in of your passions and your goals for your future ahead. He was pleased to hear that you were ambitious, smiling as he was enamored by your speech. Not that he minded a single bit about your online job, but to hear that you had a legitimate career goal soothed his worries.

A finely dressed waiter greeted you shortly, introducing himself and taking the both of your orders in one go, and stole away the menus. The rest of the date flew by quickly, tipsy from your cocktails and full of giggles as the two of you got to know one another. Although Eren was already knowledgeable about a number of your likes and dislikes and personality quirks due to Instagram, you had the undisguisable pleasure of learning his right then and there.

“So,” you leaned your elbows onto the table, resting your chin atop of your closed fists. “Tell me, how many girls have you taken here before?”

“Not a single one,” he chuckled lowly, passing the black booklet encasing his credit card as the waiter stopped at the table. “This is actually my first time taking anyone out somewhere so fancy. Usually I just hang out at the more lowkey spots around campus.”

“I would’ve been totally okay with going somewhere like that instead,” you frowned, that same guilt flooding back to your stomach. Eren hadn’t even let you see the bill before he had given it away, so you were completely ignorant as far as how far the total rang up. “You really didn’t have to take me out to such an expensive place.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, smirking as he did so, “Had to take my favorite girl somewhere nice, show you off in that gorgeous dress of yours.”

You blushed, moving your fists to hold your cheeks to try and contain the heat, “Fine, but next time, I want to see one of these ‘lowkey spots’.”

“Next time, huh?” Eren mused cockily.

“Yes, I guess I had a really great time tonight, consider yourself honored,” you giggled half heartedly.

“Oh believe me, I do.”

Eren had walked you to the front door of your apartment like the gentleman he was. Really, he was just trying to procrastinate leaving you, not wanting the night to be over with quite yet. Luckily, you were on the exact same page as he stood awkwardly behind you while you unlocked your front door.

You turned, an eyebrow raised, “Well? Are you coming in or what?”

“Say less,” he sighed in relief, following your sauntering frame inside your apartment. He was initially impressed as you flicked the light switch on the wall up, illuminating your precious space. Very clean and organized, he felt a pang of jealousy, knowing his own dorm room was scattered with clothes and empty water bottles. If he had only seen what your living space looked like before you had straightened up, he might have felt better about himself.

“I have some róse in the fridge,” you offered, making your way to the kitchen. “Would you like a glass?”

“No lie, that’s literally my favorite wine,” Eren groaned. “How are you this perfect?”

You laughed loudly, grabbing two wine glasses from your cabinet, opening your fridge and retrieving the bottle. Filling the glasses generously, you left the bottle on your kitchen counter and turned around, Eren a lot closer than where you had left him a moment ago. You extended his cup, which he graciously took and sipped. You mirrored him, gulping down your own mouthful.

“Y’know,” he started, gazing around your kitchen space. “For all that talk of mimosas in your Instagram bio, I really expected there to be a lot more pictures of you drinking them.”

You chuckled once again, “Believe me, I have plenty of orange juice, vodka, and champagne here. We had such a classy dinner, I thought I’d try and match it with some wine. Besides, vodka brings out the worst in me.”

“Ah, lady in the streets, freak in the sheets,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. You rolled your eyes, swatting his bicep harmlessly. “I get what you’re about at brunch with the girls.”

“If I had a nickel for every time Mikasa had to peel me and Sasha off the pavement after mimosas and scones, I’d be fucking rich,” you giggled once again, raising the glass to your lips.

“I’m really surprised we hadn’t met each other before last night, especially because Mikasa and I have been best friends since we were little,” Eren raised an eyebrow. “She’s basically my sister, and never once did she say anything about you, I only met Sasha because Connie’s attached to her hip and they share the same brain cell.”

“If it makes you feel better, I only knew Jean existed because we had a class together this semester,” you shrugged, purposefully leaving out the part where he consumed your content almost as much as Eren did.

“And of course me,” Eren smirked cheekily. “Because I’m your favorite viewer, like you said.”

“Don’t make me regret telling you that,” you pointed your glass towards him in a fake threat.

“It’s okay, you’re my favorite girl, so it evens itself out,” Eren placed his half drunk glass on the counter top, his gaze much more seductive. “Besides, you wore my necklace like I asked, I gotta tease you a little bit.”

“I wore pretty much everything you wanted me to,” you smirked, copying his actions and settling your own cup down.

“Did you now?” he took long strides to stand in front of you, toying with the necklace that he had laid claim over.

“I can show you, if you want to see,” you leaned up with full intentions of capturing his kiss.

“There’s nothing else I would rather do, pretty girl,” Eren cooed, licking his lips before meeting you in the middle. His arms circled around your waist, your hands wrapped around his shoulders as the pace started out slowly. Gentle was not what either of you wanted though, the desperation seeping in fast as his fingers explored your sides.

“Bedroom,” you gasped as he removed his lips and attached them to your jaw. He had no qualms of fucking you right out here in the kitchen, so he made no effort to move. Realizing you had to take the reins, you moved backwards from Eren, smirking as he groaned from the sudden distance. His eyes followed you predatorily as he began to chase after you, your back meeting the wooden paneling of your bedroom door. He attempted to recapture your mouth, but your hand was faster in turning the door knob, and you began to lead him back until your mattress met the backs of your knees.

“Want you to show me what you’re wearing under that dress,” Eren demanded, playing with the short hem that rested on your thighs.

You nodded, giving him the silent okay to take off the fabric encompassing your frame. You turned so your back faced him, moving your hair out of the way so he could unzip the back. His eyes followed as he fingered the silver zipper, agonizingly teasing himself as more and more was revealed to him. Seeing the straps of the black lace he had requested drunkenly the night before, his patience snapped as he pulled the metal piece down faster. You slid the tiny straps off your shoulders at the sweet feeling of release, and Eren’s dick was rock fucking solid as it pooled around your feet, you kicked the silky fabric to the side and faced him once more.

“You’re wearing everything I told you to,” he stated, drinking in the sight of your scantily clad body. “Good girl.”

You bit back an embarrassing moan at his praise, feeling the heat pool between your thighs. It came as such a shock to you to be so reactive to his words, and it came slamming into you that maybe you weren’t as vanilla as you had previously believed. You had a kink! It all made so much sense, why you felt such pride and arousal from complete strangers giving you their attention and compliments online. You yearned for it, craved the affections, and now that Eren stood in front of you, more than willing to shower you with pretty words, all the moisture in your mouth dried up. You wanted him so fucking bad.

Eren’s hands met the naked skin of your waist as his palms etched over your soft stomach. They met in the middle of your back, leaning your back onto the mattress as he climbed on top of you, a single hand coming up to work on discarding his button up. You rushed to help, pads of your fingers working the buttons open until he revealed his bare chest, his chains hanging above you. He worked his arms out quickly, tossing the fabric onto the floor. He brought his lips to yours, this kiss much more desperate and needy than the previous ones. His hands explored every inch of your body, the tops of your thighs to the swell of your breasts. He tugged on the soft lace at the top, slowly bringing the black fabric down to expose the complete fullness of your breasts. A sight familiar yet somehow new made Eren groan, the pads of his thumbs brushing against your pretty nipples, instantly hardening them.

You moaned lightly, throwing your head back and arching your back into his touch. How many times had Eren pictured you just like this?

“I fucked my fist so many fucking times thinking about you,” he confessed as he pressed slow open mouthed kisses to your collarbone. “You have no idea what your pictures did to me, no idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

He leaned his bottom half forward, pressing his thick clothed erection into the meat of your thigh. You let out a whimper, head foggy as his words made your pussy clench around nothing.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he licked a stripe up your neck, leaving a wet saliva trail as he wrapped his lips around where he could feel your pulse the strongest. “My pretty girl.”

While Eren wanted to talk about what you did to him, all you could think about was what he was doing to you. The want and need that coursed through your veins was like a drug, you could feel him worming his way into your bloodstream, straight to the center of your heart and out to the warmest parts of your body. And you felt like an addict in that moment too, and every moment you would spend with Eren there after. You could feel his kisses as if he was underneath your skin, his entire body pressed against yours. So, so close, yet not close enough.

“Take off your pants,” you demanded shakily, placing your hands at the button of his slacks. He seemed to be on the same page of you yet again, and he followed his instructions without delay. He kicked out of the tight pants with ease, and you were more than pleased to see he had rid himself of his boxers too when you heard the thick slap of his cock meeting his stomach.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, eyes widened. “Eren, that’s not going to fit.”

“Don’t worry,” he soothed your hair back from your face, pressing a sweet kiss to the tip of your nose. “I’ll make sure you’re nice and wet for me.”

He started to move south, licking and giving attention to your right nipple as he did so. While the idea of him giving you thorough attention was erotic, you really wanted to please him for your first time together, unknown to you as Eren had thought the exact same thing, wanting to make you feel so good you’d come crawling back to him for more.

You pushed yourself up into a seating position, Eren’s eyes flickering in confusion as you stood up. This look didn’t last for long as you switched positions, pushing his torso onto the bed as you rested atop of him, feet placed firmly on the ground. His mouth hung open in disbelief as you began to return his assault on his neck, sucking and kissing and even biting along the columns. He let out a shaky groan, unable to hold it back as your hands traveled down his chest to his abdomen, feeling over the muscles there.

“What’re you doing, princess?” Eren questioned teasingly, not trying to get his hopes up on what your plan seemed to be.

“Wanna’ make you feel good,” your eyes flickered up to meet the dark green of his eyes, watching as his pupils expanded as the realization hit him like a brick.

“Fuck, okay,” Eren subconsciously widened his thighs then, bringing himself up to lean on his elbows as your kisses followed shortly behind the trail of your fingers.

Your mouth met the defined muscle of his stomach, and your eyes drifted up to catch Eren’s reaction as you neared closer to his aching cock. His eyes were hardened on you, brows knitted together, he almost looked angry. You kitten licked above his navel, and knew the anger was superficial as he threw his head back, letting out a quiet groan. You leaned your body in closer, pushing your exposed chest against his length. He whipped his head forward again at the contact, his lips opened as he inhaled shaky breaths.

Part of you had kind of wanted to hear Eren beg for your mouth, but the thought had quickly left your head as he entangled his fingers into the back of your scalp, massaging gently as he did so. Without a moment of hesitation, you lowered your face so you were eye to eye with his thick shaft. Honestly, you really hadn’t expected Eren to be this big. You had caught a glimpse of his half erect member tenting in his pants the night before, but as it stood to full attention, you were very much intimidated by the sheer size. You gulped, putting on a brace face as you continued on.

The sound of Eren’s groans growing louder as you licked a bold stripe from the bottom of his base to the tip of his head had stirred your cunt deeply. You were on your knees now, feet tucked up under you when you felt the wet patch of your panties touch the back of your heels. You licked a few more times, your right hand trailing down from his stomach to grip him more upright. You pulled all the saliva in your mouth onto your tongue, and wrapped your lips around his tip while your hand secured a purposeful grip at his base. You started slow, only sucking in your cheeks and moving your tongue along the underside of his head, pumping him at the same pace. You could feel beads of spit meet your knuckles, circling your tongue around the entirety of his fat mushroom tip. You smoothly licked along his slit, collecting his gushing precum and tasting the salty liquid.

Meanwhile as you had just started your worship of his cock, Eren was watching you in disbelief as your eyelashes fluttered along your cheeks, mouth prepping yourself to take in his full length. He had pulled himself into a sitting position now to provide you the best angle he could. He was in complete awe, furrowing eyebrows and his mouth hanging open, he knew in that moment there was absolutely no point of return. He would follow you from here on out, whether it be online or in reality, wherever you would go. Soulmates, he reminded himself while he collected your hair into his fist and away from your mouth. You were his fucking soulmate.

You pressed your knees upward, eyes opening. Eren’s pupils were blown out, his breathing irregular, and you wanted to watch him completely unfold as you angled your head to drop lower onto his shaft, hand working just a little faster.

“Fuck —“ he stuttered, eyes blazing into yours. “That’s it, take all of me, you’re such a good girl.”

You moaned lightly at his praise once again, and Eren’s cock hit the back of your throat. You pulled your lips up slowly, tongue caressing the underside of his member the entire time, and quickly brought your unoccupied hand into a fist. This was the first time you would be trying out this trick, reading it in a magazine since your gag reflex was very strong and this helped soothe the impulse. Eren was not prepared in the slightest as you removed the hand gripping him, letting his dick fall forward a bit more. You took a deep breathe through your nose, spit coating his entire cock now, and pushed your mouth fast back down his shaft.

Eren let out a strangled gasp when your nose brushed against his pelvis, “Holy fucking — fuck. Shit, yeah, just like that. You look so fucking pretty right now.”

Tears were threatening the spill over your lash line and you bobbed your head furiously, taking in as much as you could before you gagged. You stared up at him the entire time, watching his face screw together as you lapped and sucked his cock. Your jaw was aching already from his size, minding your teeth placement as you quickened your pace. You returned your hand to wrap and pump whatever your mouth wasn’t able to reach as you set yourself into a more comfortable pattern. Your other hand cupped his balls, swirling them softly in your palms.

Eren’s fingers yanked you back, his dick falling out of your lips in a soft pop, as you looked up in confusion, “Gonna’ stop you there baby, gonna’ make me cum.”

His hand in your hair guided you back up to his lips, and Eren could taste himself as his tongue pushed through your swollen mouth to enter yours. You moaned into the kiss, so sloppy and messy, you took no notice of Eren’s hands wiping away the leftover dribble on your chin. He yanked you back, a bit rougher this time, and you panted, rubbing your thighs together at the force. He eyed you up, your beautiful tits still on display, the fabric of your lace bra folded underneath them.

“Get naked for me, princess,” he cooed, untangling his fingers from your scalp. You did as you were told, practically ripping the lace set off your body as you soon stood stark naked in front of Eren. He pushed his legs up, joining you. You felt very small then as he towered above you, playing with the tips of your hair, he guided you around until you were forced to lay yourself flat on your back on the mattress once again.

Eren caressed your shins as he stood tall in front of you, never breaking eye contact. You could still see the glistening of your saliva on his cock, and heat continued to pool in between your thighs in anticipation of his next move.

“Look at you,” he whispered, wrapping his fingers on the tops of your bent knees, legs closed together. “So pretty, it almost hurts to look at you.”

His darkened eyes shot down, drinking you all in before settling on your closed legs. With his hands, he gently forced them to part, and he let out a quiet moan at the sight in front of him. Dripping in arousal, almost sparkling and shining like the gem you were, your pussy spread open for him, begging for his attention. His gaze darted up back to your face, trying not to get too carried away as he admired your beautiful body.

Eren let out a dark chuckle, stroking his hands to the meat of your thighs, “You have no idea the things I have planned for us, princess.”

You whimpered, unable to voice a single word. His right hand moved towards your center, and you gasped sharply as he gently grazed your folds with the lightest of touches. His thumb landed a hair above your clit, and you squirmed, desperate now. He circled so slowly on your pearl, gazing on with an inflated ego. Eren wanted you to beg for him, to tell you all about those ideas he had going on in his head while he fucked his fingers into you.

He decided to go easy on you though, you had plenty of time ahead of you to learn exactly what he wanted when it came to the bedroom, he cooed, “I’m gonna’ show you off, just like you deserve. Gonna’ buy you pretty things, treat you like the fucking princess you are — gonna’ be my pretty girl.”

“Please, Eren,” you whimpered, attempting to push your pelvis into his hand, failing miserably as his other one gripped your thigh in place. “I need you.”

“Tell me exactly what you need, baby,” Eren smirked.

“Everything,” you breathed out. “I want you to keep calling me pretty, wan’ you to fuck me.”

“We’ll get to that part soon,” he paused, lowering his head to your inner thigh, getting to his knees on the floor. “Just need to make you feel good first, pretty girl.”

Eren licked a bold stripe up your pussy as you mewled, feeling a shred of relief as the tip of his tongue circled your clit. You felt a bead of saliva, probably mixed in with your own arousal, travel down the seam of your ass. Eren was starving, and you tasted so delicious, a sweet tart flavor exploding across his taste buds. He flattened his tongue, and looked up to watch your gorgeous face as his lips engulfed your clit.

You threw your head back, eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you attached your hands to your breasts, pulling and tugging on your nipples. He positioned his hands to the back of your thighs then, somehow managing to spread you open even more. The sounds he made in between your folds were wet and sloppy, and he rubbed small circles with the pads of his thumbs into the creases where your legs met your ass.

He never broke away from your face, watching everything unfold before him. Now that you were free from his solidifying grip, your hips were rolling. He watched your ribs expand and fall as you moaned unabashedly, rubbing your cunt into his mouth. Eren had never seen a more beautiful sight, and suddenly, it wasn’t enough to satisfy him. His right hand itched closer to your opening, and you trembled at the prodding of his index fingers. His tongue flopped around sloppily, slurping your bud in between his lips as he entered you slowly, cock pulsing at the feeling of your slick velvety walls greeting his finger.

Here he was, on his knees before you, eyes heavy and swirling because of you. You arched your back as he pumped the single digit in you slowly at first. He felt the tight clench of your walls as his tongue flicked at a certain angle, pleased that he had discovered very quickly how he was going to get you to cum. Eren was impatient, and as much as he wanted to stay between the heat of your thighs for hours if you’d let him, he really needed that orgasm from you. The tip of his pointer finger left you briefly, and you whimpered at the sudden loss, quickly becoming breathless and he slammed it right back in alongside his middle finger. They curled inside of you, brushing right against the soft spongy wall that was your g-spot. You were gushing for him, the sloppy noises of his assaults resounding around the bedroom.

“Fuck, fuck,” you panted, feeling your breasts bounce as he fucked his fingers into you at an alarming pace, tongue following the pattern eagerly. “Oh my god, I’m so close, Eren, I’m gonna’ cum.”

He pulled his mouth back momentarily, voice husky and pleading as he told you, “Cum for me, baby.”

You slammed your hips down onto his knuckles, feeling the underside of his palm and your slick. He had been reduced to curling and angling his fingers inside of you, watching in adoration and awe as you bounced yourself on his fingers, rubbing your pretty pussy against his mouth. Eren had just become a bystander at this point, he was pretty much forced to be stilled as you used his mouth and hands so greedily, feeling an unfamiliar swell in your cunt.

And when your back arched, and your walls clenched so fiercely tight around his drenched fingers, Eren found his forever love. He’d do anything, be anyone, whatever the fuck that was asked of him, to see this sight for the rest of his life. You were vibrating, legs shaking so strongly, Eren had to mentally catch up when he felt a gush of hot liquid soak him. He shifted his gaze down in shock, and holy shit, you were squirting.

You swore you had never orgasmed like this before, it was more than stars you were seeing behind your closed eyelids. It was pure black, absolute nothingness as your brain short circuited. It was like your pussy was taking a deep breath, because when the onset of contractions hit you, you thought you were going to pass out. And poor Eren, who stared dumbly in front of him at how intense your muscles were flexing, was already so deeply in love with you and was confessing his eternal devotion to you in his mind.

When your cunt had settled down, and your hips relented in pushing yourself against Eren’s face and hands, you let out a low moan as he slid his drenched fingers out of you. He stared at his hand, shining with your cum, and flickered his gaze up to you.

“I’m going to fucking marry you,” he growled. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”

You let out an exhausted laugh, “Would you believe me if I told you that was the first time I’ve ever squirted?”

“I’m buying you a goddamn ring tomorrow,” he placed a kiss to your inner thigh, moving his body up to hover above you. Eren’s hands wrapped around your thighs once again, propping your knees to your chest. He saw the slight trace of fear in your eyes, and he paused, “You okay?”

“It’s just,” you gazed at the point between your bodies. “Are you gonna’ fit?”

Eren leaned forward, feeling slightly relieved, his face still dripping in your essence, and he placed a sweet, romantic kiss to your lips, pulling away to murmur, “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

You nodded your head, letting the worry roll off your body as one of his hands caressed your cheek, never breaking eye contact with him. The other hand reached in between your centers, grabbing his throbbing cock and sliding himself along your pussy. He was soon coated in your juices, and both of you were letting out quiet moans. As he sunk his tip into your entrance though, you were gasping loudly.

Eren really had wanted to be gentle, he had no intentions whatsoever of hurting you, but he had realized very quickly that you were going to be the one to set the pace in the relationship. Because as soon as half of his shaft was anchored in your heat, your hips slammed upwards to engulf his entire length. He bit back a yelp at the suddenness, fisting the sheets by your waist in a tight grip. If Eren didn’t feel like a virgin before, he sure as fuck did now.

You didn’t realize just how prepped that orgasm had made you, or how sensitive. What you had believed would’ve been pain was insurmountable and mind blowing pleasure, and you smiled in pride as Eren’s jaw fell open. You felt his hands fall from the underside of your thighs, and you took the opportunity, leveraging your legs, and thrusted upwards. Eren bottomed out inside of you, and you winced slightly at the mild pain of his tip meeting the wall of your cervix, the stretch of your walls accommodating him as you fluttered around him.

“You’re so big, Eren,” you moaned out, moving your hands to grasp his flexing biceps. “‘Feels so good.”

Eren was fighting an internal war — go as slow as physically possible as to not bust in your heavenly pussy in three strokes, or give you the best two minutes of your fucking life. Because it was absolutely all way too much, your gorgeous face, your soaked core, the way you gripped his cock so tightly. You were a vixen, Eren’s personal vices wrapped up in one human body. He couldn’t help but take notice of how perfectly your bodies fit together, your pussy made for him.

“Eren, move, please,” you whined, attempting to squirm your hips. He shot a hand down to your hip, stilling you as he gave you a warning glare.

“I’m trying really hard not to cum inside of you right now,” Eren groaned, finally moving his hips. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. Making it real hard for me right now.”

Little was Eren aware of your pussy still on edge from the mind blowing power of your first orgasm, and you mouth lolled open as he slowly fucked you. If you were to touch your clit, or have any type of pressure there right now, it would be over for you as well. You’d have all the time in the future to have long, drawn out sex with Eren, but the two of you were just way too turned on and aroused by each other to have anything but heavy and fast sex. With a slight hesitation on your end, also not wanting to cum so quickly around his length, you rocked your hips into his fastening pace.

Eren chose the latter of his two options then, feeling the ridges of your pussy pulse and flutter around his cock. He pulled all the way back, tip daring to fall out of your little hole, and he flung himself right back in to the hilt. He repeated this a few times, and you were trying your best to hold back screams. Eren was drooling at the sight of your pretty pink pussy taking him, sloppy and messy from his saliva and your cum. He brought his attention to your bouncing breasts, molding one into his palm, rolling the nipple in the center.

Eren’s thrusts quickened dramatically, and he knew that your warning from the previous night had been true. You were screaming, calling out his name and several swears and ‘oh my god’s. This only encouraged him more, ego pretty much stroking his own cock as he plunged into you at a dangerous pace. He knew he was going to fast approach his orgasm, but Eren wasn’t stupid either. He could feel the clench tightening around him as he fucked right into that pretty spot inside of you, the way your breathing changed after a few seconds of that. Eren would become your number one expert, knowing every tell tale sign of your body, and what you were feeling. From one orgasm, he knew how your breathing changed, and Eren was determined to take you to those heights again.

Keeping the flick of his hips at the slamming pace he was at, he brought his thumb to your swollen clit. At the impact, your eyes screwed closed over the overwhelming pleasure. You felt a twinge of pain, just so sensitive from how strong you came before, but didn’t stop Eren as he rolled your pearl in fast circles, putting delicate pressure on the very top. It took maybe three strokes of his cock and a slight unsteady irregularity in his pattern to get you right where he had wanted you — desperate to cum alongside him.

“I’m so close, Eren,” you moaned out, lower body buzzing in anticipation.

“I want you to cum on my cock,” he demanded, a shocked moan crawling out of his throat at the first clench. “Oh, fuck, good girl.”

You spasmed under him, eyebrows shooting up in a furrow as you arched your back uncontrollably, the wave of your second orgasm slamming into you like a train. You could hear the squelching of Eren fucking your pussy as you contracted around him, or as he tried to. It was pure ecstasy, a feeling of wholeness filling you entirely. Half way through your orgasm, he grabbed the base of his cock, sliding out of you as he pumped himself fast above you. You held your legs open, breathing heavily as Eren watched your muscles contract in astonishment. He had never made a girl cum like this before, so hard and so visually. Your beautiful face, eyes encouraging him to cum, was all he needed. His dick was covered in you, his fingers sticky and soaked. It was all so fucking sloppy, and the thought and sight of it all caught up to him.

You felt the hot ropes of cum hit your belly, moaning at the sight. Eren was fucking his fist, cock thrusting in his grip like he had been doing in your pussy. His head hung forward, eyes drinking in the entirety of you. He shot his load on your lower half, stroking himself down after a couple of minutes, breathing heavily.

He eyed the box of tissues on your nightstand, and grabbed a few, languidly wiping his cum off of your abdomen as the two of you tried to catch your breath, or bring a ration thought back into your minds.

“We just had porn star sex,” you giggled tiredly.

“Oh yes we fucking did,” Eren smirked. “Not to like hype you up or whatever, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

Your pride and ego swelled as he finished wiping up his cum, discarding the tissues in the bin on the floor. He hadn’t given you much time to respond, asking where the bathroom was so he could grab a rag to clean you up. You were humbled, affection rising in your chest when he returned to take care of your exhausted body. No one had bothered with aftercare before, and right then and there, you knew Eren was a keeper.

“Thank you,” you yawned out, stretching your legs in front of you. Eren hung around a little awkwardly, not sure of what to do. “You can spend the night, if you want to.”

He raised his eyebrows, a smile crossing his face, “Do you want me to?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself back until your head met your pillows and lifted your comforter, gesturing for Eren to join you. And that he did, pouncing on the offer and sliding into bed with you, not hesitating for a second to wrap his muscular arms around your waist. He kissed you gently, pulling away to place his lips on your shoulder as you began to drift off.

You awoke alone in your bed, the bright rays of the sun hazy as you blinked the sleep away. You could smell and hear the sizzling of breakfast in your kitchen, your bedroom door swung wide open. You threw your legs over the mattress, stealing a quick look at yourself in the mirror. You cringed at the mascara stains under your eyes, taking a tissue and wiping underneath your lashes to look presentable enough for the man looming in your kitchen. You discarded the tissue, and slid on a pair of fresh panties and Eren’s enormous sweatshirt you had yet to return, and padded your bare feet across your floor to join him.

Eren’s back faced you, his form only clad in a pair of boxers as he focused his complete attention to the frying pans in front of him. You smirked, leaning against your counter, placing your chin in your open hands.

“Good morning, Chef Eren,” you teased, catching him off guard as he jumped a bit.

He turned to face you, hair a complete mess as a boyish smile graced his face, “Morning, princess. I hope you don’t mind my mess.”

“It smells amazing, so I guess I can figure out a way to forgive you,” you sighed dramatically. “Only if there’s coffee involved, though.”

“Way ahead of you,” he moved his legs over to your coffee machine, a pair of steaming muga awaiting his hand. He grabbed one, a plain white mug that matched the rest of your kitchen set, and set it on the counter in front of you.

“If you’re trying to earn extra credit, it’s working,” you said, dumbstriken.

“Gotta’ show you I’m boyfriend material,” he wagged his eyebrows, turning back to the frying pan before cutting the heat off. “I couldn’t find your plates, though.”

“Cabinet above the sink,” you directed, pulling out a stool from underneath your kitchen bar. “Forks and stuff are in the drawer by the refrigerator.”

Eren nodded, collecting two plates and the necessary utensils from their designated areas. The sight of eggs and bacon made your mouth water, and you were about to get a key made specifically for Eren to waltz in every morning to cook you this glorious meal every single day. You thanked him as he set your plate in front of you, and you dug in.

“Eren, it’s so good,” you complimented after chewing. “You really know how to treat a girl.”

He simply laughed, and the two of you fell into a pleasant conversation. And then by the time mid day rolled around, the two of you had talked all about where you’d be spending the evening. The night had ended just like the one before in mind blowing sex, the morning after repeating itself, and again, and again.

A month later, you had updated your Instagram bio. ‘Connoisseur of mimosas, rock and roll, and Eren Jaeger’. And when it had come time to update your OnlyFans content, you were more than happy to have your own personal photographer to use at your discretion. Just as long as you continued to wear his necklace, Eren would take as many pictures as you needed him to, knowing you’d end up in each other’s beds at the end of the session anyways. And he’d continue to follow you, this time though, you’d gladly send him his favorite pictures for free.

#eren x reader #eren jaeger #eren yaeger #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin eren #eren smut #eren fluff #eren fanfiction #attack on titan eren #aot eren #eren jeager x reader #eren jaeger x y/n #eren yaeger x reader #eren fic

1K notes · View notes

sukunarii · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Yandere! Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: (Sukuna’s Era!) Yandere | Unhealthy relationship | Murder | Blood| This fic is much darker than my usual style! Please beware when you read it.

Synopsis: In the early morning, you would play your koto in your garden. It was a show for one audience: a stranger that refused to step out of the shadows. A stranger that perhaps grew too fond of you.

Wordcount: 3.0K

A/N: A koto is a Japanese instrument kind of like a harp. Also this fic might be very historical inaccurate. This fic is inspired by a poem by William Blake titled “Song: When early morn walks forth in sober grey.”

The sky was gray on the day you first spoke to him. It was early morning, you were in your garden, under the gazebo as usual where you go to practice playing your koto. You enjoyed it, for it was one of the only times where you could feel absorbed in your own world, in your own solitude and tranquility. However, you have noticed that lately, you were not so much alone.

"Behind the willow tree, I know you're there," you called out. You could see the shadow shift, but the person behind did not step out into your view.

"I see you have noticed me," a masculine voice replied. It carried a hint of playfulness.

"Of course I have, you've disturbed my peace for a few mornings now," you replied.

"Am I not welcomed?", he asks.

"What brings you here?", you asked back immediately.

His answer did not come as quick as yours, as if he chose his words carefully "I was captivated by the music you played," he complimented you.

You were flattered, you had to pause and recollect your thoughts for a moment. If he is just here to listen....well there's no harm, right?

You let out an airy laugh, "As my only audience, I supposed you are welcomed to stay."

You resumed to playing your koto. From behind the willow tree, Sukuna stole a few glances at you. Along with the beautiful music you created, you looked so effortless and absorbed in your own world while playing. A world that Sukuna could step a foot into by observing you from afar but felt too delicate for him to disturb. You were like an angel while he was a curse— a monster. He shouldn’t have any business with a girl like you.

Yet you called him, 'My only audience'...he liked the sound of that.

You were playing for him only, and he was glad that he did not even have to capture you for this. After all, a caged bird does not sing the same.

However, the serenity of dawn was disturbed by the loud and abrupt chime of the bell.

With a jolt, you stopped playing.

"Ah, that was the wake up call for the village, I got to go now," you said and got up.

From his shadow, you see him stand up too. You hesitated but decided to ask anyways, "Will you tell me your name?"

He laughs lightheartedly, "A musician does not need to know the name of their audience."

The buds on the dull brown branches were blooming into beautiful flowers that decorated the garden. Summer was approaching. It became routine, he would come to your little concert every morning. It was romantic even. You did not know who he was, but sometimes you would carry little conversations with him. You knew that he was not from the village, he said he travelled up from the valley every morning to visit you.

Knowing that he was not from the village also gave you a sense of security as you could tell him anything and everything without worrying that he would spread rumours. Afterall, you were the daughter of the richest man in the village, from suitors to enemies to your family's reputation, there was so much that you had to keep to yourself. You've learned to express these thoughts into the music you played, but being able to say them out loud in words was relieving.

He was your audience and you were his musician.

Nonetheless, most of the time, very few words were exchanged. It was just you, him, your music in the air and the garden in the surroundings.

You were wearing a purple kimono the day you asked him if you could see him. He gave you the same response as the day you asked him for his name, "A musician does not need to know the appearance of their audience."

You sighed, disappointed, "How about if I ask you as a friend?"

From the flickers of his shadow, you could tell he hesitated. Your heart started racing, in hopes that you will finally see your mysterious friend. But, you were left disappointed, "Not today, my darling. You're still not ready yet."

You looked at his shadow quizzically, what did he mean by not ready? Did he have self-esteem issues? Or a scar? Or was he really ugly...? Not that you would have minded of course, you pouted, "That's not fair. You get to see me all the time."

He chuckles, "I think this is for the better."

The urge to show himself to you or even take you for himself was very strong. However, he had to hold himself back, he didn't want you to be afraid of him. For one, you just called him a 'friend'. And he knew that if he did show himself however, this friendship would be over. You were an angel. He was a curse. Sometimes fate was cruel that way.

The green leaves that fell from the trees were fluttering in the summer breeze. Lately Sukuna has been observing you more and more throughout the day. Instead of rampaging the nearby villages, he would spend more time observing you from the outskirts of your village.

The more he observed, the more he noticed the amount of unsolicited male attention you get when you stroll in the village. Had he not been a curse, he wished he could be strolling by your side and indicating to all of those nuisances that you were his.

The village was not very large, thus, Sukuna has come to recognize most of the faces. However, one time there was a strange man with black hair that appeared in the village. Not that Sukuna cared much as long as he didn't try to flirt with his little darling — except the man did this very thing: he stopped you.

Sukuna could not hear what the man said to you, but he could certainly feel the rage rising in him. The urge to kill this man was very strong. In fact, in the heat of the moment he feels like he could kill everyone in this village to prove his point. Seeing another man try to talk to you so intimately enraged him. He has held himself back multiple times from rampaging your village and taking you home with him. Taking you as his. But for your sake, he has managed to suppress these dark thoughts. But not this time.

He approached you, or specifically the stranger menacingly...with killing intent. But once he was in hearing distance, he heard you tell the man firmly,

"I'm not interested."

The man paused. But insisted again, "Why not? I can treat you right."

"I'm interested in someone else," you told him.

Sukuna paused. Were you talking about him?

"What? No way, who might this be and how come I've never heard of this before! You're just making up lies to turn down my love," he argues back condescendingly.

You shot him a dirty look and you tried to leave but he grabs your arm, “Hold it there girl, I’m not done talking yet.”

That’s it. You slapped him. Not a weak slap, a hard one. The man's face flipped towards the other side.

"That is none of your business. Now if you would excuse me," you said angrily and turned around and left.

Sukuna smiled, 'That's my girl.'

He didn't even have to do anything.

You ran your hand through the calming blue water of the pond in your garden. You have strained your hand from playing on the koto for too much, they were sore and calloused. You tried inviting your friend to come feel the water too but he refused, insisting on remaining well hidden from your view.

"He is from this powerful family, the Zenin clan I believe. And he seems really interested in me."

Sukuna didn't answer.

"But I'll keep rejecting him, I don't like him and don't care for his advances," you rambled on, then sighed, "However I can't say the same for my parents. They are interesting in getting a hold of the powers of the Zenin clans."

"Why don't you leave the village with me?" he finally answered you.

You didn't think he was serious, but you entertained his idea, "They're not just your normal powerful families. They are very powerful as in even if we leave the village, there's nowhere left to run."

"Then I'll just kill them. Everyone of them."

You laughed bittersweetly, what could he possibly do against them when he was too shy to even show himself to you? The Zenin clan was one of the most powerful sorcerers of the eras!

"Haha, yeah that would be nice. But with all of the curses rampaging the nearby villages, we really need the Zenin clan's protection. It really sucks but they're powerful jujutsu sorcerers, it's a miracle that our village is not destroyed yet unlike the our neighbouring villages,” but swiftly, your fake optimism fades. You couldn’t play your koto today, but this stranger was your friend and talking to him gives a sense of comfort. He was listening to you and he was trustworthy.

You say softly, “If only something happened to their third son so that he would stop trying to woo me all of the time...." then, you laughed sheepishly, "Of course I'm just joking haha, I mean it's awful to wish death on someone..."

But Sukuna only heard the first part.

With summer abruptly coming to an end and winter approaching, sunrise came later every day. The sky was still black the morning you broke down crying to him. It was moonless.

"I-I know I said I wished he was d-dead, but I didn't mean it f-for real," you said between your sobs, "I just didn't w-want to marry h-him, but he got killed by a curse and I f-feel like I cursed him."

"Wasn't that what you wanted?", the intonations of his voice came out as cold as the autumn air. However, you were too absorbed in your sadness to pick up these nuances.

"No! I would never truly want anyone to die! That’s awful!”

“Now you won’t have to worry about unsolicited attention anymore,” he answered briskly

You hugged your knees closer to your chest and buried your face into them, “It didn’t make a difference...the Zenin offered their s-second son instead..., so it wasn't cancelled regardless..."

"What wasn't cancelled?", Sukuna asked.

"The wedding...”

Sukuna's jaw tightened. He was upset. Furious. You’ve mentioned that the Zenin family was interested in you but you’ve never mentioned that there was anything official. He didn't like that you didn't mention this to him at all.

"Leave with me."

This time it wasn't a question. It was an order. Yet, you refused it again.

"I can't. I can't leave my family behind like that...if I run away, the Zenin clan would bare a grudge against them, who knows what they’ll do..."

For the first time, Sukuna finally stepped out of the shadows.

But you didn't notice, nor did you see him, the obscurity of the lightless sky hid him from your vision.

"Pathetic, why would you care about family that are selling you off to strangers? This is why you humans are so weak. Being emotional for things that do not matter," he says, words dripping with menace.

Your eyes widened, alerted by the swift change of mood. Tension high in the air. He did not sound like the friend that you knew. It’s as if he was a real stranger.

"That's not true! It's wrong to be selfish, they're my family. I have to listen to them and it's for the best of the village," you tried to reason but you were worried that he could hear the slight fear in your trembling voice.

"Oh yes because the Zenin clan will protect your village from curses. You think too highly of them. When I killed that nuisance, he was crawling and crying, begging for his life. He may be a little stronger than your average jujutsu sorcerer but he was still a weak human." Sukuna was tired of keeping up his calming and human-like demeanour. He topped off his statement with a sadistic laugh.

However, you didn't answer him. Not immediately at least, you were soaking in the words he just said. You gasped.

"Y-You mean you killed him?!"

You took a step back in shock and fear. You were told that he was killed by a curse...if this stranger you've befriended was a curse and one strong enough to kill someone from the Zenin family....you were in deep trouble.

Sukuna continued laughing, "Ah, yes I killed him. I sliced his body into pieces but I preserved the head so he could be recognized. It was a masterpiece, you should of seen the expression of anguish on his decapitated head!"

All of his efforts of wanting to preserve this friendship, fearing to taint your innocence, and scared of not being delicate around you, all thrown away in the heat of the moment. It didn't matter anymore, not when annoying jujutsu sorcerers were going to get in the way and take you away from him.

You screamed, "Get away from me, you monster!"

Your fight or flight instincts kicked in, this man in front of you— no this curse in front of you— was not a friend. You have befriended something much more sinister, he was a killer. A powerful killer and from the enthusiasm in his voice, he was a sadistic one too. You turned to run back to your house.

To your surprise, he didn't follow you. He watched you and even if you can't see him, you can tell that he was smiling.

You didn't dare to leave the house the days before the wedding. You were also too scared to tell anyone about your foolish encounter with a curse. Instead, you urged your parents to push the wedding earlier. The earlier the better, much to their delight.

Luckily, you did not hear about him and it seems that things have returned to normal. But your instincts say otherwise. If you play with fire, you ought to get burned. And you seemed to have attracted the attention of something very ominous.

You were wearing white on the day of the wedding. A veil covering your face. As per tradition, you were patiently waiting for your groom in another room, waiting for him to lift the veil off your face and take you to the main ceremony room to present you to the invited guests and families. Then allow the head of the households to pronounce you as husband and wife.

Maybe it was your nervousness, it seemed that every minute went by slower. Almost as if the ceremony has been delayed. But with your eyes covered by the veil, all you could do was wait.

Then finally, you heard someone approaching you. You feel a hand gently lift the veil off your face. To your surprise, the person who brought you out of the darkness was not the second son of the Zenin family. There he was, the powerful curse that rampaged villages: Sukuna. You might be the only person who has seen all four of his arms and eyes up close and lived to tell the tale. Not that you would have anyone to tell this to.

He was covered in blood. You were not sure who's but from the silence and the lack of wounds on him, you can formulate a pretty good guess. You drew in a sharp breath and jerked away from his touch, hoping to crawl away even.

"Help!", you shouted out hoping that anyone would hear — anyone at all....wasn't half of the Zenin household here? What were they doing?

"Shh, I was late because I had to take care of some trash, but don't worry, I'm here now," Sukuna says to you. You recognized his voice right away.

You were so terrified that you didn't even notice tears started coming out of your eyes. You struggled to get away from him, you clawed at him, tried to push him away, but it didn't work. He didn't even flinch.

"(Name), stop that before you anger me," he warned you.

You didn't listen.

"You're a monster," you spat at him and you tried to slap him but he stops your hand midair, the blood on his hands imprinting onto your white kimono.

"I'm not like those pathetic Zenin, you'll have to try harder if you want to hit me," Sukuna says with a taunting voice.

Despair washes over you. He was right, if even the Zenin couldn’t win against him, then what could you do? There was no way you could win this nor escape him.

When he carried you bridal style out towards the main room of the ceremony, you’ve stopped struggling. The room was plastered with blood. You recognize some of the body limbs on the ground, the remains of the guests, of your family, of the Zenin family. They were barely remains, mostly just little pieces. You had the urge of throwing up. No one was coming to save you.

It was just you and Sukuna.

Sukuna laughs, he can hear the whiplash of the puddles of blood as he steps over them. He was proud of his work, "Just like usual, only you and me. I'm your only audience."

The blood that covered him stains onto your previously white kimono.

Sukuna always compared you to an angel. And he was a curse—a monster. You two were not meant to be, fate was cruel like that. But Sukuna can be even crueler.

You are his bride.

And it was a red wedding.

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #ryomen sukuna #yandere sukuna #yandere sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x reader

1K notes · View notes

reidandweep · 3 years

Text

Something Bigger Than Us

Spencer Reid x Reader (female)

A/N- Hi guys, I am back after an eventful few months. Had to deal with some personal stuff, but I am back now and writing more! So, to celebrate, heres some fluff with our favourite genius!!

Word Count- 4026 words

Warnings- Fluff, mention of bodily liquids in the case, mentions of murder.

The beauty of love is that, you can fall into it with the most unexpected person at the most unexpected time. - Ritu Ghatourey.

Sitting in the subway cart, Spencer indulged in the book in his hands. It had been a gift from Penelope as she had always told him he had to read more fictional works. So, there Spencer was, on his day off, travelling to the science museum and reading ‘The Maze Runner’. He was taking more time than he needed; slowing down his reading speed to prolong the story to fit his entire journey. He was so engrossed that he nearly didn’t notice the subway cart come to a stop and the doors open, a woman walking inside. What made Spencer glance up from the novel in his hands was the slight change of weight near his feet. Looking away from his novel, he didn’t expect to see said woman sitting on the subway cart floor. Spencer glanced around to see multiple seats available, yet there this person was. Sat on the ground.

“Did you want to sit here?”

Spencer had found many women pretty in his life. He had found a few to be gorgeous. But this woman, she was breath taking. As she lifted her gaze to stare into his, Spencer felt a warmth he never felt. A moment. A spark.

The woman smiled up at Spencer.

“No, it’s okay. I quite like sitting on the floor. I can feel the wheels moving more.”

Spencer looked at the woman puzzled.

She couldn’t help but let her smile grow.

“Sit down and feel.”

Spencer’s brain went blank at the woman’s request. He knew how much bacteria there was on the floor and could not imagine doing such a thing as sitting on it.

“On average, more than 9 million people ride the subway every day. That’s 18 million feet on that floor. They could have stepped in anything. The number of bacteria is unimaginable.”

The woman shrugged.

“So, that’s 18 million feet and my butt. At least I can say I enjoyed my subway ride more because I felt the wheels on the tracks.”

The warmth in Spencer’s chest spread the more he looked at her. Before he even realised, Spencer found himself sliding from his seat and onto the subway floor next to her. She was right. You could feel the wheels thumping against the tracks.

“It’s like a heartbeat.”

The woman looked at the floor of the carriage with a smile.

“People ride the subway every day and never think about how amazing it is that this thing was created. That we can hop on something that could take us wherever we desired to in our city. They treat it like it's nothing. But it moves like we do, and it stops like we do.”

The woman looked up at Spencer.

“It has a heartbeat. Just like you and I.”

In his whole life, Spencer had never heard someone describe anything in such a way that made it feel human; that made him feel so human.

“So, where are we going?”

“We?”

The woman smiled and stood from the ground, holding her hand out for Spencer to take. He did so without a thought. It was like being around her made him forget everything.

“Yes, we? I had no plans but then I met you and it seems you had plans so now I do to. So, where are we going mister…?”

Spencer straightened his satchel, his hands gripping the straps. The warmth that had spread from his chest now burnt in the hand he had held hers with for those few seconds.

“My names Spencer. Spencer Reid. I’m actually a doctor but not a medical one. I have three PHD’s and three bachelor’s Degrees, but none of them are remotely medical. I could go into that field if I wanted to but…”

Spencer stopped himself as he realised, he was rambling.

The woman leaned against the pole to her side and looked at Spencer in earnest.

“You were saying you could go into the medical field if you wanted to but…”

She was actually listening to his rambling and she even seemed to be interested.

Spencer’s hands gripped his satchel tighter.

“But I have enough to focus on with work already.”

The woman nodded her head in understanding.

“Well, Dr Spencer Reid, my name is Y/F/N. Y/F/N Y/L/N. My title is just regular old miss. Unfortunately, I have no PHDs, but I do have a bachelor’s degree in Film Studies which I’m presuming is nowhere near exciting as what you have yours in. I could never have gone into the medical field because I hated biology and preferred chemistry at school as I liked drawing the chemical equations more than learning about photosynthesis. The only part I liked about biology was learning about thalidomide, which is really grim, but it was fascinating.”

Whilst she spoke, Spencer couldn’t help but notice the movement of her hands. Her nails on her right hand were painted a different colour to the ones on her left. Just like how he wore different socks on each foot. He liked that they unknowingly matched.

“Now we are no longer strangers, I think you need to tell me where we are going?”

Spencer looked towards the doors and noticed that they were actually soon to arrive to his stop.

“I was going to visit the museum. The next stop is my one.”

Y/N looked at the door and nodded.

“Cool. So, can I join?”

Even though she had already said she was joining him twice, Spencer did not think she actually meant it. He stuttered through his words as his thoughts blazed around his head.

Y/N could see his mind going into overdrive.

“Hey.”

Spencer looked down at the shorter woman in front of him. He wondered why she seemed so worried.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I tend to come off as quite strong but something about you tells me I need to know more. I want to know more. Spend more time with you. I’d love to see the things Dr Spencer Reid, who has three PHDs and was reading one of my favourite books when I hopped on the train, had planned to see today. I will only join you if it is something you want.”

Spencer felt the subway cart come to a stop and saw the doors in his peripheral open.

He was tired of living life through the view of work before anything else. The few moments of happiness he had was taken away by not allowing himself to be spontaneous. To be with them in person. So, for the second time that day, Spencer grabbed a hold of Y/N’s hand, ignoring the facts and statistics of germs and bacteria running through his mind.

Pulling her towards the doors, the pair stepped off the subway cart and onto the platform.

People walked around the pair as they stood facing each other, staring at one another with their hands entwined.

Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I would like if you would join me to the museum. I would like to spend more time with you too.”

Y/N smiled at Spencer’s words. With the hand still not in his grasp, Y/N lifted her arm towards the subway exist.

“Well, lead the way Dr Spencer Reid.”

Spencer did just that.

In silence the pair walked the short distance from the subway station to the museum. Their hands interlocked at their sides as Y/N looked around at the buildings by them. Spencer couldn’t help but glance towards the woman. He couldn’t understand why he felt so different with her. The warmth in his chest was still there, and it felt as though it was growing and spreading with every breath he took. His hand in her own was something he wished to never lose. It was like being enveloped in the softest blanket known to man. This stranger who sat by his feet on the subway has made him feel more comfortable and step out of his comfort zone more than any of his friends or family ever have. But why?

Coming to the doors of the museum, Spencer opened the door for Y/N to enter before him; letting go of her hand to do so. He felt empty without her hand in his. He couldn’t believe how empty his palm now felt.

“I’ve never been to this museum before.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the shocked look on Spencer’s face. As though what she said was the most shocking thing he had ever heard.

Before she could even make a joke about his expression, Spencer suddenly turned down a corridor.

“Woah! Slow down Doc!”

Spencer slowed down his pace.

“I’m sorry. It’s just this is my favourite place and I want to show you everything it has to offer.”

Y/N smiled at Spencer’s bashful behaviour. She couldn’t help her own cheeks blushing at the thought that this kind man wanted to show her around his favourite place. To think she had only met him a mere hour before.

Giving Spencer’s a comforting smile, Y/N bumped her shoulder with his own.

“I have a feeling that I am going to learn a lot with you as my tour guide.”

Spencer led the way as they walked through the corridors, reciting information about each exhibit they come across, stuttering when he felt Y/N’s hands brush his own as they walked side by side.

Just as Spencer was about the point Y/N to the next exhibit, he felt her hands slowly clasp around his own. Her smooth fingers fitting perfectly into the gaps between his rough appendages.

“Is this okay?”

Spencer smiled in delight, squeezing her hand in reassurance as he pulled Y/N in the direction they had been heading.

Walking hand in hand down the hall, Spencer silently led Y/N to one of his favourite parts of the museum. As they entered the room, Y/N’s eyes could not miss the large rock exhibited in the middle of the room, people sporadically standing around the object.

“What is that?”

Spencer’s chest became warm at the look of wonder on Y/N’s face as they walked closer to the exhibit.

“That is the Willamette Meteorite. It was found in Oregon and is the largest ever meteorite found in the United States and the sixth largest in the world. The smooth surface melted during its blazing entry into the atmosphere, while the pits formed on the Earth's surface. Iron meteorites form when large enough asteroids have had molten interiors catastrophically collide with other asteroids. These huge collisions blast out material from the molten iron core of the asteroid on orbits that reach Earth after millions of years.”

Y/N continued her wonderous gaze as they let go of Spencer’s hand, walking around the meteorite, taking in every crevice and crater. Spencer could usually spend hours staring at the meteor, but right now he could not tear his haze away from Y/N as she took her time looking at the artefact.

Turning to look at Spencer, Y/N wanted to find out more.

“How was it made? Like is it a piece of something much bigger?”

Spencer looked at the meteorite that stood much taller than all of them.

“The internal structure, made of metallic iron, suggests that billions of years ago, an early planet orbiting the Sun was shattered, perhaps in a collision with another protoplanet. The fragment was probably part of the planet’s iron-nickel core. While planets, including Earth gradually formed and matured, this fragment orbited the Sun. It was hit at least twice by other planetary fragments, knocking it into a collision course with Earth. Over many centuries, rainwater interacting with its iron sulphide deposits produced sulfuric acid, which slowly etched and carved large cavities.”

Spencer waited for a response, but as the seconds passed in silence. Had he freaked her out? Had he gone too far? Spencer moved his gaze from the meteor to Y/N, to see her staring at the meteorite in awe.

“Woah.”

Spencer laughed at her exclamation. His head dipping down to try and cover his reddening cheeks.

“Woah indeed.”

Y/N couldn’t help the blush now invading her cheeks. Walking back towards Spencer, Y/N nudged the genius’s shoulder with her own, gaining his attention. Spencer turned his head to look back at Y/N.

“It’s crazy how we get to look at something that was once part of something much bigger. Something that could have housed life and all sorts of wonderous things and yet, here sits part of its core, on our planet, in one of our museums. Now a part of something much bigger again.”

Spencer and Y/N looked at each other in silence. Taking in the moment and her words. Both of them acknowledging that they too were part of something much bigger, much more meaningful than they had every thought about.

A clicking sound broke the moment.

Turning around, Spencer and Y/N both saw an older gentleman pointing a polaroid camera towards the pair.

Realising that the pair had turned around the gentleman walked up towards them and handed over the picture.

“It still has to develop.”

Y/N looked down at the picture in Spencer’s hand as it slowly developed.

“Can you take another one? Just so we can have one each.”

The man nodded at Y/N question, stepping back to where he stood before.

Y/N moved her hand to clasp Spencer’s once more, tilting her head to lay on his shoulder, a smile blossomed on her face as she looked towards the camera.

Spencer’s own gaze was fixed on her. His eyes taking in the slope of her nose and the feel of her hair tickling his neck. Usually, if he was ever this close to anyone, let alone a woman, he would start to sweat and panic. And yet, all Spencer could feel was what he could only describe as serene. Spencer had never felt serene until now.

Being shaken out of his stare by the click of the man’s camera once more, Spencer looked to see the man handing Y/N the picture as she rummaged through her bag.

“No need to pay me.”

Y/N shook her head.

“I insist.”

The man moved forward, placing his hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

“I gave you the picture because sometimes it is nice to look back where it all began.”

The old man looked Spencer in the eye and gave him a wink, causing Spencer to blush.

“Both of you, enjoy your day, and may I suggest if you get hungry, try Giovani’s Café down the street.”

Spencer cocked his head.

“Is it good?”

The man laughed as he walked backwards, nodded his head.

“I should know, I am Giovanni after all!”

Laughter rumbled from the pair as they watched the older gentlemen walk out the door, his polaroid camera in hand. As their laughter died, Y/N looked down at the now developed picture in her hand. Spencer in turn looked at his own.

The picture was beautiful. With the light from outside cascading through the windows, creating almost a halo of light around the pair, the meteorite had never looked bigger than when Spencer saw the back of his and Y/N’s figures standing in front of it. But what Spencer couldn’t take his eyes away from was the fact that in the picture, Y/N was not looking at the meteorite. She was looking at him. If he looked hard enough, he could see a smile on her face. So soft and so beautiful.

The comforting silence of the pair looking at their polaroids was suddenly shattered when Spencer’s ringtone filled the air. Spencer couldn’t help but let his shoulders drop in disappointment.

“I’m so sorry, I just have to take this.”

Y/N smiled in acknowledgment,

“Go ahead, I’m just going to take a look over here.”

Spencer nodded as he watched her walk across the hall, examining the pictures and their information plaques as he answered his phone.

“Hello.”

“We got a case Pretty Boy. Wheels up in 50 minutes.”

Spencer rubbed his head at Morgan’s voice.

“Okay.”

Morgan could hear the disappointment in Spencer’s tone.

“Are we interrupting something?”

Spencer kept his eyes on Y/N as he took a second to answer.

“Yeah. But I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”

Morgan chuckled.

“Okay, Genius, see you later.”

Spencer hung up his phone. Walking towards where Y/N still stood, he tapped the woman on her shoulder.

As she turned, Y/N took in Spencer’s solemn look.

“Is everything okay?”

Spencer shook his head.

“Work called. I have to leave. I’m sorry.”

Y/N smiled in understanding.

“Work is work, whatever it may be. No need to be sorry. I had an amazing day that I didn’t think I would have.”

Spencer stared Y/N in her eyes, a little smile adorning his face.

“I did too. I have to go. But can we meet again?”

Y/N nodded her head, her own smile lighting her face.

“Yeah. I would like that.

Spencer grinned as he began to turn around, walking towards the corridors exit, waving as he left. He began to walk down the stairs when he suddenly heard his name.

“Spencer, wait!”

Spencer turned around to see Y/N running down the stairs towards him, polaroid in hand.

Stopping in front of him, as Y/N stood on the steps above Spencer, she was nearly as tall as the boy wonder.

“You dropped this.”

“Thank you.”

As Spencer went to reach for the picture, Y/N pulled it out of his reach.

He watched with bated breath as she carefully put the picture in the breast pocket of his jacket, tapping his jacket where the picture now safely sat.

“Now go before your boss gets angry at you for being late.”

Laughing at her truthful words, Spencer once again waved towards the girl, rushing down the steps as he looked at his watch, realising that he was going to be late. But even with that knowledge, as he opened the exit door of the museum, Spencer turned to wave goodbye to Y/N once more. Watching as she waved back, before he allowed the door to close behind him.

Spencer walked to the jet as briskly as he could, breathing heavily from the sprint through the airport, just about getting through easily with his badge.

Trotting up the steps, Spencer leaped into the jet, quickly taking the seat next to Emily, his breath heavy as he took in deep breaths.

The team ceased their conversation, all looking at Spencer in confusion and worry.

“Sorry I’m late, what’s the case?”

Spencer ignored the strange looks and elongated silence.

Hotch quickly broke it.

“We’re heading to Akron, Ohio. We got two murdered couples with the men both being found with used condoms on and Viagra in their systems. In both cases, the husbands were killed with a silenced 9-millimeter, the wife was stabbed multiple times. We’re meeting up with the Akron P.D when we get there. Everything you need is in the file.”

Spencer nodded his head as he grabbed the file from Hotch, opening the papers as the plane took off.

Briskly looking through the file, Spencer began to detail notes in his notebook about possible suspects and details the others may have missed. But as he scribbled, Spencer could feel the stares of Emily, Morgan, and JJ as they all sat by him. Fed up, Spencer lifted his head, flittering his gaze between them all.

“Can I help?”

“Why was you late?”

Spencer looked at Morgan.

“I was at the museum.”

“That’s the truth but why was you late?”

Spencer turned his eyes to Emily, confusion littering his features.

“I was at the museum, I had to get on the subway and get here.”

JJ tilted her head as Spencer looked between the trio.

The weight of their gazes quickly caused him to break.

“I was late because I was at the museum with someone.”

At his statement, everyone on the jet turned towards Spencer. Even Hotch had Spencer’s undivided attention.

Emily twisted to face the genius, a smirk on her face as she crossed her arms.

“Go on Romeo, tell us all about them.”

Spencer knew he could not get out of this. So, he began to begrudgingly tell his team about his day and the person he spent it with.

“Then after the gentleman took our picture, I got the call. I said goodbye and rushed over here.”

The team all looked at Spencer with mixtures of pride and happiness.

“Did you get her number?”

The looks soon turned to disbelief as Spencer bowed his head in shock.

“You had an amazing day with a woman you don’t know, which is something unlike you, and you failed to get her number? Pretty boy, I am very disappointed. I’ve taught you better than that.”

Shaking his head at Morgan’s playful words, Spencer couldn’t help his own disappointment take over. He can’t believe he didn’t ask her for her number. Rossi walked over and patted the man on his shoulder in reassurance.

“At least you got a picture to remember her.”

Spencer slowly nodded, solemnly reaching into his breast pocket to pull the picture out. But, as Spencer looked at the picture, he realised that she had handed him the second picture they had taken.

Spencer looked at the polaroid and couldn’t believe how comfortable he looked with her. Their hands interlaced as Y/N smiled brightly towards the camera. Spencer’s smile was directed towards the woman next time him, warm and content. He had never looked so at peace before. Yet, he still forgot to ask for her number.

As Spencer was about the place the picture back in his pocket, he paused his movement as Hotch spoke up.

“If I was you, I would check the back of that picture Reid.”

Looking at the people in front of him, he could see that they were all now smiling, looking at him expectedly, waiting for the man to look at the back of the picture. Flipping the picture over, Spencer couldn’t help the smile that blossomed over his face. His eyes crinkling from how large it was. On the back of the picture, a message was written.

“Meeting you made me feel part of something much bigger. Something I would love to explore. Give me a call if you want to as well.”

Underneath the message lay Y/N’s phone number.

Spencer lifted his head and looked around at his team. Pointing his thumb over his shoulder, he began to stand.

“I’m just going to…”

Emily pushed him up as the rest of the team laughed.

“Hurry up and call her Spence, no point in waiting!”

Spencer nodded his head in a flurry as JJ shooed him to the back of the jet.

Walking passed the team, Rossi and Derek patted him on the back, as Hotch nodded his head. They were all happy for him.

Walking into the jet’s toilet, Spencer locked the door and pulled out his phone. Flipping the picture in his opposing hand, he quickly dialled the number, clicking the call button before he could change his mind.

Just as he contemplated hanging up, the ringing stopped, and he heard an answer.

“Hello?”

“I want to be a part of something bigger. I want to explore it too.”

“Really?”

Spencer could feel the smile radiating from Y/N over the phone. A breathy laugh leaving his mouth as he realised, he was nodding his head instead of talking.

“Really.”

Spencer was not the type of person to sit in the bathroom on a plane talking to someone on the phone that he only met that morning. Even more so, having met that someone because they sat on the floor of the subway instead of the seats. Yet, here he was, in the bathroom talking to Y/N and getting to know her more. Spencer felt like the Willamette Meteorite. He had been broken and steered down different courses over the years, feeling like he would never be part of anything bigger than the family that was his team. But now, he felt like he was finally going to be a part of something bigger. Something extraordinary.

Never expected to meet you. When I met you I never expected you to become my everything and more than I could have ever dreamed of. - Maria Ana Bulquerin.

A/N- Thank you for the support. If you wish to in anyway, Please donate to the link below.

525 notes · View notes