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sherewrytes · 3 months ago

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ꜰʀᴀᴄᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ Gojo x Black Fem reader 5

↳ Satoru Gojo x f! black reader

In Tokyo's underground music scene, Exxor is on the verge of global fame, but beneath the glitz, emotions run wild. Lead singer Satoru Gojo shines in the spotlight, while bassist Suguru Geto battles his dark past and unspoken love for Y/N, a rising fashion designer. Their shared history is fraught with tension, especially now that Y/N is falling for Gojo. As her career catapults her into the global fashion arena, old feelings resurface, threatening to unravel the band and their fragile friendships. Can they navigate the chaos of fame, or will their secrets tear them apart?

Genre: Romantic Drama, Psychological Fiction

Content warnings:

Substance Abuse, Toxic Relationships, Unrequited Love, Mental Health Issues, Slight drug use

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Chapter 5:

Suguru's POV

I took the nameless girl back to my place. We didn’t talk much—there wasn’t really a need to. It was mechanical, detached. Just bodies moving together with no real connection. Afterward, she fell asleep almost immediately, sprawled across my bed as if she owned it.

I couldn’t sleep. My mind was too loud, drowning me in everything I tried so hard to avoid. So, I grabbed a cigarette, headed to the balcony, and lit up. The first drag hit like a wave, momentarily numbing the edges of my thoughts.

Leaning on the railing, I pulled out my phone and started scrolling Instagram, anything to distract myself. That’s when I saw it.

Gojo’s private account. Not the public one for the band—the one he used for his personal life, where he posted the real shit. A carousel of pictures stared back at me.

The first one was of him and Y/N. She was laughing, her head thrown back, her hand gripping his arm like he’d just said the funniest thing in the world. He looked smug, his sunglasses pushed up onto his head, his arm slung casually around her shoulders.

The next picture was of Y/N and Zavier, her usual photographer, reviewing shots on his camera. She looked radiant, her smile soft and genuine. The kind of smile I hadn’t seen from her in a while.

The last one? It was just Gojo, holding one of her designs—a jacket with intricate detailing, her signature all over it.

The caption read, “Creative genius at work"

🎨✨ Obsydian’s finest. Can’t wait for y’all to see what she’s cooking up.”

I stared at the photos, my chest tightening with every swipe. My cigarette burned down to the filter, but I didn’t notice until the heat nipped at my fingers. I cursed under my breath, stubbing it out on the balcony beside me.

What the fuck was I doing? Sitting here, miserable and spiraling, while she was out there thriving. With him.

I hated how jealous I felt. How bitter it made me to see her smiling with Gojo like that. I hated that I couldn’t get her out of my head, no matter how many times I tried to bury her with meaningless hookups and cheap highs.

But most of all, I hated myself for letting it get this far. For pushing her away when all I wanted was to pull her closer.

I tossed my phone onto the table and ran a hand through my hair, exhaling a shaky breath. The city lights stretched out before me, but they felt cold, distant. Just like everything else in my life.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if I’d ever feel whole again—or if I’d already lost the one person who made me feel that way.

I got a text from YN saying model rehersals are starting soon Su.. need you. I sighed and took another drag trying to clear my head

I stared at the text, the words glowing on the screen like a spotlight on my internal mess.

Model rehearsals are starting soon, Su. Need you.

She always did that—used that nickname like it meant something, like it didn’t cut me every time. I sighed and took another drag from my cigarette, letting the smoke fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. The nicotine was supposed to help, supposed to calm me down, but it wasn’t doing shit.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard, thinking of something to say. Something casual. Something that wouldn’t give away how badly I wanted to show up, to be the one she could count on.

But my head was spinning. The carousel of Gojo’s photos was still burned into the back of my mind, the easy way he fit into her life, her world. The world I’d pushed myself out of because I was too much of a fucking coward to figure out what I wanted—or maybe because I already knew and didn’t think I deserved it.

I leaned against the balcony railing, staring out at the city. The wind felt sharp against my skin, but I welcomed it. Anything to cut through the haze of emotions I couldn’t name and didn’t want to deal with.

Sure I’ll be there soon, I eventually typed back. Simple, straight to the point. No emotion.

I hit send before I could overthink it, but my chest still tightened. She needed me, and I hated how much that meant to me. Hated how easily I folded when it came to her.

I took one last drag, stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray before heading back inside. The girl from earlier was still passed out on my bed, oblivious to everything.

I grabbed my jacket and my car keys, glancing at her one last time. I didn’t feel anything—no guilt, no attachment, no regret. Just a hollow emptiness that followed me out the door and into the night.

If I couldn’t figure out how to let her go, the least I could do was keep pretending I could handle staying.

Her text hit me harder than I wanted to admit. I stared at the screen, her words sinking in.

Stop smoking. I know you're up smoking these hours. How are you supposed to sing lead one day if you smoke out your lungs? I responded with a simple roll-eye emoji, not in the mood to argue. Her next text came almost instantly: Gojo was great tonight for the shoot, but I missed having you there.

That one lingered, the words burning into my mind like the cigarette I just put out. I missed having you there.

What did that even mean? Was it just work, or did she mean more? Did she even realize what she did to me with texts like that? Probably not. She was just being her—casual, sweet, and so fucking oblivious to how much space she took up in my head.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair and leaning back against the wall of the balcony. The city was quiet, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel peaceful, just empty.

I typed back: Good for him. Seems like you don’t need me as much these days.

I hesitated before sending it. It felt…petty. But fuck it, I was feeling petty.

I hit send and immediately regretted it, but I didn’t try to take it back. If she wanted to dance around Gojo being her go-to guy now, then I wasn’t going to sit here pretending it didn’t bother me.

The response didn’t come right away. It didn’t come at all for a few minutes, and I started pacing, regretting every word I’d sent. But then my phone buzzed again.

Don't be like that, Su. You know no one does it like you.

And just like that, I was back where I always was with her—caught somewhere between wanting to hold onto her and wanting to push her away.

The girl from earlier stirred behind me, and before I could react, her arms wrapped around my waist. She pressed against my back, her warmth almost jarring after the cold night air.

She looked up at me with a sleepy smile, her eyes half-lidded but playful. “What are you doing out here all alone?” I sighed, letting my phone drop onto the balcony railing. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk or lingering moments, but she was here, and maybe I could use the distraction.

“Round 2?” I asked, tilting my head toward her, my voice flat but suggestive.

Her smile widened, and she nodded. “If you can keep up.” I chuckled dryly, pushing off the railing and letting her lead me back inside. The cigarette stubbed out beneath my foot, the city’s cold fading as the door shut behind us.

I didn’t want to think about YN’s text or Gojo’s damn photos. I didn’t want to feel the ache in my chest every time her name crossed my mind. Tonight, I could drown it all out. At least for a little while.

I woke up alone. Thank God. The sheets were a mess, and my head felt heavy, but at least I didn’t have to deal with awkward small talk or pretending to care about someone else’s morning plans. I stretched, cracking my neck as I rolled out of bed and shuffled toward the bathroom.

After relieving myself, I brushed my teeth, splashed cold water on my face, and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were bloodshot, and the faint smell of last night’s cigarettes still clung to me. Lovely.

I grabbed my phone off the counter and unlocked it, seeing a text from Kento. "I'm downstairs. When you wake up, bring your stupid ass down here." I frowned, running a hand through my messy hair. Kento never showed up unannounced unless it was serious.

Pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, I trudged downstairs to the living room. Sure enough, there he was, sitting on my couch like he owned the place, scrolling through his phone with a cup of coffee from my machine in hand. “You’re making yourself at home, I see,” I muttered, my voice still hoarse from sleep.

Kento looked up, his expression unreadable as usual, but there was something in his eyes that told me I wasn’t getting off easy today. “Sit down,” he said, nodding toward the chair across from him.

I groaned but did as he said, slumping into the seat. “What’s so urgent you had to invade my space before breakfast?” Kento leaned forward, setting his coffee down on the table. “We need to talk about YN. And before you even think about dodging, you’re going to listen.”

My jaw tightened, but I didn’t argue. I knew better than to try to out-stubborn Kento. Kento sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he was trying to massage away the frustration. He shifted in his seat, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Shoko's been asking questions ever since YN showed up at rehearsals. Gojo's been asking me questions, too. You need to sort yourself out with her, Suguru," he said, his tone calm but firm. "She's moved on."

I felt a jolt in my chest. The words stung harder than I expected. I crossed my arms tightly, trying to shield myself from what I knew was coming.

I didn't want to hear it, but I couldn’t exactly shut it out either. "And so what?" I snapped, trying to push the ache out of my voice. "I’m just supposed to forget her? Forget everything? Forget that I… that I’ve loved her for years, Ken. Years."

I watched Kento’s expression soften, but his gaze didn’t waver from mine. He didn’t respond right away, like he was measuring his next words. I hated when he did that, like he was picking apart my emotions with the precision of a surgeon. Finally, he spoke again, his voice lower, quieter.

"She doesn’t love you," he said, bluntly, but there was hesitation there. "Fuck… I mean, not like that."

I froze. For a moment, my world seemed to stop, and all I could hear was the ringing silence in my head. The words echoed around my brain, bouncing off the walls, settling somewhere deep where I didn’t want them.

She doesn’t love you.

It felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me. I wanted to yell at him, to tell him he was wrong, but I couldn't. He wasn’t wrong, I knew it. I had known it for a while now, but hearing it out loud made it hurt in ways I couldn't explain.

I stood up abruptly, "Thanks, Ken," I said through clenched teeth, trying to keep my voice from breaking. My hands were shaking, but I kept them at my sides, gripping my fingers into fists to stop it. I didn’t want him to see me like this.

Kento’s face softened slightly, and he opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, but I didn’t wait to hear it. I turned and walked toward the stairs, my footsteps loud and deliberate. The urge to escape was overwhelming, like if I stayed in the same room with him for another second, I might snap.

"Suguru, wait," Kento called, his voice lower now, more concerned. I didn’t turn around.

But I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t look him in the eye when I knew he was right, when I knew the truth that I had been running from. She moved on, and I was still stuck here, pretending like things could be different. Pretending like I could be different.

The stairs creaked under my feet as I made my way up, the weight of everything pressing down on me. I just needed space. Space to breathe, to think, and to figure out how to deal with the fact that I wasn’t the one she chose. That I had lost her, maybe even before I realized it.

When I finally reached the top of the stairs, I slammed my bedroom door shut behind me. I stood there for a second, hands on the door, breathing heavily. It was like the walls of the room were closing in on me, and I couldn’t get away fast enough. But I had no idea where to go from here. No idea how to fix this.

The silence in the room felt suffocating. I collapsed onto the bed, not bothering to take off my clothes or my shoes. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Didn’t want to hear anyone’s words of encouragement or advice.

I was tired of hearing people tell me to move on, as if it were that easy. But deep down, I knew they were right. YN had moved on. And I… I was still stuck here, lost in something I could never get back.

I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut, trying to block out the thoughts that kept swirling in my head. She doesn’t love you. She’s moved on. You’re just holding on to something that was never yours to begin with.

I knew Kento was just trying to help, but right now, all his words felt like salt in a wound that wouldn’t heal. I rolled over onto my side, burying my face in the pillow, trying to drown out the noise, the pain, the confusion. I wanted to shut it all out. I wanted to forget about her, but the harder I tried, the more she lingered in my mind.

And no matter how much I told myself to move on, a part of me would always be stuck in the past, holding on to something that was never meant to be.

YN POV

I left the band’s recording studio, clutching my bag tightly, and made my way to the Obsydian set, trying to shake off the lingering tension from earlier. There was always something heavy about being in the same room as Suguru these days, but I couldn’t let that distract me. Work came first.

By the time I arrived at the shoot location, my team was already buzzing around, setting up lights, backdrops, and props. It was organized chaos, and I thrived in it. Gojo showed up shortly after, still grinning from ear to ear like he hadn’t just left band practice.

“Thanks for filling in at the last minute, Satoru,” I said as he approached, his white hair catching the afternoon light.

“Anything for you, boss,” he teased with a wink.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “Alright, let’s get you ready.”

Just as I was about to lead him to the changing area, Utahime walked in. She gave me a polite nod, her dark hair pulled back neatly, her makeup already done to perfection.

“Utahime, hey! Perfect timing,” I said, gesturing for her to follow.

The changing area was set up with racks of clothes meticulously organized by look and accessories laid out on a table. I handed Gojo his first outfit: high-waisted distressed pants in a rich navy blue. The pants were avant-garde to the core, with exaggerated, asymmetrical distressing that revealed hints of a sleek black fabric lining underneath. They flared slightly at the bottom, creating a dramatic silhouette, and the structured high waist featured asymmetrical stitching and a bold metallic clasp closure.

As Gojo changed, I handed Utahime her look. Her top was a reddish mesh fabric that was light and airy, almost gauzy, with a high turtleneck that framed her face beautifully. The fabric had an abstract, textured pattern that played with transparency and opacity, giving it depth. The cropped length stopped just above her waist, revealing just enough skin to make a statement. Her pants matched the avant-garde aesthetic, crafted in a muted reddish-brown hue with pleated detailing that flared slightly at the ankles. Together, the look was bold yet ethereal, fitting perfectly with the vision I had for the shoot.

Gojo stepped out first, shirtless, his tattoos on full display. They snaked across his chest and arms, a mix of abstract shapes and intricate line work that complemented the edgy vibe of his pants. He struck a pose, smirking as he ran a hand through his white hair.

“Looking good, Gojo,” I said, adjusting the waistband slightly and stepping back to examine the overall look.

“Looking good? Y/N, I look incredible,” he replied with a grin.

Utahime emerged next, her outfit soft yet commanding. She walked with quiet confidence, her movements deliberate. I adjusted the hem of her cropped top, making sure it fell just right, then stepped back to admire the two of them together.

“You two are going to kill this shoot,” I said, gesturing for them to head toward the set.

Gojo slung an arm casually around Utahime’s shoulders as they walked, and I followed behind, already envisioning how the shots would turn out. This collection needed to be perfect, and I knew I could rely on them to bring my designs to life.

The shoot kicked off with Gojo and Utahime working through their first looks effortlessly. Choso, my go-to photographer, was already snapping away, his camera clicking rapidly as he directed them with ease. His eye for detail was unmatched, and I trusted him completely to capture the mood of Obsydian’s latest collection.

We moved quickly, cycling through outfit after outfit. I adjusted every detail obsessively—tightening a strap here, smoothing a hem there. Gojo transitioned into a tailored yet deconstructed jacket in deep charcoal, paired with layered pants featuring cascading fabrics in muted tones.

Utahime shifted into a sleek dress with exaggerated sleeves and asymmetrical slits, the deep emerald fabric draping like water against her frame. They posed together and separately, their chemistry palpable and perfect for the avant-garde energy I wanted to convey.

As Choso lowered his camera after one particularly stunning shot of Gojo smirking into the lens, he turned to me with an expectant look.

"Alright, these look great. But…" he paused, glancing around the set, "where’s Geto? Wasn’t he supposed to be here?"

I sighed, already anticipating the conversation. “He couldn’t make it tonight,” I said, keeping my tone neutral as I fussed with a rack of accessories.

Choso tilted his head, not buying my casual dismissal. “Couldn’t make it, huh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You two good? He never misses a shoot.”

I glanced up at him, biting the inside of my cheek. Leave it to Choso to zero in on the tension. “It’s nothing,” I replied quickly. “Just scheduling conflicts. That’s why Satoru’s here filling in.”

Choso let it go, for now, turning back to his camera. “Well, these two are killing it,” he said, gesturing toward Gojo and Utahime, who were laughing about something between takes.

“Yeah,” I muttered, watching as Gojo playfully tugged on Utahime’s sleeve, making her roll her eyes in exasperation. They were doing great, no doubt, but something about Suguru’s absence felt… off. He had always been the centerpiece of Obsydian’s campaigns, the perfect embodiment of the brand’s avant-garde ethos. His presence was unmistakable, and without him, it felt like something was missing.

I shook off the thought and clapped my hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, people, let’s move to the next set! Gojo, Utahime, you’re changing into Look Three. Choso, I want some tighter angles for this one—focus on the textures.”

Choso nodded, his focus back on his craft, and I busied myself preparing the next looks. But in the back of my mind, Suguru lingered like a shadow I couldn’t quite shake.

After wrapping up the shots for Look Three, I called for a break. The team scattered—Gojo plopped onto the nearest couch, scrolling on his phone, while Utahime wandered over to the snack table. I took a moment to review the photos Choso had taken so far, nodding in approval as I flipped through them.

The sound of heavy footsteps drew my attention, and I turned to see Nanami strolling in, followed closely by Toji.

I placed my hands on my hips, fixing Toji with a mock glare. “You were supposed to be here earlier,” I scolded.

Toji, ever the nonchalant one, rolled his eyes as he approached. “You know Megumi gets funny about me leaving him at home,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

I crossed my arms. “You could’ve brought him.”

Toji chuckled, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around my waist with an air of casual familiarity. “Next time, sweetheart,” he said smoothly, the smirk never leaving his face.

Gojo, seated nearby, let out an exaggerated cough, drawing all eyes to him. “Am I interrupting something?” he quipped, raising an eyebrow as he glanced pointedly at Toji’s arm around me.

Toji just smirked wider, clearly enjoying himself. “Relax, Satoru,” he drawled, giving me a quick squeeze before letting go.

Nanami, ever the pragmatist, rolled his eyes at the theatrics. “I was bored, so I’m here,” he said, his tone flat as he plopped down on the edge of the set, his sharp eyes scanning the room.

“You two just came to hang out or what?” I teased, brushing past Toji to grab a bottle of water.

“Toji came to be a nuisance,” Nanami deadpanned. “I came to see how the shoot was going—and maybe keep an eye on Suguru.” At the mention of Suguru, my stomach tightened slightly. “Suguru isn't here,” I said, keeping my tone as even as possible.

Nanami raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. Toji, meanwhile, leaned against the wall, his gaze lazily drifting over the set. “You know,” he said, his tone light but laced with mischief, “I could fill in for Suguru. I’d look damn good in one of those outfits.”

Gojo snorted. “Yeah, let’s get you a crop top, Toji. That’d be a sight.”

The room broke into light laughter, the tension easing for the moment. But as I glanced over at the rack of clothes meant for Suguru, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of his absence all over again.

Toji rolled his eyes dramatically, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall. “For your information, Satoru, I model for Obsydian,” he said, his smirk dripping with mock superiority.

Gojo raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with an amused grin. “Oh yeah? When’s the last time you walked a runway, Toji? Or are you just the backup guy for Y/N when Suguru’s too busy being broody?”

Toji shot him a sharp look, his smirk never wavering. “Actually, I’ve been featured in her campaigns more than a few times. Y/N knows quality when she sees it.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the banter, shaking my head as I grabbed a fresh water bottle from the snack table. “Alright, alright, don’t drag me into this. Toji’s been great for a few shoots,” I said, raising a hand to settle the tension. “But let’s not pretend you’re Suguru’s replacement, Toji.”

Toji shrugged, unfazed. “Never said I was. I just know I pull it off just as well as he does.”

Nanami groaned quietly from his spot on the couch, rubbing his temple. “Can we not turn this into a competition?”

Gojo leaned back, flashing a grin at Nanami. “Oh, come on, Kento. You know you secretly enjoy the chaos.”

Nanami fixed him with a deadpan stare. “I don’t.”

Utahime, who’d been quietly munching on a granola bar, finally chimed in. “Honestly, I think Toji would look great in some of these pieces. We could throw him in Look Five and see how he does.”

Toji’s smirk widened as he pointed at Utahime. “See? Someone here recognizes talent.”

I shook my head, laughing softly. “Alright, Toji, if you’re so eager, maybe we’ll give you a look. But if you mess up my vision—”

“—I won’t, I never do.” he interrupted smoothly, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

Gojo groaned playfully. “This is gonna be good. I need to see Toji trying to strike a pose.”

The energy in the room lightened, everyone chuckling at the banter. But as I glanced over at Nanami, I caught the faintest flicker of concern in his expression. He wasn’t here just for fun, and I knew it.

But for now, I let it go, focusing instead on the shoot and the chaos Toji was undoubtedly about to bring.

Toji laughed heartily, his grin wide as he leaned casually against the wall. “Aye, aye, let’s not forget I was the first model outside your personal favorite, Suguru. We all know you both used to—”

“Anyway!” Kento exclaimed loudly, cutting Toji off before he could finish. “Y/N, what new items are you dropping? I need some fresh pieces to add to my collection. I’ve had your stuff since inception.”

I gave Kento a grateful look for redirecting the conversation. Toji’s smirk only deepened as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll behave,” he said, though his tone made it clear he had no intention of doing so.

“Well,” I started, walking over to my work table where swatches of fabric and sketches were scattered. “I’ve been working on a collection that leans even further into avant-garde streetwear. Think exaggerated silhouettes, distressed layers, and experimental materials. I want it to be bold but wearable—like a statement that doesn’t scream, just whispers confidently.”

Kento nodded, his interest clear. “Sounds right up my alley. What’s the color palette?”

“Monochrome for the most part,” I explained, holding up a few fabric samples. “But I’m adding pops of deep jewel tones—emerald, amethyst, maybe even a little ruby red. Something that stands out but doesn’t overpower.”

Utahime walked over, brushing her hands off after finishing her snack. “Are you doing any accessories with it? Because I loved the leather harnesses from your last line.”

“I am,” I said with a nod. “I’m thinking oversized belts, experimental bags, and maybe some modular pieces that can transform depending on how you wear them.”

Gojo, who had been scrolling on his phone but clearly listening, glanced up. “Do I get any exclusive pieces for being such a dedicated stand-in model?” He gave me a playful wink.

“You’ll get whatever I give you, Satoru,” I said with a smirk, making everyone chuckle. “But don’t worry, I’ve got something in mind for you.”

Toji interjected, crossing his arms. “And what about me? If I’m gracing your campaign again, I better get first dibs.”

“You’ll get a thank-you and maybe a jacket,” I teased, rolling my eyes. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Toji.”

Kento cleared his throat. “I’m serious about placing my order early, Y/N. You know how quickly your pieces sell out.”

“I’ve got you covered, Kento,” I said warmly. “You’ve always been one of my biggest supporters.”

As the conversation shifted back to the shoot, I felt a sense of ease settle over the room. Despite the underlying tension that came with juggling professional and personal dynamics, moments like these reminded me why I loved what I did—and the people who made it all worthwhile.

The shoot was back in full swing, the energy in the room shifting as everyone found their rhythm again. To Gojo’s visible surprise, Toji was absolutely killing it on set. Despite his bulky, heavily tattooed frame,

Toji moved with a surprising grace, hitting poses that no one expected from a guy who usually looked like he belonged in the middle of a bar fight rather than under the lights of a photoshoot.

Choso, our photographer, was eating it up. “Toji, hold that! Perfect, now tilt your head just slightly—yeah, like that. Beautiful.”

For one particularly dramatic shot, Toji decided to up the ante. He grabbed a random object—what looked like an old book prop from a previous shoot—and, to everyone’s horror, lit the edge on fire. The faint glow from the flames cast an eerie but undeniably striking light across his features.

“Another light source,” Toji said with a grin, casually holding the burning book like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Toji!” I yelled, storming over as the rest of the room froze, caught between awe and panic. “What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to set my studio on fire?”

He only laughed, his deep chuckle echoing through the space. “Relax, princess. I’ve got it under control.”

“You’ve got nothing under control!” I shot back, grabbing a fire extinguisher from the corner and spraying the flames down. “I swear to God, if you burn anything in here, I’ll make sure you never work with me again.”

“That’d break my heart, Y/N,” he said mockingly, clutching his chest like I’d just struck him. “You know you’d miss me.”

Gojo, watching from the sidelines, shook his head, half-amused and half-exasperated. “You’re insane, Toji. But I have to admit, that shot was kind of badass.”

Choso, still clicking through the photos, nodded in agreement. “I mean, he’s not wrong. That lighting was phenomenal. I’ll tone down the flames in post.”

I shot Choso a glare. “Don’t encourage him.”

Utahime sighed dramatically from her spot by the makeup table. “Why is it always chaos when Toji’s around? Every time.”

“Because he’s Toji,” Kento muttered dryly, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. “And Toji thrives on chaos.”

Toji shrugged, clearly unfazed. “What can I say? The camera loves me.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to gather my patience. “Just get back to your poses and no more fire, Toji. I mean it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a mock salute, his grin still firmly in place as he sauntered back to the set.

As much as I wanted to stay annoyed, it was impossible not to laugh. Toji’s antics might drive me insane, but they also brought a certain energy to the shoot that was hard to replicate. Still, I made a mental note to triple-check everything he brought on set from now on. With Toji, you could never be too careful.

Toji, ever the troublemaker, casually lit a cigarette as he lounged in his next outfit—an avant-garde ensemble that somehow made him look both rugged and sophisticated. The smoky tendrils curled around him, adding to his brooding aesthetic. Choso snapped a few photos, clearly loving the vibe, but I wasn’t having it.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. “Toji, you’re not smoking on my set.”

He smirked, leaning back against the prop wall like he owned the place. “What’s the big deal? Adds to the aesthetic, doesn’t it?”

“The only thing it’s adding is a headache for me. Put it out.”

Instead of complying, he gave me a mischievous look. “Alright, I’ll make you a deal—come pose with me, and I’ll put it out.”

I scoffed, already shaking my head. “Not a fat chance, Zenin. This isn’t about me; it’s about you doing what I asked.”

He chuckled, taking a slow drag from the cigarette, the ember glowing faintly in the low light. “You’re no fun, princess. Afraid you might steal the spotlight?”

I stepped closer, hands on my hips. “Afraid you’ll end up in the trash if you keep testing me.”

Gojo, who had been watching the exchange with a grin, decided to chime in. “You know, Y/N, maybe you should take him up on it. Would be a killer shot.”

I shot Gojo with a withering glare. “Don’t encourage him.”

Kento, from his spot by the snack table, let out a long-suffering sigh. “Toji, just put it out before she actually murders you. We all know she’s capable.”

“Alright, alright,” Toji finally relented, stubbing the cigarette out on the edge of a metal prop. “You win this round, Y/N. But I’m holding you to that pose someday.”

“Keep dreaming,” I muttered, turning back to the rack of clothes for the next look.

Toji laughed, his deep voice echoing across the set. “You’re going to miss me when I’m gone, princess. Don’t deny it.”

“Gone where? The psych ward?” Utahime muttered under her breath, earning a round of laughter from everyone except Toji, who pointed at her with mock offense.

The shoot continued, chaotic as always, but with Toji behaving—relatively speaking. I had to admit, as frustrating as he was, the man could model. But next time, I’d make sure to ban cigarettes, fire, and whatever else he thought might “add to the aesthetic.”

As the crew began packing up, I sat on one of the lounge chairs in the corner of the studio, exhausted but satisfied with how the shoot turned out. The clock on my phone read 1:07 a.m., and I realized I still had a lot to plan before Paris Fashion Week. I leaned back, rubbing my temples as my phone vibrated with a notification.

It was a reply from Suguru: "Sure I’ll be there soon."

I studied his response for a moment, the few words feeling oddly distant. He was always like this lately—short replies, minimal engagement. I frowned and tapped out another message, my fingers hesitating for only a second before pressing send.

"Stop smoking. I know you're awake smoking. How are you supposed to sing lead one day if you smoke out your lungs?"

It didn’t take long for the typing indicator to appear, followed by his reply: "🙄"

I let out a tired sigh, my lips twitching into a small, amused smile despite myself. Typical Suguru—avoiding anything remotely serious with an emoji.

"Texting Suguru again?" Gojo’s voice broke through my thoughts. I glanced up to see him leaning against the wall, his phone in hand as he reviewed the photos he’d just taken for his socials.

"Yeah," I replied, not bothering to hide it. "Model rehearsals and fittings are coming up. I need him to start getting his act together."

Gojo chuckled, setting his phone down on the counter. "Good luck with that. Suguru only does what Suguru wants. I’m surprised you haven’t just swapped him out for someone less… complicated."

I shot him a look. " He’s irreplaceable. He brings something no one else can."

"That something being a whole lot of drama?" he teased, his signature grin spreading across his face.

I shook my head, choosing to ignore his comment as I focused back on my phone. Gojo might not have been wrong, but I wasn’t about to admit it. Suguru might be a handful, but he was also the face of my brand—and for better or worse, a part of my life I wasn’t willing to let go of.

I stared at my phone, waiting for the typing indicator to appear, but it didn’t. His last reply lingered on the screen:

"Good for him. Seems like you don’t need me as much these days."

A pang of frustration twisted in my chest. Suguru always had a way of turning things into a self-pity party when he felt threatened. I sighed, leaning back in my chair as the weight of his words settled over me.

I typed out a response carefully, my fingers hovering over the keyboard before pressing send:

"Don't be like that, Su. You know no one does it like you."

For a moment, I held onto hope that he’d reply. The minutes stretched on, the empty notification bar mocking me. Eventually, I let out a resigned sigh and set my phone down.

Gojo walked over, noticing the change in my mood. “Still nothing?”

I shook my head, not trusting myself to say much.

He plopped down in the chair next to me, slinging an arm over the back of it. “You know, for someone who keeps saying he’s not interested, Suguru sure acts like the jealous boyfriend.”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s not jealous. He’s just… complicated.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Gojo said with a smirk, though his tone held a hint of seriousness. “You always make excuses for him.”

I glanced at him sharply, but the playful glint in his eyes softened the edge of his words.

“I’m not making excuses,” I said, a little defensively. “I just know him better than anyone else.”

“Maybe,” Gojo replied, leaning forward. “But do you ever think about how much you put up with just because it’s Suguru? If it were anyone else, you’d have let them go by now.”

I didn’t have an answer for that. Instead, I grabbed my bag and stood up, brushing off his words as best as I could. “I’ve got fittings to finalize tomorrow. You should head home, Satoru. It’s late.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just don’t work yourself into the ground, Y/N. Paris Fashion Week or not, you still need to sleep.”

“Goodnight, Satoru,” I said pointedly, ignoring the knowing smile he gave me.

As I walked out of the studio and into the cool night air, I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease lingering in my chest. Suguru’s silence felt heavier than usual, like there was something he wasn’t saying—and I couldn’t help but wonder if Gojo was right.

#jjk x black reader #black tumblr #gojo x black reader #gojo x female reader #black reader #jjk x y/n #gojo smut #gojo satoru #sherewrytes #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo angst #geto suguru smut #geto angst #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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ambiguous-avery · 3 months ago

Text

Chasing Shadows, Part 8

Dean Winchester x OC fem!Touched!Reader/You | WC: 6352

Summary: She’s never been afraid of the dark, not really. She’s more concerned about getting lost in it. He’s haunted by every dark deed he’s ever done. It’s constantly nipping at his heels like a hell hound. He’s her light in the dark, and she’s the one bit of darkness he’s willing to embrace.

Tags/Warnings: No use of Y/N, canon-typical violence, eventual romance, eventual smut, fluff and angst, POV alternating (sometimes a little all over the place), no beta we die like men

Disclaimer: The base concept of Touched comes from @aylacavebear and is used with permission. I’ve taken creative liberties with it.

A/N: Fun fact! This chapter contains the very first scene I ever wrote for this fic. Y’all know that horse picture meme? The one with the segment that is really nicely drawn and the caption is “the one scene in my head” and then the regular drawing all around it that’s like “the story I wrote around the scene”? Yeah, that scene is in here. Can you spot it? Chasing Shadows Series Masterlist

He had to give credit where credit was due. Sam handing over the keys to the Mustang to you was incredibly smart in hindsight. The Mustang was just flashy enough to stand out in the sleepy town. They had started off just driving by the address you had texted Sam, but there was no sign of the vehicle parked out front of the home. So they had driven up and down the roads a bit more before finally spotting it sitting outside of the town’s medium’s place. Why you were there, Dean had no idea. Sure, Sam had said that the journal had mentioned a medium, but this had all the makings of a scam, not an actual person with a connection to the supernatural. From the neon sign flashing in the window to the cheesy signs boasting about “finding fortune in love.” Surely you weren’t dumb enough to believe that this person could have real answers for you. Still, the Mustang’s presence couldn’t lie. Same year, model, and plates as the one that had sat in the bunker garage.

It had been an entire day since you had texted Sam the address of the first house they went to, and you hadn’t sent anything else. Dean had texted you a few times, but unsurprisingly, you hadn’t replied. There was a bad taste in his mouth, and his hunter instincts were sounding all the alarms in his head. You were in trouble. He had let you go in the first place. He had given you a reason to leave. He was the reason you were in this whole mess. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, trying his best not to dwell on it. He could beat himself up over it later when you were safe back at the bunker.

“Google reviews say that the medium’s name is Irene,” Sam said quietly, turning his phone around to show Dean. He glanced at it.

“I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I.”

The bell above the door jingled as they entered, and Dean immediately took stock of the room. It was cozy-feeling, at least that’s what he assumed it was meant to be like. To him, everything screamed ‘sham,’ and Dean almost rolled his eyes at the whole setup. Honestly, he was surprised there weren’t little crystals sitting on shelves or a sign explaining how they help align chakras or something.

“Looking for something, boys?” a woman’s voice called out. Both Sam and Dean turned to look at the blonde woman who stood on the opposite side of the room. Her voice was smooth and unwavering, her expression too gentle. Too innocent. Like she was trying too hard to appear nonchalant.

“We’re looking for our friend,” Sam said. “Where is she?”

“I presume you’re talking about the poor soul who came to me, lost and yearning.” There was a haughty tone in her voice that Dean didn’t like. To be fair, though, he didn’t like anything about the entire situation. “Don’t worry. She’s safe here with me.”

“Bullshit,” Dean snarled. “Let her go. Now.” A smirk tugged at the corner of Irene’s lips as she stepped aside and held her hands up in mock surrender.

"You say that like I have her locked up in chains,” she replied, amusement dancing in her eyes. “She came to me of her own accord. I offered her answers, and she was happy to take them.” Dean tensed, his hand inching towards the gun he had tucked in the back of his jeans. Sam shot him a warning look, silently cautioning him not to make any rash moves. They needed to know more before they could take action. Needed to be sure you were safe. Irene let her hands drop and motioned for them to follow her, even being so bold as to turn her back to them as she stepped into the adjoining room. “Look, you don’t have to just take my word for it. Come see for yourself, why don’t you?”

They shared a look before following after her warily. There you were, seated on the couch like you owned the place, looking every bit unbothered at the whole situation as you sipped at the tea in your hands. You glanced up at them when they walked in and offered a small, almost imperceptible smile. Relief washed over Dean at the sight of you unharmed, but there was a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t quite shake. He crossed the room in a few long strides and dropped down to a knee in front of you, bracing his hands on your shoulders and carefully looking you over for any sign of anything that seemed out of place. You let out a soft chuckle at the concern etched into his features as he examined you.

“Are you alright?” Dean asked, his voice soft.

“I’m fine, Dean,” you assured him. Sam stood a few feet away, keeping Irene in his peripherals as he watched you and Dean interact.

“See? No harm done,” Irene remarked with a casual shrug.

“Don’t give us that crap,” Dean shot back, his jaw tightening with unease. This all felt too easy. Nothing was ever this easy. “You might have her sitting here all smiles, but that doesn’t mean I trust you for a second.” Irene chuckled softly at his remark, the sound sending a nervous chill down Dean’s spine. A glance at Sam told him that Sam was feeling the same. There was something about Irene’s demeanor that set him on edge.

“I hardly need you to trust me. It’s all about her, isn’t it?” Irene made a vague motion towards you. Dean straightened up, his hand still lingering protectively on your shoulder.

“Come on, we’re leaving,” he said, a sense of finality in his voice. You remained motionless as though you were rooted to the spot.

“You’re leaving. I’m not.”

“What?” Dean’s voice cracked with disbelief.

“You’ve made it clear that I don’t fit in your world, so I found my own place where I do fit.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t belong here.” That was the understatement of the year. You belonged with h–

Not him, per se... Them. Sam and him. You were their friend. And Dean had lost too many friends over the years. He wasn’t about to lose another.

“Well I certainly don’t belong with you two!” you shot back, your voice rising with the pent-up frustration that had obviously been stewing for longer than he knew. You knocked his hand off your shoulder and stood, setting your tea down and locking gazes with him. “You can’t stand to be around me, not once Castiel showed up. How long did it take for you to even notice I was gone? Or did you not even know until Sam told you?”

“Sweetheart-”

“Don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me,” you cut him off sharply, eyes blazing with defiance. “I’m staying, Dean. I’ve finally got a friend who knows what it’s like being a Touched. She’s nice and doesn’t think I’m something dark and twisted.” Your words struck him like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from his lungs and catching him on the back foot. He breathed your name, the word coming out softer than he had ever dared to say it.

“I never meant it like that-”

“Maybe you should start thinking before you speak, then. People don’t play with my feelings here.”

Your words bit like ice against his skin, and the sinking feeling in his stomach only added to his misery.

“Don’t say or do anything that might give away our little secret, hm?” Irene’s voice was sickenly sweet, her eyes piercing as she dragged her thumb and forefinger slowly over her lips before miming the action of turning a key in a lock. The gesture was theatrical yet chilling, as if more than one metaphorical lock had been firmly set into place. It was a strange experience. Like every aspect of you had been bottled up and compressed into a jar too small to contain it then stashed away on a dusty shelf in the recesses of your mind, forced to watch as your body nodded along to Irene’s command. You supposed it was only partially a metaphor. When you had come back to Irene’s to try and stop her ritual early, there was a glass pendant around her neck that wasn’t there earlier filled with, what you suspected, your blood. And that’s when the shackles around you had turned heavy with realization.

Watching Dean turn away from you had you pounding your fists at your enclosure, simultaneously screaming “Don’t leave me here! This isn’t what I want!” and “Get out of here! She’ll come for you next!” Sam spared you another meaningful look, and all you could do was silently beg that he could see you. The real you, trapped. Your face remained impassive as you watched the two of them leave the threshold of the building. You wanted to call out for them, but even that thought had your jaw locking up, your mouth staying stubbornly shut.

“And have them get that god-awful car out of my driveway,” Irene shouted from the other room. Your body moved to obey, tugging the keys from your pocket.

“Dean,” you called out. He turned around immediately, as if he had been expecting for you to say his name. Hope flickered in his green eyes, and you could only pray that he could see your cry for help in yours. It took every ounce of effort you could muster to force yourself to squeeze the light on the keys before you sent them arching through the air. Dean caught them, flashing light and all, and you begged whatever god might’ve taken a liking to you that he understood the things you couldn’t say. “I don’t need the car anymore. Take it with you.”

Dean’s expression fell, and your heart went with it.

There was a sense of finality that came with tossing the Mustang’s keys to him. The last significant piece of the Winchesters that you had. And now that was leaving too. Dean handed the keys over to Sam who looked from them to you and then back at the keys again.

“Please. Know that this isn’t me,” you silently begged, wishing your eyes would well up with the tears you knew you had in you. Begging was all you had left, and Irene didn’t have the decency to give you that.

As Dean settled himself in the driver’s seat of the Impala, the metallic glint of the car’s polished surface flickering in the sunlight, his gaze remained fixed on you with an intensity that could’ve pierced through the glass between you. You watched as he deliberately lifted the Impala’s keys, ensuring that you could see them clearly through the windshield. The small light attached to his keys lit up, flashing multiple colors in quick succession that danced across the dashboard. Hope bloomed in your chest, warm and bright.

A silent message resonated in the air before the Impala’s and Mustang’s engines roared to life.

There was probably a more graceful way of approaching the situation than to go in all guns blazing, but Dean wasn’t known for his graceful ways. Sam almost felt sorry for the woman who answered the door when Dean bullied his way into her home. Almost. Whatever remorse he felt flew out the window when the dark-haired woman disarmed Dean and twisted his arm behind his back within a matter of moments. Sam had his own gun drawn and trained on her just as she turned and maneuvered Dean in between them, tucking her smaller frame behind his.

“We can play nice, can’t we boys? We’re all hunter’s here, right?” Dean tried to shift in her hold, but she twisted his arm further. He grunted in discomfort, and Sam was sure that if she had been looking to seriously hurt them, she would’ve already done so. Even though he didn’t lower his gun, – just in case his hunch had been wrong – Sam spoke, keeping his tone calm.

“We’re not here to cause trouble. We’d just like to talk.” Another beat passed before the dark-haired woman let go of Dean’s arm, and he pivoted while taking a step back toward Sam, facing her. She smiled, the tension in her shoulders falling away.

“Next time, I recommend you start with that rather than just barge into a lady’s home.”

Maria’s gaze flicked back and forth between the two brothers, as if she were trying to discern something deeper. Her eyes lingered on Dean for a moment longer, taking in his appearance and the determination set on his face. She furrowed her brow, and Sam couldn’t quite figure out what she was thinking until she said, “Oh, you’re the ones she mentioned.” Maria said your name, and it was like she had struck a chord with Dean. He went tense, like a cobra reeling back and readying to strike. Sam finally lowered his gun and dared to relax just a bit.

“You spoke with her? And you said you’re a hunter?” Dean’s voice was tight, but Sam was already coming around to the idea that this woman wasn’t their enemy. She motioned for them to take a seat in the living room, and they did so.

“I think we have a lot to talk about,” Maria said with a knowing look.

It didn’t take very long for Sam to connect Maria to the journal he had read with you a few days prior, and she had quite a lot of insight that she had shared with you that Sam made a mental note to look into later on. She pulled out various books and research notes and spread them out on the coffee table between the three of them and briefly summarized what being Touched entailed.

“That’s great and all, but what does this have to do with her?” If the situation were any different, Sam could’ve smacked Dean upside the head for the lack of tact.

“There used to be a lot more of us, a lot more Touched. But…” A grimace twisted Maria’s expression, and she squeezed her eyes tight. Sam reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, concern flashing in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m good, promise,” Maria made a quiet noise of discomfort. “I can’t be the most… forthcoming with everything for… reasons. You guys can fill in the blanks, right?”

Sam nodded, his expression serious and attentive.

“What do you mean by ‘reasons’?” Dean asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and impatience.

“You guys have dealt with witches before, right? On other hunts?” Maria continued on, sidestepping Dean’s question with a determined focus. Dean cursed under his breath, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “Any of them used blood magic?” Sam frowned deeply, furrowing his brows together.

“I assume that you mean blood magic that differs from sigils or runes and the like?”

“Yeah. I’m talking about the kind of magic that feeds off of life force. It’s dark, twisted stuff.” Dean bristled at those words. “Touched individuals… we’re like beacons to those who use that magic. Walking power banks just waiting to be tapped into.” Maria’s voice lowered, a shiver passing through her as she glanced over her shoulder, as if expecting to see someone appear out of thin air. Sam noticed the muscle in Dean’s jaw tighten, his eyes narrowing as he processed what Maria had said. The implication was clear, and it didn’t take a genius to connect the dots that Maria was talking about Irene.

“So… she needs,” Dean said your name, and Sam didn’t miss the way his voice softened just the slightest bit, “to fuel future spells? What’s her end goal? Just power?”

Maria shook her head, but she didn’t say anything, lips sealed by whatever spell or curse had been laid on her. Sam chewed on his lower lip as his eyes darted across the scattered documents on the table.

“Immortality,” Sam said suddenly, leaning forward and picking up a page that detailed Maria’s own notes about the properties of her blood. Maria nodded, confirming Sam’s guess.

“It’s been going on for quite a few decades. Since before I showed up here.” Maria spoke slowly, as if testing the invisible boundaries of what she could or couldn’t talk about. It wasn’t a stretch to think that a witch wielding blood magic might have found a way to bind someone’s words, especially if she had the power to control someone else.

“You said that there were others here before you? Where are they now?” Dean asked. Maria shook her head again, this time slower, heavier.

“Wait, if her goal is immortality and she’s done it before, then why keep doing it? Shouldn’t it be a one and done thing?” Sam questioned.

“If it actually worked, then yes,” Maria responded.

“What keeps it from working?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I’ve never seen it firsthand, but if I had to guess, I think it has something to do with whatever blessing we have not transferring over.”

“Didn’t Cas say it was something like Grace?” Dean perked up, his eyes lighting up as an idea dawned on him. “If it follows similar rules to that, then maybe it burns out if it’s not in the vessel it belongs in.”

Maria looked between the two of them, having been left behind at the mention of Cas and Grace. She cocked her head to the side in a silent question.

“We have a friend who’s an angel. Grace is essentially an angel’s power source. And if your abilities as a Touched are similar…” Sam began, but Maria jumped in, picking up on what Sam was suggesting.

“Then that would explain why she’s failed. Because she doesn’t understand the intricacies of it.”

“Okay, well how do we stop her? A few bullets should be enough, right? She’s not immortal yet,” Dean said. Maria shook her head again, and Dean was getting real tired of her doing that.

“She’s got my blood flowing through her because I’ve been her unwilling blood bank for years.”

“Which means she’s got the same healing ability?” Sam filled in.

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

Dean let out an exasperated groan, running a hand down his face.

“Then what are our options? How are we supposed to stop her if we can’t kill her?” Dean’s voice was weighed down with frustration, his mind flipping through possible solutions. Unfortunately, the very thing that kept you safe was a double-edged sword.

“How long does it take her to do whatever ritual she has to try and steal someone’s blessing?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t know enough about blood magic, unfortunately. I assume it depends on what she needs for it. Could be a day, could be a week? Although I would assume the worst and say you’ve got a day or less. Would your angel friend know?”

“Probably not. But we know someone who knows more about magic…” Sam mused aloud.

“What’re you thinking, Sammy?”

“I have an idea,” Sam said, a shadow of reluctance crossing his face. “But you’re not going to like it.”

“If I had known that you being here would lead to two hunters on my ass, I would’ve been more careful about how I approached all this,” Irene hissed, her voice cold and threatening as she looked directly at you. Fear creeped up your spine at her words, and she made a large sweeping motion with her arm. An invisible force flung you into the nearby wall, and you cried out as you crumpled to the floor. “I have spent years covering my tracks. Being so cautious so as not to draw attention to myself.” The unseen force picked you up so you were standing, and she stalked over to you, eyes dark with anger. She had never said you were allowed to speak, and without that permission, any retort you had in you died before it passed your lips. But her control over you did nothing to curb the defiance in your eyes.

She jabbed a finger against your sternum, and pain blossomed beneath her touch, as though she had just stabbed you.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Another jolt of pain lanced through you, and the tears you had wished for earlier slid down your cheeks. “Don’t move.” The command locked you in place, and she dragged her finger down slightly. Pain followed in its wake, as though she were slicing through you. You tried to suppress a whimper, but it escaped in a choked sob as you felt the warmth of your own blood seep into your shirt. “If I didn’t need you, I’d cut your heart out and leave it for them to find. Hunters are annoying, but I’ve dealt with their kind before.” She released her hold on you, and you slumped to the ground again, trembling. “Go ahead. Speak freely.”

Defiance flared within you, fueled by fear and anger and pain.

“A real shame you got yourself a pawn instead of a queen,” you spat out, the words carrying a force that surprised even you. It sounded better in your head. Did that even make sense? Probably not. But in your defense, you may as well have just been stabbed. Multiple times. Irene had let you speak but not move, so you couldn’t look up to see her expression shift.

“You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that,” she said, her tone deadly quiet. “It’s just too bad that it won’t save you.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and left you alone in the room. The silence that followed felt deafening, and as much as you wanted to move, to go for the door and run and never look back, your legs wouldn’t respond. You were frozen to the spot, waiting for her next command.

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.” Dean didn’t bother trying to keep his voice quiet, his eyes locking onto Sam’s in disdain. Sam’s expression didn’t waver. Rowena sat in the simple, wooden chair of the motel room, looking between them.

“Maybe,” Sam replied, his voice low but firm. “But it’s the only option we have right now.” Rowena leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Samuel, you do realize that it’s not nice to tell a lady that she’s your final choice, right?” Dean scoffed and shook his head.

“Look, do you know anything about blood magic?” he asked. Rowena made a quiet noise of acknowledgement, her eyebrows raising in intrigue.

“Blood magic, hm? I might know a thing or two… What’s my motivation to share?”

“We don’t gank your ass right this second. How’s that for a deal?” Dean snapped.

“That might have been threatening… if I didn’t know that you need me,” Rowena said with a haughty tone. “I wouldn’t be opposed to being owed a favor for my assistance.”

“No way in hell.”

“Oh what a shame then. I haven’t the faintest idea about blood magic.”

Sam shot Dean a look, and Dean scowled in response, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“Fine,” Dean conceded, running a hand through his short hair. “But we get to decide about the favor.” A knowing smile played on Rowena’s lips as she responded.

“I’m a witch, not a monster. It wouldn’t be anything you two haven’t already done before. Now tell me about this problem of yours.”

For rather understandable reasons, blood magic was a complex thing. That went double when a Touched was factored into things. It only made sense that a god’s blessing thrown into the mix would spike a spell’s potency. A simple binding spell would be enough to exert control over someone, and it only required something as simple as a lock of hair or a fingernail. Breaking the spell would be as simple as destroying the physical piece that the caster possessed. But that was likely on Irene’s person, and the chances of either of them getting close enough to her for that was slim to none. And to add another monkey wrench to the entire situation, blood created a stronger bond, as one might expect when using the very life essence of a being which meant that regular counterspells were out of the question – they simply didn’t have the ‘oomph’ to sever the connection.

The cherry on top of it all was Rowena’s estimation of about three days before Irene attempted whatever she had planned. Something about a transfer of power happening with the changing phase of the moon from waxing to waning. Dean could only focus on the convenient time limit they had. The universe could never let them have anything easy, could it?

“Really, you’d be better off casting your own blood binding spell and hope that it supersedes the previous one,” Rowena said with a shrug.

“As in: bind her to one of us?” Sam clarified. “Wouldn’t we need her blood for that?”

“Hard to cast blood magic without the main component.”

“And any other kind of binding spell wouldn’t be enough?” Sam’s brows knit together as Rowena nodded, and Dean cursed under his breath. He paced back and forth, looking every bit the caged animal that he felt like. “Okay, well we don’t have that, so we need another option.”

Dean abruptly stopped.

He felt rather than saw Sam and Rowena look at him, and he didn’t dare lift his gaze from the motel carpet which was suddenly quite interesting. There was a stain that might’ve looked like a rather deformed chipmunk if he angled his head the right way.

“Dean.” Sam’s voice had a dangerous edge to it. Dean pressed his lips together into a thin line. There really wasn’t a good way to explain this. “Dean, you can’t be serious. Why?” When Dean finally looked up, he almost wished he could’ve snapped a photo of Sam’s incredulous expression. If the situation wasn’t so dire, he might have been tempted to pull his phone from his pocket. Rowena just laughed.

“Dean Winchester.” The tone in her voice was scandalous, as if he had just pulled your panties from his pocket and waved them around.

“In my defense, she gave it to me unprompted.”

The two vials you have given Dean weeks ago clinked in his hand as he pulled them from the back of the glove box where he had shoved them and promptly forgotten about them. He hesitated. There was something profoundly wrong with what they were going to do. But with the short timeframe, their options were severely limited. It was their only choice. If he could come up with another solution, he’d take it in a heartbeat. He grit his teeth and went back to the motel room.

“Alright,” he said, his voice steady despite the unsettled feeling that churned in his gut. “Let’s do this.”

Rowena eyed the two vials curiously, tapping on the glass and making the liquid inside quiver. She had cleared the table and set out a few things she had brought with her.

“You’re not giving me much to work with,” she mused aloud. “Even with both of these together, I don’t think there’d be enough here for me to draw all the necessary sigils for the spell. Not to mention that you’d have to reserve some of it as your binding piece.”

“If you just need blood to draw with, then you can use mine.” She gave him an exaggerated blink before looking at him like he had grown a second head.

“This is a binding spell we’re talking about. Using blood magic,” she began, talking slowly as if she were explaining something to a child. “You can’t just start mixing blood without fundamentally changing the spell. You’ll go from binding a person to your command to binding two people’s essences together.”

“Then we just reverse it afterwards.”

Rowena shook her head.

“That’s not how blood magic works. Once cast, it will live within you. Sure, you can try and reverse it, but it’ll never fully be gone.” Dean let out a frustrated sound, resuming his pacing back and forth.

“There’s nothing else we can try?”

“Nothing else that’s timely. You boys have a habit of getting yourselves in situations where you don’t have the luxury of waiting.” There was a long drawn out moment of silence between the three of them. Sam sighed heavily, trying to come up with something – anything – to get them out of their current predicament.

“What does it mean to bind two people together like that?” Dean asked slowly. Sam’s gaze snapped to him immediately.

“Dean,” he said, and Sam somehow managed to put every thought going through his mind into that one word. Dean ignored him and kept his focus on Rowena. She studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable.

“Dean Winchester, you’ve got yourself a bonnie, haven’t you?” Dean didn’t respond. Instead he clenched his fists at his sides and looked anywhere in the room except at either of the others. A genuine smile wormed its way onto Rowena’s face, and if Sam wasn’t mistaken, he might’ve seen her expression soften slightly. “And does she fancy you the same?”

Dean wet his lips, sighing. He had avoided thinking about it for far too long. Stopped entertaining the idea of anything between you two happening when he had started feeling more for you. Because if he started thinking there could be something more, then there was the very real risk of losing it. Of losing you. It didn’t make sense, the way you had weaseled your way into his and Sam’s lives and nestled yourself there like that was where you should’ve been the whole time. The way he felt at ease with you around. The way you always seemed to hold his gaze just a moment longer than necessary. He thought he was past the age of having crushes.

“She might,” he said noncommittally, voice quiet. Rowena’s eyes seemed to gleam with a newfound interest.

“Well isn’t this just precious,” she purred, her lips curling into a knowing smile. ‘Precious’ was not a word Dean appreciated being associated with in his current state of mind, and Rowena could see that written on his face clear as day.

“Would a bond like that be enough to break the other spell?”

“I don’t know about fully breaking it. But it should give you the same control if not more. I’m sure you could figure out something from there.”

Dean nodded, determination set in his features. Rowena looked at him meaningfully, and when he didn’t falter, she simply nodded. Sam pulled Dean off to the side, his voice dropping low.

“What are you doing?”

“We don’t have many options, Sammy. I promised her that we wouldn’t let her get hurt, and I’m not about to break that promise.”

“You did hear her say this is irreversible, right?” Sam pressed, his voice an urgent whisper.

“I know,” Dean responded, his jaw clenched. “But we’ve always found loopholes before. There’s bound to be something.” Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. With another shared look of understanding between them, Dean turned back to the table where Rowena had set out a small bowl.

He watched as she upended both vials into it, holding them until they were as empty as they were going to get. She looked at him expectantly, and he pulled a knife from his pocket. The blade dragged across his skin, and he watched stoically as his own blood dripped down his fingers and into the bowl, each drop dense with the weight of his decision.

Rowena swirled the bowl lightly, the liquid inside viscous and clinging to the sides. She lit several candles she had strategically placed at different places on the table before taking a piece of chalk and drawing several sigils in a formation he didn’t recognize. Then, she dipped her fingers into the bowl of blood – his and yours, mixed until it was indistinguishable from the other – and traced over the chalk markings.

“You’re drawing those awful big considering our limited resources here,” he grumbled.

“Despite what people may have told you before, size matters,” Rowena snapped back. He shut his mouth.

Dean’s scowl was a permanent fixture on his face as he watched Rowena dip her fingers back into the bowl and continue to draw the tabletop. She mumbled as she did so, and Dean was only half sure that the words she was saying were actual Latin. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sam’s gaze jumping back and forth between himself and Rowena’s work, likely expecting Dean to jump in and stop her partway through. He wanted to. This felt wrong. It was wrong. Binding your essence to his own in a way that couldn’t be reversed. Giving away the blood you had entrusted to him and Sam. All without your consent. The thought dragged through his veins like sludge, leaving a trail of grime that he would never be able to wash away for the rest of his existence. He thought he had done awful things in his life, but this was somehow a new low, even for him.

He ground his teeth together as he felt the first bit of magic weave through him. It was foreign and unpleasant, like an uninvited guest snaking throughout his very core until it found the deepest, most central part of him. The magic coiled around him, centering somewhere behind his navel then reaching its tendrils all throughout his limbs. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet when the magic curled back on itself, leaving a sense of being carved out in his veins. Rowena continued drawing. Her words seemed to blend together the more she spoke. Dean’s scowl deepened as the alien feeling seemed to fasten around some unseen catch within him before retreating from him entirely. Rowena’s spell circle had only been half done by the time the magic left him, and he didn’t feel the uneasy crawl of it curling through his insides as she continued.

Was it your turn now? Were you feeling what he had just gone through? Did you know what sort of sick and twisted thing he was doing in the name of saving you? Two wrongs didn’t make a right. And this wrong felt particularly heinous. As Rowena finished drawing, he felt whatever had hooked behind his belly button suddenly snap taut, and all at once he could see you. Not literally. But when he looked inward at the spot where the strange tugging sensation was, he could see a small, swirling core of pure shadow. He felt an odd fondness for it, knowing without being told that it was you. It could only be you. Could you see him too? What did he look like to you? Was he something monstrous and toxic sitting in you now? Were you scared? He couldn’t blame you if you were. Something latching onto you out of nowhere and leaving behind a horrible, awful thing that you didn’t recognize sitting in the pit of your stomach? Or did you know it was him the same way that he knew the dark core was you?

Sam was in front of him, and Dean hadn’t realized that he had fallen to his knees as the magic took hold and solidified the bond.

“Dean!” Sam had a hand on each of Dean’s shoulders, keeping him from continuing forward onto his face. Dean didn’t have a clue how he looked, otherwise he might’ve been wearing the same concerned expression that Sam had. Eyes glazed over and empty before he all but collapsed.

“I’m good, Sammy,” Dean said reassuringly. He wasn’t. Even though he cherished having you so close, it wasn’t really you. This wasn’t your choice. It was his. All his. And you never would’ve wanted this. Never would’ve wanted to be tainted by a permanent connection to someone like him.

He stood back up, feeling only slightly off in his own body. Although he was sure he was only imagining it, it almost felt as though your presence in his core had a weight to it. Like a piece of you was actually there with him. Your pendant burned hot in his pocket.

“How do you feel?” Sam asked, still looking Dean over for any sign of... something. Dean wasn’t sure what Sam thought he might find. A mark perhaps? Some sort of physical change? A physical manifestation of the magic that linked you and Dean together? To Dean, it felt like a damn brand. Like you had been imprinted onto the tattered pieces of him that could scarcely be called his soul. It was a comfort. It made him want to retch. He hated witches. He hated magic. He hated that this sort of magic even existed.

“Like a million bucks,” Dean lied. Like a liar.

“Okay...” Sam didn’t have to say that he didn’t believe him for Dean to know. But Sam didn’t press. And Dean didn’t offer anything more. “What’s our plan?”

“This,” Dean gestured to the table in front of Rowena. “This should’ve broken the other spell, right? She should be able to just walk out of there now?”

“Maybe? I can proudly say I’ve never cast a binding spell like this before, so I don’t know the extent of it.” Rowena’s response wasn’t very reassuring, and Dean’s jaw was beginning to hurt with how hard he was clenching it.

“Look, we just need to get her out of there then we can deal with Irene after, yeah?” Sam steered the conversation back on track.

“Yeah,” came Dean’s curt response. “I’ll get her.”

“By yourself?”

“I need you here with Rowena figuring out a way to reverse this.”

“Dean, I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go after her alone.” Dean flashed his brother his signature grin as the Impala’s keys jingled in his hand.

“I won’t be by myself. I’ll have her.”

---

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

Series Taglist: @wendichester @jacxx2

Dean Taglist: @globetrotter28 @bettystonewell @jollyhunter @supernotnatural2005 @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @maddie0101

Drop a comment, ask away, or add yourself to my taglist!

Part 7 --- Part 9

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #dean winchester fanfiction #No use of Y/N #canon-typical violence #eventual romance #eventual smut #fluff and angst #no beta we die like men #dean fanfiction #supernatural x reader #reader insert #X reader #jensen ackles characters #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic series #chasing shadows

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wolfythewitch · 2 years ago

Note

do you happen to have any more thoughts on the what-ifs of odysseus?

like a continuation of the sketches of ghost Odysseus or something

Oh!! I do have a short thing I wrote, basically where I got the captions from haha

I'll put it under the line. It's mostly just word vomit because I was thinking about it too hard and couldn't properly draw it out

Tw for description of death

Here is what death feels like:

It is agony. Death makes a home in the spaces of your ribcage, winds around the walls of your chest, and roots itself into the skin on your bones. It is a memory, it is a pull, it is an emptiness that seems as vast as the sea.

Death isn't an absence, it's a remembrance.

Odysseus is dead. Or he isn't. We don't truly know when he makes the transition from living to dead, from breathing to still. One moment, his heart beat in time with the world and the gods, and then it stopped, and that was that. He will tell you otherwise, and you must believe it. After all, a corpse does not move. He is right. Odysseus is an anomaly. He isn't right.

We do not know how or when or why. The people who might have known are now long gone, sunk somewhere on the ocean floor, and the only one alive to testify thinks himself a living man. See, it isn't really important though, is it? He was alive, and now he's dead. Or perhaps he is neither, perhaps he's something much worse.

The damned man drifts at sea, and water flows through his bones and down his throat. He chokes on it. Salt clings to necrotic skin. His gaze is dull, his eyes sunken. He has them pointed on a single spot in the horizon, doggedly leaning forward as if it could propel him faster homeward. It doesn't, and he's a fool to think so, but it soothes him.

His tongue is rough and rimmed with salt. There is blood under his finger tips, so dark it looks like tar.

He prays. Silly, the gods don't listen to the dead.

An island appears from the mist. It looks too good to be true. Ah well, it's not like you have anything to lose.

Here is what death looks like:

He looks like a shade, like a monster, like a corpse. His skin is pale under his cloak, his eyes hooded in shadow, his cheek sunken. In the light, all you can see is teeth. His legs are red with blood and it's the only color to paint him. The courtyard is littered with the body of the dead, eyes open in screams that will never sound. Twelve nooses are pulled taut underneath the trees, white feet swaying in the wind.

Death walks among them, and he smiles.

Here is death:

He lives in Ithaca, nestled in its heart. He is a haunting, he is a ghost.

The king is home. This is cause for celebration. Music rings through the kingdom for seven days straight.

The queen and the prince attend the festivities. They are withdrawn but happy. The kind is nowhere to be seen, but that is to be expected. He's had a long journey.

There is talk, once a month passes by. They rarely see him, and when he makes an appearance, his hair is drawn and wild. His himation is pulled close around him. His fingers are bony and thin. He does not look well. There is talk.

The servants gossip, when the royal family do not listen. They speak of the walls, of the smell of rot that followed the damned man home. It grows too strong to stomach. They've taken to hanging mint and herbs to try and cover it up.

Water seeps through the cracks in the walls. The floors are constantly slick with water. Puddles pool in the stone.

The queen only smiles and waves away their questions. The prince is not so merciful. Any rumors are nipped at their source. There is a coldness to him. It is strangely close to fear.

The king is nowhere to be seen. Somehow, this was the most familiar.

Here is where death goes to die:

An oar, a winnowing fan, a sacrifice. He kneels and pushes the oar into the soil, whispers a prayer through cracked lips.

He does not get back up again.

#wolfy tedtalks #anon #the Odyssey #Odysseus #ill go back to the canon ending tomorrow im just in a Mood these past days haha #wasn't sure if i should put it on ao3 since it was so short

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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 years ago

Note

That picture of Sebastian in the bathroom with the perfectly popped nip… I bet he pinched and pulled himself to get ready for the photo. He KNOWS what we like.

This picture

from Michael Fisher on Instagram stories

Sebastian takes a moment to prepare himself before taking snapping the picture. First, he reties his hair back into its slicked back bun, smoothing the flyaways. Then, he centers the pendant on his necklace. And, yeah, right before he poses himself for the camera, he's careful to touch his chest through his tight, ribbed, sleeveless undershirt. Both to make sure that his nipples are nice and present, teasing, in his photo but also to give his hands something to do, flexing his fingers and temping his veins to pop a little more than they already do with the warm weather.

It feels nice enough to sigh. Sebastian lets his eyes drift shut, continuing to touch his chest for longer than necessary to get his nipple to harden. With a breathy laugh, Seb notices as he flicks open his eyes--remembering what he's here to do--that he's getting a little too into the feeling. So, improvising, Sebastian shoves his other hand into his pocket, hiding what else is getting hard. And he's not even touching himself there 👀 (Chris has just trained him too well, appreciating how sensitive Sebastian's nipples are)

Once he's ready, Seb takes enough until he's got something he's happy with. Then, he sends the best shot to Chris. He doesn't bother with a caption because he knows his man will appreciate it, no explanation needed. But, also because he wants Chris to catch on without Sebastian having to say anything. It's more fun that way.

Catch onto what exactly?

Oh, just to the little fact that when Chris showered at Sebastian'a NYC apartment the night before Sebastian flew to Paris and Chris went back to Boston, Seb snatched his necklace--swiping it from the bathroom counter as the water ran, providing the perfect amount of white noise to cover Seb's plans.

After he finished in the bathroom, Chris was so distracted by Sebastian spreading him out on the bed--face down and going to town on his ass, rimming him until he was cumming with a bitten off shout--that he didn't notice his missing necklace. He couldn't think. Who can blame him?

So, Chris didn't notice his beloved necklace was gone until he was more than half to Massachusetts. A little sad to find it nowhere in his bags (he checked when he pulled over for a bathroom break), Chris had texted Sebastian about it. But Seb was in the air--it wasn't like he was going to search his apartment, and Chris would get the answer right away. Nor was Chris going to drive all the way back to New York just to let himself in with his keys and turn his boyfriend's apartment upside down to find it, so... he'd have to do without it for a little while.

Sebastian gave that to him! Chris didn't want to lose it, but it'd be fine.

I'll be fine, Chris reminded himself.

Now--

There is it!

His necklace has appeared around Sebastian's throat, the pendant resting against his chest. Teasingly hidden behind the placement of Seb's phone and hand. But. Chris knows.

Chris also knows that in the other photos that have already come out and he has already very unshyly drooled over--it's not so hidden.

Everyone can see it.

Sebastian might be wearing a ring engraved with SS--his initials, Sebastian Stan, but he might as well also be wearing something stamped with CE, too. Chris Evans. There is it. Hanging around his neck. More than enough tangible evidence.

Sebastian is wearing his necklace.

Sebastian wearing something of his should proclaim that Sebastian is owned. But...

Here Chris is, sitting at home, his eyes glued to his phone, constantly readjusting his glasses, pushing them up his nose while his jaw is on the floor. His thoughts racing about how he feels like the kept boy. Not the other way around. He feels like the owned one.

Seb is showing off. He's at a fashion show--class and money and fame is attached to his attendance. But he's showing off more than that, he's showing off that he has someone. Someone he buys expensive gifts of jewelry for, someone he can tear to pieces with just his tongue, and someone he can tease with suggestive photos that should be innocent if not for the tension between them. If not for Chris' intense attraction to his... everything. Hands. Arms. Hair. Chest. Face. Everything.

All at once, contining to stare at the insane collection of pixels on his phone screen, Chris wants nothing more than to be pinned to their bed by Sebastian's bulk. He had him just yesterday, but he wants him again. Now.

Chris feels in in his whole body--his legs tense, itching to wrap around his waist and feel the jolt of each and every mean thrust of his hips; his fingers twitch, holding his phone but wanting to hold Sebastian's head instead with his fingers in Seb's thick, silky hair as it falls around their faces, curtaining them into their own little world; his mind urges him that he wants to have his own necklace dangle in his face as he lays back under Sebastian, being broken apart with the way Sebastian gives it to him. Hard and good. Making him forget his name.

He could never forget Sebastian's name. He wouldn't. Never. Not even if Sebastian weren't fucking him while still wearing that stupid fucking ring stamped with his initials. SS.

Sebastian. Stan.

Chris is gonna scream his name when he gets home. He swears it. Right then and there. Christ. He groans behind clenched teeth. He doesn't know how to respond with anything civil, he might as well go to the bathroom and take his own much less "innocent" photo. What else is he supposed to do?

Also, here's your reminder of what Chris exists with this Sebastian:

How's he look so young and puppy? Why does Seb look so daddy? What the fuck is going on?!

#asks #sebastian stan #chris evans #evanstan #rpf #real person fanfiction #bottom chris #top sebastian #fandomfluffandfuck

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primomover · 2 years ago

Text

some goofy terzo headcanons!

(includes nsfw below the cut)

-when he picked you up for your first date, he did it with a rose in his mouth because he’s a fucking dumbass

-love language is gifts. he will dish out so much for you. every time he sees you, there’s something new. whether it be something he bought or something he found.

-“sorella, i found this flower in primo’s garden! it is so beautiful it reminded me of you. just… heh… don’t tell him i picked it.”

-he will talk you down through any anxiety or overstimulation when you’re having a bad day. he will be so fiercely protective if anyone is giving you a hard time.

-he love love loves singing you to sleep. even if it’s just humming.

-“terz, that’s so beautiful- is that dancing queen? are you fucking humming dancing queen?”

-for your first date, he won you a giant teddy bear at a carnival. little did you know, he sprays it with his cologne every week or so, so when he’s away on tour, you can still smell him.

-he keeps a little trinket of you in his pocket every time he goes on stage; it’s usually a ring because he likes the idea of being so bound to you.

-he and omega would hold you in the middle of them so tight. terzo would wrap his leg protectively over you, not wanting you to move. better hope u went to the bathroom before u crawled into bed.

-he’s say stupid sarcastic shit during sex to try and make you laugh. like he’ll be mid fucking thrust, with his fucking mouth on your nips and he’ll look up and go “knock knock”

-he is very touchy feely. during intimate moments, He Must Be Touching You

-most technically adept out of all the papas, but this unfortunately means you get snapchats of his cock Every Day with stupid captions and shit like “terzo jr misses you :(“

my inbox is open for requests, both sfw and nsfw for any and all ghost characters!

#ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost #terzo #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii headcanons #terzo emeritus #ghost band headcanons #a subtle terzomega in there too #mandi writes

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hannahssimblr · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter One

“Okay girls, turn over your papers now.”

The whole hall fills with the sound of rustling paper as sixty of us flip over English Paper One in tandem. I take a deep, shuddering breath and read the first question.

SECTION 1. TEXT 1. This text is taken from An Irishwoman’s Diary by journalist, Lara Marlowe. She was Irish Times correspondent in Beirut and Paris, and is now based in Washington. Here she responds to an article critical of cats written by her friend and fellow journalist, Rosita Boland.

I read the article. Then I read the questions. Then I read them again. From my seat at the back of the hall I glance up the aisles of students, most of them already writing something. I hold my pen over the blank, lined page in front of me, my hand trembling slightly as I write down Question 1. Then I hesitate, I try really hard not to panic and then I read all the questions one more time.

Claire, who is one aisle over and three desks from the front, turns around slowly, knowing she’s not allowed to look at anybody else but does anyway, checking first that the examiner isn’t watching her. Her eyes widen to saucers and she shakes her head at me in disbelief. “What the hell is this?” She mouths, and I shrug. We’ve already talked about this. Neither of us is going to do well in our Leaving Cert, it’s not just speculation. It’s fact, and I’ve never been more convinced of it now as I sit in this hot room, day one, paper one, question one, and I can’t even think of how to begin.

It had all seemed a lot funnier a few weeks ago when we agreed upon how ill prepared we were. Claire has never done well academically, in fact I’m almost sure she’s got undiagnosed dyslexia, even though her proud-as-punch parents refused to have her assessed even after the guidance counsellor practically begged them to. Meanwhile I spent the whole year in the art room working on my portfolio instead of joining the after school study group, mostly because Kelly was doing it, but also because I haven’t been in the headspace. It’s been a strange year. Now though, on this bright June morning with a three and a half hour exam ahead of us, nothing seems that funny anymore and the choices I’ve made throughout the year seem to be nipping at my heels. The terror in Claire’s eyes illustrates exactly how I feel. I’m not sure how we’re going to get through nine more of these truly harrowing papers, but I know that I have to try. I put my head down and start writing something – anything at all.

When we finally spill out of the hall that afternoon I feel like my body is made from rubber. Claire and I console one another outside the doors, arms around one another in defeat.

“That was awful.” She complains. “I’ve failed.”

“You haven’t failed. Nobody fails English.”

“I’ll be one of the few that does.”

I let her go and start digging around the bottom of my bag for my keys. “Let’s go to Starbucks. We’ll get chai lattes and try to make ourselves feel better.”

Right then Kelly comes sweeping out of the hall, her new best friend Cristina at her side. She’s one of those mousy brunettes who wears her school bag straps tightened all the way, and has a particular fondness for horses. I’ve seen her show jumping at the agricultural fairs before, and I’m convinced she’s the one behind the fan page on Facebook that’s been set up for herself and her horse Barney. It’s just a stream of photographs of her on the horse with weird captions like Cris and Barney looking fab! I distinctly remember Kelly complaining about how strange she was before, but now here they are, joined at the hip, and I know purely because she needs to have someone in her corner. It doesn’t even matter if she likes her or not.

“That was so easy.” Kelly says loudly. “I thought they’d at least make paper one a bit of a challenge, but it was a breeze. I’ve never felt more confident” She’s trying very hard not to look at either Claire or me, thinking she’s being sly, but Claire gives my ribs a little nudge with her elbow and I know that we’re going to be laughing about this over coffee in about ten minutes. Kelly thinks these types of statements are devastating to our psyche, but when we’re together she holds no power over us anymore, even if sometimes when I’m alone I remember the fun we used to have. She wasn’t always awful, she wasn’t always mean, and there’s times that I feel sad for what’s been ruined, but I’d never ever admit those things out loud.

Claire and I leave the school building and climb into my car. I can drive now. I passed my driving test in April, much to her delight, because now that Shane is away at college she needs someone to transport her wherever she wants to go. My car isn’t very good, actually, it’s my dad’s car, and it’s from 1995. The shine has worn off the paint so that it’s this weird, matte, chalky texture, so it’s not good looking, but it’s better than nothing at all in a town that doesn’t even have public buses. We spend so much time in this car, just driving around and talking and eating McFlurries. We used to talk about boys a lot. She’d tell me all about Shane and what he was doing and how she felt about it, about how weird it was to be away from him and to not ever really know what he was doing up there in UCD.

“Studying science.” I’d always tell her jokingly.

“Yes, but what else? Did you see all the hot girls they had in the prospectus?”

“And he isn’t looking at any of them. If he was, he’d be some fool.”

“He’d be a dead man.”

“Any messing from him and we’ll drive through campus and plough him down.”

“I love how you always have my back.”

She listened to me talk about boys for a while too, but it was really only ever one boy. It was fun while it lasted, going into depth about all these tiny details like the way the muscles in his arms moved when he changed gears in his car, the curve of his nose bridge from his side view, the exact places where he put his hands and the way he turned his head when he kissed me, but after a while she began to get bored of hearing it.

“You know, there are other fellas out there.” She started saying. “The world is filled with hipster-y arty type boys, you just have to go out and look for them.”

“I don’t want other boys.” I’d said. “I want him.” And I did. I still do, even though we don’t talk to each other anymore. Sometimes, late at night when my head is swirling and I can’t sleep I’ll open up our old email thread from last autumn and read through every message until I reach the last one. It’s from me, sent on the 6th of November, and it says: Happy birthday! I hope you’re going to do something fun today. Do you think your new friends will get you a cake, or maybe take you to a bar? It would be great, and I wish I could be there to celebrate with you. I’ hope that your project is coming along well. I don’t know how you do it, and in German too! Das ist klasse!!! I better try to learn a few words for when I get to visit you. All the best, E.

He never responded, and it feels like my message is still hanging somewhere in the ether, just waiting to be acknowledged, for him to remember that it’s there, to pluck it out and finally type out his response, but I know now that he won’t. Too much time has gone by, and too much has happened. Still, there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I haven’t thought about him, looked at a picture of him, googled his name.

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#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 2

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mrthoughtbubbles · 8 months ago

Text

Hi Yeet,

I thought that you were ghosting me with the caption that the little ghost ‘died’ and my mind connected the dots with the little one being your love died, you wore the sheets which represent ghosts and just stopped posting all of a sudden right before my birthday, which I saw was ghosting… I would like to apologize for what I said earlier and for being this way… I hate the fact that my mind does this and is the primary reason for my paranoid bout in 2018, wherein I connected the dots and I thought that world leaders are out to get me for what I wrote before… I won’t elaborate on what happened before, for it’s still lingering at the back of my mind, but I’m not as worse as I was before, but my mind still connects the dots easily… it also doesn’t help that I overthink a lot and I tend to replay things that happened before inside my head, like reliving the hellish things again and again…

I understand that it’s hard for you, Yeet, to handle how I react and its toxic of me to connect the dots and to overthink things and you receiving the brunt… Based on my experience, it’s either there’s no more chance after this or the other person just slowly raises her wall every time I fail to the point that it feels like there’s no more going back after that… That’s the reason why I’d think that you’re leaving after facing issues between us… I wish we’re at the talking phase so that we can nip in the bud before it festers and grows into something bigger… I understand that I am at fault for this as well… I also understand that I say sorry a lot… It’s kind of humbling whenever I write to you and I say sorry a lot, but I kind of like it at the same time. It’s humbling because I realize my faults/shortcomings, and I like it because you let me reflect and get to the said realization instead of what I was exposed to before…

May I be honest with you, Yeet…? There are times wherein I doubt myself and I sometimes think that it’s selfish of me to try and shower you with love, yet I don’t have the means to see you any time I want, that you’re waiting for me to see you, and I understand that the waiting hurts you… Sometimes I think, “is it really worth it for her to wait for someone like me, knowing that I tend to freeze, that I buckle under the pressure, that I don’t live up to expectations…?” It goes to show that I don’t think highly of myself… All I know that I’m okay with, in terms of skill, knowing that I still make mistakes as write, and all I really want to do would be to write to you, to shower you with love through writing, to tell you my reminders, and to finish each letter with something that relates to an I love you… I hope that along the way, I’ll get good at other stuff… I hope that you’ll be patient with me since I sorely lack experience, and through repetition, I gain confidence…

I’ll end my message to you here for tonight, Yeet. I would like to say sorry again getting to the said conclusion I had earlier today… It’s nice to know that you enjoyed your time away from the internet. I hope that you made a lot of memories whilst enjoying the moment. I hope that you’ll love and take care of the people around you. I hope that you’ll see and appreciate the little moments happening around you. I hope that you’ll remember that you’re beautiful despite having flaws/insecurities. I hope that you’ll pray/talk to God about everything. Finally, I hope that you’ll remember that I love you, Yeet!

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lifeonthemurdersim · 9 months ago

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Pulling the Strings Fandom/Universe: Thicker Than Water Characters/Pairing: OC x OC, Miles Asquith x Llewellyn Hughes AO3 Link(full tags, warnings etc here) Word count: 1,947 words Synopsis: A movie isn't a movie without a little snack, and vampires are no exception. Author's Note: This is my first intro to my vampire boys, but it's set years after what I'll normally be writing for them so I'd appreciate people reading the beginning notes on the AO3! More about Gorekinktober on my pinned post here! Kinktober prompt(s) used: Food Play(not in the literal kink sense, just a related joke), Biting/Marking Goretober prompt used: Puppet

"Listen, um... you're not bored are you?" Llewellyn leaned over to Miles to whisper. "Only... the film is nearly over and... well if you should like to leave sooner..."

"I'm fine darlin'." Miles assured, giving his partner a soft smile. Llew examined him carefully, barely able to see him in the light of the screen, but he looked content. "Liv's done good for herself, ain't she?"

"Certainly has." Llew said with just a little pride as he looks at his younger sister on screen. "She's told me she's having the time of her bloody life out there." He let out an awkward chuckle. "No pun intended."

"Glad to hear it." Miles replied, swallowing. Llewellyn knew he'd forever carry the guilt of turning Olivia, especially with the wedge it had once driven between them. But in the long run, they'd all ended up believing it was for the best.

"Are you... sure you want to stay, though?" Llewellyn pushed on, nodding at the caption card on screen. "I know you're not a huge fan of reading."

"Read all the letters you wrote me, didn't I?" Miles pointed out. He had also developed more interest in the pastime since being with his partner, especially since Llew often got him to proofread his work. "Besides, where else can I do this?" He tilted Llew's chin towards him a little and planted a deep kiss on his lips. Llew closed his eyes as he kissed back contentedly. Once they parted, Miles glanced around a little nervously, but then leant over and placed a hand on Llew's inner thigh, making him swallow hard, his breaths deepening a little. "Or this..." Miles continued, leaning over to take a gentle bite of Llewellyn's neck.

He let out a soft "mmm" sound, allowing his lover to take several little nips of him, but then Miles took a firm bite that made him moan out and then clasp a hand over his own mouth, praying no-one overheard. He feels Miles start to drink slightly, which is... unusual. Usually he only does that when they're in the throes of passion, not after a relatively gentle kiss. "...Miles?" he questions in a whisper.

His partner draws back, licking the blood from his lips. "Sorry." he said sheepishly, giving the other man's thigh a gentle squeeze. "Got carried away there, I'm gettin' a little hungry."

"Well I can provide you no sustenance." the other vampire reminded him dryly. "Though it is awfully fun."

"Sure is." Miles replied, giving him a sly smile. "Wanna... get a little snack before we head home?"

Llew had a few too many thoughts about what he'd like Miles to do to them once they were in private to feel up to a full hunt right now, but he wasn't opposed to a snack. A snack generally meant they found someone and took little enough of their blood that they could live through it. It was half the reason they were able to exist fairly covertly. "Yes, of course." he glanced back at the screen. "Good timing, actually."

Olivia and her co-star were currently engaging in a dramatic kiss at the end of the film. Llew was glad it wasn't too close up. As the picture faded to black, the couple watching drew back from each other. Miles took his hand off of Llewellyn's thigh and the two men straightened up their clothing. They then nodded at each other, and walked out of the cinema side by side. Llew missed when it was commonplace for men to walk arm-in-arm, but that seemed to have been falling out of fashion of late.

It was always difficult. They enjoyed their privacy, and being overly risky with their love for each other would certainly jeopardise that. But more severely, the discovery that they were in a romantic relationship could get them both jailed or killed, the discovery that they were both vampires perhaps even more so. It was better not to risk it.

As they stepped down the steps outside, standing outside of the movie theater and glancing around, Miles reached out and tucked a stray strand of Llewellyn's mousey hair behind his ear affectionately. It was these small moments of intimacy that could be excused even in the event there were onlookers.

"Beautiful view." he commented, giving him a smile and a good few moments' pause. "...All these stars."

"Mmm, I suppose." Llew replied with a little smirk back, well aware what he was up to and intent on beating him at his own game. "It's a little cloudy for my liking, though. The stars are rendered much more beautiful when laid bare." Miles raised a brow at that, looking at him.

"Well we better make this a real quick snack then, huh?" he replied, putting his attention back to looking around for someone. His eyes settled on the pretty young woman who'd sold them their tickets. Short and slight; not difficult to overpower. "She'd do, right?" he asked quietly.

"Hmm." Llewellyn mused. "Doesn't seem the most inconspicuous. How are we going to get her away from the booth?"

"How does any other marionette walk?" Miles said with a slightly mischievous smile. "All we gotta do is pull the strings."

"You certainly like being cryptic, don't you?" Llew said, shaking his head. Miles chuckled slightly and beckoned him into the line. "How do you think we're going to convince her?" he hissed. "You know darned well neither of us is any good at conversing with strangers." Miles gave him a reassuring pat on the arm, and as the couple at the front stepped out of the way after getting their tickets, he appeared to focus hard on the girl selling them.

As soon as she'd put the cash away, her demeanour suddenly changed. Her green eyes took on a strong hint of blue, almost glowing, as they widened.

"E-excuse me." they heard her say to her manager, an elderly gentleman hovering behind her. "I'm so sorry but I really need to go get some air 'fore I pass out." The theatre manager looked displeased at first, but then gave her a quiet nod and ushered her off, stepping forward himself. Miles tapped at Llewellyn's arm and guided him gently to walk alongside him, while he himself followed in roughly the same direction as the ticket woman, keeping a reasonable distance.

"Are you... controlling her?" his partner asked in a low hiss. Miles nodded softly.

"Yeah." he replied, quietly but casually. "What, like you never possessed anyone?"

"Well..." Llew acquiesced. "I suppose I would often... use a little persuasion on the harlots I used to feed from back in London." He paused, watching his partner still focused on the woman they were following. "I can't say I ever fully possessed them." Miles looked at him curiously.

"Why am I not surprised you never been inside a woman?" he teased lightly, before looking back at his target. Llewellyn processed that for a moment, then raised his brows at him.

"Are you making light of me being homosexual?" he asked.

"Maybe..." Miles replied with a little smirk, eyes still focused ahead. Llewellyn paused for a moment, then let out a soft huff of laughter.

"That's quite amusing actually." he admitted, though it did bring up a little point of interest in his mind. As they neared the back of the movie theater, he was curious. "Is... intercourse with women... different?" he asked quietly. "Do you miss it?

"When I got you?" Miles asked. "Not in a million years."

"Oh." Llewellyn replied, giving a coy smile back, any residual blood from his last meal flowing to his face bringing a very slight blush. "You're... you're so sweet to me."

"Not as sweet as you darlin'." Miles insisted, giving him a little wink before glancing to make sure the area was deserted. "Now let's get our little puppet centre stage." The woman came to a stop before them and turned, the blue glow more evident in the dark night, and Miles advanced towards her.

"You are awfully keen on this metaphor, aren't you?" his partner remarked with a shake of his head, but followed him nonetheless.

"It's just a little fun, handsome." the ticket seller remarked with a smile as he approached. It was oddly fascinating; the sound was definitely filtering through her own vocal chords, but there was definitely a hint of Miles's Southern drawl that she'd not had when they spoke with her before the movie. "You know if you're curious..." She stepped closer to Llewellyn, touching a hand to his arm. "...I could always oblige." He responded by rolling his eyes then looking to Miles directly.

"Don't be ridiculous." he told him. "You know I want no other than you." Miles smiled, putting a hand to the other vampire's lower back while simultaneously having the woman he was possessing draw hers back again.

"Probably just as well." he admitted, leaning in to kiss Llew on the cheek. "Thought it'd be real funny until I actually had to see it." Llew smiled at the sweet kiss and at Miles admission. "You should definitely have a go at pulling the strings, though."

"Hmm." he said, looking at the glassy stare of the woman in front of them. He guessed she wouldn't exactly recall it, and they were already intending to feed from her, so how much additional harm would it even do? "I suppose I could."

It had been a while since he'd done even the most basic mind control, but he channeled all his energy into the woman before them, and saw his power spill into her, the blue glow shifting to a pale brown. "Well... now what?" he had her say.

"Well, she just got more attractive." Miles joked, sliding his hand around to Llewellyn's waist.

"This is... interesting." Llew had her continue, noticing his English accent permeating her speech just as Miles's had. "But I think you boys should do what it is you came here to do now." She pulled her collar further open to expose her neck.

"I think we should... let her know before we do it, though." Llewellyn admitted himself this time. He stopped possessing her fully but lulled her into a trance, bringing her down to kneel with Miles's help. "Um... listen..." he said gently, looking into her face. "You'll forget this even happened but... we're going to drain some of your blood. It won't kill you, but you might feel weak for a few days." She nodded dizzily. "And um... sorry."

"You got a real kind heart." Miles told him, nuzzling closer and kissing him again.

"Maybe I'm just really impressionable." he suggested, captured by his lover's soft blue eyes. "Come on." He leant towards one side of the woman's neck, focusing on finding the carotid artery. It could be messy if he wasn't quick, but once his saliva had been introduced, it'd heal just fine. He watched his partner go for the other side, likely going for the jugular vein as he knew he often did. There was a split second where they smiled affectionately at each other, some warmth in the familiarity of it. Then Miles bit down, and she gave a soft gasp. Llew sunk his teeth in too.

"Mmm, yeah, y'all bite so good~" she moaned out enthusiastically as they both began to drink. Llewellyn didn't even have to check her eyes this time. He just knew. So being as he couldn't really speak right now, he pushed back by taking control of her one last time. "Miles." he had her reprimand gently, as he glanced across to lock eyes with him mischievously. "Don't play with our food."

#vampire #novel #original writing #oc: miles asquith #oc: llewellyn hughes #oc: olivia hughes #thicker than water

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booppooo · 2 years ago

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heey can i ask for a oneshot abby×female reader (she/her pronouns), #1 from your prompt list with some fluff too 😊😊 (suggestion: the reader and abby are making out softly and it turns into something more and Abby decides to eat her out on the dinner table)

Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader One-Shot

AN: dear god I'm so sorry this took so long to write, also gonna try to keep this short cuz I have a tendency to drag shit out

Warnings: oral, general gay stuff, drinking, I think my writing style has changed? sorry?

It started off innocently.

You were lounging on the love seat, watching some weird Japanese cartoon Manny had raved about and drinking a beer. Make that three.

"It's hard keeping up with the captions." You complained, finishing your drink.

"You're telling me." Abby kicked her feet up on the coffee table and sunk further into the couch, not paying mind to the TV. When her arm fell across the back of the couch you took to her side and cuddled against her.

The dull edges of her nails ran along your spine in a comforting rhythm, serenading your deeper into her warm torso. Eventually your felt her fingertips on your skin, not just the pressure through your shirt. The mild buzz of the booze was making your lids especially heavy. However, Abby seemed to have something else in mind when her gruff palms started massaging your hip beneath your sweats. Albeit the sensation and release was soothing, but you knew what her next few steps would be.

"Babe..." she softly grumbled, planting a kiss on the crown of your head, "I'm bored." You hummed lazily in response, purposefully ignoring her digits slyly slipping under the band of your bottoms. But she made sure you couldn't ignore her anymore when she got a hand full of your ass.

"Abby-!" You grumbled against her, "Not tonight, I'm tired."

She started massaging your waist again, "We don't have to do anything crazy, let me do all the work." Somewhere along the lines her other hand had gotten mixed up under your shirt.

You let the thought simmer and juggle around in your mind. On one hand you truly were getting sleepy, but on the other hand...

Abby's tongue.

Speaking of - she had repositioned so she could kiss and lick along your neck, further convincing you to fall in line with her plan. It was proving increasingly difficult to call it a night when she started humming and nipping at your skin. You'd be a liar if you said there wasn't a growing, warm tingle below the belt. So you leaned into her affection, pressing your hips against her meaty thigh as your implicit way of giving her the green light.

She took you in her arms, adjusting your figure so she had easier access to the parts of you she wanted to grace. Her quickly dampening lips made a journey from behind your ear and down your neck, taking full advantage of your low-collared tank. Clearly her drinks had opened a few filters since she didn't bother groaning or even moaning against you as she groped your skin and worked you up - something she was usually hyper aware of.

Pulling away for just a second, she let slip a few words, "Love you babe, gonna make it worth it." In turn your cheeks started to burn an bashful pink. You further leaned into her, readying to give into whatever she had in store for you.

When you sprung up from the couch, and your feet didn't hit the ground, you yelped - especially at the small batch of butterflies lining your stomach. That was until you noticed Abby's arms flexing beneath you and effortlessly carrying you somewhere.

"Where are we going?" You giggled, suddenly going breathless when Abby started working a purple patch beneath your jaw.

Then your backside met a stiff surface, your fingertips quickly identifying it as your small dinner table, "Abby-"

"You look just about good enough to eat."

You knew she felt proud of that one. It was pretty damn clever.

"You're so dumb," you rolled your eyes, counterintuitively wrapping your legs around her waist.

She smiled against your collar bone as her hands slithered your shirt off, "You're dumb. Take this off and lay back."

Now Abby's lips were getting acquainted with your torso, plotting delicate, slippery kisses under your bra and around your belly button. Meanwhile, she had hooked her fingers around the waist of your sweats and started shimming them off your hips, underwear caught up in the mix. The anticipation for you was building, because Abby knew you, and she knew her tongue, so it was a recipe for pleasure. You weren't shameful about your shifty pelvis, sometimes lifting to graze against her as you sighed.

"Relax baby, I'll handle it. I always do." Abby cooed, thumb swiping over the mild hump of your hip bone.

She started at your inner thigh, not afraid to involve her tongue with her loving kisses along your skin. She knew what she was doing - building you up until you almost whined about not getting enough, then she'd swoop in and give you just what you wanted, needed. Her other palm found the underside of your thigh and gave it a home over her broad shoulder, the other soon following. Then her arms hooked around your limbs from below, almost locking your legs flush with her build as to assure no escape. Finally, her eyes locked with what her tongue had been buzzing about since her fingers grazed the fabric of your shirt. There was a familiar shimmer and a heat emanating onto her expression, the scent of sex following and mixing with her hormones in some way she couldn't explain. One thing was sure, she needed to dive in.

First with her tongue of course. Slowly, meticulously taking her time to part your slit until her taste buds found the source of what had made your cunt so glittery. And when she did, the sugary warmth excited her drive, forcing her tongue to travel to your clit. It's arrival was much anticipated because when the slick of her hot tongue made its first swipe against your near throbbing bud, a throaty sigh released from your tight chest. It managed to subside and elicit an ache only she could build and put to rest. Fortunate for you both, she knew just how to do that.

Anytime your hips would jolt or jut her unreal strength would keep you in place so her tongue could swirl just the way it needed to - uninterrupted by your overly excited nervous system. You could feel the accumulation of your slick being smeared grossly all over your cunt via her slippery tongue, only adding to the mess. But this didn't bother you, because Abby was tidy. She was clean and tedious, so this mess in the name of your orgasm was simply part of the process. It was something she enjoyed the most about having your lips against hers...your other lips.

"Goddamn..." a long sigh followed your curse. Your fingers had infiltrated her loose braid and nails were digging into her scalp.

Abby knew she was good. Good enough for you to take hold of her strands and wriggle your hips impossibly closer to her mouth; if she couldn't get closer, she'd get faster. Her sloppy tongue would just get sloppier, quicker, nearly careless. She needed to cover as much area as efficiently as possible because from the way your thighs were tightening and your nails scratched she knew you were close. Excitement sparked in Abby's chest, and she grabbed your hips as if she were cupping your cheeks to more deeply immerse herself.

"Fuck, yeah - just like that." You grumbled, but despite the delivery of your message, you couldn't be anymore enthusiastic.

Your waist grew jumpy, only it didn't make it very far from the table because Abby made sure to keep it in place. Her strength once again was a merit, because she had such a disgustingly hot battle between your soon to be overstimulated clit and her fucking ferocious tongue. Any move in the wrong direction on account of your eagerness could ruin this for both of you. Luckily, your orgasm was a certain reality when the spot in the middle of your pelvis grew fiery, so much so your body took refuge against the table. The sensation was wonderfully identifiable as it spread warmth rapidly across your muscles and nervous system, clearing your brain of all thoughts and forcing provocative moans from your throat.

Between all of this, Abby worked hard to make sure it was indeed worth it. She continued to maneuver her tongue just the way you said to, keeping you steady as the rest of your body tensed and relaxed at once. Eventually she let up on your hips and let your soaked center grind senselessly against her face until your figure grew limp and satisfied, at which time Abby dedicated to gently cleaning up the sticky mess she had worked so hard for.

She was careful to not return to your clit full throttle, only kitten licking when needed and mischievously enjoying the whining from you when she did. Besides that, her work was careful and purposeful until you were free to let her slip your underwear and comfy pants onto your very much tired self.

#abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fan fiction #abby x reader #abby the last of us

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telomeke · 1 year ago

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[Video and image descriptions–

The video at the start of the thread starts by showing the bulbous end of a single Prince Rupert's drop placed against a hard metal surface and struck repeatedly with a tool that is just out of view. Despite the obvious force with which it is struck, the glass bead not only holds its shape but does not suffer any scratches or cracks either.

The video then continues with a Prince Rupert's drop positioned within a hydraulic press. The ram bears down slowly and forcefully on the bead. The Prince Rupert's drop appears to flatten somewhat as it is pressed between the two metal surfaces. However, when the ram is retracted, we see that the bead is unchanged. A hand removes the bead from the press, and re-positions the machinery to show us one of the metal surfaces on which the Prince Rupert's drop was pressed. The pressure of the ram was more than matched by the strength of the glass bead, and instead of flattening (or shattering) the Prince Rupert's drop pressed an indentation of its own size and shape into the metal surface, as though the metal were putty.

This is followed by two GIFs posted by Tumblr user @‌salubrious-sybarite.

The first GIF (captioned "Smarter Every Day") shows a slow motion close-up of a bullet being fired at the bulbous end of a Prince Rupert's drop. The bead is so hard that the metal bullet shatters on impact, while the Prince Rupert's drop remains unchanged.

The second GIF is a clip from the video "The Glass Age, Part 2: Strong, Durable Glass" produced by Corning Incorporated. In the GIF, Jamie Hyneman and Adam Savage (from the TV show Mythbusters) demonstrate the Achille's heel of the Prince Rupert's drop, simply by nipping its tail with a pair of end-cutting pliers.

Both hosts have protective goggles on as Jamie Hyneman cuts the tail at a single point, which makes the Prince Rupert's drop shatter. The slow-motion close-up replay shows that the Prince Rupert's drop keeps its shape almost until the end even while its glass body shatters internally. The shattering accelerates from the point of the cut to the extremities, and is so fine-grained the clear glass turns opaque. When the entire Prince Rupert's drop has turned opaque from internal shattering, it disintegrates in an explosion of tiny glass particles.

End descriptions.]

‌

The video "The Glass Age, Part 2: Strong, Durable Glass" produced by Corning Incorporated and starring Jamie Hyneman, Adam Savage, Prince Rupert's drop and other players, is linked here:

youtube

‌

Prince Rupert's drops are toughened glass beads created by dripping molten glass into cold water, which causes it to solidify into a tadpole-shaped droplet with a long, thin tail. These droplets are characterized internally by very high residual stresses, which give rise to counter-intuitive properties, such as the ability to withstand a blow from a hammer or a bullet on the bulbous end without breaking, while exhibiting explosive disintegration if the tail end is even slightly damaged.

In nature, similar structures are produced under certain conditions in volcanic lava

Prince Rupert's drop - Wikipedia

#prince rupert's drop #jamie hyneman #adam savage #YouTube #glass #👀#science

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3terna15unshin3 · 2 years ago

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Matty and Este getting Keiko blurb PLEASE!!

Anything for u poisonmedaddy13!!!!!!

for some reason i kind of get emotional seeing pics and videos of matty and allen or matty and mayhem bc the idea of him being a dog dad genuinely fucks me up so thank u for the perfect suggestion (tbsg masterlist)

“Oh my god. Este. Please, look at these ones,” Matty held up his phone with one the of the many London pet rescue Instagram pages he followed pulled up. A pointy-eared German Shepherd posed in a photo with her litter of seven puppies, with the caption reading that her name was Bug. And that her puppies were in need of homes.

Both he and Este had been dreaming of adopting a dog ever since they’d moved in together. But somehow, it never got to the point that they went through with it; and now that a new cycle for The 1975 was about to start up, Este was on the fence about the idea. She wasn’t sure if she’d be diligent enough to raise a puppy on her own, with Matty on tour and not by her side.

But alas, Matty persisted. And he was determined—these German Shepherd puppies being just a few of many he showed Este. He could tell that deep down, she’d want the company while he travelled, and was convinced that as soon as they found the right puppy, she’d be on board.

“Bug…” Este muttered to herself, reading the Instagram post and pouting at how terribly cute the photos were. She scooted over on the sofa they were both sitting on to cuddle closer into Matty’s side. Matty swiped through the photos one by one, the two of them staring with heart eyes.

“We need to meet them.” she said, matter-of-factly.

He was shocked that the post had won her over without much convincing. “Actually?!”

“Message them before I think too hard about it.”

Este knocked excitedly on the door to the foster family’s home. A lively older couple answered, inviting them round to the back garden.

We’re just meeting them to see what they’re like, Matty reminded himself internally, Don’t get your hopes up.

“Little Buggy here usually prefers to meet the guests before showing you her babies—here she is,”

The two of them took a seat on the edge of their raised patio, now at the perfect level to show Bug some attention. Immediately melting at her friendly yet mellow demeanour, Matty ran his fingers through her fur, petting her calmly.

“Hello pretty girl,” he cooed. “I’m Matty.”

Este smiled at the sweet voice he always put on whenever talking to animals. He didn’t notice it, but she always did.

After a few minutes of chatting casually with the foster family, along with Bug’s tail wagging back and forth comfortably, the woman finally let the puppies free from the pen and out into the garden. It was like an invasion of excitement as they trampled into the grass, playfully nipping at each other’s paws and barking hesitantly at the unfamiliar faces.

“Oh my goodness! Hi babies!” Este giggled as multiple puppies greeted her, stepping on her feet and sniffing her in curiosity. “How old are they again?”

“They’re just about to be twelve weeks, so they’re all up to date with jabs. Ready to adopt right away.” confirmed the man. His arms were crossed as he leaned against his house, happily watching the litter collectively shower both Matty and Este in love. “Seem to like you two already,”

They laughed together, slightly overwhelmed at the high energy of the young pups. Most of them pounced around at a high speed, too frantic to allow either of them to scoop them up for a cuddle.

But, Este eventually felt a gentle paw at her thigh, where a pair of glossy black eyes stared up at her. The puppy pawed again, panting with its tongue on display.

“I think she wants you to pick her up, love.” pointed Matty.

Silently agreeing, Este tucked her hand beneath the puppy’s tiny tummy, lifting her into her lap. The dog didn’t squirm or protest. Just made herself at home against Este’s warmth.

Matty grinned, watching the bond between his girlfriend and the German Shepherd form in front of his eyes. He reached to pet her face, bringing his up close. She gave him a sloppy kiss.

“Aren’t you just a sweetheart,” Este said, flipping the small tag on her collar to learn her name. “Flo.”

A pang hit her chest. Flo. Este’s grandmother’s laugh echoed in her mind as the puppy lunged upwards to plant a kiss on her chin as well. Oh no, Este thought, We’re getting a dog.

“Stunning name.” commented Matty, stealing her from Este’s lap to pick her up, settling her into the crook of his arm. She fit there perfectly.

They attempted to show the other six of the litter equal attention, Este making up questions to ask about them. Pretending to care what their names were, or what their personalities were like. Truthfully, they just wanted to prolong the time they could spend with Flo.

Then, instead of sticking around at the foster house to gain as much time with her as possible, Matty and Este made one of the easiest decisions they’d ever made together, and took her home with them.

“Alright. Crate, pee pads, that food that Linda recommended, too many toys. Food and water bowls. Leash, training treats, dental chews. What else?”

They stood in the middle of a Pets At Home, Flo cosy in Este’s arms. Matty pushed a trolley, its contents growing in size as they rifled through the store and thought of more things they needed.

“We should get a new collar. The one she has now is a bit fugly.” suggested Este.

He laughed at her use of adjective. “Should we get her name put on it too? I think we can get a little engraved tag here,”

Thinking about it together, they studied her little face. Her ears perked up whenever they called her name, but the more Este thought about it, the more it didn’t fit.

“Yeah, we should. I’m sort of debating what her name should be, though.” she admitted.

“Are you?” Matty raised an eyebrow.

“A little. I like the idea of coming up with a name for her together,” Este explained, ruffling the puppy’s fur. “Instead of just going with what the owners named her.”

He eyed another brightly coloured toy on the shelf and hesitantly threw it into the trolley. They were spoiling her already.

“But they named her Flo. Flo! It feels too perfect to change,” he pointed out.

“I mean, I agree. But riddle me this, babe—when you hear the name Flo, do you think of a little puppy? Or do you think of line dancing with an old Filipino lady?” She grinned.

Matty smiled at the rosy memory, Florencia guiding his feet back and forth on the dance floor on the night her and José celebrated fifty years of marriage.

“That’s not a terrible point.”

Eventually, a cashier rung through their heaps of pet supplies and it came the time to settle on a name. The puppy sat happily, now in Matty’s arms after he expressed some jealousy that he was stuck pushing the trolley while Este got endless embraces with her.

“Okay. If we change her name, I think it should be something similar to Flo. So that at least we don’t have to train her to respond to a whole new one,” he suggested.

They threw out ideas while sifting through the different shapes of silver tags, but none stuck. Este racked her brain for other names that might mean something. She thought about both her first ever and also her most recent memories with Matty—the old and the new—all of the most poignant.

“What about Keiko?” The name sprung to her quite quickly. And it sounded enough like Flo. She wondered if Matty would even remember what the name was in reference to.

But, she was met with a grin. His eyes went squinty he smiled so hard—staring through her, then breaking to focus on the puppy in his arms.

“Do you work at the convenience store, my girl? Do you?” Matty asked playfully, scratching at the bottom of her chin. She kissed him over and over, something she was proving to love by doing it often to her new owners’ faces. He wiped away the slobber in both disgust and adoration.

“Keiko!” Este tested, in a high pitched voice. Her ears pointed upwards with attention.

“Keiko Manansala-Healy. I like it.”

She got a bit car sick on the journey back to the house, but they didn’t blame her. Surely the day had been overwhelming for all parties; one side being taken away by a couple of strangers to a myriad of unfamiliar places, and the other side impulsively purchasing the biggest responsibility and commitment they’d ever submitted to as a team.

There was a bunch to sort. Too much to sort. Figuring out where all of Keiko’s stuff would go. The crate, her food and water. Getting rid of anything she could chew or ruin or wee on. Thinking of when they’d be away in the near future, out to Manchester and then to Japan next, and who’d look after her. If she’d forget who Matty was when he’d be gone on tour. He insisted that she wouldn’t, and was probably right.

Matty also feverishly threw away any chocolate they had in the cupboards, insisting it was a risk to have, even though stored away safely. He was showing as the paranoid parent already.

So by the end, all three of them—a new little family—were exhausted. They’d considered maybe not letting the puppy up on the furniture, just to start with some boundaries and to train her to be well behaved, but she was too cute for them to be rational. And they cuddled her with joy on the sofa.

Este sat back comfortably, Keiko once laying between her and Matty on the cushions, but she wanted her closer; so she scooped her up and held her in the air above her face, Lion King style. Small excited squeals erupted from Keiko’s tummy. But once her arms grew tired, she lowered her down and rested the dog on her chest.

She seemed to like it there, and shifted tiredly until she eventually settled into a little ball, chest rising and falling. Keiko had fallen asleep; and Este with her dropping eyelids wasn’t too far behind her slumbers. A purely content expression sat on both of their faces.

Matty watched lovingly, craning his neck to look at them while they sat beside him. He picked up one of Keiko’s paws and studied the small black pads on the bottom of them. It was weird to fathom something existing in such a tiny entity. She took up no space at all. Was made up of pure innocence, and trust.

All the love and weirdness and lunacy made Matty’s nose go fizzy. He swallowed heavily. And then he found himself needing to blink at a higher rate to be able to see through the tears accumulating in his eyes.

Este caught him quickly swipe away a stray droplet that escaped down his cheek. She pouted, reaching over to cup his jaw with her hand and rubbing back and forth with her thumb. Her touch did something visceral to him, like it always did.

“Are you crying, Matty?” She asked, with a slight laugh, trying to cover up the fact that she was getting a bit emotional as well.

He furiously shook his head in denial, but then another tear fell.

“I just don’t think I’ve loved anything this much before.”

#domestic!matty is fr my fav #tbsg #blurb #meste blurb #request #fluff #matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x oc #the 1975 fanfiction #the 1975 #matty healy fic #ask

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lacheri · 4 years ago

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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

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peachycheol · 5 years ago

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© banner credit: thank you to the love of my life @suhdreams for making this banner for me 🥺💘 ➸ summary: when people say ‘not all men’, they’re actually right. kim mingyu, your best friend, would never disappoint you. especially not in the bedroom. ➸ genre: pwp 😌 ➸ pairing: best friend!mingyu x reader ➸ warning: dirty talk, slight dumbification, heavy petting, unprotected sex (pls use protection irl), cream pie, oral (fem. receiving), cum eating, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, yn is really horny? ➸ w.c: 3.2k ➸ tags: you can all thank @risquewonu for this <333

➸ author’s note: ahh, i’m sorry this took me so long! i didn’t mean to write this much, but what the smuth wants, the smuth gets. also, i want to thank you all for 100 followers! i’ll make a separate post to properly thank you all, but i am!!! baffled!!! i really appreciate the support ;u; love you guys!

If there are two things in this world that you are absolutely certain of, they are: 1) Men ain’t shit, and 2) with the exception of Kim Mingyu. Knowing this information doesn’t really benefit you in any way. You still go out on Tinder dates that leave you high and dry 15 minutes after taking you home. And Kim Mingyu is still your very platonic best friend, who seems to be reliable in every single way except perhaps in the one way you need most desperately.

But for all you know, he could be just like every other male in bed. He couldn’t be unbelievably handsome, the most thoughtful, caring person you know, and a sex god; it just wouldn’t be fair! No, it is much easier to convince yourself that Mingyu’s perfection only extended to being a best friend, if only for your peace of mind. Otherwise, you’d have to live with the possibility that the only person who can give you sweet release is the only one you’re technically not supposed to fuck.

For reasons that seem to become annoyingly hazy every time you lie down next to him on his bed, just as you are at this moment.

The two of you often end nights out like this, scrolling through one another’s TikTok’s until the wee hours of the morning, laughing loudly until his neighbors threaten to file a noise complaint. As someone who has claimed him as your best friend for three years, you know you’re supposed to be used to the smell of the musky cologne that clings onto his sheets and the feeling of his warm body as he leans closer to show you his For You Page. But lately, it seems harder and harder to fight off the warmth that pulses straight to your core whenever he does anything as simple as laugh, making you shiver when his breath tickles the side of your neck.

God, you just really need to get laid properly. You lick your dry lips and try to remind yourself that you have no idea if Mingyu would even be able to satisfy you. Though you do have to admit you couldn’t imagine any situation where the boy isn’t overly generous and eager to please-- No! Just watch the damn TikToks!

“Hey, you good?” Mingyu suddenly asks, nudging your side. “Why aren’t you laughing? ‘His package needs to come in the fe-mail’! That one’s gold!”

You let out a snort. Leave it to Mingyu to bring you back to reality with one line. Even when you don’t say a word, he knows exactly what you need in a moment, which in this case is a reminder that he’s your very dorky friend. “Shut up, that’s so stupid,” you say, but you can’t help but laugh along with him when it replays.

“Aha, you laughed though.” Satisfied with your response he scrolls down to a video of a girl smiling suggestively into the camera. She points to the caption that says ‘If all the boys that made me cum were in my room with me right now, I would…’ Suddenly, the camera pans and she looks at the screen tiredly. The caption now read as ‘Be alone. Men are trash’.

At this, you bust out with a howl of laughter, clutching at your stomach. It was kind of sad, but it was good to know you weren’t alone in this world. All the while, Mingyu stares at you with an eyebrow raised. Once you calm down, you meet his amused gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“You thought it was that funny, huh? It’s not even that accurate,” he says teasingly.

You roll your eyes. “Um, yeah it is. I’ve never met a man who could make me cum, and clearly many other people can relate. This video has 1.4k likes!”

Mingyu quickly puts his phone down and pouts. “Nu uh! Not all guys are that incompetent!”

“Men are such babies,” you sigh. “They are that incompetent! You know how many dates I went to last semester, right? Not one of them made me cum!”

“Okay, I told you before you even went on those dates that those guys weren’t worth your time.” Mingyu waves his hand dismissively. “For your information, I have made sure that all the ladies that I’ve taken to the bedroom had at least one orgasm. At least!”

“Mingyu, sweetie,” you coo, patting his cheek as if to comfort him. “They were all faking it, because they didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” Right? They all had to have faked it. You try to tell yourself this, try to reign in the last bit of sanity you have before your mind wanders off to anywhere inappropriate.

Your best friend now props himself up so that you could properly see the smirk plastered across his annoyingly chiseled features. “You’re so sure, huh? I bet I could make you cum multiple times. Easily.”

Your mouth falls open in shock. It isn’t uncommon for the two of you to taunt each other like this, but you have also never been in such a vulnerable mood. It’s the type of mood that has your heart racing impossibly fast, the type of mood that has your panties pathetically damp from just one sentence. You blink, trying to regain as much composure as you can. You know it’s too late, though; your imagination is already flashing through scenes of your deepest desires, all being fulfilled by the man in front of you. But Mingyu is only joking, so you do what you can to continue playing along and pretend like you don’t want him to just fuck you into the mattress until you were drooling into his sheets.

“I-I seriously doubt that!” you say, but there is no conviction in your voice. Clearing your throat, you try adding, “Dude, I’ve literally seen you fall down a flight of stairs when you were sober. And we were going up. Kinda hard to imagine that you’ll know how to fuck me to an orgasm when you can’t even walk right.”

Now you’re just lying through your teeth, but you want to hold off the inevitable moment that Mingyu discovers your apparent arousal for as long as possible. The last thing you need right now is for him to laugh in your face.

Mingyu chuckles, then suddenly shifts so that his arms are placed on either side of your head, trapping you underneath him. To his surprise, you do nothing to push him off like you usually do at this point. Still, he doesn’t plan on being the first to back off, so he continues his little game, intent on winning. “See, this is why you can’t find a guy who can satisfy you. You clearly don’t know what to look for.” He leans down until the tip of his nose grazes yours. For good measure, he drops his voice an octave and says, “You’ll be the one who can’t walk right when I’m done with you.”

Perplexingly, his shameless flirting doesn’t make you move as he predicted. Nor does it make you look annoyed. Instead, you look up at him with eyes that are unmistakably glazed over with something he didn’t quite expect to see: pure lust. It immediately sends a rush of blood down to his cock. He blinks. Oh. So this is where the night is going. He only falters for a moment, but he soon flashes a breathtaking smile down at you, his eyes glinting mischievously.

It isn’t like he’s never thought about it before; he had just assumed that once you started calling him your best friend, you were also lowkey telling him that sex was off the table. And it wasn’t like he minded, because he definitely liked being by your side knowing it was fully okay to be himself since you were obligated to love him regardless. Plus there was just something about you that made him want to take care of you and if being your best friend was the only way he could do it, then that had been fine by him. But now that he knows that he can take care of you in another way, in the way that he sometimes found himself yearning for on lonely nights, he is all too eager to break free of the unspoken boundaries between the two of you.

“And what am I looking for?” you whisper.

“It seems like you’re looking for me, baby,” he responds softly, before pressing a kiss where your jaw meets your neck. He slowly drags his lips down the side of your neck, and revels in how it already has you pressing your legs together. “Damn, you weren’t kidding when you said those guys didn’t make you cum, huh? Is that why you’re already so fucking worked up? You want to cum that badly?”

You nod wordlessly, not quite ready for Mingyu to hear the desperate whine that would surely leave your lips as he continues pressing wet kisses along your skin. You opt to simply thread your fingers in his hair and tug hard enough to show your impatience. It seems to trigger something in him; all in an instant, your best friend’s soft lips clash against your own, his tongue easily sliding into your mouth, all the while while his hand reaches down to grab one of your thighs. He squeezes it teasingly before pushing it outwards, which causes the mini skirt you’re wearing to bunch up around your waist, revealing your panties and how they cling to your pussy like a second skin.

“M-mingyu!” you squeak into his lips when you feel his fingers tentatively rub small circles into the wet spot. He nips at your lip harshly as he starts to rub more deliberately, the flimsy fabric of your underwear creating a delicious friction against your clit. “H-hah! Yes, o-oh my god!”

“Fuck, you’re already so wet for me, baby girl,” he chuckles, but he knows he isn’t one to talk while his cock is half hard just from hearing the way you moan his name. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. You’re not leaving this room until your little pussy cums nice and hard on my cock.”

“Ngh!-- yes p-please! Please, Mingyu,” you beg mindlessly. Your eyebrows are scrunched together in concentration. Despite your best friend’s promises, you are still hesitant to hold out any hope for anything more than what you’re accustomed to, so you try to take as much as you can while it lasts. However, in your lustful daze, you had forgotten that if Kim Mingyu is anything, he is a man of his word.

You let out a high-pitched moan when his fingers suddenly grind harsh circles into your clit, more surprised than anything else that he even knew where to find it. “But first,” he says, licking his lips, “you’re going to be a good girl and cum just like this. Right into your filthy little panties. Can you do that for me, baby?”

He takes your drawn out whine as a response, and continues to rub relentlessly over your hardened clit until your legs begin to shake. That’s when he shoves the soaked material of your underwear to the side and pinches the bud. Hard.

He rolls your clit between the pads of his fingertips over and over, sending jolts of electric pleasure all the way to your toes. It causes them to curl, all the while you feel the heat simmering in your lower abdomen finally coil tighter and tighter. “Fuckfuckfuck,” you chant, the words coming out slurred like you’re a teenager who’s gotten drunk from one sip of champagne. “M-mingyu-- mmh! I t-think I’m going to--!”

A loud cry leaves your lips the moment the coil snaps, and you nearly tear up from how much better it feels to finally cum on someone else’s fingers, especially Mingyu’s long, thick digits. He soothingly slides them through your drenched folds, mesmerized by how much wetness now covered his hand. “That’s it, baby,” he encourages. Once your body slumps back into the mattress, he brings his fingers up to see how they glisten in the light. “We’ve barely even started and look at what the mess you’ve already made. You must have been waiting so long for me to fuck you, huh?”

Not even your post-orgasm buzz can keep you from getting irked by Mingyu’s cockiness, which is why you reach your own hand down to squeeze his cock through his jeans. “Seems like I’m not the only one who’s been waiting for this,” you say with a sly grin of your own. He watches you, jaw clenched, as you swiftly pop the button of his pants open and slip your fingers past the waistband of his underwear to take hold of his fully hardened member.

It feels warm and heavy in your palm, which can barely wrap around the girth. You bite your lip, your pussy greedily clenching around nothing at the thought of how good it would stretch you out.

“I should have known you’d be a fucking tease,” Mingyu rasps. His hips buck into your hand involuntarily, and his smile returns when he notices how the movement makes you whimper in anticipation.

There is a beat of silence when you and Mingyu meet eyes before the both of you begin undressing each other as fast as you can, haphazardly tugging off both your shirts, his pants, and your pesky undergarments. Once he’s tossed aside your soiled panties, he immediately presses your thighs apart to get a full view of your sopping cunt. “So pretty,” he mumbles to himself, spreading the lips apart with his fingers. His member throbs at the sight, the tip leaking precum when he sees how your pussy clenches in anticipation. “I bet it’s going to look even prettier when it’s taking my fat cock, don’t you think?”

The two of you watch in awe as Mingyu starts to sink into your entrance, a garbled moan leaving your lips when the tip alone already has you feeling so full. “Mingyu, h-how is-- ooh!-- your d-dick soo-- f-fucking big? A-Ah!” It takes a good while for you to finish your sentence as each of Mingyu’s shallow thrusts leave you gasping for air. By the time he bottoms out, the both of you are panting hard, both engrossed by how snugly his cock fits in your walls.

“Shit, if I had known you’d be this tight, I would have fucked you sooner,” Mingyu groans. He slowly drags his member out of you, letting you feel every inch of him before he surges forward into a feverish pace that already has his bed frame creaking loudly. He is definitely getting a noise complaint from his grumpy neighbors tonight. But seeing you underneath him like this, lips parted and legs spread, definitely makes it difficult to care about anything other than the desire to hear more of your needy cries. “Does it feel good, baby girl? Do you like how my cock fills your little pussy?”

“It fuh--!--ngh, feels s-soo good,” Having already came once, your sensitivity is on overload, and each rough thrust of Mingyu’s hips, each crude slap of his skin against yours, is enough to drive you closer and closer to delirium. “Mmh-- please, Mingyu! F-fuck me so deep!”

“Anything for my little cockslut.” He moves quickly to kneel between your legs, hooking his arms underneath your knees to keep them open as he continues to pound into you. The new position instantly makes you keen loudly, eyes rolling to the back of your head when you feel his member brush against your cervix.

“Fuuuuck,” you sob and clutch at the sheets. His grip on your legs tightens and he angles his hips so that he hits that spot every time, rendering you completely incoherent. You want to beg him to fuck you like this forever, to tell him you’d do anything to feel his cock fuck you open every night, but you can only babble, unable to comprehend anything that isn’t the insatiable thirst burning within you.

“Damn baby, did I fuck you stupid?” Seeing you so drunk on his cock, he wonders how anyone could ever fuck you without wanting to see you cum over and over again. His hair falls over his eyes as he fucks up into you with renewed vigor, his hot skin covered in a light sheen of sweat. He grits his teeth when he feels how tightly your walls grip onto him.“Shit-- you must want me to make you cum again, baby girl. Your little pussy just keeps sucking me in.”

“H-hah, y-yes! Yes, please god, Mingyu, I want to c-cum again. P-please let me cum,” you beg, practically writhing as you pathetically attempt to meet his thrusts. Without any hesitation, Mingyu brings down his thumb and presses it into your swollen clit, causing your body to seize up suddenly. “A-Aah Mingyu! I’m--!” The intensity of your orgasm has your back arching off the mattress, head thrown back in a silent scream. Wave after wave of pleasure continuously washes over you, seemingly unending, unlike any orgasm you ever thought possible.

“That’s right baby girl, get my cock nice and wet,” Mingyu growls. He fucks you through your release as he sloppily chases his own, not too far behind with how your walls are pulsing around him. He makes sure his cock is deep inside you and stills his hips when fills you with his hot cum. “Fuck, this pussy was fucking made for me.”

Just as you think you’ve finally come down from your high, he pulls out of you and he shifts to lower himself to place his mouth on your spent pussy. “M-mingyu!”

You squirm and half-heartedly try to shove his head away, far too sensitive to have his tongue licking into your leaking entrance, but Mingyu is persistent. He pushes your legs to your chest to keep you from squeezing them close, and hums when he tastes the hot mixture of your and his own cum on his lips. The way he slurps and sucks at your folds is absolutely sinful as he eats you out like you’re the most delectable treat. It almost hurts to feel so much ecstasy at once, but it still leaves you mewling for more, unable to get enough of the boy.

Your third orgasm ripples over you when he suddenly scrapes his teeth over your abused clit, and you feel a tear slide down your cheek as you weakly shake against his mouth.

Mingyu is smiling when he pulls away, looking slightly ridiculous with how his lips still glisten with cum. You tiredly slump back into his pillows, eyes already drooping close. “What is it?”

“I told you I could do it~” he says proudly. He goes to grab some tissues from the bedside table so that he could start cleaning you up, giggling all the while. It really is unfair how he could look so cute moments after railing you into another dimension.

You groan. You’re never going to hear the end of this.

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