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ereardon · 16 hours

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Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Thirteen

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child?

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, angst

Chapter summary: Ducky goes on a date; Jake and Ducky come to an understanding, before everything becomes complicated again

WC: 2.4K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

It happened when you least expected it. You were at the grocery store, reaching for the top shelf, when a hand appeared from behind, plucking the jar of salsa you had been wiggling your fingers at.

You turned, looking up at an insanely gorgeous guy. He was tall, but not too tall, still under six foot, with a sleeve of tattoos and a layer of dark stubble over his cut jawline. He grinned, handing you the salsa jar. “Here you go, sweetheart.”

You smiled, placing it in your cart. Salsa Guy kept his eyes on you, just the two of you in the aisle alone close to nine o’clock at night. “Thank you.”

He looked down at your cart. Chips and salsa, a pack of Twizzlers, a container of stuffed olives, a bar of white chocolate, three apples, a pack of ginger beer. “Someone has a good night planned,” he said with a grin.

“Oh, you know, cravings.” It came out automatically. But once you realized, you looked up and gulped. Here was a cute guy who had probably been hitting on you, and had failed to see the enormous baby bump hidden behind the handles of the cart.

His dark brown eyes gave you a quick once over. At twenty two weeks, you were pregnant. It was obvious by now. No matter how flowy the dress, there was a little bump there. Your fingertips gripped the cart handlebar tighter.

“Sorry, I, uh, should get going.” You were just about to turn the cart around when his voice stopped you.

“How about you let me take you out for a real meal.” You looked up in surprise. He shrugged. “Unless you’re involved?”

“Um, no, I—” You faltered.

He tilted his head. “No to dinner,” he said slowly, “or no you’re not involved with anyone?”

You straightened. “No, I’m not involved.”

He held out a business card. Phillip Walker. You cocked your head to the side. Attorney. Since when did attorneys have sleeve tattoos? “Can I ask your name, before we go to dinner?”

You smiled. “Y/N.”

“Let me get that for you,” he said, steering the cart down the aisle.

“Wait, you were serious?” you asked. “You want to go to dinner now?” It was almost nine thirty. Your bedtime.

Phillip nodded. “I would.”

You paused at the end of the aisle before the rows of cashiers. “Um, Phillip?”

“Yes?”

“You know I’m pregnant, right?”

He laughed. It was low and rumbling. He nodded. “Yes, doll, I can see that.”

“Is this some kind of kink thing?” you whispered.

His eyes went wide. “No?”

You frowned. “Alright. Well, free dinner, I guess I’d have to be insane to say no.”

Phillip grinned. “Your pick then.”

“I know just the place.”

You and Phillip ended up eating tacos from a food truck near the beach, sitting with your feet hanging off the side of a picnic table as the waves crashed against the shore in the darkness. Phillip was funny, a dry humor that caught you off guard at first. He was an immigration attorney, just turned twenty seven, and his mother was born in Venezuela.

After you finished your final taco, four in total but who was counting, Phillip turned to you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“The guy,” he said. “Is he in the picture?”

Phillip was the first person you had really talked to, let alone gone out with, since everything that had happened with Jake. You weren’t sure what to say. He was your roommate? Your friend? Your brother’s coworker?

Was he anything?

Sometimes it felt like Jake was a stranger. And other times it felt like he was the only thing you had. And yet, you still didn’t know what to say about him.

“We’re not involved,” you replied after a moment. “But we’re friendly.” You paused. “He and my brother work together.”

“Ah. Sounds complicated.”

“I am a complicated woman.”

“Who also likes white chocolate and nacho flavored Doritos.”

“Everyone likes Doritos!”

“Cool Ranch forever,” he replied and you tipped your head back in a laugh. Phillip leaned over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re beautiful when you laugh.”

“Thank you.” It was a whisper. Suddenly the sound of the sea, the waves crashing loudly against the shore, was dulled by the sound of your heart beating in your chest.

“I’d like to kiss you,” Phillip whispered, one of his hands pressed against the table behind your seat, the other still lingering against your jaw.

“I probably taste like tacos.”

“You’re in luck,” he murmured, “cause I love tacos.”

And then his lips were on yours. He was a good kisser – firm, but not hard, no tongue at first, and he smelled like a woodsy cologne that transported your mind to a lush forest. For a moment, you felt yourself melt into the kiss. There was something so lustful about being wanted.

It wasn’t until after, when Phillip pulled back and your eyes fluttered open, that the heart sinking realization kicked in.

Was this the last time someone was going to kiss you like this? With expectation, with the unknown hanging out in the abyss. Soon, you’d be a mother. Soon, you’d belong to someone else. And nothing would ever be as easy as it was in that very moment.

“I’m tired,” you whispered. “I should be getting home.”

“Of course.” Phillip leaned back, stepping off the picnic table and holding out his hand. “I can drive you home in your car, and I’ll get an Uber back to mine.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “That’s a hassle.”

“I’m sure.” He held open the door and you took a seat in the passenger seat. It felt like a different world, just ten inches from where you usually sat. You turned as Phillip slid into the driver’s seat.

Everything felt different.

He set down the bag of groceries next to the door and straightened. “I’m really glad I went to the store for toothpaste tonight,” Phillip said.

You frowned. “Did you forget to buy the toothpaste?”

He nodded and you laughed. “Yes, yes I did.”

“I’m glad we met, too.”

“Can I see you again?” he asked.

“Are you sure you want to?”

“I’m positive.”

“Here.” You pulled out a pen and scribbled your number on his card, handing it back to him. “Call me.”

“I will.” He waited until you had opened the door to the apartment before turning and walking down the hallway.

You set the bag of groceries on the counter before a voice behind you burst out into the silence. “Who was that?”

You whipped around. Jake was wearing a Naval Academy sweatshirt and a pair of boxers, tall socks pulled up around his bony ankles. “Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.”

“It’s midnight, Y/N. Where have you been?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not my father.”

“Someone has to be looking out for you.”

“You and Bobby, you’re the fucking same,” you spat back.

Jake squinted. “Is that how you see me?” he asked.

“Right now, yeah, it is.” You shook your head and started to unload the groceries. “Just some guy I met at the grocery store. He helped me reach the salsa.”

“You left three hours ago.”

“Jake, it’s late.” You turned, one hand on your hip. In the bright light of the kitchen, you had a sudden glimpse of the future. Standing in a kitchen, rolling your eyes at your husband. But then you blinked, and it was just Jake, standing in front of you in a pair of almost too-tight boxers. “Ask the real questions you want answers to.”

“Did you fuck him?”

“Did you fuck the redhead from the bar?” you spat back.

Jake went ghost white.

“I said ask questions you want the answers to,” you replied. “And for your information, no, I didn’t whore it out for a bottle of salsa in the back of a pickup truck. That kind of naiveté ended about five months ago.” You pressed one hand against your tight stomach and rubbed a gentle circle. “What do we owe each other, Jake?”

He stepped closer. “I know you don’t want to be with me,” he whispered. “And maybe you don’t really even like me. But we’re stuck together, Y/N. For better or for worse, we’re having a baby together. So I guess what I’m saying is we owe each other the truth.”

“You want the truth?” you asked. He nodded. “The truth is, I don’t know who I am anymore. Because in four plus months, I’m going to be a mom. And that scares the shit out of me.”

“I’m here,” Jake said. “I’m going to help. You’re not alone in this.”

“How can I trust you when I don’t even know you?”

“Well you haven’t really tried, now have you?” A bit of his Texan accent slipped out. It was small but it was there. A twang at the end of the sentence.

“You’re right.”

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said that.” He grinned.

“Don’t get used to it.”

“I’m trying here,” Jake said. “I want to do what’s best for you. And for the baby.”

“What about what’s best for you?”

He shrugged. “What’s best for you is best for me. Happy wife, happy life, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not your wife, Hangman.”

“Do me a favor.”

“I’m carrying your enormous child, and you want another favor?”

“Don’t call me Hangman, OK?”

You frowned. “Alright, I won’t.”

“I can be Hangman at work. But with you, I want to be Jake.”

“OK.” A silence enveloped the room and for the first time in a long time, you felt at ease with Jake. “Well, Jake, I’m going to go to bed. I’m exhausted.”

You shuffled off to the side of the kitchen toward the bedrooms. Jake’s hand reached out, fingertips curling around your wrist. You looked up. “I didn’t get to tell you before, so I’ll tell you now. I’m really happy it’s a girl.”

You smiled. “Yeah, me too. Little boys' clothes suck.”

Jake grinned. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

***

Jake was sixteen the first time he held his niece in his arms. His older sister Mary had gotten married young, and immediately had a baby.

Kirsten was tiny, shriveled little fingertips, a nose that barely protruded from her face, almost no hair to speak of.

And yet, something changed in that moment. He felt his world flip upside down. For the first time in his life, he knew what it was like to hold someone’s life in his hand and know that he would lay down his life for that person.

Kirsten was thirteen now. At age eight, she asked Jake to be her show and tell item for school, and he took off a long weekend to go back to Texas to tell her class what it was like to be an aviator. And even though all that time had passed and she had grown up, sometimes Jake still looked at her and saw the newborn balanced perfectly in his scrawny arms.

***

Your second date with Patrick created even more mixed emotions.

On one hand, he was beautiful and successful, dynamic and smart. On the other hand, you still had a lump in the back of your throat that some random man would want to date a pregnant woman.

“It’s weird, right?” you said. Phoenix paused for a beat and you frowned, your fingertips gripping the steering wheel tighter. You had opted to drive yourself home from the restaurant, giving Patrick a kiss before he asked that you texted him when you got home.

“It’s a little weird,” she replied, her voice crackling through the car speakerphone. “But not unheard of.”

“It’s a porn category,” you argued.

She laughed. “OK but so is girl on girl. Doesn’t make it a fetish. He might just genuinely be a good enough guy to be OK with it.”

You flicked the turn signal, waiting for the light to turn green before taking a left into the apartment complex parking lot and switching the call back to your phone. “I guess,” you said. “I don’t know.”

“Do you like him?”

“Yeah, I do,” you replied, locking the car and stepping into the lobby. “It’s just kind of weird. Everything is weird right now.”

“It’s uncharted territory,” Phoenix said. “Just take a shower, get in your pajamas and watch Young Sheldon.”

“God, a perfect night,” you said. “Alright, I’m home. I’ll see you tomorrow for the party?” Coyote was having a house party for his new condo, and you and Phoenix had made plans to go.

“I’ll pick you up at nine.” She hung up as you opened the apartment door.

It was quiet, but there was a light on in the hallway. “Jake?” you called out, setting your purse down. “Are you home?”

“In here!” You rounded the corner into your bedroom. Jake looked up. “Surprise.”

You gasped. A brand new white crib sat in the corner, the one you had gawked at in a Pottery Barn catalog and then promptly flipped the page when you spotted the price tag. There was also the matching dresser, with a changing table on top.

“Oh my God,” you whispered.

Jake stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Sorry, just finished building it, still have to clean up.”

“You did all of this?”

“Well we needed a crib. Oh and look.” He stepped over to the dresser and pulled open the first drawer to reveal a perfect line of folded onesies. “My mom sent them. Look at this one.” He tugged one out and held it up.

It was a Naval Academy onesie.

Jake grinned. “Great, right?”

“I can’t believe you did this,” you whispered.

“No big deal. Besides, we needed a nursery. Maybe once we move into a house we’ll have a spare bedroom, and—”

You held up one hand. “A house? Since when are we moving into a house?”

Jake looked around slowly. “I mean, it’s just the next step, right? This apartment is OK for now, but when the baby gets here it’s going to get crowded.”

You crossed your hands over your chest. “I thought this was temporary,” you replied. “I needed a place to stay to get away from Bobby. But this.” You swooped your hand out toward the crib and dresser. “This is feeling very real.” Your pulse started to race.

Jake frowned. “What are you saying?” he asked. “You don’t want to continue to live together once the baby is born?”

“I don’t know.”

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daisybianca · 19 hours

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pairing: Lewis Hamilton x femalereader

summary: Lewis proposes in a special ceremony—and it’s dirty

warnings: mentions of sexual activities, slight jealousy

(a/n): this is written from Lewis’ pov cuz I love my man obsessed

I MIGHT BE the filthiest person in her life right now. The dirtiest one, with the most disgusting thoughts about her. Do I care, though?

Absolutely not.

Will I let another man touch her?

Hah. Funny enough.

Because when this night is over, a ring will be circled around the fair flesh of her finger. And my initial will be curved into it. I’m sure of it.

My fiancé soon-to-be has chosen a red, long dress that hugs her curved body for tonight’s ceremony. I can see my parents eye her across the ballroom.

Our names are written on tonight’s sky. Mine and hers. The night is ours. And it’ll not be over until we say so.

Y/N appears at the very top of the stairs and her father rushes by her side, helping her to walk towards me. Reaching for her hand as soon as she reached the last step, the crowd ceases clapping.

I take her hand in mine. It fits perfectly, as always. She fits perfectly. Her body against mine. Her smart brain along with mine. Her eyes on mine.

Everything is perfect because she is a part of it.

“Lewis…” She approaches me and I can detect a particular glimpse of something in her beautiful eyes.

I curl my lips in a smile. “You’re the most beautiful woman in this room.” I say. I’m positive that everyone’s eyes and ears are focused on this moment. On us. “Probably in the entire world.”

She manages a smile, even though I can tell she’s nervous. About a hundred or so people have been gathered by me and her father to celebrate this day.

Three years ago, when the date was the same as it is this day, I met her.

Three years later, I’m marking her as mine. Officially, at least. Because I made sure she knew—and everyone else around us—she’s mind since the very first moment.

“Don’t be nervous, baby,” I push her towards me gently and cup her reddened cheeks with my hands.

Across my thumb, her initial is written on the surface with bold ink.

My hands are hers to use. Hers to lick. Hers to fuck. I wanted her to know that.

I turn around and smile at the guests. Toto gives me a reassuring father as he drinks a sip from his wine next to my father.

“Let’s dance,” I brush my lips across her ear, starting to make our way to the centre of the room.

“Lewis, you know I can’t dance in these shoes.” She lifts her right leg just a few inches and waves her dress so I can take a glimpse of her white heels.

I make sure to keep my tone quiet. “Y/N, I’ve seen you pole-dancing in stripper-heels.”

Her face turns into a darker shade of red. Her hands feels cold. Sweaty.

I don’t want her to fucking feel like that on a day as special as this one.

She has to calm down. And I’m the one obligated to make her do it.

I brush her long hair and press pecks on her temple, cheeks, lips… I stop on the neck because it’s a soft spot for me. Can’t let myself lose control in front of all my relatives, friends and coworkers. It’d be such a pity to grab her and take her to the closest room and ruin such an event.

I being a glass of red whine for her knowing how much she adores it. My hand never leaves her and I can tell that as the minutes pass, her breathing feels steadier.

One hour goes by.

Two.

It’s ten past something and about time I…

“Ladies and gentlemen.” I let y/n’s hand and climb on the stage, rolling the sleeves of my white shirt as I do so. “Thank you for attending tonight’s ceremony, to begin with. It is a special day for us and we are very pleased to share such a great moment with the people we love.”

The crowd above the stage claps, I can even take a glimpse of my dog, Roscoe, swirling around in Ricciardo’s embrace… everyone is overwhelmed and that brings a smile to my lips. But nothing compares to the burning sensation in my chest.

I don’t know what it is. But I know it’s a good feeling. I also got it the first time I met y/n. Or when I asked her out. Or when we first kissed or made love.

“I would like to invite my beautiful woman, y/n…” I control myself not to exclaim “fiancé” or “wife” instead of “woman”. I’m not hesitant to go on. “…on this stage with me.”

The people go thunderous and I help y/n to walk the few steps on the stage.

We arrive at the centre of the stage and the music stops.

All the lights on us. Everyone’s eyes.

It feels magical.

I look up and find the most beautiful pair of eyes I’ve ever seen already fixed on me. She’s smiling. It’s contagious so I grin as well. “Y/n…” I start but a voice interrupts my words.

“Go on one knee!” I identify Toyo’s voice in the first row as I reach for the velvet box in my pocket.

“On one knee!” Yells my father and then the guests go crazy.

I turn to my woman and smile. “Don’t ask me to go on one knee.” I say.

“As long as you don’t ask me to get on two knees.” She replies in a dirty voice, leaning towards me.”

“Baby, I want you in all for.”

She smiles again but no one hears our conversation. They still yell for me to propose on one knee.

Fuck. I’ll have to do this.

I grab the box tightly in my hand and do as asked. I get on my knees.

In front of my woman. The woman of my dreams.

I’ve been on my knees in front of y/n countless times before, but for educational purposes only. Nothing like this.

I raise my eyes. She’s crying.

I hold onto her hand. “Y/n…” I start. “Please make me the happiest man in the entire universe and accept this proposal.” I think my heart is going to explode. “Will you please marry me?”

The crowd erupts in a chaos of applause and I find myself trapped in her eyes. I expect her to say the word first, but she doesn’t.

She melts into my hands and buries her small face in my neck.

This has to be the most beautiful moment of my entire existence.

She’s crying and I think I am too honestly. “Yes, yes, yes! A million times yes, Lewis!” She almost creams and between tears, I grab her face and unite our temples. I apply a kiss on her mouth. It’s gently at first but then I can see her craving for more.

When I let her lips to catch my breath (I actually remembered that we are not alone, but in a room with our closest people and if she went on I would without hesitation forget their existence) I look into her eyes. I grab her delicate hand and take the ring out of the box.

It fits perfectly on her finger.

I look at her again and murmur, “Perfectly fitted. Just for you, baby. Just for my wife.”

••••••••••

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aurorawhisperz · 2 days

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little romance documentary

contains: swearing, fluff, use of y/n and a whole lot of dumb things.

tom!peter parker x stark!reader

a/n: the long-awaited rory comeback! and i’m in my spiderman phase so..the ethan landry stuff will have to wait.

summary: (based off the video diary scene in homecoming) a compilation of all things you’ve done with peter :3

“What are you doing?” You poke at the camera, causing it to shake a little bit. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to show that to the rest of the world.”

Peter shakes his head, “What? No, it’s a little behind-the-scenes thing. Video diary, documentary..” He tries to find the right word.

This is probably why you thought your father hiring someone your age was a bad idea.

“Right, who are you gonna show it to?” And all you can do is stare into the camera while he keeps on recording whatever’s happening in the fancy car.

“Oh, it’s just for me. For memories!” Peter moves the camera away from your view and makes it look like he’s in the spotlight instead.

You’re quite overwhelmed, so you give him a smile in return. “You can do a little introduction.. if you want.” He says with a grin as he makes the camera face you.

“Okay,” You clear your throat, fixing the way you looked. “I’m Y/N Stark, we are going to Germany, currently being driven by my trusty servant, Happy Hogan!”

Happy quickly interrupts the process, “And I’m not too happy with how you have the nerve to call me your trusty servant.” You roll your eyes at his words. “Whatever.”

“And I’m here with uh..Spiderboy!” You continue after a short while, Peter laughs, turning the camera back to himself before correcting the name, “It’s Spiderman, actually..”

The car speeds along the road, and everything felt okay. You were staring into the sun, enjoying and relaxing, Peter was recording you as you were doing so. Admiring how he was able to work with a really cool person..and his daughter.

Reporters and even influencers were calling you a privileged pretty girl, but he didn’t believe those people at all.

You look back at Peter, who’s quick to move the camera in Happy’s direction. You knew what he was doing and all you hoped for was that he didn’t capture a bad angle.

“Okay, okay, let's do this properly,” you say, taking the camera from Peter. “I'm Y/N Stark, the brains and beauty behind this operation. And this,” you turn the camera to Peter, “is Spiderman, our main character and friendly neighborhood hero in Queens.”

Peter gives a mock salute to the camera. “I’m here to save the day or, at the very least, make some pretty cool memories.”

Happy shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips as he focuses on the road ahead. “Just don't get yourselves into too much trouble, kids.”

“Trouble? Us? Neverrrr~” you say with a smirk.

This was also the start of a great friendship.

The camera flicks on and Peter’s face fills the screen as he grins mischievously. “Alright, we’re going to pull the ultimate prank on Happy. Wish us luck.” He whispers into the lens.

You appear next to him, just as excited, holding a box. “We’ve been planning this for a while. This is going to be EPIC.” You whisper.

The two of you sneak through the hallway of the lavish suite, making sure you aren’t attracting any attention. Happy was inside his room, absorbed by a movie, completely unaware of what’s happening as usual.

“Ready?” you ask Peter, who nods to the camera.

You press a button on a small remote, activating the surprise. Suddenly, the speakers hidden around the room begin to play the song “WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?”

Happy’s movie is long gone when it’s replaced by a compilation of embarrassing moments such as Happy looking into the fridge at three in the morning, him slipping on the floor, Happy trying (and utterly failing) to dance and getting scared by jumpscares.

He looks up, startled at first. “What the hell..?”

And that was your cue.

You and Peter burst into the room, laughing hysterically. “GOTCHA!” You shout, holding up the camera to capture his reaction. Happy was trying to suppress such levels of anger behind his crossed arms. “Really, kid? You’re involving the boss’s daughter OR SHOULD I SAY THE DEVIL’S OFFSPRING in your shenanigans?”

You both grin sheepishly. “Happy, relax..it was all her idea. I was just the accomplice, I was cool.” Happy shakes his head in disgust. “You’re lucky I have a sense of humor.” He says, holding up a finger as he walks to the bathroom. “THIS MEANS WAR!” Happy yells out.

“Bring it on, grandpa.” You tease. “You’ll never top this.” You and Peter high-five. “Think we need to wrap this up before he gets any other ideas..” Peter scratches his head as you turn the camera back to yourself.

Peter put on a cowboy-ish accent, “Until next time, folks. We are now signing off.” He tips his invisible hat, still grinning.

You’re on a plush couch next to the famous Tony Stark, sitting across from Peter who has the camera in his hand.

“Hey, nonexistent audience, welcome back to our comedy club! We’re here with Mr. Stark since this is a special episode.” Peter leans over at the camera, making him look like he’s upside down.

He pans the camera to you and Tony. Your father looked slightly bewildered and you were enjoying the spotlight.

“Thank you so much for joining us, Mr. Stark.” Peter settles down in front of the two of you. “First off, Y/N—how does it feel to be the daughter of Iron Man? Is it all..uh, glitz and glamour?”

You laugh, glancing at your dad. “It has its pros and cons. I still wanna sue that reporter for calling me a bitch.” Peter laughs at your words and focuses the camera on you as you go on and on about trying out the latest tech before it even reaches the world.

Tony raises an eyebrow at Peter and then looks back at you while you ramble about being a Stark.

“That’s a bit odd,” He places a hand on his chin, probably showing off his goatee. “My daughter likes to do solo projects, so it’s odd seeing you two of all people working together for this..video diary but if you’re out of trouble and it keeps Y/N happy, who am I to complain, right?”

You smirk, “At least Dad’s on board.”

Peter smiles, moving on to the next question. “Y/N, what’s one thing people would be surprised to know about Mr. Stark as a dad?”

You think for a moment, then grin. “He’s actually a big softie. He pretends to be all tough and serious, but he’s the first to offer a hug when you need one. And he makes the best pancakes.”

Tony chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re ruining my tough guy image, kid.”

Peter chuckles but doesn’t remove the camera’s focus from you. “And Mr. Stark, what’s one piece of advice you’d give to Y/N as she navigates her way through life?”

Tony’s expression turns sincere, his tone softening. “Always be true to yourself, buttercup. It’s easy to get caught up in what people expect of you, but at the end of the day, it’s your own integrity and heart that matter the most. And remember, you’re stronger than you think.”

You smile, touched by your dad’s words. “Thanks, Dad.”

Peter glances at his notepad, then back at the two of you. “Alright, final question. Y/N, what’s next for you? Any exciting projects or plans?”

Tony raises an eyebrow, he definitely caught on Peter’s not-so-secret intentions by now. “Well, I’ve got a few ideas in the works,” you say, smiling at the camera. “But you’ll have to stay tuned to find out. Can’t give away all my secrets now, can I?”

Tony leans back. “You know, Peter, you seem very interested in Buttercup’s plans. Any particular reason for that?”

Peter stammers slightly, his cheeks turning a bit red. “Oh, I just think she has some really cool ideas, Mr. Stark.“

You laugh, leaning towards the camera. “And you can bet we’ll be documenting every step of the way in our video diary.”

Peter grins, wrapping up. “Well, that’s it for today’s episode. Big thanks to Tony Stark for joining us. Until next time, keep watching for more adventures.”

As the recording ends, Tony shakes his head, smiling at the two of you. “You know, this might actually be a good thing. Just don’t let it go to your heads.”

You leave the room and the first thing Tony does is head over to Peter. “I’m not the kind of father to tell boys to stay away from their skanky little daughters but..don’t lay your..spider hands, spider legs, eight legs, whatever spiders have on my daughter.”

Peter sits on the edge of his bed in his hotel room, bouncing slightly with excitement despite the cuts and bruises covering his face. The adrenaline from the fight still runs through his veins. He can't help but giggle as he replays the battle in his mind.

There's a knock on the door, and before he can respond, you step inside. “Peter? You in here?”

“Y/N! You won’t believe what just happened, I met Captain America and I took his shield and I was like..” Peter puts on a deep voice as he runs his mouth even faster, “Hey, what’s up, everybody? I’m Spiderman from Queens and—”

“Okay, okay, you’re talking too fast.” You stop him but you can’t help but laugh at how enthusiastic he is about everything. “You probably looked impressive out there, Spider-boy, but are you okay? I mean-”

Peter’s grin widens and he interrupts, “I’m more than okay! IT WAS INSANE! I was out there with Iron Man, Black Widow, Captain America, Hawkeye and a bunch of new guys and I..” He stops when he sees how genuinely worried you are. “But yeah, I’m fine..really. Just a scratch.”

You can’t help but smile. “Alright, let’s see those ‘few bruises’ then,” you say, sitting down on the bed and patting the spot next to you.

This was the moment where you realized you were falling in love with him.

Peter sits beside you, still bubbling with excitement. “Okay, so there was this one moment where I webbed Cap’s shield and—”

“Wait, you webbed Captain America’s shield?”your eyes were wide. “Yeah!” His face lit up. “And then he’s like, ‘You got heart, kid,’ and I’m thinking, ‘Did Captain America just compliment me?’”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s incredible, Peter. But seriously, are you sure you’re okay?”

Peter nods, his expression softening a bit. “Sore, but good. It was just... so surreal. I’ve never been in anything like that before.”

You reach out and gently touch one of the bruises on his cheek. “I’m glad you’re okay. You did great today, Peter. Just don’t forget to take care of yourself too.”

“I will, I PROMISE.” He gives you a little pinky promise, both of you linking your small fingers together. His excitement gave way to a more relaxed, contented smile.

As Peter finished talking about everything that happened at the airport in detail, you lean in and press a gentle kiss on his roughed-up cheek. “Goodnight, Pete.”

Peter’s eyes widened in surprise, nearly all of his blood rushing to his face. “Aww, thanks.” A blush creeped up his face.

As you stand to leave, Peter's gaze shifts to the table where the camera is.

His cheeks flush even deeper as he realizes the camera caught your goodnight kiss. He quickly reaches over to turn it off, Peter can't help but smile as he replays the moment over in his mind until he drifts off into sleep.

This was also the moment he realized he was falling in love with you too.

The two of you sat side by side on Peter’s bed, watching the footage from his laptop.

Suddenly, the scene transitions to the part where you kissed Peter goodnight. Peter shifts next to you, scratching the back of his head. “Um, so..that was uh, unexpected!”

You nod as well, “Totally unexpected.”

Peter clears his throat, his eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but straight into your soul. “I mean, not that it wasn't nice! It was... really nice. But, um, I just didn't expect it.”

You chew on your lip, trying to find the right words. “Right, yeah. I mean, it's not like I planned it or anything. It just... happened.”

There's a long pause when the awkwardness decides to stay forever. Finally, Peter breaks the silence. "I... I have to tell you something. Ever since we started this video diary, I kinda..uh, liked you. Not like a ‘you’re cool’ like but yeah! I..like-like you. More than just a general..likeness.”

You were caught off guard. “Oh, wow, that’s um, even more unexpected.”

Peter winces, his cheek turning as red as his suit. “Yeah, I know, it’s kind of out of the blue..sorry. I didn’t wanna make things weird because I work for your dad of all people.”

“No, it’s not weird..uh.” You shake your head, trying to find the right words to say. “I don’t feel the same way but uh-“

Peter’s eyes widen, “Oh, that’s alright, I mean, I wasn’t forcing you to like me back but—”

“NO! NO! NO!” You sit up and look down at Peter, “I do feel the same way, I uh..like-like you too but it feels like I care a lot more than you do..like I like you a lot more than you like me. Shit like that..”

“Really?” He breathes out, “You do?”

You nod, fixing Peter’s messed-up hair. “Yeah, I do.”

Before either of you can say anything else, Peter gets up, places the laptop on the other side and leans in hesitantly, his lips mere inches from yours. He looks at you, and all you can do in the intensity of the moment is nod. Peter closes the gap and captures your lips in a soft kiss.

He grabs you by the waist and has you straddling him as you try to deepen the kiss. Peter, considering your father, probably thought you had some experience but you didn’t. You, on the other hand, were thankful for the playboy genes kicking in so this wouldn’t turn out horrible.

It's awkward, clumsy, and completely perfect in its imperfection, just like how any other first kiss two people have should be.

You both pull away, breathless and wide-eyed.

Suddenly, a loud knock on the door breaks the moment, causing you both to jump apart in surprise. Aunt May's voice calls out from the other side, oblivious to the lovey-dovey moment within.

“Peter, dinner's ready!”

You share a sheepish smile, Peter realizes he’s not alone in his embarrassment. “Guess we'll continue this later,” you say, your cheeks still flushed.

“She makes terrible meatloaf, I just wanted to tell you.” He says as you get off his lap.

You look at the laptop next to Peter and laugh at the sight of Peter blushing and gushing like a fool after you kissed him that night. “I think we turned your video diary into a little romance documentary instead.”

“At least I’ll have something to show people when they ask how we met.” Peter shrugs and closes the laptop.

“You still can’t show that to anyone else, man..” You groan as you stand up, grabbing Peter’s hand to help him up.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x stark!reader fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom!peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman fluff #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fanfic #tom!peter #tom!peter parker fluff

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youryurigoddess · 3 days

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Aziraphale’s secret investigation and overlooked Clues

Remember this frame from Good Omens S02E06? Apparently Aziraphale had been using the empty carton box brought by Jim to store things in. It became a new home to at least two out of three “Lost Quartos” — the supposedly lost Shakespeare plays briefly but hilariously mentioned in the Good Omens book — as well as a very mysterious legal document.

Thought probably half of the Good Omens analysts here, including the ever so wonderful @fuckyeahgoodomens, who managed to find some information about the deceased John Gibson from New Cumnock (1855 - 1905).

Unfortunately the most interesting thing about this early 20th century provincial postmaster was his youngest child James (1894 - 1973), a quite famous stage (West End!) and film actor immortalized on screen in The Master of Ballantrae (1962), Witch Wood (1964) and Kidnapped (1963).

After that particular discovery the fandom-wide search seemingly led nowhere and the topic died a premature death.

And I almost figured it out seven months ago.

“But Yuri, you’re so clever. How can somebody as clever as you be so stupid?”, you probably want to shout across a busy London street at this point. Well, let me tell you. Much like Aziraphale, I'm blindingly intelligent for about thirty seconds a day. I do not get to choose which seconds and they are not consecutive.

Only tonight the stars have aligned in an ineffable way.

For those of you who don’t follow this account, some time ago I’ve realized that John Gibson isn’t the only testator whose estate was being investigated by Aziraphale right before The Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeepers Association monthly meeting.

If you watch S2 finale closely enough, you should notice that Crowley not only stress cleans Aziraphale’s bookshop — he also goes through the books and papers on his desk between the last three angels leaving the bookshop and Maggie and Nina’s intervention. A seemingly permanent arrangement of the props post-shooting, visible in detail both on Radio Times tour and SFX magazine photo shoot, sheds even more light on this detail.

The close-ups published after S2 release are legible enough to refer us to a much more prominent historical figure, Josiah Wedgwood (1730 – 1795) — an English potter, entrepreneur and abolitionist. Founding the Wedgwood company in 1759, he developed improved pottery bodies by systematic experimentation, and was the leader in the industrialisation of the manufacture of European pottery.

Long story short, I transcribed the handwritten pages abandoned on Aziraphale’s desk, found out the source and the full text of what could be identified as Wedgwood’s last will and testament, took a walk to visit his Soho workshop, and proceeded to write a lengthy meta analysis about it.

I was today’s years old when I realized that there’s something else connecting those two dead British men.

The Scottish Post Office Directory of 1903 recorded John Gibson from New Cumnock as a “stationer and china dealer” (above) operating from the shop located in the town’s post office building.

Indeed, a close look at his post office shop window in the Henderson Building (below, bottom left) reveals an artful display of fine china and pottery next to postcards printed by Gibson.

There are multiple ways to connect this surprising link with possible S3 plot points, obviously, but it’s getting late, so let’s just name the two most important ones.

You’ve probably heard of the Holy Grail, maybe from Monty Python or Good Omens S01E03 1941 flashback. Depending on the version of the story, if can be a cup, a chalice, a bowl, or a saucer — but almost always a dish or a vessel connected personally, physically and metaphysically to Jesus (unless you’re partial to Wolfram von Eschenbach’s idea that the Grail was a stone, the sanctuary of the neutral angels who took neither side during Lucifer's rebellion).

A slightly more obscure dish related to the Son of God appears in the sixteenth chapter of the Book of Revelation as a vital part of His Second Coming. The Seven Bowls (or cups, or vials) of God’s Wrath are supposed to be poured out on the wicked and the followers of the Antichrist by seven angels:

Then I heard a loud voice from the temple telling the seven angels, “Go and pour out on the earth the seven bowls of the wrath of God.” So the first angel went and poured out his bowl on the earth, and harmful and painful sores came upon the people who bore the mark of the beast and worshiped its image.

The second angel poured out his bowl into the sea, and it became like the blood of a corpse, and every living thing died that was in the sea.

The third angel poured out his bowl into the rivers and the springs of water, and they became blood. And I heard the angel in charge of the waters say, “Just are you, O Holy One, who is and who was, for you brought these judgments. For they have shed the blood of saints and prophets, and you have given them blood to drink. It is what they deserve!” And I heard the altar saying, “Yes, Lord God the Almighty, true and just are your judgments!”

The fourth angel poured out his bowl on the sun, and it was allowed to scorch people with fire. They were scorched by the fierce heat, and they cursed the name of God who had power over these plagues. They did not repent and give him glory.

The fifth angel poured out his bowl on the throne of the beast, and its kingdom was plunged into darkness. People gnawed their tongues in anguish and cursed the God of heaven for their pain and sores. They did not repent of their deeds.

The sixth angel poured out his bowl on the great river Euphrates, and its water was dried up, to prepare the way for the kings from the east. And I saw, coming out of the mouth of the dragon and out of the mouth of the beast and out of the mouth of the false prophet, three unclean spirits like frogs. For they are demonic spirits, performing signs, who go abroad to the kings of the whole world, to assemble them for battle on the great day of God the Almighty. (“Behold, I am coming like a thief! Blessed is the one who stays awake, keeping his garments on, that he may not go about naked and be seen exposed!”) And they assembled them at the place that in Hebrew is called Armageddon.

The seventh angel poured out his bowl into the air, and a loud voice came out of the temple, from the throne, saying, “It is done!” And there were flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, and a great earthquake such as there had never been since man was on the earth, so great was that earthquake. The great city was split into three parts, and the cities of the nations fell, and God remembered Babylon the great, to make her drain the cup of the wine of the fury of his wrath. And every island fled away, and no mountains were to be found. And great hailstones, about one hundred pounds each, fell from heaven on people; and they cursed God for the plague of the hail, because the plague was so severe.

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens analysis #aziraphale #aziraphale’s bookshop #set design #good omens props #the good omens crew is unhinged #john gibson #josiah wedgwood #fine china #pottery #holy grail #seven bowls #second coming #yuri is doing her thing

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literary-motif · 2 days

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I Don't Forgive You

Asirel Cain x Reader

Warnings: misogyny and profanities (you get to kill the guy that does it)

His sister's despicable ex shows up at Asriel's home. You get dinner.

“What?” Asirel asked curtly, picking up the phone.

His employee stammered, clearly taken aback by his harshness. Asirel was not usually this brash with the people working for him — being calm, collected, and polite fed his image better — but today his schedule was rather busy and he did not care to be inconvenienced by frivolous things.

“There uh,” the employee cleared their throat nervously. He rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue impatiently. “There is a ‘Richard’ here to see you, sir.”

Asirel frowned, his eyes darting to his calendar. He had no meeting scheduled for today, least of all at his own home. “A what?” he huffed, distantly recalling the name being dropped in conversation before.

Richard. It sounded familiar. His sister had talked about a Richard when they had last met.

“Send him up,” he said, placing down the telephone.

“Oh and Richard, that jock-type bad boy I was seeing?” she had said, waving her fork in the air between them as she got excited about spilling some tea. “He’s history. Never met a man that entitled in my life and that’s saying something considering the dudes I’ve met. Anyways—”

He had smiled fondly at her, continuing to eat the spaghetti as he listened to her talk about the cute woman she had met at the butcher shop.

How had his sister’s ex found his way here?

The door to his study was thrown open violently, bouncing off the wall with a loud bang. A disheveled man stepped inside, not bothering with an introduction as he barged in.

He rubbed his forehead, already feeling a headache forming. He did not have time for this nonsense or whatever the hell this Richard wanted. He could see you standing in the doorway, silently hovering by Richard’s shoulder as you took in the scene before you and gave Asirel a raised eyebrow.

You looked both incredulous and amused. ‘Who’s he?’ you mouthed, pointing to the guy and chuckling quietly at his behavior. Most of all, you were shocked at Asirel for allowing it.

He rolled his eyes at your question.

“Listen, man,” Richard said, slamming his hands down on Asirel’s desk and looming over him in an effort to appear threatening. Out of the corner of his eyes, Asirel could see you slap a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing. Impassively, he continued to look at the Buffon in front of him as you licked your lips in anticipation.

Oh, today you would have a feast.

“Listen, I don’t know what that bitch told you” — Asirel blinked, expression unreadable — “but I didn’t do shit to her, alright? She can come off her fucking high horse and call me back, yeah? Damn man, tell a woman to suck you off once and she gets all pissy, right?”

Your mouth hung open in shock, eyes wide as you looked at the Richard guy. Shit, the tea was real. Shit, oh that guy was dead.

“That whore can’t tell me anything, yeah? Fucking slapped me when I pushed her to her knees, you hear me? Can’t believe I took her out for dinner for that. See, I’m a nice guy, but sometimes sluts just piss me off.”

Asirel did not betray his thoughts.

The silence in the study was thick, laden with tension that the guy only now seemed to catch up on. His slight panting was the only thing breaking the silence as Asirel pinned him in place with a look.

Richard suddenly grew uncomfortable as he took in the room around him, catching up to the fact that he was standing in Asirel’s quiet but threatening presence, whose aura seemed to darken with every second he breathed in his company.

He chuckled nervously. “Right, man?”

You could not contain your laughter anymore, snorting as you heard the guy’s heartbeat pick up in a sudden surge of fear. “Can I?” you asked, giddy with excitement as you tried your best to give Asirel convincing puppy eyes. “Oh please, I am literally begging you.”

“Just one moment,” Asirel said, slowly rising and taking one of his overflowing binders to slap it down on the guy’s hands, successfully getting them off his desk as Richard jumped back. He stared into the confused and fearful gaze of the scum sullying the peacefulness of his study.

For a moment, he contemplated ending Richard himself.

It would be an easy thing. Asirel could beat him to death with one of the iron rods he used to tend to the fireplace beside him. He could probably beat him to death with his bare fists as well, watch as the life left his eyes and the useless jerk went limp in his grip for daring to talk about his sister in such a way.

He could kill Richard. Draw it out and have his screams of pain echo through the mansion until he tore his throat to shreds and all he could muster would be a strangled plea for mercy that Asirel longed to deny him.

He could do all that if he wanted to.

Taking a breath, Asirel sat down again. “You’re not worth the effort,” he said, returning to his papers. “Don’t make too much of a mess,” he added as you stepped up to the guy, making him jump as he felt your breath on his neck.

“What the fuck?” he exclaimed, trying to take a step back. You took hold of him, pushing him to the ground with no effort.

His death was quicker than you’d liked, but Asirel did say not to make too much of a mess and the screaming and desperate pleading was annoying both of you.

“Think I need an aspirin after that one,” you said, wiping the remnants of blood from your mouth. You were quite proud of yourself. Not a single drop of it had stained the carpet.

“Agreed,” Asirel said, shuffling his papers.

“On a scale of one to ten though, he was maybe like a three?” you said, snatching some papers from his desk and disinterestedly leafing through them. “Tell your sister to get in touch with tastier people next time.”

“I’ll pass on the request.”

You laughed, tossing the papers back to him. Asirel reassembled the stack with a groan. “He had some balls showing up here.”

“He had no brain,” he said, resting his head on his hand and looking up at you sitting on the edge of his desk. “What kind of idiot thinks it is a good idea to seek out me to insult my sister? That is insane.”

“People are insane sometimes,” you said, stretching. “So, any crazy ex I need to be worried about when it comes to you?”

“Certainly not.”

He fished out an aspirin, passing you the container. You took it in amusement, relishing that Asirel had not caught up on your joke. He would grunt at his absentmindedness come morning when you reminded him that drugs did not work on vampires.

“I’ve never had the time for a relationship. You see how work takes up most of my life.”

You hummed, running a hand through his hair, which he quickly batted away. “Good thing you’ve got me then, boss.”

“That’s not what you should call me.”

“Oh, I meant to tell you, but then I totally forgot. Sorry about that,” his sister would say the next time he called to check up on her, “I gave Richard your address. He wouldn’t stop bothering me and I honestly couldn’t take it anymore. Also, I thought your little pet would appreciate a home delivery, my treat.”

“They told me his blood left something to be desired and that you should choose your partners more carefully from now on.”

“Really? Well they’re not one to talk.”

“Play nice.”

#sakuverse #zsakuva #asirel cain #asirel cain x reader #asirel #zsakuva asirel

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moondustpugh · 3 hours

Text

The Hate Formula

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Living in the same building, across from each other shouldn't be much of a problem, right? But how come you and Joe tend to always push each other's buttons every day? Is it because you both truly just hated each other or is it because there was something more to it?

Author's Note: Let the chaos begin! This was a really fun chapter to write, so I hope you all enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: 18+

Wordcount: 3.4K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

“Oh god! Yes, Joe!”

Your eyes snapped open as you grabbed the pillow from behind you and set it over your head. You closed your eyes again and forced yourself to fall back to sleep. It was about 2am, and you still had work the next morning. The last thing you wanted to hear was some random woman crying out Joe’s name in the middle of the night.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck!”

Exhaling a sharp breath, you took the pillow off your head, kicked your comforter frustratingly and swung your legs over your bed. Letting your feet touch the cold wooden floors, you reached over to turn on the light from your lamp and slid your robe around your body.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You cursed under your breath when you saw what time it was.

“Yes! Ah–Joe!”

Shaking your head, you walked out of your room, out the door of your apartment and into the elevator. The amount of noise complaints that you have filed for Joe for the last two years have been–well– countless. You have filed so many that you have lost track of the amount, and you at least have one almost every month. It wasn’t like you enjoyed walking into your landlord’s office every morning and complaining that the women that Joe would bring home were always too loud. You didn’t need to hear them cry out his name nor hear their moans in the middle of the night, especially on the nights that you have work the next day.

The noises were worse during the weekends, and you didn’t exactly remember when all of this started. Maybe a month or two after you have moved into the building. All you knew was that this has been going on for the last two years, and it all started on a Sunday night when you were trying to go to sleep early since you have work the next morning, and you heard a woman moaning Joe’s name literally outside the hall.

When you had opened your front door, you saw the woman pinned against Joe’s front door. His lips on her chest, and his hand was basically grabbing her ass. One leg curled around his hip, and she kept moaning his name. Sighing and rolling your eyes, you walked over to them and tapped Joe on his shoulder. Then, Joe pulled away and the both of them immediately froze and turned to face you. The woman looked annoyed, and Joe’s brows were all knitted together. He also looked annoyed over the fact that you had interrupted his little makeout session in the middle of the hall.

You could tell that he was a bit drunk by just looking at his glassy eyes and his flushed cheeks. A smirk appeared across his face the moment he saw you standing there, your arms crossed in front of your chest.

“What is it, love?” Joe asked.

You made a face as soon as you heard the little nickname that Joe had given you. Even in front of the girl that he was making out with, nothing stopped him from flirting with another one. He didn’t care at all about anything.

“It’s midnight. I can literally hear the both of you through my front door and all the way into my room.”

You heard the woman scoff and saw how she rolled her eyes at you as Joe set her back down. He looked around the quiet empty hallway and turned back to you.

“No one else is complaining about it.” Joe argued.

“Take it inside your apartment or I’m gonna file a complaint about you.” You warned him.

Walking away, you sighed in frustration as soon as you closed the door behind you. Settling back in your bed, you pulled the covers close to your chest and closed your eyes. You were tired, and you just wanted to sleep. However, the moment you started drifting off, you started hearing the woman moaning Joe’s name again.

“Ugh!” You groaned in frustration, grabbing your other pillow and set it over your head.

You didn’t sleep a wink that night, and you immediately went straight to the landlord’s office early in the morning. You had dark circles under your eyes, and you had decided to work from home that day.

“Mrs. Johnson, I can literally hear them all the way to my room.” You complained.

Mrs. Johnson sighed, leaning back against her chair and gave you a look. She looked like she didn’t believe a word you said as you continued to explain that this wasn’t the first time you have been hearing these noises.

“Mrs. Johnson, it gets worse on the weekends. I mean… fine, it’s the weekend but really? I have work the next day, and I can’t sleep because of him.”

“I’ll give him a warning.” Mrs. Johnson stated. “If he doesn’t stop then, I’ll talk to him and see what we can do.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded your head and sighed. You entered the elevator going back up to your apartment, feeling defeated and pissed off. You could clearly see her face when you told her what was going on and even if she didn’t have to say anything, you knew she didn’t believe you. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was because Joe was an actor, and he had bigger privileges than you. That just wouldn’t be fair.

Entering your apartment, you saw Sara sitting on the dining table with her work laptop in front of her. A surprise look washed over her face when she saw you enter the apartment, still in your pajamas and robe.

“I thought you already left for work?” Sara asked, her eyes scanning your current state.

You looked exhausted.

“I should be asking you the same thing.” You murmured, walking into the kitchen and pouring yourself a cup of coffee.

“I decided to work from home.” Sara replied.

“That makes two of us.” You exhaled a sharp breath and sat across from her on the dining table.

“Where did you go?”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes recalling what just happened back in Mrs. Johnson’s office. For some reason, with the way Mrs. Johnson was reacting to your little complaint, you sort of felt embarrassed. You went there early in the morning to complain about Joe for fuck’s sake. But it wasn’t your fault. They really were loud last night, and you couldn’t sleep.

How come it felt like you were the bad guy here?

“Downstairs.” You bit your lower lip, playing with your coffee mug. “Complained to Mrs. Johnson about Joe’s little noise last night.”

“Ohmygod.” Sara rubbed her forehead softly. “Why? What happened now?”

“Sara, didn’t you hear how loud they were last night?”

It was only 7am, and you were already frustrated and stressed over this situation. How was Joe able to just tick you off like this even when he wasn’t even around at the moment?

“No?” Sara furrowed her brows. “Don’t you think it’s time to put a stop to this? Do you two always have to banter in the middle of the hall all the time?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Sara, I literally couldn’t sleep last night. Are you on my side or his?”

“I’m on the ‘I wanna keep living here’ side.” Sara answered. “You both are lucky that none of the other tenants have filed a complaint with both of your loud bantering in the middle of the hall all the time.”

Slumping on your chair, you took a sip of your coffee and gazed out of the big glass window for a moment. Sara could see the anger in your face, and it wasn’t just anger. There was some resentment in it too. She wondered if there was an end goal to this little game that you two were playing, and she wondered if you both would ever get tired of it.

“Did you really not hear anything from last night?” You asked, your voice low.

“No,” Sara replied, her eyes focused on her laptop again. “I don’t hear anything from his end.”

“Maybe because your room is farther.” You mumbled under your breath, taking another sip of your coffee.

“Maybe…” Sara elongated her words, reluctant to tell you what she really thinks. “Maybe you tend to hyperfixate your attention to him, that's why every thing he does, you sort of notice or hear it.”

You stared at Sara for a moment before grimacing at the comment she just told you. Sara didn’t know what she was talking about. She has no idea how much hate you held into that man. She didn’t understand how much you just wished he would leave you alone.

“He’s the last thing that I could be thinking of when I go to bed.” You shook your head and redacted your statement, “Wait, what am I saying? He’s never in my head. I don’t bother thinking of him.”

“Mhmm…” Sara’s eyes were laser focused on her laptop screen.

She didn’t bother arguing with you if you were only just going to keep denying the real reason as to why you kept up this little game with Joe. However, she didn’t think that Joe would also play the game that you started because he also came knocking on your door one Saturday night. You and Sara were watching a comedy movie in your living room, minding your own business and enjoying your night when you both heard a knock. Both of you exchanged looks for a moment. You both didn’t expect anyone coming over, so who was knocking on your door at this hour?

The moment you swung the door open, you saw Joe standing there waiting for you. The expression on his face was telling you that he was here to irritate you on your peaceful Saturday night.

“What do you want, Joe?” You asked, crossing your arms on your chest.

Joe gave you a smile and said, “Can you please turn your laughter down a little? I can hear it all the way across the hall.”

Was he playing with you?

Was this his little revenge from the way you interrupted his little makeout session about a month ago?

“What? She’s not screaming your name loud enough?” You raised your brow at him, anger already slowly coursing through your veins.

Joe’s grin widened as he took a step forward. His lips grazed over your earlobe, a shiver sent down your spine when you realized how close he was with you. You could practically feel his breathing on your ear. You stood there frozen, your feet glued to the ground, and you could feel him grinning in your ear.

“I like to hear her moan my name clearly.” He whispered.

Immediately, that good feeling that rushed down your body faded as you scrunch your face and pushed him away from you. He laughed softly, stumbling back, and you could see his eyes twinkling in merriment.

“You’re fucking disgusting!” You exclaimed.

“If you don’t keep it down, love, I’m gonna file a complaint.” Joe’s voice sounded playful.

“Then file a complaint. I don’t fucking care, you disgusting pig!” You yelled before slamming the door on his face.

Shaking the memories away, you exited out of the elevator and pulled your robe closer to your chest. It was in the middle of the night and luckily for you, Mrs. Johnson was still awake. Sometimes you wonder if she ever slept because she was always in her office 24/7. Although, that was the least of your worries right now. Entering her office, she gazed up at you and immediately her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she let out an annoyed sigh.

“What is it this time?” She asked.

“It’s literally been going on for an hour now. I can hear it all the way to my bedroom.” You complained.

Without saying a word, Mrs. Johnson got up from her chair as you followed her towards the elevator. Tension in the air blanketed the both of you as you both waited for the elevator to take you back up to your floor. You crossed your arms in front of your chest and bit your lower lip. You could see from the corner of your eye that Mrs. Johnson looked pissed.

When the elevator doors opened, you couldn’t help but sigh in relief as the tension left between the both of you. You stood behind Mrs. Johnson as she knocked on Joe’s door. You could hear silent voices behind the door suddenly stopped. When the door swung open, you and Mrs. Johnson gasped in surprise and immediately turned away.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed, turning your back to Joe.

He was literally naked and a small towel was the only thing covering his front. Mrs. Johnson was even more frustrated as she shook her head, her hands found her hips.

“Mr. Quinn, is this how you greet your guests?” She asked, her voice cold.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Johnson. I thought it was just her.” Joe disappeared from behind his door and grabbed a bigger towel to wrap it around his waist before stepping out from behind the door again.

You knitted your brows. What did he mean by that? So, was he doing all of this on purpose? He purposely knew that you were going to be on the other side of the door, so he was acting like this?

What a fucking asshole.

Your blood was literally boiling as you side eyed him, and he was giving you a devious grin. His eyes were only to you, and he didn’t even care that Mrs. Johnson was literally in front of him. She sighed and rubbed her forehead as she looked over her shoulder to look at you before turning back to Joe.

“The two of you are literally the worst part of my job.” Mrs. Johnson murmured.

Your eyes widened as you turned to face both of them. How were you the bad guy all the time? Joe was the one who was always causing trouble, and you were just telling her the truth!

“He’s literally the one who’s making noises all the time!” You argued.

Joe scoffed at your argument, “Me? I can hear your goose laugh all the way to my apartment all the time!”

Your jaw dropped on the floor as you took a step forward towards him, your eyes sparking in anger.

“Oh, yeah? Does the whole floor really have to hear you having sex all the time?”

“Does the whole floor have to hear your annoying laugh all the time?” Joe argued, taking a step forward towards you too.

“At least I’m not a fuckboy who brings different women every night, thinking he’s all that.”

“At least I’m not spending my weekends with cheap pizza and a pint of ice cream all the time.”

“I’ll rather spend my Saturday nights with cheap pizza and a pint of ice cream than breaking a woman’s heart and leading them on, acting like I’m interested but really, I’m just a player who loves the fucking attention!”

Joe knitted his brows, his eyes blinking at the argument you threw at him. Suddenly, he realized there was a deeper meaning in the sentence that you just yelled at him. He stared at you, stunned and didn’t know what to say. Mrs. Johnson pushed the both of you away from each other as she stepped in between the two of you.

“Enough!” She exclaimed.

Joe saw the look on your face when you realized what you told him as the both of you slowly looked away from each other and turned to Mrs. Johnson, who looked angry and exhausted.

“I’ve had enough of both of you! One more complaint and I will kick the both of you out of here!”

Your mouth hung open in shock as Mrs. Johnson pointed at you and then at Joe, giving the both of you a warning look before walking away. Your nose flared in anger as you gave Joe a cold side eye. He also looked stunned from what Mrs. Johnson just said. You were mentally punching Joe in your head at the moment. You wouldn’t be in this situation if he would just shut up for once and stop pressing your buttons.

Exhaling a sharp frustrated breath, you turned and walked back to your apartment.

“Hey.” Joe called out.

Pausing in your tracks, you turned to him. “What?!”

Joe walked closer to you, his chocolate button eyes staring deeply into yours. For some reason, there was something in his eyes that you couldn’t describe what it was. It was almost too genuine, but you doubt it. He was an actor. He could pretend anytime he wanted to.

“I’ll keep the noise down.” He stated sternly. “If you start talking nice to me.”

His face was inches close to yours as you smiled and glanced down at his bare chest. Your index finger grazing over his soft skin, making Joe hitch his breath. He could feel his skin burning under your touch, and he tried to hold himself together as he felt his face flushed. Then, suddenly, the smile on your face fell.

“I’ll rather live on the streets than be nice to you!” You stated.

Then, your fingers found the hem of his towel before you yanked it down and immediately turned your back to him, smiling deviously. You didn’t even bother looking back as you walked towards your apartment.

“Hey!” Joe exclaimed, immediately picking up his towel and covering his front.

Before you could close your front door, you cheekily grinned as you watched him walk back to his apartment, his bum literally hanging out in front of you. You couldn’t help but stare at it before closing the door.

“I told you that this was going to happen!” Sara scolded you the next morning when you had told her Mrs. Johnson’s warning from last night.

You bit your lower lip, feeling your blood rushed to your cheeks. Sara was furious, and you couldn’t blame her because you knew how many times she had warned you about this and the day had finally come.

“I’ll try to stop.” You murmured, hanging your head low.

“You better because I want to keep living here.” Sara barked. “That little game you and Joe are playing is not just about you two. It’s affecting my living situation too, and I’m sure everyone on this floor is sick of it too.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Sara sighed and shook her head as comfortable silence blanketed the living room. You knew that this time, you had fucked up. This time, it was partly your fault for bringing Sara into this mess.

“I’m sorry.” You said again, interrupting the silence. “I’ll try to be… civil.”

“It’s okay.” Sara murmured. “Before you told me about this, I actually have something to tell you. Maybe it will help you to avoid Joe.”

“What is it?”

“My co-worker Garrett saw the picture of us on my Instagram, and he was wondering if he could take you out on a date.”

You raised your brow at her, reluctant about the idea.

“I hope he’s not an asshole.”

“He’s not. He’s really nice.” Sara smiled excitedly. “He’s blond, has green eyes and he works in Finance.”

You chuckled softly at the description that Sara gave you. You knew that she knew how picky you were with men. It had to be someone that was your type when it came to looks besides the fact that you were also picky with their personality. It was no wonder as to why you were still single until now.

“Well, if he’s so nice and beautiful, why don’t you date him?”

Sara shrugged and said, “Because I don’t like him like that. We’re just friends.”

You let out a soft hum as you thought over the suggestion that Sara gave you. You didn’t really want to go and date someone that you didn’t know. Someone you haven’t met at all, and you truly didn’t like being set up on a blind date. However, maybe Sara was right. This might help you avoid Joe. You could see him less if you had your attention to someone else.

“Fine.” You agreed. “But if this doesn’t work out, it’ll be all your fault.”

Sara laughed softly. “Alright, alright.”

********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @munsonluvrr @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf @mvnsonlover

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joe Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joseph Quinn Fanfics #Joe Quinn Fanfics #Joseph Quinn Fics #Joe Quinn Fics #Joseph Quinn rpf #Joe Quinn rpf #The Hate Formula #part two #moondustpugh

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sskk-manifesto · 3 months

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MITCHELL AKUTAGAWA EPISODE!!!!!!!!!!

#MITCHELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#///AND/// AKUTAGAWA EPISODE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And Yosano and Kenji spotlight too. Episode written precisely for my personal liking #Too bad no Atsushi then it would have been perfect (╥﹏╥) At least we got his voice in the episdoe preview #Alright I **LOVE** Mitchell. This is not the space to talk about it properly but I just really like how flawed she is‚#but also in a way that results funny and endearing. And I love love love how much she cares about her family and is loyal to it!!!#It makes her so noble and virtuous. I know she has so little screentime but really the way she's so harsh and in apparence self-absorbed–#But in reality so kind and altruistic... The way her hearsh ways are implied to be only a consequence of a life of struggles and her will–#to save her family's name through a noble behavior and appearance too... It makes her so complex and multilayered imo #AND just how her innate tendency to defend people spans out of her family too!!!!#In my interpretation she did NOT care for Hawthorne or like him. But she still gave her life for him because she just instinctively–#protects the people around her. I don't have any strong feelings for haw/mitch but like how to blame Hawthorne I would have–#fallen for her right that istant too.#Now to Akutagawa. I'm really endeared by this episode because I'm pretty sure that's when I started sympathizing with / liking him :')#Like that's the moment when the things Dark Era showed us and the canon Akutagawa behavior click together and the watcher goes “Oh. OH.”#At least I'm pretty sure it was for me. It's bittersweet but especially sweet.#One more thing is... Wow bsd really has been like *that* since the beginning hasn't it. It's kinda silly to think back to all the criticism #the latest arc got now.#The criticism regarding how the ridiculously high stakes have been solved seemingly effortlessly in a way that resulted very anticlimatic??#That's ALWAYS been there. “Oh no the ada is done for if they found out our base!!” *holds literally ZERO consequences*#“Oh no the Guild is done for if they destruct Zelda!!” *holds literally ZERO consequences*#“Oh no the Guild knows were our clerk is!!” *holds near to ZERO consequences*#And #“Oh no Akutagawa died!” “Oh no half world population was tuned in vampires!” “Oh no Fukuchi obtained One Order!”#“Oh no Chuuya is a vampire siding against Dazai!”#It's really the same‚ isn't it?#But like‚ we're still glad all of it happened right? Because it makes the experience enjoyable lol.#It's really about enjoying the ride I suppose.#I have more to ramble about but I've ran out of tags so I'll be doing it on my main blog reblog later #random rambles

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sysig · 11 months

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If your eye causes you to [fear], pluck it out (P1 | P2 | P3 | B) (Patreon)

#Doodles #SCII #NEJ #Captain Sterling #Blood #Body horror #(I'll put the spoilers further down in the tags so if you'd rather wait to read all the way through first just ignore these for now)#Hey it's not spooky season yet! What the heck!#NEJ got me bad I super didn't expect it but thinking about his scopophobia exploded my brain #I don't know why! It's not like I forgot! Details just fuzzy enough to feel like novelty again I guess lol ♪ I'll take it #It was a fun concept to play in :D I guess I've never really thought about it but I do actually enjoy eye horror? :0 #I have for a while when I look back at it I just never put the name to it haha #Poor Sterling haha he's only had a few sets to himself and then I do this to time - well he seems fine! Lol #Well maybe not Completely fine there's something weird about him hmm ♪#[Spoilers starting] I know Sterling hasn't had a lot of screentime so far but I can tell you this isn't how he'd normally talk #He /is/ still a human Captain so take from that what you will - he has some of his own mannerisms - at least enough to be recognizable #But there's something Not Quite Right about him besides the obvious lol #No he hasn't been possessed but he is Something of a puppet at the moment :3 How we appear to others through their own lense and all that #This is NEJ's interpretation of Sterling through his VUX frame hehe - probably not difficult to guess but NEJ isn't having a fun time of it #How might his fears manifest inside his mind? /And/ the opportunity for horror and blood? How could I resist?#[/Spoilers]#I really am quite pleased with how it turned out :D I initially intended for it to be a Scratch comic but then it kept turning out pretty!#I especially like the panel of Sterling leaning towards him and NEJ leaning away with his head tendrils up ah <3 #His expression is intentionally hidden but you can still tell what he's feeling! Large and fearful! ♥#I also rather like Sterling's first panel of his eyes missing I think the toning came out particularly nice there :)#The guilt of putting my lads through Things is always outweighed by how fun it is to do so haha

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exoexid · 7 months

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just realized something and even tho it's something very silly i feel so bad about it 😭

#i just.... sometimes i listen to ateez. i do enjoy some of their songs bc the brand of noise music they produce is interesting and fun!!!!#obvsly that doesn't mean that i stan them. no matter how pretty seonghwa and mingi are i just don't i'm not 15 anymore :)#but i know their names and i can identify some of them when they sing/rap (see: mingi jongho and hongjoong. happy bday king btw!!!)#because they have distinguishable voices even with all the vocal processing they add to their songs #however.... when it comes to what i assume is the rest of their vocal line i'm still trying to... kind of sort them out #and that's fine bc i don't listen their music that much. but their voices are similar in tone right? to me they are at least but idk!!!!#well today i just realized that i have never heard them talk. like outside of singing idk their voices. i don't watch their content #no wait i did watch that one video with san and hongjoong trying out british food........ but the point still stands!!!!!#today i was scrolling down on twt and a video of san mingi and yunho appeared and as i listened to it.... something wasn't adding up to me #and it was so weird bc? yeah that's mingi's voice. and ah okay san talks like that. but yunho???????#he has always reminded me of chanyeol. so much. so as i was listening to him talking my brain kept saying ''wasn't his voice deeper??''#and yeah it IS deep but it's not pcy deep!!!!!!!! like girl you've been fooling yourself all this time!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#in my head i keep on giving him pcy's voice which is. insane. and i don't know how i never registered it while listening to their songs #i truly feel so bad about it like it's so weird how i never realized i was doing this unconsciously YUNHO I'M SORRYYY #2 am thoughts are strange but this one has shaken me up so much like girl.... not everything is about your favorite unemployed legends!!!!#dara.t

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unproduciblesmackdown · 1 year

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youtube

i went through this account’s handful of videos from this show, and i’m pretty confident that’s will roland, next to harrison chad as quince, despite the view being mostly obstructed from the angle this whole time. he’s Most Visible for a moment at the very end lol. since the costuming is just a buttonup and tie w/no especial “it’s This character, or Any character” cues, i’ll guess he’s “will roland” at this point, though that doesn’t mean he wasn’t appearing in some other capacity earlier. every pre-2018 xmas wrole cited in that tweet has been accounted for, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been some of those characters more than once, as is definitely true for uncle peenie appearances

#the sixth annual show....twenty thirteen....don't know of any more specific info abt this one. like ''oh xyz pic is from then''#i think the third annual show in twenty ten was Probably his first one / the year of peter the coffee kid but that's still technically #an informed guess as it were lol....and evidently he was in the next yr's show as the christmas burgler / also just [ensemble]#but atm so far as i know regarding definite Dates / the Year; there's only this b/w that & the twenty fifteen 8th annual show there #wherein he was uncle peenie / virgin mary dancer / belly button puppet show puppeteer / will roland At Least #was like hmm twenty twelve/thirteen was The Black Suits times; would he have been able to make it...#but the fact that harrison chad does appear to be there suggests it was entirely plausible for anyone else in the cast to be #what with him playing brandon....and lo & behold does seem to be william next to him there #but yeah can't even speculate ''is This the show in which he played [role listed as having been played but hasn't been seen elsewhere]??''#b/c they've all been seen elsewhere at least the once #the other videos are mostly like twenty or thirty or six second increments of mostly the mister chestnut number & like one other full song #but there was like a forty second recording of Virgin Mary Ft. Her Dancers & i was like god can you imagine. i'll lose it.#by which one means be Head In Hands like keeling over a bit. but none of them was him lmao so [oh lord. imagine] averted beyond that #joe iconis christmas extravaganza #will roland #glad there's a more visible glimpse right at the end but my watching it all prior like Okay Come On Now lmfao #i mean at least it was evident most of the way that there was even a person there to go ''oh huh that could be him'' about #just still thinking about the ''mike wazowski'd but for the viewer / listener looking / listening for him'' experience from the other day #npr affiliate station ep abt gtm:pota that at least cited every oscr cast member by name w/the sole exception of will lmao. cmon #billions wide group shot showing everyone's face except whoops winston in the corner blocked by the group of extras. pointing #but w/these glimpses it's like; hey; it's Anything which is impressive; it's identifiable Enough; also hardly guaranteed. i'll take it

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theragethatisdesire · 11 months

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scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.”

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin.

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it.

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch.

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

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