#consistently. i am Consistently being an asshole about this

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

how do you think leona would do if he falls in love?

Here are my thoughts in bullet-point/headcanon form for ease of reading! Key word there being my thoughts. (There will of course be different interpretations based on who you ask this question to.)

Standard disclaimer: These points are nothing more than my opinions and I am NOT saying my opinions are any more or less valid or “correct” than yours. Please, I’m not pre-book 1 Riddle/j It’s fine to have other takes; just remember to be mindful in how you communicate differences in opinion.

To start with, here's how I think Leona would deal with the experience of first love:

Firstly, I definitely feel that Leona is the type of person to not easily fall in love. There are many examples in canon of Leona rejecting the love he receives from others, whether it be from his own family (Cheka, Falena), dorm members (Ruggie, Jack, Savanaclaw mobs, etc.), or other peers. Even though he desires others’ approval and praise, he also simultaneously believes the compliments are insincere or that he may not be deserving or worthy of it, that he hasn’t “earned” it. It’s also difficult for him to be emotionally vulnerable with others, and I feel that this would extend to romantic circumstances.

Continuing from the previous point, I think it’d be a slow burn. Like, the feelings develop gradually and manifest in small but increasingly more forward-facing ways like his gaze lingering for a second or two longer than usual, him getting slightly irritable when he smells (I 100% believe that smell is a Big Thing for beastmen) some other guy on the object of his affections, or simply… his mind wandering to them, maybe in a daydream.

A lot of it is Leona musing about the situation and then being in denial. He’s not so oblivious as to ignore what are clearly blossoming feelings, but he's not so hasty as to act on them right away. He'd sit with those feelings, examine them, question them. What is it that he is experiencing and why, how did things come to this, etc. He may even try to convince himself it's a phase or he's "too good" for this or he's "above" this. Really takes a long time to wrestle with his emotions and to sort them out. And then when he has come to his conclusion, he might not be very pleased with it because (as I said before), he has self-esteem and self-worth issues despite outwardly presenting himself as confident and in-charge.

For a while, he keeps his distance and observes. He’s nothing if not a big cat biding his time, keeping an eye on his prey until—BAM! Down comes his paw, ensnaring the mouse. It's like a game of chess or... cat and mouse. You have to watch your opponent and predict their moves, then plan your own moves two or three or more steps ahead of them. He'd want to gauge if they're already taken, if they seem to express an interest in him too, what they like and dislike, information like that. The last thing Leona'd want to do is charge in, guns blazing, only to be rejected and have his pride hurt.

He may also go out of his way to test the object of his affections by purposefully engineering scenarios to see how they react. At first, it's subtle things that could easily be passed off as coincidence or happenstance. For example, maybe Leona would accidentally bump his shoulder against yours or as he's walking by his tail flicks you. That's just the start though. He'd put more pressure on over time. Like he'd be more confrontational, putting himself in your path as some obstacle to overcome, still being sort of an asshole to see how you handle yourself around him.

Leona tells himself he has the upper hand, and he's usually pretty consistent about hiding his feelings to that end. It might peek through here and there, but they easily read as him being tsundere as per usual. I think that would be his way of coping, because deep down he doesn't want to admit that a part of him is scared to feel this way. It's something else he could fail at, someone else he could frighten away or destroy.

With time, I think he'd become more confident. He has a better grasp of the other person, he's been able to sort out his thoughts. But the thing is, his pride is still a major deterrent. Instead of coming out and saying it, it would become another game. If you've ever read or watched Kaguya-sama: Love is War, it'd be similar to that. Leona would push for the other person to be the one to fall for him and confess first. Part of it is he's kind of afraid to be so emotionally vulnerable, part of it is that he's desperate to be wanted and needed by others, and part of it is that he feels he needs to "earn" that love by winning you over. He wants that sweet, sweet validation from you. He wants YOU to choose HIM.

I think he expects a certain amount of push and pull. If the game's too easy for him, the (psychological) hunt loses some of its thrill. I think he'd also be the type to seek a partner that isn't just a blind yes man (despite him giving off the vibes that he wants to be in total control, especially in his own dormitory); they should be able to keep him on his toes one way or another, and they shouldn't idolize him in a really unrealistic way--because then he worries what would happen if they learn about his flaws. Would they see him differently? Reject him? Etc.

It'd take a considerable amount of time and effort, but slowly he'd let the walls around his heart down to let you in--but ONLY if you pass his tests and prove that you can be loyal, trustworthy, and cognizant + accepting of all his flaws. He has high standards, so he's pretty picky about who he allows to be by his side. I don't think he'd be happy having to like... put in a fake "perfect prince" act or airs for someone else. Pretending to be someone you're not in order to have love might be just another source of stress for him.

He would take a more aggressive approach if the object of his affections makes it obvious that they return his feelings. More "accidental" touching (but of course nothing that breaches into something they find discomforting), intentionally dropping phrases that come off as flirtatious, demanding to spend more time together, etc.

If they're not into it, he'd respectfully back off. However, that won't stop him from moping about it in private later.

Then, assuming a scenario in which he and the person he's romantically interested in get together/start formally dating:

I think he'd be a lot more blatant and shameless about "showing off" his affections and/or the relationship in general. Overt flirting at this point, casually laying his head on the shoulder or wrapping an arm or tail around you, etc. Who cares who sees? Let them know you're already taken.

Oh yeah, he's really into physical touch (within whatever limits you deem to be acceptable; he respects your autonomy). Cuddles while napping, hand holding, head pats, listening to your heartbeat, etc. It grants him a sense of security that you're like... physically there with him.

I think words of affirmation are also up there, however I don't think he would appreciate it if it's like... overdone. Too many compliments might start to feel disingenuous or even smothering after a while (what comes to my mind specifically is how he reacts negatively or with denial to his brother, Cheka, Kifaji, and even his own dorm members praising him).

As I mentioned earlier, I think there'd be a lot of banter and teasing; Leona strikes me as someone who likes to toy with his pre or puts up a fight; he still has his pride and won't take sass lying down, he'd definitely retaliate but in a playful way.

Slightly whiny and needy. Key word: SLIGHTLY. He's not going to go full yandere on you. I believe that Leona would be somewhat insecure about the relationship and wants you to validate him with your presence. Like, if you're lying down somewhere and try to get up to leave... he might pout and be all dramatic about it, maybe throw in a sarcastic line about how he's "a delicate prince" and how he'll "wither like a flower" without you.

Slightly possessive. Again, the key word: SLIGHTLY. He's not going to restrict your movements or demand complete control of your life. However, he might sulk if he like... sees some other guy hovering or getting handsy, obviously making you uncomfortable. (If it's a particularly bad day for him, Leona might get intrusive thoughts about being the "second pick" and his partner leaving him for some "better" guy.) We've already seen he can get pretty territorial when it comes to Savanaclaw and the Botanical Garden, so I think at some point he'd also step in to intimidate people he feels are becoming a problem for his S/O. It's not the case for every situation though; his partner should be able to handle themselves or let him know when he's overstepping.

I think he'd be a little more tolerant of things his partner pulls. They're the one exception for certain things, like touching his ears or being more willing to listen to their requests to go to class or to try this new vegetable.

He'd try to distance his S/O from his family, especially in the beginning. Leona would tell them he doesn't think they're ready to meet the royal family yet (especially knowing the rocky relationship he has with his family), but really a lot of this stems from his pride. Falena, for example, honestly might make him look uncool by infantilizing his "baby bro".

Leona doesn't really go out of his way to plan grand gestures (he's not Kalim). If he does anything "big", it's probably like sending Ruggie to your doorstep with fancy flowers and a notecard or something. What he values isn't the "frivolous" stuff, but spending quality time together (even if it's doing nothing in particular). Might still spoil you on, say, special occasions, but he generally dislikes making a big deal of these things.

I think he'd be into you wearing his clothes. It's an easy visual indication that you're intimate enough to do this, but also it cloaks you in his smell so every other beastman in the immediate vicinity also knows you're "marked". Leona tosses his unworn blazer over you, casually saying, "Keep it."

I do believe he has the capacity to be very sappy, but I don't think he'd want to be at this level all of the time. It would probably be limited to private settings and done sparingly, sort of like a treat?? Cuz if he does it too often, then it might lose its "special" feeling, and I also feel like he wouldn't be open to being all squimshy 24/7. Usually his sappiness is sarcastic.

Going to keep it 100 here, he's going to be more vulnerable around you (especially in private), and that means potential traumadumping. That's not to say that he'd do it super frequently to go into full-blown details, but his S/O would be one of the few people he feels comfortable enough with to open about his deepest insecurities and fears. He sometimes needs someone to hear him out, a shoulder to cry on, etc. Of course, he's not going to treat his partner like an unpaid therapist. Leona just... needs some extra support every now and again, reminders that he's doing fine, you know??

IMPORTANT ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Leona being in love would NOT smooth out all the rough edges to his personality. He's not going to white knight/act like you constantly need his protection, he's not going to bend over backwards and do anything and everything his partner asks of him. He still has a will and he can and will disagree or argue if he's opposed to something. He'll still let you handle yourself as needed.

Leona being in love would also NOT magically cure him of his personal issues and struggles. This is also true of the other characters who have deeply rooted trauma, but I feel this point should be included as a reminder anyway. It's of course not his entire personality, but his past experiences will impact how he interprets and reacts to things in present day (hence him being needy/wanting validation, etc.).

Like all relationships (whether romantic or platonic), it would not be flawless. There will be highs and lows, fights and disagreements, etc. This is normal in any relationship; what matters is that you're able to be mature enough to patch things up afterwards and learn from those rough patches.

[drunkkenobi]

Here it is, the final Watcher viewcounts post I plan to make.

While Watcher is staying on YouTube, with a portion of their audience watching their videos only on WatcherTV (like me), tracking viewcounts no longer feels like it’s something that is worth keeping up with week to week like I’ve been doing for the past five (!) years. Also, at this point, there are less things to be learned from this kind of weekly stat-keeping and I am a bit worn-out about it. I don’t take every video’s numbers every week or anything, but it’s still a bit of a chore, especially now that I’m at a job where it’s a bit harder to do every Monday.

Here is a hodgepodge of information I’ve gleaned from doing this:

I would say that views are a bit down since the WatcherTV announcement, but first of all, lots of people (myself included) do not watch them on YouTube at all anymore but still watch them on the streamer, so that has to account for some of that loss. Of course, people deciding they hated Watcher would also account for some of it, but it’s really not a dire fall-off or anything especially for Ghost Files.

The only thing that really did quite badly on YT after the streamer announcement was Weird and/or Wonderful World, which is distressing to me on every single level. That show is so good and you can tell it meant so much to them to make something so joyful after the mess that was April 2024. I hope that the streamer means it can continue to return, even if it’s not every year.

Steven’s food videos behaved completely differently than everything else on the Watcher channel. If that’s because they starred Steven or because they were food videos, I can’t say, but they were often the only videos that could really gain steam weeks after release. The Shane&Ryan videos pretty much always peaked the first week, maybe the first two weeks, but that has never been a guarantee with the food videos. Even just this year, the spicy food episode of Travel Season jumped around 400k views in its 4th week.

Knowing this, the revelation that Watcher is going to create a separate YouTube channel for their food videos (starring Steven and Andrew) does not surprise me in the slightest. There’s obviously something different about the Almighty Algorithm when it comes to food and cooking (which is probably why Buzzfeed had like 3 different food channels) so I’m all for them taking advantage of that. (and hopefully keeping Steven safe from nasty assholes)

I will probably keep an eye on that channel tbh, but not in the same way I did for Watcher proper. We’ll see.

The highest viewed video on Watcher’s YouTube is Ghost Files: Waverly Hills with 8.9 million views

Ironically, the video that got the best opening weekend ever was their Goodbye Youtube video with 1.728 million views by Monday morning.

Watcher lost around 100k subscribers during The Discourse this past spring but they are back up and beyond that now. As of today, January 6, 2025, they have 2.89 million subs and 450 videos.

The total views is 469,381,807. The average view per video is 1,043,070. (I assume this includes all the “shorts” as well, for whatever that’s worth)

I don’t have to do the math to tell you that Ghost Files has the highest average viewcount. It’s by far been the most consistent show for them. The least consistent is probably still Top 5 Beatdown, which does still have the distinction of being the first Watcher video to hit 1 million views. (Top 5 Fast Food Chains)

Alright, I think that’s it! If anyone has any questions, please let me know! It’s been fun keeping track of this for the past five years and I really only kept up with it for so long because of the support from y’all here on tumblr, so thank you all for reading!

[supernaturallyliterate]

I’m rewatching Helluva Boss (yes, already) and I have thoughts:

Season 1 & 2 SPOILERS AHEAD

- Why does Blitz have a lemon tree in his office??

- Blitz has a sign behind his desk that says “Circus”. Possibly a flyer or a ticket from his old circus days??

- Blitz has a panic button for the following things: “More Coffee,” “soiled my pants,” “horny client,” “deranged client,” “client giving birth,” “ghost,” and “Stolas.” It makes me wonder why “soiled my pants” and “client giving birth” are on there. Are these common occurrences??? Also we learn later in Ghost Fuckers that most of Hell doesn’t believe ghosts exist. And it hasn’t been confirmed yet if they do. So that means Blitz had a panic button he’s probably never used, that likely came from his obsession with the show Ghost-Fuckers.

- Blitz has a few of his drawings on the wall in the scene where Loona is holding up the family photo for Moxxie to shoot. It’s two horses kissing (one is clearly a Blitz self-insert horse) and one is a drawing of Fizzarolli with an arrow shot through it.

- Moxxie imitates his dad when he’s talking about the situation in which murder would be okay— “maybe a deranged dad. *Moxxie’s Dad’s Mob Boss Voice* That’s understandable.” SO MUCH FORESHADOW.

- Millie says, “Guilty & innocent is not our business. Killing who we’re paid to is our business. Shoot the target.” And of course this comes back around

- “We could be a bit more selective is all,” Moxxie says about their clients. And in the finale of season 2, we start to see that maybe I.M.P. Will start being more selective.

- When the office catches on fire… Blitz yells at Moxxie but doesn’t have any fear or panic about the fact that it’s a fire. I was watching for any signs of ptsd for the fire but didn’t see any in this scene.

- OMG I JUST SAW BLITZ’S BILLBOARD ADD in the background of a scene. It reads, “Goat an asshole in the Living worlds!? Come to I am Pee!!!??! Make sure you put this sign on the rite side. Don’t fuck this up. Also payment may take a couple weeks because it cums in the Mail. - SPEECH TO TEXT - -Blitzo”. Oh my lord. Honey, no.

- Moxxie probably hesitated to kill the mom of the Murder Family because he was forced to kill his mom.

- Even before the Murder Famiky goes all, well, Murder Family, we see subtle signs of their… murderous tendencies in their decor: a lamp post made out of a human spine and pelvis, a kid’s face mounted to the wall, all the weapons in display, picture frames made out of bones.

- Why did Murder dad switch from a rifle to a glass bottle? Consistency error?

- Blitz 100% has a custom ringtone for Stolas, because he answers the call without checking it, and says before Stolas can talk, “Stolas, this is a really bad time.”

- Stolas calls Blitz by the nickname Blitzy for the first time

- and we get the full moon arrangement!! Stolas: “What if we worked out some kind of exchange? Favors for favors? Doesn’t that sound enticing?” B: “I’m too busy trying not to get fucked in my a.” S: “I’ll keep it simple. Once a month, on the full moon, you return the book to me, followed by a night of passionate fornication. And… you get to keep it all the rest of the time. Sound fair, my little imp?” B: “Fine, whatever!” S: “Oh, Blitz, I’m so excited. I cannot wait to feel your slimy cock inside of me… *continues bleeped out foreplay sexy talk*”

- I noticed that when Blitz and Millie are set on fire by the Murder Mom Martha, Blitz says, “YOUR fire doesn’t really hurt us.” And it made me realize that red/orange fire must be “human fire” and green/white fire must be “hell fire,” which can hurt Imps and other demons

- Blitz pulls out a horse from his coat pocket to make sure it’s okay 🥺

- Moxxie being like, “I’m calling 911 so the earthly authorities will deal with you fairly and justly” and then they blow up the house.

[altschmerzes]

like i know i'm a mean, pedantic asshole who cares too much about things that don't matter and am embarrassing myself on the regular by making a giant fuss over it but i really don't see any other way to have an inch of breathing room in fandom or creative spaces or just The World In General as an aromantic person.

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!

[katyspersonal]

Cool.. Our rent price got raised. :') I did not know it was even possible to get even MORE poor than me and mom already were, but here we are. Guess I'll start surviving on literal bread and water at this rate.

[bleaksqueak]

I'm glad that almost all of the pages done while that back injury was still making my life a painful and sleepless/restless hell have been mostly posted now. Thre's some stuff I didn't like how the initial drawing came out for that, in a normal situation, would have just been a (quick fix), but I was so uncomfortable/in pain and slowed down to such an absolute snail that every single thing became a "Well that's good enough"

Anywho, back injuries really Suck. Going forward, due to how much time I lost with said back injury and another "out of my control" event that set me back during my buffer's run, I'm likely going to adjust the coloring technique on Soli. The coloring technique I've been using, when not injured and not being blindsided by a majorly stressful event, is one I chose due to it being a comfortable, quick painting style that I'd use for concept work. It's the style I work in most naturally and fast since for many things I'd just forgo the drawing stage at all, but it does require me being able to work without pain or without numerous unplanned interruptions. So, with my buffer practically gone and having lost a year to Snail Mode on the waves of that back injury, I'm going to likely adjust things to a looser version. As in, "there's a imddle point when I'm working where I enjoy how things look. In order to catch back up to where I was and want to be, I think I'm going to just use that stage to my advantage." Did I say back injuries suck? They really suck. Grateful that it's finally better now, but shaking my fist at the damage it did and all the other little instances butting infront of me and getting in my way. The ol' "CAN THINGS STOP HAPPENING??" plea lol. Anyway this is just a ramble serving as a heads up for "chapter 3 may look a little different, because the number 1 way to make sure I'll circumvent something's bullshit is to Make it Happen Anyway and I've got catching up to do."

[kat-n-dog]

ugh ugh

i started out as a trainer at a big-time facility w lots of other young people and it did a lot for me but ultimately the environment was Highly Toxic and too fast-paced for me and i had to leave. and for whatever reason that was enough for the other trainers there to decide that they want nothing to do with me and they have made a point to give the impression that they Don't Like Me even though i have done nothing but be overwhelmed by the expected output of working at that facility (and the weird neurotypical cattiness of the group that i was consistently confused by)

and that sucks on its own but also due to being in the same small community in the same area i am always seeing things they're doing. and due to them being a big hotshot facility that is now owned by a millionaire businessman, they are getting a Lot of really unique and cool education and mentorship opportunities that i do not have access to.

and it just gives me this twisting feeling in my stomach bc despite us all starting out together, and thinking we were friends, i was ousted from the group due to things i can't control. and that led to them making a point to impress upon me that they're better than me. and now they are getting to work with and learn from world names, so that means that very soon, if not now, they will be right.

[slices-of-naranja]

I think sometimes people think it is naive or dishonest or childish when someone chooses to be kind and optimistic. but truthfully it is very hard work to be kind sometimes. but if there is no kindness then really what is the point of it all

[theragethatisdesire]

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.”

[ender-of-the-sender]

YOU PEOPLE DONT UNDERSTAND-

HOUSE IS AUTISTIC.

They acknowledge it in S3 E4. Wilson heavily suggests to Cuddy that House has Asperger syndrome, but they decide that he can't possibly because he's just a jerk.

Let autistic people be jerks. Let autistic people be assholes WITHOUT USING AUTISM AS AN EXCUSE. IM AN ASSHOLE SOMETIMES. NOT BECAUSE IM AUTISTIC, IM JUST A PRICK. Yes I understand that one of the reasons for him being such a dickhead is because of his leg, he's in pain all the time. But thats even more of a reason to believe that it is a separate issue.

They say that he wants to relate to the kid because then he can get away with being a dick, but he does relate to the kid. He hates change, he thrives on consistency, he needs stimulation or he gets bored and frustrated, he isolates himself- and when he does have to interact, it's with the same people he sees everyday.

House can be autistic AND an asshole. Those two things do not cancel each other out.

(Edit: as a disabled autistic person, I see myself in House in ways that I never have in canonically autistic characters. I am aware it's never confirmed in the show. I am aware that not everyone agrees with this headcanon, and genuinely that is all it is, a headcanon. I'm not Hugh Laurie. This was just a rant about how House is treated while showing, what I and many other people, including characters inside the show, view as symptoms of ASD or other such disorders. I apologise if it came across as lying or spreading false information.)

[lordprettyflackotara]

6 inch heels || the proxies

smut minors DNI 18+ TW: stripper!dom!reader, exhibitionism, cucking lowkey, toby's a cute little virgin, creampie, masky and hoodie are assholes but get humbled so its okay

“Stop shaking kid you’re gonna be fine.”

Masky’s voice was rough as he inhaled his cigarette, glaring at the ‘smoking prohibited’ sign. Toby crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. “Y-You know I can’t help it,” He argued. He sat in between Hoodie and Masky, a small center stage in front of them. Toby was turning twenty two in human years, the brunette a few years away from being frozen in time. Proxies didn’t get much time off, if any. If they did it was heavily monitored and limited. Whether or not Masky would admit it though, he went out of his way to get Toby the ultimate birthday surprise. The Operator favored Toby over the others, the little ticking time bomb his not so subtle favorite. So Masky arranged a private dance with an experienced stripper, one that Ben had used before as well as Jeff. That way Toby wouldn’t be self conscious about his appearance if it were to escalate.

Masky was ninety percent sure the kid was a virgin, no matter what he told them. It wasn’t like Toby had unlimited options so Masky wasn’t judging, but he wanted to assist for the kids birthday. So here they sat, in the private room of a club. A body guard stood outside, one Ben paid lots of crypto to keep quiet about anything that happens inside of the velvet walls. Hoodie sat silently, his mind spinning with the sick things he’d rather do to you than just watch. But he would settle for now and let Toby have his moment. Toby sat anxiously, excitement and nervousness coursing through his veins. The three men were waiting patiently, their hungry gazes flickering to the door as it opened.

You were a seasoned stripper, to put it lightly. You had seen it all, heard it all, done it all. It was hard work, but staying loyal and quiet got you the best clientele. Ben Drowned was one of your favorite little pets, the blonde randomly sending you wads of cash for existing sometimes. So when he asked you for a favor, you knew you wouldn’t mind helping him out. You knew all sorts of weirdos lived out there, murderous immortals the least of your problems. Fluffing your hair you walked down the mysterious long hallway, the dim purple led lights the only lighting provided. You passed by many rooms, ignoring the sounds of moans and laughter. You took a deep breath as you nodded to your body guard, shoving off your fur coat and handing it to him for safe keeping. You despised leaving with a cum drenched coat. You opened the door, painting on a smile as you met the gaze of three hungry men. The longer you looked at them the more this was making sense, each of them more different than the last.

The one thing that was consistent though? The mask that hid their real faces. Your body guard closed the door behind you, trapping you with three mysterious buyers. "I heard it's somebodies birthday. Whose my lucky boy?" You asked. The one in the middle awkwardly squirmed in his seat. You grinned at the sight of his nervousness. "You must be Toby," You say, walking over to him. The clicking of your heels bounced off of the velvet walls, the three men mesmerized by you. "T-That I a-am," He sputtered. You found his stuttering adorable, causing you to lean over. You planted your hands on his knees, your breast falling out of your top as you leaned over him. "Tell me what you want me to do birthday boy," You purred seductively. Your touch seemed to make him visibly flustered, his hands shaky. "A d-d-dance would be nice," He concluded. You took a hint, noting his vibration seemed to be from your touch. You stepped onto the small stage, gripping the pole as you had many times before. You did a simple twirl, before doing the same chorography you had done dozens of time before. It was the perfect sequence. It showed just enough od your tits and ass without taking them fully out. "Cmon prude lose the panties," The hooded man grumbled, who you figured to be Hoodie. You shot him a nasty look, before returning your lustful gaze to Toby.

A cough interrupted the trance you and Toby were under, your gaze flickering over to him. He had already lit another cigarette, his mask off and beside him. Masky. You mentally scoffed at their rudeness, keeping in mind they named themselves Masky and Hoodie, they weren't all that. You played with the hems of your panties, relishing in the sight of Toby refraining from drooling. "Lose the top already," Masky huffed. Toby elbowed him, shooting him a dirty look. "D-Dude shut up," He argued. Masky rolled his eyes, taking another hit of his cigarette. "She's a stripper not an onlyfans model, we paid for tits, I wanna see some tits," He debated. The two began to bicker, arguing about respecting you. Hoodie sat their silently, his ominous gaze never straying from you.

"S-She's a p-p-person Masky!"

"Kid we paid for a service i'm just simply asking for the service."

In a swift motion you took a step down from the stage, placing your sharp six inch heel in between Masky's legs. It was mere centimeters away from his crotch, the proxies face paling at the sight. "Enough. Dipshit one and two, go over there," You ordered. You gestured your head to the right, signaling for them to move. Masky scoffed, rolling his eyes. You leaned over, grabbing the cigarette from his lips and placing it between your own. Confidently you leaned back, watching his lips part ever so slightly in surprise. "Now doggy," You barked. Masky tried to act like he wasn't intimidated, moving over to sit beside Hoodie. You inhaled the cigarette, plopping down beside Toby. "You want me to touch you baby?" You whispered, exhaling the smoke through your nose. Toby was mesmerized by you, your dominance only adding to your seductive aura. He nodded sheepishly, afraid to meet your gaze. You lifted his orange goggles off of his eyes, before tilting his chin upwards. "Words Tobias," You cooed. Toby swallowed, sputtering out consent. You grinned, your gaze briefly flickering over to the other two men. "You both have permission to watch and touch yourselves but if you interfere I won't hesitate to kick you out," You spat.

The proxies were not used to being bossed around by anyone besides their supernatural boss. You were ethereal, drop dead gorgeous, and your dominance only added to that. Masky's face turned a tint of pink, while Hoodie was suddenly thankful he hadn't removed his mask no matter how hot it was under there. You took one last hit of the cigarette before carelessly throwing it at the two proxies. You hadn't bothered to see where it had landed, your attention turning back to Toby. "Your friends are assholes, but I like you cutie," You purred. You maintained eye contact with his puppy dog eyes, pulling down his face mask. The gash in his cheek didn't bother you, considering you had seen Jeff before. You pressed your lips against his, Toby melting under your touch. He didn't have much experience kissing, but your lips were patient and kind, allowing him to catch up with you. You smelled delicious, your vanilla perfume flooding his nostrils. Gently you placed your hand on his knee, creeping upwards towards his thigh. "Can I taste you?" You purred. His pupils were blown with lust. "B-But aren't you tasting me r-r-right now?" Toby stuttered.

You grinned as you looked down at the noticeable tent that had formed in his pants. Toby realized what you meant, his face flushing red. "O-Oh. Y-y-yes please," He pleaded. You crawled down onto the floor, helping the brunette pull down his pants and boxers. You glanced over at the other two proxies, who were silently watching in awe. Their cocks were hard as well, begging to be let out of their pants. Toby's cock was hard and erect, the tip already leaking precum. You licked your lips as you licked up the underside of it. "I need you to be as loud as you can baby, let everyone know how good I make you feel," You ordered. Toby tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, watching as you fully placed his cock in your mouth. You lowered your head onto his shaft, before beginning to bob your head up and down. Toby's whimpers were so pathetic it was making you horny, your slick beginning to rub on your inner thighs. You kitten licked his tip, swirling your tongue around his slit playfully. HIs hand involuntarily found your hair, unsurely pulling at the locs. You could see Masky and Hoodie out of the corner of your eye, both of their cocks in their hands.

You took Toby deeper, feeding off of the sound of the brunettes moans. You forced your jaw to go slack, taking him to the base. Your nose brushed against his bush, the proxy beneath you trembling in pleasure. You could tell he was getting close to the edge, his cock starting to twitch in your mouth. You quickly pulled off of him, causing him to audibly whine. "Why?" Toby whispered, causing you to grin as you wiped the saliva off of your lips. You crawled on top of him, undoing your top and tossing it to Masky. You shot him a devious smirk before properly straddling Toby. "I wanna feel all of you baby," You purred, running your hands down his chest. You pulled your panties to the side, rubbing your slick up and down his aching cock. "You feel how wet you've made me?" You asked. Toby nodded, practically drooling as he looked down at your dripping cunt. "You've been so good for me. You deserve a reward, don't you birthday boy?" You asked teasingly. Toby babbled pleas of agreement, causing you to glance over at Hoodie and Masky. Both of them were edging themselves at this point, a cocky smile crossing your lips. "See boys? This is what you get when you're a good boy," You laughed, before lifting yourself and guiding Toby's cock inside of you.

You sank lower on his cock, tilting your head back in pleasure. He stretched your walls more then you had anticipated, your unholy sounds genuine. Anxiously Toby grabbed your hips, watching you sink lower and lower until you finally made it to the base. You both sighed in relief, your eyes meeting his. You propped yourself up on his shoulders, using him for support as you began to bounce on his cock. "Fucking hell Toby," You whined, the sound of his name falling off of your lips causing the brunette to lose all composure. His primal instincts kicked in, his hips fucking upwards to match your pace. "That's it baby, such a fast learner," You praised. You could hear Hoodie grunting, Masky biting his lip in an attempt to muffle his own sinful noises. Toby's cock brushed against your g spot perfectly, as if his cock was made for you. Your gummy walls were clinging to him, the brunette losing himself in the pleasure as he fucked you. "You f-f-feel so good," Toby sputtered. You grinned as you grabbed his face and forced him to look up at you. "So do you cutie," You purred.

You pressed your lips against his, both of you groaning into each others mouths as you rode his cock. Meanwhile Hoodie and Masky were panting messes, Masky's orgasm coming first. He rutted his hips up into his hand, obsessed with imagining you riding him instead of Toby. Hoodie was trying to hold on, watching as you slid your hand down to your clit. Drawing the slow circles gave that extra stimulation you needed, your moans growing louder. You nibbled on Toby's bottom lip, your eyes fluttering open. "Cum with me Toby. Cum deep inside of me birthday boy," You encouraged, your walls squeezing him tighter. Toby gripped your hips harder, fucking up into you one last time as he experienced pure euphoria. You cursed as you came right after him, his warm seed flooding your cunt. You both sat intertwined for a moment, panting in unison. You glanced over at Hoodie, who had yet to finish. Masky sat silently, his hand covered in white ropes. You slowly climbed off of Toby, shooting daggers at Hoodie. "You're lucky I feel like being nice," You hummed.

Confidently you sat on the stage in front of Hoodie, spreading your legs. It gave Hoodie the perfect view of your puffy red cunt. Toby's seed began to spill out of your abused pussy, dripping out of you. You smirked as Hoodie's eyes widened under his mask.

"Go on asshole, cum for me."

[godslino]

MIGRATION | bang chan first date series. strangers to lovers.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader word count: 5.5k genre: fluff, romance, falling in love at first sight summary: you've never been lucky when it comes to dating, but a blind date with chan just might turn that around

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

author’s note: hello and welcome to my first date series!! i seriously had so much fun writing this and i’m so excited to continue with the other members. i hope you all enjoy! if you liked it, please remember that any and all feedback is appreciated!! happy reading <3

“So…I know a guy.”

You groan, throwing your head back against the cushion of the booth you’re currently shoved into. Changbin drops his fork to gesture at you with his hand, a look of exasperation on his face.

“Come on, I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“The problem is that you’ve said anything at all.” You say, glaring at him as you reach for your drink.

Changbin, as much as you love him, is notorious for being the worst wing man in the history of wing men. His most recent pick, Jooyoung, was a friend of his from high school. A freelance writer, the owner of a snazzy apartment in one of the more sophisticated districts of Seoul, and conveniently single. They’d recently reconnected after a mutual friend threw a party that they both went to, and he was ecstatic to try and set the two of you up.

You’d been reluctant, rightfully so, but Changbin is anything but a quitter and you also just so happen to be the world’s biggest pushover (his pout is just too good, okay?), so you’d agreed on the off chance that it just might work out.

Long story short, it didn’t.

Jooyoung was probably the biggest asshole you’d ever been on a date with. Not that you were surprised, though. Changbin’s circle of friends when he was younger mainly consisted of grade-A douchebags who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Perks of being born into a wealthy family and attending one of the most elite private schools in the country, apparently. Changbin had attended a university on the outskirts of Seoul for a reason. Lesser known, laid back—to study music of all things—and the sole reason for his father’s headache, as he’d put it. That’s where he met you.

“Okay, but I think this guy might be the one.” He makes air quotes around the two words, and you scoff as you cross your arms.

“And what would you know about that?”

“Um, a lot? You’re my best friend, I know exactly what you’re looking for.”

This is the part where things go south—or so you assume. Changbin puts on the puppy eyes, jutting his bottom lip out to hell as he stares at you from across the table. You glare at him dead on, unwavering. He won’t get you this time. Not over your dead body.

“At least let me tell you about him?”

“No.”

“I met him at the company. He makes music just like me, only slightly better. And you know how I am, I don’t just say that stuff. That means he’s really good.”

Choosing to ignore him, you go back to poking at your noodles.

“He’s from Australia. Born here, moved there when he was young, then moved back to pursue music. Kinda ballsy if you ask me. But he speaks English, so at least communication won’t be as much of an issue as other guys.”

A small crack in your composure. The idea of this guy growing up somewhere other than Korea is…pretty intriguing.

Despite moving here three years ago for school, it’s still kind of hard to communicate when your Korean could be more polished than it is. You’d basically kept to yourself for the first year until you met Changbin. He’d easily integrated you into his group of other music majors, even though you stuck out like a sore thumb as both a foreigner and a stem major. But if it weren’t for him, you think that you might’ve hauled ass back home a long time ago due to the isolation. So to be introduced to someone who can speak english, under the prospect of possibly dating them, sparks a bit more interest.

Changbin notices the slight twitch of your brow and smirks, one side of his mouth pulling downwards. Bastard.

“Hmm, what else? Oh! Dude’s got a killer set of dimples. You’re into that, aren’t you? You used to go on and on about that younger guy in your physics class during senior year. What was his name—Jeongsuk? Jeong—Jinyoung? Jeongin! It was Jeongin.” Changbin snaps his fingers like he’s impressed with his own memory, pointing at you as you fix him with a blank stare. “He has dimplessss.” He sing-songs for emphasis.

And, really, this should not be the breaking point. You’re better than this. You’re not so shallow that you would throw away your pride for a man you’ve never met—let alone never seen before—all because he has dimples.

But, once again, you’re a pushover. A big one. So yeah, fuck it.

“What’s his name?”

Changbin blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to fall for it. “Seriously? That’s what got you?”

“You have five seconds to tell me his name before I change my mind.”

He scoffs, mouth agape. “I went as far as disregarding my own talents to play up this guy and his music making abilities—”

“Five.”

“—tried to give you a little bit of a backstory, too—”

“Four.”

“—and the dimples are the final nail in the coffin?”

“Three.”

“Chan! His name is Chan. God. Just—stop counting. It freaks me out.”

Chan. You throw the name around in your brain for a bit, pointedly ignoring the way Changbin is whining about how you sound like his mother when you do the whole number thing. It’s kind of…cute. Not enough to conjure up an idea of what he might look like, but putting a name to a faceless stranger with dimples in your head is gonna have to do for now.

“You swear this guy is normal?”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Define normal.”

“Okay, let me rephrase myself,” you push your plate forward, laying your forearms on the table as an indicator that you’re serious, “Is he an asshole?”

“No.”

“Hm. Okay. So that’s a maybe.”

“What the fuck? I just said no.”

“Yeah? You also set me up with Jooyoung, remember? The guy who literally started flirting with the waitress right in front of me five minutes into our date? And then proceeded to yell at her when his fries weren’t salted?”

“How was I supposed to know…” Changbin mumbles, looking off to the side guiltily.

“Nevermind. Just—if this goes bad, I’m blaming you. And then I’m never going on a blind date with one of your friends again. Matter of fact, I’m never going on a date again, period. Deal?”

Changbin grins, the apples of his cheeks shiny under the restaurant lighting. He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it hesitantly, grimacing when he uses his strength to jostle your arm like a ragdoll.

“Deal.”

🎥🍿

Any hope you had for the date going smoothly starts to dwindle once Chan texts you the day of.

You’d gotten his number from Changbin, who had so kindly already given Chan your number before he’d even broached the subject with you. The resulting lecture about privacy and consent may or may not have extended the rest of your time at the restaurant, a sheepish Changbin rubbing at the back of his neck while you berated him for his lack of common sense.

When your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter, Chan’s name flashing across the screen, you mistakenly think that he might be messaging because he’s early. Which, given the fact that you were standing in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from your shower and face covered in moisturizer you hadn’t rubbed into your skin yet, would be less than ideal.

Chan [12:32p.m.]

Hey! I’m really sorry to have to do this, but can we push the date back an hour?

Something came up at the studio

I tried to get out of it but I have a deadline to meet, client probably won’t be too happy of their track isn’t done on time

Great. Already off to a rough start.

In his defense though, you appreciate the fact that he’s messaged a whopping two hours in advance. Most people probably wouldn’t be bothered to allow that much of a grace period.

You [2:33p.m.]

no worries!!!

you didn’t buy the tickets yet, did you?

Chan [2:34p.m.]

Nope! So we should be fine

I’ll purchase them for 6 and then be there to scoop you up around 5:30 if that’s cool?

You [2:36p.m.]

sounds perfect

hope stuff goes well at the studio!!

Chan [2:40p.m.]

You’re sweet

Thank you, I’ll see you soon :)

You’re sweet. You stare at the words on the screen, your brain buffering for a moment. A big fat loading circle floating above your head.

Suddenly it’s way too hot in the bathroom. You blame the fact that you shower with the water cranked all the way up to boiling, because really there’s no other explanation for the warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.

To be fair, it’s been almost a year now since you’ve had any sort of positive interaction with another male. On one hand, your last relationship ended in a ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ ordeal that most definitely gave the impression that it was you. On the other hand, most of the dates you’ve been on have ruined themselves within the first five minutes, never really giving you the chance to feel any sort of connection. Cocky attitudes, overly pushy encounters, and even someone who walked into the cafe you were seated at, took one look at you, and walked right back out. That one still hurts.

It’s a little sad that Chan is the only guy out of the mix whose elicited any sort of reaction out of you. Especially since you haven’t even met him yet.

The extra hour that you have to compensate for flies by a lot quicker than you expect, and before you know it Chan is messaging that he’s five minutes away.

You take one last glance in the mirror: a pair of light wash jeans that sit right above your hips, black halter top bodysuit, and a thin cream colored cardigan to tie it all together. Simple and cute. A movie date doesn’t really call for all the dramatics, and you’d hate to overdress for a first impression.

You’re in the middle of reapplying your chapstick when the doorbell rings.

Take it easy, you say to yourself, inhaling deeply as you reach for the door handle. You let the air out with one final huff, swinging the door open only to be met by a bouquet of daisies directly in front of your face.

You blink in surprise. Well that’s a first. Before you get a chance to speak, the bouquet is being lowered, and the moment Chan’s face comes into view causes a small gasp to fall from your lips.

He’s…cute. Beautiful, even. A bright smile, dimples that tuck themselves into his laugh lines as his eyes disappear into crescents much like the moon, and lips that make your head spin when his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. His hair falls messily across his forehead in a faded hue of purple with hints of brown, definitely unconventional and an obvious result of one too many washes, but he makes it work. He makes it work well.

He clears his throat, brings a fist up to his mouth to emphasize it, and then grins. “Hi there.”

It takes a second for your brain to catch up. Even his voice is attractive. He’s using english, which leads you to assume that Changbin has already told him that you’re not from here. His accent is there, not too noticeable but also strong enough to be picked up on.

“Hey.” You smile, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.

“These are for you. I, uh, as an apology for being late. Is it too much?”

You shake your head quickly. “No! No, these are—they’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you…Chan.” His name rolls off your tongue hesitantly, but it all disappears as soon as he flashes that smile again.

“Good, I’m glad,” his voice catches the breathy end of the laugh he lets out, “This is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t really do well with this kind of stuff. But you look really nice, and I’m excited. My car is parked just out front if you’re ready to go.”

Honest. Awkward. A laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. You were sold the minute his eyes met yours. Chan offers his elbow for you to take like you’re in some cheesy romance movie from your childhood.

Yeah. This one is definitely gonna go well.

🎥🍿

Chan might not show it, but he’s just as nervous as you are.

You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance that he spent an entire forty-five minutes deciding on an outfit, only to settle with some jeans and a white shirt, a jacket thrown on top for some color.

When Changbin first proposed the idea of going on a date with you, he was adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything right now. But as soon as you opened the door, eyes wide and looking like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s glad he said yes.

“So what movie are we seeing?” you ask, frowning when Chan laughs. “What? What’s funny?”

“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, rushing forward to hold the door of the car open for you. When he puts his hand against the top part to block your head, you have to suppress the smattering of butterfly wings that start to clamor against your ribcage.

Chan is sweet. He double checks that you’re buckled in before driving off, he asks if there’s any specific music you want to listen to before foregoing it all entirely to ask about you instead, he listens with an attentiveness that has you feeling seen and heard, and he smiles with such genuinity and warmth that you feel cold once it disappears. You stare at him in awe, like he’s a figment of your imagination.

Chan’s been staring back, too. He spares glances in your direction when you’re not looking, feels the steady thump of his heart gradually increase whenever you lean a little too far to the left when he makes you laugh, and he thinks your voice is prettier than anything that’s ever played on the radio.

You learn more about him as he drives. He moved back from Australia when he was seventeen, he’s got two younger siblings and an adorable puppy named Berry back home (and pictures on his dashboard to prove it), he prefers Australia’s summers over Seoul’s winters but he finds more inspiration here in the city than anywhere else. You resonate with the fact that he doesn’t really have anyone here besides a small circle of friends. No family, no one to fall back on when things get tough.

Chan talks like he’s an old friend, like he’s re-telling a story you’ve heard a thousand times. He makes it easy to fall into step with him as if you’ve been here all along.

By the time the two of you get to the movie theater, the initial awkwardness that had hung in the air is gone, replaced by comfort and ease. Chan throws the car in park and all but books it out of his seat to open your door for you, and you giggle when he makes a dramatic bow as you exit.

The theater is kind of busy for a Thursday night. There are families with their kids lined up to get tickets and groups of teenagers at the concessions, all of which make for a crowded lobby. Chan glances down when you place a hand on his arm, mostly because you want to stay close, but also because it’s hard to ignore the feeling of being magnetized towards him. He smiles, bending at the elbow to allow your arm to slip into his.

There are cardboard cutouts along the sides of the lobby, all of which serve to promote the newest animated release about a family of ducks. You squint at the showtimes once the two of you make it to the front of the counter, letting your eyes scan the movie titles until you finally land on—

“Two tickets for Migration, under Bang Chan.”

The girl behind the counter looks up, her eyes bored. She can’t be any older than sixteen, most likely resentful about the fact that she’s stuck here on a school night. “The kids movie?” She asks, unimpressed.

Chan braves a glance in your direction and—ah, there goes that grin again. Cue the butterflies. You’d agree to a three hour long showing of static and white noise if it meant he’d never stop doing that.

“Yup, that’s the one.”

Tickets in hand, a smiling Chan right next to you, and a massive line for popcorn that honestly might have the two of you late for the previews. “We’re seeing a kids movie?” You ask, moving up a spot in the line.

“Mmhm. I spent so long looking at all the options. The romcoms seemed boring, Bin mentioned that the newest superhero movie was bad, and I figured a scary one was too cliché,” he eyes you sidelong, “Unless you’re into that.”

You huff out a laugh, not really expecting him to be so straightforward, “I definitely am not.”

“Hm, so the old yawn to put my arm around you trick won’t work?” His eyes are playful, but something about the idea of being in even more contact with him has your stomach doing flips.

“Nope. Sorry. Seen that one before.” You say, making him laugh, his earring dangling when he drops his chin towards his chest.

“I guess I’ll have to figure out something else then.”

Another thing you learn about Chan is that he enjoys interesting food combinations.

“You like peanut m&ms?” he asks, throwing a bag of them onto the counter when you nod your head. After he pays, he pockets his wallet and turns to you with a bucket of popcorn tucked under his arm and a large drink with two straws in his hand. “Could you grab the candy?”

First door, theater one. There are a bunch of parents and their kids entering ahead of you, all of them buzzing with excitement. It’s a little funny, the fact that two grown adults—no kid in tow—are walking into the showing of a kids movie.

Chan leads you to the very back row. “For the kids, just in case they can’t see over us.” He quickly clarifies after noticing the way your eyebrows shoot up in silent question, but even in the dim lighting you can still see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Taking me to a kids movie and then propositioning me in the presence of five year olds? You’ve got some nerve.” You say, timing it perfectly as Chan is leaning forward to take a sip of the drink that’s placed in the cupholder between the two of you. He sputters around the straw in surprise, coughing into his fist.

“That’s not—” You laugh, cutting him off as he stares at you with red eyes from his coughing fit. The mood shifts after that, and Chan visibly relaxes into his seat as he starts throwing jokes out a lot easier than before.

“Learned this from my dad,” he says, opening the bag of m&ms, “It’s my favorite thing to do at the movies. Haven’t been in a while because—well, I don’t really have anyone to go with.”

You watch as he dumps the candy into the popcorn bucket, shaking it to mix everything together. He reaches in to grab a piece of popcorn and an m&m at the same time, popping it into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, “Forgot how good that is.”

When you don’t respond, he looks over. “You okay?”

Are you? You’re not sure. Every bone in your body is screaming bloody murder because Chan is making it really hard to not want to lean over and kiss the concerned frown off of his stupidly pretty face.

The thing about it is that you don’t do blind dates. And you most especially don’t enjoy them. But Chan is different. Chan holds doors open for you and makes corny jokes. Chan laughs at everything like it’s his last day on earth and he’s making up for lost time. Chan listens when you talk and responds with genuine interest. Chan compliments the little girl in the theater lobby who’s wearing a princess dress to watch the new superhero movie. Chan shares something as special as his dad’s favorite movie snack with you. Chan is just…Chan. And you like him. A lot.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just—thank you. For sharing that with me.” You say, the corners of your mouth lifting.

“Stop doing that.” He mumbles, eyes trained ahead.

“Doing what?”

“Smiling. It makes my head spin.”

Your heart slams against your chest. You’ve spent the entire date trying to make sense of the way Chan makes you feel, trying to put it all into words. Yet here he is, right in front of you, saying his thoughts as they come and absolutely ruining your resolve in the process. Like it’s easy for him.

There’s no time to answer when the lights go down, the screen up front widening to signal the start of the movie.

Just like any other kids movie, it’s easy to get caught up in all the surface level jokes while also understanding the themes. You and Chan laugh outwardly at some parts, hold your breath at the suspenseful ones. It’s almost like you’re a kid again, enjoying yourself fully for the first time in a really, really long while.

Chan was right, the popcorn and m&m combination is good. You reach back into the bucket for more, freezing when Chan does the same and his knuckles brush yours in the slightest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It happens a few more times, each one leaving his hand lingering for far longer than the last, until eventually he makes a show of digging really hard for an m&m and hooks his pinky with yours in between the popcorn. It’s cheesy and cliché but god does it make your stomach do somersaults.

About three-quarters of the way through the movie, when it’s clear that neither one of you are willing to take it the next step further, you lean into his ear.

“You okay? You look kind of tired.”

Chan turns, confused. He’s certain that he wasn’t dozing off. He did have a late night last night. He was up working on the track that still somehow managed to hold him back today, hoping to have everything polished so that he didn’t run into any obstacles before your date. But that didn’t really work out in the end.

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Honest.”

“You sure?” you ask, a slight lift to your voice, “I don’t know, you looked like you were about to yawn.”

The light from the movie hits the left side of his face, illuminating all of his features in a way that makes your breath hitch. He’s pretty. So, so pretty.

Chan blinks, slow, and then his confusion slowly turns to one of understanding. Cue the grin.

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it…I am kind of tired.” He makes a show of fake yawning, stretches his arms above his head (and not blocking any children since you’re in the back row, thankfully), before bringing his right arm down and around your shoulders.

You spend the rest of the movie like that, tucked into Chan’s side while his fingers move gently against your shoulder. He’s unbelievably warm, and eventually you find your head resting in the spot just between his shoulder and his neck, his cheek pushed up against the side of your head. The position makes it easier to reach up and pat his eyes dry at the end, a single tear slipping out as he sniffled and mumbles a ‘M’not crying’ that has you giggling and doting all over him.

He doesn’t move his arm for the entire walk back to the car, and you momentarily mourn the loss when he opens the door for you (again!) so you can climb in. When he finally gets in on the other side, he says nothing, just reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours and places your joined hands on the center console like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times.

“Ready to go home?” He asks, looking over at you.

You glance down at your hands, then back up at him. “Is it weird if I say no?”

“Not at all,” Chan grins, throwing the car into drive, “I was hoping you would say that.”

🎥🍿

“For you.”

Chan plops down on the bench, a hand outstretched with a steaming hot chocolate ready for you to take.

“Thanks,” you smile, cradling the cup between your hands.

After some deliberation, you and Chan had decided to come to the Han River. It’s quiet, the bridge lights reflecting off the water as the sounds of the city fade into the background. The temperature is slightly on the colder side, the tail end of winter just barely there. When he notices the slight shiver of your shoulders after a particularly strong gust of wind, Chan shucks his jacket off in a heartbeat to drape over you.

“Oh, you don’t—”

“You’re cold,” he scolds, pulling at the collar of the jacket to tighten it around you. His hand lingers near the base of your neck, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He doesn’t though, just smiles and settles back into the bench. “Plus I think Changbin might actually kill me if something were to happen to you.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “Ignore him. I’m not a baby.”

Chan takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, licks his lips to catch the excess. Not that you’re staring. “I’m serious. I mean, I get it. He told me that you’re here alone and stuff.”

You hum in understanding, turning your head to stare out at the water. “So are you.”

It’s Chan’s turn to look at you now, his elbows resting against his knees, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as his face turns unreadable.

The silence stretches thin, nothing but the sound of cars passing and a dog barking nearby. It’s kind of comforting in a way. Being on your own in a new place has been one of the hardest transitions you’ve ever had to deal with. There were times where it felt like a mistake, where you wished that you’d never even gotten on the plane. But then there were times where you felt lucky to be experiencing the things you are; to be able to try new things and pursue a life for yourself that you never thought possible.

“How’d you do it?” you ask quietly, turning to meet Chan’s gaze. “I mean, you were young. Seventeen is basically still a kid. Being alone in a place like this is scary as an adult, I can’t even imagine what that was like.”

Chan smiles, but it’s sad. His eyes twinkle with something like resentment, the lights from the bridge making it look like he’s glowing. A flame that’ll never burn out. “Would you believe me if I said I’m still figuring it out?” The end of it comes out as a laugh, but you can tell he means it.

“I don’t know, being a big shot music producer with deadlines and clients seems pretty figured out to me.”

Chan nods and stares at the cup in his hands. “My parents hated it. Still do, I think.” You don’t say anything. Chan is grateful for that; grateful for the space you’re giving him to explain. “They wanted more for me I guess. But I’m not sure that more would’ve necessarily been what I wanted, you know? I’m content with where I am now. I’m doing something I love, even if it took a while to get here. They don’t see it.” He chews his lip nervously, fingers playing with the soggy material of the paper cup’s rim.

Chan doesn’t know why he’s saying any of this. He’s not the type to completely bare himself out to anyone, to scoop away at his insides until there’s nothing left besides the hollowness he feels whenever he thinks about how he traded his life back home for a life of music. But you’re different somehow. Chan knew since the moment he saw you, felt it in the way your eyes lit up whenever he spoke and in the ease of how well the two of you got along. He was doomed from the start.

“I see it.” you say, your eyes still fixed on the water. “I might’ve only just met you today, but I see it. And I get it, too. Maybe not to the same extent, but the feeling of wanting to do something for yourself even if it meant losing something else. There’s purpose in that, in you. It’s okay to be selfish if it means you’re prioritizing your happiness.” You let the words settle for a bit, hoping that you don’t sound too shallow. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back.

“You don’t know me enough to say that.”

“I don’t have to know you to believe in you, Chan.”

A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing, short and punctuated as he lets his head fall forward with a small shake.

“You’re…”

“What? Corny?” you supply, smiling over at him.

“No,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Perfect.”

You huff out an incredulous laugh, looking away to hide the blush that’s spreading across your cheeks. “You can’t just—god, now who’s corny? Huh?”

“I never said I wasn’t corny.” Chan argues, sitting up to face you fully.

“Yeah but you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I think you like it.”

Your mouth opens and closes quickly, lost for words. Chan’s closer now, a lot closer than he was before. One arm thrown across the back of the bench, loosely framing you in, he bends it at the elbow to bring a hand up and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I never said that.” you mumble, your gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up again.

“You want me to stop then?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. You know what he’s implying the minute his fingers trace the shell of your ear, moving down slowly until they start playing with the collar of his jacket.

“Is it bad if I say no?”

Chan’s hand is warm to the touch, ice to fire. You lean into it. A moth to a flame, one that’ll never go out.

“Not at all,” he repeats, just like earlier, “I was hoping you would say that.”

A dog barking in the distance. Cars beeping as they pass by. A plane flying overhead. A group of friends laughing as they ride past on their bikes. The minute Chan’s lips connect with yours, everything fades, the sounds warbling together like static. Unintelligible; nothing besides the feeling of Chan kissing you matters.

It’s slow, nothing more than a press, but you feel it in every fiber of your being. Kissing Chan feels like the poles of the earth are colliding, meeting in the middle and sending its molten core spreading throughout your entire body. Warm, warm, warm. Chan is warm. He’s soft and gentle and his lashes tickle your cheeks when his eyes flutter closed halfway through because he was too busy etching your features into his memory.

You’re the first to pull away, admiring the way Chan’s eyes slowly peel open, lips swollen and pink. Unable to resist, you lean in and peck them once more, giggling when he blinks at you in shock.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as compelled to kiss someone as I was just now.” You smile.

“Me too,” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t normally do dates anyways. At least not ones that don’t immediately go up in flames.”

“What about now?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow. “Have I changed your mind?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of told Changbin that if this was a disaster I was never gonna go on a date again.”

Chan laughs and pulls you into his side, tucked right under his arm like the shape of him was molded in a way to make sure that you fit perfectly in his embrace.

“Is it bad if I say I like that idea?” He asks, glancing down at where your head is resting against his chest.

“Nope,” you say before leaning up to kiss him once more. He smiles into it when he feels your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, humming softly against your lips.

“Worst date ever, then?” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling back to stare into his eyes, big and brown and brighter than the stars, “Worst date ever.”

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny ]

© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 2

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: mentions of masturbation WC: 6.9k AN: hehehehehe this chapter was so much fun to write and i fear i have added a bit of a plot to this pwp fic. next chapter will get even wilder! as always, asks and requests open <3

Ch. 1, [Ch. 2], Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6

Chapter 2: Testing

Anakin stumbled to his room on unsteady feet. When he entered, it was 1:43 am, but he had never felt more awake. He couldn't have slept even if he had wanted to, because you were haunting him. The wood of his door as he unlocked it felt like the lab bench under his fingers. His lips felt phantom kisses from you. Your angry voice echoed in the creak of the hinges. His pillows were soft like your clothes, like your skin.

The more he thought about it, the harder he got, which he wasn't sure was possible, really. His cock was pressing against his jeans so hard that he was relatively certain he could get off just by thrusting into the material a few times. Anakin rocked his hips experimentally against the rough material, and a shiver of pleasure ran down his spine. Jesus. He was definitely sensitive enough to cum like that. But he shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't. It would be weird and creepy, when you told him you didn't want to do more of this. He shouldn't. He resolved to sleep it off, but found sleep was still evading him about an hour later when he lay awake in bed. Fuck my life. Fine. If he was going to be up, he might as well get some work done. So, he spent the night typing at his desk, which he distinctly had to try not to imagine kissing you against.

Anakin didn't hate you. Far from it. Okay, maybe not that far from it. But if he hated you, he something-else-ed you with equal measure. He just wasn't sure what that something else was. Did he like you? This wasn't like any crush he had before. You were so rude sometimes, but he would snap right back, and then escalate. Anakin didn't love that personality trait in himself, but it came out in spades around you. In freshman year, your name on the posted top homework of the week was exhilarating. Finally, some competition. Someone who loved engineering as much as he did. Someone who understood the fire that got him out of his backwater town and into the world. Then he met you, and that exhilaration turned a thousand times stronger. You weren't just a peer, you were a challenge. Every jab you threw at him, every time your bot would beat his in the traditional end-of-year tournament, he'd feel like he was suddenly on fire, electricity shocking through his very being. It was the same feeling he chased in taekwondo, that edge where he wasn't sure if he'd win, but he was so, so close. It was easier to interpret it as anger, as hatred, as fuel.

Even though he thought you could be a know-it-all, he had to admit that he always had a sort of begrudging respect toward you. You worked on a group project together, three times, once per year on average, and he could consistently rely on the fact that you'd never be a slacker. Others on the team would sometimes ghost, which annoyed you both in equal measure. The two of you would butt heads over what to do in the projects, but you were always 100% dedicated. He respected it about you, even if you were critical of his admittedly shoddy handwriting or the logical jumps in his proofs.

By senior year, he was unknowingly nursing what could affectionately be called a crush, though it was masked under layers and layers of frustration and competition and anger. Anakin wasn't very self aware, but it was beginning to dawn on even him that, perhaps, he liked you. There were several signs. Late nights in the lab were torture for him. He'd sit there, trying to focus on something, anything, but he kept seeing that piece of hair that fell into your face when you bent over your bench and your deft hands wiring capacitors. Sometimes, when you passed him and he caught a whiff of your smell, his heart would speed up. When he heard your voice in class, he would start smiling. It was honestly kind of embarrassing.

In retrospect, it was surprising he hadn't broken and kissed you earlier. But, now that he had, all he could think about was kissing you again. As he sat at his desk thinking, the next steps for his thesis slipped through his hands like grains of sand. At practice the next afternoon, his technique was sloppy, which his teammates riffed on endlessly. In class, the professor could have said the secret to traveling faster than light, and it would have gone in one of Anakin's ears and out the other.

You had said it couldn't happen. Why? Did he do something wrong? At the time, he was clouded with arousal, joy, and exhilaration, so he didn't ask any questions, just agreed mindlessly, but your statement was haunting him. We shouldn't do this again. Why not? His body was screaming for it, at the very least, and so was his heart, but he chose to ignore that.

Anakin was pondering this issue over a piece of tech for the Jinn lab, where he worked part-time during the semester, when Obi-Wan walked in and headed straight for him. Though Obi-Wan was technically his supervisor, being a third-year graduate student advised by Professor Jinn, Anakin considered him a friend. Though he was usually pretty serious, Obi-Wan appeared thoroughly amused today and looked a bit like the cat who got the cream.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said by way of greeting as he passed by his chair.

"What's up?" Anakin asked as he tried to get a particularly annoying screw tightened.

"Were you in the thesis lab last night?" Yes, he was, in fact. He was making out with you, but he didn't need to mention that.

"Yeah, working on some hardware for my next prototype, why?" Obi-Wan's smile spread further, if possible.

"Did you know there's cameras?" The blood froze in Anakin's veins. The suggestion in his voice was unmistakable.

"What?" His voice came out like a whisper.

"Good thing you were simply working on your prototype. You should warn other students to take… dalliances elsewhere," Obi-Wan said, winking.

"I-um-fuck--I." The words died on Anakin's tongue. Holy fucking shit. "I didn't see cameras."

"They're small. Qui-Gon had me install them this year. Nevertheless, things happen," Obi-Wan said, pausing, then quickly added, "Good luck." Obi-Wan patted Anakin on the shoulder and walked into his office in the back of the lab, leaving Anakin frozen in his chair.

Later that evening, once he'd worked (read: sat in shock) for four hours at the Jinn lab, finished two assignments for his gened, and led a practice for the TKD team, Anakin dragged his tired ass to the thesis lab. He was still restless since Obi-Wan's revelation. There was a video of the two of you, and he found himself wondering more than a few times if he could get it. For safekeeping, of course. No other reason.

He nodded at Barriss, who was on her way out, on complete autopilot. Seems she's getting in gear for the competition, he would have thought had he been mentally present in the slightest. He was the only one in the lab, a relief considering the fact that all his brain cells tended to leave the building as soon as you were near him, so he could get some work done. Get some tests in, make some actual progress. Maybe he could even pull a win on the competition, if not just an A on his thesis. He'd written some code during thermo lecture that he loaded onto an Arduino, turning over the device and its sharp pins in his fingers before disconnecting it from his laptop and shoving it into a breadboard. It looked ugly, clunky, and inelegant, but it was just a temporary setup for the test run before he attached the Arduino to the current motherboard. Sometime midway through the code running, the door to the lab clacked open.

It was you. Who else would arrive to the lab at 8pm? You looked gorgeous today, which hit Anakin like a punch to the gut. Cool, cool. This was normal. He could handle this. The cold had darkened your lips and cheeks a bit, so subtle he wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't staring. But he was, and he looked away quickly, back to his computer, and choked out a "hey." Anakin heard the tell-tale smack of your backpack on the floor, then each layer you shed (thump for coat, gentle taps for gloves, barely a thunk for hat). His eyes were fixed intently on the screen, even though there was nothing to look at there. When he looked up, you were right in front of him, close enough to touch.

"Hi," you said. Your eyes were gazing up at him earnestly and he could almost see his reflection in them. Fuck. You were standing incredibly near him, much closer than anyone else in his life would.

"Hi," he breathed. Was this it? Were you going to tell him that, actually, you wanted him? That maybe you could go on a date, or, at least go back to your place? Just going back to yours for sex wouldn't be exactly what he wanted, but then again beggars can't be choosers. And he was definitely a beggar right now.

"I need the small pliers." You reached out your hand expectantly. Oh. Okay.

"Yep." He handed them over, then watched as you walked back to your table.

Awesome. So Anakin was still horrendously awkward around you. He knew how to speak to you after the past several years, where he'd found himself getting little kernels of knowledge about your life and thoughts. It was more that he didn't know what he could say that wasn't a confession that he really really wanted to kiss you again.

The dark had already fallen outside hours ago when you began to put away your prototype. All of the world was asleep, the hallway outside the makerspace dark. The only light outside the lab were the streetlights glowing through the open windows, casting shadows over the sidewalk. Time was fictional in those moments, stretching and shortening and contorting until a minute passed in what felt like an hour, or the other way around. Nothing made sense in those moments. His calculations. The unease he felt. Least of all, why you didn't want to kiss him again. Why he didn't just tell you that he couldn't stop thinking about you. But you were already putting your coat on, slinging your backpack over your shoulder, and--

"Wait," he called out desperately, gesturing with his hand toward you. He fell silent. What was he going to say? He'd ask you to talk, to explain that he actually really enjoyed yesterday and that he'd really really like to do it again. He'd tell you that he didn't hate you, actually. That he'd actually enjoy going on a date, maybe to dinner or a movie, he wasn't picky. The words were on the tip of his tongue.

"Can you just stay for five more minutes while I use the drill press?" Close enough.

You looked at him and simply nodded. You kept an eye on him while he used the drill press, and his hand almost slipped three times under your scrutiny. But then he was done, and you both went through the paces of closing up the room. Vents off, machines off, check printers, check laser cutters, lights off, leave.

On the walk home, Anakin looked up and saw an empty sky, so different from the one on the farm at home. No matter where he turned there, he saw constellations and different worlds. Here, between the tall buildings and under all the light pollution, it was just black. You walked home wordlessly again.

The next day, he was determined to be more normal, and immediately asked you how your project was going. He could tell you were guarded based on the wariness in your eye, but you still answered. That you were dealing with a test not working. He offered to take a look at it, but you shot him down.

Later, you asked him if he knew how to deal with an issue with your CAD model, which he did, and he helped you extrude text on the curved surface. Anakin tried not to notice how close your body was.

The normalcy returned within three hours between the two of you. Sure, there was an elephant in the room (or, really, a herd of elephants), but you two were getting comfortable again, casually chatting about class and boasting about your projects. You revealed the thermo midterm hadn't gone so well, and he confessed that it hadn't for him, either. He was very worried about the class, actually, but the thesis was his priority. When he told you, Anakin couldn't figure out what your expression meant. Surprise? Anger? Sadness? Sympathy? He shrugged it off. Probably was a shock to realize he wasn't always perfect.

An hour later, he was thinking about going home, but then he saw you staring at your computer with your headphones in.

"Whatcha watching?" He hoped the question sounded casual. You paused the video and looked up at him.

"An old Criminal Minds episode," you responded with a hint of a smile. His heart leaped.

"Can I join? I'm waiting on a print, and I need a break anyway." Was that smooth? He couldn't tell. You nodded, and he pulled up a chair. He was endlessly thankful you were using wired earbuds today (you had explained you'd forgotten your usual wireless ones at home), so that he had an excuse to sit near you. It was just how far the cord reached, not how badly he wanted to press himself against you. That was all.

"Oh, it's totally the teacher," he remarked at one point, midway through the episode. Your legs had gotten closer, almost pressing the sides of his thigh to yours. That did not make his heart race. It was probably the tension in the episode.

"Obviously, dumbass," you chided, smacking your leg into his, but there wasn't any bite to it. It was affection, and he reveled in it the whole way home.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Ahsoka Tano wasn't stupid. She had eyes and a capability for critical thought that she thought two particular people in her life lacked. When her roommate came home from the lab one day in mid-November, dead silent with hair mussed and lips still swollen from making out with someone, Ahsoka knew something had happened between you and the only other person who would be in the lab that late. Finally. But there was a clench in your jaw, a hard set in your eyes, that told her it wasn't all positive. But it was progress.

The first time she met met Anakin was when she was a freshman and joined the Coruscant U taekwondo team. She'd seen him around the competitive taekwondo circuit, of course; he was national champion two times running in the 16-18 division. Anakin was precise, vicious, and powerful. By the time he was a freshman, he was about to reach the fourth Dan, a feat which took most people years. He was just that good.

When Ahsoka met him, she was certain he'd be the kind of arrogant that could only come with prodigy status. And, though he was a bit full of himself, she was surprised to find him to be kind. Not nice, necessarily, all quips and snipes and sarcasm, but definitely kind to the younger students, and to her. When he asked her to be his vice-captain, she said yes immediately. There was no one better she could learn from.

The first time she noticed the tension between you was at the first competition she was in, when you came to watch her. At some point, Anakin's name had been announced, and you looked like you'd smelled curdled milk. When she asked you about it later, she hadn't expected the total word vomit that spilled out of you about how annoying and horrible and infuriating Anakin was in class. Your actual issues with him were fairly minor, she thought: 1. He gloated (definitely true), 2. He sabotaged other people's projects so he'd do better (probably not true), 3. He was always getting praise from the professors (probably true), and 4. He always assumed you didn't know what you were doing (probably true).

But Ahsoka saw a side of him you didn't. At a competition in her sophomore year, in the dead of night at the Airbnb the team had rented, she saw him frantically sewing his expensive competitive dobok, heavy with embroidery befitting his dan, when one of the seams tore mid-match the day before. It took some digging, but he confessed that he didn't have a backup. He couldn't afford a new one right now. Anakin didn't talk about home much, and, when he did, it was in clipped sentences saying that yes, he had a mom and a new stepdad. Yes, he was from a small town. As vice-captain, she had access to the list of students who the team was sponsoring at competitions because they needed the financial aid. Anakin was on the list every time. Ahsoka didn't mention it to him, ever.

Over the past three years, she had watched the spark between the two of you ignite into fights and frustration. She'd heard Anakin ask about you in a way he thought was subtle, but was actually glaringly obvious. She'd heard you complain that he was so annoying enough times. Now that something had actually happened between you, that was it. She was going to do something about it.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"A taekwondo party?" You had asked.

"Yeah! At Rex's," Ahsoka had said. To be honest, you kind of needed a break. Or, at least a night to not think about circuits. You were beginning to see that Anakin was smart, even smarter than you had thought, and it was creeping up on you that, maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't win no matter what you did. Maybe he was just too brilliant. You wanted to forget that, and getting drunk seemed like a great way to do just that. "Anakin will be there," Ahsoka's voice echoed in your head. Why did she say that? The peace you had settled into with Anakin was tenuous, but there. Did she know about what happened between the two of you?

You still weren't sure when you arrived on the door of the brownstone. Tau Kappa Delta wasn't an actual frat, but it was a house full of the TKD team competitors who called each other "brothers," so the nickname stuck. It was a bit out of the way of campus, but it was the prime place to hold parties if you wanted to get raunchy in a safe place. You and Ahsoka had gotten dressed up, you in some kind of short black silk dress she shoved in your hands, and her in a strappy ensemble that looked a bit like battle armor. There were straps around the arms that extended into fingerless gloves and some kind of tactical belt was slung low over her hips. Her halter top showed off her strong arms, and, for an instant, you wished you played sports for the university. How she wasn't shivering in the cold air, you'd never know.

The door swung open and the warmth indoors hit you, thick with bodies and sweat and beer, and some guy ushered you in while Ahsoka gave him a hug. This must be one of the team members you had met, some sturdy guy with an accent. You couldn't quite place if his name was Cody or Vaughn, but it was one of them, you thought. The room you entered was full of coats and bags, as well as a few people standing and chatting with drinks in their hands. Through the doorway, music blared in what was probably the living room. You couldn't make out any furniture through the dancing crowd.

Ahsoka reappeared with a shot in each hand, offering one to you with a wink.

"To a good night where you can relax, because God knows you need it," she toasted, bumping her shot glass against yours and downing it in one go. The tequila burned as it went down your throat. You coughed for a bit, then asked her for another. Might as well get the party started right. Another shot went into you, and then Ahsoka dragged you to the dance floor. The lights in the room were flashing all kinds of colors--red, purple, blue--and the music was loud enough that you could feel it vibrating through your organs. Ahsoka pushed her way past some people, closer to the center of the room, and then found enough space for the two of you and started dancing. The rhythm flowed through you, and you were just drunk enough not to care if you looked stupid. It was perfect. The two of you danced for three, maybe four songs, before Ahsoka went to get you both another shot, and then another. Some of Ahsoka's friends had joined you, not that you knew them, but you were in your own world, having fun. People bumped into your shoulder, leg, elbow, whatever, but you were on cloud nine. The bass felt like one heartbeat connecting all of the strangers on the floor to you, like you were all one beast. Dancing with your friends like this, going to parties, that's all that you cared about. This would be one of those memories you treasured, you were sure of it.

And then you saw Anakin. Much to your annoyance, he looked particularly good that day, his hair still as touchable as it was every day in the lab. He was wearing light-wash jeans (like that night, a small part of your brain reminded you) and a black, comfortable t-shirt. Oh, and there was a woman with him. Like that wasn't the first thing you noticed. She was shorter than him by a good bit, standing in front of him so you couldn't see her face, just her annoyingly shiny chestnut hair and perfect neck. Cool. Fine. They were in the corner of the room, with him leaning against the wall and her standing in front of him, shouting conversation over the loud music. Anakin shot her a warm smile, the one he rarely turned toward you, and then she put her hand on his chest. It was the alcohol that flipped your stomach, you were sure of it. And anger at seeing him, nothing else. You tapped Ahsoka and got close to her ear.

"Who's that?" You asked. She turned closer to you, her eyebrows drawn.

"Huh?" She half-yelled back. You lent in closer, trying to get to her ear.

"The girl?" You could barely hear yourself over the noise.

"What?" Oh, fuck it. You full-on yelled, but it didn't even come close to the level of bass in the room.

"Who's the girl with Anakin?"

"Oh," Ahsoka yelled back. "That's his ex." Awesome. Whoop-de-fucking-do. There was, objectively, no reason why that should have annoyed you. But it did. The girl waved to Anakin, then left, leaving him looking incredibly hot up against that wall. Your eyes took in the width of his chest, the muscles and veins in his arms. And then he was looking at you.

He had caught you. Fuck. He gave you a little wave with a smirk, then left into the next room. Shitfuckmotherfucker. Ahsoka grabbed your shoulder, shouting something about how the two of you should get some air. You nodded and let her pull you out of the dance floor, then to a room down the hall, where you could hear voices talking, laughing.

You recognized a few of the people. Jesse, Echo, the one whose name you'd ascertained was actually Cody, Fives, and Fox were all there, and, of course, so was Anakin. They were sitting in an uneven, horrible circle that was really more of a convex shape around the couch. Some girls you'd seen before around campus but you hadn't really met and some other team members were strewn about the room, sipping beers from their red cups. Anakin greeted you both with a wave.

"Hey, come join us, we're playing truth or dare," he yelled across the room. Ahsoka grinned and almost pulled you down with her to the floor.

"C'mon, let's play," she said as she grinned up at you. Truth or dare and other party games had never really been your thing, and you kind of were feeling the number of shots you had taken, so you decided you were out.

"Oh, I'm not sure--" you started.

"What, gonna chicken out?" Anakin's voice called. That motherfucker.

"Never," you shot back, plopping your ass down. You weren't sure there was a way to win truth or dare, but you were going to find it, goddamn it.

"Okay, Rex. Truth or dare?" Jesse started. You'd only met him once, but he had a nice voice and a glint in his eye that made you like him immediately.

"Dare," he responded gruffly. Some oohs peppered the room as they watched their intrepid assistant captain about to get loose. Jesse thought for a moment.

"Take two shots!" The crowd chanted as Rex sighed, poured himself two shots of tequila, and downed them with only a small wince. After he was done, it was his turn.

"Ahsoka, truth or dare?"

"Truth?" Ahsoka crinkled her nose.

"Aw c'mon Snips. Bo-oring," Anakin teased. Ahsoka shot him a look that said if I weren't across this circle, I would smack you right now.

"Only 'cause y'all can't think of a better dare than drinking," she said. Chuckles bubbled through the room.

"Fine, then, have you ever kissed Lux Bonteri?" Rex's question apparently hit the nail on the head as all the color drained out of Ahsoka's face.

"I changed my mind. Dare." Ahsoka's eyes were wide, and you knew why. She and Lux had kind of had a thing going, but he was on another school's team. She'd come back home after matches with stories about what he said, asking if you thought it was romantic or platonic. But she'd never admit to doing anything with a member of their fiercest competition. Rex rolled his eyes as people booed, Anakin especially loudly.

"Fine, fine. I dare you to… call your ex," Rex conceded. That was easy enough for Ahsoka, given that her only ex was Barriss, who she was still good friends with. Barriss had broken it off to focus on work over a year ago, and it had been hard on Ahsoka at first, but they got over it and were back to just being a little bit awkward. With an eye roll and a scoff, Ahsoka pulled out Barriss's contact and pressed the call button. The phone rang out on speaker, just getting Barriss's voicemail. "There, ya happy?" Ahsoka asked, then turned to someone else.

The game went around and around, questions about the last time someone had sex and dares to kiss someone else flying across the room as the team members who obviously knew each other too well publicly tortured one another. Eventually, someone said your name.

"Truth or dare?" It was Echo, who Ahsoka had told you was finally competing again after tearing his ACL. He had kind eyes, and the room seemed electric, so you made your choice without much thought.

"Uh, dare?" Echo smiled in a way that seemed apologetic, and you realized that perhaps this was a terrible idea. Was the room holding its breath, or was it just you?

"Okay, I dare you to straddle Anakin for three minutes." The room erupted, cheers and hollers coming from every player in the nearby vicinity. "Get it, Cap" came from somewhere on your right, and a whistle came from your left. Anakin looked white as a sheet, and you noticed he was staring at Echo with murder in his eyes. They'd pay for that in practice, most likely. He was leant back on his arms, legs criss-crossed, but the position suddenly looked tense. A muscle in his jaw bulged. The chants weren't stopping, and you decided to get it over with.

Whether it was the alcohol coursing through you or some newfound bravery, you weren't sure, but you started moving over to Anakin, who was three seats to your right, near a wall. He made eye contact with you, his gaze softening, and you could practically hear him asking you if you were okay with this. You were, you realized. It was probably the alcohol talking. The wolf whistles of the other players faded away, and sitting on his lap suddenly became the only thing you wanted.

You hitched one leg across Anakin's body, then sank down so that you were sitting on him. The rough material of his jeans slid against your bare thighs, and you cursed your choice not to wear pants. Your stomach was pressed to his chest, and you noticed that, even though your cleavage was in his eyeline and you always thought he was easily swayed by tits and ass, his eyes were intently staring into yours. In your shadow and the dark light, they were blown wide, the black almost consuming his blue irises. A world away, someone yelled that they had started a timer.

Somewhere behind your back, Ahsoka slipped Echo five bucks. You wouldn't have noticed if she had done it in front of you, because you were too busy trying to slow the beating of your heart. Or was that his? You couldn't tell. Everything was a bit fuzzy. In this position, you were above him for the first time, looking down at those eyes that were casting you a look that churned something inside you. With that look, you were back in the lab, and he was telling you to jump up onto the table, and his hands were all over you. You'd lose yourself in that moment, if you could.

Anakin's eyes traveled down your figure with a hard gulp that bobbed his Adam's apple. His gaze lingered on your low-cut front, tracing over the seams, then reaching down to your thighs. In your drunken state, you hadn't noticed the amount of skin that was exposed when your dress rode up. He definitely did. You felt something slowly changing beneath you, and it took you a second to comprehend that he was getting hard. Because of you. You rationalized it as the reaction any person with a penis would have to being straddled like that. Right?

His heavy breathing seemed to confirm it, and Anakin mouthed 'sorry' when he felt himself press against you subtly. You distinctly did not mind. His eyes flicked down between your legs, where the skirt had ridden up so that one wrong--or right--move would let him see what was underneath it. Him seeing you didn't bother you one bit, actually. You kind of wanted him to put a hand to you, press his fingers inside you. Maybe he could take you upstairs to one of the rooms and fuck you furiously. Or maybe you could shove what you were feeling against your legs into your throat. Or maybe one, then the other.

His gaze met yours again before sliding down to your lips and staying there. The same energy that he had when he was one-upping you, confidently answering a question in class, or telling you to re-solder your work grew in his eyes. That intensity. That fierce desire for success. You found it incredibly attractive then, but now, it was irresistible.

The timer beeped, and you thought of the 3D printer that night in the lab. Cockblocks, the both of them. The others in the room cheered as you got off him instantly, then slinked back to your usual seat. Now that you were sitting on your own, it became obvious that the heat between your thighs was not entirely from his legs warming you up. You pulled the hem of your skirt down just a tad. The adrenaline of the moment hadn't stopped, even though you were reminded of the existence of the crowd that had just watched you. You didn't want it to end. You'd give anything for the room to be empty right now, like the lab at night. You pulled out your phone and sent a message to Anakin, your fingers wobbly on the keyboard.

Upstairs. Follow me in 3 mind, the text said. Fuck. Maybe you were a bit drunk. *Mins, you corrected. Anakin checked his phone almost instantly, his eyes still locked on you from before, and quickly typed something back. k. You waited two more rounds of questions before getting up.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you said to Ahsoka, who was absorbed in some kind of debate with Fives and Cody. She nodded at you, and then you were off. You weaved through people, up to the floor with the bedrooms, which was much less populated than the downstairs. There were a few rooms that seemed either occupied or locked, but one at the end of the hall sat ajar. You entered, leaving the door cracked so Anakin would know where you were, then sat down on the bed. It was a twin, in a decently clean room that had a bunch of posters for bands along the walls. Whoever lived here really liked Pink Floyd, apparently. It was actually nice up there; the music was pumping through the building, but it was a nice backdrop this far from the speakers. The window was open, so the cool breeze was flowing.

A few moments later, the door opened. The second you saw Anakin, you pounced on him. He let out a slightly surprised mmph, but then feverishly kissed you back. Anakin tasted like alcohol and orange juice, but you didn't mind. As long as he was kissing you, he could taste however he wanted. One of his hands scrabbled behind him to find the door handle and shut it, while the other came up to your jaw. Whatever desires he had downstairs, he was clearly showing them now. His hand went down to grab your ass, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh. You pressed yourself against him, just like you were downstairs, your whole bodies melded together until you didn't know where he began and you ended. The way Anakin kissed you was intoxicating, more so than any of the shots you had taken that night. More than any drug you would ever take. That fire, that anger-desire-passion-whatever that burned in you intensified until the music downstairs and the unfamiliar surroundings faded away, and all you could feel was him.

You rocked your hips forward, just to test his response, and he growled into your mouth with a ferocity you didn't expect, but loved anyway. Fuck, you'd do anything to hear that again, to hear it all the time. He pulled your hips into his, grinding against you in the process.

Suddenly, he twisted around so he was pressing you against the door with his body enveloping you. Anakin trailed down from your lips to your jaw to your neck. The little nips and wet kisses were driving you wild, so you decided to return the favor and snaked your hand down his chest, which was shockingly hard and muscular, until you reached the hem of his shirt. Your fingers toyed with the edges where his skin met the soft cotton, and you could feel his ragged intake of breath when you trailed even further up. He pulled away, his breathing still heavy. You thought and hoped he would take his shirt off. To show you what you'd seen on the rare times his shirt had ridden up while he took off a hoodie or jacket. Instead, he just looked at you and stopped.

"Fuck me, please," you whispered into the room. For a moment, he looked like he was strongly considering it, and you found yourself praying he would say yes.

"How many drinks have you had?"

"I don't know, like four? Does it matter?" You shrugged. "It doesn't change that I want you," you whispered in a way you hoped was seductive. Anakin got off you so quickly that you were almost hurt, but he still remained close enough that it soothed the sting.

"I'm sorry. It's going to kill me to say this, but we shouldn't do this now. I've only had one drink and you're clearly not thinking straight," he said. His eyes were so full of concern that you almost didn't get mad at him. Almost.

"No, I'm thinking very straight. I'll say the alphabet backwards if you want," you offered, getting closer to him again. He took another step back.

"I'm talking about your decisions. I don't want to have sex, and then have you wake up in the morning and regret it. Just--let's go back to yours." He caught the look in your eye, which clearly meant that yes, you would indeed like to go back to your place, then hurried to add more.

"Not like that. You go to sleep. I'll stay in your living room. In the morning, if you still want to do this, I'll fuck you right then and there." Anakin rumbled the last words out so intently, so full of promise, that you finally conceded.

"Fine, let's go. But as soon as I wake up, I'll take you up on that. And then I'm going to the lab. I've gotta get back to work," you said, letting him past you to open the door for you. Anakin chuckled.

"Maybe you're more sober than I thought." The two of you went back down the hallway, past the other closed doors to the staircase, which was somehow even sweatier than you remembered, then past the living room to the entrance. Anakin's hand was clasped around yours the entire time, to make sure he didn't lose you, and you found that, actually, you didn't mind the contact. You wanted to do it a lot, even sometimes outside of sex. But that was the tequila talking. In fact, the tequila was doing a lot of talking right now, and the world was a little bit wobbly and fluid. Your head was heavy, and you found yourself stumbling a few times in your impractical heels.

Somehow, in all the chaos, Anakin found Rex by the entrance. You couldn't hear every word he said, but you caught "too drunk," "going home," and "make sure Ahsoka gets home safely." The 15 minute walk home passed by in a blur because you were a bit too distracted by the smell of Anakin's jacket around your shoulders. You really were stumbling around, and Anakin had to catch you a few times, but you made it back to your dorm in one piece.

This time, instead of going to the west elevator, Anakin followed you to the east, then up, up, all the way until you got to the tenth floor. Your key scraped against the lock, and you could hear Anakin's impatient sigh as you missed the hole again. You finally got it in, then got into your apartment and immediately flopped face-first onto your bed. Everything was a muddled mess after that. Anakin helped you take your shoes off, though not without making fun of you for being so drunk first, and then handed you a makeup wipe. You slapped it across your face a few times, then tossed it to the side. With a quick "good night," Anakin was about to leave your bedroom to crash on the living room couch.

"C'mere," you called, sitting up and stopping him in his tracks. He approached the bed, then sat down next to you until you put your head on his shoulder. This was bad, you knew, but it felt, for a moment, like that didn't matter. "Stay." Your voice was so small, so quiet. Vulnerable.

"I want to, but, no, I really should--" You interrupted him, still a little drunk and groggy but definitely annoyed. Could the bastard stop trying to be chivalrous for one second?

"If you don't stay, I am gonna dunk your Arduino in water. After you've soldered it." The threat was slightly diminished by the way you nuzzled his shoulder, but it worked anyway. Anakin was always a sucker. His deep sigh confirmed it.

"Fine. Just--oh God this is weird--let me take off my jeans if I'm going to sleep in a bed." You nodded and watched as he stood up, then unbuttoned them and pulled them down so he was in loose boxers and his t-shirt. His strong legs were on display, and you filed the image away for later as he crawled in behind you on the tiny twin bed. Your bed was shoved into the corner of the room, so he had to smush himself between you and the wall, but he managed it with only minimal complaining. He was so warm, so big and comforting. Maybe this was the relaxation you needed tonight, not a stupid party. Maybe you could do this more often. Anakin put his arm around your stomach, pulling you into him. Yup, you definitely had to do this more often. His breath tickled the back of your neck delightfully, and his bare legs felt incredible against yours.

"Is this okay?" You didn't have time to answer with anything more than a mhmm before you fell asleep. It was the most restful sleep you had in months, but that wasn't because of Anakin. Maybe it was. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't so bad. Maybe you liked him a bit, when he wasn't being an ass. But that was probably the tequila talking. It was the tequila, really.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @skywalkercinema @throughparisallthroughrome @anak1ns-wife @radiantvader @eloquenceinpurple @rosekillerdaughter @doblasftcisco @mistress-amidala @mortalheartache @sunnytotheend @olivia091108 @aniiuv @sotal3rsa @springnaiad @bettysgardenswift @rhiannonhippiegirl @xorilixx

if the tag didn't go through, it might be a tumblr setting issue, so message me if you'd like to find some other way to be notified :)

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

ok some things i LIKED about tua 4 since we all have talked exclusively about what we hated (SPOILERS AHEAD):

idc what anyone says the baby shark bit was iconic every time it came on i jammed

klaus had a comic book storyline from hotel oblivion!! let’s go source material!!

diego and luther being himbos

allison and klaus friendship

the entire birthday party scene was hilarious and fun and so THEM ok

the road trip scene that was in the trailer such iconic sibling goofy clownery they’re fucking idiots

klaus. he was in it. any time i get to see my little freak is time well spent.

incredibly unpopular opinion but i liked the ending i think they need an end from the cycle of apocalypses and suffering like they deserve a rest they’ve earned it and it was sweet that they all went together and the “i love you guys………but you’re all such fucking assholes” and then “fuck you” and everyone laughing and crying and THEN AND THEN ALL THE CHARACTERS FROM THE VARIOUS SEASONS BEING AT THE END i was SOBBING

klaus having a podcast of himself giving himself affirmations like that’s so funny

they actually gave somewhat of a shit about each other like diego was so DAD my babies have grown up but not too much they’re still fucking toddlers

lila is so pretty and funny and hot and unhinged she means so much to me

lila and klaus friendship!! lila and allison!! bonding!!

gene and jean were SUCH classic umbrella academy characters. loved them.

viktor gets all the pussy

i cannot stress how much all of the group scenes were so fucking sibling i love them ok

NO LUTHER AND ALLISON INCEST THANK FUCK

THUNDERBOLT THE GHOST DOG <3<3<3

klaus and claire oh my god i love uncle klaus so much and he loves her so much

seeing sober klaus and how hard he tried and then the heartbreak when that went away because he’s KLAUS he’s gerard way’s trauma self insert. as much as i want klaus to be safe and content and free from all this bullshit it was just so consistent and i can appreciate that. and i cried like a little bitch it was truly devastating but it was just sooooo klaus. also getting to see him make it incredibly clear that he didn’t want his powers back—him being the ONLY ONE who didn’t want his powers back—was important to me idk. and he was LOVED like he has a family!! he is cared for!! ahhHHHHHH!! love it

claire was great and getting to see her and allison and their tumultuous relationship and their love for each other after all of these seasons of allison looking for her and just wanting to be with her daughter

klaus got dave’s dog tags <3

more flashbacks to brellie kids!!

getting answers to some series-long mysteries

the underground subway system between timelines was so fucking cool and mindfucky 100/10

klaus’s look being reminiscent of s1 sorry that was my favourite klaus look ok

their sort of evolved powers when they got them back

so many good one liners and comedic scenes

ben being a crypto bro is SO FUNNY

will add stuff as i think of it. this is incredibly out of character for me i am an eternal pessimist but i did enjoy s4 (mostly because, as an eternal pessimist, my expectations are always low) so here we are.

[lurkingshan]

10 Things I Love About Triage

I am extraordinarily late to this party but I am here to scream about Triage, a show which I started on a whim after a stray comment from @incandescentflower and subsequently finished in two sittings. This drama has been on my list forever (I didn't watch it live because the distribution was wacky) and then it just kept getting overlooked as I fought to keep up with the deluge of Thai BL coming at us at all times. But I am very glad I finally hunted it down and made the time and I would like to tell you why!

Hello Again, Dr. Sammon

I am on record as a Sammon fan. She is one of the best writers working in Thai BL and she has a knack for mystery and suspense. Her narratives are always really well constructed with tight plotting and smart character work, and Triage is no exception. This story feels confident, steady, and complete in a way few Thai BLs do.

The time travel rules are blessedly consistent

Part of what makes the story sing is it's a time travel plot that actually gets the particulars right. In a time loop, the details are everything, and this show understands that. The series of events are consistent, the rules of the time travel mechanics are clearly explained, and when our protagonists learn something new, it always lines up with something we'd gotten hints about before or gives us new context for old information. There are no loose threads in this show.

My boy Tin is going through it

Tin is a fantastic protagonist. He starts the show disillusioned with his work and hilariously grumpy about this time loop situation--he is a busy ER doctor and he does not have time for this--but as he starts to piece together how the loop works he gets more methodical in his approach, and eventually becomes emotionally invested in his mission to save Tol. Tin felt really well-calibrated in that he was smart and he tried all the things you would be shouting at the screen for him to try, but he's still a human being with flaws and insecurities and so he makes mistakes, learns, and has to try again. The show really successfully put us in the frustration with him.

Tol makes for an interesting damsel

Because he's kind of an asshole! Tol is rude and disrespectful when he first meets Tin, he hangs around with some truly awful bullies, he treats Rit like garbage, and he's all around an arrogant dick. Until he isn't. I like the choice to make the focus of our mission such a difficult character, not only because it makes Tin's challenge that much harder, but also because it invites us to consider the reasons why someone might be behaving the way he is and whether they can be redeemed.

This show has everything: action, romance, and agony

It's truly an emotional rollercoaster all the way through, and you can't relax for a moment. The pacing is relentless through most of the show, and even as a bond develops between Tin and Tol and they begin a tentative romance, danger is lurking around every corner. As soon as these boys started making out in episode 9 I knew something awful was coming for me and IT SURE DID.

Jinta, the ultimate frenemy

On that note let's talk about Jinta, my nemesis!! Jinta is some kind of unspecified deity/whimsical god and the one who appears to be responsible for putting Tin and Tol in this loop. Is he trying to help them? Is he trying to torture them? I definitely think it's both! He seems to delight in showing up to taunt Tin as he struggles to figure out how to get through to Tol, and when it's Tol's turn on the merry-go-round he sends him to the darkest timeline for his high stakes final attempt to save Tin just because he can. I love/hate you, sir!

Sing and Gap and the darkest timeline

Speaking of which, can we talk about how appropriate it is that Sing and Gap are a couple only in the darkest timeline? I don't know if people were shipping this for real during the live watch, but I definitely was not and so I started cackling when we got to the worst possible timeline and Sing was suddenly calling Gap his boyfriend. Sammon, you are hilarious and I salute you.

Fantastic side characters

Let's talk about the sides I did love. First of all, aside from his weird aggressive flirting/not flirting thing with Gap, I actually did like Sing's friendship with Tin a lot. I also loved the hospital gang who were around to alternately tease and help Tin, most especially Toy and Fang. Toy is a sweetheart and a gossip who never misses a trick, and Fang is an actual badass who first cracked the case with that evil doctor and saved Tin's life. They are fabulous. Rit was also an excellent character with a lot of complexity and he added some much needed depth to the school storyline (does anyone else think he was basically the proto-DFF Non?). And while Mai and Heart were not my favorite people, I did appreciate that the show gave them a sympathetic portrayal instead of making them evil villains (we had the organ harvesters for that).

That beautiful clocktower

I must give a shoutout to this gorgeous clocktower featured in several important scenes. I got so excited every time it showed up. Fun fact: in the first clocktower scene I was like oh hey I recognize that from gifs, but it can't be that scene because it's too early for a kis--TIN WHAT ARE YOU DOING! (I was right, it was too early for a kiss and Tol was Big Mad but bless you for going for it anyway, Tin).

The romance is balanced and rootable

And on that note, let me give a shoutout to the romance part of this story for actually feeling balanced. This is not an epic swoony love affair, but more a story of two people putting in the time to understand and empathize with each other. Sometimes in these kind of time loop stories the romance can end up feeling very one-sided because one character is holding all the knowledge and all the cards. But in this show we have the neat trick of Tol taking over the loop to try to save Tin in the final arc, which means he got to go through a similar process of getting to know the darkest version of his lover and figuring out how to get through to him. I was delighted by all the events of the long loop playing out again, but this time with Tin being the obstinate one. Tol got a taste of his own medicine and it left me feeling like they were both equally invested in this relationship.

TL;DR: If you haven't watched this yet, you really should! It's a fast binge and a great time with some Thai BL favorites. It's unfortunately still not available for international streaming, but it's very easy to find grey now and it's worth the effort. Go forth!