#I’m aware he does this everytime

[renarots]

Me when I can’t shut my mouth and suddenly ruin the vibes

#mini vent #but I just don’t wanna play #I’m all gamed out rn #but a friend said I promised and made it seem like I said it today #I didn’t know the game they wanted to play released today #I need context for things #I’m sorry I seemed snappy #I just didn’t know and I’m tired #but now I’m sitting in vc waiting for it to download and then play #it would’ve been fine but then he had to pull the guilt trip card as well #it would’ve been fine as a miscommunication #but to go and be like it’s fine I’ll just go lay down #guilt tripping me #I’m aware he does this everytime #but god it’s exhausting #just because you can play these games all the time doesn’t mean I can #especially when I’m not feeling it #anyways that’s my rant #rena rambles #I’m also autistic so the vibes could not be ruined and I’m reading it wrong again

[webslingingslasher]

Begin Again

an: this has been a long time in the making and I think it's a favorite of mine.

Pairing: Peter Parker X Mean!Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers.

CW: harsh language, mental breakdowns, mentions of cheating (not peter)

Word Count: 24K

Summary: You've lived next door to Peter your whole life and the last nine years you've detested him. Now you're going through a breakup and it's nice to know someone's awake with you. Even if it is Peter Parker.

Breakups suck.

That’s it. That’s the whole message. There’s nothing else to add, except you’d never let yourself love again. It’s not like you didn’t know it wasn’t going to happen, you were aware the entire year what it would lead into, but hasn’t every girl sworn, at least once, they were the exception to a boys rule? 

Natalie Greene’s voice echoed in your mind, “don’t get involved with a senior boy. They move on and you’re left picking up the pieces in homeroom.” You didn’t listen. You got involved and it was a good year, you knew he was going to college and when he left the break up was inevitable. Still, it didn’t hurt as hard until three months into the school year he called and said he met someone else. 

You wish you weren’t so kind and understanding to him.

You called Natalie Greene the second it ended, she picked up and that angel voice of hers shined through the phone. She asked ‘hello?’ three times before you sobbed. You could feel the empathy in her tone, ‘he ended it, huh?’ All you could do is squeak back, ‘stay right there babe, I’m on my way with the break up kit.’  

She showed up with a stray grocery bag. “alright,” she stated, hands on her hips. 

“I got ice cream, a super soft blanket, movies - of all genres, face masks, a lighter-” 

“Why do you have a lighter?” 

Natalie rolls her eyes with a goofy grin, “to burn stuff, duh.“

The gesture was nice, but you couldn’t focus on the movie.

It felt like everytime you blinked there were tears that would find themselves tracking down your cheeks, you sniffled occasionally and blankly stared at the screen; flashbacks clouding your mind. Each kiss, each laugh, each touch, every fight and makeup, the first time you felt someone's hips melt into yours. 

A supercut of every moment. 

You were replaying a thousand things and all he was thinking about was the new girl under him, you were angry at everything all at once. Angry at yourself for letting yourself get hurt and feeling this much pain, because you knew it was coming, it was the whole agreement when it started. Angry at him for not breaking his promise and loving you anyway, angry at him for not telling you he’d wait for you and everything would be okay. 

Angry that you hate him and yourself but more angry how quickly you’d fall back into him if he called. 

“I knew this was gonna happen, Nat.” You sniff, a cry bubbles from your throat, “so why does it hurt so bad?” 

Your friend frowns, she’s no savor to heartbreak. She’s been where you are more times than one could take, she still loves with her whole heart and you don’t know if you could ever do it again. Natalie wraps her arms around your shoulders while you shake with a sob, you cry into her knowing you're matting her blonde hair but she just pats you and holds you close. 

“Because even though the ending was coming it didn’t feel real until the book closed. And maybe a little bit because you hoped he’d change his mind.” 

You gasp, “how do I get past this? Nat, it feels..” 

You’re tugged into her so tight you can feel her collarbone against your cheek, “like you’re dying? Yeah, that happens. But, you’ll live. It doesn’t feel like it now, but the day will come where you can think about him, smile, and thank him for the opportunity.” 

You snort, “for breaking my heart?” 

Natalie Greene holds you as tight as she can, “for making you grow.” 

Your shoulders feel like they’re falling behind you as you inch along the hallway, everything feels heavy. Your feet are like lead blocks, and your heart feels like it’s been tied down with an anchor. It hurts more to know he’s not aching like this, he has someone new to keep him busy. 

Blinking at your locker you fight back a yawn, two weeks after heartbreak and it still feels the same. You sleep like shit, tossing and turning and weird dreams when you finally dozed off. The one thing that’s helped keep your mind away from him, was your neighbor. Every night, at 3:02 am, on the dot, you hear the same movements. 

A window slams shut, two soft hops on the floor and three bumps against the wall. 

For six nights straight you kept count, it was methodical. A nightly routine, you weren’t sure what he was doing, but it was something. It made your mind wonder, your most recent theory was that he was a smoker; weed, cigarettes or whatever, and he would blow smoke out his window before landing in bed. 

Maybe his bed was against your wall and that’s why you heard so many small knocks. 

Last night you stayed up, you waited and right on the minute, like you expected, you heard a window slam shut. A small grin crossed your face, not at him, but at the idea of a constant. You lost your reliable figure, he’s thousands of miles away with his own new person, but tonight, and for the last seven nights you’ve had something to rely on. Something that couldn’t go anywhere. 

You blink and suddenly you’re staring at your open locker, you don’t even remember putting in the combination. On autopilot you grab what you need for your next three classes and shrug your backpack down. Lately, it seemed like everything moved in slow motion. 

“Are we ready to go to Flash’s party friday and makeout with a rando or are we still numb to everything?” 

Natalie smiles at your figure, when you slouch and give her a “hey, Nat,” her blonde hair bounces as she nods her head understandingly, “still dead to the world, understandable.” 

“At this point I’d do heroin to feel something,” your deadstare makes her think you might be serious. “Tell you what, if you’re still this miserable in six weeks, we’ll do it together.” 

Your eyebrow quirks, “you’d do heroin with me if I’m still this miserable?” 

Natalie Greene’s hand sticks out, her eyes ferocious. You know immediately she has something up her sleeve. 

“Six weeks, starting today.” 

You have nothing else to go on except the nightly wake up call and Natalie Greene’s plan. 

“Six weeks.” 

It’s solidified with a handshake, your fingertips turn white in her hold. 

WEEK ONE.

Natalie Greene had talked you into going to Flash’s party, not to makeout with anyone, she quickly withdrew that from the table. You had been very hesitant at first, pushing at every restraint and reason to why you shouldn’t go and she stopped you right there. Manicured hand and all, petite and poised, she stopped your path. 

“Here’s why you should go: get fucking wrecked, absolutely smashed and let it all out. I promise you, babe, it feels so, so good.” 

“You think that will make me feel better? Getting hammered at a house party on a friday night?”

“I’ll take care of you for the night, okay? I’ll get you drunk and you can cry or scream or whatever you want. Let go of anything you’re holding back, that’s why you should go.” 

You look her over, she’s been your rock the last three years in the school. Natalie is different, she protects and cares for herself like she does someone else. She also gives out more of her heart than she should, but she appreciates the burn it leaves. She tells you it’s one more ache preparing her for the one who would never make it hurt again. 

If Natalie Greene says it’ll help, you’ll listen. 

“You’ll drive me home and take care of me the next morning? Hungover and all?” 

A denim jacket covered shoulder shrugs, “I think it’s time I repay you for all these years.” 

For the first time in two weeks a real smile crosses your face, it’s small but it’s there. 

Flashforward two days later, you’re eight drinks in and feeling like you’re flying. 

You sway against your friend, “and he,” you hiccup, “he said he was like, soooo in love with me but then like, fuckin four days later,” it took you a moment to hold up the correct number on your hand, “boom, no boyfriend.” Natalie tried to hold back a laugh but her cheeks blew up when she let it escape, you pulled the most comical ‘what the fuck?’ face. 

“I mean who the fuck does that- a sick person. That’s who! And- And you know what?” you hiccup, “I thought I’d be sad, but I just kinda hate him, does that make me bad?” 

“Nah, I had some that killed me inside and some that I just shrugged off. Some moved in waves. One minute I’d say ‘fuck him!’ and the next I’d be overwhelmed with sadness because I didn’t have anyone to hold me anymore.” 

You blink at her words and swallow the rest of your cup, you hadn’t thought about that part yet. Not having anyone to call yours anymore, that’s the hardest hitting part. You really, really wanted to call him. Just one more time, maybe he misses you just as much, maybe he doesn’t know how to say sorry, maybe he’s waiting for you to call. 

“I should call him, right?” Your hands fumble at your pockets, your friend panics and grabs at your arms. “No! No, no, no! You absolutely should not call him!” You whine, “but what if he-” 

Natalie grabs you tight, it makes you look at her confused. Her tone takes a sharp turn, she breaks through your drunken stupor in a second. 

“He’s not. He’s not thinking about you, he’s not missing you, he’s not sitting around wishing you’d call him, he’s just not. He broke up with you, you don’t do that if you still care. Don’t do that to yourself, it ended mature. You have to be mature now.” 

Brutal honesty. It puts everything in perspective. 

He didn’t miss you, and that… really, really hurt. 

Natalie was right, it comes in waves. Because there comes that sadness, it starts with small blinks and suddenly fat tears skip down your cheeks. “You’re right! He, he doesn’t-” you take harsh breaths, for the first time in two weeks you had a full breakdown. Everything you held back bottled over, you didn’t know how you could hold in so much hurt. 

“Okay, okay. Let’s go, we can cry in the car but not here.” 

Your breath shook the entire way to the car, the moment you sat in the passenger seat you cried. Your voice cracked, “he said he loved me!” Natalie nodded, cranking the engine, “And I’m sure he did, babe. Sometimes these things run their course and it’s no one's fault.” 

It went like that the entire car ride, until she stopped at a McDonald's and got you a milkshake so you could focus on getting the liquid up the straw instead of saying the same three things on a loop. Once you got fries in your mouth the thought of him was erased from your mind, choosing to sing loudly and stick your head out the window on the way back. 

Stumbling and giggling quietly at the late hour while you swayed on the walk to your door, you stretched freely and yawned when you stumbled in. Home alone for the weekend, just how it should be. “I’m getting naked,” you started stripping while walking to your room to change into pajamas, your heart lurches when you see one of his shirts. 

You flop backwards on your bed, the room slightly spins and you close your eyes tight trying to ground yourself. Wriggling into the sheets you sigh, and yawn again. Your head buries into a pillow and sleep is imminent. 

“Sleepy?” 

Natalie Greene stands in the doorway with water and some advil, you smile and pat your bed, inviting her to join. 

“Natalie Greene, you are so great, did you know that?” 

Your friend laughs, you nuzzle into her hand while she strokes your hair, “I did, but a reminder is always nice. Go to sleep, babe. I’ll make toast in the morning.” 

Her gentle touch makes it easy, you yawn one more time. Your voice flutters while you talk into sleep.

“Do me a favor?” 

“Anything,” she whispers. You don’t think he ever loved you this soft.  

“Make sure he gets home for me.” 

Natalie Greene asked who but all she received were soft snores. 

The birds were screaming the earth back awake. 

At least that’s how it felt, your ears were ringing and there was a dull, present thud in your head. The sunlight has never been so bright, you hold your eyes shut but the ache gets louder and you can’t get comfortable. 

There’s two pills and half a glass of water waiting for you, god bless Natalie Greene. 

“Good morning, sunshine!” You wince and choke on your gulp of water, a knife has pierced your eardrum. “Oh my god, everything is on dial eleven, I think I’m dying.” 

“How are you feeling? Besides the obvious, I mean.” 

She means about him, you take a moment to really think about it. 

“I think… I think I’m doing okay.” 

Your friend smiles and throws her hair into a ponytail, “good, I’m making breakfast. Come join.” 

After ten minutes and infinite pep talk you rise on shaky knees, stumbling towards your door and barely making it to the couch where you spread wide and gulped for air. Your friend snorted at your exaggeration over her shoulder and carefully walked towards you with a piping mug of tea. 

Sitting up you bring a blanket over your shoulders, you squint at her before taking the handle. Taking a sip while you turn the TV on, searching for a midmorning throwaway show. A re-run of The Wendy Williams Show wins, you rest your head on a cushion and stare blankly at the screen. Natalie Greene humming up a tune in the kitchen. 

You hadn’t even checked your phone yet, “what time is it?” 

“Noon thirty.” 

Your eyes widen, “my god,” you mumble to yourself. 

Listening to Wendy your eyes lull shut and suddenly you're sinking back into sleep, you roll over and smack your dry lips. Until your friend is kicking at your shin with two plates in her hands, stacked full of the breakfast nines. 

Your queasy stomach grumbles and any drowsiness is ripped away with hunger. Nearly drooling, you stuff a piece of french toast in your mouth and moan, “Nat, you’re the greatest thing I got.” She bounces her shoulder into yours, “I know.”  

You fall into silence while you scarf breakfast down, booing and applauding when deemed necessary by Wendy. Leaning back you rest your hands over your full belly and pat gently. Swiping your tongue over your gums for any crumbs, you sigh happily. 

“Hey, what did you mean last night? You said to let you know if he got home safely.” 

You wave her off, “drunk stupidness, I hear my neighbor every night around the same time moving around. This last week, I dunno, it felt nice knowing someone else was up too?” 

“Have you ever-” 

Both your necks turn to look at the front door then back at each other, the knocking that caught your attention continues. 

“Who’s-” 

“Did you-” 

You swallow and stand up, not so shaky anymore. Looking through the peephole your forehead hits the door at the sight of said neighbor, you know what they say about devils and appearing, groaning you take a moment to collect yourself and open the door. 

“What do you want, penis?” 

Peter Parker in all his glory, is knocking at your door with a plate of… cookies? 

Neighbors forever, close pals never. You’d played together as kids, mostly elementary age but since you were eight you’ve had a disdain for Peter Parker. You’re not sure where it went wrong, but just looking at him you wanted to roll your eyes. 

“I was going to say, ‘wow, how could a guy ever dump you?’ but now, I’d say that’s how.” 

Normally that wouldn’t hurt, but the recent circumstances made it a cheap shot. 

“Is this your sorry attempt to be a rebound? Because if it is, I want to make it extremely clear I’d rather eat glass than-” 

The plate is shoved into your face, “May had me bring these over, she said your mom told her you’ve been a weepy, miserable mess because some dickhead thought he found someone better.” 

You huff at him, your fingers wrap around his wristwatch as you pull it down, all you heard was weepy and miserable.

“I know you wouldn’t know anything about someone loving you but-” 

“Is that Peter B. Parker?” 

Natalie Greene reminds you of your hangover in record timing, you wince at her shriek. Peter gives a polite, dare you say charming (?) smile. It makes you fight back a gag, “hello, Natalie Greene.” Her eyes flash from his, to the plate, to the cracked open door across the hall and she gets a wicked grin. 

The person you’ve hated and bickered with the most is suddenly the one you listen out for in the middle of the night. The look on her face, the glance she shared with you, proved she knew. 

“Cookies?” Natalie nudges your arm, “he brought cookies and he’s right across the hallway, how nice.” 

Peter’s oblivious to her tone, he has his goofy smile on and it makes you seeth. He’s always so god damn happy, it’s annoying. 

“Well, actually, my aunt made them. But I am delivering, so I can accept some praise.” 

She laughs, full on cackles and nudges you again. 

“You know, in all the times you talked about Peter you never mentioned how funny he was!” 

You don’t know what she’s playing at but you’re shutting it down immediately. 

Peter looks at you, he seems almost hopeful and you have to settle the urge to toss the plate to the ground. “You talk about me?” 

You cross your arms and sneer, “don’t worry, nothing good.” 

His smile drops, “yeah, sorry. I don’t know why..” his curls bounce as he gently shakes his head before pushing the glass into your chest. “Here, eat as many as it takes to feel somewhat okay again.” 

You grip the plate and look down, they’re your favorite. 

“We, um. We have more over here, so if you want more. Or if you wanna hang out or something I’m here, so…” 

Peter’s never been a friend like this before and it was some pity party you wanted no part of now. 

“It’s a breakup. I’m sure I can manage without you just fine.” 

His eyebrows turn in, “right. I just thought- nevermind, enjoy the cookies.” 

Natalie gives him a sympathetic frown and sulks back inside, you keep your glare on his figure until he reaches his door. As you’re about to retreat he stops in the doorway, “for what it’s worth, I think he’s stupid and he’s gonna realize what he lost when it’s way too late.” 

It’s almost nice, sometimes it sucks when the person you’re supposed to hate has human peek through their armor. 

Too bad you’re more guarded than ever. 

“Well, then. It’s a good thing you’re not worth much.” 

Maybe it’s his resilience that troubles you, no matter how hard you push him away or beat him down with words he’ll pick himself back up and hand your words back in a package of self reflection. 

Today is no exception, Peter flashes you a sad smile, this one actually is filled with pity. 

“I’m sorry you’re hurting,” you didn’t have a chance to fire back. His door was already shut.

Heartache throbbed but the cookies were damn good. 

On your third, you down half a cup of milk. You reach for a fourth and Natalie hasn’t said one word. Instead she cleaned the kitchen and packed up her overnight bag, before settling next to you for an episode of Jerry Springer and her own deserved treat. 

“So, do tell, my friend. Is Peter the one you wanted to know was home safe?” 

Deny till death. 

“No way, I’m talking about Mr. Harrington, he’s like a hundred years old.” 

Natalie takes her time chewing and swallowing, “your hundred year old neighbor is up in the middle of the night?”

It’s dumb to lie, you and her know the truth. 

You shrug and take a fifth cookie, “he may have a routine, I dunno.” 

Your friend hums, “I just thought it may be Peter, cause you share a wall and all.” 

Gagging at his name you shake it off, “Gross! It’s bad enough knowing the plate these were on were in his hands.” It takes you a second but you’re able to plow through another bite. 

“I just… why do we hate Peter so much?” 

You don’t know, you think you blocked it out. Every time you look at him a weird feeling bubbles up and it makes you want to scream, cry, fight and hug it out with him in one second. It’s easier to bark at him than confront him about your feelings. 

“I don’t know. He’s just a pest to me, every time I turn around he’s there. And I swear to god he spilled the beans about that party last year.” 

Natalie Greene knows three things to be true. 

One: Peter Parker likes you, you just don’t know it yet. 

“What if you talked to him?” 

Cookie crumbs fall over your shirt as you talk, “I’m sorry, what?” 

Two: You like Peter Parker, you just don’t know it yet. 

“If you need me and I’m not around, if you need someone to support you through this and I can’t be here, promise me you’ll knock on his door.” 

You scoff at the idea, “yeah, sure.” she’s not very confident you mean it. 

“Seriously, promise me right now if I can’t be there for you, you’ll ask him.” 

She was serious, something in her tone made you shift and agree. It’s not like she’d go anywhere, Natalie Green was your lifeline. 

“Alright! If you aren’t around and it’s literally life or death, I’ll ask… him.” 

Three: Things get worse before they get better, you just don’t know it yet.

WEEK TWO.

Your mornings always started the same, a routine was important to you. It was consistent. It was wake up, hit up the bathroom, change, yawn and rub your eyes through breakfast before leaving to thrive in silence before school. 

Today, when leaving, right as you’re pocketing your keys, your neighbor speaks out. 

“Hey.” 

You freeze, it’s rare you run into Peter in the mornings. You figure he leaves way earlier, or later than you. But when you do, you ignore each other with silence. You really don’t like the sudden change. 

“How are you doing?” 

You wonder if he heard you crying last night, you thought you got rid of it after the party. You didn’t understand how you could be happy one moment and miserable the next. What made it worse was when 3:02 am hit and you heard his window slam, your sniffles settled. 

“Like I was dumped, thanks for the reminder.” 

Your foot hits the first step when he calls out, “and the cookies?” 

Biting your bottom lip you turn, it really was a nice gesture. You may not like him, but you loved May and she’s the one that put in all that hard work. Peter lights up when you face him, if he had a tail he’d start wagging it. It makes you bite down on your cheek, he doesn’t deserve unprovoked rage. 

“They were really good,” you take three steps before turning back around. 

“And, I uh, took your advice. Ate the whole plate, I mean.” 

Peter fumbles, his key chain drops but he stays looking at you. His thumb shoots behind him to point at his door, “we have like, twenty left. Want some more?” 

You shake your head softly, “maybe later?” Peter nods exuberantly, “yeah, yeah. I’ll bring them over.” 

You curl your lip up and stomp down the steps, “thanks for the warning, penis!” 

This was it. 

This was your worst nightmare. 

Not only did things get shuffled around until you were sitting next to Peter at dinner, where you made it a point to scoot your chair away from him when his shoulder touched yours and immediately swiped the area clean- But now you blinked blankly at your dinner while your mom droned on and on and on about the guy who dumped you. It didn’t matter if it was good or bad, you just wanted her to stop. 

“And he was so sweet, wasn’t he? Honey, are you sure he hasn’t reached out? It’s not too late to call him, maybe if you-” May didn’t deserve to see you upset, and it kills you that Peter saw that emotion. Your mom didn’t even deserve it, you were so sick of trying to keep it together. 

Your chair screeches with how quick you jump out of your seat. 

“He doesn’t give a shit, he dumped me! So why do you think he’d call? He doesn’t want me, I mean he’s made that clear right?” Your eyes shoot to May’s, “I’m right, right? You don’t break up with someone if you still care, or want them, right?” 

Tears haze your vision, “he ended it with me mom, and you know why? It’s cause he found a new girl! He fucking-” water rushes down your cheeks but you don’t stop, “he,” you collapse on the word, you can’t get a good inhale on breath. 

“He left me to pick up the pieces, that’s all he did.” It clicked full motion, he left you behind and ended it. He got a fresh start and you were left trying to hold it together, like how it was, how it was supposed to be. 

You sob, your chest has never felt so tight. Shaky breaths fade into sharp inhales, you can’t fucking breathe. Gasping you put a hand over your heart, you know in the back of your mind it’s a panic attack but all you feel is imminent death. 

Peter stands and blocks your body with his, you don’t know what’s happening but you’re trying to get away. Each step you take backwards he takes one forwards until you're wheezing in your room, your ears are ringing and it feels like a heart attack is in approach. Your eyes squeeze shut and in an instant you feel calmer, it’s not because of your sudden blink. It’s because Peter has his hands over your ears pressing in, your back against the wall and front against his chest.  

It’s the last place you want to be but you’re angry, and he’s there, and it’s all coming out. 

You’re able to breathe but at what cost? You grip Peter’s shirt as tight as you could and wail into his chest, it’s the first time you’ve ever actually felt him against you. He’s more sturdy than you thought, as you push more and more weight on him he doesn’t stagger one bit. His arms held you to him, keeping steady until you’d push him away. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you coughed the words into his shirt, you held tighter when his only response was resting his chin on your head. You apologized and cried until you ran out of tears and your breaths were nothing but sharp inhales. 

When reality hits and you realize you've been crying into Peter’s hold for minutes you push him away and wipe your nose. Avoiding his eyes, you look to the carpet, you have a fresh cry glow and mindset, it’s the good kind of emotional numb. 

“I, um, I still have those cookies?” 

Those being his choice of words after a troubling breakdown was warming, it made you feel like you weren’t so crazy. Or at least, Peter didn’t see you as crazy, which when thinking about didn’t mean much. 

You can’t help but laugh, it’s so loud and opposite of every other emotion you spilled tonight it makes him jump, you see him setting up for the attack. The moment you snap at him and call him a weirdo for cornering you and throwing himself on you. 

Tonight, you were full of surprises. 

“Yeah,” you nod your head and wipe your nose one last time, “I’d love to come over for cookies.” 

You had to look away from his smile, it was too blinding. 

You broke the rule, you went lurking and hurt your own feelings. She’s all over his instagram, and she’s pretty. He’s all over hers, dating back to five months ago. 

You do a double take, five months? 

He had been cheating on you for months before he ended it. You feel sick. He told you he loved you while he was in bed with another girl. You felt so much rage inside you couldn’t hold it in, Natalie was too far away and Peter’s already seen you at your worst. 

You move without thinking, slamming your fist on his door. 

Wide eyes open it, Peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared he was the subject of attack. You swerve past him, if you were in a cartoon, steam would be billowing from your ears. You didn’t get angry often, and you’ve never felt upset enough to punch someone, but all you could think about was screaming and slamming your fist into the wall. 

“I hate him, I fucking hate him so fucking much. If you ever hear me crying I need you to come over and tell me I’m absolutely pathetic for crying over a fucking cheater.” 

While he’s glad you’re not there to yell at him, his heart sinks for you. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“It was right in front of my face, too. She’d been claiming him since the second week of school. I’ve been a fool, god, I fucking hate him. I hate him so much I… I want to break something.” 

Peter eyes his science notebook, he doesn’t have anything for you to break, but he has something that will make enough noise to drown out the voices. He grabs it and holds it out, you gently take it giving him a confused look. 

“Wack it. Beat the absolute shit out of it on the counter.” 

You look unsure, you don’t want to ruin his things, even if you don’t like him. 

“Right on the edge, go on, do it.” His egging you on makes you follow his command, it’s gentle. 

“Harder,” you test it. 

“Harder,” you give a smack, it makes a popping sound and you jump, it feels good. 

“Like you mean it, like you need it.” You do it again, it’s louder. You strike down without instruction, Peter starts barking at you, it makes you angrier. 

“Harder, don’t be so weak!”

He hit the right nerve, you can’t stop, you’re moving so quick and using so much force the spine starts to rip from the cardboard. It feels good destroying something, it makes you beat the laminate harder. Loud cracks echoing from the walls. 

You heave for air, every bit of force directed into your diminished trust. You yell between each blow. 

“Fucking!” 

“Piece!”

“Of!”

“Shit!” 

You start to slow down, Peter’s notebook is fucked. You feel bad. Gasping for air when you’re done, Peter gives you a head nod, “better?” 

You nod, “lots. Sorry about your book.” He doesn’t look bothered in the slightest, “it’s a good excuse to get a new one, I hate green.” You peer over the contents in the pages, “that’s a lie, everyone knows science is green.” Peter laughs, he nods like he’s saying ‘you got me there.’ “Doesn’t mean I like it though.” 

Looking down at the notebook, you peer up at Peter. He looks soft, the sleeves of his zip up hoodie covered his thumbs, he has sweater paws. His hair framed his face nicely, his cheeks have a natural pink hue, it’s like he’s always sunkissed, or calming down from a laughing fit. 

The sun is backlighting him perfectly, it makes his eyes look even more honey golden than they already do. You don’t know why you find him slightly cute at the moment, it makes your stomach tug and not in a good way. The last time you thought someone was cute you got burned, and you’ve always had a disdain for Peter. 

Peter was the worst kind of rebound to have because you can’t decide who’d get more hurt from it, and the thought of that makes you want to avoid him forever. 

“You’re looking at me funny.” 

You are, it’s because you’re noticing him for the first time, at least since you were eight. Suddenly you can remember why you cut him out when you were a kid. 

“I had a crush on you when we were younger. I think that’s why I stopped being your friend.” 

Your confession made Peter’s eyes widen, he looks to the ground and hides his smile. When he picks his head back up he looks to the side, his cheeks a bit more flushed than normal. “That’s cute.” 

It was. It was innocent and juvenile, his small response made you laugh. “Yeah, it really was.” You shouldn’t entertain it any further, but you can’t stop. Something about seeing his blush makes you want to keep going, “Wanna know when it started?” He looks curious, “sure.” 

You go quiet for a minute, you haven’t thought about it in years. The moment it clicked you were freaked out, the first time you liked a boy and he was your best friend. You went from wanting to play in dirt to holding his hand. A smile spreads over your face when you watch the memory replay in your mind. 

“We were at the complex playground and we were digging by that droopy tree across from the swingset, and I saw a lizard in the grass and I pointed it out to you. I told you I always wanted to hold one but they moved too fast and scared me, but you held out your arm and said ‘I got this.’” You laugh, replaying it once more. 

“And you dive bombed and picked it up, and you were so fucking proud to have caught it. Then you placed it in my hand but I felt it move around and freaked out, but you held your hand over mine and said ‘don’t be scared.’” 

There’s something about an eight year old Peter Parker with glasses and dirt smudged cheeks that had child you giddy.

Peter’s smiling, it’s like he’s reliving that day in his head too. “I fulfilled your lifelong dream and you fell for me.” You shrug, “maybe.” Setting his notebook on the counter you look around, you feel like you’ve said too much. 

“Hey, um, thanks for the whole… unleashing my anger thing.” You're setting yourself up for a goodbye, Peter can sense it. 

“Are you hungry? Wanna go get some pizza?” 

No matter what was said, or thought, you still have that pinch of annoyance at him. But his brightness was what you needed today, and you hadn’t had lunch. You have a sinking feeling you’d regret it, there was something that felt like it was a bit more than friendly and it had you throwing up every wall possible. 

Still, you find yourself agreeing. 

“Sure. Let’s get some pizza.” 

It was a stereotypical pizza place and those were the best ones. The wall is covered in pictures of random people, terrible paintings and red checkered tablecloths covered wobbly tables. They had a permanent sticky residue, your elbows peeled when you raised them up. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t judge me on my hawaiian choice.” He always did, he told you it wasn’t authentic and childish.

“Hey, I’m a pizza guy, alright? Anything you put on a pizza belongs on it. I mean, I get the appeal, sweet and savory.” Your face brightens, he understands. “Exactly! And the warm pineapple just hits differently, it’s like-” Peter can read your mind, you say it at the same time. “Fries and ice cream.” 

Another thing he found gross, your head tilts, it just kind of clicks with Peter. Your ex would sneer when you’d go for a dip, you begged him to try it a hundred times, you promised he’d like it but he’d tell you it was ‘fucking gross’. 

“Hawaiian and pepperoni, can I get you kids anything else?” You shake your head while Peter responds for the both of you, ‘no thanks, we’re good.” Peter’s slice has a pool of grease in a slice of his pepperoni, it looks delicious. He sees you eying his choice and holds it out, “you want a bite don’t you?” Your eyes flash to your slice, “only if you take a bite of mine.” It’s only fair. “Swap with me,” you trade plates and tap slices as a cheers, humming when you take a bite Peter nods impressively. 

You swap back and take a bite of yours, it’s heavenly. “I’m glad I got mine.” Peter agrees with the statement, “I’m sorry, babe, but pepperoni is superior. It’s all about keeping it simple.” You know he meant nothing by it, you know it meant it in a friendly way, you know it’s a regular pet name to use in passing, but he called you babe. 

Hearing the term of affection makes your skin crawl, you swallow a lump in your throat. You want to snap at him, but instead your voice comes out soft. “Please don’t call me that.” Peter’s eyes soften, he almost tells you he didn’t mean it like that, but he knows you already understand that. 

“No problem, old lady.” It took a second, but you couldn’t stop the laugh. “What did you just call me?” Peter bites his bottom lip, “well, that’s the opposite of babe, isn’t it?” It makes your smile bigger, it’s funny, if you had asked him something that simple he’d fight you on it, ask a million questions and push it until you gave up. 

For the first time in a month you really can’t remember why you thought he was so great. 

WEEK THREE.

Natalie Greene has her hair pulled slick back in a ponytail, a determined look and hands on her hips. 

“Let’s fuck some shit up.” 

Lunch with Peter had really pushed you forward, you had strayed away from him the last few days. You still listened for him nightly but avoided him in the hallway and at school, he was everything he was not, and it made you feel queasy. 

It was time you removed him from your life, you started with blocking him on everything. From instagram to duolingo. Then, you piled up everything he left behind or things that reminded you of him, but you couldn’t touch your closet. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Enter Natalie Greene.

“I don’t know why it’s so hard for me, everything else was fine.” Natalie shrugs, your closet doors are open and she’s itching to start rummaging. “It’s not for me. What are we thinking, trash, donate, burn? Dare I say detonate?” 

You snort, “think I could do some black magic?” Her eyes light up, “I’ll look up the dark arts right now, don’t dare me.” You sigh, “I don’t care what you do with them, I just need them out of here.” Natalie Greene understands, she’s been there too a few times. Everything that reminds you of him burns like hell. A constant reminder of what’s no longer. 

It’s only five shirts and some sweatpants but it feels paralyzing. Once his clothes are gone he’s no longer, like the last year never meant anything. He cheated but you still feel like it was real for the time you had him. 

“Shit, can we raincheck the disposal?” Natalie is staring at her phone in her hand, a worried line where her lips were. “Family stuff.” You tell her it’s fine and send her out in a second, staring at the bag you started to twitch. 

It felt daunting- a looming presence. You almost got rid of him but couldn’t. It was five minutes of harsh breathing, then you drag it across the hall hoping Peter was home. You needed them gone. 

 May answered the door and you feel slightly flustered. 

“Hi, May. Is Peter home?” 

She welcomes you in the door, skipping over the makeshift laundry bag and giving a quick but squeezing hug. “How are you feeling?” If you had been asked that a week ago you’d fly off the handle, but this week it feels like you can breathe a bit better. 

“I think I’m doing pretty okay. It helped to know he cheated, it makes me miss him sixty percent less. The other forty makes me feel pathetic.” May frowns with empathy, “my college boyfriend cheated. Betrayal and hurt is a weird feeling when mixed with love.” 

You laugh, “yeah, it really is.” May clears her throat, “Peter’s in his room, he may be busy with some homework.” You thank her and move down the hallway, the plastic bag follows, half of you hopes it rips because it’s what he deserves. 

You knock and wait for his response, grunting when you swing the trash bag over the threshold and let it drop. “I have an odd request for a man.” Peter seems surprised to see you for a second, then looks at the bag and back at you. He seems a bit more weary. 

“Uh huh.” 

“I’m getting rid of his things and Nat had to dip, wanna come with?” You follow up with a wince, “I’m sorry, this is super weird and out of place.”

Peter shrugs, “if it helps, it helps. And if you’re serious, I’ll go with you.” You take a deep breath, healing and growing isn’t always comfortable. “Fuck it, let’s donate some shit.” 

You feel like you stand straighter walking out with Peter behind you, he’s carrying the dead weight and you feel accomplished. May has a raised eyebrow, you hold out your hand and settle her curiosity. 

“Don’t worry, justice is about to be served.” 

May grins at her nephew's soft smile, she’s seen and heard about you more in the last two weeks than she has in the last nine years. “It’s sounding a lot more like twenty percent.” 

The moment things started turning south was at the donation center. You weren’t even standing super close to Peter, or radiating an aura that even suggested he was anything more than a conveniently close acquaintance. But the volunteer at the front thought differently. 

“Aw, I wish more young couples came in, it always seems to brighten up the place!” 

You feel like a force of wind caught you breathless, every inch of you froze on the spot. When she says couple you think of him, but you’re not a couple anymore. When she says ‘couple’ you feel your heart encapsulate with rubble, the idea of him makes you feel sick. 

You don’t think you could ever love again. 

Especially not with Peter, not even when he shies away with pink cheeks and tries to shrug her comment off. It’s not worth the awkwardness of announcing you’re not a couple, you both know you’re not, and she doesn’t really care if you were or not. 

“We were just in the mood to donate today,” he plays it off well. You chew on your lip and watch him fill out the donation slip, it’s second nature for Peter to take care of you, it was something he mostly failed at. 

Before the attendant can take the bag, Peter stops her by hovering his hand over it, he turns his neck and makes eye contact. “Are you sure you want to do this?” 

Your heart pounds, threatening to crack the rock. 

“I’m sure.” Because, you really are. 

Peter smiles, “any last words?” You try to think of something, nothing comes to mind other than a blur of frustration and confusion. Raising your hand you give it the middle finger, Peter’s laughing at your blank face, “c’mon, you know you wanna double it.” You do, so you did. 

It feels freeing, you’re not healed but you don’t have a daunting weight on your shoulders anymore. A satisfied smile spreads, your hands drop for a second before Peter’s high-fiving you. You’re tucked under his arm after saying his thanks to the confused volunteer, bumping your hip against his and caged in his hold you feel safe. Safer than you’ve ever felt. 

A crack in the rocks, your heart thumps wildly when he drags you opposite from where you came. “Let me buy you a hawaiian.” 

Peter is pretty. You could admit it. Never out loud, but you’d admit it silently. He’s on fire tonight, keeping you laughing and talking. He’s a perfect story teller, he has a way of pulling you in. He’s charismatic and throws himself into every role, voices and body movements.

Your chin is resting on your hand while you focus on every word of his, entranced in his excitement. A lamp hanging over your mini booth makes him look a tad yellow, but his eyes shine brighter than all hell, you never knew brown eyes could suck you in for hours. 

For a second your mind blips and you truly can’t remember his eye color. But you know they’re nothing like Peter’s. 

You forget to react, because Peter cut himself off and waved his hand in front of his face. You blink alert, he has a very charming smile, you look at a table of older women. “You good? Felt like you were trying to look into my soul.”

You can’t stop it, it's a knee jerk reaction and the moment you say it you regret it. 

“Your eyes are very pretty.” You won’t stop looking at a slice of mozzarella on a grandma’s plate. Peter hums, nodding his head like he understands, “so you weren’t trying to sacrifice me, you just got lost in my very pretty eyes.”

The crack splinters, a chunk falls off. You meet his eyes, he’s not making fun of you. You sit straighter and reach out to steal a piece of pepperoni from his slice, acting like you’re not blatantly flirting with ease.

“I just haven’t noticed them before I think.” 

Peter’s quiet for a moment, his arms are crossed on the table, fingers tap on his elbows. 

“Well, I’m glad you are now.” It’s a little too much, he’s not allowed to entertain you back, he could hurt you too. 

You clear your throat, “I need to ask you something.” Peter stops tapping, it’s like he’s been waiting on you to say it. “Yeah, anything.” 

You lean forward a little, “did you tell my mom about the party last year?” He looks slightly disappointed that was your question, “nope.” Your eyes narrow, “I’d rather us not start a friendship built on lies.” 

Peter lights up, “friendship?” A displeased expression was shared, “thin ice, Parker.” He seems a bit more determined to tell the truth this time. 

Peter sits up and interlocks his fingers, “I promise I didn’t tell her. Mr. Harrington did. And I know how much you like him and I thought you would stop going to see him if you knew and he’s super old so I just kinda… let you believe it was me.” 

Your heart breaks free, it’s loud and pumping and it’s making you feel alive. A sense of urgency to do something to him makes you itch, you have to pull your hands to your lap. In that second, for whatever reason, all you want is to feel his skin on yours. 

He’d be willing to do anything for you, even at the cost of you hating him. 

“You’re the most selfless person I know and it’s kind of insufferable.” Peter rolls his eyes, “just admit you like me, god.” Your breath stutters, but you move right past it. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep talking about the petting zoo.” 

Peter jumps back into character, “alright, so I’m down on-”

For the first time in weeks you slept through the night, until three am. You woke up on your own, a mental alarm had you looking out for him. After you hear the comforting chorus of movement, you hide under your pillow and go back to sleep.

Your world is falling apart. You were on the track to healing, each piece of your heart was slowly mending back together. Until news of Natalie Greene going out of town hits, you collapse to your bed with an arm over your eyes. Facetime carries her into your room.

“Why couldn’t your grandma die next month?” She nods her head, folding a tank top to drop it into her carry on. “So true, she should’ve known you were having a crisis.” You nod, “it’s so hard knowing the world doesn’t revolve around me.” 

The room goes quiet as she moves around and packs. You contemplate telling her, you didn’t want a spectacle and you didn’t even know if or what you wanted from Peter. But damn if you hadn’t been thinking about it for days. You wonder if she’s picked up on the hints, you’d been relying on her less and less. 

“Are you going to hang with Peter while I’m gone?” Your mind flashes to him, the past few nights he’d sent you a few videos that he thought you’d like. And you did, even if he didn’t know you as deeply as he has until recently, he still makes you feel seen. 

He would send you things he found funny. 

Peter sends you things he knows you’d find funny. 

“Maybe. He buys me pizza so he’s cool to have around, I guess.” Natalie Greene snorts, “and I’m sure he makes fun of your pineapple.” It feels like your heart shines, “no, actually. He gets it.” Your eyes flash to the top of the screen, a text from Peter pops up, you waste no time hitting the notification. 

‘Wanna come have some brownie cookies?’ 

You bite your lip, rising from your bed you shuffle into your slippers. “Hey, Nat, I gotta go. I’m really sorry about your grandma.” She rolls her eyes, “she was super old and I didn’t really know her, it’ll be cool to see my cousins though.” 

“Have fun on the trip!” 

A wicked grin, “have fun with Peter.” You don’t even fight her on it, she knew exactly what you were doing. 

Your knuckles tapped on the door, it was opened in seconds. Peter had a glow like you’ve never noticed, he only got more and more pretty. A smile stretched across his face, you love how it always meets his eyes.

“Hi.” 

Your slippers softly scrape the wood floors when you enter, “hi.” Peter gestures you towards the kitchen, and for whatever reason, you reach behind you and tug him along. 

“Okay, okay, so what did she say?” 

Your legs swing on the counter, mumbling between mouthfuls of the dessert fusion you’re fully invested in Peter’s story. He had caught Mrs. Hopkins and the chef that lives on floor two in an argument, and it turns out Mrs. Hopkins was the complex's porch pirate. 

Peter swallows his own bite, “she asked me to back her up! And I was all like, ‘hell no, you stole my aunt’s juicer.’” You gasp, “not May’s juicer.” Peter holds a finger up, ‘nah, I caught her red handed. She was so pissed and on the spot she snapped at me like, ‘it wasn’t a juicer, it was a butter dish.” 

You slap a hand over your mouth, “oh no.” Peter’s eyebrows raise, turning his back to grab a glass of milk. “I wish you could’ve seen the look on her face when she realized she told on herself, it was awesome. She was spewing shit all the way to the elevator.” 

Finishing your treat your tongue feels thick, holding out a hand in a silent request for a swig of his milk. Peter looks between your hand and his glass, he looks weary. 

“Are you sure you wanna drink after me? I figured you’d be scared of my cooties.” You motion for the cup, he passes it over and you wrap your palms around the glass. 

“Oh, you absolutely have boy cooties, they just become non-contagious at puberty.” Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, “I think I forgot that lesson, what else can I expect from puberty?” You laugh on a gulp of milk, “trust me, Parker, puberty hit you like a bus. 

He steps closer, you set the glass down next to you. 

“Is that a good thing?” 

You look over his face, he’s got a defined bone structure but soft features. A boyish charm coats over him, it’s just enough of a hint of innocence you beg he never loses it. It’s a no brainer, he was attractive, your eyes flash to his mouth, it’s a wild instinct and you try your best to shake it off. 

“Yes. I’d say puberty was very kind to you.” Peter takes another step, “how so?” Pretending to think about it, like you weren’t already, you take a second to respond. You don’t notice him taking another step. 

“Well, you have a nice jawline.” Peter tilts his head slightly, “is that all?” You’re not sure what it is, but there’s an undertone and it fills you with excitement. 

“And very nice curls.” 

“I don’t think that has anything to do with puberty.” You suppose he’s right, “you’re taller than me now.” You had an inch on him when you were kids. Peter’s suddenly right in front of you, “especially now.” He has to look down at you while you blink up at him from the counter, “yeah, you’re like a giant.” 

Your mind betrays you, his lips are unnaturally pink, they look like they’re the right amount chapped. “Anything else?” You’re struggling, all you can think about is him but you can’t follow a train of thought. 

“You smell really good,” you take a deep breath when his hands rest on either side of you, he’s caging you in and everything builds with anticipation, you fight the urge to pull him in. “You’re just complimenting me now.” 

You shake your head, “do you know how many teenage boys smell bad?” It’s not your fault, he’s so close his scent has invaded your senses, you wanted to inhale him until you turned blue. 

“One more.” You try to think, he’s making it very hard. It takes a second but you have one, proud to have pulled it from the chamber, a sly grin takes place. 

“You-” Lips on yours, it happened so fast you couldn’t catch up. Mind spinning when you realize Peter Parker was kissing you, you know you should shove him off, but it feels right. It’s over as quick as it started. 

You just got out of a relationship, one that tugged you to one of the lowest points of your life so far. It’s not lost on you when you weren’t the one to pull away, but you’re the first one to comment on it. 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” You weren’t mad, you were warning him, he doesn’t know what lies ahead.

“But I really wanted to.” His eyes keep looking you over, was he expecting you to scream? 

It’s dangerous territory, your voice feather soft when it comes out. “And do you want to again?” Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea.

It felt like the air went still in the room, everything slowly melted into the background until it was only you and him. The quiet hum of the air conditioner faded into silence, the scene music from a movie on the tv in the room behind you diluted to nothing. 

It was just you and Peter, and he was getting closer. It was achingly slow, you know what he’s doing, he’s giving you a chance to escape. Bail before it became too real, but has he thought about the possibility of you leaning closer? 

What are you doing?

His lips hovered over yours, when you closed your eyes he took it as permission. 

You’d always heard of the fireworks, that kisses are like explosions of happiness. And they were, and you loved them, but there were no fireworks. At least with him. 

With Peter, your entire sky brightened. Little prickles of electricity dolly chained up your spine, an explosion of color in your mind. It made you starving and whole in one touch, his body made to fit against yours perfect. 

You wonder if he has the same feeling, you think he does when his hand cups your face, the other one tugs your hip so you fit him better. It’s bold of you, but when you feel that entranced you don’t know how to stop. Your tongue swipes on his bottom lip, it’s very clear he doesn’t know what to do. 

You pull away for air, Peter’s pupils blow wide before looking at the floor. His head feels like it’s spinning, the girl he’s always wanted, wants him right back. Peter feels very aware of his surroundings, how hard his heart is pounding, how you’re holding him to you, how you’re tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, how you’re leaning back in, how he’s holding you into him. 

You take the lead, it’s slow but you build his confidence, he’s a quick learner. 

In minutes you’re nearly laid back on the kitchen counter, you’re about to suggest he takes it to his bedroom, but the thought of breaking away from his kiss keeps you stationary. Peter’s locked to you too, your legs hooked around his waist, keeping him as close as he could get. 

All you can think is Peter, Peter, Peter.

He claims he doesn’t know much, but it feels like he’s intune with your body. Peter matches you perfectly, you never knew a makeout session could bring so much tension. A moan pulls from the back of your throat when his thumb peeks under the cotton of your shirt. 

Peter breaks the kiss, little huffs of air billow from your mouth while he kisses down the side of your neck. When he finds the spot that makes you squirm he nibbles gently, a hand tangled at the back of his hair lets him know he’s doing something right. 

Especially when you arch into his touch as his hand confidently slides under your shirt, digging his fingers into the plush skin over your ribcage. “Fuck, Peter,” it’s breathy and eggs him on, he wants to hear nothing but that for the rest of his life. 

Caught up in the moment neither of you heard the door, or noticed the third person in the room, until shock spewed from their mouth. 

“Oh, wow!” 

Peter rips himself away, his instinct is to hide your face into his chest. You’re grateful, it saves the embarrassment of looking his aunt in the eye after she watched you fold under his hands. Peter’s mind is racing, his only priority was keeping you comfortable.

Fuck, he kisses so sweet. Shut up!  

“Hey, May. Get anything good at the farmers market?” 

Blatant ignorance and casual conversation was the route he took, and it seemed to have worked. Cloth bags hit the counter, you stay hidden, Peter’s hand pressed into the back of your head. He’s sturdy, your head lays perfect on his sternum, it was made for you. No, stop.

“Yes! I got more of that european bread we really liked.” As much as you would like to be ignored, May wouldn’t let you. A pat on your knee sent your arms curling around Peter’s waist, he tried his best to settle the clench of his heart. 

Fits perfect, fits perfect, fits-

“You’d love it, it’s roasted garlic, real pieces too!” 

It may be rude to ignore the owner of a home, but you weren’t looking at her for another ten lightyears. At least you give a muffled response into Peter’s chest, “sounds good.” May giggles a little, you hear the fridge open and rustling. 

“Are you gonna hide from me forever?” 

If Peter could play pretend, so could you. You pushed him away softly, “Peter made brownie cookies.” May raises an eyebrow, directing her attention towards her nephew. “Ever since that first plate of cookies Peter’s been baking like it’s his job.” 

He’s perfect.

“You made the cookies?” Peter had told you May did, you’re sure of it. He nods quickly, “I figured if I told you, you’d think they were poisoned.”

You want his touch, you want him pressed into you again. This has to stop.

It’s dramatic, but you’ll bite. “Smart boy.” Peter has a gleam in his eye, “I really am.” 

May knows when she’s third wheeling, she makes an excuse to move to the living room, Peter nods towards his room. You accept his hand down and look behind you at the door. He was frustratingly magnetic, you wanted to do nothing more than fall into bed and stay forever attached to his lips. 

It was a new rush of feelings, most of them new and almost dangerous. You wanted to explore and learn and take some of Natalie Greene’s advice and grow. But more than wanting, you knew you had to leave. 

You were still healing, and if it hurt this bad with him, where nothing felt like this, you can’t imagine the burn this could leave.

“I should go,” you can’t look him in the eye, he’d suck you back in. You’d never be able to leave, you have to leave.

“Is this because of May? Cause we can leave and..” You shake your head fast and take a step back, he’s too kind, too understanding, too new and thrilling and, and… loving. You don’t deserve him or what he brings, you can’t bear the imagination of what his heartbreak would feel like. 

“No, not May.” There was only one thing that kept you from him before, you were still pulling the same childish tricks. Something about Peter Parker caused you irrational terror. 

“I told you, you shouldn’t have done that.” 

Peter tries to look at you, you take another step back. “You asked if I wanted to do it again.” He can’t use logic, it won’t work here. “That didn’t mean do it again.” 

“You sure? Cause it really seemed like you wanted me to do it again.” You feel choked for air, he’s backing you into a corner. 

“You understood wrong. I need to leave.” Your footsteps paused when Peter called out your name, a timid look over your shoulder made him continue. 

“Don’t do this. I know what you’re doing, and it doesn’t end well for either of us. We’re not eight anymore.” Your game was called, you didn’t want to do this, you don’t want to be mean. Why did he have to make you do this to him? 

“Desperation isn’t a good look on you.” 

Peter crosses his arms over his chest, his tongue swipes over his top teeth before poking out his cheek. “Of course it isn’t.” You’re very aware that he expected this to happen, he expected you to push him away and close the gates. If he did, then he shouldn’t have kissed you. He brought this on himself. 

“Nothing is.” What’s a final blow if only to tie the bow on no future contact? Peter took a deep breath and gives you the escape you were looking for, “I’ll see you later.” You shake your head, “no, you won’t.” 

The hallway is cold and so is your heart. Removing Peter as a potential threat didn’t do much, somehow you think it feels worse than what it would be like to love and then lose him. 

Too bad he wasn’t worth the risk. 

You knew dinner was going to be awkward. You did your best to get out of it but it was deemed impossible, you were about to gouge your eyes out of your head just for a solid excuse. But your mom said that you weren’t allowed to do that. So you didn’t. 

Peter on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life. Especially when May shot you a wink across the table when he reached over your plate. You threatened your eye with a fork, your mom gave you a nasty glare. 

“Butter, please?” 

You cross your arms and scoff, “get it yourself, penis.” Your mom gasped out your name, appalled you would say something like that. She told you to look him in the eye and apologize, using his real name. Peter showed no reaction, chewing on a buttered biscuit. 

“I’m sorry for calling you a penis, Peter.” It was the least authentic apology he’s ever heard. 

“Aw, let them be kids, they’re in love.” 

Your knife hits your plate so hard it chips, Peter chokes on his bite, crumbs fall from his mouth as he tries to speak as fast as he can. “No, no, May… no.” 

You feel the walls closing in, the more you run from it, the more it’s announced. You can’t win. It’s brutal silence on your end, you’re shutting down into a shell of a human. 

“Oh? I thought after-” 

Peter has your back. “After we made pizza? It was one time, May. It wasn’t like I planned it, it just happened. We were hanging out and I just really wanted pizza and I didn’t really stop to think if she wanted pizza, I just made it.” 

May plays right along, and asks you directly. “Does that mean you’re not coming over for pizza anymore?” Does that mean you’re not dating my nephew anymore?

Peter already knows the answer, he just wonders if it’s different if his aunt asks. 

“The last pizza I had burned to a crisp in the oven and it tasted really, really bad. And if that was a pizza I thought I loved, I can’t imagine how bad it would’ve been if it was my favorite.” 

Your mother has never seen you so passionate about pizza. May quirks an eyebrow, she looks at Peter while she asks. 

“You don’t trust Peter in the kitchen?” 

You’re doing your best to ignore Peter’s eyes on the side of your face, you’re trying to pretend you’re not being vulnerable. 

“He’s the only person who could burn it all down.” 

May clicks her tongue, she’s more focused on cutting up her dinner. “For what it’s worth, as Peter’s aunt, he’s a great chef. He takes his time in the kitchen, he doesn’t mind waiting for the yeast to bloom. Because when the dough is ready, he’s really gentle at scooping it up and helping it turn into whatever it needs to be.” 

You turn to Peter, he gives a shy smile. “You’re not scared of burning yourself?” 

A shrug, “It’s a precaution you take each time you cook, but from what I’ve learned, burns heal.” 

“Scars don’t.” 

Peter tilts his head, “they fade over time, don’t they?” 

May speaks up, she’s looking right at you. It goes past the depth of high school love, it goes to the deepest mark one could leave on a heart. A lover lost too soon. 

“They do.” 

WEEK FOUR

Peter Parker has been on your mind for four days, (and nights,) straight. Each morning you wake at 3:02 and hear his muffled metronome. You’ve gotten avoiding him down to a T. The first morning you woke up early to watch him leave, then planned a ten minute window in case he was running late one day, and left around that. 

You’ve been successful so far. But there was an underlying tug that wanted to be caught, you wanted him to hold you close to him and tell you that he wasn’t going anywhere and nothing safe is worth the risk. 

Is that why you let yourself be caught by him this morning? 

“Good morning,” it was shot over his shoulder while he locked the door. You grumbled out to him, Peter doesn’t mind you didn’t use words, you were directing expression towards him and that’s enough. “Wanna walk together?” 

The idea sends flutters to the middle of your stomach, a brief image of his hand in yours while your hip bumps against his every so often and you laugh at whatever he tells you takes over your mind. “If you want to walk near me while we go to the same location, that’s on you.” 

Peter’s hot on your heels down the steps, “that’s a total yes.” You ignore him and try to subtly shut the main door on him, it doesn’t work. “How have you been?” Walking faster, you hope he catches the hint. Peter matches pace perfectly- damn him and his puberty bus and his big strides.

“Personally, I have been mourning the loss of my favorite neighbor coming over.” Peter blinks at the side of your face while carrying a grin. “I mean you, by the way. In case you needed that hint.” 

“Got it. Thanks.” You know you need to pick a side, but something in you won’t let you ignore him. 

“Welcome. You know, if you’re free, you’re invited for dinner tonight.” You pout sarcastically, “tell May I’ll miss her presence.” Peter bumps your arm, you feel like dropping to your knees. “She keeps asking about you, I’m running out of excuses.” 

You scoff, “excuse what? You can tell her the truth, penis.” Peter almost loses you when you swerve around a stranger’s shoulder, in one second he’s next to you again. “And what would the truth be?” 

“You pushed yourself onto me,” you stare at Peter in shock when your wrist was grabbed tightly, you came to a stop on the sidewalk with him. He maneuvered to stand in front of you, noticing every inch he had on you; it seemed like his playful mood vanished. 

“Hey, I was just messing with you, okay? I thought you just didn’t want to talk about it, but pushing myself on you is the last thing I want you to think I did. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m really sorry.” 

Your features softened, your words sent him into a shame spiral. It was annoying how upset he looked with himself, even if you had to swear him off forever, you didn’t want him to think he sexually harassed you.

“I was kidding, Peter. I don’t think you pushed yourself onto me, you gave me the option to back out and I pulled you in. I’d just rather never speak or think about it ever again.” 

A weary smile, “that bad, huh?” You pulled your coat tighter around your chest, the cold making the tip of your nose numb. “Quite the opposite, really.” Before you could fall into temptation and kiss him in the middle of the city, you pulled away to keep heading towards school. 

“Can I ask what that means?” You nod, “sure.” You offer up no more explanation. 

“Well?” You look at him for a second, “oh, sorry. You can ask all you want, doesn’t mean I’ll tell you.” 

“You’re gonna inflate my ego, you’re telling me it was so good you can’t put it into words.” 

You give him a side eye, “I wasn’t aware there would be so much talking when I allowed you to walk next to me.” 

“That’s not denial…” His cadence was sing-songy. 

“You’re in denial.” 

Peter shook his head confidently, “I’m not in denial, I am very okay with the fact I like you.” 

You came to a halt. He’s not allowed to feel this way, he doesn’t know what it could bring. Has he not seen what love can do to a person? Has he not watched you crumble into a thousand pieces over and over throughout the weeks? 

And why did his confession turn every piece of rubble into stained glass? 

Peter’s not allowed to like you because reciprocation leads to temptation which bleeds into dating where it comes to a crashing end in heartbreak. 

You tried to put on a serious face, but you know Peter sees the mask. “Don’t.” Pointing a finger at his chest, “don’t say that, don’t think that, and sure as shit don’t act on it.” 

Peter must think you’re joking because he pushes your hand down before lightly laughing. “Don’t act on it? I already did.” Is that what he did? Did he plan that moment? You thought it was a spur of the moment thing, but maybe he’s been planning it for weeks. 

How long has he liked you? 

It doesn’t matter. You’ll be the adult and end it before it can start, he doesn’t know what this can do to a person. You can do it nicely, or at least try. Maybe he’d find it more sincere if it comes from the heart. 

“Peter, have you ever had your heart broken? Like, really broken? Because I wouldn’t put that on my worst enemy. It’s a type of emotional pain that turns physical, I mean, have you ever been so heartbroken you throw up? Have you ever been so sad you don’t eat for days? Have you ever cried so hard you almost fainted? It’s shit, Peter.” 

“But was it worth it?” 

Did he not hear anything you just said? “What does that mean?” 

Peter adjusts the strap of his backpack, “you loved him, right?” You don’t need to give an answer, he already knows it. “Do you regret it? Even with the heartbreak, did that undo all the good that came out of it all?” 

You lick your bottom lip, it’s been a circulating thought. Love opened up doors you didn’t know were closed, in the end it was a beautiful tragedy. But that’s the worst part, with Peter you don’t know what it would feel like. You’ve only had a glimpse and it tells you that it’s something that’s going to change you forever. 

If Peter leaves, if Peter cheats, it’ll kill you, it’d be nothing like when he did it and you can’t take the gamble. 

It was worth it with him, he made you grow. With Peter you’d take ten steps back and never be the same. 

“There isn’t always a silver lining, Peter.” You refuse to answer. 

“So, what, you’re never going to fall in love again?” Peter’s matching your pace again, you can’t wait until you’re in the four safe walls of Midtown. 

“No, I just can’t fall in love with you.” 

“Can’t is a funny word choice.” 

“Won’t.” You exhale sharply, “I won’t fall in love with you.” 

Peter has no interest in your claim, “it’d be easier if you just said you didn’t like me, but you’re not.” 

You don’t have to answer, you can choose to ignore him entirely and you’ll be doing just that. 

“I don’t like this conversation anymore and I’m ending it.” It works, only for twenty seconds, but it worked until Peter thinks he has a brilliant idea. 

“Break up with me.” 

Your steps slow, his did the same. Peter’s hands were tucked in his jacket pockets, the urge to kiss him breathless unmeasurable. You fight past it, “huh?” 

“You said I don’t know real heartache, so I want you to break up with me. Right here.” He’s entirely way too amused for you, even the idea makes you feel sick. 

“I’m not going to break up with you, Peter. I can’t get another tardy slip.” You keep walking, Peter hopped to keep up. “Ten seconds, just end it.” 

“No.” 

“C’mon, it’ll be easy. Dump me and break my heart.” 

“We’re not dating. I can’t dump you, even if I wanted to.” What happened to ending the conversation? 

You hear the smirk when he speaks. “If.”

“I’m not playing your word games, Peter.” Because you’re not. 

A laugh, “then break up with me.” 

You thought he was supposed to be smart. How has he not gotten any of this, does he think it’s a joke, does he think you’re playing? Peter has no idea what this means, but you do. 

Tugging at his elbow, you stop him in his tracks. Staring into his eyes and daring yourself not to get lost, you try to make things extremely clear. “I can’t break up with you, Peter. I barely made it through him. I wouldn’t know how to handle losing you. You’d hurt me too bad and I can’t take that risk.” 

Peter’s voice is soft when he answers, you want to close your eyes and have it carry you to heaven. “I can’t break up with you either. You’d be able to hurt me just as bad.” It takes you from your trance, “you would. Because I’m a bad girlfriend. If I wasn’t he wouldn’t have replaced me before he could end it.” 

Peter’s eyebrows pull together, you stuff your hands into your coat pockets to keep from smoothing them out. “Hey, woah, let’s pause there. You did nothing wrong. Even if you were a bad girlfriend, and trust me, you weren’t, that would never justify him doing that to you. Nothing could.” 

It’s nice of him, but he doesn’t know that. “We didn’t talk, you don’t know I wasn’t a bad girlfriend.” Peter scoffs, like the idea of you calling yourself a bad girlfriend offends him personally. “He made you cry all the time,” the words followed by your name. “Bad girlfriends don’t cry, bad boyfriends make their good girlfriends cry.” 

Peter heard you. Every time you cried, every time you felt unloved, every time you sobbed out an ‘I’m sorry’ for something you didn’t know you did. He listened, Peter listened like you did each night. How did you never notice the universal gimmick?

If you think back, most of the bad moments were at the hands of him. And for Peter to notice when you were worlds away from his person, makes your heart wrench inside your chest. You know you already drew the line and there’s no crossing it, but it’s nice living in a moment make believe. 

“You’d never be able to call me babe.” It was a shitty pet name. You never liked it. 

You get flashed with a toothy grin. “That’s okay, I have a million to choose from.” 

Or the obvious hang up, “May would totally hate me too, she knows I’ll take your virginity.” Peter waves you off, “we don’t know that.” You quirk an eyebrow, “we don’t?” Peter corrects himself, “she doesn’t have to know that.” 

You chuckle from the back of your throat. “But she will. You wouldn’t be able to hide it. I definitely wouldn’t be able to hide it.” Peter looks down for a second, you follow his gaze, you wonder if you’re both zoned in on a black skid on the side of his shoe. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I don’t know. It’s like, you just get a lot more… touchy, I guess. Nothing’s off limits anymore.” 

A monotone reply, “yeah, that sounds like a total nightmare.” 

It gets too real. Make believe time is over, now you have to be an adult and stick to your guns. 

“It wouldn’t work between us, Peter.”

You feel sad, there’s no good answer and both of you would be left with a bruise. He wanted more than you’d let yourself give and you wanted more than you’d let yourself have. Peter was right, you could hurt him just as bad, and you’d never forgive yourself. 

Peter made himself a constant, someone you could really rely on the last few weeks, and if you lose that you don’t know how you’d ever be okay again. 

“If you think so.” His kind smile doesn’t meet his eyes. It’s a quiet journey the rest of the way, both of you receiving a tardy slip and parting ways in the hall without a word or glance.

Peter Parker had gotten his wish. You just broke his heart. 

This was all Natalie Greene’s fault. If she wasn’t stuck states away at a funeral she would’ve held you accountable and used every means necessary to stop you from going to Peter’s. 

It could also be Peter’s fault. He should’ve never kissed you like he did, he should’ve never made your heart beat with purpose and left a sear where he touched. Doesn’t he know you could never forget it? 

It also didn’t help that you were drunk. Not drunk enough to be slamming into walls and slurring words, but enough to stop that part in your brain to hold you back from the things you truly wanted. Like your neighbor. 

It had been three days of nothing and that wasn’t Peter’s choice. He respected your decisions too much. If you didn’t want him in your life, he wouldn’t be. Doesn’t he know that just makes you want him more? 

Peter wasn’t at the party, you didn’t expect him to be, but you were a little hopeful he’d surprise you and show up. He didn’t. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t on your mind with each shot you took, or when you stopped for pizza with a group of friends, when everyone teased you for pineapple but you knew Peter wouldn’t. 

You grabbed him a slice of pepperoni without thinking. Or maybe you were. It was an excuse to talk to him, to see him, to touch him. You could take it home and reheat it in the morning, or you could lean into your excuse of a few too many and knock on his door. 

It’s Peter’s fault. He really shouldn’t have kissed you like that, he doesn’t understand his power. 

Harsh banging. It’s over your head how late it is, you have important things to do. Like, lay over his body in his bed like you kiss down his neck, or squirm with harsh whimpers when he kisses down yours. You bet he likes to cuddle too, he never did, but Peter seems like he couldn’t get enough of you. 

If you couldn’t date Peter you could use him as a rebound, right?

Faster knocking, why isn’t he answering? At your loudest, the door opens. He was sleeping, you could tell by the puffy eyes but you didn’t look at his face too long, no, Peter was in nothing but a pair of boxers. 

When the fuck did he get so toned? You would’ve reached out for a light graze, but he stopped you. 

“You’re so lucky May’s on overnight duty.” No, you’re lucky because he’s half naked and sleepy, you’ve never seen anyone so tempting. It feels like you’re dying and only he could save you. 

You can’t help it, your palm connects with his chest, it’s there longer than a second. It’s less about pushing him aside and more about touching him, and he knows that. Peter talks at a normal volume for the hour, “what are you doing here?” 

Your thumb traces his collarbones, “I brought you pizza.” Your breath skips when he turns his head to the side to check the time on the microwave in the kitchen, his jawline ultra toned. 

“At one in the morning?” Peter’s amused, you don’t think he would’ve ever been so kind if you disrupted his sleep. You nod, “I was thinking of you.” You raise the small box, just as proof as you really did get him a slice. 

Peter takes it with a smile. “Thanks, kid.” You don’t know why, but you really like that one. 

“Can I come in?” If he thought all you wanted was to share a midnight snack, he was terribly mistaken. The door widened in response, you made sure to brush against his side, he said nothing.  

Following him into the kitchen, you have a flashback. It’s one you want to reenact, maybe if you sit in the same spot he’ll catch the drift. A blue wave of light washes over him when his snack is stored for morning, he looks angelic. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been this fascinated with him. 

“Now I understand all the song references about refrigerator lights.” Peter looks over his shoulder, his grin makes you feel like you’re flying. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He emerges with two water bottles, cracking the lid on yours and passing it over. His rests on the counter. He doesn’t need water but you do and he’s not about to make you feel singled out. 

You think it might be too late. You think you might already be falling. 

“I don’t know, but I just get it.” He’s letting you do all the talking, it’s odd, you’re not used to being listened to. If Peter realizes what you’re doing, he says nothing. Maybe you just have to point it out. 

You gesture to yourself, the real reason you came over finally announced. 

“Do you see where I’m sitting?” 

Peter nods, “I do.” 

Your fingers tap on the countertop, “remember the last time I sat here?” Peter breathes deep, you wonder if he’s thinking about it right now. “I do.” 

You wait. He makes no move. Where’s your kiss?

“Well? Are you gonna do it again?” You pucker for good measure, just in case there was an inkling of uncertainty on his end. You’re making it clear what you want. A faulty smile, you don’t like it one bit. 

“No,” at least he sounds sorry about it. But he likes you, he told you himself, why would he deny you? Doesn’t he know how much you need this? 

“Why not? If you think this is a trick, it’s not. If you want, I’ll kiss you first.” You jump down but you’re held back by a hand, he’s literally pushing you away. It’s a feeling that causes a tug, you really don’t like it. 

“You’re drunk,” Peter follows the statement with your name, he’s not mean but he’s also not going to change his mind. 

You scoff, buzzed would be more accurate. “I’m not drunk.”

“Drunk enough you’re allowing yourself to have this conversation.” 

He has a very fair point. 

“Liquid courage, kiss me?” Peter shakes his head, “you made it clear nothing would happen, so nothing is going to happen.” 

You grin, “consider it practice then.” Your words make him frown, “you don’t want this.” Who is he to tell you what you do or don’t want? 

“How do you know I don’t want this?” 

“Because this isn’t you.” 

You feel a tightness in your chest, he doesn’t get to think he knows you more than you do. “You don’t know me, Peter. You just have an idea of me.” 

“You’re hurt and confused. I won’t take advantage of that, being mad at me won’t make me change my mind.” 

Where was his care coming from? He didn’t care about you this much and neither should Peter. It wasn’t normal, was it? But it’s also not fair to compare Peter to him at every chance, especially because Peter only ever seems to outshine. 

“Why didn't you act like this a year ago?” If he truly cares, where was it before?

“You mean when you had a boyfriend?” 

Is that why he waited until now to be a friend? Did he think you’d be sad and have weak defense, making it easy for him to get first in line? “Is that what it is? You waited until I was dumped to put on this act and lay it on me while I’m all confused? How long have you had this planned out?” 

Your words are like daggers, the things you’re alluding to, he would never do them. Ever. 

“Don’t. I’ve always liked you but you had a boyfriend and the last thing on my mind was trying to get with you when it ended. You were so miserable, I just wanted to be a friend or something, but it changed and maybe a little piece of it was me being selfish. I made the first move, several times. I kissed you, I asked you out, I told you I liked you. And you said no. I respect your no, why don’t you?” 

You could tell him the truth, tell him that he was right and his love terrified you because you haven’t felt something so raw before in your entire life. Peter wasn’t yours, or anywhere close to it. It shouldn’t be natural to feel magnetized to him. 

You could tell him the truth, but you’re better at hiding behind false walls. 

“I liked you better when you didn’t care about me.” 

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” 

He knows you’re lying but he won’t make you admit it, no, he’ll push you into your corner of lies until you force your way out with the truth. Peter Parker will not chase you. 

Would it be wrong to push him so far away he wouldn’t let you chase him too? 

“You have a superiority complex. That’s why you can’t find a girlfriend, or any friend really. You think you’re better than everyone else and it’s a natural repellent.” You back up towards the door, you spit words as they come to your mind. 

“I was willing to do it. I was willing to give you a shot but you ruined it for yourself. You’re going to look back on this moment and regret it.” 

Peter really doesn’t care for your dramatics. It’s impressive he can one, handle it and two, make you check yourself. “Regret not taking advantage of a drunk girl? Is that what you’re insinuating?” 

“No! I just meant that… I don’t know what I mean, Peter! I don’t know anything and you’re not helping in the slightest and everything about you makes me want to fucking cry or scream or, or… I don’t know.” Your voice trails, it’s the most honest you’ve been in weeks. 

“I don’t know anything anymore, Peter.” 

Everything you’ve ever thought about love has been wrong.

He made you feel flightless. But Peter, Peter made you feel free. Peter made you feel like you were flying at full speed, like the wind washes over your cheeks so harshly you’re in a permanent grin. You’ve never seen the world from this high up, in this much color, it’s never been so beautiful. 

The flight is amazing, thinking about stopping it hurts you. How would it feel to be on the ground again, to walk around, to be without wings and treetops and colors and wind? How would it feel to be without Peter? 

Would it feel like an agonizing death? 

Would your wings ever be patchable again? 

Questions that make you realize the closer you get to him, the harder you’ll hit the ground. You’re okay with falling, you’re able to brace yourself the best way you can. But will Peter be there to catch your landing? 

It looks like he’s trying to stop himself from hugging you, it’s a good thing he is. He might be thinking you’d yell or push him away, you think you’d just cry. 

Peter looks tired, and more than just because you woke him up. You wonder if it’s because he’s up late every other night, you want to ask him about the routine and why he broke it tonight. You won’t. 

Your back hits the door, there was only one thing you were sure of, it had been a chain reaction since. This was Peter’s fault, he’s the one that kissed you. He started it. 

“You shouldn't have kissed me, you really, really shouldn’t have. You’ve fucked this all up, penis.” 

Peter’s tired of the blame. “You came here,” he ends it with your name, like he’s pleading. 

It’s annoying, at least you tell yourself it is. If you can replace feelings with antonyms you’ll trick your brain and you’ll be right on track to hating him again and only seeing him as a void object. 

You open the door, it’s the last time you’ll allow yourself to look at his face.

It’s Peter’s fault. 

“Because you made me want to.” 

WEEK FIVE. 

It’s way too early for the hysteric buzz of a mosquito in your ear, yet, it still sings to you while you’re locking your front door.

“Good morning.” 

You nod your head, “penis.” 

And just like that, the mosquito’s squashed. 

You yawn so harshly that you rub at your jaw. You’re unable to sleep and miserable. You’ve tried everything under the moon and stars, nothing worked. Staring up at the ceiling you tried to count sheep but they kept turning into the tiny freckles that dotted over Peter’s cheeks. 

It wasn’t fair to keep thinking about him, you’re doing your part. You cut him out and you decided to hate him. You’re just finding out that that’s not how it works. 

3:02, you hear his window. 

3:04, your eyes finally get heavy. 

3:07, you’re dozing off. 

3:10, you’re asleep. 

It wasn’t fair. 

Three nights later, It’s 3:02 in the morning and a window slams shut. This time, it isn’t your neighbors. This time, it was your own. You should be scared, but you don’t feel threatened, you’re curious. You pull your head from under your pillow. 

Spider-Man is at the foot of your bed, his shoulder hits the window frame when he pulls his mask off. He’s racing for air, he looks beat up, a gash crossed over his chest. 

If you didn’t have as much distain as you did, you’d be slightly shocked. 

“If you get blood on my carpet, I will fucking kill you.” 

Peter must be dizzy, because he’s imagining you in his room.

"Seriously, if you get blood on my carpet I'll have you come over tomorrow and scrub it out with your toothbrush."

Peter tries to swallow, it's hard to do. His head feels like a brick, his hands won't stop shaking.

“Hey, pesky pete, I mean it. Get the fuck outta here.”

When he holds his eyes close, then opens them, he still sees you there. Peter looks down at his hands, turning them back and forth. They go in and out of focus, it’s dizzying, at one point he has five hands. 

He says your name questioningly, it’s hard to get words off his tongue, his brain is moving too slow. “Yup, that’s me. Now get out.” Peter touches his chest, it’s beet red. His shoulder is killing him, he stumbles and slams into the wall- now you’re sitting up in bed. 

“Peter, are you okay?” It’s pure worry, the act is dropped for a second, he’s not normal. He’s not answering, you think he’s trying but he can’t bring himself to speak, he’s lagging in real time. One foot hits the floor, the rest of you perched in your bed keeping an eye on his frame.

“Peter.” You need his focus on you.

He presses his hand to his wound, a last ditch effort to protect your carpet. Then, he hits the floor. You jump up, “Peter? Peter, are you okay? Peter,” he’s passed out and tore up to shreds. Every bit of you wants to scoop him into your lap and hold him tight, but instead, you get to work. 

Peter flies up from the bed gasping for air, his face is cold and wet. The source is your twisted grin above him, a water glass held tightly. 

“Oh, good. You’re up.”

Peter pats his chest, a blur of last night follows. He sits up in a haste, a tug in his side makes him cradle it, you both wince at the same time. 

“Yeah, I tried doing the best I could, but I wasn’t sure if there was something under that.. Or how to take it off. You probably have significant damage.” 

“Thanks.” His mouth is dry and his voice crackly, it sends a zing up your spine. Peter’s never felt so weak after a rough night, his head is pounding and he can feel the crunch of dried blood under his suit. 

“Can I get some of that or are you still punishing me?” The only reason you give him the rest of the glass is because you like Spider-Man. He has a job to do, Peter on the other hand, could die of thirst. 

“You passed out on me last night.” 

Peter chugs the glass, you almost think about getting him another. “I did.” 

You nod, “I had to lug you up here, you’re extremely heavy when you’re dead weight.” He almost smiles at the imagery, instead he glances down and realizes you did your best attempt at working on the gashes over his chest and arms through the spandex. 

Even as he was passed out and rendered useless. You must not hate him as much as you say. It's still nice to know he's not getting special treatment because of who he is, not even Spider-Man could make you like Peter.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have excellent bedside manner?” 

“Oh no, anything I could do to make it worse?” 

“I think another water and some advil might kill me.” 

“Perfect, coming right up.” 

Peter takes another ten minutes before trying to sit up, “I should go home and shower.” Your hand gently pushes his shoulder back down, “easy, tiger. May isn’t home and you’re not about to turn your shower into a personal slip and slide.” 

Before you could regret the words, “if you want a shower, you’re doing it here.” He paused under your touch, scared you made the wrong impression, your eyes widened. “Not with me or anything, I just meant so you’d have someone around.” 

Peter doesn’t care how it has to get done, he wants the suit and dried blood off him. He nods his head and sits up a little slower before tugging at his neckline. You look away for a minute, unsure where to settle your eyes. 

“Help me get my arm out?” Your hands pull at the suit, his arm escapes, it’s covered in small knicks. It’s a subconscious move, you gently tap the cuts with your thumb. Peering into his eyes you hold a frown. 

“Does it hurt?” 

Peter feels like you might kiss his marks. “Not really, it’s mostly my side.” 

You rub his chest, “you got a gash right here.” It’s over his heart. 

“Guess we’re twinsies now.” 

If he wasn’t in pain, you’d slap his arm for the comment. Instead, you watch him carefully remove the red and blue until he’s left in his boxers. You do your best to keep your eyes on his face, Peter looks amused. 

“You’re trying really hard not to look at me.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Parker.” You offer a hand to pull him up, he accepts. A slow stand, his back’s more defined than his front, you almost bite your fist. Peter has the same shower as you, but you still explain how to use it. And allow him to use your products. 

“Got it.” The tap is turned on, the water hits against the ceramic. You make no effort to move, instead watching for a moment. Peter’s fingers pull at the waistline of his briefs, your eyes dart right to them. 

“You know, this is the part where most people leave.” It’s teasing. 

“I just wanted to make sure you got in okay, it’s a high step.” It’s a quarter of the truth. 

“I’ll be alright, I’ve been doing this alone for a few years.” Peter says it like it’s an inside joke, but it just makes you feel sad. He’s never had someone to be there for him, or patch up his wounds, or make sure he’s okay to shower. You wonder how many times he’s passed out on his bedroom floor with no one to drag him to bed. 

“You okay?” A hand on your skin wakes you back up, clearing your mind of Peter. 

You nod, it was a flash of empathy. You couldn’t imagine what it’s like for him. 

“I’m just sorry you’ve had to do it all alone. It doesn’t seem fair, Spider-Man does nothing but take care of other people. He should have someone to take care of him for a change.” 

It may sound like you’re insinuating, especially the way he looks at you when he responds. 

“Yeah. That’d be nice.” 

Seconds tick, it’s getting a little weird, mostly because you want to tackle him into the shower and race your mouth over every inch of skin. You clear your throat, “you want me to get you anything from your place?”

“Sure. Go shopping for me.” 

You use the copied key May left for you several years ago when you tended to some plants while her and Peter went on vacation, and it feels weird being in their home alone. It’s too quiet, the Parker’s are expressive in everything they do, when they're not around everything lacks passion. 

Peter’s bedroom is almost the same as it was the last time you were in it, the same furniture but moved around. His posters looked updated and there’s a few extra awards he’s tucked away, you frown, he should be proud of his achievements and hang them high. 

A new picture of him and May from last year, you ignore the part of your brain that says he has very kissable cheeks. His closet is clean and he’s made it easy for you to search around, each drawer is dedicated to a different clothing and everything that should be hung up, is. 

It’s something you hadn’t considered, but a man taking care of his laundry creates an entire new standard. 

Peter handed over the control when you said to get what you wanted, that means you can dress him how you please. And wouldn’t he look yummy in sweatpants and a white shirt? You don’t see how he couldn’t, it’s the male version of a sundress. 

Arms full of cotton, you tap at the bathroom door with your foot. You shout over the water, “I have your clothes.” It’s muffled but you hear him and gently push the door open, a faint outline on the shower curtain suddenly makes you shy. 

“They’re right here,” patting the clothes for good measure. Peter shoots out a ‘thanks!’ and you slowly back out until you’re sitting patiently on your bed, listening closely when the tap turns off. If he goes falling, you’re busting the door down. 

No struggles, at least not until he emerges. Peter’s fine, but you’re speechless and choked. There was no one you punished but yourself with the outfit, the t-shirt is tight on his arms and the sweatpants hug his hips just right. 

“I feel human again, thanks, kid.” You turn on manual breathing mode and distantly nod, his biceps are stretching the cotton, you lick your lips subconsciously. “No problem.” You watch a water droplet fall from his hair to his shoulder, your eyes stay hooked in place, his arms flexed when he dried it with the towel you lended him. 

“Where should I put this?” You point to your hamper, if he put it anywhere else you’d be half tempted to sniff it. “Did you tell May I was here?” You nod and finally find strength to talk to him, “yeah. I sent her a text last night, I wasn’t sure of her Spider-Man knowledge so it was a little cryptic.” You take a breath and choose honesty, no doubt he’d get a third degree. 

“I think she interpreted it as us hooking up.” Another breath, “I did not correct her.” 

Peter has a boyish smile spread, it squeezes your chest, you want him in your hold more than anything. “Nice.” You scream and cheer and thank your lucky stars when he sits next to you. He used your products, but he still smells like Peter. You want to stuff your nose into his shirt and breathe him in until you physically can’t. 

“May knows, by the way.” You nod absentmindedly, “anyone else?” “A couple friends.” You almost make a quip like ‘wow, you have friends?’ but you really can’t find it in you to pretend to hate him anymore. Especially when he almost died on your floor and all you wanted to do was tell him that you were sorry and you were mostly in love with him. 

“Can I ask a question?” 

“Shoot.” 

“Do the webs come out of you?” Peter lightly laughs, it’s always the same question off the bat. “No. I make a special web fluid and I have these bracelet kind of things to shoot them out.” 

“Oh. Cool.” You’re hiding the burn in your lower stomach at the thought of him over his desk creating a new form of technology. He’s so fucking smart it’s unfair, he’s too smart for his own good. 

He’s grinning at you, “is it?” You can’t stop staring at his mouth, “yeah.” You’d do anything to kiss him again, the last time you truly felt alive was when his lips were on yours. “Any other questions?” There’s one. But it’s not about Spider-Man. 

“Not really.” Your interest could be explored later, right now, all you needed was him. Peter finds it surprising, “I think you are the least curious person to find out about this.” You shrug, shifting your body more towards him. Peter rejected you last time but if you move like he did when he kissed you, if you move in slow for the kill, you might just get your way. 

“Give me the cliff notes.” Peter starts ticking them off with his fingers, while he’s distracted you move in closer. “Bit by a radioactive spider when I was fifteen. Heightened senses plus a cool sixth sense where I can sense danger. Super strength-” You stop listening right there, your eyes are all over his build, no fucking wonder he’s a contender for worlds fittest man. 

You shuffle in, your knee brushes his thigh, if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. You thank the sweatpants, the material too thick to give you away. “-Oh, and I stopped needing my glasses which is pretty cool. I think that’s pretty much it, but if you want me to expand on anyth…”

 Now or never.

You push up and straddle Peter’s waist, his hands immediately hold your hips. You lean down, his grip tightens. Peter mumbles out your name, you answer with a slow kiss. Your fingers drag through his hair, curls wrap themselves around your fingers, you hold them tight. When Peter licks your bottom lip, when Peter takes control, you need to feel every bit of him. 

Your hands fall down his neck and over his shoulders, then they fall to his arms, your nails lightly drag up the skin. A hum from Peter, your lower stomach clenches, you answer with a roll of your hips, he sighs into your mouth. You drag your palms over his chest, his heart is at the same pace as yours. 

You break the kiss, both of you breathing fast, it doesn’t last. You kiss over his jawline, you can’t hold it in, you can’t fucking stop yourself. “You’re so fucking hot,” wet marks are dotted down his neck. “I wanna take you right here, I wanna make you feel so good.” Another grind, this time, Peter moves with you, it pulls a moan from the back of your throat. The favor returned with a hickey at the bottom of his neck, it sent him falling into your hold. 

You’re kissing anywhere you can reach, “you gotta stop,” it comes out in a puff. “You’re killing me here.” Too bad, not so sad, you’re latched onto his mouth again, this time, you tug at the bottom of his shirt, it takes three times before you realize he’s not catching the hint and you pull it up yourself. 

You study him when it goes flying, his eyes are more pupil than brown, his lips pouty and pulling a red hue. “Lay back,” he does, you lean over him, you’re marking up his collarbones while his hand has a fistful of your hair. Then… the kisses get lower, you're grazing over his chest, delicate brushes across the semi-healed cuts, you must’ve blocked out the advanced healing perk. 

Your hand trails over his side, you soak in the grooves and muscle, your fingers brushing against the waistband of his sweatpants. Peter’s breathing hitches, you keep teasing, then bring your lower body into play. Bumps and grinds have Peter panting in your mouth, you pull back, even as he’s heaving for air, Peter’s trying to follow your kiss. 

Your fingers slip further under the elastic, holding his gaze when you tell him about your intentions. “I wanna suck you off.”

There’s a pause, then he sits up on his elbows. 

“Does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?” Does it? You don’t think so. You just want him, you want his mouth and his hands and his body intertwined with yours. But to fall into him and have him see all your worst parts, to have him hold your heart between his hands and trust he’d take care of it is too much. 

“No.” 

He’s sad. It’s not just something you think, it’s something you know. Your heart tumbles with his face. You want to hug him, you try, but he tossed you off his lap like nothing. 

“May told me to get groceries today, so I should probably head out.” You swallow tightly, you’re not liking how this is sounding. “Are you mad at me?” You feel nothing but shame at his sigh, it’s debilitating when you hear his cutthroat tone. “I’m not a fucking rebound.” But he wanted to be. He wanted this. He wanted you. 

Peter doesn’t use the f word, not ever.

“Whether I’m your girlfriend or sucking your dick, you’d still be a rebound.” Silence rings around the room. Peter’s voice is tight when he answers you. 

“Is that all you think of me? Just a rebound?” 

You don’t know how to be honest with him. You never have. “Would I be wrong?” 

“Very.” It’s clipped. You’ve never heard Peter with an edge and you don’t like it. You really don’t like being on the other side of his frustration. He’s only ever been soft and kind with you, you can’t handle any more change in your life. You need Peter to keep being Peter. 

You were so scared of losing him you went and filled his head up with words of affirmation, used your mouth on him, then turned around and shut him down. If this is only a fraction of how it stings when Peter’s upset you don’t know if you could handle more. You’ve never felt Peter’s cold shoulder before and it hurts.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” It’s bullshit, Peter can sense it too. “You did.” You chew on your bottom lip, “I did, but not like that.” Peter seems taller than normal when he’s standing over you, you can’t look him in the face, it’s nothing but being mortified. You really put your foot in your mouth. 

“Do you even like me or are you just horny?” You can’t allow yourself to answer him. 

“I’m an idiot.” Your face turns in, Peter’s laughing at himself. “I’m such an idiot. I really thought you liked me. I thought you were trying to fight it but no, that was just me daydreaming.” You’re looking up at him but he’s already standing at the door with his shirt on and suit tucked under his arm. 

“You don’t like me. You never did and now I’m trying to make pieces fit where they don’t.” He’s staring right into your eyes, he says it louder, he’s saying it for himself. “I’m not a rebound.” 

“You’ve never been properly loved and it shows.” 

And that’s the most brutal thing he could’ve ever said to you. Your lower lip trembles with the tears pricking at your eyes, he started it and you can’t stop it. 

“I fucking hate you. I hate you so fucking much, Peter.” 

No surprises there. “Yeah, I know.” He sounds just as defeated. 

When he leaves you cry harder for Peter than you ever did him, and that says something. But you’re not listening. 

WEEK SIX.

You finally broke down and told everything to Natalie Greene. She held you in her arms while you cried about losing what you could’ve had. “I’m sure he’ll come around babe, he likes you a lot.” You shake your head, “not anymore. He hasn’t answered any of my texts in three days.” 

You can at least give yourself the benefit of trying to do damage control. He wouldn’t let you. You’d sent a flurry of texts, each one more apologetic than the next, begging him for a chance to see you but he refused. 

You think you broke him. 

“Have you tried talking to him? In person?” You shake your head, he doesn’t want to talk to you. You blew everything up and for the first time you really hate it. Two weeks ago you were begging for this but now you just feel terrible. 

“Nat, this is nothing like what I had with him and I don’t know what that means.” Your friend hugged you close, “it means you love him more than you ever did him.” You swallow hard, you knew the truth but it was different hearing it. 

It doesn’t matter anymore. You ruined it and Peter won’t talk to you anymore. 

“You should’ve seen the look on his face, Nat. He was fucking crushed. It’s like…” You take in a sharp breath, you’ve been beating yourself up over it since he walked out. “It’s like I used him.” Natalie Greene doesn’t bullshit but she’s still soft as ever with her response, it’s purred out while her acrylics scratch your back. “You did.” 

She’s your best friend. She should be on your side. “But I didn’t! I just-”

“Yeah, you did. You knew how he felt about you and you said no so he stopped trying. Then you showed up drunk and threw yourself at him, he said no and you got all butthurt. Then he comes over and somehow passes out on your floor and you offer him a blowjob.” 

Well, when she puts it like that… 

“Of course he’s going to think you flipped your script, you’re the one who kept pushing after you told him no.” Peter’s words echo in your mind, ‘I respect your no, so why don’t you?’ Because you can’t allow yourself to have him, that’s why. But… you already do, don’t you? Or, you did. 

“He’s gonna wreck me, Nat. He already is.” 

“Because you’re fighting it. I get it, babe, I’ve been where you are a dozen times. But you don’t get over heartbreak by hiding from love. I know it’s Peter Parker and he’s been your enemy since you were eight, but no matter how fast you try to run, he’s right there matching your stride.” 

You sniff into her arm, she smells like lavender and it makes you snuggle further. “I think I’ve always liked him.” You could finally admit it. Natalie’s been there for months, years possibly. “I know. You always talk about him.” 

You scrunch your eyebrows, “no I don’t.” Natalie thinks you must’ve said a funny joke because she’s laughing like it. “Yeah you do. Sure, it might have been mean things but if you truly hate someone you don’t notice everything they do.” 

You noticed everything about Peter and made sure to fill Natalie Greene in on the gossip. 

Like when he cut his hair way too short in middle school and his curls disappeared for months. 

When he slipped in mashed potatoes in the cafeteria and fumbled until he could steady himself. 

When his cheeks flamed pink because he forgot to silence his phone during a test and the Game of Thrones theme song blasted through the room as he awkwardly tried to silence the call. 

Then there’s the time he stuttered when giving an answer in biology because Lindsey Snipes was twirling her hair at him. A small tug in your stomach, the answer suddenly clear to why you’ve always hated her too. 

And when he bumped a friend's coke all over his notebook and he just watched with an open mouth while all his hard work was ruined. 

When he stumbled up the steps. 

When he hit his head with his locker.

When he stepped on his glasses. 

When he was tackled in flag football. 

When he tripped over his shoelace. 

When he got glue in his hair. 

When he winced while dissecting a frog. 

When he cracked his phone because he dropped it and a guy on the football team kicked it clear across the cafeteria while he laughed. That one didn’t make you laugh. That one made you so angry you made a point to tell Kristina, said player's girlfriend, so she could give him a well deserved tongue lashing. And not the good kind. 

When he fell asleep at the library and had a red mark on his cheek to prove it. 

When he spit milk everywhere because the one he grabbed was expired. 

When, no matter what, each time you met his eyes he’d send you a smile. And how each time there was something that made you want to give it back. 

“Natalie,” you can hear it in your voice. It’s dangerous. It’s terrifying. 

It’s worth it. 

“I think I’m in love with Peter Parker.” 

Natalie Greene and you had carefully conducted Operation: Get Peter Back. 

Step one: Tell him, (IN PERSON) how you feel. 

Step two: See above. 

There were no other steps. Natalie Greene told you that’s all you could do. 

One day later you knocked at his door before you could lose the small amount of courage you had, it’s soft enough you hope it’s unnoticeable, you could quit and say you tried. Your heartbeat’s in the bottom of your throat, your palms itch as you rub them over your shirt. 

A smidge of relief, no one heard you. You’re about to quietly escape, May doesn’t let you off that easily. She’s surprised when your name comes from her mouth, you wonder how much she knows. “Hi, May. Is Peter home?” She’s got a weak poker face, her eyes dart to the side of the door before she’s smiling sweetly. 

“Sorry, honey. He’s out with some friends.” You know he’s right behind the wood. You speak up, you want to be sure he hears you too. “Can I leave you with a message?” May stands straighter, she wasn’t expecting this. “Of course.” 

“Can you tell him I’m sorry? And that I’ve been way too selfish and mean and a complete and utter fucking bitch to him for no good reason for nine years? Can you tell him that he’s the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this and that I really want to say it to his face?” 

May ignores the colorful language and you’re thankful for it. Her eyes trail to the side again, she smiles softly. “I’ll let him know.” There’s no need, he already knows and you both know it. His answer lies in the fact that he’s allowing May to keep up the charade. You don’t know if Peter is bad at forgiveness or just that you don’t deserve it. 

“Thanks, May.” You watch the door slowly close, when there's just a crack left you stop it with a hand. “He’s… He’s okay, right?” Your heart thumped slowly, you’re reading her face like it’s your job, you need to know he’s okay. 

A tight nod. “He’s okay.” You can breathe a little better. “Good.” 

You stare at his door for another two minutes after it shuts. 

Is this an asshole move? Yes. 

Is this worse than what you’ve already done? Possibly. 

Peter still wasn’t talking to you and you only had one card to pull. He was home, but he wasn’t answering your texts. You think it’s time to fight fire with fire. You’re standing by his apartment door, and loudly talk into your phone. No one’s on the other side, but he doesn’t know that. 

“Hello? Yes, I’m looking for J. Jonah Jameson?” Your eyes twitch to his door, nothing. You speak a little louder. “I understand he’s busy. Well I just… Uh huh, right, I understand, yes ma’am. Is he interested in Spider-Man’s identity?” 

You hear something drop inside his apartment. 

“Yeah, I know who Spider-Man is.” Peter swings the door open, your phone is ripped from your hand. He glares down at the screen, you’re not connected to anyone. “That’s a low move.” You lightly shrug, “did you expect anything more than that?” 

A scoff, “with you? No.” Your lips twitch, you have to fight the frown. You catch his arm when he turns around, there’s no trying, he’s an unstoppable force, you’re moving with him. “I’m sorry! Peter, please! I’m sorry, I am so so sorry and I need you, okay? I need you to not be mad at me.” 

Was that honesty? Were you actually being honest with him? Your shoes squeak when he stops pulling you, you’re looking at him desperately searching his face for emotion. There is none. “You’re not a rebound. Not at all. I should’ve never called you one.” 

There’s a lot you’ve done to Peter you never should’ve done. Maybe it’s time you start owning up to it. 

“I should’ve never said you were a rebound, I shouldn’t have kissed you, I shouldn’t have shown up here drunk, I shouldn’t have kept coming back for more after I told you no. I shouldn’t have ignored you for nine years, I shouldn’t have shut you out when I was eight, I shouldn’t have hurt you.” 

Peter’s not saying anything and you don’t mind. You need to say this, you need him to know. 

“I shouldn’t have hurt you. I meant what I told May. You’re the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this. You’re Peter. You’re nice, you’re warming, you’re always positive and you buy me pizza without making fun of me and you sign off on donation slips and you let me rip your notebooks apart and you bake me things.” 

You blink through your tears. “You were there when I really needed you and you are anything but a fucking rebound to me.” Your chest feels tight, “you’re so good to me, even when I don’t deserve it. I really don’t deserve it now but I really fucking need you, Peter. I know I went on this whole speech thing where Spider-Man needs someone but-” 

“I’m here.” Relief fills you, Peter has you tucked into his chest with his arms around you. “I’m right here, okay?” It’s the selflessness that really gets you. You’ve been nothing but mean and standoffish but Peter’s hugging you because you need it. 

But really, it’s because he knows he was right. You do like him. You like him more than you’re willing to admit to him yet. 

“Can you catch popcorn with your mouth?” 

Peter tosses a piece up and catches it with his eyes closed. You grumble and throw your own at him, he also catches that with his eyes closed. 

“Okay, turn off the powers and try again.” He laughs at you, “it doesn’t work like that.” You huff, “well, make it.” Peter tosses a piece up and dodges it, it satisfies you. “Ha. Loser normy.” 

“Did you just call me a normy?” 

“You’re just a boring normal person, I hate to tell you, but it’s true.” 

There’s been a brief pause in the actual relationship aspect of your friendship. There’s no more kissing, but you’d really like there to be. You think Peter’s starting to sweat you out and you have no issues with it. If he wants you to make the first move, you’ll do it. 

But it’s all in the timing. 

“Did I ever tell you that six weeks ago Nat said she’d do heroin with me?” Popcorn spills on the couch, Peter’s darting his eyes over your arms looking for track marks. “We didn’t do it! She said that if I still felt miserable after six weeks she’d do it with me.” 

“Miserable? What, about the breakup?” 

“Yeah,” you shove a handful of buttery styrofoam into your mouth. For the first time in weeks it doesn’t hurt to talk about. It’s not even a little sore, there’s no bitterness or resentment. There’s nothing there. It’s pure indifference. 

You pushed Peter away because you didn’t want him to be a rebound, you didn’t want to use him to get over someone else. But you haven’t thought of him since… since… you can’t remember the last time you actually thought of him. 

But when you think of Peter your heart races, your palms feel warm, your stomach flutters. His kisses ignite you. You wake up in the morning and think of him, you wake up every night to make sure he’s home and go right back to sleep. You walk with him every morning, you wave and smile at school, you come over everyday. 

You’re in love with Peter and only Peter. 

“I don’t know why I ever thought he was worth that.” 

Peter has the answer, it’s muffled around popcorn. “Cause you loved him.” You pick a piece off Peter’s shirt and crunch down on it. “Yeah, I don’t think I knew what love was. How embarrassing.”  

He smiles. Your eyes catch the screen again, you shuffle more towards Peter, then stop yourself. “Is it weird if we cuddle?” Peter rips the popcorn bowl between you away, he’s never cuddled with a girl before but he’d be an idiot to say no. 

“Weird for who? Weird for me? Weird for us?” Peter doesn’t care about the answer. “Those are rhetorical, just come cuddle me.” It’s all you needed, you press up against him and wait, he’s not moving. Fine with you, you halfway lay on him, head on his chest. You’ve never been this close to him, you’ve kissed him and you’ve made a bold move that backfired, but you’ve never been this soft or domesticated with him. 

Peter’s heart is drumming a little fast, you make no comment. Yours is beating at the same rate. 

You expected Peter to still like you but you haven’t asked. After what happened maybe he decided you’d be better friends. It wasn’t talked out, you both skimmed over what happened and started hanging out like nothing happened. 

But it did and you’re glad. It puts things in perspective. It made you realize how much you like him. You just need to know if it made him feel the opposite. 

“Do you still like me?” 

“I’m sorry, I’ve never cuddled with anyone before so I don’t really know what-” 

“No, I mean do you still like me?” Peter knows what you mean. He doesn’t know how you think he doesn’t. “Of course I do.” You peek up at him, he’s already got eyes on you, it makes your cheeks feel warm. 

“Even after I was shitty to you?” Peter laughs, a hard laugh, you move with his jostles. “Honey, you’ve been giving me shit for nine years, it hasn’t slowed me down one bit.” 

Honey. It has a nice ring to it, you like it. But the one you’ve always liked hasn’t ever been uttered with endearment and you really want it, you want it to come from Peter’s voice and have it wrap around your ears while your heart bubbles up with giddiness. 

“Can you call me sweetheart?” 

“Is that the one you like?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” 

It’s so much sweeter than you imagined. 

You’re not sure what details May knows, but she knows you hurt her nephew. She hasn’t said anything but you can feel her watching your back every time you’re with Peter. Her tone isn’t clipped and she’s just as welcoming as before, but you can feel it. You can sense that she isn’t fully trusting. 

May had stared at you for a good thirty seconds when she caught you spread across Peter’s lap while he studied. You tried to focus on his rubix cube in your hand, even going as far to prove you’re not a threat by giving him a light kiss on his cheek. She didn’t seem convinced, but she left it alone. 

Two days ago she burst into Peter’s room and made it very clear that when you were over the door stays open. Peter tried to fight it, he said that you were just hanging out but she was dead serious, going as far as saying that if he couldn’t handle her rules, he wasn’t allowed to have company. 

Peter didn’t tell you that you were the only person with this rule, but you knew you were. 

“I just don’t get why you’re making such a big deal out of this, May. She’s just-” You weren’t going to be involved, you weren’t going to give May more ammo. 

“Door stays open, Peter. If May says it, we follow it.” Peter doesn’t agree with you, you can tell by the way he nods his head and clicks his pen. When did you start being able to read him? And why do you like it so much? 

But the real hint was when you weren’t welcome to stay for dinner the previous night. There’s never been a time May denied you food, most of the times she’d come over begging you to join so they wouldn’t have so many leftovers. But last night she just suggested you go home and prepare for the next day. 

You watched Peter’s jaw clench in frustration, then you sweetened him up with a smile and told him you were planning on leaving anyway. You don’t think he bought it. You needed to talk to May, you needed to know she was okay with you and Peter, if she wasn’t- no matter how hard it would hurt, you’d stay away from Peter. 

May is all he has and you’re not going to put any strain on their relationship. Not over you. 

Peter was staying late at school for math club and it’s your perfect opportunity. A light knock, May answers almost instantly. She’s surprised but she melts into a smile, it’s lacking something. “Oh! Peter isn’t here.” 

“I know. I wanted to talk to you.” Now you’ve got her interest. May opens the door wide, you go straight to the kitchen for the batch of cookies Peter made you last night. You can taste the love in them. 

“May, I need you to level with me here. Do you have a problem with me dating Peter?” There’s a beat of silence, “are you dating him?” You swallow a bite, “not yet. I needed to make sure it was okay with you.” 

“You’re asking for my blessing?” You slightly nod. “More or less. You’ve been really nice but I feel like there’s a little tension. I feel like you don’t totally trust me with him.” Confirmation, but it doesn’t hurt like you think. 

“Peter’s a sensitive boy. He does everything a hundred and ten percent. If you want him, he’ll give you more than his all. Can you say the same?” Can you? Yes. It’s without a doubt. You want him and only him and you’d lay your life on the line. There’s been so much wasted time, Peter could’ve been your first but you were too stubborn. 

Peter wasn’t your first, but with everything in you he’s going to be your last. 

“Yes. I’m in love with him. I love him more than I ever loved anyone, I love him more than I thought was possible. I want to be there for him, I want to support him through the bad days and I want to be by his side for the good ones. I want him and only him, I was just too dumb to see it before.” 

May’s mouth etches into a smile, this time it reaches her eyes and she’s hugging you. A whisper in your ear, “I always knew this is how it would end.” You grin into her shoulder, “really?” 

“Peter’s nothing but determined. It was only a matter of time.” You know what that means. “Are you giving me your blessing?” She laughs and pulls you closer, “you always had it. I just needed to know you were serious.” 

Time passes quickly, you’re three cookies down and you’re itching for a fourth. You swear he puts crack in them. You talk animatedly with May, you’re fawning over her own love story and hoping that that would be your future with Peter. When the door unlocks you perk up, you can’t bite back your smile or tapping feet. 

“Whatcha doing here? Hi May.” Your arms spread wide, Peter fills them. “I came to talk to May, I stayed to see your handsome face.” How did you once see it as annoying? How did you once find his smile revolting? He’s the prettiest person you’ve ever seen. You want to kiss him more than anything, May gave you the green light, you press up on your toes to give him a peck. 

“I missed you. How was math club? Were you the smartest hunk there? Don’t answer, I already know it’s a yes.” Peter’s still reeling from the kiss but he powers through. “I wouldn’t be too confident about that, sweetheart.” Your heart clenches, him saying it makes your knees feel weak. “Mathew Ryan is in the club with me.” 

“I hate blondes. I only like cuties with brown, curly hair by the name of Peter Parker.” His eyes squint at you, it makes you feel warm, you hide back in his chest. May’s watching with heart eyes, she’s never seen you so happy. “You’re laying it on thick today. You must need something.” 

“Just you, handsome.” Okay, you might be laying it on a little thick, but you can’t hold it in. You just love him too much, it’s uncontainable. He’s perfect. “May, she’s up to something. I don’t trust it.” His aunt keeps grinning. “I do.” 

Peter pats your back, “if you trust it, I guess I have to, too.” You squeeze him tight and mumble into his chest, he still hears you. “What, now?” You asked if you could talk to him, it had him looking down and giving you his full attention. 

“What’s up?” Your eyes shoot to his door, message received. Peter leaves a small gap in the door, you pause and poke your head out to his aunt. “Can I shut the door?” A three second count, “permission granted.” It clicks shut, you spin, you have all his attention. 

“You said I was never properly loved.” 

Peter feels his heart drop, it was the nastiest thing he could ever say to you. Part of him wished you had forgotten but that’s not something that’s forgettable, that’s something that sticks with you forever. He never meant to say it, it was something he spewed out to make you feel just as bad but that’s not who he is and that’s not what he does and he really should’ve apologized way before now. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. It was a shitty thing to say and I-” 

“You weren’t wrong. I haven’t been properly loved. But I’d like for you to show me how it feels.” 

Your pulse rises with his silence, Peter holds out a steady hand. “Just to be clear, you’re asking me-” 

“If you’d be my boyfriend.” 

You let out a soft groan, you’re spinning in his hold and pushing at his arms. “Peter!” He doesn’t care, your feet lightly dangle, you’re laughing with him. “Nuh uh, you’re not allowed to push me away anymore, I’m your boyfriend.” 

Boyfriend. Peter Parker is your boyfriend. What a rush of feelings, there’s a new one you haven’t felt before. Pride. You’re prideful that Peter’s your boyfriend, you’ve got the greatest person in the world tethered to your hip and he’s going absolutely nowhere. Ever. 

“I’ve been waiting for this day since I was fifteen.” A flurry of kisses over your face, “holy wow, you’re my girlfriend. I can kiss you whenever I want, and I can touch you! Oh, and now I always have someone to eat pizza with. And the science museum! No one ever wants to go to the science museum with me!” 

“Holy wow?” You giggle at a string of kisses to your jawline, you never knew someone would be so excited at the thought of dating you. “Wow, wow, wowie, my girlfriend’s a hottie.” You push him away with a disgusted sound, “that’s so gross, Peter.” 

“Oops, let me repent with a kiss.” 

It’s the fireworks again. This time they’re blinding. Your back burns with his touch, you want to swallow him whole. It’s not lacking passion, but it’s soft. You reach for his shirt collar when he pulls away, this time he laughs. 

“I was going to ask if I was a bad kisser but-” 

“No.” This time you’re keeping him chained to you with your hands behind his neck. “Best kisser ever,” you give him a chaste one to prove it. “My handsome baby.” Your waist is squeezed, “you’re too nice.” He doesn’t understand, he’ll never be able to understand. 

“I wasted so much time, Peter. You were right there and I was so… so stupid that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. I have no idea why you like me, I was so mean and cruel and I never appreciated you.” 

Peter has secrets too. “I was friendly, but I didn’t like you. You were super aggressive and made a point to say something mean… but then Ben died.” The oxygen runs from your lungs, it wasn’t something you thought about, you thought he didn’t either. 

It was brutal watching him and May go through that. You remember that night vividly, the night May got the call. You could hear her screams from your room, it’s something you’ll never forget. Her wails, the way she begged to God that it was all a dream. You knew what happened before you could see them and the one thing you thought of in that moment was Peter. 

You can still remember the panic you felt, the overwhelming urge to make sure he was okay. You remember your feet skidding across the carpet, the cold hardwood in the hall, the way your middle knuckle split you were knocking so hard. 

‘Peter,’ it’s all you had to say. Then you were scooping him into your arms, holding him tight as he sobbed. You kept telling him you were sorry, you brushed his hair back and rubbed circles on his back. You kept him tucked into your neck while he cried, you didn’t tell him it was okay, nothing about that night was okay. You remember holding in your own tears, you swallowed them down and held Peter all night. 

Fourteen hours. You had him curled up with you while you kept telling him sorry, you had stayed up all night with him and took care of him. You got him water, you made him eat a snack, you did what you could while they slept. You did laundry, you did the dishes, you made cookies. 

Peter’s uncle died and you made him cookies. 

Your boyfriend dumped you and Peter made you cookies. 

You basically lived there for a week, you slept with Peter, held him with each bout of sadness, and never ever told him it was okay. You held his hand at the funeral and kissed him on the back of it before he gave his eulogy. You made sure he was minimally functioning, you tried to keep him busy with dumb tasks. 

After two weeks he didn’t need you anymore and you slowly faded away until it settled into how it used to be. You think Peter liked it a little, not everything had to change because Ben died. But you never went out of your way to hurt him anymore, he didn’t need your help in that department. What used to be petty attacks turned into silence and gentle name calling. 

But you were there for him when he needed it. Just how he was with you. 

“You pulled an Uncle Ben on me.” 

A twitch in his lips, “you were there for me when my world ended, I had to return the favor.” It’s not fair for him to compare the two. “I was broken up with, I didn’t have my-” 

“Devastation comes in all forms. It’s not about whos is worse, it’s about being there for someone you care about.” He doesn’t hide his smile, “even if they claim to hate you for all eternity.” 

“I don’t hate you anymore.” 

“Spoiler alert, you never did.” 

You’ve been caught. Peter knew the whole time, he was just waiting on you. “Are you sure you don’t hate me? Cause I’ve been really terrible to you the last month.” Your boyfriend rolls his eyes before giving you a big hug. 

“That’s because you’re stubborn and didn’t want to admit you liked me.” You poke his ribs, “you knew?” 

“Sweetheart, I knew the day you said I had very pretty eyes.” 

“Yeah, you do. Let me see them again, boyfriend.” 

The last six weeks you detested love and what it brings. The disaster, the heartbreak, the pain. You never thought you’d love again and definitely not with the neighbor you hated. But right there, in his room, you felt your heart crack open and ooze onto his bedroom floor. 

And you watched love begin again. 

“Anything for you, girlfriend.” 

----

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#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker angst #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter smut #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #my writing

[elllisaaa]

no nut november - hwang hyunjin (1st to lose)

-> pairing : hyunjin x fem!reader

-> words count : 2,6k

-> genre : smut, etablished relation

-> warnings : slight pussydrunk!hyunjin, sending nudes, teasing, dirty talk, praising, unprotected sex, marking, oral (f. receiving), fingering, creampie, use of 'good girl', nipple play, begging + the way i'm depicting hyunjin does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction.

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | no nut november

When all the members agreed to this stupid bet, Hyunjin was determined not to lose, or at least, not to lose before Jisung. Everyone knew both of them would be the first to be out, it was obvious, but he had his pride. He just wanted to not be the first to lose. Because he had a bit of consciousness left ; his sex drive was too high to not do anything for a whole month, but one week, maybe he could handle it. 

He didn’t text you right away, thinking about all the things he had to do and that he would see you tonight ; he’ll tell you at this moment. But when he got home, you were not here, just a note saying you were spending the night at your best friend's because she wasn’t feeling well. Hyunjin didn’t think much of it, going on about his day casually texting with you. He didn’t recall the bet once because they had all agreed not to talk about it in order not to disturb them while they were working. 

It’s only when, three days after the agreement was made, you sent him a picture of you, wearing only your underwear, that he realized he totally forgot to tell you. He came very late last night and just wanted to sleep. And you left very early in the morning, which didn’t give him a chance to address a word to you. 

Hyunjin gulped loudly, closing his eyes and trying to think about all the most disgusting things he knew, just to stop the memories of you and your sweet voice moaning his name coming back into his mind. But it was too late. He had a bonner, and all he wanted was to came back home and fuck you. 

He resumed practicing his choreo, but all he was thinking about was you. Your face when he gave you what you wanted, your moans when he got down on you, your mouth wrapped around his cock, your tight little cunt that he was just wishing to be buried into right now. And all of that didn’t help him to calm down, nor the fact that you were actually still wearing only your underwear when he stepped into your apartment. He knew you were more comfortable like that when you were alone but you always put something back on before he got home - or you would end up fucking like bunnies everytime. But he came back earlier and the sight in front of his eyes was very, very tempting. 

“- Baby… Why are you doing this to me ?”

You turned around with a grin on your face, letting the meal you were cooking warm up behind you, still not aware of how difficult you were making it for him to keep his calm. 

“- Doing what ? Thought you liked it…”

You stopped the gas under your pot before stepping closer to him, noticing how tense his jaw was. 

“- Are you alright Jinnie ?

- Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. You’re just… I can’t resist.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his compliment. You always liked men being vocal about how much you were driving them crazy, and Hyunjin just reinforced that by telling you everything that crossed his mind at every moment. 

“- Why would you have to resist though ? I’m here to please you.”

You smiled once again, finally reaching him and pecking his lips, making him gasp and going stiff. 

“- I… Me and the boys made a bet.”

You frowned and tilted your head to the side, wondering which dumb shit it was this time, and if it was coming from your boyfriend or Jisung. 

“- And what is it ?

- No nut november.”

The laugh that escaped your lips was so loud that Hyunjin was torn between finding your smile beautiful and feeling vexed that you thought he was so bad at controlling himself. The pout on his face told you exactly that when you were finally able to look at him again. You put your hands on his cheeks, still smiling from ear to ear. 

“- And you agreed ?

- Yeah, why ?

- Baby… We both know that you won’t last a week in this. You’re so hard right now, and I haven’t done anything yet.”

Hyunjikn groaned, closing his eyes to stop himself from looking at your thighs, and your lips, and your whole body. Still, you were absolutely right. He knew he wouldn’t last long, but he thought he was stronger than that. While he was thinking, you started to run your fingers through his hair, kissing his cheeks but never his lips. 

“- So ? Am I still “so in for it” or not ?”

He thought about it for a moment. Yes, he would never hear the end of it if he lost on the third day, and Jisung’s ego will get even bigger. But what was the point ? He didn’t want not to touch you for a month when you were literally his stress reliever. 

Without saying a word nor answering to you, he put his hands on your hips and his lips on yours, making you smile into your passionate kiss. He gave up so much more easily than you thought, but you weren’t going to complain. Hyunjin broke the kiss just to let his eyes wander all over your half-naked body. 

“- Like what you see ?”

He licked his lips, his hands sliding from your hips to your ass with a grin on his face. And even if you should be used to it, the fact that he was effortlessly so hot still made a shiver run down your spine.

“- So much… Makes me want to fuck you right now.”

Your own hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, your fingers running across his warm skin. And it was driving him crazy. It’s been three days since he had felt your touch for the last time, and he didn’t want to contain himself any more. It’s already been too long for him. 

Hyunjin pushed your hips into his, letting you feel his hard cock under his clothes, and kissed you once again. You could feel his heated skin through his still clothed body. And that was driving you insane. You could make fun of Hyunjin all you wanted, but you knew you were not any better. You couldn’t have resisted him more than he did. Your sex drive was as high as his, but you were grateful he gave in first - wouldn’t have been good for your image. 

Soon enough, you felt Hyunjin’s tongue licking your lips, and you opened your mouth with a little whimper, kissing him hungrily while your hands were gripping his shirt, forcing him to break the kiss to take it off. You stepped back and settled on top of the kitchen’s counter, and then pulled Hyunjin between your legs, your face inches away from his. 

“- Then fuck me Jinnie… I want you so bad…”

And that did it for him. Hyunjin let his head fall into your neck, sucking on it, licking it, biting it, and making you moan and tug his hair in your fingers. His own hand already found the clip of your bra and took it off. His lips traced a trail from your neck to your nipples that he quickly took in his mouth, getting you to whine his name and grip tightly at his roots. 

“- I missed feeling your skin…”

You smiled at how innocent this comment was even though Hyunjin was playing with your breast, and that his lips were making their way to your soaked panties. Your boyfriend was always eager to eat you out. Of course he loved it when you sucked him off, but he could spend hours between your legs without getting tired of your taste, or the noise you were making every time he did. And well, you couldn’t protest when he was this good with his mouth. 

Hyunjin kept eye contact with you while he slowly took off your panties. He threw them away somewhere in the room, kissing your inner thighs and making his way to your cunt. You sighed, relaxing completely under his touch, spreading your legs wide and tugging at his hair. When he finally put his mouth on your clit, you moaned and closed your eyes shut, the familiar rush of pleasure coursing through your veins. 

“- God… I wouldn’t have survived one month without your mouth on me…”

Hyunjin chuckled against you, sending vibrations that made you shiver. He stuck his tongue out, practically making out with your clit as you were clenching around nothing, whining and grinding against his face.

“- You really love tasting me baby, don’t you… ?”

You let out a shaky breath when your boyfriend pressed a finger against your entrance, teasing you a bit before pushing it between your folds and making you moan loudly. He didn’t stop licking you all this time, a mix of his saliva and your juices dripping down from your cunt to the counter beneath you. 

“- Yeah… Pussy drunk are you ? Of course you are… Look at you baby, face buried into me like you didn’t eat me out just three days ago…”

As much as you liked teasing him, it was getting difficult to even think of a single thing, and your words were quickly replaced by never ending and louder moans each time his now two fingers pressed against your sweet spot. You just stopped talking for a while, the heat in your body starting to get unbearable. 

“- Jinnie… P-Please… A little more… Just n-need… More…”

Hyunjin almost whined at you begging for him, for his tongue and fingers to give you what you were waiting for. Your hands were gripping his hair tight, and he could have come untouched just from the feeling and the view of your blissed out face. But he wanted to be in you so bad, he just pressed his tongue harder on your clit, overstimulating you a bit while you were coming just for him. 

He let you come back from your orgasm while he was wiping off your juices that dripped on his chin. Hyunjin smiled at you when you opened your eyes, looking so fucked out he just wanted to burry himself deep in you. 

“- Wouldn’t survive a month without eating you out…”

You heard his mumbled words and it made you laugh : you two were definitely not made for this type of challenge, but it didn’t even cross your mind as you kissed Hyunjin and your hands were sliding his pants down his thighs, his boxer following quickly. 

“- Want you in me…”

You were asking for it so sweetly, how could he say no to you ? (and yes, he had convinced himself that he caved in only because you were looking really gorgeous, not because he couldn’t hold back anymore.) Hyunjin guided his cock to your cunt, letting only the tip slide into you. 

“- How much do you want it love ? Tell me… ”

He liked to tease you just before entering you, just before he couldn’t tease anymore because he was always too far gone in your warm, tight, wet cunt. He was crazy over you, over this feeling. But at the same time, he couldn’t resist the urge to hear you beg for him, for his cock one more time. 

“- P-Please… 

- Please what ?

- Want your dick in me… Want you to be rough…

- That’s my good girl…"

You almost cried at the feeling of him entering you fully, making you feel on the verge of tears from the overwhelming feeling of his warm body against yours. Hyunjin’s lips were only inches from yours and you leaned in to kiss him hungrily while he was putting his hands on your waist and started to move back and forth. Both your moans were muffled by your messy kisses, feeling saliva drip from your mouth to your chin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when his dick in you felt like heaven. 

“- Shit… You’re so tight love… 

- Just for you… For your big cock…

- Yeah ? Big enough for your little wet cunt ?

- Fuck ! Yes… Don’t stop… C-Close…”

As your second orgasm was approaching, you started to lose your words, only capable of letting out some words here and there, and rutting your hips against Hyunjin. You nuzzled your face into his neck, muffling your moans against the sensitive skin, making your boyfriend shiver, loving to be so close to him, even though his pace was all but romantic. 

“- Gonna cum love ?

- Y-Yeah… Keep going p-please…”

Hyunjin sped up the rhythm of his hips, feeling you getting tighter with each thrusts, then getting sloppier and messier, telling you he was also almost there too. You also knew he liked to be praised when he was about to come. So you did just that.

“- You’re making me feel so good baby, so full… Love it when you lose control like this, just for me… You’re going to make me come with your big dick…”

Your boyfriend moaned against your lips, his forehead pressed against yours and his fingers digging into the skin of your hips so deep you hesitated between whining in pleasure or in pain. 

“- Ah- So good for me Hyunjin… Want you to fill me up… Come on, give it to me…”

“- Baby… Fuck !”

And that did it for Hyunjin. It only took him a couple more thrusts before he reached his high, cumming hard inside of you. And the feeling of his hot seed spilling in your cunt pushed you over the edge too, crying out in pleasure, joining the fucked out songs your boyfriend was letting out as he continued moving until it all started to feel too much. 

Both of you needed a moment to come back to reality, looking each other in the eyes and smiling softly before sharing a sweet kiss. You sighed, leaning totally against Hyunjin’s firm body while he stocked your back softly. You didn’t know what was to gain if he won the bet, but judging by your actual state, you didn’t care much, rather not at all. 

“- Go to the shower baby, I’ll warm up our meal and we could watch the drama we started last time. How’s that sound ?

- Perfect. I love you so much…”

You giggled before kissing him and muttering an “I love you too” against his lips. You pushed him away from you, just so you could get down off of the counter and put back your underwear, preventing his cum from spilling out of you and dripping down your thighs. Hyunjin stared at you, frowning and you understood something was bothering him.

“- What ?

- Sure you don’t need help to clean up ?

- Yes, I’m sure. I can do that myself, and I know you need your shower after work.”

Hyunjin took you in by your waist to kiss you before gathering his spare clothes on the floor and getting to the bathroom. Once there, he took his phone out of his pants, sending a message in the group chat.

Hyunjin shutted his phone off for the night, wanting to enjoy this moment with his sweet girlfriend that he could have whenever he wanted while the other would have to contain themselves. And for him, that was the real victory.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

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#skz x reader #skz x yn #stray kids fics #stray kids x reader #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #skz smut #nnn #nnn skz #no nut november

[flemingsfreckles]

Better Boyfriend than Him (18+)

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: Jessie finds out your boyfriend is leaving you unsatisfied in the bedroom, she offers to prove that she’s can treat you better than him. (Inspired by the song Boyfriend by Dove Cameron)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) frat boy Jessie vibes, oral sex (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), suggestive comments about straight sex, small mention of masturbation, technically cheating on boyfriend by reader.

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: this is the first time I’ve written any form of smut, maybe not my finest work but I wanted to give it a shot.

“I thought your attitude was going to be fixed once you started getting laid regularly. What happened to that?” Those were the first words spoken to you by your best friend that afternoon. You had just opened your apartment door, slamming it behind you, kicking off your shoes with a huff. You had gotten home from your boyfriend’s apartment to find Jessie already at your place, making herself at home. She was your best friend and naturally you both had the spare key and an ongoing open invitation to each other’s apartments.

You had texted her to let her know you were leaving his place and she had run over wanting to spend time with you. Your new relationship had been taking up more of your time, the time that Jessie usually got to spend with you.

“Shut up, Jessie.” You say, a bit harsher than you should but you were already annoyed and felt like any small inconvenience could set you off like a bomb. Moving over to the couch, she had already helped herself to chips and a gotten out a pair of beers one for each of you. You slump down next to her, a heavy sigh leaving your body as you bring the bottle to your lips.

“Oh come on, it's a joke.” She gently pushed on your shoulder. “Seriously though, maybe you should try getting laid more often, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Jessie’s eyebrows wiggle suggestively at you. You know she means well, as far as she’s aware getting laid should relax you, and it would, if your boyfriend was any good in bed.

“I’m technically getting laid plenty often Jess, it’s just not helping.” She glances at you, tilting her head in a questioning manner. You realized you messed up with the way you chose to phrase your sentence, she was going to ask questions.

“What does that mean? How are you technically getting-” You shoot her a pointed look, slight scowl across your face, wanting to end this conversation as quickly as possible. Jessie quickly puts two and two together, stopping her sentence and just replying with. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” You look down feeling a slight flush come across your face, embarrassed that you accidentally just admitted to your boyfriend lack of sexual talent.

“I thought you said it was good, you came raving to me after the first time and from what I heard the other day, it sounded like you were having a great time. What happened?” The confused look from before comes back across her face, this time it has a bit of concern mixed in.

Your embarrassment wasn’t aided by the fact that Jessie brought up hearing you and him the other day. You had forgotten to tell her he was coming over and Jessie had opened the door of your apartment to noises that she won’t ever be able to unhear.

Leaning back on the couch, staring at the ceiling, you give her the answer. “I lied, it was fake.” Pinching the bridge of your noses between your thumb and index finger, you wait for her response. Part of you expects her to be angry at you for lying to her. Looking over at her, she doesn’t look angry or upset with you, she looks sad. She’s giving you the same look you would an injured puppy. Her brown eyes soft, a very faint trace of a sympathetic smile across her lips.

“Is it like everytime? You know? That he doesn’t make you…” her sentence trails off as she looks at you. The red flush that had just been on your cheeks starts to cover the rest of your face and neck, clearly embarrassed by what you had said.

“Jess, can we not do this, please?” Covering your face with your hands, you didn’t want to have this conversation with anyone. You didn’t want to have to explain that your boyfriend wasn’t able to satisfy you, that you had to pull out all the acting for him so that he felt satisfied with himself. You especially didn’t want to have to admit this to Jessie, you knew she’d find it hilarious that your boyfriend was bad in bed. She always made comments about how women do it better, specifically how she does it better than anyone. She had a small reputation, not necessarily for making her way around but she had slept with her fair share of girls at school, well known for the rounds she had made in various sororities and sports teams. She was right, most people gave her raving reviews.

Taking the attempt to change the subject as a yes to her previous question Jessie’s mouth drops open, her previously soft eyes now wide, eyebrows raised.

“He’s never made you cum? That’s embarrassing.” She paused before quickly adding, “For him! Not you.” Not wanting you to think she was calling your inability to finish embarrassing.

“Maybe it’s just hard for me to finish, some people are like that, maybe it’s not his fault. I mean he tries.” Cringing at the words as they come out of your mouth, you question why you continue to respond. Jessie was your best friend but this still felt embarrassing.

“Well, is it always hard for you to finish?”

“Obviously, so it must be me, that’s why I haven't been able to finish any of the times I’ve slept with him.” You continue to defend your boyfriend.

“That’s not what I meant. When you’re doing it solo, is it hard to get there?”

“I’m not answering that.” Feeling your face heat up even more than it already was, your skin feeling like it was burning under Jessie’s gaze. You hadn’t expected her to pry for details about you touching yourself.

“Oh come on, don’t be a prude, we all do it.” The deadpan look on her face indicated that she was fully expecting you to answer the question she had proposed.

“No, it’s easy. It’s different when I’m alone though!” Again you came to the man’s defense and you’re honestly not sure why.

“So he’s the problem. That’s not hard to realize.” When you don’t respond or even look in her direction, she adds, “You can’t just continue to convince yourself that you’re the problem.” When you don’t respond to her, she continues on.

“I’d put him to shame, I’ve only ever left happy customers.” She laughs as she says it, bringing her bottle to her lips to finish the drink off.

“I’m sure you would.” Adding an eye roll at her overly confident statement.

“What? You don’t believe me?” Her eyes squint at you now, hand on her own chest as if she was insulted by your words.

“Sure I do,” the sound of sarcasm was dropping off your words, “all I’m saying is talk is cheap Fleming.” Knowing you would be pushing on her nerves a bit, you continued. She had a reputation and it sure was positive, you didn’t actually doubt her abilities, just not confident they’d work on you.

“Well what, do you want me to prove it?”

“What if I said yes?” You’re not sure what made the challenge come out of your mouth. You didn’t even think before saying it. Maybe it was the annoyance with your boyfriend, maybe it was the three months of pent up sexual frustration, maybe it was Jessie’s confidence surrounding her skills.

Jessie doesn’t respond. Panicking as you realize you just asked your best friend to cross a line beyond friendship, you begin to back track.

“You don’t have to, sorry I shouldn’t have said that, I’m not sure why I did, I don’t actually expect you to-.”

You’re cut off by Jessie walking over to you, taking two strides before grabbing your face, tilting it up and bending down so her lips could meet yours. She pulls away for a second, nodding her head in the direction of the couch, her hand coming to your legs to help you move them so you are laying down. Following your actions Jessie climbs onto the couch, placing herself above you and reconnecting your lips.

Jessie was now on top of you, your back pressed firmly into the couch as her weight and hips held you down. Her hands on either side of your head. She continues to kiss you, each kiss growing sloppier. It had moved from sealed lips pressed together to your lips sliding against hers. Now she had started to open the kiss allowing her tongue to tease at your closed lips. It didn’t take much convincing on your end to open your lips and let her tongue meet yours.

Your hands found their way to her hair, one grabbing a handful at the base of her neck and pulling gently away from you. Taking the hint, Jessie pulled back. She opened her eyes to look down at you. Something about her gaze had almost a dominant expression to it, the way she was hovering over you, trapping your body between hers and the couch, you found yourself biting your lower lip as you looked up at her.

“Are you going to prove it or are we just going to makeout?” Impatience has started to spread in your body. You could feel your heart pounding against your chest, the noise loud in your ears. You secretly hoped Jessie couldn’t hear it.

“Are you sure?” Her soft eyes returned as she checked on you. Her eyes scan your face, the same way she would scan a textbook while the two of you would study, as if she was trying to commit every detail to memory.

“Please.” You weren’t usually one to beg in a situation like this but so desperate to finally feel something, you couldn’t help yourself. The last thing you needed was Jessie backing out if she felt like you were uneasy.

“Okay, let’s go then.” She sat back on her feet before moving your thigh out her way, standing up and placing a hand out for you to grab. With the assistance of her hand you stand up as well and follow her as she walks the two of you to your bedroom. Gently shutting the door behind you, Jessie places her hands on your hips gently rubbing her thumbs against the bump of your pelvic bone.

“Are you sure?” You give her a quick nod, eyes locked on hers. “Okay, if you want to stop at any point, just tell me.”

“I will.”

With your confirmation Jessie pulls you toward her again, your chest coming to meet hers. Unsure of where to put your hands you leave them at your sides for a minute. Still kissing you, you feel her hands leave their place on your hips and grab your hands. She pulls your left hand to her waist, just above her hips and your right she moves to her shoulder before her own find their place back on your hips.

Jessie begins to move her hands, they slide up slowly, coming up to cover your waist. They trail around your sides and onto your lower back. Her hands feel electric, leaving a trail of warmth wherever they go. You can feel her hesitation before she begins to slide her hands lower. She slides her hands into the back pockets of your jeans, giving a gentle squeeze. All it takes is that gentle squeeze to get a choked sigh to come out of your throat. Surprised by the noise, Jessie pulls back from your kiss.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, no I’m good. Keep going.”

Jessie does just that. Still holding your ass she spins you both, your back now toward the bed. You feel her start to lean forward, encouraging you to step backwards. She continues the pressure until you hit the bed frame, her hands coming off of your ass as you find yourself sitting down on the edge of the mattress.

Jessie gives you a quick peck on the lips before her hands are back on you, this time they meet the bottom of your shirt. She grasps it between her fingers, pausing and looking down at you

“Can I take your shirt off?”

Instead of verbally answering, your hands reach to your shirt, starting to pull it off yourself, she takes the hint and helps remove it for you. The black shirt you had been wearing is flung across the room, landing on your desk. A small gasp leaves your mouth as Jessie bends down grabbing the back of your thighs from where you were sitting on the edge of the bed and moves you toward the center. She climbs on the bed, taking her spot back on top of you.

You watch her eyes as they study your body again, her gaze now floating across your chest where your black bra still hides your breasts. Licking her lower lip, her hand moves, running fingers down from the band of your bra to the top of your jeans. A trail of goosebumps rising in response to her touch. She continues tracing lines and circles across your bare stomach, such a simple act and yet it was making you start to squirm, wanting more from her.

“Jess,” her hand freezes in its path and her eyes glance up to meet yours. Before she has the chance to ask if you’re okay, you add, “take my bra off.”

Leaning down she attaches her lips to yours as her hand previously on her stomach moved to the back of your neck. She gently pulls you forward, encouraging you to sit up. You do so, letting her other hand that had been supporting her body weight move to your back, she unclasps your bra easily. You mentally roll your eyes, knowing Jessie is probably too proud of that one handed skill. She gently lays you back before moving both of her hands to the straps. She pulls the straps down your arms, fully exposing your chest to her.

You watch as her eyes wander from one side to the other. Thankful that she’d see you topless on a few occasions before while changing, you felt a bit more comfortable being exposed to her.

“Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but you have some of the best tits I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen my fair share.” Her eyes meet yours for a second before she is back staring.

“Thanks? I guess.” You’re not sure how to respond to her compliment. She continues to stare, her hands staying firmly on your stomach.

“Do you like them played with?” Her eyes bounce between your breast where your nipples had gone hard from the chill of the room, definitely not from the arousal Jessie, your best friend, was causing you.

“He doesn’t usually do much with them besides like a squeeze.”

“Okay, but I don’t care what he usually does. I’m trying to literally do everything he doesn’t do. I want to know what you like, what feels good to you. Stop thinking about just what he does.”

“Then yes, touch them.”

Jessie doesn’t need to be told twice by a pretty girl to touch her boobs. She sits back putting her weight on her legs freeing her hands. She gently cups your chest in her hands, gently squeezing before she moves her thumbs to graze over your already peaked nipples. You’re watching her movements but you can see in your periphery her eyes are watching your face. It felt good knowing she was watching, her attentiveness, her focus on making you feel good made your head spin. She wanted to please you, he was nothing like this.

She removed her hands temporarily placing them back by your sides to support herself as she leaned in to kiss you. The kiss was short lived as she pulled away, moving to place her lips against your jaw. Her warm mouth moved down, leaving a trail of open mouth kisses down the column of your neck before reaching your collarbone. Letting her tongue graze along the definition of the bone, you let out a sigh, you could feel as she smirked against your skin.

She continued on, making her way down your chest until her lips met the curve of your breast. Her mouth found every inch, intentionally avoiding your nipple. Her teasing only lasted a few seconds before she placed her lips against your nipple. Giving it a gentle kiss, testing the waters before going further. Not hearing any protest she continued. This time sucking with some force, letting her lips wrap around you. A small whimper fell from your lips. Her lips released your skin with a slight pop.

“What? Feels good?” A big smirk was across Jessie’s face, she was feeling proud being able to get you whimpering and moving under her by just barely touching you. Her cockiness was radiating off of her, you couldn’t even lie to yourself now, she may be your best friend but she was fucking hot.

You just give her a quick nod, unable to decide what words to respond with, slightly worried no words will come out, only a moan. Jessie sits back, removing her hands and mouth from your body. She adjusts herself so she is now straddling your leg. She brings herself back down, her lips attaching to the nipple she had been neglecting. With her new position, her thigh is placing pressure on your core, providing you the slightest bit of friction as she moves to attend to your chest. Instead of just sucking, her tongue is now circling, applying soft pressure to your sensitive bud.

“Fuck.” Your hand now reaches up to the back of her head, grabbing a handful of her hair and pushing her face further into your chest, wanting more from her. Happy to oblige, her tongue applies more pressure. As she goes to pull away, her teeth gently graze your skin, sending what feels like a shockwave from your chest down to where her thigh was placing pressure against you. You can’t help but tilt your hips in response, involuntarily grinding yourself against her.

Taking the hint that you were ready to move on, Jessie sat back her fingers trailing down your stomach before pausing at the waistband of your jeans. You felt as the tips of her fingers on one hand found their way between your skin and the band of your underwear. The other hand came to rest where the button of your jeans sat. She paused again, giving you the same look she had when she asked if you were sure, the same look she had given you before asking to take off your shirt, the same look she gave you before she touched you. Knowing she was going to ask, you beat her to it.

“Take them off.” Looking her in the eyes as her hands began to move slowly. She undid the button, slowly pulling down the zipper. Both of her hands finding the sides of your jeans, she begins to slide them down along with your panties, leaving you bare. She carefully removes your jeans, taking the time to pull them off, you lift your hips and legs accordingly. Once she has them removed they find a place on the floor, she turns back to quickly take your socks off and motions for you to lay back down.

Unlike before, Jessie had never seen you fully naked before, shirtless on occasion, a few times she’d seen you just in your underwear, and she had seen you in a swimsuit that didn’t hide much, but now here you were completely naked laying in front of her.

Your own insecurities start swarming in your head, slowly you pinch your knees together, subtly trying to cover yourself.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable.” Apparently you had failed to close your legs subtly like you thought.

“No, I still want to, it’s just, I’m naked, and I just became very aware of that.”

“That’s kinda the point,” A soft laugh falls from her lips. “Not that it’ll help, but you should be proud of your body, you’re…” she hesitates “I’d say you're gorgeous but I’m not sure that’ll do it justice.” Jessie sits back up removing her own shirt, leaving her shoulders and stomach exposed.

“Thanks.” Your blush from earlier returning across your cheeks as you tried to accept Jessie’s compliment. You close your eyes taking in a deep breath and you relax your clenched thighs allowing your knees to fall back apart, giving Jessie access to you.

She lays down between your legs, her head even with your knees she turns to the side and places a soft kiss on your thigh before turning to the other one repeating the action.

You can’t help but think about your boyfriend in the moment and compare. Jessie was being so soft, so careful with you, checking in on you, and sure he made sure you wanted to, never doing anything you didn’t want, but this felt more intimate, more comfortable.

Continuing her trail of kissing Jessie slowly begins inching up toward your center. Her hands come up to the bend of your knees, she pushes them outward, spreading your thighs and placing your legs over her bare shoulders, giving you a small amount of skin to skin contact. She moves in close enough that you can feel her warm breath between your legs.

She hesitates, her eyes looking over you. Her tongue darted out wetting her lips before she leaned in. You sucked in air as you felt her tongue meet your center. It moved against your pussy with ease due to your pooling arousal. Tracing a line from your entrance up to your clit, she repeats the motion over and over, her eyes locked upward looking at you.

Her tongue slows down, licking slower and slower stripes before she stops with her tongue on your clit. Focusing on your sensitive bud, she begins flicking her tongue with light pressure. You bite your lip, holding back the moan that wanted to escape. Holding it in only lasted a moment as she began to suck softly, making the movements of her tongue feel even more pleasurable. As you had done before, your hands tangle themselves in her hair, pulling tightly on the strands. Small moans now fill the air of your bedroom, no longer feeling like holding them in.

The mixture of warmth and wetness of her tongue makes you throw your head back. You couldn’t help but stare at her, something about her looking up at you from between your legs, while she was eating you out made your brain feel fuzzy.

Pushing your thigh out with her hand, Jessie gave herself enough room to bring her arm up between your legs, her middle finger coming up to rest against your hole. She didn't push in yet, just resting her finger against you and slowly circling the opening. Her tongue still working against you, you could start to feel the faint clench on your abdomen, the same clench you would feel as you would bring yourself close to orgasm when you were by yourself.

Feeling Jessie’s finger enter, you clench around her, causing her to stop moving her finger and her lips to detach from your core as she looks up at you, you release her hair from your tight grip, just letting them rest on her head.. The sight of her looking up at you with messy hair and your wetness covering her lips and chin was not something you had prepared for.

“Are you alright? Sorry I should’ve asked before I used my fingers.” You could see her blown pupils from here, barely any brown remaining around them.

“No I’m good, it feels good, please keep going,” your voice comes out with a slight rasp that you weren’t expecting. Clearing your throat you add, “you can use two.”

Hearing your request, Jessie’s lips and tongue return to your now swollen and red clit. Her hand pushes up and back on your leg, giving herself even more room between your thighs. Still moving slowly Jessie begins to push her middle and ring finger into you. The feeling of her fingers opening you has you throwing your head back, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling. Jessie takes her time still moving only a knuckle at a time, making sure you were open enough around her. You feel your muscles clench again from the feeling of her long fingers along with her tongue.

She pauses when she’s fully inside of you. Instead of thrusting her fingers she just begins to curl them, placing pressure against your walls.

“Fuck Jessie.” Eyes snapping open as you register that you had just moaned her name. You keep your gaze at the ceiling, not daring to look down at the Canadian between your legs. Without looking at her you feel her reaction as she lets out a small moan of her own, the noise causing her lips to reverberate around your clit.

Her tongue continues its movements, she could feel you beginning to tighten around her fingers, becoming increasingly difficult for her to curl them inside of you. She begins thrusting her fingers slightly, still curving them up but adding more movement. The new movement is all you need, the warmth and tightness of your incoming orgasm begin to increase and spread.

“Please Jess.” You’re not even sure what you’re begging her to do, wanting so badly for her to push you over the edge, whatever it takes is good with you. You feel the pace of her fingers speed up slightly, the suction from her lips around your clit increases. The muscles of your thighs begin trembling as you become increasingly sensitive. Your back slowly pulls away from the bed as your arch into her touch. You only last a few more seconds on the edge before your orgasm washes over you.

A loud groan is released from your body as your hand firmly grasp Jessie’s head between your thighs. You push her hard into yourself as your hips move to grind yourself against her face. Your shaking legs wrapping around her head, your walls clenching her fingers so tight they no longer move in and out of you, just curling inside. The pleasure lasts a few seconds before it becomes too much, you let your legs fall off her shoulders and onto the bed. The hands that previously held her tight against you are pushing her back, she releases her lips from you. Her fingers remain inside of you, as you are still clenched around them.

Jessie doesn’t say anything immediately, she just looks up at you from between your legs, face covered in your arousal, her cheeks a slight red from her work. Waiting a second for you to catch your breath, her fingers stay still inside of you. With her free hand she swipes her thumb across her chin, collecting the mixture of her own spit and your wetness, bringing her thumb between her lips to suck it clean. She feels you begin to relax around her fingers, recovering from the intense pleasure, she slowly pulls out of you, a groan leaving your lips as she does so.

Her lips place one last quick kiss on your core, causing you to jump, pulling away from her, slightly being over stimulated. She moves from between your legs, laying down on her side next to you. She pulls the blanket up with her, covering your body and hers with it.

“See I told you it wasn’t you. It’s him.” You turned over to see her shit eating grin, you could still smell yourself on her face. You have the urge to reach out and make her kiss you, wanting to taste yourself from her lips.

“Shit.” Rolling back away you breathed out the word, staring at the ceiling. The reality of the situation comes back into your mind. Your best friend had just made you cum with ease, a task your soon to be ex-boyfriend hadn’t been able to do in the months you had been seeing him.

“What? Are you okay?”

“Yeah I just need to break up with my boyfriend.”

#jessie fleming #portland thorns #jessie fleming imagine #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso smut

[insanesonofabitch]

How am I supposed to function like a normal human being when I’ve been made aware of the existence of destiel? Everytime I get close to being slightly functional, I’m reminded of shit like how someone wrote a script wherein Cas gets his very own personal heaven—a room full of half-naked pictures (some real and some badly edited) of Dean Winchester. Or how later on in the series, in another script draft of another episode, Cas gets shown another “heaven on earth” scenario where he spreads his wings full while, for some reason, specified to be shirtless in front of Dean. Or how Dean was supposed to confess his love to Cas way back in season 8. Or how his relationship with Benny and the then presumed dead Cas is paralleled to Amelia’s relationship with Sam and her then presumed dead husband. “Are we still talking about Sam, or did you break up with someone too?” Or how Dean was supposed to relive the life of Cain in reverse and kill Cas like Cain killed his wife Colette, while Cas and Colette are paralleled to each other, with how they both ask Dean and Cain to stop the killings right as they’re about to die by the hands of the ones they love. Or how they made several people imply and straight up tell Dean and Cas to their faces that they’re in love with each other and not once, not once does any of the both of them ever deny it. And how several times, over and over again, their enemies use this “more profound bond” against them. “You’re hoping Castiel would return to you. I admire your loyalty. I only wish he felt the same way.” “But then, his true weakness is revealed.” “Don’t lose it over one man.” “I’m gonna cure you of your human weakness.” “You blast me away you blast away every angel in the room.” “There comes a point where every relationship has run its course.” “Oh sweet. Cas, he’s dead. All the way dead. Because of you.” “There is nothing for you back there.” Or how Dean subtly references a queer movie while referring to Cas and himself as the queer main characters of the said queer movie…who were, by the way, in a relationship with each other. Or how they made Cas confess but killed him right off, and then soon later killed Dean off and implied he doesn’t pursue romantic relationships ever again, and never have him actually experience the life outside the “hamster wheel” that he fought for because they knew he could NEVER be happy living the unnamed wife one kid “normal” apple-pie life that they originally planned for him.

Or how part of the people behind this show actually fought for their story to be told because you CANNOT make all of this without someone, at the very least one person actively writing, portraying, or depicting them with the intention of telling a queer love story.

And then what? So I’m just supposed to ignore and gloss over and move on from all of this along with so much more like the show already did on the regular?

#genuinely how #supernatural #spn #destiel #deancas #casdean #dean x castiel #dean winchester #castiel #destiel meta #reiotalks

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can i please have shang tsung(mk1) when he was just a salesman, meeting reader(a kind village person) and them helping him with his wounds everytime he gets beat up and they actually show him that not everyone is mean? :> It can be a fic or just hcs, i just need shang tsung content :<

Does this contain dramatic ooc Shang Tsung? Yes. When I see him, all I see is the cat being held at knifepoint…also this is unnecessarily long.

You knew you shouldn’t spare Shang Tsung any ounce of sympathy nor remorse for his faulty practices and causing loss and suffering to spread evermore throughout your village then needed. But that didn’t mean you condom the call to violence from your fellow villagers, most of whom had grown tired of allowing themselves to become deluded to Shang Tsung’s lies, whilst others just wanted an plausible excuse to get their hands on the salesman for the longest time now and had finally found their excuse.

They all had valid reasons to return the harm Shang Tsung had put upon everyone tenfold but an entire village against one man wasn’t exactly the fairest of odds. Then again if you were to being this up to anyone and they would retaliate by saying that their current circumstances weren’t fair either, before going on a tangent of how Shang Tsung took advantage of a vulnerable backwater village that would firmly believe that pigs could fly.

And yet despite all that, you could never bring yourself to inflict physical harm on him, if anything you refrained from anything in relation to violence almost entirely; So when the mob of villagers went to gang up on the salesman, you would make sure that you were far away from it as possible not matter how well deserved it maybe…you didn’t want to bear witness to it nor encourage such ugly behaviour that every being in existence seemed to be cursed with.

Upon returning however, you were always met with a pitiful sight of Shang Tsung looking worse for wear with his injuries and disheveled and torn clothes. It tugged at your heart to help him, show him an ounce of kindness in a village filled with people unsatisfied with him still living. You wondered how much of a difference would it make for them had Shang Tsung did pass away, for you truly believed that harming him wouldn’t make the dead come back to life, it wouldn’t bring the sick and injured back to full health; nothing would undo what already had been predestined to occur.

However Shang Tsung was made aware of you presence almost instantly, you weren’t apart of the mob that come to beat him on a daily basis, he would know as those same angry faces were deeply engraved within his mind that he could tell when something amongst them was amiss and yours certainly didn’t strike familiarity within him; but that didn’t mean he was about to be seen looking weak and pathetic in front of an unfamiliar face.

‘If it is revenge you want,’ Shang Tsung began bitterly, ‘have at it. If it is restitution, there is nothing left.’

‘Oh, that’s not why I’m here-‘ you began.

‘I know, or else you would’ve been with that bloodthirsty mob earlier.’ Shang Tsung interrupts with a scoff, looking you in the eyes now. ‘So pray tell why are you even here? To brutalise me emotionally or mentally?’ He then questions before shrugging his shoulders and looking down to pick at the dirt beneath his nails. ‘Hate to be the bearer of bad news but I’m pretty sure your friends had that covered.’

‘If you would just shut it for a minute and let me speak then maybe you would know that I’m here to help you with your wounds.’ You said, not wanting to stand out in the pouring rain all night, listening to him go on a tangent about your backwater village as if you didn’t already know, your the one who lives here your entire life with no promise of a better one anywhere in sight!

Shang Tsung’s brows raised in surprise. Help? You’re willing enough to help him, despite everything he’s done? Now why was that simple sentence the most oddest thing he’s ever heard in his entire life. Was this a trick? A trap? Even as he’s looking into your eyes, Shang Tsung wasn’t quite sure what your motive in all this was.

Your eyes were so kind, genuine and honest that even if you were lying, you’d think he would have known better than to trust a beautiful liar. Not that he would admit to any of this, he had a reputation to uphold.

‘What’s in it for me?’ He asks, leaning forward.

‘You wounds won’t be susceptible to infection?’ You said. ‘I don’t have much else to give other then medical aid so…’ you trailed off as the sound of rain took to filling in the silence. Shang Tsung was silent for a while and you were bringing to feel stupid, you even began to regret offering him help and were about to call it a night, when Shang Tsung said something so quietly that you couldn’t quite hear it over the rain.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t catch that.’

‘I said fine.’ Shang Tsung said with a hint of irritation of having to repeat himself. ‘but don’t think anything of this, you are to patch my wounds as per your insistence. Nothing more, nothing less.’

After making a deal with seemingly the devil, you went ahead and lead him back to your place to heal him of his wounds and seeing him off, thinking it to be a one time only thing, before anyone got suspicious of your involvement with the man who had caused them so much grief and misery.

Unfortunately you were proven wrong as it seemed that either every time you healed Shang Tsung of his wounds, the next set he would obtain were objectively worse than the ones before and naturally, you began to worry that the villagers were taking it too far this time.

‘Oh my gods.’ You said from behind your hands upon seeing the state that the village had left Shang Tsung in this time, it almost brings you to tears. He looked utterly terrible and had an hard time trying to move from the doorway without wincing, allowing for a cold draft to sweep inside and bringing rain along with it.

‘Nice to know that I still leave you speechless.’ Shang Tsung teased but the smirk upon his lips was easily wiped off his face as it contorted in discomfort and his eyes clenched shut, he grit teeth to hold back a pained grunt. The villagers defiantly bruised something, how troublesome.

‘As much as I know that you love hearing the sound of your own voice, but I’m going to need you to stop unless you want to get even worse.’ You replied, already working on getting him sat down comfortably on the chair you had pulled from another room along with your medical equipment. Spending time with Shang Tsung would’ve drove anyone into a fit of rage either way how arrogant and pompous he sounded, but if anything you’ve gradually picked up some of his sass whilst patching up his wounds.

So whether he tried anything, you were able to throw it back at him, to which he would always reply with; ‘you dare to kick a man while he’s down my dear healer?’ Whilst his eyes shone mischievously.

‘If that man is anything like you then I’m sure he’ll survive.’ You responded back in kind, yet all the while keeping a gentle and steady hand when stitching his deeper cuts and gashes before coving them up. ‘Like a cockroach.’ You heard him sharply inhale and looked at him, worried that you might’ve pressed down too hard on one of his wounds and were about to ask, only to see him looking away from you with his nose up in the air; even when he’s injured Shang Tsung never fails to find the opportunity to be dramatic.

‘You did not just compare me to those vile things.’ He spat.

‘You say that now but cockroaches are notoriously impossible to kill.’ You said absentmindedly, having calmed down upon realising that he wasn’t in any sort pain that you didn’t noticed the sigh of relief that you had let out, not until Shang Tsung made a comment on it.

‘Were you worried about me, dear healer?’ He’d ask, seeing an opening to use to his advantage.

‘I thought I might’ve pressed too hard on one of your wounds or reopened them somehow.’ you shot him a small genuine smile. ‘I’ve never been more glad in being wrong. I don’t like seeing you hurt, not to this extent, it’s not like the villagers will gain anything from it.’ You didn’t think much when Shang Tsung remained uncharacteristically silent throughout the rest of the treatment, staring ahead at nothing, he didn’t say anything until he was about to leave where he flashed you a forced smile. ‘Thank you for healing me.’ Was all he said but it was enough to leave you stunned.

Shang Tsung was never one to thank you after healing him, ever, so much so that hearing him say that made you think that something within him had changed, but you weren’t the type to charge into a burning house just because you tricked yourself into seeing something; you were kind but to that degree.

Meanwhile Shang Tsung was mulling over your words in his head. Out of an entire village hellbent on seeing him dead, you were the only one to show him an ounce of kindness despite everything. At first he thought you were unaware of who he was and what he has done to your entire village but when he found out that you were aware, it made all your interactions with him up till now all the more questionable.

He didn’t understand what you think you’d get from being kind to him nor understood your motive, not even your intentions. Yet the more he came to you for healing, he gradually stopped being speculative and started believing that this was just who you were as an individual, it wasn’t a persona you put on for fun. You held a genuine sense of self that not many could claim to have, not even himself. He doesn’t like being vulnerable but he has found that he could do so fluidly when within your presence, sure it took awhile but in the end Shang Tsung knew that it was near impossible for him to be redeemed, he had hurt too many and push many more past breaking point.

Your kindness may have been a reprieve for him but it could never erase the blood off of his hands that will sooner or later taint you.

#mk imagine #mk imagines #mk x reader #mk x you #mortal kombat x y/n #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mortal kombat imagines #shang tsung x reader #shang tsung x you

[paleepeaches]

I’M SENSITIVE YOU KNOW (PREVIEW)

Warnings: MDI, mature content, 18+, filthy disgusting smut,

Tags: Connor RK800 x Fem Reader

A/N: THIS IS A PREVIEW 🎀

TELL ME IF YOU LIKE IT PLS I CRAVE VALIDATION AND PRAISE

You were a festive person. Always have and always will be. Valentines was your favorite holiday not only because of the pink and red strewn across supermarkets and stores but because it was a day of love. A reason to celebrate you and Connor’s union. You were sentimental. Sensitive and a bit of a sappy girl when it came to things like that. Connor was fully aware of it. In fact he made note of it when you first got together. How you pouted up at him. Your bottom lip jutting out slightly covered in your lipgloss. How when things didn’t go your way your pretty doe eyes would water with tears and coat your spiky lashes. It was an adorable sight to see you so whiney and needy all the time. Especially when it came to him. You’d pout everytime he had to leave to the DPD every morning. Today was no different.

“Do you have to go?” You fluttered you lashes up at him. 

Connor turned his head to look at you while he did his tie. His hands skilfully mastering it. He felt his resolve waver seeing you so like that. You’d just gotten up. Hair was a bit messy, eyes a bit tired but what you wore really got him. It was the babydoll nightdress. Baby pink in color and the cups on it hugged your tits so nicely. It was sheer and cut off at the top of your plush thighs. He had to resist throwing you on the bed and just fucking your brains out. Poor baby girl didn’t know what you were doing to him.

“I have to. Hank needs me for another case. Plus who’s gonna make enough money to take care of you?” He cooed down at you with his signature smirk. 

He huffed out a sigh nodding in understanding. “Okay but are you gonna be home in time to celebrate? I planned a dinner and everything.”

Full fic

#connor rk800 #connor dbh #connor rk800 x reader #detroit rk800 #detroit become human rk800 #dbh nines #nines rk900 #rk900 x rk800 #rk900 #ddlgprincess #connor x reader smut #connor dbh smut #dbh connor smut #dbh fanfic #dbh connor #connor dbh x reader

[worksby-d]

Pairing: Ari Levinson x fem!Reader

Warnings: Rough sex, overstimulation, using a safeword, 18+

Word count: ~1,000

. * ✦ . ◍ ∘ . * ✦ ‧ ∘ ⊹

You’ve lost count of how many times he’s made you come undone tonight. Maybe it hasn’t even been that many times, but his sheer passion and dominance easily puts you in a daze everytime – Any coherent thoughts are out the window as soon as he starts calling you Princess and manhandling you because he “knows what you like” and can “do all the work so your pretty little head doesn’t have to think.”

A sudden sharp slap of his hand against your ass makes you gasp, pulling yourself forward–away from him–without meaning to. But his hands grip your hips tighter, pulling you back into place to continue his rough thrusts into your sensitive cunt.

“You don’t wanna do that,” he chides, slightly out of breath as he bends over you, effectively caging you underneath him with his arms on either side of your body.

“Ari,” you whine, slowly becoming overly aware of all your senses.

It’s like you can’t feel anything anymore, but at the same time you feel everything all at once. The feeling of his beard and warm breaths against your already-sweaty shoulder doesn’t help as you try to stop your body from shaking. It’s not until you weakly bring a hand to your face to push some hair out of your eyes that you feel the tears that are spilling onto your cheeks.

“Oh, you’re crying now?” He taunts, watching you wipe the tears away and let out a shuddering breath. He can tell you’re close again though, your thighs trembling against his. “You dirty girl,” he scoffs, sitting up straight again, punctuating his thought with another slap against your heated skin. “It’s too fuckin’ easy.”

You try to let go one more time for him, you really do, but your body won’t let it happen, jerking away everytime his balls slap against your overstimulated clit.

“Daffodil.” You choke the word out quietly, not even sure he’ll hear it over both of your labored breathing.

You’re ready to say it again, grasping on tightly to the sheets so you can focus on the ache in your knuckles instead of the the rest of your body going numb – Until you faintly feel him stop, stilling behind you.

It takes him a moment to register the word, but he instantly lets go of your hips and you softly collapse on the bed beneath him without him holding you up anymore.

“Honey?” He gets beside you, careful not to move too fast so he doesn’t shake the bed. “Hey, Y/N?”

Moving your face to the side so he can see you, he lifts a hand to caress your cheek but freezes. “Can I touch you?”

Your eyes are still closed as you nod, but he’s relieved when you don’t flinch from the feeling of his palm on the side of your face.

“What’s wrong?” A shake of your head tells him you’re not ready to talk yet, the sound of your heart racing echoing in your ears is still too much. “Okay, just breathe.”

When you eventually open your eyes and put your hand over his, his concerned look softens. He carefully lays down next to you so you’re face to face.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say. You don’t know why – If you were clearer headed you wouldn’t be saying it.

And he knows that. He’s not having it. “You’re so perfect. Don’t apologize, sweetheart. The point of a safeword is to be able to use it, right?”

You wish you could take a deep breath. “Uh-huh.”

“Does anything hurt?”

Shaking your head, you finally get one and you're able to let out a slow, heavy breath. “Just overwhelmed.”

He offers a sympathetic smile, laying with you for a few more quiet moments. His hand moves slowly to the back of your neck, his eyes studying you for any signs of discomfort.

“Good girl,” he soothes, watching you relax more as his fingers gently massage some of the tension at the back of your neck away. “There you go.”

Before he lets you get too comfortable, he helps you move up the bed enough so your head can lay on your pillows.

You close your eyes again, out of comfort this time, feeling the exhaustion kicking in. But feeling the bed dip beside you as Ari moves to get up pulls you back before you can drift off.

“Wait,” you murmur. Your hand on his arm gets him to stop in his tracks, looking over his shoulder at you.

“Just wanna get you some water, honey.”

“Please, not yet.”

He's strong, but not strong enough to say no to you. So he lays back down next to you, letting you get close to steal his body heat. Now that you've calmed down, you have the chills. He reaches for a blanket to drape over you when he feels you shiver, just until you let him get up and grab you clothes.

“Thank you,” you sigh, nestling your face against his chest.

If it’s even possible, he hugs you closer, stroking his hands along your back. “Anything for you, pretty girl,”

Your cheeks easily heat up hearing him talk like that though and you're glad he can't see your face, but he can definitely feel you smile as your cheek squishes against his chest.

“I love you so much,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

When his hands begin to still on your back, you can tell he has something else on his mind though.

“Was it something I said?” He asks carefully in case you're not ready to talk about it. “I know I pointed out your crying… I say things sometimes–”

“No.” You're quick to assure him, leaning your head back to look up at him. “I like when you're rough with me. It just was too much for me tonight. I had a long day and I should have know I couldn't handle it toni–”

“Hey, it's okay,” he shakes his head, resting his hand back on the side of your face, thumb softly stroking your cheek. “I just wanted to make sure. Absolutely nothing is your fault. I'm so proud of you.”

“Okay,” you nod, laying your head back down. “I love you, too.”

. * ✦ . ◍ ∘ . * ✦ ‧ ∘ ⊹

Tag list: @chris-butt @patzammit @denisemarieangelina @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @princess-evans-addict @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @la-cey @turtoix @katiew1973 @harrysthiccthighss @tvckerlance @bluemusickid @rocketrhap3000 @mrspeacem1nusone @murdcox @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @white-wolf1940 @melchills-j @xoxabs88xox @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @rogersdrysdalebarber @dilfbarber @livstilinski @payperhearts @vintagestarlight @gitasor @chaeycunty @miss-ariella @bemysugarbean @t-stark35 @seitmai @reginaphalange2403

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfic #ari levinson imagine #dest's kinktober

[sanjisblackasswife]

How OP Men Shut You Up When You’re Too Loud (NSFW)

Black Fem Reader in Mind

Ft. Sanji, Luffy, Zoro, Law

Sanji

He tongue kisses you.

He honestly doesn’t want you to be quiet but the last thing he wants is for Chopper to hear you both in the late hours of the ship or your annoying captain that knows no boundaries. Sometimes he just knows to kiss you before hand by peppering the corners of your lips while making deep rough strokes inside you.

“Good Girl…”

Zoro

He talks in your ear

He is such a dirty talker man. He is so aware of what his voice does to you. He sounds so tired and his voice is so shaky from concealing his own groans as he fucks you from the side.

“As much as i want this entire ship to know how good I’m fucking you you have to shut that pretty little mouth of yours for me.”

Law

He makes you suck on his fingers

You look so hot not only taking in his cock but his fingers as well. You always manage to get way louder than you should so he will rub your clit before sticking his digits in your mouth, he will never get enough of how your eyes roll back as you place his fingers further inside your mouth.

Luffy

He doesn’t.

This mf don’t give af if you make noise because he’s making them with you. Both of y’all make the entire ship so disgusted and annoyed Everytime y’all have sex. Robin had to buy Chopper some damn earmuffs .

#sanji #sanjionepiece #one piece #black reader #one piece x female reader #female reader #black foot sanji #x female reader

[norrisreads]

Dangerous Woman 2 #CS55

PAIRING: carlos sainz x reader!, non racer carlos sainz jr x reader!

SUMMARY: being arranged married to carlos sainz, will the both of you work the marriage or will the next step be signing the divorce papers

WARNINGS: age gap, arranged married related, no smuts! tensions ofc, will be a 4 part series, inc of smau! angst, fluff (in the future?)

part 1

full masterlist

Carlos definition of a date in his mind was a normal casual dinner date, not a date where the both of you would’ve enjoyed because right now while waiting for both of your food to arrived, there was a thick air of tension surrounding both of you.

“will you explain what is going on or are we supposed to sit here in silence?” you spoke, cutting off his train of thoughts

not far from your table you could notice the presence of the trio that was peeping towards your table, it’s not a secret when they’re out there wearing the exact same thing that you last saw them in.

“i’m aware lando have told you i’ve broken up with her” nodding your head agreeing to the statement

“I’ll appreciate if i could rekindle this situation, slowly”

now, you’re laughing because why now? why rekindle after a year?

“that’s funny sainz, the last thing i’ve heard from you was that you threw away our friendship over, just because you thought this marriage would meddle in to your relationship”

“you would’ve done the same thing, y/n. you don’t understand”

What did he meant that you wouldn’t understand? what about the nights you sobbed to him about how much you’ve loved your ex, but your parents would never approve of him which led the both of you to part ways

“i would’ve done the same thing carlos, but i couldn’t. it’s different for me because i’m not the head of the family, i’m just a woman who has to listen to everything my father says. I loved him, but i couldn’t do it anymore so i truly understand carlos. I’ve never once threw away our friendship but instead you, you’re selfish and you’re unaware of it”

you expected a reply but all he gave you was a slight nod agreeing to whatever you’ve just told him

“let’s just eat, we’re here anyways, and it would be great if those trios of yours join us instead of trying to hide themselves, because it’s not working”

it’s been two weeks since then, there was an improvement in carlos attitude towards you, he would pick you up daily from your shifts, asked you out to dinner and he’s actually treating you like a wife should have been treated, which was odd but it did healed a part of your heart knowingly this is exactly the way you wanted to be treat as a wife.

“you’ve been nothing but glowing these past few days, what’s going on?” you’re currently on face-time with your best-friend, casually keeping up with each other gossips

“it’s carlos, he’s been treating me differently ever since that dinner date” setting up your phone on your table, while you’re removing your left over makeup

“well that’s great isn’t it? you guys are married so, least he could do is start treating you like a wife”

your best friend have always had a grudge towards Carlos, ever-since you’ve told her about both yours and Carlos rough past

“yeah and i guess im still getting used to it, but she’s gonna come back anytime sooner, this isn’t the first and surely would not be the last”

sighing while removing your makeup, from your phone screen you could see your best friend shrugging her shoulders agreeing with whatever you’ve just said to her

“he does that everytime, y/n. it’s all up to your choices love”

just then you heard your front doors open with voices trailing behind, “i think he’s homed, i’ll text you in a while, love you”

with that you ended the call with your best-friend and walked to your living room only to be greeted with carlos and his friends

“is there something going on today?” you were confused, you weren’t aware of the invitation of his friends over to your house

“they were just stopping by for dinner, would you like to join us?”

“It’s alright, your mom came by and brought over some food. I’ll just heat them up for you guys”

with that, carlos left the kitchen to entertain his friends

you weren’t particularly fond of his friends, other than the three who’s always around the both of you, these friends were different

you knew the friend group that he sticks by has been there for him since childhood and they’ve particularly were more fond of her rather than you.

there were many times you’d eavesdrop their conversations and those times were when you’d listen to their bad remarks about your marriage.

you knew who carlos ex girlfriend was, you’ve met her multiple times due to carlos and your family gathering that’s on-going for every year.

you’d be lying if you think she wasn’t beautiful because she is, no one knew but you’d sometimes compare the both of you because clearly she was the better looking.

your train of thoughts left your mind when you felt hands snaking around your waist

“what’s going on with that mind of yours, i’ve been calling for you to join us”

you could smell that strong perfume of his and a tint of sweetness which you for sure know it’s neither his nor yours because the perfumes you wore were always citrusy scents, and that was one sign you should have never choose to ignore

taglist ; @iissza @spngi @sainzluvrr @slut4lando

link to taglist

a/n : thank you for the support & love for dangerous woman 🥹! i’ve received multiple inboxs asking when will i post the next part, so here you go <3!

#f1 x reader #f1 fics #f1 x y/n #f1 smau #carlos sainz 55 #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz one shot

[borzoilover69]

Something that gets me everytime I think about the harlenglishes is how incredibly harsh they are on themselves, incredibly self critical. The simple fact that the majority of the fandom writes them off as silly little guys does a number on me.  I want you to take a look at these two pieces of text. Both of them are from where Jade and Jake are having a moment, and using proxies to voice their thoughts. Notice how they react to themself being upset. ( Jade is herself, Dirk is Jakes apparition of Dirk, aka BGD ) 

Jade and Jake put others over themselves and think they’re seeing the bigger picture when they’re not. They’re incredibly isolated kids trying to appear relatively normal. They’re incredibly judgmental, and therefore feel judged, and put up massive barriers and walls to hide it all from their friends and subsequently first time readers because they never directly mention or call attention to it!  They break down incredibly messily because they bottle it all up to deal with in private later!

Jake is so incredibly hard on himself, and so is Jade. They grit their teeth and smile because they feel incredibly selfish for having messy feeling moments. And the thing is, they can be incredibly selfish! They are looking out constantly for what’s best for everyone, and sometimes it’s not what the others think!  That’s what’s so tragic, is because when they do break down so messily, they beat themselves up for it. Look here: 

These are both screenshots of them telling, no, demanding that they toughen up and do what “needs to be done”. But finding themself unable to because they’re so overcome with emotion. It’s especially interesting in Jakes case because he uses his best friend as a proxy to do a mental fucking cartwheel and hype himself up but also to cut through his bullcrap with the one friend that he believes saw him truly, that he believed understood himself, which is why in part BGD is so uncomfy for him! Because it’s just the uncomfortable truths or thoughts he wouldn’t admit to himself in his own skin! Jake is a master of deception, and this is just one of his outlets!

I’m never getting over how terrible BGD was to Jake while he was breaking down, or how Jade yelled and screamed at herself when she was reincarnated as a sprite. A lot of people use BGD as a merit to point out that DirkJake is abusive, since he’s one of the splinters we see Jake actively talk to, but what they don’t get is that BGD is just Jake thinking to himself “What would Dirk think? What would Dirk say?” and believing it so truly that it can on instance become realities! Dirk isn’t really like this, he may be a bit clingy, but Jake acknowledges that in conversation with Roxy, and is moreso concerned rather than upset about it. In the prison cell with BGD, it’s just Jake berating himself under the guise of what his best friend on what he SHOULD do, versus what he wants to do. Because Jake questions himself constantly. 

Jake very much relies on social awareness even though he can be pretty bad at it. So if he believes his friends have an image of him, he will be daunted by how to live up to it, and if he believes his friends hate him, his thoughts and BGD will reflect that. Hes essentially created a remote echo chamber to amplify his own thoughts, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. 

The harlenglishes just can’t cope with knowing. They minimise their messy and not proper emotions to try and be the bigger person and do what’s right, even if it’s incredibly unhealthy, and it just ends up in a big knot of feeling incredibly overcome by emotions, and also incredibly frustrated they can’t live up to their own expectations and thus looping to fueling hte emotions. Jake is incredibly self aware and immensely critical for just being a kid. Jade is incredibly self aware and is hard on herself ever since her grandfather died and I think Jake was too in a way.

#homestuck #hom3stuck #homestuck meta #jake english #jade harley #jade hs #jake hs #everyday i wake up #sobs and punches wall #borzoi talks #borzoi meta

[wroteclassicaly]

Summary: Sometimes, you just gotta use Steve. And sometimes — he’s just gotta let you.

Warnings: Language, NSFW, PWP, vaginal sex, overall filth, etc.

A/N: Something I came up with last night because some of us are sluts for Steve’s tight little jeans, and the monster he’s got caged inside of them. ;) This has zero plot, and it’s just filth, but I’m proud of myself because when I was writing it, I felt like I was able to form sentences again (that I actually liked, lol). Hope y’all enjoy it too? And I am working on more stuff, plus the plus sized Eddie angst/comfort that I promised! ❤️💘❤️💘

The explosion of cinnamon amongst a molten, midnight black is impeccable — it’s delicious. He’s completely gone and you’re not sure what reality you’ve landed upon, your body not still or sound. If there’s control you aren’t exactly sure who has it (does anyone, really)? There’s a rumbling sound that’s dislodged from his diaphragm, his chest — thick with chestnut curls — expands on a jagged breath. Your back arches again, that undeniable shift helping you push your hips with all they’re worth, owning your movements.

“Oh, fuck. H-honey, I can’t —“

He cuts himself off, pearly white teeth sinking into the swollen skin of his stubble bitten, top lip. Your sclera is shrouded in tears, the crystal liquid overflowing, spilling down your lash-line. He almost has to check in with you, but as your fingers find your nipples and give them that extra stimulation — he ceases, his abdomen muscles crunching beneath the tremors. He’s about to speak and you beat him to it, bearing the tendons in your throat.

“Yeah… s’ fucking good. Love it.”

He has to drop his head to crest into focus, bowed between defined shoulder blades, his large hand reaching to cradle your cheek. He nearly blows his load right then and there, a wince crackling across his features like an electric shock. Your fingertips are the pulsing magnets, his body your dynamite to explode. His mouth feels chapped and dry, but he knows that it's his throat that’s raspy, brimmed with velvet arousal, stroking the flames that lick below his navel everytime you work your heat back onto his cock, using him.

And he tries another turn at coherency. “You love what, baby?”

You’re without pause, humming, feet planted into the mattress, toes curled into his baby blue bed sheets. Mingling scents of your soft perfume, his cologne, laundry detergent that littered the laundered sheets, and sex — it’s fanned with your possessive rhythm. Still, you sound more capable of speech — albeit — drenched in a honey wrapped heat, capable of destroying you both in the most aching burns. “Love having my cunt filled with your big cock, Steve.”

“That right?” It’s through clenched teeth that it separates itself free of his throat. His calloused thumb pad finds your cheekbone, pathing a way only he can ever know, one that slithers across your jaw and presses into the corner of your mouth, prying open your lips to hear you beg just a little more. “You know that you take it better than anyone else ever has, honey? Like you were made for it.”

Those words ignite your blazing inferno, your hips raising off the mattress and pushing, retracting into a rough bounce, an encouragement, a plea. Steve has never seen you like this before. A goddess amongst his broken knighthood (he needs to stop hanging around Eddie when the dude has Hellfire and goes all nerdy on him with metaphors), summoning his body for your sole pleasure, bringing him to the brink and shattering the release before he can even begin to sample a taste. Everything stings, prickling his tongue, locking his muscles into submission, his hair constantly swaying in his sweaty forehead and matting there, leaving him to blink rapidly. He isn’t sure what time it is, aware that he’s been bouncing you in a painstakingly, agonizing rhythm over his swollen cock, no one cumming, left to graze that high with fingertips.

Steve can barely take it anymore, his balls throbbing with unshed release, posture growing sloppy with choppy exhaustion. But damn it feels so fucking good, with his bones satiated and melting, fusing into his overworked muscles. And then you run your fingers through his chest hair, your digits stretching to splay across his jugular, arm elongating to assist. Steve wraps a limb around your back, using his forearm to propel you forward, your pussy taking him the rest of the way with a slick squelch, an immediate press of your milky white cream seeping out around where you’re joined, soaking him. His fingertips press into the meat of your back, tapping idly, squeezing.

“My dick is fucking soaked, honey. You’ve just been using me up for the last hour, huh?” His plush mouth finds the skin behind your ear, your breasts smashing into his chest and sticking.

He nibbles a little, alternating with that diabolical swipe of his tongue along the side of your neck, seizing your salty exertion — your body dusted in layers upon layers of it. It’s Steve who takes this movement, falling back onto his haunches and raising a bit to tighten his hold around your lower back, the other lacing your hands together and wiggling them between your thighs, making them part further, your limbs still wrapped around his waist, now draping over top his hips. He uses his nose to nudge your gaze, redirecting it to where he slides out enough for you to see his cock shining with a mess of you. “Look, honey. You see all this mess?”

If you weren’t totally in love with this man, you would’ve been flooded with shame. You’ve gotten yourself so fucking wet from simply riding him at a cruelly, leisurely pace, that your thick essence has patched itself around the public hair at the base of his shaft, slicking it back and bubbling away with a peeling squish — one that drizzles down and strings across his full balls. He can’t take it anymore, his hand sliding up your back and fisting into the back of your hair. You surrender, almost letting yourself get swept out to sea once more, but Steve brings you back into the moment. “Watch this with me, baby.”

Finding that overwhelming scene between your legs, Steve uses the strength in his hips to bounce you, your cream dripping onto his thigh, and — what’s at his base, sticking to your skin, the hair tickling your clit in ways that have your eyes rolling back. Everything inside of you shouts and tightens, taking hold and bolting you to him. He already feels it inside of your warmth, your walls fluttering, squeezing, pulling him impossibly deeper inside. “Fuck, I’m cumming, Steve. Baby, I can’t hold it, please —“

“Shh, shh. I know, honey. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” He buzzes through a partial hiss, jaw agape as he feels it right on through with you. The pressure is almost too much, enough to knock him onto his ass.

You’re a whimpering, quivering heap of bones and flesh, body stuck so tightly to him that he’s holding you in his lap, fucking you on his cock as you take it now, Steve in charge of capturing the high. Another squelch in the quiet of the room, a warmth of arousal that’s accumulated below your ass, Steve’s palm shoving into yours, and his lips pry yours apart, tongue rudely licking its way into your mouth and you completely come undone, drenching him into his orgasm. If pulling out was on the table, the forsaken table is in shambles at the moment, Steve’s thick, hot release sinking into your insides, body welcoming him home.

By the time the prolonged highs end, Steve piles onto his back and takes you with him, silence blanketing the room as his hand finds the flesh of your tummy and massages. Aftercare will come soon, as your limits were damn near overpowered by your cock hungry need for your boyfriend and that monster he keeps in his pants. It makes you giggle as he smiles breathlessly, welcoming your cheek onto his hairy chest.

“Never seen you like that before,” he mumbles.

Your hair is a mess when you raise to answer. “It’s not my fault you wear those tight little jeans, Harrington.”

~*~

#kristenwrites #my work #my writing #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #stranger things blurb

[emelinstriker]

☆ Playing Monkey King VR ☆

That episode is still engraved in my head with how much the game MK was playing looked like an actual game one could play irl, and I'm still salty about how it's not an actual game.

Also my hyperfixation picked these three for these headcanons- And I'm aware about how the game is implied to have been created by Wukong himself, but we shall ignore that fact for a sec-

☆ ~ Headcanons ~ ☆

☆ Sun Wukong

>His ego just skyrocketed and won't be coming back to earth for a long time; may Buddha have mercy on your poor soul

>Expect him to watch you play everytime with a smug grin

>You can clearly see his tail swish around happily whenever he sees you react to one of the Sun Wukong character sprites (Especially towards the images of him being buffer than usual)

>You know how the game's Wukong would keep stopping the game's MK just to give him a bunch of tips and tutorials? He's actually doing that to you while you're playing, but with a lot more telling on what exactly he wants you to do (Backseat gamer smh)

>"Go back! Go back! You ran past an important quest item for the endgame!"

>Will distract you a lot by leaning into you from the side or from behind, or wrapping his tail around you in the middle of a battle

>You're struggling with a boss (cuz of him distracting you lmao)? Hand him your controller, right fucking now, he'll use his knowledge to beat the shit out of them for you

>Don't get your hopes up of him doing minigames and puzzles for you however, he absolutely sucks at even those easy-level ones

>If the game has a PvP mode and you have a second controller, expect him to want to duel you just to show off

>You can distract him by scratching his fur or touching his tail in the middle of it as revenge though

☆ Macaque

>Bro would be so salty if he sees you play this game it's not even funny

>He was actually thinking you were talking to the actual Sun Wukong when he heard his voice coming from your living room

>Once you give him a description of the game, it doesn't exactly lower his saltiness over you playing a game based on his nemesis and his successor

>"Why do you not have the option to fight Wukong?"

>"Be happy this isn't a dating sim, Mac..."

>"...The fuck is that supposed to mean"

>I would highly suggest playing whenever your monkey's out of house just to avoid the risk of him deleting the game from your console- It was a paid game after all with roughly 10 hours of playtime on your save file

>You can't tell me he isn't a master at any puzzle at any given difficulty. He could do all puzzles for you!

>Doesn't mean he would

>Jk, he would solve them when you're not looking or when he's bored- or even reluctantly with you if you beg enough cuz he loves you too much

>That doesn't stop him from either leaving you with a clone or spy at your gameplay as a shadow when he got time

>Unironically enjoys watching you play and beat up all those enemies with a smile

>Will deny it if you ask him if he's been watching you play from the shadows

☆ MK

>Excited noodle boy

>Would try to figure out if there's a way to co-op the story quest part

>ABSOLUTELY will play it himself when you introduce the game to him; I mean, it's about Monkey King??

>WILL gush about his hero, Monkey King, despite being his successor

>Will be lowkey annoyed if you refuse to skip cutscenes and are actually listening in on the tutorials and stories- It's evident by his constant whining and groaning

>But it's all good, he could never stay mad at you over it!

>You actually have to pry the controller away from his grasp from time to time- He will not stop to take a break until this boss is down!

>Dear gods, he's been playing for like 12 hours straight now, please knock him out and get him to bed- He won't be beating the boss like this

>Has a lot of fun doing easy-level minigames and puzzles, but does struggle with puzzles later on so you better help him

>"I'm getting the hang of this! But why isn't the strongest skill in the game working on this guy??"

>"The tutorial literally tells you to counter him, dummy"

>"Ugh! Why does it keep healing itself?? It should've died like half an hour ago!"

>"If only you read the boss description at the start of the battle..."

> Link to Masterlist <

#lmk x reader #lego monkie kid #sun wukong x reader #macaque x reader #mk x reader #six eared macaque #monkey king x reader #i should be in bed #headcanons

[dancingtotuyo]

1. tame the ghosts in my head

Woman | Joel Miller X Reader

Series Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Joel Miller finds an unexpected face upon his return to Jackson.

Tags: Joel Miller x Reader. Age Gap. TV show characters. Mostly Cannon compliant for show and game.

Chapter Warnings: references to canon type violence, injuries, swearing, medical exam, illusions to loss & grief.

Words: 2437

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

Familiarity is a foreign thing in this world. A priceless gift from the universe if you’re deemed to be so worthy, it’s a treasure to be treated as so, but when one is lucky enough to be chosen, fear tarnishes it. Gifts only last so long before they are taken away, leaving only grief and loneliness in their wake, making you wonder if it was really a gift at all or just a cruel prank. Yet, it gets you everytime, roping you into its trap.

It might be 20 years since you’ve laid eyes on him, but that stance, those brown curls, you would recognize them anywhere You spent the younger years of your life committing him to memory. You feel the trap tugging you toward him. You can’t be caught up again. You tell yourself you won’t be.

“Joel!”

He turns around, dark brown eyes meeting yours. He doesn’t expect anyone else to know his name here. Why does it sound familiar to him?

It all escapes from the recess of your mind. That all-encompassing file titled “before,” flies open. Memories come flooding back of him and of Sarah. You’re only conscious of the first trap, but there are others lying in wait. You and Tommy talk about her sometimes, but this brings up so much more.

He looks confused at first. You watch him wrack his brain. He recognizes you, but from where? You’re not the kid he once knew. The fresh, doe-eyed look of a 20-something new graduate is replaced by the 40-something worn woman you’ve survived into. Finally, it dawns on him.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He walks over to you, disbelief written across his features.

“Hi.” You smile.

“Hi.”

It’s an awkward thing. Do you hug? Shake hands? You were Sarah’s babysitter from the time she was 6 until she complained she didn’t need one once she turned 13. The two of you still hung out when you were back from school. Joel usually slipped you a $20. You would’ve done it for free, never expected the cash, but you were also a broke college student. You never turned it down.

The lure of a familiar face is strong. The two of you settle on a comfortable distance. Closer than strangers, further than family.

“Tommy told me you were here at Christmas. He’s been worried about you.”

Joel nods. “It’s been a long couple of months.”

“Just months?” Your brows shoot up.

Joel fights back a smile. He remembers the smartass remarks you used to give Tommy when he teased you while you waited for Joel to cough up the cash he owed.

Flashes of coming home to pillow forts and Sarah’s giggles, arts and crafts with glitter that littered the house for weeks afterwards, and the countless other memories play in his mind.The memories send a pang through his chest, but he can handle them now, and here is another person who holds those precious memories.

“Relatively speaking of course.” The smile breaks through on his face. It’s starting to feel less foreign to him these past few days.

Joel wasn’t the most smiley person when you knew him 20 years ago. It suits him, you think. Another lure. Another diversion you don’t catch because you are so aware of the trap you’re sure it set, you don’t see the other one hiding. You won’t let the universe give you another person just to take them away.

“Of course.” You return his smile.

“I’m supposed to get checked out at the clinic. I think they gave me bad directions. Either that or my memory is shit.”

“I was just headed there. You can follow me.” Nod your head in the general direction.

“You’re a nurse.” He seems slightly unsure.

“Memory can’t be all that shitty, I guess.” You shrug. “If you call 3 months in the trauma unit being a nurse that is.”

“You got the education. I remember that.”

The keys jingle in your hand as you unlock the doors. The lights buzz to life with a flip of a switch. The slim medical supplies you have are neatly organized on shelves. It’s enough to care for basic needs. Scout teams sometimes bring back supplies from other places when they go on longer expeditions. All medications are safely locked away. You have the only key. You count the meds on a weekly basis with Maria and go over your meticulous logs. There’s a board-certified doctor in town. He practiced family medicine before the outbreak. He’s good with routine stuff but didn’t want a key. Too much pressure he claims.

You deal with the big stuff. Gaping wounds, infections, whatever it was that resembled surgery in this world. You play doctor, nurse, surgeon, and midwife. It falls on your shoulders and what you can remember from school. There are a few medical journals and textbooks on your shelves. Dr. Pooley has taught you a lot, but his knowledge is more outdated, more about family medicine. More often than not, you fail. People remind you; you do the best you can, you’re not trained for this, supplies are limited. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn’t.

“You can take a seat.” You nod toward the medical table.

Joel nods, hopping up. “Did Ellie stop in last night? She said she would.”

“Yeah she did.” You wash your hands with soap. “Seems like a good kid. She’s got quite a mouth.”

Joel chuckles. “She seem okay?”

“For someone with two bites on her arm, yeah.”

He looks up, his eyes a mix of fear and concern and then it goes away. “Tommy told you?”

“Yeah… wanted to make sure I was the one who checked her out.”

“He tell anyone else?”

“Probably Maria.” You shrug and watch the uneasiness leave him. “I won’t tell anyone, Joel. It’ll either get people's hopes up or cause a witch hunt. Besides, doctor patient confidentiality and all that.”

He looks relieved. “Thanks.”

You nod. “Now, take your shirt off.”

He raises an eyebrow. You roll your eyes.

“I swear if you give me some snarky comment, I will stab you with a scalpel.”

He cringes feeling fantom pain in his scarred abdomen. “Noted.”

“You okay?” You catch the twinge on his face, stare at the gash on his neck.

“Yeah… it’s just…” He sighs, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

For a moment, you are 22 years old again and sense of medical professionalism ceases to exist. It’s embarrassing really, the crush you had on him. Though, it’s just as embarrassing that it’s still affecting you. 20 years ago, you thought the world was more likely to end than anything remotely close to this happening. It seems Ironic now.

The nurse in you returns before his shirt slides off his shoulders. Your eyes go wide as you spot the big, angry scar on Joel’s abdomen. “What happened?”

Your fingers press around the scar, inspecting it. It’s cruel and jagged, still pink, but healed. It’s several months old and there’s no signs of infection.

“Your fingers are cold.”

You roll your eyes. “What happened?”

“We came across some raiders. I took them out, but not before one of ‘em got me with his broken bat.”

“Fuck, Joel.” You press a little firmer, searching for any signs of sensitivity or irritation.

It hits him that he’s never heard you curse. He bites back the tilt of his lips. He doesn’t think you would appreciate it. He never teased you like Tommy did. He was more of a quiet observer before the outbreak. He still considers himself so, but there’s an urge to tease you now. Maybe he wants to steal a slice of pre-outbreak life back.

“Does this hurt at all?” You continue to press all around, this time looking in his eyes. You’re firmly in his personal space now.

He never got to look at your eyes this closely before. They’re beautiful. He reads so much swirling in them. He still sees bits of the 22 year old he knew, freshly graduated and eager to help a world so close to damnation. He sees the shadows floating around, the trauma of living in this world. He sees it in others all the time. He sees it in himself everytime he looks in the mirror, but he wants to know what caused the darkness in yours.

He catches the fine lines that have started to age your face, and a few silver hairs beginning to weave through your natural hair color. He thinks they suit you.

“Joel.” Your voice is firm, shaking him out of his thoughts. “Any pain? Discomfort?”

He shakes his head. You let out a low whistle. “You’re one lucky bastard. It’s a bang up job on the stitches, but it did its job.”

“It got infected. Ellie managed to get her hands on some penicillin.”

His eyes darken. There’s more to the story, but you know better than to ask. One doesn't just “manage” to get their hands on penicillin, especially out here.

Your eyes scan his abdomen, but it is purely medical this time. Joel has several old scars covering his back and abdomen consistent with what you expect. The gash on his neck has already scabbed over, a couple of days old. You do your best to clean it without opening it back up.

You bring your stethoscope to his heart. It thuds in your ears. He breathes in at your instructions: long and steady in, long and steady out. His breath tingles in your ear. Your eyes scan up his neck and face. You think he might be just as handsome now as he was 20 years ago. He meets your eyes and you snap back to the tasks at hand. Heat rises over the back of your neck. You pull away before it reaches your cheeks.

Joel keeps quiet the whole time. His eyes track your every movement; a hazard of living in this world. It’s a hazard you learned to drop when within the walls of the settlement, though it took you years to do so.

His blood pressure is a little high, nothing too concerning or surprising. It’s not like you have medication to help. “How old are you?”

Your eyes meet again. “56.”

You wrack your brain. You helped Sarah with his birthday on numerous occasions. “September 26, right?”

“You remember?”

“I believe I helped put on several of your birthday parties.” You crack a smile, writing it down on the form. You have one for each member of the settlement in case of emergencies. “Shit… that’s-”

“Yeah, I know.” Joel crosses his arms. He hasn’t put his shirt back on yet. His biceps bulge, drawing your eye toward them. It hits you; maybe adult you also has a crush on Joel Miller. You shove that thought to the side. You’re avoiding that trap too.

Joel catches your eye. You swallow, hoping he didn’t catch you staring. “You can put your shirt back on.”

He nods. You don’t watch as he buttons it up. You study the file in front of you like it’s the next great American novel. “Do you know your blood type?”

“O negative.”

“You absolutely sure?”

“You calling me a liar?”

“No, but I’d hate to tap you on the shoulder asking for you to transfuse blood and the person drops dead because you had O positive or some other type.”

“I’m sure.”

You nod, marking it the chart. Joel’s shirt is back on. You can’t decide if you’re relieved or not, but something else catches your eye as he struggles with the last button.

“Hold out your hands.”

His eyes roll but obeys. You visually inspect them. Nothing seems wrong at sight.

“Now make a fist.”

He does, internally cursing when his right hand shakes and shutters. It still doesn’t close all the way. Taking all those fireflies out the day before doesn’t help matters. He eyes you, but you’re completely focused on his hands.

You place your index and middle fingers in his palms. “Now squeeze.”

You feel the fight in his right hand. Its grip is loose compared to the left.

“I broke it back in September.”

“How?” You take his hand. It’s warm and calloused. You ignore that part away as you feel through the bones and tendons searching for misplaced bones or built up scar tissue.

“Took out a Fedra guard leaving Boston QZ.”

“Define took out.” Your inspection continues.

Joel shifts looking away from you. It gives you a good look at his profile. Your eyes flicker up the muscles of his neck, his strong jaw and the scruff that covers it. You catch sight of a faded scar on his temple. He didn’t have that 20 years ago… you kick yourself for remembering that.

“It was just a hairline. Healed up fine on its own.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Obviously.”

Joel refuses to meet your eye. He doesn’t answer your question. Your annoyance grows.

“I’ll give you some options. Stunned? Mamed? Knocked unconscious?”

“Look, I'm not the person I used to be.”

You straighten up. “Nobody is, Joel. We’re literally in hell.” You push back images of your own actions- and inactions. “Now tell me so I can make a rough estimate on the force you used.”

Joel sighs. He remembers the cracking of bones. The way the guard went limp. It doesn’t haunt him. He would do it again to protect people, so why is he so hesitant? Is it that he associates you with Sarah?

He swallows. “Killed.”

He waits for you to kick him out, for a look of disgust to cover your face, but it never happens. You simply keep going with the exam. “Okay.”

You hit a sensitive nerve in his hand. He hisses. “I think it was more than a hairline… but it seems to have healed okay all things considering.”

Joel nods.

“I’m going to rig something up to help you strengthen the hand. It probably won’t help the nerve though.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I will. I’ll drop it off at your house this evening.” You make note of a few things on a clipboard. “Otherwise, I’m giving you a clean bill of health.”

“So I’m free to go?”

“Free to go.” You nod.

He’s almost out the door when you turn around. “And Joel…” He stops, meeting your eye for the first time since his confession. “We’ve all had to kill people, do ugly things for the sake of survival. Don’t think you’re the only one.”

He wants to ask further questions, but you turn your back to him and it dies on his tongue.

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #woman (joel’s version) #woman (joel miller) #Joel miller age gap #joel miller baby sitter

[devildomditzy]

Hey 🥰🥰 congrats on the milestone sweetie!! 💕

May I request Mammon + 💐🤗 + “Do you remember when we first met?”

I thought ab making it sfw, something romantic. I think you'll enjoy it. Everything for our hubby hah 💕💕 he's so wholesome! Tbh can't wait to see what you'll come up with! Have a nice day! ❤️

aaaahh hi! thank you 🥺 you’re such a good artist everytime i see you in my feed i’m like, what are you doing here? im just a little guy.

like a little rat chef, i will cook something up for you!

(This got way too long I’m sorry LMAO, I have feelings for him)

Also, this one is a liiillll suggestive

——————————————————————————-

He’s been really antsy since you fell ass first onto Satan.

He’s been really fidgety since the whole hellfire newt syrup incident.

He’s been really shy since Solomon brought you back to the Devildom for undisclosed reasons.

He’s been really docile since your return.

And for the LIFE of you, you can’t figure out why.

You tried interrogating the others, hoping to gather any information as to why Mammon was being… well… less of a dick to you in general.

You always had this playful back and forth with the second born that you had come to love. But, with his usual bite gone, you began to worry something was just wrong.

“Hun, you always make him all fidgety. And sweaty. It’s really gross”, Asmo says, scrunching up his face in disgust.

You huff, rolling over on his bed to face him. “I’m aware. But this is worse than usual. It’s like he’s scared of me all of a sudden. Like he’s avoiding me.”

“We’ll, Id say he’d be an idiot to ignore the likes of you, but he’s also, quite frankly, always an idiot.”

“Azzy”, you deadpan, sending him a pointed look. He throws his hands up in defeat.

“Okay, okay! I get it. You see something in my poor, stupid older brother. And while I can’t fathom what that is, I know he sees something in you too. We all do, but he definitely wants to fuck you.”

“Asmo! Not helping!”

The avatar of lust continues staring at his nails, fussing with a bottle of polish as he fills in any visible gaps.

“Hmm… have you tried being direct? Sometimes you have to be direct with these men. Ya know, take what you want?”, he glances in your direction, licking his lips.

“I’m just trying to figure out why he’s ignoring me! I’m not trying to get into his pants.”

“A shame, really.”

“Asmo!”

“Here’s an idea! Let’s spy on him!”, he sings, eyes blowing wide with excitement.

“What? No! No, I can’t do that. That’s like, an invasion of privacy!”

“Oh, and you think he hasn’t done the same to you?”

Your face falls a bit as you question him, “…has he?”

Asmo lays a tentative hand on top of your. “Sweetie, we all have.”

“Huh. Like together or?”

“Not important!”, he smiles, “What is important is that we get this show on the road so we can get intel.”

The sickening grin on his face does nothing to settle your nerves.

That’s how you find yourself here, comically shoved up against Asmo as you shared a bench in town square, peering out at the subject of your affection from behind a copy of the latest edition of the RAD newspaper.

“There is absolutely no way he won’t spot us”, you grumble to the strawberry blonde.

“He will if you don’t be quiet! Now watch!”

“What is he doing?”

“It looks like he’s buying something from that stand. ~Oh, could it be?”

You don’t like the glint in Asmo’s voice.

“Could what be?”

“It looks like he did listen to my advice”, he smooths. You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“What advice? Asmo what’s going on? What aren’t you telling me!”, you try to sound urgent, but you have a feeling he won’t tell you either way.

“No need to worry love”, he chirps, “Looks like my dear older brother will be back in your good graces soon enough”. He grabs your wrist, dragging you back towards the house with a force you know you cannot break free from.

“H-Hey!”

“Just trust me on this one hun!”

As night begins to fall, you sit alone in your dorm room nervously biting your thumbnail. You and Asmo’s rendezvous did nothing to quell you worry, and on top of that the fifth eldest was being cryptic as hell since you got back to the house.

A knock on your door pulls you out of your thoughts. “Asmo, I already told you if you’re not going to tell me what he’s doing, leave me alo-”

The words die in your throat as you rip open the door to be met with the piercing eyes of the second born.

“M-Mammon…hey uh, what are you doing-”

Once more you go quiet, eyes flitting down to where he held a large bouquet of yellow roses.

As you return your gaze to his face, you find him beet red, and almost…shaking?

“I uh- I-I, I got these flowers and I just thought you’d want them. N-No reason! I-In fact, they weren’t for you! They were for u-uhhh…little d no. 2! Yeah! But since I can’t find him, you can have ‘em.”

You lean against the door frame, crossing your arms across your chest, smiling up at him.

“Uh huh, little d no. 2, huh? What made you want to buy him a dozen roses?”

“What? Can’t a proud papa bring his son some flowers?”

“Oh, so now you admit he’s your son?”

“I-I didn’t. I mean- Ugh! Here! Just take ‘em!”, he exclaims shoving them into your hands, pushing past you into your room. You swear you hear him mumble “pain in my ass”, to himself. You can’t stop the grin that spreads on your face.

You shut the door, making sure to lock it. Something tells you this isn’t going to be a normal conversation, and the last thing you need is Levi bursting in asking you if you want to watch the latest episode of “Help! My Mystical Girlfriend Turned Into A Cat and Now I Want to Be One Too!”

He sits on the edge of your bed, hands nervously gripping his knees for dear life. His gaze is fixed on a spot on your floor, and you can’t help but tease him.

“My floor that interesting, huh?”

He snaps out of his stupor, turning to look at you. You swear you see him gulp.

“So, what’s up with you? Ever since I came back, I feel like you’ve been distant. I missed you Mams, and now I’m here and you’re avoiding me?”

It takes him a beat, but he squeaks out a small “sorry.”

You hum, a small noise of recognition before scooting a little closer to him on the bed. He visibly tenses.

“Mamm-”

“DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN WE FIRST MET?”, he nervously lets out, cutting you off. He still won’t make eye contact.

“Of course I do. How could I forget!”, you giggle. “It’s the first time someone threatened to eat me if I didn’t give them all my ‘mortal possessions’”.

He seems to loosen up a bit at the joke, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I was kinda a dick back then.”

“Oh? Only back then?”

“Watch it!”

You suppress your laughter as he continues.

“At first, I only saw ya as a pain in my ass. AND ya still are. B-But then I got to know ya and we started doin’ everythin’ together and… I dunno”, he trails off.

“You don’t know…what?”, you question.

He runs a hand over the half of his face not cover by his glasses. His eyes close as he takes a deep breath.

He turns his position to better face you, eyes now looking directly into yours.

“I guess…I dunno when you became so important to me.”

“Oh.”

You’re both quiet for a moment.

“Asmo told me I should tell ya, but I’m no good at this stuff,” he gives a small forced chuckle. “And I probably wouldn’t have realized, but yer leavin’ back to the human realm…I think you took a part of me with ya.”

“Oh.”

“An essentially I guess I’m tryin to say…dammit..I’m tryin to say… GIVE IT BACK, OKAY?!”

Your eyes widen in surprise at his sudden raise in voice. “And how do I go about doing that, Mammon?”

He seems to pick up a bit of his usually bravado, finally getting out with it. “Well, obviously if ya take something from the Avatar of Greed, ya gotta pay it back, with interest.”

You smirk, leaning into his personal space, bringing your face closer to his, eyes glancing down to his lips.

“Oh yeah? Can I sign up for your payment plan?”, you mumble, trying to express your need with your movements.

He almost shoots backwards before catching himself, composing his nerves and moving his eyes to your own lips. “I dunno, ya could be payin’ it back yer whole life. Might still not be off the hook after that.”

“Mmm, I better get started then”, you whisper, leaning in to close the gap between the two of you.

He tastes sweeter than you ever imagined, lips slowly molding to your own as you feel goosebumps beginning to form. One of his hands wraps around you, tentatively holding you closer to him, not letting you go, never letting you go.

You lean back after a beat to get some much needed air in your lungs. He shakily breathes out, eyes closed like he still can’t believe what just happened.

You smirk at him as you reach a hand up to his cheek, thumb running gently back and forth.

“Will this destroy my credit, golden boy?”

He opens his eyes, gaze much more intense now as he looks toward you, something unreadable in his eyes.

“No. But… we might just destroy this bed frame”, he grins wolfishly as he pulls you down.

Huh. What do you know? Asmo was right about something.

#kit’s playhouse #obey me #mammon #obey me shall we date #om #omswd #obey me mammon #obey me headcannons #obey me mc #mammon headcannons #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #mammon x y/n #dddroadto2kevent #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me drabbles #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeous #mammon drabble #om mammon #omswd mammon #om asmodeus #om mc #omswd asmodeous #om asmo #omswd asmo

[ericsprincess]

awake I love this

Your hot roommate is a bed dweller.

~~~

“Oh shit- Jesus, you scared me,” you stop in the kitchen doorway, caught off guard by the unexpected presence in the kitchen. It’s 6 a.m. and you just woke up, blearily wandering out of your bedroom to make breakfast and get ready for your shift at work. You’re barely awake and what you didn’t expect was your roommate being already there, making some toast. 

Younghoon, your roommate, standing in the kitchen, was a very unusual sight. Not only the “in the kitchen” part, but also the “standing” one. When you first moved in, you knew your roommate would be a man, and you were quite concerned about what the future cohabitation would look like. You didn’t know him, it was just a friend of a friend who gave you a tip about Younghoon looking for someone to rent his spare bedroom to. Therefore you were afraid about the endless possibilities of how everything could go wrong - he could be too messy, too loud, bring too many people home, or worse, perving on you. But you didn’t really have a choice, so you took the offer and moved in. Thankfully, none of your worries proved to be true - not only Younghoon appeared to be a completely chill guy, but it would be really easy to even forget you live with someone. 

The thing is, your roommate spends way too much time in his bed. First you thought he might be sick, but he didn’t look that way. But save for going to school and occasionally out for either necessary errands or rare outings with friends, he spends all his leisure time in bed. Everytime you feel bored and you go to his room just to chat about anything, he’s under the blankets, either scrolling on his phone or reading, or watching a movie. He plays computer games out of bed too, and you’ve seen him even study while laying down. Thankfully, he seems to be a clean person, so at least you don’t have to worry about him dwelling in some gross nest. It seems to be just an odd quirk of his otherwise normal and nice - as you were pleased to discover - personality. 

He also seems to be quite aware of this and doesn’t seem to care much. When you asked him once, why is he alway in bed, after a few weeks of living together, he just lazily turned his head to you and replied “Because I’m always ready, Y/N” and winked at you. 

So considering all that, you take a little bit of time to admire the rare sight of vertical Younghoon. 

He’s very tall and while he’s kinda skinny, his frame is broad. He’s dressed in black sweatpants and black t-shirt and you think no one should look this good, while spreading some butter on a toast, having just rolled out of bed. 

He looks over his shoulder at you, amused by your outcry. “Good morning Y/N. I’m making breakfast, do you want some? Coffee is over there,” he smiles at you, pointing at the full coffee pot. 

“Yes, please,” you reply, pour yourself a cup of coffee and sit down at the kitchen table, sipping at it and just observing Younghoon going about making more toast. You could really get used to the sight of a hot man making you breakfast every day, you dream a little. 

Speaking of men, you remember something. “By the way,” you say, “I’m going out with friends tonight so, you know..” you’re not sure how to finish the sentence and tell him that you might end up bringing someone home to fuck. But he gets it anyway.  

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, I’ll have my headphones on, don’t worry,” he teases you and you can feel your face getting red. It’s not that you’re that loud, because you know you’re not. But he might have caught on to it anyways, and you’re not sure how you feel about your nice roommate overhearing you having sex. It feels both embarrassing, but also kind of hot, seeing that he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. Does he perhaps like it? You wonder, but your train of thought gets interrupted by a plate full of toasts set in front of you. Younghoon sits across the table and you spend the morning just chatting about news, until you both realize you have to run to work and school respectively, and the whole topic of overhearing is forgotten. 

~~~

You come home from work and rush straight to your bedroom. You had to stay late at work to finish up something so now your time to get ready for going out is diminished and it’s barely enough to take a shower, throw on the skimpiest dress you own, fix your makeup and be out of the door. 

So you do exactly that. You take a shower and pick a tiny black dress with straps across the back. You know you look good and you want to wear something that gives a clear signal you don’t want to go home alone tonight, but at the same time, you’re not that used to being dressed this provocative and suddenly you feel insecure. You don't have time to take a photo and bother your friends and wait until they reply with their opinions so you take the only other option you have and march straight to Younghoon’s room. 

Thankfully - and as expected - he’s in his bed, just scrolling on his phone. 

“Hey, Hoonie, do you have a minute?” you ask, peeking through the opened door. 

“Yeah, sure, what do you need?” he replies, so you enter the room. 

“Do you think this dress is too much?” you ask. He looks at you, but doesn’t reply. Instead of that he just stares and you can see his eyes following down every part of your body. He’s blatantly checking you out, you realize. 

The awkward silence is getting more awkward by the second, until he just throws off-handedly “Yeah, you can go out like that. You look good,” and turns back to his phone. It feels like a dismissal a little, but you can see his ears are red. 

“Uh…okay thank you, I’ll get going then,” you beep and not waiting for his answer you rush out of his room. What the fuck was that?? Your brain screams, having just experienced this awkward moment, way too charged for how your interactions with your roommate usually went. You put on your heels and off you go. 

~~~

Well, this was a bust, you sigh while tapping code to your apartment door. Not only did you not see a single decently looking guy, but it felt like tonight was the night that every sleazebag in the city decided to crawl out. So you just stuck to your girlfriends, had a few shots and only went dancing together with them. It was fun enough, but the main point of the outing - to find someone to sleep with - completely fell through, so you came back home tipsy, frustrated and kinda horny. 

You don’t feel like sleeping yet so you head over to Younghoon’s room to see if he’s still up and maybe goad him into watching a movie together or something. You knock twice and don’t wait for a reply, just silently open the door in case he’s asleep already. 

But he isn’t. The room is dark and the only light there is coming from his laptop screen on the nightstand. There is some movie playing silently, but it doesn’t seem that he’s watching it. 

You can’t really see it well, but Younghoon’s eyes are closed and he’s squirming and sighing and his hand is moving under the blanket. Is he..masturbating? Is the first thought that comes up in your brain, but it’s just a split second until he notices your presence and sits up a little. “Hey, Y/N, you’re back already? How did it go? You came back alone?” he breathes out, trying to sound normal. 

“Uh yeah…it was tragic,” you reply but you’re not sure what to say next, your brain completely stuck on what you saw earlier and while you’re not drunk, the few shots you drank are suddenly giving you liquid courage to jump the gun. “Actually…Hoonie, remember when I asked you once….” you start. 

“Yeah?” he prompts you.

“Are you still…always ready?” you finish your question and you can see the moment he puts it all together and realizes what you are really asking. 

“Yeah..” he breathes out and you don’t waste a second and come to his bed, throw away his blanket, swing one leg over him and sit down. You can feel his hard cock under you and his hands immediately come up to rest on your hips. You’re looking at each other, both aroused but neither is sure what to do next. 

“S-sit on my face?” he suggests and you smile at him, because this is truly a fantastic idea.

You raise yourself just enough to take off your panties and then you turn and maneuver so that your pussy is hovering over his handsome face. Your dress is so short you don't even have to take it off. He grabs you by your hips and pulls down, so that you’re sitting with almost full weight on his face. But he doesn’t seem to mind, rather the opposite - he moans and gets to work. He eats you out like it’s the best meal he’s ever had, and his tongue seems heavenly and oddly huge, licking over your clit in broad strokes then moving to your dripping hole and pushing inside. His tongue is so big he can kinda fuck you with it and it feels so good you’re not sure how long you will last. You don’t want it to be over so soon, especially since you can see his hard cock tenting his pyjama pants and the size of it is also intriguing. 

“Younghoon, I’m getting close,” you moan and he just responds by flicking over your clit harder, but you’re already stopping him and easing off his face. He whines and tries to pull you back on his face, as if he hadn’t had enough of eating your pussy yet, but you laugh and drop off on the bed next to him. You look at him and he’s so aroused he looks almost feral, with his eyes glossy and the whole bottom part of his face glistening with your pussy juices. 

“Do you have a condom?” you ask and he nods and reaches back to open his nightstand drawer to take out a silver packet. You look at each other. “Always ready,” you say in unison, and start laughing, you lean forwards to take off his shirt  and he fumbles with the straps on your dress until you together manage to take it off. He kicks off his sweatpants and now you’re both naked. You look at his cock and you’re pleased to see how pretty and long and thick it is and he’s already so wet, so you open the packet and roll the condom on him. 

“How do you want to…” he starts but you’re already pushing his chest down so he’s lying flat on his back. 

“Let me ride you,” you say and you’re already climbing over him. You’re not wasting any time, you take hold of his cock and put it inside you, sitting on his lap fully. You take a few seconds to get used to it, even though you’re so wet and relaxed it’s not an issue anymore, and then you start moving. 

It gets frantic all too quickly, you’re both too horny and close to try for any kind of finesse, you’re riding him like it’s the last thing you do in your life and he’s just holding you, his hands roaming over your body, squeezing your ass and tits, until he plants his feet over your bed and start thrusting against you. It’s so wild and both of you are moaning and getting out of breath, accompanied just by the slapping and squelching sound.

“Y/N, I’m coming,” he moans and you just nod quickly, because you’re coming too and you can’t even speak anymore. You lean forward to hug him tightly while you’re shaking and spasming and you can see his cock throb and pump inside you. Your ears are ringing and it almost feels like the whole room is spinning with how strong your orgasm was. 

You finally start coming to your senses so you just slump against him. You're both sweaty and sticky but it also feels kinda nice. He reaches for the blanket and pulls it over both of you so that you won't get cold and it somewhat warms your heart a little. You were already almost starting to get worried about things becoming awkward between you, but when you look up on his face, he’s smiling kindly at you and you know everything will be okay. Maybe even… 

“You know Y/N,” he chuckles. “I must say, I like living with you a lot more than I expected I would, but now that I have had you in my bed…It kinda feels like you belong here,” he says and snuggles you tighter to his chest. 

Yeah, you think. Maybe, indeed. 

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