Pairing: Peter Parker x reader
Summary: You ask Peter for a very special favour that changes everything for your friendship.
Warnings: first time sex, overall loads of smut (18+), Peter and Ned being confused by female anatomy, Ned rapping Nicki Minaj, Dumb bitch Peter™️ (but what’s new?), language, maybe a bit of angst but a happy ending ;), me trying to be funny? (pls let me know if I was successful), bit of teenage awkwardness
Word count: 11.4k damn I snapped
A/N: Okay, this was actually so much fun to write, I’ve been thinking about this for months and I finally got around to it (Watch this get like 7 notes, either way I enjoyed it!), also this is mostly Peter’s POV!
Merry Christmas, Kwanzaa, Happy Hanukkah (or whatever you celebrate or don’t celebrate I just wish all of you happy rest of the year lol) I probably won’t be posting anything until next year bc holidays and family just so you know :)
Masterlist ♡ gif by starksparker
“So... I’ve been thinking..”
That’s always how it starts.
Peter already knows what this means. He knows this look on your face and with the way you coquettishly glance over your shoulder; it means you want something. You’ve got a vague (totally not vague, but very detailed) idea and you’re sure you want to do it, you just need a partner. And that partner usually turns out to be Peter.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do-”
He can tell you’re a little nervous; because the idea might be a little crazy and you’re scared Peter isn’t going to want to do this with you.
“And I wanted to ask if you want to join me?”
But every time he’s seen this look on you so far, was only moments before some of his favourite memories with you. So he knows your idea is probably as awesome as always.
“I’ve .. wanted to lose my virginity and I was going to ask if you want to.. do that with me?”
“Yeah let’s do- wait what?!”
The shock is evident on Peter’s face.
He sits up next to you on your bed, so you’re both at the same level and he can see your expression properly.
And you’re completely serious, nervous though. Suddenly you feel a little shy sitting so close to Peter, but the size of your bed won’t allow you to scoot further away.
You’ve been friends with Peter for a while. Very good friends, you may add. And you trust Peter with all your being.
It’s just that you’ve never really been a sexual person, or at least not talked to Peter about sex. There was never an occasion where it came up and you had no reason to tell him about your so far only solo and literally single-handed sex life.
And for Peter; it’s not that he would really want to talk to you about his sexy thoughts - but only because they often involve you and he feels bad because of it, actually. But he can’t control his thoughts and dreams- oh god the dreams he’s had about you.
You finally want to have sex and get it over with - the famously painful first time at least. So of course the person you trust most is the first person you’d go to.
“Uh, yeah, I mean I don’t know, why do you want to do that all of a sudden?”
Peter’s previously only ever immediately agreed to your crazy ideas so him asking questions means he already doesn’t want to do it.
“Nevermind, don’t worry Peter you don’t have to, I’m sure I’ll find someone else.” You shrug and look down at your phone, a bit disappointed but you’re in no way going to force him.
“NO!” He clears his throat - Peter does not want you having sex with anyone else, especially if you’d offered him first. “I mean, uh, no I just mean tell me about it more.?” He really doesn’t want you to know he’s kind of losing his chill here.
“Well, yeah - like I said, I want to have my first time and, I wanted to ask if you wanted to have sex with me.. in order to, you know, do that.. and to have sex with me.”
Okay, Peter had understood you right, you wanted to have sex with him? Hell fucking yeah
Don’t seem too excited though, he tells himself, be cool.
“Okay, so, yeah - why all of a sudden?” He repeats.
“No, I’ve been thinking about it for a long time actually - just to get it out of the way if I’m honest. I know virginity is quite a big thing in this society, which I think is shit, and for me it just isn’t .. But the first time will most likely hurt, but I just really want to have sex.”
You just want to have sex? Yeah cool Peter can do that.
If Peter’s honest, he had thought about asking you the same thing quite a few times.
Mainly after you convinced him to watch the latest Netflix rom-com/chick flick (to be honest, he enjoys them too) where two best friends become lovers.
But then he’d be reminded that that was only in a film and not real and never dared to ask you.
On the other hand, he is Spider-Man and an Avenger, and although that still doesn’t seem real to him sometimes - he could’ve known that everything is possible.
You continue, “And I know there are other girls .. and guys of course, who do think of virginity as something special and that’s cool for them but for me personally it’s nothing emotional. Have.. have you had sex before?”
Tell the truth or not tell the truth? It’s you, the truth of course. And he’s sure you already know the answer anyway.
“No, I haven’t.”
“See, that’d be cool- I mean only if you want of course, then we’d both have our first times with someone we actually like and can trust, you know to be gentle and go slow and all that stuff. Then we can go on having sex with other people without the commitment of them being your first and we won’t have absolutely zero percent experience!” You conclude, now a bit more relieved that you weren’t wrong and you can count on Peter even with something like this. (Again though, if he didn’t want to, then that was his choice which you’d respect.)
“Wait what? Other people!?” You notice easily how Peter’s face falls and his whole demeanour changes.
“Oh? Haven’t I mentioned? There’s this guy, and let’s just say he’s made it more than clear that he wants to have sex with me - anytime I want, you know, like an offer. An offer that I definitely want to take up. It’s just that I want to be able to enjoy it without the pain that I’ll presumably have the first time, or first few times even.”
“Ummm, no you haven’t mentioned. So you want to have sex with me only to have sex with another guy?” He might be behaving a little obvious with his jealousy, but asking him what you’re asking right now is a pretty big deal.
“Well, when you say it like that it sounds a bit... look, have you not been listening to what I’m saying? And don’t worry, Peter, if you don’t want to you don’t have to do anything, I’ll find someone else - forget I ever said anything.”
“No! I - just.. this is all a bit sudden, just give me a few days to think, okay?”
“Sure.” You nod.
“Oh- and do not lose your virginity to someone else while I’m still thinking!” He adds.
“I won’t,” you laugh “don’t worry - take all the time you need.”
Peter has to think thoroughly and hard about this. Have sex with you? Abso-fucking-lutely!
But then you having sex with another guy? No. Just nope.
What if Peter‘s just going to win you over with his sex skills? Yup, he’ll just do that.
There is just one more thing he requires: those ‘sex skills’, but how hard can it be to make a girl feel good?
“What the hell is a clitoris?” Peter asks Ned the next day during their study session.
“Peter What? That doesn’t sound like physics? But I think I’ve heard about it? Doesn’t Nicki Minaj say it in that one song?”
“Ned- What? I don’t know if Nicki Minaj says it in her song!? And a g-spot? Is that the same thing?” Peter’s beyond confused by the Google results.
But Ned’s too busy rapping to himself, some very inappropriate lyrics, but on the other hand, that might be exactly what he needs.
“I said just lick on the clitoris, uh, don’t fucking bite it. I ride his- Oh yeah! That’s it!”
“Okay and what exactly does it mean?”
“Dude, I don’t know, you’re not supposed to bite a girl’s clitoris but rather lick it. Oh. Ew.”
“What do you mean ew?” Peter’s looking dreamily into the distance, just thinking about you, thinking about sex with you and Ned recognises the look immediately.
“Wait is this about her? You mean the girl you’ve so hopelessly fallen in loooove with and won’t stop talking about? Your other best friend, next to me of course? No, no idea who you’re talking about.” Ned answers.
“Shut up I’m not in loooove,” he mimics Ned’s tone “I like her okay? And she asked me if I want to have sex with her..”
“You serious?!” Ned high fives him with an enthusiastic smile on his face, “Congrats, dude! Have you done it yet?”
“No, no! That’s why I’m googling. You see - by the way you don’t know about any of this, I don’t think she wants you to know! - she says she wants me to be her first time, so far so good, right?” Peter explains and Ned nods with every word he says, excited for his best friend.
“Okay, but then she says, she wants to have sex with this other dude? Like, I don’t even know who she was talking about, but-“
“Brad Davis.” Ned interrupts Peter, absolutely sure.
“What? Why Brad Davis? He’s together with MJ isn’t he?”
“Okay, but all the girls still like him. So she probably does too.”
“No, Ned, for once it’s not Brad Davis! Well anyway. She wants me to be her first, but then she wants to have sex with this other guy. But I thought if I found out how to, you know, make a girl feel good and ultimately make her feel good she’d just want to stay with me?”
“Okay, let’s tackle this clitoris!”
“No. Not tackle, lick.” Peter comments and they both laugh, still not knowing what they’re even talking about.
Once again, Peter realises what a good friend Ned is. He knows that the probability of making you feel so mind-blowingly good so that you stay with him forever and just because of that, is quite small, Ned still believes him and is even helping him.
“Okay I think I know what the clitoris is now, is that the same thing as a G-Spot?”
Ned clicks on a website as he talks to Peter. Hours have gone by while they’ve tried to find out the mysteries of the female anatomy.
Ned makes an indescribable noise when he sees the diagram on the computer-screen in front of him.
“Uh, Peter, come look at this?” He says, sounding a bit helpless.
“Oh” Peter doesn’t know what to say either. “I mean I’ve watched porn but I’ve never seen it... quite like this...?”
They both cock their heads to the side synchronically as they stare at the picture in front of them.
“How am I supposed to know what the clitoris is? Is it that?” He puts his finger on the screen.
“No, Peter. That is the labia minora, obviously. Duh.”
Peter scoffs at Ned’s tone. “You just have sex with her then, if you know so well.”
“Peter, you know I love you but this is too much for me. My innocent, virgin eyes have seen enough,” he clicks the ‘x’ button in the corner of the computer “There was this website before, and it said to just ask her what she likes. To me that sounds like the easiest way of doing it anyway.”
“Just ask her what- okay ... that- that does sound quite reasonable actually...”
“Yeah it was Teen Vogue or something. Anyway, I gotta go home now! Text me if it’s Brad Davis!”
“It’s not!” Peter calls after Ned who’s leaving his place, thanking him for his help that might’ve left him traumatised.
Peter has to admit, communication is very important and often the key to many things good.
He goes to bed after reading about twenty more Teen Vogue articles - only three about sex and how communication is apparently the only knowledge you need for your first time (- and seventeen articles finding out what Fenty Beauty is and how Hailey Bieber dressed like Princess Diana and this journalist was clearly obsessed with it.
He’ll definitely have to buy you one of those Fenty Lipglosses, Peter knows how much you love all your glossy, sticky lip products and how you love Rihanna, because how can one not?)
(And then he watched some guy performing Rihanna’s Umbrella and at first it was very awkward to watch but got better with each second.)
He tries to sleep. He tries. But what if communication isn’t enough? What if you’re embarrassed about something or don’t want him doing more work than necessary? His sex game has to be on point. He really doesn’t want to lose you to that other guy... He has to make that one time count. Or the first few times - as you said.
So Peter spends at least three hours watching a whole ass documentary on the female orgasm on Netflix, and reading countless things on the internet.
When he finally feels satisfied (which is also how you’ll feel after he has sex with you, he’s sure of it) with his new-found knowledge he goes to sleep.
When he wakes up he immediately feels excited.
He can now tell you that, yes, he does want to have sex with you. He’ll be cool about it. Of course he won’t tell you about all his late night googling, he wants you to think that he’s just some natural born sex-god.
He basically knows everything there is to know - g-spot, clit, possible squirting, fingering, giving head. Then there’s the thing - practice makes perfect and he has none of that. But it’s going to be your first time as well, so he hopes your expectations can’t be too high.
“Is it Brad Davis?” Is the first thing he blurts out when he sees you the next day at school. You basically laugh in his face when he says that.
When you’re finally finished laughing, much to his relief, you kind of strike a nerve. “Isn’t he with MJ now? You still mad at him for stealing your Sophomore crush?”
“First of all it was freshman year. It was ages ago... and no..”
What kind of annoys Peter, was the smirk on your face as you mentioned MJ? You didn’t have a reason to - he had been over her for ages - but weren’t you jealous? Not at least a teeny-tiny-bit?
Peter knows you don’t like him like that. But you obviously like him enough to have sex with him, so wouldn’t it bother you if he had a crush? And then he remembered his own jealousy, did he want to ask about the other guy?
“So you been thinking about my.. offer?” You ask, not wanting to push him but curious as the answer is obviously yes.
“Um, yeah. The answer is yes.” He says determinedly and you give him a bright smile that he didn’t expect.
“Do you wat to come to mine after school and we can... talk more about it?” You suggest and you quickly arrange a time to meet this afternoon.
Holy cow. Peter is going to have sex. Peter is going to have sex with you. Peter is going to have sex with you and he’s going to make you come. Hopefully. Yes, he knows it. He has to. Woah.
“So you’re sure you want to?”
“Yes absolutely. I’ve just got a question? Who exactly is this guy that you want to have sex with?”
“Oh, well. He’s a friend of a friend, he’s at college already and I met him during the summer holidays. We met once before but we never really talked and he’s just, I quite like him and he’s really hot you know?
Well basically, we obviously didn’t do anything but it was clear that we liked each other. Before he left town, he said he’d be back at Christmas to visit and we made some... arrangements. We’ve been texting as well. Of course he’s busy with college, but yeah. It’s not going to be anything serious. It’s not like either of us want a long distance relationship. But I really want him. And like I said he’s made it clear that he wants me too so....”
You rant and he listens with a heavy heart.
Although there is a good thing about this; he’s got until Christmas. That is so many weeks, he can win you over, if not with his pleasure skills then he’ll find another way.
The bad thing: he’s real. And you seem to really like him. But you also seem to like Peter - not in the same way, but hey, there’s hope.
Somehow Peter had thought that maybe, just maybe he’d imagined the other guy existing. That he’d dreamt that part and you really just wanted to lose your virginity and chose Peter to have sex with.
But Peter will not give up. Never. Not when it comes to you. (And when he makes you cum.)
“Right.” He responds with a tight smile, “So... are we gonna have sex now?” He leans forward.
“What? No not now. Peter, I’ve never even kissed anyone. I thought maybe... we could start kissing, and then we kind of... find out what we like and how this whole thing works and every time we see each other we can move a little further?” You purr, getting closer to him.
“O-okay, cool.” He stutters and you’re right in front of him, so close he can see the twinkle in your eyes and feel your breath against his.
You stop moving towards him only for a second, you look into his eyes and after a shaky breath that lets him know he’s not the only nervous one, you close the gap between the two of you.
It’s just a peck at first but butterflies explode in his stomach.
You do it again and again and again until the kisses last longer, your hands around his neck and his fingers squeezing your waist ever so gently, comforting.
“Sh-should we stop?”, your voice is raspy and you cough softly, “I-I’m not ready to do anything yet but I don’t want to make this uh harder for you.” You discreetly point to his lap that you’re nearly straddling, your lip between your teeth and it’s then that Peter realises he’s at least semi-hard.
“Oh-I-I’m sorry I didn’t-!” He covers himself and gets up to quickly disappear into the bathroom, but you stop him with words that only make him more excited, “Don’t be embarrassed, you’re not the only one who enjoyed it..” He watches you bite your finger and rearrange your position on the bed slightly flustered.
Not a bad start.
You give him another smile before he takes care of his situation in the bathroom.
That’s all you do for the first few weeks, making out.
And it’s not even weird. Which is weird.
You were just friends, and you still are just friends, but even the first kiss didn’t feel awkward or out of place.
But you have other friends, and you’re sure kissing them would be weird, appalling even.
Although that can probably easily be attributed to the fact that you trust Peter so much and it’s a mutual decision you made, both equally inexperienced and new to this whole thing.
But you do it a lot and you’re both really getting the hang of it.
You’ve noticed how much Peter enjoys when you tug at his hair every now and then, and he seems to have realised that you like when his tongue licks your lower lip. Which is what he’s doing right now.
He pulls back for a moment, your arms still around his neck and holding him close to you.
“Um, Peter…” You’re not sure if you can tell him yet… should you?
Before you can decide, it seems like Peter also has something to tell you.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you something…” He pauses briefly to look at your kiss swollen lips (especially your lower one) and dilated pupils and he would love to just eat you up (which you yet have to give him permission to and he’ll wait as long as you want) and he’s afraid that what he’s about to tell you will make you want him to eat you up less..
But just the thought of having sex with you, overall being physically so close to you, and you not knowing about his secret doesn’t sit quite right with him.
“Is it anything bad..?” You wonder and pull your sleeves over your fingers, but your arms stay comfortably around him so you can look into his eyes directly.
He rubs his eye and looks at the pillow next to you instead of in your eyes and says, “I’m Spider-Man.”
“Yeah, I can show you if you don’t-” He points to his rucksack but you stop him from getting up.
“No, I believe you, I believe you. So that’s the thing you’re always so secretive about, always randomly disappearing and stuff?”
“I mean I thought I was being subtle but yes. Obviously you can’t speak to anyone about it, also - Ned knows but he only found out by accident.” Peter explains and you’re a bit relieved.
“Of course not,” you bite your lip, ”And I really appreciate that you told me… so Spider-Man, huh?” He blushes when you get up and on top of him so you’re in his lap now.
“That is quite cool.” You kiss him again but even before he can properly kiss you back, you’re pulling back again.
“Wait..but that means you get into fights and stuff?” You’re pouting and Peter just wants to kiss it better. “Well yes, but usually I’m the winner, you know?” His hands find your waist and he looks rather cocky for once but you’re still not having any of it.
“I’m sure you are but you gotta promise to be careful, okay?”
You make him pinky promise and tell you, while looking into your eyes, that he’ll be careful.
Much to both your enjoyment, you’re kissing again and you’re becoming increasingly aware again of how wet you are. If Peter can literally tell you he’s Spider-Man, you’re sure you can tell him how wet you are, after all that was the plan all along.
“P-Peter.” His name comes out rather as a whimper and you’re sure that now he can already tell what you’re about to say, still, you’re a little shy about how to go on.
“Yeah?” But you’re also becoming aware of the fact that Peter must be at least as turned on as you when he adjusts his pants underneath you.
“I think maybe it’s time I go to the bathroom alone for once.” Recognition strikes Peter’s features when he realises you’re referring to the couple of times he got too turned on to hide it and never wanted to pressure you into helping him.
“I mean you can stay here - that’s what I’m here for, right?” He raises his eyebrows teasingly and your shyness increases. “Only if you want.” He adds seriously.
You take a finger between your teeth, contemplate for maybe two seconds and then decide that you absolutely want this, “I‘m not going to take my clothes off yet, though.” You point at him warningly while you settle on your back.
“Whatever you want, pretty girl.” Fuck
His fingers slip underneath the fabric of your pants and at first they trail along your panties and Peter’s nearly shocked at how much wet he finds and he gasps.
“You know you’re not the only one who enjoys the whole making out.” You smile at him and you already look so impatient so Peter tries to give you what you want.
His fingers find the waistband of your panties and slip underneath, the problem now is that he can’t actually see what he’s doing. Luckily he remembers that communication is key.
“Is that your cl-” He starts but you let out a breath that sounds like you’re finally getting a reward that you should’ve been granted ages ago, he knows he’s doing at least something right.
Your smile is so sultry yet still a little shy when you move your arms over your head and your hips buck up into his finger, trailing up and down between your folds.
His lips are on your neck and you can relax more, not having him directly watch you come completely undone.
“Fuck, Peter, don’t stop feels r-really good.” You whimper and he says something that’s muffled against your neck.
It feels so good to have Peter’s finger on your wet clit, but something’s still missing.
Your fingers come down to cover his and you draw a circular motion that he copies immediately and your own fingers leave again.
“Like that?” Peter asks genuinely concentrated and now he’s looking at you again. But you couldn’t care less when you tip over the edge and your orgasm flows through your whole body with Peter’s rhythm on your clit not faltering. Your high lasts longer than usual until your legs nearly start to shake and you open your eyes to take Peter’s wrist to stop him.
His fingers stop moving but he still looks at you like in a trance for another few moments until you press a kiss to his cheek. “Sorry, didn’t mean to stare.” He blushes.
“‘s fine.” Your hand brushes through his hair but he looks a little uncomfortable.
“Sorry it’s just.. that was really hot and I think…” He screws his eyes shut in embarrassment before blurting out, “I think I might’ve cum in my pants though.” He’s saying it half with humour but he’s looking anywhere but at you and that lets you know he’s not lying.
“I mean I guess it’s a compliment for me, right?” You wink at him, “I still would’ve liked to make you cum myself l-” You can’t continue your sentence because Peter nearly sprints to the bathroom calling out a “I can do it again!” and coming back a few seconds later after you heard him get some tissues.
He throws himself on the bed eagerly and starts kissing you again. “Wait, wait,.” you object and Peter stops, “Let me try something out.”
You push him down so he’s lying comfortably on his back and move to sit between his thighs and you bend forward. First he thinks you’re going to kiss him, but you stop at his neck, look at his throat as he gulps and your lips come closer, “Tell me if anything hurts.” You say before brushing your hair from your face so you have a free view of Peter’s Adam’s apple.
You lick your lips and first place a chaste kiss on the skin there. Peter encourages you with a pleased moan that he doesn’t quite manage to suppress and soon you‘re sucking on his skin, your tongue darting out and you don’t let up until you’re sure you’ve left a mark.
You finally pull away to see Peter’s whole face and chest flushed but most importantly an already red-purplish mark right in the middle of his throat and you grin smugly, before moving to other parts of Peter’s body.
That day you end up giving Peter a hand-job for the first time - judging by the time that he took to cum, you’re really good at that.
When he comes home uncharacteristically late that day, considering he’s not in his suit, May gets suspicious and follows Peter to his room.
“Have you got a second to talk?” May’s standing in Peter’s door frame with two hands behind her back.
“Uh oh did I do something?” Peter fears, had he forgotten to buy something he was supposed to? Not done his chores this week?
“No don’t worry it’s nothing bad.”
They sit down together on his bed and with her sympathetic smile Peter knows he’s not in any trouble.
“You remember last week when you needed me to send you something to your phone from your laptop when you were in school?”
No no no no no no
“I accidentally came across your search history and”
Which escape way is better? Window or door?
“And I thought you were just curious and I didn’t want to say anything,”
Stop talking already, maybe Peter should just hold his breath until he passes out.
“But now I can see that absolutely massive hickey on your neck and I’m just wondering, is it from her? You know who I mean?” May says your name in an overly teasing way and nudges his arm. Damn, he’d forgotten all about the hickey and maybe now he understood why so many people, especially other guys, were smiling at him in a somewhat congratulating way his whole way home.
Peter’s not going to get out of this situation so quick so he just decides to tell the truth already. Or at least the most important answer which is a simple “Yes” to May’s question.
“So who confessed first? I always knew she liked you as much as you like her!”
“It’s not.. quite like that. I mean we’re not together but we’re... something.” He doesn’t know how to answer the question himself, and he especially isn’t going to reveal all the details to May.
“Well I know you like her, and I know love can be complicated at your age, it’s still complicated at mine,” And Peter’s just got all these pictures of her and Happy Hogan in his mind and a shiver runs down his back.
“But I also know you’re not stupid, you’re both eighteen and old enough to make your own decisions. And as longs as you make sure you don’t have any baby Peters running around here soon I’m not going to bother you any further on this topic.” Finally she reveals what’s been behind her back the whole time, a pack of condoms that she puts down on Peter’s bed.
“So if she wants it, too, then I trust you, just tell me if you ever want the place for yourselves - not too often but she’s a nice girl, pretty, too.” May finally gets up to leave the room and although it’s awkward Peter thanks her, because it’s truly nice to have her care for him and pay attention to his life. She is basically his parent, after all.
She’s nearly down the hall before she comes back pointing a finger at Peter, “And always remember, consent is cool!”
“Obviously.” Peter comments because he wouldn’t ever think of anything else, even if the phrase is kind of lame.
Has Peter’s jawline always been this sharp?
Have his eyes always been this bright and beautiful? His hair always so perfectly messy?
Either way, you’re noticing it right now and it’s affecting you.
It’s your last lesson after a long day and you’ve been waiting all day to finally get out of this class, out of sheer boredom.
But now you just want to get out of this class to get your mouth on Peter.
The teacher’s given you a small break so everyone’s talking, Peter leaning back on his chair and turned around to talk to Ned.
He’s laughing about something Ned told him and fuck he looks good.
And then you think about his personality, absolute god tier.
He’s looking at you now, saying something seemingly interesting but all you can think about is how you have the sudden urge to make him cum. He’s too beautiful to be true.
“... brilliant, right?” He looks at you with enthusiasm and you feel like he might’ve just told you something funny or cool so you just give a small nod. But he knows this look on you that he’s had the honour of witnessing a few times before. You try to think of something to say that will at least give the impression that you had been listening to what he just told you, when suddenly the pencil between your fingers snaps in half.
“Are you free after school?” You ask, completely disregarding Peter and Ned’s shocked looks, only to conceal that your neediness really just drove you far enough to break a pen.
“Ned and I are going to a Christmas market tonight but I have a few hours before.”
“You should totally come with us to the market, I’m bringing Betty too!” Ned chimes in and you’re not sure if this is his attempt of a double date but you agree anyway, telling Peter to come with you to your place after school.
“Ladies first.” Peter points to the only empty seat on the bus when he makes sure there’s no old or pregnant people that need the seat more than you.
“You go sit.” You tell him and after this long, exhausting day at school he’s not going to deny it.
Just a moment after he sits down you follow him, sitting on his lap. You’re aware that he knows what your plan is but you don’t care. Peter’s even supposed to know how much he’s turning you on by simply being himself.
You still manage to be subtle considering the people around you, how you’re able to grind on him with the turns, curves, stopping and accelerating of the bus.
When it’s finally the stop you have to get off at you take Peter’s hand in yours and although he’s busy covering his crotch area with his rucksack, he can’t help but feel butterflies in his stomach at your touch.
Just last week you nearly hit him when his fingers barely grazed yours in public and now you’re openly showing affection? It’s probably just because you’re horny, Peter has to remind himself, but he likes holding your hand either way.
Peter - already shirtless - immediately gets his hands on your pants when you stumble to your bed, but your hands push his away, “I want today to be about you, Peter.” You reveal to him and he’s already blushing.
“You know I love doing that, right?” His fingers have been on your clit at least six times in the past week, “Making you feel good is enough to get me off, I love watching you c-”
“I know, but I also want to make you feel good like that. I’d like to make you feel good like you make me feel good.” He stops objecting at that, watches you sink to your knees in front of the bed and his hand is already on his crotch trying to get some much needed relief. His hands go to unbutton his pants but you swat them away and get to pull his pants off yourself.
He says your name three times but you ignore him until he says “No.”, only to get your attention.
“Huh?” You look up at him and he thinks that maybe he could just cum by looking at you, your lower lip swollen from continuously biting it.
“Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asks.
“Yes, are you?”
“More than sure.”
“If I can’t help myself anymore and end up hurting you or you want to stop just tap on my knee twice, okay?” He knows that sometimes he gets lost like he’s in a trance when he’s with you, but if his cock is in your mouth you won’t be able to say when it’s too much so he wants to make sure.
“I won’t but okay. Will you let me get my mouth on you now?” You smile innocently and he nods, swallowing hard.
You pull his jeans off completely and get rid of your t-shirt before your hands are all over him and you come up one last time to kiss him on the mouth and anywhere you can reach, really.
“I can’t believe I get to date someone this hot.” You mumble and Peter gets even harder at that? Did you just say date?
He has no more time to think about that one word that was maybe only said in the heat of the moment when your hands find his boxers and now he’s naked in front of you.
You want nothing more than to finally feel Peter’s cock in your mouth for the first time, you spit in your palm, look up at him and are about to start jerking him off when he pulls you up by your biceps.
“I don’t like knowing you have to be on the uncomfortable floor.” He says a little bashfully and gets you on the bed with him. “Aw,” You take the opportunity to get rid of your pants and bra, all you’re wearing in front of him are your panties now.
And Peter’s never really seen you just like this and again he feels like he could cum just at the sight. His hands have felt you before but actually being able to see all the glory that’s usually covered by your clothes makes him even more attracted to you and he didn’t even know that was possible.
“Can I?” You position yourself between his legs with your hands squeezing your breasts and he all but drools before giving you permission.
When your wet palm first wraps around his hard cock he puts his hands awkwardly on his chest. You give him a smile so sweet that it should nearly be impossible how good your hand feels on him.
This is going to be the death of him, Peter thinks, and it would be the best way to die ever.
“Relax, Peter.” You see him place his arms next to his body, not knowing what to do.
Usually he’s the one who has his hands on you but in this position he doesn’t quite know where to put them.
“You can put your hands in my hair and guide me so I know what I’m doing is good or not so good,” and by now Peter’s leaking on his own abs, “Twice on your knee if I’m uncomfortable.” You add so he won’t worry about that.
He places his hand on your head and weaves it through your hair to get a nice grip and now you understand what he likes so much about it - he doesn’t miss how your eyes flutter shut for a second.
Then your hand wraps around him and that’s the only thing he can concentrate on, bucking his hips up involuntarily.
After a few seconds you start using your tongue, trailing around the head of his cock and you hum when you finally taste him(- he won’t last long.)
Your hand stays wrapped around the base of his cock while you give kitten licks to the length of him creating a wet sound that is so dirty he gets harder if that’s even possible at this point.
Your fingers shortly go to his balls before you start using your mouth on him completely, enveloping the top of his cock in the warmth of your tongue.
His hand in your hair is more for comfort, he doesn’t have to or want to be rough with you, but rather tries to savour the feeling of when you start hollowing your cheeks further and he closes his eyes.
You start bobbing your head up and down further along his cock, only your hand at the base of him and the rest disappearing in your mouth with your tongue doing enough work to make him cum if he wasn’t concentrating on lasting longer.
He gets even closer when he opens his eyes briefly and sees you drooling all over yourself and how absolutely perfect you look with your lips wrapped around him.
“F-fuck I’m close.” He warns so you can pull away and let him cum on your body or his own hand, but you only double up you efforts.
His hand tightens in your hair with his whole body tensing as pleasure takes over. You pull your mouth back only to let him see how his spurts of cum hit your tongue with your hand steadily jerking him off, letting him ride out his pleasure.
Even when he’s finished, your lips wrap around him again for a few seconds before he gently pulls you away from him by your hair.
You sit up and go to wipe your mouth but he kisses you before you have a chance to.
“Fuck.” He mumbles.
“Fuck.” You agree.
“Do you want me to-” he starts but you give him a quick kiss.
“No you don’t have to. Fuck I’m spent, that was already awesome enough.”
He chuckles but he’s actually slightly red and sweaty, shy.
“Glad to know you enjoyed it too.” You only hum as you watch him pick his boxers back up and he’s looking at you as well.
He enjoys to just be able to see you so comfortable in front of him, completely naked except for your panties, especially after you told him how self-conscious you were at times. Even Peter who never really had any doubts about his body was still shy when he’s naked in front of you. So he appreciates that you’re comfortable enough around him and willing to show yourself like that in front of him like that all the more.
Your eyes shut and he can see how tired you are, but he also takes in the wet stain on your panties between your legs.
“You sure you don’t need me to take care of you?” Your eyes open again at that.
His hands slip under the waistband of your panties and you arch into him when he touches you clit.
“Fuck I’m so wet.” You can’t help but let out a whimper and move to your back and pull a leg up to give Peter better access already.
“Yeah, I can feel.” He looks down to catch a glimpse of your heat that he’s so far only ever touched but not seen, “God, you’re fucking soaked.”
“I know and I want to cum,” You lean in to Peter to get his finger to apply more pressure.
His middle finger starts to circle your clit like he’s learnt to do in the past few weeks.
It’s not even a minute later when you cum with a silent cry of Peter’s name and with your eyes closed.
Peter’s so close to you, watching you and he feels so deeply for you it almost hurts. But only because he has to keep reminding himself that he’s only doing this so you can end up in another guy’s bed and that you don’t actually care about him as more than a friend and that this isn’t ever going to exceed a friends with benefits- type of relationship if not less.
His fingers are still in your panties and he can feel how soaked his finger is. It‘s been like that a few times already and for some reason he was scared to taste you - well he wanted nothing more than to taste you. But for another inexplicable reason he was scared that you would think he was weird for wanting to do so, but you‘d basically just done the same to him so he moves his finger up to his face. But your fingers wrap around his wrist and then you suck his finger into your own mouth before he can taste you.
“Leave some for me.“ He fake-whines and you release his finger with a ‘pop‘ and stick your tongue out at him.
“I mean there‘s plenty left down there… can I eat you out?“ He raises his eyebrow questioningly.
“Sorry, I‘m too exhausted.“
“That‘s okay, pretty girl, no need to apologise.“ He probably shouldn’t be calling you anything other than your name because he‘ll just fall for you deeper, but he can‘t resist calling you cute nicknames and he loves the way you shyly smile at them.
But also… you did use the word ‘dating‘ before… Maybe you‘ve changed your mind? And you want Peter as much as he wants you, as a real relationship? He doesn‘t want to get too hopeful before he has clarity.
“Hey - you said something earlier when you-“
“Before you even continue - I can‘t be held accountable for anything I say while I‘m horny, okay?“ You point a finger at him playfully and he tries to hide how his smile slowly fades.
“Could you pass me my bag?“ Peter reaches for your bag and you get out a fresh pair of panties which you change into under the covers.
“You bring extra panties with you in case I make you ruin them, huh?“ He smirks.
“Well actually they‘re for if I get my period at school, but I guess with you being so damn irresistible all the time that‘s also a valid reason to carry around a fresh pair.“
Then sometimes, you say stuff like that and Peter has no idea what it means. Friends don‘t say that, right? But friends don‘t do any of the other stuff you and Peter have been doing lately, so he really doesn‘t know what to think.
“I want to take a nap.“ You announce and cuddle up to Peter on the bed, he can feel your naked breasts against his side. And if your calm breathing hadn‘t lulled him to sleep he‘d have gotten hard again.
Peter wakes up with you on his lap, fully dressed and freshened up.
“We’re late to the Christmas market, Ned and Betty are already there, come on get up!” You bounce on the bed giddily, dragging him to get up but because it’s you he happily obliges, even in his sleepy state.
While Betty shows you something on her phone with you holding her arm to warm up in the cold winter of New York (Peter wishes he could hold you like that in public) and Ned’s busy buying chocolate covered fruit, Peter sneaks off to buy you a Christmas gift.
He’s actually got one already and you two made a promise not to get each other too much or anything expensive, or nothing at all if you can‘t find anything good, but he spots something so perfect that he just has to get it.
You all stay out late, slurping winter punch (non-alcoholic, of course) and you even take Peter’s hand at some point - in public! - and when you notice him smiling down at your intertwined hands you claim it’s just cause you’re cold.
Despite knowing that your relationship will turn back to purely a friendship after you have your first time and you have your fun with this college guy, Peter barely thinks about it. For now he’s just enjoying the time he does have with you and in his own head no one can tell him you’re not acting like boyfriend and girlfriend.
It’s the best time he’s ever had in his life - even outside of the mind-blowing new sexual experiences, he gets to spend so much time with you he could almost dance with joy every time.
Just last week Peter fingered you for the first time.
You’d talked to him about how you’ve been trying to get used to the feeling of your own fingers inside of you (and just the thought of you lying in your bed late at night doing that made Peter unbelievably turned on).
But then you pointed out how his fingers were much bigger and it seemed like you felt pretty strongly about that, which in return might have made him a little proud. You’d let out the most gorgeous whimpers, clenching around two of his fingers in the end and he’ll give you as much time as you need but he really can’t wait to feel that around his cock.
And when he told you that May was going to be gone for the whole weekend, you’d responded asking if he had condoms… So that means…? You’re going to… have sex?! (He asked and you said yes.)
So now he’s been stressing all day, showered twice already, put fresh covers on the bed, cleaned his room like he never had before and made sure that he had all your favourite snacks at home.
On one hand, he knows he’s overreacting - it’s you. And he feels so comfortable around you and knows you would think it’s silly how worried he is to make everything perfect and he tells himself to chill.
But on the other hand, time flies when you’re having fun and Peter really hadn’t fully registered that it was the last weekend before the winter holidays. And winter holidays meant that you were going to meet dumb college guy and have sex with him.
But Peter can count himself lucky to be your first… and like the last few weeks, he’ll forget all about the other guy as soon as you’re over because when you’re with him there’s no room in his head for a single other thing, so he knows it’ll all work out.
It won’t just work out, but it’ll be amazing, anything to do with you is.
It’s past sunset when you come over. It really calms Peter down how relaxed you seem, still nervous but just as comfortable around him as he is around you, and you don’t even move on to anything sexual for the first two hours. And no matter what other guy you’ll end up sleeping with or don’t, you two will always have that special friendship bond that even him and Ned don’t have on that type of level.
Peter thinks you don’t notice how much he’s cleaned up and how squeaky clean he smells, but you definitely do and smile at how much effort he’s put into making you feel special, with all your favourite foods stocked up as well.
When you look at him in that special way that so far in this world only he has got to see, he knows it’s time. It’s beautiful as ever;
How your clothes come off piece by piece, needy but slow nevertheless.
You’re both in only your underwear by now and the kisses along with your heavy breathing are the only sounds to be heard in the room and if Peter tried, he would only fail to explain how honoured he feels to be experiencing this with you for the first time (little does he know exactly how good he always makes you feel in return).
He’s kissing down your chest and over your belly now, you can tell where his destination is. “Oh, Peter - you know you don’t have to do that, your fingers are enough but even if that’s too much to ask you don-”
“No, let me make you feel good.” He purrs from between your legs and they widen, inviting him in. But just an inch above your panties he stops “I mean do you want me to? Is that cool?” (Consent is cool, he remembers)
“Only if you truly don’t mind, then that would be really cool.” You perch yourself up on your elbows to look at him, not only because you know how much Peter enjoys eye contact, but you want to enjoy the view too.
And he doesn’t really understand why you hadn’t let him get his tongue on you like he plans on doing now before - you’d given him head and you definitely didn’t mind and even you realise that - especially with Peter - you have not a single reason to be insecure.
Your panties come off and he lies mesmerised between your legs even while you unclasp your bra and you’re now completely naked.
But this - he takes two of his fingers to spread your lips and you’re already so wet he can smell you, and it’s so luscious when he can finally taste you.
His tongue laps everything you give him (he actually has no idea what he’s doing - him and Ned googling had been months ago by now and he’s half under the covers and he can’t have his tongue and eyes at the same place at the same time so he uses pure instinct and for once he’s right).
His tongue trails along your swollen folds and this is better than he could have ever imagined.
You make noises, rooted deep in your throat and you half-swallow them so they come out even more desperate and he knows you’re close.
“You can use me, just do whatever feels good.” He says hastily, spending as little time as possible with his mouth not on you. You give a small ‘okay’ and you’re so far gone it’s the hottest thing ever.
He expected a little more resistance because he knows how nervous you are about basically having your pussy in Peter’s face for the first time (which you have no reason to be because he might be enjoying this more than you), but the second the words leave his mouth, your body shifts, your legs on his shoulders moving further down so you’re right in his face as your hips find a new rhythm.
And Peter can barely believe it.
The girl he’s known for so long, been “just friends” with for so long, is grinding her perfect, deliciously sticky pussy on his tongue. You’re arching your back, all but using him to get off and there’s truly never been anything sweeter than when you cum on his tongue, moans no longer choked but loud and so damn obscene, that he nearly blows a load in his boxers but he can refrain from grinding his hips on the mattress, saving himself only for you.
(And not that he’s thinking about it!- but getting his heart broken by you afterwards would be worth it just for even this one moment).
Even when your legs start shaking around him you don’t stop but rather pull his hair to encourage him to go longer, he doesn’t let up until you’re pushing his head away, and even then you whine at the loss of contact.
“Oh fuck that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.” And Peter prides himself on the way you’re panting and your chest is heaving. (Maybe he’s officially acquired the sex skills he’s been trying to attain to make you fall in love with him…?)
You get his boxers off so quick he nearly lines himself up with your dripping heat without a condom, but you both realise at the last second, even laughing at each your neediness but then the kissing continues and you get even more needy.
Just before you‘re about to spread your legs further Peter presses the most chaste of kisses to your lips and to tell him if it hurts. You bring your legs up to your chest and you have a feeling you‘re close again when Peter‘s cock brushes your entrance.
It‘s nearly impossible not to bury himself inside of you completely because you‘re so wet, but he stops before even being inside of you an inch.
You nod so he knows he can go on but your expression becomes more pained with the second and despite how good you feel around his cock, he can‘t enjoy it if you aren‘t.
“Do you want me to stop? I don‘t want to hurt you.“ He says softly, his hand at the side of your face, through your hair.
“You could never hurt me, Peter,“ And if he wasn‘t in love, before he falls for you right then and there,“You can go on.“
And he does.
A single tear falls from each one of your eyes but you insist he goes on and he can‘t deny how good you feel. But he wants to last longer, until you‘re more used to the foreign feeling and can enjoy it too, though with the way you‘re squeezing his cock with every half-thrust, you make that really hard.
“Fuck,“ he mumbles and your body rocks against him slightly.
“If you can last only a little longer, I‘ll cum with you.“ You say, your eyes half shut in pleasure, half in pain and for that he manages to last a bit more.
His fingers find your clit and he rubs in sloppy circles until you‘re finally enjoying it too and his mission is accomplished when you cry out his name and now he can let go too.
He thrusts into you a few more times, trying to be gentle and you‘re equally exhausted afterwards.
“That was-“ he starts, “amazing.“ you finish.
“Really?“ Were you not just crying?
“It did hurt, but I‘m still glad I could have my first experience with you.“ your finger grazes his chest and you kiss him there and he realises, with that it‘s probably over.
It‘s your goodbye to doing this type of thing and although he‘s sad knowing you‘ll be going off soon, he‘s also happy knowing he still has time and it‘s not like you‘ve actually made a decision yet - maybe his plan worked and he persuaded you to stay, with his sex skills… (yeah, probably not). But he doesn‘t ask because you‘re still staying and he appreciates every second he spends with you.
“Sorry for ruining your fresh sheets..“
“So you did notice!“ Peter smiles.
“Of course I did - I also noticed how you had all my favourite snacks - and I don‘t mean you -“ (oh that‘s new), “all very sweet of you.“ You kiss him.
Wearing some of his clothes now, you insisted on helping him soak the blood stain on his sheets. May very likely already knows what‘s going on and she doesn‘t have to know even more. Though you do think it‘s cool how she gave Peter the condoms, although he was blushing furiously when he told you the story.
Beds freshly made (again) you lie together, looking at each other - sometimes talking and sometimes it‘s just a more than pleasant silence.
You‘re not sure if he‘s asleep already, when you roll on top of him with a coy smile as you start kissing along his jawline and your favourite place in the middle of his throat, “I know we just changed your sheets, but can we have sex again?“ With the way you‘re so innocently smiling he can‘t believe that you‘d be horny to want to do it again straight away.
“I think this time it‘s going to hurt less and I want to give you the full experience, without me crying and stuff. Also, we can put a towel down.“ You laugh but he can tell you actually feel bad, when technically he was the one who hurt you, even if it was just a bit.
“For me, that was more than amazing, you don‘t have to go through all that again just because you feel bad for me. there’s nothing to feel bad about..“
“So you don‘t want to have sex with me?“ (Okay he knows this pout and you are horny after all.)
The second time is a lot better for you.
You fall asleep in Peter‘s arms, both happy.
But then that dreaded day comes when you‘re meant to be visiting that asshole.
Even worse - it turns out he‘s a friend of a friend of the family and he‘ll be spending your whole winter trip - over one whole week - with you and your family and you won‘t have any internet, not even any service.
You don’t say anything when he’s waving you goodbye but he has this feeling that this is over.
May, Ned and their presents can only make Peter forget for a limited amount of time and although the holidays are still nice, there are many moments where he has to think about you.
It seems like even the criminals of New York are celebrating Christmas so Spider-Man isn‘t an option to forget about you for a bit either.
Hey, he types in his phone.
Peter: I know you’re with that other guy now
Peter: But I like you
Peter: And the last weeks I felt like you like me too?
Peter: So maybe if you don’t like that other guy too much we could... be together? Or something maybe
The text messages are absolute shit but it doesn‘t really matter anymore.
You come back a day early, text a “I don‘t get it if it‘s a joke…?“ and a minute later you‘re at his door.
“What are you talking about? Was that a joke I didn’t understand?“ You repeat.
He doesn‘t want to start hoping again before you have a proper conversation in his room.
“So… uh - the other guy..?“
“Peter - I know we‘re not together, I know neither of us have explicitly said that but I thought..
I like you. You’re the one I like. You, Peter. I haven’t wanted that guy for ages
I thought it was kind of obvious …“
“Well I just wasn‘t sure because for example the one time you said something about how we‘re dating - you said that when you were uh… on your knees- afterwards you were all like ’I can‘t be held accountable for anything I said when I was horny’ so…“ He really doesn’t want to get his hopes up again before he has full certainty.
You giggle, “Peter what I meant was that I didn‘t want you to tease me about anything I say while I‘m horny when we‘re not in bed together, like how I said how good you taste or something.” You respond shyly.
“You never said that.“ He blushes.
“Well I thought it..”
“So you really like me?”
“Of course you dummy ,” you want to smack him up the head for really thinking you’d be such a bitch to do all that with him only to get together with another guy, ”And if it’s not obvious enough yet, I want to be your girlfriend. So would you like... like to be my boyfriend?”
“Yes obviously!” He beams and you press a kiss to his lips, “That was our first kiss as boyfriend and girlfriend.” He smiles, when you remember your Christmas gift for him.
“Well since my boyfriend is so good at giving gifts - that Fenty lipgloss is way too expensive! But I don’t have to tell you, you’re the one who bought it-”
“I was thinking your lips looks extra shiny today… and are a bit sticky and I probably have lipgloss on my lips now but if it looks anywhere near as cute as it does on you, I don’t care.” He shrugs happily.
“And I’m not only wearing the lipgloss you gave me-”
“Wait!” He interrupts you once again and you just really want to show him what you got.
“When we were at that Christmas market I saw Betty show you something on her phone and I was unsure whether to get it or not because I didn’t know what we… were? But now I know what we are and it’s okay if you don’t want to wear it but… I’ll just show you.”
Oh no - did Peter get you clothes? Even you sometimes get your own size wrong if you don’t try it on before..
But your eyes go wide when he pulls out a little blue box. “Peter, whatever’s in there we’re too young to marry and also I feel bad now because I’m sure that definitely exceeds the price limit we set and I didn’t even come close to it, if I’m honest I couldn’t even think of a materialistic gift… not really.” But he’s still smiling.
“You being mine is the greatest gift ever.”
“Stop being cheesy and just show me what’s in there.”
“Close your eyes.” You do.
His hands go around your neck and you feel a lightweight pendant rest only an inch below the gap between your collar bones, “Can I open my eyes?”
He clasps it securely and leans back to his normal position in front of you. “Uh-huh, but seriously if you don’t like it you don’t have to wear it.” You can hear the nervosity in his voice but you open your eyes and your finger immediately go to the little letter “P” hanging from the necklace and you nearly tear up.
“Am I really that bad of a gift-giver?-”
“I love it,” He’s positively surprised and you really don’t understand why, “That way everyone can finally know I’m yours.” You kiss him once more but he pulls back “Do you want that?..” And now you understand why he hesitated with the present.
You’re the one who made him feel as if you didn’t want him, not like that, only because you were too stupid to talk about your feelings openly and he’d gone a whole week thinking you were with some stupid other guy that you now realise might have only been an excuse to get with Peter in the first place - subconsciously at least.
“Yes - there’s nothing I want more than you,” A tear slips from your eye at the thought of how you made him feel - as if you didn’t want him equally as much as he wanted you for even just a second ever.
“Hey, don’t cry - we’ve got each other now and that’s all that matters.” He hugs you so tight it squeezes all the tears out of you and his happiness radiates off of him and on to you.
“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I don’t want that. I want to be yours and you to be mine and now I want to make up for all the time that we weren’t together and with this necklace the whole world will know too and I’m so in love with you it’s- uh I mean…” you ramble and realise you just absolutely used the words ‘in love’ - you’ve got Peter now and don’t already want to scare him off.
“Well actually… I did mean what I said - I’m in love with you,” But hiding the truth is what kept you apart all those weeks so you decide to be honest, “if you’re not ready you don’t have to say-”
“I’m in love with you, too.”
“Really?” You’re both grinning.
“Yeah… I realised a while ago.. “
You’re hugging again because it’s just too overwhelming, to finally be together and you’re so so happy that it’s Peter you’re with. And once again you remind yourself of the only gift you have for him.
“The only thing I bought is something for me, as I was trying to tell you earlier. So it’s not directly for you, nothing you can keep-”
“Doesn’t matter.” Peter chimes in. He really couldn’t care less about materialistic things, not when he has you (okay the necklace is quite cute, but he knows you’re his even without the first letter of his name around your neck.)
“But I think you’ll still like it.”
Without another word you pull your sweatshirt over your head (making sure the necklace stays on and Peter takes notice of that) to reveal some lacy lingerie, and he’s already hard.
“Second best gift ever.” He mumbles as he lies you down on your back to hover over you, he’s already touching you with so much lust in his eyes but what you also realise is love.
“The necklace is the number one best gift.” You announce.
“No the best gift is that I get to call you mine.”
You can only smile at that, lost for words because he’s already undressing you, his lips along your thighs.
“Wait no.” You stop him and he sits up.
“Let me be on top?” You straddle him and get rid of your lingerie - everything except the necklace.
And it’s all for him. Only for him. And he sees your smile and he knows that it’s just you and him. It’s you and him together, you and him against the world.
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An Inconvenient Affection [Chapter 1]
Summary: When a couples’ therapist is suspected of murdering his own patients, Y/N and Spencer must go undercover as a feuding married couple to draw him out.
A/N: This is the first part in a series, thank you so much for the response to the teaser! I hope you guys enjoy, and any feedback is always appreciated! ❤️
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Category: Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, (Eventual) Smut, Fluff, Angst
Warnings: alcohol consumption, language, criminal minds typical violence, murder mention, suicide mention, stalking, cheating, please let me know if I've missed anything!
Word Count: 4.4k
Read it on AO3
"He's forcing one to kill the other" Spencer mutters under his breath, staring so intently at the photos pinned the the cork board that he must be able to see through them by now.
"Pardon?" Y/N pipes up from her perch at the opposite end of the room, surrounded by imposing stacks of files, photos, newspaper clippings, anything to give her something even resembling a leg up on this case.
Spencer turns sharply on his heel to face the team, his hands contorted as he speaks, "The unsub, he's abducting couples but I think he could be forcing one to kill the other" he states it louder this time, tearing a photo down from the board and walking it over.
"We already know they were killed with the same gun, but why was Mrs. Milton restrained while Mr. Milton wasn't?"
Y/N screws her eyebrows together in confusion, she'd been at the scene and she'd analyzed the photos. Mr. Milton had been restrained. There was another chair at the scene that seemed as though he'd been strapped to it, the bindings were loosened but the general assumption was that he'd managed to free himself before getting shot by the unsub.
"I think our killer untied him" Reid spoke confidently, Y/N liked watching him like this. He could be so shy in his day to day life but there was something about his work that gave him a boost.
"So do you think the same goes for the Stevenson's from 4 months back? What could his motivations be for doing something like that?" Derek asks. The first case had initially been labeled as a murder suicide by the local police precinct but the most recent victims were both shot in the back of the head. Though the scenes had far too many similarities to rule out a serial homicide.
"Most likely" he nods, "though I haven't gotten to the why just yet. But what I can tell you is that our unsub seems to really hate the women" He turns his attention back to the cork board.
"Well that's not very original" Y/N quips before pulling out her cell phone to call Garcia. "Hey Babe, I'm gonna need you to find any overlap between the Miltons and the Stevensons, any clubs, stores, hangout spots, somewhere where they could've met, or met the same people. If that's too broad maybe narrow in on the wives, anywhere they would've potentially overlapped, we think they could've been this unsub’s primary target"
"But of course my Angel" Garcia's almost sickly sweet voice pours out of the headset along with he clacking of her brightly colored nails on the keys. "Hmm." she let's out a little frustrated, "They lived a little too far apart to be members of the same gym, church, what have you. Wait!" she stops in her tracks excited, "Both couples had several appointments at the same clinic, St. Andrews Medical Centre, but those records are sealed."
Y/N lets out a frustrated sigh, "Can you unseal 'em?"
Garcia scoffs, "Can I unseal them, who are you talking to? I'll have the info in 3, 2, 1, Bingo. Both couples had several appointments with a therapist, one Dr. Harris in the months leading up to and week of their disappearance" she sends a picture and attached file to Y/N's tablet as she beckons Spencer over to take a look.
"He's a therapist with a specialty in, oh," Garcia pauses, "couples counseling"
"So what were they in for?" Derek pipes up, "Is our Dr. just interested in the look or has the couples' issue got something to do with it?"
Y/N reads through the files Garcia's sent on Dr. Harris, combing though them as fast as she can for any ounce of helpful information.
"Harris is divorced?" Y/N says in confusion.
"His wife cheated on him, and she's currently married to that guy" Garcia interjects, "he wrote a whole article about it, yeesh, someone is not over it.”
"Maybe he's targeting couples where the wives have been unfaithful to their husbands?" Spencer suggests, "That would account for the unjust hate towards the women, and the implication that he forced their husbands to kill them first, perhaps he's using them as a surrogate for the vengeance he wants?"
"Maybe so, but we've got no evidence for any of this, the crime scenes were spotless, not even a trace of DNA to tie anyone other than the couples to the scene, if it is this guy then we have to prove it before we can arrest him." JJ counters as the voice of reason.
The room goes silent.
"Prove it?" Y/N asks, Hotch looks down at her, before averting his gaze towards Spencer sitting beside her.
"I've got an idea" he says, monotone and serious. “The two of you come with me.” He motions with is hand.
The two of them look at each other with profound confusion before following behind Hotch, resigned.
“A married couple?!” Spencer all but shouts, the office is hardly soundproof and the rest of the team must’ve caught on by now. For the ‘smartest member of the team’ Spencer sure had some gaping holes in his foresight.
“You can’t be serious!”
He stands up from his chair, shaking his head in disbelief, starting to pace around the medium sized office to work off the nervous energy building in his chest.
“This is hardly outrageous Reid” Hotch states, making sympathetic but brief eye contact with Y/N before he pinches the bridge of his nose in an effort to restrain himself. “Yourself and Y/N already have a friendship to build on, she’s worked undercover many times and your memory should make it simple for you to integrate into the false narrative she can construct. Plus, you’re a non-threatening presence to an unsub like this. What else could you possibly need convincing of?” Hotch adds with exasperation, he’d mentioned all of that and more in his initial proposition but Spencer was still reluctant.
“If I’m really that repulsive I’m sure we can find someone else to play my husband Spence?” Y/N tries to joke but there’s something about the sentence that makes her stomach uneasy.
“No!” Spencer sits again with haste, looking between the two other agents, “No that’s not it, I just” he takes in a deep sigh, “I don’t know if I’ll be any good at this, I don’t want to ruin the investigation” he confesses and Hotch immediately shoots it down.
“That won’t be an issue, our unsub’s primary target will be Y/N. She’ll be the cheating partner, your role will mostly be following her lead which shouldn’t be too difficult”
Spencer might be great at acting after all. He lets his shoulders slump and his posture relaxes entirely as though his boss has just put all of his worries to rest. But that’s not what was bothering him. Not even close.
He’s had a stupid schoolboy crush on Y/N from her first day at the BAU. He’d like to think it had come later but he knew it had been almost instant. Her first day had been on Halloween 2 years earlier, he’d been explaining the historical origins of the holiday when Y/N corrected his pronunciation of the Irish word Samhain.
“It’s more like ‘Sah-whin’ than ‘Sam-hain’ in spite of its spooky origins it’s actually the current Irish word for November” she spoke up from her seat in the bullpen, setting up some stationary at the once empty desk next to Spencer’s.
“Y/N L/N,” she stood up outstretching her hand, “I guess I’m your new co-worker” she half-smiled, her nervous energy getting the better of her as he ignored her gesture and just looked at her palm instead.
“He’s just weird about touching” Emily reaches out to reciprocate the handshake, “I’m Emily Prentiss, it’s nice to meet you, this little guy here is Spencer Reid” she says as she places her hands on both of his shoulders and shakes him gently
“Dr. Spencer Reid” he corrects quickly, shooting her a tight lipped smile paired with an even more awkward half-wave.
“Oh, a doctor” she raises her eyebrows, “best not tell my Mom I work with a doctor or she’ll be hounding me to marry you” she cracks. It’s obviously a joke but Spencer can’t help but recall the conversation now and how prescient it feels.
“We can work out the details together if you think that’ll help you feel more comfortable?” Y/N reaches out her hand to touch his forearm to steady him in his seat. He’d grown so used to her casual touch by now that he barely noticed it. But this time, with his rolled up sleeve, feeling her fingertips against his bare skin it felt as though he was going to combust. How was he going to be able to hide this childish infatuation if they had to masquerade as a married couple. What if she touched him literally anywhere else. She was a profiler too, of course she’d notice.
“It’s paramount that it looks natural. This unsub knows the ins and outs of what it’s like to be a married couple so I’ll expect the two of you to prepare accordingly” Hotch is stern and focusing on Y/N as he speaks, “Work on it together, tonight, and report back to me tomorrow morning. We’ll make our decision on how to proceed then.” he says before dismissing them from his office.
They stand in the bullpen in unsure silence for a moment too long before Y/N speaks, “So, your place or mine hubby?” she leans on the last word and it feels comical coming out of her mouth but it still makes something in Spencer’s stomach tighten.
Garcia sends them away with piles of notes and transcriptions from each of the couples’ sessions so they could aim to predict the kind of questions they could be asked. Digging through interviews with Mrs. Milton’s friends it became apparent that she’d been stalked in the weeks leading up to her abduction, and potentially longer. Y/N and Spencer had to be prepared for that eventuality too.
Each of the couples had had at least 4 appointments before they were abducted, so the new Mr. and Mrs. Reid had to come up with several hours worth of talking points, along with day to day appearance of living as a married couple in order to be prepared.
Shouldn’t be too difficult.
Spencer was already making moves to walk back his commitment. Now that he was in Y/N’s living room pages strewn about the coffee table he was finding the whole situation a little overwhelming.
“Look I don’t think I’m up for this, I’ll just call Morgan and see if he can do it. I’m so bad at lying Y/N, I’ll get us both killed” he lets his head flop down into his hands.
“Hey, hey, calm down. Just rest your head between your knees and take a few deep breaths” Y/N coaxes and he does as instructed, his heart rate dropping to normal again almost instantly. It might be the breathing exercise but it’s probably her hand tracing up and down his back over the fabric of his dress shirt that’s actually calming him.
“The golden rule of working undercover is to tell the truth until you absolutely have to lie” she says softly, continuing her movements along his spine. “Sure we have to lie about being married, and about my infidelity. But that doesn’t mean everything has to be a lie. We can pull stories from our real lives and force them into our Legend.”
“Legend?” he says into his own lap, just loud enough for her to hear.
“Mmhmm” she hums, her finger tracing circles between his shoulder blades now, “Our Legend, it’s like our profile, our history, for our undercover identities. We’ll build it together so that we know it inside out. But it doesn’t have to be a total fabrication.” Her voice is gentle and sweet as she explains.
Spencer sits up straight again, looking to Y/N with a furrowed brow and she continues, “Remember the first time we hung out outside of work?” She coaxes and he nods. Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory he would never forget.
“You asked me to go see that Russian film and you translated it into my ear the whole time?” He smiles at the memory, “And I just hadn’t told you that I spoke Russian yet” she giggles.
She was going to tell him right as the movie started, honestly she was, but the way he had to lean in so close to whisper the words in her ear, so close that she could smell his soap and shampoo. She would’ve told him, but then he would’ve stopped.
“Then we went to that noodle place next door and you started to fact check a bunch of my translations?” He finishes the story.
“That’s the one!” She sees him ease into the seat on the sofa, his body beginning to relax, “So how about we keep things simple, that was our first date.” Y/N states so plainly, like the suggestion doesn’t make Spencer’s heart skip a beat.
“Yeah, okay.” he nods in agreement swallowing the lump in his throat.
“Great, so we have our starting point” she pulls out a notebook and makes a note of it, he leans over to peer at the writing on the page.
“November 18th” he says quietly and she turns to him confused,
“That was the uh, the date, the date of our ‘first date’” she nods in agreement and puts the date next to the bullet-point in the notebook
“November 18th” she repeats content.
“We’re Spencer and Y/N Green. We’ve been together for 2 years, married for just over a year. We eloped in Vegas after going to visit Spencer’s Mother. He’s a professor and I’m a bartender. That bar is where we met. We have opposite schedules in order to facilitate my infidelity.”
Y/N and Spencer stand at the top of the room facing the team gathered at the round table, the pages of their legend tacked to the board behind them.
“I found out after I left work early 4 months ago. Y/N doesn’t have a consistent partner but revealed she’d been casually sleeping with other people for the 6 months prior. She agreed to stop at the time but continued to cheat. This time we’re seeking professional counseling to see if we can save the marriage.” Spencer finished the story with ease. Turning to Y/N to shoot her a small smile.
Once they’d worked out the overall story, the details came easy. He wouldn’t let on but he was pretty confident he may know everything there was to know about his ‘wife’ already.
“Okay, if you both feel confident I can start making the arrangements with Garcia to set up an appointment for you two” Hotch stands up from the table turning back on his way out.
“Great work agents.”
There were no appointments available until the following week, which comes as both a stress and a relief. On one hand it gives them more time to prepare, but on the other hand it stretches this whole situation out further.
Garcia coaxes Rossi into inviting everyone over for the evening with little to no real effort. More than anything Spencer just wants to go home and read in the peace and quiet of his living room, but Y/N sits herself on the edge of his desk before he has a chance to leave for the night.
“You coming kid?” She picks up his satchel off the ground to hand it to him as he stands, he takes it from her before shaking his head.
“I don’t know that I’m up for it” he scrunches up his nose a little as he says it, it’s one of the nervous ticks he’s got that Y/N loves the most.
“Aw c’mon. My husband is gonna make me go to a party on my own? No wonder I went and cheated on you” she shoves his shoulder gently, antagonizing him just a little. He chuckles as he and shakes his head softly. “But seriously Spence, it’s been a rough day and half, and it’ll be an even weirder week. It might be good for you to blow off a little steam, get out of your own head” she reaches up to ruffle his hair as she says it.
He loves that. The way she has to reach all the way up on her tippy toes to get to the top of his head but she still insists on doing it. He softens with so little convincing.
“Y’know what, you’re right” he sighs, slinging his bag across his shoulder, “Lets get out of here.”
And it’s already worth it to see the smile that spreads across Y/N’s cheeks.
“I can see it, I think pretty boy here’s a bit stiff but you can pull it off” Morgan squints at the two of them sitting next to one another around Rossi’s table.
“Hey I’m not stiff” Spencer jumps to his own defense before the table erupts with laughter. He wants to fight it again but Y/N’s hand comes to rest on his forearm laying on the table between them.
“Yes you are Spence, but I married you anyway” she makes an exaggerated kissing face before the table begins to giggle yet again. Spencer doesn’t mind this time because after the joke is over her hand doesn’t move from it’s position.
“Oh, oh, oh!” Garcia almost begins to vibrate in her chair, “I’ve got a great idea, we should test you guys”
The team starts to holler and the sound throws Spencer’s head back into chaos. Each time he felt his heart start to palpitate he hoped Y/N couldn’t tell.
Garcia pulls out her phone and starts to look for questions, “What did they wear on your first date?” She asks with a quirk of her eyebrow.
“A light blue sweater with black pants and boots” Spencer answers with no hesitation.
“No fair!” Y/N yelps, “this game is rigged, the kids got an eidetic memory!”
“Alright then, I’ll change it up, who’s the tidiest?” Garcia asks, and that’s also unfair because Y/N knows it’s Spencer but doesn’t want to pay him that compliment. Before she can speak he’s already on it though.
“Me, is that not obvious?” He jokes,
“Yeah okay that one’s right too” Y/N sulks.
“What’s their dream job?” Garcia offers and Y/N jumps in before he can answer first.
“Aha! Magician!” she yelps and Spencer turns to her, eyebrows pulled together.
“Yeah, how’d you remember that?” he interrogates.
He knows exactly when he told her. Y/N was having a moment during a case. it was getting to her more than she’d like to admit but Spencer could tell. She’d knocked on his hotel room door one evening when she couldn’t sleep, she knew it wasn’t his strong suit either.
He’d let her in, settling on the bed. This was one of the better mattresses they’d had in a hotel. It helped soothe the muscles that had been tensed all day. Y/N didn’t want to talk about why she couldn’t sleep. This was the first time it happened, but they’ve found themselves in each other’s hotel rooms over and over as the cases went by.
They both knew that what they were searching for was distraction, and comfort, but they wouldn’t admit to the last one.
“Just tell me something, anything”
Spencer had to wrack his brain looking around the hotel room when something struck him. “Do you want to hear an interesting hotel fact?”
“Sure Spence, shoot” she murmured into the pillow she had curled up in her lap.
“Did you know that the ‘Sky Beam’, a bright light that shoots out of the Luxor Hotel in Las Vegas, attracts so many insects that it has established a new ecosystem of moths, bats, and owls” he says with fervor but he can see from the way her face contorts that he’s put the wrong foot forward.
“Not a gross fact Spencer” she knocks him in the head with her pillow, not too harsh, but rough enough to ruffle his curls.
He skims the room again, eyes landing on a few coins scattered on his bedside table. “How about a magic trick?” she looks at him strange but shakes the expression away and nods.
Spencer picks up a coin of the nightstand and shows it to Y/N with enthusiasm, “See just a regular coin” he jokes and she returns the look exasperated.
“Alright, spoilsport” he holds it out to her pinched between the thumb and index finger of his right hand, moving his left hand over the coin quickly before it vanishes. He then holds out his two empty palms to Y/N for inspection.
“Nah, bullshit” she says, pulling his open palms towards her. He snaps them away before she can look too hard. Pulling his hands back in towards himself he waves one in front of the other and the coin reappears between his fingers.
“What?” is all she can say, and he’s accomplished his goal of distracting her now. “How’d you do that?” she picks up the coin and starts to inspect it closely, with no idea what she’d even be looking for.
“A magician never reveals his secrets” he smirks, confident now that he’s left her so dumfounded. She snaps her head up to look at him, throwing the coin back into his waiting hands.
“So you’re a magician now?” she jokes, reclining back onto the pillows below her and turning her head to look up at him. He follows suit, lying down on his own pillows next to Y/N and returns her gaze.
“Yup, that’s actually what I wanted to do when I was a kid. Still do if I’m honest with myself. So I guess if this FBI thing ever goes belly-up I’ve got a back up plan” he says it like it’s just a silly joke but Y/N can see it’s a little more than that. Spencer joined the BAU so young he almost didn’t get to have a childhood at all, he barely even chose what he would spend the rest of his life working at.
“You have to teach me that one sometime” she yawns, shutting her eyes softly.
“Anytime” he smiles, even thought she can’t see it, and watches as her breathing evens out and she’s asleep. He’s gone not long after. He wishes he had the energy left to stay awake, watching her for even a few moments more so that he could commit the sight to memory. But something about her presence in his room, in his bed, just put him at complete ease and he couldn’t help but fall asleep.
Like so many things in their friendship he’d assumed he was the only one to remember it all so vividly. Despite how often Y/N proved him wrong he would never get used to it.
“Of course I remembered you wanted to be a magician Spencer. How was I supposed to forget that, you still haven't taught me that coin thingy” she feigns annoyance but really she’s just had a glass or two of Rossi’s expensive wine and is feeling brave.
“Sorry Y/N I tried to teach you that, your coordination is just that bad” he shrugs and takes a sip from his own glass.
Derek interrupts, scanning the screen of Garcia’s phone for an interesting question before he appears to land on one, his face lighting up.
“Of the two of you, who’s the better kisser?” Derek says with pure confidence that catches Spencer so off guard that he almost spits out his wine like he’s in a cartoon.
“We haven’t– we don't need– we uh” Spencer stammers having next to no clue what he’s even trying to say.
“I’m sure it’s 50/50, isn’t that right Mr. Green?” Y/N reaches her hand up to cup his cheeks, pushing his lips into a small pout. The red wine staining his lips ever so slightly so that they’re just a shade pinker than usual. And Y/N can’t help but stare at them for a second too long before looking up into his eyes.
He looks uneasy, and a little nervous so she lets go of his cheeks, letting her hand fall down to rest on his forearm once again, grazing the exposed skin.
“You gotta at least play the part pretty boy” Derek laughs, “What happens if this therapist starts asking about your sex life, are you gonna clam up, freak out?”
And he hadn’t thought about it. But it made sense, the sessions were going to be about ‘cheating’ which is by it’s very nature linked to their sex life. This was worse than he thought.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it Morgan. I’ve thought of it all.” Y/N waves off the comment, gripping Spencer’s arm a little tighter as she spoke in an effort to comfort him. “You know what, I actually think it might be time to head out.” She stands up from the table, rubbing her ‘husband’s’ shoulder as she moves so that he follows suit, recognizing this move as her saving him from the interaction.
They’re out the door together with minimal teasing in under 3 minutes, piled into a cab beside each other with no real plan other than to leave that table.
“Do you want to go by to yours and watch old reruns of The Twilight Zone?” Y/N offers and Spencers shoulders almost melt into the black leather of the seat behind him.
“So so badly” he groans, letting his eyes close as he falls back against the headrest.
Thank you so much for reading, comments, reblogs, and tags are always appreciated! ❤️
Let me know what you thought about this chapter here <3
An Inconvenient Affection Taglist
2K notes · View notes
twitter p*rn vids | bnha men p.2
NSFW! minors do not interact! 18+ only!
warnings: twitter p*rn videos (pls i beg wear earbuds) + brief descriptions of sex (fem!reader), breeding, pegging, & overstimulation
includes: amajiki t., togata m., sero h., takami k., todoroki t., & aizawa s. (all characters aged over 21!)
amajiki t. | suneater ૮(๑❛ ༝ ❛๑)ა
tamaki gets lost in your cunny so easily, it makes him all pussy-drunk n sensitive. also he adores your pretty sounds. when he's close his thrusts get shorter because he doesn't wanna be away from you. bonus: sub!tamaki <3
togata m. | lemillion ✧( ु•⌄• )✩
mirio has amazing willpower with you. he'll be so gentle with you, like you'd break if he thrust too fast or too deep. he can definitely go harder, but for your sake he'll fuck you nice n' slow, so you can feel every little vein lining his cock.
sero h. | cellophane ʚ(♡ ᵕ ♡)ɞ
hanta fucks you so perfectly; his thumb on your clit, steady pace, and he teases you just enough by thrusting through your folds a bit. he knows what he's doing and how to use his cock so it'll make you call him again n again n agai-
takami k. | hawks ٩(ó｡ò۶)♡~♬+
keigo lives to breed, he'll cum over n over countless times in your tight lil pussy. tries to get all his cum deep inside you. your moans n whines drive him crazy, he doubles his pace and cums quicker when you're loud for him.
todoroki t. | dabi ฅ⁽͑ ˚̀ ˙̭ ˚́ ⁾̉ฅ
touya is a talker. he'll always tell you how warm you feel or how good you are for him, regardless of his pace he's gonna make an effort to let you know. he huffs n sighs when he's overwhelmed with pleasure, he's grabby too just like shouto
aizawa s. | eraserhead ‧˚. (｡•ˇoˇ•｡)･｡ﾟ
shouta is a passionate lover, he prefers not to be rushed, and to go at his lover's pace. his hands are following your movements, either guiding your hips or caressing your waist. he prioritizes your pleasure above his own.
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Love, Honor, and Obey
A Bucky Barnes Series (AU)
Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader (AU)
Word Count: 83K
Chapters: 18 (Complete)
Warnings: *18+*, Blood and Graphic Violence, Injury, Criminal Activities, Medical Procedures/Whump, Rape/Aftermath of Rape, Pregnancy/Birth, Depression, Anxiety, Angst, Smut, Fluff.
Series Summary: Faced with blackmail and the loss of your beloved charity, you’re forced to marry the son of your mobster father’s friend, James Barnes, in order to keep the peace between the families. Little did you know, James had fallen in love with you at first sight. As he tries to woo his new wife, a new rival family comes into play, threatening all you’ve come to hold dear.
A/N: This was originally a request from @jennisahoe. She requested “ Would you mind writing for Mob!bucky? Maybe reader is forced to marry him by her family to end rivalry and he wants to win her heart and get her to warm up to him slowly because he low key fell in love with her before she married him when he saw her pictures?” I absolutely fell in love with this idea, and I felt a oneshot wouldn’t do this rich storyline justice, so I made a series. I hope you enjoy it!
Moodboard - Romania
Moodboard - New York
Moodboard - Safe
Moodboard - Family
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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Summary: Bucky, Sam and Steve all decide to participate in No Nut November; you make it your personal mission to make Bucky lose.
Warning: this is a bit of a crack fic especially with the banana part but oh well, second hand embarrassment but Bucky thinking it’s hot because it’s you, No Nut November (yes that is a warning itself), language, sexual themes and eventual smut (18+)
Word count: 4.1k
gif ♡ Masterlist
“Why the hell would I want to do that?”
“What, Barnes, think you can’t go thirty days without jerking off?”
Bucky rolls his eyes at Sam’s idea, what did he say it was called, No Nut November?
“Of course I can, I just don’t want to.” He huffs.
“To me that sounds like you won’t admit that you can’t.”
Bucky knows Sam’s trying to get a reaction out of him, he looks over at Steve. “So you’re really doing this? Only three months after you and Natasha finally got together?” Steve throws him a shrug.
Bucky sighs before making his final decision, “Okay, I’m doing it, but only because I want to see Sam suffer.”
“What do we have to do if we lose?”
It’s nearly midnight when you get up from your bed one last time to get yourself a drink of water.
You walk into the kitchen, about to open the fridge to get out a bottle when you hear Steve say your name from the other room. First you think he’s calling you, but you realise he’s not alone.
“Oh my god, yes! If you lose you’ll have to tell her how you feel. I personally, not that I know any reason why she would but, I have a feeling that she even likes you back. But it’d be funny just because I know how scared you are of confessing to her.”
“Why can’t I just do the same forfeit as you two if I lose?”
Forfeit? What are they talking about?
“Oh you’ll definitely have to do the same thing as us, telling her just comes on top of that.” You can hear Sam’s laughter.
“You know, I would say that that’s unfair, but I won’t lose anyway, so I don’t have anything to worry about. One month without jerking off, I’m an old man, not a horny teenager how hard can that be?”
Those idiots are really doing that No Nut November thing, huh? Two super soldiers and the Falcon - you have to fight back a laugh before returning to your room with some water.
It only hits you once you’re back in bed. Bucky has a crush on you.
Bucky. The guy you may or may not have been slightly infatuated with since he joined the team. But to you he was so hard to read, so you always made sure nobody knew of your crush since you didn’t have a single clue if he even so much as liked you as a close friend.
Now you do know, and you’ll make sure he loses, because you can’t wait for him to be yours.
Bucky had been right, he’s not a teenage boy anymore and not jerking off is not a problem. At first he was worried what would happen if he had a wet dream - it’s not every night but there’s been one or two dreams of that kind he’s had about you - or if he wakes up with a boner, but, so far so good.
You’d been on an unexpected mission for the past few days so right now is the first time he’s seeing you this week.
Great, he walks into the kitchen and there you are, leaning against the counter and your ass sticking out behind you. He takes a deep breath and looks somewhere else instead, see, no problem, his mind’s clear again.
That is until you greet him with a hug and fuck, were your hugs always this intimate?
It might have to do something with the fact that he’s sure you’re not wearing a bra under your shirt.
He excuses himself and does something close to a sprint back to his room before his mind can wander.
Bucky’s accepted the fact that apparently you’ve given up on bras and your new comfortable standing position seems to be with your ass or hips somehow sticking out.
One third of the month is over and he never used to take care of himself every day, so it’s not like he’s extremely deprived or anything, but seeing you like that everyday, he is starting to struggle.
He knows Sam will be struggling in an entirely different way soon if he doesn’t stop looking at your assets every five minutes.
“Alright I’m going to go train for a bit, see you guys!” You say to no one in particular but get a few mutters of goodbyes from the team in the living room and walk down the hall.
Bucky follows you, he’s been especially eager to help you with training in the past few days, and by help you mean watch. Not in a creepy way, and it’s not like you mind at all, he just tells you how to do different exercises he’s taught you and occasionally helps you with some weights. Although he’s new to the team, he obviously has quite the repertoire when it comes to fighting, training and well, muscles and he helps you out with that.
He might not be allowed to touch himself for another while but he sure can look.
You feel him follow you into the training room and when he’s close enough behind you you pretend to drop your phone and bend down to retrieve it. You’d done that in the exact perfect moment so that Bucky goes crashing right into you, his crotch against your ass and his hands come to the side of your hips to steady himself.
“Sorry, dropped something.” You smile back at him innocently and he’s visibly flustered.
“I think today you can train on your own I’ve got something to, uh, do…” He has to calm down, that is.
You smile to yourself when you see him exit the training room as fast as possible.
Alright, it’s getting hard. Literally.
Bucky hasn’t been able to find an excuse not to work out with you anymore. He distracts himself by lifting weights that are way too heavy so he doesn’t have to watch you do your squats, push ups and hip thrusts.
And it’s even worse when you ask him to spar with him, he’s already said no to you about six times and although he doesn’t plan on telling you about his crush any time soon, he doesn’t want you to think he’s avoiding you.
So that’s how you end up, on top of Bucky, after you got in a good kick, only because he wasn’t paying attention to fighting; grinding into him ever so subtly, so that he doesn’t notice you’re doing it on purpose and it could count as accidental, you’re out of breath, your whole body moving, heaving and you just happen to be sitting right on top of him.
With a grunt, Bucky shoves you off of him and you land on your ass.
He sits up, wide-legged, and buries his head in his arms. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rough, it’s just, Sam, Steve and I are doing this absolutely stupid No Nut November thing and at this point I’m constantly turned on.”
He’s telling you this as if you don’t already know. Has he really not noticed how you’ve been trying to turn him on? You definitely have to step your game up from now on, half of the month is already over.
You didn’t want to be too obvious, teasing Bucky just one or two days after he told you that basically everything turns him on, so you start relatively mild.
Bucky doesn’t know what got over him when he told you, but he decided that today you were going to do a bit of a rest day, just swimming - which can still be exhausting.
He’s already in the pool doing some laps when you come in - not in your usual modest one-piece bathing suit, but instead you’re wearing a very flimsy bikini, your chest moving with every step you make, chirping and a towel in your hand.
You throw it to the floor and sit right where Bucky is holding on to the edge of the pool, if he moved less than a foot, he would be between your legs, oh god.
“Normal swimsuit was in the wash so I had to wear this.” You inform him although it’s a complete lie, you just don’t want him to get suspicious of your teasing.
“Yeah no problem, just do your usual number of laps and then we’re finished for today.”
During your whole swimming session Bucky’s always ahead of you just so he can’t get too close to you to get a glimpse of your perfect body, or even worse, touch you. Of course under other circumstances that would be all he wants, but not during this month.
You’re at your last round when you decide to “accidentally” graze your fingers along the string at the back of your bikini and undo it, so the back of your bikini is now open and if you didn’t hold on to it it would float up and expose your chest.
“Uh Bucky, could you..?” He directs his attention towards you and his eyes go wide when he sees your dilemma.
You walk over to him through the water, holding on only to the fabric around your nipples so he can see more than the outline of your breasts.
He gulps when you stand right in front of him, a coy smile playing at your lips when you turn around, closer to him than necessary and his fingers fidget with the strings of your bikini, quickly tying a knot and then he swims a few feet away from you, telling you your swimming session is over.
He doesn’t want to be the one running away from you all the time so instead he has to watch you get out of the pool, and then walking out and down the hall, your ass and hips swaying deliciously before you turn around to throw him a last sweet smile.
You’re starting to get impatient and Bucky’s very close to giving up, there’s only so many times he can go to bed with aching, blue balls.
It’s so bad that he can’t sleep and he doesn’t want to cheat, if he agreed to this stupid challenge he’s going to complete it.
You can hear Bucky twisting, turning and walking up and down his room, right next to yours, all night, you can’t sleep either.
You think of the one thing that can always get you to sleep, masturbating, and combine it with your mission of the month, teasing Bucky.
Reaching for your favourite toy from the drawer of your nightstand, something else catches your eye. A big black vibrator that you never use because it’s way too loud and intense; exactly what you’re looking for.
You get over the covers and use your hands to glide over your body, teasing your inner thighs and your nipples for a bit before spreading your legs and pulling your panties to the side. You turn on the vibrator and the buzzing of it immediately fills the room and no doubt Bucky can hear it, too.
You’re nearly scared to press it to your clit, though when you do and the vibrating tip touches you, you moan, it’s just below the limit of being too much.
Your plan was to fake-moan so loudly for Bucky to hear you, but the power of the small machine has you whimpering and moaning, coming undone in under two minutes. Right after you reach your - very vocally highlighted - peak, you hear Bucky’s door slam shut and you expect him to come into your room, instead, you hear heavy footsteps along the hall, getting more quiet until you can’t hear them anymore.
You’re out of breath when you come down from your high and decide to get a drink to cool off from the kitchen. Once you’re there, you find Bucky sitting on a stool and staring at an apple in front of him.
“You good?” His eyes don’t leave the fruit.
“Yeah, just getting water. I’m not doing No Nut November, and shit’s exhausting, the good kind though.”
This time he looks up at you, dark eyes and jaw clenched. “I know, I heard.”
You look down with an unapologetic smile.
“Well, you can go back to your room now, I’ll be quiet from now on.”
Usually you’d find it this way too awkward, but now that you know Bucky likes you back, and is especially horny right now, you’re enjoying wrapping him around your little finger and only waiting for him to act on it.
Unfortunately, you both return to your own rooms separately.
It’s nearly the end of November and you’re still determined to make Bucky lose and - preferably at the same time - confess his feelings to you, though that is part of his forfeit anyway.
It’s Friday night and everyone’s going out - everyone except you and Bucky.
You have other plans for him.
Sam and Steve wish Bucky good luck when they see you pulling out a Fifty Shades of Grey DVD, although Bucky has no idea what he’s getting himself into yet.
“Wait, is this a sex film?” He asks after the about fifteenth sexual innuendo in the film but you don’t answer.
Much to your chagrin though, Bucky’s not really bothered by the porno-like film you’re watching.
Sure, Anastasia’s cute, but she’s nowhere near your level, Bucky thinks.
“So, are you into that kind of stuff?” Bucky asks, still unbothered and you nearly choke on your drink and he takes the time you need to cough to answer himself.
“If I’m honest after all the violence I’ve lived through and caused, I like it more slow and sensual. Well, I’m still open to trying new stuff.” You don’t know what causes his calmness talking about that topic and go get yourself another drink from the kitchen when you get an idea.
You see the fresh, ripe, newly-bought bananas lying on the table and before thinking this through, you take one of them and go back to watch the film with Bucky.
First you put the banana on the table to think over whether you’re actually going to go through with your plan but then you decide, it’s Bucky you’re trying to seduce so you pick up the banana and start peeling it.
At first you take the smallest bite from the top of the banana, you’re about to chicken out but you can already feel Bucky’s eyes on you and you’re way too fed up that you’re not in his bedroom yet so you give it your all. Even if you’re aware it’s completely crackpot and one day from now you’ll probably be embarrassed you did it.
The first time you take more of the banana into your mouth it’s just to get you used to pretending to be sucking off a literal fruit. Bucky’s breathing is shallow and you can hear it despite the film playing on in the background, the noise from obvious sex scene on the screen only making your own actions more accentuated.
Your tongue swirls around the top of it to taste and you take a few more inches into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks. You get curious about how far you could take it and start trying out for yourself, pushing nearly all of the banana into your mouth and the back of your throat before pulling it out again slowly, to demonstrate how much you were actually able to take.
“Fuck, doll,” You feel a throbbing between your legs at the nickname, “You are doing this on purpose, right?”
You’re about to ask him ‘doing what on purpose’ in the most innocent way possible but the banana is still halfway inside of your mouth and grazes your teeth which results into you taking an involuntary big bite and you choke and cough, heat rushing to your face.
Your eyes are watery by the time you’ve calmed down and you’re sitting up, elbows on your knees, opposite of Bucky who’s in the same position.
“I’ll really have to go to sleep with blue balls again, huh?”
“It’s not like Sam or Steve have to find out though.”
Bucky’s not sure if you’re implying that the two of you have sex or if he should take care of himself so he doesn’t dare say anything.
Luckily enough though, you take the opportunity and walk over to his part of the sofa and straddle him slowly, your legs at each side of his outer leg and your arm around his neck.
“You really want this?” He asks, carefully, his hands already on your back.
“Yes, Bucky. You?”
“How is that even a question?” He doesn’t leave time for you to answer and attacks your lips with his and fireworks erupt low in your belly, an explosion of butterflies and you’re turned on immediately. Especially when you feel the huge bulge you’re grinding into.
You start dry humping right there but you feel slightly embarrassed because you’re the one so close to your orgasm when Bucky is the one who hasn’t got any action in the past month so you suggest you go to his bedroom.
Without breaking the kiss, he picks you up and slaps your ass harshly. Slow and sensual, sure.
Slow and sensual might be accurate after all.
After littering your whole body with kisses and appreciating every inch of your skin with his hands, he eats you out, slow and teasing until you’re trembling around him.
You ask yourself how he hasn’t exploded inside of his boxers yet after that whole month of watching and thinking but not getting any, still, he makes sure to take care of you first.
Before he can use his lips on your sensitive folds another time you tell him to lie back and without another warning you sit down on his cock, taking him inch by inch, your hands steadying yourself on his chest and his hands cup your ass, squeezing.
“Fuck, doll, wait.” He lifts you off of him and you sit back, still straddling him but his cock now rests against his abdomen instead of in you where it should be.
“I know this isn’t the right moment, but I want to tell you that I’m not just doing this because you’ve been teasing me. I really like you. And I want to be with you, in more ways than this. Although I might die if I don’t get back inside you right this second.” His voice is strained and his head laid back but he still looks at you while telling you.
“Fuck, Bucky, of course I like you back.” You bite your lip and he smiles so big you might faint because of how cute he is. Then you look at the precum leaking from his throbbing cock, you wrap your hand around it and push it back into you, both of you hissing at the renewed feeling.
You get used to him pretty quickly and start bouncing up and down but you’re still slightly drowsy from your first orgasm and so he grabs the side of your hips, thrusts into you from below and slamming you down onto him.
“Slow and s-sensual, huh?” You don’t know why you’re trying to sass him right now because you’re barely able to talk, so overcome with the amazing feeling of him inside you.
“You want me to go slower?” He asks, groaning in pleasure, and changes the angle on you, dragging you forwards, grinding his cock against your walls and an entirely new feeling of delight fills you.
“No, it’s p-perfect like that.”
Your hand comes down to rub quick circles into your clit and soon enough you tip over the edge, the feeling of your high consuming your whole body and Bucky empties himself into you with a near animalistic grunt and stills a few seconds after, watching you in absolute awe.
You let him slip out of you and fall onto the bed on your belly next to him, a blissful smile plastering your face.
He delivers a squeeze to your ass and quickly walks into his bathroom. You turn around onto your back to see what he’s doing and he comes back with a warm washcloth.
“Bucky, I don’t care, that doesn’t matter.” You laugh as he spreads your legs again and he stares before wiping away the residue of your previous activity.
“I mean that is quite a sight, but I want you to be comfortable.”
Once you’re both back on the bed his hands are back on you, this time not teasing and just lovingly stroking.
“So why exactly did it take you all those weeks notice that I like you back until I actually deepthroated a banana?”
“Well my question is how did you know that I like you to begin with? I thought I was being quite subtle.” He leans his face on his fist and strokes some hair out of your face.
“Well first of all I overheard you three talking about the No Nut November stuff and your forfeit at the beginning of the month… and then Steve and Sam came to me and told me to make you lose this whole thing so that you’ll have to do the other punishment and I think they were also just trying to get us together.”
Bucky’s mouth is wide open but then he says the last thing you would’ve expected, “But we won’t tell them, right? That I lost?”
“Course not,” You kiss his lips quickly, “But I have to say I felt a bit like an idiot when you didn’t realise I was trying to turn you on all month, standing really uncomfortably all the time to give you a nice view.” You turn your hip to the side so he can see your ass better.
“Well, I just thought that that was your usual sex appeal.”
“What sex appeal?” You laugh.
“Even that giggle was sexy.” His hands trail up and down your legs, “And by the way you did an awesome job with the banana if I’m honest, well, minus the end.”
“You want me to demonstrate my skills on the real thing?” You move to straddle him again with a smirk when you hear voices coming from the kitchen. The team’s back from their night out.
You both quickly get your clothes back on and right when you’re fully clothed again the door flies open to reveal Sam and Steve with curious glances.
“You heard of knocking?” Bucky throws a pillow at Sam who is oblivious as to what substances may or may not be on it.
“Well you shouldn’t be doing anything where interrupting you would be bad.” Steve comments with raised eyebrows, watching you and Bucky on the bed.
There’s a pause, then; “You had sex, right?” You can tell Bucky doesn’t want to lie to Steve so you interrupt whatever Bucky was about to say.
“Is that really what you think of me? I would never sleep with a man that early, you pervs! We’ve never even been on a date!” You get up from the bed to walk past them, mumbling about “What no we didn’t mean-” and “Even if you did, there wouldn’t be anything wrong with that it’s your body and-”
You know they’re right and it’s true that you just did have sex with Bucky, you’re just not telling them so they don’t know Bucky lost the challenge and he has to do the other forfeit apart from telling you how he feels, which is kind of unnecessary at this point.
You give a last huff and strut back into your room with a secret smirk playing at your lips.
Turns out, Sam and Steve both broke the rules. Just like Bucky - which they won’t find out.
Steve had been having sex with Natasha nearly every single day of November, claiming that she was too hot to resist and wasn’t to be held accountable - sex really brings out sides in people you’ve never seen before.
And after a hot woman was grinding against Sam at the club, he had to take care of the situation in his pants that day.
So right now Sam and Steve are serving the whole team home cooked dinner, clad as Santa’s sexy elves, since it’s December soon and that means holiday season.
Natasha pinches Steve’s ass under his costume skirt and although you’re sure Bucky would look great in that, you’re happy he doesn’t have to embarrass himself in front of the team like that.
And you’re even more happy that Bucky and you are finally together and he throws you a grin that you know means he feels the same.
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Show Me [Part 2/2]
Summary: Spencer finds out his girlfriend’s a virgin. But she wants him to change that.
A/N: This is Part 2 of an anon request. I was shocked by the response to Part 1, and I’m so excited for you guys to read this one! (I also set up an 18+ sideblog @spenciebabie if you wanna check that out)
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Category: Mostly smut, and a lil fluff
Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, oral (female receiving), fingering, masturbation (female), penetrative sex, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed
Word count: 4.1k
Request: “Omg I’ve just found your account, you’re an amazing writer! If you’re taking requests, could you write something with virgin!reader and like season 13/14 Spencer?”
Read Part 1 Here
He’s booked a hotel room. A nice one. A really nice one.
They spent the whole week hoping that they wouldn’t get pulled away on a case. Just counting down the days until the weekend hit and they could finally release all of the pent up tension that had been building in each of them.
Of course she was still nervous, but the good kind of nervous. The kind that made you giddy more than it made you worried. Since she’d opened up to Spencer he’d been nothing but kind and supportive. It sort of made her want to sleep with him even more than ever, but he insisted that they wait, he wanted it to be special.
And now that she had time to prepare, she did all the things she thought you were supposed to do before having sex. She got waxed for the first time, and it hurt. It hurt way more than she was willing to admit. She bought lingerie. She had no idea what Spencer’s taste was when it came to things like that, but she did what Spencer would do and she made an educated guess. She knew that he liked it when she wore dresses, he would always compliment her when she wore pale colors. He said she looked pretty in everything, but especially in white.
So she picked out a set that was white, with lots of intricate little lace details. No one warned her that lingerie was so expensive, but Spencer was paying for a hotel room, so she figured she could spring for some pretty underwear. It wasn’t just for him, when she tried it on in the dressing room she knew she couldn’t leave without it. Something about the lace and the way it hugged her body just made her feel amazing.
Not that Spencer would’ve minded if she’d done none of that. He’d still find her sexy if she turned up in sweatpants and a t-shirt with stains on it. She was perfect to him. Which is why they didn’t want to jump into it right away. Where was the sense of occasion in that?
Instead Spencer had planned out the evening, he’d pick her up from her apartment, and they’d drive to the hotel, drop their bags, then head out for dinner. When they returned to the room that evening, then they’d have sex.
She didn’t have the heart to tell him that it didn’t sound so sexy when he gave her a regimented list of activities like that. But she knew he just wanted her to have the best possible time, and she trusted him. As always.
And she was right to trust him, but Spencer had been losing his mind about that all week. Stressed that he was going to be a let down. She’d never been with anyone else before and what if he was underwhelming? What if it was the worst first time anyone ever had? He knew the statistics, how few women cum their first time, how few cum from penetration alone. And in spite of himself he was determined. Determined to make this the best it could possibly be for her.
She was perfect, and she deserved no less than perfection.
He thought about filling their hotel room with roses, so many that you’d hardly be able to see the room. Or maybe just rose petals, scattered along the bed and the floor. Would candles be too much?
Instead he stopped himself, and he kept it simple. He bought a bouquet of roses before he went to pick her up. When he showed up at her door, flowers in hand she wasn’t quite ready to leave yet. Her hair and make-up were pristine, but she was still in sweatpants and an oversized jumper.
“Are we staying in tonight? I could’ve sworn we had plans?” he jokes, stepping inside and handing her the flowers.
“Haha, very funny. I just need 10 minutes to change.” she swats his arm, “Aren't you a walking cliche, a dozen red roses?” she admires the bouquet, bringing her nose to them to take in the sweet scent.
“Nope” he says with confidence, “Only 10. While red roses signify love and romance, the number of roses given actually carries it’s own significance.” he explains, “And the message that 10 roses sends is, ‘you’re perfect’, which you are”. He can feel the heat rising in his cheeks as he says it. He feels so sappy but from the way she looks up at him he can tell she’s just as sappy.
“You’re too much” she says, and pulls him in for a short kiss, “Will you put these in some water for me while I get dressed?” she asks, and he wants to tell her not to bother, they should ditch the plan and he’ll just scoop her up into his arms right now and take her on her bed. But he just about manages to stop himself.
When she emerges from her room again she’s in the sweetest little dress. It’s white, and the bodice hugs her while the skirt fans out once it hits her waist. She looks like a fucking princess. He loved her, he loved that this was what made her feel confident, and sexy. And he can’t escape the little gasp that falls from his lips. She just giggles at him.
“Close your mouth” she teases.
“No way, come here” he reaches out for her and settles his hands on her waist, pulling her in close and pressing their lips together, slow and deliberate. Taking his time to taste her, making sure she can feel exactly how excited he is to be with her. It takes longer than it should but she has to press her hands on his chest and push him away gently to break the kiss.
“If you keep kissing me like that we’re not gonna make it out of my living room” she says, and it’s supposed to be a joke but they both seem to know it’s only just shy of the truth.
The hotel’s not far from either of their apartments, but it feels like a completely different planet. It’s expensive looking, and it’s such a stark contrast to all of the motels they have to stay in across the country.
The bed is plush, and high off the ground with crisp white sheets. And even if they weren’t planning on having sex in it, they’d still be excited to sleep in it. As they enter the room Spencer drops their bags while Y/N all but sprints over to the bed, throwing her body onto it with such force that she bounces back up off it just a little.
Spencer laughs at her, and her giddy excitement. There was still a nervous energy present in her, but nothing like before. There was no worry, no uncertainty.
He can’t help but admire her, the way she’s spread out on the bed, her hair fanned out around her like a halo, her dress spread out, blending into the white of the sheets as she giggled, her chest rising and falling with her deep breaths.
“You’re perfect, you know that?” he says, walking over to the bed, standing so that he’s looking down on her. She just shakes her head from side to side.
“That’s you” she turns it back on him and he smiles. He leans down over her bracing his hands on either side of her head as he leans down to kiss her. Her own hands move up to cradle his face, holding it gently as their lips move against one another. When they break apart she’s just looking up at him adoring.
“How did I get so lucky?” she asks this time, and his heart just about explodes in his chest. He leans in again, kissing her with a little more force than last time. Climbing onto the bed instead of hovering over it so that he can be closer to her, feel more of her pressed up against him than just her lips.
He moves so that they’re both on the mattress, so that he can wrap an arm around her waist and pull her so tight against him while they kiss. He uses his other hand to roam around her body, down her shoulder, trailing delicately along her arm. Along the curve of her waist, gripping her hip just a little when he passes it. He uses that hand to slowly pull up the skirt of her dress. Not with an intentions, just so that he can have a hand on her bare skin. Resting so gently on her thigh so that he can feel the goosebumps that he leaves behind.
That’s one of the things he loves most about her, just how responsive she is. It never takes very long before she’s gasping and moaning beneath him, even if his hands are gentle. And that’s exactly how they end up. With her writhing beneath him, tiny moans passing from her mouth into his as his fingers dig into the skin of her thighs. Hiking up her dress, further and further until he could see her panties. Just like that evening on his couch.
“Spence?” she moans out as his hands creep further and further inside of her thighs. He pauses for a moment to look down at her, to check in.
“Are you okay?” he rasps, his breathing shaky, and she nods quickly, putting him at ease instantly.
“I just— could we— can we do it now?” she’s looking up at him completely doe-eyed, her hands draped lazily around his neck, she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth in anticipation. And all he wants in the world is to say yes. Fuck it, yes of course, anything she wanted. But he couldn’t.
They’d waited this long, what was another few hours. Besides, they had reservations, he didn’t want to have to rush anything to make it to the restaurant in time. He wanted to give her all of the attention she deserved. So he shook his head.
“Nope” he says, telling himself as much as her, “We’ve got dinner in 30”
She pouts immediately, and he wants to give in right away but he pulls himself back, removing his hands from her thighs, and freeing himself from her soft grip. She pouts even more as he stands up off the bed completely.
“You’re really gonna leave me like this?” she asks, more brazen than usual, sitting up on her elbows a little so that she can see him as he walks across the room.
“I don’t want to start something I can’t finish” he jokes, but she doesn’t look impressed.
“You already did” she counters, his eyes darting to her exposed white panties between her legs, but he shakes his head again.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, you better start getting ready for dinner” he points at her as though he’s trying to be stern, but they both knew he was wrapped around her finger.
She’s got absolutely no intention of using this time to get ready. Instead she reclines back in the bed, resting her head amongst the pillows, and she takes up right where Spencer left off. Pulling her skirt up and tucking her fingers into the waistband of her panties to find herself soaking wet. She trails her fingers between her folds, her lips softly parting to let out a small moan at the overall feeling that was building in her already.
She can’t help but cry out just a little as she sinks one of her fingers inside of herself, burying it as deep as it will go and curving it up to hit that spot she knows so well. By the time she’s added a second finger Spencer’s back in her line of sight. And he looks like he’s almost frozen in place when their eyes lock.
“Y/N” he just gasps, so small, she’s mentioned that she was the only other person who'd touched her like that, but for some reason he’d never thought to picture it. And thank god he hadn’t, it wouldn’t have held a candle to this.
“You started it,’’ she whines, “so I’m finishing it” her chest it heaving as she takes in long, labored breaths, her back arching up off the bed as her fingers continue to move inside of her panties. When it looks like she might just be about to cum her intervenes, sitting next to her on the bed and grabbing her wrist softly.
“Let me” he breathes, and she lets him pull her hand out of her panties. Instead of leaving it down by her side he brings it up towards him. Taking the two fingers that had just been inside of her and sucking them into his mouth. His soft lips sealing around them. She didn’t even know what to say.
“I’ve wanted to taste you for so long” he says once he lets the digits out of his mouth, and she's not only speechless, but she’s breathless now too.
With that he repositions himself on the bed so that he’s lying in-between her legs. He pulls at the sides of her panties and slides them down her legs so that she’s exposed to him. Now that he’d gotten a taste of her he was desperate for more.
Reaching further up under the skirt of her dress so that he could rest his hands on her hips, he uses the leverage to pull her a little closer. So that his face is right up against her centre. He places lingering delicate kisses all along the inside of her right thigh, and then her left. Agonizingly slow, teasing his way closer and closer to where she wanted him.
Once he’s run out of spots to kiss he’s finally at her core, and he introduces his tongue in one tentative lick right through her folds, tasting her even better now. Thankfully he’s got her hips pinned down with his hands or else they’d have sprung up off the bed.
“Fuck” she moans already, and that’s a good sign.
“Do you like that?” he asks, not playful or teasing, just genuine.
“So, so much” she affirms, and he dives right back in.
His tongue swiping between her folds, just grazing her clit every once in a while so that he could feel the way she squirmed beneath him. When he wraps his lips around her clit and begins to suck, with just the lightest pressure, she’s moaning so loud they’re probably going to get a noise complaint.
“Oh god, oh god” she starts to whine, “I think I’m close” she manages to force out. So he takes that as his queue to release his grip on one of her hips so that he can slowly push one of his long fingers deep inside of her. The stimulation from it, coupled with his lips in between her legs is enough to kill her she thinks.
Before she can think about it she’s cumming around him, on him, her hands fisting the sheets for any kind of purchase. Unable to control the moans the ripped through her.
When Spencer reappears from beneath her skirt a moment later his lips and chin are glistening, and there’s a dopey smile on his face, so she can do nothing else but pull him down on top of her for a kiss, tasting herself on his tongue. She wonders for a second if this turned Spencer on as much as it turned her on.
“Spencer” she breathes once they’ve broken apart, “that was amazing.”
“Yeah?” he looks at her, and delighted is the only word to describe his expression.
“Yeah” she tells him and he doesn’t miss a beat before he's on her again, diving in and placing feverish kisses all along her neck, down her collar bone, right to the cleavage that’s just exposed at the neckline of her dress. He starts to pull down the straps on her shoulders, doing anything he can to get it off her without having to move from his position, so perfectly situated on top of her.
“Spencer” she giggles, pulling his face up out of her chest, “What ever happened to dinner?
“We’re already 9 minutes late” he just laughs, “fuck dinner” and he dives back in. And she can’t fight him on that one. He’s sick of working around the fabric of her dress so he sits up the the bed and pulls her up with him.
“We’ve gotta get this off” he says, frantically searching for the zipper, and she wants to laugh at his eagerness, and she would, if she weren’t just as excited to be undressed. She has to help him find the zipper at her side so that he can slide it down. The dress goes slack around her just enough that he can pull it off over her head.
And now she’s just lying down in front of him in nothing but a bra and he thinks he might pass out. It’s a pretty one, white, and lacy, with a little satin bow in-between the cups. It’s so gorgeous against her skin that he almost wishes he hadn’t taken her panties off earlier. So that he could properly admire the whole set.
“I like this” he bites his lip, “I like it a lot” she doesn’t have to ask ‘what’ he’s looking so unashamedly at her breasts that she can’t mistake it.
“I bought it for you” she gazes up at him. And it makes this heart melt, she’d bought it for him, for him to see, to touch, to admire, to remove. “Can we take off your clothes now?” she asks then, and he feels stupid that they’re still on. He was so caught up in looking at her he’d almost forgotten he was even there. So he moves quickly, hopping up for a moment to rid himself of his clothes.
Once he’s in front of her in nothing but his boxers she starts to feel nervous again. She’s seen his cock before, she’s held it, tasted it, but this time was different. This time it was going to be inside of her. What if he didn’t like it, what if she was bad at all of this and he hated it.
He takes them off so that she can see just how hard he is, flushed and leaking, so excited to be with her. And it should feel reassuring, but it just feels like pressure. Pressure to be good.
Once he’s hovering over her again, his mouth working against hers as his hands work to unclasp her bra he can feel the hesitation in her kiss, in her touch. So he stops, and he pulls back.
“What’s wrong sweetheart?” he says, his voice laced with equal parts love and concern.
She thinks for a moment before she speaks, “I just don’t want it to be bad for you” she whispers, like she’s embarrassed. And he can do nothing to contain the shock that spreads across his features.
“It could never be!” he rushes out, “This could be the worst sex of all time, and it would still be the best sex of my life, because it’s with you”
She softens immediately, he always knew exactly what to say to put her at ease. To comfort her so completely. So she pulls him back down to connect their lips once again. This time with the passion that she usually did, no apprehension, no worry.
And they stay like that for a few more minutes, him on top of her, their mouths moving against one another. With her bra on the floor his hands caressed and squeezed her bare breasts, fingers gently teasing her nipples in a way that made her gasp.
He has to climb off of her to get a condom from his bag, and for the brief moment that his warmth is gone she misses it more than she ever thought possible. When he returns to the bed, foil wrapper in hand she’s excited. This was it.
“Can I—” she starts, “can I put it on?” she asks sheepishly. And honestly he’s confused, but he hands her the wrapper anyway. She rips open the foil and pulls out the condom. Holding it in one hand as she grips his cock with the other, pumping it gently, softly gliding up and down the length a few times. She leans down into his lap for just a moment and licks up the underside of it, leaving an ever so slight kiss at the tip where it was leaking. Then she starts to slide the condom down his length, all the way down, so, so, slowly until it was at the base. No one had ever put a condom on him but himself, and he had no idea it could’ve been that hot the whole time.
He pulls her in for an appreciative kiss, pushing her back down on the bed so that he was on top of her once again.
“Can you, um— can you be on top?” she asks, biting her lip and looking up at him.
“Of course, whatever you want.” he whispers, “You’ve got to tell me if you don’t like something, or if you’re in pain, or not comfortable, or if you just want me to stop for any reason. Okay?” he asks, so sincere, and so full of love. And she’s so unbelievably happy that she waited for Spencer.
“It’s usually more comfortable and enjoyable if the woman has already cum once during the session, so you should be relaxed, but I’ll go slow.” she nods up at him.
“I’m ready” she sucks in a deep breath and pulls him in by his neck to kiss him, her lips open on his right away as she delves her tongue into his mouth. The taste of her arousal still lingering on his tongue. He pushes in while their mouths are still connected and he can feel her short gasp against his lips. She lets out a small wince at the sensation and it breaks his heart just a little.
“Are you okay? Do you need me to stop?”
“No, no! It just takes a little getting used to, you can keep going” she reassures him. And it does hurt a little, but it’s more like pressure. A pressure she hadn’t felt before. He pushes further in, and further in, and further in, until he’s completely inside of her, as deep as he can go. He moves so slowly so that she can take her time getting used to the feeling.
And if he was honest with himself he needed time to adjust too. She was so tight and warm around him, and whenever he’s still he can feel her clench around his length. He’d forgotten just how good this felt. Or maybe it had never felt quite this good before.
He keeps still inside of her, leaning down to litter her neck with kisses. Giving her time, she seemed to be enjoying it a little more now, biting her lip as she looks up at him.
“That feels so good Spencer” she moans out, her fingernails digging into his back as he raises up to look at her, “Does it feel good for you?” she says, and he almost can’t believe she’d even have to ask.
“It feels perfect. You feel perfect, so tight and wet” he lowers down so he can moan it right into her ear and that does something to her.
“I think you can start moving now?” she says
“Are you sure?” he asks and she nods, enthusiastic. And so he starts to move, slow and deliberate, long deep thrusts in and out of her. It doesn’t take long before she really seems to like it, adjusting to the feeling faster than she thought she would. Her legs come up to wrap around him, heels digging into his back to pull him close.
And they’re both moaning in tandem this time, moving together, breathing in sync, becoming one whole in every sense of the word. When she started to squirm beneath him, her hands gripping at his shoulders, his neck, wherever she could, he almost couldn't believe it. She was close.
So he put one hand on the headboard to steady himself and slipped the other down, skimming it along her torso before settling it right in-between her thighs. Circling her clit with his finger, faster and faster to match the speed of his thrusts as he tried to continue pumping in and out of her.
“Spencer, I think I’m—” she moans out, breathless and perfect, “Ah fuck! Right there!”
“That’s it baby” he hums, comforting and reassuring, his hands and his cock continuing their movements, working her closer and closer, “Cum for me.”
A second later she’s writhing beneath him, her back arching up off the bed, her nails digging so hard into his back that it hurt. “Fuck! Spencer!” she cries out as he works her through her high. It only takes another moment or two before he’s there himself, releasing inside of her, and the feeling is indescribable.
He pulls out of her slowly, taking care not to hurt her, when he’s sure she looks comfortable he allows himself to finally lay down on top of her. Collapsing softly, and resting his head on her bare chest.
On instinct she moves her hands to his hair, it’s just a little sweaty but she combs her fingers through it anyway. He was so beautiful.
“That was—” she wants to tell him, but she’s got no words, none that would do it any justice.
“Just the beginning.” he finishes for her.
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Lost Time ❤️(Reid Request)
Summary: Reader and Spencer spend their mandatory leave taking the Spring Break Spencer never got to have. (See Requests Here)
A/N: This piece has been a long time coming. It bounces back and forth between Spencer and Reader’s POV!
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Smut/Angst (NSFW, 18+, Happy Ending)
Content Warning: Mutual pining, dub con (sexual assault – reader victim w/ non-canon character), self-hatred, penetrative sex, unprotected sex
Word Count: 11.2k
It was that time of year again. The BAU was taking its annual leave. The two weeks, which almost never actually lasted two weeks, where the office would be empty. For most of the team, the time was a blessing; their days would be spent with significant others or family, friends, or fame.
Not me, though. For me, it meant two weeks away from the only friends I really had. The days would be spent in the park playing chess or at cafes, lazing around and counting the seconds until I could stop pretending like I had anything else to do. I didn’t mind it that much, really. I was used to being alone, and it wasn’t like it would be forever. If it had been another year with another team, I might have even looked forward to the time off.
But it was hard to be happy about it that year. It was impossible, really, to look forward to days where I wouldn’t see her. Especially knowing that she would probably be spending the two weeks having the time of her life with her absolute piece of shit boyfriend.
I couldn’t explain that to her, though. I couldn’t give away just how lonely I was or just how much I absolutely hated that horrible asshole. So, when she caught my elevator on her way out of the building, I asked the question I already knew the answer to. At least I wouldn’t have to wonder.
“So... what are you going to do on your time off? Do you have plans with your boyfriend?”
(Y/n) looked at me with an expression I could only describe as utterly bewildered. For a second I thought I must’ve said something wrong, but then the thought came to her with a jolt.
“Oh! No, we...” she trailed off, her voice getting significantly softer and sadder, though she tried to hide it with a laugh. “We broke up, actually. Like two weeks ago.”
Don’t look happy. Don’t look relieved.
“Oh, I’m sorry. You didn’t say anything to me about it.”
With a gentle jab of her elbow into my side, she teased, “Aren’t you supposed to be a profiler or something?”
I’m such an asshole.
There was no avoiding the butterflies in my chest and the way my shoulders straightened from the news. The fact she’d touched me made it even worse, and my entire body practically swayed to chase after her.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Please say no. He doesn’t deserve our time.
“Nah. It doesn’t matter,” she mumbled with a shrug. It gave me some hope that she’d maybe finally listened to my, granted, vague advice about her abysmal taste in men.
That hope only lasted a matter of seconds before it was crushed.
“He was probably too good for me anyway.”
“I don’t think that was it.” The bitterness laced through my words so powerfully it stained my tongue. I regretted it only to the extent that it hurt her, but that hurt seemed fleeting and minimal compared to the way a smile eventually bloomed over her cheeks.
It looked a little too sad for my taste. Still beautiful, though.
I wanted to watch her hand as it started to stir, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her smile for even a second. Even as she pressed her palm to my cheek, I only barely strayed to look into her eyes.
With a heavy sigh, she said, “Why can’t more guys see me with Spencer tinted glasses?”
If they don’t look at you like I do, they don’t deserve you. I thought the feelings louder, hoping that she could hear them. Considering she let her hand fall, I don’t think she did.
“Honestly, I just want to... get away. You know?” she started, recognizing the confused look on my face before she thought about how to explain. “Like in college when you got dumped by your shitty boyfriend who cheated on you. You just spend the next holiday vacation on a beach somewhere getting your heart broken by another douchebag.”
There was an awkward silence after she finished, but only because I was trying to figure out if that was really all the context I was going to get. When she started to pout, I panicked.
“I relate to absolutely none of what you just said,” I said to explain the silence, “But I think I get it.”
It was a lie, but she didn’t bother pointing it out. I got the impression I’d only managed to make her feel worse by reminding her that these kinds of things only seemed to happen to her.
The elevator reached the garage, and she waited for me to step off before she followed. Deducing that she was going to see whether or not I hung around, I made a point of only stepping out of the way of others before I turned my attention completely back to her. I really, really didn’t want her to leave yet, even though I had no idea what to say.
She looked comfortable in the ambient noise of the wind caught between the cement. I let myself hope that I played some small part in that feeling.
“Maybe I’ll just go by myself. That’s not pathetic, is it?”
My laughter was probably not the result she was hoping for, but I couldn’t help it. The idea just seemed so silly. “No, you’re not pathetic,” I stated like the fact it was. “If I did it, it would be pathetic. But you? No.”
Her whole body reacted to my voice, her arms jumping up in an excited wave before she shouted, “Oh! Spencer! What are your plans?”
Okay, don’t sound pathetic.
“I don’t have any. I was just going to see if I could finally look into some new theories and catch up on recent scientific journal releases.”
Or, worded differently, I would be sitting on my couch and imagining how much better it would be if you were there with me.
(Y/n) narrowed her eyes, drifting closer to me until our arms were pressed against each other. I tried not to let her see how quickly the contact drained the air from my lungs.
“Can you do that from the beach?”
“What?” I asked, just hoping to keep my mind focused on her words instead of the way she spun around to grab hold of both of my hands.
“Come with me!” she cried so excitedly I thought my heart might burst.
I wanted to tell her yes immediately, to throw myself into her life in any capacity she would have me. I wanted to sweep her off her feet and take her away to a world where she would know love unlike anything she’d experienced before. But my brain had latched on to the most recent red flag in the sea that was her romantic preferences.
“With you? To the beach?” I asked first, to clarify. My heart ached when she bounced her head and held tighter to my fingers. There was no nice way of saying the next part.
“Go with you to... get your heart broken by some guy? I don’t know, (y/n), I might get in the way of that.”
Her body language faltered, but only for a second before she brought back the same enthusiasm from before I pointed out the gaping hole in her plan.
“Come on! It’ll be fun!” she urged through a bright, toothy grin, “You’ve never had a spring break experience and I’m the perfect wingwoman!”
That last word felt like a punch to the gut, yet another reminder that even in a world where the two of us ran off into the literal sunset together, it was never as a couple. She would always belong to someone else.
But how could I say no to her? How could I look at her, bouncing on her toes and hands wrapped around mine, and not want to follow her? How could I hurt her and pretend like I loved her at the same time?
I heard myself say it before I realized what had happened. (Y/n) looked equally concerned that she heard me wrong.
“Okay?” she repeated.
“Yeah…” I answered, letting the words come slowly in the hope it would make them sound more genuine. Because they were. “I’ll go with you.”
“Really?” She was bouncing even quicker, knocking both of our bags against each other and eliciting a rather embarrassing giggle from myself.
“I can’t promise I’ll be the best wingman, but I’ll be better than a college girl... I think.”
There was no second-guessing what I’d said, or worrying about whether it was too weird, because as soon as the words left my mouth, she had thrown her arms around me. I caught her in my own, not bringing her closer through sheer force of will. Instead, I let her adjust the pressure exactly how she wanted to and cursed my satchel for getting in her way. But she didn’t even seem to notice, burying her face in my shirt and mumbling the words against the fabric,
“Thanks, Spencer. You’re the best friend in the world.”
Don’t look hurt. Don’t let her see how much it hurts.
Avoiding the thought as best as I could, I cleared my throat when she started to pull away. “You know I hate the beach though, right?” I started with a bit of a whine. Before I got any further, she cut me off.
“Alright, fine,” I sighed, “You win.”
But from where I was standing, I wouldn’t exactly say that I lost.
The crisp white sheets of the resort hotel weren’t new to me. I swore, no matter how many stars a place had, they all used the same bleached-out supplier. I guess I just hadn’t really had time to think about how much they sucked when I was exhausted from work. And the few times I did go in my free time, I was usually way more distracted by the other person in the bed with me.
Maybe that was why the sheets felt so strange then. Because while I wasn’t at the beach alone, there would be a set of two doors between me and him.
“It feels weird not rooming with you,” I announced to the man who stood on the other side of the threshold, carefully cleaning the wheels on his suitcase before he would let it touch any other surface in the room. The action made me smile because for a brief moment I forgot just how strange it was.
I was just so used to his idiosyncrasies. I actually quite liked them.
“I’m just on the other side of the door,” Spencer chuckled, pointing to the barriers that had remained wide open since we’d arrived.
“Yeah, but, I don’t know. I’m used to staying in the same room as the team, you know?” I tried to argue.
It didn’t work.
“Not really? We usually stay in our own rooms?” he returned with knitted brows and another nervous laugh. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to deflect or if he was actually just oblivious to my very poor attempts at flirting. I figured it was probably the former and let it go. After all, I wasn’t really his type. And considering he wasn’t a raging asshole, I guess he wasn’t my type, either. No matter how badly I really, really wanted him to be.
“Fine, then. I guess you won’t get to cuddle with me tonight,” I said with a triumphant huff.
That time, the laugh he gave was genuine, fading off into the calm, comforting feeling flowing between the rooms. “I’m not really what they call a ‘cuddler,’” he explained simply. Unfortunately for him, I knew him a lot more than he gave me credit for.
“Oh, I don’t believe that for a second.”
The boy who begged to share a blanket with me on the jet couch could not convince me that he would not love a proper cuddle. No way.
Almost sarcastically, Spencer challenged my conclusion with his own observation. “I don’t know, I’m pretty stingy with physical touch.”
I figured it wasn’t worth the argument when I could see from his little smirk that he knew I was right, anyway. Because it was true that Spencer was usually stingy with physical touch with most people— but not with me. Most of the team would get the semi-regular hug from him. I’d even been told by JJ that he’d taken even less time to take that leap with me. It didn’t mean anything, though. He’d grown a lot since he started at the BAU. He was just a different person. It wasn’t anything special about me. Which was why I didn’t linger on the topic, instead shifting it to the remarkably more relevant.
“What about sunscreen?”
Spencer, the non-cuddler that was apparently still fixated on cuddling, didn’t catch on. With an adorably confused look, he asked, “What about it?”
Again, I was too used to him to be surprised by his obliviousness. I held the bottle up to him as I tried to lessen the smile on my face as I clarified, “Will you help me put it on?”
“S-Sure,” he squeaked. That time, it was less obvious if he was trepidatious because he was uncomfortable with putting it on me, or if he would have reacted that way to anyone. He had just told me he was stingy with touch, after all. But he came to me too quickly for me to be concerned. I also saw the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when I finally pulled off my shirt, revealing my back and shoulders to the man who had definitely seen them before.
I wrote it off as him being a gentleman, but it was hard not to feel a little uneasy at how badly his hands trembled when they did finally touch me. I told myself it was just because he wasn’t used to touching half-naked women, but I had no reason to believe that. Spencer didn’t talk to me about his love life… at all. Trying to spare my feelings, I guess.
The same preservation couldn’t be attributed to me. Without even thinking about the sultry nature of the noise that escaped me as he rubbed my shoulders, I drawled, “Your hands are so warm.”
If he was trembling before, he was positively shaking now. Still, Spencer said nothing. He just kept trying to smooth out the stripes of white down my lower back that arched at his touch.
“What’s it like having big hands?” I asked, hoping the terrible conversation choice would help distract us from the way my ass pressed against him.
Spencer was too far gone. Despite the constant clearing of his throat, he managed to finish as quickly as possible and practically threw my coverup back at me before turning away.
“I’m not sure I understand the question,” he mumbled, taking a seat beside me and crossing his legs in a very transparent manner. I didn’t want to think about the effect touching me had on him, but I couldn’t help it. He looked so pathetically polite while he tried to distract himself by poorly applying sunscreen on his arms and face. Like I would blame him for being a man who was attracted to a woman’s figure.
There was still little reason to dwell on it, though. Instead, I just took his hand that had run out of sunscreen and resorted to nervously ruffling his hair. When Spencer looked up at the contact, all he would find was my palm flattening against his, slowly stretching out our fingers to see how different they were.
“Have you ever seen Tarzan?” I asked, unable to hide my inspiration for too long.
“Can’t say that I have.”
It wasn’t that surprising, considering. But it was an unforgivable thing, nonetheless.
“Let’s watch it tonight,” I suggested, intertwining our fingers and pulling him back off the bed.
Spencer laughed as he fell forward, apparently no longer insecure about any signs of attraction. I wondered if it was because I had a similar effect on him as he had on me, but I didn’t ask. No, I just pulled him closer, wrapping my arm around his waist in a very poorly conducted waltz that involved almost no movement. He played along, anyway, moving his two left feet and almost crushing mine in the process.
“I thought you wanted to go find some… ‘douchebag’ to break your heart,” he muttered between missteps.
“I figure I have all week for that,” I sighed, leaning forward in the hope that it would lead to him holding me closer. When it did, I realized that I’d made a mistake. Because the second I was caught in that embrace, I knew I’d never want to leave.
“You never know when someone might come snatch you away from me,” I whispered into his shoulder that smelled of sunscreen and home.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be around,” he reassured me.
I wanted to believe it. I wanted to think that he would always be there. But the truth was that it wouldn’t be fair to him. I wasn’t what he needed and we both knew it.
Spencer Reid had enough pain and heartbreak to last a lifetime. The last thing he needed was another mess.
“Come on,” I said as cheerily as I could with the regretful thoughts demanding my attention, “Let’s go to the beach.”
And as usual, he didn’t put up a fight. He just followed me with that same solemn smile and his hand holding onto mine for dear life.
Despite the setting, (y/n) reminded me more of a faerie or a sprite rather than a mermaid. I decided this after about the third hour of watching her prance along the beach. Between the radiant smile and laugh that seemed never-ending and the way her skin was already practically glowing from the kiss of the sun, it was impossible to draw any other conclusion.
Then again, the way she managed to drag me out into the ocean was definitely siren-like. There were few other explanations for how she could convince me to step into the vast unknown that was the ocean.
That being said, I didn’t regret it. Not even a little bit. How could I when it made her so happy? Even as the waves pummeled us until we were rolling along with them, she never stopped smiling. She’d emerge from the depths with an excited shriek before clinging to me like she was a second skin.
She said it was just because I was taller, but we both knew she was a better swimmer. I let the horrible excuse go because I really, really didn’t want her to let go. Even after my skin started to turn red under the ruthless star, I didn’t want to leave if it meant I would have to exist without her holding me anymore.
But, of course, eventually she tired herself out so much that even I couldn’t keep her up. We still took our time drying off and settling back onto land. We reminded ourselves just how different things were out here, separate but still together. I still didn’t feel lonely, though. I couldn’t when she refused to let go of my hand the entire way back to the hotel. She didn’t have the excuse of the waves anymore. She didn’t have any excuse at all, actually. I don’t think she needed one, either.
Once we got back to the hotel, though, we had to split up. Our showers seemed so long, even though I knew realistically that we had taken the usual amount of time one would expect for two tired sand-covered people. I just wanted to see her again. Every second away from her was agony.
Not that it was all that different from the time I spent with her. Loving someone unattainable is pretty goddamn exhausting. And as it turned out, I wasn’t the only one feeling that way.
“I’m exhausted!” she whined as she threw herself directly into the middle of my bed, “The sun drained me.”
And of course, in my traditional fashion, I couldn’t be normal for five seconds in response to what was definitely not meant to be a question. So, I immediately burst into a rant to distract myself from the fact that not only was she laying on my bed, but she was also doing so in the tiniest pajamas I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
“It’s actually really fascinating why that happens. Aside from the usual predictions like dehydration and overexertion, the sun also makes you tired because the warmth increases your heart rate and metabolic rate, even if you’re just sitting. And that’s not even considering the sudden introduction of melatonin after you’re removed from the sunlight.”
There were only a couple of avenues to take in response to my nonsense. She could, as usual, acknowledge and dismiss what I’d said, or, if she felt particularly brave, she could engage. The former usually came with a bit of a sting, but this time was… different.
“Come lay down,” she slurred.
She gave a breathy, sultry chuckle as she responded, “Is there someone else here?”
But I couldn’t, right? She couldn’t mean it. It had to be a joke. Why would she want me to lay with her? I mean, she was in my bed. But still — was this a pity thing? There were a million insecurities bubbling to the surface, and I almost listened to them.
All it took was one powerful enough thought to overtake everything else. It was the simple and overwhelming realization that this might be my only chance. There were certainly few other opportunities like this one, with her sleepily begging me to join her while she writhed around on the sheets that I’d brought to replace the hotel issue.
She didn’t know that part about me and hotels. She’d never stayed in my room long enough to find out. She’d definitely hadn’t laid in it, and definitely not with me there, too. So I did it. I seized the day and literally every ounce of confidence I could muster in my body and I joined her.
… Kind of.
Although I didn’t lay down with her, I sat on the edge of the bed. It was close enough that I hadn’t outright rejected the offer, but far enough away that I could test the waters and ensure she really knew what she was requesting. It became very clear to me very quickly, however, that she knew exactly what she was doing. She also made sure I knew that she did not appreciate my hesitance.
With both hands, she grabbed hold of my arm and used all of her strength to literally drag me into the center of the bed. Between my nervous, awkward laughter, I somehow managed to scramble up onto the mattress before she dislocated my shoulder in her insistence.
Once I was there, though, I couldn’t laugh anymore. I couldn’t breathe. My lungs had completely given up any semblance of functioning the second she rolled over to face me. Our noses brushed against one another and her breath fanned over my lips. She smelled of mint and purity, and I was losing any control I had managed to maintain this far.
But while my eyes were stuck on her, she looked away from me with no effort at all. I guess she decided that there were better places to be, because she sunk into the sheets and nuzzled her face into my chest so quickly that I almost worried she’d slip from my arms entirely. But she didn’t. She stayed there, pressing her ear against my chest and undoubtedly being deafened by the pounding of my heart.
“Wow. You are warm,” I nervously chuckled, hoping to muffle the sound.
“So are your hands. Still,” she mumbled back without budging at all.
I could say the same for the lump in my throat, which refused to move no matter how hard I tried to clear my throat. Deciding that I’d rather suffer than disturb the girl half-asleep on my chest, I just croaked out a weak, “So what now?”
“We still have to watch Tarzan,” she grumbled. It was admirable, really, how dedicated she was to the half-baked plan, considering I could practically hear her snoring.
“Are you actually going to be able to stay awake that long?”
“Of course. I’m an adult,” she sneered, “I don’t need naps.”
Unsurprisingly, she was wrong. So wrong in fact that by the time the first music note hit, she was already fast asleep. It bothered me less than I thought it would. In fact, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest were even more comforting than the gentle thrum of the musical score.
I drew the rest of the words against her skin with gentle strokes across her back, wondering how in the hell a cartoon about a man convinced he was a gorilla could so perfectly describe the strength contained in the woman in my arms.
Because there was nothing that I wanted more than to protect her. I wanted to keep her right there, the one place I could shield her from any of the men who wouldn’t love her right. I wanted to feel her breath against my neck and her heart gently matching with mine.
I took in the moment to the best of my ability. I barely watched the movie, too caught up in the sight of her at her most vulnerable. I selfishly wished she would realize just how much better she slept in my arms and want to do it more often. But I knew that was silly. She was just tired from the beach.
This was a once in a lifetime event, and I needed to remember that. But it was so hard to not wish for more. To not hope and pray and beg whatever gods that might exist to recreate this moment over, and over, and over again.
But of course, it didn’t work. After a while, she started to stir in my arms just enough to alert me that she’d woken up.
“Is the movie over?” she said through a dramatic yawn. After that was done, though, she just returned to her previous position with her cheek pressed tightly against my chest. That was, until I regretfully caught her attention with the honest answer.
“It ended… an hour ago, yeah.”
She shot up so quickly that our faces almost collided. I prevented disaster by a couple of seconds and a few laughs at the state of her hair after she’d fallen asleep in such a ridiculous angle. I was sure mine was just as bad, but she was too sleepy to notice.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” she whined like it was all some massive inconvenience instead of exactly how I’d wanted to spend the entire trip. Luckily for me, I didn’t have to tell her that. I had a fantastic explanation that also doubled as the perfect cover.
“If you’ve been asleep for longer than 30 minutes, you shouldn’t wake up until after the 90 minute mark so your body is able to complete one sleep cycle, so you don’t wake up feeling groggy.”
“I don’t know…” she trailed off. I saw the mischievousness forming in her eyes, but I was powerless to stop it. Per usual, I was weak to her whims. Then, with an accusatory yet playful tone, she snickered, “Spencer Reid, I think you enjoyed cuddling with me.”
When I scoffed, she took it as yet another challenge. This time there was no clever comeback or caution. No, she threw herself on top of me with enough force that her impact knocked the little air from my lungs.
“Admit it!” she dared. It wasn’t until I shook my head ‘no’ with my lips pursed shut that I realized our noses were touching.
“Fine,” she grumbled, narrowing her eyes to focus more on the impossibly close quarters. Whatever she found there must have been convincing, because she let out an exasperated sigh before she conceded with one final threat. “Your secret is safe with me.”
My hands made their way to her waist without my instruction, but I wouldn’t have stopped them even if I could have. The little gasp of breath she took in response fueled something dangerous in me. I felt the familiar tightness forming, but couldn’t bring myself to make her move. She was still on all fours, hanging her face above mine and letting the cutest little flush form over her cheeks. I had to wonder if it was from the position or because she felt that feeling, too.
Regardless, I had to do something to break us from this moment before something happened that I would regret.
“I appreciate your discretion,” I finally replied in a register lower than I’d expected. The rumble it produced in my throat was just enough to make my mouth move closer to her. But just before they touched, just before she closed her eyes and gave in my prayers, she turned away.
Barely audible and entirely out of breath, she quickly rasped, “I’m starving.”
The disappointment I felt wasn’t nearly as suffocating as I thought it would be. Because as much as I’d rather have kissed her and consumed her until there was nothing left of us, I knew we’d have to face the real world again eventually. And I still had the rest of the trip left, right? There would be other nights.
“Let’s get food,” she said as she stood up, leaving my bed a little bit colder in her absence.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when it stayed that way. If I’d really wanted her to come crawling back to my bed that night, I should have begged her to. But I didn’t. I gave her the space I assumed she’d need and simply enjoyed her presence from whatever distance she created.
Still, I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when she wished me goodnight and left the door between us open.
There would be other nights.
I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. I’m not really sure why I decided to pursue some of them. Most of them, really. But there is always this feeling deep in my gut that tells me the mistake is inevitable. So certain, so sure, that the energy taken to try to avoid it would be even more fruitless than my attempts to pick up the disaster in its wake.
I’ve made a lot of mistakes. It was inevitable one would happen this week.
But something about this time was different. Normally when I had someone else on my bed, I was at least able to enjoy the warmth of their skin pressed against mine. His hand on my back should have been comforting, a reminder that for the brief period of time that he stuck around, I wouldn’t be alone. This encounter would be the glue holding together the broken pieces I barely recognized as myself anymore. I’d done it so many times before.
So why did his hands feel so cold? Why were his fingertips sharp despite dull nails, and why did the gruff sound of his voice whispering my name feel the same as metal scraping against a chalkboard?
He didn’t kiss me, and for once I realized that I didn’t want him to.
With one hand against his chest, I applied just enough pressure to hopefully catch his attention. When nothing changed, my voice came out, too meek and too scratchy to sound like an order.
“Actually, I don’t think I—”
He kissed me then, but the alcohol on his tongue tasted more like acid.
“Wait,” I mumbled, pulling my face away but still able to feel where he had touched me. Louder and harder, I cried, “Stop, I just—!”
His hand grabbed hold of mine, and for a brief second, I realized why they felt so cold. My mind replayed Spencer’s palm pressed against mine. I thought about how perfectly they interlocked. It’s cheesy to say it was like the pieces of a puzzle, and truthfully, it isn’t entirely true.
Because puzzles have imperfections. Our hands didn’t.
But my hands were pinned against the bed under someone else. I looked into his eyes and I saw something that terrified me. I saw myself, splayed out with a self-inflicted vulnerability. I looked away because the darkness felt less painful than facing myself. I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn’t. They were too busy, too stuck on the soft yellow glow coming from under the door.
I heard my name, but it sounded so far away. It sounded wrong. It hurt. The hands on my body felt like scratches on a sunburn that didn’t exist. My lungs filled with the smell of regrets that I still had the chance to end if I could just make myself move.
“Please!” I croaked, and something in the way he returned a laugh told me that he was choosing to interpret the desperation as the opposite of how it was intended.
Self-preservation was a powerful thing. Self-hatred was stronger. Until that night, I was convinced that there was nothing strong enough to combat it.
But then the light flickered away, drowning me in a darkness and pain so overwhelming, the fire in my stomach burned through my throat until the words burst out like plumes of smoke.
“I said stop!”
My eyes snapped back up to meet a disgusted rage in a stranger’s eyes, snuffing out the newfound confidence and leaving me paralyzed underneath him once again.
“I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to yell,” I blubbered, regretting the words before they ever even touched my tongue, “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have—”
I hated that I meant them, and I hated that he knew that. But to his credit, he abandoned me almost immediately. I realized that his hands weren’t as cold as I’d previously thought, and a guilt shrouded my thoughts and prevented me from noticing the way the light in the room next door had turned back on.
“I’m sorry. I just… I don’t really feel well. I guess the sun and alcohol aren’t a good mix,” I joked, chasing after the wrong person out of fear and shame and something else.
“Whatever,” he mumbled, gathering his things with a haste that hurt me even though I wanted it to be over faster.
My thoughts ran separate from my mouth, pathetic pleading to the man already halfway out the door, “Maybe I can call you later.”
The door slammed shut just hard enough to rattle the paintings practically nailed to the wall. I wondered if it was possible that the force was also the reason tears dripped from my chin, but I knew I couldn’t blame him for that.
It was my fault. I made a mistake. And this time, I had an audience.
My eyes fell to the sliver of light still peeking under the door beside me and I felt the nausea crash into me much like the waves against the shores we shared together earlier. The seasickness spread, making my vision rock and my breath catch as I suffocated under the weight of what I’d done.
With my hands and forehead pressed against the door, I hoped he’d be able to hear me when I quietly called, “Spencer? A-Are you still awake?”
Silence followed, but I could still hear him within it. I could hear him weighing his options, trying to decide whether it was worth it.
Eventually, he answered, “The door is still unlocked on my side.”
“Oh… Right,” I breathed, letting numb fingers flip the latch and pull the door open to reveal his, still slightly ajar, just as we’d left it before.
At first, all I saw was an empty room. It wasn’t until I pushed the heavy door open that I spotted him, his forearm pressed against the wall and his head resting on it. But the most painful thing about it all was the way his chest heaved with heavy breaths that sounded just like mine had earlier. Like he was still caught in the fray he hadn’t really been a part of.
I don’t know what made my arms seek him out, but they did, wrapping around him despite tremors and trepidation. Spencer didn’t move; his body remained frozen in place but still shaking until he let out a deep breath that felt connected to my own lungs.
Then, he turned within my embrace, enclosing me in a familiar warmth that extended beyond the physical. His fingers, while undoubtedly tighter and more insistent in their grip on my shirt, didn’t hurt.
It felt… safe, which was terrifying in an entirely different way.
“Do you want to watch another Disney movie?” I heard myself ask, muffled in the soft fabric of his shirt.
Again, Spencer paused, his answer coming slow and strained. “Sure,” was all he said. But there was another answer in the way his hands never completely left me, lingering on my arm and guiding me with absolutely no signs of force until we both stumbled into his bed.
Within his hold, there was nothing but a comfort that induced its own guilt from my selfish indulgence in him.
And I thought to myself: Why do I do this? Why let myself feel something that could never actually be mine?
“Are you okay?”
The question caught me off guard, and I opened my eyes to see Spencer staring back at me from the other pillow.
“What?” The syllable broke in my mouth, and I cleared my throat before I continued, “What do you mean?”
“I heard you... you…” he crackled. The words must have stung him as harshly as they hit me, because he never finished the thought. Instead, he pulled me tighter to him until there was no avoiding the red-rimmed eyes that were still filled with nothing but empathy as he repeated, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. He knew it was a lie, but he didn’t say anything. He held the words back with his tongue between his teeth and his jaw steeled shut.
“You know how I am,” I laughed nervously, “Can’t really blame him for leaving, can I?”
Spencer’s nostrils flared and his teeth ground together. The tension permeated every inch of him, but he never let me feel the pain that forced the words between still tight teeth, “That wasn’t your fault,” he said, “It is always okay to change your mind.”
Butterflies flooded the spaces that desperately craved air, leaving me only able to shrug unsurely before I whispered, “I guess.”
“It is,” he said again, the words harder to ignore when they were spoken with his whole body holding me like I was made of already cracked glass, “Always.”
I bit down on my lip and tried to laugh, but all that came out were almost silent sobs. He caught the tears that flowed down cheeks still hot from the sun and embarrassment, but he had no air in his lungs, either. Together, we struggled to find oxygen in the too-small room, knowing damn well that breaking apart would be easier, but not wanting to let go.
Somewhere within the battle of wills and worn out hearts, I managed to slur, “I’m sorry, Spencer.”
He waited until I was comfortably nestled against him, my face hidden from him while his hard-beating heart beat clearly against my ear. It wasn’t until he knew I could feel the way it sped up when he asked, “For what?”
There was no verbal answer provided, and I told myself that the fact he didn’t let me go was already more than I deserved.
I’d always hated the beach. The sand stuck to everything, and the crashing of the waves, the incessant cawing of the seagulls, and the chatter of tourists created a cacophony of sound that I’d simply rather be without.
But I had never come to the beach at night, and I had never come to the beach with her. It took less than an hour for me to fall in love with the rumbling water that seemed farther away when the sun wasn’t glaring off of it.
The moonlight, pale and unforgiving, was drawn only to the woman lying beside me on the blanket. I was so lost in the way her profile somehow seemed flawless that when she turned to see me, I didn’t even try to hide my shameless staring. A gentle curve appeared on her lips, and I couldn’t decide if it was because she was flattered or uncomfortable. She looked too beautiful for me to think it was the latter.
“Tell me something about the stars,” she said, breaking the silence and drawing my attention back to the sky if only for a second.
“Like what?” I asked. There was so much to say, but my breath seemed better spent on her than the fiery gases light years away. I looked back at her, and her following words reflected what I saw.
She didn’t expand on the thought, and I followed her eyes to the sky and considered what natural wonder might compare to the vision next to me.
“Okay… Well, you see that star?” I settled, scooting closer to her and tilting my head to the side so that we were almost touching.
“I think so?” she laughed as she closed the few inches between our shoulders. “The one that looks brighter than rest.”
“That’s Sirius A, meaning ‘glowing’ or ‘scorching.’ It’s also been designated ‘canis majoris.’ It’s the brightest star in our sky, only outshined in our perceptions by the full moon and the International Space Station. But in reality, it is more than twenty times brighter than our sun. It just doesn’t feel that way, since it’s 8.6 light years away. Which is actually pretty close, considering.”
Normally when I talked this much, people would either tune out or tell me to shut up. (Y/n) wasn’t most people. Not only did her eyes stay wide and full of wonder fixed to the sky, but her hand also strayed over my lap until she found mine to hold on to.
After only a little bit of hesitation, I took the offer. She laced her fingers between mine like they were always meant to be there before whispering, “Keep going.”
I wished she wasn’t talking about the stars. I wished she was talking about us. But I knew better than to assume that, and so I continued with my impromptu astronomy lesson.
“It was one of the oldest recognized stars, and ancient civilizations like the Greeks and Polynesians used it to track the progression of Summer. It’s actually where the term ‘dog days’ comes from. It was the entire basis for the Egyptian calendar, although they called it ‘the Nile star.’”
“A star by any other name,” she interrupted with a goofy smile.
She was the only person who could interrupt me as much as she did and yet never hurt my feelings. It was like it was her way of showing that she was still listening. I wouldn’t complain even if it wasn’t. I just loved hearing her voice, especially half-breathless and threaded with laughter.
“Exactly,” I mumbled, even though what she’d said made little sense in the context. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was her smile that never waned, even as I continued. “That star was what would signal the rising of the river that would revitalize their lands. A symbol of hope and life.”
“What a well-loved star,” she sighed. The sound reminded me of the waves still rolling in the distance. I wanted to stop the lecture and point it out to her, but I was worried that comparing her to something as vast as the ocean might come off differently than I intended.
But what I really meant was that she was so breathtakingly beautiful. So full of life and strength and perseverance. I wanted to liken her to the ocean because of the way I found myself caught in the riptide of her. The way I had been lost in her since the moment I met her.
I stayed there; my mind stuck in the gravitational pull of her until she tore me away from it with a question I would’ve already answered if I hadn’t been distracted.
“Does it have any planets?”
I cleared my throat and my mind before I gracelessly answered, “No. Well, probably not. We aren’t really sure, but it’s probably too young for that.”
“How lonely,” she mumbled back. The answer turned her smile to a frown, and I tried not to blame the stupid star for making her sad. I didn’t stop myself from blaming the people who had hurt her, though. There was nothing to stop me from resenting anyone who ever made her feel alone.
I just needed to show her that even when it felt that way, she wasn’t. I squeezed her hand just hard enough that she broke from her reverie. She didn’t look at me, though, and I had my suspicions that she didn’t want me to see the sadness in her eyes.
“It’s not exactly lonely,” I explained, hoping that the literal truth might serve as some sort of metaphor, “It has a companion star, although astronomers didn’t find it until much later. And one day it’ll probably have planets that orbit it, too. Just like ours.”
Just like us, I wanted to say, but I was scared to be too bold.
I’m right here, I called to her from my thoughts when she turned to face me. Our noses were almost touching, and I felt that same soft breath ghost over my lips as she spoke words I could barely understand over the sound of my heartbeat.
“Do you think people will lay on the beaches of those planets and tell beautiful stories about our sun?” she whispered into the little space that remained between us.
“If they’re lucky,” I replied, my words crackling like softwood in a fire.
Be bold, something in me called, or be quiet forever. And I must have lost my mind, because I wanted to listen to it. I watched as her gaze bounced between my lips and my eyes, and I swore I heard her giving the same desperate plea.
Be bold right now, it said even louder, or be quiet forever.
“If they’re really, really, lucky…” my voice trailed off, but my free hand found its way to her cheek that was still warm from the earlier sun. As I stroked her cheek, she came closer, her lips just barely touching mine as I finished, “they’ll find someone even more beautiful to share that moment with.”
I think that she smiled in response, but I couldn’t be sure. Because as soon as she had the chance, she closed the space between our lips. Just like that, she kissed me like it was the most natural thing in the world. She let go of my hand, but only so she could lace her fingers through my hair and pull me closer. That action alone made me gasp, and she took full advantage of the opportunity by sneaking her tongue between my parted lips.
Meanwhile, my hands struggled to decide how to hold her. Eventually, they settled on not holding her at all. Instead, the two of us rolled until I had her pinned beneath me on the blanket. I would’ve felt bad about the escalation if she hadn’t already wrapped her legs around my waist like the cutest little koala. Her whole body clung to me the same as the sand, and I found myself hoping that I would also find her everywhere.
The first time she moaned into my mouth, my heart nearly stopped. It sounded so much smaller than I imagined, so gentle and shy and not at all like the rest of her. I wanted to hear it again, and again, and again, until it echoed in my mind like the crashing of the waves.
“Spencer,” she purred against my lips before she even took a breath. That sound was even more beautiful than the last. Her hands, too, were wandering from my hair down my back. She arched her own until our chests touched, and I wondered if she could feel the way my heart reached out for her.
I didn’t trust myself to say her name without it sounding like, ‘I love you,’ so I kissed her, instead. I kissed her with all of the passion and admiration that had stayed locked inside of my chest for over a year, and suddenly I wondered how it had ever fit. There was no stopping it anymore. I didn’t want to.
I didn’t want to stop kissing her, but I had to. Like every supernova in the endless oblivion, the moment reached its inevitable end gracelessly and with a bang. This bang, though, was actually the persistent blaring of a car alarm somewhere in the distance. Although not deafening, it was enough to shake us both from the moment.
The two of us had already reacted exactly like our job had prepared us to when we realized that we hadn’t driven to the beach. By that point, it didn’t matter that it wasn’t our car, because the momentum had come to a screeching halt.
“We should probably head back, huh?”
She said it so nonchalantly that I wondered if she could still feel me on her lips the way I still felt her on every inch of my body. She wasn’t even looking at me, her eyes stuck to the blanket as she fiddled with her top and her hair and tried to pretend like nothing had happened. Like we hadn’t just lost ourselves so much in each other that we forgot all about the stars.
“I have sand on basically every inch of my body,” she chuckled as she brushed the particles off of her. It felt like she was trying to do the same to me.
“Yeah, sure,” I forced the words out like they didn’t hurt, “Let’s head back.”
I used to love this part of the beach. After spending all day in sand and sun, I looked forward to stepping into the shower and watching the evidence of a day well spent flowing down the drain. It felt cleansing. It made me feel new.
But this time, there was no relief as sand fell and disappeared at my feet. Because in that moment, all I saw were failed attempts to wash Spencer from my skin. A fruitless attempt to force myself to forget the way it felt when he kissed me.
It felt wrong.
The plushness of the robe didn’t feel like a comfort or a luxury. It felt like a costume, an attempt to hide away and hope that Spencer wouldn’t see just how hard I’d tried to avoid this exact situation.
But the second I stepped over the threshold into his room, I couldn’t avoid the truth. His eyes roamed over the exposed skin of my legs but stopped on my face. He looked at me, unlike any man I’d ever met. So full of such a pure adoration that it made my chest ache. It reminded me of just how lonely it felt when he wasn’t there.
I approached him with steps full of trepidation but lacking any regret. How could I think this was wrong when my legs moved towards him without my permission. My body sought him out so clearly and strongly that I couldn’t deny myself the pleasure derived from his company.
So why was it that my hands reached out, but stopped before they touched him? They stayed suspended just beside his face, begging him to do something to take the last step to close the distance between us.
He didn’t. His hands came to mine just as slowly as I’d come to him, and he led them away from his face and down to his chest. Silently, he pressed our hands against his heart like the harsh beating held a morse code message for me. Words in a language I didn’t understand.
I was so frustrated that I had to bite my tongue to hold back tears that slipped out, anyway. That was the only thing that tore Spencer’s hands away from mine. He wiped them away with so much tenderness I could only cry harder. Gentleness was such a foreign feeling that my body must have mistaken it for pain.
A different kind of pain. An ache that I wanted to throw myself into and drown in. A feeling so overwhelming that there was nothing else except for the two of us, lost at sea and hoping to never find land again.
“Break my heart, Spencer,” I whispered, surprised to hear my own voice but glad to have broken the silence. “Kiss me again.”
I could see the thoughts behind glassy eyes, that same desire to let go of the control and the fear. But his words betrayed those thoughts, and with a sad, pathetic voice, he answered, “I… can’t.”
I felt my dreams slipping through my fingers, even though my hands held tightly to his shirt. Everything I’d ever feared was coming to life in front of my eyes, and I tried to fight the inevitable with everything I had.
“Why not?” I begged in the form of a question.
“Because it means something to me,” he replied, and I felt the familiar words like a punch in the gut. I’d felt them before, but he still felt the need to explain it to me like it wasn’t currently tearing my soul apart at the seams, “Kissing you means too much to me.”
I laughed. It was a breathy, exhausted chuckle that made his frown falter for just one self-pitying second before our eyes locked again and he saw the full force of the feeling behind it.
“Then do it,” I said with an almost silent whine, “Please.”
I should’ve known better. It would take more to convince him than thinking things really hard. But the mere thought of spilling my heart out to him was its own kind of paralyzing. My mouth wouldn’t move, and while his lips opened and closed, he also couldn’t make the words come through. Until they did, weak and scratchy.
“I can’t do it unless… It means something to you, too.”
The words, spoken by a bona fide genius, were simply too stupid to acknowledge. I couldn’t even formulate enough words to explain just how ignorant they were. So I didn’t even try to string together a sentence filled with the frustration and admiration I felt for this absolute idiot in front of me. No, I just forced my way through the little space left between us until our lips met again.
They were so much shier this time, our hands inching by instead of flowing freely over one another. His breath came out hard, and our cheeks slid against one another with salty tears. They were the evidence of how much our bodies were overflowing with love, unable to contain the feeling any longer.
The kiss was shorter, too. It ended abruptly, with my lips breaking away to take in a shaky breath and force out an answer, just in case he needed it. Because he deserved to hear it.
“It does mean something to me. It always would have.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” he whined back, his pitch wavering with his hands that still weren’t entirely comfortable holding me like this.
I thought about the question because I didn’t know the answer. I closed my eyes hoping that it might clear my mind and make it easier, but even then, all I saw was him. I was faced with all the lies I’d told myself to keep us apart. There was no denying that I’d loved him for a long time, and if I was really being honest, I’d seen that same love reflected in his eyes. But I ran away from it and into someone else’s arms. Always someone who I knew would never look at me like he did.
Then the words came, through small sobs and with a life-altering wave of relief. The truth came out, genuine and untainted and raw.
“We accept the love we think we deserve.”
And he tried to accept the answer. He tried to see what I saw in myself, but his eyes were too clouded, too colored to see me exactly how I was to him. He looked at me like I was perfect exactly as I existed in that moment, because to him, I was.
“You deserve so much better than that.”
Those were the last words he spoke to me before our bodies crashed together like waves on the shore, always returning to kiss the surface of sand that would mix with the water to create something new. Spencer didn’t just kiss me. There was something else there, too, something deeper than a meeting of mouths.
For once, I didn’t try to identify it. I let the feeling flow through me, opening my mouth to him and feeling the way our bodies started to tangle together faster with each passing second. I barely registered his hands tearing my robe open, noting how I didn’t feel even the slightest tinge of fear as I stood bare before him.
His arms wrapped around my waist felt more comforting than any fabric, and when he spun us around, I fell back onto the sheets trusting that he would follow me. Which, he did… after he took a few seconds to appreciate the sight he’d worked so hard to have displayed for him. But seconds were all that he allowed himself, with hands too excited to find me again.
We tore the last barriers away in a mess of clothing and covers until we were back to where we were on the beach, with him hovering above me and protecting me from everything else. Within the confines of his arms, I felt safe in a way I’d never experienced before. My breath got faster to match my heart, and Spencer must have seen the way it made me shake. Because he kissed me again, returning me back to equilibrium before he spoke the unavoidable truth again.
“You’ve never let anyone love you right.”
But the meaning behind the words was lost on me, my mind too stuck on one word to move past it. My thoughts paused, but my body continued to explore the way it felt to slide against his. Somehow, my skin burned hotter with each second I got closer to asking him the question I needed him to answer.
“You… love me?” I finally said aloud, granting myself the grace to stop all movements while I waited for his response. It came seconds later, with a full-hearted enthusiasm presented with a little bit of a laugh.
“Yes,” he whispered through it all, “I love you.”
I bit down on my lip, but the laughter came through, anyway.
“You love me?” I asked again, just hoping to hear it again.
Spencer understood the request, and right before he kissed me again, he repeated the words. “I love you,” he said, again and again, each time our lips broke apart enough to allow him to speak.
“I love you,” he said for what must have been the millionth time before I could manage to return it.
My “I love you” was returned through uncontrollable giggles, urged on by his lips tickling my neck and his hand working its way over my stomach with soft, barely-there touches. There was so much joy, so much love, that by the time his hand landed between my legs, I’d almost forgotten what was going to happen.
It had never been like this before.
Everything shifted when he brushed knuckles over my sex, reminding me of what we were about to do. The laughter stopped, but it wasn’t replaced with an apprehension or sadness that I felt so often. It was pure, unadulterated joy so unfamiliar to me in this context that I’d almost interpreted it as a mistake.
But then he said it again.
“I love you,” he said, and the anxiety transformed to lust that couldn’t be sated by his finger delving between my folds. My back arched to meet him, and his mouth chased after my lips to make sure that we were never too far away from one another. The slow movement of his hand mimicked the softness of his tongue as we freely explored the new parts of each other.
“Please,” I slurred, earning a chuckle from the man above me.
He knew what I was asking for, and although his retreat was slow, it was in the best way. My body continued clinging to him for as long as I could, begging for his return however he would allow. When the head of his cock pressed against me, I felt my lungs cease all function. I froze, trying to memorize exactly what it felt like to be in this moment with him before everything changed.
“Spencer…” I sighed, relishing the way the name tasted on my tongue.
Before he began to sink into me, he gave me one last assurance. “I’ve got you,” he promised, “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
And despite the words sounding so honest, I still had to ask, “Do you mean it?”
He didn’t mind. He never did. That impossible, wonderful man would sing my praises until his voice wore out and he was forced to write them on every surface he could find.
“God, yes, I would do anything to make you happy.”
The words were paired with more feathery kisses and an unbearable pressure as he entered me so slowly I thought I might scream. I tried to pull him forward, to bring us together faster, but Spencer stubbornly took his time. I could feel his lips curve into a smile against my throat that forced me to return my own, trusting that he would feel it all the same.
“You do,” I answered just in time to be cut off by his hips swiftly snapping forward, entering me with a momentum that carried through my whole body. A deep, guttural moan tore through my chest that so strongly contrasted all of the noises we’d made so far. It was a desperate, animalistic sound that demanded an equal energy from him.
It was a challenge that Spencer was ready to meet. He wasted no time in increasing the force behind each movement. With one hand resting against my cheek and the other digging into my hip, we continued to blend together into a new creature made up of cries of pleasure and overwhelming relief.
Each passing second felt like a lifetime that would still never be enough. There was so much happening that my mind couldn’t decide what to focus on, instead choosing to let my body act of its own accord and Spencer’s guidance.
It was… easy. He commanded each of my muscles with nothing more than a glance. Like he could feel every part of me. I swore it was like his soul held my heart in his hands, helping it beat in harmony with his own until we couldn’t tell them apart. He read my mind and answered all of the fears and the thoughts until there was nothing left but happiness and home.
He felt my ending before I’d even noticed it was approaching, and somehow, he created an even gentler touch as he asked, “Are you ready?”
There were no words I could say to explain the feeling, and I knew he didn’t need me to speak to understand, anyway. I nodded and let our lips catch together again as my body tensed around him.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, and I believed him.
I gave in to the pleasure and the safety of his embrace. Still, even in the greatest heights of pleasure, I never lost the clarity in how it felt to be held by him. When my vision went white, I saw his eyes in the light. My nails dug into his skin and pulled him over the edge with me until we were shaking messes of euphoria and catharsis.
His movements faltered as he filled me with a warmth that spread beyond the physical. I felt the very essence of our beings twine together so tightly that they would never be separated again. He found a home in me, and I held onto that feeling until our bodies collapsed together and brought us back to the hotel room bed.
But even as the yellow lights and strange artwork became obvious again, I didn’t feel any different than I had seconds before. Because that feeling wasn’t forged through atmosphere or alcohol, as it so often was for me.
I still felt at home because that was where I was.
The feeling persisted even after we fell into bed together again, silent and seeking each other out among the sheets. His embrace was more insistent, hungrier in a strange contradictory way. I had a couple theories why, but I had the grace to let him off the hook… sort of.
“Alright. Admit it.”
“What?” he murmured into my shoulder, burrowing his face in my chest like he could actually melt into me if he tried hard enough. But he couldn’t hide from the I-told-you-so I was chasing.
“Fine,” he sighed after a moment of pouting that got him nowhere. “I like cuddling with you.”
“I knew it.”
“You did,” he happily chirped. If you’d told me even an hour before that Spencer would accept his defeat in grace, I would have never believed you. But there he was, openly admitting that I had been right all along while proving my point.
I pried him away from my chest because I needed to prove to myself that it was all real. That Spencer Reid had really told me that he’d loved me. I needed to see the love in his eyes to convince myself that happiness was really possible and within my grasp. And when he looked up at me, he told me all of that and more with a dopey, lovesick smile.
“I…” The words caught in my throat, fighting past one last obstacle. My heart stubbornly held its final wall up, trying to prevent me from giving Spencer all of me.
But I wanted to. I wanted him to see the ugly because I knew he would still find it beautiful. I wanted him to feel the weight I’d carried for so long because, despite skinny arms and a fit test that would beg to differ, I knew he was strong enough to carry it.
“I didn’t realize it could be like this,” I finally admitted, smashing through the theoretical brick to find Spencer patiently waiting on the other side with open arms.
“That’s okay,” he promised, “I’ll never let you forget it.”
(Tell me what you thought of this piece here!)
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Pt3 Jotaro and Pt4 Josuke Hc please! In which their s/o has fanboys and girls like they do! Basically very popular cause she’s so friendly but she’s oblivious to it!
REQUEST: Pt3 Jotaro and Pt4 Josuke Hc please! In which their s/o has fanboys and girls like they do! Basically very popular cause she’s so friendly but she’s oblivious to it!
This was so fun to write, I loved the idea!! Thank you ♡
Warnings: language ?
pt3 JOTARO & JOSUKE WITH A POPULAR S/O
Jotaro was waiting outside the school gate for (Y/N), a sigh of relief leaving his body when he finally lost all those girls who kept following him around like lost dogs even if he yelled at them to leave him ‘the fuck alone’ and ‘I have a girlfriend, give up already!’
He finally got to relax with a cigarette until he heard some voices nearing.
“Please accept this gift (Y/N)!”
Surrounded by at least 5 guys, one of them almost shoving a chocolate candy box into her.
“Oh! Thank you but I can’t accept it” she laughed softly “I’m quite busy right now”
“Where are you going? Mind if I join you?”
“No, let me join you!”
“Forget about him, pick me!”
Smile in her face, she just couldn’t help but be friendly towards anyone “You see, I already have company! I got to go!”
Jotaro was growing impatient and annoyed
He stomped on the remains of his cigarette before walking up to save his girlfriend from these desperate teenagers
“She said she already had company, leave her the fuck alone”
Without hesitation they all scurried away into the school again without looking back and discussing among each other with disappointed faces.
She kisses his face all over after that
“I’m sorry, did you wait long?”
He HAS to lower his hat to hide the blush on his face after that.
They were having a nice little date at a new ice cream shop near the school
Josuke has to leave for the bathroom before they go to his house to play some video games
Just as he is walking out, he notices his girlfriend is being swarmed by some guys from their school
He is annoyed to say the least, can’t they have a moment alone? In peace?
“Why are you here alone (Y/N)?”
“Let me invite you something, what would you like?
“Maybe go somewhere else if you will”
She looks around with a nervous smile
Josuke rushed over seeing her on dispair
“Oh no, no guys, I’m not alone! I’m here with my-“
“Her boyfriend” Josuke said in a booming voice
They are gone in seconds
Josuke sighs as he sits back down in front of her and she can’t help but giggle
She stands up and kisses his cheek over the table
He is flushed RED
“Come on Josuke, I still have some victories to claim”
“We’ll see about that sweetheart!”
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Love Flower [p.p]
pairing: Peter Parker x reader
summary: You’ve read all about sex pollen online. You didn’t believe in it. But when you experience it first hand, that most definitely changes your mind. You even have to seek help from your best friend Peter to relieve the burn between your legs…
warnings: potentially LOVE!?!?!, dub!con but only bc sex pollen, also innocent/inexperienced Peter despite being like 19 (18+ anyhow) - baby is a late bloomer and we love him for that, first time(s)
word count: 4k
big ass beautiful gif ain’t mine
“Woah.” Your eyes sparkle as you spot the flower. Peter has to hold you tight by your arm so you don’t go off track.
“Is that what I think it is?” Peter asks.
“I’m certain it is. Let go of me.” His fingers loosen around your arm. You take a few steps forward.
“Why are you going near it then?” Peter freaks out behind you, unsure what to do.
“Do you think this is real?” You ask Peter. You’re in his room at the compound. He moved in after graduating high school. For one, he was honoured that Tony asked him out of all people. Who wouldn’t want to move in with a bunch of Avengers?
But the most important aspect of why he said yes to moving in to the compound was because of you. It meant he would see you multiple times a day. He’d be damned if he had said no to that.
Peter bends over the bed to look at what you’re showing him on your laptop screen. He sits down next to you.
“Se- woah... Sex pollen? What the hell are you looking at?” He asks, wide-eyed.
“It’s a special plant. Basically going near it, directly touching or smelling it, makes you go crazy horny. They’re used for semi-superhuman breeding or something. But in some communities it’s used as a drug.” You explain.
“Well, let’s hope we don’t stumble across it then.”
“Why not? I want this.” You idly scroll further down and read more of the article.
“You being serious? What’s so desirable about being so horny that you lose control over your body?” Peter gesticulates wildly, trying to understand where the hell you’re coming from.
“To me that sounds like heaven. But I don’t believe that it would work. Humans are animals, okay. But they’re not animals like that, you know?” He shakes his head.
“Other than animals like the ones out in nature, we have rationality. They are animalistic animals, but we’re rational animals. I can’t imagine that anything in the world will make me so horny that I want nothing more than to fuck someone. Not even that plant. So I’d want to put that to the test sometime.”
“Very philosophical.” Peter comments.
“What, wanting to be horny?”
“No, the part about the animalistic and rational animals, kind of, maybe, have to think about it.”
You didn’t really know what the hell you were talking about when you said that but Peter’s really into your theory. He looks like he’s truly racking his brain about it.
“Don’t bother your pretty head about it though. I’m horny, so see you later.”
You kiss his cheek and leave the room.
The feeling of your lips lingers on his cheek to this day.
“Come back, we have a mission. We’re supposed to be fight-” An explosion from inside the building interrupts Peter.
A second later Tony flies out in his suit, cheering because the mission was successful.
“Mission’s over now. And it’s just a quick smell. I swear nothing is going to happen, you’ll see. I have a bad sense of smell anyway.” You assure Peter.
“No, wait!” You ignore Peter’s plea.
You take a few steps forward until you’re right in front of the plant. The fragrance is strong. It’s a mixture of all the sweetest things in life. Peter’s smell somewhere in there.
“Mmmh. That smells nice.” You hum.
“You know what it smells like now. Come back.” Peter steps forward, holding his bunched up mask over his mouth and nose. He drags you away from the plant.
“Yeah.” You lift your arms in the air, “That smell was mad. I seriously need that as a perfume.”
Peter follows you slowly on your walk to the Quinjet.
You’re up in the air. Everyone else is happy because the mission was a success. You feel weird.
“Sorry, can I sit there?” You ask Peter to stand up from his seat by the window.
“Yeah yeah sure. Are you sure you’re good?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” You look up at Peter for a second. Your irises have almost disappeared entirely. That’s how blown your pupils are.
Peter stares at you. You stare out of the window. Your let one of your hands hang between your legs. The other on your belly. Peter’s still staring at you.
“Are you waiting for something? Do you want to sit here after all?” You wonder.
“Uh no. No. You sit.”
Peter stops looking at you and goes to worry about you on the other side of the jet.
You arrive back at the compound and you try to get to your room as quick as possible. You jog through the hallway but once again Peter stops you. He holds you by your wrist and you involuntarily moan out loud. Not just Peter hears. Tony, Sam, Bucky, Steve, Nat and Bruce all look at you.
“Ow, I mean. I have a few scratches that hurt. Don’t touch me. Um, if anyone needs the bathroom on our floor, I’m going to shower and then I’ll have to take care of the uh scratches from… from walking through the woods so I’ll take a while.”
You escape before anyone can question that. You’re lucky that your suit is thick enough to conceal how fucking wet you are.
You’re also lucky that no one notices that there’s no way that a few twigs could scratch you through your suit.
Except for Peter. Because Peter was there with you. He knows there were no twigs or branches. You walked through some grass in a garden, if anything. A HYDRA garden, but there was nothing except that plant he warned you about…
You‘re not sure if it‘s ten minutes or an hour that you sit in the bathtub with the shower head between your legs. Uncontrollable sobs leave your mouth that sound more erotic than any porn you‘ve watched.
Your hand hurts from holding the shower head and as you share this floor with Peter, you realise he might also want to shower after a sweaty mission.
God, Peter. Under the shower. Naked.
You stop your thoughts from going there. You‘ve fallen victim to the magical attraction of the plant but you don‘t want your innocent angel boy Peter to become a victim of your dirty thoughts.
You tear yourself away from the stream of water to go to your room.
You‘re glad to have a vibrator that‘s small enough to fit inside you, but not hurt you. That‘s what you think at first.
But after the first orgasm you feel empty, despite the pink silicone still being fully inside of you, and before today you never even got it inside. You’ve never been this wet before.
Everything is so slippery and you‘re more than frustrated.
What the fuck do you do now?
The vibration from your phone on your bedside table makes you clench around your toy and you pick it up.
Message from Spiderboy: Hey is everything okay with your scratches and stuff?
You: We‘re friends right?
S: Of course why?
Y: And friends help each other yeah?
S: Yeah, you good?
Y: I was wrong
S: Wow never thought I’d hear that
S: What happened should I come to your room?
Y: Yeah but knock
Less than thirty seconds later, Peter knocks at your door.
You change into sleep shorts and a loose shirt and open the door.
The sight of Peter has never made you quite as happy as now.
“What’s wrong what- woah your heart is beating like crazy.” He uses his heightened senses. He knows something is up as he steps into your room. He knew something was up when you texted him.
“I know.” You say. You lock the door behind Peter.
You sit down on your bed with a wince.
Peter waits a moment before he sits down opposite of you.
“So, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“You know when you’re like super horny all day, but the good type, and then you come home and you finally get to masturbate and come and it’s like the best feeling ever?”
Peter’s cheeks become red as a tomato. “Oh, uh yeah sure, I’ve had that.”
“Yeah well, when I smelled that fucking plant, I thought it was going to be like that. Not for it to hurt so fucking much.” When you say the last three words you whine, and to Peter you sound just like a pornstar. He really has to contain himself here.
“It hurts? What exactly?”
“My nipples are super sore. And there’s this feeling, like really deep down in my belly. Apart from that I’m so fucking wet, you can’t even imagine,” He’s trying not to imagine it, at least, “But nothing is helping. I came in the shower, at least six times, and more in here but it’s not enough.”
Peter groans at the thought of you touching yourself. Right on the bed that he is currently sitting on, that you’ve masturbated on before, and he’s even slept in before.
“Fuck should we - should we get help, I‘m sure Tony or Bruce will know what to do?” He suggests.
“No! Are you crazy?”
Yeah but only about you, Peter thinks.
You’d rather die than tell Tony or Bruce about how horny you are.
“You will not do that, I need your help, Peter. You agreed, friends help each other.”
“What- what do you want me to do? I don‘t know anything about this.”
“Just…” You straddle Peter’s thighs. He doesn’t stop you. You put your hands on his shoulders and press your forehead against his.
“Just kiss me, Peter.”
He doesn’t wait. Peter places his lips on your open mouth. You kiss him until you no longer know which way up and which way down is.
You start grinding your hips against Peter’s leg, against the basketball shorts he’s wearing.
You weren’t lying when you told him he wouldn’t believe how wet you are.
“Fuck. S-sorry.” You pull away from him and lie back down on your pillows, so you’re half-sitting up.
“Sorry you have to witness this.” You tell him.
Your hand has slipped underneath your own shorts. You’re unashamedly rubbing circles between your legs. You have no idea what’s going through Peter’s head. He just sits there.
“You can go again. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t think you can help me.” You close your eyes and wait until you hear your door shut again. But you don’t.
Peter’s still there.
“No I can, I’ll help you. Just tell me what to do.”
You sit up so you can talk to him properly.
“Have you ever fingered a girl?”
“No I’ve just, uh I mean I’ve watched, just a few times, watched porn.” He mumbles and you wonder how he can be shy while you’re basically fucking yourself with your fingers in front of him.
“First of all throw your fucking inhibitions out of the window. You don‘t have to be shy about watching porn, not in this fucking situation, and not around me anyway, ever.”
“I know you‘re inexperienced but you better be a quick fucking learner.”
He’s definitely eager.
“Okay what should I do first? Can I take these off?” He’s pulling at your shorts.
“Yes, Peter. Everything. Take it all off, please.” Your neediness is coming back, more intense than ever.
First, Peter makes you slip out of your shirt. He gulps when he sees your naked chest. Your fingers start rubbing your nipples. You lift your hips, indicating to Peter to finally take off your shorts.
You’re so wet, it’s running down your thighs and Peter can smell you. He loves this.
He just stares for a moment.
“Fingers. I need your fingers, Peter. Mine aren’t as big as yours and mine aren’t enough.” You really do sound like a desperate pornstar right now, except that you’re not faking it.
“Yeah, okay. What, where-” He starts and you take one of his fingers and place it right where you need it.
“Now go as deep as you can.”
His finger enters you slowly, as not to hurt you but you buck your hips forward.
“And now?” He asks. He licks his lips.
“Now pull your finger out again- No! Not completely.”
“Don’t be. Just do that and I’ll rub my clit.” He pulls his finger out, not completely, and goes back in in a smooth motion. You’re so slippery everywhere. His finger keeps grazing the upper wall of your pussy and Peter keeps looking from your face, back to your body, back to your face.
“I need more, Peter.”
“A second finger, please.”
You look so endlessly beautiful, not just now, and Peter could and would never deny you, so he adds another finger. You can already feel your climax building up.
“Fuck, Peter. I’m gonna cum.” His fingers move faster and you use the same rhythm on your clit.
“Fuck, back off, I think I’m gonna squirt.” You warn him.
“No, just let go.” He says and you do. You bask in the wave of euphoria that consumes you, even if just for a short moment.
You wait a few seconds to open your eyes.
Peter’s shirt is drenched in your warm release. His tongue darts out to lick off some that you squirted on his face.
The way you’re admiring Peter from below him makes him feel so damn invincible.
“You feel better yet?”
You shake your head and Peter’s face falls just a tiny bit.
“It was amazing. But I feel like it will never stop hurting. I need to cum again, please.”
He pulls his wet shirt off his body and lies down, pulling your thighs over his shoulders.
“Should I try with my tongue? Maybe that feels better.”
Peter still doesn’t really know what he’s doing. But with how you’re grinding your pussy in his face, getting yourself off, his lack of skill isn’t obvious.
You have this atmosphere around you that makes Peter fucking dizzy.
You cum in his face once more, it’s not quite as much as before, still. “Oh god sorr-”
“Don’t apologise. I know you’re basically on drugs but it’s still an ego boost knowing I’m with you while you do that squirting thing.”
“I only do that with you. I’ve never squirted before.”
His whole upper body has a red tint now.
Despite the two heavenly orgasms Peter just gave you, you feel like you’ll never be satiated. You know there’s just one way to go.
“Peter have you ever had sex?”
You give him your most irresistible look but it’s paired with a pout in case he doesn’t want to have sex with you.
You sit up, your chest against his. He’s about to give in.
“But I just said it. You’re basically on drugs. I shouldn’t even be here. I can’t have sex with you. Would it be your first time?”
“I’m sorry, I know you’re in pain right now but I can’t. It wouldn’t be right, you’d just regret it afterwards.”
You feel the pressure behind your eyes. Does Peter not want you like you want him?
“I would do the same for you, Peter. You know I would.”
“Fuck.” He mutters. He gets to his knees and pulls the drawstring of his shorts, pulling them off his legs and his hard cock hits his lower abdomen.
“God, you’re big.” You grin, scooting closer to him. His hand wraps around his cock and he gives himself a few strokes.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me. I want you inside of me. Actually scrap that I need you inside of me. It hurts so much, Peter.” You whine.
“I promise I’ll make it better. I’ll take care of you, I’m here for you.” He stops, thinking, “But do you have condoms?”
“In that drawer.” You tell him.
He opens the drawer from your nightstand. Along with a few scary-looking gadgets he finds a bunch of condoms.
“Uh why do you have so many, I thought you haven’t had sex.”
“I haven’t, but I use sex toys on myself and the shop that sells them gives you free condoms with every purchase.”
“Hm, where is the shop-”
He positions himself above you, his hands either side of your head.
“Can I kiss you?” He asks.
“Please.” You whisper. You bring your head up so your lips touch. Even though Peter’s fingered and eaten you out tonight, nothing was ever as intense as this kiss. The first kiss you gave him earlier was just desperate. But there’s a hint of something more in this one.
Your tongues meet in slow, sensual kisses until you leak onto the bed and you’re reminded of the emptiness inside of you. You moan into Peter’s mouth and he bites your tongue when your fingers graze his cock, then wrapping around him and stroking.
“You ready?” He asks. You hum.
He sinks into you gradually. Peter’s never been as thankful for his Spider-Man stamina as he is now, because otherwise he’d be done for.
He goes slow to make sure he’s not hurting you, but it doesn’t hurt.
Peter worries once sobs start leaving your mouth, but they’re from pleasure.
It feels so goddamn good how Peter’s cock stimulates your g-spot while your finger rubs your clit.
It’s nearly overwhelming how good everything feels. All it takes is a look at Peter’s face and down his body and you’re coming.
You flutter around Peter’s cock and squeeze him so good that he, too, orgasms.
You’re both out of breath and Peter slumps down on you, careful not to squash you as his arms give out under him. He slowly rolls off of you, lying close to you still.
“Fuck, that was exhausting,” He breathes out, “But I mean I can go again, no problem if-”
“No I’m.. I feel good.” You raise your shoulders and use your arms to cover your chest.
“Is everything alright? Do you… regret what we just did? Fuck I shouldn’t have-”
“No no not at all, I don’t regret it, promise.” You reassure him, “Just um a bit embarrassed that you saw me like that.”
“No inhibitions, remember?” His hand strokes along your arm.
You’re both still naked, bodies glistening with sweat and Peter’s still admiring you.
“So you’re good? Satisfied?”
“Very, thank you, Peter.”
“So do you want to go shower?” You’re a sticky mess, so the answer is yes.
“I’ll let you go first.” Peter offers, in front of the bathroom.
“The shower is big enough to share. I mean after what just happened we can shower next to each other, can’t we?” You drag him into the bathroom with you. You let go of the bedsheet you held around you as a cover.
“Oh, okay yeah.”
You step into the shower and turn the water on, washing away the stickiness around your thighs first.
Peter’s watching you, but you’re too busy cleaning up.
“God, I’m sore. Can you get my back?” You only half-turn, to see Peter dropping his sheet and stepping into the shower behind you.
He takes your pink loofah sponge and starts massaging your back while you wash your hair.
This is not what Peter thought about when you said no inhibitions. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see you naked. But Peter’s completely hard again and you don’t even acknowledge it. Did you even notice? This is not ideal.
“Thanks. That felt good. Are you finished?” You ask, grabbing a towel and getting out of the shower. Peter doesn’t want you to know he’s hard and he turns his front to the wall. He doesn’t miss how your eyes go to his ass.
“I just need another minute or two to clean up. I’ll be out in a second.” He says and you go to your room to put on fresh pyjamas and change your bedsheets.
It’s been ten minutes and Peter still hasn’t come to your room. You text him,
You: You still showering?
Y: Where are you then?
S: My room
S: Cus it’s my room
Y: Don’t you wanna come to my room?
A minute later there’s a knock on your door.
You have to limp to the door because of your earlier activities.
“If I had still been in the shower I couldn’t have answered your text, by the way.” That’s all he says.
He walks to your bed but doesn’t sit down.
“Thanks again, Peter. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” You sit down on the bed. He smiles at you weakly.
“Sit down.” You order. He stares at the bed. His hand glides across the mattress. He sits down.
“Peter? What-what’s going on in your mind? You’re being awkward and surely after what just happened I should be the one behaving awkwardly. But I‘m not, because I trust you, so what‘s going on?”
“I don’t know. It’s just, we’re friends - we said that, right? Friends help each other and stuff. So we’re friends but we just had sex and I don’t know what that means for us.”
“Do you regret it?”
He shakes his head.
“Peter. Look at me.” He does, “When I first found out about that plant, and I googled, it said there’s two ways to be “cured” by the effect of that plant.
So one is the option of impregnation-” Peter’s eyes go wide.
“No no don’t worry that’s not the one. We used a condom, it’ll be fine. So the second option… is to sleep with someone that you love. It’s weird, I didn’t quite get it, but on Asgard they use it to unite two lovers, I don’t know. But it worked.” You don’t look him in the eye.
“So, like, what does that mean?”
“It means… that I love you. My body was acting up, but I could still think clearly. And I knew that I love you and that meant it would help.” This time you look at him. His eyes are locked on his lap.
“I know that you love me, friends love each other. That’s normal.” He fidgets with the string of his hoodie.
“So.. do you not want to be more than that? More than friends?” You’re back to not looking at him now.
He lets out a deep breath. “No inhibitions, so here we go, I want to be more than that. More than friends. How could I not? But I know that, for years, you’ve only seen me as a friend, of course someone as amazing as you wouldn’t love me like that.”
“But I do. Have for ages. Do you think I’d let a friend see me like that? Soaking my whole fucking bed? Do you think I would ask a friend to have sex with me? Besides, the thing with the plant, it wouldn’t have worked if I only loved you as a friend.” You explain. Now you’re finally locking eyes.
“Foreal?” Peter asks and you laugh.
“Yes.” You grin.
“Foreal foreal?” He asks and you grin wider.
“Yes foreal. I love you, Peter. As someone I want to be with, like in a relationship. And have awesome sex like we did today. Just not quite that desperate.”
“Foreal foreal foreal?” He asks and you want to kiss him silly.
“Peter if you ask that one more time I’ll kiss you until you’ve forgotten every word except my name.”
“For-” He doesn’t get to end his sentence. You straddle him despite the burn in your thighs and pin him to the mattress. You don’t know how much time goes by while you’re just making out with Peter.
“Oh and I love you too, by the way.”
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Part of the Team (1/?)
Miniseries for @mushyjellybeans writing challenge. Hope you enjoy it!
Prompt: “We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you had just listened to me!”
Pairings: fem!reader x Natasha Romanoff
Summary: Reader is part of a private investigation that is kept secret from the Avengers. Instead, they believe she took a bribe. Isolated for two years as the investigation comes to an end, reader is awarded a Medal of Honor and the team realises their mistake, but it might just be too late.
Warnings: Angst, violence, isolation and harsh treatment. Re-uploading because I don’t know what tumblr did to the original one.
You stood in the small room you had been moved to in your moment of exile. The team hadn’t shown up to the award ceremony, much expected. They had been bitter towards you for a whole two years now, you didn’t expect them to suddenly change their minds.
The empty shelves and the and the stripped bare bed showed no signs of you living inside anymore.
You clutched the medal you had been granted in your hand, the cold of the metal screaming at you that you had done the right thing and that they were wrong, but now you felt lonely as ever.
What had turned into you witnessing an event with an undercover agent, had looked to the team like you were accepting a bribe and turning a blind eye. Since then you were stuck in an investigation that had to stay secret from the team, so you had to take their nastiness in the chin. The worst was when Nat broke up with you. The disgust on her face when she saw you turn away from that agent in the middle of a fight had stained your memory.
Now that was the only look she gave you when she acknowledged you.
But your secrecy was to keep the team safe. It was for the best.
Fury had forced you to keep your mouth shut. Reading the file on the agent had given you some insight into what exactly was being investigated and now you were hyper-aware.
Walking into the common kitchen, eyes followed you.
“He didn’t kick you off?” Tony asked incredulously.
You looked to him and took in the looks you were being given.
“No, only a warning.” You said lowly as you opened the fridge.
Clint scoffed at your answer. “If I had my way, you’d be off and shipped right now.”
“But you don’t.” Steve butted in. He disapproved and was cold, but he didn’t act out like the rest. “So we just had to soldier on and make the best of the situation.”
You looked down at his words. Great, now you were a situation.
You snatched water from the fridge and quickly made your way out of the room, they watched you exit with shame.
You wanted to tell Natasha. You had to.
Making your way up to her room, you racked your brain of ways to deal with this whole situation. As soon as you got to her door, it swung open.
Her eyes looked at you with disgust and disbelief.
“What do you want?” Venom laced her voice.
“I need to talk to you.” You tried to sound like you weren’t begging.
“There’s nothing for us to talk about.”
“Yes, there is Natasha. Please just listen to me-“ You begged but she cut you off.
“No! I don’t want to listen to you.” She raised her voice to yell at you. “I can’t believe you would do something like that.”
“It’s not what you think Nat!”
“I watched you shake his hand and let him go, June! You can’t tell me that you didn’t let the enemy go and screwed up our whole mission.” You could, in fact, tell her that. But it was going to be hard.
“You disgust me.” Her words cut you deeply. The look in her eyes salted your wounds.
“Nat...” You tried.
“No. This,” She gestured between you and herself. “Whatever we had is over.”
Their resentment wasn’t the worst of it. They destroyed you in training, and eventually, you stopped training with them together. They had turned into a team of bullies, you thought it was childish, but you couldn’t blame them because of the unknown.
You had been trying to be nice to every member in the building. Going out of your way to getting stuff, smiling if they looked in your direction, helping them if they struggled or just trying to start a conversation. But nothing was working.
Walking down the corridor of the tower you had your nose buried into the StarkPad in your hands. Hearing another set of footsteps, you looked up to see a sweaty Bucky coming but from the gym. Making eye contact you pulled your lips into the sweetest smile you could muster, he was never one to be bluntly rude to someone since joining the team. But as you kept your smile and got closer to him, he passed you with a glare and a hard thump of the shoulder, causing you to grunt, stagger and drop the StarkPad. Steadying yourself, you looked down at the broken device. Great, another reason for Stark to hate you. You looked back at Bucky as he walked away from you, not a second glance in your direction. That was when you really started to feel unwanted and disconnected.
The training was the worst. They either excluded you altogether or targeted you. Each blow they gave, you took with pride. One day they would know the truth and everything would be okay.
“June, you’re up.” Steve’s voice picked your attention away from the exercise you were doing. Seeing Natasha on the sparring mat, sweaty and flustered gave you a wave of anxiety.
“June, let’s go!” Steve hurried you.
You left your stuff at that end of the room and you slowly made your way to where Nat was standing and waiting.
You were good at hand-to-hand combat, but you definitely weren’t the best. You did better with weapons and guns. There was no way you could beat anyone on the hand during a sparring session. Especially Nat.
You eyed her carefully as she watched your approach.
“What? Think you’re too good to train with the rest of us now?”
You didn’t answer her back. You stepped onto the mat and got into position. Hopefully, this would be quick.
“Go easy and be fair,” Steve warned both of you before stepping off the mat.
Nat gave no time for Steve to say go before she lunged at you. She was a blur before your eyes but you managed to dodge her. Stumbling back a bit, she took that chance to swipe your legs out from under you. You hit the mat with a grunt and a clap sounded through the gym.
Nat stepped back to her place at the mat and you groaned as you lifted yourself up. Steve watched you as you repositioned yourself.
You were starting to regret training with them, but you had to show them that you weren’t going to let them down anymore.
Nat huffed as she watched you get into a defensive stance and rolled her eyes. You had gotten used to that reaction from her, but it still hurt.
“Alright, go again.” Steve said.
He clapped again and this time, she didn’t lunge. She kept her glare trained on you as she shuffled towards you on her toes.
She took a jab at your face and you deflected but as you did, she went for your ribs, which you weren’t fast enough to dodge. While it caused you to struggle as you crunched forward and groaned, Nat kicked back one of your legs and wrapped her arm around yours. She pushed you to the mat face down her arm pulling yours back between your shoulder blades, you straining against her grip.
“Nat,” You struggled in the position she had you in. One sudden movement and your elbow was done for.
“Tap out.” She spat.
Fuck this, this was not worth it. You twisted your arm and flipped yourself up, causing her to roll backward. You felt a burn run up your arm as your muscles strained at the odd movement but you fought against it.
Expecting her to lunge at you, you lifted your arms in defense to suddenly feel a sharp piercing pain in your upper arm. Yelping out, you jumped back and away from her. Your yelp was followed by a silence throughout the gym as you looked down at your arm to see a tiny knife had been lodged into you.
Blood slowly started to seep through the wound and a tiny drop of blood trailed down your arm.
Shakily, your hand grasped the handle of the knife and you gently pull it out of your arm. You look back in at Nat with shaky breaths. She looked uncertain like she was deciding if she regretted throwing her knife at you, or if you were going to throw it back at her.
You understood now. They hated you. The hint was finally taken. She actually threw her knife at you, made you bleed.
You looked around the gym to see the same look on the rest of the teams’ faces.
“That’s enough.” Fury’s voice came from the entrance of the gym. “June.” He called to you.
Staring into Nat’s eyes, you dropped the knife to the floor where you stood. You turned, walking to where you had left your stuff, gathered it in your arms and headed out of the gym, Fury stepping aside to let you out before following you.
That was the last time you trained with them or spoke to them.
“You’re leaving?” Nat’s voice pulled you from your memories. You turned to the door, seeing her standing just inside the doorway.
“Yes.” Your reply was short.
Nat took a deep breath. She had only just received a notification of the award ceremony and missed it by an hour.
“You don’t have to go.” Her voice was small like she didn’t want to crack the calm exterior you were putting on.
“I handed in my resignation letter two weeks ago.” You say to her, turning back to the medal that sat in your hand. “I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”
Nat sighed. “June, please.” She stepped forward to you. A couple of years ago, the roles were reversed. “We didn’t know.”
“But you would have.” You turned to completely face her. “I tried to tell you the minute Fury finished telling me. But you wouldn’t listen, you just slammed the door in my face.”
Nat looked at you with sad eyes. Her chest caved in with the heavy guilt as she watched you. “For years the whole team has treated me like shit. You had no lesser part in that. I tried my hardest. In fact, we wouldn’t be having this conversation if you had just listened.”
“I’m sorry.” Nat’s voice was almost a whisper.
“Yeah,” You tossed the metal onto the bed. “I’m sorry too.”
You reached for your bag and pushed passed her. She watched as you walked away from her, all the harsh memories of the past two years flooding her brain and the pain in her chest expanded with every step you took.
You packed up your stuff into your car and made a rest stop at the bar. Sitting solemnly at the bar all by yourself with a bourbon in your hand.
This is where you were meant to celebrate with people after the ceremony. But you chose to come later when you expected no one to be there and you were right. No one you knew had shown their face and you were glad in a way. Though, you had never felt more lonely.
“Congratulations.” Fury’s voice came from beside you as he took a seat.
Without looking at him, you have a quick upturn of your lips before it was gone again. “Thanks.” You said, looking down at your drink.
“I know that this doesn’t feel like a whole lot, but you save a lot of people and helped in a major investigation that you weren’t even meant to be a part of.” He nudged your shoulder with his. “You did good. You deserve that medal.”
You didn’t know how to respond to him. You knew that this how the situation would turn the team against you. You just didn’t count on them being as mean as they were. You couldn’t blame them, but you would never feel truly a part of the team again. And the medal didn’t make it feel worth it.
“I’m not forcing you to stay, I could never. All I am saying is that they will understand now, and you will always be welcome back.” He finished his talk and got up from his seat, fishing through his pocket for some cash and placing it in front of you. “Free drinks for the hero.” Fury patter your shoulder before leaving you to your thoughts.
Tears sprang to your eyes as the emotions swirled in your chest. Hero. If you were a hero now, then why didn’t you feel like one? After two whole years, you now felt the bitterness. Bitterness towards the team, towards the investigation, towards that stupid undercover agent who was dumb enough to get himself caught and forced to reveal himself, and towards the medal that burned in your hand the first time you touched it and you were glad you’d left it behind.
“Fuck this.” You mumbled. You downed the rest of your drink and set the glass down. Getting up from your seat at the bar you made your way and fished in your pocket for your keys. You were done with this place and wanted to move on.
As if more things could hold you back, when you pushed open the bar door, you came face-to-face with the rest of the team. They were making their way into the bar to congratulate you. Steve and Bucky held bouquets of flowers and Tony and Wanda held what seemed to be gift bags.
You took their image in, a lump in your throat forming again and tears made their way to your eyes.
“We heard that you were leaving?” Tony asked you.
“You heard right.” You cleared your throat. “Please don’t try to convince me otherwise, this is already hard enough.”
“We’re sorry.” Steve said, his eyes sad.
“I know.” You looked down to the ground. “But it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Of course it matters, June.” Clint said sternly. “We didn’t know anything but-“
“So let it be then! It’s not your guys’ fault that you didn’t know.” You cut him off and raised your voice. “This was all just a big misunderstanding and nothing can change that.”
The team fell silent. You didn’t want their apologies, you hated the fact that they had to give them to you. You knew it was cowardly but you just wanted to run away.
A crack of thunder rose in the sky and lightning beamed down, signally Thor’s arrival.
Great, you inwardly rolled your eyes.
“June!” The God bellowed cheerfully. “I’ve heard of your success and have come to celebrate in a feast and drinks!” He patted you on the back.
He had been gone for the last two years, of course he wouldn’t know anything about what went down.
Thor’s words were met with silence and tension, which confused him. “I’ve missed something...” He said in a soft voice.
You finally turned to face him and sighed. “Yeah, a bit.”
You glanced back at the team and then back to Thor and gave him the best smile you could. “Thank you, so much. But I’m leaving, I’m being transferred to another agency.”
Thor’s frown deepened as you patted his shoulder and pushed passed him.
You looked over your shoulder to them. “See you around.”
They watched as you climbed into your car and drove out of the bar parking lot. Thor turned to the team and saw the stuff they were holding.
“What has happened?”
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Their s/o has a fat ass (feat. Midoriya, Bakugo and Todoroki)
warnings: slight smut..?, mentions of sexual activity, fluff!, fem!reader, some blurbs cause I talk too fuckin much anddd swearing.
author’s note: shout out to all my big booty bitches! Just a reminder! I am new to writing on tumblr so if I do anything wrong please let me know and don’t hesitate to give me pointers and tips. also i am taking asks and requests so please don’t be shy, i wanna make friends 🥺. also enjoy!
the ass man of all ass men, duh
would smack it at any point, just to watch it jiggle.
he thinks it’s sooo fucking soft, especially feeling it smack against him when he fucks you from behind, watching it bounce 🥴 (prefers you that way)
would wanna spank you all the time and definitely would want you to walk around the house without any pants on cause he lovesss watching you walk around.
would make you walk in front of him so he can watch it jiggle around as you walk
he’s just obsessed with your big ol booty 🍑
has absolutely no fucking shame
It was a warm Saturday afternoon, ahh, summer! Bakugo’s favorite season; not because of the weather, but because he gets to see you in short shorts. He loved looking at your ass peek out slightly at the hem of your shorts, the sight was tantalizing. Today, you two were going on a road trip with Izuku and Uraraka for a cute lil double date (your idea, not Bakugo’s). While getting ready, you jump into a pair of shorts and a tank top since it’s absolutely scorching outside much to Bakugo’s delight. As you’re getting all your supplies together for a beach day, you feel a stern smack on your ass as you bend down to grab some towels. You yelp and turn around to see Bakugo standing right behind you, staring at you with lustful eyes.
“Damn, you have such a nice ass. Why don’t we skip this stupid trip and fuck around at little, huh?” He said, pulling your shorts down to get a good look at your bare ass. You blush a furious red as you swat his hands away.
“Stop it Ka-chan! We’re already late.” You squeak, pulling your shorts back up over your ass. Katsuki sighs deeply as he helped you get everything else together.
“This isn’t over, y/n. Sooner or later, you’re gonna be bent over. That ass is mine.” Katsuki said in your ear, sneaking another squeeze on your ass.
ugh my sweet baby boy 🥺
ok so, he loves your ass. but he’s a lil shy ya know?
Stares a lot. Doesn’t touch in public tho.
feels a little guilty about oogling at your ass, even though the poor guy can’t help it. it’s so juicy!
but indoors??? BABY
he’s smaking that ass all over the house!
standing behind you as you bend over to reach stuff, grinding up against you.
he nasty. 👀
he won’t say it to anyone else; because you’re his and he doesn’t want anyone even fuckin fantasizing about you, but he loves your booty. gah damn..
Izuku had been away visiting All Might to catch up with him, ya know, gushing about you and his hero work and how much he’s grateful to him. So when he came home to you cleaning your shared home in nothing but a cute little tee shirt and some slippers, nothing covering your lower half except some plain black panties, he was floored. He saw you dancing around, your air pods blasting your favorite song as you swayed your hips to the beat. Izuku started to blush, watching your every move as you danced and cleaned the living space. You hadn’t even noticed him standing there watching you as you vaccumed the carpet. Suddenly you notice it had been turned off somehow. Turning your head you see Midoriya, holding the cord to the vacuum in his hand, as he unplugged it to get your attention.
“Izuku, wh-“ you questioned, interrupted by Midoriya’s strong hands pulling you towards him, kissing you feverishly. You feel him grab and caress you, hands stopping at his favorite part of your body. He gave it a hard slap, leaving a pleasurable sting as he pulled away from the kiss.
“Y/N, you have no idea how badly I want you right now. You don’t know what you do to me.” He said, lifting you up using the strength of One for All. He rushes to your shared bedroom, telling you how he’s gonna fuck you all night, and went on and on about how sexy you are.
“I love you so much Y/N, you’re so perfect.” He said gently laying you on the bed, the last gentle thing he did for you that night.
Let’s just say... yall need a new bed frame.
Ahhh!!! My other baby. Ugh I love him.
Todo is a little similar to Midoriya in the sense that he’ll feel guilty about oogling at your body in public.
But he’ll get over it once he reminds himself that you belong to him, as well as dat ass. So he looks as he pleases.
Would WORSHIP that thang, ok??
Would pick out cute little outfits that accentuate your lovely curves.
Would sock the fuck outta anybody who even glanced at you while he was around.
that’s HIS ass, dammit.
You come home from a long night of serving as a combat paramedic because of your healing quirk, and your uncanny ability to defend yourself and others in combat. You were a legend; saving lives and fucking villians up was your specialty. Sighing, you practically kick off your shoes and plop down on your couch, laying down on your stomach. Shoto was sitting in the love seat across from the couch you were laying on, listening to you whine about your day and how sore you are.
“Want a massage, love?” Shoto asked, soaking in the sight of you in your hero costume; a form fitting black catsuit adorned with a utility belt that sat perfectly on your hips and red medic crosses all over the garment in a pattern. He didn’t mean to stare at your body as you were talking to him about your night but he simply couldn’t help himself. Your hero costume fit your body so snug he couldn’t help but to imagine what’s underneath (even tho he already knows). You nodded weakly, head buried into the throw pillows on the couch as you asked about his day. He ignored your questions, standing up from his seat to walk towards you. He was very eager to feel up on you (especially on dat ass). Todo crouched over your body, sternly massaging your tight back. He was weirdly good at massages. You moan as you feel your body relax, the sound turning Shoto on immensely. His hands start to travel down your back, gripping your ass with both hands as he bounced and jiggled the cheeks around. You feel yourself get a little wet when you feel him unzip the back of your hero costume to reveal your bare back.
“I’m sorry, baby.. you just look so sexy in your costume.” Todoroki admits with a red tint on his cheeks. You giggle as he kissed down your back, giving your voluptuous ass a firm smack.
“I know what could help you relax, pretty girl.” He smirks, standing up on his feet. He reached his hand out to you to grab it so he could help you off the couch. You grab his hand and stand in front of him, kissing him sweetly.
“Meet you in the bedroom, Todo.” You said, winking at him. You turn and walk away, swaying your hips a little extra on purpose. Shoto chased behind you lifting you up and throwing you onto his shoulder, slapping your ass along the way to your room as yours and his laughter filled the halls.
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➹one make out session, please➹ (peter b. parker x reader)
The sad and divorced man who's become a regular for the past year is constantly spilling his emotions to you, his favorite bartender. This wasn't something new; you can't count with both of your hands the times you've heard someone recount the odyssey of their life. But these flutters in your stomach were definitely something you didn't experience with your customers, and you definitely did not end up making out with them at the end of the night. Maybe Peter B. was your only exception, though.
word count: 7.1k (sorry)
a/n: i tried like 8484 times to add a gif but tumblr wouldn’t let me so ((:: hello @ whoever’s reading this tho!! love how i went from 2k to 7k words lol, i’m sorry about that i don’t know how it happened. feel free to help me out w ideas and send requests if you want (: hope u enjoy !!
Tiresome was a massive understatement when it came to having to describe enduring the same routine most nights. Not that you slept peacefully like a newborn baby all the time before taking a job as a bartender at the bar; but once in a while, when you returned home and watched the bright red numbers of the clock switch to 5 o’clock in the morning since your brain was punishing you by not giving you your well deserved rest, you sure did miss those simpler times when you didn’t work at night. Yes, at first it may be amusing to watch a drunk customer go haywire as they try to understand the meaning of life, and it’s nice listening to the story of how someone ended up drinking five shots of tequila that evening. You relished listening to other people’s problems, their stories, their lives— perhaps because, as much as it ashamed you to admit it, you didn’t make much out of yours. However, two years of the same old passed, and soon enough, every conversation and dusk began to blur together; everything became a monotonous daze, like an old movie replaying endlessly every week. The obvious route would be to quit your job as a bartender before you lost your mind, but the old lady who owned the bar paid somewhat generously considering the career— both with affection and money— and, despite how cocky it might’ve sounded, you knew well that the customers would be lost without your glorious daiquiris and margaritas. You’d also grown fond of the few people there and the new friends you made once in a while; you didn’t have the exact explanation as to why, but whilst you were in that hazy trance, you were quite the charmer.
Every night was just like that: nothing more than a few more hours to your life, until a man who you guessed was probably nearing his forties and with a really, really nice nose (what could you say? You had an appreciation for the art of beautiful noses), dropped on the stool directly in front of you with a heavy sigh.
“One whiskey served over ice, please.” He muttered, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. You didn’t think much about it as your hands got to work and moments later handed the man his drink. You later spent your time trying to distract yourself with the preparation of other beverages, yet your eyes were drawn to him momentarily once or twice. Even as you talked with a tourist— a woman from Croatia asking about the best restaurants and stores in the city— the image of the guy itched at the back of your head, and you couldn’t figure out why. He was attractive, you decided, in spite of his rugged looks; he honestly appeared as if a train had hit him. Whether it was a physical or emotional train, you wouldn’t be surprised if it had been both.
The tourist sadly ended your conversation, distracted by the game on the TV, but you took it as an opportunity to comply with your desires and approach the man. You see, you liked to believe you possessed powers— useless ones, to say the least: just by a quick scan, you knew if a person needed a good talk; it could’ve been after their third drink, maybe even when they’re still sober. Suddenly, though, your bartender-senses abandoned you along with your charm and you simply couldn’t find a way to spark up a conversation with the guy. Really? You thought to yourself. Right now, when a cute older dude is sitting right in front of you, probably in need of your comradeship? Yeah, he was most definitely older than you, perhaps by some ten years, but did you really care?
You were stuck, unable to crawl out of the crater until, eventually, he asked for his third drink. Showtime, you breathed in, the confidence hugging your entire body. “Just saying, but I could already sense this third drink once you walked in through the door,” You tried to joke.
He huffed through his nose, a hint of a smile on the corner of his lips. “Do I look that bad?” He asked, a playful tone in his voice. A lopsided grin found itself onto your face and you slightly leaned over to wipe the surface next to where his hand rested.
“The opposite, actually. You’re quite the handsome guy.” Oh, there it was. He didn’t seem repulsed, which could’ve been a good sign, except that he didn’t look like anything— his expression was unreadable.
He raised his glass up to his lips. “Yeah, well, don’t really feel like it right now,” He said before taking a swig of his drink. You picked up a wet empty glass and dried it with your towel, like the true bartender you were.
“Well, do you feel like talking about it?” His eyes darted up to you and he lifted a brow. “There’s obviously a reason why you’re sitting here right now, no?”
You waited for an answer, but he swallowed his entire drink before he set the dry cup on the bar. “Maybe another time, kid.” Ouch. Kid? Really? You thought this was over once you turned twenty-three. “But I gotta get going now.”
That was the first conversation you two shared, and you bit the inside of your cheek as you watched him leave, disappointed that it also could’ve been the last one. You should’ve learned by now, though: this wasn’t the first time you made a “friend”, hoped that they would drop by again in the future, only to never see their faces again. You took in his appearance one last time then, cherishing the fleeting buzz in your head. But you were lucky when two weeks later he entered through the same door again. Nonetheless, not lucky enough, since he arrived the only day your shift ended early.
“One whiskey served over ice, please.”
You didn’t realize he was there until you heard that scratchy voice, the one you thought you’d never have the pleasure of hearing again. Your head jerked up and you didn’t miss a beat before gladly serving him— there was no way you were leaving without interacting with the older man, regardless of how small and brief the action was. It was a Greek tragedy in your eyes: saying goodbye to the back of the head of the attractive man in his thirties. You jokingly (but not really) warned your coworker to not make a move on the man; and, of course, you asked him to update you the next day if he mentioned you even just once. The next day (or rather, night), the first thing you obviously did was pester your friend to spill all the juicy, if any, details.
“I don’t know, he didn’t really say anything. He so checked you out when you left, though. Like— okay, maybe not check you out, but he definitely stared at you for a few seconds.”
You deflated. Anyone else would’ve cheered, but all you needed to hear was the first part; your friend had the poor tendency of overanalyzing and exaggerating every small detail— you learned that when, after some customers had a lousy argument, you both recounted the event to your boss during your monthly coffee session. What had probably happened was that the man merely breathed in your direction and your coworker’s eyes jumped out of their sockets. You brushed away your discontent, though, reminding yourself of your principles: you never hooked up with customers, especially since your boss was adamant about that after an incident with another bartender, and you didn’t want to endure new job interviews for as long as you could.
But the rush made you want to have fun with this guy.
Another entire month went by; no sign of mystery guy, no whiskey served over ice. No drops of your stomach, until one evening you couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw that beautiful mess of a man, a scratch on his forehead you didn’t think much about since you’d seen much weirder things, sat in front of you. “Would you look at that! We meet once again,” He smirked. You placed your hand on your hip, biting your lip.
“Thought I’d never see you again. Tell me, do you want to try out something different tonight, or your boring, usual—”
“—whiskey served over ice. Yeah, please.”
Whiskey served over ice was quickly becoming your favorite order.
You didn’t exchange any other words— you were too engulfed into the breaking news playing on the flatscreen: a poor quality clip— something that still occurred even if it wasn’t 2005 anymore— of Spider-Man stopping a truck before it crashed into a hurt kid in the middle of the street. You grabbed the remote control and boosted the volume a bit, deciding you could perhaps multitask for a while. “So,” You started while maintaining your attention on the screen, catching his own. “You ever met Spider-Man?”
An odd question which made him snort as he turned his head to watch the screen. “No, not really. Wouldn’t want to, though, he’s kinda overrated.”
Your eyes went round, and you had to unstick your view from the TV to search for any sign of playfulness in the man’s face. He seemed dead serious. “Overrated? Full offense, but I can’t let you say that about Spidey, an actual superhero.”
He rolled his eyes, amused and defensively holding up one hand. “I’m just tired after hearing about him for the last twenty years. Can’t believe he’s not going around with a walking stick yet.”
You returned to your previous position, your forearms resting on the counter as you continued to observe a recap on a football game of the night before. “Yeah, I won’t argue against you on that. I remember watching him swing on TV back when I was seven-years-old. Big part of my childhood, the guy.”
He inclined closer to you, his brows drawn together. “What’s your age?”
He let out an ‘oof’. You would’ve been insulted if it weren’t for the exaggeration in his tone. “You’re getting old. Soon you’ll be complaining about how much your back hurts and wishing for the sweet release of death.”
You chuckled, eyeing his appearance. “Ah, well, too bad because I already do that. How old are you? You’re acting like you’re sixty when in reality you’re probably just like forty, or something.”
“Eh, close,” He grinned, and then took a deep breath. “I’m thirty-seven.”
“And you’re calling me old?!” You exclaimed, earning a laugh from him. “You’re basically almost on your deathbed. Age doesn’t hold me back, though.” You winked jokingly and he bit his lip, his eyebrows raised.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, you know— more experienced, sometimes wiser, sometimes more of a gentleman…” You mused, drawing patterns on the bar. You didn’t notice him giving you a once-over. Someone called for your attention, and you let out a disappointed sigh, pouting at him. “Gotta go! Duty calls.”
“Have fun,” He raised his drink, bowing his head. As you walked away, you allowed your face to pale with terror and you began to wonder if the air-conditioning suddenly malfunctioned, for you were too heated for your comfort. You took as much time as you could with the rest of the clients, too frightened to face the man after your shameless flirts, dreading the repercussions. But you were finishing the preparation of a mojito, wishing you could down it yourself, when he lifted his empty glass and whistled at you. You nervously glared at him, motioning for him to wait before you served the finished beverage to its rightful owner and you met him once again.
“Tell me,” You began as you poured the liquid in his cup, trying to change the subject and mask your trembling hands. “I’m tired of thinking of you as the whiskey man. What’s your name?”
He let out a short laugh, thanking you before he took ahold of his drink. “Peter. Peter… B… Parker,” He moved his head along to each word and you sang out an impressed ‘ooh’.
“Peter B. Parker. Catchy. Giving me some boy band vibes.”
“Boy band vibes?”
“Yeah, like, ‘pretty boy in a band who’s a total teenage heartthrob’ type of vibes. You definitely fit the description.” Goddammit, you did it again. Just this once, you wished, just this once shutting your mouth would make everything easier for you.
Peter, his face finally having a name, licked his lips after sipping the alcohol. “So you think I’m pretty?” He inquired, a crooked smile on his face. You were good at holding back the tingling that wanted to suffocate your cheeks, the way you wished you could with your words. You hummed, surveying him quickly.
"Well, I did say you were handsome last time, didn't I?"
"Yeah— yeah, I remember that," He squinted his eyes, pointing his finger at you. "And you're...”
“Well, Y/N…” He took his phone out from his back pocket and frowned down at it with concern. “Can you help me? There’s something wrong with my phone— it doesn’t have your number in it.”
Oh, my God.
You glanced down at his cracked screen and then back up at his face. Snorting so loudly it hurt your nose, your hand flew up to cover your mouth. “Oh, my God. I’m sorry, I’m just—” You pinched the bridge of your nose, wheezing. “I can’t believe you just did that. That was so cheesy, oh my God.”
“Are you gonna fix it or not, though?” He smirked, offering you his device. “‘Cause it’s a real problem.”
He got your number. After you returned his cell phone, you noticed his yet again empty glass, wondering how he downed it in just the time you were adding your phone number to his contacts. You grabbed it and poured more ice, seeing as the previous had already melted. “Since you successfully made me want to walk away from you and stroll around the place to try and heal myself after that awfully cheesy pickup line, this next round is on the house.” You declared as you opened the bottle of whiskey. He declined, emphasizing his refusal with the flutter of his hand.
“That’s not necessary.”
“Whatever, I’m gonna do it anyway,” You slid the alcoholic beverage towards him, and his eyes softened along with his entire face, too.
Your conversation continued the entire night. You talked non stop— so much that you might have forgotten about the existence of other customers. But it didn’t matter. Despite their annoyed expressions, it was worth it. You heard the story you had so desperately yearned for him to tell; he reminisced about his dead aunt and uncle— the lovely angels who raised him and the ones he looked up to the most. But your heart cried out when Peter sorrowfully stared into his whiskey, and you first heard the name. MJ. His ex-wife. The owner of his love for the longest time, the woman who crushed him a year ago. The one whose heart he broke, too, though, all because he was too terrified, too much of a wimp to take the next step, ‘not enough’, he said. You remained silent, realizing your flirtatious exchanges earlier were solely a way to muffle Mary Jane’s memory in his mind. Nevertheless, your hand reassuringly rubbed his shoulder, the action alone speaking the comfort he needed.
It wasn’t the last time it happened. After that, he began to show up at the bar more frequently, once a week. And whenever he did come, he left until your shift neared its end.
“Like, what type of father would I even be? Look at me!” Peter pointed at his head, stirring the whiskey with a finger of his other hand. “I’m a mess, I can’t even take care of myself— how could I take care of a child?! I just… I don’t have the time,” He sighed, laying his head atop the bar. You frowned as you prepared a second margarita for the mother of one of your classmates from high school, which was what initiated the conversation of parenthood and such in the first place.
You shrugged, aggressively rattling the shaker with your two hands. “I don’t know, maybe you’re underestimating yourself,” He peered up at you, doubt in his expression. “And you do have the time to come here every week, though,” You pointed out, wiggling your arms from how sore they were.
“Yeah, but you’re… this is different, this is…” He slurred, waving his hand. “Whatever. Work always ruins things for me. It has ever since I was a little tot.”
“Damn, what is your work?”
Peter began to gulp down his entire drink after your question and seconds later slammed it on the table with wide eyes, attempting to digest the liquor. He cleared his throat, rubbing his eyes. “It’s… it’s, uh, I-I work at the Daily Bugle.” You opened your mouth with astonishment, stopping in the midst of rubbing a lime on the rim of the glass.
“The Daily Bugle?” You asked incredulously. “That one newspaper with the dude who’s obsessed with Spider-Man? J-something-Jameson?”
“Yeah… yeah, that’s my boss.”
You grimaced, instantly comprehending his daily fatigue and he nodded, agreeing with you. “What do you do? Write?”
“Nah, I’m a photographer.”
“Ooh, so you’re a photographer? That’s hot,” Moments ago he’d been complaining about his marital issues yet there you were, calling Peter hot. You might have slipped the compliment right before you left to give the margarita to your ex-classmate’s mom in fear of his response, therefore missing the faint heat that overwhelmed his cheeks and ears.
“Is… it’s nothing, really,” He dismissed your words, being all humble and shit. You placed your elbows on the counter, coming closer to him.
“Could I ever see any of your pictures?”
He threw a block of ice into his mouth. “Mm, thure,” He said, his mouth full. Your mouth twitched in amusement, and you decided to sit down considering the night was particularly slow. Your boss lectured all the time that there was never time to sit down and there was always something to do; keeping that in mind, you still ignored the four dirty glasses, instead choosing to spend time paying attention to the man with ice in his mouth. “I’m boring, though— tell me more about yourself. There’s gotta be more to the attractive barista who works at the bar near my apartment.”
You were taken aback, both by the fact that he considered you were good-looking and that he was pushing to hear about you. “Me?” You blinked. He nodded, looking at you expectantly. You lowered your head, picking at the skin around your nails— damn past you for cursing you with the habit and, consequently, terrible nails as well. “This is… weird. I don’t really talk to customers about my life. They even tell us to not do that specifically.” You laughed.
“Well, because you don’t want to hear about me: my childhood and the drama in my life, I guess,” You said with an obvious look. He scrunched his brows together.
“But I do.”
You despised the way your heart missed a beat. “Alright, well… I don’t know, what do you want to hear about?”
“Were you born here? In New York?”
You shook your head. “Nah, I moved here after finishing college. I thought I was gonna be a successful artist and stuff.”
Peter gasped with wonder. “Artist?! Cool! What, what type of artist?”
“I paint,” He whispered an adorable ‘whoaa’ and your shoulders shook with laughter. “It’s really not that cool. I do paintings once in a while. Pays well and can help with the bills if someone buys them.”
“I’d buy many if I had the money.”
“Nah, I would paint you one for free,” You smirked, leaning closer to him.
“Oh, sweet— you can paint me naked. You know, like one of your french girls.” He hummed, a goofy grin breaking out on his face. You quirked a brow, giggling.
“That’d be interesting.”
“I know, I’d be a great muse. Tell me more, though, you got any friends? Family?”
You hesitantly nodded. “Yeah, except they’re all back home. The only people I’ve got here are at the bar, my boss basically adopted the few people who work here.”
“Wish my boss was like that,” He grumbled, grasping more ice. “Well, now you’re stuck with me too, though.”
You gripped your knee, your lips pressed together to retain the beam threatening to appear. “Is that so?” The ice he had shoved into his mouth was too big for him to speak without drooling all over his chin; so with his chipmunk cheeks, he moved his head up and down. “Is this us officially becoming friends?” You waggled your brows teasingly, your lips now stretching widely.
“I thought that happened the second you gave me a free round of drinks.”
Three more months passed by. You realized your nights weren’t a blur anymore. No— now they were Peter B. Parker, his weary brown eyes, and his whiskey served over ice. You couldn’t help the scrunch of your nose and your slight smile whenever someone else ordered whiskey, since, as ridiculous you knew it was, those words were Peter. You held yourself back each night you two shared from leaning over the bar and tasting the cold liquor in his tongue. You wondered if, perhaps, that’s what Peter Parker tasted like. But it didn’t matter how strongly you craved to find out; you couldn't be anything more than a friend to your customers, you constantly reminded yourself. Not that it even was a possibility with Peter, anyway— it was evident he still cared about Mary Jane. It was clear she lingered in the fog of his memory, despite how much he drank or how hard you attempted to take her place with every conversation. You tried to convince yourself that it was alright, and it wasn’t working, but you hoped someday it would.
It was a Saturday night— or more like the early hours of Sunday— when you went to joyfully take Peter’s order after he sat down, only to be met with an awful bruise on the bridge of his nose. You winced, unconsciously reaching out to touch his face, but drawing your hand back before he noticed. “Pete, what the fuck happened to your face?”
“That’s not a nice thing to say about someone.” He simply responded, evidently trying to disguise the swelling with his hand, but sighed after seeing your scowl. “Fine, it’s embarrassing. Like… really, really embarrassing—”
He squirmed, his gaze moving to his right and his voice coming out high pitched as he searched for a way to explain himself. “I tripped.”
Something you’d learned throughout the past months of weekly meetings with Peter Parker was that the man was not subtle. Far from it. And this wasn’t the first time he arrived with a scratch or sort of bruise, which truly clutched at your stomach in the wrong way, but although he’d talk about anything— from what he ate for breakfast that day to confessing a pestering fear in his head, he never ever talked about how or why he got hurt. He always managed to steer away from the subject; the sneaky bastard, you’d think to yourself when minutes later you two were thoroughly discussing the best ways to eat an egg. You never budged, though, for you couldn’t bear to lose his trust or him getting mad at you; which hadn’t occurred yet, and you wished to keep it that way. You questioned your decision, however, as you grabbed the box of bandaids hiding under the counter (the bartenders there could frequently be quite clumsy), and grasped one with your fingers. You opened it, detaching the paper from it.
“It’s really nothing,” He continued insisting, trying to erase the creases between your eyebrows. “I just gave the ground a real nice smooch—” He stopped talking when you leaned over to touch his face, your hand cupping his cheek as you smoothed the plaster over his nose.
“Sorry, it just looked really gross,” You lied, truthfully concerned about his well-being. “You couldn’t go around walking like that.”
“But I can go around walking with a…” He inspected his reflection on the cupboards, squinting to make out the pattern of the bandaid. “Spongebob bandaid on my face. And how is that supposed to heal a bruise?”
“No, it’s alright. I… I like Spongebob. One whiskey served over ice, though, please.”
You scoffed, picking up a glass from the cabinet. “I’ve held myself back from asking, but…” You shut your mouth as you continued preparing his drink, doubt winning its battle again. He tilted his head.
“But… how come you’re always getting hurt in some way? It’s kind of concerning,” You laughed nervously, not wanting to reveal how much it truly worried you. He shrugged one shoulder.
“I guess I’m just really clumsy.”
“This isn’t clumsy, though,” You argued, your forehead furrowed. “This is… getting beat up type of stuff. Is that it? Do you get into street fights or something?”
“No! No, I, uh…” He hesitated, avoiding your gaze. “That’s not it.”
“Then what is it?”
Peter searched for words, his mouth ajar. He closed it and rolled his lips. “I want to tell you, I really do, but now is not the time. I promise I will in the future.”
You prepared to question him more, until a tune filled your ears. You raised your hands up to your head, your palms squeezing your temples as you gasped. Peter raised an eyebrow, entertained. “I fucking love this song,” You explained as ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ by Whitney Houston played on the TV. Peter sat still as he paid attention to the music, confusion glinting in his eyes until he recognized the melody and his body lit up.
“Wait, so do I—”
“Clock strikes upon the hour, and the sun begins to fade…” You shouted, your head jerked back. Peter put his fist against his mouth, embarrassed by your hilariously terrible singing, but at the same time holding himself back from joining you in your performance. “Still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away!” You sang, pointing your finger at him. He muttered an ‘ohmygod’ under his breath, his face beet red.
“I’ve done enough ‘till now, it’s the light of day that shows me how!” You dramatically laid back on the counter, true singer-like style, holding an imaginary microphone up to your mouth. “And when the night falls, loneliness calls…” You turned your head to face Peter and booped his nose, an action which you would undeniably regret once the euphoria of hearing one of your favorite songs ended.
“Ah, fuck it…” He whispered, beaming at you and grabbing your fist to sing into the invisible mic as well. “Oh! I wanna dance with somebody! I wanna feel the heat with somebody!” He cried out, his eyes passionately closed and his hand pressed flat against his chest. You scream-laughed at him, holding your torso. However, you quickly rolled onto your stomach, your faces now in close proximity.
“Yeah! I wanna dance with somebody! With somebody who loves me!” You both sung into your clenched hand, incredibly out of tune. “Oh! I want to dance with somebody!”
“I wanna feel the heat with somebody...” A customer in the background yelled out. You two exploded with laughter, your head pressed against his cheek and Peter gripping your hand tight.
That night, you sang with somebody you loved.
The end of the year arrived too quickly, and you were disconnecting the plug of the Christmas lights adorning the windows of the bar as you wondered whether you should get Peter a present for the holidays or not. Some new sweatpants, you considered; they were his favorite piece of clothing, you had come to learn, and in the times that he wore a pair, you noticed it was always the same. But you also questioned if it would be bizarre to hand him a gift— you only saw each other at the bar, after all. There weren't any instances where he called you to meet up for lunch, or something similar; and once in a while, you hoped to hear your blaring ringtone and to answer your phone to him. That never happened, though; your relationship would never evolve from the occasional text throughout the week. To make matters worse, you hadn’t even seen him for three weeks, three days, and counting. And, my God, did it sadden you that you knew that. Every time you’d type a greeting along with a question about his whereabouts, you’d stare at the screen of your cell phone for far too long and eventually delete your words— the exact process repeating over and over again. Maybe he’s with his friends or remaining family, you concluded. Hanukkah did end yesterday, stop being so obsessive.
A knock on the door provoked a startled squeak out of you. You jerked your head, confused, because who in the world was knocking on the door at three o’clock in the morning? Your terror was fleeting, however, for behind the foggy glass existed Peter B. Parker’s guilty smile. You exhaled and headed to open the door to shelter him from the violent and raging winter wind outside. He barged in, the tip of his nose the color of raspberries, most likely a repercussion of his poor clothing coverage for the season. “Hey,” He greeted you, rubbing his hands together.
“Wow, I think you got here a little too late,” You teased, folding your arms across your chest. The bags under his eyes were particularly prominent that night, not that it surprised you in any shape or form. He leaned against the wall, resting the back of his head on the timber.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” He apologized and you shook your head. It was useless. You were aware that there was no chance you could be mad at him for finally visiting you; in fact, you were ridiculously elated to be seeing him at such late hours, in spite of your bed crying out for your company. “I guess I lost track of time.”
“What are you doing here, anyway? I haven’t seen you for three weeks and when you do show up, it’s at three A.M.”
“I don’t… know.” You quirked a brow, wondering if he’d had a few too many drinks. “I sort of just walked and my feet got me here.”
“Are you drunk? And did you get in a bar fight or something, because you’ve got a bruise forming under your jaw and it looks too animalistic to be a hickey,” You asked with a gesture of your hand toward his face, relieved the jealousy didn’t bleed through your voice if the latter turned out to be more than a mere speculation. The scarlet on his nose spread to his cheeks. “I hope not, because that would mean you cheated on me by going to another bar.”
He chuckled, rubbing a hand over his stubble. “Nah, I wouldn’t ever do that to you.” You walked up to him and patted his shoulder, congratulating him for his great response but also to move him away from the window to check if it was closed. “I’m just tired.”
You still didn’t get an answer to why he was out so late, but you didn’t have the energy to continue budging. “Yeah, same.” You whispered, lifting a chair to place it upside down on a table.
“Wanna talk about it?” You looked at him confused. “Your day?”
“I would, but, uh, I kinda have to close this place. Y'know, it’s the holidays, so we’re not open 24/7 because my boss likes spending time with her family,” You explained, hearing his understanding hums. “Everyone already left and I didn’t have anything to do, so I promised her I would do it for her.”
He moved to stand opposite to you and copied your actions of setting the chairs atop the table. “That’s not safe— you being here alone, I mean. I can help!” He offered, as if a random spike of energy flourished in him.
Your brows drew together. “Shouldn’t you go home?”
He paused in the midst of reversing a seat, the furniture cradled in his chest like a baby. “Yeah, but so should you. It won’t hurt to sacrifice one hour of sleep just to help a friend,” He smirked, shrugging.
You allowed him to give you a hand in arranging the place, not that you had much of a choice, anyway; he would’ve done it nonetheless despite your refusals. Thirty minutes later, you were standing outside, your body aching tremendously. Peter noticed your soreness and, before you could even react, he was lowering the roll-up gate. “I could’ve helped with that,” You mumbled as he wiped his hands on his sweatpants. “Don’t want you breaking your back, grandpa.”
He laughed, shoving his hands inside his jacket’s pockets. “I’m a cute grandpa, though, right?” He asked with a flirty smile. You rolled your eyes.
“Hm, yeah, a total gilf.”
“Yeah, you know, like a ‘dilf’ but instead of a dad it’s a grandpa.” You both giggled as you began to walk to who knows where, visible breaths leaving your mouths like small dragons puffing out smoke.
You stopped in your tracks, gripping the straps of your backpack tightly. “Oh snap, I forgot!” He turned around with a questioning brow. “My car broke down, so I have to take the subway back home.” You explained, nudging your head back at the green stairs heading down to the metro station. He tilted his head, frowning.
“Y/N, it’s four in the morning. I don’t think going to the subway this late is such a smart idea.”
You rocked on your heels. “Yeah, but… how else am I gonna get home? You want me to sleep in the bar?”
His gaze shifted as he pondered, grunting. “Do you, uh… do you want to go to my place?”
Your stomach clenched, your heart starting a run when you heard his suggestion. He doesn’t mean it that way, you idiot, you scolded yourself. Yet you wished he did. “...Your place?”
“Yeah, it’s just a few blocks away from here, like a ten-minute walk.” There was a prolonged silence as you entered deep in thought, making him panic and stutter. “T-that’s if you want to, though. Don’t want you to feel pressured—”
“No, Pete, I…” You stopped him, grinning. “I mean, you sure?”
“Yeah,” He clapped his hands and held them together up to his chest. “Why not?”
“I guess I’ll take you up on that offer.”
“Cool! Uh, cool.. just… c’mon,” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder and you began your trek to his apartment, your shoes thudding lightly against the concrete of the sidewalk, wet due to the rain two hours ago.
“Thanks…” You started, wiggling your fingers, numb from the bitter cold, but to wake yourself up as well. “I actually am sort of terrified of taking the train, so I’m glad you offered. I’ll sleep on the couch, don’t worry—”
“What? No! No, I’ll take the couch, you’re the guest.”
“No, no, no, I insist—”
“Y/N.” You looked up at him, a teasing smile on his face. “You keep the bed. Plus, the change of place will be nice.” You groaned, your eyes closed.
“You’re such a great dude: offering me to sleep at your place so I don’t get mugged and shit, and here I am, stealing your probably comfy bed.” You then moaned, your eyes going blank. “Bed. God, just thinking about sleeping really turns me on right now.”
He huffed softly, bumping into your side. “What… what’s happened, though? We haven’t seen each other for a hot minute.”
You looked heavenward, your mouth ajar as you tried to recall your previous three weeks. “Mm, well, I honestly can’t even remember if I had breakfast or not— oh!” You exclaimed rather sleepily. “Well, this pretty boy working at a Taco Bell I went to asked me out on a date.”
“Oh?” He scrunched his brows together and you hummed. “And what did you say?”
“No?! Why not?”
“I just…” Your eyes darted up to his curious ones, your face softening after inspecting him for a while, but not long enough to embarrass yourself. “I don’t know. Wasn’t feeling him, y’know?” He nodded comprehensively. “What ‘bout you?”
His entire mood shifted. His shoulders slumped, and he nibbled on his bottom lip, his jaw tightened. “I… I saw MJ today.” Your heart broke.
“Wh-what, like, you two met somewhere?”
“No, more like ‘saw her coming out of the coffee shop while crossing the street and then a pedestrian yelled at me because I was standing in the way’.” He grumbled. You didn’t know what got in you, but you grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He glanced down at your linked hands and then up at you. That’s when you instantly let go, your pinkies still connected for a bit until completely detaching. You were too busy ogling the ground to see his fingers searching for yours.
“You’ll be alright one day,” You cleared your throat, a bashful smile on your face. “You’ll figure this out.”
He prevented you from continuing with your walk with a hand on your shoulder. You hesitantly turned your body to face him, gulping. Oh, no— you worried, your heart picking up its pace again— did the hand holding make him uncomfortable? Is he now gonna question me? Why am I such a damn idiot? But then you saw his dilated pupils, and your mouth went dry. “I…” He began.
“You… okay?” You questioned when his stare lingered on you. He blinked, his arm dropping by his side as he coughed.
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, that was weird. I’m just—”
“—tired.” You finished for him and he scoffed, giving you a half-smile.
“Wow, you know me so well,” He joked, and scratched the back of his neck, pointing at the building you two stood in front of. “Uh, this is where I live.”
“Oh!” You spun around, studying the apartment complex. It appeared simple: not too big or small, modest-looking. “That was faster than I expected.”
“Yeah…” He muttered as he climbed up the stairs, holding the door open for you when he reached the top.
The man’s apartment was tiny, somewhat too messy, you decided; there was an empty pizza box on his bed, and he awkwardly dumped it in the trash can when you two walked in, apologizing for the mess. You sat on his bed and he stood at your feet, stroking his neck. "Do you want some clothes? I can give you a shirt or some—” You stopped him when he turned to go to his dresser, gently pulling his arm. “What?” You continued to wordlessly tug on his sleeve until he sat next to you, sighing deeply. Slowly, you leaned backwards until your back bounced on his mattress. Peter’s confused by your actions, but you simply patted the area behind him. He got the message and lied down on the rumpled sheets.
You looked at each other, a few inches apart, yet for some odd reason, you felt closer to him. Perhaps you could blame the different location, or the way in which your silent gazes stayed on each other. Somehow, you were both alright with it. No discomfort took ahold of either of you as you remained like that for a while, no words or sounds other than the city outside, both later with your eyes closed. To your embarrassment, you were on the brink of dozing off, but you couldn’t help it; you drowned in tranquility, and the exhaustion of your body cooperated— it was surprising you hadn’t fallen asleep yet. You could hear Peter’s steady breathing, and his voice brought you back to consciousness when he spoke. “Y/N?” It was soft, softer than your pillows back at home. Softer than your lonesome bed. You acknowledged him with a mumble, opening one eyelid. His eyes were almost shut, but you could still see the glimmer in his dark eyes. His whiskey eyes. “You’re really nice.”
Your eyes sealed closed again. “You’re really nice too, Pete.”
“No, but…” His sentence died out and he did not continue for a long period. You believed he had fallen into a slumber until he talked again. “You’re really nice. Like that hot chocolate I had in the morning while I was freezing type of nice.”
“I… I don’t know if it’s because I’m about to pass out, but I don’t get it.” When you blinked your eyes as wide as you could, he was closer than before. Closer than ever. You took the chance to discover, note every part of his face more closely, every freckle, every lash, his growing stubble. Everything.
“What I mean is that… you really bring warmth to my life, Y/N. Not to sound too cheesy like I usually do, or anything. But everything’s a mess and you’re there, and I’m glad about that.”
“You’re just tired.”
“Yes, but a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts.”
“You’re not drunk.”
“There’s really no difference.”
You could now feel his breath on your face. It was as if with every flicker of your eyelids, he had managed to inch nearer to your body. “Pete…”
“Y/N…” Your lips were roughly touching. You felt his arm slip around your waist, his fingers ghosting over your prickling back.
“We can’t do this.” You said, regardless of your hand cradling his neck. Your foreheads were now touching.
“Because…” You tried to claim that he was your customer, but you truly did not care about it anymore, and you never did. “What about Mary Jane?”
He hesitated for a moment. “What about Mary Jane?”
“You still want her back.” You breathed out, your body quivering as his eyelashes tickled your cheeks.
“I can forget about her just tonight.”
You kissed. Your lips remained interlocked for a few moments, the both of you too tired to move them. It was like sixth-graders kissing for the first time— a lingering peck on the lips. But an energy sparked within you, and you moved your lips. Soon, you were on top of his body, your shirt almost completely off except for one of your arms still inside one sleeve, your fingers desperately tangled in his greying hair, his crooked nose bumping with yours. He didn’t taste like whiskey or ice, but he did taste like a year of laughing with each other in the bar, and him not noticing as you slowly fell for him.
2K notes · View notes
Pairing: Peter Parker x reader
Summary: Peter uses EDITH to help his crush (you, duh) with something. (I really have to work on my summarising skills)
Warning: Post FFH (Spoilers!), Nudes (?), a bit of naive reader in the beginning, no smut but sexual themes I guess?, “David”, swearing, (Peter and MJ broke up, no after credit scenes ever happened :))
Word count: 3.7k
A/N: I wrote this yesterday instead of studying for History so it’s not my best work ever but it’s still cute and you should read it :)
gif not mine
“Peter, I have to tell you something.” You’re quite embarrassed about your secret but if there’s anyone you can trust, it’s Peter.
You’ve not actually been the closest of friends for long, it’s just recently that you’ve become more than just classmates and have done stuff together outside of school.
And, it would be a complete lie to say that you didn’t have a massive crush on Peter, but he just got out of the relationship with MJ and you didn’t want to risk your friendship with him. So you tried other boys.
Of course that had turned out to be a mistake.
“Please promise me not to judge me or to think I’m stupid, I really don’t know what was going through my head.” You warn him before you reveal what you’ve done, although you know he’s the most kind person and would never judge you for anything you’ve done.
“I’d never think you’re stupid. And you’re safe with me, you can tell me anything.” He says reassuringly and leans in to where you’re both sat on your bed, opposite of each other.
“Okay, so... I sent... I sent these, um, pictures to this guy, and I know that I shouldn’t have sent these pictures..”
Wait what pictures?
“...but stupidly I trusted this guy. Anyway I sent the pictures and he replied, you know, satisfied... I guess. But now he’s not really texting me anymore and I’m scared that he’ll send the pictures to someone. You know you can’t actually see much, it’s not that bad I’m not exactly that stupid, but they were still private photos that I wouldn’t want anyone else to see...” You ramble, eyes on the floor and you’re playing with your hoodie-sleeves pulled over your hands.
“Wait what type of pictures?” Peter asks, not quite understanding yet.
“You know...” He shakes his head and bites his tongue.
“What type of pictures do you think? I know I shouldn’t have sent them but...?” He’s still not getting it, okay he’s too innocent for this shit,
“What type of pictures would I send the guy that I like and wouldn’t want anyone else to see?” You ask shyly.
“Wait do you mean nudes?” He realises and shouts a bit but you shush him, not wanting your parents in the other room to hear.
“Like I said, I’m not like... naked, you can’t see everything but I... I don’t even know why I told you this, it’s not like so I can do anything about it..” You try and change the subject, you feel like Peter’s judging you and you don’t even know how Peter would have helped anyway.
“Just forget I ever said anything, let’s go back to watching the movie.” You grab the remote control to turn the 90s film you were watching back on but Peter grabs the control from you with a concerned look on his face.
Truth is, Peter’s not judging you, he’s fucking jealous.
He knows he has no right to be jealous. But there was only one time he saw you in a bikini, although you kept your arms over your body the whole time - not that you had anything to worry about - Peter thought you were absolutely gorgeous, and now you’re out here sending freaking half naked pictures to some guy you haven’t even told Peter about?
He wishes you’d send him pictures like that, not because he’s horny (okay, he definitely wouldn’t mind seeing you like that at all) but because of the trust you have to have in a person to do something like that.
To be fair, he’d just broken up with MJ, they’re still on good terms but after a few weeks into the relationship they both realised that it was just the initial excitement of liking someone like that for the first time, but they weren’t really meant to be.
Besides, Peter had developed a serious crush on you, and it wouldn’t have been fair on MJ, she was with Brad Davis now, too.
And he’d never got that far with MJ, sending half naked pictures or even seeing her like that. But maybe that was because neither was MJ a girl who took or sent pictures like that, nor was Peter a guy who’d ever ask for a picture like that unless the girl offered. Even then he’d probably be extra cautious and just prefer seeing it in real life.
“No! We can talk about this? Who is he?” You’re still not looking him in the eyes when you tell him “David.”
Oh, Peter knows David.
“That’s your type?” He asks more harshly than he intends to.
“Looks-wise anyway, it turns out he’s an asshole personality-wise so...”
You hope Peter doesn’t realise how similar they actually look, the same floppy brown hair that you wish you could muss up all day, same brown, beautiful eyes that you could stare into forever (Peter’s eyes are far more kind though), same height and body type that you longed to touch even when you could only see them in their clothes.
Of course, Peter’s personality won by far, very, very far. And he’s more good-looking anyway, they are the same type though.
And Peter does notice the similarities. Same hair colour, height, overall just same type.
Does that mean you could at least consider him as a boyfriend? Okay, wrong time to think about that.
“Oh, yeah you’re right, he’s an asshole.” Peter comments lazily, David’s actually an okay guy, just not the biggest gentleman, but apart from his behaviour towards girls, David really isn’t a bad guy. Of course Peter doesn’t want you to know that.
You just nod and bite the inside of your cheek, thinking of what to do next.
Then it suddenly hits Peter, how he could help you. He has EDITH, he’d successfully deleted that picture Brad Davis had of him, so he’d just have to do the same on David’s phone.
He desperately wants to help you.
“I’ve got an idea!”
“Hey, Edith,” Peter whispers, you’re next to him, leaning against your locker in the break, so Peter wouldn’t look suspicious talking to himself.
“Could you access David Thompson’s phone for me please?”
You can’t hear what the computer glasses (or whatever the fuck they are) are saying - Peter’d told you they were an unfinished project by Tony Stark. He didn’t reveal much about them but they were advanced enough to delete the pictures off David’s phone.
You can only watch Peter’s facial expressions and he’s concentrated, and it looks as if Edith is doing the job so far.
“Okay, now I need you to delete all pictures off his phone, photo gallery, text messages, wherever they are, all pictures that have y/n in them.”
Peter looks at you for a face scan, and then back over at David, who is standing by his locker, doing something on his phone.
The look on Peter’s face changes once he sees the photos of you pop up in front of him.
That’s not what he expected.
There you are in your bathroom in front of your mirror, the first picture‘s kind of harmless.
You, fresh out of the shower, hair still wet and bare-faced with no makeup, a look Peter loves on you, in a blue satin pyjama blouse. Yes, it’s slightly unbuttoned, enough to make out the outline of your breast, but not more than he’d seen often on you when you simply wore a lower cut top.
The next picture is what does it for him and his heart stops for a second.
You, still in your bathroom, this time though, the blouse is completely open and slid down to your elbows, material hanging behind your back and down your sides.
You didn’t lie, he couldn’t see everything of your naked boobs, but it’s enough to get him flustered and he can’t concentrate for a moment.
One of your hands comes up to cover your right nipple and your arm is placed over your chest so your other nipple isn’t visible either, but he’s able to see the rest of your perfect, soft flesh. Your other hand is holding your phone in front of your face but anyone who knows you would be able to tell that it’s you.
He blinks and looks at you, nervously looking back at him, waiting for him to delete the pictures off David‘s phone.
You, of course, don’t know that he actually has to look at the pictures in order to confirm to Edith to delete them.
Just seeing how nervous you are gets him back on track and he gazes at the pictures again, just this time with his backpack covering the front area of his pants.
But besides those two pictures, there‘s more. Pictures David‘s taken screenshots of, from your Instagram account and Peter feels sick, guessing what David used all those pictures for.
It doesn’t stop there though. There aren’t many, but a few pictures Peter hadn’t seen before, David must have taken them himself.
Pictures of you on a picnic blanket in a park, laughing, and you looked beautiful.
Another photo of you in your sweats on your bed, papers spread out in front of you, as well as coffee.
Peter thought he was your study partner?
Then there’s also a video, one of you two making out. He doesn’t want to fucking see that, but it starts playing nevertheless and what he sees makes him sick with jealousy.
You and David, a bedroom discernible in the background, his bedroom, and the phone was presumably placed in the headboard, recording the two of you.
David’s mouth was pressed against yours in a sloppy kiss. It doesn’t look very enjoyable, two tongues colliding, spit between the two of you, but the little moans coming out of your mouth tell Peter otherwise and he blushes deeply.
He’s grateful that only he is able to hear and watch the video, he didn’t want people thinking he was watching porn at school.
Before he’s able to possibly see more, and imagine and get jealous at what you had done with David, he confirms to Edith to delete all pictures and videos with you in and surely within a second they’re all gone.
He wonders how far the relationship between you and David had gone, if it even was a relationship, but he knows you’d tell him if you wanted to and otherwise it was none of his business.
“Deleted. You’ve got nothing to worry about now.” Peter smiles at you, taking the glasses off and you hug him, thank him ten times, because who knows what could’ve happened if the pictures were in the wrong hands.
“Do you know if he sent them so someone else or something?”
“No, he didn’t. It’s been deleted everywhere though, so it won’t be on your phone anymore either.” He explains.
“Aw, I liked the picture,” You frown shortly and oh, Peter liked the picture, too, but of course he won’t tell you he’s seen it “But don’t worry, thanks again. Really, thank you so much. See you later.”
“Um, wait a second.” Peter stops you from walking away.
“I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but, uh,” He doesn’t know why he’s saying this, it’s not true but he wants to make sure you don’t go back to David,
“There were other pictures. Of other girls. From weeks ago and also more recently. Quite a few actually, and I, I just thought you deserved to know that.”
“Oh.” Is all you say. It’s enough that you and David stopped talking after he finally got the pictures of you, but now he‘s even been talking to other girls, multiple girls, while you two had been going out and he obviously had no problem moving on, if he’d ever even truly liked you.
You don’t want to cry because of that asshole, especially not while he’s in the same hallway as you and doesn’t give a single fuck about you. But the tears just form in your eyes and you can’t hold back.
Peter notices immediately and hugs you tight as soon as he sees the frown on your perfect face and you bury your face in his neck, still desperately trying not to break down completely.
But Peter’s face is probably more miserable than yours.
He wishes to be the one taking the pain of heartbreak, and not you.
Sure, he’d been sad when MJ and him broke up, but judging by what he’d just seen, him and her weren’t nearly as close as you and David.
Then he’d had you to cheer him up, he never complained about MJ, talking about your ex girlfriend to your new crush probably wasn’t the best topic, but you had cheered him up without even knowing.
You made him happy and he decided to make it his mission to make you as happy as you’d made and make him.
You and Peter are watching movies, as always, the following Saturday.
He knows you’re not extremely sad, mostly just upset, and while you hadn’t really talked to him much, he knew that you had to tell him sooner or later in order to get over David quicker.
Peter knows talking about things makes it hurt less, but only if you’re ready to talk.
And there’s this other thing... He hasn’t been able to get the pictures out of his head, as much as he tried.
This was a problem, because,
First of all, the pictures had been for David and not for Peter to see, and he felt like he was betraying you by not telling you he’d saw.
Secondly, they were for David and it made him jealous to no end.
Thirdly, they were sexy pictures, and although Peter’s not your typical hormonal teenager, he’s a hormonal teenager to some extent.
“I’ve got to confess something.” He blurts out, not being able to keep it to himself anymore, it feels like he’s abusing what he’s seen.
“When I deleted the pictures, I, you know,... I had to look at them in order to confirm that they were the right ones to delete, so yeah... I saw them.”
“Well... did you like them?”
What kind of question is that?
If he says ‘yes, the pictures were great, I enjoyed them’, he’d give away that he has a crush that you probably don’t reciprocate.
If he says no, he didn’t like the pictures, that would be a lie, and how the fuck would you feel if he told you that?
“Is there even a right answer to that? I mean, you even said yourself that you liked them, and, damn,...” Okay stop there that’s enough.
“I suppose you’re right.”
You understand Peter’s dilemma with that question, saying yes would be weird, saying no would me mean and, although you doubted he liked you back, untrue. But you’d love to hear from Peter that you looked good, you didn’t need it, but it sure as hell would cheer you up right now.
“Uh, so you’re not mad at me seeing them?” He asks cautiously.
“I mean, first of all you had no other choice, you deleted them and that was basically impossible and I owe you for that if anything, but also... I sent them to an asshole like David Thompson, so obviously you seeing them is much better than him being able to see them again.”
What the hell do you mean by that? Girls are so confusing.
“I know it’s none of my business, and it’s okay if you don’t want to answer, but since I saw the pictures I also saw the video,”
You furrow your eyebrows “What video?”
“Uh... there was a video of you two making out, I guess that was his room.”
“Oh yeah, I completely forgot he took that. Thanks Peter, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Oh, it was all thanks to EDITH, not me.” He blushes.
“Anyway, what was your question?”
“Again, it’s fine if you don’t want to answer, but how.. close did you two get?” He can’t say the words, can’t imagine you and David... like that, doesn’t want to.
You muster him with a serious expression and Peter feels like he might cry, until you crack a smile.
“Noooo,” You draw out, amused, “You really think I’d give it up to someone like David? I’m not that stupid. Anyway, I was just with him hoping to forget about another guy.” And again, Peter’s heart breaks. Another guy?
Okay, don’t make it obvious now, Parker.
“I mean you were stupid enough to send him those pictures of you.” He jokes, earning a light slap to his arm and the way he said the words, you have your answer on what he thought of your pictures.
“Did it work? I mean, getting over the other guy?”
“Not at all. David’s nowhere near as good as the other guy, not as cute either.” You say it with such ease, but Peter can hear your heart beating in your chest furiously. He doesn’t know that it’s because you think he might catch on that it’s him.
The heart in his chest is broken, he’s got you away from David but now he’s got an even bigger threat, a guy ‘much cuter’ than David. And David didn’t look that different to Peter.
You lay awake in bed that night. The last days you’ve been a bit sad, a bit because of David, but mostly because of Peter. Maybe you should’ve stayed with David, he saw you as more than a friend, or at least acted like it.
Peter’s so innocent and he couldn’t even tell you that he liked your pictures. What straight teenage boy wouldn’t like a picture of a girl’s boobs? Even if they were only friends with the girl? That had to be a clear sign that he didn’t like you like that, right?
But if you never asked, you’d never get the answer.
So somehow you pluck up the courage and text him. After twenty minutes of thinking what to write, you just go with the simplest way of saying it, typing the words into your phone and hit send:
Peter, it’s you
The guy I like
If you don’t feel the same it’s okay, but please be nice
Peter could not believe his eyes when he read the text message. If you hadn’t written his name P-e-t-e-r (he checked five times) he’d be absolutely positive that you got the wrong number.
He was just on his way home from his Spider-Man activities when he heard your special ringtone go off in his pocket.
And now he just has to see you.
When he arrives at your window, web shooters now hidden under his sweater and suit off, he sees you lying on your bed.
The same blue satin blouse from the picture, but he doesn’t allow his mind to wander, and get jealous and angry, your hands are around your phone which lies on your belly and you look troubled.
And he realises he maybe should have texted you back before leave you hanging and then unexpectedly showing up at your window.
But he knocks without thinking, startling you but luckily you recognise him quickly.
“Peter, how the hell did you get up here?” You ask, opening the window for him and he jumps onto the floor into your room. “Fire escape.”
“Uh, I sent you a text, did you…?” You scratch your neck nervously, looking to the floor.
“Yes, I know! Did you - did you mean it?” Peter asks eagerly.
“Uh-huh, but it’s okay if you don’t feel-“ But you’re interrupted by Peter’s lips on yours.
It takes you by surprise so you don’t give in straight away, alarming Peter and he pulls back to look at you anxiously, maybe he understood your text the wrong way?
But you kiss him back full force and he stumbles against your wall at your eagerness.
“Sorry.” You pull back again slightly.
“Don’t be.” And you’re at it again.
After a few, hard, short kisses he pulls back again and you want nothing more than to have your mouth against his but he looks at you so beautifully you might melt right away.
“So, uh, I like you, too. Quite a lot.” He mutters and catches his breath.
“I kind of guessed.” You smile.
“But I also lied to you.. There were no pictures of other girls on David’s phone, I just said it so that you definitely don’t like him anymore.” You don’t say anything for a second.
“I don’t care what’s on David’s phone anymore. You’re the one I want.”
“Great. Want to... go back to kissing then?” He smiles and you lead him back to your bed where you’re more comfortable.
After a few minutes of kissing and occasionally stopping to look and smile at each other you slip your tongue into Peter’s mouth discreetly and now he understands why David and you had been doing that in the video.
And while he hates himself for thinking of David, while your tongue is in his mouth, that’s exactly the reason. Because unlike what he thought when he saw that video, your tongue in his mouth doesn’t feel gross at all but surprisingly nice.
“Will...you...be...my girlfriend?” He asks between kisses and you stop for a second.
“Yes.” You reply, out of breath. “I’d love to.”
“That includes, and I also hope you won’t be sending any other guys half naked pictures anymore because, you know, I’m your boyfriend now,” He says proudly, “No secrets between us, okay?”
“Yeah. That goes for you too, though,” Wait does that mean?
“And I wonder how the hell you got all the way up to my room if the fire escape is on the other side of the building? It’s like you’re Spider-Man or something...”
Masterlist is in my description, folks <3
Also thank you so much for 200 followers?? The fuck?? Love you all
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Fantasy (part 1)
RK800 x fem!reader x RK900
words : 2,5 k
Humans are able to feel when people fantasize about them : they can feel their touches, kisses on their skin like it was real. You always felt some in your life, but it is the first time you are suddenly overwhelmed by someone else's fantasies - and it's probably someone who work at the police station, just like you.
Notes : So, I wanted to make this one gender neutral, but since I want to write smut in it, it was going to be really difficult... so I decided to do fem!reader (I will write an other story with this two and it will be neutral don’t worry :)) Anyway i hope y’all will like this because I like this idea so much aaaah
PS : Like always, I call my RK900 Conner, and the regular one Connor.
Humans have always been able to feel each other's fantasies - most of the time, it was just a gentle caress against an arm or the feeling of fingers on a cheek, caused by strangers in the street who were interested in you in a matter of seconds. Sometimes, humans could feel more, like a kiss, or some intimate touch, but it was more rare, because it was considered as rude to make someone feel your fantasies.
We learnt to kids and teenagers to stop their thoughts, because it wasn't a good thing - even if it was considered as a way to find someone who can love you, the only reason it wasn't against the law was because nobody could control this. After all, thoses Fantasies were an invasion of privacy.
In the end, people used them most of the time to see if the one they loved could feel the same - even if you can not know who it was - and to know what they like and are comfortable with about touches. Most of the time, it wasn't even able to stop people to fantasize anyway.
Like everybody else, you already felt some Fantasies about you, but it was from strangers most of the time, and just light touches, nothing else. The last time you experimented a real kiss and intimate things was with your ex-partner, two years ago.
That is why you weren't ready for the hands on your skin in the middle of the police station, early in the morning. You worked here for a few months now, after being reassigned to help Detroit in this android revolution, and since then you got your own daily routine before getting to work. After making yourself a coffee you headed to your desk when you felt it for the first time, frozen in the middle of the office.
There was hands on your neck, stroking the skin gently - you didn't feel that at work since a month now - the last one who always tried to turn you on with Fantasies was Reed, and you threatened to shoot him in the head if he didn't stop, so now you were in peace - until now, apparently.
You glanced around but nobody in the station was currently looking at you and you frowned a little - it didn't help you guess who it was. You let out a shaking breath and headed to your desk, decided to work anyway and forget about the kind gesture. After some minutes, the feeling disappeared and you released your strained shoulders.
"Hello, (Y/n) !"
You raised your head to look at Hank, who decided to put a box of donuts in front of you. You smiled and grabbed it to find your favorite flavor, the one with sparkles on it.
"What did I do to deserve this ?" you asked with a smile.
"It's for the help on our last case, I guess." he answered.
You smiled again and took a bite of the treat and you added with a raised eyebrow :
"So, I noticed that you're always here in time now."
"Yes, I guess it help to have an android annoying the fuck out of me at home." he mumbled.
You glanced at Connor, still at his desk and waved your hand at him with a smile. You were going to ask Hank some infos about the last case you helped them with but the feeling of strong hands grabbing your hips possessively stopped you dead in your thoughts. Your breath caught in your throat, you looked down and ignored the lieutenant to focus on yourself, trying to hide the sudden Fantasy about you. It had nothing to do with the one some minutes before, with the hands on your neck - no, this time it was way more different, and whoever was doing this to you, he did not seem to want to let you go. The invisible hands left your hips, but they decided to go lower, caressing your thighs, and a whine escaped you, your donut definitely forgotten on your desk, like your coffee.
"(Y/n), is everything ok ?" Hank asked with furrowed brows, shaking you with a hand on your shoulder.
"I'm fine." you managed to answer.
He was about to add something but someone else decided to step in at the same time.
You looked at the one behind Anderson and smiled weakly at the RK900, aka Conner. Cyberlife sent him right before the android revolution and he arrived the same week as you at the police station, and Fowler thought it was a good idea to put him as your partner. At the moment, you thought that it wasn't a good idea - you were both newbies after all - but finally you both made a great team and you were happy to consider the android as your friend now - even if he was really cold sometimes, but it was his personality.
The feeling of the Fantasy started to disappear slowly so you exhaled a sigh of relief and gestured towards the chair at your side, prompting him to sit down with you.
"Hey Conner. We have so much stuff to do today, I need your help with something."
The RK900 sat by your side and you thanked Hank again for the donut, leaving him to return to his office.
"So, there is this strange case of burglary I don't really understand. There is no traces of break-in, and most of the things that have been stolen have no value."
Conner put his hand on the computer and downloaded all the data about the case.
"They just stole some blue blood bags ?"
"Yeah, and the family didn't even own an android, it was apparently old blue blood they never threw. But still... I think it is a shitty explanation... and I would like to go to their house again. You weren't here when I started this case, maybe we will be able to find some extra infos with your help."
"Alright. Are we going to their house now ?"
"Yeah, I'm just going to inform Fowler about this. He like to know where we are !" you chuckled.
You left Conner here and decided to go talk to the man about your idea to bring the android at the house. It took you less than two minutes and you headed to your desk to take your cop jacket. You started to put it on when the feeling on hands on your hips emerged again. With a shiver, you managed to put your jacket on and looked around, but the only one who was currently looking at you was the RK900, already waiting for you in the entrance.
The one who started to fantasize about you decided to kiss you in the crook of your neck, teeth scraping against the skin. You felt your knees goes weak and grabbed the border of your desk for support.
"What's wrong, (Y/n) ?!" Hank asked from his desk, his voice worried.
"Nothing !" you answered almost immediately.
The ghost hands on your hips started to climb up to your chest, and you repressed a moan when you felt them starting to play with your nipples. You smiled weakly at the lieutenant and waved at him before heading to the bathroom. Luckily, nobody was here and you started to breath loudly, trying to cool your body with water on your red face. Hell, who started to fantasize this much about you, and in the middle of the day, at work ?! It was insane ! How were you supposed to work like this ?!
Focused on your breath, you finally noticed that the feeling started to disappear and the door of the bathroom made a noise at the same time.
"I saw you running to the bathroom. Is everything alright ?"
You raised you head to look at RK900 - his face was as cold as usual, but you knew him now, and you easily noticed the concern in his voice.
"Yeah, I was just... feeling a little hot suddenly but it's ok now, don't worry." you smiled at him and patted his shoulder, wiping the last drops of water on your face with the sleeve of your cop jacket.
"Let's go, we have a house to visit."
The burgled house was in a weathly neighborhood - with perfectly pruned trees, the most greenest lawn you ever saw, et cetera. You moved to the front door and knocked, glancing at Conner right behind you. He was always so close to you, and so much taller too.
The door opened on a woman - she was probably in her forties, blond hair perfectly styled in a elegant brushing and expensive pearls around the neck.
"Hello ma'am, I'm the detective (Y/n) (L/n). We need to make a new check up of your house to find new evidences."
The woman looked at you with suspicion and frowned a little, her hand strangely tight on the doorframe.
"I thought you already did all of that." she accused with a raised eyebrow.
"Sure, but my partner wasn't with me the first time. He is an android, y'know. He will probably be able to find some things that I didn't see at first."
The blonde glared at Conner with a disgust she didn't even try to hide. You were about to say something about this but she decided to let you in at the same time, opening her door. Reminding you of the house, you went in the living room, showing with a hand at the RK900 the place were the blue blood bags were stolen.
"Ya see something ?" you asked. "We tried to find fingerprints but nothing... and since it was blue blood who was stolen, we think that it is probably an android who did this."
Conner didn't answer at this and decided to look around instead, analyzing the place. The woman was leaning against the wall, and you got the strange feeling that she was watching you. Soon, the android noticed that the carpet under the coffee table was discolored at a corner, like we removed it often, rubbing it against the ground. The expensive wooden floor was covered of little scratches at this place, and the small furniture was probably often moved because there was other traces on the floor, the same size as the feet of the table.
Conner decided to join you, looking at the old box where the blue blood was supposed to be during the burglary. He leaned on you and whispered to your ear :
"Don't look at it, but there is probably something under the carpet. There is traces that it was often moved. Probably on a daily basis."
"You sure 'bout this ? We don't even have a mandate to investigate in this house."
Conner frowned a little at this word and his LED flashed a bright yellow for a moment, then his cold eyes started to shine with something who looked like pride when he answered :
"Now we have one."
You watched him in awe and smiled, bumping his shoulder with your fist in a friendly gesture. Looking back at the blonde, you took a serious tone as you asked :
"I've got a mandate, ma'am, and I would like to see what are you hiding under your carpet right over there. There is scratches on the wooden floor. Old basement, maybe ? It's common in those houses."
"There is nothing here, I just decided to change the decoration some days ago, and I probably scratched it, yes."
You raised a brow at the lie - Conner specified that it was moved almost everyday, did she really thought it was possible to fool an android like that ?
"Conner, can you move the table and the carpet, please ?"
The android started to move but the woman decided to take a gun from behind her back at the same moment, aiming in your direction.
"Shit !" you claimed when you jumped behind one of the sofas, the sound of the shoot in your ears - a second later and you were dead.
Conner joigned you a second later and you knew the blonde was still waiting for you to look above the sofa. You breathed sharply, and right after that you decided to shoot. You felt the second bullet of the suspect brushing your cheek but yours ended in her leg and she screamed loudly, falling on the ground. You ran to her but the android was faster and kicked her gun away, starting to handcuff her.
"Fuck, never thought I was going to escape from the dead this early in the morning ! It is not even noon. I'm getting to old for this bullshit."
Conner was too busy with the rich asshole to remember you that you were not this old, and you decided to push the coffee table and the carpet on the side, revealing a hatch. You opened it and almost vomited while sniffing the smell coming from below.
"Ah shit, I don't like that at all. Conner, call for backup. I got the feeling that we're going to find some shit here."
"I already did. The lieutenant Anderson, Connor and two other officers are already on their way."
The android looked at you with concern and asked :
"Are you ok ?"
"Yeah, sure. She missed me, not that good with a gun." you snorted, ignoring the mumble of anger coming from the woman.
You both waited some minutes before the four cops entered in the house, finding you, the android and the owner in the middle of the living-room, with a hatch opened on something who smelled like death.
"Seems like we have something interesting here. I wonder what she's doing under her house." you said, drawing their attention.
The feeling of gentle hands cupping your face caught you off guard and you froze in the middle of the living-room. Your eyes widened in confusion as you felt thumbs caressing your cheek gently, avoiding the cut caused by the bullet. This fantasy was similar to the one you got this morning on your neck, and it was definitely different than the one on your hips and thighs.
"Are you ok, (Y/n) ?" Connor asked with a concerned face.
They were a lot to ask this today, don't they. You looked at him with suspicion and nodded - you decided to forget about the touches - a lot of work was waiting for you.
And the first part is done ! :) You will know more about the case and the system of Fantasies in the next one ;) There will be 3 or 5 parts, I’m not sure yet :D
Tags : (you can ask me to add you in this story if you want !)
@alicia5833 @itsfeliciatime @curiosity-loves-the-kitten @melanieisbae @ageathas @dropthepizza346 @treitike @moonstonefox12 @moonstruck-traveller @potenzel @pandaworldkawaii @loserunitetonight @sugacoatedsoul @lizzietheizzie @lookinggood-here @devlant-connor @iwilldefendtonyatallcosts @bluedrawsalot @unlikelycoffeetiger @belcandiel @sherlockspie @carebear1397 @ultra-violet-starlite @the-smol-onion
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Hide My Wings Tonight (Crowley x Fem!Angel!Reader)
Characters: Angel!Reader (Female), Crowley, brother!Aziraphale
Requested by: @jinxthequeergirl
Point of View: Third Person limited
Warnings: Slight angst, minimal editing, I may have cussed???
A/N: I am so very tempted to do a part 2 of this my god.
A lot of angels had counterparts -- siblings, you might call them. Gabriel had Sandalphon. Uriel had Michael. And Aziraphale had (name). (Name) was kind, gentle, and understanding. There was never a moment when she would leave his side, for fear he might lose his own head should she even turn away. Together they protected the Garden of Eden - Aziraphale with his flaming sword, and (name) with her ethereal whip.
That was, until he came around. A serpent risen from the depths of hell, broken through the Earth to tempt Adam and Eve into eating what God deemed the forbidden fruit. For a moment, she lost sight of her brother, and feared for the worst. When she caught sight of him atop the high wall, she flew quickly to his side, seeing for the first time Adam and Eve leaving the garden.
“You can’t do that to me.” She told Aziraphale. “You can’t just go off and not tell me.”
“The garden isn’t that big, my dear sister.” He told her. “I only left you for a few minutes.”
“You should know that anything can happen in a few minutes, brother.” She scolded him. “I thought something bad may have happened to you and-” She paused, frowning. “Where’s your sword?” She asked. Aziraphale opened his mouth to answer, but shut it when the serpent slithered his way beside them, morphing into his human form - a tall man with long, red hair, and eyes like gold, slit black down the middle. The eyes of a snake - of a demon. He was gazing out at Adam and Eve. (Name) thought, after what he’d done, he would look proud. But he didn’t. He looked bored.
“Well that went down like a lead balloon.” He said smoothly, not sparing a glance towards the angels.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Aziraphale looked happy at the change of subject, albeit still nervous to be standing so close to a demon. (Name) was intrigued by the newcomer though. She noted the small snake tattoo adoring the side of his face, just below his sideburns, and his wings, which were dark as the night sky.
“I said, ‘well that went down like a lead balloon.’” The serpent repeated himself, finally turning to look at the pair.
“Yes, yes,” Aziraphale agreed. “It did, rather.”
“Bit of an overreaction if you ask me.” Said the serpent. “First offence and everything.” (Name) wanted to agree with him, but thought better of it. “I can’t see what’s so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway.”
“Well it must be bad... “ Aziraphale started.
“Crawly,” The serpent introduced himself.
“Crawly,” Aziraphale repeated, and (name) gave him a look, one that was telling him to choose his words carefully. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have tempted them into it.”
“Oh, well, they just said ‘get up there and make some trouble.’”
“Well obviously, you’re a demon.”
“Azi,” (Name) warned quietly.
“It’s what you do.” Aziraphale finished, ignoring his sister.
“It’s not very subtle of the Almighty, though.” Crawly said. “Fruit tree in the middle of a garden with a ‘don’t touch’ sign.” Crawly looked back over the desert outside of Eden. “Why not put it on top of a high mountain,”
“Or on the moon.” He and (name) said at the same time. Crawly and Aziraphale gave (name) a look, and she coughed, brushing off the comment she had made. There was a moment of tense silence before Crawly continued.
“Makes you wonder what God’s really planning.”
“Best not to speculate.” Aziraphale turned away again, craning his neck to see if he could still spot Adam and Eve. “It’s all part of the great plan. It’s not for us to understand.”
“Would be nice, though.” (Name) sighed, and Aziraphale gave her a look. She shrugged.
“It’s ineffable.” The word made (name) roll her eyes. She’d heard it a lot upstairs, and from Aziraphale.
“The Great Plan’s ineffable?” Crawly asked, brows furrowing.
“Exactly.” Aziraphale nodded. (Name) noticed Crawly’s gaze, searching her brother for something. “It is beyond understanding, and incapable of being put into words-”
“Didn’t you have a flaming sword?” He asked suddenly. (Name) could almost hear Aziraphale’s heart leap out of his throat. She turned to Aziraphale with a smirk.
“Yeah, Azi, didn’t you?”
“You did. It was flaming like anything. What happened to it?” Crawly narrowed his eyes.
“Uh-um..” Aziraphale began to look around frantically, trying to find a way out.
“Lost it already, have you?”
“The Almighty will not be happy about that.” (Name) piped in.
“Gave it away…” Aziraphale muttered.
“You what?” Crowley’s eyes widened in astonishment, as did (name)’s. She couldn’t honestly say she was too surprised, but the fact he’d done it without telling her hurt. Did he think she wouldn’t have supported his decision?
“I gave it away!” Aziraphale repeated. “There are vicious animals. It’s cold out there! And, she’s expecting already!” He defended. “So I said ‘here you go, flaming sword, don’t thank me, and don’t let the sun go down on you here.’” He sighed, and (name) took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze which he returned gratefully. “I do hope I didn’t do the wrong thing.”
“Oh, you’re angels.” Crawly started. “I don’t think you can do the wrong thing.”
“Oh- oh, oh thank- oh thank you.” Aziraphale hugged his sister’s hand close to his chest in his excitement. “It’s been bothering me.” Out in the distance, (name) could faintly see the figures of Adam and Eve defending off what she believed to be called a lion.
“I’ve been worrying too,” Crawly admitted. “What if I did the right thing with the whole ‘eat the apple’ business?” (Name) glanced at him again and met his gaze. “A demon can get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing.” He told them. (Name) winced when she heard the slice of Aziraphale’s sword through the lion’s skin, a final and deadly blow. Crawly turned his gaze back to her brother. “It would be funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one?” He said, chuckling. Aziraphale chuckled as well, until he understood the implications and stopped cold, causing (name) to snort.
“No.” He said defensively. “It wouldn’t be funny at all.”
Overhead, a group of dark clouds began to gather. (Name) lifted her wings, using one to cover Crawly and the other to cover her brother moments before water began falling from the sky. She feared, for a moment, that it might have been holy water and Crawly would be burned. But as the rain hit her skin, she knew it was nothing but plain liquid. She kept her wings up nonetheless.
“We shall see in time.” She sighed, smiling upward at the sky, clueless to Crawly watching her in wonder.
Years passed. Hundreds of years that turned into thousands. And somehow the angel’s path’s always crossed with the demons. (Name) would go as far as to consider him a friend, though she would never tell that to her brother, or even the demon himself. She’d never admit it out loud but she enjoyed his company, enjoyed talking with him, and enjoyed listening to him go on. She had been the one to convince her brother into the agreement, less because she thought it was a good arrangement and more because it gave her reason to see Crowley.
She was utterly infatuated with him by the 19th century, something she knew would get her into trouble had she bothered to make a move on it. Not that she had to worry about it for long, because in late 1862 Crowley finally went too far. (Name) hadn’t been able to make it to their meeting, having secretly acquired some books she planned to give her brother as a present, but when he arrived back there was nothing stopping his temper.
“I cannot believe him! The nerves on that foul demon!” Aziraphale huffed out angrily, pacing the shop.
“Oh, brother, what has he done this time, and what do I need to do about it?”
“You will do nothing!” He snapped suddenly, she was taken aback. In all their years, Aziraphale had never once commanded her against something. “You will not speak to that demon again.” He raged.
“And, why, dear brother, is that.” She seethed out, trying to contain her anger.
“Because he had the nerve to ask for holy water.” (Name)’s eyes widened in surprise.
“You… you’re sure?”
“Positive!” Her brother finally fell into his chair. “I told him no. I wasn’t about to give him a suicide pill.”
“Did he say what he wanted it for?” (Name) slowly lowered themselves into a seat of their own, shock still setting in. She couldn’t imagine why Crowley might want holy water. She hadn’t noticed that she was crying until the first tear fell off her cheek onto her hand. She wiped them away before Aziraphale could even notice.
“Insurance.” Her brother sneered. She’d never seen him so upset. Maybe, she thought, maybe her brother did care about the demon, in some form or another. Maybe… “I don’t want you talking to him again. He’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants, I can feel it (name).” (Name) was sad to say that she agreed. She couldn’t be anywhere near him if he wanted something like that.
In the past few centuries she’d come to a conclusion - there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for her demon. There were plenty of things he has asked of her that, had anyone else asked her, she would have refused. And she had refused more than half the things he asked of her, but all it took was one look and (name) would give in.
(Name)’s heart told her to go find him, to yell at him for being so stupid, to demand answers. But she did not. She did not go to him, and she did not allow herself to cry again.
Years passed. Almost a full century, in fact, and there wasn’t one day she did not wonder where he might be. She never voiced her concern though, Aziraphale refused to acknowledge that the demon existed. She put on a brave face, despite the shattered pieces of her heart that she hid inside her chest.
Then, it happened. Aziraphale promised it would be a quick in-and-out job. He was simply going to accompany a British spy inside a church, and arrest a couple of Nazi’s. He would be home by morning, he promised. Over the radio, she heard the news of the bombs dropping. She’d been doing the dishes by hand, enjoying the simple humane act when she heard where the bombs dropped, and a dish slipped from her hand and shattered on the ground.
(Name) and Aziraphale had never been discorperated before. There were a few occasions in which she remembered coming close, but she never imagined it would ever actually happen. She didn’t know how to react. If she were to be honest, she didn’t believe it. If he was really gone, she would feel it, she was positive about that. Maybe he had gotten our before the drop happened?
After fixing the plate, (name) decided she would wait in the main part of the bookshop. She sat there for no longer than three hours when she heard a key in the door.
She cried in relief, allowing her tears to fall as she stood. The door swung open and Aziraphale stepped inside, the books gathered in a much nicer case than the ropes he’d taken them out in. (Name) rushed to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. For a moment, he was taken aback, but quickly wrapped his arms around her.
“The people on the radio said the bomb dropped on the church.” She whispered. “I thought you got discorporated.”
“He would have been,” (Name)’s heart skipped a beat, and she allowed herself a glance over Aziraphale’s shoulder. Crowley had entered the shop, closing the door behind himself. He was dressed sharply in a suit and tie, his usual sunglasses, and a fedora. He removed his hat, revealing short hair that he’d slicked back. “But lucky him, I was just around the corner and willing to pop on in to help.”
“Crowley.” She swallowed thickly. “Hello.” Aziraphale gave her a gentle squeeze before letting her ago.
“Hello, (name).” He smiled gently, and (name)’s heart slowly began to piece itself back together. She turned away quickly.
“I’ll make some tea.”
“No, no, that’s fine, I’ll be leaving shortly. Just came in to see how the shop was doing.” There was some truth to what he said, that she knew.
“A lot more books since the last time.”
“Well it has been a century.” Aziraphale brushed it off, clearly still upset about the whole holy water business, but not upset enough to kick Crowley out. “Are you sure you don’t want some tea, old friend? (Name) makes quite an amazing cup.” Crowley stood there for a minute pondering, and for a moment (name) was afraid he would refuse.
“Why not. But just the one. I’ve got places to be.” With that night, the arrangement started again, but the angels knew Crowley was still itching to get his hands on holy water. To her surprise, Crowley never asked her to get it for him. Maybe, after what happened with Aziraphale, he’d assumed the same thing would happen if he asked her. Which wasn’t true - she probably would have gotten some in a heartbeat.
It wasn’t until Aziraphale and (name) heard about his church heist that it became a problem.
“I’m not going to let him go through all this trouble for something like this!” (Name) shouted. She didn’t usually shout, especially not at Aziraphale. She couldn’t remember the last time they argued like this. It had been quite a few centuries.
“It could kill him, (name)!”
“You think I don’t know that, Aziraphale?!” She snapped. “I know damn well what even one drop of this… stuff,” she shook the thermos of holy water at him. “Could do to him.”
“Then why in heaven’s name are you giving it to him?!”
“Because I care about him, and if something goes wrong tonight I will never forgive myself!” She held the thermos close to her chest, turning quickly away from her brother. “I’ll be back in a couple hours.” Aziraphale called out to her as she left, but she stormed from the store in a huff.
She had a vague idea of where she could find Crowley. And she would spend hours searching for him, if that was what it took. But when she saw the mess of red hair getting into a dark Bentley she sighed in relief. Despite the pounding in her chest, she willed herself into his passengers seat. He’d barely gotten seated when he realized she was there.
“Oh, hello there Angel.” He smiled at her, but it dropped when he saw her expression. “Whatever it was, I swear I didn’t do it.”
“You’re an absolute idiot.” She murmured, knowing that her voice would crack if she even tried to talk louder. “Do you have any idea how dangerous what your planning is?” Crowley frowned.
“We work in Soho. We hear things.” She turned her head away, quickly wiping at her eyes before her tears could fall. This was much harder than she imagined it would be. “You can’t go through with it.”
“Oh, why do you care?” He scoffed. “It’s not going to affect you.”
“But it will.” She croaked, and it caught the demon’s attention. She took in a few deep breaths, attempting to calm herself down. “If something goes wrong, and you…” she let out a shaky sigh. She didn’t even want to think about what could happen. “I’d blame myself for the rest of my life.” She lifted up her hands, holding out the thermos. “Call off the heist. Please.” Her hands were shaking. For a moment she feared the thermos would fall.
“Is that…” Crowley slowly reached out, placing his hands on the thermos. She flinched, afraid that somehow it would burn him through the container, but he was fine.
“Yes.” She pulled her hands away, wiping again at her eyes. “You can call off the heist now.” There's a moment of total silence.
“Thank you.” He said. (Name) let out a deep sigh. “Is there anywhere I could take you?”
“No.” She said. “I’d better get back to the shop. Aziraphale isn’t too happy with me.” She reaches for the door handle, but stops when Crowley suddenly takes her hand. She looked at him, cheeks flushed red as he presses a small kiss to the back of her hand. He’s peering at her from over his sunglasses, allowing her to see his eyes for the first time in what felt like forever.
God save her, she loved his eyes.
“If I can do anything for you, angel, anything at all. Let me know.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. She nods slowly, but doesn’t move.
Aziraphale would kill her if he found out, but she couldn’t help herself. She leaned in, placing one hand gently on his cheek and pressing her lips to his other. She felt him grab her elbow gently, and after a few moments she pulled back.
“Please, be careful with it.” She whispered, ignoring how close in proximity he was. He nodded slowly.
“Yeah… yeah, okay. I promise.” She resisted the temptation to kiss him. Lord knew she wanted to - but she couldn’t, not now. She smiled gently before pulling away, slipping out of the Bentley and walking swiftly away before her heart could convince her to go back.
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Tongues & Pancakes [p.p]
pairing: Peter Parker x reader
summary: Peter helps you act out the rather (very) steamy dream you had last night. You start questioning whether all you feel towards him is platonic. (The answer is no.)
We love friends to lovers in this house bitch. And smut.
This is based on two dreams that I had except that they were with a really pretty girl but I changed it to our pretty boy Peter x reader, enjoy!
Let me know what you thought via a comment/reblog <3
warnings: smut, smut, smut, ➪ oral. and swearing i guess?, excessive amounts of pancakes (although: is there really such thing as too many pancakes? The answer is still no.), Gordon.
word count: 5.4k
gif not mine! ignore Ned in the gif (sorry, Ned)
Find my masterlist in my bio ♡
Early morning. You’ve been drifting in and out of a dream-filled sleep for the last hour or so, trying to prolong the process of weird scenarios that your sleepy brain can come up with.
All dreams are weird, stuff that would never happen and you wake after a few seconds, still seeing on the clock that your alarm yet has to ring.
You turn around another time, snuggling into bed and pulling the covers all the way up to your ears, dozing off for the dozenth or so time.
You’re in the mountains, the wind lifting the hem of your shirt ever so slightly. The fresh air causing your nipples to harden. Peter’s by your side, so are your other friends. Ned, Betty, Mj.
You look at him, at Peter’s smile. Your eyes trail further down to where his white shirt clings to his body, and you wish the shirt was gone.
Peter follows your gaze and smiles even wider. He takes your hand, guides you inside some house, all the way to the top floor where there’s a single white couch with a view of the green landscape, blue sky and dark, monumental mountains.
Peter lets you get comfortable until you’re leaning back into the sofa cushions.
He gives you a mischievous smile. Kneels down in front of you. Spreads your legs. And then his tongue is there.
Your eyes flutter shut immediately. No one has ever made you feel this before. No one has ever made you feel anything of this kind before.
Peter’s tongue on your clit feels amazing. It’s like you’re constantly on the verge of an orgasm, until the pleasure increases even more and you’re c-
A dream. Of course. But the physical effect was real.
You don’t have to lift the blanket to notice the wetness between your thighs.
Your thighs squeeze together and you know a quick shower won’t be enough to get your mind off this.
Your hand slinks under your panties, feeling enough slick to start without any teasing.
Your finger rubs circles over your clit for less than two minutes before you achieve your high, remembering the feeling you had in your dream.
You relax and stretch your arms over your head, opening your mouth in a yawn.
Glancing towards the alarm clock beside the bed, squinting to read the time- oh shit
But luckily you’re not the only one who’s late for first period.
Just as the entrance doors are about to fall shut behind you, you hear a voice. Peter’s voice.
“Hold up!” Him of all people.
You’ve decided that despite the oversleeping, you’re not going to let a day that started with a perfect dream and an orgasm go to waste. And you’re not going to let a little awkwardness you feel towards Peter ruin this day.
He doesn’t know what you dreamt of, so if you behave normally around him he has no reason to be suspicious.
He’s running towards you, backpack held by his hand, a slight layer of sweat coating his forehead and hairline, making his locks stand up adorably. Hmmm…
“Overslept?” You ask him, hurrying down the corridors next to each other.
“No, I just indulged in the breakfast May made and then missed my usual subway,”
Some call it breakfast, some call it pus- wait, no that was just your dream. “Friday is pancake day and May made a few too many. You?”
“Stuck in dreamland, then I didn’t hear my alarm.” That’s how you put it.
“Oh yeah, I get that - I get so frustrated when I’m having the best dream ever,”
Sure even your best dream can’t compare to this morning
“and suddenly my alarm reminds me I have to go to school. But at least I get to see you.” He nudges your shoulder with a smile.
“We still hanging out later?” You ask, just before you’ve reached the classroom.
“Of course, we can go to mine, I got a new video game last week, we can play that.”
You kind of hoped that Peter had other plans after all, knowing how busy he can get. The relief this morning after your dream was good, but not enough.
Right now you can contain yourself. The hazy dream pushed to the back of your mind. It’s Friday and then you’ll have all weekend to think about that fantasy. Except that right after school you’ll be with your very attractive friend for a few hours, and you’ll have to hide that you just had the best feeling dream ever. And he was involved...
Yeah. No… no.
You can’t do this.
You survived the school day relatively unscathed. It was just during last period that you allowed your mind to wander.
But then you were reminded that you would be spending the entire afternoon with Peter, and your mind went straight to the gutter.
Before you met up with Peter after school though, you convinced yourself that you’d manage - it’s just Peter after all. And it wasn’t going to be the first time during your teenage years that you’re horny and not able to do anything about it.
That was before the pancakes.
Those damn pancakes, or more so, that damn sirup. And the ice cream, vanilla.
He said that May made too many pancakes this morning, and so there were many left.
You had some, and so did Peter. He’s still at it.
With sirup trickling down his chin, not caring about how the ice cream from earlier sticks to his lip.
You watch him while he has no idea what he’s doing to you.
Once he’s finished he decides to clean up after all.
With his tongue, of course.
His tongue darts out, sliding from left to right on his top lip, then the other way on his bottom one.
He looks up and you pretend that you weren’t just staring. But of course he noticed.
“You said you got a new video game?” You distract him before he could address your ogling.
“Yeah come on, we can play.”
But that doesn’t distract you either.
First it’s the way Peter keeps pushing up against you. It’s not intentional, he’s just excited to play the game, animatedly moving with his in-game character, like you usually would too.
But today you can’t ignore how his arm keeps grazing yours, his whole moving next to yours, not noticing how close you are. And of course that damn tongue of his, poking out in concentration.
You don’t notice how the tv suddenly goes quiet until Peter looks at you, questioning. You glance back at the tv ‘paused’.
“Do you not like the game? We can play something else. I know you’re usually better and more enthusiastic when we’re on the console.”
“No, I like it, it’s cool. Just tired from eating so many pancakes is all.” You lie. You barely ate any pancakes because you’d been so distracted by Peter.
“We can watch a film, something funny and uncomplicated?” He suggests and you nod.
You switch to his laptop and lying on his bed. Physical contact worse than before.
Well, not worse, that implies that it’s bad. You like Peter and his closeness. Just right now what you’re feeling is way more than platonic and if you did what you wanted it would require a lot less clothing.
You have good memory of how Peter looked between your legs, you can still picture the whole scene. But the actual feeling of his tongue on your clit which, in your dream, had felt very intense, that, you’re beginning to forget.
Peter’s eyes are fixed to the screen and he doesn’t notice you taking out your phone, you’ll be fine.
‘what does it feel like to be eaten out’ you type into the search bar in private mode.
You find plenty of stories, even poems, but no one exactly describing the feeling. You suppose it’s one of those things you can’t put into words.
But what you had was just a dream, and maybe it’s way less good in real life and you’re fantasising about it all day for nothing.
Peter suddenly turns to you, pausing the film. You hide your phone screen, pressing it against your chest.
“Are you texting someone?” He asks. Was that jealousy you heard? No, it must be your mushy brain, picturing Peter in all these ways that don’t match the current reality.
You shake your head, failing to come up with something to tell him.
“You okay? You seem distracted, since this morning.” He turns his whole body to you, and even though he’s being gentle and friendly you can’t help but wonder what he’d look like naked. Or even how he’d look at you when you were naked.
“No, I’m good. I just had this dream and I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Right, this morning you said you wanted to continue dreaming. So it was a good dream?”
“Yes. And I’m wondering what it would be like if that happened in real life.” You tell him.
“Want to tell me about it? Maybe I know what it would be like.”
You shake your head.
Peter looks down, “Has that got something to do with your dream?” He’s pointing to your phone. You hadn’t noticed that you’d been holding it upright again, so he could see your embarrassing google search.
Heat rushes to your cheeks and you cover your face with your arm, switching your phone off.
You hear Peter’s adorable laugh from beside you and place your arm on your belly, to see Peter hovering over you.
“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. Never in front of me.” He scoots closer and lays his arm over your torso, cuddling you and hiding his head in between your shoulder and neck, face pressed into the pillow.
“So, what exactly was the dream about?” Peter plays with the hair by the nape of your neck.
You can’t tell him the whole truth… You always feel like Peter is hiding something from you, not like he doesn’t trust you, but he’s allowed to have secrets so your secret will be that Peter was in the dream. You can tell him the rest.
Peter’s all about being comfortable and open around you and you know you’ve made him more emotionally aware and safe around you, he shares most stuff with you. And this is his way of you making you feel safe around him, even if it’s about a fucking wet dream.
“So… I was with this guy. He was quite straightforward, sat me down on a sofa and then he went down on me. No one’s ever um, done that to me in real life, and in my dream it felt amazing. So I was trying to find out if it really feels like it did in my dream, because, wow.”
“Who was the guy?”
“Didn’t know him. It was more about the feeling than about how he looked. Probably just someone my mind made up-”
Peter gives a hum of acknowledgement but then he’s quiet.
Still with his arm around you, lying next to you, still quiet.
But then he lays down on his back, twiddling with his fingers and looking up.
“I mean.. You want to know what it feels like, but you need another person to, well, do it. And I… I guess I’m also wondering what it’s like to go down on a girl and just be face to face with… you know.”
“Um, yep.” He looks up at your face, you’ve sat up, legs pulled against your chest, leaning against the wall.
It’s a weird kind of moment.
He’s asking you so innocently, to do something so not innocent.
You both want to know, but if any other male friend asked you, you wouldn’t even think about saying yes. Or more so, you never would have told him about your dream and curiosity in the first place.
Despite the weight of the action he’s proposing to do, the vibe between you is normal.
Like you could just laugh about what he’s just said, and you’d both forget about it and continue watching your film. Because it’s you and Peter.
Except laugh is the last thing you want to do right now.
But, actually, he hasn’t said the words. He’s alluded to him eating your pussy, but not said it yet.
You want him to say it, “So.. what are you saying?” Finally some teasing.
His hand finds your thigh and you pretend not to notice how it shakes.
“That, for both of our experience, I could, if you want to- I know I want to, eat you out.”
God, you never knew how much you needed to hear Peter Parker say those words.
He wants to eat you out. No fucking way you’re declining that.
Not just because you had a dream about it that has made you horny since it happened, but also because there might be this crush you have on Peter and you could never determine if it was a long term thing, or just because he was your first-ever guy friend and just happens to be so damn cute.
Right after he says his words, you part your legs as an answer.
The film long forgotten, Peter pushes the laptop onto the clothes-filled floor and scoots around on the bed so he’s between your legs, lying on his belly.
“Can you say it? Just so I can be sure you want this as much as me?” He requests.
You pull your pants and panties off first, Peter’s mouth agape, looking at your pussy for a split second, then up at your face again. “Yes, Peter. I want you to eat me out.”
You look right into his eyes while he’s torn between staring back, and staring at the place between your legs.
“You.. wanna do something?” You ask. You’re exposed in front of him, shirt and socks still on but the most vulnerable part open for him to see. And smell.
Can he smell you? You’re pretty sure. You can smell you. You know what you smell and taste like, it’s your body after all. But you’ve never thought much of it, not bad, not great, just normal. Just you.
But what if Peter doesn’t like it?
He finally moves, grabbing your hips so you both find a more comfortable position. You more relaxed, him more at the right angle to eat you out.
“You’re so wet.” His smile is bright. He likes it.
“I been thinking about it all day, and now it’s actually happening. It’s just… exciting.”
He beams up at you nervously, an expression that says he agrees with you.
“Can you-” You squirm a little to bring across your point. Sure, you’re both an appropriate level of nervous, neither of you knows what to do. But you’re wet and resisting the urge to squeeze your thighs together or just use your fingers.
What you know is that his tongue belongs on your clit, and it’s not there. So he has something to do.
He’s still staring, mesmerised. Even though you’ve never done this, you probably know at least a little more than him.
“You know where my clit is?”
He closes and opens his mouth, about to say something. Instead he moves closer, his tongue touching your clit just for a second, making your whole body shiver. Boy paid attention in biology class- or porn.
“Yeah there. Just put your tongue there and I’ll tell you what to do.”
Peter licks his lips and licks a strip up to your clit.
Much better than your dream.
“I’m just warning you, I won’t last long.” You giggle, then leaning in to the pleasure of his mouth on you.
“That’s not a warning, that’s a challenge.” He comments.
He’s not doing much yet, experimenting, waiting for you to tell him what you want. And you’re close already. The warm wet of his tongue against your wet pussy is such a new but obviously amazing feeling.
“Now just- oh my god,” He uses the tip of his tongue to focus on your clit, then flattens it for a second, and goes back to using just the tip, “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
Your hand wanders down to spread your lips, giving him even better access and more direct contact.
God, that feels good.
Within a second Peter switches his position slightly. His arms go under your legs, hands laying on top of your lower belly.
He’s even closer now, you don’t know how it’s possible that this just keeps getting better.
His saliva mixes with your own juice and it seems like he’s not anywhere near stopping.
Peter keeps his tongue steady while your pleasure increases and after not even two minutes you’re so damn close.
“Don’t stop. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Your hair goes into his hair and he keeps working his wonders on you, humming to himself.
You’re grateful he doesn’t go faster but keeps his pace, unlike, so you’ve read, many other guys who then ruin the girl’s orgasm.
A few seconds more, and you the feeling of an orgasm takes over your body. Knees caging Peter’s head in, eyes fluttering shut and fingers tightening in his hair.
He doesn’t stop until you’re pushing his head away a few moments later, eyes still closed.
Did he enjoy this as much as you did?
You open your eyes to see Peter smiling widely. Lapping up what he can from his glistening mouth, and eventually wiping the residue with the back of his hand.
Whether it’s because Peter’s a natural, or because all of the excitement from doing something sexual with another person for the first time, that was most definitely one of the best orgasms ever.
“Was it, uh, like in your dream?” Peter scratches the back of his neck, passing you your panties when he sees you reaching for them.
“Better.” You state. “How was it for you?”
“I- awesome. You, um you taste really good.” He adds bashfully. You smile.
“You hungry? I’m hungry.” You say. That orgasm was tiring.
“Pancakes?” He asks, finger gun pointing at you.
“Pancakes.” You answer, nodding.
“Wait, we can eat them here. Just make yourself comfortable.”
Peter disappears for a minute and comes back with the probably final stack of pancakes.
You munch them, this time Peter’s the one staring at you, not indulging.
You feel like you’re about to pass out from the amazing orgasm and then the pancakes when Peter helps you slip under the blanket. The warmth covering your bare legs.
“Take a nap, sleep as long as you want.” Peter smiles and cleans up the plates.
You’re asleep before he comes back from the kitchen.
You’re back in the house in the mountains, surrounded by green which you can see through the windows. And Peter’s back too.
This time it’s not sexual.
You’re both lying on the spacy white couch, legs tangled together.
He smiles, and it’s the most contagious thing you’ve known. Peter’s happy - you’re happy.
He kisses your lips, compliments you. Loves you. Makes you feel special and like it’s just you and him and no one else.
Your hand strokes through Peter’s messy hair, earning another smile and a kiss on your arm.
You feed him pancakes, and he slobbers all over your hand while doing so. It’s perfect really. (Except that you’ve had too many pancakes today, they’re following you into your dreams!)
You wish you could stay like this forever.
You just love this boy-
“Hi, your mom called to ask if you’re staying for dinner-”
“She’s asleep, May!” Peter whisper-shouts.
“No, I’m awake.” You mumble, waking, smiling at May.
“Oh, sorry, sweetie, I didn’t realise. Your mom called because you weren’t answering your phone.”
“It‘s okay, and thank you. I guess I‘ll be going then” You rub the sleep away from your eyes. May leaves the room and you only now notice that Peter’s sitting on the bed with you, staying close while you were asleep, reading a comic.
You get up and put your pants back on, only realising that you’re bending over in front of Peter once you’re done already.
He stands up to say goodbye to you and walks you to the door.
You hug him. Except that it’s not how you usually do it. Usually it’s just a hug around each other’s back, this time your arms go around his neck.
“Thank you.” You say quietly, he knows what you’re referring to.
“Thank you to you too. It was also an experience for me.”
“A, um a good one?”
“Yeah, it was really nice. I uh enjoyed it too, so thanks.”
He looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t.
You wave him goodbye to go home and think about what just happened.
First of all, the sex that happened. Oral. It was even better than in your dream and if Peter enjoyed it too you would, no doubt, be up to do it again.
Not right now, though. You’re satisfied for at least a week.
Okay, maybe not satisfied. There’s always room and time for masturbation.
You lie down for another few hours, thinking, and then touching yourself until you finally fall into a truly dreamless sleep.
Next day is Saturday and you finish some school work to distract yourself.
But the one time you actually want to study, it doesn’t take too long.
Distract yourself from yesterday’s dream that is. Not the sex dream, the dream you had while you slept at Peter’s.
This boy really does make you happy. And seeing him happy makes you happy too.
So do you like him?
You always have, kind of.
So many people think you and Peter are a couple and they definitely have a reason to think so.
You do act like a couple. Apart from being good friends, you cuddle, you trust each other more than most other friends, he eats you out, normal stuff like that.
Okay, you do like Peter. You love Peter.
Sometimes you feel like you are a couple too.
You knew long ago that the feelings you have for Peter are not solely platonic.
So what are you waiting for?
You shower and get on a nice outfit. Casual, but appropriate, for telling the boy who acts like your boyfriend already that you want to be his girlfriend.
You just want to hold his hand and make him happy. And maybe return yesterday’s favour, you’ll see.
It’s late, but not too late to come over.
You know Peter should be home. If Ned’s over you’ll just join them and get Ned to leave. He’s rooting for you two anyway.
May opens the door looking surprised.
“Hi, sorry I didn‘t call. Was it okay to come over?”
“You’re always welcome, but Peter’s still at his internship,” On a Saturday night? hm. “You can wait in his room or watch Gordon Ramsay’s show with me.”
“Blow fire in your face, ya fucking donkey!” You hear an exhausted voice shout through the tv.
“I’ll wait in Peter’s room, thank you though.”
“I thought so, tell me if you need anything.”
You go to Peter’s room and sit on his bed. Why is he at his internship on a Saturday night?
You hope it means that he’s home soon.
Moving on the bed, you wonder how you should sit. Maybe a bit seductively, with your hip jutting out?
You feel stupid and sit on his bed normally, waiting for the doorframe to be taken in by Peter, but instead you hear the window being slid open.
And in crawls Spider-Man himself.
You sit there frozen, watch him stick to the ceiling, shut the door and eventually rip his mask off to reveal sweaty curls you’d recognise anywhere.
Now it’s his time to freeze when he sees you on his bed.
Abort mission, abort mission!
He’s Spider-Man, of course he wouldn’t like you as his girlfriend. An Avenger could do better than you. You’re not confessing your love today.
He says your name, after being quiet for about a minute.
“Peter.” You reply.
You hear steps from the corridor and Peter places a hand on the spider on his chest, loosening the suit and throwing it to the side.
The door opens, “Do you want any- oh, Peter. I was so engrossed by Gordon that I didn’t even hear you come in.” May says.
“Who the fuck is Gordon?” Peter furrows his brows.
“Watch your language, young man.” She points a finger at him while the tv blasts another insult, “You’re a first-class cunt.”
You all stay quiet.
“Fuck off, will ya?” Gordon screams and you stifle a laugh.
“Yeah, swearing is still not good.” May says, closing the door before opening it again,
“Well, get your guest anything if she needs it and… maybe put on some clothes.”
You’re fine with Peter being half-naked.
She goes back to watching the devil’s chef and Peter turns around to you.
“May can not know, okay?”
“Your secret’s safe with me. That goes without saying.”
Peter starts telling you about why he hasn’t told you, but you get it. You know he had a reason to hide this one secret from you, and you don’t hold it against him. And thinking about it now, it makes a lot of sense that he’s Spider-Man, with the disappearing and the internship and all.
“Let me shower quickly, then we can do whatever you were here for. Wait, what were you here for? I don‘t mind but we didn’t arrange anything, did we? You look nice by the way. But again, you always do.”
“No, no, yeah, I just wanted to hang out. Or something. Thanks.”
Plan B has not been thought about in your head yet.
“Okay, cool. I’ll be like five minutes.”
You think about it while he’s gone.
You’ll just say you’re here to give him what he gave you yesterday. (Head).
He comes back, dressed in loose shorts and a pyjama shirt that you hope will be gone soon.
“You want anything to eat?” He asks, sitting on the bed with you and drinking some water.
Yeah, I want to eat you.
“Actually I had a real reason to be here. I was just going to return the favour from yesterday.”
He nearly spits out his water at that.
“You want that?”
“Yeah, yes, god yes. But you don’t have to do it just because I did.”
“But I want to.”
You lean in to kiss him. But he didn’t kiss you yesterday, so why should you kiss him today?
He’s Spider-Man, he’s not going to want you like that.
You make him back up so he’s leaning against the pillows, situating yourself between his legs. You help him take off his shirt and he pulls off his shorts at record speed, leaving him in just his underwear.
Stroking up his thighs, you feel him tense up from being nervous.
“Relax, ‘s just me.”
He nods, “Just you, got it.” You miss the irony at that moment.
Your hand hovers over his boxers where you can see he’s already a little hard, straining against the material.
Peter lets out a ragged breath and thrusts up into your hand involuntarily.
He gives you a “sorry” look but you don’t mind at all. Your own breath is a bit unsteady just knowing that this is the effect you have on Peter.
With an approving nod from him, you tug off the boxers and damn, he’s not just a little hard.
Without much planning, you take him into your hand and he gives a sigh of relief.
You try to bend down to taste him, but the angle’s uncomfortable.
“Can you, uh-” You get off the bed, kneeling in front of it and Peter sits up, so you’re between his legs again.
“Are you comfortable?” He asks.
You start stroking his cock, using the precum as lube and leaning forward.
You hold the base of his cock with your hand, carefully licking the glistening tip.
The taste is salty and new and just Peter.
Once you’ve experimented with your tongue a little, licking up his girth and swirling it around the head, you think about what you’ve seen in porn.
You decide to try the deepthroating another time (uh, if there is another time of course), but use your mouth to envelop his head fully, going further down a few inches.
Peter’s breathing hard, sighing and mumbling and grunting every now and then and you pay attention to his body language.
You notice he’s unsure of where to put his hands, so you guide him by placing one of them on top of your head.
Your palm goes down to touch his balls while your mouth is doing all the work you can muster, tongue lapping at his head.
He’s gentle throughout the whole three minutes, only once he starts grunting and jerking into your mouth a little, the hand in your hair tightens and he spills into your mouth. You manage to suppress the gag and swallow.
By Peter’s face you can tell how good this must feel for him and you’re more than just a bit proud that you did this.
He reaches over to the little trash can by the foot of his bed for you to spit, but you eagerly stick out your tongue, showing him you swallowed.
“Wow,” he mumbles, chuckling, “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.”
He tries to bite his lip, but instead smiles, helping you get back onto the bed and gathering his clothes to put back on.
“Soo.. did you like it?” You ask, sitting on your knees.
“Like would be an understatement. Wow, that was wow.” He’s good with words.
He leans back against the pillows, looking as exhausted as you feel now and did yesterday.
He offers you his bottle of water and you take a few big gulps, setting it down and crawling between Peter’s legs again.
You close your eyes and kiss him, leaving your lips on his for a few seconds to savour the feeling.
Just as you’re about to sit back, preparing for rejection, Peter puts his hands on your cheeks, pulling you back to his mouth.
So he likes you too!?! He’s kissing you.
“You, uh- I. That was the real reason I came here. I also wanted to return the favour, gladly. But I… like- I mean I love you. And not just since yesterday. But then I found out that you’re a superhero and I just thought that of course, a superhero wouldn’t want me so I didn’t say anything.”
“That’s the beauty of it. I‘m not Spider-Man. I‘m just Peter Parker like you‘ve always known me. Well, I guess I am Spider-Man, sometimes I’m not sure about everything because I have different responsibilities and stuff as Spider-Man than as Peter- I’m not sure really. But I’m sure that I like you whoever I am, I love you too.”
“You do?” You smile at his rambling.
“I mean… I wouldn‘t just eat out a girl that I didn‘t like or wasn‘t attracted to. And yesterday… If I‘m honest I‘ve never thought about eating out a girl before. But then I got the chance to make you feel good and I would‘ve never in a million years missed that opportunity. And eating your pussy was also quite cool.”
“You know, the guy in my dream was you all along.”
He gives what sounds like a sigh of relief, throwing his head back with a smile.
You sit in his lap, giggling and push against his chest to steady yourself. But he sweeps you off your feet again anyway by kissing you once more, his hands holding your waist.
You’re interrupted when May opens the door without knocking.
First you hear an aggressive “What are you?
-An idiot sandwich!” From the tv,
Then May, “Do you two- oh, sorry. I’ll come back later.”
Before you two can react she’s out of the room again. A second later you hear “Fucking finally”!
It’s safe to say, Gordon is a bad influence.
It’s also safe to say you love your boyfriend, (and that he gives amazing head).
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Summary: Steve drags Bucky to a Christmas festival to take his mind off the fact that he has yet to meet his soulmate.
Warnings: Nada. Some cursing, but that’s about it.
A/N: Just some cute Holiday Soulmate AU for my sweet boy. Because he deserves all the love honestly.
***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam though. Thanks!**
“Just shut it, Steve.”
Bucky had enough of all this soulmate talk. He was done with it.
Where the hell was he supposed to find this person anyway? He knows nothing about them. Hell, he doesn’t even know if they are in the same country. For all, he knows the person he is supposed to be with could be on the other side of the world.
Here you have this tattoo on your skin, a bright neon sign that your soulmate is out there somewhere, but you have no idea where they are, who they are or how to freakin’ find them.
It was a cruel, cruel joke.
“Buck, you can’t give up. Just think how long it took me to find Sharon? I mean, I saw her once.” Steve holds up his index finger for emphasis. “Just once. She bumped into me on the subway, I caught a glimpse of her tattoo and before I could get her name she was gone. What are the odds we would find each other again months later?”
Bucky rolled his eyes and set steve with a flat, unimpressed stare.
“Well, pretty fuckin’ good Stevie. You hung out at the station like a creepy stalker for months until you saw her again. She probably shoulda got a restraining order instead of accepted a date.”
Steve’s cheeks pink as he shoves his best friend away from him -- his so-called best friend.
“Well, if you want to find them so badly you have to do more than mope around.”
There was no way he was listening to this speech again. The ‘Buck you just have to put yourself out there’ speech. Bucky had accepted that he was not going to find his soulmate. The world was too big, there were too many people, and it wasn’t as if he was getting any younger.
“You look pretty grumpy for someone at a Christmas festival.”
Bucky frowned at the stranger’s voice and turned around to face them, leaving Sharon to handle whatever trouble Steve was absolutely going to get himself into.
He couldn’t breathe. No one has ever knocked the wind out of him like that, let alone made him speechless. Yet, here he was. Standing there with his mouth agape, staring at the beautiful woman in front of him, unable to say a word.
“There is holiday cheer everywhere. Literally. You can get high just from breathing in all the sugar cookie and hot chocolate smell.” She gestured to his full black attire and wrinkled her nose in the most adorable way.
“You just felt like coming out and being all grinchy?”
Bucky frowned and looked down at his black jeans, black cotton tee, and black leather. Okay, so he didn’t really look like he belonged, but to be fair, he didn’t want to come to the damn festival, to begin with. The only reason he came was that Steve drug him along to see Sharon, who was volunteering at some face painting booth for the kids. He looked back up at her and cleared his throat, trying to find his voice.
“Well, I was kind of brought against my will.”
He pointed to her attire and smirked, after regaining some of his composure. She was just like every other woman after all, right? If he could charm them, he could charm her.
“What elf did you murder to get all that?” He quipped. She narrowed her eyes and poked him in the chest.
“Listen here. This sweater is adorable. It has a snowman wrapped in Christmas lights on it and these antlers.” She dipped her head to shake the antlers, so they jingled.
“They were my mothers. So, they are vintage. That’s very in right now.”
Bucky chuckled, “Right. Sure, they are, sweetheart.”
His eyes fell onto her wrists, and his heart stopped. Bucky could only make out a tiny portion of her tattoo sticking out, but it looked the same as his and was in the same spot… No.
No way. No friggin’ way.
This was not going to be how he met his soulmate. It wasn’t allowed to happen now. Not when Steve was the one that made him come out here! Jesus Christ. Steve would never let him live this down. He took a deep breath and nodded towards her wrists.
Once she showed him the mark on her wrist, and he saw it wasn’t a snowflake he could forget all about this nonsense.
Her eyes went wide as she slowly unfolded her arms, pulling the sleeve of her sweater up all the way and showed him her inner wrist, where a white and blue snowflake was staring back at him.
“How-- how did you know it was a snowflake?”
Bucky was stunned for a moment before he managed to lift his arms and show her the matching tattoo on his wrist and she lit up. She beamed brighter than the Christmas lights that were on her sweater.
“I always wondered what kind of Christmas loving weirdo my soulmate had to be for me to have a snowflake tattoo. Now I know. One that wears antlers instead of a hat.”
“Hey!” She pouted and looked down at her outfit. “Do I really look silly?”
“No, darlin’.” He gave her a dopey smile and shook his head, “You actually look pretty damn cute.”
Bucky nodded back towards the tent were Steve and Sharon were sitting, watching with interest. “Do you wanna come see our tent? My sister-in-law, Sharon, can paint a reindeer on your face or something.”
“Okay,” She chirped with a devilish smirk. “Only if you get one too.”
He grinned and took her hand in his.
“Anything for you.”
Bucky was about to get the biggest I told you so from Steve, but it was totally worth it.
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To protect you (part 1)
Connor x fem!reader
words : around 2,3k
A man you sent in jail some months ago because of some red Ice traffic just escaped. There is only one problem : he promised he would find you and would make you pay for it. For your protection, Hank decided to assign you his partner Connor - and you still don't know how to react with all of this.
(Sooo, here the first part of this short story ! There will be probably three parts. Like always, english is not my first language so sorry if there is some mistakes, don’t hesitate to contact me by PM to correct them :))
"You don't have to do this, Hank," you insisted with a little frown at the corner of your mouth. "I am perfectly able to protect myself and handle this."
"You know that he is an important man in all this traffic stuff," Hank replied. "He probably have some people under his orders. It will be safer for you this way."
At the sight of your raised eyebrows, he added :
"Don't act like a child, (Y/n). You know I am doing this for you. I don't want you to get hurt."
A little sigh escaped your lips.
"I know Hank, I'm sorry. It's just that..."
"You are incomfortable having Connor at your home, right ?" the lieutenant guessed.
"Well... You know I never wanted an android in my life or at home. I don't want someone else doing all the tasks for me, I am capable to handle it myself."
Hank rolled his eyes at you like you said some shitty joke - well, it probably seemed like a joke to him.
"I'm not telling you to ask him to do your laundry!" He sounded almost offended that you can think about his partner like that and a chuckle escaped your lips. "Its just in case, until we catch this asshole again to put him back in jail."
"I get it." you replied with a light smile.
Hank suddenly raised his head and looked behind you and you can't help but turn, watching the famous android coming near you two. He gave a cup of coffee to the lieutenant and greeted both of you :
You can't stop yourself from rising a brow at the sight of the coffee and you whispered to Hank :
"Not doing my laundry, huh ? But I guess a cup of coffee is okay ?"
"Shut the fuck up, (Y/n)" he only said, and you started to laugh at his grumpy face.
Turning back to the android, you found him watching the two of you with what looked like curiosity in his eyes. He was staring a lot since you knew him, and you eventually grew used to it - even if sometimes, it was really way too long to not by noticed - it was strange, really. Since you were being reassigned at Detroit, you started to work with them two, and that was the hell of a journey. Between the grumpy side of Hank and his alcohol, and Connor and his I-don't-have-any-emotion sort of talk, it was... kinda exhausting, sometimes - but still funny, in a way. After the shitty partners you always ended with in your previous police station, you felt relieved.
"Did Hank told you about this...protection job for me ?" you asked to the android.
"Yes, we talked about it this morning when you were doing paperwork. You don't have to worry, I will protect you until we catch the guy."
A smile on your lips, you joked :
"I am counting on you. If someone kill me and you fail this, my mom is gonna run at you to strangle you."
Hank started to sneer in his coffee cup and you acted like you didn't saw it while Connor said :
"If it help your mom feeling better, I would be glad, but I can't die of stangulat-"
" I know ! Uh, that was just a joke."
Damn, was it so difficult for him to understand this ? Or maybe it was you - yeah, you had a shitty sense of humor, after all.
"Oh, I didn't see it was this late ! I have to go buy some food for tonight."
You waved your hand at the lieutenant before leaving, Connor following you without a word - yeah, it was going to be strange for you.
"How do you find the place?"
The android looked around. Your apartment was at the last floor because you needed a little greenhouse, but the rest was cute too : you got only one bedroom and a kitchen open to the living room. Everything was in colors of soft brown and green, and all the furniture were made of wood. You were someone who liked nature, after all.
"If I compare to the data about human houses, its lovely".
You frowned at this answer. Obviously, it was a typical android answer, and it strangely crushed your heart.
"I don't ask about data. I want your own point of view on this."
The RK800 looked lost for a moment before his LED started to light up in yellow and he finally said :
"I think... it looks calm. Almost peaceful, it suits you."
You smiled at the android - it was far better than having to hear about the stupid data.
"You should go to the greenhouse on the balcony, its the last door right here." you said as you pointed the said door with a finger. For a human, it was difficult to notice it because the door was in the same oak color than the wall, but he perfectly noticed it and listened to you, going to open it.
Taking this time for you, you headed to the small spot in your kitchen with a hot cholocate in mind. Screw Hank and his coffee, milk and chocolate were far better. Grabbing some cocoa powder and sugar, you started to put everything in a mug without looking at how much you needed - the more the better !
"I didn't knew you liked books this much."
You jumped away with a muffled sound coming from your mouth, looking at Connor, right behind you, with wide eyes.
"Damn, you scared me ! You are really silent when you walk."
"I am sorry (Y/n), I didn't mean to scare you."
" 'ts okay. Mhh and yeah, I really love books. I love reading stories to help me escape, sometimes."
Well, it was more of an obsession - you owned hundreds of books, if not thousands. Thats why you needed a greenhouse, because you always loved to put them together, to let the flowers bloom and the ivy grow on the bookshelves, even if sometimes you had to cut it in order to prevent it to grow around the books and damage them. It was perfect, with the sun coming from the glass windows.
"Well... you know as much as me how life can be a dick, right ? So, the books... they... help me. Sort of. I know it probably doesn't make sense for you but-"
You stopped dead in your monologue, looking at him. His eyes were almost soft while looking at you and you can't help but blush a little.
"Really ?! Hum, I mean...okay, then."
Wow, what a good talk ! You wanted to hit your head on your kitchen workshop. A sigh escaped you and you opened your mouth in order to say something interesting for once but some knocks at the front door stopped you and you raised a brow.
"At this hour ?" you mubbled to yourself. "Who the fuck-urgh."
Why the hell Gavin Reed was at your door ? The guy already annoyed the fuck out of you at work, you didn't need him to be here too ! And how did he find your place ?! After telling at your partner to stay in the kitchen - Gavin hated androids, you didn't want to see him being rude at Connor - you headed at the entrance again and opened your door.
"Reed ? What are you doing here?"
"Don't need to sound so rude. I wanted to know if you were fine."
It was... strangely cute to see him concerned and you can't help but frown a little - okay, that was definitely scary.
" Really ?" you asked - and fuck him if you sounded so unsure about his words.
"Really. The guys at the office talked about this asshole who escaped and wanted you dead. I was coming to protect you."
You looked at him for some seconds, trying to figure the things out. That was not usual from Reed, he was the type of people doing this with a reward in mind. You almost asked what he wanted from you but stopped - wasn't a good idea. Instead, you gave him a smile and said :
"This is really kind of you, but I don't think I need a protection. I got my service gun, it will be fine."
When he didn't say anything, and instead decided to make a move like he wanted to enter inside, you clenched your teeth and insisted :
"Reed, I will be okay. I don't need you."
Maybe it sounded too rude, because his eyes darkened while looking at you. Man, why did you have to open to this idiot ? You should have acted like you weren’t at home ! Gavin started to close the gap between you two and you opened your mouth, but before you can say anything you felt something on your back and a voice :
"I think (Y/n) asked you to leave."
Your eyes widened and you raised your head to look at Connor. It was his chest you were feeling in your back, and this sudden proximity was...unexpected. He seemed firm, his body not moving at all when you decided to lean on him a little in order to stay away as much as you could from Gavin. The guy looked at the android with a visible disgust and you started to be afraid.
"I don't think I'm going to leave this fast, dickhead."
"But you will have to. You scare her."
The voice of Connor at this words almost sounded like a growl and your eyes widened. What was that ?
"She's not scared ! Not when she is looking at me like she always do at the office !"
"What the fuck, Gavin ?!" you blurted out. "I'm not interested in you at all !!"
"You heard her. You should leave now-"
"Don't talk to me, you garbage !!" Reed scolded. "What do you think ? That she needs you ? A piece of plastic ? No, she needs a real man, with a real- "
The man never finished his sentence, because you cut him in his monologue with the biggest slap you ever do, right on his face.
"Reed ! Say that again and its not your face that I'm going to hit next time !" you growled - a furious light shining through your eyes.
You thought it was going to calm him down but instead he just looked more enraged, if it was even possible. He raised his hand way too fast and you just had the time to look at him with a scared gaze before feeling Connor pushing you aside and grabbing Reed's wrist. His LED was beeping furiously and- it was red ? No, yellow. But, it looked red the second before...
"What do you think you're doing, deepshit ?!! Don't touch me !!"
"Sadly, I don't think you understand. Try to touch her again, and I will break all the bones in your arm." Connor said coldly.
A gasp escaped you at this words : androids weren't supposed to hurt any human - and right now, Connor seemed... angry, ready to break the wrist he caught in his hand. Gavin opened his mouth while looking at you, ready to say something probably bad but a grin painted his face, and you swear you could almost hear a crack coming from his wrist. It looked painful and Reed finally decided to step back while the android released his arm, looking at the both of you with - well, it looked like disgust and now it was towards you, too.
"I read your file." he said suddenly, looking right at you. "You are so fond of those plastic shits, right, huh ?"
Your eyes widened at this words and your mind seemed to blank out. Who gave him access to the file from your previous police station ?! Only the captain was supposed to have it ! An anger you never felt before seemed to boil in your veins and you made a move towards your colleague but Connor stopped you with a hand on your right shoulder.
"(Y/n), please." he called, and it sounded helpless. "Don't do this. He doesn't even deserve your attention."
You stopped for a few seconds, and Gavin slowly gave up his victorious grin - it was probably because you watched him with rage and the android behind you looked annoyed. Finally, your shoulders fell and a sigh escaped you - you were so tired, suddenly - you never wanted to have all those bad memories thrown at you !
"Uh...okay, then...you should go, Gavin."
The guy didn't answer this time and left quickly, leaving you and Connor at the foot of the door, without a word. Slowly, the android decided to grab you and closed the door, leading you to the kitchen. He finished to prepare your cup of hot chocolate and gave it to you before sitting in front of you at the table of the little kitchen. Silence settled uncomfortably until Connor managed to ask :
"Are you ok, (Y/n) ?"
"Yeah, don't worry, I'm perfectly fine."
Hell, you knew that androids like him could probably detect your lie, but whatever. You weren't ready to talk about the past - and especially not with him. And if he noticed the lie, he didn't say anything and just watched you - and as you looked down at your chocolate, you totally missed the worried gaze Connor gave you.
Done :) How you liked this first part, and like always tell me if there is mistakes if you want me to correct them :) Requests are open too ! (and ask me if you want to be tag in the next parts)
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Michael Langdon (Smut) Headcanons
Virgin!Michael would just want to please you and make you feel safe
Always asking if he’s doing something wrong
“Is this okay Y/N?”
“I’m not hurting you, right?”
He’s very needy and requires constant reassurance because he’s is very insecure
He is such a sub! at first
Calming his nerves by pressing your lips to his, trying to quiet his impending questions while unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off his broad shoulders
Leaving hickeys all the way down his throat until it reached his collarbone
And then reassuringly whispering about how much you love him
His large hands running up and down your back giving you shivers before asking permission to unlatch your bra
Him fiddling with the clasp for a while until you both broke out into laughter
Lots of foreplay when he gets a bit more confident in himself
Watching you play with yourself makes him so flustered
Sliding your fingers against your wet folds, you would moan his name
While he stood paralyzed as he watched you, beyond fascinated by your whines and whimpers
“Michael, are you going to help me? Or are you gonna just watch?”
He loves the praise you give him like
“That’s it baby boy, right there,”
His tongue feeling like heaveN which is quite ironic
“Are you sure you haven’t done this before-,”
Speeding up to make you moan just after you say that just to be a cocky little shit
“Good boy, use your fingers now at the same time,” You coaxed him into it, his blue eyes dilating as you ran your fingers through his messy hair edging him on
He slowly dipped his fingers into you while sucking on your clit, his pace almost unbearable
Him getting a bit too carried away because you taste so good
“M-Michael please stop, I’m too sensitive,”
“I’m not done with you yet,” you trailed your hands down to the waistband of his boxers pulling it back just enough for it to snap against his skin
His breath automatically hitching as you peer up at him nearly making him cum right then and there
BeGging for you
“Y/N, please I need you,”
“But do you deserve me?”
Holding his wrists down while you rocked your hips against him as slowly as possible making it torture for the both of you
Watching his face contort with pleasure and hearing the whimpers that fall from his mouth was definitely a turn on
Leaning your body forward until your foreheads were touching
Slow sensual sex
When he likes certain things he’ll tell you
M A S T E R L I S T
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Fem!mc cockwarming the bros?? Please?? 🥺
(AGDJDKGSJSH. Sure, love! I can do that for you! For the sake of the writing, they have already established relationships with fem!MC, though I will probably write this from the perspective of reader to make it easier on me :’))
Will tag as fem!mc and fem!reader for anyone who doesn't want to see it in tag.
When you bring up the idea of trying out cockwarming on him, he is a little hesitant
When would be the best time to try it out, considering he is such a damn busy demon all the time?
Of course; crawl into his lap when he is buried in paper work and push his cock into your cunt, keeping him company as he goes over his documents
He would never openly admit how addicting it feels to have your wet walls clench around him when he stuffs you so full
But you pick up on that addiction when he politely asks you to join him in his study to ‘keep him company’
He’s even gotten brave enough to ask you into his office at RAD, locking the door securely behind you as he pulls you to straddle his lap behind his desk
He also loves having his cock buried deeply in your cunt when you lay together, spooning in bed
He’ll tease your clit and make you cum around him, but stay firmly inside until you both fall asleep
Waking up to himself fully hard once again inside you seems to be a perfect start to his busy day
“O-of course you’d want to please the Great Mammon like that! I bet you’d make a n-nice cockwarmer for me, human!”
Almost cums instantly the first time you climb on his lap and bury his cock in your tight heat
Lots of groaning and moaning coming from him, and this demon can not sit still
He’s rutting and rolling his hips underneath you, whining for you to start moving
He loves to have you straddle him in his beloved car, either in the front seat or the backseat; where ever he can get you tight against him
Cuddling and cockwarming when in bed together; he’ll play with your clit while he holds you close and whisper sweetly in your ear until he feels your walls fluttering around his shaft
Will always leave you stuffed with his cock after he cums inside you; he wants to keep as much of his cum in your cunt as he can
He’s a sputtering mess when you first suggest that you try it on him; but he definitely doesn’t say no
He quickly becomes addicted to the feeling, and will sometimes whine to you that he needs your attention ‘in that way’
Loves having you pinned in his tub-bed, his cock buried to the hilt inside you as he press down on top of you
Something about having your wet cunt wrapped around his cock while he is streaming gives him a boost and he seems to play much better
(no cam of course, he doesn’t want anyone getting to see you like this; for his eyes only)
If you make yourself cum around him while he is gaming and he feels your walls tighten and milk him, he will drop the control immediately and begin to fuck you against his desk
Watching hentai together while you cockwarm him is also something he really enjoys doing; especially if you tell him that you want him to do what they are doing on screen to you
He genuinely welcomes the idea of being his cockwarmer, especially if you do so while he is sitting and reading
Typical of him, I know, but it’s literally one of his favorite past times, so having you warm his lap just makes it ten times better
He develops the habit of having you cockwarm him when he is pent up and angry
He will pull your body against his and ram his cock into you without much prep or warning, and make you stay snug against him until his rage has subsides
Will give you lots of loving attention after the fact, and worship your cunt as long as it takes to make you feel better
Would have you sitting on his lap and his cock snug inside you while somewhere in the HoL, just to risk the chance that Lucifer might walk by
It makes his cock throb inside you knowing he is doing something so risky with you that could piss his brother off
He can’t contain his excitement when you bring up that you really want to be his cockwarmer
Believe me, you will be spending most of your free time in his lap, even if you are not cockwarming him; he just wants you there all the time now
Lots of tub baths with you on his lap, his cock nestled in your folds as he helps bathe you
He one time did a make-up tutorial with you in his lap, his cock to the hilt while he put make up on you and described what he was doing without a single tremor in his voice
You were wiggling against him, pretending the make-up brushes tickled, but the glint in your eye only made his cock harder inside you
Not opposed to having you cockwarm him in public; sitting on a school bench, your skirt covering what you two are doing while you sit on him
Might even try and do so on movie night if he can get a good spot and a blanket to cover the both of you with
He isn’t too sure how he feels about cockwarming until you actually do it to him
After that point, he wants your cunt around his cock as often as he can get it
He secretly enjoyed watching you struggle to take his full length inside you, your cunt stretching widely and your little gasp and moans only making him harder
If he’s munching away at snacks in his room, be ready to be snug in his lap and fed snacks right along with him
He loves having you straddle him and feel his cock twitch and flex inside you when he is working out
Though he usually only records his work outs for comparison and training purposes, he has also record you sitting on his cock once or twice
Loves to make you cum as much as he can because he really gets off to how tight your walls squeeze around him when you do
The idea of cockwarming was originally brought up by him, the lazy-ass demon
He enjoys being the big spoon with your back against his chest, his cock filling you up to the hilt
He only tightens his grip on you if you decide to squirm or try to get any friction to stimulate you
So. Much. Teasing.
He will draw lazy, barely-there circles around your clit, making you clench around his shaft, and nip and suck at your neck and shoulders to get you mewling for him
When he’s had his fill of your begging, he’ll pinch and work your clit til you cum hard around his cock, and won’t stop until you’re overstimulated into another orgasm
He enjoys making you cum again and again on his cock until he feels himself soaked in your slick that he can move inside you with ease and not have to put too much work into it
Expect to be his cockwarmer through almost the entire night as well if he has you all to himself while hiding in the attic
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