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ham-st4r · 8 months

Text

Cyber sex - L.HS

Pairing: heeseung + female reader!

Warnings: heeseung is 32, smut, anal sex, unprotected sex, protected sex, phone sex, cam sex, oral both receiving, fingering, sexting, cum eating, ear licking, spitting, dirty talk, use of tinder, skype instagram and FaceTime, mutual masturbation, cursing, use of sex toys and lube, heeseung is cringey and clingy and awkward but it’s cute, angst, crying, fluff, heeseung says stop once but he doesn’t really want you to.

Genre: smut, long distance relationship, slightly inspired by cyber sex from doja cat.

Summary: after heeseung comes home from a long day at the office, he quickly gets bored and finds himself scrolling through the Tinder app that he made an account on a few days prior, and much to his surprise, he had gotten a notification that he had found a match.

Wordcount: 19,546k

All I can say is sorry for the long wait. I hope everyone will enjoy!

This is complete fiction by no means can you go on tinder and find yourself a hee so please stay away from that app (I mean it)

After a hard day's work, all heeseung wanted to do was take a shower and relax on his comfy king sized bed in his house, and that's exactly what he did once he got home.

He quickly made his way to the bathroom, stripping off his suit and tie before stepping into the warm stream of water, he sighs in relief as the water cascaded down his tired, aching muscles. Despite what most people may think, sitting down at a desk all day definitely takes its toll on one’s body.

He grabbed his favorite shampoo, lathering his hair with it and washing away all the stress from the day, the faint smell of mint clearing his sinuses as he massaged the sudsy liquid through his wet hair.

A few minutes later, he rinsed his hair out and lathered his body with matching body wash, covering himself in the fragranced gel. He then grabbed his body scrubber, washing himself thoroughly before turning off the water and stepping out of the shower.

He towel-dried his hair and body before walking to his bedroom and grabbing a clean white shirt and a pair of boxers from his drawer.

Once he was completely dry, he put his clothes on and hopped into bed, peeling back his covers and tucking himself in, reaching for the TV remote and clicking the power button, watching the first show that piqued his interest.

After an hour, he started to feel bored, which wasn’t unusual. He lived in his big house all alone and didn’t have any friends after graduating college. He just didn’t have time to hang out and party the way he used to. Not to say he really missed it though, back then he was a young adult, but now that he’s a grown man, he realized there was so much more to life than drinking and women.

On top of everything else, after 8-10 hour work days, he just didn’t have the energy to attend any social gatherings to meet new people, so needless to say, he was a homebody.

But living this kind of life every day after landing his dream job was starting to get old. Don’t get him wrong, he’d never go back to his wild college days, but thoughts of settling down and having a wife and a child or two or more definitely had been crossing his mind as he was reaching his mid-thirties.

He sighed and slumped further down in his bed, grabbing his phone once the TV show had ended.

Just then, a notification from Tinder popped up on the top of his screen.

What can he say? He was lonely and maybe even a little bit desperate at this point.

He clicked on the notification and, saw that he had a match, and nervously started a chat.

He debated on what to say as he chewed on his bottom lip in thought. Gosh, he hasn’t realized just how out of touch he was with everything.

Before he could leave a message, another alert on his phone went off,slightly startling him.

You: Hi handsome 💕

You nervously typed on your phone, waiting for the guy that swiped on you to respond. You were surprised someone that looked like him was even on Tinder. He was tall, good, looking a co-CEO, and a decent age, which was appealing cause you were tired of dealing with little boys that called themselves men, and to top it all off, he didn’t live that far away.

He made a sound similar to a mouse when he read the message, and he felt his face heat up at your blunt text. The last time he’s been called handsome was by his grandmom last Thanksgiving. “Relax,” he rolled his eyes at himself for acting like a preteen. It was just a simple text, and he was already getting flustered for no reason. You were just a girl that he met online.

A very, very pretty girl he met online.

Heeseung: Hey

He only realized just how boring and bland that sounded once he had hit send. “Ugh,” he buried his head into his pillows.

You happily looked at the notification on your phone, and you can’t lie how excited you got when he replied so quickly, but your excitement soon deflated when you saw his reply. Maybe you were already reading too much into it, but he didn’t seem to reciprocate your same excitement.

You: How are you?💕

You sent back, kinda unsure of how to approach him after his seemingly uninterested reply.

Heeseung: Good, how about you?👀

He sighed. If he wanted to keep you interested, he definitely needed to up his texting game.

You: Good

you reply simply.

“What happened to the little hearts?” He frowned slightly at your reply that wasn’t accompanied by emojis like the first few texts were, and now he was getting nervous because he didn’t know what to say next to keep you on the line.

He scrolled through your bio again, looking for something to strike up a conversation.

The first thing he saw was that you liked animals, so he quickly decided on that topic so he wouldn’t keep you waiting for a reply.

Heeseung: So you like animals?

You just blinked at your screen when you saw his message and no wonder he was single. If his conversation was this bad in real life, you wouldn’t be surprised if he died single.

You: Yeah hbu?

You reply back just as dryly.

Heeseung: Yes, I’m quite the animal myself😏

He attempted to flirt, but it came out sounding entirely wrong.

You read his reply over and over again, and you couldn’t reply with anything but.

You: ??????

If he could go back in time, he definitely would cause he was going to die of embarrassment any moment now.

Heeseung: I meant in bed…..

You: Oohhhhhhhhh

You replied in between a fit of laughter that was probably the lamest thing you have ever read, but you couldn’t deny it made you laugh, and somehow it was even kinda endearing in an odd way, not to mention the smirking face emoji he sent along with it was amusing, to say the least.

He face-palmed himself before texting you again.

Heeseung: You know what? I’m sorry, just forget about that.

Heeseung: Or better yet, I’ll just leave you alone.

Heeseung: Nice meeting you.

He stuffed his phone under his pillow, burying his face in his covers. “And that’s why you’re single,” he mutters to himself. He didn’t realize just how much he actually sucked at talking to women. It was a lot easier in high school, or maybe it was easier cause he looked better in high school, and the girls didn’t care that he had no game. Who knows? All he knows is that he just blew his chance with a beautiful girl who showed interest in him.

But it wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe someone else would swipe right on him, and he could learn from this god awful experience on this god awful app.

After your small fit of laughter died down, you texted him back.

You: I don’t think I’ll ever forget that one. I might even have to use it one day🤔😂

Heeseung was brought back to reality when his phone buzzed with another notification from you. He didn’t even want to read it, but he did anyway, and he cringed at himself even more.

Heeseung: Please don’t. Wouldn’t want you to willingly embarrass yourself like that,

He texted and didn’t even realize there was a small smile on his face. At least he made you laugh, though.

You: So, do you always refer to yourself as an animal when you talk to girls?

You chuckled slightly and got more comfortable on your bed now that the conversation was interesting.

Heeseung: Only pretty ones, was that better?👀

He asks you jokingly.

You: Maybe just a little bit

You smile, and you can’t believe he’s making you all giggly with his cheesy pickup lines.

Heeseung: I’ll try harder next time😂

You: Next time?

Heeseung: I mean, only if you want to talk again. If you don’t, I completely understand 😅 Haha,

He can’t lie the idea of messing up his shot with you wasn’t sitting all too well with him. You were exactly his type. You were both looking for the same thing, and he had to go and ruin it by saying something stupid.

You: If there’s a chance I can get some flirting tips, then I’d definitely like to talk again🤭

Heeseung: I can assure you there’s plenty more, but as you know you have to work for a tip so….

You: I’ve never been scared of a little work😉

Heeseung: I like that 😌

You: What else do you like?

Heeseung: Hmm… girls who like animals

You: You’re getting better already.

Heeseung: What can I say? I’m a fast learner.

You: What should I do with that information? 😝

Heeseung: That’s up to you, beautiful 😉

You: *Blushing*

Heeseung: And I’m not even trying hard.

You: Oh, is that so? Maybe you should🤭

Heeseung: Yeah? Want me to go harder, beautiful?

You’re not sure when the conversation steered in this direction, but you can’t say you weren’t enjoying it.

You: Go your hardest

you taunted.

Heeseung: I don’t think you’re sure of what you’re asking, doll face.

He had no idea where this newfound confidence was coming from, but he liked it.

You: Well, maybe you can show me sometime? Just so I can be sure.

He bit his lip at just the thought he’d definitely be down for that after getting to know you better.

Heeseung: I’d love to show you sometime.

The rest of heeseung’s night was spent talking and flirting with you. You both agreed to share Instagrams after hours of talking to each other and getting to know one another.

Luckily, he had redeemed himself along the way and was able to hold a smooth conversation without being too awkward.

You: It’s late. You should probably get some rest now since you have work in the morning.

You say to him.

Heeseung: Trying to get rid of me already? And here I am, thinking that we’re bonding :(

You: Noooooooo 🥺 It’s just you need to rest so your face can be even more handsome in the morning.

Heeseung: That was supposed to be my line😞

You: Well, you can use it on me tomorrow night

You reply, hoping that he will message you tomorrow cause you had a lot of fun talking to him.

Heeseung: I definitely will. Well, I guess you’re right. Make sure you get some rest, too, okay? I’ll try to message you before work if I don’t sleep in too late😂

You: Okay! Talk to you Tomorrow. Goodnight, heeseung sweet dreams💕

Heeseung: I can’t wait to talk to you again goodnight y/n 🩵

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t kicking his feet like a schoolgirl before bed.

➜ ➜ ➜

Heeseung: Morning, beautiful🩵

Heeseung texted you as soon as he opened his eyes. It was really early in the morning, so he wasn’t expecting you to reply so quickly, but he wasn’t complaining either.

You smile at the conversation from last night and his latest text.

You: Morning, handsome💕

He smiled and got out of bed, running the shower while he texted you back.

Heeseung: I’m headed off to work now, but I’ll message you again when I get off if you’re free later?👀

You: Me too. I get out at three, so anytime after then is fine if that’s fine with you?

Heeseung: That’s perfect for me! ☺️

You: Great! ttyl enjoy your shift💕

Heeseung: You too, pretty girl😉

You hearted the message he sent and scrambled to get ready for work with a smile on your face.

With your fast-paced life, it was hard to get out of the house truthfully, too many meetings stacked on business trips and extra hours during hectic weeks.

You felt like you never got a breather. You had gone about this same routine for years, and though you absolutely loved your job, even you had to admit you didn’t have a life outside of work.

And your friends made sure to remind you of that every girl's night out, always talking about what guy they fucked and if he was good in bed or not, and while you knew they were just having fun, it sucked not to have any steamy stories of your own so you could be apart of that conversation.

You hadn’t had any in ages, and the last time was so disappointing cause right when you were about to do the deed, he passed out from drinking too much.

And that wasn’t much of a story to tell.

You wanted some action but didn’t have the time for it, not just so you could be a part of the girl talk, but you really just wanted some interaction with the opposite gender, and after seeing one too many Tinder ads pop up in your face, it was like even the internet was telling you that you were single and pathetic and you needed help to find someone.

So, deciding to download the god-awful app after pondering on it for a while turned out to be not so god-awful, at least not yet. Anyways, you matched with a ton of guys, not to toot your own horn, but so far, only one caught your interest. His name was heeseung, and he was exactly your ideal type, so you matched with him. and you know It’s only been a day, but so far, so good.

You just hoped it stayed that way.

Heeseung: Hi! I’m on break. I hope your shift is going well so far.

He hit send, before he could even shut off his phone, you replied, making him smile instantly.

You: Hey, it’s going well, thanks for asking. What about you?

You smiled as you sent the text, feeling happy that he kept his word and texted you back like he said he would.

You: btw I’m on break too👀

You sent a follow-up message.

Heeseung: Oh nice, maybe we could talk for a bit if you’re okay with it?

You: Sure, I’m bored out of my mind🙄

Heeseung: Same. I’m always bored, and the food in the break room leaves a lot to be desired 😒

You: Sounds like we work at the same place 🤭

Heeseung: I wish. I wanna meet you 👀

One of your co-workers approached you before you could read his message. “Only two more hours,” he grumbled while making some coffee to get him through the rest of the day.

“We’ll make it. We always do,” you chuckled as he sighed and rested his hands on his head while his coffee was brewing.

Heeseung: I’m sorry, that was probably too soon

He sends back when he sees that you stopped responding even though his message was clearly left on seen.

Heeseung: I swear I’m not a creep or anything like that

He sighed after realizing that made him sound creepier.

Heeseung: Never mind that last message and the one before that 😬

He triple texted cause he was overthinking things. He didn’t think that maybe you might have gotten busy with something, and that’s why you didn’t reply immediately.

You looked back down to your screen, reading the three messages he sent. Your heart rate increased as you read the first message he actually wanted to meet you? You definitely weren’t expecting that, but like he said, it was a bit too soon to meet. Plus, he lives four hours away from you, and you’re not sure when you could get time off to see him.

You: you’re so cute💕

He was literally apologizing for no reason. Besides, isn’t it like normal to want to meet someone you met online? Honestly, it wasn’t creepy at all, just a little soon and a bit sudden.

Heeseung: 😳

His initial panic disappeared as soon as he read your last text. Thank god you didn’t think he was a weirdo or some kind of creeper.

You: I wanna meet you too, but maybe let’s get to know each other a little better first

Heeseung: Of course! Maybe if you want, we could call each other when you get off work?

You smiled at the thought of hearing what he sounded like. You wondered if his voice would match his angelic face while in your daydream. He started to overthink yet again when you didn’t reply to him immediately.

Heeseung: Only if you’re like comfortable with it. If not, I completely understand. I just wouldn’t want to make you feel weird or anything like that.

Before he sent a whole other thread of text, he willed himself to stop typing and going completely overboard.

You: My break is up, ttyl cutie. I can’t wait to hear your voice 😉

Heeseung: You got it!

You giggled at the odd reply, but still, it was undoubtedly cute.

“Is that a yes? I think that’s a yes.” he smiled and looked at his watch, showing him the time and that he had gone a minute over his break. “Shit,” he mutters, clocking in and hoping he wouldn’t get dinged for it.

➜➜➜

You both arrived home and took showers before plopping into bed, completely tired and exhausted minds riddled with meetings and reports upon a slew of other things.

Heeseung was waiting for the clock to strike three while you sat in bed waiting for your phone screen to light up with his call.

Five minutes past two, he called you, and much to your enjoyment, his voice sounded as heavenly as he looked. You and heeseung started chatting over Skype after exchanging phone numbers prior in the evening.

You both talked about your day and the problems you faced at work and soon transitioned into a new topic to learn more about each other.

“So, what else do you like other than animals?” He chuckles on the other end of the call, thinking about your first encounter with him. He felt lucky that you even stuck around after that foolishness.

“Mmm, well, a friend of mine named y/n met this guy the other night. His name is heeseung, and she likes him a lot, but she doesn’t know if he likes her.” You giggle, pretending that you’re not talking about yourself.

“Is that so?” He hums and plays your little game. “Crazy enough, I know this guy named heeseung that just so happens to like a girl named Y/n. In fact, he said he’s head over heels for her.” You can tell he was smiling just by the sound of his voice.

“She’s such a lucky girl,” you say seductively, half intentional, half unintentional.

“You think so?” He immediately matches your playful flirtatious tone.

“Yes,” you whisper the tiniest hint of a moan at the end.

“And why’s that beautiful?” He bites his lips softly.

“Hmm,” you pretend to hum in thought, but anyone with ears could clearly hear you were moaning. “Cause he’s handsome, tall with a pretty voice and even prettier eyes.” You don’t know what exactly came over you so suddenly, but you blamed it on not having any interaction with men for so long and left it at that.

“I guess she is lucky, huh?” He chuckles, trying to mask how flustered he was by your words. “He’s lucky too, you know?”

“How?” You reply quickly, desperate to find out exactly what he thinks about you.

“She’s beautiful, has all the same interests as him, unintentionally cute, and not to mention she has the perfect body.” his heart wasn’t the only one racing after saying something so straightforward on the second day of knowing you.

“How perfect?” Your throat feels dry as you whisper the words into your speaker.

“So perfect,” he breathed out, contemplating if he should continue this, but you started the flirty conversation, so he assumed it would be okay with you. “The type of body that I fantasize about.”

“What do you fantasize about? Tell me what you’d do to me?” You finally break your character, and you clearly hear his breath hitch on the other end.

“I’d lay you out on my bed, admire every inch of your perfectly sculpted body, then I’d undress you slowly, one piece of clothing at a time, kissing, sucking, and licking every single inch of you, whispering sweet nothings before eating your precious little pussy and savoring every last drop” he curses to himself lowly the image of you like that now swirling around in his brain. “And that’s just the start, beautiful.”

Embarrassingly enough, you could feel a slight tingle down there just from his voice alone, and he’d be lying if he said something wasn’t stirring below his waistband. “Tell me more.” You feel so easy and desperate after just knowing him for two days you’re practically throwing yourself at him, but you just can’t help it, and you also can’t help the way your hand slipped inside your underwear. “Please,” you whisper, and he audibly gulps from the way your tone has completely changed since the call started.

“Then I’d make you cum on my fingers, on my tongue, and lastly, my cock. You’d like that right feeling my cock stroking deep in your pretty pussy” There’s no denying that he’s hard, especially with the way you’re practically moaning while he talks to you, and it only dawned on him what was actually going on when your moans increased in volume, and your breathing had quickened. “Wait, are you?” he says, completely shocked. If you were doing what he was ninety-nine point nine percent sure you were doing, he was going to lose his mind. “Are you touching yourself?”

Your hand comes to a complete stop when you hear him say that. You quickly take your hand out of your underwear and clamp your legs shut as guilt and shame washes over you. “S-sorry,” you quickly apologize for your behavior. You felt terrible cause he wasn’t even aware of what you were doing while he was on the other end. You could only imagine what he was thinking about you after that shameful act you just committed.

Except he was thinking, what the fuck exactly were you apologizing for? He felt like he was on cloud nine. The fact he was able to turn you on to the point that you wanted to touch yourself was beyond huge for him. He had no idea anyone would even find his dirty talk attractive, let alone to the point of masturbating to it. “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. Just tell me about it next time so I can do it with you.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, embarrassed, not knowing what to say next, but Heeseung knew exactly what to say.

“Now pretty, tell me, are you wet?” He moves his blankets back to slowly palm himself over his boxers.

“Yes,” a shaky breath could be heard from him after your response.

“Fuck keep touching yourself pretty wouldn’t want you waiting too long to make yourself feel good. Can I touch myself, too?” He asks you for permission.

The thought of him wanting to touch himself for you was making your head spin already. “Yes, heeseung, please touch your cock for me” You hear him almost whimper, and it makes you throb so hard down there as you continue fondling yourself to his voice.

“Okay.” He hastily reached into his drawer, pulling out a good size bottle of lube, flicking the cap open before pulling down his boxers, holding the bottle above his tip, and squeezing a nice amount onto his shaft before he spreads it around, covering his entire length. “Anything in particular you’d like me to do?” He hisses as he slowly works his cock up and down. He feels so shameless for doing this, but he can’t even care anymore. His mind is too clouded with lust, and your voice sounded too good for him to stop.

“Rub the tip.” You bit your lip as you buck your hips into your palm.

“Fuck” he whines and does as you say. “It feels so good.” he slowly cups his palm over his sensitive tip, rubbing the head like you asked him to. “Are you fingering yourself?” He breathes out, eyes falling shut from the pleasure his right hand gives him.

“N-no, just rubbing.” he twitches in his palm at that, imagining how pretty you must look while pleasing yourself.

“Play with your little hole, stick your fingers inside, and pretend that it’s me fucking you open” Your eyes rolled back immediately as you stuffed your fingers deep inside you, thinking about his cock instead.

“Heeseung,” the moan of his name nearly makes him cum on the spot.

“Does my cock feel good?” He grunts out.

“Mmm, yes, so good, so fucking big and thick” The moan you let out was absolutely obscene, but he loved every last second of it.

“Yeah? You like my big cock stretching you out, pretty?”

“Yes,” you whine, feeling your legs shaking as you got close.

“Me too” he grips his cock tightly, trying to mimic the way you’d feel around him. “Love splitting your tight cunt open with my cock feels so fucking good” he jerks himself faster, and you can hear the wet slippery sounds of his hand moving up and down on his dick.

“Want your cum” you beg shamelessly as your walls tighten around your fingers, too far gone to even try to stop the filth coming from your mouth.

“Cum on my cock, and I’ll give you my cum, pretty,” he says, knowing he’s right on the edge. Even though you weren’t physically together, he still wanted to make you cum first.

“Cumming!” You sped up the pace of your fingers and finally reached your end as the pleasure filtered through your body in waves.

“Gonna take this cum?” He groans.

“Yes, heeseung,” you whine, and not a second later, his cum is spilling all over his chest in long hot ropes.

“Take it pretty. Take it all like a good girl.” he rubs out every single drop, moaning and panting in exhaustion mixed with pleasure.

You can’t help but moan with him as you caress your clit till you're satisfied.

Once your guy's moans fade out into silence and your minds clear, there’s a hint of awkwardness.

The silence continues cause you’re both deep in thought about what just transpired.

He hopes you don’t think he’s just someone who’s nasty and has phone sex with random girls after just meeting them because he doesn’t. You were his first and probably would be his only. There was just something about you that he couldn’t say no to. He wanted to blame it on his nonexistent love life, but that just wasn’t the case.

You, on the other hand, were freaking out because what if he thought you were just some slut that went around having phone sex and flirting with guys you just met on Tinder? You really hoped he didn’t get the wrong idea about you despite literally having phone sex with a guy you just met, but heeseung somehow felt different. How could you not touch yourself to a voice as seductive as his? It’s not your fault that he was literally the epitome of perfection.

“I’ve never done that before,” he finally says something, knocking you out of your intrusive thoughts.

“Me neither,” you tell him, and the relief you both feel is enough to wipe away any awkwardness or apprehension about each other that was once there.

“I liked it,” he chuckles bashfully as a smile climbs up your lips.

“Me too,” you reply with the same shyness as him.

“That’s good to know,” he smiled, and that was all he needed to hear.

➜➜➜

“Fuck baby, I’m so fucking close,” heeseung moans, and you’re not far off either.

You had just gotten off of work, and since the first time you both had phone sex, you’d been doing it every time when you got off work, and it was better and better each time, especially when you found out about the toy collection you both owned.

Heeseung was currently balls deep in his clear flesh light, restlessly pounding into the toy pretending it was your pretty pussy instead.

Much like him, you had a huge clear dildo buried to the hilt inside you while you played with your clit. “Mmm,” you moaned, biting on your lip when a risky idea popped into your head. “I wanna see you,” you say without even thinking twice about it.

Heeseung halts his movements, thinking he heard you wrong, but he knows he didn’t. “Me too, baby,” when he responds, your heart beats frantically in your chest. Not being able to hold your excitement, you prop yourself up, making sure your surroundings are presentable before requesting to FaceTime him.

He scrambles to quickly find a good angle, not expecting you to request a video call, so soon he connects the call, and you’re met with a view of his neck, and downwards you hold your phone, giving him a clear view of the toy slowly sliding in and out of you.

You do your best to focus on fucking yourself, but it’s hard when you’re eyeing his body up and down. He looked so much fucking better than what you imagined, and so did his cock. He was literally huge.

His deep voice brings you somewhat back to reality. “Wish you were here right now” he sat on his knees, covering his cock with the clear flashlight, slowly fucking it until his red-hued tip poked through, leaving your mouth watering and your pussy creaming. “I’d fuck that creamy little pussy so good” he easily matched the pace of your dildo, trying to make it feel as real as possible. “Look at your thirsty little pussy sucking that cock right in, taking it real nice and deep, yeah?”

“Fuck heeseung” You did your best to keep your camera in focus, but it was hard to when your body was shaking with so much pleasure.

“Pull it all the way out and fuck it back in pretty. Show me how hard you like it.” Your back arched as you slithered the toy out of your hole only to shove it back in, and you gasped out a loud moan when you stuffed yourself full.

He mimics your rough pace. “Faster,” he commands while he snaps his hips into the fleshlight.

“Oh! H-heeseung,” you babble out his name, going faster and harder just the way he wanted you to, and none of your late-night sessions alone in your room ever felt as good as this.

“F-faster,” he whines, pushing the toy further into his mattress as his body starts to feel sore, but he needs to see your pussy coming around that toy before he can cum.

Tears well in your eyes from the pleasure. You barely feel coherent, and you’re not even sure if your camera is still on. All you know is that you’re seconds away from coming.

“Fuck me, heeseung,” your voice vibrates in your throat, and you come hard around the dildo, squeezing it tightly as your orgasm takes control of your body.

“Fuck y/n fuck” his own voice sounds strained, and you can hear that he’s close from all the moaning and heavy breathing. He quickly pulls out and grabs his camera. You catch a faint image of his face before he flips his phone showing his cum shot to you. “Wanna cum in you so bad,” he whines and grips his base jerking out the rest of his milky release for your eyes to see, and you wish it was inside of you instead.

He falls on his bed, avoiding his cum soaked sheets holding his phone normally so you can see his bottom half as his cock starts going soft between his pretty legs.

He nearly moans when he sees you pulling the dildo out of your hole. It’s soaked in your cum, and he swears he’s never wanted to be anything more than that stupid toy right now.

Your hole continues to pulse as more white dribbles out. “Such a pretty hole,” he says, and it makes you feel shy knowing that he’s seeing you up so close and personal. “That was so hot,” he comments. Once you turn off your camera and go to clean yourself, he can’t even see you, yet you’re brushing like crazy.

“You are too,” you say shyly, and he’s happy you turned off your camera because now he’s a blushing mess.

“I’ve never been so jealous of an inanimate object,” he sighs, folding his sheets and tossing them in the laundry bin in the corner of his room. “I need you soaking my cock like that baby, not some stupid toy,” he whines, and you laugh.

“Hee, stop it.” You make your way to the bathroom cause after that, you definitely needed a shower and sheet change.

“Okay, okay, anyways, do you wanna shower with me?” You’re not even sure why he’s asking. Of course, you wanted to. It’s been your little routine for the past couple of weeks after you both agreed cause it made you feel like you were actually with each other.

“Of course, hee,” he swears. His heart melts every time he hears you say that little nickname you gave him.

He props his phone in the window seal, requesting to FaceTime you again.

You nervously bite your lip. You never face timed in the shower before.

After three rings, he grows a little nervous, thinking he once again overstepped his boundaries. He should have asked before just FaceTiming you. He frowns after a few more rings, knowing you’re not going to pick up. He doesn’t know why you’re not answering him, though, it’s not like you haven’t seen each other naked before, but maybe you’re just into him for cyber sex, and maybe he’s way more into you than you are into him, those thoughts make him overthink, but luckily you answer him before he could doubt everything you guys have done up to this point. “Hi, pretty,” he said excitedly and waved at you like a little kid.

“Hey, cutie,” he steps out of frame doing a little happy dance, but what he didn’t know is that you can see him in the reflection of the mirrors in his bathroom.

You couldn’t help but laugh. He just kept getting cuter by the day.

You both silently wait for each other to get into the shower, and when you do, he’s asking you a question that, In his mind, was long overdue. “So,” he starts and lathers his hair with shampoo. “It’s been a while since we have known each other correct?”

“Correct,” you smile, already knowing exactly where this is headed.

“And we’ve learned more about each other.” he plays with the suds from his hair, making a goofy face into the camera that makes you laugh.

“A lot more,” you reply, working the conditioner through your hair.

“Yes,” he chuckles at the double meaning of your words. “So we should meet, what do you say? Nothing too extreme, but I was thinking something nice. You and me have the weekend off, so I thought now is the perfect time.”

“Sure,” you chirp, and you both share warm smiles before chatting about random things here and there.

Once you’re all done showering, you both climb into bed, nearly running on empty batteries on your phones.

Neither of you wanted to hang up, but the sleepiness was taking over fast. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay baby?”

“Okay, goodnight, hee.” His eyelids droop even further, and he’s just able to make out your reply before he passes out.

“Night night, pretty.” You’re not even sure if you hung up or if he did, but before you could think about it, you were already drifting off to sleep.

➜➜➜

Heeseung: Morning, pretty.

You smile at your phone when you hear the alert, already knowing who it was this early in the morning. Another sound chimes before you can look at the first message.

Heeseung: Missing you

He sent along with three attachments, and he nearly gave you a heart attack because someone could have easily looked over your shoulder and seen him in all his glory.

You quickly turn down the brightness after analyzing those photos in far too much detail.

You: You can’t send me stuff like that at work😐

Your reaction wasn’t exactly what he was expecting, but he should have known better than to send that to you at your workplace. You could have gotten in trouble.

Heeseung: Sorry baby☹️ just thought you might like it. I won’t do it again

Why was he so adorable? You nearly squealed from his cuteness.

You: Hee baby, I did like it, but maybe next time, send it while I’m on break. Someone could have seen you, and I don’t want anyone seeing you.

He felt warm from your reply. It was cute to him that you wanted him all for yourself, and he felt the same way about you.

Heeseung: Don’t worry, I’m all yours, pretty.

You: Good.

You answer him quickly, taking one last look at the photos he sent you. The cam didn’t do him much justice cause his cock looked even prettier in those photos.

You: I’ll let you get back to work.

He hides his phone under his desk before he gets scolded for not paying attention to the meeting he is currently in.

Not even five minutes later, the dampness in your panties was unbearable, so you went to the bathroom to take them off.

You: Hee, I can’t focus 😩

You sent him. When he felt the buzz on his thigh, he couldn’t help but unlock his phone and check your message.

He smirks at the text.

Heeseung: You liked it that much, huh, baby?😉

You: Of course🥺 I can’t even wear my underwear 'cause they’re so wet

You whined in frustration. You needed him so badly right now.

He flicked his eyes across the room, making sure no one noticed him.

Heeseung: You’re wet?”

He loosened his tie and began impatiently bouncing his leg up and down.

You couldn’t believe him. What the hell did he expect after sending you not one, not two, but three whole pictures of himself?

You: Hee.. I need you.

Heeseung: Baby…

He responds, and maybe this wasn’t as cute of an idea as he once thought cause he now had a boner in the middle of his meeting.

You: Please, heeseung, I’m so 💦

You sent, knowing that would get him riled up, but it’s only payback, though.

Heeseung: Fuck baby, don’t do that. I’m in a meeting. I’ll talk to you later.

He quietly puts his phone away.

You frowned. Of course, he’d start something he couldn’t finish. Looks like you were just going to have to do the rest of your shift with a puddle between your legs.

➜➜➜

Heeseung: Baby, I just got home. What are you up to?

He sat down on his bed, undressing himself, not bothering to shut off his phone cause he knew you’d respond right away.

After a few minutes with no reply from you, he squints at his phone, finding it odd you haven’t replied yet.

Heeseung: Baby~👀?

Heeseung: are you there?👀

You saw his messages, but you weren’t going to read them as payback for what he did to you earlier.

Heeseung: Did you go to sleep? If so, sweet dreams, baby talk to you later tonight😘

It was hard not to reply to him, but you weren’t going to keep it going for much longer. You just wanted to tease him a little.

After two hours, heeseung was having a hard time not hearing from you. It’s not like he couldn’t go without talking to you, but he was accustomed to it, and now he was missing it.

Heeseung: I hope you’re sleeping well, baby. Wake up soon, though, cause I miss you already 🥺❤️

Why did he have to make this so hard? Ugh, him calling you baby was your ultimate weakness. So you gave up and just messaged him back.

You: I miss you too, hee🩵

He nearly dove on his bed when he heard the alert go off.

He didn’t bother texting you. Instead, he called you, wanting to hear your sweet, sweet voice. “Hi,” he nearly keels over at the sound that he’s grown to love so much. Your voice was so so pretty.

“Hey baby,” he sighs dreamily, closing his eyes softly, listening to your soothing voice until it wasn’t so soothing, and his eyes shot wide open in panic.

“I’m mad at you,” you tell him, and he sits up straight.

“Baby? Why? What did I do?” He starts panicking right away, and you can’t help but laugh. “Why are you laughing? If I hurt you, it’s not funny,” he pouts.

“Hee, I’m kidding. Calm down. I was trying to pretend that I was mad at you and ignore you this whole time because of what you did to me this morning,” you groan and throw yourself on the bed.

“You did? So you weren’t asleep? Baby, you’re mean,” he fake cries.

“Me?! Hee, you’re mean, you left me wet all day.” Kicking your feet, you whine loudly, making him chuckle. “And you’re laughing at me?!”

“Sorry baby,” you can still hear him laughing. “I didn’t make you wet, though.” You wanted to jump through the speaker and smack him for trying to play innocent. “You chose to get wet.”

“So when I send pics tomorrow while you’re at work, just remember it’s you choosing to get hard.” You hung up the phone without giving him a chance to respond.

“What! Baby, no, I’m sorry I didn’t me-“ he looks down at his phone, seeing the call had disconnected. “Uh oh”

➜➜➜

Heeseung’s hands were literally sweating. He was so nervous if you did indeed send him pics, he didn’t know what he was going to do. It didn’t take much to get him going, and he’s sure just a simple pic of your panty line could make him hard. It’s not like he was that easy. It’s just you were that fucking sexy to him.

The morning went by smoothly. You had already texted each other your good mornings, and he figured you had forgotten about what you said last night.

Until the last hour of his shift, he gulped. Hearing the alert on his phone, he contemplated not even picking it up, but what if you needed something and it was important?

With a heavy sigh, he hides his phone screen and opens up your message. “Fuck” he moans quietly and looks left and right, making sure that no one heard him. He left his chair and immediately went to the men’s room. “Fuck fuck fuck” he curses, locking himself in the bathroom, and that’s what he gets for teasing you like that the day before.

Heeseung: Guess who’s in the bathroom as hard as a rock😐🪨

You giggle at your screen, texting him back.

You: No? Who?”

You felt like the devil for doing that to him, but he could take a little payback.

Heeseung: Not funny, y/n😔

You: Aww, my poor little bunny,🩵

He grins at the new nickname, but he’s still semi-upset with you.

Heeseung: Come help your little bunny👀🥵

You laugh. There’s no way you could leave work and drive hours for him even though you really, really wanted to.

You: No way, hee, just accept your demise.

You hide your phone, making sure no one sees you.

Heeseung: Fine, but baby, why are you so wet in those pictures? You didn’t get off without me, did you?🤨

If you did, he so wasn’t going to let you get away with that.

You: I might have looked at the pics you sent👀

Shit, he wished he never even asked because the idea of you looking at his pics and getting wet made his cock twitch.

Heeseung: You’re so naughty😏

The throbbing between his legs was becoming unbearable for him, but he knew he couldn’t do anything without you.

You: I get it from you😉 Now, bunny. I have a meeting to attend ttyl.

Heeseung: Baby… don’t leave me like this 😩🫠 at least call me when you get home so we can get freaky on camera.

You laugh, reading his last message, and left him on seen, leaving him to find out a way to get his boner to go down all by himself.

➜➜➜

You asked to get off earlier than usual, and luckily, your boss let you go. You wanted to have a little extra time before heeseung got home cause you were going to surprise him.

Except you were nervous as heck because you weren’t sure if you were doing too much, but you guess you’d find out about that soon.

When heeseung called you after he got off work, the last thing on his mind was to see your ass up, barely anything on and a clear diamond plug inside your tight hole and a dildo in the other though it was unexpected, but, it most definitely wasn’t unappreciated. “Oh my god, baby,” he trailed off at a complete loss for words.

You looked so fucking perfect.

“You like?” You say, looking back at the camera as you bite your lip and slowly bounce up and down on the dildo.

He nearly choked on air while he tried to answer. He rushed to his bedroom, quickly yanking off his jacket and undoing his belt. You laugh when you find out that he liked it, a feeling of relief washing over you. “Yes baby, you look so pretty.” he looks at you with what you could only describe as heart eyes. “I'm already so hard.” You hear him unzip his slacks, but you quickly stop him.

“Ah ah, no touching,” you chuckle softly at his expression.

“Please don’t do this to me” he throws his head back against the headboard feeling like he was going to explode if he didn’t cum soon.

“Hmm, fine, I suppose I’ll let you off this time. Go ahead, hee, get yourself off, cutie,” you moan when you come down on the dildo.

“Thank you” he smiled faintly and quickly pulled down his pants and underwear in one go turning the camera around so he could show you his hard leaking cock.

“Hee,” you whimper at the sight of his cock. No matter what, you knew nothing would feel as good as him inside you.

“Ride it,” he spits in his palm and wraps it around his thick cock, slow stroking it.

You lift yourself off the dildo, hearing him groan as you clench down on the tip. “So fucking creamy, baby” he tilts his head slightly and bites on his lip, mesmerized by the thick strings of arousal that coat the silicone toy.

“Just for you,” you purse your lips, unable to keep yourself from bouncing faster. He hated how that toy got to feel you, and he didn’t.

“God, I can’t wait to see you in person gonna fuck you so much better than that stupid toy” he picks up the pace with you gradually so you can both cum together.

“I know you will,” you whisper now, desperately fucking yourself onto the dildo.

“Shit,” he couldn’t take his eyes off the clear stud that was nestled deep inside you, shining every time you bouched and the light hit it just right, and now he had not one but two toys to be jealous of. “Your ass is so pretty” his eyes roll back into his head as he feels the heat pooling in his abdomen. He knows what that’s a sign of, but he doesn’t want to cum so soon. “I bet you’d like it if I fingered that tight little hole while I fucked you hard and deep, yeah?”

“Mmm yes hee would you fuck my ass too?” You rubbed over the plug, gasping as you pushed it inside you further.

He growls when he hears your naughty request. He’s never tried anal before, but he’d love to try it with you first. The idea sounded so sexy to him. “I would. Fuck, wanna feel both your holes around me so fucking bad, baby” he could barely contain himself watching the way you swallowed up that toy and how well it stretched you out, but he knew he’d stretch you out so much more that you’d need an even bigger toy by the time he was done with you. “You’re gonna make me cum” he whispers, moaning while pumping his dick faster.

“Want your cum on my ass,” you cry out, legs shaking and sore as you reach the point of no return, and that knot inside you is seconds away from breaking.

“Oh- fuck” he pants heavily, and you gasp as his cum shoots out, some of it splashing onto his camera lens, but that makes it so much hotter.

“Hee,” you breathe out. Just imagining him cumming on you makes you unravel, and your orgasm washes over you in tingling waves of pleasure. “Oh yes,” you moan, falling forward to give your legs a break as you roll your hips and ride out your high.

“Keep going,” he grunts while the last beads of cum bubble out of his sensitive tip. “Mmm fuck” he hisses, body shuddering from the intensity.

You whine into your pillow, trying to catch your breath, the butt plug definitely highlighting the pleasure as you rock back and forth until you can’t anymore, and the exhaustion finally takes over.

You got off the toy and laid flat on your bed, panting and sweaty. “I loved the surprise, baby.” heeseung flips his camera so you can make out his sweet features as he stares at you with a lazy smile and half open lids.

“I’m glad.” You smile tiredly, but it drops when you see him frown. “What’s wrong hee?” You whisper softly.

Even with his blankets pulled up and hugging his pillow, it still feels cold and empty without you there. “I wanna cuddle with you so bad. You’re gonna make me drive hours to hold you in my arms, baby,” you giggle, and he pouts. “I’m serious.”

“I know, bunny, just two more days, though, okay?”

“Okay,” he grumbles. “I want to take a shower with you, and I want to stay on the phone till we fall asleep,” he demands in the cutest way ever.

“Whatever you want, bun” he kisses his camera lens, and that’s when you knew he really couldn’t wait to see you. “Mwah,” you kissed him back, and the smile on his face made you think that he might really be the one for you, but you wouldn’t blow things out of proportion because you still had to meet him first and see how things go cause you didn’t want to take things too fast.

Once you both got into bed, you came up with a brilliant idea. “We shouldn’t talk to each other till we meet.”

“What? No, no, no, I don’t wanna do that.” he shakes his head back and forth like a child.

“Bun, think about it. It’ll be like not looking at the groom before the wedding,” you say, ecstatic about your idea.

“We’re not getting married,” he deadpanned.

“Fine,” you mumble.

“Wait, baby, we can do that if you want. It would make seeing you even more exciting if that’s possible.”

“See!” You flop down and get into bed.

“Yeah, I see your point,” he sighs, just staring at your beautiful face on his phone screen.

“I can’t wait till the weekend,” he smiles, happy that you’re just as excited as him. He could really see you two working out. Same hobbies, same interests, and a decent bond after just two months, not to mention how comfortable with each other you both already were, sure things were going a bit fast but it didn’t feel wrong and everything was going great and the fact you even liked him back was a miracle in his eyes.

“Me neither, baby, but for right now, close those little eyes and get some sleep, okay, pretty.”

“Okay,” your eyes flutter shut softly.

He makes kissy noises, and despite you feeling embarrassed by his behavior, you do it back, which makes his heart beat for you just a little bit faster. “Goodnight, pretty.”

“Nighty night, bun.” Only time would tell how things would go between you two, but it looked very promising.

➜➜➜

Like you both agreed, neither of you faced time or called each other for the rest of the week. It was hard, but you both knew it’d be worth it in the end.

Heeseung had already packed the night prior and was on his way to see you first thing in the morning. He was so excited he literally couldn’t wait, and neither could you. Every minute felt like an hour waiting for his arrival.

But soon, the clock struck seven, the time he said he’d arrive, and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest when you saw his black Mercedes’ pull up to your driveway. You smoothed out your black dress, taking a long, deep breath as he knocked softly on your door.

He nervously played with the petals on the flowers he bought you while waiting for you to answer.

When you answered, he felt like the breath got sucked out of him. He was literally in awe of seeing you in person for the first time. “Hi, pretty,” he smiles widely, greeting you like he normally would over the phone. And it wasn’t awkward at all seeing you, but it was definitely exciting.

“Hey, hee.” You take in his features, and he looked just the same in person, if not better, and you think not talking to him for those few days really did make meeting him all the better, and he’d have to agree with you on that.

“Baby, you look so beautiful in person,” he says softly.

“So do you.” You complement him shyly. He looked amazing in his all-black suit. You could barely contain yourself from jumping on him.

“Thanks.” He looks down, playing with the flowers once more. “I bought you these. I hope you’re not allergic.” he extends them out to you.

You shake your head back and forth lightly. “Thank you. Come in,” he steps in, taking a short look around.

“I like your place. It’s nice.” You place the flowers in a vase on your table, smiling fondly at them.

“Thank you.” You turn to him and walk over to where he is standing as he looks at you up and down. “So where to?”

“You’ll see.” he grabs your hand, leading you outside your house. Opening the car door for you like a true gentleman, and that was already a green flag.

Once he gets in the driver's side, he sets the navigation to the destination of a small but fancy restaurant. It was outdoors, and he thought it would be more romantic for your first meeting than dining inside around a bunch of people.

At dinner, you both talked like normal nothing was weird or awkward. Everything seemed like you two had known each other for years. It was so casual, and a big plus was you weren’t overdressed like you had worried about when you were getting ready.

And since you were so comfortable around him, you felt bold enough to pull your next move, something you only thought of a few hours before he arrived at your place. “Open your hand,” you said to him after you two had finished eating dinner and dessert, and now you were having a few drinks before heading back home.

“What do you have for me?” he smiles and opens his hand for you to place the tiny controller in.

“Look and see.” his expression was priceless as he looked up at you, not expecting this at all.

“Baby…” his words get swooped away in the wind, and he can’t even begin to comprehend what’s happening, but it all becomes clear when he presses the power button, setting off soft vibrations inside you that make you gasp and shift in your chair slightly.

He turns up the speed higher, and your mouth gapes open, eyes nearly turning completely white as you throw your head back in pleasure, and the pulsations in both your holes begin to make your legs shake. “Fuck, we have to go now” he stands up, offering you his hand to lead you out of the restaurant before he loses himself. “Wait, is it okay with you?” He stares at you, big, round eyes showing nothing but care and you nod your head shyly, feeling beyond lucky to have found someone like him.

After opening his car door for you, he scrambles to the driver's side impatiently, gripping and struggling to put on his seat belt. You giggle softly as he presses the start button with shaky hands. He paused for a moment and took a deep breath before pulling out of the parking lot and heading straight for your place. “I can’t wait to have you baby. You have no idea.” he placed his hand on your thigh, trailing it up your skirt and leaning over the console to place a kiss on your cheek when he reached a red light.

“I think I have an idea.” You smirk and grip his wrist, placing his warm hand up your skirt and between your legs. He gasps when he feels the river flowing out of you, and he can’t help but rub you while he’s driving. “Hee,” you whisper, and he takes his eyes off the road occasionally to watch your expressions while he thumbs at your clit.

“Patience baby, gotta take it slow” he removed his hand from under your skirt, and you whined from the loss of touch, but you knew it was better this way, even if you did feel like cumming on the spot when he smirked at you and sucked your wetness off his fingers.

He turned the vibration up to full speed without warning, and your back arched off the seat, mouth parting in a lewd gasp. “Fuck” You turned to him, eyes already lidded and filled with lust as you looked between his legs seeing his thick bulge poke out from his dress pants, and you couldn’t help but take him in your hand so you could feel just how thick he really was.

“Gonna be inside you real soon, pretty,” he groans when you squeeze him in your tiny hand. “Look at you so dirty, baby. Can’t wait for me to fuck you, huh? Already stretched and ready for my cock” you hum as a response, already feeling dumb from his words mixed with your holes being stuffed to the brim.

“Mmph yeah,” you bit your lip, stroking his cock as your mouth waters. You felt so desperate for him to fill you up. You’ve waited months for this, and just minutes away from your house, he was finally going to be all yours.

“Fuck” he curses and presses the gas. There was no one on the street anyway, and he needed to be inside you at least ten minutes ago.

Within a few more minutes, he arrives, yanking his seat belt off. He rushes over to get the door for you, and you yelp in surprise when he hooks his arm around your back and just below your knees, carrying you up to your home.

You quickly type in the password, allowing the both of you to enter. “Bedroom?” He nibbles on your ear while you kick off your heels at the door, and he does the same with his shoes.

“Upstairs,” you mumble, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck as he takes you to your bedroom. He quickly opens the door, practically slamming it shut with his foot and laying you on the bed.

You take the liberty of taking off your skirt, leaving you in just your panties while he rips open his shirt and easily strips down to nothing but his Calvin Klein boxers. “It’s so big.” Your heart thumps over and over as you take in the sight. No video call could have ever prepared you for this.

“Yeah? Like it?” He bites on his lip to contain how happy your words actually made him. You nod, eyes still heavily trained on his dick print. “Baby, you’re even more perfect in fucking person,” he moans shamelessly at the sight of your breasts, and his body is instantly drawn towards yours on the bed, remote still in hand. He lowers the vibrations, giving you a break from the intensity. “I can’t believe this is actually happening,” he whispers, just focusing on the moment while you twirl your hands in his hair.

“Me neither.” Your smile makes his heart race, and before he gets too sentimental and kills the mood, he placed his lips on yours, kissing you like you were his first kiss ever. “You’re so cute, bun.”

He hides his face in your neck, kissing your pulse. At the same time, you sigh, indulging in his soft touch as he moves his head downward, his tongue poking out, leaving snail-like trails of saliva on your perky breasts. When you wrap your legs around his waist, he balls the sheets in his fist, rutting his bulge against your core. The soft vibrations of the toy shooting through his dick automatically make him whimper, and he turns up the speed masking his loud moans by sucking on your right tit.

“Hee, I’m gonna cum” With the vibrations from the toy and his hard cock rubbing your clit you couldn’t take much more he shut off the toy entirely. There’s no way the first orgasm you experience with him would be because of a toy either you’d cum around his fingers or cock, nothing less.

He sits up, dropping his boxers around his ankles to free his cock, and you’re left speechless and clenching around nothing.

His cock twitches as he catches your line of vision. “Need you inside me, hee, please” After what felt like at least an hour of torture and teasing, you couldn’t help but desperately beg and moan for him to fuck you.

“Breathe baby, just relax.” he steps out of his underwear and hooks the waistband of your panties, eyebrows raised in anticipation to see what’s underneath. “You’re perfect,” he comments, continuing to pull your panties down your ankles. You lift your legs up slightly, aiding him in the process of removing your panties. “Gonna take it nice and slow baby, we have all night.” he lays between your legs, placing a hand on the toy and gently pulling it out, only realizing that it had been in both your holes this whole time. “Are you trying to fucking drive me crazy?” You only moan as you feel your holes being emptied and clenching down around nothing.

“Maybe,” you smile mischievously.

“Well, it’s fucking working, god baby, you’re not gonna get any sleep tonight because of me” Your stomach turns with arousal, knowing that he means every word of it, and you don’t mind one bit.

He starts out kissing your clit and exploring your vulva with his warm tongue while your hands find the hair on his head. Gripping it softly, his hands squeeze your plush thighs as he hums from the already addictive taste coming out of you. “Taste like fucking candy, baby,” he exhales a long breath diving back in for seconds, poking the tip of his tongue in your hole, swiping up the first glob of wetness that drips from your slit.

“Hee,” you bite into your lip, closing your eyes and enjoying this experience. It’s been so long that you couldn’t help but soak in every wet lick and warm flick of his tongue. “Oh my god.”

Oh my god, is right. He thinks because you taste like fucking heaven on earth so much that, he could cum from your arousal on his tongue alone.

His two fingers slip right in from the earlier prep. He curls them up and suckles on your clit, finding your spot easily like he’s had you before. You’re amazed and confused at the same time cause you’ve never felt yourself cumming this fast before. This was a record by far. “Hee”

“Baby, I know,” he whines, allowing his eyes to fall shut as your walls tighten around his fingers. The little vibrations from his voice replicate the toy from earlier, and your legs shake from the sheer intensity of your impending high. He sucks on your clit, slurping at the little nub until he takes the first orgasm out of you.

Your mouth hangs wide open, the repeated flicking of his tongue sending you into complete bliss. You rotate your hips, riding his tongue and gripping his hair tightly while you lose yourself in the feel of him. “Oh heeseung!” A loud moan travels up your throat and comes out, sounding like the sweetest song he’s ever heard.

He opened his eyes, looking up at you as you cried his name in pleasure. He pulls his slick fingers from your hole carefully and sucks off everything swallowing it down, savoring your taste until he’s content.

He licks your pretty pussy clean before hoisting himself up on the bed as you try to catch your breath, only for him to take it away when he smothers you in the wettest hungriest kisses you’ve ever felt. You whine into his mouth, writhing underneath him at the loss of breath, and you feel lightheaded, yet you chase his lips in search of more, and he delivers, sticking his tongue down your throat, devouring your mouth with one lust filled kiss at a time.

Your body shudders as you feel his warm cock rubbing over your pussy. Your legs find their way around his waist yet again, begging him to push it in. He rolls his hips, brushing his wet tip between your swollen folds. You’re both so lost in the kiss that you barely notice the increased pace of his thrusts. It’s only when his tip slips inside that the kiss ends, leaving you both gasping in each other's mouths. “Oh fuck” your moans get lost in each other’s mouths when he pushes in all the way, easily bottoming out inside you. “You’re so tight and fucking warm shit, baby,” he groans.

“Hee, you’re so big,” you squeak and rake your nails into his back as he groans again from the sting, but the pain only fuels him to buck his hips into you faster. His arousal coated balls smack against your ass. The clapping sound made everything feel so dirty but so hot at the same time.

His elbows dig into your mattress, and he cards his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp, heightening the pleasure to a new level that you didn’t even know was possible. “Hear that?” He breathes out in your ear. “Hear how wet this pussy gets for me?” You clench at his dirty words, and he smirks, knowing just how much you love his dirty talk. “Clenching so tight for this dick, you must have really been craving for me, huh? Who knew such a pretty face could be so naughty?” he dips his tongue into your ear, tracing every little crease, and you swear you go crossed eyed from all the different sensations that he makes you feel at once.

“Yes, want it so bad” Your hands grip his ass pulling his body closer so you can feel every last inch of him stuffing you full. “Feels so good. I love your cock”

“Yeah?” He withdrew from you to admire the look on your face. The sight of you under him, sweating, panting, and moaning just for him, nearly made him cum. “If you keep talking to me like that baby, I’m gonna cum” he rested his forehead against yours, and you took the opportunity to capture his lips for another short kiss.

“Cum in my hee,” you say, not entirely in your right mind.

“Baby…” he slows his pace down. Just the idea of cumming in you was enough to make him feel like emptying his load in you, and that wouldn’t be very responsible of him.

Your head was somewhere else. Despite his warning, you still wanted to feel his cum in you. You used the last ounce of sanity to say something you never expected to say to him, at least not on the first night. “Then fuck my ass, hee cum in me please need to feel you so bad,” you beg.

“Shit,” he pulled out right away. The thought of filling up your ass was the only thing on his mind. He knew you could take it too, after all the dirty little surprises on cam that you did for him, and finally, he could be in the place of your little toy collection.

He hoisted you up slightly, legs still around his waist, as he swiped up your arousal with his shaft, using it as lube to coat your twitching little hole. He stuck his thumb in testing the waters, and he easily sank in. “Gonna fuck your tight little ass so good, pretty girl” he pulled out his thumb once he made sure you were ready and pushed his cock head in your hole. The wetness on his cock made entering you nice and smooth as he slowly buried his cock inside you squeezing your thighs, trying to ground himself.

“Fuck yes,” you moan as you feel him enter you. Your eyes roll back as he fucks his cock deep into your ass. The pleasure was so overwhelming, but you enjoyed every single second of it.

“So tight,” he grits through his teeth the deeper he gets. When he was fully covered in your warmth, he bent down to kiss you. It’s messy, but it’s so good the drool dripping from his mouth turns you on so much that more arousal drips from your hole and dribbles down to his base. “You feel like heaven,” he choked out, leaning back to take a breather, his eyes catching sight of the leak between your legs. He gathers it on his fingers, pulling it out halfway and rubbing it on to wet his shaft to make sure the slide is still comfortable for you. “Hmm,” he grunts loudly, placing his hand on your hip and pressing down on your lower stomach with the other. “So creamy.” he locks his eyes on the white coating his shaft, and his mouth falls open. It felt so different from your pussy but still so good. It was soft and so so warm.

You propped yourself on your elbows, and his eyes flick over at you. He smirked, feeling your hole clench as you watched what he was doing to you. “You like that, huh? Watching it go In, watching me fuck your tight little ass, yeah?” He moans from the tightness around his base.

With pursed lips, you nod your head. It was absolutely filthy what he was saying to you and what he was doing to you, but you loved all of it. He was giving you everything you’ve ever fantasized about and then some.

You fell back on the mattress too fuck out to keep yourself up any longer. “Yes, heeseung, keep fucking my ass just like that,” you scream, and it sets off something in him. His nails dig into your hips as he pounds your ass ruthlessly.

“Baby,” he moans, biting on his lip. The sheen of sweat on his body makes him look so much hotter, and you swear you feel yourself getting even more wet. If that’s possible, he rests one hand beside your head and the other on your hip, using his thumb to rub on your clit.

You tremble under him, and you feel your body go completely limp, legs jelly, mind numb with nothing but the thought of his cock thrusting inside you so perfectly till you came clenching around him so tightly that he could barely even move. “Heeseung!” You writhe beneath him, a panting, moaning mess. “Cum in my ass, please” you moan, and it sends him over the edge. He stills in your tight rim as his balls tighten, and he groans, filling you up his with his creamy cum just the way you begged for it.

“Fuck!” He whimpers, feeling a chill run down his spine as he collapses on top of you to lock his lips with your whimpering into your mouth about how much he’s cumming and how good you feel around him. “Oh god,” he winced slowly, riding out his high, keeping your ass plugged with his cock as his cum settles in you. “Shit,” he huffs out, resting his forehead on yours.

You’re too fucked out to even respond, and he chuckles, lightly pecking your lips. “That was so fucking good” he leans up and pulls out of you, watching your rim twitching and pushing out his cum, and it was a lot. Your hole looked so pretty, leaking all his white semen out of it.

You moan, feeling his seed drip out of you. He immediately lays down next to you, both of you utterly exhausted. He pulls you close to his body, caressing your bare skin softly. “That was amazing, heeseung thank you.”

“Hmmm, of course, baby,” he smiles. “Been waiting so long to hold you in my arms,” he kissed your cheek, hugging you a little tighter. “You wanna shower now?” You nod against his chest, but he waits a few more minutes, so you both can catch a break after that, and soon he carries you to your restroom, getting ready to bathe you and cuddle you asleep til his heart is content.

Meeting you went even better than what he had originally planned.

➜➜➜

You hum in delight when you feel heeseung’s warmth so close to you you snuggled up to his chest, kissing his pecs until you made him stir in his sleep.

“What are you doing?” He laughs, his voice still deep with sleep as he lightly strokes your hip. “Miss me already. Hmm?” He smiled and cracked his eye open, looking at your gorgeous face in the morning. And he knows it’s far too soon to say this, but it’s an image he could definitely get used to waking up to every morning before work.

“Yes,” you scrunched up your nose, a playful grin on your face as you ducked beneath the sheets.

“Y/n, what are yo- ahh” he moans out when he feels you kissing on his tip, and he was thanking himself for going to sleep naked with you last night.

You peppered his soft cock with kisses loving his quiet little moans as you did, so you took things a step further and licked his tip. “Fuckkk,” he breathes, eyes fluttering closed while you did him under the sheets.

You smile, dipping your tongue into his slit and swallowing his sweet sticky precum. You placed your hand around his base, tugging on it gently and guiding his length into your mouth. “Baby, feels so fucking good” he runs a hand through his hair from the feeling lip caught between his teeth as he arches off the bed slightly.

His words only encourage you to fit more of him down your throat until his tip nearly gags you. You begin bobbing your head slowly and pull away with a pop. After a few good sucks, you jerk him off and trail the tip of your tongue down to his balls, taking your time suctioning each one of them into your mouth and slurping him up.

“That’s so good.” his eyes are in his skull. He’s sure of it. He’d never felt this kind of pleasure in his life ever, and needless to say, his release wasn’t far off.

You switched positions, swallowing his girth back down your throat and rubbing his sensitive sack. “I’m not gonna last.” he puffs out a breath and grips the sheets, whiny moans slipping past his lips and ringing in your ears in the early morning.

You hum, anticipation boiling in your stomach as he pulls the sheets back, finally to see you there, laying prettily between his legs. The sight of you looking up at him while his cock was shoved deep down your throat was all it took for his toes to curl and his cum to fill your throat. “Baby!” He winces and cries out as he tucks into himself, jerking slightly as you suck the high out of him. “Ugh,” he whines, balls tightening in your hand until you suck him dry. “Please s-stop,” he says but continues bucking his hips and fucking your throat. “Please, ah fuck”

You smile with your eyes, knowing that he’s loving every last second of it cause if he wanted you to stop, he could have easily pulled your mouth off his dick.

You pull away, giving him a slight breather as you let his cum mixed with your saliva, dribble down his shaft, and soak his swollen balls.

“Oh fuck!” He throws his head back, gasping for breath as his nipples harden from the sensation your mouth was so wet and sloppy, and he loved it so much that he was bound to cum again.

You use your other hand, bringing it up to his chest, tracing the lines of every muscle, and playing with his perked nipple. “Oh my fuck, y/n, please, please, please! I’m gonna cum again” his body language was enough to tell you he was close, and the twitching of his dick confirmed it. “Cumming” he moaned, and your chest fills with pride when you saw his body go limp at your touch. He throbbed on your bottom lip, giving you every last ounce of his cum, and you happily swallowed it all down, gulping everything until it was completely gone.

When you were done with him, you looked up to see his hair sticking to his forehead, body still trembling, and cock twitching ever so slightly. “Y/n,” he called to you, and you smiled as he reached out to grab you and hold you. He kissed your lips and pulled back, staring into your eyes with his completely fucked out ones.

Not only was he fucked physically, he was fucked figuratively cause he was sure after spending the night with you and waking up in your bed that he was undoubtedly in love with you, but he couldn’t say it now. He didn’t want to come off as weird, and what if you didn’t feel the same? He wasn’t ready to take that type of rejection after being so open and honest with you. He was literally giving this relationship his all cause he wanted you to be his last stop. Cause after you, He couldn’t see himself with anyone else even though it’s only been a few months, but he felt like he’d known you forever.

“What are you thinking about?” You booped his nose, doing a complete 180 to when you had just given him the best suck of his life.

“You,” he says simply, and it was true, but you didn’t have to know what about you he was thinking in particular. “Kiss.” You lean in, pecking his pouty lips softly, and he closes his eyes, burying his face into your chest, holding you as close as possible. Your body feels warm with happiness as he holds you like you are his, which you really want to be his, and you want him to be yours. You just wonder if this is a phase for you or if you're as deeply in love with him as you think, but as you lay in his arms and kiss the top of his head, your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest and you’re sure this isn’t just some phase you want lee heeseung the guy who first introduced himself as an animal in bed.

You chuckle at the memory. You’ve both come a long way since then and so have his flirting skills.

“Let me eat you out,” he says, breaking your train of thought. “Please? Or I can fuck your pretty little cunt or that tight ass” he squeezes your bottom, and you feel shy from his words despite the fact he did all those things to you just last night. “You choose, baby. Just wanna make you feel good too.” he noses your bare chest, and the once sweet moment is broken cause now arousal is stirring in the pit of your stomach. “Please let me make you feel good,” he whispers and peppers your chest with kisses as you run your fingers through his damp hair.

“Okay, hee” he smiles and springs up from his once slouched position, his eyes gleaming with joy now that you’re allowing him the honor of pleasing you.

“Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything.”

➜➜➜

“Heeseung, please hurry,” you say as he grabs a condom out of his pants from last night. He had already made you cum on his tongue once, and you couldn’t wait any longer to have his dick inside.

He quickly hops on the bed, trying his best not to keep his baby waiting. He opens the condom and hands it to you, wanting you to put it on him instead. He smiled shyly as you rolled down the rubber. Once you finished, he got between your legs, rubbing his cock through your folds for lube. “Gonna put it in now, okay?” You nod, and a gasp rips from your throat as his tip splits you open.

“Yes.” You sigh in pleasure, placing your hands on his chest, kneading every inch you could touch as you wrap your legs around his waist.

His chest feels tight the moment he bottoms out. It’s so good that his eyes squeeze shut, and his mouth falls open. “Ahh fuck” he groans, setting a good pace right from the start. “Never gonna get used to the way you feel around me. Just so fucking good, your pussy feels so perfect” his head lulls back, leaving his neck on display. You watch his Adam's apple Bob each time he gulps, and he looks so sexy on top of you while stroking your walls.

“Hee,” you rub his toned chest, clenching around him tightly, almost too tight for him to move.

He pushed your legs up to your chest, hitting the deepest part of you, and you screamed out, the feeling made you feel dizzy. He was so so deep, and his thrusts were slow but rough and every bit of hard. “So. Fucking. Wet.” He spoke between each thrust, hitting your cervix repeatedly as you clawed at his abdomen, which was soaked in your leak. “Gonna fuck you so hard just like I promised” he leans down, kissing your forehead, and that’s the last gentle thing you felt before he was fucking into you like a wild beast grunting every time he bottomed out, his balls banging against your ass, creating loud clapping noises along with his hips colliding with your thighs.

“Oh heeseung! You cry, eyes rolling in your head as the bed begins to squeak, which only motivates him to go harder until the bed is rocking against the walls, and a mix of arousal and sweat splashes all over your bed sheets.

“Like it pounded nice and deep, yeah?” he breathes out, snapping his hips as he feels you clenching, and he immediately starts fondling your clit. “I can feel that pussy squeezing so tight for me, baby.”

You nod, lips in a pout, tears nearly in your eyes from how good he felt. Your whines make his head spin, and he swears you’re the most beautiful woman on the planet, all sprawled out just for him taking everything he has to give you. “Fuck it hard and deep heeseung, please, baby” Your meek moans make his cock impossibly hard, and he falls on top of you, stroking your cunt with all his strength as he plays with your clit and sends you over the edge, soon after he whimpers, cumming into the condom just seconds after your first harsh clench on his dick.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant endlessly and grip his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss while he chuckles and moans into your mouth, finishing inside the rubber. Oh, how he wished he was cumming inside you instead.

After your orgasms settle down a bit, you both take a little moment to breathe.

“Hmmm, keep squeezing on me like that pretty milk my cock” Your ears heat up from his words, and somehow, after everything, his dirty talk is still enough to make you blush. Despite him still being deep in you, you can’t help but feel shy.

“Hee,” you whine and hide into his chest once you both finally finish and the post orgasm clarity kicks in.

“You like it, though, right?” He smirks while trying to catch his breath and gain his bearings as you shyly agree with him. “I knew it.” he kissed your forehead and pulled out, tying off the condom and tossing it in the trash bin by your nightstand before cuddling with you again.

“You really are an animal in bed.” his go wide, and you smile. Much to his horror, he really prayed that you had forgotten about that a long time ago.

“Y/n,” he whines and hides himself under the covers, only for you to pull them back and tease him some more. He giggled when you tickled him, and you swore it was the cutest thing ever. Once your little play fight ended, you were lying in his arms yet again. “Baby, are you hungry?” He turns to you, and you melt when you see the look in his eyes. You’re not even sure what it is, but every time you make eye contact with him, you nearly melt.

“Hmm, you just fucked the life out of me, so I’d say yes.”

“Oh my gosh,” he blushed, and after that, he couldn’t make eye contact with you anymore. He literally looked everywhere in the room except at you, scratching his nape shyly like he hadn’t just said the filthiest things to you just moments ago.

“You’re so cute, you know that right bun?” You lay on his chest looking up at him, and now it’s his turn to nearly melt. You looked so freaking cute his heart could barely take it.

“Why don’t you call me that during sexy time?”

“You’re so stupid,” you cackle and hit him on his chest, which only makes him chuckle cause you weren’t using any real force. “Next time, but right now, I’m starving.”

“Me too. Let me take you out on a little breakfast date. I was looking up places to take you, and there’s a place that’s supposed to be really good, and it’s only a few blocks away.” You stare at him fondly, falling for him even more cause of his thoughtfulness, but of course, him being him, he starts to overthink your silence. “O-or not, maybe we could do something else if you like. I don’t know. I just thought you know.” his words fade out as he plays with a loose thread on your sheets. He clears his throat and looks back at you before his eyes flick back down on the blankets, and you know what? You’re actually in love with him, like deeply madly extraordinary in love with him. Every little detail about him makes your heart palpitate.

“Bun?”

“Hmm?” He looks in your direction, a nervous look in his eyes and a small pout on his lips.

“Take me on a breakfast date,” you smile, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

He doesn’t say anything. He just pulls you impossibly close and presses his lips on yours until you can barely breathe, and even then, he has a hard time pulling away.

“Let’s go on a date!”

➜➜➜

The date was lovely, nothing too extreme, but still simple and nice. He took you on a short drive after to a flower park where you held hands and got ice cream later, and of course, he was just as cute as could be during the whole date. He stops on the trail, turning to face you, and you can’t even focus on the flowers because of his handsome face. “So, did you have fun?” He mumbled, and you could barely even hear him. “Y-you know, on the date,” he smiles bashfully, unknowingly squeezing your hand out of nervousness. The last time he’s been on a breakfast date was never.

“I loved it, bun.” You kissed his cheek. “Best day I've had in a long time.” You wrap your arms around his neck as he stares down at you. “Thanks for today, and I’m not just saying that. I really mean it.” And you did, it’s been too long since you had a nice day out of the house.

“Yeah?” He rested his forehead against yours and smiled softly as he encircled your waist. “We should do it again soon,” he pauses for a moment. “But, like, only if you’re free, if you don’t have time, it’s fine, and I can completely understand you have a life outside of me.” he leans back, and his eyes go wide. “Not saying you only make time in your life if it’s for me, bu-“You just shut him up with a kiss. He was so adorable, but he had a little habit of talking too much, but you didn’t mind cause you used it as an excuse to quiet him with a kiss. “So, is that a yes?” He searches your eyes for an answer, and you swear you can hear his heartbeat.

“Hee,” you breathe softly.

“Yes, baby?” He focused back on your beautiful eyes that were boring into his own with a smile on his face.

“It’s 100% a yes, but for now, take me home so I can ride you.” You smile and bite your lip. “Bun,” you add, and you swear his eyes rolled back slightly.

“Come, come,” he grabs your hand quickly, driving you both back to your house.

➜➜➜

“Feel good, bun?” You already know the answer by how quickly he’s panting and how his mouth is gaping open as endless whines spill past his lips, but you still wanna hear him say it.

“I- ugh fuck me,” he whines and grips your hips rocking you back and forth on his long cock. “I love it. Feels so good I’m gonna cum” he buries his face in your chest, your boobs smothering his face, and he twitches from the feel of you. Everything combined makes him short circuit. “So close,” he tries pulling out cause he’s not wearing a condom, but you just move his hands away. “Y/- oh fuck!” He squeezed his eyes shut, balls throbbing as he shot his cum deep inside you painting your walls pearly white.

“Yes, bun, give me all your cum” you moan as he digs his nails into your hips, whimpering and filling you up with cum. You’re so warm and so tight around him he feels like he could pass out or maybe even cry cause that’s just how good you felt, not to mention how you called him bun just like he wanted you to. That nickname alone could make him cum on the spot. “Fuck I’m cumming, bun,” you moan, throwing your head back as he rubs your clit in fast circles sending you to the brink and creaming all over his dick as he squeezed your left breast while sucking on your perked up nipple. “Ooh fuck yes, bun” You grind back and forth on his lap, riding out your orgasms until your legs completely tire out, and even still, you roll your hips, savoring every last stroke and rub of his cock while he’s buried balls deep inside your puffy walls.

“Fuck” he hisses, watching the pool of cum drip from your hole onto his abdomen. “Give me a kiss,” he says breathlessly, and you gladly pull him in, pressing your lips on his. “You’re so perfect,” he breathes against your lips, making you smile at his compliment.

“So are you, bun.” You rubbed your nose against his, laughing softly.

“Shower with me dinner and then cuddles,” and who would you be to deny such a sweet, relaxing evening with him?

➜➜➜

“I’m so happy I’m finally here with you,” he spoons you from the back, stroking your shoulder lightly. You both had just finished showering and eating takeout. Now, you were in your pjs cuddling and watching some show that you weren’t even watching, not really, anyways.

“Me too, hee,” you sigh in contentment, scooting back into his warmth.

“Can’t believe I have to go back in the morning, though.” he hugs you tightly and sighs. You don’t even want to think about him leaving after the past two days you spent with him. “Didn’t even feel like a day,” he says disappointedly.

“Let’s not talk about that right now, bun. Let’s just enjoy each other with the time we have left.” You kiss the back of his palms, and he pulls the covers over you both, hugging you until your eyelids get heavy. And he soon follows suit, eyes closing as he settles into your comfortable body heat.

“Night, baby,” he whispers and shuts off the TV before falling asleep all cuddled up next to you.

➜➜➜

“I don’t wanna go,” he whined while you tied the knot on his tie before sending him off.

“I don’t want you to go, but you’ll be late for work, bun.” You peck his lips one last time and straighten out his suit jacket.

“Forget work, I’ll call in,” he tries to reason, even though he knew if he called in in his position, that wouldn’t look too good for him or the company.

“We’ll get some more free time together,” you tell him to lighten the gloomy mood.

“I know you’re right, but I still don’t wanna go.” he steps closer to you, hands wrapping around your waist as his lips hover over yours, his warm breath hitting your face as that little smirk etches onto his lips.

“We can’t.” Placing your hands on his chest, you push him back maybe an inch, if that.

“Why not?” He inches forward again, and you nearly cave, but somehow, you snap out of it.

“Cause your suit will get wrinkled and dirty, and you don’t have time,” you whisper, knees almost giving out from the proximity mixed with his smell.

“I’ll take it off, and so what if I’m a little late? Hmm?” When you can’t come up with any other answer, you stay silent as he smiles, leaning down to fully press his lips on yours in a very delicate kiss. “On second thought, you’re right.” he sighs and leans away from you, a little teasing smirk on his face, and you’re left speechless.

“Bun,” you whine, and he smiles.

“Can’t give out all the goods to you right away, gotta give you something to look forward to for when I visit again.” he unhands you and grabs his overnight bags, walking to the door.

Which you gladly open for him. “Bye baby, see you soon.” he tries his best to smile, knowing that soon wouldn’t be soon enough.

“Bye, bun,” you say sadly as you watch him walk down the steps. His feet feel like a million pounds, and all he wants to do is stay there with you forever, but he knows there’s a lot more that he needs to learn about you before he makes such a big step in committing.

A sigh left your lips, and you shut the door. Already feeling alone and empty, you walked over to the window, watching him loading his suitcases into the car. Without thinking, you quickly sprinted out to the car as he was backing out of the driveway.

He steps on the brakes and quickly rolls down his window when he sees you running outside. “Baby?” you don’t answer instead, you pull him in for a kiss, a kiss that felt like you were longing for him for years. You cupped his cheeks, and he let go of the steering wheel, holding your face the same exact way as he kissed you with every ounce of passion in his body that he could muster. When you ran out of oxygen, you pulled away slowly and rested your forehead on his.

“Call me when you make it back,” you say softly.

“I will,” he whispers.

“Message me after you get out of work,” you demand, and he chuckles. God, you love his laugh so much.

“Yes, mam.” his eyes fluttered closed as he nudged you softly.

“Promise me you’ll come visit again.” You rub your nose against his, making a billion butterflies erupt in his stomach.

“I swear I will if it’s the last thing on earth that I do.” he leans back, pecking your lips for the final time. “Think of it as hello and not goodbye,” he says and rubs your cheek when he sees the tears in your eyes.

“Yeah,” you smile, nodding at him. He smiles back as he rolls his window back up cause the longer he stayed, it’ll only make it worse for the both of you.

He finally pulls out of the driveway, watching you wave at him until you’re no longer in his sights. His eyes start to water much like yours, and he reminds himself that it’s just hello and not goodbye, but even still, he can’t help getting a little emotional, leaving you behind after having the best two days of his entire life.

➜➜➜

Heeseung: Baby?👀 your bun made it home safe

he sighs. It feels bittersweet texting you like this again.

You: I’m so glad you made it back safely🥰

You unintentionally swoon, smiling at your phone and watching the three little dots appear at the bottom of your screen.

Heeseung: My heart is missing you already, baby❤️🥺

Gosh, if he got any sweeter, you swear you’d die from a sugar overload.

You: So is mine, bun.🩵

Heeseung: Can you change my name to bun in your contacts? I’m gonna change yours to baby🥰

You: of course bun!💕

Bun: thank you baby💓

You couldn’t reply before he sent another text, one that was very unexpected.

Bun: My 🍆 is missing you too, baby. I swear I almost pulled over and called you on the way home🥵

You squealed and turned your phone around, laying it on your bed as you kicked your feet like a teenager.

Bun: Baby👀? Are you still there?

Baby: Bun, you can’t just say stuff like that.

Bun: Why?

When you read his text, you could literally hear him doing that cute little whine he always did.

Baby: Cause…

Bun: Cause nothing, baby. Anyways, like I was saying before you rudely interrupted me 🙄 is, I miss you, I miss your smell, I miss your face, your smile, your eyes, the way it feels to be inside you, and what I missed the most is holding you while we sleep.🩵

If you weren’t already in love with him, you would have fallen for him all over again right then and there.

And you almost typed those eight letters, but you held yourself back from doing so.

Baby: I miss you so much, too. hee, as soon as you left, everything felt empty.

After typing that, you realized how that sounded, but it didn’t feel wrong saying that to him because that’s how you felt. But if he didn’t want to take things further with you, then you would accept it. It’d be hard, but if you were going to put your feelings out on the table for anyone, he was definitely the one.

Bun: Why am I happy and sad while reading that?🥲

That was it for him for you to say something that meaningful about him. He knew that he was ready to take it to the next step even though it was just two days after meeting you and hours from leaving your house that text alone told him what he needed to do.

Bun: But don’t worry baby, I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise 🥺

Baby: You better be 🥺

Bun: Pinky swear🥹 Unfortunately, baby work is calling my name, but I’ll text you every break.

Baby: Pinky swear, okay, bye bun, I’ll miss you. Think of me💕

Bun: You know I will, baby, and Bun jr will, too😉

you rolled your eyes. Of course, he had to say something like that.

Baby: Whatever, hee🙄🩵

He hearted your message, and he was smiling from ear to ear his whole way to work.

➜➜➜

“So what’s his name?”

“Is he hot?”

“Is he tall?”

“Does he have money? More importantly, does he have a big dic-“ You cupped your hand over your friend’s mouth. It had been two months exactly since you’d hung out with them, but somehow, as soon as they saw you, they could tell you had been seeing someone. According to them, you had an “afterglow” or, in their terms, “after dick glow.”

“His name is heeseung, and yes, all of the above,” you said shyly as they squealed, delighted that you had finally got some action.

“So, is it official? Are you just fucking? Give us the deets,” Irene says.

“No, it’s not official, and yes, for right now, we’re just fucking” you whispered the last part. “I think?”

“What do you mean you think you either know or you don’t.”

“Well, okay, tell me what you guys think. I met him two months ago. He’s made time for me every day of the week, no matter the time, and doesn’t leave any of my messages on read. He always wants to FaceTime me before bed. He kisses me goodnight on the phone, and the other day, we met an-“

“What do you mean you met? What was happening before?”

“I met him on Tinder.” The loud sighs and gasps you heard were definitely warranted, but Bun was different from the rest. He was sweet and caring.

“Met him on Tinder, he swipe left on bitches, and he don’t even scroll through insta less he going through-“ she looked at Wendy, and then they both turned to you, smiling and singing the last line in unison. “My pictures”

“Guys!” You whisper shouted to gain their attention again.

They both scoffed at you for killing their vibe and told you what they thought about him. “Red flag, ditch him.”

“Yep, move on to the next. Out with the old,” Irene agreed. “Why are you even on Tinder?”

You glared at them, already judging your baby before they knew anything about him. “Well, let me finish when we met, he took me out on dates, he never tried forcing himself on me, and he even looked up places in my area where we could do things together, isn’t that sweet? Not to mention the four hour drive he took, and he never once asked me to drive to him.” You look at your group of friends, hoping that you weren’t being delusional about him, and when you heard the awe’s, the swooning, and them saying he was cute, you were relieved, to say the least, not that you ever doubted him though you just didn’t want your desperation for a relationship clouding your better judgment.

“So are you sure you’re just fucking? And things aren’t official cause, girl,” she fanned herself, and you chuckled.

“What spell did you put on him?” Wendy joked, taking another shot.

“The important question is, do you want things to be official?” Your table got a little serious at the mention of you dating someone after so long.

“I really, really want it to be,” you sighed. “But if things don’t work out this time, it’s not like I’m gonna go looking for someone new.” If things didn’t go as planned with heeseung, then there’s no way you could give someone else another shot so soon after getting comfortable and getting to know him so well it’d be hard to move on so quickly.

“Aww honey, there’s not a doubt in my mind after everything you said. I’m sure he wants the same,” Irene comforted.

You smile, thankful for their encouraging words, but of course, them being them, and with the few drinks in their system that they got from the bar, you knew something unsavory was about to be said.

“So, how was he in bed?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh my gosh,” you buried your face in your hands. There’s no way you could go into detail about everything you did with him. Even if you had ten shots, they couldn’t get that information out of you. “You’re drunk,” you laugh and push her away from you after your little talk. You finished the night texting heeseung here and there, and they teased you for the nicknames you gave each other, but you knew they were just teasing, and they thought you two were cute.

➜➜➜

Heeseung wanted you to text him when you got home, and that’s exactly what you did after taking off your heels.

Baby: Bunny~💙

Bun: Baby!🥰, did you enjoy your girl's night out pretty?

Baby: I did. I would ask if you enjoyed work, but I know you probably didn’t ☹️

Bun: Actually, baby, if I’m being honest, it wasn’t all too bad.

It wasn’t bad because he got his vacation time approved just so he could see you as soon as you had time off.

Baby: Yeah? I’m glad.

You smile. At least he didn’t have a bad day on his first day back.

Bun: yeah, and baby, speaking of work, when’s your next weekend off?👀

Baby: The one after next, why do you have it off as well?

The excitement was rising at the idea of seeing him again so soon, but it died down immediately when he responded.

Bun: Unfortunately not😞

He told a little white lie cause he wanted to surprise you a few weeks from now.

Baby: Oh,

Your whole mood just completely deflated.

Baby: When are you free again, bun?

Bun: Not for a while, baby, I’m sorry😔 but Bun will call you every day and text you every day pinky swear👀

Baby: Pinky swear🩵🐇

Bun: That’s my baby.

He smiled at the little bunny emoji he loved when you called him bun it made him feel all giddy and warm inside.

After texting him for a while, you started to feel a little bit better, but even when you said goodnight to him and kissed him through the phone, that empty feeling was still in the pit of your stomach. Maybe you were being dramatic, but you really wanted him there with you.

➜➜➜

The next few weeks were the same, calling and texting heeseung, and though in the beginning, it was enough now that you actually got to feel, see, touch, and smell him, it wasn’t, no matter how many FaceTimes you did or how many times you pressed the phone to your ear to pretend he was there with you nothing could quite replicate his presence.

Bun: What would you do if I was coming over right now?

Heeseung was parked outside a few blocks from your driveway as he sneakily texted you.

You smiled at just the thought of seeing him.

Baby: I’d give you a big bear hug and never let you go again, bun.

Bun: Is that so?👀 that sounds so nice.🥰

Baby: Of course, bun.

Bun: So why don’t you do it?

He texted you, standing right outside your door now after leaving his car.

Baby: Do what?🤔

you reply confused.

Bun: Give your bun a bear hug, after all, he is waiting outside👀

Baby: Bun, stop playing around. We both know you’re at work. You already told me🤭

After sending the message, you could have sworn you heard an alert tone outside your door, but you thought it was just your mind playing tricks on you.

Bun: So, no hug?☹️ It’s kinda cold out here, and I was really looking forward to it, baby.

You toss your phone onto the couch and open your door, and low and behold, there he was, your precious little bun standing on your doorstep with a pinkish tint on his nose and that smile you couldn’t get enough of.

“Hey baby,” he laughs at your puzzled expression. He’d be shocked, too, if you did the same thing to him.

You couldn’t believe it. You stood there in shock. How was he standing there in the flesh when he was supposed to be at work?

“I heard from a little birdie that if a guy that goes by the name of Bun, he could come to this address and get a hug from his baby. Is that right?” He smiled.

“That’s right!” You finally gave him a big bear hug, just like you promised. “I missed you so much. How are you here? I thought you had work.

“Well, I may or may not have taken time off to see you.”

“You’re sneaky.” You pulled him inside, clinging onto him for dear life and never wanting to let him go.

“Maybe just a little.” he wraps his arms around you, waddling you both to the couch, where he cupped your face and pecked your lips. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” You rubbed his nose with yours, heating him up inside and out. “I missed you.” You tackled him on the sofa, kissing every square inch of his face.

“I missed you too,” he chuckled and flipped you over so he was laying on top of you and riddled your face in kisses, maybe even more than you gave to him. “I couldn’t get you off my mind, baby. I swear every day without you felt like hell.” he buried his face in your neck, sighing in relief now that he was finally in your arms.

You smiled and ran your fingers through his hair, inhaling his shampoo, that faint mint smell you couldn’t forget cause it lingered on your pillowcase days after he left.

“Would it be crazy of me to say I want to move in with you and stay here forever?” He lays on his side, stroking your cheek.

You giggle and smile. That smile could make you do a million things, and you think that now was the right time to tell him, he drove all this way to see you, so he must feel the same, and if he didn’t fuck it, it was now or never, but you weren’t going to wait another day. “Heeseung.” You sat up, and his smile dropped when you called him by his full name.

“Yeah, baby?” He sat up with you, and his heart rate was off the charts.

“We’ve only known each other for a little while.” he nods, and you take a breath, grabbing his hand in yours.

“What’s wrong?” He says when you hold his hand and, he’s never heard your voice sound the way it does now, nor has he ever seen that expression on your face.

“Nothing, bun,” you laugh slightly, but he was still feeling uneasy. Did he drive all this way just for you to say you didn’t want him anymore?

“Okay,” he whispers.

“It’s just our relationship started out very uhh fast, you know,” you hinted about how, in the beginning, you both started out things that were of the adult nature, and he seemed to understand what you meant by that. “And it’s only been a few months, but I just can’t-“

He cuts you off before you were even able to finish cause he thought you were breaking things off with him. “Well, we don’t have to continue having sex. We’ll wait as long as we want, and we can talk more, yeah, baby? Let’s just talk and take things slow, okay?” He brought your hand up to his lips and gave it a kiss, trying his best to stop himself from shaking.

“Bun, I don’t want to take things slow,” you told him softly. You were so caught up in what you were about to say that half his words fell on deaf ears.

“Please, baby,” you finally hear him when his voice cracks and his eyes begin to water. “Let’s just try to work something out,” he said with a tremble in his voice when you looked at him confused and finally understood what he was saying.

“Bun-“

“Please, I’m begging you,” he sniffles.

“Bun-“

“I want us to work so bad, baby. I’m trying so hard.” he hugs you in his arms tightly.

“Bun!” You yell and break free from the hug.

“Baby?” He says above a whisper, a look of shock on his face. Did you really not want him that much?

“What are you even talking about?” You ask calmly.

“I’m trying to make things work,” he says blankly.

“Bun, I need you to listen to me, okay?” You smile and wipe his eyes as he nods. “I was trying to say that even though we started out fast and it’s only been a few months since we met that, i-i love you, bun, and maybe it’s too soon to say it, but I do.”

“W-what?” His body reacted before his mouth did, and he cupped your face with a huge smile on his lips before he closed the distance between you both and pressed his lips onto yours. “Oh my god!” he kissed you again. “Me too, give me another kiss,” You chuckle and kissed him again. “I love you so much, baby.” You smiled into the kiss, relieved that he felt the same way as you. Finally, you could say those words to him, and it was the best feeling ever. “I’m so happy you feel the same, baby. I thought the same thing, too, but just was scared to say it, but I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my little bunny,” you pecked his nose.

“Yeah, I’m your little bunny.” he tackled you down on the sofa hovering above you. “Told you I’m an animal in bed,” he winked.

“Is it too late to take back that I love you?” You joked.

“You’re mean,” he tickled your sides, making you laugh. “But why did you make me cry?” He pouted. “I thought you were breaking up with me well, not breaking up with me, but.”

“Bun, I didn’t make you cry. You chose to cry.” You teased him, and he whined. “How could you ever think I wouldn’t love you?” You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Cause you’re like perfect, and I’m weird and insecure and a huge over-thinker,” he admits to you for the first time this whole two months he knew you it was great, but the whole long distance thing really made him feel a little unsure.

“Bun,” you say, and you noticed those little details about him, but you didn’t know that’s how he thought about himself. You just thought he was a little shy and cute. “You’re not weird, you’re cute, and it’s normal to overthink. I did so much, but look at us now,” you pecked him. “And what do you have to be insecure about? I was just telling my friends about how perfect you are.”

“Were you now?” He raised an eyebrow. “What did you say, hmm?” He teased.

“Not too much.” You played with his hair.

“Good,” he laughs. “Don’t think they’d want to know how I had their friend begging for me the whole weekend,” he leans down, nibbling on your ear gently.

“Bun,” you moan immediately, even his slightest touch could always make you react.

“Don’t get too excited, baby, gotta wine and dine you first. Our reservation is in an hour.” he stands up, offering you his hand.

“You’re really sneaky,” he smiles, seeing the excitement in your eyes and he can’t wait to spend all night with you.

“Just a little bit,” he smiled as you go up on your tippy toes to give him a kiss.

“Be right back, handsome.” You gave him that same compliment that started it all on the day you both met while smiling brightly at him, and he knew that smile was going to be even brighter when he asked you to be his girlfriend over dinner tonight.

So maybe the Tinder app wasn’t so god awful after all.

FIN.

Cyber sex taglist 🔖 @donghyckl @dneltrise @jackass1123 @m31j @en-thralled @rayofsunshineeee @heeverseblog @mimimovv @hwa-0403 @leeheeheeseung @ethelia @kaykay11sworld @heeanaree @isylvr @luvleyk @yeonjuns-sock @heehoneyxxluvs @cherriruto @ambrosesworld @whoslai @luvitria @iamliacamila @heeseungssidechick

Permanent taglist🔖 @furious-eagle @hoyeonheeseung @hee-pster

Thank you for reading. Please reblog and leave feedback. - 🐹

#heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung smut #enhypen #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #smut #heeseung enhypen #enhypen hard hours #kpop #fanfic #heeseung fluff #enhypen lee heeseung smut #enhypen fluff #enhypen heeseung fluff

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tangerinesunbeam · 1 year

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#my poor sister messaged me today #while she’s at home and i’m in cornwall #her dad hadn’t picked her up from her after school thing and she couldn’t get hold of him #she tried mum too who was at work and obv hadn’t been able to check her phone #this poor child ended up standing outside school for 45 minutes in 0 degree weather because he FORGOT #went straight home from work like normal #apparently saf down for a cup of tea and didn’t check his phone #but then also would have had to ignore the home phone that my sister rang more than fucking once??#i ended up having to call the store my mum works at to speak to her which obv made her worry up to her eyeballs #she was just leaving work when he fiiiinally looked at his phone #my sister rang me when he was on his way #she was so mad she couldn’t even type a message #she was absolutely fuming and crying too she must have been worrying her poor socks off #my poor little chicken #honestly throw the whole man away #apparently my mum ripped into him when she got home and honestly good for her i would have loved to have heard it #s

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webslingingslasher · 2 months

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Begin Again

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

Pairing: Peter Parker X Mean!Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers.

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

Word Count: 24K

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

Breakups suck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you have a lighter?”

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

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

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

A supercut of every moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snort, “for breaking my heart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Six weeks, starting today.”

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

“Six weeks.”

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

WEEK ONE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brutal honesty. It puts everything in perspective.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sleepy?”

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

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

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

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

“Do me a favor?”

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

“Make sure he gets home for me.”

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

The birds were screaming the earth back awake.

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

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

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

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

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

“I think… I think I’m doing okay.”

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

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

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

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

“Noon thirty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you ever-”

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

“Who’s-”

“Did you-”

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

“What do you want, penis?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that Peter B. Parker?”

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

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

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

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

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

She laughs, full on cackles and nudges you again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too bad you’re more guarded than ever.

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

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

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

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

Heartache throbbed but the cookies were damn good.

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

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

Deny till death.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Natalie Greene knows three things to be true.

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

“What if you talked to him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WEEK TWO.

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

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

“Hey.”

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

“How are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was it.

This was your worst nightmare.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I, um, I still have those cookies?”

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

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

Tonight, you were full of surprises.

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

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

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

You do a double take, five months?

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Harder,” you test it.

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

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

“Harder, don’t be so weak!”

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

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

“Fucking!”

“Piece!”

“Of!”

“Shit!”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re looking at me funny.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, you find yourself agreeing.

“Sure. Let’s get some pizza.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WEEK THREE.

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

“Let’s fuck some shit up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May answered the door and you feel slightly flustered.

“Hi, May. Is Peter home?”

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t think you could ever love again.

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

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

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

Your heart pounds, threatening to crack the rock.

“I’m sure.” Because, you really are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He would send you things he found funny.

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

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

‘Wanna come have some brownie cookies?’

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

“Have fun on the trip!”

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

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

“Hi.”

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

“Okay, okay, so what did she say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a good thing?”

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

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

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

“And very nice curls.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What are you doing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All you can think is Peter, Peter, Peter.

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

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

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

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

“Oh, wow!”

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

Fuck, he kisses so sweet. Shut up!

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

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

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

Fits perfect, fits perfect, fits-

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

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

“Are you gonna hide from me forever?”

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

He’s perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too bad he wasn’t worth the risk.

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

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

“Butter, please?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? I thought after-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Scars don’t.”

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

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

“They do.”

WEEK FOUR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re in denial.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

How long has he liked you?

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

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

“But was it worth it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t is a funny word choice.”

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

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

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

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

“Break up with me.”

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

A laugh, “then break up with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It wouldn’t work between us, Peter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you see where I’m sitting?”

Peter nods, “I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has a very fair point.

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

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

“How do you know I don’t want this?”

“Because this isn’t you.”

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

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

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

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

“You mean when you had a boyfriend?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would it feel like an agonizing death?

Would your wings ever be patchable again?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s Peter’s fault.

“Because you made me want to.”

WEEK FIVE.

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

“Good morning.”

You nod your head, “penis.”

And just like that, the mosquito’s squashed.

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

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

3:02, you hear his window.

3:04, your eyes finally get heavy.

3:07, you’re dozing off.

3:10, you’re asleep.

It wasn’t fair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Peter.” You need his focus on you.

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

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

“Oh, good. You’re up.”

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

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

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

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

“You passed out on me last night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perfect, coming right up.”

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

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

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

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

“Does it hurt?”

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

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

“Guess we’re twinsies now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. That’d be nice.”

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

“Sure. Go shopping for me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now or never.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WEEK SIX.

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

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

You think you broke him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, when she puts it like that…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he stumbled up the steps.

When he hit his head with his locker.

When he stepped on his glasses.

When he was tackled in flag football.

When he tripped over his shoelace.

When he got glue in his hair.

When he winced while dissecting a frog.

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

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

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

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

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

It’s worth it.

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

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

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

Step two: See above.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is this an asshole move? Yes.

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

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

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

You hear something drop inside his apartment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you catch popcorn with your mouth?”

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

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

“Did you just call me a normy?”

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

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

But it’s all in the timing.

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

“Miserable? What, about the breakup?”

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

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

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

You’re in love with Peter and only Peter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you still like me?”

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

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

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

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

“Can you call me sweetheart?”

“Is that the one you like?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

It’s so much sweeter than you imagined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You said I was never properly loved.”

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

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

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

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

“If you’d be my boyfriend.”

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

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

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

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

“Oops, let me repent with a kiss.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter’s uncle died and you made him cookies.

Your boyfriend dumped you and Peter made you cookies.

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

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

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

“You pulled an Uncle Ben on me.”

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

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

“I don’t hate you anymore.”

“Spoiler alert, you never did.”

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

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

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

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

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

And you watched love begin again.

“Anything for you, girlfriend.”

----

TAGLIST: (some @'s wouldn't show up :(

@hollandweather @imwaytoolazyforthis @sincericida @darling-im-wonderstruck @abucketofweird @conniesanchor @ellieistired @melodicheauxxlovesfood @nyomjoon @buckybarnessweetheart @luqueam @hyacinthhare @prettiest-lover @jakobsdump @vanessa-b @toomanydamfandoms @jamespottersdaisy @sassyrizznerd @arctic0tter @thievin-stealing @cool-ontherun-world @gwengonesplat @sunflowerkiwis @iamawhoreforu @cottonheadedninny-muggins @toezies @1-800-peggy @lnmp89 @ribbonknives @sinceweremutual @luerdelune @pining-and-tired @gorefairies @str4wberry222 @hoetel-manager @rexorangecounty @ellswilliams @peterparkerswhvre @kdbsr-h @astrxq @eatshitanddie- @somethings-going-on-here @m0g444 @oncasette @rainyyouthcoffee @azkzaban @know-its-for-the-better @hellfirescoops

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

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onyourowndaisymae · 9 months

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don't mind me... just thinking about the demon brothers slowly dropping the rest of their roster for you as they fall head over heels...

lucifer // mammon (you are here) // levi // satan // asmo // beel // belphie -- others coming soon, NSFW warning below, gn!reader

mammon, who falls for you slowly, then all at once. whose taunts and general disregard for your safety lessen after he forms a pact with you. suddenly he's finding excuses to linger in your doorway, to join conversations you're having with beel or levi just to make sure you're not getting too friendly with them. he's greedy with you. watching his brothers mingle with you sparks a strange sense of protectiveness in him he doesn't bother to hide.

mammon, who naturally gravitates towards you. he understands the need for alone time, but more often than not his free days are spent by your side. he still loves the casinos and the parties, but nowadays he's trying to convince you to join or not going at all. poker's not as fun when you're not by his side, breathing onto his neck as you strain to get a peek at his cards. clubs are only worth going to when you'll join him on the dancefloor, hips swaying against his to the music. it's hot. he's addicted and he doesn't even feel guilty.

mammon, who doesn't even realize he's been ignoring his usual friends with benefits arrangements. the people in his phone have been sending their usual late night texts, and he swipes them away on instinct. his eyes glaze over as he scrolls through naughty photos in his messages. what was once enticing now simply seems dull, and he doesn't know why-- or, at least, he won't admit it to himself. he'll head out occasionally to meet a succubus he knows, but the encounters seem less fulfilling nowadays.

mammon, who fucks his fist to the thought of you. sweat drips down his face as his movements grow desperate, pausing to spit into his hand just so he can get lost in the idea of his palm being your hot, tight little hole clenching around his cock. his panting is loud, aimless calls of your name echoing through his room. his hips buck steadily into his clenched fist. all he can think about it what it would feel like to have you under him, bent over the hood of his car, your moans like music to his ears as he fucks you until you can't speak. he imagines the way you'll gasp as he slips inside of you, your whines when he slows his pace to a crawl to feel his cock drag against your walls, the way you'll cry out in pleasure when he slams back into you and fucks you as feverishly as he wants. cum spills all over his fingers and stomach, painting his hot skin white when he finally reaches climax, shaking a little in desperation as he realizes how badly he's craving you.

mammon, who can't get off to the thought of anyone else. every explicit video, homemade or otherwise, is just a cheap imitation of you. he's not above searching for videos with performers that look like you, that do the things he wants to do to you or vice versa. he hangs out in your room on a regular basis only to retreat back to his den hard and aching against his jeans. he satisfies himself night after night with toys and his hands until, finally, the pieces fall into place and you end up underneath him during a movie. he feels dizzy as he slides into you, your soft noises making the moment feel ethereal in the low light. his couch squeaks a little as he thrusts into you, but he can't bring himself to notice anything outside of the way your lips fall open, the way your body squirms under him, the way he will never be able to get off without thinking of this moment again.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me x reader #obey me smut #otome

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strawb3rrystar · 2 months

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Hazbin Hotel characters longing for you.

Pairing: Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Alastor, Lucifer Morningstar, Adam, Vox, Valentino, Velvette x GN! Reader

Warnings: Implied breakup, Stalking, Just all around angst

Word count: 600

✰Masterlist

Charlie will hangout with her friends to get your mind off you. This strategy works for a little while, until she starts to notice small bits of your personality in them. All the little things pile up and it brings down her mood, causing her stay away from her friends as to not get reminded.

"Sorry guys, can't hangout today, not feeling the greatest."

Vaggie will bottle up all her emotions and avoid everyone. But, being all alone causes her to start thinking about you more. All the happy memories you created together. Laughs and smiles shared. Vulnerable venting sessions that ended in cuddles. She won't be able to scrape you from her mind and end up crying angry tears.

"Why... after everything we've been through! Why.. why did you leave me..?"

Angel Dust will probably be too distracted with work to think about you. But of course he misses you and wishes to have you back. If he ever does get time to just sit and think about you, his insecurities will get the best of him and he'll think your better off without him.

"Maybe.. they're better off. More happier without me.."

Husk will drown himself in alcohol like he always does. Silently doing his job. It wasn't much of a change to most of the others. Sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, he'll see your figure. He shivers every time he realizes you're not actually there.

"Must be the alcohol makin' me see shit..."

Sir Pentious will lay awake at night thinking about you. It doesn't help that his eggs will keep bringing stuff up about you. He doesn't want to think about you, but he just can't get you out of his head. He wishes to see you one last time before he lets you go.

"I haven't asked for much. Please, just let me see them again."

Alastor will convince himself that he was perfectly able to go on with his afterlife before he met you, so he can definitely do it after you left. Although, that's a lie, because he misses your presence everyday. Even if he doesn't want to admit it, he goes over your daily schedule before you left in his head and goes to the places you used to frequent.

"I am perfectly capable all on my own."

Lucifer will dream about you every night after you leave. He'll dream about all the good times you had together. Your smile and your laugh. His dreams are so realistic that when he wakes up it takes him a minute to remember you left.

"Right.. they left.. but, my dream was so.. real.."

Adam will kinda stalk you, justifying it as protection. Whenever he sees you hanging out with another angel, though, envy will fill his veins. Even if he knows it's one of your friends, he'll still get jealous.

"You were supposed to hangout with me, not this fucking nobody."

Vox will also very much stalk you with his cameras. Nervously searching his screens whenever you leave your house. He just wants to know where you are, and that you're safe.

"My sweet would never have to worry about their safety again."

Valentino will check your past messages 50 times a day. He's just itching to text you, but if he does you might block him, and then he'll lose your conversations forever. He might throw his phone in frustration.

"God fucking damn it!"

Velvette will regularly check your social media for any updates from you. If you do post something new, expect her to be one of the first to like it.

"@Velvvette liked your post."

Star's notes -> I've binged Hazbin Hotel like 3 times now OMG

(Requests are open!)

Taglist -> Join the taglist

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gi4hao · 1 month

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☆ SEVENTEEN COMFORTING YOU AFTER A BAD DAY (hip hop unit)

— pure fluff! (some mentions of food) — VOCAL UNIT VERSION HERE

— SEUNGCHEOL

• he lets you cry and cry and cry in his arms until you physically cannot produce any more tears

• his hands are softly stroking your back as he lets you vent about your day

• “i’m so sorry you had to go through all that baby” he tells you when you’re done, placing a kiss on top of your head as he lets you cuddle as close to him as you need to

• definitely tells you to let him take care of you that evening, because he wants your day to end on a better note

• and he 100% means it: he pampers you like royalty, giving you his undivided attention and nothing less

• you feel like taking a bath? you’ll have one with scented bubbles and candles. you feel like going for a walk to clear your head? he’ll go with you and hold you close the whole time.

— MINGYU

• so so so supportive

• the moment you get back home, he’s already waiting for you with his arms wide open, ready for you to collapse against his chest

• definitely listens to you rant about the people that upset you that day, all while cooking a hearty meal for the two of you

• i think some of his bubbliness would definitely rub off on you, and he’s kind of counting on that to make you feel better

• because it’s hard to stay upset when your boyfriend keeps peppering kisses all over your face, all while looking at you with the kindest eyes on earth

• he just wants you to be surrounded by happy things overall. whether it’s by showing you a cute puppy he saw on tiktok or sharing the latest gossips he got from the members, he thinks it’s important to take your mind off of whatever’s weighing you down

• and when you thank him for always being your happy place, his heart does a little jump that fills him with nothing but pure love

— WONWOO

• he’s probably already comforting you over text during the day. he hopes his little messages to check up on you can bring you a bit of comfort (they do)

• he makes sure to get home a little earlier to do some chores so that you don’t have to stress about that as well

• and yes he’ll definitely let you cuddle for as long as you want if that’s what you need when you come home

• he’ll even let you play with his hair if it helps you relieve the tension (which also benefits him because he gets to admire you up close, something he loves to do)

• the next day, he leaves a post-it note on your bathroom mirror for you to read when you wake up

• it’s something along the lines of “had to leave early but don’t forget i love you + there’s an iced coffee in the fridge and a muffin on the table <3”

— VERNON

• an amazing listener, for sure. no matter what kind of emotion you’re feeling, he’ll patiently listen for as long as needed

• but he’ll speak up if you start to talk in a self-deprecating way, reminding you of how amazing you are and how proud of you he is

• “i’m not letting these thoughts take up too much space in your brain” he tells you, handing you yet another tissue to wipe your nose with. “which is why i think the smartest thing to do tonight would be to watch a really, really dumb movie. what do you think?”

• you gladly accept, of course. because nothing can comfort you the way vernon and a silly movie can

• and that night isn’t like your usual movie night, when the two of you are just lazily slumped on the couch with random snacks on the table

• this time, he goes all in: pop-corn, a nice blanket to keep you both warm, his comfiest hoodie (for you to wear of course), and most importantly: he lets you pick the movie!

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another-lost-mc · 4 months

Note

Okay but what if, before MC is taken to the future by nightbringer, they had a big fight with the brothers?

Like, they fought about something and said something along the lines 'go away' ' I don't want to see you', but then, when you don't return they start feeling guilty.

At first they'll think you're angry and don't want to talk with them, but when time passes and you don't return they start to get so worried, looking everywhere for you, regretting that the, possibly, last words they said to you were harsh confrontation.

The angst potential 😭😭 how do you think each of the bros would react?

😈🍬 anon

a/n: well, nightbringer sure is a blessing for angst fans.

the worst goodbye | the demon brothers

2.8k words | gn!reader | sfw | angst

cw: mentions of lesson 16 in belphie's part.

Lucifer goes to his office and pretends that he's not angry. He attempts to distract himself with paperwork, but all he does is read the same paragraph a few times over and over again before he throws the page down with a huff. He taps his pen against his desk while he sifts through the emotions clouding his mind. All he felt earlier was wounded pride—that's why he scolded you with more force than necessary, speaking with his cruel, barbed tongue but regretting it just as quickly. He admires and loathes your feisty temper. You're his stubborn, brave little human that stands up to him when most demons wouldn't dare to try.

He plans his apology like a mantra and goes to your room; he knows if he's sincere, you'll give him a chance to make things right. You don't answer your door when he knocks, and he peeks his head inside to confirm that you're not there. He sends you a message with his D.D.D. and shuffles awkwardly in the hallway while he waits for a reply. He asks in the family group chat, but no one's seen you recently and he ignores the initial tendrils of icy fear that make his chest feel tight. Surely you wouldn't have stormed off in a sulk? But he checks the rest of the house and his brothers realize slowly that something is wrong—you wouldn't just leave. Lucifer searches for you himself, around the House of Lamentation and all around the Devildom, searching for anyone that might've seen you, or any hint of where you've gone. But in the early twilight hours, he pours a glass of Demonus that remains untouched while he stares absently into the fire of his private study. His heart freezes over in your absence. Your warmth thawed his icy demeanor, and the roaring fire crackling nearby can't stop the chills that wrack through him when he tells himself that you're gone and he has no one to blame but himself.

You rarely fight with Mammon these days, but when you do, it spirals out of control. He spits out scathing remarks about how he's sick of you trying to pry your nose into his business because he hates admitting that you're right. You try so desperately not to yell (or cry, or both) when you plead with him to forget about whatever risky scheme he's got planned. It's not worth risking Lucifer's wrath and whatever punishment lies in store when Mammon's plan inevitably fails to his own detriment. He stalks away and ignores the sound of your voice cracking in pain when you call his name one last time—and maybe if he were less incensed, he would stop and turn around and apologize. But today he feels particularly stubborn and he doesn't look back. He fully intends on leaping in his car and driving off into the night to burn off some steam, but he slumps against his bedroom door with his head in his hands and tries to remember why he was so angry with you to begin with. He can't pinpoint the reason and he knows you only have his best intentions at heart.

It feels like hours later when he ends up outside your door, head down and tail tucked firmly between his legs. He shouts through the wood when you don't answer and he swears he didn't mean it, that he'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. You're too patient and kind and loving for your own good, and he tempts fate every time he takes your forgiveness for granted. He opens the door and scratches his head in confusion when he realizes you're not there. He spots one of his brothers at the end of the hall, and his confusion sours into something ashy on his tongue when he asks him where you are. I haven't seen them—we all thought they were with you!

Leviathan plays his game, tapping the buttons on his handheld with more force than necessary, as simmering anger from your fight earlier darkens his mood. He didn't mean to forget about your lunch date, so why did you get so mad? Maybe calling you a worse nag than Lucifer was over the top, but he planned on making it up to you later! He gets lost in his thoughts and plays his game until he realizes it's been a couple hours and his D.D.D. has been surprisingly silent. Sometimes you message him and invite him to talk things out in your room once you've both had time to calm down. He has no idea what it means that you've ignored him all this time and when he tries to message you first, they go unanswered. He shuffles to your room guiltily and hopes you'll be willing to talk face-to-face. It's almost dinner time, and maybe if you're feeling up to it, he can take you out for dinner. He even canceled his raid tonight so he can spend the evening curled with you on the sofa watching movies instead.

He doesn't expect to hear a commotion as he walks down the stairs to the first floor, and his brothers are crowded outside your room in various states of panic. Lucifer sees him and rushes to explain what's going on, but the words turn to radio static in Levi's head. He doesn't even notice that he drops his D.D.D. and it clatters to the ground, cracking the corner of the plastic case you gave him as a present not too long ago. Instead of cuddling with you on the sofa that night, he curls around his body pillow in the tub, his tail twitching noisily against the porcelain while he buries his head and deafens his whimpers in the tear-stained cotton. Come back, come back, please come back—

When the rage subsides, Satan glances wearily around his room and the terrible mess he's made. Some of his favourite books are ripped and torn to shreds across the floor, but the sight hurts less than the memory of your heartbroken face crumpling in pain as you fought back tears. He's done many terrible things in his life he's not proud of, but insinuating you don't care about him might be the lowest blow he could use during a fight. You've only wanted what's best for him, and you try so hard to show the world that he's more than the violent, angry creature that lurks deep inside him.

If only the world could see you the way I do.

Regret quickens his steps and he leaves the broken chaos in his room to find you because he shouldn't have even let you go. Why did it take him so long to apologize? He doesn't deserve it, but if you'll only give him a chance, he swears to himself he'll make it up to you. He hastily wipes away the tears pooling in the corner of his eyes when he notices his brothers lingering outside your room. They're too distraught to notice the sharp bite in his words when he demands to know what's going on and where you are. Nothing they say makes any sense—you wouldn't just leave, right? He’s the first to tear through the house in a panic to find you, ignoring his brothers’ nervous pleas for him to calm down. You're nowhere to be found and eventually he returns to his room in a trance. No one knows how long he stands there, trembling with regret and shame and fury that someone or something dared take you away from him. All his brothers know, judging by the noise echoing through the halls, is that his room is nearly destroyed as he unleashed his heartbreak in a maelstrom of destructive rage.

Asmodeus takes another selfie and posts it on Devilgram. He hopes the notification will pop up on your D.D.D. and you'll see him having the time of his life at The Fall. He wants you to see it—he hopes it fills you with regret for arguing with him earlier. He doesn't fight with you often, but your tongues are both sharp and laced with venom when you do face off against each other. He enjoyed the anxious gleam in your eye when he backed you into a wall and leaned down so you were nearly nose-to-nose, the sweet scent of his lip gloss lingering in the gap between you while he cooed about how pathetic you looked. But that was almost an hour ago, and he can only pretend for so long that he doesn't regret leaving you stunned and hurt in the front hall when he waltzed out the door and slammed it behind him. The pounding music can't drown out the wicked things he said to you, and the crowd can't distract him from your absence that weighs heavily in his heart. There are many demons nearby who'd kill for his attention, but he knows deep down that the only hands he wants roaming over his body are yours.

It's not long after that he pushes his way out of the club and into the cool night air, but he still hasn't heard from you. Surely you've seen his Devilgram posts by now? You're smart enough to recognize his desperate ploys for attention. Your attention. Are you ignoring him on purpose? Maybe he deserves it, but he's anxious to talk to you and sends you a message on his walk home anyway. Message could not be delivered. The red text pops up on his screen, and he frowns and tries again. Message could not be delivered. He quickens his pace as he taps your contact name and calls you instead. Is there something wrong with your D.D.D.? "The number you have dialed is not in service."

He breaks into a run until the House of Lamentation peeks into view ahead. He bursts through the door and ignores Lucifer's angry shouts behind him as he rushes down the hall to your room, but all he sees is one of your favourite club outfits laid out on your bed, as if you were getting ready to come see him after all. Where are you? His brothers hover behind him and he borrows one of their phones so he can try calling you again. He tells himself that it must be a problem with his D.D.D. because no other explanation makes sense. "The number you have dialed is—" Asmo whimpers pitifully while he listens to the robotic voice drone on speaker for everyone to hear, and his brothers finally realize that something is wrong and split up to search for you. He chokes out your name and slumps onto your bed, inhaling your familiar scent when he holds your shirt, one that he bought you, to his face and sobs. He can hear his brothers' heavy footfalls throughout the house while they look for you, but deep down, he already knows you're gone.

Beel glances at the stands and wipes sweat and dirt from his brow. He can spot his brothers easily enough—it's hard to miss them, with the way Asmo's waving the glittery handmade sign with his name in bold pink lettering—but he doesn't see you. There's an empty space between Mammon and Levi where you normally sit, and they've kept it free for when—if—you show up. You've never missed one of his games, not ever. Maybe the argument earlier upset you more than he realized. He knows you don't normally eat his food on purpose. He knows you meant it when you sputtered apologies when you realized your mistake. He knows how hurt you were when he shouted at you in a hungry rage. The rest of the game passes by in a blur. He moves on autopilot, his mood growing more and more despondent each time he checks the crowd and realizes you're still not there. He barely recognizes his team's happy cheers when the game ends in victory. He has a quick shower and makes his excuses to his teammates because he already has plans for dinner tonight, with you, hopefully. He stops by Hell's Kitchen and picks up your favourite takeaway order and heads home. It's a peace offering, one of many apologies he owes you.

By the time he knocks on your door, he's eager to see you. Silence. He knocks again and waits, and he hesitantly pushes the door open when his greeting goes unanswered. You're not in your room, and after a quick search of the house, he realizes you're not anywhere. He visits your room over and over again as if you'll finally pop out and tell him you were just teasing him, because you wouldn't ever leave him on purpose, right? His name on a handmade sign on your bed, and one of his old jerseys he gave you, are all that you left behind and he wonders if he would've been able to stop you leaving had he come home to you sooner. (Your takeaway dinner remains uneaten in the fridge in case you come back, and Beel refuses to eat it himself or let anyone else eat it either. One of his brothers has to throw it away when it eventually turns rancid—Beel can't bring himself to do it, because it means admitting you may never come back.)

Belphie doesn't like sleeping alone. Most nights if he sleeps alone, it's by choice—his choice. Tonight should've ended like most nights do: with the both of you sharing the bed in the attic. He sleeps better when you're close. You're a warm weight curled against him, and the smell of your shampoo and your minty breath are small comforts when he has bad dreams. Sometimes he wakes up in a panic, his shirt damp with cold sweat, and he listens for your quiet snores, proof that you're alive, that the nightmare of your windpipe crushed in his deadly grip isn't real. Belphie sleeps in the attic alone tonight because you decided you needed space. It's petty revenge for earlier when he woke up from a nap in a foul mood and snapped at you in his frustration. He fluffs his pillow and his bottom lip juts out in a pout. He can't get comfortable and it's your fault. The house grows quiet as his brothers retire to their rooms and fall asleep, and Belphie senses when you finally drift off to sleep too. If he wakes up before you tomorrow, he'll crawl into your bed and hope that you'll be more receptive to his apology when you wake up.

It takes longer than usual but he finally falls asleep and feels content. Even when he's unconscious, he instinctively reaches for your presence and it calms him. Your dreamscape is like a little pond, and he watches from his own nearby shore as your thoughts pass by in a blur, like slick oil paintings skimming over a watery surface. He doesn't like to intrude on your dreams if he can help it—he only interferes when he senses them slipping into nightmares instead. He tells himself it's not selfish to erase them for you, but the truth is that he's not sure he can stomach seeing his own face reflected in your dreams anymore, not with its wicked sneer and bloodstained teeth. He's not sure he forgives himself for what he did to you, and he wonders if you've truly forgiven him too.

Something odd in your dreamscape shifts suddenly and it catches Belphie's attention. The images in your subconscious grow murky and twisted, like they're being sucked down into some unseen void. Your presence is like sand falling through his fingertips, and it's harder and harder for him to feel you. He reaches out to your mind to wake you up because he doesn't know what's wrong, but something about this scares him. He jolts awake in the attic, chest heaving with the final memory of something snapping in his mind, like the cord that tethered you to him was suddenly cut. Eventually his brothers get up too and he can hear the commotion coming from down the stairs. He makes his way to your room in a trance before they can come find him. He already knows what his brothers are struggling to understand, the truth that no one can explain. You're gone somewhere far away, impossibly out of his reach, and he dreads falling asleep and feeling the void your absence left behind.

Sleep evades him until he forces himself to try and rest, and he finds himself in your bed instead of his own. He curls himself around your pillow underneath your sheets, clinging to the last whiffs of your scent, and he hopes you'll wake him up and tell him this was nothing but a bad dream. (Your scent fades away long before the nightmare ends, and he stops sleeping in your room after that.)

read more: obey me masterlist

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slutforleeminho · 4 months

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heyy, i love your work, i was wondering if you could write a fic based on the song ‘the other woman’ by lana del rey where the reader is the other woman. you could do it about any member :)

this is my first ever request since i’ve been on this app so i hope i did it right 😭

The other Woman • Hwang Hyunjin

thank you so much! i’m so happy that your first ask was on my acc! i hope you like it<3

warnings: suggestive(no explicit smut), arguing, infidelity, toxic relationship, plot twist at the end;)

"I have to go, beautiful." Hyunjin leaned down to kiss your forehead after pulling his pants up and buttoning them. He placed his hand on the side of your face, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. "She'll get suspicious if I stay any longer."

This was normal for you, yours and Hyunjin's little routine. He'd take you out to dinner and treat you like a princess, paying for your meals and anything else you could possibly want. Holding your hand and taking you places you've only dreamed of going, then he'd take you home --your home-- and he'd fuck you like there was no tomorrow. And then he'd leave to do the same things with his wife.

You never understood why he pursued you the way he did when he had someone at home to take care of, but you didn't care enough to bring it up. Why would you? You have everything a young woman could ever want; a young, handsome, rich man who gives you anything you want. But only a few times a week. It's okay though, that just gives you plenty of time to do things that you enjoy like reading and going to museums and admiring the beautiful pieces of art that you wished you could just shove in your bag and take home with you.

"Okay," You said with a tired smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Actually, I meant to tell you, I won't be able to come over tomorrow. Apparently, Violet has a family reunion, and she wants me to accompany her." He stated as he pulled his shirt over his head and grabbed his bag from the chair in the corner of your room.

Violet. Such a pretty name for such a lucky woman.

"Oh." Was all you replied with.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No, of course not, these things happen," You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into as soon as you entered this relationship, if it can even be called that. "Just text me when you can. let me know when you want to meet up."

"Of course." He smiled.

He kissed you deeply before he left that night, almost making you forget that he had someone at home waiting for him, and you would be left here, cold and alone.

That text that he promised didnt come until a week later.

"I miss the way you feel wrapped around me." Was all that the message contained. You liked to imagine he was talking about your warm embrace, but you knew that wasn't true. He just wanted to feel an unfamiliar body underneath his.

You weren't sure how you ended up like this. When you first met Hyunjin he was sweet and caring, attentively listened to you while you complained about your bad day at work and massaged away all the soreness in your muscles. You can't remember the last time he's taken you out to dinner or bought you flowers. Now you were just his escape from his nagging wife.

You put up with the constant shame and guilt you felt for being with someone who already had their someone, because you thought that maybe his love for you would grow and that maybe someday Hyunjin would realize that you're the one he wants to spend every waking moment with and not someone else. But as your love for him grew your patience shrunk until one day you snapped.

Hyunjin was collecting his things after he had finished what he came here for, which was to get his dick wet and nothing more. "I won't see you again after tonight."

Hyunjin stopped in his tracks and stared at you with wide eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean I deserve more than this. I deserve to have someone's full attention and all of their heart." You held yourself together, determined not to cry Infront of him. He doesn't deserve your tears.

"Baby, what are you even talking about?" He knelt down in front of you and placed his hand on your shaking knees. "Of course, I love you."

"No, you don't," You shook your head. "You love my body, you love having someone at your disposal, someone you can use only for your own pleasure. If you loved me even in the slightest there wouldn't be another woman getting the treatment that I crave so fucking much." All the emotion you've kept stuffed away finally revealed itself in the form of a single tear running down your cheek.

It was silent for a long time before Hyunjin spoke. "I'll leave her." You snapped your head up so fast that it hurt. "If that's what you want than I'll do it." The way he worded it as if it was your choice whether his marriage ended or not made you sick to your stomach, but you couldn't deny that you felt a flutter of hope in your chest that maybe this didn't have to end after all. But you're smarter than that. He says this now, but he doesn't mean it, and even if he did you wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing that a woman who did nothing wrong was out there most likely crying herself to sleep while your warm and safe in the love of her life's arms.

"No, be with her. I'll be okay." That was a complete lie but even after everything he's done, you still don't want him to worry about you.

"Please don't do this to me. I love you and I want to be with you. He held on to your legs tighter.

"Funny, isn't that what you told her when you vowed in front of God and everyone that your love for her would be eternal." His mouth snapped shut and his hands left your legs before he stood. He leaned down and before you could register what was happening his lips were on yours. You immediately reciprocated, leaning forward and pressing yourself closer into him. He was so intoxicating, the way his tongue glided with yours so smoothly had you in a trance; you snapped out of it when he placed his right knee on the bed beside you and started pushing you backwards. "No!" you shoved him away. He stumbled backwards but regained his balance quickly. "I'm not doing this with you, Hyunjin. I can't do this anymore, its wrong."

"Since when do you have morals?" His voice was louder this time, he was pissed.

"I've always had them, but I put them aside because I love you!" It was your turn to stand up and look him square in the face. "But the longer we do this the more I realize that this isn't love, its obsession and its toxic. You never loved me Hyunjin you were curious about infidelity, and I was an easy target because my standards were so fucking low that I actually settled for you."

"Fuck this, I don't have to sit here and listen to you degrade me like this." He grabbed his bag and left, but not without slamming the door behind him.

The past month has been hell. After laying in your bed for an entire week you decided to pack up all of Hyunjins things and throw them out, the smell of him that was radiating off of them was making you sick to your stomach every time you walked in the room. And then you went to the mall to treat yourself to a new outfit, you wanted something that didn't have any memories of him attached to it. A trip to your favorite coffee shop followed after that. you hadn't been her in a while and you missed the smell of fresh espresso as you walked in the door.

After getting yourself your favorite -a butter pecan macchiato and a small triple chocolate brownie (they were out of doughnuts)- You sat in the best spot in the entire shop, in a little booth in the corner right next to the window, where you could watch the leaves that had no color left in them fall to the ground only to get trampled over by the passing pedestrians. The leaves reminded you a lot of yourself in a way, but you hoped you never had to fall again.

"Hi," a voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned to find yourself looking up at a very handsome young man. His hair was blonde, and it came down to his shoulders. he had an apron on, and a big smile plastered across his face, little freckles decorated his cheeks. "I saw you bought one of the brownies, it's a new recipe I tried, and I wanted to ask if you enjoyed it."

"Oh," You blinked up at him. "Um yeah it's really good, maybe my new favorite."

"Oh, thank god," He let out a sigh of relief. "I was worried that it wouldn't be any good. See a couple of the ingredients I use were sold out, so I had to substitute-" He stooped in the middle of his sentence. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I tend to do that a lot."

"No, it's okay," You huffed out a laugh. He was so cute. "Now I'm curious about what ingredients were sold out." You joked.

He smiled widely at you and stretched his hand out. "I'm Felix."

You hesitated but took his hand anyway. "Nice to meet you, Felix."

PART TWO HERE

THANK YOUUU ALL FOR A THOUSAND FOLLOWERS I DONT EVEN KNOW HOW TO FEEL 😭

taglist: @katsukis1wife @sungprotector @seung-mine @favieee @soephiphanymain @z4hir @minnieslover @kjr-army @caitlyn98s @bangchansbae @fawnpeaks @yumiblogs

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hier--soir · 4 months

Text

a lover's pinch | seven

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: things get a little messy after returning home. a confrontation sparks the beginning of a new stage in your relationship with joel. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, angst, miscommunication trope, self-doubt, alcohol consumption/hangover, joel is 50 and he texts like it, les mis spoilers???, phantom of the opera spoilers???, jealous!joel, food/eating, hurt/comfort, professor DAD, professor COWBOY, soft emotional smut, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, oral [f!receiving], joel says dadgum cause i think it's so classic him and so cute. word count: 11.1k jesus series masterlist | main masterlist chapter moodboard a/n: merry christmas to all that celebrate. as always, thank you for your patience and kindness. the love for this series is nothing short of mind blowing, and i appreciate you all endlessly. i hope you enjoy this angst and potentially the most flowery + emotional ALP smut yet [if that's even possible]. also rachel i love you i'm sorry. without further ado, the beginning of our descent into The End Times x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part seven of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six.

Tuesday.

It's nine thirty in the morning and you buy a Coke anyways.

It’s raining heavy outside; fat droplets of water that splatter against the windscreen of your car and dribble down, slipping through the crevice at the top of the bonnet, searching for the engine, for the oil gasket, for somewhere undercover to dry out.

You tuck your legs beneath yourself, sit criss-cross in the driver’s seat, and take small sips of fizzing black sugar. Allow it to moisten your lips, coat your tongue and your teeth in that sickening, viscous way soda always does, before it slips down your throat.

There’s something unearthly about the day, unnerving—it’s Tuesday morning and you’re hungover. A dull ache behind your left eye, a kink in your neck. You check your phone.

Thick, rolling clouds loom across the sky. Occasionally, a flash of lightning, a thrum of thunder. You tear open a packet of peanuts and pluck one out, and then another. Eat until your lips are dry and puckered, and then take another drink. More peanuts then. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet.

It’s all you can stomach as your liver pumps and spasms, still working to cleanse your blood of the night before, spent sprawled on the couch with Trin and Nora.

Wearing sweaters and thick socks, gripping full glasses of wine, and watching Les Misérables. Nora, tears on her cheeks, had sung along with Hugh Jackman—'This innocent who bears my face, who goes to judgement in my place, who am I?’—and you, bleary-eyed and tipsy, had discreetly checked your phone.

You didn’t cry during I Dreamed A Dream but you’re crying for this? Trin rolled her eyes.

He sacrifices his freedom to save that man, Nora whimpered.

You woke up starving and the traffic was slow. At every red light and stop sign your fingers itched against the wheel, desperate to press inside your bag and pull out this little packet. And now, safe in the campus parking lot, you feast. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet. You feel a fleeting moment of pity for people with peanut allergies, and then you check your phone.

Still nothing.

Since you left New York on Monday morning there’s been no sign of life from Joel. No get home safe, no see you on Tuesday; no acknowledgement at all.

You stare dejectedly at the messages you’ve sent him.

First from yesterday afternoon:

Home now. Enjoy your last day in the big apple x

And then from late last night, two bottles of wine deep:

It’s raining and miserable here

Wish I was still in new york

With you

Sitting in your car now, glowering at the blank space where his response should be, you reconcile with the thought that perhaps he wants what happened in New York to stay in New York. Stolen glances and all-too-brief touches in a conference hall, his hand on your wrist at the museum, skin against skin in his hotel room, and in yours—perhaps it was supposed to happen there, not here. The lowering of walls came with a change in location, and maybe that was his intention. But those thoughts don’t ease the sharp twist in your chest when you think of him. Doesn’t take away how much you wish he would give you something – a morsel of communication, even a single word of acknowledgement. For as hard as you try to understand, you can’t forget the look in his eyes when he touched you at the cloisters, the way he breathed your name into your mouth. Sewing the seed of JoelJoelJoel into in the soft folds of your brain, impossible to forget.

You don’t think about his dinner with Rachel. Don’t consider that something may have happened that night, something that changed his mind about you. Something that made him rethink the entire weekend as you slipped into the shower and out the door, leaving him alone in your hotel bed while you headed to the airport.

No. You don’t think about that at all.

When you make it inside, clothes wet and cool from the rain, you shake your hair out like a dog. Let droplets fly across the hall as you make your way into the lecture theatre; a drizzled trail left in your wake.

The room is full when you step inside, but there’s no sign of him yet. You collapse into an empty chair in the front row and wait. The final few students filter in through the door, shaking out umbrellas and wiping their feet. And for another ten minutes you, foolishly, still expect Joel to show up.

It’s only when the door creaks open and an old man walks through, that you let the hopeful feeling rest.

He lays a worn old satchel against the desk and turns to smile at the room.

“Hello,” the stranger smiles, and his jowls quiver as he speaks. “I’m Jerry Dorfman, a Professor from the literature department, and…”

You zone out for a second, eyes darting down to your phone screen. Nothing.

“Oh, and Professor Miller,” Dorfman says, as if he’s just remembered that he shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be standing up there, in his spot. “Is tied up with a family matter. I trust he’ll be back with us later in the week.”

A family matter?

Slick with rain, staring at this stranger stood in Joel’s place, you feel like a kind of newborn. Some fresh lamb, soaked in the blood and amniotic fluids of her mother’s womb, staring through unseeing eyes, hoping to glean some understanding of this moment. This sudden burst of light, this shocking cold after so many weeks of warmth, of sweat and strong hands on your skin, holding you close. But this is Eros; the blacksmith, the limb-loosener, the crusher. A deviation from stoking the flame to the suddenly desperate, grasping loneliness of feeling as though you are standing by a lover’s window, staring helplessly through the glass, and watching them from the outside. Alone.

Dorfman tries and fails to connect his laptop to the projector.

Numb fingers type;

Are you okay? Where are you?

But no response comes.

No, not until later that night, not until you’re tucked beneath the covers of your bed, showered and sleepy, does he finally reach out.

The clock has just ticked past midnight when your phone vibrates.

Hey, I had to stay in the city another day. Just landed at PWM. See you on Thursday.

A hot, jagged feeling swims in your gut as you read the message, and then reread it. Twice, three more times, searching for some hint of familiarity. Some indication that he has been thinking about you as much as you’ve been thinking about him. That the past weekend meant something to him, like it meant to you.

Minutes pass, and when you don’t find what you’re looking for, you fall asleep without responding.

Thursday.

Nora wakes up with a stuffy nose.

This always happens to me, she sniffs. I hate being sick.

The tiles in the kitchen are cold beneath your bare toes and rain smears heavily against the windowpane. You can hear fat blooms of thunder bellowing outside. Nora’s sullen, husky voice paired with the steam rising from your mug are all it takes to convince you to stay home with her.

The two of you spend the day curled on the sofa beneath blankets. You stare at your laptop, a document open on your screen with the title of an essay sitting pretty at the top. The cursor blinks and blinks at you, taunting you, daring you to write something, anything. But Sex and The City is playing on the tv, and Nora is snoring at the other end of the sofa, and you can’t help but watch the minutes tick by on the clock. Listen to Carrie and Miranda argue about Big, and wonder if Joel has even noticed your absence.

Trin gets home from class, and you follow her into the kitchen. Peel and slice oranges and apples and lemons while she tells you about her day. Boil them in sugar with cinnamon and star anise while she complains about an argument she had with her boyfriend. Add red wine and brandy while she tells you that her Dad sent her some money, and she’ll order take out for the three of you.

So together you huddle in the lounge and eat hot Indian food with your hands. Soak pieces of naan in tarka dal and saag paneer and top if off with mulled wine, unphased by the clashing of flavours in your mouths.

And you don’t check your phone, or look at the time, and you don’t complain when Nora asks, with glassy-eyes and spinach in her teeth, if she can put on another musical.

He’s a freak, Trin frowns at the TV.

He loves her, Nora implores, staring doe-eyed at a masked Gerard Butler.

Nor, Trin scoffs, he put a wedding dress on a mannequin that looks just like her. In his fucking lair, no less. That’s freak behaviour.

He has amazing sideburns though, Nora grins. So he gets a pass.

Your phone vibrates as Erik strokes a passed-out Christine’s face, singing help me make the music of the night.

Careful that Nora won’t notice, you pull it from beneath your thigh.

Where were you today?

You stare at the words for a moment and feel your lips curl into an disbelieving sneer.

“Oh, fuck off,” you mutter, and shove your phone into the crevice between the sofa cushions.

Wednesday.

A week goes by with no word from Joel.

No word from you either.

You stay home every day. Write and read and catch up on work and take Benadryl and sip soup and then you wake one morning, relieved to find that Nora’s cold has finally left your system.

So you tug on jeans, a sweater, and share a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Share quiet conversation with Pete in his shitty old Beamer as he gives you a ride to campus, and walk into Rachel’s lecture with zero expectation that today will be the day you finally see Joel again.

“We understand that Antigone is a victim of her father’s sins,” Rachel explains. “In the wake of patricide, of incest, every one of her actions is seen as a direct consequence.”

“Even her fate to be buried alive was sewn by her father’s unwitting actions,” she pauses, eyes searching the faces across the room, gauging reactions. “And, of course, this concept isn’t unique to Greek mythology. We see it plainly in the Bible, in Exodus; the sins of your father are to be laid upon the children… these themes of ancestral curses, of the inevitability of fate – they are integral to understand when looking at our tragic heroines. We saw it with Medea, we see it with Antigone, with Iphigenia, with Electra. Electra herself said, we are bound to acquiesce—”

An interrupting knock sounds against the door. Rachel’s head swivels around, eyebrows knitted in frustration as she calls for whoever it is to come in.

The door creaks open and her expression lifts. A saccharine smile spreads across her face, shoulders loosening.

“Joel,” she says warmly. “What can I do for you?”

A shiver wracks down your spine, toes curling in your sneakers.

The broad mass of him rests in the doorway. His head peeks past the wood, just a glimpse of his curls, his glasses, visible from where you sit. Your heart thunders in your chest, palms going damp at the prospect of this being the moment you finally see him again.

He speaks a few words in her direction, too quiet to catch, and then he’s taking a step into the room. His hand grips the edge of the door, keeping it open, and he casts a glance out towards the audience. Dark brown and searching, those eyes filter through countless faces until they finally land on yours.

And for a second, he doesn’t say a word. Just gazes out at you, eyebrows pulled together in the middle of his forehead, and then—and then he fucking looks back at Rachel. Your stomach goes hollow when you see the smile on her face. She lazes against the corner of her desk, and it feels like minutes go by as the two of you stare at him. And there’s something about waiting, you think, that feels like torture. That slow, painful build-up of pressure as you sit and stare and prepare yourself to discover who he’s here for. You or her.

You’re reminded painfully of a Graham Greene quote. A passage from The End of the Affair – one you’d, perhaps foolishly, found romantic when you read it that first time. Chosen words that had warmed your chest and made you feel light, lighter than air; the way only words could do sometimes.

‘Yes, Henry?’ and then ‘You?’ She had always called me ‘you’. ‘Is that you?’ on the telephone, ‘Can you? Will you? Do you?’ so that I imagined, like a fool, for a few minutes at a time, there was only one ‘you’ in the world and that was me.

Now, as you stare at Joel in the mouth of the doorway and memory of that passage sinks its hooks in, you feel only contempt for Greene.

For you had always read that passage imagining yourself as Sarah. And someone else, some misfortunate Maurice Bendrix, had fallen into your lap, and he was the ‘you’. But not you, never you. And it’s that pride which deceives. That pride which lulls us into false senses of security.

Joel says your name then.

Says, “Can I speak with you?” You, you, you.

And it should feel like relief, to hear your name on his lips again. But you catch the way he spares another glance, soft and sympathetic, in Rachel’s direction, and that sickly hurt isn’t abated.

Her face falls, but she smiles at you. Nods her permission for you to leave the room, and only when you’re halfway across the lecture theatre, bag swung over your shoulder, does she continue speaking to the class.

Palm flat against the door, he holds it open for you, making you press against him as you slip out of the room. It clicks shut behind you and he begins to move down the hall, leaving you to follow behind with no explanation. You assume that he’s going to lead you to his office, or anywhere more private than this, but a metre from the door Joel pauses abruptly, turns, and you slam into his chest with a huff.

“Jesus,” you mutter, stumbling a few steps back.

“Where have you been?” he glowers, brows drawn tight and angry over his eyes.

“What?”

“I’ve been busy,” you grit, glaring back. “Where have you been?”

“Busy?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve been busy too. Busy teachin’ the classes that you don’t even show up for.”

“I’ve been sick,” you roll your eyes, unable—or perhaps just unwilling—to stray from nastiness, from spite. “My apologies, Professor.”

“Don’t—” Joel snaps, and flinches as quickly as the word comes out of his mouth, surprised by how harsh it sounds in the air between the two of you. He takes a step closer, voice low now—“Don’t call me that.”

“Fuck, what is your problem?” you huff, eyes widening, exasperated. “I missed two classes, it’s not a big deal.”

“And the silence?” Joel takes a step forward as he says it. Close enough now to see the smudges on the lens of his glasses. Close enough to see the muscle in his jaw twitch. Too close for public; too close for here. “Can’t even text me back, huh? What the hell is goin’ on with you?”

Your body pulls taut at that, hands balling into fists at your sides.

“Oh, you don’t like silence?” you hiss, matching his volume. “You can’t be serious. Joel, I didn’t hear from you for days after New York. Why would I waste my breath when it’s obvious you don’t want to fucking hear from me?”

“It was barely two days,” he shakes his head, shakes off the insinuation, shakes off whatever blame you’re trying to put on him.

“Two days,” you nod, smirking angrily. “Two days after we spent an entire weekend together. Two days after we kissed and fucked and practically went on a date.”

And the word date must elicit something in him. Some minute, man-brain trigger that snaps him to attention and helps him understand the hurt on your face, the tremble in your hands. Because he says your name, voice softening, posture loosening, every bit of his body language screaming out that he wants to step forward and touch you.

And he’s speaking again, voice low, but there’s people coming down the hall, heading your way. Two figures that you can’t make out through the haze of Joel in your immediate vision. So when he reaches out and touches your hand you flinch, jutting your chin over his shoulder. A warning. Don’t do this here.

One of them calls your name and you pause, mouth open. Drag your eyes away from Joel’s features to watch the figures get closer.

“Pete,” you force a smile. “Hey.”

You realise quickly how it must look; your sullen expression, Joel staring down at you with his shoulders hunched. He must understand at the same moment, because he takes a quick step away, folds his hands behind his back.

“Hey,” Pete takes a step closer. He glances warily between you and Joel, confusion colouring his face. “Everything cool?”

Stony faced, Joel looks between the two of you, posture stiffening the longer he stares at Pete. So much larger than him, taller and broader and far more intimidating. But a man with a secret to keep isn’t one to jump quickly at confrontation, so he keeps his mouth shut. Let’s you do the talking.

Ian catches your eye over Pete’s shoulder and offers a sleazy sort of smile. You swallow down a glare and hold Pete’s gaze.

“Everything’s fine,” you lie, taking a step towards them. A step away from Joel. “What’s up, what are you guys doing in this building?”

Pete’s eyebrows pull together, and he cocks his head at you. “Said you needed a ride home today. This morning, remember?”

“This morning,” you repeat, nodding slowly. You raise your hand and pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking quickly, mind a mess. “I, uh… right, look, Pete, I actually forgot I have a meeting with Professor Miller about my final essay this afternoon.”

“Your final…” Pete trails off, frowning. “Isn’t that due in like a month?”

“Yeah,” you say vaguely, and do not look at Joel. “I’ll find a way home later, okay?”

“I mean, sure. I guess,” Pete agrees reluctantly, reaching up to grip the strap of his satchel. “Call me if you need me okay?”

And Joel’s face turns to stone at the insinuation in those words. The idea that Pete could give you anything he couldn’t. That anyone would need to swoop in and save you from him.

The pair of you stand in silence for a moment, eyes trained on Pete and Ian’s retreating backs as they head down the hall. You watch and watch until they turn the corner, disappearing from sight, and only then do you exhale a breath of relief.

You contemplate leaving him there. Turning your back on him and returning to Rachel’s lecture, ignoring his texts and letting this all fade into some painful memory. But when you look at him again—at those big brown eyes that gaze back at you—you know you couldn’t if you tried.

“You look tired,” he frowns, and it’s not angry anymore. A little sad, maybe.

“I am,” you admit, and wonder if your face betrays how much of a role he plays in that exhaustion.

“Are you hungry?”

You stare for a moment, blinking slow, and then say, “Yeah.”

Joel nods, attempts a crooked smile, and says, “Let me take you to get something to eat.”

It’s silent in Joel’s car, aside from the soft patter of rain against his windows and the dull squeak of his windscreen wipers sliding it away. The truck glides through the winding streets of Biddeford, cruising down the main road and into the left lane of a fast-food drive thru. Orders you a burger, fries, nothing for himself, passing the bag into your lap and then continuing to drive.

The bun is soft beneath your fingers. Grease soaks your skin, and you taste beef, taste onions so soft, so sweet. A crimson dot of ketchup spattered onto your pants; a bright shock of mustard on your tongue. A fry here and there. Joel’s hand, outstretched fingers, sneaking across the centre console to steal one. You shift the paper bag on your lap, tilt the opening so it faces him, easier to access, but he doesn’t take another.

He grips the wheel and asks, “Do you want me to take you home?”

You think about Pete waiting for you at the house. Think about if Ian and that filthy smirk on his face and whether or not he’ll be there too. Think about having to flesh out your excuse, your lie, and finally say, “No.”

Joel keeps driving. You eat until your pants feel tight and the greasy brown bag is crumpled in your fist and he’s pulling his truck off the road and into a short driveway.

“Full?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

“Is this your house?”

“This is it.” He drags the keys out of the ignition and knocks the door open. It’s not long, barely a second, before he’s pulling yours open with a rough yank and a soft, “Door always sticks on this side.”

A vague sound spills from the back of your throat, and he guides you up a path towards the small home. Single storey, with a large brown door and windows decorating the outward façade. Your immediate thought is that it’s very Joel, but you stop the idea in its tracks. Remind yourself that maybe it isn’t your place to think things like that.

Inside it’s even more silent, even more tense. The two of you stand in the entry way, toeing off damp shoes. Your eyes flit around his front room, but it’s difficult to focus on anything. Too much to look at, too much you want to know, and you find it easier to just look at him.

“Realised you’d never been here,” Joel murmurs after a while. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, decidedly unsure of what to say as he rests beneath the weight of your stare. “This is the, uh, the livin’ room. Kitchen’s over there.”

When you don’t respond, he clears his throat, ticks his head towards the hallway. “Bathroom is down the hall. Bedroom too.”

You feel your face shift. Deadpan stare turns to surprise, to incredulity, to blatant anger.

“Oh, the bedroom, huh?” you smile, sardonic, cutting. Your throat feels tight. “S’that seriously why you brought me here? Ice me out and then come crawling back when you want something to fuck again?”

“Woah, hey,” his eyebrows shoot up, hands drifting forward like he’s trying to calm a startled animal.

“Don’t,” you hold up a shaking hand, eyes wide and wet suddenly. “Just… don’t touch me right now, okay? What are we doing here, Joel? Seriously.”

He says your name hard and fast, surprised by how quickly it’s all unravelling, spilling from you in a tidal wave.

And spill it does. The words are wet and watery, a tsunami of pent up emotions pouring from your mouth without permission, without forethought.

“I mean, we haven’t seen each other since New York. And I… I thought being there changed things between us. But maybe I was wrong… and then you pull me out of a lecture, bring me here and say my bedroom is down the hall? Am I just… do you just like having someone to fuck whenever you want? Is that it? Someone at your beck and call?”

Joel repeats your name, sharper this name. “Don’t put fuckin’ words in my mouth.” His face pinches in anger, hands dropping.

“When it’s not convenient you try to shake me off, but when it is—at a bar, or out of town—” you list them off on your fingers, eyes growing wider and wider. “Oh, you want me then?”

“That ain’t fuckin’ true and you know it—”

“Do I?” you scoff.

“I came that night when you texted,” he implores, voice raising, all wild-eyed and pleading. “You were drunk, and textin’ and you needed a ride.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that—”

“You didn’t ask me not too either,” he crosses his arms across his chest. “You wanted me to come. Don’t fuckin’ deny that now.”

You open your mouth but he’s too quick, matching your spill with his own now.

“And as if you’re any better?” he bares his teeth now, voice low. “As if you didn’t find out I was your teacher and keep fuckin’ me just for the thrill of it. As if you actually wanted me, and you weren’t just gettin’ off on chasin’ some forbidden fantasy.”

“I…” you gape at him, unafraid to let the hurt show on your face. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to think?” he hisses, exhaustion evident in the way he runs a hand through his curls and sags against the door. “You tellin’ me I should believe that you just want me for what I am? A fifty-year-old teacher who spends his time giving fuckin’ speeches to people that are hardly listenin’? Who goes home to an empty bed? That’s what you want?”

And it deflates you, a little. The wounded expression on his face – the devastating truth in those words, splashed across his expression so plainly for you to see. Disbelief.

“Is that such a crime?” you ask quietly. “To want you… and have it be that simple?”

“You shouldn’t,” he shakes his head. Grimaces. “You shouldn’t want me, I’m—I’m no good for you.”

You swallow. Feel tears hot and sharp behind your eyes.

“Then why do you keep letting me?”

“Jesus,” he exhales, and his hand is on the hem of your shirt, pulling you closer, closer, until you’re pressed against his chest, hands coming up to grip his shoulders and steady yourself. “Because I can’t fuckin’ quit you, alright?”

“Because I don’t just want you when it’s convenient,” his lips curl around the word, disgusted by the insinuation. “Because I think about you all the god damn time and if I can only have you some of the time then I guess I’ll take it. Because if you want some fucked up fantasy, then I’ll play my part if it means I get you, I don’t care—”

You cut him off, lips firm and searing against his. He goes still for a moment, mouth parting with a surprised exhale, warm when you press inside with your tongue. And then warmer, salty; tears on his cheeks, on yours.

“That’s not what this is,” you whimper into his mouth, desperate for him to believe it. “It was never about that, it was about you, Joel. I want you.”

He kisses you again, slow. All of the anger and hurt and frustration pools out of the both of you, spilling from your mouths and into the air. His lips mould over yours and his hands are warm on your waist, your back, holding you tight against his chest. When you sniffle, he pulls back, forehead heavy against yours, and sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, eyes closed. “I missed you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for—"

“Where were you?” you interrupt. “What happened in New York?”

He hesitates for a moment, nervous and calculating as he stares you down.

You wilt a little; dejected all over again. Recoil from him and quietly ask, “Why won’t you let me know you?”

Joel’s hand hovers in the air, as if contemplating reaching for you again, but then it drops and he says, “I was with my daughter.”

You blink.

Daughter.

Daughter?

“She lives there now,” Joel sounds a little breathless, cheeks pink as the words spill from him. “In New York, with her girlfriend. I’d planned to spend an extra day there with her, and then Nina—Nina cut her hand open at the studio and we had to go to the ER, and she had to get stitches and—” He pauses, waiting for you to jump in, to interrupt, to say anything. When you don’t, he takes a breath and continues. “And I wasn’t gonna stay any longer but Ellie was worried, and she needed me. She needed me there, and—and I’m never fuckin’ there, because she never needs me anymore. So I stayed, and I’m sorry I went silent but I was… I was takin’ care of my kid.”

You think it might be the longest—and the fastest—you’ve ever heard him speak outside of a lecture hall.

His eyes drift to something over your shoulder and his entire body seems to sag a little. But it isn’t sad. It’s a resigned, sort of relaxed thing that happens – the corners of his mouth tilt up and he smiles weakly.

You turn, follow his eyeline until you see them.

Pictures, so many pictures, lining the walls of his home. Ones you’d paid no attention to when you first stepped inside, but can now see clearly. Bright eyes and wide toothy grins.

Some of Joel younger, leaner, smiling beside a little girl with curly hair. Some of him as you know him now; scruffy and greying, beside a different girl. This one lanky and pale and grimacing toward the camera as if she were forced into being placed in front of it.

There’s one picture of the girls beside each other, teenagers maybe, sat on either end of a seesaw. The curly-haired girl is on the upper end, grinning madly at the lens, while the other sits with her feet planted firmly on the ground, laughing up at her. Two of them. Two daughters?

“Please say somethin’.”

There’s a picture of Joel and he’s holding a tiny little bundle in his arms, and he looks so young and so fucking afraid. Dark eyes wide and teary as he gazes down at chubby cheeks, his index fingers crooked around the edge of her swaddle. A warm feeling swells in your chest and your body softens the longer you look at it. He’s a father.

Joel says your name and when you turn his face is all twisted up, and he looks the smallest you’ve ever seen him. Almost curled in on himself.

“I should’ve told you,” he nods, brown eyes darting across your face in an attempt to decipher your silence. “I know that, and I—”

“I’m an asshole,” you interrupt softly, and the tears never left but now they feel heavier on your waterline. Begging to spill over again.

“Hey,” he frowns, hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb swipes at the soft skin beneath your eye, begging the wetness there to disappear. “Hey, hey, no—”

“I didn’t think…” you trail off, sniffling. A sickly cocktail of embarrassment and guilt and shame swirl in the pit of your stomach and you try to swallow it down, try to send it away, but it’s persistent. “I never stopped to think that something had actually happened, that you had… I feel selfish, Joel, I’m sorr—”

“You’re not,” he hushes, fingers curling into the hair behind your ear. “You didn’t know. I should’ve told you before, and I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were staying away because of me,” you offer a watery smile. “I thought maybe you and…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. Can’t make your lips form the name Rachel.

“No,” he shakes his head, jaw tight, as if reading your mind.

“Is she okay?”

“Ellie?”

“Ellie,” you roll the name around in your mouth. His daughter. “Yeah.”

“She’s okay,” he smiles, nodding. “They’re both fine.”

“And…” You look back at the pictures. Two. “And the other girl?”

“Sarah,” Joel says softly, pointing at wild curls and brown eyes that look just like his. And he must see the questions swirling in your brain because he speaks again. “I was twenty. My, uh, my girlfriend at the time didn’t know what to do. Didn’t wanna be a Mom, but didn’t agree with abortion, and we were so young and… well, I asked her to marry me cause it felt like the right thing to do, but she didn’t…” he shakes his head a little, a faraway look in his eye as he remembers it. “She said no. She never wanted that… so, after Sarah was born, I told her that she didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t have to?” you repeat the words, eyebrows furrowing.

“Didn’t have to stay,” he clarifies. Your lips part, surprised. “So, she didn’t, and we ain’t seen her since Sarah was a few months old.”

“Shit,” you whisper, eyes widening as the information finally starts to sink in.

“And Ellie,” he laughs then, gazing at a picture of auburn locks and shock grey eyes. “Well, that one showed up on my door some time fifteen years later. Been in ‘n’ outta foster care for years, and just started followin’ Sarah home from school one day. We did this little dance for a while; dinners and sleepovers and me slipping money into her backpack so she could buy lunch at school. And then one day she just… begged me not to make her go back to her own house. So I didn’t.”

“Wow, I…” you blink. “You adopted her? Alone?”

“I…” Joel pauses. Wets his lips, frowning as he collects his thoughts. “Alone is… I don’t think that’s the right word for it. You see Ellie was… Sarah and me, we just knew. She was family so fast. It was the only thing that made sense, you know?”

And it does, you suppose. The image isn’t hard to conjure. Joel at the dinner table with two teenagers on either side of him. Arguing over homework, over curfews, over what movie to watch. You can see the fondness in his eyes as he talks about them – the emotion laced through his words; we just knew.

“Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” Joel says, and that line between his eyebrows is back and it’s so deep that you can’t help yourself from reaching up and smoothing it over with your thumb. He catches your hand and holds it against the centre of his chest. Lets you feel the way his heart thuds heavily beneath the skin, a sturdy rhythm against your palm.

“It’s… it’s a lot to take in,” you confess, and his hand tightens over yours. “But I’m glad you told me.”

Brown eyes search yours, gaze heavy. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay then.”

You flex your palm against his chest. Dig your fingers into the flesh there a little.

“Can I…” he hesitates, eyes flickering down. “Do you… Can I kiss you?” You, you, you.

Your heart beats fast, and you feel his do the same, and Joel is a father, and two daughters, and I can’t fuckin’ quit you, and you’re breathing into his mouth yes, yes you can kiss me, please kiss me.

It’s warm and it’s gentle and it feels like such a kindness to kiss him now and feel less space between the two of you. Feels like a thousand apologies and explanations slipping off his tongue and you opening your arms to him, saying I understand, saying thank you for telling me.

And when you pull him closer, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, he meets you in kind, pressing your back against the wall. He shifts his hips between yours and shows you how much he’s missed you, and only when his hand drifts beneath the hem of your shirt do you pause.

He stills, warm breaths drifting across your mouth as he looks into your eyes.

“Talk to me.”

“I’m exhausted,” you admit shyly, twisting a finger through a frizzy lock of hair at the nape of his neck. You tug at it, not meeting his eye, and watch it bounce back into a curl when you let go. He nods and kisses you again, closed lips soft and not asking for anything, never asking for more than you want to give, before he takes your hand and leads you through his house for the first time.

He runs you a bath. Makes you sit on the edge while he lays out a towel and checks the temperature every few minutes. Only when he’s satisfied that the water is perfectly warm does he help peel the clothing from your body. He grips your hand and helps you step into the tub, lowering you down into sudsy water. And when you’re settled, he pulls a stool nearby and sits, keeping you company as you soak.

“S’nice,” you tell him quietly, dragging a foamy sponge across your arms. “Thank you, Joel.”

The weight of before hangs over you a little, pressing down against your shoulders as you watch him. Gauge him. But he doesn’t seem angry or upset anymore. He leans over the lip of the tub. Runs his hands through the water, over the skin of your calf, your knee. Feels the coarse hairs that have grown there over the past fortnight and smiles when they scratch against his palm.

“Said you were sick?”

“Mhm.”

“What kind?”

“Just a cold,” you whisper. He squeezes your knee, palm against your patella, fingers soft in the flesh around it. “M’fine. Past it now.”

In the soapy water, his skin feels like silk against yours.

“Changin’ of the season,” he muses with a nod. “Normally gets me too.”

And you laugh a little at that, because it’s such a fatherly thing to say and you can’t believe how naïve you’d been to not see it before. Can suddenly picture him doing this a thousand times over; resting by the bath while one of his little girls floats in the water, nose all stuffy from the flu.

At the sound of your laughter he smiles, gaze dropping to your mouth, and the skin beside his eyes pinches. Little wrinkles, so soft and so beautiful that you want to reach out and brush your fingers across them.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel murmurs, and his voice is hushed, so low in the small bathroom.

His fingers skirt against the inside of your thigh and you splay your legs open for him, knees knocking against the sides of the tub. He glances down through the water to where you’re spread open for him to see, shameless, and smiles.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he repeats.

“So are you, Joel.”

“Psh,” he rolls his eyes, offering a delicate little smile. So shy, so feeble, and so desperate to believe you. A little glimpse of that wary weight, still pressing down on him as well.

“Mean it,” you insist in a whisper. You lift a hand from the water, wet thumb grazing the corner of his mouth. Feel the bristles of his moustache, the hairs on his cheek, prickling against your skin.

“Swoony type,” you say, smiling when recognition flashes in his eyes. Stroke the fresh blush on his cheeks. “Long hair, bedroom eyes, cheeks like wine.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss against your palm. “Can’t get away with plagiarisin’ Carson in this house, baby.”

“She just said it so well.”

“She did,” he agrees. “So did Tartt.”

“Tartt?” your mind wanes, the warm water lulling you into a sleepy sort of daze. You rest heavy against the side of the bath, gazing up at him

“Beauty is terror,” he quotes tenderly, eyes bold and earnest as he holds your stare. “Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.”

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, water droplets staining his shirt where your fingers grip the material, and pull him forward to kiss you. Joel grips the inside of your leg and kisses you until your skin prunes and wrinkles. And when he notices he laughs with you, gripping your hand to press his lips against fingertips that look like raisins. Worships the soaked skin of your fingers until you pull his face back to yours; jealous of your own hands, fearful that they might come to know his kiss better than your lips.

And when the water goes lukewarm and you don’t know what time it is anymore, he dries you off with a soft towel and offers once more to take you home. But you say no, so he smiles and kisses you again—your lips, your cheeks, your eyelids—and leads you to his bedroom.

He drags a too-big shirt over your head, helps you loop your arms into the sleeves. Dark blue and warm, so warm, against your skin.

The two of you slip beneath the covers on his bed and he drags you against his side; lets you press your cold toes against his shins without so much as a flinch.

Facing each other on your sides, those hands slink beneath the shirt, rough palms cradling your ribs, your back, holding you tight against his chest until your breathing falls in sync. And those hands don’t stray, don’t move down, they just embrace you. A carefully held apology that promises I want this, to hold you, to be with you, too.

It stays like that, nothing more, until your eyelids are heavy, and his breathing has evened out. Stays like that until your hand drops from his back to the band of his boxers, sleepy little fingers plucking at the material, trying to slip underneath.

“You should rest.”

But you whine softly; needy and insistent as your fingers press harder.

“What do you need?” Joel rasps into your neck, helping you shift them down his legs.

“Need you,” you whisper back into the darkness of his bedroom. “Wanna feel you, I—”

His mouth is soft against yours, plucking those words from your mouth and swallowing them down. He sucks your bottom lip between his, prying your mouth open so he can slip his tongue inside.

His hand in on your knee, pulling your leg up until your thigh rests heavy around his hip and you can feel the hot weight of him against your core, still slick and warm and needy from when his hand rested on the inside of your leg in the bath.

And if you’d ever subscribed to the meaning behind words like sin you suppose that once this might have counted as one. An act worthy of being sent to reside in that second circle of hell, reserved solely for those overcome by lust; left to blow back and forth in the storm of their own desire. Two people who cannot touch, should not touch, who hold their hands out to feel anyways. A touch once spiteful, once desolate and removed, now so forthcoming. A touch that says this is the only way it could have ever been. And there can be nothing sinful about it anymore. No more shame or derision behind heavy eyelids, no more you shouldn’t or I’m no good for you. Here you rest comfortably in the hurricane of that second circle, and you welcome the breeze as a comfort.

Lips against yours, Joel feeds his cock to you in slow, careful passes.

Ensures you feel every ridge, every hard line of his body. And with each gentle press inside he murmurs against your mouth. Incessant, low nonsenses of so fuckin’ beautiful and god I missed you and that’s it, baby, I know, I know. His kiss smooth as an almond, tender as a fig. Ripe and wet and tremulous as his tongue finds a home against yours, over and over.

The comforter on his bed stays pulled high, up to your shoulders, and it traps the warmth of your bodies between you.

He coaxes rough, gasping sounds from you with every shift of his hips.

Long fingers grip the back of your thigh, using his hold there to rock your body into his over and over again, slowly, making sure you feel every second of it. Slick seeps out of you around his length, smearing against the inside of your thighs and his, and he groans at the wet sounds that slip from where the two of you are connected.

Joel says your name, low and gravelly, praising every syllable. He tells you how good it feels, how perfect you are, and every word is like an undressing of the flesh. Like you’re some tender butcher, peeling back layers of his skin to let the air hit hot, red, pulsating matter, flashes of thick, porcelain bone swimming amongst it all. He keeps you close, hardly an inch of your body not touching his, and yet you can see all of him. The whole surface and everything underneath it now too. And when you say his name in return and he moans, begs you to say it again, say my name again, it’s hearts on wings, thin fire racing beneath the skin, eyes unseeing, drumming filling your ears. It’s the cold sweat on his hands that hold you shaking, that feel the way you tremble and grip tighter. It’s wanting to take those bones of his and suck them clean; lick past the gristle and taste the marrow beyond it.

It's everything and it’s nothing and it’s that silly little four-letter word that you can’t bring yourself to say, let alone think, and it doesn’t even matter because he’s here and that’s enough.

His nose rests in the hollow above your collarbone and he inhales, smothering soft kisses to skin and bone there.

He says, “You smell like me,” and when he looks up and presses his forehead against yours, he almost looks wounded by it. He stills, holds himself deep inside and just stares, and his eyes are screaming I can’t fuckin’ quit you, so you lay your thumb over the dimple on his cheek and smile. “S’my clothes, my soap…”

Your body flutters and tightens around him, and your mouths fall open in soft moans, lips slotting together again.

“You like that?” you breathe into the kiss, and he tightens his fist around the back of the shirt, pressing inward until your back is arched, and your stomach is flush against his and he’s groaning yes.

“Want you in my clothes all the fuckin’ time,” he pants, and the tip of his cock presses so deep inside that you’re gasping, mouth hanging wide open. “And when you give ‘em back I’ll wear ‘em and smell like you, and then we’ll be even.”

“Even?” you laugh a little, nipping at his bottom lip. He smiles, eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Yeah, even,” he repeats it and presses forward in a sharp thrust to emphasise his point. You don’t need to hear it again to know exactly what he means.

“Tell me you’re mine,” you whisper, and he grunts, hips shifting a little faster against yours. You feel him pulse inside of you, his stomach tightening against yours.

“M’yours,” Joel murmurs, voice like velvet and honey, so soft as he leans forward to kiss you, licking the words into your mouth. You say it back, spell it out against his teeth, his lips, his jaw. Yours, yours, yours.

He says something else then, lips soft against your chin, and you’re so close; can feel it hot and burning in your gut, almost at tipping point.

“Hmm?”

“Baby,” Joel nips at your jaw, sharpening your senses. “Tell me you’re on the pill or somethin’.”

“I am,” you whimper honestly, and his body seems to sag against yours, hips shifting in sluggish, tired movements.

Something snaps at the base of your spine, and you tremble against him, gripping the back of his neck. Soon enough he’s shuddering into you, arms going tight around your back, trapping you against his chest as his cock pumps inside your core. And it’s warm and wet and sticky and his seed drools out of you, down to your asshole, smearing against the inside of your thighs, his sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, holding him to you, keeping him there as long as you possibly can. Riding out your highs, and then the trembling, stuttering aftershocks in each other’s arms. He pants into your mouth and all either of you can say is mine or yours, until the words mix together and become a meaningless blur of sound murmured between locked lips.

It could be minutes or an entire hour before you manage to separate from each other. All eager little kisses and whines as his soft cock slips from your hold, thick spend seeping out of you in his absence. And you just want to sleep, want to curl up in his arms and never leave, but you slink off to the bathroom first. Wet your face and drop down on his toilet. Urinate and feel his come drip out of you. And where once, with someone else, you might have cringed at the feeling, you only feel warmth; calm.

In the bright lighting of his bathroom, you can see yourself reflected in the mirror above his sink. Hair a wild mess, cheeks and lips swollen with warmth. This woman in the mirror stares back at you and she has bright eyes. She smiles at you, and you feel your lips peel back, teeth on show just like hers. You stare at her and think god, she looks happy. When you wipe between your thighs and stand, she does too. And with your finger on the light switch, a wet handtowel clutched in your other palm, you give her one last look before turning out the light, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

Thursday.

Joel sleeps on his stomach. At least, that’s how he ends up overnight.

Face buried deep in a pillow, one leg slung outside of the covers, with a heavy arm out to the side. When you wake, at first, you’re careful not to move. Not to breathe too heavily, not to cough or jostle him awake. He looks so peaceful like this. Heavy breaths puffing from chapped pouty lips, forehead smooth and devoid of the stress and exhaustion that often lines his face. A large hand rests close to you. Despite you drifting a part in the night, the body heat getting too much for you both, his fingers remain outstretched in your direction. The tips just grazing the skin of your stomach as you lie on your side and watch him.

A low murmur escapes from his mouth, face twitching a little, and then he’s relaxing again, humming in his sleep. You smile, and let your eyes wander.

There’s a pile of books on his bedside table, reading glasses dropped haphazardly atop them.

An Idiot’s Guide to Space, one of the weathered spines reads. Interesting.

A framed painting rests above a set of drawers on the side of his room. A vast landscape with a herd of horses galloping across it. Gorgeous hides of orange and brown and black splashed across green grass and blue sky. And on the back of his door… hangs a cowboy hat.

You move slowly, careful not to wake him as you rise and tip toe across the room. Coming to rest directly in front of the closed door, you slip it off the hook and admire it. You don’t even hear his breathing change as he wakes up.

Dark brown with a curved brim; the felt is soft beneath your fingers. The image of Joel wearing it, perhaps often, while living in Texas flits through your mind and you can’t help but smile. And then warm hands are on your hips, arms snaking around your waist to pull you back into a warm chest.

You gasp in quiet surprise, but your smile only broadens when Joel rests his chin on your shoulder, peering down at the hat in your hands.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice gruff and deeper than usual. A pang of arousal swims in your core at the sound of it, but you ignore that, turning in his grasp.

“Good morning, cowboy.”

Joel groans, sleepy eyes drifting closed as he hugs you to his chest, swaying the two of you from side to side.

“Wanted to lie in,” he grumbles. “S’too early for this.”

“For what?” you blink in mock confusion, holding the hat against your chest.

“For you to see that.” He moves quick, tugging it from your grasp.

“Hey—” You gasp, wide eyed and ready to steal it back. But before you can Joel just lifts it onto his head with a heavy sigh. “Oh.”

“Oh?” he repeats, eyes narrowing.

Warmth simmers in your stomach and you smirk, stepping back to give him a quick once over.

“I could get used to this.”

“Jesus,” he rolls his eyes, moving to take it off but you grip his hand, shaking your head fiercely.

“Not so fast,” you coo. “I want the whole experience.”

“And what exactly is the whole experience?”

“You know—” You shimmy your hips a little. Imitate twirling a lasso in the air, wiggling your eyebrows. “Show me some tricks.”

Joel laughs at you, and you can see the desire in him to say no, to refute it, but the longer you stare him down, the more it cracks and fizzles away.

“Go on, cowboy,” you try out your best Texan drawl, falling down to sit on the edge of his bed.

He adjusts his legs, elbows bending as he waves two finger guns in your direction. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down a laugh as he makes a small pchew pchew noise out the side of his mouth.

“Oh,” you smirk. “Is that all you got?”

“I’ll have you know,” Joel huffs, pretending to holster one of his guns. Hip cocked now, still dressed in nothing but his sleep shirt and boxers; he stares you down. “I’m startin’ to think this town ain’t big enough for the both of us.”

And that gets you. A sharp, barking laughs slips from your mouth, and Joel grins in return, the skin beside his eyes creasing as he adjusts the Stetson over his curls.

As your giggles calm, he just shakes his head, still smiling, and murmurs fondly, “Dadgum, you got a good laugh.”

Your face warms beneath his stare, and you just shake your head, bottom lip snagged between your teeth. Moving quick, Joel pinches the brim of the hat and places it onto your head. It’s a little big, and the brim falls down, obscuring your eyesight before he adjusts it for you. Then he takes a step back, hands on hips.

“How do I look?” You bat your eyelashes up at him, smiling shyly.

“I don’t know,” he fakes an air of contemplation, giving you a long look up and down. “Think you might be all hat ‘n’ no cattle.”

“Hey,” you pout. “I’d make a great cowboy; just need a pair of chaps.”

“Well, you can wear the hat and the chaps all you like,” Joel murmurs, gaze heavy. “But you ain’t a cowboy ‘til you prove you can ride like one.”

Your thighs tense and you arch an eyebrow, trying to remain nonchalant.

“Is that right?”

“S’right.”

“Mm,” you hum. You lick your bottom lip and watch the way his gaze darkens, eyes trained on the movement. “Gonna let me show you what I got?”

And so you end up back in bed, straddling Joel while he smirks up at you, long fingers twisting around the hem of your t-shirt. But when you slip a finger inside the hem of his boxers, the movement so reminiscent of last night, he laughs a little and gives you a look that says, really?

You pout, confused. “I thought you wante—”

“Uh uh,” Joel shakes his head. “Not what I meant.”

“Then what?”

“Get up here.” He lifts his chin upward.

Your eyes widen, stomach tensing a little.

Desire warms the inside of your thighs, and you murmur, “You want that?”

“Do I wa—?” he cuts himself off, eyes darkening a shade. “I said, get up here.”

Heart racing, you shimmy up his chest until your knees are planted on the mattress on either side of his shoulders. He smiles, encouraging, and you grip the hem of his shirt, prepared to pull it over your head, but he stops you.

“No,” he exhales, hand quickly gripping yours. “Leave it on for me.” And then he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you can only nod, holding your breath as you wait for him to reach where you want his mouth the most.

Face tucked in the cradle of your hips, Joel sighs your name. A rough exhalation, nose pressed into your skin. And it feels a little silly at first – your face is warm as you stare down at him, the wide brim of the cowboy hat tilting forward.

But then, breath hot and heavy against you, he mouths at the crease where your hip meets your thigh. Slow, drawn-out kisses that have your legs tensing over him, his hands slip beneath the shirt, tracing light patterns into the skin over your spine, all the way up to your shoulders. He keeps going until you’re shivering, a wet trembling mess in his hands, hips twitching forward with every touch of his mouth to your skin until he finally glides his tongue through your folds.

Your breathing hitches as he pants against you, chest vibrating with low sounds as he licks thick stripes up the entire length of your pussy. Eyes closed, he tastes all of you; tongue slipping over every piece of exposed skin that the position grants him. And with every broad stroke of his tongue, he dips inside your weeping hole and finishes with a gentle flick against your clit. So soft and so slow, building you up over and over until finally you break and begin rocking your hips into his face.

Joel grunts at first, a little surprised maybe, but in a second his hands are dropping to grip your thighs, locking you in place against his face.

At first, he guides you. Helps you find a rhythm that works, that feels good. Flattens his tongue and uses his grip to rock you back and forth over his face, groaning as you roll your clit against him, huffing and panting quiet little pleas. But soon enough your fingers are carding through his hair, holding him tight against you as you grind down into his mouth. Sharpening his tongue, he dips it inside of you and then drags upward, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking gently.

You gasp, vision going hazy as you try to keep your eyes on him, try to watch, but it’s too good. He knows exactly what you like, and it all moves far too quickly for your liking. You can already feel your hips winding faster and harder against him, breaths falling shorter, everything in your stomach pulling tight and hot.

Joel can tell – he can always fucking tell – and one of his hands drifts over your ass, fingers slipping between your thighs from behind until his middle finger is circling your entrance.

“Fuck,” you inhale sharply, jaw going slack as he prods at your cunt, tongue lapping lazily over your clit all the while. “Please, your fingers, yeah, ohhh—”

A long finger sinks inside and you moan, head falling back.

“You like that?” he murmurs, pulling back to graze his teeth along the inside of your thigh. A second finger presses inside, and he curls them against that soft spot, fucking you slow and steady until you acquiesce, whimpering yesyesyesfucksogood towards the ceiling.

“Good girl,” he hums, slick tongue finding its way back to your clit.

He eats at you so lovingly. So generous as he lathes firm circles around your nerves, only ever pausing to suck you into his mouth again or press wet, open-mouthed kisses against the entirety of your cunt. Nose buried in the short curls over your mound, he doesn’t let up until your moans turn high pitched; strained little whimpers of his name falling from your lips as you press down harder and harder.

“Oh fuck,” you cry, hips rocking back and forth, faster now. He breathes you in, jaw shifting from side to side, matching the intensity of your movements with sharp flicks of his tongue. And when you fall apart, shoulders sagging forward, he moans, taking and taking and taking every last drop of what you have to offer.

And what an image it must be – you, wearing a Stetson, riding Joel Miller’s face. You almost wish you’d filmed it, for posterity’s sake.

He presses a small kiss to one swollen lip of your pussy, and then the other, before his head is falling back into the pillows and he’s smiling up at you.

The lower half of his face shines, lips and facial hair slick with your come, and you can’t help but grin back, a tired snort of laughter slipping from your mouth.

“How’d I do?” You grip the brim of the hat, tipping it down at him.

Joel smirks, hands squeezing your thighs, helping to shift you up and onto the side of the bed so he can sit up.

“I’d say you more than proved yourself,” he hums, leaning in to steal a kiss. You sigh, whining against his warm wet mouth, and reach a hand down to press it against his abdomen. Shifting lower, you trail your fingers over where his cock strains against his boxers, but Joel just tuts, pulling away and slipping off the bed.

“Hey,” you huff, gripping his shirt and trying to pull him back down, but he just shakes his head, laughing, and drags you to your feet.

“Gonna be late,” he tells you, squeezing your hips and pressing a kiss to your temple. “And you needa eat.”

Late. You’d almost forgotten that you had a lecture this morning. Joel’s lecture.

He turns, rifling in the chest of drawers, pulling out clothes, a pair of socks, while you stand behind him and watch, knees still shaking, with a fucking cowboy hat on your head. After a moment he turns, stares, and a rough laugh hits the air. Shaking his head, Joel grips the brim and tosses the hat back up on its hook before pointing towards the ensuite, telling you to shower.

“You coming?” you ask, and he just shakes his head, tugging on socks before padding towards the hallway.

“Cowboys don’t shower, baby,” he flashes a smile over his shoulder at you and winks. “They just dust off.”

When you make your way out of the shower, Joel is in the kitchen. Ironed black trousers and a neat white shirt cover his frame, and from across the room you admire him. That strong back, the pert rounded muscles of his ass. Fuck.

He manages to over scramble the eggs and burn the bacon because he can’t stop looking over his shoulder at where you rest at his dining table. Head resting heavy in your palm, you smile back at him. And when he puts a plate of food in front of you, you don’t have a single complaint.

The two of you eat fast, plucking little pieces of eggshell out as you go, smiling and laughing shyly as your feet tangle beneath the table. He watches you; makes sure you clear your plate before he takes it to the sink, murmuring something about how he won’t make you sit through me talkin’ for hours on an empty stomach. Says he’s pretty sure that counts as torture somewhere, baby.

And when he turns, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink, you’re staring at him, heart on your sleeve, and he must see it in your eyes. You know that it has to be clear as day; that forbidden four-letter word blazing across your forehead in bold letters.

Joel clocks your gaze and moves to hover over where you sit, wordlessly cupping your face in two broad palms and slotting his mouth over yours. And as he licks into your mouth, tasting the remnants of eggs and bacon and every unsaid word, you start to believe that maybe confessing wouldn’t be so bad. That maybe forbidden is a word you’ve prescribed to this feeling all on your own – that he might just be feeling the exact same way.

But he pulls back, presses two more quick pecks to your mouth and tells you to get ready, says he’ll drive the two of you to school, and the moment slips from your grasp.

Back in his car, you feel relieved to replace the memory of yesterday with this one. Windows down, the air is cool and calm against your skin as he drives you through town, sated, dopey smiles across both of your faces.

A Bob Dylan song drifts from the speakers and Joel sings along under his breath.

“We’ll meet again someday on the avenue. Tangled up in blue.” Voice low and breathy, left hand on the wheel, right hand on your thigh. You nod along to the lyrics, your fingers tracing the veins and tendons on the back of his hand all the way until he pulls over.

“Shouldn’t be seen walkin’ in together.”

“Yeah,” you agree, understanding. “Best not.”

The truck idles on the side of the road, somewhere inconspicuous down the street from campus, and you slip out his passenger door. Close it with a thud and peer in at him through the open window, eyes devouring every part of his face as if you won’t be seeing him within the hour, stood up in front of the room giving a lecture.

The truck peels away from the curb, Tangled Up In Blue still whining from those speakers, and Joel sends a quick wink out the window at you, his face a blur as he drives off. And you just smile, chest warm despite the cool Spring air on your face, walking along in the same direction – because you know exactly what that wink means. And you love it.

Our little secret.

a/n refs:

in Dante’s Inferno he said that those overcome with lust were doomed to the second circle of hell, wherein they would be buffeted back and forth by the terrible winds of a violent storm, without rest. slay.

the bacchae tr. by anne carson [read if you have mummy issues, a massive ego, or just like the idea of frolicking in the woods for a while...]

the secret history by donna tartt [read if you like unreliable narrators, strange professors and stranger students, and the nursery rhyme 'the farmer in the dell']

the end of the affair by graham greene [read if you like weird intense guys and angst and infidelity]

eros the bittersweet by anne carson [read if you're cool as fuck]

thank you for reading! x

#finally am i right?#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut

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