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kidney9-9 · 4 months

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Lesson Learned - Peter Parker

@hollandlover19 asked:

So idk if I’m being annoying with all my requests and if I am I’m really sorry but could you write something about Peter and the reader are both avengers and y/n is Tony’s daughter and they’ve been quarantining at the compound and every time they try to have sex they get interrupted by ether Sam or Bucky and they’ve noticed that they’re always interrupting them at the worst times so Sam and Bucky make a game out of it just to piss peter off by trying to see how many times they can ruin the mood and so far it’s been two months also Peter and the reader are both 18🖤🖤🖤

Hi Natalie, sorry it's so late haha! I hope you enjoy, thank you for sending this in :) I enjoyed writing this! It was so much fun. Steve is in this too! Peter Parker x Stark!Reader [Smut with Fluff and Angst, Happy ending] Warnings: Cursing, smut, creampie, exhibitionist kink, hand job, mention of threesome and foursome, threats, tiny part about sickness, Peter being feral/creepy, small mention of stalking, and betting money Word Count: 8k

When the Avengers crew got hit with a contagious and possibly dangerous virus, you were all ordered to stay at the compound for quarantine until it was completely out of everyone’s system. Unfortunately, it seemed that the virus stayed around in the body for usually about three months. You were glad you had your boyfriend, dad, and friends there though.

It seemed somewhat like a weird staycation, except sometimes you woke up with a fever and a stuffy nose and some days you felt completely normal. The only one that had the worst case out of all of you was Bruce, which was strange for him. He normally didn’t get sick easily, but somehow the virus really got to him. He practically stayed in his lab all the time, trying to find different treatments for his sore throat and stuffy nose.

Today, you had absolutely nothing to do, and so did Peter, so you both had planned on having a fun sexy day without your dad and coworkers finding out. You two were sitting in one of the indoor hot tubs, making out with each other heavily.

“Fuck, rub up on me just like that and I’ll be fucking you against the pool tile.” Peter groaned into your ear as you dropped your head down to his neck, sucking and licking at his sweet spots while pushing your hips down on his. The hot tub was bubbling and pretty hot, but it didn’t stop you two from getting it on.

“Do it, baby, want you in me.” You panted back, rubbing and grinding your clothed pussy against his hard on. He had taken off his shorts a few minutes ago after whining about how tight it was in his swimsuit.

“Uh, fuck, you’re going to be the death of me.” He responded, putting a hand in your hair, and guiding you back to his lips. You opened your mouth and kissed him, groping his tongue with yours, memorizing his mouth.

His other hand had been tugging at your bikini top, undoing it after a few moments of struggle. You two parted just for a second to get the top off of you and he switched spots with you, pushing you up against the tile and humping up against your pussy.

“Take off my – ah, fuck,” You gasped loudly, head falling back as he started to pinch one nipple and kiss and suck on the other harshly.

He understood what you were trying to say, so he tugged on your bikini bottoms and pulled down until they reached your knees and you kicked them off, letting them float in the hot tub.

“Want me to fuck you right here, huh?” He grunted as he pulled away from your breasts. You nodded, panting back.

“Need you now, Peter, please. Want you in me right now.” You begged, pushing your hips back up to his. You could feel his dick press up against your labia, rubbing up on your clit, causing you to have a high-pitched moan.

Right when he started to push into you, the door opened on the other side of the room. Thankfully, the hot tub was steaming, and you practically pushed Peter to the other side of the hot tub and dived underwater, so whoever it was, wouldn’t see what was happening.

“Ah, uh, hello?” Peter called out in rushed pants, trying to calm himself down. He grabbed his swim shorts that were on the pool tile and quickly pulled them on as he heard two different footsteps coming your way.

“Oh hey, Pete! You here by yourself?” Sam called out, gazing around the room, not noticing anything off. Bucky though, narrowed his eyes at the hot tub, looking at the blurry shape under the water.

“Uh, well you know,” Peter tried to stumble through some words, but you popped right out of the water, smiling nervously at the two men.

“Hey guys!” You greeted them.

“What were you doing under the water?” Bucky instantly questioned. You and Peter glanced at each other for a moment, his blush worsening, but you played it off cool.

“Holding my breath, wanted to beat my score from last time.” You explained, running a hand through your hair.

He raised an eyebrow at you, “Yeah? What was the time?” Sam looked over to Bucky, wondering why he was being so curious right now, but started to take off his shirt to get into the pool right next to the hot tub.

“Two minutes and fourteen seconds right now. Should get it higher though, just in case.” You shrugged back. Peter nodded along frantically, still trying to calm himself down.

“Huh, okay, keep up the good work, kid.” Bucky responded, still narrowing his eyes at Peter and you. After a few minutes of chatting, you excused yourself to go to your room while Peter stayed and talked to Sam and Bucky while they swam in the pool.

Peter had to wait until they left, since his boner wouldn’t go down and he really didn’t want them to see that.

He rushed to your room, and you opened it instantly after he knocked. His face was red as he walked into your room, and you shut it.

“That was too close, oh gosh, I feel so embarrassed!” Peter cried out and pressed his hands into his face. You fell back onto your bed, agreeing with him.

“Yeah! Why the fuck was Bucky questioning me like that? He usually is so calm and chill to be around.” You groaned back.

Peter’s shoulders raised up, “He knew. He totally knew, right?” He whispered to you, eyes wide.

You cough in surprise, “Woah, okay, no way. He’s an old ass man, he wouldn’t know what sex is anymore.”

Peter snorted in amusement, “He listens to erotica audio books during his stealth missions, I’m pretty sure he knows more about sex than us.”

You look at Peter with a confused expression, “Why do you know he does that?”

He looked embarrassed as he answered, “I wanted to watch his mission one time, since he’s so cool… He didn’t realize I was listening to the comms, so he put it on.”

You clutched your stomach as you started laughing hard, “Oh shit! Wonder if Sam and Steve know!”

The next time you guys were caught, Peter’s hand was up your shirt, clutching one of your breasts as you moaned into his neck. You guys were in the little movie theater your dad built on as entertainment. You two were thankfully, covered by a blanket.

“Baby, I wanna taste you so bad right now, bet you’d taste delicious.” Peter groaned and you nodded back, tugging him back up for a wet kiss.

“Do it, Peter, lick me.” You whimpered back, pulling away from the heavy kiss. Just as he was unbuttoning your pants, Sam walked into the room with a container of popcorn and a drink.

The lights were low, but you and Peter knew he could tell instantly what was happening. Peter pulled away as Sam laughed awkwardly, “Wow, getting freaky in the theater? I used to do that too with my girlfriend when I was younger.”

Peter’s blush was heavy as he denied it, “Uh no! I was just adjusting the blanket, she’s cold.”

“Yea, I’m pretty cold right now.” You faked a shiver and Sam shook his head dismissively.

“Nah guys, trust me, I get it. But I did text the group chat earlier today that I was hosting a Star Wars marathon at this time. I was just putting some snacks in the room. Pretty sure Bucky, Steve, and Clint were joining me. Do you guys want to stay?” He offered, thankfully looking past the fact you and Peter were just about to hook up in the room.

You didn’t feel like watching Star Wars since you were still feeling pretty affected by what you guys were doing, but you knew Peter was going to be up for it. He looked at you, as if silently asking if it were okay for him to stay and watch the movies and you smiled and nodded back to him.

“Yeah! I love Star Wars so much. How are you starting it? Originals first? Prequels?” Peter cheered himself up and his blush went down as him, and Sam started talking.

You left the room with a wave and a smile, and you went to your room and took care of yourself with a toy there. Wasn’t the best, but it did help a bit.

The next day, Sam was making his breakfast, and Bucky walked in. He muttered a good morning to Sam, and Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise as he remembered what happened yesterday.

“Dude, remember when you told me Peter and Y/n were about to fuck in the hot tub that one time?” Sam brought up, spreading butter on his toast. He grabbed a mug and poured some coffee into his cup, glancing at Bucky.

“Yeah? You still don’t believe me? I practically could smell it in the air.” Bucky scrunched his nose up, recalling the day.

“Well, I caught them in the act yesterday in the theater. It’s a bit surprising, isn’t it? Since Tony is here too, like wouldn’t they be extra cautious not to get caught so easily? I would hate to get caught by my parent.” Sam shuddered.

“They seriously did that… after we caught them the last time? Didn’t expect that of Peter. He seemed like a pretty timid guy.” Bucky shook his head, sighed, and opened the fridge up.

“They’re going to do it again. One of them must have some fucking kink for this shit – or maybe both of them. It’s so funny too, looking at Peter just confirms it. His face is all red and he has this dazed look. And Y/n, well, she’s a pro, can’t tell at all.” Sam laughed.

“Yeah, that’s what happens when the girls gang up every Tuesday for girls’ night. Natasha’s probably been teaching her some spy techniques and Wanda helps her with her expressions for sure.” Bucky threw a guess out there.

Sam laughed harder, “We should probably teach Peter how to hide it better.”

Bucky shook his head immediately, “No, fuck that. We’re going to screw around with them even more. Every single day let’s search for them when we know they’re together. I can guarantee you they’re probably hooking up. Peter should learn that way.”

Sam whistled low, “You’re cold hearted, man. But agreed, I just want to see Peter get embarrassed and flustered again, he looks like a scared little puppy.”

Bucky grinned, “And by the time we’ll end this thing, he’ll be better at acting, then he could get promoted. He’ll thank us for this.” He grabbed a drink from the fridge, opened it and watched as Sam took a bite of his toast.

“Right, well I’m free most of the time, unless I’m doing my running. You know my schedule though.” Sam responded, and Bucky nodded back in agreement.

“I’ll text you when we could start today.” Bucky replied.

Peter wrapped his arms around you from behind, grinning as you turned your head and kissed his cheek. “How’s my baby doing?” He asked, whispering into your ear. You spun around in his arms and kissed him deeply, causing him to pull away for a moment with a dazed look on his face.

“Woah.” He breathed out, “What was that for?”

You smiled sexily at him, “Well,” You tilted your head and pressed up against him, “We didn’t get to finish our session yesterday, right? How about right now we finish it?” You asked, pressing kisses up and down his neck.

He sighed heavily, knees feeling weak at your touch, “Yes, yes, we will finish it right now. Can’t go without you and your pussy for more than a day.”

“Good, so come on, let’s go up to the sun deck, it’s too stuffy in here.” You winked at him and pulled away after patting his shoulder.

He groaned and chased after you as you started to run to the elevator. “No fair! Wait up for me!” He shouted after you and you laughed back.

As you got up there, you quickly pulled your shirt off, throwing it at Peter, who caught it with his reflexes kicking in. You ran towards one of the sun beds, and sat down, taking your shoes off.

“Wait, wait, out in the open like this, is it okay?” Peter asked, breathing heavily. You nodded and shrugged back.

“Come on, the only person who comes up here is Thor, and Thor didn’t get affected by the virus. Didn’t even carry it. So, he’s off doing that gaming tournament, remember?” You responded back, lifting your hand and pulling Peter to sit next to you.

“Oh right, damn, I wanted to join him. He’s gotten good at that new game, they even made a character for him.” Peter oohed back to you. He pressed his hand to your back, sliding up and down as he scooted closer to you.

“Mhm, now enough about Thor and more kissing.” You giggled, and Peter agreed, pressing a kiss to your lips, then another and another, until you were both starting to pant and lay back against the sun bed.

“Fuck,” He breathed out, pushing his hand down your pants and cupping your pussy, “You’re not wearing panties.”

You pressed up into him as he slipped a finger into your vagina, starting to push in and out. “Oh Peter, more please.”

He pressed his thumb to your clit, rubbing it in circles as he slipped another finger in, curling it to hit your g-spot. “Ah fuck! Fuck, more, more!” You cried out and he dipped down and kissed your lips.

The next thing Peter heard though, was the door opening up, and he pulled away from you and practically jumped into the other chair next to you. You were panting and glaring at him for pulling away just as you were building up your orgasm, but he put his hand to his lips, pressing his finger up as a shushing motion and your eyes widened as you realized someone came up here.

You quieted yourself down and adjusted your outfit, and pressed back into the chair as if you were just resting.

Sam and Bucky rounded the corner and waved at you guys. “Oh, hey guys!” Sam spoke up in a cheerful voice.

You faked a smile back and responded, “Hi Sam! How are you today? Hey Bucky! Did you see that you got those packages in the mail this morning?”

Peter, however, was a mess. He was licking his hand clean of your slick, burning red and lips puffy from kissing you so much. You didn’t dare look at him, knowing he would blush even harder if he looked at your face.

Sam snorted quietly at Peter, he thought he looked like a dork, and wow was he really licking his fingers? It was too funny for him. “I’m doing pretty well actually. Just wanted to feel the sun today. Guess we all had the same idea?”

Bucky crossed his arms and watched Peter with a hard expression. “Peter. What are you licking?”

Peter gaped at him and then at his fingers. Fuck. “Well – I uh, I was sweating a bit too much?”

You were mortified at the lie, you wanted to laugh so bad, and wow Peter really didn’t know how to lie right.

Sam looked like he was about to burst out laughing. “Yeah? Maybe you should get checked up on that, especially since we’re quarantined for a virus right now.”

Peter nodded vigorously, “Yes. That. I’ll do that.”

“Did you not brush your hair today? It’s so messy… almost like sex hair. Huh.” Bucky spoke up again, glaring at Peter and you rolled your eyes at his words. So nosy!

“Wow Bucky! I didn’t know you were into my boyfriend like that. Maybe we can arrange something together, especially since you love reading erotica during your stealth missions, huh?” You copied his tone and glared right back at him. You didn’t want him verbally attacking your boyfriend.

Sam barked in surprised laughter, “Erotica? I told you I could set you up with one of my friends!” He was staring at Bucky in a new light.

Peter huffed out a breath of relief for getting the attention off him, he was thankful for you stepping up like that.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at you, “As much as I appreciate your offer, doll, I don’t think your dad and boyfriend would like that very much.”

You just smirked back at him and laid back down, staring straight up. “Yeah, I understand, you’re too nervous to actually fuck, you can go back to your erotica, it’s okay!”

Peter made a noise next to you, practically freaking out that you were jeering at Bucky and calling him pussy for not wanting to have sex with you and himself (Peter). The thought was very much welcomed. He told you how attractive he thought Bucky was and you agreed with him, but he never expected you to voice anything like that to Bucky. Even Sam was attractive to Peter, they were like mac and cheese or a two for one deal.

Sam was having a blast, hearing this and watching this happen. On one side, Peter was freaking out for being caught, and then Bucky started practically interrogating him – and then you were taunting Bucky! Wow, this was fun.

But then your eyes turned to him, “Hmm, you can join in too Sammy, you don’t have to feel so lonely, especially since none of your friends can come over right now.”

Oh, shit, Sam thought, and laughed even harder. He loved your humor.

Bucky though, was exasperated with your words. You were a Stark! Of course, you’d invite him and Sam into a sexcapade with Peter. He hoped Peter was learning how to play cool though, so he could get better at his job. He wondered briefly how you guys knew about his erotica audiobooks though.

“Whatever, I’ve had enough sun now. Think I’ll head back inside.” He excused himself and gazed over at Sam, who was still laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, bye guys! Wrap it before you pound it, Peter!” Sam chortled out another laugh and followed Bucky to the door.

You turned to Peter and sighed, “We didn’t finish again.” You pouted and Peter pressed his head into his hands.

“Next time, there’s always next time.” He promised you.

Turns out, there is no next time when Sam and Bucky were always around! Peter was so pissed off. He just wanted to be with you and have sex with you, but nope! Even in your room, they’d show up and knock and ask if you guys wanted to do something.

A whole two weeks have gone by, and Peter hasn’t been able to fuck you at all. Just a peck before Sam or Bucky or together they’d show up, grinning like mad men.

You were irritated too, but your irritation was more with Peter because he had no clue how to act in front of them whenever they showed up, so you were now initializing sex with him a lot less than normal. You even started hanging out with your dad and Wanda more than with him.

He felt so frustrated. He even asked if you guys could do phone sex, and you shook your head at him and say it wasn’t worth it and you could go do some other things that would be better to waste the time.

He was so close to his limit of blowing up and yelling at Sam and Bucky, but that would attract the attention from your dad, Tony, and wow, Peter did not want to explain why he was yelling at those two to Tony, his boss aka your dad.

He could even picture Tony kicking his ass into the next century by just saying those words to him. He was so protective of you, which was kind of adorable but not when Peter was just a guy who wanted to be with his girlfriend.

“Peter’s still not learning how to tone down his facial expressions. He can’t even lie that well.” Sam sighed to Bucky, sitting down as they put on a movie. Steve looked at the two of them in interest, wondering what they were talking about.

Bucky glanced over to Steve and grinned, “We’ve been catching Peter and Y/n whenever they try to have sex. We’re the cockblocker Avengers.”

Steve looked horrified, “Guys, what? Does Tony know this?”

Sam widened his eyes and shook his head, “Nope, fuck that. We’re not risking that. We just want Peter to learn how to control his expressions and now also learn how to lie better so we can get him a promotion.”

Bucky nodded in agreement, “It’s been a while since this started, I thought Peter would figure it out and get us to stop, since Tony calls him a genius.”

Steve gaped at the two of them, “So you’re telling me that Peter and Y/n are having sex? How long have they even been together for?”

Sam and Bucky were silent for a few moments before they burst into laughter, with Bucky slapping his leg and Sam clutching his shirt. They were laughing so hard that Bucky’s face turned red from the lack of oxygen he was breathing in.

“Oh god! You didn’t know?!” Sam cried out, laughing harder.

“Absolutely not, does Tony know?” Steve seemed alarmed, and Bucky rolled his eyes and calmed himself down.

“That they’re dating? Yes, Steve. There was a whole spectacle last year where Peter got on the floor and asked Tony for permission to ask her out.” Bucky explained.

“Oh! Oh. In December, right?” Steve asked to clarify.

“Right.” Sam nodded back.

“That was when Tony was in that awful mood and caused that international incident.” Steve oohed to himself and shook his head.

“You didn’t know why that happened? Yeah, it was Peter and Y/n.” Bucky sighed.

“Well, that… actually explains a lot around here. I thought they were just good friends.” Steve blinked and nodded to himself.

“Yeah, just don’t mention what we’re doing to Peter and Y/n in front of Tony. Anyway, Peter isn’t learning a thing and I think they’re both in a rut right now. It looks like she keeps turning him down.” Sam spoke up.

“Aw, Peter probably is angry with you guys.” Steve voiced.

Bucky snorted, “Fuck yeah, he is. Nerd has got to learn his lesson before we stop.”

Sam shrugged, “I think he’ll learn within the week, right?”

Bucky shook his head, “No way. At least two weeks.”

Steve narrowed his eyes and thought about this. He knew a bit more about Peter personality wise. He used to be like Peter and Peter used to be like him when they were younger.

“I bet you both $500 that it’s going to take at least a month.” Steve declared.

Sam and Bucky looked at each other and grinned widely, “Deal! You’re on.” Bucky shouted. Sam laughed, “This is a fool’s bet. You could give me $500 now.”

Steve shrugged and gazed back to the massive screen, “Hm, we’ll see who wins.”

Peter and you were finally alone in the pantry. Steve had ordered pizza for everyone and left it out in the dining room for people to come and get, so you two were alone in the kitchen.

“I missed you so much, baby, I love you so much too, fuck I really need you.” Peter pleaded with you, considering if he should get down on his knees and beg you to just even kiss him.

You pouted back at him, “I do too, honey. I want you too, but I’m not in the mood to get caught again and have you acting like a fool.”

Peter shook his head frantically, “Baby, no, it won’t happen this time. I made sure. Look, Steve bought pizza for everyone, and you know Bucky loves pizza so much. He’s going to be eating for at least 30 minutes and Sam loves to watch an episode of a sitcom while he eats and that’s also at least maybe 20-30 minutes. They’re not going to interrupt us.”

You hummed and crossed your arms, “You’re sure? 100 percent sure?”

“Yes, please, yes. I’m begging you, baby. I know they aren’t going to be here.” Peter pushed his hands together and got to his knees, in a praying way.

You gaped at him, “Get up, Peter! You don’t have to do that.”

“I do, I really do. I know I’m unworthy of your pussy but please, it’s like nectar to a hummingbird, baby, please.” He explained.

You laughed at him and pulled him up with your arms. “Come here, silly.” You rolled your eyes at him and kissed him.

He moaned out loud at just the simple kiss. Wow, he was touch starved, he needed you so much. He felt his eyes tear up as the kiss got deeper and he felt your hand in his hair, pulling him closer.

So, yeah, he definitely needed this. He hasn’t masturbated or jerked off in any way these past few weeks, because you were always around and always wanted to fuck too. He felt your other hand go under his pants, and he whimpered, needing more.

“Please, please, touch me, please.” He begged you as you pulled away from the kiss. You giggled at him and nodded, dipping your hand underneath his underwear, and cupping his hard on.

“You’re so needy, baby.” You teased him and pecked his lips.

“I am, I know, please, I want more, please. I’m yours, all yours.” He continued.

You started to jerk him off after you pulled his dick out of his pants. He moaned loudly and pulled you into another kiss, muttering against your lips, “Just like that, please, more.”

His hips started to jerk up as you continued to go faster and within two minutes, he was coming hard and fast and all over your hand and his shirt. He was flushed red, and he had these gooey looking happy eyes, and he had the biggest smile on his face.

You were shocked, he’s never come so fast before. “Peter, baby, you came in like two minutes.” You said, lips parting.

“I love you so much.” He panted and dropped his head against your shoulder. You looked down at his cock, realizing it never even went down. You were even more surprised at that and started to jerk him off again and he moaned so loud and prettily.

He moaned your name over and over and he cried into your shoulder, with actual tears. “Please, more, please, I’m begging you. I need more. I want more.” He cried out.

“Wanna fuck me? Huh, Peter? Want my pussy?” You asked him, pulling him by his hair and kissing down his throat.

“Yes, I want to use your pretty pussy, please, let me, please!” He begged even more, and you quickly got yourself ready, pulling your pants down and pushing a finger down to your pussy to check if you were wet enough, and yes, you were very ready.

You leaned against one of the shelves and showed yourself to Peter, ass towards him. He instantly grabbed onto your hips and with one big thrust, he went into your pussy, pounding hard and nonstop.

“Ah! Fuck, yes, right there!” You moaned loudly, pressing your head against a bag of chips. Peter was muttering nonsensically, but you could hear him say “please, please, please, please” over and over again.

“Keep going, you could do it, come on.” You encouraged him, wanting him to fuck you longer.

You weren’t shocked that you could feel him coming again, inside you this time. He continued anyway, fucking through his orgasm and right into another for himself. His hand came around your hip and down to your pussy, rubbing at your clit as he continued to pound into you.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, yes, shit! Yes Peter!” You felt like you were yelling but you couldn’t help yourself. You were finally coming after so long, on his cock. It felt incredible and you loved it so much.

He was still fucking you, and you were a bit shocked. He’s never done something like this before. After coming twice and working himself to another one? He usually stopped at one and rested for a few minutes and then he could go again, up until about four times.

“Need more, need your pussy, need you, baby. I love you so much. I wanna fuck you for so long, need it.” He panted in the crack of your neck and shoulder, groaning loud as he felt himself start to come again.

So much of his cum spasmed into your pussy and you gasped loudly at the feeling of being stuffed so full. It even started to leak out as he continued fucking your pussy, the sensations leading you into another orgasm so quickly.

You cried out his name, feeling like you were going to collapse now.

He still continued. You didn’t want him to stop at all, and it seemed like neither did he. He was on a roll, and he was locked into your pussy like he couldn’t pull himself out and he loved it.

A knock rang loudly on the door to the pantry. Peter slowed himself but didn’t stop fucking you. “What do you want?” He shouted, uncaring about who it was.

“I need to get some chili flakes for the pizza. I’d be happy if you didn’t ejaculate on them.” Bucky’s voice rang out.

You and Peter both groaned and finally he pulled out, anger steamed practically out of his ears. He barely pulled his pants back up and pushed his still hard dick into them before he cracked the door open and stared at Bucky.

“The chili flakes are with the pizzas out in the dining room.” Peter huffed out, face red still. Bucky rolled his eyes at the guy, still acting flustered.

“Yeah? And were you fucking Y/n in there too?” He asked Peter, grinning teasingly.

“…Uh, nope! Not at all. Was just helping her rearrange some stuff in the pantry.” Peter responded, acting awkward now.

This time you rolled your eyes and pulled the door completely open once you were decent enough.

“Bucky. He was rearranging my guts and if you need some chili flakes, I’m going to inject chili oil into your eyes while you’re asleep. Got it? Good, now more out of my way, I’m going to go get some pizza.” You almost growled at him.

Bucky slowly put his hands up and stepped to the side for you to pass him. He raised his eyebrows, “Mm, yeah, I’m not stopping you, go right ahead to the pizza.” He let you pass.

You looked back at Peter and sighed, “Enough of this. Seriously.” You looked so angry and so done about the entire thing.

After you left, Bucky stood there with his arms crossed and Peter just awkwardly excused himself after a minute of Bucky staring at him.

Yeah, Peter needed to fix this or else you’d stop having sex with him altogether.

You sat next to your dad as he wrapped an arm around you. You picked up a slice of pizza and started eating it, listening to the conversation in the dining room. Natasha and Clint were arguing about which hot sauce belonged on pizza and Steve was trying to meditate it but ended up groaning at the two of them when they switched to speaking in Russian.

“You good, bug?” Your dad asked you as you took another bite. You nodded silently and finished chewing and swallowed your food.

“Yeah, it’s just I’m really annoyed with this three-month thing. I’m getting tired of the people around me.” You practically glared at Bucky as he walked into the room.

Tony nodded to you, “Yeah, you’re sick of your boyfriend, huh? Let me take him off your hands tomorrow, I’ve got a project I need some assistance on.”

You blinked in surprise, “Oh, yeah, sure thing. He loves working with you in the lab.”

Tony smiled, “Yeah, he’s good with technology. But it sounds like I might need to talk to him about being clingy to you.”

You shook your head, “Oh that’s fine, I had a… few words with him. He should understand now.” You thought back to what you said a few minutes ago to Peter and mentally shrugged. If he doesn’t get Sam and Bucky to stop interrupting you guys, you’re going to deny him any kind of physical touch.

And yes, you were going to be so fucking sexy as you do that to taunt him even more.

“Good, you were always good with your words.” Tony responded to you, and you smiled at him. You were so thankful that your dad never found out about any of this stuff. You were sure he knew that you two were messing around together but you didn’t want to bring that up with him.

“Yeah, she definitely is.” Bucky spoke up, into your conversation.

You glared at him again and he barely even acknowledged you. Your dad though, nodded to Bucky, “Right. If she ever stops with our Avengers stuff, she could become a lawyer.”

“Definitely.” Bucky chuckled and grabbed a slice of pizza.

When you knocked on Peter’s door that night, he answered it within a minute. He pulled you into the room with a hug and a smile.

“Hey baby, did you save me a slice of pizza?” He asked and you shook your head.

“No, I’m sorry. Steve made a bet with Bucky about who could eat the most pizza and it all ran out in the end. But… we have to talk.” You worded carefully at the end.

“Talk. Right, yeah, we do need to.” He sighed and sat back on his bed.

“You’ve got to figure this out with Sam and Bucky, and you have to learn how to stop reacting to them so much. That’s why they keep stopping us.” You explained.

Peter started blushing almost on instinct, “But – I don’t know how to do that.”

You sighed, “Baby, you’ve got to learn. I’m sure there’s a bigger picture to this whole thing that we don’t understand right now but try to look at that.”

Peter shrugged, “All I can see is Sam and Bucky finding it hilarious to fuck with us.”

“Well then, once you get them to come and apologize to me and you together at the same time, then we can have sex. Until then, we’re abstaining. I don’t care how long it takes, but you have to do this. You know I have talked to them about it before and they still continue, so you have to try.” You declared.

Peter gaped at you, “But no sex? What?”

“Yeah. Until you do that, I’m going to go buy some new toys. I need to find a toy that pleases me as good as you, please me.” You shrugged at him, feeling a tiny bit bad once his expression drops into something stormy.

“Okay, yeah, I get that.” He sighed deeply.

“I’ll see you later, bye sweetie, love you.” You pressed a long and gentle kiss to his lips and walked away.

Two months. Two fucking whole months and Peter and you have not had sex. Each time he’s tried, he couldn’t face them. It was terrible.

But now?

Now, Peter is pretty sure he can face the god of sex and be unphased if he was caught jerking off.

Each step he took was like he was bouncing off of mountains with how pissed he was and how horny he’s been without any relief. Now jerking off has done no good to him. You’ve been teasing him so much too. You’d wear the shortest fucking shirts ever in front of him and anyone around and just prance around like nothing’s wrong.

You’d wear some of his favorite dresses on you, the ones you two only used in private when you guys wanted to roleplay. The sparkly red one, with a low back? Yes. The short sheer black one where he could see your nipples if he stared long enough. Yes.

And you even wore his shirt with nothing else on – yes, nothing at all, all around the compound. He saw you in it, eating ice cream on the couch in the living room, chatting with Natasha, who was beside you. He sat down across from you and spoke with you guys before you slowly spread your legs deliberately and showed him you weren’t wearing any panties.

He excused himself so fast and cried in the shower when he couldn’t come.

So, right now it was about 3 in the morning. He disabled Friday in Sam’s room and Bucky’s room, shut off the power in their rooms as well. He put some special web fluid in his suit and went into Sam’s room first. He had prepared for this for at least two days, pulling information from everywhere he could find.

He broke every single appliance in the room. Then he barricaded the door and the windows. He made sure Sam had no contact with the outside, and he did so all very quietly.

He woke Sam up by pulling the blanket off him.

“Woah, what’s going on? Peter?! What the hell? Friday, turn the lights on!” Sam yelled out. When Friday didn’t do anything, Sam sat up in his bed, staring up at Peter, who was standing on top of the bed frame at the end, staring down at him with a hard expression.

It scared the shit out of Sam. He could barely see anything in the dark, but Peter’s face was something he could focus on, with some of the light coming from beneath his costume.

The usual shinny light in his eyes were gone. His happy-go-lucky expression was wiped away. There was a blank and dark look on the man’s face and it terrified Sam. This was not Peter Parker. This was a monster.

“Peter, come on, you’re scaring me… What’s happening?” Sam stood up, and tried walking to the door, but it was completely blocked. Sam looked over to the other escape routes in his room, which were blocked too, all thanks to Peter.

“You’re going to stop bothering me and Y/n.” Peter spoke up.

“Uh, come on, those are just jokes me and Bucky play.” Sam shrugged, trying to get Peter to calm down.

“How long has it been since you last spoke to your sister?” Peter brought up, voice void of emotion.

“Peter?! How the fuck do you know I have a sister? Did Steve and Bucky tell you?” Sam’s voice got louder.

“She’s sleeping at the moment. I have a camera in her room. She likes wearing that snoopy shirt to sleep, doesn’t she? I can tell. Did you know she leaves her window in the bathroom unlocked? She likes to leave it open when she showers. She uses those lavender bath bombs that CVS sell for $7 but she always gets them with an online coupon.” Peter chuckled.

Sam stayed silent in terror. This was scary, this was becoming his worst nightmare.

“I like to check in on her a lot. She has a kid too, your nephew, yeah? Isn’t it funny his favorite Avenger is me, Spiderman? I sent him a package as a thank you. It means so much to me. Do you remember third grade performance in a reenactment of the New York battle? I certainly do. He played an alien character. Remember what his line was? ‘Don’t kill me, oh mighty avenger!’ I love that line so much. It reminds me of what’s happening here, right? You’re the little bitch standing scared in the corner and I’m about to fuck you up.” Peter continued.

Sam practically curled himself up into a ball in the corner of the room. He stared in horror at Peter, thinking that these past few months haven’t been the smartest thing – with what he’s been doing with Bucky.

“Don’t bother me and Y/n again. I’m not asking. I’m telling you.” Then he raised his arm up and pointed at Sam.

He activated the web shooter and shot the new web fluid at him.

The web fluid was disgusting. Instantly, Sam started gagging and he tried pulling it off but once it stuck onto his skin, it wouldn’t move. The fluid hardened slightly, then started growing and growing and Peter pushed the desk away from the door and walked out.

Sam was left trapped in a corner in the dark, yelling out helplessly for anyone to listen to him. The fluid expanded to the rest of the room, trapping Sam in an uncomfortable spot. It would be hours before someone was alerted of the mess, and it would take another 16 hours to dissolve the web fluid and to get him out of the room.

Sam understands now to never fuck with Peter Parker or you ever again.

Peter was going to do something different with Bucky. He’d wake immediately if someone walked into his room, so he had waited outside his door and just breathed a bit heavily, knowing Bucky would eventually wake up and feel uneasy because he sensed someone outside his room.

Peter covered himself in an ooze that Bruce had developed during the quarantine in anger. It was a jelly type consistency that always smeared and spread and caused those that came into contact with it to slip around and feel itchy.

Yes, Peter felt uncomfortable, but he had the solution that undid this mess on him. He’d use it once he was done with Bucky and then go shower.

It only took two minutes for Bucky to open the door, armed and ready for an intruder. Peter flew himself into him and the knife slipped off of his body easily. He wrestled around with Bucky as Bucky started to understand who he was.

“Peter? What on Earth…Get the fuck off me, kid.” Bucky grunted, trying to kick Peter in the gut, but struggled when the goo got on him and started to spread.

Bucky started to itch like crazy, and he let Peter go as he started to itch everywhere. “The fuck did you do, kid?” He questioned, trying to stand up. Peter grasped the side of the wall and activated his suit to stand up.

“You’re going to be left like this for two days. This is my response. You’re not going to bother me and Y/n again.” Peter started off. Bucky just stared at him incredulously.

“You’re hard to intimidate. But I got the information… Did you know your sister donated her eggs? I do. You have some blood relations left in this world. Ouch, does that hurt you to hear? Especially since I can give this information to anyone here. Don’t you think Steve would want to go talk to them? You don’t want that though. You just want to be alone after what happened with your sister. Do you remember where you kept her letter to you? The one that told you she forgave you for leaving back then. I remember the lines, ‘James, dear, I love you and will always have a piece of love for you in my heart throughout the rest of my life. Remember when we’d fight over who got the last of ma’s cookies? Every time I bake her recipe, I think of you.’ Oh, so sad.” Peter voiced out.

Bucky immediately tried getting up to go beat the shit out of Peter, but he couldn’t.

“I have a copy of the letter. Do you want me to show Steve the part where she talked about him? Oh, you don’t? Okay, so don’t fucking mess with me and Y/n again. Or I’m going to release all the information I have on you. It will flood the internet and the streets. This isn’t a question, this is a statement. You can see this as a threat, I see this as a promise. You should know I don’t break my promises so easily. And I’m going to fuck my girlfriend whenever I want, without you interrupting.” Peter finished and smiled at him.

Bucky stopped thrashing around and just stared at Peter.

“You’re learning. Oh, thank fuck, finally. You didn’t have to do all this shit. You just needed to learn how to take things with a straight face and learn how to lie.” Bucky sighed deeply then laughed and shook his head.

“I was going to put word in with Tony to promote you too once you learned. But huh, you’re learning another kind of lesson that I didn’t expect you to ever learn. How to be a badass motherfucker. Wow, this modern world surprises me still.” Bucky chuckled.

Peter stood frozen, “You wanted to promote me?”

“I did.” Bucky noted back.

“…Do you still want to promote me?” Peter nervously asked.

Bucky tilted his head at him and smiled, “Ask me again once I can stand up.”

Peter groaned, “Nope, I know you’re going to punch me. Not falling for that.”

“Hah, looks like you’re learning not to be so gullible too. Good job.” Bucky laughed again and sat in the mess. He just continued to itch himself like crazy.

“I’m leaving now.” Peter said, leaving with a strange feeling in his chest.

He could’ve been promoted. Wow. That’s awesome! But you know what’s even more awesome now, he can finally have sex with you again.

“Baby! I did it! I got them to stop bugging us.” Peter spoke up, grabbing your hand to hold it. You smiled back and laughed cheerfully.

“I saw! You did great. Thank you, sweetie. We can do stuff together now.” You pulled him into a hug.

“Want to go try that new simulator together? We can have sex in a meadow! It’s like VR but better.” Peter asked and you nodded happily.

Your eyes widened, “Oh shit, that’s awesome. But what if we could have sex somewhere even more crazy then?”

“Yeah! I love when it’s a crazy spot. Makes me feel a thrill.” Peter exclaimed and you agreed. You two ran to the room, laughing when you saw Sam right behind the wall. He absolutely heard the entire conversation.

“You guys are insane exhibitionists. What the fuck.” Sam muttered.

A week later, Sam and Bucky handed each their payment to Steve. Once Steve saw and heard what Peter did to the two of them, he was shocked. Never did he think that Peter was capable of something like that, but Steve understood the feeling that once he was pushed, he’d also do something similar.

“At least he learned something.” Sam brought up.

Bucky shook his head, “Don’t know if it was worth being itchy and slippery for two days. Bruce had to recreate the solution to get it off me since Peter stole all of it and used it on himself.”

“I have trauma now. I don’t think I’ll ever see him as a little puppy anymore.” Sam revealed.

Bucky snorted, “Welcome to the club. Trauma is the only thing I know best.”

Steve shook his head at the two, “Well, I guess you guys have to move onto something else now. We still have about two and a half weeks till we should be safe to go outside again. Want to start a puzzle with me?”

Sam instantly denied him, “Nope, not again. You only buy the super hard puzzles with dull images. It’s sad. Bye.” He walked away.

Steve looked at Bucky with hopeful eyes, “I’m going to go… do something, yeah. Bye Steve.” Bucky spoke up.

Steve sighed at his friends’ actions. At least you and Peter could have fun together again.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader smut #smut #marvel smut #marvel x reader

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leonkennedynendoroid · 11 months

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NSFW/GN READER. idk what this is sorry if it doesn’t make sense at any point(s) i just kept pressing keys until words appeared on the screen….i need to have es E. ex with leon :P

grrrrr i need my sweet little bf leon losing his mind the first couple of times he has sex. i’m talking about him biting his knuckles with every inch he slides in deeper, groaning low in his throat when he drops his head forward to watch the movement with wide eyes and— fuck, no more. that’s a lot. he needs to look away, somewhere- anywhere else if he wants to hold back.

his eyes travel up your body quickly, chewing on his bottom lip in desperate concentration as his gaze lands on your face. it feels as if he’s walked straight into a trap; your eyes on his, although unfocused, every open-mouthed breath, even the gentle rise and fall of your chest makes heat pool low in his stomach… he needs to cut himself short, again. he can’t catch a break, so caught up in you he’s nearly embarrassing himself. you deserve so much better, he thinks with a rough swallow. in an attempt to pull himself together, he opts to quickly shut his eyes. just for a second.

it’s always the first thrust- slow and controlled that makes him hiss through his teeth, knees going weak when he sinks back in. he has to fight to keep his eyes open now, repeating the movement with a long, shaky sigh. if you had the cognitive capability at this very moment in time, you’d be able to notice the prominent strain of his abdominals present each time he plunges into you. it’s still so new for him, yet addictive enough to have his body screaming more. a kind of pleasure that runs up his core and spreads down his thighs.

only momentarily is he aware of his grip tightening on the back of your thighs, sweaty palms and thick fingers digging into your skin acknowledged in but a passing thought. it’s getting harder, so much harder to keep his pace gentle and sweet like he believes you deserve, leaning forward and dropping a little more of his weight on top of you to plant a chaste kiss on your head in apology, eager hips meeting yours in a syrupy grind he could revel in for hours. it’s a rhythm he could get lost in and deliciously impatient with, his dick throbs at the idea. he’ll need to find another time to explore it.

knowing you’d probably kill him— maybe not kill, just a slap to his shoulder, calling out his name in a harsh complaint of embarrassment— if he confessed to taking it easy on you melts the guilt right out of his system as his body continues to perspire. the shift in angle has you crying out as he begins hitting even deeper now. seeing, hearing, and feeling you like this has an airy moan leaving his lips, shuddering against you hard in unison.

leon absolutely does not have it in him to stop now- the intensity of the ache in his pelvis growing impossibly difficult to ignore with every sloppy, wet thrust. seeing you arch underneath him with a whine, feeling your fingers encircling his wrists tightly as he pumps into you, is dizzying. he’s growling with it, the power behind his hips sending hot licks of pleasure right up your spine. god, he never wants this to end.

the state of you right now- and the sight too, he thinks, is the closest he’ll get to heaven. to feeling heaven. it makes his strong hips stutter, rhythm faltering as he begins to give in. it makes his whole body jostle above you, his eyes clenching shut with a long drawn-out whine, and it makes him cum. it makes him cum, over and over, and over again. how has he gone most of his life without this? without you? he thinks deliriously, collapsing against your thighs still lifted and folded at your chest as he ruts into you insistently a few more times, in hopes of prolonging his orgasm. greedy.

he did better this time, with holding off and all. leon’s sure of it. he definitely lasted longer than last time, right? he opens his eyes back up with a content sigh to scan your face, looking for reassurance and a confirmation on that thought. he’s immediately met with the sight of a stupid grin plastered on your face instead, lips trembling gently as if you’re biting back a hard laugh. ugh, was he that far off? he must’ve gotten ahead of himself. maybe next time.

who is he kidding? this is going to take a lot of practice.

#blehhhhhhhhhhhh he’ll always be on my mind #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #how do i tag this omg LFMAKFKKW IM SORRY IF OM ABUSING THE TAGS!!#leon kennedy x you #resident evil x you #leon kennedy imagines #resident evil imagines #lolididthis

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sebastianstanisahotmf · 6 months

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Forbidden fruit

Steve Rogers x Fem!reader

A/N Hey guys I'm re-posting all my fics. Also all mistakes are my own and comments, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated xoxo

18+ MINORS FUCK OFF YOU'RE NOT OLD ENOUGH (I WARNED YOU)

Summary Your dad's best friend, Steve pays you a visit. (idk how to summarise this)

DO NOT REPOST ON ANY OTHER APPS/SITES. THE ONLY PLACE THIS FIC IS ON IS TUMBLR.

Warnings fluff, Unprotected sex (use protection because you're not fictional), daddy kink, squirting, spitting, the word slut used like once or twice and one slap.

You weren’t expecting anyone today. Between your dad being at work and the lack of plans on your part you didn’t expect the loud knocks on the door at 4 o’clock in the afternoon. You cautiously tiptoed over to the door and looked through the peephole. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding when you saw it was Steve. You opened the door with a smile and tried not to stare at the man in front of you. After all he was your dad’s best friend.

“Hey darlin’ is your dad in?” Steve questioned while looking you up and down.

You were wearing some sweatpants and a t-shirt that belonged to your dad. You were home all day so you didn’t bother to put nicer clothes on.

“N-no” you stuttered trying not to focus on the wetness that is now soaking through your panties.

“He told me he wasn’t at work today” Steve said while walking into the kitchen to help himself to a beer.

“He said something about an emergency. I’m not sure though I wasn’t listening properly” you replied.

“I thought you were a good girl” Steve replied with a smirk.

You could feel your cheeks heating up with the praise.

“I-I was in the shower when he told me”

I wish I was there Steve thought as he looked at you hungrily.

“Actually I was here to see you princess” Steve said while watching your face closely.

“me?” you questioned.

“yes. I wanted to know if you meant to send me the photos of your pretty tits and the video of you playing with your pretty pussy.”

Oh my fucking god y/n you thought to yourself. “o-oh I-I’m really sorry Steve t-they weren’t meant to be sent to you.”

“who were they meant for then? Because they better not have been for a boy who doesn’t know how to treat a girl like you right.” Steve said bitterly. “Have you had sex with him before?” you nodded slowly watching Steve’s face for his reaction. “how many times has he made you cum?”

“well...” you replied looking at the floor.

“You’re joking. He had a pretty thing like you at his fingertips and he didn’t make you cum once. I think we should make another video to show your friend so he knows how to treat a girl like you.”

“I-I don’t think we should do this,” you replied.

“He’ll be home in about 45 minutes. That’s more than enough time to get those sexy legs of yours quivering and you screaming my name like a prayer.”

All you could do was whimper in response as Steve stepped closer to you. He brought his hand up to your face and brushed his thumb over your lips. You opened your mouth, and Steve pressed his thumb onto your tongue. You closed your lips around his thumb and sucked, which elicited a deep moan from Steve. He removed his thumb from your mouth and softly grasped your chin to make you look at him.

“Before we do anything, I want to set some rules,” he said sternly.

“O-okay,” you whimpered.

“Firstly, I need to know if you know what the traffic light system is.”

“I, umm, I know what it is.”

“Good girl. I want you to use it at any time, especially if you don’t like something that I’m doing or if you just want to slow down. I don’t care about anything but your well-being. Do you understand?” he questioned in a serious tone.

“Okay,” you replied while crossing your legs.

“Secondly, I’m going to have my way with you, but if you disobey me, I will have to spank you. And most importantly, you are to call me daddy and only daddy. Am I clear?”

“Y-yes, daddy,” you almost whispered.

“Good girl,” he growled.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you flush against his chest.

“No bra?” he questioned.

You shook your head. You put your left hand on his chest and your right one on his cheek. He leaned down, and you reached up to meet his lips. It started off tame until Steve licked across your lips. You instantly opened your mouth and welcomed his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues fought for dominance, a fight that would always be won by Steve.

He moved his hands to your ass and told you to jump.

You pulled back. “Are you sure?” you questioned.

Steve looked at you like you were crazy. “Did I stutter? I said jump. So you’re gonna jump, and I’m gonna carry you to your bedroom, and then I’m gonna fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before. Better than any guy your age can.”

You decided that Steve didn’t care and jumped. He caught you and wrapped your legs around his waist. You started to kiss him again as he made his way upstairs with you. Luckily you had left your bedroom door open do all he had to do was kick it so you both could fit through the doorway. He dropped you on your bed and then started to strip his clothes off. However, you were visibly disappointed when he didn’t take his tight boxers off. You could see his bulge and it looked too big to be real.

“see something you like?” he said with a smirk on his face. Then, he looked you in the eyes and said “strip. I want everything off.”

“ok daddy” you replied whilst taking your clothes off with shaky hands.

Once you got your panties off, Steve took them out of your hand and put them on top of his pile of clothes.

“they’re mine now”

All you could do was whimper in response.

“lay back” he ordered.

You did as he said and then he laid down on his front between your legs. He grabbed your thighs and wrapped them around his head.

He looked up at you and said, “I want you to suffocate me with your pussy. I mean it, if I die then I’ll die a happy man. Also, I want both hands in my hair. They move, I stop. Do you understand?”

“y-yes daddy,” you replied a shiver running down your spine.

You buried your hands into Steve’s soft strands of hair and pulled which made him groan.

He leaned forward and you tightened your legs. He smiled to himself before he dived in. He started with long languid licks from your hole to your clit. Making sure to leave nowhere untouched by his tongue. He licked into your pussy while his thumb swiped over your bundle of nerves.

You pulled hard on his hair making him groan once again. He shook his head so he could get deeper and decided to change his tactics.

He rubbed two fingers up and down your wetness, pushed them inside and curled them. The moan you let out made Steve grind his hardness into the mattress. He started to suck on your clit and you pulled as hard as you could on his hair.

“OH FUCK DADDY.” You screamed. “I’m gonna cum I’m gonna cum I’m gonna cum.” You chanted.

Steve carried on what he was doing. Well he had no choice. Your legs were so tight around his head now that he couldn’t move. He couldn’t be in a better position if he tried. It was like being in heaven.

You let out an earth shattering squeal as you came. Steve carried on as your legs quivered and your hands tried to push his head away. The overstimulation feeling like too much. Steve added another finger and curled them hard against your g-spot. He got into a rhythm of harshly thrusting his fingers in and out of you while he sucked as hard as he could on your clit.

Then, a weird pressure started to build. One that you had never felt before. It felt like you needed to pee.

“daddy it feels weird. Daddy I’m gonna cum gonna cum again.” You shouted.

He carried on with his movements and then suddenly he pulled his fingers out of you. He continued you roughly rub two fingers across your clit even as you writhed and your legs shook. He put an arm across your waist as he continued his ministrations.

Then suddenly you came. Your release squirted out of you while Steve continued to rub your swollen and almost painful bundle of nerves.

“DADDY!” You squealed and then you shouted, “YELLOW.” The feeling was pleasurable but it felt too much. You just needed everything to slow down.

Steve removed his hand and put his other one on your cheek as his thumb stroked the skin under your eye.

“Are you ok baby? Do you want to slow down or stop?” he asked in a soft voice.

“I just want to slow down. It just got a little too much. I can go again now. I-it’s just that I needed a break.” You breathlessly replied.

“Ok baby but if its too much just tell me. I won’t be mad.”

“ok daddy.”

Steve leaned down and whispered “good girl” into your ear making goose bumps form all over your body.

“Daddyyyyy.” You whined. “I need you”

“what do you need baby?” he said while smiling softly at you.

“I need you inside me. Please please daddy!”

“Good girl. Such. A. Good. Girl.” Steve punctuated each word with a kiss.

He started to kiss from your lips to your neck where he started to kiss and bite you leaving a trail of marks. You tangled your hands into his hair, pulling on the strands.

Steve groaned as he grinded his erection into your leg. He kissed down to your breasts where he sucked your left nipple into his mouth. He bit down on it which made you groan. He then switched his attention to the other nipple.

Once he felt like your nipples had had enough attention, he started to kiss his way back up to your lips.

He sat back on his legs and started to remove his boxers. As he pulled them down his legs, his large cock sprung up and laid flat against his stomach. The red tip was leaking a steady stream of precum.

You sat up and reached out for Steve’s cock and grasped it. You started to pump his cock up and down occasionally twisting your hand as you reached the sensitive head whilst using his precum as lube. He let out a loud groan.

You got closer so that you could lean down and take his member into your mouth. You sucked harder as you got to the tip. Once you had a steady rhythm, Steve put a hand on either side of you head and started to fuck your mouth.

“If you need me to stop just tap on my thigh twice” He gritted out.

He held your head down so that your nose was buried in the hairs at the base of his cock. Then he pulled back and carried on thrusting into your mouth. As he got close to cumming, he pulled out and picked you up.

Steve laid you down on your back and then kneeled between your open legs. He shuffled closer and grabbed his cock. He started to run the tip up and down your folds.

“Daddy please. Fuck me please daddy please!” you pleaded desperately.

“ok, ok, baby” he said looking at you with lust blown eyes.

He grabbed his member and pushed it inside you. You moaned and you arched your back as he slowly entered you. Steve stilled for a few seconds to let you get used to his size.

“Steve please!” you begged, desperate for Steve to pound you into the mattress.

“what did you call me?” Steve snarled and slapped you around your face.

You moaned and clenched around him making him hiss.

“sorry daddy sorry I just want you to fuck me. PLEASE!” you pleaded.

“you want me to fuck you really hard do you?” Steve said as you nodded your head. He chuckled and then put his hand around your neck squeezing gently. “ok then I’ll fuck you but don’t expect me to stop you slut.”

Steve started to pound into you. His hips slapping against yours while his balls slap against your ass. His thrusts were quick and sharp not allowing you any time to move away.

Steve grabbed your legs and put them over his shoulders. He leant down and you were practically folded in half. What he did next surprised you. Steve used his spare hand to hold down your jaw while he spat into your mouth. He removed his hand and you automatically swallowed and opened your mouth again.

“Such a fucking slut wanting my spit. Dirty girl.” Steve said while spitting into your mouth again.

You swallowed. Then, Steve snaked the hand that he used to open your jaw down to your clit and started to rub it quickly. Your legs started to shake and your back arched off the bed.

“Are you gonna cum my dumb slut?” you nodded. “Tell daddy. Tell him you’re a dumb cumslut” Steve started to thrust faster which you didn’t know was possible.

“I-I’m a-a cumslut. D-daddy’s cums-slut. I’m gonna cum daddy. I’m gonna cum.” You sobbed while your legs shook and the feeling at the bottom of your stomach grew.

“that’s it good girl” Steve groaned. “good girl, such a good girl for daddy.”

That’s when the band inside you snapped and you came for the final time. Your last released squired out of you and drenched Steve’s cock and thighs.

“good girl. Such a good cumslut.”steve moaned his thrusts losing their rhythm. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, gonna cum”

“daddy cum inside me please daddy please. Want your cum inside me. Please!”

That was it for Steve. He was a goner. His hips stilled as his spend pumped inside you.

You both stayed like that for a while until Steve suddenly got up. You whined at the loss of contact but your attention was now on Steve picking up your phone.

“Open it please baby. I want to send a video of my spunk dripping out of you to that little shit who thinks he deserved you”

You whimpered at his possessive tone and took your phone out of his hand to put the password in. Steve then clicked on the camera and took a video of your still pulsing hole which had his spend leaking out of it.

Steve stopped the video and sent it to your friend. Then he laid on top of you with his head on your breasts while you ran your fingers through his hair.

You both stayed like that for a while until your phone rang. Steve rolled over beside you with a groan and you picked up your phone.

“shit, it’s my dad.” You said as you answered the call. “Hey dad what’s up?”

“Nothing sweetheart I’m just calling to say I’m gonna be home 30 minutes late today.”

“o-ok I’ll see you later. Bye dad, love you”

“bye love you too.”

You put the phone down and looked at Steve with a smile on your face. “we have an extra 30 minutes”

“good. Now I can take care of you the way you deserve.” Steve picked you up and took you to the bathroom down the hallway.

He sat you on the toilet so you could pee while he went back into the bedroom to take the sheets off your bed. After you were finished in the bathroom, you called Steve back in. He picked you up again and placed you on the counter.

“where are the towels?” Steve asked.

“in the cupboard under this counter.” You said, smiling softly at Steve.

“ok then darlin’. You get the shower going and I’ll get a change of clothes and towels ready before I join you.” He smiled and then slapped your ass when you walked over to the shower.

You yelped in response but carried on with the task you had been given. Once the shower was to your preferred temperature, you got under the spray and got your hair wet.

Just as you were about to reach for your body wash Steve had entered the shower and came up behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your hair. You turned around in his arms and leaned up to kiss him.

Then you reached out for your dad’s shower gel and squirted some of it on a loofah. Then, you thoroughly cleaned Steve’s body and then his hair. Once you had finished, Steve decided to return the favour.

These simple acts felt intimate but you knew you couldn’t have a relationship with Steve. It was like he was forbidden fruit since he was your dad’s best friend. How would your dad react to that?

After Steve had finished cleaning your body and hair, you both got out of the shower. Steve decided had that you didn’t need to walk yet.

He put you down once you reached the bedroom and then you both started to get dressed which gave you an opportunity to look Steve over and appreciate his chiselled body.

“you’re staring baby” Steve said while laughing.

Your cheeks started to heat up again but that was short lived since Steve dragged you back into bed so you could cuddle. Your head was on Steve’s chest while his arm was around you and your leg was thrown over his waist.

Your peaceful moment was torn apart by the sound of a key in the front door. You and Steve jumped out of bed and started to panic

“hey its OK, I’ll quickly go downstairs and tell your dad that you was getting changed. Ok?”

“ok I’ll wait a few minutes before coming down stairs then” you agreed.

“good girl” Steve whispered in your ear before kissing you on the lips and then on your forehead.

He ran downstairs and into the kitchen to pick up his beer and talk to your dad. All this happened while you were still thinking about what you and Steve had just done and how it would change your relationship.

Taglist: @buckys-wintersoldier @nicoline1998enilocin

#Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x reader #Marvel #Mcu #Steve Rogers x reader fluff #Steve Rogers x reader smut #Fluff #Smut #Steve Rogers fluff #Steve Rogers smut #Captain america #Captain america x reader #Captain america fluff #Captain america smut #Chris evans x reader #Chris evans smut #Chris evans fluf

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macabr3-barbi3 · 13 days

Text

pretty wings- Vox/fallen angel!Reader

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55237840

A Good Samaritan- a rare commodity in Hell- helps Vox to his car in the rain. How can he ever repay her?

Tags: wing kink; angel wings; fallen angels; vaginal sex; couch sex; fantasizing; begging; switching? maybe idk; Vox has a lil crush <3

💙❤️💙❤️💙

How it still manages to rain in Hell when there is no real atmosphere, he would never understand. Vox had never really liked the rain, even when he was alive- all it ever meant was canceled plans, systems going down, deep shitty puddles that got his shoes and pants wet and dirty. Like now, standing off the back porch of the restaurant he had just finished a meeting in, waiting for his fucking assistant to answer his goddamn phone and call a driver for him so he could go the fuck home since he couldn’t walk to his car.

He had been standing under the awning of the restaurant for twenty minutes now. The rain showed no sign of letting up, his meeting partners had all left, and Vox was fucked. He couldn’t go back inside- what kind of fucking loser goes back into an establishment after paying their tab, and for what? To ask for an umbrella? He’d rather die again. And if his assistant didn’t pick up his phone real fucking soon, someone would absolutely be dying today.

“Excuse me, sir?”

He sighs internally, sets his charm to its max setting and the brightness of his screen up before he turns towards your voice. “So sorry, doll, I’m afraid I’m all out of time for photo ops today!”

You raise an eyebrow, and he lets his gaze travel over your form. You looked relatively normal for a demon, your face still pretty human besides the two horns that came off your skull. Your eyes were wide and yellow, a heavy coat draped over your shoulders as you looked at him- not that much shorter, he noted, which was a nice change of pace from talking to Velvette all the time and having to crane basically in half to meet her eyes.

“That’s… not what I was going to ask.”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes, and can feel his screen glitch on his smile as he watches you. “An interview then? Look, you can contact my people but I am really not in the-”

“What I was going to ask,” you interrupt him, and Vox fights down the wave of annoyance at having been cut off, “was if you needed help.”

His face screws up and he means to immediately deny. “Absolutely not. I’m perfectly fine-”

“Are you?”

And that was going to get annoying fast if you kept doing that, he thought to himself.

“You’ve been standing out here for close to half an hour and glaring at your phone. I don’t think its crazy to assume that you need some assistance with something having to do with the rain.” You look him over, much the same way that he had done to you. “I would imagine that the whole ‘TV head’ thing you have going on doesn’t mix well with precipitation.”

Well, you had him there. “You’re not wrong,” he admits testily. “But my assistant will be sending someone to drive me soon. I’ll be fine.” He flashes you a winning smile.

“I mean, I guess you could wait for your assistant to answer your calls- doesn’t seem like you’re having much luck with reaching them.” You cross your arms over your chest, and- nope, Vox was not going to stand out here in the rain and ogle some random sinner’s tits. He redirects his gaze. “Or you could let me either walk you to your car or walk with you to wherever you’re going.”

He throws you a side eye and sighs heavily, letting his head drop back before rolling an eye down to look at you. “You don’t look like you have an umbrella,” he says, crossing his arms now as well. “How exactly are we getting to my car?”

You give him a smile that shorts a fuse in his head for a moment, wide and earnest and pretty. “Who needs an umbrella?” You shrug one of your shoulders and the coat you’re wearing starts to slide off your shoulders. Vox makes a move to stop the slide like a gentleman, keep the coat covering your body and stop it from slipping into a puddle, when it rises up off your back and comes to cover the both of you. He sees black feathers interspersed with white spots as the bottom comes into view, and he realizes it wasn’t a coat at all.

You had wings. Big, powerful wings by the look of it- the part connected to your back didn’t shake under the weight of the limb being extended over your heads. He stared at them; he knew he was staring, that you might think it was strange, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was mesmerizing. Thrilling.

He feels a spark of arousal shoot through him at the sight of them, and his plans change for the night. You’re pretty, and the curves of your body are appealing, but the wings. He wants to explore them. Wants to tease you with your own feathers. To run his fingers over them and watch you struggle to maintain this composure you have. He’s confident in his ability to get you home with him- maybe offer a drink as thanks for your help or something.

“Sure, I guess you can walk me to my car,” he says, feigning an air of disinterest despite the twitch in his cock. “It’s not every day one meets a sinner so giving- I might as well take advantage!” He sees the flinch that shoots across your face, making your wing tremble, but you straighten up and stiffen your shoulders, gesturing out to the street being beaten by the rain.

“Lead the way.”

He steps out from under the awning and is delighted when your wing does, in fact, shelter the both of you from the weather. You bring the second wing out to block any rain from blowing under the first with the wind, and Vox is fucking obsessed with the subtle muscle of them, the careful strength in the way that you adjust the angle of them to keep him dry. It seems subconscious, the movement of them, as Vox gave you directions to where he had parked earlier when the sky was dry and he had thought he could enjoy a nice walk after his meeting.

A piece of paper, litter off the ground, comes flying under the shelter you were providing him aiming right for his screen. He brings up a hand to block it- wet paper wouldn’t do any real damage but it was still annoying- when the tip of the wing over your head dips down slightly, catches it with a corner, and flings it off to the side. A drop of water manages to fly off the thing and splatter on his screen. You give him a smile, apology on your lips at being unable to prevent the attack. You turn back to the cars in front of you, looking for the electric blue of his vehicle that he had described to you.

Vox wants you spread out in his bed, he decides. Your wings splayed out behind you in whatever position he decided to take you- he would work with anything. He could trace his fingers over the delicate bones with you on your back as he drilled into you; grab a fistful of feathers while he fucks you from behind, use that leverage to sink his cock into you as far as he could manage; let you unfurl them from your back while you ride him so they cover you both like a blanket, seal yourselves off from the rest of the world and let the only light you see be his screen in the darkness of it.

“Sir?”

He blinks hard a couple times and realizes that you’ve reached his car, and you’re standing there in the rain illuminated by the few streetlights that reach this back corner. Your eyebrow is cocked at him in amusement, wings still suspended over him. “I think walking you over here defeats the purpose if you don’t actually get in the car.”

“Right, right!” He touches a claw to the vehicle and it roars to life as he grabs the handle and maneuvers himself inside of it. He looks up at you now, the positions reversed, and his breath catches in his throat, cock throbbing. You’re magnificent like this, wings still hanging above you and slightly over the car to make sure no moisture can reach him. The rest of your body is relaxed but he can see it in his head, the way that you would look tense with pleasure, eyes clenched shut and mouth hanging open.

You give him a smile. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

The vague chagrin that shoots through him does nothing to quell the erection rapidly growing in his pants. “I was going to say thank you,” he insists, and the way you laugh has him wanting to inject the sound into his fucking veins. “Can I- can I give you a ride home? You know, as thanks for walking me over here, making sure I don’t get waterlogged.”

You look like you’re going to refuse at first but then you shrug. “Sure. It’s not too far, if you really don’t mind.”

Fuck yes! The processors in his head are whirring, wondering how best to convince you to come back to his place on the way to yours. Or fuck, maybe he could just join you at your place. He wasn’t picky about where the fucking happened, as long as it did. He was desperate for it, to have you gasping for him while he plucked at your pretty wings with his cock nestled deep inside your pussy.

The passenger door opens and you enter the car with your knees on the leather seat. He questions it for only a moment before you lean back and shake your wings viciously outside the vehicle, dispersing as much of the water as you can before you sit normally in the seat. You buckle up and give him a sweet smile, pointing a slender finger to the other side of the parking lot where the exit is.

He can’t remember being so fucking turned on before as he puts some music on and starts driving. Sure, he had his fun with Val and sometimes some of his actors between scenes and shit, the occasional fangirl or one of Velvette’s models but just being aroused by the presence of someone? Who wasn’t actively trying to seduce him? Was just sitting in the passenger seat of his car while he drove her home?

It was new, and it was exciting, and God, those fucking wings…

They’re tucked delicately behind you, the black of your feathers contrasting nicely with the deep red leather of his seats. He’d never seen a demon with wings like these before- they were usually attached to the arms of them or draped off the back. More for decoration than anything else; even Val’s wings weren’t so prehensile and flexible, he thought, thinking about the way the tip had dipped down to sling that piece of paper away from him.

“So, your wings-”

“We’re here,” you say with a grin, the car not even having left the parking lot.

“What? I- here? ” He does stop the vehicle before looking over at you, craning his neck forward to look at a building that sat kitty corner to the restaurant he had his meeting in.

“I told you it wasn’t far.” He can hear the giggle in your voice. “How else do you think I saw you standing out here the whole time? I could see the glow of your screen from my window. Figured I would offer a hand since you didn’t look like you were making much progress.”

He stares at you. He hadn’t had time to try to convince you to spend more time with him- to convince you to let him get his hands on those feathers.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You’re reaching for the door handle when he blurts out, “wait!”

And thank fuck, you do. You look back at him with an eyebrow raised but your hand stops reaching. He clears his throat, fixes you with what he hopes is a suave look. “Let me thank you,” he says. “We can go grab a drink at my place- or I can buy you dinner, if you’d rather do that. Order some takeout if you want to stay home.” Smile wide, he waits for you to respond.

Bells and whistles ring in his head as you buckle back up. “I’m down on one condition.”

“Name it, doll,” is his immediate response, and he’s only a little embarrassed at the speed with which he spoke. “Really, I want to give you a proper show of gratitude- there’s no way this counts. Whatever you want.”

A crooked little smile graces your face. “Can I get your name?”

He can almost feel the error message crawl across the bottom of his screen; he doesn’t know what it says but he watches your eyes follow the scrawl of words, the real reason he knew it was there. “Vox,” he says, holding a hand out for you to shake. “Pleasure to meet you.” He leaves off what is obvious to anyone else- Overlord of Hell, Media Mastermind, TV demon on the fast track to ruling Pentagram city. If you didn’t already know these things then you had to be new- that explained the blatant disrespect earlier, interrupting him, dismissing his words. If you didn’t know he wouldn’t tell you yet. He would win you over and get you onto a horizontal surface without his reputation; preferably with his sharp tongue, strong fingers and thick cock if he had a choice in the matter.

“Vox.” You repeat his name, and it sounds so sweet and innocent that he can’t wait for you to scream it out in ecstasy. You give him your name in return as he pulls out of the parking lot and heads towards Vee Tower.

The silence is comfortable on the relatively short drive, Vox pulling the car into the basement garage of Vee Tower and quietly relishing in the fascinated expression on your face when someone comes to grab the keys to park his car as he leads you to the elevator. “You’re some kind of hotshot, huh?” You ask, lashes fluttering at him in a way that makes his knees weak.

“Something like that, doll,” he says, smile wide while you take it all in. Even just the garage is sophisticated and impressive, and he wishes he could see it through your eyes. He notices your raised eyebrows at the push of the button for the penthouse, but you don’t say anything. “So, your wings- are you some kind of bird?”

A tight smile. “Something like that, doll,” you parrot back to him. “That’s more of a second date question, I think.”

Second date. Was this your first date? Fuck, he should have called his assistant ahead of time and made him get something prepared fresh- gotten some fucking good champagne in- swapped out his comfortable sheets for the silk ones that his bed partners were nuts for even if he didn’t really care for them. But his assistant was fucking useless tonight, evidenced by the fact of your being here in the first place since he couldn’t get a car to fetch him.

Vox might not have met you if he had answered the phone though- so maybe he would let it slide.

He leads you out of the elevator into his home, the lights of Pentagram City casting a lovely red glow over your body. “Nice view.” You stand by it, the white tips of your wings illuminated where the light shone through. He comes to stand beside you in front of the couch, and you give him a pretty smile. “I do have a question though.”

“What’s that?” He has his phone out, firing off one last text to his assistant - "If I don’t hear back from you in the next ten minutes I’m swapping your contract for one of Val’s. FUCKING ANSWER ME” should get his message across- and missing the narrowing of your eyes when you turn back to face him.

“Do you know that you aren’t subtle?” You hook an ankle around the back of his leg and yank, sending him toppling backwards into the couch, his phone hitting the cushion next to you. He has only a brief moment to flounder, wonder what the fuck was happening, before you were straddling his lap, knees on either sides of his thighs and your skirt pulled taut between your legs. “See, I really couldn’t tell if you thought you were. I figured I would ask.”

“What?” He can’t find the power to do anything but watch with his eyes wide while you slide your hands down his chest and settle into his space, the warmth of your cunt palpable through his trousers where you rest against his rapidly hardening prick. “What do you-”

“Ah, you don’t know. Cute.” The word makes him twitch, and when he opens his mouth to protest what comes out instead is a choked off whine as you roll your hips into him. “I like my men a little cute- when they think they’re being so suave and sexy but all they can think about is getting their hands on my body. Or my wings, in this case.” As you mention them you let them puff up a little behind you, spread out ever so slightly so Vox could get a better look. His breath catches- silhouetted by the glow of the city behind you, you were breathtaking.

“What gave me away, doll?” He could deny, but what was the point in that? The night was already progressing the way that he wanted. You were perhaps a little more forward than he was expecting, but he could work with that. As long as it ended with your pussy swallowing up his cock he would be a happy demon.

You laughed, the sound like a bell in the silence of his place as he settles his hands on your hips. “Besides the blatant ogling of them when I first brought them out and the whole way across the parking lot, you mean? You had an error message in the car running across your screen just here-” You lean down and lick across the lower right corner of his face. “You wanna know what it said?”

“Enlighten me.” He’s amazed he can still get a word out with the blood rushing to his cock, hard length pressed against you where you’re seated on his lap.

“‘Pretty wings,’ it said.” Your fingers come down to undo his belt, whipping it from the loops of his pants. Vox nearly chokes on his tongue when you pull his cock out, already hard and leaking in your hand as you tighten your grip. “Suuuper cute. Over and over.” You lift your hips a bit, shoving your skirt up near your hips and hovering over his length. “I wanna hear it instead of reading it though- can you say it for me, pretty boy?”

You skim his tip through the slickness between your legs, and his brain short circuits when he realizes that you haven’t been wearing panties. “Fuck me,” he manages to laugh out. “Was this your plan the whole time? Play the good Samaritan to get me home so you could ride my cock?”

You shake your head and let yourself sink down the slightest bit, a breathy moan leaving your throat as his head is swallowed by your tight, wet heat. “Not initially. I really was just trying to be a nice person.” You throw him a wink, pulling away when he tries to thrust up and not allowing him to get any deeper inside of you. “Come on now- give me what I want and I’ll give you what you want.”

Fuck, if that doesn’t shoot straight to his prick. “Pretty wings,” he murmurs, letting one of his hands leave your hip to brush against the soft feathers. “They’re beautiful. Strong. Fuckin’ perfect.” With each word you slide down further until you’re fully seated on his cock. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“That’s it, baby,” you say, and shift your hips forward to get him where you want him. “You were thinking about this, yeah?” With a downward grind you let your wings unfurl completely, filling his vision with a flash of feathers that blocks the light of the city from reaching him. A ripple runs through them, the tremor rolling all the way from top to tip and the feeling is imitated around his cock, your tight walls rippling.

He doesn’t whine, thank you very much. But a broken drawn out sound does escape his mouth, screen thrown back over the back of the couch. He can’t bare to fucking look at you with how perfect the moment is, the sight and sound and sensation of you stuffed with his cock better than he could have imagined. “I wanna touch them,” he says, but when he reaches his fingers out you wrap your hands around his wrists, surprising strength in your redirection of his palms to your chest.

“Can we say ‘please’, pretty boy?” You let your wings flutter, a gust of wind blowing across his face from the movement, moaning when his prick hits a soft spot inside you that makes you gush around his length. “I’ll let you touch them if you ask nicely.”

His pride fights him for a moment- this wasn’t exactly how it was supposed to go, with him at your mercy instead of the other way around. He had wanted you under him, wings spread across his mattress and feathers fisted in his hands while he fucked you.

“I’ll give you a demonstration of what I’m looking for,” you offer, and then your lashes are fluttering, eyes rolling back into your head and a whine falling forth from your mouth. “Oh fuck, Vox , baby, please.”

Pride flies out the window in favor of the feeling of your cunt clenching around his cock. “Please, sweetheart,” he says, and he lets his clawed thumbs roll over the pebbles of your nipples where you hold him against your chest. “Let me touch them? I’ll be real gentle with you, baby.”

You pick up the pace, releasing his hands and bringing your wings forward, bordering him on either side so all he can see is you. “That’s what I like to hear,” you whisper with a grin, bracing your hands on his shoulders and properly riding him now, the slick sound of your body taking him in echoing in the emptiness of his living room.

He lifts his trembling palms from your chest and brushes the tips of his claws along the bottoms of your wings, feathers gliding softly over his digits- the sensation makes you moan, another gentle ripple running through them. He fists his hands in them, pulling lightly like he might at someone’s hair, and your wet heat pulses around him, pussy tight like you mean to keep him inside of you forever. He wants that- wants to stay buried where he currently is until Hell falls to pieces around you.

His phone rings on the couch beside him, the call taking over his screen moments later. Vox doesn’t want to let go of your wings, having just gotten his hands on them- with a shake of his head the call is dismissed, only to immediately come back and take over his face again. “God fucking-”

You lift a hand from his shoulder and answer the call, a right swipe and a wicked smile leading to Vox’s assistant’s voice filling the space between you and him. “-and I am SO. SORRY. Sir I swear, I have never had my phone on silent like this before-” He continues his rant, and Vox struggles to remember why he was even calling right now- he was fucking busy, damn it, what the fuck.

“-understand that you’re upset, but please, sir, I’ll do better, just don’t send me to Valentino-”

“Better answer him,” you whisper to Vox, dragging your tongue up the side of his screen, hips grinding down. “If I cum before the call ends I’ll leave.”

Graceful fingers slide down your body to rub at your own clit, moaning prettily into the side of his face while his assistant rambled in his ear. Vox was going to fucking combust.

“Just- fuck, man, shut up. It’s fine.” You chuckle into his shirt, deft fingers unbuttoning it and raking your claws down his chest. “ Jesus fuck, I- no, not you. It’s fine. We’ll talk in the morning-”

“But sir if you still need a ride-”

“I fucking found a ride, alright,” he mutters darkly, tightening his grip on your wings in one hand and letting the other trail firmly along the top of it, all the way down to the tip. The feathers seem to shiver in his grasp and your cunt clenches around him, threatens to pull him over the edge with how close you are. “Call me in the morning. Now f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔ o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞. ”

Voice files corrupted, he disconnects the call, reaches his hands around your back to finger at the base of your wings, the skin there taut and sensitive if the keening groan you let off into his shirt is anything to go by. “Fuck me, you feel divine,” he mutters, and you choke off a chuckle at the word. “Let me feel you, angel, cum on my cock.”

“N- naughty men that don’t say please don’t get to make demands,” you say, and he could tease you, could pull your hand away from your clit and make you hover right on the edge of release. But he was a selfish man, and could admit that he wanted the feeling of you coming undone around him more than he wanted to be right.

“Please, baby, please,” he begs, and you hiss through your teeth at the sound of his pleading, sweet and low, the slightest hint of static to his voice. “God, fucking d̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟t͖͖̠̬͛, please, l- let me w̡̻̻̣͚̒̀ͅo͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅh̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟p͔͔͚͉̬̋ͩ̾͗ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡-”

““Oh fuck, Vox, baby, please-” Less sarcastic this time despite the half formed smile on your face, and the teasing lilt to it is ruined by the clenching of your eyes as you clamp down on his prick and cum, fingers of the hand not frantically rubbing at your clit digging into his skin while you shudder and shake in the embrace of his arms.

He follows you moments later, the tension he had felt since meeting you outside the restaurant finally cresting and crashing, and he spends himself inside of the slick grip of your cunt, still riding him with the effort you can spare after the force of your orgasm before eventually slowing. You take your fingers from your clit, circle them around the base of his cock and collect some of your combined releases before bringing them up to his mouth, pushing inside and letting Vox’s tongue wrap around the length of them.

Fuck. You would be the death of him, he was sure.

“Not bad,” you mutter once you’ve collapsed bonelessly against him. “Might need a couple more rounds to really show you the ropes though- really get it through your screen here who is in charge.”

“That’s not you, doll.” Vox laughs, and you bring your wings up to surround the two of you like a fort, the glow of his screen illuminating your face and the teasing smile you wear.

“I guess I could be willing to share,” you agree, leaning forward far enough to press a teasing kiss to the plastic of his face. “We can talk about it tomorrow after you reassure your little assistant that you’re not going to murder him.”

“Still thinking about it,” he muses, “but we’ll see.” He runs his fingers again along the bottom of your wings, delights in your shiver, and wishes the rain would never stop.

#hazbin hotel #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #hazbin vox #x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #vox the tv demon #my stuff <3

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bellatriestowritesometimes · 3 months

Text

To Know

aaron hotchner x reader

Summary: You attend your best friend's wedding where you see Hotch for the first time in four years since you were shot on your wedding day by Peter Lewis, forcing him to go into witness protection and leave you.

Part 2

AN/explanation:

Listen it’s been a minute since I’ve written anything and by minute I mean 4 years so bear with me!! There’s probably spelling and punctuation errors but I wrote this in the middle of the night so cut me some slack.

OK so a bit of an explanation on this.. so you know how everyone has their imaginary scenarios they make up before bed or wherever (and if you don’t you’re weird!) well this is mine!! OK not really but ever since I watched CM which was probably about 5/6 years ago now, Hotch was on my mind 24/7 and I have this plot in my head with YEARS worth of scenarios thought out with original characters and everything!! This is just a small snippet of the whole plot I have had thought out for Hotch and Alex (that is what I have named her in my head, but have obviously written it as a Y/N to make it more enjoyable I guess? Idk what people prefer!!). I could probably write a book on this crap but I’ll just start with this part. I am in the process of writing a part two to this so if anyone’s interested I’ll try to get it out before the weekend’s over as this is the only free time I have currently! Now if I ever was going to make this into a series (that’s a very big if) this would be a chapter towards the end of this plot that I have created. Anyways enough rambling…

I am an angst over any other kind of genre girly so that’s all this will be :D this seemed better in my head and it ALWAYS does but I just wanted to get it out of my system.

Hope u enjoy xx

Warnings: smut (a little not too much), cheating.

Word count: 3.9k

It was your best friend’s wedding and you couldn’t have been happier. Henry was your rock and pretty much the only family you ever had. He had been with you through everything, all the highs and lows, so he deserved today to be absolutely perfect.

You were helping Luca with his tie and giving him a final check over before he went out to marry your best friend. Luca knew how important you were to Henry and how important Henry was to you. The three of you were practically a throuple. OK maybe not a throuple but anyone who was important to Henry became important to you. They had been together for almost 5 years but knew each other for even longer.

“He’s here you know...” Luca said “Henry invited everyone from the BAU..”

You raised an eyebrow at Luca whilst finishing up with his tie.

“I know,” you replied simply.

Henry was the one who got you a job at the BAU. He knew almost everyone and if he didn’t, he knew someone who did. He had helped out with several cases and knew everyone at the BAU well, so of course they all got an invite to his wedding which was in London. Henry knew your history with Hotch and that meant so did Luca.

“He has them all staying at the Ritz you know, booked a suite out for everyone,’’ Luca rambled.

“I know,” you repeated and rolled your eyes.

Of course he has you thought to yourself, money was never an issue for him. Not that it was for you either but you were slightly more modest than him.

Luca could sense that he wasn’t going to get anything else out of you so he decided to change the topic.

“You think we’re doing the right thing?” He asked referring to him and Henry.

“Absolutely,” you confirmed “he needs you Luca, I don’t even want to imagine what he would be like without you. It’s not something I’m prepared to take on” you let out a laugh. “You two have practically been married for the last 5 years, now it’s just time to make it official!” You gave his arms a squeeze.

“I’ll see you out there, no backing out now,” you gave him a wink and Luca gave you a nod with a smile.

You took that as your cue to leave and made your way towards the alter and towards Henry. As you made your way up to the front you saw all of the guests take their seats. You spotted JJ, Will and her boys a few rows from the front, who were staying at your place for the next few days. Emily, Spencer and Garcia were seated a few rows behind them and you spotted Morgan and Savannah seated on the other side of the room. You were trying to find Rossi and Krystall until your eyes landed on someone else. There he was sitting right next to Rossi with a brunette next to him which you assumed was Beth.

“How is he?” Henry’s voice snapped you back to reality.

“Huh?” Was the only thing that came out of your mouth as you slowly dragged your eyes away from the man that left you on pretty much your death bed and then divorced you.

“Luca – how is he? He’s not making a run for it is he?” Henry laughed but behind the laugh he needed the reassurance. He hadn’t been the perfect fiancé and has put Luca through the wringer at times, but there’s no one else for Henry other than Luca and vice versa.

“Stop being stupid!” You swatted him gently, “Of course not! I stopped him just before he got to the fire exit,” you replied playfully.

“Ha ha very funny,” Henry replied dryly, “And how are you? …You know with him being here.. You did say it was okay for me to invite him but I can send him home if you want. Just tell me and I’ll have him escorted out by security-”

“Please stop, it’s fine. Honestly I mean it. We’ve both moved on. I’m with Avery now and he’s with Beth,” you answered. “Besides today is not about me or my woes, it’s about you!”

The wedding ceremony was beautiful and it was now time for the reception. You made your way round to all the tables saying hello to the people you recognised until you reached the table you dreaded the most. Thankfully your husband Avery caught up with you to let you know that it was time to make your way to your seat as it was almost time for your speech.

You gave Rossi a smile in the distance before walking back to your seat, avoiding contact with Hotch for now who was sat right next to him.

After the speeches were done and the drinks began floating around the room, everyone felt a lot more relaxed. You were listening to the conversation Emily and Avery were having about a book they both had read, until you felt someone tap your shoulder.

“Hi you must be Y/N! I’m Beth, Aaron has told me so much about you!” Beth exclaimed as you turned around to face her.

“Yes hi! It’s lovely to meet you, I’m sorry I couldn’t introduce myself earlier,” you gave her a smile.

It was a genuine smile, she seemed nice and in any other situation you could even be friends. She is not to blame for what had happened between you and Hotch, however you did wonder what kind of things he has told her about you.

“It’s okay don’t worry about it! I understand how stressful weddings are,” she continued and for a second you thought if she had married Hotch without anyone telling you. Your eyes flicked towards her left hand that was wrapped around a champagne flute. No sign of a ring. You cursed yourself for still caring enough to check.

“That’s a beautiful ring” she said bringing you out of your trance.

You followed her gaze which was now on your own left hand. You hadn’t realised that you were twisting your own wedding ring with your thumb, reminiscing about how it felt when you had the ring on that Hotch gave you. It was a lot smaller than the one you have now. It had an oval diamond in the centre with three green sapphire leaves holding the diamond in place on each side. It was a delicate ring and you loved everything about it. Everything but the dreaded memories that came along with it. The ring was now replaced with a big teardrop diamond from Harry Winston and it was beautiful. It sparkled even in the dark and felt almost heavy on your finger. You had to admit that Avery had great taste, the two of you had now been married for almost 2 years.

“Thank you..” you smiled and let a breath out you didn’t know you were holding.

“Uhm this is Avery my husband-” you cleared your throat, almost forgetting to introduce him to her.

They shared a few polite words until Beth excused herself. You assumed she had gone to find Hotch as she disappeared into the crowd.

“She seems nice,” Avery said and gave you a small smile. He knew what had happened with you and Hotch and he wasn’t his biggest fan but he was never the one to bad mouth him.

“Yeah she does…” you replied quietly whilst your mind drifted off elsewhere. Emily sensed that you were uncomfortable and resumed her conversation with Avery in an attempt to take his attention off you.

It was several hours into the reception and you had stepped outside with Luca and lit a cigarette for you both to share.

You had noticed Beth was in the distance on the phone but Hotch was nowhere to be seen.

“Today has been beautiful,” you hummed as you took a pull of the cigarette and passed it to Luca.

“It really has been, thank you for helping Henry with the planning,” he expressed.

You both conversed about the wedding and your favourite parts until someone had interrupted you.

“Oh sorry,” your eyes followed his voice, “I thought Beth was out here,” he explained as he looked between you and Luca.

“She is,” you pointed with the cigarette between your fingers “she’s just gone into the gazeebo over there to take a call I think,” you replied.

“Thank you,” he looked into your eyes longer than he should have before he began walking her way.

“Is this the first time you’ve spoken to him tonight?” Luca asked whilst following your gaze that was still on Hotch.

“Yup.”

“There’s an explanation. I am sure he has an explanation,” Luca tried standing up for the man he barely knew.

You didn’t respond and instead focused your gaze on something else.

“You know… and I really shouldn’t be saying this but... I think Henry might’ve had something to do with it,” Luca continued.

“What makes you say that? Has he told you something?” You questioned focusing your attention back on Luca.

“Nope. He doesn’t tell me anything when it’s to do with work and I thank him for it. But it wouldn’t surprise me if he did. He would do anything to keep you safe. Even if it meant putting your newly husband into witness protection…”

You thought about it for a minute or so and yes maybe Henry was the one who suggested going into witness protection but that still doesn’t explain the radio silence from Hotch even after Peter Lewis was caught.

“I want you to have what me and Henry have,” Luca brought you out of your thoughts once again.

“I have that. With Avery, he makes me happy,” you replied not knowing if it’s the full truth. Avery does make you happy and you love him but you’re not sure if it compares to what you and Hotch had and it seems like Luca doesn’t either.

“Let’s get back in there shall we? I’m sure Henry is looking for you!” You perked up, trying to change a conversation that was becoming too heavy for your liking.

Since you were one of the few people who didn’t drink at the wedding, you decided to give Emily, Spencer, and Garcia a lift back to the hotel whilst Avery, JJ, Will, and the boys got an Uber home back to your place.

The car ride back to the hotel turned into an episode of carpool karaoke with Emily blasting any and every song that came on the radio.

Once you pulled up to the hotel you helped Emily out of the car and then let Spencer take over. You were about to shut the passenger door when you noticed a phone on the seat Emily was sat in.

“You left your phone Beyonce!” You called out to Emily as she was finishing her 3rd run of single ladies from the start.

You caught up with her and placed the phone in her hand, she took one look at it and blurted out that it’s Beth’s and that she had found it by some gazebo outside.

You pressed the lock button on the side and the phone lit up revealing a picture of Hotch and Beth set as the lock screen.

“What room is she in do you know?” You asked Emily but she just shrugged her shoulders and carried on signing. Spencer and Penelope both gave you a shrug signalling that they didn’t know either.

“Right I will just leave it with reception. The three of you get some sleep ok, we have brunch tomorrow!” You shouted even though the three of them were already inside the hotel queuing up for the elevator.

You pressed the lock button once again making the phone light up just to stare at the lock screen once more. With a sigh you then began to make your way into the hotel and walked towards reception.

“Hello Miss can I help you with anything?” The lady asked.

“Uh yes actually, I’m trying to return a lost phone to a friend of mine but I don’t remember the room number. Could you please let me know? It should be a suite under the name Hotchner, they’re here for a wedding,” you smiled hoping she’d give you the information you needed.

She typed away on her keyboard for a few seconds before replying to your question.

“I have an Aaron Hotchner on the system along with a Beth Clemmons sharing suite 107?”

“Yes that’s the one! Thank you so much!” You thanked the lady and made your way to the elevator. Emily and the others were long gone, probably passed out in their beds by now you hoped.

You tapped softly on the door waiting for someone to open it and hoping that it wasn’t Beth. You weren’t even sure what you were doing, what you were going to say, what if Beth’s awake, what would happen then?

You had no excuse and no business to be knocking on his hotel door. Well aside from the fact that he left you on your wedding night right after you got shot, had someone serve you with divorce papers as soon as you came out of your coma and you still haven’t had an explanation even though it’s been close to 4 years.

After a few moments the door was gently pulled open and there he stood. Still in his shirt and trousers from the wedding. He looked taken back seeing you stand there in the hallway. Although you were the only one on his mind tonight, you still had caught him off guard.

“Hi…” Was all that he managed to say.

“Hi…” you breathed out. “..Beth left her phone at the wedding reception,” you said holding it up as proof.

You looked behind him and could see 3 mini whisky bottles that were now empty, lined up on the coffee table. On the left you could see two large double doors that were shut behind the sofa. You had assumed that’s where Beth was sleeping as there was no sign of her anywhere else.

“Oh… Well thank you for bringing it here, you didn’t have to go out of your way...”

“It’s okay I was dropping Emily and the others off anyway,” you replied whilst handing him the phone.

As he took the phone from you he moved slightly to the side, almost inviting you in before actually saying it.

“Would you like to come in?” he paused for a moment, “…please come in” he pleaded. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you the whole night I just didn’t want to disturb you. Beth’s asleep so you don’t have to worry about her or we could take a walk somewhere,” he went on; desperation clear in his voice.

Instead of replying you walked past him making your way into his room, a completely different side of you taking over.

You made your away towards the sofa, never sitting down just standing in front of it. You turned to face Hotch who closed the door and walked towards you, stopping just a few inches away. You could tell he had been drinking. You had obviously seen him drink at the wedding but he left several hours ago yet here he was emptying the mini fridge in his hotel suite.

You eyed the bottles on the coffee table.

“Rough night?’ You asked but it sounded more like a statement. When you looked back at him his mouth was slightly open, almost as if he was thinking of what to say but no words were coming out.

You tilted your head to the side as you took in his features. He looked different. Good but different. After all these years had passed, you never knew when you would be able to get a good look at him again, and god how much you’d missed his handsome face. The last memory you had of it was when you collapsed in his arms after being shot during your first dance as Mr and Mrs. You don’t remember much after that, just faint shouting in the distance as your vision went blurry until you eventually passed out in his arms.

“I- um I don’t know what to say Y/N… I don’t even know where to begin,” he expressed. Concern, pain and regret all clear in his voice.

Before he could continue you lifted your hand up in an attempt to stop him from saying anything else. That’s not what you came here for.

“I am so sorry,” he breathed out but you took a step closer to him and placed one of your fingers on his lips to silence him.

“Shh,” you whispered whilst you ran your other hand slowly down his chest stopping at the belt of his trousers. You could feel his pulse quicken as he took in what you were doing.

Never breaking eye contact you began to gently move your hand lower until you reached his crotch. You then began to palm him with a bit more force, feeling him harden underneath your touch. A slight smirk played on your lips as you realised how much of an affect you still had on him, how much his body still responded to you. You believed that you were the only one that could get him this flustered, to get him to cheat on his girlfriend, to get him this hot and bothered over practically nothing.

“Take off your trousers...” you hissed.

The concern and regret was now replaced with confusion and curiosity but he did as he was told and began to undo his belt. You watched him carefully as he dropped his trousers to the floor stopping at his boxers.

“You can leave those on, this won’t take long,” you instructed coldly and pushed him onto the sofa. As he sat down he reached over to switch a small table lamp off, leaving a soft glow on your silhouette that was coming from a floor lamp on the other side of the room.

You lifted your dress and rolled it up stopping at your waist whilst you straddled Hotch. The familiar feeling of his dick beneath you was enough to send you over the edge.

You lifted yourself up slightly using your knees and grabbed him through his boxers, silently thanking him for wearing a pair with the slit. He watched your every move and took in a sharp breath when your hand made contact with him and took another when you gently lowered yourself onto his dick.

You began rocking your hips, savouring every single second. You started to pick the pace up and you felt Hotch move in to kiss you to which you gently pushed his head back with your hand, not wanting any other intimacy other than the feeling of him inside you and maybe you inside of him.

You took two of your fingers and placed them on his lips again, this time using them to part his mouth. You gently slipped them inside and he welcomed it. You decided to push them in deeper. Not deep enough to hurt him but deep enough to your liking. Your fingers felt cold against his tongue.

At that point you knew you were close and so was he, your fingers in his mouth helped him to stifle his moans, whilst you watched him intently. After a few moments you felt him twitch beneath you as he threw his head back when he came and you shortly followed.

You removed your fingers from his mouth and gently stood up lowering your dress back down giving the man you still loved one last look before turning around to leave. Just before you got the door you stopped and turned around, he was now up grabbing his trousers off the floor.

“You left me… I was in a coma Hotch and when I came out of it you weren’t there. You left me Aaron.”

Without giving him a second to respond you left and closed the door behind you.

As you stepped into the elevator a thousand thoughts were racing in your head. You began to question yourself on why you had come here in the first place, but you knew exactly why. You wanted to see if you still had that control over him, you wanted to see if you could still have him, if he still belonged to you. And he did. You thought about how your relationship had evolved from being just co-workers to friends from friends to lovers and from lovers to strangers. That’s what it felt like being in that room with him. Just two strangers having sex. That was probably the first time the two of you had sex instead of making love. There was a difference between the two and you knew which one you preferred.

Deep down you knew why he had to leave and most importantly leave without you, but it still didn’t make it any less painful. You had thought back to what Lucas said earlier when you were outside, that Henry might’ve had something to do with it... But the truth is whether he did or didn’t it wouldn’t have changed the outcome. He needed to leave, to hide and go into witness protection. Not only for his and Jacks safety but for yours too. It all made sense. Peter Lewis couldn’t hold you over him anymore if you had no connection to him so he left. He left without you and then had you served with divorce papers.

The elevator doors opened and snapped you back to reality. You shook your head in an attempt to get rid of the thoughts. You didn’t want to go back there, you had tried your hardest to move past that part of your life and dwelling about the details and the what if’s is something you didn’t want to do anymore. You had wasted enough time doing that and you’ve moved on since then and so has Hotch. But sometimes late at night when you can’t sleep, those thoughts creep back in and they have a way of suffocating you.

“Did you manage to return your friends phone?” The lady behind the reception desk asked with a smile.

“Yes I did, thank you so much for your help again!” You replied and returned the smile.

You made your way to the parking lot and got into your car and made your way home… To your husband…. Who you had just cheated on with your ex-husband. You pulled out of the parking lot and let the memories from earlier fill your mind. You had glanced briefly at your watch and the time told you that is was quarter past three. You groaned at the thought of having to be up before 11 am later that day for a brunch that Henry and Luca had organised with a smaller amount of guests, which included the BAU team.

You had wondered if he’ll be there with Beth or if he won’t show.

To be continued....

Part 2

#ycriminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #ssa aaron hotchner #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner x y/n #bau x reader

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ay0nha · 9 months

Text

Venus Rising | Thomas Shelby

SUMMARY: Three moments in which you run into Tommy, the final provoking a deal neither of you are prepared for.

“I am afraid of getting older. I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a day—spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote. I want to be free…I want, I want to think, to be omniscient.” Sylvia Plath (1949)

PAIRING: Tommy Shelby x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

WARNINGS: ANGST, swearing, smoking (tobacco/weed), criticism of time-period misogyny/misogyny in general, canon-typical things, angst again, rich people being annoying, no proof reading, rushed ending, slow burn, etc.

A/N: Oop, another Tommy fic, apparently it’s not quite out of my system. Inspired by the film How to Steal a Million (title is inspired by the original title of the book!) and @huntingingoodwill‘s post (here), ESPECIALLY with the third part of this as it comes from Carmen’s beautiful brain. Inspo is taken from various feminist writing and particularly an Agnes Varda quote. MIGHT do a part two, idk yet.

Comments are VERY encouraged! Enjoy.

“Thanks for that…” Tommy was finally catching his breath but still searched for your name. He hadn’t seen you in the gathering below and questioned if the room he found himself in belonged to you.

“We’re better off strangers.” You weren’t defensive, nor was your guard up; you were just focused. Fixated. The painting was borderline mesmerizing, and you struggled to tell if it was from the art or how your joint dwindled steadily.

Your isolation was purposeful.

The reception provoked the start of a migraine; its noise bleeding through the thick walls of the stately home only grew more deafening as the evening furthered. To find relief, you wandered the empty halls, the stairs that led to darkness, and every door that seemed particularly off-limits.

It was a simple measure of self-preservation until your seclusion was fractured.

The door opened abruptly, a body sliding through the narrow space to hide in the most prominent shadow. You thought you were caught, but the man held a finger to his lips, expression prepared for the obvious chase.

You were the perfect accomplice.

Those who came looking for him were met with your theatrics, a role well-rehearsed; your eyes never glanced to where Tommy hid in the most prominent shadows; your upset alone secured you hadn’t seen the man with the razor-lined cap; you simply wanted to return to your silence.

“You stick out, you know…” You filtered smoke through your nose, half-lidded eyes remaining ahead. The thought was absentminded, your lips tingling with indifference.

“I have an invitation.” Tommy had it forged, making it nearly identical to the one you’d received in the post.

You hummed with amusement. “I mean—you don’t belong.”

Considering how you equated his presence with his class, Tommy considered taking offense. However, your humor exposed no ill intent. You were trying to relate to him. To offer some solace, you offered the joint to him between pinched fingers.

“Let me guess, neither do you.” Tommy accepted your olive branch with a drag.

“Oh, I never will.” Although your smile remained, your tone became distant. You didn’t glance at Tommy until he took another puff. His eyes were ahead, just as yours were, attempting to see what had enraptured you in the painting. “Just like her.”

The face of the young woman depicted was covered, but her body was exposed. You were sure the owner of the canvas only valued the misinterpreted eroticism. Yet, the scene’s voyeuristic purposes were to convey the end of a very long day. You were convinced if you reached out, you could soothe her aching muscles from her obviously laborious job.

The painting's size didn’t speak for its cost. You wanted to laugh at how something so precious was stored on a wall as a forgotten decoration. However, you would do the exact same if it were in your possession. It would hang on your ceiling that way; when you rested your head against your pillow, you could get one final look at it as if it were a mirror, a grounding reminder that there was company in such an empty space.

“You pity the poor.” The statement held a questioning tone. Tommy interpreted the painting and your thoughts literally; a woman relieved of farm work was being judged by you—someone worse than the bourgeois.

“Don’t you see it?” Bitter ecstasy carried your words. You wanted to be heard. “Her and I are the same…”

Tommy returned the joint, realizing its purpose was to aid and calm you from the turmoil you hoped to escape. He felt an odd sense to comfort you but wouldn’t.

Instead, he repaid his earlier debt with unaccustomed humor, “I doubt someone like you shovels shit for a living.”

“Doesn’t matter.” You let the smoke settle in your chest, its warmth comforting. “From inception, we’re indistinguishable, born with an innocence that is only nurtured to be stolen. Our very being is never our own. Once our bodies are pried from our minds, we starve because of it.”

“Ah, I see…” Tommy started, “You’re a modern woman.”

The joint was almost a roach, but you passed it back, ridding yourself of its responsibility. The man beside you was a stranger, and you were thankful for that position. Anything said didn’t matter. It would evaporate and leave no trace. Tommy understood this well, participating in a game he didn’t know the rules of.

“Modernity is irrelevant.” You corrected. Your words sunk into your stomach, weighing you down. “This is beyond time.”

—

“Gave a try shoveling shit, eh?” Tommy crossed his legs, leaning back with an ease you were envious of. A cigarette was rolled along his lips, a habit formed by comfort.

Once lit, the image was complete. It had clicked. “You.”

Thomas Shelby. Your memory of him held a haze, that night's intoxication cherry-picking how you retained the interaction. But your vague image of him was enough to understand his occupation. You were warned against his world, but you could only do so much when your worlds overlapped so bizarrely.

“Me.” He confessed with mitigation. There was a cadence even in his silence. Clearly, he was thinking of how to approach you, but you failed to recognize how he always remained ahead in his business. “You were found near the stables.”

“Apparently, I’m a witch.” You mused. Cheltenham was never dull.

Tommy hummed, entertaining your wit only slightly. “They think you’ve cursed the horses.”

Horses were efficient beasts that were often mistreated, that much you knew. However, they intimidated you into submission. Their role in your life was distant, typically involving a reflection of wealth and nothing more.

You hid behind the stables because you misunderstood the distance you created. It had a false bottom that showed those in your world never enter their stables, allowing others to do the hard work. Those around you wouldn’t dare stain their fine fabrics how you chose to.

Although the air was foul, the stables were the only place you could breathe without the hands of your arranged date finding home where they weren’t welcomed.

You knew the man who caught you was Tommy’s brother. Though they looked different, the air surrounding them was suffocating. They were driven by brutal confidence that manifested physically and for Tommy mentally. The mind game you were presented with was just as predetermined as the races.

“I want us to understand each other.” Ash fell from Tommy’s cigarette in thought. “We do not share the same fantasy.”

“And what fantasy is that?”

“Poor little rich girl—” His words were punctuated. “—thinks she can play gypsy until she hears the dinner bell.”

Your laughter made him flinch. “And what’s for dinner?”

Tommy had vetted you. No one knew anything worthy about you. So everyone simply fantasized about you, spinning tales. Yet, you were an extraordinary nobody—an amazing unknown. Suspicion wasn’t necessary, but there was no need for his growing intrigue.

“That man you came with…” Tommy knew who he was. He was another kid that thought one day he could rule the world. But all he was capable of was poorly executed white-collar crime. “Who is he?”

You shrugged. “To him, I am his girlfriend.”

“And to you?”

“Does that matter?”

Tommy quickly learned that your only form of retaliation was posed through questions. The more philosophical, the more your guard remained. “I've been thinking about what you've said…”

The admission alone was out of character and also misrepresented. Tommy's mind was riddled with your sentiments. It was a thoughtful comment on something broader, something Tommy knew of and was growing to understand. But that wasn’t what preoccupied him.

It was how your poise wasn’t carried through your posture. It was how you expressed yourself indifferently but spoke so sharply. You were a constant contrast that perplexed him, possessed him to look into you, into your life. He planned to search until he found a moment where you put your thoughts to use the way he had.

“You, a suffragette?” Your lip curled at the thought. “Now, that, Mr. Shelby, is a fantasy.”

—

Planning an escape was satisfying but little compared to the follow-through.

The feeling solidified when the silk hem of your dress billowed was the only trail of your escape. You could hear your name echo along the corridor wall, someone sent to find you and force you back into the festivities.

“Where are you going?” The voice was a mix of a whisper and shout, reflecting nothing but urgency. The guests weren’t privy to your behavior, but your absence was clear. You heard your name again.“You must come down! You’re upsetting the guests!”

Although your home, the walls felt like they were shifting, creating a maze to your safety. The click of your heels was like a countdown to being caught. That was until your hand frantically found an antique handle of the most inconspicuous door.

Sliding into the broom closet, darkness invaded your senses.

With its veil, you could make out the sliver of light that fought to illuminate the room from the other side. It tracked the shadow of who chased you, showing you how they inched closer, hoping to hear your rapid breathing. Once enough time was given to their search; the footsteps receded in the wrong direction, their voice calling after you growing faint.

Your relief was borderline euphoric; your body demonstrated success as the tension drained the further you calmed. You sunk toward the door, forehead against the smooth, cool wood.

The sound behind was as quick as the movement. Identifiable and surprising.

The match created friction that illuminated the small space with an orange glow. You moved fast, your breath pinned to the roof of your mouth.

“Cigarette?” Tobacco filled the cramped room, the burning end of the cigarette not quite exposing your companion. But you could feel the amusement at the situation radiate from the corner.

Your stupor made you move with shock. “Christ!”

Your hand shot up to feel around for the light switch above you, yanking on the cord. Awash in light, you took in the sight of the man who was casually nursing a cigarette.

“Mr. Shelby?” You blinked at him, dumbfounded.

“Tommy.”

“What are you—

“I’m a guest.” The cigarette bobbed with his chiding.

“A guest.” You repeated, your tone brimming with doubtful sarcasm. “And what is a guest doing, hiding here, so far away from the party?”

“I could ask the same of you.” He quipped, icy expression holding your own.

“Ah, but I’m not a guest.” You defended yourself, holding up a finger as you corrected him. “This is my family’s party. I am technically a host.”

“Well—” He began, taking a puff of his cigarette, silver smoke spilling from his lips as he spoke. “—not a very good host if you’re hiding up here, eh?”

Your eyebrows cocked as you took him in. His presence meant business. “I don’t seem to remember my father mentioning gangsters would be on the guest list tonight.”

“Why not?” He replied, shrugging nonchalantly. “We’re good fun at parties.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” You mused. “But I doubt this is your kind of party.” You wished to witness him in action, for him to live up to all the stories you’ve heard about him firsthand. And you could tell he was itching for you to ask. “What have you got planned tonight?”

“If you must know—” Tommy remained externally stoic but revealed himself bluntly. “—I’m here to rob your family blind.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your father has come into quite a bit of money recently,” Tommy said, words calculated and measured. “He’s been stepping on the Blinders’ business. So, I came here tonight to take back what’s ours.”

“How much?” You asked.

“A million dollars.” He sighed, highlighting his statement with a drag of his cigarette.

“That all?” You scoffed.

“You’d hardly miss it,” Tommy explained. “And, with your family’s yearly legendary holiday party going on tonight, I figured I could hide until all the…” He took a second to ponder, searching for the words, “...rich fucks down there were drunk enough. Then, I’d take what’s mine and leave. No one would be any the wiser.”

There was a pause. He wanted you to protest, but he knew you wouldn’t. You were reading him just as well. It quickly became a stalemate, but you had the advantage of toying with him.

“Well, I should fulfill my host duties.” You sighed, tone wrapping up the unorthodox interaction. “Find my father while I’m at it; tell him bookkeepers are infested in our walls.”

“You’re not going back down there.”

Another pause. Your skin crawled with jest. “And why’s that, Mr. Shelby?”

He shook his head casually, eyes boring through yours. “You’re not going back down there because you don’t want to.”

“What?” Your laugh was soft and unexpected. It was hard to determine, but some of you would have rathered a threat. This was almost as entertaining.

“I can tell you don’t want to go down there. So don’t.”

Behind your back, you reached for the doorknob, but as your fingers grazed it, you lost your nerve. You sighed, flexing your fingers.

“Move over.” You instructed, and Tommy listened. He slid closer to the wall as you squeezed beside him, arm against him in a one-sided comfort. “Poor little rich girl opening up to a gangster. Never saw that in the cards.” You plucked the cigarette from his fingers, taking a drag, carefully considering your next words. “It’s never as simple as it seems, really.”

“Sure it is.”

“It really isn’t.” You chuckled, eyes trained on the glowing end of the cigarette.

“Enlighten me.” He replied, taking the cigarette back as you passed it to him.

The emotions you kept bottled up bubbled in your throat. Living in the gilded cage of high society had privilege but was equally emotionally destructive. It felt foreign, the thought of exposing yourself with such vulnerability; you grew nervous at the prospect of having to do so.

“Simplicity is a pipe dream when your life relies on codependency.” Just the thought of it made you dizzy. “It’s better to hide than risk being a blemish to the family.”

Tommy stayed quiet. Then against better judgment, he spoke. “Why not just leave? You’re a clever girl. Surprised you haven’t figured that out yet.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” You countered without edge; you knew his slight dig was only to lighten things. He said his part out of decency. “Why do you think I was at those stables? If it weren’t for your brother…”

The crackle of your drag filled the new-found silence. You weren’t sure how long you’d stay there nor how long you subject Tommy to your company. It was a moment of brevity you both seemed to need. You hadn’t meant to find him, and his plan had nothing to do with you, but that in itself sparked your idea.

“Hey, Tommy?”

He turned to meet your contact, eyebrows raised, air mixing from the proximity. “Hmm?”

“How’d you like some help with stealing that million?”

#q #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x f!reader #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby fic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x f!reader #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby fluff #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader

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roturo · 10 months

Text

ROLLER COASTER!

①NEW REQUEST FROM ANONYMOUS!: childhood!friends into... ???, 1 sided love, mixed emotions and smut & angst.

→ summary: every goodbye has a why, but why have you been saying a lot of goodbye's without actually leaving?

→ warnings: SMUT. angst, corruption kink, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering & oral (f!receiving), drunk sex, jealousy, 1 sided crush turns into.. idk man, a lot of angst fr, dick grayson is an idiot mwah. words: +2.5k

TUMBLR IS BASED ON A REBLOG SYSTEM. PLEASE REBLOG MY WORK. THANK YOU. ENJOY. SMUT BELOW THE CUT.

December, 2010.

¨ALFREEED! Dick is hitting me again!¨ You called for some help, a smile creeping your face.

¨Hey! That's not fair! We're training! You're supposed to get hurt! It's not my fault you're way too weak to protect yourself.¨ He pointed the training-stick to you, motioning to get up, but his action quickly stopped when he saw a tear running down your cheek.

¨Hey, hey, hey¨ He knelt down in-front of you cupping your cheek and wiped the tear away with his thumb. ¨I'm sorry, okay?, you're not weak, i'm just better than you.¨ That made you jokingly punch him on his stomach at which he only chuckled. ¨Okay, maybe not better than you, but practice makes perfect, c'mon, get up and let's watch some tv.¨

As a kid, you couldn't know what you felt for Dick, you mostly though he was 'special' since he was the only kid living with you and Wayne. A 11 year old knows what's love, and you're sure Dick, as a 14 year old knows it too. He's likely to not think very seriously when you tell him you love him, but in reality?

He's the beast for your beauty.

December, 2014.

You gazed at Dick through curious-lashed eyes, your heart pounding with a mix of nerves and adoration. You had been harboring a secret crush on him for what felt like forever. But as much as you treasured this friendship, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness.

"So, Dick," you began, voice light and teasing, "any thoughts on the winter gala this weekend?¨

Dick's eyes lifted from the book he'd been engrossed in, confusion creasing his forehead. "Winter gala? Oh man, I totally forgot about that. Should we go?"

Your heart sank slightly, but tried to hide it behind a smile. "Hmm, I don't know. I'm not much of a dancer, you know."

Dick laughed, his melodic chuckle resonating in the serene surroundings. "Come on, you just need someone to teach you a few moves."

Your stomach fluttered at the suggestion, butterflies dancing wildly within you. Did Dick just imply he would teach you how to dance? Or were you reading too much into it?

Your laughter filled the air as Dick playfully tried to demonstrate dance steps on the carpet of grass, and much to your delight, you followed along, attempting your own clumsy version.

Hours passed until both of you were breathless from dancing and laughing. You plopped down onto the picnic blanket, side by side, shoulders brushing intimately.

Your mind started to wander, daydreaming about what it would be like if he ever realized your feelings. Would he reciprocate? Or would he still see you as just a friend?

"You know," Dick suddenly said, his voice laced with mischief, "if I had someone who danced with such enthusiasm as you, I wouldn't mind going to the gala at all."

ba-boom, ba-boom, you were sure you're going to pass out. Your eyes widening in disbelief. Could it be that he was finally taking notice of you?

"Really? You… you'd want that… from me?"

Dick tilted his head, his dazzling blue eyes capturing your gaze. "Of course, why not? You're amazing, and being with you always makes me happy."

Leaning against Dick's shoulder, you closed your eyes, basking in the warmth of the friendship of you two. Maybe, just maybe, someday he would see you in a different light. But for now, you're just cherishing these moments of pure, unadulterated fun.

December, 2017.

You were at Dick's 21st birth-day, which, Wayne made the 'reunion' for his birth-day, or what he likes to call it, his 'gala'. Your excitement was jumping everywhere, you even bought a new dress for this occasion, his present was a nice bracelet you bought by yourself, with your money.

It wasn't the most expensive, neither the most fancy, but it was made just for him. Unique in this world, well, the matching bracelets were unique in this world. You were ready to finally confess your love for him, bracelets with initial of you two, not because you're owned by the other, but because you know each other. It was your princess dream, and it was finally time for this.

After some final touches, you were ready. Entering the room, you could see a lot of people, mostly Wayne's acquaintances or friends, but you finally spotted him, actually, with Wayne.

You couldn't quite see what was he wearing since you only could see his back, but Wayne seemed happy, at least.

With quick steps, careful to not trip yourself with your dress, and throw away his present, you finally got closer to him.

¨Dicky! I know I already said happy birthday to you, but look-... Oh.¨

Oh.

Who was this girl?

¨Oh Y/N, great you're here, look this is my new girlfriend, her name is Daisy.¨ You locked eyes with her, she seemed nice, ha. ¨Daisy, this is Y/N, she's like my little sister, practically known her my whole life.¨

Oh wow.

¨It's a pleasure to meet you Y/N¨

¨Pleasure it's mine.¨ And with that, it was enough for you, how oblivious this fucker can be? ¨Dick, can we talk for a moment?¨ You didn't even waited for him to answer when you already grabbed his wrist and took him into his room.

When you were at your room, you couldn't take it anymore and broke down crying.

You wandered further into the room, gaze avoiding his as you tried to gather the turbulent thoughts. The weigh of your confession threatening to choke the words from your throat. But you had to do this, even if it costs the friendship.

"I-I've been keeping something to myself for a while," voice quivering. "And I just couldn't hold it in any longer. Dick, I've had a crush on you for as long as I can remember."

His brows furrowed in confusion, and you glanced up for a fleeting moment, catching a glimpse of his girlfriend's picture on his desk. Pain surged through your chest, but you proceeded. "I know you have a girlfriend now, and I understand if you don't feel the same way. But I just couldn't let this day go by without telling you how I feel, this was supposed to be the day, when you think i'm not longer a little child, where you could love me as I do."

Words trembling with vulnerability. Dick remained silent for a moment, his expression laden with guilt. Slowly he closed the distance between you two. His gentle touch on your arm made your heart skip a beat, yet it also stung with unrequited affection.

"I'm really sorry," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "I never meant to hurt you or lead you on. You've been an amazing friend, and I don't want to lose that.¨

¨I'm sorry, but we can't be friends anymore... I will always see you as something else.¨

PRESENT TIME.

You didn't exactly cut connections with Dick, well, since you both lived in the same house for a while more, but let's say you remained as... distant family. You saw each-other at parties, meetings, galas, so... you were still in contact!

Gratefully, not that you would show your happiness, he broke up with his girlfriend, way too manipulative and control freak. But that's not all!, you grew up, your feelings for him didn't disappeared, but you hid them far away from you.

He already knew your boyfriend, he acted kind and nice about it, not that both of you could talk a lot about it.

This gala was made by Wayne, again. Dick got really distant since he resigned from being Robin, and started a new group of Titans, you were a little jealous about it, but mostly sad for not being part of it.

You were talking with some of your boyfriend's friends, some boring conversation about some new business, which you couldn't care less about, but you caught a familiar silhouette not so far from where you are.

Apparently he brought the titans with him, you don't know them personally, just by news, magazines, and well, because of him.

And to say you weren't a little tipsy was a lie. But who could blame you? But being drunk also brings some... distortions about what's really happening. He was drinking too! With another girl!

After some time of asking for more shots, getting all touchy with your boyfriend, just so he could look at you, he's been doing the same, getting all touchy and flirty with her. Everything was like a competition of who would get more jealous first and leave. And well, like he said once, he's better than you.

With clumsy steps, somehow you made into your old room. Memories coming fast liken a roller coaster, emotions beating out the small chest you tried to forget all this time, you needed him.

Clicking his number on your phone, it's like he was waiting for it, like this was going to happen.

¨Heyyyyy' Dicky'- Hic!¨ you giggled at the sudden hiccup, and you could tell Dick was giggling too, it made your heart beat faster. ¨What's wrong little bee?¨ He said, some unrecognizable background noise was getting less and less loud. ¨Little beeeeee'? What's that- hic! type of nickname?¨ Both of you just laughed at the sudden and dumb conversation between two idiots in love.

¨You know... My boyfriend is a little- he- a little shit.¨

¨He's worse than my ex? No waaaaay¨ He said with a chuckle.

¨Yeah, he's been fucking some other girl... I don't know for how much time, but it's been a whileeeee¨ You started laughing suddenly, ¨And you know what I hate most? hic!- It's that surely you been fucking some other bitchees heh-.... bitches before me. You know I hate you for that right love?¨

¨You don't how many nights I been jacking off by myself thinking about you ever since we distanced apart. I didn't realized how much I needed you to be in myyyy life.¨

¨...........¨

¨...............¨

¨.... Dicky... I need you¨

¨Oh... you do princess? Where do you need me?¨

¨In my room, I need you now¨

¨And for what princess? I'm going there.¨ He was giggling while walking.

¨I need you to fuck me for once.¨

That's the last thing he heard when he hang up and with quick steps he got into your room, and with no words needed both of you started kissing each other, between giggles with just one sudden push and you landed among the sheets. Dick got on top of you and started kissing you as you started tugging at the hem of his shirt.

Dick's shoulders were wide, his hips narrow and there was a visible V-line that was half-hidden by his trousers. You were trying not to stare, but it seemed impossible since he was so appealing. Dick helped you to unzip your dress and you were lying only in you lace lingerie. His eyes were devouring you. How he couldn't notice how perfect you were for him?

Suddenly, Dick grabbed you calves and pulled you towards him on the edge of the bed. His free hand reached out for a pillow that was laying nearby and placed it under you hips. You were following closely his every move and your head started spinning a bit, a side effect of the substances in your bloodstream. He kneeled in-between your thighs and was placing small kisses on your bare skin.

His fingers pulled your panties to the side while he looked you in the eye before dragging his tongue over your clit. ¨Ah!- Nng- D..Dick!¨ You moaned at the sensation and reached out to touch his hair. His warm breath was caressing you, his movements were lazy yet precise.

You were getting frustrated with the slow tempo and you were about to say something when he pressed his index finger against your entrance. It didn’t take too long before you were moaning his name as he added another digit. Again, the pool of heat was starting to build up in your stomach while he curled his fingers inside you. Dick seemed amazed by how eagerly your hips were meeting his palm, the wet sounds of him moving his fingers inside you, made him eager to fuck you, he brushed his thumb against your clit once more before giving a small peck and standing up, taking of his pants and what was left of your clothes, he positioned himself between your legs.

You saw Dick right before he thrust his hips to enter you again. Your body was warm, already so fucking wet, he didn’t think he could last long enough for it to be fun, but then he steadied himself and slowed down the pace. He ran a finger across your lips, signaling to open them at which and you opened them wide enough to suck on it.

He bent over only to start leaving kisses in your neck that would for sure be purple by tomorrow. ¨Aren't you a good girl princess? A good, good girl.¨

¨Such a nice girl for me, I bet no one else has touched this pussy.¨

¨You- you're, ah!~ right, Dicky-, You're the first one to fuck me. Reaching a lot of place my fingers couldn't reach while thinking of you.¨

It's like something on Dick turned on, and started violently thrust into you in a bestial force, making you cum when his cock touched that place. His eyes were even darker, his dilated pupil taking over his blue-crystal eyes.

¨Oh yeah? I'm the first one to fuck you?¨

¨Ye-yes, other b-boys tried to give me pleasure on other ways and couldn't do it as good, nhg!~ as you.¨

His thrusts started becoming harder instead of faster, the though of another man fingering you made him mad. You were now his.

“You are driving me insane and I’m this close to losing my shit because of you.”

¨Make me yours Dick.¨

The next day, Dick was kissing your naked body while you were hugged on his, since you were kids you were always the small spoon. He was observing how he could never notice how perfect you are, you were always for him, you were the one.

He feels so incredible right now, the chemistry both of you have, it's amazing.

His fucking phone started ringing.

¨Fuck, the Titans meeting, shit.¨ He looked at your sleepy body and decided to dress you up, and obviously dress himself.

He forgot to leave you a note to notice you he's coming back, but you only realized once he woke you up knocking on your door.

He had... flowers?

¨Dick, why are you here?¨

¨Look Y/N, I know yesterday was a roller coaster of emotions, and I feel so dumb for never loving you the way you deserved to, but please, give me a chance, you won't regret it, and I guess you and your boyfriend-¨

¨Dick.¨

¨Just hear me out for a minute okay?, I never wanted to admit it, mostly because I thought I would lose you, not because of you, but because of me, I don't know what problem I have, but that doesn't matter right now-¨

¨Dick.¨

¨I will fight for us no matter what, and last night definitely wasn't an accident-¨

¨Dick! What are you talking about? What happened yesterday? Did I say something when you came into my room? Did I told you something personal when I called you?! Oh my god...¨

Were you lying?... He froze for a moment, the flowers fell from his hands, and he just started walking away. Is this true? You don't remember?

It feels like the beginning when you both grew apart, it's really hard to adapt at what's going on inside his head. Was yesterday an accident? Does he really loves you? Do you love him?

Why does this feels like a goodbye?

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x reader smut #dick grayson #dick grayson angst #nightwing x reader #nightwing x reader smut #nightwing #nightwing smut #nightwing angst #titans smut #titans angst #titans x reader #not proofread #😝😝😝#wrote this at the therapist #requests open

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hughesurdaddy43 · 3 months

Note

hello lovely🫶🏼 if ur requests are open and whenever you have time could you write something absolutely gut wrenchingly heartbreaking that ends with some fluff w Q and somehow add in the brothers being involved too? Like they are on your side or whatever! Just in an angst mood😮‍💨

This sucksssssss, I had this whole thing planned out and then forgot about it butttttttt ngl i kind of love it, it's just not as heart breaking as I wanted it. also i was gonna make quinn and jacl fight over her bc we love that but we also love soft boy jack whos just worried.

AND IDK HOW TO WRITE FLUFF? I MEAN I DO BUT I FOCUSED MORE ON THE HEARTBREAKING PART?? IS THIS EVEN SAD? IDK BUT I LISTENED TO TAYLOR WHILE WRITING IT

tw?// attempt to d&d??

also trevor zegras scares me

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you watched Quinn on the other side of the fire, slow dancing with another girl.

You knew coming to this bonfire would be a bad idea, your friends were his friends first. Of course he'd be here.

Jack, in the chair right beside you leans over. "Don't even pay attention to him, Ash. He's a dick for bringing another girl, he knew you were coming." Your heart crumbles, he knew you were coming and still brought another girl.

"It's barely been two months, how could he have moved on that fast?" Luke, from the other side of you chuckles, causing both you and Jack to look over at him. "You think he's moved on? She's definitely a rebound, Ash. I mean, look at her."

You bring the drink in your hand up to your lips, taking another sip as you look back at Quinn. You've been watching him all night, hoping he'd come up to you. "Why is it so easy for him?" You mumble to yourself. Since your breakup, you've been a wreck. Life without Quinn wasn’t something you were used to, something you hated.

"I think I should go." Your legs feel like jello when you stand up and it takes you a moment to balance yourself.

Jack stands up beside you, grabbing your arm. "You can't drive Ash, you’re drunk." He tries to grab your keys from your hand but you pull away.

"I'm fine, Jack. I can't be here."

You start to walk to your car that's parked amongst all the other vehicles that have piled in over the last couple of hours. Your head is spinning and your thoughts are all over the place. Luke and Jack are calling your name from behind you, and a lot of heads are turning your way, but there's one thing only that's on your mind. Get away from Quinn, as far as possible.

When you reach your car and get the door open, Jack slams it shut. "I'm not letting you drive, Ash. You're drunk, and I can't drive you because I'm drunk. Just give it a few hours, will you?"

The tears that we're threatening to spill from your eyes finally fall.

"Listen, I know he's being a piece of shit right now, but it's not worth risking your life over."

"I already risked my life for him, Jack! I moved countries for him, and I quit my job, I left my friends. I left everything I knew and loved! And for what? For him to break my heart?"

Your back slides against the side of your car as you let your body fall to the ground. Sober you would be completely embarrassed with how you're acting, but with all the alcohol in your system you don't really care. Your face is buried into your hands as you cry your heart out, until you hear a voice. His voice.

"Ash? What's going on"

Quinn walks towards you with worry filled eyes, and he kneels down until the two of you are face to face. "Baby, what's wrong?" And with the use of the pet name that you had been so used to hearing, your heart aches.

"I want to go home." You cry out.

Quinn doesn’t hesitate, standing up and pulling you with him. He starts leading you to the passenger side of the car.

The car ride is quiet. The road ahead of you is long and dark, and you can't remember the last time you've seen another car.

Quinn starts messing with the radio, but club mixes and jazz aren't his vibe for tonight, so he settles with nothing.

"We weren’t supposed to end up like this." You mumble, mostly to yourself but it's loud enough for him to hear.

Quinn laughs, running his hand through his hair. "I didn’t have much of a choice, Ash."

You look at him, trying to decipher whether or not he's kidding. It's clear he isn’t.

"I'm not drunk enough for you to gaslight me into thinking I'm the reason we broke up."

"You’re kidding me, right? Ash, you're the one who left!"

Now it's your turn to laugh. "I didn’t just leave, Quinn. You pushed me away."

The car comes to a stop, the smell of burnt rubber fills your nose.

"I pushed you away? You left! I watched you leave! You took your fucking house key off the chain and dropped it on the table, and then you left!"

You feel like a small child with how Quinn is yelling in your face. You can't remember a time where he's ever been so angry with you.

In one swift move, you open the car door and get out. "I'm walking home!"

Quinn rolls the window down and begins shouting for you, but you’re already quite a distance away. He follows right beside you, begging for you to get back into the car.

"Baby, please get in the car."

You slow down, whipping your head to face him "Don’t you dare! Don't call me that."

At this point, Quinn puts the car in park and walks over to grab you.

You pull your arm out of his grasp and try to walk away, but he doesn’t let you.

"Stop being so stubborn, Ash! Just get in the damn car!."

With your back towards him, you let your shoulders drop. You can't fight back with out the fear of crying again, and you’re so tired of crying over him.

"Why didn’t you tell me that you love me?"

You finally ask the million dollar question and it takes both of you by surprise.

Quinn sighs, and even though you aren’t looking at him, you know that he's running his hand through his hair. His signature move that you know all too well.

"You didn’t give me time to think." He says, and you scoff. " You shouldn’t have needed time, Quinn. When you know, you know."

You can hear his footsteps approaching you until he's pressed up against your back.

"No, I didn’t need to know if I loved you or not. Fuck.

I just, I couldn’t just say 'I love you' back. You deserved more than that, and I just, God. I'm speechless here, Ash. Of course I loved you, I still love you. You think you're worth only three words? I think you’re worth everything and more. You wanted me to tell you that I love you yet you didn’t even give me a chance!"

Once again, you’re crying. Quinn takes this as his chance to come around you and pull you into a hug.

"I love you, okay? And I don't want to fight anymore so will you please get in the car?"

You look up at Quinn, nodding your head, ready to forget about tonight.

Quinn gently raises his hand up to your face, wiping away your stray tears.

"I love you Quinn, so much. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, baby. Lets get you home."

Quinn walks you back to your car, haphazardly parked on the side of the road. Once the two of you are in the car, Quinn in the driver seat, you in the passenger, he reaches his right hand across the center console and grabs your hand that's resting on your thigh.

You look over at him. His left hand is on the steering wheel and his eyes are focused on the road.

"Will you stay over? I don't think I can go another night without you."

Quinns eyes dart to you before settling back on the road, he brings your hand up to his lips and leaves a kiss.

"I'm all yours, baby."

IM SORRY I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END THIS.

#hockey blurb #quinn hughes #hockey boys #hughes brothers #nhl #jack hughes #luke hughes #nhl fic #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine

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mvltisstuff · 10 months

Note

Evan Buckley & female reader - a fic where instead of the firetruck crushing buck’s leg, it crushes the reader’s leg instead and the reader is in the firetruck when it explodes and Buck & reader have been engaged for 2 years. Buck is worried and scared and panics when he sees the reader underneath the truck. He helps her through the physical therapy of getting back her leg strength and helps her through how she is told she may not be able to be a firefighter again.

lots of angst, heartbreak, sadness, anger, fluff too 💙

love ur 911 fics so much ❤️‍🩹

are you with me - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

a/n: i’m so happy you guys like my fics, i have plenty coming your way soon 🩶 btw this started off pretty strong and idk what happened toward the end w the quality

it’s never realized how much calamity one person can cause in such a large city. people get in their cars to go to work, they order a package, they stop at the store, and the last thing they expect is an explosion right at their feet.

over three million people in los angeles, and one forced 30 tons of weight onto y/n’s leg. it was just work. something she does every single day. of course, nothing in life ever remains the same, but this is really something you can never expect. you watch it in movies, or you hear about it in the news, only until it happens to you.

she knew the bones in her leg were crushed upon the impact, the engine thrown on its side. buck watched from a distance, being held back by the police. he would do anything for her. he wanted to tear this kid to shreds. he saw y/n’s broken leg under the truck and her head weakly lifting up. he could almost hear the pained gasps and whimpers from her lips. y/n, on the other hand, felt like she was in the center of the ring, the joke of this kid.

all the bystanders watched the scene unfold, the boy trying to summon the captain of the 118. it felt unreal. the noise and the truck shaking the ground they walked on.

buck thought he hallucinated the sparkling ring on y/n’s hand, somehow managing to remind him of the fight he was about to do. he vividly remembers the day he got down on his knee, bargaining the rest of his life to her and crying when she said yes. the whole team had been there, watching from a distance as her hand covered her mouth and lifted him from the floor. their wedding was being planned, every last detail needing to be perfect for the couple.

most people’s instinct would be to run away, but buck wanted to run toward the chaos. if y/n was there, so was he. his life mission has been to keep her safe, and knowing someone went out of his way to hurt her makes him go crazy. the exact moment that freddie was taken down with his overcomplicated vest, buck found himself running to her. he instantly fell onto his knees, seeing the ash and tears on her face close up.

she wished she couldn’t feel it, but she felt every part of it. she didn’t know anything. was her leg even connected to her anymore? buck moved himself closer to her so she could hear him over the murmuring of watchers.

“hey! hey, y/n,” he starts.

“it h-hurts so bad,” she whines, making him grimace himself.

“son of a bitch, ok. we’re gonna get you out of there, yeah?”

“please,” she begs, almost inaudible. buck stands up, calling for anyone he can to lift the truck off her, which was almost impossible with a few people around. hen was on the ground, connecting machines to y/n’s harmed figure.

“hang in there, y/n/n,” she says softly. “we’ve got you.”

despite his entire body weight being used to lift the ladder engine, it didn’t budge once. the only thing it did was echo the raw screams from y/n, poisoning bucks ears making his heart speed up. the adrenaline pumping through his system was making him think he could do it.

“do you have anything on the truck we can use for leverage?” eddie asks to a panicked bobby, trying to save one of his workers and best friends.

“it’s too heavy, it wouldn’t work,” bobby says as a light goes off in bucks head.

“more people,” he mumbles. “we need more people! hey! all of you, get over here and lift this!” he shouts at the mob of people observing the accident. not hesitating, the civilians sprint over and grab onto any part of the truck that they can.

y/n was in grievous pain, dreading the agony that would come when they finally lifted it. she was right, it was tormenting, releasing shrieks she didn’t know she had. before she could rethink everything, she was tugged from under and flipped onto her back. buck couldn’t peel his gaze away from the blood that has completely stained her pant leg and the parts of her leg that should be inside of it. complete shock and fear took over his body, but not enough to stand there with her the whole time. he watched chimney and hen bandage up her leg and move her into the ambulance, where buck sat next to her. hen was in the back with him, chim being the designated driver. unfortunately, y/n had been awake for the entire experience. from the second the engine flipped, to the second she was lifted into the ambulance. as much buck was grateful that she was awake, he almost wanted her to pass out. she wouldn’t have to endure this much pain, despite the morphine kicking in.

y/n’s hand twitched in bucks, “buck?” she grumbles out.

“y/n,” he makes note of her panicked state. “i’m here, you’re ok. i’m not going anywhere, honey.”

“someone should tell the city that we need a n-new truck,” buck laughs at her mind and how it works before running a hand through her hair.

“you don’t have to worry about that,” says buck. “you have no idea how relieved i am that you’re ok.”

“we’re getting married soon,” she realizes. “shit, we were supposed to get married soon-“

“shh, it’s all gonna work out, ok?” buck reassures. “i’d marry you no matter what, broken leg or not.”

“promise?”

“i promise.”

the hours sitting in the waiting room were grueling. maddie had left to be with buck, watching the entire scene go down on the news. even her heart ached, watching someone she already considers family have to face something like this. the whole team was anxiously waiting for the surgeon to come out and say she’d be ok. she held them together like a true family, being the most stable relationship they had. she was the part of the station that made their bond unbreakable. watching her vulnerable condition under that truck was almost intolerable. the time that she wasn’t in work felt like a missing puzzle piece.

weeks had passed since the bombings of LA, and buck had been there every single day. in sickness and in health, he hasn’t said the words out loud, but he swore to that since the day he met her. he knows that she would do the same exact thing for him, and he would spend every single day helping her.

y/n felt completely isolated in their small apartment, barely being able to leave the first floor. she craved work, she desperately awaited the day that she could return, but the injury in her leg hadn’t resolved. no matter how many times she tried to convince herself, she didn’t know if she’d ever be a firefighter again. at some point, she almost envied her fiancé for being able to go to work. he felt so bad for her, just wanting to give her her life back. the weekly doctors appointments were draining her of almost everything she had, every single one proving nothing. nothing that meant anything. the situation was completely out of anyone’s control, and she had consumed so much anger about it. anger at the doctors, the therapists, the kid, the 118, everyone around her.

buck was forced to sit back and watch, to act as a shoulder to cry on. he was the third crutch, the person she leaned on when she couldn’t stand on her own. there was no way in hell she could’ve done it alone. buck was the one to drive her to every appointment and helped carry some of the burden.

at the end of the day, there were two things that scared y/n the most. losing buck and losing her job. the two things that got her out of bed and the two things that gave her a true meaning. as time passed and every request to be back at work was denied, she swore her heart hurt more than her leg.

“y/n?” buck called out after arriving back home. she had been on the couch, watching another drama series about firefighters. “hi, how are you doing?” he asked when spotting her in the living room. she didn’t respond, just looked at the television with the volume low. he went and sat next to her.

“what’s wrong? did something happen?”

her eyes had already been bothered from tears of anger and frustration, and he could clearly see that with his own. “they called again.”

“wasn’t the answer you wanted?”

“i have been pushing myself every day for approval, and i have not gotten anything for it,” she says, dryly. “i have been killing myself to go back to what i love and why am i not getting anything?” her voice cracks.

“listen,” he tries to distract her from her own negativity and forces her to look at him. “i know you’ve heard this a million times, but you have to let yourself take the time to heal. if you go back too soon, you’re going to make it worse.”

her nose scrunches at bucks words, causing her to sniffle as he continues. “i know, it sucks, and i am so, so sorry. it’s just that none of us want to see you do more harm than good. we need you back as a firefighter, but i need you back to normal first. you’re worth so much more than this, and this injury is not going to take you out, we all know it.”

y/n opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out besides the small beginning of a word. she knows he’s right, but having to come to terms with that is the hardest part of it all. she begins to cry lightly again, her face in her hands as she leans forward. buck slides over, wrapping his arms around his distressed fiancé.

y/n took bucks advice, and now, she stands in the entrance of the firehouse. she walks in to see her uniform waiting for her in her cabinet, her gear untouched, and it feels like she was here yesterday. she feels at home here. buck follows her in, grabbing her hand and they restart the rest of their lives.

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fiapartridge · 1 year

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REQUEST tbh idk how ur request work but I have an idea

Going to one of Luke’s games but it’s Toronto vs NJ and wearing a maple lefes jersey

And luke sees her and is banging on the glass to get ur attention and is like “off now”

Idk this idea popped in my head lmao

R U Mine? | luke hughes

"all i ever wanna say is, 'are you mine?'"

luke hughes x reader

summary: you wear a toronto maple leafs jersey to luke’s game and he can't help but wish you were wearing his...

warning(s): cursing

hiii @bibella8swan <3 hope u like mitch marner, if not, just imagine someone else LMAO + i really need to make a navigation with like a proper request/prompt system, im tryna be a pro tumblr writer gal

You loved Mitch Marner, like loved him.

Having grown up in Toronto, your family loved hockey just as much as the next family— which was a lot. They watched every single Leafs game, went to every single Leafs signing, and they even had a shrine of Leafs memorabilia in your parents’ home office. To say they liked the Leafs was an understatement (honestly, they would probably tackle you if you said that)— they were obsessed.

Luke knew you loved the Leafs. I mean, he lived next door to you for a good chunk of his life, how could he not know? It wasn’t like you were sporting all things Leafs whenever you were with him, but Luke paid enough attention to notice your dedicated Mitch Marner Pinterest boards and your number 16 lockscreen. Though you rarely ever said it out loud (honestly, I don’t think you’ve ever told Luke, let alone anyone else, about your love for Mitch), Luke knew— because Luke knew you. He noticed the little things, like the way you always needed to carry around a lint roller in your bag because you just knew there would be unwanted lint wherever you end up going, or the way you laughed at everything, even bad jokes, because you hated silence even more.

When he moved to Michigan, you were scared that things were going to change between the two of you, but it never did. He was still your best friend, and you were still his. When he found out you were moving to New Jersey for college, he was ecstatic given that he had just gotten drafted to the Devils.

Getting to spend more time with his best friend? It was the best news he had ever been given. Luke started planning out your guys’ lives in New Jersey the second you told him about your plans. Maybe you guys could share an apartment instead of him sharing one with Jack, and maybe you could go to all of his home games and cheer him on in the stands?

Luke moved to New Jersey after Michigan’s loss in the Frozen Four, and while it was a bitter moment, knowing that he was finally going to see you made it not so terrible.

When Luke arrived in New Jersey, it was like nothing had changed. The two of you spent every single day together, and there wasn’t a single moment when you guys weren’t laughing, or making fun of each other while laughing. You even got an apartment with him, just like he had planned. It was perfect. Maybe that was when Luke understood that his love for you was way beyond just friendship. Luke loved you. Quinn said that Luke had fallen in love with you the moment he saw you, but he just wasn’t bright enough to see it— I guess college did teach him a couple of things.

After a few more months of living together, Jack had finally managed to slap some sense into the both of you after finding out that you were both going on Tinder dates and that none of you were happy. In fact, you two were miserable. Every single time you watched the other person walk out that front door in nice clothes and high expectations, you felt some part of yourself crumble to pieces.

You hated the thought of someone getting to hold Luke’s hand or cuddle into his side, or even get the chance to kiss him. You had known Luke your entire life and some random girl from some stupid app that he had known for, what? An hour? Got to get closer to him than you? You hated that, and little did you know, Luke hated that, too.

Which brought you to where you were now: at Luke’s game against the Toronto Maple Leafs.

You slipped into the front row, sitting beside Ryleigh and Brooke, as you got the most perfect view of Luke as he and the rest of the Devils skated onto the ice for warmups before the game. You were engaged in conversation with Brooke when you felt Ryleigh tap your shoulder repeatedly. Whipping your head in her direction, she pointed to the glass and said, “I think someone’s trying to get your attention,” she laughed.

When you looked toward the glass, you saw Luke banging against the clear pane. You were confused, to say the least. It wasn’t unusual for Luke to give you some sort of attention during warmups, like a simple wave, or a small smile, but for him to be banging on the glass? It had to be important.

“Off," he nodded his head at you. "Now.”

You furrowed your brows. What was he talking about? You squinted your eyes, signaling that you had no idea as to what he was referring to.

Luke pinched his jersey, pulling it up and down, and you immediately knew what it was. You were wearing a Marner jersey. What did he think was going to happen? The love of your life was on that ice— of course you were going to wear his jersey! But then again, the love of your life was banging on the glass, getting a million stares from Devils fans and Leafs fans alike, just so he could gain some comfort knowing that you were in that crowd, wearing his jersey.

You didn’t quite understand that, though. You wondered why it was so important to Luke. I mean, you wore his jersey to every single home game. It was one game against a team you loved. What was the big deal?

You shrugged him off, shooing him to go back to the others when you heard the siren go off, signaling that it was time for the game to start. He shook his head and skated off to the Devils’ bench.

The first period was… definitely something.

Luke got the puck a lot, but he also missed the puck… a lot. He skated around the ice like a lost puppy, and you bit your nails, wondering if it really was the jersey that was bothering him. It didn’t seem like a big deal to you. You’ve loved Mitch Marner since the concept of crushes even came to you. The Maple Leafs were your team. What was so wrong with that?

During the intermission, you sprang out of your seat and marched over to the direction of the locker rooms. The Rock was like a second home to you. You knew the place like the back of your hand which made it so much easier to get to Luke— because you needed to get to Luke before the second period started. You needed to know why it was taking such a toll on him.

When you walked towards the hall of the locker rooms, your eyes met Luke’s and he immediately ran over to you, or rather hobbled to you, on his skates. On his way over, his right hand fished for the bottom of his jersey as he pulled it over his head in one clean motion. God, it was the hottest thing you had ever seen.

“Take this,” he said, still out of breath from the game.

You shook your head. “That thing is full of sweat, Luke.”

“Then let me grab you a clean one from my stall,” he suggested before turning around.

You scoffed, grabbing his wrist and swiveling him back towards you. “What’s going on?”

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

You rolled your eyes. “The last time you said that, you were pissed off that Jack got the last slice of pizza and the next time you got pizza, you added olives because you knew Jack hated them. It’s not nothing, Luke.”

He looked everywhere but you, because he knew you’d read him like a magazine. He knew that he could never hide a single thing from you, because just as he had paid attention to you, you had paid attention to him. You knew him, and deep down, you knew why the jersey was such a big deal to Luke, but you wanted to hear him say it.

You wanted Luke to call you his.

His shoulders relaxed for the first time since intermission started, and his eyes finally met yours. “I know you love Mitch. You always have, and that’s never been a problem, and it never will be, but… I wanted you to pick me.”

You narrowed your brows, stepped closer to the boy you loved so much, and you whispered almost tauntingly, “Why should I pick you?”

He bent down, held the sides of your face, and crinkled his eyes in nothing but cringe. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“Gosh, I think Mitch is calling my name,” you frowned.

He shook his head, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “For some fucking reason, I love you, Y/N, and I want you to wear my jersey, I’m begging you to wear my jersey, because as selfish as this sounds, I need to know that you’re not Marner’s, and you’re not the Leafs’ — you’re mine. I want you… to be mine.”

Your face broke into a bright smile. “Fucking finally,” you laughed, pushing him off of you and towards the locker room. “Give me the damn jersey, Hughes, intermission ends in seven! Also,” you pulled him back. “I love you, too.”

#hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey fic #nhl fanfiction #nj devils #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes imagines

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mazosstuff · 6 months

Text

Drunk thoughts are sincere thoughts

pairing: Dan Heng × fem!reader

Cw!: none (maybe being drunk? Idk, nothing major happens to the reader or to anyone)

Words: < 800

A tiny bit suggestive but nothing happens!!

Sitting in the data bank, there are 2 young adults that are merely hanging out with a bottle or two of wine.

That night, she gulped down way too many glasses for how much alcohol she could tolerate.

"You've had one to many drinks, [name]" the black haired boy said.

"Y-you know... I was t-thinking about your other name..." She said between hiccups and a few pauses.

"My... other name? Please, tell me more. What were you thinking?" He wasn't even sure about what other name could she be possibly referring to.

"Imbibitor Lunae" She said while looking at the stars outside the window of the data bank.

"That... is more of a title, I guess... why were you thinking about it...?"

"Because people on the Xianzhou ships talk chinese... but... your name is in latin"

"Latin? I've never heard of this language"

"It comes from my homeland, Earth. It's more of a dead language, b-but I don't know how it got to you..."

"Still... that is a title that be-"

"Belongs to D-Dan Feng... I got it... you're making me tired of hearing the same thing over and over again"

"Think of how tired I am for telling everyone the same thing"

"Good though. Why would you ever want to d-drink the moon?"

Was the alcohol starting to get in her system? "Drink the moon?"

"Imbibitor Lunae means drinker of the moon..." She got up and sat right in front of him "Why would y-you ever want to d-drink the moon? I-it's so pretty!" She almost sounded whiny now, but not in an annoying way.

In her eyes, she was making him understand a very important thing for her: She loved the moon, and she loved him, but having her boyfriend's title be 'moon drinker'? Blasfemy!

In his eyes, however, he saw the love of his life getting in a position that was hard to describe: she was sat in between his legs, she grabbed him gently by his hips and started shaking him a little bit.

A faint blush transformed into him becoming even redder than Himeko's hair.

"Could you stop moving me like that?"

"Why do you wanna drink the moon? It's so pretty! It's so pretty that I'd marry it if it were a real person"

Something snapped inside of him with the last sentence. Surely he wasn't jealous of the moon... was he?

"Didn't you tell me you wanted to marry me?"

"That's another thing! I bet you'd leave me too for the moon"

Oh, silly [name]. He could never.

With what little courage there was left inside of him, he cupped her face into his hands and kissed her.

It was almost as if it had a hidden meaning.

He wanted to tell her he wasn't going anywhere. The moon may be pretty, but she was prettier. The moon could never beat her in a contest because it would have lost even before the beginning. But he couldn't find the words to say it.

"I will always choose you" He broke the kiss and hugged her.

She remained dumbfounded, frozen like a statue and unable to process everything that happened.

"By the way, how many drinks did you have? I can taste the alcohol on your lips"

"Uhhh... i don't know, I never counted...I'm not really a math gal"

"[Name]..." He sounded serious now

"Okay... maybe 5... or 6...?"

"My Aeons, you're unbelievably irresponsible with alcohol. It makes me wonder how you survived until now"

"Oops..." She said as she suddenly fell on him. From being on her knees, in between his legs, she just let herself fall on him.

Thinking about the various mentions of his past reincarnation, she felt like it was appropriate to remind him of who she loved.

"I love you... Dan Heng" She made sure to highlight the character 'Heng' in his name.

"And I love you not because of who you once were, b-but because of who you are now. Yeah... your vidyadhara appearance may be so cool and it's nice to tease you while you're in that form, but I fell in love with you, not Dan Feng, and if i had to choose between you and him, i would choose you every single time somebody asked me that"

He could feel his eyes tingling and ready to burst out in tears.

"If you ever get tired of reminding people who you are, t-tell me... because I w-will not let anyone disrespect you like that"

And with that she fell asleep on him.

He looked at her with a smile on his face

"How could I have been so lucky to have met you, my dear?"

People say that drunk thoughts are sincere thoughts.

A/n: hope you liked this little one shot. I swear, inspiration comes when you don't find the things you're looking for.

Another character that I love to the moon and back is Dan Heng. I have his E1 in his 5 star version and E2 in his normal one and I swear I'm tryna build him, but the drops of the calyx are awful.

As always, if you have a request for a one-shot, don't hesitate to send it to me!

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng #dan heng x reader

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its-freaking-jordan · 9 months

Text

This might turn out to be a fic, idk.

Hantengu clones x husband/Wife reader

Mainly Sekido x reader

Just imagine when the Hantengu clones coming back from a mission, Sekido is yelling at the others, he’s yelling at Karaku and Urogi for being childish and he was yelling at Aizetsu for being.. sad all the time. Karaku and Urogi just laughs and tells Sekido “But we’re alive aren’t we? Stop being so serious all the time! Just let loose sometimes!” That only pissed Sekido off more, he wanted to kill Karaku and Urogi if he could.

Urogi saw that you we’re sitting down on the sofa, his wings fluttered when he saw you, he flew over to you and hugged you in a tight but warm embrace.“My Love! We’re back from our mission! I don’t know why Sekido is even mad at us.. especially Aizetsu…. Who cares!? I’m glad I’m back to see you!”

“I’m glad to see you all too..But Sekido seemed mad than usual..”

Karaju walked over to you and gave you a peck on the cheek.”Ah don’t worry about him hon, he’s always like this.. he will eventually get over it and, you know this, just don’t try to think much about it, alright? Sekido is the emotion of Anger.. so it’s in his nature to be pissed off at almost everything.” Karaku said as he ruffled your hair. But you just knew he was actually mad about something, but should you just leave him alone or go talk to him?

“Darling I know you’re worried.. but please listen to Karaku.. We should leave Sekido alone for now… It will only piss him off even more if any of us try to talk to him now..” Aizetsu sat down next to you and gave you a quick peck on your forehead. The three of them tried to reassure you to just let Sekido be, but something inside of you was telling you to go check up on your beloved. You looked behind you and saw that Sekido stormed off into a different room.

You eventually went upstairs after spending some time with the two goofs and Aizetsu. You looked over and heard the sound of something grumbling and walking back and forth. You peeped your head towards the door and saw your hot headed husband Sekido. You knocked on the door, letting him know that you’re coming, before entering the door.*Sekido.. What’s wrong?.. You’re never usually-“

“My love.. You don’t understand how MUCH they all piss me off! “

You decided to sit down, because this was going to be a while before he can fully calm down now.”

“It’s like they don’t take this shit seriously! Especially Karaku and Urogi! They always think it’s some kind of fucking game!! Our lives are on the line!! One wrong move and then we’re all fucking dead but they always choose to make everything a damn game! At least Aizetsu takes this shit seriously! But he always gets distracted and his head gets blown off!! Is it that fucking hard to just stop acting like a DAMN fool for once!! And it’s always “Sekido this” or “ Hey Sekido” that.. blah blah….”

You sat there for at least 5 minutes as you heard Sekido going on and on about his brother’ clones. You did understand where he was coming from.. well at least about Karaku and Urogi. A soft sigh left you mouth. You got up and placed a hand on Sekido’s shoulder. A smile was on you face as you sat him down on the bed to try to reason with him about the other clones, they all have different personalities so it was hard. After some time you calmed down Sekido a bit but it was progress, at least he wasn’t as mad as before.. right?

As you were the clone ‘brother’s’ wife/husband, you knew that they all had their moments like this, it was a handful yes but you always tried to manage a way to keep them from killing eachother, but you were also their support system. They all loved you and you love them.

Once you had a chance to speak with Sekido, your little pep talk did work actually.. he understood that they aren’t exactly like him and how they won’t take things as serious as he does. You opened your arms for Sekido, inviting him into a hug. Sekido doesn’t do Hugs, yet alone at that He’s not much into PDA.. But he didn’t want you to think that he didn’t want a hug from you.. Instead he brought your head close to his chest, bringing you into his embrace now, which you happily accepted. He gave you a small kiss on your forehead as a “Thank you”.

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lewkwoodnco · 4 months

Text

tis the damn season - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: estranged best friends to lovers trope my beloved!!! 😍 AHHH this is one of my fav fics I've written in a while. Poem below is Golden Boy by Cecil Miller, and the Spanish line is taken from a streetcar named desire by tennessee (idk how 2 spell) williams! this might be less proofread than normal + includes a few of my pre-infection hallucinations? lottt of angst, wc 5.1k!!

P.S. I think I'll be doing a part 2 to buy me presents! but not until a little later ahah and also the 12 days of fics are totally going to spill over hahah

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

Lockwood stares out the kitchen window. Both inside and outside, there is a bleak stillness in the air that sinks in his bones like a plague. It's too cold and too early in the morning for anyone to be properly out and about. But the season always messed up his sleep schedule more than usual, and now that they had taken a break from their cases for the holidays, there was nothing to occupy his treacherous mind, and its return to taut requirings of Christmases past.

Slowly, the other residents of Portland Row start to stir. George grumbles about their spluttering heating system and having to plod through the snow to get the mail, and Lucy promptly falls asleep in the cup of tea she's just brewed for herself. They were all exhausted, and rightfully so, given that the holidays was prime time for people to start looking into properly clearing out ghosts to keep their homes warm and cheery.

He slips out just as George's complaints about the heater start ramping up, and his mind is so scattered that he forgets to put his coat on. It's a little more brisk than what was completely tolerable, strictly speaking, but it was only just for a minute. When he reaches the mailbox, he runs into Mr. and Mrs. L/N, old family friends who had helped him more than he deserved over the years. They made some polite conversation while he rifled through the bills and letters.

"Oh, Anthony, we wanted to invite you over to tea sometime this week. Y/N's home for the holidays."

His hand slips and an envelope slices his finger open. It was bound to happen, given his glum and careless mood, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint to suppress his cry of pain in front of them.

"Home...as in here? London?"

Ever since she had left for boarding school, there would always be some talk of her dropping by for Christmas every year. But the plans would never be fully solid, or some other pre-existing commitment would prevent her from making the trip. He was suddenly feeling oddly claustrophobic. He glanced up and down the street, as if expecting her to be hiding in some bushes.

Mrs. L/N seemed to pick up on his distraction, and her brow furrowed with concern.

"Of course London. Where's your coat, dearie? Aren't you feeling chilly?"

"...yes. Now that you mention it...perhaps it's best I head back inside."

He gave a stiff sort of wave and walked back, mind reeling. Eight years. Eight years since he last saw her. What the hell was he supposed to do if he saw her now? How was he supposed to feel?

Luckily, he doesn't get much time to panic because as soon as he walks in, he narrowly dodges a wrench being lobbed at his head. Apparently, eleven freezing days with improper heating was more than what George could bear. It's usually a rather quick fix, but maybe the comparatively more extreme frost this year had corrupted the system beyond Lockwood's capabilities, because two hours later he was still no closer to getting it fixed.

Some time later, there's a knock on the door. He yells for someone to get the door, but he's buried too deeply in the house for anyone to hear him. Grumbling, he dusts himself off and walks to the door himself, head buzzing with frustration. He's so preoccupied with what more he could possibly do to get the heating working again that he doesn't think to check the peephole first. So when he opens the door, he gets the wind knocked out of him.

"Anthony."

It was her; rosy-cheeked yet looking effortlessly warm. Her facial features had lengthened and rearranged themselves as compared to when he last saw her, but there was still something expensive to the twist of her mouth and the crinkles near her eyes.

"It's been so long."

Even her voice was rich, like honey. Now that she was standing in front of him, the stitch in his chest from the morning seemed much more familiar. It had been some seasonally grievious paste that had coated his lungs and stoppered his mouth that made him feel eerily weightless if he dwelled on it too much.

He didn't know what to do. Exchange pleasantries, or skip to the part where he slams the door in her face? Before he could decide, he hears some shuffling behind him, and almost instinctively opens the door wider.

"Y/N. These are my associates. George Karim, Lucy Carlyle...Y/N L/N."

"Right. Lockwood and Co., was it?"

The four of them glance at each other, exchanging fleeting smiles for a good half-minute, before George has the sense to usher everyone inside for a cup of tea.

The kettle's already on, and George hands out the cups of tea waring mittens, his glasses barely visible behind the scarf mummifying the lower half of his head. If she notices the cold in the house, she doesn't comment on it.

They make some polite small talk. She's pleasantly amiable and a perfectly gracious guest, and talks about her Christmas dinner plans. Lockwood is disinterested and surly and wants to talk about his fragmented sense of self. At one point, his responses start to become so clipped that he earns a poorly concealed kick from Lucy, accompanied by a stern look. Luckily, it doesn't seem as if she's noticed. She was looking at the white blanket of snow over their garden carefully, as if dismissing their presence.

"Your garden looks beautiful. I'd love to have a look around."

George and Lockwood exchanged a look. It was freezing outside, and the harsh temperatures were clearly not worth braving for the little of the flowerbeds they could see. George opened his mouth to tell her as much, in his own snide way, but he hesitated. Lockwood felt his heart sink.

The thing was, she had had a magnetic effect on most people ever since they were kids, a quality that made it difficult for any grown adult to refuse her or for any child to oppose her. It was the same reason why she was sitting in his house, drinking out of his teacups, eating his share of biscuits (George and Lucy had clearly conspired as soon as they picked up on her staying for tea). But he had been sure that if there was anyone who could pull away from this siren call of hers, it would be George. The very boy who was meaningfully looking at him, trying to express some uncommunicable panic.

"Er...Lockwood?"

And so, he ended up taking her out for a brief and awkwardly quiet stroll in their garden once she was done with her tea. They meandered through the garden path stiltedly, and every snow-dusted weed and sapling seemed to astound her. Still, she divided her attention sufficiently to continue the ocnversation.

"Homeowner and agency head at fifteen. Impressive."

"Thank you."

"I bet you're the media's darling."

He shrugs.

She turns to him, eyes generously pooling with faux concern.

"It can't have been easy."

It wasn't easy, not that she would know anything about it. He wants to be spiteful towards her, lash out at her. God knows she deserved it. But something holds him back.

"So...that was George. And Luce."

She jerked her head back in acknowledgement, but he could see the slight smile playing at her lips as she did so. He had forgotten how terribly exasperating she could be.

"What?"

She shook her head, but that only made her smile grow wider, and so she finally relented. There's a vulpine twist to her lips that Lockwood has no patience for. "Nothing. I'm sure they're lovely people, of course. But if I wanted to know who you were hanging with while I was gone, I would have asked you."

He shrugged. "I wanted to share a bit of my life now. They're just about all of it."

She hums pleasantly, stopping short in front of one of the flower beds. She bends down and picks up a freshly fallen violet, its deep indigo harsh and unrelenting against the fresh, pure snow, against the season of vacancy and death. She holds it up in front of Lockwood.

"Viola Odarata. Symbolises humility. Flores; flores para los muertos. Flores."

A part of him wants to sneer at her in painful irony. How arrogant of her to think she could waltz back into his life as she pleased.

"That what they teach you in your boarding school? Useless facts about violets?"

She shivers, even though the air is completely still with no breeze, and her lips part. Too late, he realises he's gone too far. Her smile slips a fraction, and she takes on an air that makes him feel obliged to apologise. He resists it, and for a moment he sees something flash in her eyes, but it's gone before he can place it.

"Forgive me, but you don't seem terribly happy."

"The Problem's raging worse than ever. Happy things don't come by easy these days."

"...I suppose. It wouldn't -" For the first time, Lockwood thinks she might be feeling nervous. Her humanity, manufactured or otherwise, draws him in despite himself. "It wouldn't have anything to do with me...would it?"

He takes in her carefully manicured appearance, her intentionally pieced together life made up of the dreams she worked towards and achieved. And all he had was a house that was more of a burden than a blessing on some days and this inchoate dread over a Problem whose end was nowhere in sight. But he doesn't know how to express this resentment, this jealousy.

"I'm alright if you're alright."

Sad, dispirited eyes look into each other, searching for the fulfilment they're sure the other has found. She speaks in a tight voice.

"It's okay with the both of us, then."

She suddenly reaches out, and gently holds his finger with the papercut with a firm but comforting pressure. His first instinct is to pull his hand back, but he doesn't, and as the long seconds pass, he feels increasingly vulnerable. The cut was no longer bleeding, and was even well on its way to healing over just fine, but it was irritated from where he had relentlessly picked at it.

"Looks fresh."

She traces the cut with her other hand, violet folded in her palm, with a feather-light touch. The surreality of the moment - of her standing inches from her, her breath tickling his fingertips, her warmth spreading through him - catches up to him and makes his breath hitch. It was unbearably intimate and made him feel like the exposed, raw wound he had been nursing for the eight years she had been gone. And how like her to return with pockets full of unfounded promise to stitch the tears in his skin.

And just as quickly, she lets go of his hand and steps back, and Lockwood feels as though cold air has been forced into his airways. She tucks the violet behind her ear, and drifts back inside. The tilt of her joints is so familiar that it stirs something in him. Something long gone, something he was gripping like a fist.

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When they return, Lockwood excuses himself to his room for a bit of air, ignoring how closely George is watching him. He sits on his bed and takes a deep breath. His nightstand has a few miniature picture frames on it, and in one of them the picture's been flipped around. It's a picture of him and her, taken a few months before she left. It's how he remembered her before seeing her today. Sometimes, when the urge grew too great, he would tilt the frame under his nightlight, and make out the barest outline of their figures looped together on the other side of photograph.

He didn't know what to make of her departure, all those years ago. One day, they were swinging on tyres in her parents' garden, and the next day, she wasn't at school. But as the years churned on, the string tying his heart to hers stretched and tore a slow and painful death from him, out of the cavity she left, and he never felt quite the same again. And as they continued to age, the wound became old news and scabbed over what was once raw and paralysing, but a part of him always wanted to know why she did it, to be angry with her for being so callous.

And now she was back, pulling him under by the ankles, ripping the gash open viciously.

He didn't know how exactly to deal with it, after years of thinking of her adjacently, daring only to keep her in his peripheral vision, where he was kept safe. Maybe it was all part of a larger problem; the twitch in his hand and his recurring nightmare.

He's ten years old again, at a train station he's never been to, and likely one that doesn't exist. It's hard to see just about any discerning features, except for the massive train peeking through the fog in front of him. He looks to the right, and sees her strong fingers wrapped around a railing, her standing in the door of the train. He can't be sure of much, but he's certain she's looking at him. He stretches the moment as long as it will last, because it's all downhill from there.

There's a terrible groaning sound, and the train reluctantly starts to chug along, steadily gathering speed. He walks alongside it, gradually picking up his own pace, until he's nearly sprinting. All the while, she watches him with amused eyes, secure in her place on the train. He's panting, choking on the fog, eyes streaming. But if he can just reach her scarf whipping in the wind, the train will stop, and she'll step out, cool and gleaming and impervious to the cloud of dust surrounding her and-

He wakes with a start. He knows how it ends.

She slips through his fingers every time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She stays for the rest of the day, and the four of them spend a cosy afternoon decorating their Christmas tree, carefully dodging the random mugs of hot chocolate littered across the room. While they were digging out the ornaments from the attic, she finds a box that he, evidently, had not tucked away deep enough.

"Remember these?" She holds up a flimsy, crumbling Santa Claus ornament made of construction paper. "We had so much fun making them."

He nods stiffly, subtly shifting the box towards a corner in the living room. It smarts his eyes to look at the hideous thing, as if its very sight was corrosive.

"Took me a while to find them, though. It must be a pain to dig them out every year."

He puts down the bauble he's hanging, and sighs. "I haven't...brought these out in a while."

Even her look of perplexity looks artificial. "Why not? Aren't there so many happy memories attached to these?" Her face falls ever so slightly. "Do memories of me not make you happy?"

Luckily, they're interrupted by Lucy placing a handful of miniature marshmallows into their hot chocolate. When she moves over to George, Lockwood wordlessly starts hanging their crafted ornaments, and she doesn't press him for an answer. When they're done, the tree looks a lot more crowded and chaotic than it normally does, similar to how Lockwood was feeling with her around. He looks at her, and isn't sure how he feels about the asymmetry of having her here.

Later, when she's about to leave, it starts snowing heavily, too heavily for her to walk home. So after a phone call with her parents, she decides to spend the night. Lockwood's in his bedroom when he hears a knock on his door. It's her, dressed in a spare set of Lucy's pajamas.

"I thought you'd be awake."

She wanted to know what he was doing, and what he was doing was wrapping some Christmas presents. Immediately, she obligingly offered to help, and she was too eager for him to outright refuse. Of course, he might have thought differently if he had known how abysmally little she knew about wrapping gifts. And so they stay up till the early hours of the morning, both of them trying equally hard to teach her the most basic of gift wrapping skills. As the night wore on, they got increasingly drunk on laughter over her heinously criminal attempts and Lockwood's limbs started to loosen up. At one point, he had given up entirely and placed his hands over hers, puppeteering the night's only decent gift wrapping while she smothered her laughter.

He doesn't remember much after that. When he next regains his consciousness, he's lying curled up next to her, with the late morning sun streaming through his windows. He watches her breathe, slow and steady, with a face so relaxed, amiable and familiar.

As her eyes start to flutter open, he panics and tries to look anywhere else, which isn't easy given how she's only inches away from him. They glance at each other, silently acknowledging their positions, and the silence hangs heavy in the air. He clears his throat awkwardly, trying to put as much space between them as he can with his arm wrapped under her. "When do you leave?"

She scrunches her forehead as she thinks. It's one of the few parts of her he instantly recognises and he gets caught off guard by a rush of affection, and a flash of an impulse to smooth out the wrinkles.

"Monday."

He pulls a face.

"We'd have the weekend together. Isn't that enough?"

They stay quiet, watching specks of dust float through the sunlight filtering through his partially drawn curtains. With how close they are to each other, they're not looking at each other's face, and it's unclear if she's asking him, or herself, or the dust they're watching. Was it enough?

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Later that evening, Lucy wants to take a walk along some of the emptier roads in the snow. She takes their trip as her cue to leave but Lucy insists she come along, so she does. The four of them had cycled as far as they could, and when they reached the too-slippery parts of the road, they had dismounted and left their bicycles in a corner. Lucy and George were wandering around a bit ahead of them, while they slowly shuffled through the snow. She had picked up some newspapers on their way there, and was looking through them as they walked, taking particular interest in the odd article on Lockwood & Co.

"You've certainly had your fair share of media coverage."

"Along with a decent helping of frenzied media sensationalism, I suppose."

"My apologies. I forgot I was talking to the Anthony J. Lockwood of Lockwood & Co. Now, is the arson bit complimentary, or would I have to pay extra?"

She was teasing him, and it was irritating. There was a reticent air about him and after some politely delicate probing, which he had been too preoccupied to entertain, she had resorted to amusing herself. Toying with him like a figurine, the way she did all those years ago.

"You wear your grief so beautifully, Lockwood. Like...like jewels between your teeth..."

She pauses, flipping through the newspapers interestedly with inky fingertips, which flickered like shadows next to the soft white snow.

"...and you have such a winning smile. Golden boy." She laughs, and the sound feels like icicles pressing into his skull. "Golden boy," she trills, "you were a bit of a child. The world was having its way with you. You tried to...er, something...golden boy!"

She smiles at him lazily, expectantly, as if anticipating some kind of applause. But Lockwood is in no mood for her childish whimsies.

"I'm fine. I don't have any grief."

She frowns exaggeratedly. "'Course you do."

"I don't."

She mumbles, turning back to her newspaper. "Fine, then. Not like I'm the one holding onto...some kind of...ache."

He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. How could anyone be this self-aware and yet completely oblivious? The strain on his self-restraint peaks and he buckles within himself.

"Why are you here, Y/N?"

She looks away from the snow. "Lucy said it'd be nice out here."

"No. I mean why are you here, in London? Here, at Portland Row?"

Her lips are pressed together, and there's something guarded in her eyes.

"I just...wanted to see how you were doing."

"Liar."

The word drops from his tongue in such an aggrieved manner with such vehemence that it makes her choke.

"How could you say something like that?"

He scoffs. "Please, let's not pretend you weren't dying to leave at the first chance. Not that you had the decency to tell me-"

"-I was ten!-"

"- having me go through the humiliating process of finding out on my own-"

"What do you want me to say, Lockwood? I'm sorry I left? I'm sorry you were alone? I'm sorry I was too selfish to give a damn about you?"

"-and you'll come back, choking on your silver spoon only to leave again and again and again until you're all alone-"

"You never wrote!"

"I didn't think you'd want me to!"

"I didn't know what I wanted!"

"Then what do you want?"

"YOU, you idiot!"

He stares at her, speechless.

"I was ten. And I was so foolish. How could I have thought of anything but you?"

With that, the last of her rosy, polished, alluring boarding-school airs fell apart. He looks at her and sees his own anger and yearning reflected back at him; anger and yearning he's hardly ready to face. Despite all their efforts to get away from the other, to move on, something between them held fast. Or perhaps it was that they were hopelessly, irrevocably intertwined.

"Of all the roads I could have travelled, you are at the end of every single one of them. Every single one of them, except the road I did travel. I'm here, Lockwood, because I thought I might have...I might have chosen wrong."

"So you think you can just stroll back now that it's convenient for you? I didn't know if I'd ever see you again, do you realise that?"

"What do you want me to do, Lockwood? You keep pushing me away. I feel like part of a past you're forever trying to run away from. So fine! I'll leave, then. I'll go back to the sorry hole I crawled out of, back to friends I don't care about, back to dreaming of the only person who's ever truly cared about me. Is that what you want?"

She doesn't wait for a response, and turns around and walks away from him.

"Y/N, come back."

She silently picks her bicycle out of the snow, dusting it off.

"You can't cycle in this."

Still ignoring his words ringing through the dead winter silence, she steadies herself and cautiously swings a leg over her bicycle. Lockwood starts to walk towards her.

"You'll fall. You'll hurt yourself. Y/N. Y/N!"

But she's already off, gliding soundlessly like a ghost through frigid air on icy roads.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He's already regretting his words by the time he reaches 35 Portland Row. When he first walks in, the house is so deathly quiet that he's convinced she's left. But her bicycle is thrown down in the garden and he knows she's too averse to the cold to walk home in the snow.

He walks slowly, his measure footsteps echoing on the wooden floors of the house, and he eventually finds her in the living room, sitting with her back to the door, staring at the drawn curtains. The fading evening glow spilling through the edges is streaked across her face and there's a soft crunching sound. As he comes closer, he sees the bowl of ice glinting in her lap, like fractured light, with her face as blank as a canvas.

"Have you gone completely mad? You'll fall sick."

She doesn't even flinch, as if she hadn't heard him. When she speaks, there's a dreamy quality to her typically strong and clear voice.

"I didn't want to come back. This city is nothing I want. I was always going to escape some day. And yet..." she trails off with glazed eyes, as if trying to look through some distant fog. "...and yet."

"You were right." The run back had left him mildly breathless, but was also exactly what he needed to get rid of the buzz in his head, giving way to some much-needed clarity. "About the...heartache. I was just sick of it. You're miles away. I love you in your sleep. I still reach the end of road alone. But I loved you all the while and...somehow that made the pain of leaving you worth it."

"I'm restless. I'm lost. I'm selfish." She swivels her head with an unnerving smoothness, grin wide and grotesque, ice glinting between her perfect teeth. "I'm so alone, Lockwood. Just like you said."

He doesn't know what to say. He walks towards her and picks up her bowl but her fingers close around his wrist like a vice. The gleam in her eye makes him want to pull his hand back. He's too old to play her games and lose.

"That's a bad habit."

"I'm a bad habit. One you can't seem to kick even after all these years: tell me, Anthony, why is that?"

"Y/N, stop. You'll spoil your teeth."

It only makes her grind her teeth even more tauntingly. It's an awful sound. "Good. Let them fall out, one by one. It's what I deserve. Maybe I'll finally learn my lesson."

Her grip on his sleeve lessens, but she doesn't let go. She grips the bowl with her other hand even tighter, as if suddenly terrified.

"Leave me be, Anthony. Leave me...to my vices...and violets and...violence."

He reads her face. He tries to figure her out, to read her like the open book she once was to him. When he doesn't leave, she shovels more ice into her mouth, uncomfortably clacking with her teeth, and continues.

"I was racing ahead...into some glorious sunset, towards some fantastic rainbow, at the end of which was some miraculous snowdrop and a wish to soothe my nomadic soul. I didn't have time for the boy with the sad eyes two streets down from me."

"I convinced myself that you resented my escape from the Problem. I was 15 with the bitter taste of lemongrass in my mouth and a stitch in my chest when I realised I spent all those years missing you. I couldn't run away from it, not truly. So I pretend. I pretend you don't hate me and I pretend I'm not an awful person and I pretend there's a chance you'd want me as much as I want you. I came home to tell you how terribly fond I was of you. It was only at your doorstep that I realised I had run out of places to hide."

"I don't have time for love. Nor the capacity for it. But I am tired of trying to outrun it."

She closed her eyes. Her voice was barely a croak. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving. If I could...I'd wish away the past eight years of misery." She opened her eyes. "Some nights, I can pretend they never existed. But I can't wish your happiness into existence."

Lockwood somehow finds his voice. "I thought this was the life you wanted."

"It is Christmas, once again, and my heart is lonely as an island...once again. What part of this could I possibly want?"

He lets go of the bowl of ice and covers her limp, frozen hand with his own. She speaks in a low voice, barely stirring the dust in the room.

"I'll never forgive myself."

He sits down next to her, his feather-light lips pressed to her temple. She feels drained, and exhausted, as if the spirit that had driven her for so long was finally fatigued. Her breathing was uneven and her lungs felt lopsided. But what a blessing it was to finally fall in the one place she knew her landing would be soft.

"One day. One day, I'll..."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He pulls out a fresh violet from his coat, still damp from the morning dew.

"Call it even?"

She accepts the flower and gives him a sweet smile. He revels in this smallest of victories.

Their peaceful moment gets shattered by the deafening train horn, which unpleasantly reminds Lockwood of where they are.

She hesitates for a moment, but then extends her arm and holds his face. There's a troubled look on her face, like there's something indescribable she wished to communicate just at the tip of her tongue. But the compulsion passes, and she settles for a trembling brush of his cheekbone with her thumb.

"You're such a darling, Anthony. I don't care what any newspaper or lawsuit has to say about you. You'll always be a darling to me."

"Good, because soon enough you might just be the only one."

She grins, widely at first, but then it chips, and for once he can admit that the sight breaks his heart. She gives him a hug, and he holds her like she's one of the precious metals that adorn her jewellery.

"You'll come back, won't you?"

"Perhaps. See you another weekend."

When they break apart, she swiftly picks up her suitcase with white knuckles and marches to the carriage without looking back. The train horn blares for a final time. The doors shut, and the wheels groan to life. He searches for her face, and finds it, but the reflection of the train station lights hides her eyes. It's at this moment that a disconnected part of him realises he doesn't want to wait for another weekend. He wants her here, and he wants her now.

The train picks up speed, and Lockwood tries to match it. But he's not trying to run. He knows that won't work, it never does.

"Y/N!"

That gets the attention of most passengers, including her. This train accelerates much faster than in his dream, and he's got an awful stitch running down the side of his torso by now, but he's beyond caring at this point. When she sees that it's him yelling like a maniac, she presses her flushed face to the window, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Would you stay?"

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits @ahead-fullofdreams

#taylor swift #lockwood x y/n #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood imagine #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #tis the damn season #evermore #12 days of fics '23

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t-lostinworlds · 1 year

Text

I Spy, No Spy | Peter Parker

》 PAIRING: peter parker x avenger/secret agent female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: friends to lovers; fake dating-ish; fluff

》 SUMMARY: You're a trained spy, Peter was not. But you two ended up on a mission together where he was needed to be less of the chatty superhero in red & blue tights and more of a debonair undercover agent in a suit & tie. It shouldn't be too difficult, right? No mask, no web shooters. Just you and him pretending to be fiancés, hiding and making out in a closet to avoid getting caught—simple. Unless he included his overgrowing feelings for you, of course.

》 WARNINGS: peter being down bad & horny™️ for r (my fave genre of peter by the looks of it), slight self-deprecating peter, pet names (darling, my love, babe, angel), peter x suit x glasses (a dangerous combo), mediocre spy-ish stuff, canon typical violence (i.e. guns, knives, fighting, ass-kicking), slight jealousy/possessiveness (both parties), slight pettiness from r, closet make-out, little peter got excited (idk why i said it like that lmao it’s just a boner), cuddling w/ boob grab (not sexual lol).

》 WORD COUNT: 21.3k+ (is anyone still surprised)

✘ MOODBOARD

A/N: this idea has been in my drafts since sept or oct 2020? I think? basically i plotted this a decade ago a.k.a this happens after Endgame but before...anything else (NWH who? lol) this is more an alternate universe tho. i honestly have no idea how i feel about this but i did enjoy writing it. a pretty tame, fun lil spy au fic so nothing groundbreaking sksks anyways! i hope you enjoy!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ PETER PARKER MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

The sun rays that leaked through Peter's bedroom window tickled his eyelids, making them flutter open as he yawned.

A tired smile curled on his lips as he buried his nose into his pillow. It was rather comforting, hearing the faint chirping of birds, the soft rustle of the tree just outside his room, and hell, even the chants in the far-off distance of people training.

It was a peaceful Saturday morning, and Peter really liked that.

To top it off, summer had just begun, so no college work to worry about in the meantime. He was finally having a much-needed break from obligation and responsibilities—well, not entirely since the superhero gig didn't really have actual breaks. But he was hopeful that today was a quiet day, at least.

There were plenty of activities that could take up his whole day. He could start with a morning run around the large stretch of land, maybe pack up some breakfast and eat it by the lake, located at the edge of the area. He didn't mean to sound like some guru, but he could really use being one with nature for a little bit. Maybe he could meet his friends for lunch if any of them were free, or maybe he could spend the afternoon relaxing by the compound's private pool—

"Good morning, Peter."

Peter jumped with a squeak, limbs tangling with his sheets, making him fall off the bed with a loud thud. Groaning, he slowly sat up on the floor, rubbing the back of his head to soothe it.

That was certainly one way to get the sleep out of your system.

"Emergency meeting in conference room A-One in ten minutes."

Well, so much for his plans to relax.

"Got it, FRIDAY."

It was still a bit odd hearing the A.I. as an alarm early in the morning most of the time. She was certainly very helpful though. From scheduling to reminders, simple google searches to more complicated equation-solving whenever he would need help.

FRIDAY was like the compound's own Alexa but much, much more advanced. Well, she certainly wasn't meant to be used as such but nobody could truly blame him for not taking the perks for granted.

And there were a lot of perks living in the place—the Avenger's compound, to be specific—and despite being here for almost a year now, Peter still hadn't gotten used to its extravagance, much less exhausted all its resources.

It was a drastic change from the little apartment where he and May used to live, and he wasn't talking about the size alone.

She was living with Happy now, Peter visiting over for dinner whenever he could. She was a bit reluctant to let him move out at first. It was expected when they'd practically been living together for a good chunk of his life. But he was grown now, so wanting to dabble into independence shouldn't come off as a surprise.

Sure, it was more him being available and closer to saving the world type of independence, but independence, nonetheless.

Plus, Peter simply wanted to give them as much privacy as he could.

Happy and May were like teenagers in love and the things he heard despite the thick walls thanks to his enhanced abilities…he'd rather not think about it. His super hearing definitely helped in making the decision.

He still hadn't stopped patrolling New York, of course. If it was a quiet day on earth—more so, the universe—he still swung about the city, stopping any petty crime he would come across. But when an Avenger's level threat would arise, Peter was now only a couple of doors down, equipped and ready to join the mission.

It was difficult to juggle: his normal life, attending college, being Spider-Man on top of being an official Avenger.

Nonetheless, Peter wouldn't have it any other way.

Maybe it was because he enjoyed the thrill of taking the superhero gig to the next level. Or maybe it was because he was granted the opportunity to live lavishly in the compound. Maybe it was the sheer feeling of accomplishment and pride to be able to save the world.

Or maybe it was because he got to see you every day.

You, who Peter has an insanely huge crush—no, who he really, really liked.

He might even go as far as to say that he was falling for you.

The two of you had moved in at the same time.

He could still vividly remember how he'd just placed the last box on his bed when the building shook. He peered out his window to see what the commotion was about, just in time to catch the Quinjet landing on the well-kept grass. His brows had furrowed in curiosity when the door opened, watching Sam and Bucky come out first, then a third figure trailing right behind them.

Peter didn't really believe in love at first sight, but God did it feel like that when he first saw you.

Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly love—or maybe it was, who knows—but he really couldn't deny how intrigued he was of you, intimidated even. And that was when you walked into the common room in simple jeans and a pink hoodie.

He swooned the minute you smiled at him when you introduced yourself, his knees wobbling the minute you shook his hand.

It was later on that he found out that you were a former (more like forced) member of HYDRA, abducted at a young age, trained to be one of their elite spies, and brainwashed to do their bidding. Which was why it made so much sense how the one and only Bucky Barnes had a soft spot for you—quite surprising for someone who was known to be a huge grump.

You actually came from Wakanda that day, to erase whatever it was HYDRA planted into your brain. Now, you were a recruit on the team, willing to do good with the skills you now had.

You and Peter were around the same age—part of the young ones, as Bucky pointed out—so it didn't really take long for you to become friends.

Well, a friend he kept ridiculously fawning over, a friend who made his heart race whenever you were nearby, a friend who Peter didn't really want to remain as such.

He was thankful though, being your friend was better than being no one to you at all.

But still, it was difficult to suppress his feelings, especially when you were one of, if not, the sweetest and kindest person Peter had the pleasure of knowing.

Whenever he would stumble into the compound late at night, all badly beaten and bruised, somehow, you'd be the only one awake, helping him up to his own room where you'd then clean his wounds for him.

The first night it happened, you had said FRIDAY alerted you of his presence. You had rushed as fast as you could when the A.I. mentioned he was injured. After that, it simply became a routine for you both.

It was like an unspoken rule around the compound, how you were always the one who'd patch Peter up after missions—unless you weren't present, of course. There were even a handful of occasions where Peter would be the one patching you up, a rare instance where he'd be home from campus while you'd come back from an intense mission that rewarded you with fresh bruises and cuts.

He was convinced you were simply being nice to him, though. You did consider him as your friend and you were kind enough to help with an ailment or two. You were such a caring person overall. He was sure if it was any other person, you'd do the same. So, Peter wasn't exactly special in that regard.

But then you got assigned to help him train every weekend, which only made his overgrowing crush for you, well, grow some more.

It was a new requirement for recruits, learning how to fight without much use of technology.

From the wise words of the new captain: Gadgets and tech should be there as extra sets of tools, not as a replacement for your arms and limbs. If you rely on them too much, they're going to become crutches.

Bucky stared at Sam funnily at that—since his vibranium arm was both a tool and a replacement of his limb—but everyone got what he meant. Being able to take down bad guys with only your bare hands was definitely more helpful than not.

Peter didn't know if someone was secretly spying on him, or had overheard him gushing about you to Harley—or if said friend himself had ratted him out—that led to the two of you being paired together.

Bucky said that you were the best woman for the job to help improve hand-to-hand combat or overall fighting skills. You'd been training since you were young after all, and that was saying something. Peter was probably still learning his additions and subtractions while you had already mastered the art of jiu jitsu. Wanda added that the two of you were already close hence why you got paired together, simply to skip through that awkward phase of introductions.

Peter had a feeling the two were playing matchmaker. But he chose to ignore it.

Either way, it certainly didn't help his predicament.

Being so close to you in that regard, with you wearing those tight leggings and tank tops, grunting and sweating, your bodies getting tangled and just…yeah.

Training with you was enough to make his head—both heads, if being honest, but he'll keep the other one to himself—explode.

You were incredible.

So it didn't take much for him to get distracted by you during your sessions, either.

More often than not, Peter would find himself watching you in awe rather than trying to dodge your punches. You called him out on it a few times, and each time he'd turn pink, the tint on his skin turning darker when you'd order him to do push-ups as a means to discipline. You were strict at times, but he was still so lucky that you were also being patient with him when he couldn't get it quite right the first few times. Although, you being in command and in control only added to his endless list of things he was swooning over you for.

It was admirable the way you would have him so out of breath after a spar and he was the one with superpowers. You were being smart with it, tactical with the when, where and how to hit rather than just throwing a punch for the sake of it. You'd dance around him, gracefully, swiftly, strongly, each move precisely choreographed to outmatch him as if you'd already looked into the future to know what he was going to do next.

Peter was a goner the minute you pinned him down on the floor for the tenth time in that one session.

He didn't know if it was the smug smirk on your face, your knees on either side of his hips, the way you had his hands above his head, or everything all at once. But Peter's blood was definitely boiling with every touch, rushing up to his brain that quickly turned it to mush—or maybe it was rushing down. He really couldn't tell where the pulsing was coming from. If it was his heart or some other organ that gets filled with blood.

By then, he couldn't stop thinking about you, couldn't stop talking about you, head over heels like he was living and breathing for you.

Ned and Harley said it was an obsession at this point but in his defense, you were way out of his league.

And he hadn't even taken into account how you felt about him.

Sometimes, Peter would have an inkling that his feelings were reciprocated. With the way you'd smile at him, the way you'd say sweet things to him, and the lingering touches from time to time, how could he not?

But, what if that was his rose-colored glasses making them seem like something they're not? Was it truly acts of affection and adoration or was it Peter's brain just romanticizing the shit out of simple kind gestures done for a friend?

Then came the thought that you were sweet and kind to everyone. It was just who you are, a ray of sunshine through and through—a ray of sunshine that could kick your ass ten times over but still. He'd rather not give himself too much hope. It was safer to assume that you were only seeing and treating him as a friend and nothing more.

Besides, it was too far-fetched, someone like you feeling something for someone like him.

You'd walk down a hallway with your head held high, while Peter would keep his eyes trained on the tiles. You'd stare your enemy down with no hesitation, your presence commanding, threatening, both words and actions carrying that certain chill that would make anyone second guess crossing you. While Peter would dance around them to avoid proper confrontation, going for silly jokes and sarcastic quips to mask any nervousness he would sometimes feel.

You're one hell of a powerful, strong woman and that's without any enhancements or superpowers involved.

While Peter…well, he's just your dorky, other times clumsy, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

As he said, you were way, way, way out of his league.

So he really couldn't do much but admire you from afar—or up close, but discreetly—until he would grow the extra set of balls needed to actually do something about his feelings for you, especially with the possible outcome of rejection.

He'd like to believe he'd grown quite a bit of confidence after entering college. It was a slow progress but he did manage to break out of his shell. With the number of parties Harry Osborn had managed to drag him into, how could he not? He was quite glad that now, he was able to talk to pretty girls without much stuttering and blushing involved.

But somehow when it was you in front of him, he would suddenly revert to his old high school self again. His cheeks would either be red or pink, barely able to get his words out as he would sometimes stare at you for longer than he should, all awestruck and dazed with admiration.

Peter's point was painfully proven right once again when he saw you down the hallway.

You were wearing black leggings and a black tank top along with your favorite running shoes. It was your usual getup whenever you would train or workout. Yet no matter how many times Peter had seen you in them before, it never failed to make his heart skip a beat. It was nothing fancy at all, but God did it look stunning on you.

It was mostly unconscious, and well, his rational brain did sometimes take a backseat when it comes to you. But his eyes drifted over your body, from your exposed shoulders to your collarbones, flitting momentarily on your chest, before they went to your legs, your tight leggings leaving so little to his imagination as they hugged your thighs. He tried to move his gaze back up to look at you more appropriately but simply got stuck on your hips. There was a slight sway in them as you walked—in slow motion, he was sure of it—with such confidence, and the way you held yourself with power and poise was breathtaking.

Shit. Did the AC malfunction? Why is it suddenly so hot—

"Hi, Pete."

Your voice snapped him out of his stupor. But your bright, beautiful eyes and your so-goddamn-pretty smile all while you stood right in front of him was more than enough to have him swooning again.

"H-Hey," he squeaked, painfully aware of how hot his cheeks had gotten. Add the fact that he hadn't been out under the sun much, he was sure you could see how pink it was. That knowledge alone probably made it a shade darker. Then came the fleeting thought that you might've caught him practically eyeing you up—

He quickly cleared his throat, keeping his head down to hide his blush as he opened the door to the conference room.

"After you."

"Thank you," you hummed, reaching a hand out to squeeze his arm before you moved past him.

It took a lot for his knees not to wobble at the gesture, even more, when he caught a whiff of your shampoo…or was that your perfume? But if you had just gone on a morning run and taken a shower—no, that wasn't your body wash. You didn't look like you'd just got out of the shower, so maybe it was just your scent. God, you always smell so nice.

"Holy—get your shit together man," he grumbled to himself, hastily wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans, fixing up his hair before entering the conference room.

It was relatively empty—well, the whole compound was given that the rest of the Avengers weren't at headquarters in the meantime, caught in other obligations whether personal or otherwise. The only other person in the room was Wanda, sitting across from you.

"Pete," you called, tapping the chair beside you before he could even choose a seat to take. There were plenty of vacant ones. Trying to calm his raging heart, he walked over to your side and sat down. But each beat only grew faster when you tilted your head at him with a smile. "Did you go on a run this morning?"

"Oh—uh, no, not yet," he said, trying his best to keep his eyes on yours rather than let them wander, like…down your lips. Shrugging to seem unbothered, he added, "FRIDAY announced the meeting just when I woke up."

"I haven't either," you hummed. So, it was just your scent earlier, the same one that was filling up his nostrils now as you leaned a little closer to him. "Maybe we can go—"

"Another day, another robbery," Sam cut you off as he and Bucky entered the room.

You moved away from him then, leaning back on your seat, attention now on the captain. An unconscious frown made its way onto his lips, because yes, he was slightly—greatly—annoyed at the interruption.

"Only this time, it calls for a national emergency," Bucky added, taking the seat next to Wanda.

"Global, if we don't stop it in time," Sam sighed, connecting a flash drive to one of the USB ports installed on the table.

"Oh no, did they steal the president's nudes?" Peter joked, immediately shrinking in his seat when the two men shot him a look. "Sorry, sorry, bad joke and definitely not the time—I'll shut up."

"That was funny," you whispered, flashing him a smile and Peter's face immediately burned. He wasn't given much time to respond when Sam cleared his throat.

"As much as that would be horrifying, it's something much worse." He pressed a button on the table that made the hologram come to life. There was only one item shown, a rectangular, gold-colored device, probably the size of a credit card but thicker by half an inch. Sam pointed at it and said, "The Gold Codes."

"The Gold Codes?" Peter muttered, brows furrowed in confusion.

"The president's nuclear launch codes," you answered, always willing to help him out on things he wasn't too well versed on.

"Oh." Peter nodded, smiling at you appreciatively before his face fell, eyes widening in realization. "Oh. That's definitely worse than his nudes."

You laughed, and it made Peter's heart do flips.

"And of course, its partner, the nuclear football. But instead of it being a whole briefcase, it's been reduced to this—" Sam flicked through the hologram, a black device coming up beside the gold codes. It looked like a plain external hard drive, roughly the same size as a pocketbook. It wasn't that big so it was definitely easy to carry around and, by the looks of it, easier to steal.

"Technology advancing sometimes isn't the best," Bucky grumbled.

You sat straighter in your seat, forearms resting on the table as you eyed the devices. There was a furrow between your brows, lips pursed as you tilted your head.

Peter couldn't stop his smile.

He always found your thinking face adorable.

You turned to Sam after a moment and asked, "Don't they change the codes every day?"

"Yes, but as our hundred-year-old resident said, technology is advancing so the card automatically syncs up to any changes made," Sam explained.

"That's the stupidest thing ever," Wanda scoffed.

Peter nodded in agreement. "Why did these even get stolen in the first place?"

"The one who was carrying the nuclear football was a double agent," Bucky said.

"Classic," you scoffed. "And have we found where it is?"

Sam nodded at Bucky, the super soldier rummaging around a bag that Peter just noticed he brought with them. He slid across a black envelope with gold detailing, your brows furrowing as you took it in your hand.

"Oh wow, an invitation to a charity gala tonight at The Aces," you gushed, scanning through the glossy, black paper before you turned to look at Peter. You probably saw the confused look he wore because you offered him a sweet smile before explaining, "It's one of the fanciest ballrooms in New York, most of the galas they hold are very exclusive for the rich and the rich-rich, like filthy 'I can end world hunger but I'm an asshole so I won't' rich."

"Thanks," Peter hummed, smiling.

"I got you." You bumped his shoulder with a wink, which quickly made him blush.

"But it's a smokescreen," Sam continued. "The real party happens later in the night."

"That's what she said," Bucky interrupted enthusiastically, earning a heavy eye roll from Sam and laughs from you and Wanda. The technically old man looked around the room. "What? Did I say the joke wrong?"

"You got the spirit," Peter chuckled.

"As I was saying, they're holding a black market auction later in the night in the small underground theater a floor beneath the building." Sam continued, swiping up the hologram until it showed a floorplan of a theater along with a couple of photos of high-tech armor, guns, and a whole bunch of things Peter couldn't exactly name. What stood out the most to him, though, was the logos: Stark Industries, Oscorp, Pym Technologies, Sable International, and the likes. "Stolen technology and weapons being sold to anyone who has the money to buy them."

"So, it's like the dark web, but fancier," Wanda quipped.

"Stealing items and then selling them to the highest bidder," Peter hummed. "Sounds like the British."

You snorted, quickly covering your mouth when everyone turned to you with raised brows.

"Sorry," you mumbled, kicking him under the table playfully, probably as a warning to stop making you laugh. Peter only grinned proudly in response. He always felt proud whenever he made you laugh.

"Anyway, the nuclear football is easier to find. It's locked in a room along with the other items they're planning on selling," Sam started, flicking through the hologram to show a floor plan of the whole building. He circled the large room in the middle before tracing a pathway leading up to another, much smaller room. "It's located on the east wing, right side of the main ballroom. It has double doors so you wouldn't miss it, especially with the armed guards."

"And the card?" Peter asked.

"Would be much more difficult to retrieve. It's going to be with the person who orchestrated this whole thing. The problem is—"

"You don't know who it is," you finished.

Sam nodded grimly. "Whoever is the mastermind of this grand scheme has been quite good at maintaining anonymity. The only time they're going to reveal themselves, along with the codes, is during the secret auction, which you can't get into unless you're chosen to be there."

"If you think the gala was exclusive, the auction is on a different scale," Bucky explained.

"We don't know what code or secret handshake will be needed to be able to attend the auction. Our best course of action is to attend the gala, scope the scene, and hopefully, get intel on how to join the auction without much breaking and entering involved," Sam said. "I had Harley tap into the security system of the building and guess what?"

"You found an even bigger problem," you and Peter said at the same time.

Sam nodded. "The whole building is now armed with sensors fit to detect every single Avenger's superpower, any Stark-grade weapons and also, vibranium. Bucky's metal arm, Wanda's magic, my wings, so on and so forth. Neither of us could simply swoop in because the second those silent sensors go off, or any commotion will start, poof goes the codes along with our criminal."

Bucky shifted in his seat. "Even if we discard all of that and try not to use it, going in there as, quote-on-quote civilians won't work either because—"

"Everyone would immediately recognize who we are," Wanda finished.

"Since there are only two people here whose faces aren't known publicly"—Sam looked between the two of you—"Peter and Y/N, you two are going to be the ones to retrieve the codes and the football."

"W-What?" Peter choked, eyes wide as he stared at the captain. "Don't they have my powers in the sensors?"

"They only have it for your web shooters and suit, and as far as I know, both are detachable."

"But that's me, that's how I operate," he stammered. Going out there as himself wasn't part of his skill set. He'd feel too exposed without his suit. Not to mention he was going with you. Which of course wasn't a bad thing at all but it only added this pressure to not mess things up. He couldn't live with himself if he'd fail this mission, fail you—or worse, have you get hurt because he wasn't capable enough. "How am I supposed to be Spider-Man without those?"

"You have to give yourself more credit, Pete," you said, placing your hand over his own, the one resting on his thigh. Peter's eyes followed your touch before he met your gaze again, his blush prominent, heart thumping so loud he was scared you might hear it. "You're more than just a suit. And you need to remember how you've managed to make your synthetic web in the first place. So I'm sure you'll do fine with your brain alone. Even then, you still have other abilities, and you have me."

Peter looked at you fondly, a smile curling on his lips as he turned his hand so your palm was over his, squeezing it to silently say thank you. He wasn't even aware of what he was doing, not until he saw your smile turn slightly shy. It was the quick glimmer in your eyes that made him realize he was absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

"Seconded." Wanda smiled at the two of you, chuckling when you and Peter jumped slightly away from each other. You pulled your hand away, Peter frowning at the loss of contact. But he shook his head, turning his focus back on the mission.

"Y/N here also said you'd gotten really good at your hand-to-hand combat skills," Bucky said, an all-knowing smile on his face as he glanced between you two. "So, I don't think you'd need your web shooters as much if ever it comes to a fight."

"Which we hope won't result in that," Sam quickly added with a reassuring nod. "The plan is simple: scope and mingle, assess the scene, try and get some information as to how to get into the auction. Once you've done that, sneak into the vault to retrieve the nuclear football. I've already assigned Harley to make a duplicate device to swap with the real one so it won't trigger the alarm.

"Then, you sit at the auction and wait until the codes come up. I'm sure it will be presented by the anonymous seller so by then, we will be able to put a face on the mastermind. Our agents should already be blocking every single exit of the building by that time so all you have to do is to retrieve the code calmly. Try and ease your way into the main stage, charm and persuade, or whichever way works. Any more questions?"

You and Peter looked at each other, before you both turned to Sam, shaking your heads.

"Good. We've already set your fake identities up, google searches running for miles, the last thing we need are photos, together, individually, candid and professional which would only take a few minutes. Your fake names are already on the guest list, your outfits and everything else you need will be waiting for you at the hotel you're getting ready at as part of the whole ruse," he instructed. "You two are the best and only shot we've got in this. Plan your moves wisely and rely on each other. We can't afford to lose those codes."

"Yes, Captain."

•••

The hotel suite was fancy.

Peter had never been in one this expensive-looking before.

It had its own living room, a minibar, a huge bathroom, a king-size bed, and then a massive window that overlooked New York City. He definitely indulged himself with their complimentary champagne, and given the fact that he couldn't get drunk, he mostly did it for the taste—which was flavored expensive, to those wondering. Hell, even the chocolate they had tasted expensive.

Then again, the two of you were undercover as a rich, engaged couple so it was part of the whole thing. You never know whose eyes and ears were for who in these types of missions.

But still, it was quite the treat and he'd be stupid not to make the most of it—without getting too distracted, of course.

Peter was now all suited up, not in spandex this time. It was a crisp, black, formal suit made with fabric he wouldn't dare guess the cost and a brand he couldn't even begin to pronounce. He had a white dress shirt underneath, paired with a black tie. The one he was currently having a hard time doing as he stood in front of the floor-length mirror in the living room.

He groaned in frustration when he once again messed it up. He didn't wear this kind of clothes often, so he really didn't have much of a reason to learn to master the art of…tying?

"Need help?"

Peter turned around, the breath knocked out of him once he saw you come out of the bedroom.

Wow.

Oh wow you looked gorgeous in red.

It was an off-shoulder, long-sleeved dress, your arms covered in lace as the fabric hugged your figure. The skirt was long as it fanned onto the floor with a really high slit on your right leg to show off the silver heels you were wearing. Your hair and make-up were done to marry the whole style, all while enhancing your natural features rather than covering them. Your red-painted lips though—

"Wow."

"Yeah," you laughed softly, your gaze falling over yourself as your hands smoothed the fabric of your dress. "I don't know who picked it but it's really pretty and it fits really nicely. Perks of having body scans for our suits, I suppose."

"You look beautiful," Peter breathed out, still frozen in his place as he stared at you in absolute awe.

"Thank you," you said, your sweet smile turning into a smirk as you eyed him up and down with a nod. "You clean up nice, too, Parker."

"Oh—uhm, t-thanks." He blushed, shaking his head before gesturing both hands at you. "But you, I—wow, you look, wow."

"Shut up," you laughed, your dress flowing as you moved closer to him. "Here, let me."

Peter wasn't even given much time to recompose himself when you once again took his breath away by simply standing so close to him. Every inhale was just filled with your scent, his heart skipping a few beats as he scanned your face, only a couple inches from his and God did you look even more beautiful up close.

His blush deepened when you reached for his tie, your brows furrowed in that adorable way he'd come to familiarize as you slowly did it for him.

Peter honestly didn't know what to do with his hands, yet there was some sort of pull that he couldn't resist, like an instinct as he gently rested them on your waist. He was distracted by how close you were, but not enough to miss the way your breath hitched at the contact. Testing the waters, he squeezed it gently, biting his cheek to stop his smile from growing when he saw your fingers falter.

But oh did the pride bubble in his chest.

You shook your head, finishing up his tie with a smile. It was Peter's breath that hitched this time when you smoothed it over his chest, your palms flat against the muscle, touch so sweet, skin so warm. You looked up, your smile faltering when your eyes met his.

He didn't know how long you stared at each other. He also didn't know who moved a little closer first, but he definitely wasn't complaining. Not when he was so close that he could count exactly how many eyelashes you had. And he gladly would've if your voice hadn't snapped him out of the trance that nobody could ever put him under but you.

"We should get going," you whispered, but you still lingered for a few more seconds, more than enough for his brain to run its course, thinking that maybe, his feelings for you weren't as unrequited as he thought.

It was the sound of a beeping alarm that broke you two apart.

"Come on, we can't be late," you said after a breath, flashing him a sweet smile before going to grab your things.

"Wait," he cleared his throat, patting around his pockets before finally retrieving a velvet box. You turned around just as he'd opened it, showing you the ring that resided inside.

Your eyes widened, lips opening and closing as you gawked at the sparkling diamond for a few seconds before you met his gaze. "Peter—"

"Oh shit! It's not what it looks like!" he panicked.

Peter did always find himself daydreaming about you often, and he would be lying if he said he hadn't already pictured something similar to this moment. But even he could recognize how many steps he'd basically jumped over by showing you a diamond ring. And as much as he would love to fast-forward to that part, he'd also like to take you out on a date first. Well, if he'd even get the courage to ask you that, anyway.

"I-uh, you know, us, covering as an engaged couple? So, of course, uhm, you'll need an engagement ring?"

"O-Oh," you fumbled, nodding quickly before you offered him your left hand. "Yeah, of course."

Peter took it in his delicately, fingers running over your knuckles before he carefully slipped the ring on. Squeezing your hand, he reluctantly let go.

"Did you pick this?" you asked, bringing your hand up to your face, fingers wiggling as you admired the ring.

Peter nodded. "Yeah, I did—well, Bucky helped."

"It's beautiful."

"It looks even more beautiful on you."

Your eyes snapped up to look at him, your smile growing as you hummed, "Charmer."

"It's the expensive suit." He shrugged, a teasing grin with a blush to match.

You laughed that lovely laugh of yours, adoration and pride swelling in his chest.

"Oh, Harley asked me to give you this," you said after a moment, pulling out a familiar pair of glasses before handing it to him. "He said it's all you need to do your magic."

"Nah, it's just a little tool kit I put together, really, kinda like a small computer so nothing magical about it," he chuckled, waving the glasses before putting them on. "It's carbon-based nanotech, passable through metal detectors. I've managed to look up what security system they had installed in the safe and there's sort of a minicomputer inside so it should be easy to bypass the system. I already have the program in here that would run through all the probable security codes so all I need to do is activate the glasses and it would automatically unscrew everything and connect to a hopefully pre-existing female micro-USB slot with the male counterpart in this old thing and—" he paused, face heating up as you gazed at him with a twinkle in your eyes. "What?"

"Nothing, just—you're amazing," you sighed, smile widening before you nodded. "Let's go?"

Peter ignored that way his whole body tingled at your praise and offered you his arm.

Not like it was a new reaction whenever he was around you, anyway.

"Let's."

•••

"Mr. Reid, the car is already waiting for you."

That was the first sentence Peter heard when you reached the hotel lobby. He looked behind him before looking at the man in a suit, pointing at himself in confusion.

"I'm not—"

"Lucas, honey, come on," you cut him off, slipping your fingers in his. You flashed him a knowing smile, squeezing his hand before you tugged him along as you followed the guy.

Right. Fake identities.

"Woah." Peter gawked at the car in front of him, leaning closer to you as he whispered, "Is that a Rolls Royce? Like, the new one?"

"Sort of. It's the Phantom Extended." You nodded with an amused smile. "The best way to blend in with the rich, don't you think?"

Peter was about to open the door for you but then the butler—at least, he assumed that was who he was—beat him to it. So, he opted on helping you with your dress instead, making sure it didn't get caught on anything as you settled inside.

"Thank you, my love," you giggled.

My love.

Peter luckily didn't slip on the expensive lambswool floor mat as he got into his seat.

It's pretend. Get a grip.

Once the car started moving, you pressed a button on the center console, the clear glass that separated the front and back immediately turning into an opaque white, completely secluding the two of you from the driver. He looked at you curiously, nervous—okay, and maybe a bit excited—as to why you decided you suddenly needed privacy. Peter had heard a lot of stories about what goes on in the rear cabin of expensive cars, especially with the partition up, so could it be—

"Did you get to read about our fake identities? The one Sam sent?"

Thinking with the wrong head again, aren't we, Parker?

"I, uhm, no, got too preoccupied with the ring and getting dressed," he admitted, looking at you guiltily. The mission had barely started and he was already messing it up. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, no, it's okay," you reassured with a smile, hand on his thigh, squeezing for good measure. He wasn't able to relish in the warmth of your touch for long as you shifted in your seat, turning around to face him. "I mean, everything is very last minute. I'll just tell you about it.

"Lucas Reid, the young 26-year-old and dashing CEO of Reid Enterprises. You inherited the company at nineteen when your father died of illness," you started.

Peter scrunched his nose. "So, basically, I'm a trust fund baby?"

"Sort of, but you do prove that you did the work," you said. "Company sales skyrocketed when you took the seat."

"What about you?" Peter gestured at your ring, blushing. "Well, apart from being my fiancée."

"I run my own fashion company." You shrugged, winking at him as you added, "Can't be living in my future husband's shadow now, can we?"

Future husband.

God how Peter wished for that to be true.

He shook his head, hands rubbing on his thighs. "Do we have a backstory? Like, as a couple?"

"Not much. Five years ago, we met in Milan during fashion week—"

"Let me guess, sparks flew right off the bat?" he chuckled.

"Love at first sight, obviously," you scoffed, rolling your eyes teasingly.

Not too far off from reality.

"Besides that, it's all the basics from there. Dates, extravagant gifts, and then two months ago, you proposed."

"Right," he started, bumping your knee with his lightly. "So, when's the wedding?"

You laughed, "We're not sure yet. Too busy."

"Of course," Peter sighed, rolling his eyes playfully. "Can't get me out of my office, now can you?"

"I have my ways," you hummed, wiggling your brows at him.

Peter was so sure his face had gone so red.

"You always do," he chuckled shyly, shaking his head before smiling at you. "Can we go over the plan real quick?"

You smiled. "Of course."

Peter knew what to do, obviously. He'd already gone over the plan probably a hundred times in his head. But he simply wanted to make sure he wasn't missing anything, especially something that could potentially jeopardize the whole mission. He couldn't afford even one single misstep, not when you and your safety could be put at risk—and the millions around the world that would suffer if those weapons got into the wrong hand, of course.

"We're almost there," you said once you've gone over the plans twice, eyes scanning across the windows. "It's just on the next turn."

Peter's heart quickened.

He didn't even notice that his emotions had gone evident on his face. Not until you squeezed his arm.

"You okay?" you asked, brows furrowed in concern.

"Yeah! Yeah, of course," he said quite unconvincingly. It was when he heard the ticking of the turn signal did his nerves shift to overdrive, his eyes wide as they met yours. "Shit, I don't think I can do this. I mean, I'm not usually out there with my face showing, you know? And I'm so so so not James Bond, I'm the farthest from James Bond I'm like, Lame Bond. I'm not smooth o-or charming or suave enough to be a spy—oh no. No, no, no, what if they find me out right away? I'm going to mess everything up and this is going to go horribly wrong and—"

"Hey!" you interjected, hands cupping his face, squishing his cheeks slightly as you pulled him closer, eyes boring into his with determination. Peter didn't know if it was the proximity that shut him up, or if it was your scent that overpowered his senses—probably both. "You're going to be fine. You've got this."

He gulped, nodding before letting out a shaky breath.

You smiled reassuringly, thumbs brushing over his cheeks, his skin turning redder with each caress. "Be observant, you don't have to talk. With this kind of crowd, trust me, the quiet ones are the most intimidating. If there's anything you feel like it's a bit off, trust your gut, and let me know, okay?"

"Okay," he breathed out, nuzzling into your palm absentmindedly, finding a sense of comfort from your warm touch.

"And if it gets overwhelming, just follow my lead."

•••

Peter got out of the car, nodding curtly with a tightlipped smile at the driver who opened the door for him.

He decided at the last minute that Lucas Reid was going to be a stoic, passively quiet CEO with a resting 'serious' face that only means business.

Peter straightened up his suit before he offered you his hand, the huge rock on your finger glinting underneath the city lights as your palm met his.

He gently guided you out of the car, helping you fix up your dress before offering you his arm. Your fingers curled around his bicep as you kissed his cheek with a soft thanks. Peter smiled at you warmly, pulling you closer to his side as you made your way inside the building.

Stoic and passive except towards his lovely fiancée, of course.

He might or might not have stumbled upon a few Mobster Spider-Man fanfictions on some website not too long ago. And he might or might not have taken some inspiration from it.

"Please take a basket to put your phones and any other electronic devices in and step under the detectors one by one," one guard instructed.

Adjusting his glasses, he pulled out his newly upgraded phone. It was sponsored by the Avengers obviously since he couldn't exactly rock up with his old, cracked one, with him being rich and everything. He smiled at the lock screen photo—it was of you and him, your lips pressed against his cheek, taken just a couple of hours ago to have photos to make this engaged couple gimmick believable—before he placed it in the basket you were holding up for him.

You smiled reassuringly before you stepped under the metal detector first, Peter following just closely after.

He let out a nervous breath when he saw how heavily armed the guards were. A variation of M17s and a couple of AK-47s were in the hands of fully uniformed men from head to toe. They look like your typical SWAT team, but Peter knew they were more dangerous than that, especially when their morals were as corrupted as he'd presumed.

He was an enhanced superhero, yes, but he sure as hell wasn't bulletproof. And as much as he could probably dodge a few shots, he would rather not take the gamble of finding out exactly how many he could avoid.

That wasn't what he was worried about, though. Because as he felt your fingers slip back into his, he was reminded of how vulnerable and defenseless you were. No superpowers, no bulletproof vests, still an amazing badass who without a doubt could take on two guys in a fight and win, but still a human who could get badly hurt by a simple pull of a trigger.

There were only so many bullets he could jump in front of you for.

"We're going to be fine," you whispered, squeezing his hand as if you could sense his worry. "I got your six."

Peter squeezed back. "And I've got yours."

The two of you stayed close to each other, arms linked as you headed towards the ballroom. But once the huge archway came into sight, you leaned closer to him.

"You go ahead," you whispered in his ear, squeezing his bicep. "I need to go to the bathroom."

Peter nodded.

He knew that some agents had already hidden some of your equipment hours before. Well, he hoped they successfully did, anyway. If not, then, you both might have to compromise.

Peter didn't know what exactly he was expecting when he entered the ballroom but it definitely wasn't as fancy as this.

The ballroom was grandiose in itself with its ornate marble columns and crown moldings, complementing the beautifully impressive murals that covered the ceilings. Even the red curtains that draped along the walls seemed far too luxurious for the mere fact that they were curtains for crying out loud.

Peter had never seen so many chandeliers hanging all in one space, not to mention, ones that seemed to be decked out in gold and crystals…or were those diamonds?

Everything was decorated with a color scheme of cream, black, silver, and gold, from the round tables and accompanying chairs. To contrast were various glass structures illuminated by some kind of light as they glinted and shimmered even from the corner of his eye. There was an open bar in one corner, a long table of finger foods and various desserts, and live music coming from the string quartet on a rotating, circular stage right in the center of a—is that an indoor fountain?

"Wow," you gasped as you appeared beside him, your eyes twinkling underneath the chandeliers. "It's gorgeous."

"Yeah," Peter sighed, eyes trained on the way your face glowed in awe as you admired the space. "Gorgeous."

Your smile brightened as you tilted your head, gaze meeting his. Then, your brows furrowed, stepping in front of him and eyeing the top of his head. "Come here. I need to fix up your hair."

Peter ducked his head without question, hands around your waist as he let you settle the mess of his windswept curls. He found the furrow of your brows absolutely adorable, but the way your tongue slightly poked out of your red lips made him want to just pull you in and kiss you senseless.

You tucked a few short strands behind his ear, gently pressing your thumb into his concha, the earpiece fitting snugly before he heard a faint crackle and then a deep voice.

"Parker, can you hear me?"

"Aye, aye, Captain," he muttered.

He heard a few snickers in the background followed by Sam scoffing sarcastically.

"My, aren't you two cute."

Peter's brows furrowed, confused eyes meeting yours. "What does he mean?"

"I answered the same way," you giggled, shrugging as you smoothed over his tie and buttoned up his suit jacket.

Peter's heart fluttered at that.

"We'll be on the line listening. Be discreet. Only communicate what's necessary."

You and Peter shot each other a look, grins widening into a knowing smirk.

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"Jesus Christ."

The line went quiet, presumably Sam muting their end until further notice.

Peter shook his head, chuckling before turning to you. "So, what now?"

"Scope," you said, waving back at a random woman who was making their way over to you both. You turned to him with a smile. "And mingle."

•••

Peter was so far out of his element.

He was already a terrible liar when under pressure, stuttering and blubbering until he would end up telling the truth. And that was around people he got along with.

Now how was he supposed to make small talk with the rich all while pretending to be rich himself when he clearly was not?

His best course of action? He didn't talk.

It fit well with the persona he'd created, anyway.

He was mostly following your advice—well, more like literally following you around. He was like your trophy fiancé in some way, and honestly, Peter wasn't opposed to it.

You were taking charge, and all he had to do was scope the scene, nod and smile whenever he was acknowledged while mostly speaking only to you.

From an outsider's point of view, he probably looked like such a puppy for his girl, only meeting your eyes, hovering by your side, his attention and touch always on you. A hand on the small of your back, an arm around your waist as he hung onto every word that slipped past your beautiful red-painted lips. For them, he was simply a man completely enamored by his soon-to-be wife. So it definitely sold this whole fiancé gimmick you two got going on.

Then again, it wasn't like he had to pretend that much, either. It wasn't hard to act all smitten with you because he already was. And, okay, he was playing it up a little. Peter would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy acting like you were his and he was yours, even if it was only for a mission.

Other than that, he also quite enjoyed indulging in the food and beverages that were paraded around by the waiters. It tasted so good, so obviously made with high-quality and expensive ingredients, but most importantly free. Could you blame him for taking advantage of it?

He was being an opportunist, he was well aware, which was why he didn't think much about downing the very tasty champagnes they offered, especially when he was free from any consequence that the drink brought—well, one of the consequences.

Because as much as he was immune to the buzz of the alcohol, he couldn't say the same for the effects it brought on his bladder.

It didn't really expand when his abilities got enhanced.

With how utterly gorgeous you looked tonight, it shouldn't have surprised him that the second he left your side, some men in this gala would take his absence as an opportunity to make a move.

He might've been acting like a guard dog, he admits, glaring at anyone who dared to glance at you wrongly. You were "his fiancée" after all, he was simply playing the part of your possessive protective husband-to-be.

That was what he told himself, anyway.

But still, when he came back after his little bathroom break, Peter wasn't too keen on what he saw.

You were talking to some dark-haired man wearing a bold, fully gold-colored suit and an even bolder beard. He didn't look old, but he didn't exactly look young, either. Or perhaps his facial hair played a part in that regard. He was—as much as he hated to say it—well-built and good-looking. If Peter was to guess, he was probably in his early 30s.

The interaction looked innocent enough, and Peter wouldn't have found it a big deal if this guy wasn't eyeing you up like you were a piece of meat.

"Amelia Devonché," the man greeted, his French accent thick, his flirtatious tone, even thicker.

So that's your fake name.

"The one and only," you said, smiling as you tilted your head. "Although I don't think we've been introduced."

"Halbert Auclair," he said, bowing as he held out an open palm.

Halbert? What kind of name is that?

"Pleasure to meet you," you hummed, slipping your hand into his.

"Pleasure's all mine. You look quite lovely tonight, mademoiselle," he crooned, bringing the back of your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

Peter's jaw clenched, an intensely heated emotion boiling his blood, only relaxing slightly when he heard your fake giggle.

He'd heard your real one enough to differentiate the two.

"Why, thank you, monsieur."

Clouded by his emotions, Peter took long strides towards you, swiftly wrapping a possessive arm around your waist and pulling you to his side, kissing your temple and then, without thought, near the corner of your mouth.

Your eyes snapped to meet his, a fleeting look of surprise on your features before you quickly masked it with a smile. "This is my fiancé—"

"Lucas Reid, one of the youngest yet richest CEOs here today," Halbert interjected, offering his hand out to shake.

"Hmm," Peter said with a curt nod, his grip a little tighter when he shook it.

"Man with few words, I see," Halbert chuckled dryly, flexing his fingers once they were free from his hold.

Peter bit his cheek to stop a smirk, pushing his glasses up before slipping his hand into his pocket, looking at you with a much more relaxed smile.

"My fiancé isn't great with crowds. Always stuck in his office, he is. The only thing in his mind is the business, and well, me," you gushed, resting your left hand on his chest, tilting your head to flash him a smile. "Am I right, handsome?"

"Very much so, darling," Peter said, unaware of how his voice sounded. He was still running on jealousy that he couldn't help but gently take your hand from his chest, bringing the back of it to his lips and then kissing the diamond ring on your finger. He smiled at you sweetly as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. "You still owe me a dance, my love."

You blinked a few times, lips parting before you shook your head with a soft laugh, "Oh, yes! How can I forget."

"Have a lovely night, madem—"

Peter didn't even wait for him to finish his sentence as he gently ushered you towards the dance floor, just in time for the string quartet to play their version of Quando, Quando, Quando.

So…he didn't quite think this through.

Peter had no idea how to dance.

His boiling jealousy was quickly replaced with nervousness and dread as you guided his hands, one on your waist, the other curled around yours.

You were so blatantly staring at him that his nerves could only grow tenfold. It was only a matter of time before you realized just how jealous he acted. Hell, he only just realized it after the emotion had left his system. And despite avoiding your eyes, he could still sense it, how you were trying to figure out why he'd done what he just did.

Peter cleared his throat, "Something wrong?"

"Are you okay?" you countered, placing your hand on his shoulder before moving to the music.

He didn't know if he should be thankful or slightly embarrassed that you were the one leading the dance. But then again, there probably would never be a time when Peter wouldn't follow your lead—dancing or otherwise.

He'd follow you to the ends of the earth if he could.

It was working, though, bodies synchronously swaying to the sound of strings as if you'd done this plenty of times before. It was either a testament to how good you were at basically everything—a quick learner, a leader, a teacher and hell, a dancer—or just how well you two complemented each other.

Peter believed it was both.

"Yeah," Peter chuckled timidly, eyes trained on the ground to avoid your eyes and to make sure he wouldn't step on your foot. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seemed…" you paused, hand squeezing his shoulder lightly. "Angry."

Peter blushed.

Jealous. Not angry.

"I'm not," he brushed off, shaking his head. "Got nothing to be angry about."

"Right," you hummed, and it sounded like you didn't believe him at all.

"Did I mess up?" Peter sighed, worried eyes finally meeting your curious ones.

"What? No. You just came off as quiet which isn't a big deal," you reassured, smile widening with amusement. "Where did that South London accent come from, though?"

"Wait." Peter blinked, frowning. "I did an accent?"

"Yeah, you did," you laughed. "Which I didn’t even know you could do."

"I guess I was too nervous to even realize," he admitted, chuckling. "I've been binge-watching The Great British Bake Off lately, maybe I just picked it up."

"So nervousness makes you do accents," you hummed, smiling. "Interesting."

"What?" He narrowed his eyes at you teasingly. "Don't tell me you like a British accent too, like, half the world apparently."

"It's cute," you admitted with a shrug. "But I like your accent more."

Peter blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah, I like the kid from Queens," you said nonchalantly.

Peter almost stepped on your foot. If you weren't a trained spy with quite good reflexes, you might've gone home with a bruised toe.

You shook your head, giggling as you pulled him back to the rhythm of the dance. "You're going to have to keep the charade if you speak to other people, now, though"

"Yeah, didn't really think about that." Peter scrunched up his face, clearing his throat before he looked at you shyly. "I really don't dance."

"Well, you're doing great so far," you hummed, pulling him closer as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Peter secured his on your waist then, both of you gliding across the dance floor to the symphony of the strings as you held each other's gaze. It was impressive, really, that this was the first time you both danced together, but danced like two spiders spinning their silks in a synchronized choreography to create a large heart-shaped web.

Then, he felt bold, confident.

He didn't know if it was from that same pull from earlier tonight, his senses being muddled by your overpowering presence, your warm body pressed so close against him, or the sweet lure of the music that added something to the air.

Perhaps it was everything all at once.

But Peter couldn't help but lean even closer, the tips of your noses just a hair's breadth away.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his gaze fluttering across your face before meeting your eyes.

Peter reveled in the way your smile got shy.

"You've said that already."

"Once will never be enough."

You shook your head with a giggle, eyes twinkling, "And you said you aren't smooth."

"Like I said," he started, lowering his voice, shrugging with a teasing grin, "It's the expensive suit."

Peter's heart warmed at your sweet laugh, that certain pull growing stronger at the lovely sound. He dipped his head, noses touching before he pressed his forehead against yours. He squeezed your waist when your breath hitched, warm and inviting as it tickled his lips, tempting, oh so close—

"Ahem."

You both jerked back, eyes wide with surprise.

"Sam! You've ruined it!" Peter heard Wanda hiss through the earpiece.

"He was finally getting somewhere!" And that was Harley.

Peter's whole face grew hot with embarrassment, squeezing your waist, still keeping you close as he looked away.

He completely forgot about the comms being live and open to everyone back at the compound.

Then again, all of them had been suspiciously quiet until now.

"Well, damn, I'm sorry? But this is an important mission, not a radio drama?"

"You just had to cockblock—"

"I'm surprised you even know what that means, you white fossil—"

You cleared your throat, smiling at Peter shyly. "Any intel?"

"I think that French dude is our bad guy," he answered swiftly, ready to change the subject or else his knees might go out.

"Auclair?" You raised a brow at him with a smirk. "How so?"

Peter might sound like he had a vendetta against the guy who shamelessly flirted with you. But, he did have a few points to back his claim.

"It's kinda weird how quickly he knew about us. Unless he stole the guest list and researched every single one of the names or he's the host. Also, he really made a point in stating how rich I am. You only do that when you want money for the auction. And if that's not proof enough—" Peter pulled a black and silver playing card out of his pocket, the same one Halbert gave to him during the handshake. "Seven of hearts, well, kinda. It's more arrows than it is hearts. All of them are pointing downward no matter which way you turn it. Look—" He turned the card, an almost holographic effect as the arrows remained south. "That's not how normal playing cards are. So I assume it means downstairs to the secret auction. And we've got about an hour max until it's seven. And if that's not obvious enough—" Peter showed you the back, tilting it to the light to expose the words 'Big Toys, Bigger Guns' in the middle in gold lettering.

"Cheesy, but it works," he finished.

"That's a really good catch, wow," you praised, grinning proudly. "Someone's getting the hang of this already, huh?"

"Watching those James Bond movies finally paid off, I guess," he chuckled, nodding at you. "Plus, I got a good teacher."

You smiled. "Keep a careful eye on him," you instructed, snorting a little when he all but glared when he found the man. You squeezed his slightly tensed shoulders. "Subtlety."

"I don't think I need to be subtle because he keeps eyeing you like he stands a chance as if the rock on your finger isn't big enough. You're my fiancée. So me glaring at some guy with too much beard who looks at you far too long for comfort let alone appropriate isn't out of the ordinary," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Men are pigs I tell you."

"Someone's committed to the bit," you teased, smiling far too bright for it to be innocent. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jealous."

Peter quickly snatched a champagne flute from the tray when a waiter walked past, handing it to you with a small curtsy.

"You look parched, my darling."

You rolled your eyes but took the glass anyway, your grin telling him that maybe you like the accent more than you were letting on.

But she likes your accent more.

Peter couldn't stop his heart from melting at the thought.

He was also glad that his distraction worked, his jealousy hopefully forgotten as he guided you toward the bar once the song finished.

"Door's unguarded," you murmured against the glass, sipping gingerly before you handed it back to him. "Stay here and keep an eye out. I'll find us a key."

Peter nodded, sitting on one of the stools as he carefully and deliberately followed your movement. Not that he thought you couldn't handle yourself, but an extra pair of eyes will always be better than none. Also, he was being observant of his surroundings, his enhanced senses helping in making sure there wasn't anything suspicious going on, keeping him on high alert in case he needed to jump in.

He watched with pride as you slyly stole a keycard from a gullible enough guard who was too distracted by your flirting. It was an impressively swift sleight of hand that if he wasn't paying attention enough, he would've missed it.

Still, Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes at how stupid and easy these guards tend to be, any focus and rational thought out the window all because of an alluring smirk, a teasing touch and a glimpse of skin—the simplest seduction from one gorgeous woman.

But then again, he wasn't exactly one to talk. Because as innocent as a bright smile from you, Peter would literally do anything you ask him to.

He was far too focused on you that he didn't even realize that someone had replaced your seat, not until he heard his name—well, the fake one.

"Lucas Reid."

Peter turned, eyes landing on a woman wearing a gold dress, curled, long hair framing a somewhat familiar face. Peter wasn't blind, he could see she was objectively pretty. But she simply could never hold a candle next to his gorgeous fiancée—fake or otherwise.

"Greta Auclair," she said with a smile, holding out her hand.

Peter didn't miss the flirtatious undertone in her actions. How could he when she was so adamant on fluttering her eyelashes at him, or the way she wasn't subtle at pushing up her chest, the low-cut top doing so little to hide…it? Them?

Not that he was looking. It was simply in his line of sight.

"Auclair," he hummed, shaking her hand briefly as he tried to make sure his accent didn't sound so forced. He honestly didn't know why he decided to make things harder for himself. "Any relation to Halbert?"

"Twin sister," she waved off, flipping her hair to one side.

Peter nodded without another word, attention swiftly shifting to search for you in the crowd.

"I must say, I've heard a lot of things about you," she hummed as she leaned forward, fingers curling around his bicep, gold-colored, manicured nails glinting underneath the light as she squeezed the muscle. "Apart from being a quiet man, of course."

Peter's resolve faltered a little, the gesture completely catching him off guard.

What's up with this family and overstepping personal space?

"Good things, I hope." He smiled tightly, crossing his arms over his chest, subtly shaking her hand off.

"Oh yes, very good things," she giggled, hand on his thigh as she leaned forward with a smirk. Winking, she added, "Naughty ones, too."

Peter gulped as he leaned back.

"O-Oh, uh—"

"Lucas."

He quickly spun around on his stool to the sound of your voice, facing you fully. His eyes widened in surprise as you gently nudged his knees apart but he didn't even hesitate to make room for you to stand in between. He placed his hands on your hips when you pulled him closer, your arms snaking around his neck.

Peter didn't know exactly what was going on, but he certainly wasn't complaining. Besides, like he said before, he would always follow your lead.

Yet still, he looked up at you in both curiosity and confusion, trying to gauge what was going through your mind. But you certainly were better at reading people than he was. Or perhaps that was you simply being a master at masking your emotions. Because apart from the slight edge on your smile, he was coming up empty.

"You must be Amelia," Greta interrupted.

Your grip on Peter's shoulder tightened, eyes rolling with a scowl before you turned to Greta with a forced smile. "Yes, hi."

Peter's brows raised at your uninterested tone, even more when you didn't even bother prolonging the conversation as you turned back to him, body leaning closer.

Interesting…

"Can you help me find the bathroom?" you purred, tone seductively sweet to match the implication of your words. You pressed your chest against his, faces only inches apart as your fingers played with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

Peter short circuited.

He merely stared at you in awe, blood growing hot, heart pumping erratically as his grip on your waist tightened.

Peter would be lying if he said he wasn't at the least bit turned on.

"Please?" you added with a pout when he didn't manage to speak for a good few seconds.

It was the slight pinch on his skin that snapped him out of it.

"Of course, my love," he said, clearing the lump in his throat as he hastily stood up.

Peter wasn't even given the time to get his bearings straight when you immediately took his hand in yours, pulling him away from the bar and down the hallway. He squinted at the sudden brightness of the ceiling lights, greatly illuminating the cream wallpaper with intricate gold-colored patterns, similar crown molding from those in the ballroom, and various paintings hanging on the walls for guests to admire. The space was obviously still for public access, but it was relatively empty.

Once you two were alone, you didn't bother hiding your emotions. And Peter could clearly tell that you were angry.

It was making him slightly nervous.

"Is everything okay?"

You ignored him.

Peter frowned when pulled your hand from his and put some distance between you. He watched as you tensely opened a metal door, entering in haste without looking back. He ran after you to avoid getting locked out, the two of you entering another much smaller hallway that could only fit one person at a time. It was more of a tunnel, to be honest.

He never liked it when you were upset, especially during a high-risk mission. But most of all, he hated disappointing you, and with the way you were acting, he could only assume he'd done something wrong.

Peter was hot on your tail, carefully watching your every sharp turn, just to make sure he wasn't going to lose you. Though, it wasn't long until you two emerged into a hallway that was similar to before.

You were staring straight ahead, heels clicking angrily as the skirt of your dress rapidly swished with every harsh step.

Oh you were pissed.

"Did I do something?"

"You shouldn't be distracted on the job," you said, tone clipped.

"But I wasn't distracted," he defended, his frown deepening.

"Flirting, distracted, same thing," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "It's not the time to woo girls. This is not a frat party."

Flirting? Woo girls?

"But I wasn't flirt—wait," he paused, his smile breaking out as realization dawned on him.

He could be quite oblivious sometimes, but he was not dumb. This wasn't going over his head, not when the way you were acting looked far too familiar. He'd seen the same thing happen only a couple of minutes ago, after all.

Because you weren't angry.

Much like how he wasn't angry moments before your dance.

Peter stopped, looking at you carefully with arms crossed over his chest, smirking as he quoted your words,

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jealous."

You halted in your tracks, shoulders straightening with a huff before you continued walking.

It told Peter everything he needed to know.

He couldn't wipe off his smirk, pride bubbling in his chest, confidence boosted that little bit more as he jogged after you.

"There's going to be two guards at the door," you instructed monotonously once he reached your side, eyes avoiding him. "I'll distract one. You take care of the other one."

Peter stood straighter with a salute, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Yes ma'am."

You rolled your eyes, but he didn't miss the way the corner of your lips quirked up.

•••

"Excuse me, ma'am, this area is restricted."

"Oh, dear! My apologies, is this not where the bathroom is?" you gasped, and Peter was impressed at how clueless you sounded. If he didn't know you beforehand, he never would've guessed that you'd be one of the most elite and smartest spies there ever was. "Would either of you fine gentlemen guide me to where it is?"

Peter heard the two guards grumble before one spoke up gruffly, "Go. I've got this covered,"

"Yay!" you giggled, clapping your hands excitedly. "Thank you so much!"

Peter couldn't stop his grin at how cute you were.

When you and the other guard were out of sight, Peter made a run for it. Guard Two only caught a split-second glimpse of him before his fist harshly connected with their jaw, wincing when he heard a faint crack.

"Sorry," Peter whispered with a grimace, standing straight and adjusting his glasses. "Didn't mean to hit that hard."

He quickly turned towards the sound of grunts and hisses, fists colliding against muscles and then a body falling onto the floor. He rushed towards where you disappeared, entering the hallway just in time to see you fixing up your dress. Your eyes met his when he walked over to you, your smile sweet yet proud.

"Need a lil help carrying this guy," you said, gesturing behind you.

He nodded with a chuckle, eyes trained on your face once he reached your side before his brows furrowed.

"You got a little—" Before he could think about it, he reached a hand up, thumb rubbing over the corner of your mouth, attempting to get rid of the smudged lipstick.

He couldn't help but stare, easily putting him in a trance as he smoothed his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it away slightly before letting it plop back, your warm breath tickling his skin when your lips parted.

Your little outburst of jealousy earlier might've boosted his confidence a lot more than he'd initially let on.

"Peter," you murmured. "The guard."

"Oh! Right," he cleared his throat, moving over to the unconscious guard, hauling them over his shoulder effortlessly as if they weighed nothing. He walked over to the second guard, doing the same over his other shoulder. When he turned around, he saw you standing there, brow raised. He shrugged, smirking. "Super strength."

You shook your head, rolling your eyes, "Show off."

Peter laughed.

After carrying both guards into the room—unlocked thanks to their keycards and fingerprints—you busied yourself with their weapons.

Peter was looking through the various crates and boxes, all labeled with familiar and not-so-familiar logos, some in different languages, while others were completely blank. Some items weren't hidden at all, from high-tech guns in glass displays to alien guns in wooden crates, various iterations of vibranium shields, and holy shit, is that a Wakandan spear?

"Where the hell did they get all of these? This is so much ammo in one room—"

Peter's words died in his throat when his eyes landed on you.

You were leaning over, one foot resting on one of the boxes on the floor, your fingers grazing your leg as you carefully pulled your skirt up inch by tempting inch until your thigh was exposed to him. Your gun holster later came into view, the straps squeezing the supple flesh tightly and fuck—

Peter had never wanted to be an inanimate object so badly ever in his life.

He quickly averted his gaze when you pulled your skirt back down. He pretended to read the labels on some crates as he cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt because Jesus it's getting really hot in here.

"Take this," you said, walking over to him with your hand extended, your fingers curled around the barrel of a gun.

Peter's eyes widened as he looked at the gun and then at you. "We haven't gotten to this part of my training yet."

"Come on, you've seen some movies."

"Since when did movies become tutorials?"

You stared at him for a moment, shaking your head with a chuckle before holding up the gun before him to demonstrate.

"Safety on when you don't want to shoot, safety off when you want to shoot," you said, flicking the pin on the side of the gun. "Cock it only once. It's semi-automatic so after that, all you need is to pull the trigger for continuous shots. Grip with two hands, dominant hand tight around it, other hand on top. Don't try to be arrogant by holding it with only one, especially when you've never fired a gun in your life. Point and shoot, simple. Make sure you aim at the bad guy, though."

You took his hand and placed the gun in his palm, smiling at him sweetly as if you hadn't just given him a loaded weapon.

"Got it?"

Peter stared at you dumbfounded, gulping as he held it to his chest, "That's definitely not all there is to it when using a gun."

"Hey, don't worry," you said reassuringly, squeezing his shoulder. "It's just for precaution. You might not even need to use it."

Peter nodded with a sigh, staring at the gun in his hand before he slipped into the hem of his pants, snuggly kept there by his belt.

Rookie mistake.

"Make sure the safety is on before you put it there, wouldn't want an accident to happen."

Peter froze before he quickly pulled it out, aiming the barrel as far away from him as possible.

He groaned in utter embarrassment when you laughed.

"Can you just carry it for me?" he asked, pouting for good measure. "Please?"

"You're fine," you giggled, gesturing at your leg. "And I only have one thigh holster."

Yeah. I saw.

"I really don't want to shoot myself in the balls," he said, physically shuddering as he screwed his eyes shut. "And I think you're aware of how clumsy I get sometimes."

You laughed out loud, shaking your head as you moved back toward one of the unconscious guards. Peter watched you curiously as you started checking their suits, a faint 'aha!' leaving your lips before you started taking one of their jackets off.

Peter's brows shot up. "What are you—"

"Jacket off," you interjected, showing him a shoulder holster. He did as told as you walked back to him. You helped him slip the harness on, clicking buckles and adjusting the straps before taking his gun and slotting it in soon after. You tilted your head as you smooth it over him. "Better?"

"Much," he breathed out, smiling at you gratefully as he slipped his jacket back on. "Thanks."

You returned his grin, patting his chest before you went and looked for the safe.

Which didn't take too long.

"They could've at least made it inconspicuous, shit's too easy," you scoffed, gesturing at the safe that had a huge American flag on it, stars and eagles, too, as if it wasn't obvious enough. You looked at him with a knowing smile. "Do your magic."

Peter squatted in front of it, taking his glasses off and twisting the nose bridge. There was a soft whirring sound before the glasses turned into a mini, android spider.

Carbon-based nanotech will always impress him. Imperceptible to metal detectors all while never losing its function and durability.

"Of course it's a tiny spider," you muttered, delight laced in your tone.

"What?" He looked at you over his shoulder with a teasing pout, holding up the spider in his palm. "You don't like him?"

You purse your lips, shaking your head before meeting his eyes. "He's cute."

"And hopefully he works, too," he said, turning back to the safe before carefully placing the little guy on the keypad. It took a few moments for the mechanical spider to do its thing. Peter let out the breath he was holding when the safe opened without a hitch. He looked at you with a grin, gesturing at the device inside. "Voilà."

You scrunched up your face. "And that proves that you can't be good at everything."

"Hey!" he gasped. "It wasn't that bad."

"Just leave the French accent alone," you teased, though your eyes were shining with admiration. "But that brain of yours is definitely something else."

Peter blushed, waving your compliment off, "Nah, it's just—"

"Shut up, Parker," you scoffed playfully, but your smile was genuine. "You're incredibly smart and annoyingly amazing. It's not up for discussion."

"Thanks," he chuckled shyly, cheeks turning redder. He gestured at the nuclear football, before looking up at you. "You have the decoy, right?"

"Oh, right." You nodded, reaching into the neckline of your dress before you pulled the rectangular device out, showing it to him with a proud grin.

Peter stared at you, mouth agape.

"What?" you snorted, shaking your head at his surprised face. "I don't have pockets!"

"You could've asked me to carry it."

"I can't exactly bring you with me into the ladies' restroom now, can I?" you said, shrugging. "And I couldn't just hand it to you in the middle of the ballroom with all those people."

"Touché," he hummed, taking the device from your hands. His brows furrowed as he turned it in his palm. "Is it supposed to be warm?"

"It's been with the girls in the past hour or so, of course it's going to be warm."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he tried not to let his curious thoughts wander.

He was failing, though. Miserably so.

Because holding the device when it's been in your boobs made him wonder exactly how warm your boobs would actually feel if it was direct contact, right in the palm of his—

"What?" you asked, none the wiser, briefly. Because then it was immediate, the realization crossing your face, probably noticing just how red his face had gotten. "Oh my god—Peter!"

"Sorry!" he squeaked, hurriedly turning his back on you, focusing on the task at hand.

"My boobs are clean, by the way."

"That wasn't the route my thoughts went to," he grumbled.

"Yeah, I figured," you giggled. "Just wanted to confirm."

He rolled his eyes even though you couldn't see him.

Focus. You got this.

But just as he was about to switch the devices, you moved closer to him, bending over until you were at eye level with the safe, your scent overpowering to the point of being distracting.

"Y/N," Peter sighed, head hanging low as his hand fell onto his sides. "You're making me really nervous when you're breathing down my neck."

"Sorry! Sorry," you laughed, heels clicking as you moved further behind him. "I'll just…step back."

With bated breath yet careful fingers, Peter swiftly switched the devices, blowing out his cheeks in relief when nothing happened.

"Great job, Pete."

He shot you a smile over his shoulder and closed the safe, letting his spider friend reverse its steps before taking him off the safe, pressing its tiny tummy for it to turn back into glasses.

Peter put it back on, running his fingers through his hair before turning to you.

You beamed and held out your palm.

But just as he was about to hand you the device, he quickly pulled it back with narrowed eyes.

"Are you putting this in your boobs again?"

You stared at him in amusement. "I didn't grow any pockets at the last minute, so yes."

"Don't you think it's dangerous?" he reasoned, carefully waving the device to get his point across. "I mean, this is the real thing."

"It's not radioactive," you chuckled. "It's not going to suddenly blow up."

"We don't know that—"

"Hey, don't worry," you hummed, your reassuring smile turning mischievous. "I'll still have my boobs at the end of this mission."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm concerned about you, like, as a whole person."

"Yeah, I know, and that includes my boobs."

He groaned, "Is this becoming a thing?"

You shook your head, laughing, "No, no, I just didn't think I'd find out that you're a boob guy, during a mission, no less."

"I'm not a boob guy," he scoffed.

Peter was a you guy, to be honest, as in you as a whole person—eyes, boobs, lips, butt, thighs, everything included.

And personality, obviously.

You laughed, leaning close to kiss him on the cheek, throwing him off-guard that you were able to take the device from him without breaking a sweat.

Peter sighed in defeat.

He really wasn't any better than any of the guards in this building.

"Come on," you called, hands now free, the device properly hidden with 'the girls' as you opened the door for him. "We need to get going."

•••

You both were navigating your way back into the ballroom when the hairs on the back of Peter's neck stood up.

"People incoming," he warned, grabbing your hand as you pulled you down a hallway. His enhanced hearing just about picked up the sound of guns being loaded. "Armed."

"How many?" you asked, your free hand picking up your skirt as you walked even faster.

He tried to listen closely, calculating the footsteps that echoed down the hall sans both of yours

"Four," he confirmed, brow raising. "Maybe Five."

"That's too many. The minute they'll see us, they're going to get suspicious. It's going to be too late for both of us to take all of them down without at least one sending a signal," you rushed, testing out every door down the halls in hopes that you'd get lucky. "We need to find a place to hide."

"Shit," Peter cursed, looking from left to right of the hall. "They're coming from both sides."

"In here!"

He wasn't given much to process your words when you all but grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pushed him inside a room. The space was quick to grow smaller when you followed suit, your dress knocking over a broom on your way in.

Of course it had to be a janitor's closet.

As if his life wasn't already filled with enough clichés.

Peter grabbed the handle to pull the door close, darkness swallowing you both as it clicked shut. He felt around the metal knob only for his fingers to fall on an entirely flat surface.

"There's no lock," he said, so deathly confused. "What kind of door has no lock?"

"Quiet!" you hissed, pressing your palm over his mouth.

Peter stared at you wide-eyed, his pupils slowly adjusting to the lack of light that he was only now able to gauge just how close you two were.

"Listen," you whispered.

He nodded, closing his eyes as he concentrated on distinguishing the voices.

"The guards have been knocked out."

"Nothing is missing in the room."

"Still, check everything. Be on high alert for anything out of the ordinary."

Peter's eyes snapped open, panic settling in as he heard the footsteps growing nearer.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, voice muffled by your palm. You removed your hand, eyes confused yet expectant. He explained in hurried whispers, "They're not suspicious of anything being stolen yet but they're coming this way. If we get caught, they're going to immediately find out what we're up to and we're doomed."

Peter watched as your face went through different types of emotions. First, it was worry, a flicker of panic crossing your eyes only to be replaced by something else entirely. The crease between your brows deepened, lips pursed as you tilted your head.

It was that all too familiar thinking face he'd grown to adore.

A second later, your brows shot up, eyes wide, and—if he didn't know any better—twinkling as if a light bulb lit up on top of your head.

"Not unless we make them believe we're just some couple needing a quick fix."

"What?" Peter asked, confused.

You only gave him a sheepish smile and a barely-there whisper of,

"I'm sorry."

Peter wasn't given the time to ask what you were apologizing for when you suddenly grabbed him by the nape of his neck and crashed your lips against his.

He stumbled, his back hitting the shelves. Although the way his head was spinning was definitely not because of the impact.

Peter groaned, kissing you back immediately and with fervor, his hands gripping your waist, head tilting as he pulled you closer.

He shivered when your hand moved down his chest before moving inside his jacket, only realizing that you were slipping the nuclear football between the holster, tugging the straps a little tighter to stop it from slipping out.

Then, you guided his hands, much like with your dance earlier. Yet this time, one landed on your exposed thigh as you hiked your leg against his waist, placing the other on top of your ass.

Peter felt like he was about to faint.

But with every bit of respect he had for you—which was a lot—he still hesitated.

He was unsure as to how far he was allowed to go, deeply worried to cross the line of no return. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable by pushing your boundaries.

He also didn't want to ruin everything he had with you. Whether that was you being his friend or you being his teammate, he really didn't want to lose any of it.

Peter didn't want to lose you.

"It's okay," you whispered against his lips, probably sensing his inner turmoil. "Touch me, Peter."

That was the last thing that made any sliver of his self-control snap.

He growled, squeezing your ass and your thigh simultaneously, pulling your body flush against his as if you could go any closer.

Your gasp was met by a low groan, your hand fisting his jacket as the other took home in his styled hair.

The door swung open, a momentary stream of light illuminating the tiny room. There was a disgusted growl before the door slammed close, darkness covering you both again but neither of you stopped.

Peter gripped your hips, pushing you back slightly until you were the one pressed against the closed door. He cupped the back of your neck, arm curling your waist as he slotted his thigh in between yours in a desperate need to be inhumanly closer.

Your soft moan just about made his knees buckle.

It also made him feel daring enough to gently tease his tongue against your bottom lip. You let him in with his ease, both of you moaning as your tongues did their own dance inside your mouth.

It was intoxicating.

The faint taste of champagne mixing with the taste of you.

It was something that Peter probably spent a great amount of time thinking about yet nothing in his imagination ever came close. No matter what his brain had conjured in the past, it could never do you justice.

It was addicting.

Your pretty little sighs in response to his soft groans, how you were everywhere, your scent, your taste, your overwhelming warmth engulfing his very being. Peter was drowning in all things you, the very thing that could make him breathe again.

It was too much, yet he needed more.

You were so close, but not close enough.

Peter's hands glided down your body until he was cupping your ass, their warmth settling on each of his palms. But just as he was about to tell you to jump up into his arms, you placed a firm hand on his chest.

Your lips detached with a soft pop, the back of your head softly thumping against the door. You gasped for air, hands fisting his jacket before you rested your forehead against his.

He really needed to remember the fact that he could hold his breath longer than any average human could.

Peter put his hands back on your waist, fingers squeezing as he nudged your nose.

"Y/N, I—"

"Like you, too."

Peter's eyes widened, head pulling back as he stared at you in shock. Whatever confession he had left his brain, a lump caught in his throat, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he failed to string any letter into words.

Oh boy he was flustered.

The thought of you, you, someone so confident, someone who is way out of his league liking him back, him, little nerdy, dorky, stumbly old Peter Parker, it made his heart soar.

"I'm a trained spy, Pete, I know how to read people," you giggled when he stayed silent for a few seconds. "It's written all over your face. You really haven't been subtle about it the whole night, either."

"I don't think subtlety is my specialty," he whispered, a shy smile growing on his lips as he pressed his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses brushing in the sweetest of ways.

"It really isn't." You nodded in agreement with a wide smile of your own.

"So I don't think I need to be subtle about this," he started, gaze holding yours. He was nervous, but if he didn't say this out loud, he might just explode. "I'm falling for you."

"You're so cliché," you giggled, his cheeks growing hot, his whole body melting, his heart jumping out of his chest and landing straight into the palm of your hand when you added, "I'm falling for you, too."

"Really?" he asked, surprised yet his voice came out a little shy.

It was obvious enough. The words had been said. But he wanted to make sure because this just seemed like one big lucid dream and he'd actually die if he were to wake up any moment now.

"I mean, I haven't been subtle about it either," you giggled, kissing him briefly yet sweetly, brushing your nose with his as you breathed out, "But yeah, I do. I feel so strongly for you Peter that I just—I feel nervous, I feel giddy, I feel safe and appreciated and I just feel so, so happy whenever I'm around you and I just, whatever I did in the past didn't matter because you accept me for me and I trust that you've got the best intentions, I trust you with my life, and you're just the sweetest most thoughtful and I'm just glad to have known you and—" you paused, shaking your head with a soft laugh, "I'm such a sap."

God this felt like a dream come true.

"I like you being a sap," he chuckled shyly. "But I'm just…me, though."

"Exactly," you confirmed, smile genuinely laced with pride. "You're brilliant, Peter Parker. How can I not fall for you?"

Peter's cheeks were starting to hurt with how wide his smile was, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining.

"You're so way out of my league," he whispered, arms wrapping around your waist.

"I could say the exact same thing to you," you giggled, pecking his lips. "But let's debate about this another time, yeah? We still got some codes to find and a bad guy to catch," you said, turning around swiftly to face the door before he could even have a chance to stop you.

"Wait, don't—" Peter sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on your waist tightening as his face landed on the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Your back was against his chest, bodies pressed up far too close. "—move," he lowly groaned against your skin.

"Oh."

Peter felt his whole body heat up from embarrassment. Because he knew you could definitely feel it behind you. He could hear the fast pace of your heart, and if that wasn't a tell-tale sign, he didn't know what was. And no matter how much he tried to pull away, even just slightly, the small space of the closet wasn't letting him do so.

"I'm sorry, I am so, so, so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen I—"

He tried to move away from you again, but clumsily elbowed the shelf on his right instead which made a few empty buckets topple over from the top. He quickly pulled you back to avoid you getting hit by the falling cleaning supplies, but in turn, it made your ass press against him a little harder.

"Fuck," he groaned, body going rigid when you gasped. You probably think he was a proper pervert now. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that either. And I tried to control it I swear but it's just—my senses are enhanced and you're so close and that kiss was really hot and you're even hotter and your ass really feels nice in my hands—shit! I shouldn't have said that, I should not have said that. I mean not! Not that it's untrue, it's very, very true. You've got a really pretty and nice ass and I should really shut up goddammit—"

You cut him off with a giggle, head tilting to the side as your fingers reached up, burying it in his now messy brown hair.

"I feel flattered that a kiss got you this excited," you teased, earning a soft whine from him.

"It's not just a kiss when I've been wanting to do it for so long," Peter confessed, kissing your shoulder softly before he mumbled, "And it's not my fault that you're out here looking like a goddess."

"Look at you," you giggled, squeezing his forearm that was wrapped around your waist. "That expensive suit is really doing wonders with your smoothness, huh?"

"It brings out the suave in me," he hummed, grinning. "Makes my eyes pop, too."

You let out a sweet, hearty laugh.

Peter chuckled, heart warming as he buried his face into your neck.

"How about you take this because I really don't want to accidentally drop it," he started, pulling the device out of his jacket and handing it over to you, kissing your shoulder with a deep breath, "And just give me a second to calm down."

You giggled.

But what you said next did anything but help.

"Yes, sir."

•••

It was quarter to seven when you both made your way down to the underground theater.

There were fewer people this time around. Peter supposed it was expected. What, with a secret auction selling dangerous weapons, you simply couldn't hand out invitations like it's free candy. It could land in the wrong hands—well, right hands, in this case.

He fiddled with the card inside his pocket, free fingers pushing up his glasses, eyes narrowed at the guards by the entrance.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, noticing how they were ushering people into the theater individually. "I think it's a card for each person and we only have one—"

Peter stopped when he found no sign of you.

"You're not supposed to disappear without letting me know," he said through his comms.

He heard you giggle in response, "I was supposed to be back before you even notice."

"Point still stands," he grumbled. "Where are you?"

Peter grinned when he felt a familiar warmth behind him, your arms wrapping around his waist as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

"Hi."

"Hi," he chuckled, taking your hand to pull you by his side. He circled his arm around your waist, brow raised. "Where'd you go?"

You smiled innocently, yet the proud glimmer in your eyes was unmistakable. You held a hand up, a black and silver card pinched between two fingertips.

Always ten steps ahead of him.

It made him want to push you against a nearby wall and kiss the living daylights out of you.

"Now, how'd you get that?"

You winked. "You know I have my ways."

Before Peter could respond, everyone suddenly turned around to the sound of a commotion.

"Sir, you're not allowed without an invitation," one guard said.

"But I had it!" a man with a stark white beard exclaimed, patting around his pockets, "It was here!"

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir."

"Well, you just lost your highest bidder!"

Peter turned back to you, impressed. "You need to teach me how to do that."

"I can't teach you all my tricks—" your laugh died once you walked by a lamp, illuminating both your faces in this otherwise dimly lit entry hall. You pulled him back under the light, your eyes widening. "Oh shit."

"What?" he asked, worried. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just—" you snorted, gesturing to get him to come closer, hand cupping his cheek. "There's lipstick all over your mouth."

Peter blushed, chuckling, "Would it be so bad to just leave it?"

"You look like you just ate a can of tomato sauce."

Peter pouted.

You shook your head with a laugh, thumbs brushing as much lipstick stain as you could. Just when he thought you were done, you cupped his face, pulling him closer to kiss him firmly on the cheek.

"There," you hummed, giggling, "Since you want my lipstick on you so bad."

"It's hot," Peter shamelessly admitted with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes but grinned anyway, taking his hand and pulling towards the entrance.

"Come on. Let's go spend the millions we don't have."

•••

It took a few more minutes for everyone to settle in their seats. You and Peter choose the front-right corner. It was near the stage but not at the center of attention.

As the clock struck seven, the main stage lights lit up. There were a couple of marble statues littered across—for decoration he assumed—and vases filled with wildflowers he could never name. Right at the center was a white podium, a huge projector screen behind it.

Then, a flash of gold appeared on the stage.

Peter immediately knew who they were.

"Welcome, everyone," the Auclair twins said in sync.

"Why is it always evil twins?" he said.

Obviously, he knew about Halbert, he was the one who gave him the card. But he didn't expect his twin sister to be in on it, too. But then again, the guy seemed to be all beauty with no brains.

And no, he wasn't biased.

"I knew there was something off about her," you scoffed, arms crossed over your chest, pout prominent as you glared at the stage. You were starting to look like you were throwing a tantrum. But Peter decided not to say anything.

Yet.

"I think you all know why we've gathered here so I won't bother you with unnecessary semantics," Greta started, waving her hand at the projector, now showing a live feed of the room you broke into earlier. "Any or all of those high-grade toys could be yours tonight, if you're willing to empty out your pockets, of course. But, to lift everyone's spirits up," Greta paused, giggling wickedly as she dug her fingers into the neckline of her dress, procuring the star of the night, and the bane of yours and Peter's existence.

"The Gold Codes and the nuclear football, available for bidding at the end of the night," she purred, waving the card around as if it wasn't one the most dangerous items on the planet. "We have to save the best for last, of course."

"So hiding things in your boobs is a common thing then," Peter said, catching the sour look on your face from the corner of his eye. He was trying really hard to bite back his smirk.

"So you found the codes before anyone else did."

"What?" Peter looked at you confused. "But I didn't."

"You did," you said, jaw ticking. "You just didn't know you were already looking at it."

It took Peter a moment.

"I was not looking at her boobs."

"Sure you weren't," you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"Darling," he drawled teasingly, playing up the accent, the fire in your glare unmistakable as you met his eyes. He pinched your chin between his forefinger and thumb with a grin. "You've got nothing to be jealous of."

Huffing, you pulled your face off his grasp, "Shut up."

"You know," he started, daringly throwing his arm over your shoulder. You were never one to cross when you were angry. But Peter simply wanted to have some harmless fun. After all, this was the first time he'd ever seen you like this. "I still haven't decided if you're cute or hot when you're jealous."

"Don't tempt me to punch you."

He chuckled, leaning to press his lips against your temple. His smile widened when he felt your whole body relax beside him.

"So, what’s the plan?" he murmured against your skin.

You shifted in your seat, resting your head on his shoulder.

"We wait until the codes and the football are up for bidding," you mumbled. "Then, I'm going to be a show-off, placing a higher bet over anyone while moving closer to the stage. Once I'm in good proximity, cause a distraction and I'll swipe the codes."

"Got it," he confirmed, flinching in his seat when he heard the bang of a hammer.

"Your numbered paddles are under your seats. Now, let's begin."

Peter had only seen auctions in movies, and they always seemed to be the most boring thing ever.

He never expected them to be as anxiety-inducing as this one.

It was probably the fact that these were dangerous and deadly weapons, carelessly sold to anyone who had the money to buy them.

His heart would sink every time he'd hear that fucking hammer.

Peter was fidgeting with the bridge of his glasses, eyes sharply trained on the stolen Chitauri gun being wheeled off the stage.

"Relax," you whispered, hand on his knee to stop it from bouncing. "We've got backup near the premises. Once we secure the codes, they'll immediately interfere. None of those weapons are getting out of this building."

"They're buying it like it's candy," Peter grumbled frustratingly. "As if lives won't be put at risk if it gets out there."

"Next up, Oscorp's drone satellite," Greta introduced excitedly. "Bigger, better, deadlier than the one by Stark Industries."

Peter's fist clenched. "Why do they always find the need to one-up each other?"

"Egomaniac billionaires," you supplied, hand curling around his fist, bringing his knuckles up to your lips before you intertwined your fingers together.

It helped him calm down a little.

"Things are starting to get boring, don't we think?" Greta laughed, waving around the controller. It was either she wasn't aware of how dangerous the device in her hand was, or she simply didn't care. Her wicked grin told Peter it was the latter. "So how about we do a little test run?"

"Shit," he cursed, sitting upright. "That's not part of the plan."

"You're the faster one," you said, tone calm as you tugged your skirt discreetly and pulled your gun out. "When I give the signal, immediately run towards her and secure codes."

"What signal?"

You stood up, gun raised.

Everyone froze as you shot at the wires that held the scaffolding that was hanging on top of the stage. It immediately gave way, dropping onto the wooden stage and blocking both exits on each side.

Chaos erupted then.

The people running towards the small entryway made it difficult for the guards to get in right away.

But Peter was still staring at you in shock.

"Go!"

He snapped out of it, taking long strides towards the stage, reaching the twins just in time before they could even manage to escape.

"Mr. Reid," Halbert chuckled darkly, pushing Greta right behind him before pulling out a revolver. "You should've bought a gun."

"Well, good thing I did," Peter quipped, reaching inside his holster only to find nothing. He looked up, eyes wide. "Shit. I dropped it."

"Oh my God—" Peter heard you groan in disappointment, and he could practically hear that eye roll.

He would've found the time to be embarrassed if Halbert hadn't started shooting at him. He dodged every bullet easily. His enhanced reflexes paired with how inaccurate this guy's aim was, it wasn't really much of a challenge.

And no, he wasn't showing off.

Okay, maybe a little bit.

Peter couldn't stop his chuckle when he heard the familiar clicking of an empty cylinder.

"Well, looks like I didn’t even need one," he bragged as he stalked towards Halbert, yanking the gun out of his hold before hitting him on the side of the head with the butt of his own gun, rendering him unconscious. He turned to Greta with a mocking tut, "Your twin isn't the wisest, isn't he?"

"No," she scoffed, smile widening as she glanced over his shoulder. "But he bought us time."

Peter saw the entryway clear of civilians, the armed guards swiftly invading the theater.

"Shit."

A flash of red caught his eye, your sharp heels clicking rapidly before you slid on the floor, picking up the gun Peter dropped. You knelt on one knee, gun in each hand, aiming it toward the guards and raining hell on them motherfuckers.

You didn't miss a shot.

He shook his head in awe, "And you said to hold it with two hands!"

"I've fired guns since I was twelve!" you said, tilting your head to throw him a smirk. "I think I can be an exception."

How could he argue with that?

Peter swerved to the right, heart thumping as the glint of a knife covered his periphery. He grabbed their wrist, pulling him forward in one swift motion and throwing the culprit towards the seats.

"Who brings a knife to a gunfight?" he huffed as he kicked away the knife that fell out of their hand.

Peter's attention got stolen by your growl.

His eyes landed on you just in time to see you grab a man's forearm from behind, using all your body weight and the right momentum to throw him over your shoulder, a pained scream when you undoubtedly dislodged his arm, the knife clinking onto the floor. You kicked the guy on the head, his eyes rolling back as he turned limp. You stepped on the knife's handle to fling it into the air, catching it with your left hand before flipping to your right, holding your skirt taught before cutting a new slit on your skirt. Then, you spun, red dress flowing with the motion as you kicked the guy running towards you on the side of his throat.

If Peter wasn't in love before, he sure as hell was now.

"What?" you panted when you caught his gaze, brows furrowed.

"That was so hot," Peter breathed out, your eyes rolling for the umpteenth time before they suddenly widened.

"Down!"

He ducked as you threw the knife, the blade soaring past him and landing into the guy's shoulder, the gun that was aimed at Peter's distracted ass dropping onto the floor.

He looked back at you in absolute wonder.

And did his pants grow a little tighter?

"Will you marry me?"

"Jesus—focus!"

"Is that a 'no'?!" he called out teasingly, elbowing one guy on the chin before hurling his unconscious body toward his allies. He called it the bowling move. Taking a gun from the floor, he turned to you with a pout. "Can't believe you'd reject me, babe!"

"Kinda in the middle of something here!" you yelled back, shooting a guy on the leg before knocking him out with the butt of your gun. You stood straight with a deep breath, tilting your head with your lips pursed before nodding behind him. "How about you help me get those codes first?"

Peter turned, seeing Greta dragging her twin towards the side exit.

"Oh yeah, right," he chuckled sheepishly before going after her. "My bad!"

Fully catching him off guard, Peter flew forward and landed on his chest when Greta swiped his legs. He rolled onto his back, narrowly avoiding the six-inch heel she dug into the floor where his head was supposed to be.

"So you can fight," he breathed out, doing a kip up to get back on his feet.

"I bite too," she hummed, winking. "And I've been wanting to sink my teeth into you, pretty boy."

"Uh, thanks?" he chuckled dryly, face scrunched up. He swerved the knife she threw at him, looking back only to see she got two more, one on each hand. He sighed, "Great. You throw knives."

"What?" she asked, tone mocking as she flipped one in the air, catching the blade in between her fingers with ease. "You don't like knife play?"

"That doesn't sound like fun," he grumbled, running towards her, swiftly ducking as she kicked her leg before grabbing her by the ankles.

Greta fell on the floor with a thud, yet she was quick to kick his knee with her other foot, Peter hissing as her sharp heel dug into his skin. She used this slim window to pull her leg forward, dragging Peter with it and making him land right on top of her.

"Quite a handsome face. Maybe we can go out for dinner sometime," she purred, running her tongue over her lip as she traced his jaw with a knife, sharp tip teasing his throat. "The real party happens later in the night, of course."

"Yeah, no thanks," he breathed out, pulling his head back and quickly grabbing her arms, flipping her onto her stomach in one swift motion. Peter pinned her down using his body weight as he knocked the knives out of her hands. He pulled her wrist towards her back, his knees tight on either side of her hips as he sat up. Holding her wrists with one hand, he undid his necktie with the other, tying her up securely before letting go.

"Kinky," she huffed out a giggle.

Peter rolled his eyes, pulling her up by the shoulders until she was seated on the floor. He walked around, dusting off his suit and adjusting his glasses—they got sticky tape on the sides to not let them fall off during fights. He thought about this ahead, thank you very much—as he stood in front of her.

"I guess it's true what they say about the quiet ones," she said, head tilted as she shamelessly ran her eyes down his body before meeting his eyes. "You're a different kind of man, Lucas Reid."

"The name's Parker," he said with a deep voice as he buttoned up his jacket with the utmost seriousness on his face. "Peter Parker."

You scoffed loudly.

Peter immediately spun, his landing eyes on your figure standing behind him, your jaw tight, arms crossed over your chest, a scowl on your pretty face with that fiery glare to match.

Oh you were pissed.

But Peter had a feeling it wasn't at him.

"You've been itching to do that the whole night, have you?"

"Maybe," he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, nodding towards Greta.

"Just take the codes."

Peter stared at you like you'd grown a second head.

"What?" you asked, voice taut, so clearly getting annoyed.

"You take the codes."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because I respect women?"

You blinked a few times before dropping your head with an exasperated groan.

"What? You know where it's hidden!" he exclaimed in defense, gesturing towards the bound woman. "I'm not just slipping my hand in there!"

"I have a feeling she won't mind," you muttered to yourself, but thanks to his enhanced hearing, he heard you loud and clear. "You've practically been humping each other."

Peter decided to keep quiet, scared that you'd actually punch him this time.

Though the glare you shot him was proof that you knew he heard you.

You shook your head, another eye roll before you walked over to Greta, bending at the waist until your face was level with hers.

"Let’s make this quick. Left or right?" you asked.

"Dégage, salope," she hissed.

You gasped, hand over your mouth in feigned shock. "Now, that's not nice."

"Wait, what did she say?" Peter asked as he stood by the sidelines, not too close but not too far. He was giving you the space to do your thing.

"She called me a bitch," you cooed, pouting condescendingly. "Fine. Since you don't want to make this easier for us—"

Before Peter could even question what you were about to do, you stomped on a knife, catching the handle mid-air and straight up slashing the blade in front of Greta.

"Woah!"

Peter downright expected you to have chopped her whole head off—okay, maybe slit her throat because the knife wasn't that big.

But nothing happened.

No chopping, no slicing, no blood, nothing.

Well, not until a split second later when Greta gasped, the top half of her—really expensive, he assumed—dress sliding down her body.

Peter looked away immediately, face hot as he screwed his eyes shut, turning his back on her for good measure.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N," he muttered, taking his glasses off to rub his face with his palm.

But he couldn't wipe his smile off.

Peter knew you could take the codes without having to cut her dress. You were simply being petty. And it was safe to assume it had something to do with the way Greta had been shamelessly flirting with him for the whole night.

Your jealousy fed his ego a little bit.

"You can look now," you said, tone low. "She's covered."

"Are you sure?"

You scoffed, "It's not like you don't want to see it, anyway."

Peter swiftly turned, only catching a glimpse of Greta now wearing Halbert's jacket with the matching gold tie gagging her mouth.

He immediately turned to you who was standing to the side, looking anywhere else but at him. He walked over, rubbing up and down your arms until you uncrossed them. He pulled you closer by the waist, nudging your nose while mirroring your pout.

"Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad."

"Then why did you do that?"

"I had to get the codes."

"Yeah, but it didn't have to involve boobage exposure."

"Boobage exposure," you snorted, the corner of your lip twitching as you finally met his eyes. "I feel like that's something you enjoy."

"I didn't even look!" he defended, his smile widening when you tried your best to hide yours. "I promise. I didn't want to, either."

You shook your head, sighing, "You're such an annoying dork."

"Your annoying dork."

That made your smile appear.

"My dork, huh?" you hummed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

Peter smiled, pulling you closer, tip of his nose brushing yours. "Well, if you'll have me, that is."

"Have you as what, exactly?"

"Your boyfriend," he said, slightly surprised by his own boldness. But then again, you two had already established what you felt for each other. The fear of rejection wasn't there anymore. Shaking his head with a smile, he added, "Wait, answer that on our date this Friday?"

"Love the newfound confidence, Agent Parker," you said, giggling. "And yes, to both questions,"

"I really like the sound of Agent Parker," he hummed, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Am I a certified spy now?"

"Eh, if you don't drop your gun next time, then sure."

"Come on," he sighed, pouting. "I could use a name change, you know, like Spy-Dork-Man."

Peter burst out laughing when you physically cringed.

"Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't kick you because of that god awful pun."

"Because I'm your dork now, bad puns included, so you're going to have to get used to it from early doors."

"Touché," you laughed.

Peter looked at you adoringly, but just as he was about to kiss you, a sudden ruckus of applause made you both jump, stance on defense reflexively.

It was the team, right in front of the stage, clapping and wolf-whistling like a bunch of assholes.

Peter groaned, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he wrapped his arms around you.

"About time you two solved this…tension you have," Wanda said as she reached the stage, gesturing at the two of you before she held her hand out to Bucky. "Hand it over, Super Soldier. She technically kissed him first,"

"Maybe I shouldn't have held Sam back from unmuting the line in the closet," Bucky sighed, pulling out his wallet and handing over twenty dollars.

"You had a bet?" you gaped at the two of them.

Peter turned to Sam. "You tried to interrupt us again?"

"I wouldn't have to if you guys didn't constantly forget that your comms aren't reserved for the two of you only," the Captain chuckled.

"You guys were so cute, though," Wanda said with a smile.

"The smooching sounds were a bit much." Bucky grimaced.

"Don't forget the abundant talk about boobs and ass," Harley laughed, appearing from behind everyone with a bag in hand. "Good thing you finally grew those balls though, Parker. I've grown really tired of hearing you whine about your obsession—sorry, I mean, crush on her."

"Shut up, man," Peter groaned, burying his face back on your shoulder to hide.

"Leave him alone," you laughed, rubbing his back in comfort.

"I wished I could've hacked the cams earlier so it would've been like watching a James Bond movie meets rom-com live," Harley said. "But the audio was good, popcorns still definitely enjoyed."

"Lives were on the line and you guys enjoyed popcorn," you deadpanned.

Sam laughed as he patted both of your backs. "Nah, we just knew you two got it handled."

"What are you guys doing here then?" Peter countered, glaring at them.

"Clean up," Wanda said, cracking her fingers before adding, "I also need to erase your faces off of people's memories because blowing your covers wasn't exactly part of the plan."

"And this guy practically gave out his real name," Bucky chuckled, patting Peter's shoulder before moving over to the unconscious men lying on the floor.

"I couldn't let the opportunity slip!" Peter protested. "It's probably going to be my only James Bond moment, I had to take it."

"That was pretty stupid," you said, scrunching your face at him with a laugh.

"I know that now, thanks," he grumbled.

"Here." Harley tossed him his web shooters and mask, and Peter felt a sense of comfort as he snapped them onto his wrists.

"Pete, you think you can swing us home?" you asked, slipping your fingers into his.

"Yeah, of course," he chuckled, squeezing your hand. He could definitely get used to feeling your affectionate touch constantly.

"Right, we're going to leave this to you guys, now bye!" you called out before you all but dragged him towards the exit, Peter's groan and your laugh echoing down the hall when Sam yelled,

"Use protection!"

•••

You both were honestly too tired to even attempt and continue what started in the closet.

Well, you did try to.

When you landed back at the compound, you both decided to go to your separate rooms and take much-needed hot showers first. But getting to your quarters in itself probably took around ten minutes, all because Peter simply couldn't help but stop every couple of meters down the halls, pressing you against the nearest wall to kiss you senseless.

It took you shutting the door on his face for you both to finally wash off the sweat and grime of the day.

After he was all cleaned and clothed, he didn't waste any time making his way out of his room. But when he opened the door, you were already standing there, fist in the air, mid-knock.

Peter chuckled as he grabbed your waist and pulled you into his room, giggles and satisfied sighs bouncing off his walls as his lips covered your own. He grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you with ease, a murmured comment from you about him showing off his super strength as he carried you to his bed.

But the second you both hit the mattress, it was simply far too comfy and soft that the intense heat of the kiss gradually simmered into a mellow warmth. His body was covering yours, fingers intertwined, lips moving slowly, lazily yet just as sweet.

And after a few more moments of you two languidly kissing, you ended up settling with cuddles for the night.

Now, here you were, being the little spoon with your back pressed against his chest, limbs tangled, bodies warm and snug under the covers. He was drawing lazy circles on your stomach, his eyes growing heavier with each rise and fall of your chest, the steady beat of your heart lulling him.

Peter thought you were already fast asleep. And he was just about to follow suit until you spoke up,

"Are your hands cold?"

"Not really," he murmured, voice a little rough. "Why?"

"You can always use my boobs in case you need to warm them up."

He groaned, burying his face onto your shoulder. "Are you ever going to let this go?"

"What?" you giggled softly. "You just seemed so interested in their warmth earlier. I'm allowing you to quell your curiosity."

Peter lifted himself a little, just so he could get a clear view of your face.

"Is this a genuine invitation for me to cup your boobs?"

"Only if you wanna," you said, turning to him with a soft smile, eyes half-lidded. "No playing, though."

He nodded with a laugh, settling behind you and gently sneaking his hand under your shirt, no pressure or anything so that you'll be able to move away whenever you wanted to. Then again, you were skilled enough to break his wrist, anyway.

But you didn't do that, not at all.

Instead, you shifted in your place, providing more space for his arm to fully wrap around your torso until he was cupping a boob in his hand.

You sighed, body melting into the mattress even more, your back warmly pressed against his chest as you nosed his pillow.

"They are really warm," he hummed, his whole body relaxing as he let his hand just…be there, without any malice whatsoever. "This is oddly comforting."

"Yeah," you mumbled, a loud yawn following suit. "Like stress balls."

Peter chuckled, "That's one way of describing it."

You hummed, yawning out a soft, "Good night, Pete."

Peter smiled. "Good night, angel."

The next response he got was your soft snores as you finally drifted off to sleep,

Peter didn't expect his night to end with you sleeping in bed with him, all cuddled up in his arms, let alone, with him cupping your boob—which he surprisingly found comforting and adorable rather than anything else.

But he did expect to fall asleep with a huge smile on his face.

And then later in the morning, the thing that would wake him up wouldn't be the sunlight anymore, it'd be your warmth, tickling his skin as you cuddle closer to him. A tired, yet satisfied smile would curl on his lips as he would bury his nose into your hair, breathing in your sweet scent. It was much more comforting, hearing your little snores and sighs, or even your occasional mumbles about whatever it was you were dreaming about.

It was new, but definitely something he could get used to.

It was going to be a peaceful Sunday morning with you, and Peter really loved that.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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