#if you can help it - falling is such a split second thing and my brain still needs to learn some muscle memory

[fitgothgirl]

Pros of going to the skate rink: - The surface is much easier than outdoors - Cool lights & DJ playing music - Fans/air conditioning (I’ve gotten pretty hot in my backyard after only 15 minutes or so since it’s been really warm lately) - I think falling hurts less in terms of both texture and hardness - Can skate longer without getting fatigued

Cons of the skate rink: - Children. But easily abated by opting for 18+ skate nights (Wed 8pm-11pm and Friday 10pm-1am) - TBH I more so blame the parents that don’t teach basic etiquette. It has nothing to do with being an expert (I’ve literally been skating 2 days), it’s just common sense stuff... - Can only turn one direction - Obviously doesn’t help me get skilled at skating outside or uphill/downhill, etc. - Costs money ($12-$15 depending on which local rink I go to. $15 for the rink that has the 18+ skate nights)

But man, the rink was so smooth. I went from very wobbly outdoors to skating on one foot at the rink (I also had loosened my trucks) - nothing crazy but I was getting in good practice just balancing on one foot. I think I’d like to go to the rink once a week or so for the most ideal practice and then do more outdoors in a parking lot or something. 

I also have my first skate bruise! All the YouTubes I’ve watched about skating says everyone falls no matter how good you are and “if you’re not falling, you’re not skating” haha. It’s on my upper outer thigh/lower butt since I landed kinda on the side of my butt (the ideal way to fall!). It was one of three times I fell haha. I had a sweater tied around my waist so I think that helped because it didn’t really hurt at all despite the bruise! 

Also, my shoulders are super sore?? Was not expecting that. I think just from using them to balance and holding them out, etc. Also the other two times I fell, unfortunately my arms took some of the force (not the way to fall) so I wonder if that contributed too. I don’t feel injured though, just sore in my legs and arms like I had a good workout (cuz I did!).

#for the record i wear wrist guards and knee pads #but wrists are still sensitive and you shouldn't use your arms to break your fall #if you can help it - falling is such a split second thing and my brain still needs to learn some muscle memory #mine #fitblr #fitness #personal fitblr #health #healthblr #healthy #exercise #workout #weight loss #healthy weight loss #roller skating #quad skates #roller rink

[feninina]

𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐭𝐞 ༉‧₊˚.⁀➷

therapist! jonathan crane x female reader.

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: when your father decided that you needed therapy, taking you to his dear friend dr. crane to treat and help you, you thought it wouldn't work at all, but it turned out to be everything you needed.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: SMUT(minors dni!!), noncon/dubcon, depression, cursing, crane is a mysoginistic prick, using therapy for unhinged reasons, smut, hair pulling, jonathan just being an creep, choking AND strangulation, dacryphilia, hitting, unprotected sex (safe sex its great sex!!), breeding kink, forced breeding, power dynamics, i think crane should be a warning himself, reader being borderline stupid and naive. also this has a lot of backstory i’m so sorry i got carried away lol.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 7.1K

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: omg my first fic on here!! this is also my first work on english and my first smut ever so i apologise in advance for any mistake!! i hope y'all enjoy it anyways ahahahaha live laugh love jonathan crane👏🏻 feedback its very appreciated so i can improve and continue to publish better works, anyways enjoyyyy 💓

𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝘁

It was awkward, to say the least.

You were sitting across from Doctor Crane in the couch at your dad's house, legs crossed as you watched him write on his clipboard, something about it making you feel anxious, a little nauseous, even.

This wasn't your first session, you started doing this four months ago, not long after your divorce that caused you to fall into a spiral of sadness and misery. Your failed— and short marriage was the main reason you started taking therapy with your dad's friend, the chief of Arkham, Jonathan Crane, and still, you couldn't bring yourself to talk about it.

He was patient, you told him several times that he was a saint. Regardless, before you started with the sessions, he explained to your dad that he didn't really do this; therapy really wasn't his strong suit, but for a friend, a desperate one, he would gladly do it.

Your dad came to him, offering a big stack of money if he would talk to his little girl, make her recover her once joyful personality, like you had one to begin with. Jonathan really couldn't say no, and not really because of the money, he had other reasons in mind, unethical reasons.

And there you were now. You were quick to open up to him, eager to talk, to be listened and he, on the other hand, was ready to listen, to give you advice, console you and help you get through the sorrow that was following you since you were young, playing the role of your knight in shinning armor.

"I can't believe you don't actually do this" you said once, sniffling your nose with a handkerchief he gave you as he examined you with a warm gaze, an empathetic grin on his face. "You're really helping me"

Jonathan was quick to wave his hand and tell you that it wasn't a big deal, that he was just doing his job, and if you weren't so innocent, so stupid, you would have noticed the mischievous sparkle that flickered in his eyes for a split second.

You were landing right in the palm of his hand.

Not even thirty minutes into the first session you told him everything about your past; every little thing you thought he needed to know to treat you. And you were slightly right; he did need to know those things, but not to treat you, just to manipulate you and mold your little brain into what he was envisioning for you and your future together.

Truth was, you hated everything about your life, regardless of the fact that you had everything. That's what you've been told since you were a child; a big house, a lot of money, maids taking care of you so you wouldn't have to move a finger and just sit pretty and relax inside the walls of the huge mansion that confined you since you could recall.

You have everything. That was bullshit.

Sometimes, you couldn't help but think that people told you that out of pity, like they knew how miserable you felt, but not daring to say a word about it. Your dad was a powerful man, and you were aware of that, ever since you were born, he had bussines with Falcone and you knew that people feared him, he practically ruled Gotham, that lifeless and dangerous city that you had to live in.

You have everything. You were tired of that sentence. You didn't care at all about these nice things surrounding you, those dresses in your closet, those diamonds in your jeweler, that fancy car you owned since your eighteenth birthday, no, that was useless in your eyes, because all you really wanted, was love.

It was a lonely life; you learned how to do everything by yourself, how to comb your hair, how to deal with your period when it first came, how to dress up properly and do your makeup. You didn't even had to learn about boy problems because there weren't any boys in your life, you were homeschooled. So you were quiet, not really having to talk at all, there was nobody to talk to.

And since Jonathan was the only person you were talking to at the moment, you started to feel like you loved him, the idea sitting right with you without you even knowing it, thinking that this was how therapy normally went.

Loneliness striked your life at a young age; your mother died from a strange disease when you were eight, leaving you with a shattered heart thad bled everytime you walked past her bedroom, or saw a picture of her. You practically watched her die, a witness of how she lost her strength, how her once beautiful skin turned pale and yellow, and lost every little spark within herself, and the worst part was that all the money you had, couldn't even help her.

It was a deep wound that you carried with yourself, with nobody to talk about it.

Your father spent his days locked up in his office, and when he wasn't there, he was out in the city doing unthinkable things that you didn't even wanted to know about, leaving you on your own, having to fill all of those silent and empty rooms by yourself, with nobody to laugh with, nobody to hold you and see you grow. He wasn't really around, working all the time, too busy to know that his daughter didn't seem to care about all the expensive stuff he bought for her, not even taking the time to have dinner with you or hold a simple conversation. He loved you, you knew that, he just wasn't the type to show his affection with words or actions, but with gifts. And you hated everything about it.

But now, Jonathan was there, making you feel listened, finally saving you from falling into loneliness again. Your whole life, you thought you had a horrible sickness, that you were doomed to this awful destiny of sorrow and silence, but now, with his sweet words and good company, you couldn't be more than relieved.

You wished sometimes that you met him earlier, that this whole therapy stuff started before, and you even confessed it to him. And it irked him a little, that you didn't even remember how you two really met each other, hiding his annoyance with a warm smile.

Some months ago, your father started to brought you to parties he attended, parties were all the corrupts scumbags from Gotham reunited and celebrated how they were dragging the city to the gates of hell on their benefit, and you couldn't be more happy to attend them. You knew he was bringing you because he recently broke up with the young girl he carried with him— that was most likely your age, and needed a pretty thing to hang of his arm and take care of the people he didn't feel like talking to.

So you accepted this new life, eating up this role of socialite like it was made for you.

It was a chance to know people, to speak and make new friends, but you learned quickly that those people weren't there for that, and picked up on how mostly of the people who talked to you just wanted to climb up the social ladder and gain some extra points from your father.

He, even, introduced you to a couple of people that seemed close to your age, and you chatted with them, feeling extremely anxious because you weren't used to this, so it was weird to them seeing such a pretty woman, with your status and fortune, acting so shy and quiet in a place that your dad practically owned.

After a couple of hours, you learned the agenda. All you had to do was put on a fake smile, get them off your father's shoulders and pretend you were very interested in what they had to say, hiding your uncomfortable expression behind your glass of champagne, promising them that you would arrange a reunion with your father someday.

One of those nights, your father introduced you to someone, someone who you didn't pay much attention because he seemed to be uninterested too, only being there for the sake of his job.

"Pretty girl, come here" your father said, a cheerful tone of voice as grabbed you by the shoulder to get your attention, snapping you out of your train of thoughts. "I want you to meet my friend, Doctor Crane"

You looked at the man in front of your dad, his pale blue eyes already sizing you up discretely, looking at you up and down in a way that didn't go unnoticed by you, a shiver running down your spine as his eyes finally locked with yours.

You couldn't help but feel small under his gaze, your glass now forgotten in your left hand, the right one extended to take his and stretch it for a quick second, returning to your first position, his expression remaining serious.

"Nice to meet you" he spoke, his voice sounding like velvet in your eyes, not quite sensing the undertone behind it. "Your father told me wonders about you"

You grin, the irony of that sentence making you laugh a little, what wonders could your father know about you? But you kept your composure, the conversation not going any further, and you forgot about him fast enough, when in another of those annoying parties you met the love of your life — or so you thought.

That same night, when you went back home, you were thinking about spending the rest of your life with some guy that flirted with you at the bar, and Jonathan, prayed to whatever thing listening to him up there, that crossed your path with his again.

He practically obsessed with you, because it felt right. You were young, beautiful, wealthy and had a last name that could open even more doors for him, getting tired of saving Falcone's man of going to jail; you were an opportunity, tied to a nice pair of legs.

After a few weeks of stalking, it kinda broke his heart that naive as he expected you, you got married to the guy from the party; he told you then his name was Lewis, and now you doubted it that was even true.

You were finally going to get what you always wished for, a family, love. And it was perfect. Everything was perfect.

It was a dream that you were living in. A dream that shattered in front of you no longer than three months after.

After you contracted married with this man, you took care of the house, now learning all of these housewife duties that you didn't know anything about, but making your best effort to please him, to be the perfect woman ever created, departing from your old life and habits and adjusting them to his own.

You couldn't be more happy, regardless of your bad cooking, the bad-swiped floor and the half-done bed that welcomed you both every night, you finally had love.

It lasted three months. Your wholesome real life fantasy of a marriage destroyed when you found out, accidentally, that this man was just an employee of your dad, willing to get a promotion if he married you. At that moment, you didn't know who you hated more, if the bastard, or your dad who was literally bribing the bastard to love you.

But your dad only wanted to make you happy, tho.

You were embarrassed, not quite sure of how to tell this to Jonathan, because after all, he was there for you, just for the money your dad was paying him. Your cursed the day your dad became rich, because all of it was making you miserable and it felt like it wasn't going to stop.

At this point, a feeling of despite against you was growing within Jonathan, after a few weeks treating you, he quickly remembered why he didn’t chose this path of career, but remembering that he was there because of a major reason; a reason more important than your helpless cries for attention.

He was sick of you, all you ever did was complain in the commodity of your million dollar house, unaware that there were more important problems in the world. It isn’t completely your fault, Jonathan thought one day, you were just an ungrateful brat, and his work was to tame you, and he planned to do just that today.

"So," he startled you, narrowing his eyebrows, an expression in his face that you could only understand as concern. "remember, if you don't speak, I can't help you".

You chuckle and shift your weight in the chair, immediately feeling your eyes fill up with tears as you confronted the fact that you had to speak about it, right now. He was quick to offer you his handkerchief, as he always did and with shaky hands you took it, sniffling onto it, closing your eyes as you felt your whole body shake with each one of your cries.

You felt Jonathan put his hand on your knee, softy caressing the skin that his thumb could reach, opening your eyes and looking at his, Jonathan welcoming you with a pitying look. You put the tissue aside, both him being so close and his scent impregnated on the piece of fabric making you feel a little giddy, a little confused.

Why was your heart racing so much? He was your therapist, here to talk about your former husband.

Jonathan couldn't help but grin a little, knowing he was maybe breaking a rule here, touching you like this, being so close. He couldn't care less, after all, he wasn't here listening to you cry and bitch about your whole life for the sake of your well-being. He was here because he wanted you to break and get on your knees to him. Figuratively and literally.

"It's so embarrassing" you struggled to spit out "He didn't even love me, Doctor"

He hummed, dragging his chair so he was a little closer to you, you looked at him through your teary lashes and tried to keep it together, this wasn't the first time you cried in front of him, but the reason itself was enough to make you feel full of shame.

He didn't say anything, this being a motivation for you to continue.

"My dad was paying him" you murmured, cleaning the mascara off your cheeks. "It was all a lie"

The whole situation was absurd, what happened to you still felt like a sick joke they were playing on you, your dad and Lewis, probably waiting for the perfect moment to tell you the truth.

But that wasn't going to happen, right now the only thing that felt true to you was Jonathan. He set you up to that, and you blindly fell on his silly trap.

"Poor thing" he cooed you, moving his hand a little further up your thigh, noticing the goosebumps on your skin. A mastermind, that's how he felt. "How could they?"

That was all the mendacity he fed you with since you started seeing him, making you believe he was actually empathizing with you, full of loathe against everyone who hurt you, who dared to leave you alone, but now he was there, his task being to pretend to care.

"It's pathetic" you blurted out, leaning into his touch when his prying hand went up to your cheek. You really couldn't say anything more, crying against his hand like it was something you did every monday morning. "I'm so sad. I don't know what to do"

He shook his face, your eyes meeting his with a confused expression, black stained tears dropping on your lap and wetting his hand before he returned it and looked over his clipboard, pretending to think.

You were so vulnerable, ready for him to destroy. He finally got you where he wanted. He then explained you that you were so sad that it made you unaware of a lot of things, blinded by your own pity against yourself that every door that opened, you closed. It all came down to a thing; you needed a diagnosis.

He gave you a moment to process the information, ready to continue with his plan.

"Actually," he started, his tone now more firm, more strict, the one he used when you were approaching the end of the session. On the last one, he recommended you to touch yourself, to liberate oxytocin on your brain or something you really didn't understood.

It was almost evil from his side, he knew that your only thought while doing it would he him ordering you to do so.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of such awful news, Y/N" he stated, making your heart skip a beat. "But I think you're sick"

You nearly gasped, the air got stuck in your throat, more tears gathering in your eyes. You lifted one of your hands to your chest, a million thoughts crossing your head as Jonathan's clever eyes examined your expression.

Bingo.

"Sick" you repeated after a moment, almost like you were making peace with the revelation. "How sick?"

It was an innocent question, your tone of voice shaking as your inferior lip trembled, holding it with your teeth in an attempt to not burst into tears again, your whole body feeling like it was going to break into a million peaces by how much you were shaking in the couch.

Jonathan was quick, standing from the chair he was on and taking a seat by your side, his hand swiftly placing in your knee. You looked at him confused, he never got this close, maybe your sickness was serious.

"What am I, Doctor?" you whispered, your eyes showing him a hint of fear that made him finally lose all his faked professionalism. "Depressed? Crazy?"

Both of you were dying of anticipation now; meanwhile you feared that you were going to get admitted to Arkham, Jonathan was seeing the golden ticket to the best future he could ever achieve, and all thanks to you.

"Oh, no, no" he purred, his hand making its way up to your thigh. "You're sick, not crazy"

You parted your lips as his hand moved more further, not really sure of what was happening, not daring to stop him, too scared of your mental health to think about anything else, not helping the way your legs started to part too.

A sudden gasp left your lips as his hand squeezed your tight, a smile you never saw on him appearing on his face. The crying stopped a moment ago, the surprise of having him so close making you go a little numb.

"I know what a girl like you needs" he said, almost sternly, like his hand wasn't centimeters away from your panties.

Was in that moment, that you knew this wasn’t about therapy anymore.

"You think so?" you whispered, your voice still shaky, but now for a whole different reason. "And what is it, Doctor?"

"To be fucked stupid"

It almost shocked you how he said that as it was a normal diagnosis, like he gave you a name of a medicine you could go and buy at any drugstore in town. You gulped and didn't move when his grip tightened on your leg, your face growing red.

A loud gasp escaped your lips when at your lack of response, Jonathan grabbed you hard by the jaw and forced you to look at him. Your eyes glistened with nothing but fear, your brows narrowing as you mumbled something that he really couldn't understand, and it wasn't like he wanted to.

"You're sick, Y/N" he repeated, more harshly this time, his hand moving your head as he spoke. "And I'm going to cure you"

He let go of your face to clasp his lips against yours, a kiss very far away from sweet, his mouth moving roughly against yours. You never had been kissed like this, so you tried to play it along, trying to show him some of the love you felt for him, that you thought you owed him.

But he didn't care if you felt loved during the kiss, trying to assert the dominance he held upon you, his hand now holding firmly the back of you neck to prevent you from pulling away.

It was a mess; your teeth clashed, drool was dripping from your chin as his tongue explored every space of your mouth, not leaving anywhere of it untouched. Your movements were a little stiff, unsure of what to do, trying to provide the sweetness that he lacked.

His hand moved to your the front of your neck and squeezed it a little, making you yelp in surprise, the sound muffled by his mouth. You tried to get away from the kiss, confused about his rough actions against you, a little scared of him even, almost like you didn’t trust him every little part of your brain in this same couch for the last couple of months.

But then it clicked on your foggy brain, he knew you, perfectly— you only knew his name, you didn’t know what this man was capable of.

You could only move a few centimeters away from his hungry mouth, your lips parted as tears welled in your eyes from the pressure he was applying to your neck.

“Stop” you managed to stutter, your breath mixing with his. “I can’t- breathe”

You doubted that he listened to you, your voice not coming out of your throat at all and getting stuck in your larynx, your voice-box completely muffled by his strong grip.

“Shut up, brat” he spitted, his tone sounding full of abhor, your eyes wide open as you felt the air leaving your body and your lungs starting to burn. “Always getting what you want”

You weakly placed one of your hands around his wrist, another attempt of gasp elicited from your agape mouth as he lifted his other hand and choked you with both, something in your dizzy mind telling you that he was possessed.

“Crying all the time- complaining” he continued, not caring if you were listening, the suffocation being to much to bare now. “So selfish”

And maybe he was.

Your brain was filled with fear, wondering how it all went from a kiss to this— almost getting killed by your therapist in your couch. You opened your eyes to meet his, feeling like your chest was on fire as there wasn’t any air flowing in, seeing how the blue of Jonathan’s eyes has darkened and his lips were parted as well, the muscles of his jaw twitching as he choked you to death.

Your eyebrows narrowed together in terror as you noticed that familiar tingly sensation in your lower belly and your thighs clenching together. Maybe it was something about him exercising this power over you, how you felt so feeble under his touch, that was probably leaving bruises on your neck for you to carry and show around what he was making you do it.

You didn’t have enough time to think about it, you were practically dying.

“And you are enjoying this?” he said with an amused tone, probably noticing how your thighs fragily contracted against one another.

You felt yourself slowly lose your consciousness when finally the relief came and the air started to flow again to your desperate lungs, taking long and loud puffs of air when his hand let go of your neck. Your erratic breath was interrupted by a loud moan that escaped you when Crane yanked you by your hair and shoved you to the floor.

He was quick yo position you between his legs, looking at you through his unfixed glasses, giving you a twisted smile that made you quiver in fear, that growing wet patch on your panties making you feel like a really sick girl.

“Doctor-” you mumbled, closing your eyes as he pulled your hair, withdrawing a mewl off your mouth. “Hurts”

“You talk when I tell you to talk” he snickered, adjusting the way his fingers gripped your hair. You thought that he might just pull out the strand he was tugging. “I’m sick of your whining”

You felt more tears well up in your eyes; not sure if it was from the pain in your head or how his words felt like a knife that landed right on your heart. You were confused, sad, angry— a little hot, too.

“I pay you yo listen to me” you said, your voice so shaky you were lucky he could understand you. You wished he didn’t understand you.

Another sort of moan left your lips as a hard slap made a landing in your cheek, your face turned to the side because of the impact. You closed your eyes in disbelief, a cry coming out as you felt helpless, wondering if this was some exposure therapy he was experimenting on you.

He repeated himself, instructing you to talk only when you were told so, nodding in defeat as you accepted whatever this was and continued to play along with Jonathan’s sick fantasy of controlling you, without even knowing it.

You looked at him with nothing but inquietude, the look in his eyes giving you the foreboding that nothing good was about to happen now, frightened of what we would do to you.

He didn’t show any hints of letting go of your hair anytime soon, just holding it firmly to keep you looking at him through your heavy lashes, a wicked grin on his smug face.

“Let’s give that whining mouth of yours a good use” he said, and you gulped, understanding what he wanted and quivering in fear, not really understanding why the sticky sensation between your legs grew.

“Undo my pants” he commanded, and you stayed still, your eyes not leaving his even when another slap landed on your tear-wet face. “Do as you’re told, brat. This might be your only cure”

You couldn’t help but sob a little, his tone sounding so definitive, so professional. Your trembling hands reached his belt and unbuckling it ungracefully, taking longer than he expected, you heard him chuckle as you unbuttoned his pants afterwards, then putting your hands back in front of your lap.

“C’mon” he pulled your hair again, causing you to moan in pain. “Don’t make me tell you what to do”

You looked at him again in nothing but shame, trying to resist to this humiliating request of his, but complying it anyways. He said he was going to cure you, but now you doubted it, right now, you only wanted this to be over.

With a last look at his eyes you returned your attention to the growing bulge in his slacks, the shame in your brain being present at all times, not quite helping the way your eyes were fixated on his clothed member. You were quick to free him out after your staring earned you a other harsh pull of hair, your lips turned into a line when his cock slapped his abdomen, causing his dress shirt to wrinkle a little.

“Go on, Y/N” he encouraged you, as you looked at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him for mercy, knowing that even if you screamed it at him, he just wouldn’t listen. “This isn’t about what you want, anymore. Is about what you need”

A tear slid from your eyes and disappeared down your cheek when his free hand placed the tip of his hard cock on your parted lips, gesturing you to take it and not waste more of his time— more than you already did.

“Open up, whore” he said under his breath, using your hair as a device to move your head and help you shove his length down your throat. You complied, the tears in your eyes now soaking in you cheeks by the effort that you were making trying to welcome his thick shaft down your mouth.

You were sure you scratched him with your teeth a few times as he bobbed your head up and down with his strong hand, manhandling you without care for his own pleasure. You placed your hands on his knees, trying not to gag, but when his tip touched the bottom of your throat, you couldn’t help it.

You cried as you felt suffocated again, now for a whole different reason, a more humiliating one, and you almost wished he killed you then. His hips buckled everytime your lips reached the base of his cock, the room filled with the sounds of your mouth and saliva coating his shaft and the soft moans that came out of his poisoned lips.

“Take it, whore” he said, his voice now husky and distorted by the pleasure, the pain that your teeth accidentally inflicted on him turning him even more. “God- you are horrible at this”

He chuckled between heavy breaths, pulling you by the hair and releasing his cock from your mouth, a vulgar pop filling both of your ears at the sudden separation of your lips and his member. Your eyes looked at the floor, feeling such a shame that the mere thought of meeting his face with your fearful face made you cringe, the pulsating pain on the back of your head making you dizzy.

“You can’t suck dick properly” he said, his tone sounding like he was making fun of you. “No wonder why your husband left you. You’re just pathetic”

You finally rose up your face to look at that insufferable smile of his, ignoring the way his cock was still hanging there in front of you, almost brushing your nose. His fingers finally untangled from your hair and giving you some sort of solace, the consolation that this traumatic session was over.

Maybe the remedy was worse than the sickness itself.

“Jonathan, stop it, plea-”

Your imploration was completely ignored, followed by another slap on your wet cheek that made you cry even more, not understanding how this man could’ve been the same one who made you felt loved and finally listened. You fell for a lie once again.

“Get on the couch” he simply said, his words were like a bucket of cold water fell on you. “Stop the bitching, don’t want to hear it”

“And I’m your doctor. Not Jonathan” he reminded you, making you feel even more ashamed.

You did as he told, again, half-standing from the floor and sitting next to him, trying to take as much space from him as you could before he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, your face growing red as his face was now centimeters away from yours.

“You look so beautiful when you cry” he whispered, caressing your face but trying to nor wipe the tears away, almost like he was admiring you. It made you melt into his touch, glad that his kind demeanor was there again. Even if his words made you cringe— and the fact that his cock was still out, you felt your heart grew warmer by the way he tenderly touched you.

It didn’t last much longer, when his lips twitched into a malicious smile and went down to nibble your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses around the bruised skin and bitting where his fingers hurt you previously, making your fingers wrap on his hair and cry for mercy, trying for him to stop hurting you this much.

“Shut up, stupid brat” he repeated that same insult, making you swallow your cries, closing your eyes in disbelief as he continued to injure your already suffering skin.

You arched your back in surprise when all of the sudden his hands reached for your breasts, groping your tits like his life depending on it, stimulating you through the fabric of your shirt, but all you felt was fear and anger, impotence flowing through your veins because you just couldn’t scream and push him away, fear was freezing you on the spot.

The worst part? You maybe didn’t wanted to push him away. Because maybe if he gets what he wants now you would be cured and he’ll be back to normal, returning you the sweet Doctor Crane that you met once, not this monster that was groping you like a piece of meat.

He clicked his tongue and dropped both of his hands to spread your legs open, forcing your back to drop onto the hand rester of the couch. You looked at him with big eyes, your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest and scream to Jonathan that enough was enough, you just couldn’t take any of this anymore.

But your heart stayed there, between your lungs that seemed incapable to hold any air, making your breathing erratic. So nobody screamed Jonathan to stop, and he continued with his profanation against your persona— your dignity.

He bit his lip at the sight of your fucked-up face, your legs open as it showed him the dark patch on your baby blue panties, darting his eyes from your half-exposed crotch to your teary eyes.

“God, keep crying and I might come now” he growled, lowering his face to meet your pussy, kissing it through your underwear, making you mewl, closing your eyes at the sudden attention your core was getting.

You felt embarrassed at how much you enjoyed when he moved the fabric to the side and started making out with your cunt, swallowing your fluids like a starved man.

“So wet” he mumbled against your labia, the vibration making your eyes roll back, bitting your lip to prevent any moan to come out; he was raping you, why did he make you enjoy it? “I bet you like this, to be treated like a whore”

You shook your head, more tears falling out of your eyes as you felt nothing else but humiliation, pleasure washing over your body everytime his tongue brushed your clit, your back arched against nothing.

“You like it?” he said, finally pulling out and pushing his body up so his face was in front of yours, his cock grazing against your now stimulated pussy, a gasp leaving your lips, a gasp that quickly turned into a hurting moan when his hand slapped you again, this time in your throbbing cunt. “Answer me”

“I- I do” you whispered, gripping his shoulders when you felt him align the head of his member with your whole, scared of how it was going to fit. You had trouble taking it when he face-fucked you, how the fuck it was going to fit down there?

“I’m going to fuck you so good” he whispered between pants, jerking himself off before entering you. “You’re going to forget that pathetic husband of yours”

You couldn’t help but cry, trying to push him off by the shoulders, a terrified look on your face. “It won’t fit, Doctor” you pleaded, a crooked grin on his face as you keep on calling him that. “I beg you, don’t-”

“Yes, beg me” he said, starting to push his member inside you with a slow but relentlessly pace, not giving you enough time to adjust, just to scream and hit him weakly on the chest, face and shoulders before ge grabbed your hands and pinned them down, on the sides of your body. “I’m going to cure you- do you so good”

His voice was low, as he barely could speak when he felt just how tight you were, your walls hugging his cock just the right way, his pulsating head making your mind dizzy, the stinging pain starting to be forgotten.

But when he slid out and entered back it, the hardness of his movement made your insides burn with pain, a loud cry echoing in the walls of the living room as he started to trust into your pussy with a fast pace, not caring at all if you felt good.

He snapped his hips against yours with an animalistic force, growls escaped from his mouth every time his cock was welcomed by the warmth of your stretch whole, the sensation making him go even more feral, making you cry more.

He let go of one of your hands and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at his eyes as he fucked you vigorously, the blue on his iris not existent anymore, only his widely dilated pupils meeting yours, your blurred vision distinguishing the depraved expression in his face.

“You- so tight” he snarled, his voice barely audible, covered by the sound of skin slapping and your loud cries. “I bet your stupid husband didn’t fuck you like this”

You felt nothing but shame as you felt his cock now sliding in and out more easily, the wetness of your cunt growing as he spoke to you like that, that familiar heat flourishing in your lower belly as his words degraded you, your cries quickly becoming moans.

“This was all you needed- fuck” he said, his spit splashing your face as he talked, his words full of disdain. “A good dick, that’s all it takes to keep bitches like you quiet” You nodded, thinking that if you agreed he would stop. How wrong you were.

In a quick movement Jonathan took his cock out and spun you around, not giving you time to get on your ass up by laying your chest down before he stabbed your hole again, pushing your skirt all the way up to see how his pelvis came into collision with your ass.

You were moaning like a bitch in heat now, sure that the maids were listening, not really caring about it anymore. Jonathan was fucking you nice and hard, your mouth wide open as his tip brushed your cervix, screaming to him to keep it right there.

“I’m close” he said, pulling your hair back to press his chest to your back, his other hand going down to play with your swollen clit, wanting your to come around his cock like the slut he knew you were. “Come with me, you whore”

“Yes” you moaned, your tongue out as his cock hit the right spots, making your hips to move against his, grinding against his hand and dick, feeling your wetness drip down to your thighs. “Yes, yes, I want to”

He laughed, approaching your ear with his tongue to bite it, leaving a long and wet kiss underneath it that made you grow hotter, your eyes closed as you let him use you; the only thought in your mind being him and his wonder-working cock.

Truth was, he was fucking you stiffly, every slam of his hips stronger than the last one, but you were so deprived of touch, so dick-starved, that even if Jonathan was fucking you like a lifeless doll, only for the sake of his pleasure, you loved it, even when it hurt you.

“I’m going to fill you up” he said against your ear, his hand leaving your clit unattended as he grabbed your hip to increase the velocity of his thrusts, ramming your hole like a demented man, making your head drop against his shoulder and scream at the ceiling, now knowing what he meant by curing you.

“Going to get you pregnant” he said, more to himself than anything “so you don’t have to bitch about being alone anymore”

You opened your eyes with terror, you didn’t want children, you were so young. The idea made you frightened, the moaning now sounding like little nos and pull outs, but Jonathan didn’t listen.

“Doctor please, please, pull out” you pleaded, reaching for his hips and trying to push him away, one of his hands slapping your ass and pulling you down by your shoulder blade so you wouldn’t fight anymore. “Doctor Crane please”

“I will fucking fill you up, Y/N” he chanted, laughing at the idea of your round belly and your swollen tits, carrying his baby all day and feeling all worked up and needy all day, only waiting for him to fuck you all day. “You won’t be alone again. You won’t be sad again”

Then you realized it.

When he came, your hot walls creamed every single drop of his cum, making his thrusts sloppy and slow, his moans filling your ears as you sobbed under his touch, feeling his seed paint your walls and load your insides with his sperm.

That was your cure.

His hot release that now flooded inside your leaking cunt, that was your so-promised antidote. He took away your solitude by giving you his and yours firstborn, a bastard baby that would give you the company that you lacked.

You felt him chuckle as he rode out his high, the chase of his own climax made you forget yours, so now there you were, your swollen cunt looking for its release while his rested among your insides calmly, like it was meant to be.

He didn’t pull out immediately, taking his time to appreciate the sight of your skirt resting in your hips all rolled up, your bruised neck and messy hair, the way your ass was exposed to him by the way he had you arching your back. All for him— for him to wreck.

He pulled out and rolled his eyes when you started crying, now being annoying instead of hot. You sat on the couch and saw him button his pants and fix his hair, hissing when you felt nothing but pain growing in your worn-out pussy. You explained through your weak voice how he ruined your life, that he was the worst person you’ve ever met and that now you had to carry the product of his sick and twisted rapist-fantasy, even tried to hit him, but your pathetic tantrum only gained you another slap in the face, and a stern look.

When he tried to stand up and leave, you grabbed him by the wrist and begged him not to, he couldn’t just leave you, not now, not ever.

“Don’t be so ungrateful” he said, a smile that made you feel nothing but trepidation in his face. “You’ll never be alone again”

You couldn’t help but feel scared. Scared of him, of what just happened, of what’s going to happen next, scared for your future son with this evil specie of a man.

When you continued to cry, and he pulled you for a hug as he assured you that he would never leave you; and how could he? He had a long life of success waiting for him now, giving a girl of your status his last name, his children. Oh, it’s going to be wonderful, he just needed to tame you and make you the perfect slave for him, and that wasn’t going to be hard.

You were sure that you’ll never be loved, but at least now Jonathan was going to be with you. You’ll never be alone again.

thanks for reading. w/love, fenina;)

taglist: @lovesickxcherries @genini @ilunapb @ostricx @devotedlyshadowytheorist

if you want to be added let me know, it’ll be my pleasure🫶🏻

#cillian x fem!reader #jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy x reader #cillian smut #cillian x reader #cillian x y/n #jonathan crane fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #jonathan crane x you #cillian one shot #cillian fic #peaky blinder imagine #batman fanfiction #scarecrow x reader

[coeurify]

repost the period vampire ellie fic!

middle of the night,, vamp!ellie

a/n: this is a repost from early this year so excuse any change in writing style!

warnings: vampire!ellie. period sex. oral!r receiving fingering!r receiving. sort of a dreamy, less modern vibe. if u aren’t into it.. just don’t read it.

˚✦　.　　. 　  ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

Some times--Most times, you only saw her at night. When darkness enveloped the small town you called home, when the stars rocked the sleepy eyed humans to sleep and the moon hummed the lullaby that quieted the crickets outside, she came.

Only then did you ever hear the distinct creaking of the splitting wood on your window panes being pressed up. Only then did the white of your sheer curtains move with more than the wind, the grip of the air nothing compared to the long hand that often wrapped around the fabric and pushed it open. When the moon was the only light filtering into your room, you saw the green of her eyes.

Tonight was no different, despite one little issue. Often, the woman who visited you under the cover of midnight would arrive to your eyes closed in sleep. She would press a hand to your warm cheek before waking you, greeted by your sleepy excitement each time.

This time, you had not been able to sleep. A heat had taken over your body, tight in your stomach with a pain you would compare to that of claws gnawing at your insides. Sweat beaded between your brows with every swift turn under your uncomfortable sheets, lip tugged between your frustrated teeth to stop any whines of discomfort. That had been what your favorite visitor heard as her shaking palms found the wood of your window. Your pained grunts floated through her buzzing ears as she quietly made her way into your room, auburn hair messy behind her ears as her figure became visible, head tilted as she looked across the room to your heated body.

“El,” you whined, wiping your forehead with a hand, not at all concerned about her chosen point of entry. “Go away.”

Ellie’s gaze softened, a scoff sounding from behind your squeezed shut eyes. “Go away?” she mused, her voice much closer now.

The split second your eyes had been closed, Ellie had somehow silently made it to your bedside. You don't question it, you never do.

When a girl like Ellie sports small fangs and a taste for blood, her speed is the last thing you think to question.

“I don't feel well, don’t want you here.” you add, mouth pulled into pout as you look up at the freckled face of Ellie.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong, bunny? Instead of shooing me away,” Ellie requests, sitting on the edge of your bed. Her cold hand finds your sweaty arm, sighing. “You’re burning up.”

Your neck tickles with heat as Ellie questions your current state, and you fall wordless. Somehow, it was more embarrassing to admit to your vampire visitor that you were starting your period than to simply tell her to leave. Obviously however, Ellie was not taking the second option as a valid answer.

“I started my period, nothing is helpin’ the cramps,” you explain softly, pressing your hand into the sheets of your bed to try and sit, to maybe find some sort of relief to the growing tension in your stomach. But the other set of hands is faster.

“Lay down,” Ellie insists, glancing down at you. You can almost see the cogs of her brain turning behind the evergreen in her eyes, a sort of fogginess settling over the color.

“Let me help you,” she eventually says.

“What? I told you nothi-”

Ellie presses her lips together to hush you, one wandering hand finding the dip of your hip, blunt nail tracing the goosebump coated flesh there. Sometimes she liked being so cold, simply because she enjoyed seeing how you reacted to it. If she was damned for what she was, she may as well use some of it to her advantage.

“What are you doing?” You couldn't help the shiver that followed her movements.

Suddenly your mouth feels dry, tongue unable to wet the plump fat of your lip. The scratching in your throat finds no comfort when you swallow, only further irritating your vocal chords. A choked noise finds the heavy bedroom air as fingers tug at your cotton shorts.

“Helping you,” Ellie repeats, her own mouth much more wet than yours. Even in the dim light of the moon you can see the glistening dew on her parted lips. Usually the look she currently wears is saved only for when her pearly teeth find the sensitive and already scarred skin of your neck. Not for.. this.

Your hands immediately slap to your heated cheeks. “Oh my god Ellie, no fucking way.”

The vampire, who had now moved below you on the bed, hums in disagreement to your little show of kicking feet, a hand too strong to be that of a human halting all movements.

“We always have fun when I come over,” The freckles of her face disappear as she glances down, fully pulling down your shorts.

“Not when I’m on my period,” you hiss quietly, the words feeling cracked and embarrassed as they leave your mouth. You could deny the growing arousal in your belly simply by how *mortified* you felt. Even with the churning feeling of deeply settled embarrassment, you make no further moves to stop Ellie. Not as the shorts fall to the floor with a dull thump.

“It’ll help,” Ellie soothes, the near frigid temperature of her hand calming the heat that rises on the skin of your legs. “Haven’t you heard things like this help with cramps?”

The words that are spoken almost teasingly fall upon deaf ears as her wet lips press right above your knee. “Please,” the auburn haired girl whispers, sounding a lot more breathy than before. “Please, let me taste you. Let me make you feel better. ”

Ellie had a tendency to become a little less cold, figuratively at least, when she found her body nestled between your own. The unwavering voice you had grown oh so accustomed to always slid into a more mushy sounding version whenever it got intimate. Today, it seemed even worse. The words dripped with the sweet sounds of neediness, a sound that tasted sweet on your tongue, which swiped nervously over your dry lips.

“El..” Another kiss pressed further up the flesh of your warm thigh broke any following denial. “Fuck..” your chin wobbles, almost too embarrassed to actually say your following words, “Yea. Please help.”

You were sure if you believed something was watching down on you from the sky, it was with horror. Some people may call what Ellie was doing sinful. The angels in the clouds would shrilly gasp as fingers wrapped around your panties and tugged them and everything else from your bottom half, tossing them into the growing pile of clothes. Her shirt came next, the simple white cloth acted as something to watch as it pulled off of her chest, likely to avoid any mess. Some may call the sight of her dipping down again, green eyes looking up at your quivering lip, sinful. Maybe it was, surely the mewl you made when her lips found the heated flesh of your inner thigh was. But if you had to describe it, that wasn't the word you would use. You may even swear it was heavenly.

“Relax,” Ellie drawled, spreading your thighs further apart, despite the slight tremble to them. “I’ve got you, don't worry,” her voice soothed you enough to tilt your head back against the pillow, squeezing your eyes closed. The embarrassment simmered low in your belly, even more so when you could feel the arousal that dripped from you, which your vampire visitor had no problem pointing out. “So wet for me,” she groaned, lips still refusing to find home anywhere other than your thighs. Teeth sharper than your own nipped at the skin there, bucking your hips up. “You want this, don’t you?”

It was an obvious request for another confirmation of what was to come, but your chest felt too tight to reply, no air finding your lungs the moment her breath hovered over your pulsing core. “Tell me you want it,” she requests again, voice dipping into a softer territory again, searching for your approval. Her resolve was cracking however, jaw clicking as she tried her best not to dive straight into where she craved to be.

“I do,” you whine, eyes still closed as you answered, words met with the quick and overwhelming feeling of her tongue pressing flat against your wet center. You couldn’t think too hard about the fact she was doing this right now, not when the sharp gasp had come from two mouths instead of one, a quick call of, “Fuck,” from only you this time followed. Ellie had no words, not as her tongue made another long stripe up your pussy, going much slower than you liked. It led one small roll of your hips down into her, a sign for what you searched for.

It resulted in a hand gripping your hip, pressing you further down into the mattress, ceasing any attempt to control the movements. Her mouth pressed further into you, licking at the same excruciatingly slow pace, seemingly taking her time to enjoy the taste she found between your thighs. “El,” you gasp, eyes fluttering open to glance down at her. However her eyes were closed, another press further into you came, her nose bumping your clit as she licked into you. The rush it brings is almost enough to completely paint over the lingering cramping in your stomach.

The dizzying mixture of pain and pleasure seeps into your bones, making you feel too heavy to do much else than move a hand to find Eliie’s hair, fingers tangling between the auburn strands. You tried again to guide her movements, but she was much stronger than you, paying little mind to the shaky hand that tugged at her locks.

“Taste so fuckin..” she sucked in a breath, unable to keep from dipping back into your folds, humming. “So fuckin’ good,” she finishes, words reverberating against your throbbing core. It had you trying to squirm, held down by the stone light weight of Ellie’s grip. The deeper she licked, the more you fought against her. Your body ached the do something.. anything to find comfort in the overwhelming feeling of her still slow pace. The fingers in her hair tugged again, finding a low groan in response.

The air of the room had already been heavy on your feverish skin, but now it was nearing a state of unbearably humid. Every time Ellie’s tongue made a particularly aimed movement you felt another round of fire straight in the mess that was your clenching core. It all felt so heightened, so much better. The sticky feeling on your skin did not slow either of you down, and you had little care for the sweat beading on your flesh. Not when your favorite girl’s lips were doing such mind numbing things to you.

Had you told your past self, even that of just an hour ago, that you would have allowed it to happen.. They would have laughed in your heated face. The past version of you would have sworn up and down, prayed up to the mysterious sky, that this would never happen. But now- now you have no room for denial or regret. Your mind was becoming too cloudy to house thoughts of shame, questions of if this was right. Because it felt right. The slick sound of Ellie’s mouth against you sounded right, as did your little huffs and puffs that you couldn't hide. The cramps had subsided in tandem with the tightening band in you. But you needed more, and you were gone past a point of being embarrassed to ask for it.

“I need..” you try to speak, but Ellie’s lips wrapping around your clit is the cause of the death of the forming words. A jolt of your hips is one finally strong enough to rupture the heavy hold of the vampire’s hand. Your lame attempt at a command did not go unheard by Ellie, who for the first time since this began, pulled herself away from your cunt. Her eyes darted up, looking to meet your own. But you were far too focused on something else. Her lips were glassy with your wetness, which she licked without a second thought. But the usual clear sheen that you had been no stranger to seeing on her face was more of a rosy color, a stark reminder of the reason this had begun in the first place. The slight tint of red smeared onto her chin, across the corners of her mouth, and it was oh so addicting to see. You felt no lingering shame, no shiver of disgust. Instead it made you feel even more desperate to have her against you again, but first you had to listen to her speaking. “Need what, babe?”

The urge to simply shove her face right back into your cunt flipped through the pages of scenarios in your head, but the moonlight that painted the side of your lover’s face, illuminating the red paintbrush stroke of you, had you a little too separate to risk such a bratty action.

“I need more, El. Need to cum,” you manage to whine, one light push of her head to prove your point. Ellie dipped her head down again, pressing small kisses to your sticky inner thighs. “Just love taking my time with you,” she muttered, a few more pecks planted on you were a search for forgiveness, one you graciously accepted with a loud moan when the lips finally found your clit again.

Ellie seemed to take your beg to heart, the hand that held your hip slowly dipping between your thighs. Her searching fingers met just below her chin, one long digit sliding over your slit, teasing the weeping hole with a slight press. The air feels like it has been punched from your lungs when the finger sinks into you, just as evil as her mouth as it curls into you the exact moment her lips suck a little harder. You were sure she was looking to torture you with how slowly the finger pumped in and out, working and exploring around your walls that gripped around her so tightly.

You had always heard the mythical vampire was sadistic. Ellie had never been much of that, but with ever slow movement into your aching cunt, you began to believe the whispers. Your head turned lightly to stare at the open window, the stars that dipped in the night sky were surely spotlighting your body splayed out on the bed, the auburn haired vampire between your thighs was quite the show for all the celestial beings up in the night air, every single being held its breath and watched on, you were sure of it. You didn't blame the stars, or the moon, or whatever else may have their attention focused on this tantalizing sight. If you could, you would float right out of your body to watch on yourself.

Surely you looked a mess, chest heaving with the heat of the air, with the heat of Ellie. Your limbs shook just lightly, your fingers knotted your companions hair, the messy pile of clothes on the floor, the red that painted her cheeks. Surely it would make your cheek turn bashfully if you could see it. Maybe this was sinful. The little dip into your rushing thoughts is ended with the raspy tone of Ellie’s voice.

“Relax, bunny. Gotta relax for me,” Ellie cooed against you, a few more languid presses into your cunt causing you to finally loosen around her, coupled by the continuing ministrations from her mouth on your clit. Soone another finger joins the mix, the large fingers stretching you just right. She reaches spots that have you remembering the stars you had just seen behind the black of your squeezed shut eyes, a pathetic cry falling from your lips. This reaction only encourages her to continue, the pace of her suckles and thrusts into you speed up. It's harsher everytime she plunges into you, your hips moving lightly with the pure force.

“That’s my girl, there you go,” she compliments after a long moan, the words causing another clench around her fingers. You let out another string of incoherent whines and moans, grinding down into her messy face and fingers. Somewhere in the back of your mind you cursed yourself and Ellie for the certainly ruined bedspread under your ass, but it seems like the much smaller issue when you had *this* to focus on. You were nearing your peak, and it was no secret. Your grinds against Ellie became sloppy, ununiformed and more needy than before. No words could form on your tongue, only whimpers and unintelligible begs.

The vampire never lets up, curling her fingers, your walls clenching. her teeth grazed against your clit lightly enough to have you trembling, whining softly. She knows your body as well as you do, every small sign you were reaching the final moments before your world would explode. She knew what moves of her fingers would have your legs shaking, knew where to press, how hard to go. She was no stranger to making you cum, and she definitely was on the mission to make it happen now. Her free hand grips your thigh, pushing you even more impossibly open for her, fingers pressing into you harshly enough to draw another cry. She readjusts slightly, sinking even deeper into your folds. “C’mon,” Ellie whispers, the word slightly broken, shaky and pleading. Pleading as if she needed you to come as much as you did.

Maybe she did, because the moment your back arched, a near pornographic moan filling the heavy air, spilling out of the window and swirling against the peeping eyes of the stars and moon, she moaned with you. Her fingers still within you as you gushed around her, her lips still pressed to your clit. But as your thighs shook, she slid the fingers out and replaced them with her tongue again. The pink muscle flattened against your slit again like it had earlier, this time with no attempt at going slow.

If anything, she was ravenous. Every drop your pulsing center gifted her, she sucked down like she needed it, ignoring your desperate whines of overstimulation. You attempted lamely to press her head away with the hand still tangled in her scalp, but it was no use. The pleasure of her tongue was much too overwhelming to fight.

After a moment that felt like hours, she pulled away. Her tongue licked over her lips again, collecting the rosy colored cum from where it smudged there. Her eyes stayed on your own blinking irises as her fingers raised to her already messy lips. They were coated with the same mixture of red and clear shining wetness, and she sunk them into her mouth with a moan. The debautchary that took place in front of your eyes should have your stomach queasy, should have your legs closing and pressing far away from Ellie.

But of course it doesn't, instead you watch on with morbid curiosity, watching her tongue curl around her fingers, sucking the last bits of you, leaving a glistening layer of her own spit behind. She found no shame in this situation, no shame in drinking down evey single thing you would give her, so why should you?

“Fuck,” you breathe, eyes transfixed on the fingers as they fall from her lips and down to her lap, her eyes back on your own. She makes a move to crawl over you, arms locking you in from either side.

“Just got a taste of you bunny,” she mumbles, nudging her head into the crook of your neck.

Her lips pressed there, and this time you could feel her fangs under the plump fat of her lip. “Gonna let me have more?” she questioned.

Of course you would, of course you did. As you tilted your neck for her, the curtain to the side of you blew in the wind, and you closed your eyes.

“Yes.”

#vampire!ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams smut

[stars4chratt]

Confections

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Warnings: pure smut / established relationship / softdom!matt / breeding kink / nipple play / mutual orgasms / cunnilingus / p in v / unprotected sex (do NOT) / creampie / FILTHY kitchen sex / LOTS of praise / pet names (baby, my love, sweetheart, good girl) / aftercare

Summary: The reader walks into her home after a prolonged and stressful day to Matt - her boyfriend - making baked goods in her kitchen. He welcomes her and gives her a taste of the delicious desserts. However, in return for the favour, Matt gets to taste her.

Author’s note: hiii guysss, i love you all for liking and enjoying Pins n’ Needles (there is a part 2 btw) After seeing the most recent Wednesday video, this made my fantasy grow even worse LMAOO. Also, leave a comment if you want to be added onto my taglist! Anyways, i hope you enjoy this one! From Maxine, with love ♡.

“Cause I’m all that you want, boy. All that you can have, boy. Got me spread like a buffet. Bon a– Bon appetit, baby.” - BON APPETIT, KATY PERRY

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

Your shoulders ache and the migraine you have encapsulated in the back of your head feels like it’s going to split your skull in half.

People gave you a lot of shit at work today. Both coworkers and customers. Nagging and berating you and reiterating the same jaw clenching phrase that ‘the customer is always right.’

You close your eyes and let your chest fall as you sigh longly with relief after you arrive home.

The strong and pleasant scent of stiff caster sugar alongside a tangible hint of lemon citrus whiffs through your sinuses.

Ah, Matt’s baking again. You comprehend yourself.

You plop your keys on the marble countertop and set your bag down. The feeling of a thousand weights being lifted off of you as you remove accessory after accessory attached to you.

Peeking around the corner, you see Matt whisking dairy products mashed with madagascan vanilla extract whisked into butter cream. You peer down and see something resting in the oven at exactly 195 degrees celsius.

The peacefulness Matt baking brings you is heavenly. Just him concocting a sugary delight for the simple enjoyment of doing so can’t help but make your cheeks flush bright red and your core ache desperately.

The paternity your boyfriend holds within him orchestrating treats of chocolate frosting and yeasty dough makes you fall for him even more. Not only do his sweet delicacies taste amazing, but he also does it for pure comfort and vindication for you both.

Sometimes you wonder if he would enjoy baking for a family of three, maybe even four.

You sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. He looks over his shoulder, he has a large piping bag in his grasp. A large grin appears on his face as he sneers. “Hi my love, how was work?”

You let out a fatigued sigh and your clasp around him tightens. “Not great, it was super stressful.”

He turns around to face you and pulls you in by your hips in an act of reassurance.

“Aww, my poor baby. What can I do to make you feel better? Hm?”

Matt’s words make the caterpillars in your stomach hatch into butterflies. You two have been dating for quite a while now and yet you still giggle and squeal like a small child whenever he asserts words of refreshment.

“There may be one thing I have in mind…” You whisper softly into his ear. After the distress of work and the mind blowingly stupid and egotistical customers you dealt with all day, you only wanted one thing that could ease your displeasure. For Matt to fuck your brains out.

As you were about to inform him about your dilemma, a soul-jumping alarm sitting on the table top starts dinging. Blaring across the entire kitchen. 

The migraine you’re suffering from induces even more, spreading through every crevice of your skull.

Matt notices the discomfort of the ear-splitting noise written all over your face and quickly shuts the alarm off.

“One second, sweetheart.” Abruptly, Matt grabs his teal blue oven mitts and crouches down to the oven to release the now strong scent of citric lemon flow through the room.

He takes out the tray and reveals to you that he had baked lemon drizzle cupcakes. Very tasty looking lemon drizzle cupcakes at that.

The glint in Matt’s eye along with his pearly whites framed with his smile presents his joy to you.

“Oh my god… They look delicious”

“Exactly, I’m a fantastic chef.”

“Damn right.” You both giggle together whilst Matt sets down the tray on a heatproof mat.

“What were you saying again, baby?” He twists back around to face you, letting you continue where you left off.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll leave it for after you finish off your cupcakes.” Matt’s eyes now glow with anticipation and curiosity.

“What you want won’t be an inconvenience for me at all, I can finish the cupcakes afterwards baby. I don’t wanna make you wait.” Matt crosses his arms patiently waiting for you to respond.

You gently stride over to him and lift your arms up to tug behind his neck over his shoulders.

“Matt..” You whisper softly into his ear. Trying to contain the burning sensation in between your legs. You really wanted to fuck. The intensity of today made you grow greedy with lust, and your boyfriend was the only person who could assist with that.

“Yes, baby?” He returns, completely oblivious to the pent-up arousal you’re experiencing.

You move one of your hands up the back of his head whilst the other tangles in the silver chain of his jewellery. 

You don’t say anything before you rapidly intertwine your lips with Matt’s. Your cravings of thirst for Matt’s touch starts to fester passionately.

He almost immediately reciprocates and swings his arms around your figure, your whole upper body in his grasp. You whine loudly at the sudden action as it makes your entrance leak and his touch makes you tingle like electricity shooting up your spine.

You advance your hands onto his chest and push him up against the wall beside the table top island stranded in the middle of the room.

The bulge throbbing slightly in his grey sweatpants presses against your core. Which makes you both gasp and sob into eachothers mouths.

“I’m so impatient, Matt. I need your dick now. Today has been so shitty and I really want it. Please, baby.” You choke up the words through the desperate whines thickening the air around you.

“Get on the counter then, sweetheart. Let me relieve all that stress for you.” Matt states delicately as he peppers kisses all over you up until he stops at your collarbone. He grips onto your shoulders as he forces you down on the counter until you're fully laying down with your legs spread wide.

“I don’t think we have any more condoms left.” Matt speaks softly whilst he towers over you. There’s a small worry in his pupils before you reassure him.

“Fuck it, we can go without. I need you so badly right now Matt, you don’t understand. Condom or not, I don’t care anymore. Just please fuck me.”

Your constant begging in impatience makes Matt’s prick pulse harshly. He rushes over on top of you to connect his lips with yours again.

The sloppy wetness of the kiss alongside his rock hard cock restricted in his sweats rubbed against your clothed heat has him writhing in a needy haze. His eyes go cloudy and his skin is painted ruby.

Matt viscously tugs at the hem of your work shirt pulling it upwards to reveal your laced bra. Your chest rising and falling heavily underneath Matt’s aggression.

He pulls down your underclothes instantaneously. Your tits spilling out and your nipples are swollen red.

“Oh, fuck yeah… Wait just one second sweetheart.” Matt leaves the enclosure of the space in between your legs but you can still see him in your peripheral. 

You look over to see him grab the piping bag. He races back over to the original position he was just in. His horse pendant jangling about and grazing over his defined collarbones.

“What’re you gonna do with the piping bag..?” You question him hesitantly, feeding your bottom lip into your mouth.

“You taste so good on my tongue baby. I bet you’d taste even better with cream on top of your tits. Hm?”

Matt’s filthy idea makes you tremble and your folds become velvety slick. Who would’ve thought that Matt, your boyfriend, a professional baker would want to fuck you as messily as this.

Matt leans over you and squeezes the piping bag slowly. The cream grazes your skin and the coldness of the substance makes you squirm and your back arches.

He moves the piping bag down and leaves a trail of sugary white down to just above your belly button.

His bottom lip fully concealed under his teeth in concentration before he sets the bag down and reels your hips in so the lower half of your body is hanging off the edge of the counter.

Matt then drops down to your height and starts to suck on your rock hard bud. Fully licking the cream off and nibbling at the centre, his mouth on your fully perched out nipples makes your entrance twitch and soak in your juices.

“You taste so fucking good, I’ve been wanting to do this to you for so long. You don’t understand.” Matt gasps between licks on your tit.

He moves his head up slightly to suckle and nibble on the flesh of your neck. Leaving hickeys and bite marks all over your skin. Making you whimper into the air of the kitchen.

He advances down the thick, sugary trail that stops at your belly button. Licking and consuming the cream off of your now hot and plush flesh.

After all of the cream is gone, Matt brushes against his lip with his tongue and grabs the bag again. 

He hastily undoes the button on your work jeans and rips them off your legs in keenness. He uses his thumb and index finger to push your matching lace panties to the side. Now fully unveiling your bare, bright pink pussy.

Matt repositions his hands and puts the nub of the piping bag on the very peak of your clit.

“Matt, what are you doing?” Your eyebrows furrowed and your breath is still heavy and uneven.

“I’m eating you my love, wasn’t it obvious?” Suddenly, you feel a thick and freezing cold liquid resting on your swollen heat. This kind of filth during intimate times like this really makes you think about what other kind of things Matt is into, and you fucking love it

He throws the bag back onto the counter and crouches down until his face is barely touching your pussy. He blows on your clit gently, making your entire body shiver.

His lips are just slightly touching your soaking wet entrance. Just as you thought he was going to eat you out right then and there, he turns his head to pay his full attention to your thighs. Kissing and sucking on them gently. Whilst his hands have their full grip on them, squeezing them in temptation at relishing at your throbbing core.

“Matt..” You whine in impatience. You were so desperate for him to just consume all of you. His tongue felt amazing on your skin. He knew all of your weak spots and he knew exactly how to take advantage of that.

“Shhh, I’m here. I promise.” He drawls out faintly, his breath brushing over you again.

Matt focuses on your dripping centre again, and gradually sticks his tongue inside your entrance.

His saliva mixing with your silky juices and the cream still laying on your clit makes your head tilt back and your eyes roll back into your skull.

Matt pulls out his tongue straight away after he notices you broke eye contact.

“No, sweetheart. Look at me. Look at me whilst I eat you out like a good girl.”

You whimper at Matt’s mixture of a command and a praise. You turn your head back down to see him staring up at you through his eyelashes with his tongue deep inside you.

He licks a stripe up your folds and fully swallows up the sugary goodness of both the cream and your juices. 

You could not stop trembling under his tongue circling around your throbbing clit. His nose resting slightly above with his irises still dilated onto yours. 

You can feel your body tensing as Matt’s mouth is latched onto your slippery heat.

“Matt.. I-I’m gonna…” You mumble faintly.

“Cum for me. Cum all over my mouth. Let me taste more of you.”

An overwhelming flush or euphoria strikes all through your body in waves. Your breath hitches and you grab onto Matt’s hair, making him hum into your heat.

Your chest rises and falls smoothly whilst coming down from your high and Matt slows the rhythm of his tongue down on your clit.

Suddenly he detaches his mouth from your skin and pulls his sweatpants down.

Matt’s dick comes sprawling out of his garments. The vein that runs down the middle of his length spikes outwards. The very sight of his cock is an aphrodisiac to your senses within itself.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you raw. I’ve never asked you because I didn’t think you’d like it.” His necklace glints under the artificial light beaming down on the both of you that hangs just above the counter.

“Matt, you really should’ve asked. Fuck a baby into me, fill me up with your cum. Forget about the fucking cream. I want yours.” You sigh out. Your core twitching at the sight of his taffy pink prick fully exposed practically grazing against you.

The gaze in Matt’s eyes is full to the brim with hot pink lust. He’s practically drooling in admiration at how fuckable you look right now.

He grips onto your thighs again and presses his tip against your slippery entrance. He hisses at the overwhelming thrill of the feeling of your drenched folds.

Matt pushes his length inside of you at a sluggish pace, almost like he’s teasing you by going slow in the beginning.

Your spongy, slick walls squeeze down on his cock and it makes it pulse inside you. He whimpers on top of you while he sits inside of you in and out stagantly.

“Fuck…you’re so tight sweetheart.” Matt stutters, the utmost feeling of your pussy clenched around his dick is like heaven to him. Your breathless whines and moans are like harmonic symphonies ringing and humming in his ears. His visual stimuli are more than satisfactory from your tender and curvaceous figure that he has held in his hands at this very moment.

Matt’s pace starts to quicken and becomes more rapid inside you. Every single time he rams into you, he slightly grazes that sweet spot that drives you absolutely fucking insane. It’s like his cock was made for you. “I want to fuck you so good your pussy turns into the shape of my dick baby. It’s so perfect. I can’t wait to fuck my cum into you.”

“Please do it Matt… cum inside me.” His dick is slightly bulging out of your stomach. He sees this as an opportunity to use his two fingers and press on your abdomen slightly. “This is where my babies are gonna be, sweetheart. All for you. Taking it all like such a good girl.” He huffs out smugly.

The sound of your skin clapping and beating against each other every single time he pounds his dick into you and his waist clashes into your thighs and ass cheeks almost hypnotises you. “M-Matt… I’m gonna cum again…”

“Fuck… me too baby. I’m s-so close..” The rhythm of Matt fucking his cock into you starts to slow down and you can feel his lower body start to stutter and his member pulses thickly inside of you.

“Oh f-fuck… take all of my cum sweetheart…I’m gonna cum…c-cumming…” His arms give in and he loses all balance as he feeds his cum into your hole. His and your juices swirl and mix together inside you.

Suddenly, your stomach starts to feel warm. The feeling of Matt’s hot and thick load spilling inside all the way through your cervix pulls and twists at your neurons, especially alongside your soul-shattering orgasm Matt just gave you.

He drops his whole weight on you completely and hides his head in the crook of your neck. His heavy breath brushes on your skin while his prick still rests inside you, you can’t tell if he’s too tired to take it out or he wants all of his cum to stay inside.

Either way you both savour the moment while you lay still on top of each other. Catching your breath and coming down from your second high.

Matt raises his head up and reaches out for the cloth laying next to the piping bag. He balls it up and wipes at the skin with small spots of butter cream from earlier.

“I wasn’t too rough on you this time, was I?” He enquires. He looks down on you, still swiping away the white mess all over you.

“No, of course not baby. I loved it.” You respond, giggling exhaustedly. “We should do this again, sometime.”

“I’d love to, sweetheart.” Matt smiles before pecking your cheek and rests his head on your collarbone once more.

“A-are you still inside me?” 

“Pfft, yeah.” 

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

Author’s Note No.2: MY GOD THIS WAS ANNOYING TO WRITE. Sorry for the slight delay, I was incredibly tired and fell asleep and I got preoccupied with school. Anyways. Again, thank you so much for enjoying Pins n’ Needles. I WILL be making a part 2 very soon! :)

༝༚༝༚, Maxine.

Taglist: @gamermattsgf @luverboychris @worldlxvlys @chrissystur @chaosisalwayscrying @bellasfavbisexual

#matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #smut #matt sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo

[questionableratatouille00]

𝘖𝘯 𝘈𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 (𝘖𝘧𝘧 𝘈𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Your relationship with your boyfriend had only gotten better. At least, until a new part of the equation came along.

Warnings: unwanted erections, discomfort, past SA (no graphic descriptions), hurt/comfort, shame/humiliation, fluff. As always, let me know if more needs to be added.

[Series Masterlist]

It had been a month since your shared shower, and things were going great. You and Bucky hadn’t been intimate, but there was an insanely higher amount of intimacy between you.

He held your hand, rested against you. Hell—the two of you even cuddled most nights. And you reveled in it.

And part of you knew he did, too.

You walked into the kitchen, your phone and some other random items in your hands. Bucky was always astounded by the fact that you could hold so many things in one hand. You were positive it came from a lack of pockets for so many years.

“Hey, Buck.” You greeted as you set all of your junk onto the island to be later forgotten.

“Hi.” He said awkwardly as he shuffled around.

You felt your brows furrowing. “You good?”

He nodded, but shuffled off into another room quickly. You didn’t follow, positive he was just having an off day. It happens.

And that was the end of that.

Your arms slid up his chest, wrapping around his neck and resting on his shoulders as his hands stayed planted on your hips.

The kiss was loving, and downright passionate—like it came straight out of a fanfiction, regardless of if those kinds of kisses were even real.

It lasted a while, both of you pausing for split seconds just to breathe before returning to the kiss.

Until he pulled away suddenly, a strange look in his eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You asked softly.

“Nothing.” He rushed the word out. “I think I left the oven on from when we made that pizza earlier.” He said as he pulled away and walked out of the bedroom.

You stood there, entirely unsure of what you did wrong.

You snuggled up against him as he wrapped his strong arms around you. Your back was pressed against his chiseled chest, one of his knees resting on top of yours as he clung to you like a koala.

You closed your eyes, just about to fall asleep. In that same moment, he pulled away and rolled over.

“Woah—are you okay?” You were startled by the sudden movement.

“Yeah. It’s just hot tonight.” He murmured, not turning to look at you.

“Bucky, it’s cold tonight.” You couldn’t help the frustration that leaked into your voice. You instantly regretted it.

“Listen—I’m sorry. It’s just that you’ve been randomly running away and I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong.” You confessed.

He sighed. “You’re not doing anything wrong, dollface.”

You paused, waiting for him to continue.

“I—God, this is stupid.” He rubbed at his face.

“It’s not, baby. Just..can you tell me what’s wrong?” You gently prompted.

“It’s not you. I swear.” He assured you, before taking a breath. “It’s—I’m hard.”

You blinked. “What?”

He rolled over to face you, the blanket pulled up on him, resting just under his ribs. “I mean I’m hard, honey.”

“Okay. That—I’m lost.” You told him.

“It’s another shitty thing HYDRA ruined for me.” He began to explain. “Whenever I got—I got like this, there was like, six ways it could go. Sometimes they’d get me like this on purpose then shame or beat me for it. Sometimes they’d do it to me and then fuck me—as a reward, I guess. Sometimes it’d just happen naturally and it could go either way.”

You frowned, letting him continue.

“So..I think now that every time it happens, I just assume..there’ll be some kind of consequence.” He finishes his thought.

“There won’t be,” you murmur, offering your hand. He takes it. “I will never lay a finger on you in anyway that’s not gentle. And I’d never touch you in that way without your explicit permission.”

“I know,” he hummed. “I know that. I don’t think my brain does.”

“Me and your brain will just have to have a ‘stern talking to’ session.” You teased, instantly lightening the mood. He cracked a small smile.

“Can..can we still cuddle?” He asked. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable—“

“We can.” You chuckled. “That stuff doesn’t bother me. It’s just your body doing what it knows to do, babe.”

“I feel like a preteen boy.” He grumbled as he tucked his face into the crook of your neck.

You chuckled, not at all bothered by what’s pressing against your thigh. “Womp womp.” You said in a goofy voice, one you knew would make him smile. And he did.

“I love you, Buck.” You hummed into his hair.

“I love you too.” He answered back. And then you shut your eyes, and began to fall asleep.

A/n: another part! I love this series. If you enjoyed, please REBLOG. likes do nothing 😊

graphics by @saradika-graphics

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #marvel #mcu

[theemporium]

could you do a stiles x siren reader where they are studying but end up having sex and once they finish the reader is a bit scared because she thinks stiles only had sex with her because of how alluring she is but turns out that he genuinely likes her because she’s a good person! being a siren is a plus in his book 😘😘

“When will I ever need this in my life?”

Stiles lifted his head from his book, peeking at the page you were currently staring at and let out a snort. “Probably never.” 

“So why do I have to learn it?” you whined, head falling to rest on the textbook that was starting to become the cause of your headache. 

You had been struggling with a few of your classes. In between dealing with splitting time between being on land and in water, helping fight whatever supernatural problem had lingered into Beacon Hills and getting a somewhat normal sleep schedule—it had been hard to keep up with classes, let alone do well in them. 

Stiles had been kind enough to offer some help, thus leading to the odd studying sessions you two planned in between your hectic schedules. But it still felt a bit redundant to learn how to calculate the volume of a cone when you had just spent the night before stopping a sacrificial cult take over Beacon Hills.

“The unfortunate way of the world,” Stiles said with a sigh before reaching for the textbook you were using as a pillow, and instead throwing it on the floor beside his own stuff. “Let’s take a break.” 

“I need a nap,” you grumbled, words slightly muffled before you turned your head to look at the boy. Your eyes widened a little when you realised how close he was. 

“A nap sounds good to me,” he murmured with a soft smile.

“I thought you’d be too restless for a nap,” you teased lightly. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Funny one.” 

“I’m hilarious, I know,” you grinned back, only for your smile to damper slightly when he reached out to push some hair behind your ear. You could practically feel your cheeks burning.

“You can take a nap if you want to,” he said in a soft voice. “I’ll just find something else to do in the meantime.” And you hated the way his sincerity choked you, making your chest feel warm and tight all at once. 

You surprised yourself when you leaned forward, pressing your lips against his for a split few seconds before you pulled away, your brain seeming to catch up with you. “I’m so sorry–” 

Stiles didn’t give you a chance to continue before he was kissing you again, a lot more sure and passionate than yours had been and you couldn’t help but sink into the kiss. You didn’t even fight him as he rolled you onto your back, crawling on top of you as his hands began to wander under the fabric of the hoodie you had been wearing. 

But there was a voice in the back of your head, screaming and yelling and ruining the feeling of his fingers sliding along your sides. 

“Stiles, wait,” you whispered against his lips, eyes closed when the boy pulled away. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he murmured, eyebrows furrowed in concern as his hand gently cupped your cheek. 

“I—” but you paused, unsure how to even say the words screaming in your head. Because you knew how this went, you knew that nobody was able to resist the pull of the allure and even if you didn’t mean to use it, it happened. 

You knew that the second the deed was done, he would be snapped out of it and you didn’t think you could handle Stiles being pissed at you for being caught in the allure. 

“We shouldn’t,” you whispered, unable to bring yourself to look at him. “You’ll regret it.” 

Stiles frowned. “Why would I?” 

“It’s the allure, Stiles,” you sighed as you finally glanced up at him. “It’s making you want to do things you might not realise you don’t want to do.” 

Stiles blinked before a smile grew on his face, unable to hold back the laugh that was threatening to escape. “Yeah, because the three year crush I have on you has nothing to do with it.” 

Your eyes widened. “What?” 

“Baby, trust me when I say, doing this—” he paused as he gestured between you two. “Has nothing to do with your powers or you being a siren, I promise.” 

“Stiles—”

“It’s got everything to do with the fact I think you’re beautiful inside and out,” he murmured shyly as he flashed you a smile. “And that I’ve been practically obsessed with you for ages. Ask anyone really, especially Scott. He would tell you just how—”

You leaned up to press your lips against his, smiling as the boy quickly melted into the kiss. 

“You like me for me?” you whispered against his lips.

“I like you for you, baby,” he whispered back.

You smiled against his lips before pushing him to sit up, giving yourself the space you needed to pull your hoodie over your head with your t-shirt quickly following. You laid there, sprawled across his bed with just your shorts and bra on, and it took everything in his power to not come there and then. 

“Shit,” he hissed out. “This is way better than my dreams. Like, way way better.” 

You raised your brows. “You dream about me, Stilinski?” 

“All the time.” 

“And what did you do to me in those dreams?” you asked as you trailed your fingers along the hem of his shirt, tugging on it when you wanted him to take it off and he quickly followed the demand. 

“I, uh,” Stiles’ cheeks burned hot. “Well, I…uh…” 

“Show me, Stiles,” you whispered as you sat up, pressing soft kisses along his bare chest. “Show me what you did in your fantasies.” 

“Fuck,” he groaned under his breath.

.

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski x y/n #stiles stilinski one shot #stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski fic #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x you #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf one shot #teen wolf fic #teen wolf smut

[kenmakodz]

CANDID LOVE ˙✧˖📷

06. brain food ☆

writing in-between cuts!

a quiet knock on the door catches your attention, which was previously focused on scrolling through random shows on Netflix. a weird feeling, you get. an emotion that seems to be the love-child of excitement and nervousness. there's no time to run away from these feelings, though, so you get up and open the door for the poor boy who's been hauling 3 bags of food.

"my god" he sighs, setting the bags down on the coffee table. "i think my stomach has eyes. there's no way we're finishing all this in one night." you laugh, noticing how he's holding his arm out of pain. "i've definitely done the same, more times than i'd like to admit-- here, sit down for a bit." gesturing to the couch, you sit down and pat a spot relatively close to you. he takes this offer with open arms, considering he'd walked pretty far. "sorry i took a while, hopefully i didn't keep you waiting too long?" his hands fidget together as he takes in your room. it's the size of a triple, but you have it to yourself. it's quite surprising how nice the school treats transfer students, considering how main students are usually shoved into a tiny room with 2-3 other people. you place your hand upon his; a ballsy move, but you know how it feels to be anxious about things. you don't want him to be anxious with you. "it's fine, really. i don't mind waiting for you." you smile, moving your hand back to it's previous position. embarrassment clearly runs through his body, but to you he just looked starstruck. after a moment of pushing these feelings back, he returns your smile. "i'm glad, then. um, can we eat? i fear my stomach is going to wrinkle up if we don't." "yes yuuta, we can eat."

"okay, okay. this seems good for now, i think?" he sits back from the laptop you two have been sharing, taking a second to re-read the outline. your eyes scan the page as well; it's a very.. rough outline. you start laughing at the last few lines, where he'd begun to give up on being professional. after all, only you two will see this draft. "why are you laughing?" he pouts, thinking you're making fun of the ideas laid out. "oh relax," you lean back with him, realizing he's gotten much closer than before. "i can just tell that you were rushing writing the final scene." his head whips to you and a hand clutches his chest, feigning shock; a sarcastic gasp falls from his lips. "how could you! we worked very hard on this!" your hand pushes his away from his chest, the both of them landing on his lap. "oh, shut up. i'm just teasing." he huffs anyways, a facade you've become accustomed to. after all, one of your best friends is nobara kugisaki.

reaching to a stuffed dog to your side, you hand it to him. "here, will an emotional support dog help?" he sighs, wrapping it in his arms. "i suppose." laughing again, you sit up and grab the laptop once more. "you're so dumb." he grips the toy more, you don't realize it, but he likes the way it smells of lavender just like you do. "what are you doing now, don't you think its enough for tonight?" you stop to think, after sending the draft to your phone. "well, we'll need to send casting calls to the neighboring schools sometime soon.. but i guess we can be done for now." he closes the laptop for you and places it on the table once again, looking back. "good, we can do that another time-" his sentence is cut off due to his phone practically blowing up in the room over. "sorry," he starts, getting up and handing the stuffed dog back to you. "let me go check on that."

"hey, sorry again. my friends were blowing up my phone for some reason." he comes back into the room where you two were sitting before, unsure if he should sit back down. he can't read your face, and you can't read his either, despite you both feeling the same way. "it's okay. you can sit back down if you want to stay a bit longer..?" you look down for a split second, anticipating the rejection he was about to give you. "i was looking for shows before you got here, but i couldn't find a good one." you try to convey what you say as a question, but it almost comes out as a plea. he doesn't say anything immediately, and you almost get upset? looking back up, you realize he's already getting ready to sit back down with you. "i'd love to stay. i also have an amazing suggestion for a show." your eyes light up, and it feels like the room filled with more air the way you both sighed with relief. "oh really?" you tease him, as he takes back the toy he'd left with you. "lay it on me then."

fun facts -> TWO PEOPLE PINING FOR EACHOTHER BUT NEITHER KNOW IT!!!! a classic trope. chefs kiss. yuuta offered to go get snacks not only because he was starving, but he also needed time to calm himself down before going to y/n's dorm. he was scared. scared that he'd say something stupid, give her the ick, embarrass himself. you know, the works. once he got there though, it felt like he never wanted to go home again.

-> GOD I LOVE THEM SO MUCh. screams. kicking my feet like a little girl writing this chapter.

previous, masterlist, next [07. i hate men (except you two)]

taglist is open! @just-a-girlblogger @moryymor @swissy23 @hvnyacoded @sereniteav @k4romis @jayathelostdragon  @h3rmess @olivandeee @lysaray @ari3000dontcare @raechu11 @marifujioka @nyxlai @sonicsolos @saltypuffin1040 @r0ckst4rjk @h8ani @lmaolmaolmao @maya-maya-56 @mittensdun @adrenova @pnkblueberry @morgyyyyyyy @chososwh0r3 @lunecqm @r4veeen @arivsx @levlucs-kiru @mellozhi

if you are in bold, i am unable to tag you :( and if i forgot to add you, PLEASE YELL AT ME

⤷ © kenmakodz

#jujutsu kaisen #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta x reader #yuta x reader #jjk smau #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #yuuta okkotsu fluff #yuta okkotsu #yuuta okkotsu smau #yuuta smau #yuuta x you #jjk crack #jjk texts #yuuta fluff #yuta fluff #yuuta okkotsu x you #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x fem!reader #yuuta fluff #yuuta jjk #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk fic

[rinneverse]

࿐ ♡ ˚ . 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞! — 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒆. ˒ ⊹

syn. bladie brainrot. he is the only man ever. pair. blade x f!reader cw. biting / fem reader / p in v / exhibitionism (?) (they bone in an empty alley) / just a lil thirst i'm so very normal and sane about bladie note. blade my beloved. hes in my brain always. i meant to stay under 300 words but then it got a little bit out of hand—regardless, i hope u enjoy ♡. i love blade RAHHHHHHH

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI. NSFW UNDER THE CUT.

blade is not gentle in the way he loves you.

he's rough around the edges, and perhaps a little too possessive for his own good. he likes to press your buttons, rile you up and push you until you break. it drives you mad.

you still can’t help but be drawn to him, though; his aloof manner is alluring and the glint in his eyes is dangerous. and oh, watching him in battle—the flex of his biceps, the almost graceful way in which he brutally takes his enemy down—you think find yourself entranced.

and when it’s all said and done, blade still has so much pent up energy left. it’s almost like clockwork: he takes down his final enemy and then is whisking you away once the other stellaron hunters take over the scene. you can see kafka and silverwolf share a knowing glance and your face grows warm in embarrassment.

blade was insatiable.

the moment he gets you alone he’s already mouthing at the sensitive skin of your neck, canines pressing against the flesh almost like a warning—a reminder that he could so very easily pierce with them—and you find yourself thinking that you wouldn’t even mind.

his tongue laves up your jugular, drawing a sweet moan from your lips as he sucks a hickey right on your pulse point. blade knows exactly what gets you going and he does not intend to waste a single second.

a breathy sigh of your name against your neck, rough hands trailing down your sides to stop at your hips and give them a squeeze, blade wants to devour you. he slides a hand under the fabric of your skirt, pushing your panties to the side to expertly rub circles on your sensitive clit. he drinks in the moans you let out in a kiss, a heated exchange that melts your core and sends shivers down your spine.

"blade," you whine. "more.. need more."

he hums, crimson eyes glinting in the darkness of the alleyway as he turns you around, pressing you against the cold wall. it wasn't uncommon to have blade take you wherever and whenever he wanted, especially when he grows pent up—like he was now.

you hear rustling, and in seconds you feel the fat head of his cock prodding at your soaked cunt. your lips fall open in a quiet gasp as you feel him stretch you out, the familiar ache of him splitting you open a welcome one. you hear him let out a harsh sigh behind you, his lips attaching to your neck once again.

and there he takes you. his thrusts are harsh and his grip on your hips is bruising, but you wouldn't have it any other way. he leaves dark bruises along your neck and collar, marks of his possession over you that the sight of alone sends him into a frenzy.

blade is not a gentle lover. but he is an attentive one—he doesn't stop until you're crying from the pleasure, making sure he and he alone is the only thing on your pretty little cock drunk mind.

please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!

#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #hsr smut #hsr x reader #blade smut #blade x reader #☆ oakie writes #☆ c.blade #not my proudest post in awhile but sure is a thirsty one. im so normal about him. #also bria if u read this thank u for perceiving me and tellin me to write a lil sumn sumn it helped SO much muah muah

[selfcarecap]

Never Have I Ever [p.p]

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: When Peter meets you at college and you two bond over your lack of sexual experience, you quickly become the best friend he’s ever had. But while he falls madly in love with you, he doesn’t know if you feel the same. You hold his hand when you’re out together, talk to him about the vibrator you want to buy and bless him with that beautiful look in your eyes that is reserved only for him… yet he’s not sure if you see more than a friend in him. Little does he know, you’re wondering the same about him, hoping for the same outcome.

Warnings: smut (all first time, oral f + m receiving, dry humping (semi-public? but it’s completely uninterrupted and unseen and in a remote location lol), masturbation (f with a sex toy and m with the reader’s underwear), vaginal sex – the second half of this is basically all smut), a sprinkle of jealous Peter, Professor Garfield lol, a little bit of angst ig bc Peter keeps doubting himself and thinks he’s a pervert but he’s just dumb as shit and oblivious, (all Peter’s pov <3), fic starts off with an awkward and embarrassing story lol, alcohol/drunk!Peter, (btw if first year of college sounds a little young to you you can always imagine they just took a break between hs and college), idk how college works in the usa, also I mention Peter's enhanced senses but it's not a Spiderman fic at all lol

Word Count: 23k omg, the longest thing I’ve ever written (if that’s too long for you i’ve put four ‘dividers’ in total so it’s split into 4 more or less equally long parts (the first is like 4k, second is 7k, then 4k again and the last is 8k) but of course you can ignore that and just read all of it in one go, all 23k are in this post, it’s a one shot)

It's finally here! Thank you for all the love I received for the teaser and just talking about this fic already 💘 This has been on my mind for so so long and I’ve been (sporadically and inconsistently) writing it since like September. I’m so glad it’s finally finished, this was one of my favourite wips I‘ve ever worked on, I really loved writing Peter and the reader and their dynamic and experiences and I hope you love reading it just as much 💖

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝒐𝒏𝒆 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ･:*:･｡

It’s Peter’s first week of college and so far he barely knows anyone. The guys in the rooms next to Peter’s are cool, but he figures it wouldn’t hurt to know a few more people, so he decides to go to this party he’s been hearing about all week.

The party is exactly how he imagined it; loud music, drinking games, a pretty girl sitting next to him. So pretty that he doesn’t dare look at you for too long because he’s worried you’ll catch him staring and think he’s being weird.

The game you’re all playing started as a simple never have I ever, but somehow people are now telling their funniest sex stories. Peter doesn’t realise it’s part of the game that everyone tells a sex story until it’s your turn and he notices how the last few people all told a story, one after the other, going around the circle you’re all sitting in.

His heart starts thumping harder in his chest. He doesn’t have a sex story to tell. But if he gets up now it will be obvious that he’s avoiding his turn, right? 

Fuck.

Besides, he wants to listen to your story. He just has to hope that his usually clever brain will help him come up with something when it’s his turn.

“Most memorable sex experience…” you hum in thought as you lightly drum the bottle in your hands against your lips. “Oh wait, this one’s funny. The guy I was with asked me if I peed myself when he took off my underwear because he didn‘t know that women get wet when they‘re turned on. I explained it to him but he wouldn’t believe me. 

“He was sweet about it and told me it happens to the best of us — and that he sometimes pees himself too. So at that point, I just saw it as a second chance from the universe to show me what this guy was like and I left.” 

The students around you laugh and comment on the story and as you look over at Peter a few seconds later he realises the other people are doing the same. 

They‘re expecting him to tell a sex story now. His mouth goes dry and his brain is empty. Think. Think. Think. Think of something. Anything. 

But he has nothing.

You speak up again, pointing at the guy next to Peter, “Oh my god, Brandon, you remember that story you told me earlier? You need to tell that one, that was the funniest thing I‘ve ever heard.”

A weight is lifted off of Peter‘s shoulders when the attention simply shifts to the guy next to him.

What felt like overthinking for hours when he couldn‘t come up with anything to say was probably only a short moment, less than five seconds, and not a single person noticed that they skipped over Peter. He lets out a breath of relief as other people tell stories and no one demands anything from Peter. 

He keeps glancing at you, trying to figure out if what you did was deliberate or not. 

The only thing he‘s gotten from you so far is a second of eye contact, your face neutral but your eyes holding something positive. The next time you stand up to refill your drink, Peter follows you into the kitchen.

You smile at him when you see him enter, offering some of the diet coke you‘re pouring into your cup to him. “No thanks,” Peter says, watching you fill the rest of your drink with rum. 

“I don‘t know if you did that on purpose or not but uh.. thanks,” he says, clearing his throat after, annoyed at himself for sounding so nervous. You’re gorgeous, but he doesn’t even know you yet. You’re a stranger, yet he finds himself caring about what you think of him.

You muster him for a few seconds before you realise what he’s talking about.

“Oh. You mean during the.. the sex stories? That was no big deal. You just looked a little uncomfortable so I tried my best to get the attention to shift to someone else,” you smile.

“Thanks, that... that was really kind. Although I was kind of hoping it wasn‘t obvious how nervous I was. I just don‘t have any special or funny sex stories to tell... or any sex stories at all,” he avoids eye contact when he says it but you immediately get what he means. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” You say, taking a step forward to stand closer to him, his cheeks heating up. He nods.

“The story I told? That was completely made up. I‘ve never had sex with anyone either. And I‘m not ashamed of that fact, I mean I‘m so young and there‘s nothing wrong with waiting or honestly I‘ve just never... been in that type of situation with a boy…”

“I get it. You don‘t have to explain yourself. Same boat,” he smiles and nudges your shoulder but regrets it instantly.

Nudging your shoulder? He has never nudged anyone‘s shoulder. Especially not the shoulder of a pretty girl he just met. 

You don‘t take any notice of it though, much to Peter‘s relief, and you continue. 

“Even if I personally don‘t care how old anyone is when they have their first time, I just felt nervous saying it in a room full of frat boys. I know this year has barely started but so far all the frat boys I’ve met live up to their reputation and I didn‘t want them making any stupid comments. 

“If I was my ideal, confident self - or just a little tipsier - I probably would have just said that I don’t have any sex stories to tell but... I don‘t know. I was nervous.”

“I get that. That‘s exactly how I felt too. Only I wasn‘t creative enough to think of a story. My mind just blanked, I must have looked crazy when it was my turn to say something. You were calm though, the story seemed as real as all the others... maybe even more real, I mean what you said sounds very realistic to me considering how little most men know about women’s bodies.” 

“Yeah,” you giggle, “But you didn‘t look nervous either. It‘s just that I knew I might not be the only one too nervous to admit that I don‘t have any experience so I was hyper-aware of it, I guess.”

“Okay, I‘m glad. Thanks again.” The conversation is slowly dying but he doesn’t want it to end yet.

He holds his hand in front of him, “I’m Peter by the way. Biochemistry and computer science.”

His fingers tremble for a second. Who introduces himself like that? God, he’s messing this up before it even started.

But you grin, trying not to laugh and tell him your name and introduce yourself in the same way, “Oceanography and computer science.”

He takes a second to release the breath that he was holding in, “Oceanography? Wow, that sounds really interesting. You‘ll have to tell me more about that.” 

“It is. And I will once college starts. I‘m really excited.” 

“Me too. And computer science? That means we‘ll probably have a few classes together right?”

“Probably. Do you have your schedule yet?”

He takes out his phone and shows you the picture he took of it, and you lean in to look at it so closely that he can smell your lovely perfume.

“I don‘t have it on my phone but I recognise that professor’s name,” you point at a name on the screen, “I‘m in that class too, I heard professor Garfield is really good. I have two classes with him.”

And that‘s how you two end up talking all night. Peter walks you home and you realise your dorm rooms are merely minutes away from each other and you make a vow to meet each other again. He really hopes you don’t forget about him, or that you weren’t just being nice.

Peter falls asleep with a smile on his face and you on his mind. 

*

The next day, he realises with disappointment that you didn’t exchange numbers. He would like to text you and meet you in front of the lecture hall so it would be less nerve-wracking to go to his first-ever college lecture.

It would help to have someone he already knows with him and in case you were nervous he’d love to be there to calm you down too; make you feel less alone–you can do this together.

He knows one of his first classes on Tuesday is one that he shares with you. But he hopes he can see you on Monday to be each other’s support, or at least to see you for five minutes between classes.

He looks for you all day, but doesn’t see you again.

He’s giddy all night, knowing he’s definitely going to see you tomorrow. His plan is to get up extra early and casually and totally coincidentally lounge around in the hallway that your room is in, and then you can go to class together.

But one missed alarm later he‘s running through the building, trying to find the lecture hall that was shown to him during freshers week, but he didn’t quite manage to remember each one of the hundreds of rooms.

Time is running out and he has one minute until the lecture starts. He runs around the next corner and finally finds the hall he’s supposed to be in.

There are hundreds of students though, and he seems to be one of the last; he can’t even see if there are any seats left.

While his eyes scan the rows for an empty seat–but more importantly for you–he sees some movement directed at him. A wave.

His eyes travel down the arm that's waving at him and soon he’s making eye contact with you. He’s only met you once but he can’t stop a huge smile from taking over his entire face.

Peter blushes while he’s walking up the steps, on his way to you, but once he’s close he can see your bright smile and he’s immediately reminded of why he likes you so much.

“Hi,” Peter plops down next to you on the first seat of the row. You lean in and Peter’s breath gets caught in his throat when he realises you’re hugging him–just a friendly side hug, but it’s a hug nevertheless.

He takes his water out of his bag, trying to calm himself down by focussing on the cool drink running down his throat. It does clear his mind, the water, but he’s more and more comfortable with every second that he sits next to you. Your aura is so kind and calming, and he finds his shoulders losing the tension as you start talking to him.

“I thought you weren’t going to make it or something. We forgot to exchange numbers so I found your Instagram and was gonna message you there. But you‘re private so I couldn‘t.”

Ever since you said goodbye the night after the party, Peter has been worrying that that was all. That it was just an in-the-moment type of thing and you wouldn’t think it was anything special – or worse, you’d forget about him. But now you’re here, keeping a spot for him, telling him you’ve been thinking about him and wanted to message him. The warmth in his chest spreads when you smile at him.

And sure, just because you remember him doesn’t mean you’re best friends, but it confirms that Peter isn’t the only one who thought you had a connection that was worth remembering.

Peter most definitely also stalked your Instagram. It’s public but he didn’t want you thinking he was weird for spam-liking all your pictures–which he definitely wanted to do but he stopped himself in time. 

He put a timer on Instagram for the app to remind him when it’s been twenty minutes of looking at your pictures. Not that there were enough to be scrolling for twenty minutes straight – he simply enjoyed looking at you.

He takes his phone out and accepts the follow request you sent him and follows you back.

“Put your number in,” you place your phone in front of him, opened on a new contact card that Peter fills out with his number and name. You look at it and add a <3 behind his name and Peter prays he’s not blushing as hard as it feels.

You text him You up? and if his cheeks weren’t red before then they definitely are now. He can tell you’re just teasing but the fact that you’re already comfortable enough to joke around with him makes him grin.

He feels like he can be himself with you and you’re doing the same. You’re not holding back with showing Peter that you like him and it makes him feel good about himself. 

But his smile fades when he hears your next words

“The professor is so hot, I have no idea how I‘ll concentrate. I talked to him before I sat down and he has a really nice voice too. And that accent… But wait till he turns around and you see his face – or you could just stare at his ass.” 

Peter doesn’t know why it feels like someone stabbed him right in the heart. And when he sees you further staring at the man, it’s like that knife is being pulled out of his chest and Peter bleeds out. 

“I-it’s not even that big,” Peter tries.

You look at him and now he feels stupid for having said that. 

“Butts don‘t have to be big to be hot. Little booties matter. And they’re really cute sometimes.”

“W-well yes, of course, but.. he‘s really not that hot,” Peter says, and then Professor Garfield turns around, “...okay he is that hot.”

“Told you,” you sing, a smile on your face, and he can’t be mad at you when you’re looking at him like that. He couldn’t be mad at you no matter what you did. While Professor Garfield, or Andrew–as he tells you all to call him–starts the lecture, Peter tries to figure out what’s got him so mad.

Yes, of course you’re pretty. You’re gorgeous. But that doesn’t mean that he has to have a crush on you immediately. Just because you’re a girl and he’s a guy doesn’t mean that this has to go beyond a friendship. Men and women can be just friends. He can’t just fall in love with the first pretty woman who’s nice to him.

Okay, maybe he already has a crush on you. So what? Who can blame him?

But Peter doesn’t want to rush anything with you. He’ll give you the time to figure out what you feel for him, and he’ll just follow your lead. He may think you already like him as much as he likes you, but it’s still only the second time you’re ever seeing each other. 

That and he just doesn’t want to overthink it all and end up losing the first person at college who genuinely feels like someone he could be friends with.

He tries to ignore how you giggle at every joke the professor makes and tries to focus on the warmth of you next to him instead. Not too much though, he’s already let your teasing get to his head and maybe even to a body part further down.

Even if it means he won’t have to witness you laughing at Professor Garfield’s jokes anymore, Peter is sad when the lecture is over. It’s the only lecture he has today and therefore also the only one he has with you today.

As you pack your things and people swarm out of the lecture hall, you and Peter stay back, taking it slow.

“What’s your next class?” You ask, looking him right in the eyes–like any normal person–but he’ll really have to get used to that. He can’t lose his mind every time you just look at him. But he's so attracted to you.

“I, um, I no. I mean, I don’t have any other classes today.”

You smile unexpectedly, “Cool, me neither. You wanna do something? We could get lunch together.”

You say it with such ease, showing your interest in him like you don’t know how it’s making Peter feel warm and bubbly inside.

Even if Peter still gets nervous around you, simply because he wants to impress you and doesn’t want to fuck this up, he realises quickly that he has no reason to be. 

Your friendship blooms effortlessly and quickly. 

A week later you’re texting like you’ve been best friends for years and he finds himself too happy around you to worry about what he’s saying or how he’s acting. You like him the way he is and he can feel it deeply and confidently. 

Yes, he still stutters a lot around you - but he does that around most people, to be fair - and once you part ways for the day he overanalyses every little thing you’ve said to him, overthinks every little touch of yours for some form of affection that is more than platonic.

And it’s hard, figuring out whether you like him as more than a friend.

But this friendship is so new and so exciting that Peter thinks it makes him just as happy as an average relationship in the honeymoon phase would. So even if he does crave more intimacy with you, it’s hard to complain when he has a friend like you.

*

You show up at Peter’s door at midnight on a Friday. His sleep schedule has been surprisingly healthy for a college freshman so if anyone else disturbed him when he was already in pyjamas, he’d be annoyed.

But with you, he’s ecstatic. He’s awake immediately, grinning from ear to ear at your surprise visit. You never left his mind but he thought he’d have to wait until tomorrow to see you again.

Peter is more than aware of the contrast between your done up state and him in his ratty old pyjamas. You’ve seen him in pyjamas before and he knows better than to think you’d judge him, but he can’t help but to want to at least try and match you when you’re looking as gorgeous as you are.

“Oh sorry, I thought you’d still be up,” is the first thing you say, ready to leave if you’re bothering him in any way.

“No, no, I am, don’t worry. What’s up?” Peter asks, trying to look cool as he leans against his door frame. He ignores how it hurts like hell where his elbow meets a sharp corner.

“Well… I was gonna ask if you wanna go watch a movie with me,” you give him a charming smile not knowing he’d say yes no matter what you asked of him.

“Now?”

“Uh, yes. Now. But it’s fine if not, genuinely I won’t be mad. I can see that you had other plans,” you smile at his pyjamas.

“No. Don’t worry, I’d love to go. Do you have tickets or…?” Jealousy bubbles up inside Peter when he realises you might have been planning to go with someone else. With some other guy. Maybe he bailed on you and Peter is the second option (which he would still be grateful for, but he hates the thought of you with another guy).

“No, but I checked online and they have plenty of tickets left. It’s the last day they’re playing this film. The one I told you about, the horror one.”

“Oh God.” He’s trying to pretend that you still need to convince him when really Peter just needs a second to realise he was just overthinking again. He is your first choice. Not another guy.

“Pleeeease, Peter,” you grab his arm and pout. 

Peter has been convinced since the moment you showed up at his door.

“Give me a second,” he smiles and you grin back, “Really? You’re the best,” you kiss his cheek enthusiastically and he goes back into his room fast enough to hide his blush.

He picks out an outfit, brushes his teeth and puts on deodorant just in case.

You take him to the cinema with your hand in his. Peter knows it’s not a romantic gesture, you’re just treating him like you’d treat a female friend, but his brain doesn’t know the difference. He’s just happy to be touching you.

When you buy the tickets the guy at the movie theatre shows you the available seats on his screen. He points to one of those love seats where two seats are joined together so you can cuddle.

You nod and when the guy gives Peter a congratulatory smile, Peter’s cheeks heat up. The guy probably thinks you and Peter are a couple. It’s not just good for Peter’s ego and the fake scenarios with you that he��ll imagine before bed, but it’s also better for the guy. Peter saw the way he was eyeing you, and Peter doesn’t know what he would have done if the guy had asked for your number.

“We can cuddle,” you grin as you sit down and pat the seat next to you. You’re almost alone in the theatre, you could sit anywhere you want but you want to be close to him.

While you wait for the trailers to start you take Snapchat videos with Peter, asking him if you can send them to your friends at home. His heart swells when you say that you’ve told them about him.

He takes pictures of you looking all pretty and perfect and he wonders if it would be too much to set it as his phone wallpaper. Your head is on his shoulder as you scroll through the pictures that he just took of you and your perfume is hypnotising.

How is every little thing about you so captivating? Peter has never met anyone like you.

He’s fucking scared during the movie, but with his eyes mostly closed he manages to be the guy you can hold on to during the creepy scenes. Your fingers around his bicep squeeze every time there is a jumpscare and at some point he has to force himself to watch the film after all if he doesn’t want to get hard from your touch. He knows it’s pathetic, but he can’t help it.

You look beautiful in the light of the stars as you two walk home, your hand still around his arm, gushing about the film and thanking him for watching it with you despite the spontaneous change of his plans.

You spend some time in the common area by your dorms. It’s late and everyone else seems to be at some party elsewhere or sleeping. You cling on to Peter, still jumpy from the horror film and he nearly asks you if you want to sleep in his bed.

He nearly says it about five times, but he can’t quite get the words out. He doesn’t want to give you the wrong impression, even if you may be about to ask the same thing.

Peter sits there nervously, gulping as he’s about to ask. He really will say it this time. But before he opens his mouth he hears your deep breaths and notices how your body has gone slack against his side.

He kisses the top of your head in content and soon, sleep finds Peter too. He doesn’t have to dream about being close to you because it’s already his reality.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝒕𝒘𝒐 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ･:*:･｡

It’s a few weeks into the semester and it’s become a routine for you two to study together. Whether you’re helping each other with the classes you share, or silently working on other things and enjoying each other’s company, your study sessions have even managed to make studying a rather fun part of college. 

Especially when you’re both sitting on Peter’s bed, and your knees or legs or arms are always touching.

You’re not focussed today, scrolling around on your phone instead of studying. You throw your phone to the bed at some point and you hug your legs to your chest in thought.

“You think Andrew will let me suck his dick? For a better score?”

Peter’s heart stops beating for a second. 

You haven’t kissed, you haven’t said anything that should have led Peter to think that this is more than friendship, but it seemed like there could be something in the future. Apparently, you’re not even considering it.

“Who’s Andrew?” He asks, mouth dry and voice weak.

“Professor Garfield.”

“Oh. Well, I-I think that‘s illegal.”

“Is it though?” You tilt your head and give him a deliberately incredulous look.

“Yes.”

“Not if no one finds out. It’s don’t break the rules or don‘t get caught, Peter.”

He’s distracted by you saying his name for a moment. There’s nothing he loves hearing more.

But he has to stop you from doing… that. He can’t entirely tell how serious you are, but he has to make sure to convince you that it’s a bad idea.

“No offence, but what makes you believe you’ll be good enough for him to give you a better score? If you’ve never… you know, done anything like it.” He remembers your conversation from the first time you met, and if you haven’t given anyone a blowjob since then, he knows it would be your first time. Your first time can’t be with a professor, even if Peter disregards the fact that he wants to be the only guy you have sex with, it really is a bad idea.

“I’m a young and pretty student and he’s a kinda old guy. He’s like 40. So I’m sure that I’ll be enough for him.”

Peter doesn’t say anything for a moment, thrown off by your casual tone.

“Don’t you think so?” you press, teasing in your voice.

“No- of course you’re pretty. You’re beautiful,” he smiles, pressing his lips together. 

“Aww,” you sit up and press a kiss to his cheek, “So are you, Pete.” You hold on to his shoulder as you lower yourself into his lap, your butt right next to his thighs and your upper body resting on his legs, and his breath hitches. 

“Well if you think I need practice, then.. I could practise on you first.”

“Practise w-what on me?” He asks, feeling your hands on his abs.

“Going down on a guy,” you say, looking up at him. Now the feeling in Peter’s belly changes from raging jealousy into something else of equal passion. He’s thought about you doing that before, (and pushed the thought out of his mind as quickly as it appeared) but hearing you suggest it makes a new flame of desire light up in him. 

The first conversation you ever had was about sex. But anytime you mention anything sexual, Peter doesn’t know how to act.

“I- I mean. I’m not- I feel like, maybe that’s not—”

“Don’t worry, I’m joking. I won’t actually suck that guy’s dick. I just don’t wanna do this stuff right now,” you sigh, sitting up and closing your textbook.

“How about we do something to distract you for the night, and then tomorrow I’ll help you with the next assignment,” he suggests, relief still flooding through his body, happy that you don’t actually want to suck your professor’s dick.

“You’d do that?” 

“Of course. I’ll always help you when I can but I especially owe you after you did my homework last week when I fell asleep.”

You sit up, “I told you it was no big deal. It was just multiple choice and all I did was copy my answers.”

“Yeah but if I hadn’t woken up then I would have missed the deadline and failed.”

“I know you’d do the same for me. And besides, you looked so peaceful sleeping. I couldn’t wake you up to do some boring computational linguistics quiz at eleven pm.”

Peter smiles at the memory of last week. When he’s with you, he doesn’t want to sleep, he wants to spend time with you. But he was tired and you were studying something Peter couldn’t help you with anyway, and he’s so comfortable around you that he just drifted off to sleep because he trusts you – he wouldn’t be okay with being unconscious next to just anyone.

“Well, it was still a very kind thing to do.”

Not sure what you’re doing yet, you go to your dorm room so you can change out of your sweats and into something prettier–even though Peter thinks you could wear sweatpants 24/7, and you’d still outshine everyone. He nearly stays outside but with a confused look you ask him what he’s doing outside and he reluctantly comes in.

Picking out an outfit, you pull off your shirt with no warning and even if he can only see your back an “Oh my God” leaves Peter’s mouth immediately, followed by a quiet, “Sorry,” as he turns around.

“Don’t worry. I’m just changing. It’s just my body, you can look.”

Despite your nonchalant words, Peter can hear your heart beating loudly and frantically in your chest. He tries not to let it get to him, it doesn’t have to mean that you like him. Maybe you’re just realising that you don’t want a boy to see you half-naked after all but you don’t want to say it now after confidently assuring him it was okay. 

Peter sits down on your bed, turned away from you even though it takes all the willpower he can muster.

A few moments later you jump onto the bed next to him, “So, what are we doing tonight?”

“Do?” He asks, still dazed from seeing your naked back, “Oh do, yeah. Uh yes, we can do something.” 

You giggle, looking at him expectantly. That’s when Peter remembers he was the one who suggested that you go out tonight.

“Oh-well yeah, I was thinking we could take a walk along the river, I heard they have these carnival booths up every Friday night.”

Going out in the evenings has become your and Peter’s thing. Sure, many people–especially college students–go out in the evening. But with you, it feels different. It feels special.

Illuminated by the streetlights and the LED glow from the booths, you and Peter play a few rounds of ring toss and throwing darts at balloons. You both swear it’s rigged because neither of you win anything.

You eat popcorn while Peter gets cotton candy and once again you hold Peter’s hand throughout most of your trip. It’s become a habit of yours, apparently meaningless as a romantic gesture, but platonically it means everything to Peter. You like him enough to constantly initiate physical touch; plus, he’s never seen you hold hands with any of your other friends.

Still, Peter is forever wishing for more. Sometimes he looks at you and wonders how he’s managed not to kiss you yet. But his fear grows with every day; the closer you get the harder it will be to confess his feelings because the risk of ruining something beautiful keeps getting bigger. 

He’s never been this attracted to anyone but he also thinks he’s never had a friendship as good as yours. He simply can’t risk something good, something beautiful, something that makes him as happy as he’s ever been. Your friendship is strong but he’s scared you wouldn’t be able to come back from Peter confessing his feelings for you and you not feeling the same.

It could weird you out, you could take pity on Peter and see him in a different light, or worst of all, you could think he’s been taking advantage of you. He’s never touched you anywhere that would be reserved only for a lover but you two are quite close. You’ve cuddled a few times, or just a few hours ago you were changing in front of him – he doesn’t want you thinking he intentionally got any sexual gratification out of it and for you to view him differently.

He already feels bad enough when nothing but the image of you clouds his thoughts whenever he jerks off. He can’t help it anymore. He used to be able to think of something else or simply watch porn but now that he’s with you so often and you’re so perfect, you’re like an intrusive thought; whenever he’s naked, there’s nothing on his mind but you, just like when a song is stuck in your head – there’s no easy way of getting rid of it.

Peter has never been one to feel shame after masturbating. But if you only liked him as a friend and ever found out what he thinks about when he’s fucking his fist late at night, he doesn’t even want to know what your opinion of him would change into. But the mental image of you alone makes Peter cum so hard, over and over, that he can’t stop, even if guilt plagues him right after as he cleans up the mess he’s made.

He looks down at your intertwined hands while you’re walking home across campus. He wonders what you’d do if you knew that the hand you’re holding right now jerks Peter off every night without fail, thinking precisely of how your hand could replace Peter’s.

On your way home, you walk past a frat house, the vibration of the music reaching Peter’s chest even from the outside.

“Shit, Chloe told me about this party. I forgot I said I’d be there.”

“Who’s that?”

“She’s one of my friends from an Oceanography class. Do you mind if we go in? Just for half an hour.”

It’ll definitely distract Peter from thinking about you in a way that he’s not sure you’d be comfortable with.

You’re dragged away by some of your girlfriends as soon as you enter. They all say something about Peter but you quickly shrug off what they’re saying about you two always being together. He can’t tell if it’s a genuine no or just that feeling of embarrassment that you get when your friends tease you about your crush.

So your friends see it too? The indescribable chemistry between you two? Even with his enhanced hearing, he can’t hear the rest of your conversation because some of his own friends are urging him to go play beer pong with them.

Peter sees you every twenty minutes or so and you wave or smile at him and check up on him every time you walk past. Spending time with your other friends is good for both of you, but it’s also good to know that he’s still on your mind, just like you’re on his.

“Help me find the bathroom,” you tell Peter the next time you see him. He’s getting a little bored at this party so he assumes you also want to escape.

You walk into the bathroom together and Peter doesn’t realise that you actually just need to pee until he sees you contemplating on pulling your underwear down or not, “Can you wait outside?”

“Of course.”

Peter has no interest in being in the bathroom with you while you pee, but the fact that you nearly let him stay in there with you shows him once again how comfortable you are around him. He’s smiling like an idiot, standing by the wall opposite the bathroom until he hears your “You can come in.”

After you’ve washed your hands you sit on the edge of the bathtub and pat the space next to you for Peter to join you and you chat about whatever comes to your mind. So you did want a break from the party too, and Peter is glad to provide that.

“What song is that?” Peter asks. The music is loud enough for you to clearly hear it even upstairs in the bathroom.

“I don’t know, I’ll shazam it. You’re right, it sounds good.”

When you unlock your phone the screen is filled with the picture of a vibrator. You ignore it and go to Shazam the song, but Peter can’t let you off like that.

You always get to tease him so he smirks when he can finally get you back, “Wait wait wait,” he takes your phone from you, lifting it high in case you want to take it from him.

“What is this?” He asks, smiling, teasing you lovingly and in good fun but you look at him as if he’s talking about the most boring thing ever, not embarrassed in the slightest, but once more, that could be a good sign; another sign of your close relationship.

“Oh, it’s this vibrator. But it’s way too expensive for me.”

Peter licks his lips, trying not to freak out. He doesn’t know why he thought talking to you about a vibrator would be a good idea. But he tries to appear as calm as you, “Why is it expensive? What’s so special about it?”

“Well, it basically sucks your clit. But I don’t want to spend over 100 dollars on something like that when I can just go out and find a guy to suck my clit within like five minutes. It’s all those guys on campus think about, I swear. I’m glad you’re not like that, Pete” you smile at him and put your head on his shoulder, completely catching him off guard with your words.

He won’t be able to jerk off without thinking about you for days now; meaning he won’t be able to jerk off for days. Do you mean you’d hate knowing that Peter thinks about you sexually or do you just mean that there’s no pressure with Peter? And that any other male friend would have asked for sex by now?

Peter knows he’s not a perv, but he doesn’t know if you’d say the same if you knew you were the protagonist of his spank bank. 

“Wait, actually, a friend told me they’re way cheaper if you buy them in-store and they’ll have more to choose from... will you go with me?” You ask him with a big fake pout.

“To a.. a sex shop?”

“I don’t want to go alone. And you’re my best friend.”

He can’t say no to you after you call him that, even if having a constant reminder of what you use to masturbate is going to kill him.

“O-okay. But why can’t you just go with your friend?”

“I’m not as comfortable around her as I am around you. Unless you really don’t want to.”

“No no I’ll go,” he nods and you grin.

“I’m sure they’ll have something for you too,” you say with raised eyebrows. And even though his hand and the thoughts about you make him cum hard and fast enough that he doesn’t feel like he needs a sex toy, your words help him feel a little less guilty. You telling him to go buy a sex toy suggests that you’re not grossed out when thinking of him masturbating, so maybe you’d understand that he’s got to do what he’s got to do sometimes, and you actually wouldn’t completely hate him if you found out what goes on in Peter’s mind when he jerks off.

“But we’re not going before we finish our assignment.”

“Deal,” you shake his hand with a laugh and join your friends downstairs to play the last few rounds of drinking games before you go home.

You’re good, but the other team is better. 

You didn’t really want to drink tonight and are only playing for fun but Peter likes following the rules so someone has to have the drinks. You assure him he doesn’t have to but Peter downs all the drinks for you and the ones for himself, relying on his enhanced abilities to drink them like water. He has one drink and then five more and when you two leave the party he realises he’s drunk.

You insist on taking him to your room to make sure he’s okay but Peter is a funny drunk so he doesn’t feel too bad. If he gets to sleep in your bed he could never feel bad, and knowing you you would never offer if you weren’t okay with it.

“I like when you take care of me,” Peter smiles at you when you tuck him into bed and he takes your hand in his, “And I like when we hold hands.”

“I like it too,” you kiss his forehead and Peter practically swoons. You were holding his hand the whole way back home from the party, like one of those people keeping a toddler on a leash and he’ll probably be embarrassed tomorrow morning but right now he’s just grateful for the constant affection.

You seem no bit annoyed that you have to deal with a drunk Peter, you’re just spending time with your best friend (he hasn’t stopped thinking about you calling him that) who happens to be drunk.

“Will you need a bucket?” You ask as you pull down your skirt and leave on your cropped shirt.

“A what?” He asks, heart beating harder as he stares at your half-naked form.

“Do you think you’ll throw up?” You ask.

“No, I’ll be fine.”

When you walk over to the bed Peter sees everything in slow motion. You stand next to the bed for a few seconds, tapping on your phone, and Peter admires your beautiful body while he can.

“You know how much I love your legs? They look so good,” he says, and he can’t tell if he’s embarrassingly drunk right now or not. He just knows that your legs are perfect. You’re perfect. And that’s something his sober self would wholeheartedly agree with.

You smile and turn off the lights, leaving the window open so Peter can get some fresh air but it also leaves enough light for Peter to admire your legs some more.

“Scoot over,” you tell him and get in bed with him.

“No, you don’t understand how incredible your legs are.” He gets one last glance at them before you pull the blanket over your body.

“Thank you, Peter,” you smile, and he sees by the crinkles next to your eyes that it’s genuine and maybe you don’t hate him looking at your body as much as he’s been worrying you would.

You talk a little more but minutes later the conversation consists more of yawning than talking and Peter sobers up when he realises he will be sleeping next to you. It’s his first time sleeping in a woman’s bed, and he’s glad it’s yours.

He’s taken naps next to you and there was that one time you slept next to each other on the sofa, but this is different. You’re alone in your room, right next to each other, in one bed, sharing one blanket. He can feel the warmth of your half-naked body and before he knows it your familiar presence calms him down enough to fall asleep quickly.

*

When Peter wakes up next to you the following morning, it takes a few moments for it to all come back to him.

He knows there’s no way you slept with each other, Peter was kinda drunk, neither of you have even confessed any feelings and you wouldn’t have a one night stand the first time you have sex. 

But when he gently lifts the blanket, making sure he doesn’t wake you up, he’s met with the sight of your lovely belly and heavenly thighs, and Peter thinks from the outside it could look like you had sex. 

Not that anyone is going to see, but two hormonal college students, both half-naked, waking up next to each other.. It screams something obvious and that thing is not that you two are merely friends.

The thought of it alone makes Peter flustered and he shifts uncomfortably. His eyes widen when he realises that his morning wood is pushed right against your ass. He pulls his hips back as quickly as he can, waking you up in the process.

You’re facing away from him, and the first thing you notice is your and Peter’s interlaced hands. His cheeks warm up as he notices them too. His arm is resting above your head on the pillow, fingers next to your face where they’re loosely intertwined with yours.

He doesn’t remember waking up in the night, so you must have somehow ended up holding hands in your sleep, both finding your way to the other even while unconscious.

You squeeze his hand and twist your body to look at Peter’s face. “Hi,” you mumble, smiling sleepily.

“Hi,” Peter says, opening his mouth minimally just in case he has bad morning breath.

Your eyes flit across his face with a look he can’t decipher. “Goodnight,” you say a few seconds later and you lie back down in your tired daze, pushing against Peter and pulling his arm over your waist.

“Wait,” you turn around again, “Are you okay? Got a hangover or anything?”

“I’m good, thanks. Go back to sleep,” he smiles, partially because he knows you still need rest but also because he wants you to go back to sleep so he can take care of himself. It’s becoming painful how hard he is.

“Okay. But stay, you’re warm.”

He most definitely is warm, he knows he’s blushing like crazy.

You pull the blanket further up your body and scoot back against Peter, and the way your ass pushes against his crotch nearly makes him moan. He doesn't know how you're not noticing what's going on.

He scoots his hips back as far as he can and waits a few minutes until you’ve drifted off to sleep again. He carefully removes himself from you and goes to your bathroom. You have a bathtub, big enough for both of you, he thinks, with a showerhead on the wall.

Before he can even bring himself to care about the temperature, Peter turns on the water and pulls his clothes off in a hurry, wrapping a hand around himself before he’s even really in the shower.

He leans a hand against the wall, resting his head against it as his other hand speeds up, jerking himself off while he thinks about you in the other room. You, so pretty, so caring, so sexy in just your underwear and a short shirt. You, not knowing that Peter is about to cum in your shower, so close to you, thinking about you.

The water is only barely louder than the sound his hand makes against his cock, and he bites his lip to stop any moans from coming out.

Peter cums when he hears the squeaking of your bed; you’re getting up, you could walk in any second. While he cums, Peter’s mind wanders to you on your knees, his dick sliding in and out of your mouth as you look up at him with your gorgeous eyes.

He washes his cum off the bathroom tiles on the wall and tries to wash the guilty feeling off himself.

Suddenly the door opens slightly, “Hey can I come in? I won’t look, I just wanna brush my teeth.”

Peter makes sure to slide the shower door to the side so it’s covering him and he tells you to come in.

He peeks out of the shower and you smile at him through the mirror. He catches your eyes drifting lower but you can barely even make out the outline of Peter’s body through the frosted glass. 

Peter casts his own glance at you and how you’re still not wearing anything but panties and that short shirt. You stretch your arms, still trying to shake the tired feeling, and your shirt lifts so that Peter can already see the flesh of your tits. But you stop stretching just before your top lifts over your nipples and he quickly turns to look at the wall in the shower instead.

He quickly washes himself using your shower gel, maybe he’ll smell just like you now.

You hand Peter a towel just at the right moment and he wraps it around himself before stepping out of the shower.

“Wait, leave it on,” you tell him.

In his still horny brain a scenario plays out where you said that a few moments earlier and joined Peter in the shower.

This time you don’t tell him if it’s okay for him to look while you’re changing so he diverts his gaze before you slip out of your clothes.

You squeal when you get in the shower, “Peter, why is it so cold? What’s wrong with you?” 

He must not have realised how cold it was, but once he got into the shower he only cared about coming, and he blocked everything else out. By the time he was washing his body, he must have become used to the temperature already and didn’t notice.

Peter brushes his teeth with his second toothbrush that he’s got in your bathroom and quickly goes into your bedroom so he won’t be in the same room as you while you’re naked and he’s only got a towel wrapped around him.

You come out dressed in the clothes you took into the bathroom with you.

“Sorry that I used your shower,” Peter says, sitting on your bed with nothing but your towel.

“You’re welcome here whenever and welcome to use whatever, you know that. But showering that cold should be a crime,” you smile at him, “Should I get you some clothes?”

You go to Peter’s room to get clothes for him and he changes into them in your bathroom.

“I know it’s the weekend but can we get that assignment done today? I wanna go buy my vibrator soon,” you pout.

Peter forgot all about that. How is he supposed to study with you if he knows you’ll go out together to buy a sex toy after?

But somehow he manages. Well, you realise you can do it mostly by yourself once you properly start and Peter is only there for moral support (even though he’s the one who needs moral support; he doesn’t know how much longer he can pretend that he doesn’t have feelings for you, pretend that he didn’t just jerk off while thinking of you and pretend that it–by far–wasn’t the first time.)

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask Peter as you’re both on your way to buy your stupid vibrator that Peter would love to replace.

He doesn’t know what you’re talking about but your worried look tells him he looks exactly as nervous from the outside as he feels. He’s never been to a sex shop. Are they going to ID you? Are you going to meet someone you know? Is it going to be all dingy?

Normally, you’re like an anchor to Peter, your presence can make him feel comfortable in situations that would usually make him panic. But in this situation, you’re making him even antsier. Not in a way that he would describe as anxious but more like a, he’s scared he’ll get a boner any second. That’s always a risk when he’s with you but that risk quadruples when you’re going to a sex shop to buy a vibrator for yourself.

You stop Peter in his tracks and stand in front of him to wipe his sweaty forehead with your sleeve, his heart beating even faster now. “You know you don’t have to come in if it makes you that nervous. But it’s just a shop.”

“What? Yeah I’m fine, pff, like so fine. I’m just hot,” Peter says, watching your eyes go to the thick winter coat Peter is wearing. You’re wearing one too. Even in his jacket, Peter could do with a bit more warmth.

“Here,” you unzip his jacket, and even if it’s only to assist Peter with his stupid lie, you’re still undressing him. You’re not helping the boner risk decrease at all.

The shop is classy and clean and the employees leave you alone (unlike when you dragged Peter to Lush that one time and he was forced to try out bath bombs and oil that he didn’t know the purpose of).

Now he can tell you’re flustered too, just a little bit. Holding on to Peter’s arm the whole time, you find what you need, pay, and put your gloves on top of the packaged vibrator just in case anyone decides to look in your bag.

Even though it’s a Saturday afternoon, the shops aren’t busy so you go to look for some new clothes. Peter thinks you could wear a potato sack and you’d still look pretty, so he’s not the best judge when you come out of the dressing rooms to ask for his opinion on whatever clothes you’re trying on.

“This is so ugly, oh my god,” he hears you from inside the dressing room, laughing.

You pop your head out behind the curtain to make sure no one sees you as you show Peter a top that, yes–even on you, looks ugly. You still look gorgeous, that’s for sure, but even your perfect face and body can’t save the Shrek-coloured thing that is supposed to be a t-shirt.

“You know, you’re the only one who’s allowed to see me in something as ugly as this,” you say absentmindedly as you go back to try on something else and Peter’s heart beats faster at your words.

It might sound ridiculous to an outsider, but to Peter these little things mean the world.

He might not be able to tell if what you feel for him is platonic or more, but he knows you feel something for him. You feel a lot for him. He feels it every time you so much as look at him. 

With you, Peter feels loved.

The love you give him feels like it’s supposed to be for a lover, supposed to be for that one special person. And the lines between friendship and more are so blurry in your relationship that he can’t tell how much is spilling onto the romantic side already.

Peter contemplates paying for your new jeans but in the end, he’s too awkward (and too broke) in front of the cashier to interrupt when you get out your money. Besides things like cinema tickets, drinks and food, Peter has never paid for anything that you bought and it would feel very boyfriend-y.

You get food on your way home and by the time you’re in Peter’s room, it’s dark outside already. Peter was surprised that you even came to his room and when he keeps noticing you looking at the bag with your new toy in it, his assumption that you’d rather be doing something else now is confirmed.

You’ve been so casual when you talk about things like vibrators and getting off, but Peter has never had the courage to properly contribute anything to the conversation. But he decides to put on his big boy pants and before he can chicken out he nods towards his door and says, “Go on, try out your vibrator. I know you’re dying to.”

You give him a charming and apologetic smile, snatching your bag, ready to go. “I’d love to spend time with you, you know that but–”

“I know. But we have enough time for that tomorrow. Just don’t break your–” Don’t break what? Don’t break your pussy? Your clit? He’s never said any of those words out loud.

“I won’t,” you help him out and climb on the bed again to kiss his cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Pancakes as always?”

“Pancakes as always,” Peter smiles, feeling himself blush, “Text me your review of the toy,” he says before you leave.

“I will,” you smile back at him, wave, and close the door.

Peter waits a few moments until he thinks you’ve arrived at your door. Are you going to throw yourself on your bed as soon as you get in? Shower first? Are you going to slowly take off all your clothes, caress your body to turn yourself on? Seduce yourself? Or are you going to push your pants down just a few inches and shove the vibrator between your legs?

Whatever you’re doing, thinking of any of those scenarios makes Peter hard immediately; that, and the tension from today that he can finally release.

He moves to the side of the bed that you were just lying on, and the sheets still smell like you.

Peter unbuckles his belt and pushes down his jeans, grabbing himself through his boxers and instantly feeling a sense of relief.

He imagines you lying in your bed, right now, two fingers between your legs. You’re so wet from being with Peter, the guy you’re into, all day, that your fingertips easily glide over your skin.

Peter shifts and runs his thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the precum. The warm, familiar pressure is already building up in Peter’s body, and he slides his fist up and down himself faster.

In Peter’s mind, you’re spreading your lips now, holding the vibrator against your clit. You jolt at the first contact and smile, knowing you’re about to feel nothing but bliss.

Your body relaxes and you let the vibration take over completely, chasing your orgasm that’s so close after only a minute. You throw your head back when you cum, your eyebrows scrunched together. Your legs start shaking once you can’t take it anymore, but you press the vibrator to your clit during the last few aftershocks.

Peter cums at the same time as you do in his imagination. He’s spilling over his abs and his hands, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

He lies in his bed for a few more moments, sighing as he cleans up the mess he just made. He gets a message from you: Had a nice day btw :) Can’t wait to see you again tomorrow <3

He smiles and texts back, too exhausted to feel bad for what he just did.

Tomorrow will be the third day in a row that you’re spending time together and you’re showing no signs of getting tired of him. But at this rate, it seems like Peter will never know what being with you while you orgasm is actually like.

He can be patient, but he doesn’t know if he’s waiting for something that will never happen. 

He doesn’t even care about the sex, he just wants to hold your hand and know what it means, know that it means that you’re in a romantic relationship.

He’ll give you all the time you need, that’s all he can do. He simply can’t confess his feelings, he can plan on doing it and dream about it as much as he wants, but when he’s standing in front of you he can’t risk losing you.

Maybe one day he’ll be brave enough, and who knows, maybe you’re thinking the exact same thing right now, trying to be brave but you just can’t.

Maybe.

*

Peter knocks at your door the next day, ready to get pancakes like you always do on Sundays. There’s a lot of commotion behind the door and you take a while to open it.

“You’re early,” you say, hair messy and overall dishevelled.

“Am I? I don’t mind waiting,” Peter says.

“I’ve just quickly got to shower, you can go back to your room or wait here, whichever you want.”

“No problem, I’ll just wait here.” Peter feels as if that’s the wrong answer because you don’t exactly look thrilled that he’ll be in your room, but you still let him in with a small smile. He knows that you can’t be mad at him and by the time Peter’s on your bed and you're about to go to the bathroom, you’re giving him a genuine smile and say you won’t be long.

Peter gets out his phone as he hears you turning on the water and he drops to his back on your bed.

Just as he’s about to go on Instagram, he hears a quiet, mechanical whirring. He wouldn’t be able to pick up on it without his enhanced hearing.

He hears how you smack your hand over your mouth, but you’re not quick enough. Peter still heard a tiny moan.

So that’s why you didn’t want Peter coming in. You’ve probably been making yourself cum all night and you weren’t finished with the last round.

Peter sits up and tries to stick his fingers in his ears, but even if he can’t hear you anymore he’s still got the vivid image of you in his head, only a wall separating you two.

He stands up and looks for something to distract himself before he gets hard, but to make things even worse, Peter’s eyes land on a pair of panties next to your bed.

He feels like a perv as he picks them up. He can see your arousal still glistening in them, and it’s like they’re calling out Peter’s name.

He’s about to lift them to his face when he hears you turning off the water. Peter stuffs the panties into his jeans pocket quickly and out of reflex. He stiffly sits on your bed, unsure if he still has enough time to pull your underwear out of his pocket again and throw it under your bed. 

He’s too nervous to hear what you’re doing, his ears ringing, and before he can bring himself to quickly put your underwear back, you’re coming out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go.

With your innocent rambling about college he manages to calm down but you and your stupid vibrator are still on his mind. But it’s a good thing that you two can talk about stuff like that, so maybe he’ll get his mind off it once he asks you about it.

“So, is it good?” He asks you as you slide into the booth at the place you always go to for pancakes.

“Is what good?”

“Your, your vibrator thing? You didn’t send me a review,” he says.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” you laugh, “It’s so good, oh my god. I’m so glad we don’t have roommates here cause I did it like six times last night. I get why people pay so much for it. I mean it’s supposed to simulate oral sex and I can’t imagine that it feels the same but I guess I’ll find out one day.”

“You always have me if you want to find out how it feels.”

He can only gather the courage to say that because of what you once said about sucking his dick for practice so you could suck Andrew’s dick for a better score. The only difference is that you turned out to be joking, but Peter is serious.

He probably sounds too serious too because you give him a questioning, “Huh?”

“Well- well I’m just saying if you wanna compare your toy to oral sex then I... you know... my tongue is available to you,” he says it exactly how it comes to his mind, unsure if he should make it sound more like a joke.

You laugh, declaring it a joke yourself, “Okay, thanks. You’re so cute.”

It’s not ideal but the fact that you’re not running away from him and gagging shows him that at least the thought of Peter going down on you doesn’t disgust you. The fact that you made a joke about going down on him first, even if that was weeks ago, gives Peter a tiny bit of hope that maybe his instinct has been right all this time. Maybe you do like him back and you just need a bit more time.

“Um, I heard that next week there’s going to be loads of shooting stars. I was thinking we could drive out of the city and go stargazing. I already asked James and he said we can take his car–the truck, it’s big enough for us to lie down in while we look at the sky, it’s going to be warmer next week too and–”

“I’d love to,” you grin.

He mirrors your smile immediately because it actually took a lot of convincing for Peter’s friend James to let Peter have his car. And more importantly, looking at the stars sounds very romantic. He wasn't sure if he should invite you to something so obviously romantic.

What if it makes you realise that Peter likes you and you distance yourself from him because you don’t feel the same?

What if you do feel the same, but you need your time and it’s too early for a date-like activity?

But what if... what if it’s just the right thing?

You hold hands, you’ve slept in a bed together, so Peter doubts you will be freaked out by stargazing. But Peter can already feel the butterflies just thinking about lying under the night sky with you, and what if you don’t?

But maybe Peter is ready for the risk after all. He’ll see if you’re enjoying yourself, try to see in your beautiful eyes if you’re as smitten as him. He's realised that he’ll have to try one day and now that you’ve agreed to his plan, it feels like this is the right timing, the right thing. Maybe he’ll even ask you how you feel, or make a comment about how romantic the situation is.

And if you and Peter belong together, then maybe it’s time for you. He certainly feels that he’s ready. He’s not expecting a kiss, he’s not expecting anything except the tiniest hint that a romantic night with Peter doesn’t leave you cold. That would be more than enough to keep him going for so many more months to come.

He can wait if you need time but he’s just one man and his passion for you burns so brightly inside him that he just needs something, no matter how small it is.

You two walk home, your bellies filled with pancakes and warmth from seeing your person. No matter if it’s platonic or romantic, Peter would be blind if he didn’t see that he makes you happy and how much you glow and grin and his presence. 

You hang out on campus for a bit more but you tell him you still need to study and you’ll see him tomorrow (he tries not to think about how you’re probably lying and are simply going to use your vibrator over and over).

Peter changes into sweats once he gets to his room and as he’s putting his jeans away he notices something pink peeking out of the pocket. Your panties. He completely forgot about them.

He carefully pulls them out, holding them like they’re a sacred treasure.

Making himself comfortable on his bed, he takes a deep breath before bringing your underwear up to his face.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting your arousal to smell like, not like this, but it’s even better. 

It smells heavenly, just like everything else about you.

He bunches your panties up in his hand and presses them against his face, inhaling your scent while he reaches a hand under his sweatpants and strokes himself. 

He’s been hard since he remembered he had your panties and he doesn’t even think about you making yourself wet, your smell alone has him coming undone within seconds.

He does it again before going to bed, this time wrapping the panties around his hand so he’s jerking himself off with them. He bites his t-shirt in an attempt to muffle his moans as the material slides up and down his cock.

He fucks his fist as hard and as fast as he can, his bed starting to squeak from the intensity of it.

Your wetness on your panties has long dried but the thought of your arousal so close to his dick has him–once again–reaching his orgasm pathetically fast. He sighs after he cums, examining the panties to make sure he pulled them away in time and there’s none of his cum on them.

He wants to save them for another time; as many times as they’ll still have your addicting smell on them.

He cleans the mess off himself, his cum ending up in a tissue that he throws into the trash can with all the other tissues. He’ll empty it before you come over the next time.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ:*:･｡

You’ve been driving for half an hour now, the city nothing but a few lights in the rearview mirror. 

You find a spot next to a field, not a soul to be seen anywhere near you. You get the blankets and snacks to make yourselves comfortable in the back of James’s pickup truck that Peter borrowed.

“Look,” you point towards the sky, but Peter misses the shooting star. He goes back to looking at your beautiful face, only to find your eyes already on him.

He feels your hand on the side of his face, pushing his head to face the sky again, “Look at the stars, not at me,” you say and he can hear the grin in your voice. You’re enjoying yourself, and that’s all that matters. You want him to enjoy himself too, not knowing that your face is so much more interesting to look at.

After a few moments of staring into the brightly lit sky–it never looks like this in the polluted city–he has to admit, the night sky isn’t bad either.

It only takes a few seconds until another shooting star races across the sky and you share an excited look, “Did you see that?” You ask.

“You’re supposed to make a wish,” Peter whispers, eyes closed as he wishes for a relationship with you.

You’re still looking at him when he opens his eyes, your gaze intense, eyes flitting across his face.

“Did you make a wish?” Peter asks. You nod and slowly divert your gaze towards the masterpiece of nature above you again.

He can’t shake the feeling that your wish also had something to do with him. Something romantic. He always overthinks and doubts himself but this is one thing he’s sure about.

But the moment is fleeting and Peter doesn’t find the words to say. You’re back to looking at the stars, and he doesn’t want to have to grab your face to kiss you.

He swallows down the disappointment and tries to enjoy the time with you, his dear friend. Not many people have a friendship like yours and at this moment he just tries to be grateful for that.

“Peter?” Your voice is quiet.

“Mhm?”

“I’m so glad we met,” you turn to your side, your whole body facing him now. He can hear the raw emotion in your voice, he thinks he can even see tears in your eyes. That’s what your shared love does to Peter too. He could cry just thinking about it.

“Me too,” he says, reaching for your hand, trying to bring the monstrosity of his feelings into words to let you know that nothing has made him as happy as meeting you, but the words won’t come out. 

“Our friendship means so much to me,” you say, and it stings. In this romantic moment, cuddled up beneath the stars, is that all Peter will ever be to you? A friend?

You continue, “I‘m sorry if I ruin it with what I‘m about to do.”

“What–”

You lean in and kiss Peter.

The world stops. Nothing matters, nothing but your lips on Peter’s. He always thought he’d be overcome with great excitement when you first kiss, an explosion of fireworks in his mind and his insides, but he feels at peace. It simply feels right.

“Did I just ruin our friendship?” You whisper, and it’s then that Peter realises that he barely kissed you back. He was too stunned to.

He puts his hands on your face and pulls you in, pressing his lips against yours over and over.

“You didn’t ruin our friendship, you turned it into something better, so much better. And you know that our friendship is hard to beat,” Peter says.

You let out a laugh of joy, “It is,” and you kiss him again, slinging your arms around his neck to pull him as close as you can.

Your lips are soft, so so soft, and even in the cold night, Peter feels warm because he has your body against his.

“Could you maybe uh… slap me?” Peter asks.

“Um, what?”

“Just so I know I’m not dreaming. Please.”

You pinch his cheek instead and you both smile. Peter’s not waking up. He’s already awake. It’s not a dream, this is actually happening.

The fireworks come after all, an explosion of happiness shooting through his chest when he realises that this is real.

He hugs you tight, as tight as he can without breaking you.

Peter’s heart drops when you pull away and tears stain your cheeks, “What-what’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing, nothing,” you put a hand on his chest, “I’m just so happy.” Your voice breaks as more tears rush down your face but your eyes are full of happiness.

Tonight, Peter was hoping for a hint that maybe in the future you see something more than friendship between you two too. What he got was all of you. A confession of your feelings, a raw exposure of your deepest emotions, vulnerability. But you trust him. And he’s so glad you do. He’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy and safe and comfortable. 

He starts crying too, just a few tears, either because he’s seeing you cry or because it’s the first time in his life that he’s ecstatic enough to experience happy tears—he’s been waiting for this for so long, unsure if it would ever even happen. All the doubt from the last months tumbles away – none of it matters anymore. You kissed him. 

“I really want to blow my nose but I don’t want to leave you,” Peter sniffles.

You look at him, “Go blow your nose, Peter.”

“Okay.”

“I have some tissues in my bag.”

You keep your hand on Peter’s leg while he reaches for your bag and half a minute later you’re reunited again with you lying in Peter’s arms.

You drove all the way to look at the stars but you can’t keep your eyes off each other, never going more than a minute without kissing. It takes a few more minutes for you to pretend that the stars are more interesting than Peter, and you straddle him once you decide you can’t go any longer without being as close to him as possible.

Peter wraps his arms around your waist, enjoying your weight on him. The kisses turn from pecks into something more, but it’s soft and unhurried. You’re taking your time with Peter, savouring the feel of him while Peter takes it all, takes all you give him.

Your wet mouths on each other is the only sound far and wide; even mother nature is quiet as you kiss Peter in the back of this truck, out in the country with no one else around.

You shift, your lips never leaving Peter’s, and start grinding against him, slowly.

He squeezes your waist harder as it becomes difficult to control himself. The only thing stopping him from ruining his pants is the fact that you’re both wearing jeans, so you’re narrowly missing Peter’s hardness, doing what feels good for you.

You stop abruptly with horror in your eyes and Peter strokes your back, “Everything okay? Why’d you stop?”

You look down, a bashful smile on your lips, “I didn’t realise I was doing that.”

Peter stops himself from groaning. He’s getting more turned on with every passing second.

“You don’t have to stop on my behalf.”

After two seconds of contemplation, you kiss Peter again, adjusting your position. You both gasp into each other’s mouths when you’ve perfectly aligned your bodies, and they start moving perfectly in tune with one another.

“I’ve been dreaming of having you on top of me for so long,” Peter says, hands now on your hips, feeling your every movement.

“And I’ve wanted to be on top of you.. for so long,” you’re distracted, pushing yourself up with your hands on Peter’s chest, your voice faltering as you hold in a moan.

Peter feels incredible – everything you do makes him feel incredible. 

So incredible that he doesn’t know how he hasn’t cum yet, but he’s trying so hard not to.

He nearly moans when you grab his hoodie harder and you whimper, “I’m so close.”

One hand is at your jeans, trying to undo the buttons but you can’t, too lost in pleasure.

“Peter, unbutton my jeans,” you say–or rather whimper, “Please.”

And even though he’s on the brink of coming, nothing matters more than your orgasm right now, so he quickly fumbles with the buttons and opens them, your hand disappearing down your pants immediately.

Peter grabs the backs of your thighs as you cum on top of him, your face more gorgeous than he could have ever imagined, so pretty and so vulnerable just for him. He cums at the same time as you, trying to hide it but his hips push up against yours nevertheless.

You let yourself fall to Peter’s side, hiking your leg up over his lap. Peter puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“Did you uh..” you look up at him, half teasing him, half unsure if it even happened.

Peter drags a hand over his face, “Yeah… I.. came in my pants.”

“Oh,” you try not to laugh, “Sorry.”

He looks at you, “No, don’t apologise, that was one of the best moments of my life.”

You give him baby wipes from your bag while you pack the stuff and wait for him in the car. He reluctantly hands you the baby wipes when he gets in next to you, looking at your lap.

“What?” You ask.

“I’ve known how you smell for nearly a week now and I don’t know how much longer I can go without having a taste of you.” He’s thinking about your panties, safely stored in his room but they’ve lost even the last traces of your smell.

You follow Peter’s eyes towards your crotch and figure out what he’s talking about, “How… how do you know how I smell?” 

Shit. 

He forgot that you’re not supposed to know that. 

But maybe, subconsciously, he said it on purpose so he can get any secrets out before you two get serious. Or maybe he’s just a dumbass, but he’s trying to look at the bright side. He’s not capable of any negative feelings when you just kissed him.

“Peter?” You ask. You don’t sound mad, you’re just curious.

“I uh, I took a pair of underwear from your room,” he starts.

“The pink ones? I’ve been looking for them.”

“Yeah, they’re pink. And it was the day after you got that clit sucking toy thing so I kept imagining you using it and then the smell made it so much more real…” he says, head hanging low in shame. You still don’t sound mad or grossed out but you haven’t heard all of it yet.

“Go on.”

“I used your underwear to um… jerk off,” he doesn’t meet your eyes until he hears your next words.

“That’s kind of hot,” you bury a hand in his hair, looking at him like you want to eat him up.

“R-really? You’re not mad?”

You shake your head and lean over to kiss him and Peter feels his blush up to his ears.

“I do want my panties back though.”

He tells you you’ll get them back and starts the engine to drive back.

“Wait,” you say, “Didn’t you want a taste?”

He immediately stops the car and leans over. 

“I- well, I didn’t get a chance to get that wet but..”

“I’ll take anything,” Peter pleads.

You kiss his nose and unbutton your jeans, your fingers disappearing beneath them. He hears the wetness and is hard at once. And that’s when you didn’t have a chance to get that wet? You pull two glistening fingers out and bring them in front of his lips.

His cheeks heat up when he leans forward to take them into his mouth. 

He moans at the taste. Sweet yet tangy. He wants to bury his face in you immediately; but you seem tired and he’ll have plenty of opportunities to do that another time.

Peter pulls you close and kisses you, he’s not that good with words so he hopes his tongue in your mouth tells him how much he wants you. It doesn’t have to be now, he just wants you to know.

“I like you.” It slips out of Peter’s mouth when you pull away from the kiss but his words make you connect your lips to his again.

“I like you too,” you smile, nearly laughing because it should probably have been obvious to Peter as soon as you kissed him. Leaning back in your seat in content, you look at Peter with those beautiful eyes of yours. 

Those four little words could make him cry happy tears again but he pulls himself together when you turn on one of your favourite songs and he turns away when you use the baby wipes. 

Before he drives you two home, a thought pops into Peter’s head; a thought that he’s had time and time again and he has to make sure that you know exactly how he likes you.

“But I um… I want you to know that I really do like you, as a person, romantically. I– of course I enjoyed what just happened–you have no idea just how much–”

“I think it was obvious how much you enjoyed it, Peter,” you interrupt him with a teasing smile that makes him blush and stutter for a few seconds before he continues.

“So, while, of course, I’m into you sexually, the emotional and romantic part is so much more important to me, and I need you to know that. But I’ve had so many sexual thoughts about you and, now that I’ve told you that I had your underwear and everything–”

“So you feel bad that you’ve had sexual thoughts about me?” You sum it up and Peter closes his mouth and nods.

“Well, don’t. Peter, in the last month I’ve spent every minute away from you with my fingers between my legs, imagining–wishing they were yours. I’m glad I was not the only one, it’s nice to hear that you’ve been as affected as I’ve been.”

“Are you sure? Because I remember that time when you said how all guys on campus just think with their dicks and how I’m different from them but I’m really not that different. If I’m not thinking about hugging you or thinking about your smile, then I’m always thinking about getting in your pants. And that is a lot of the time. And I’m sure that, even if you’ve thought about me in that way too, I’ve thought about you way more and I just need to know if you think I’m a perv or something.”

“Peter, hey,” you cup his cheek, “I don’t think that. And you don’t think with your dick. You just said you’ve wanted me for months and you didn’t even kiss me. You’re the opposite of those guys that have nothing but sex on their minds so that they can’t even think straight and ruin friendships with girls. You didn’t do that. You thought about my and your feelings and about our connection rather than getting in my pants.”

“But I did think a lot about getting into your pants,” he sighs.

“I thought about you getting into my pants too. That’s fine. That’s the beauty of liking someone, there’s not just the romantic side but also the sexual side. But you didn’t let the sexual side control you and you cared about my feelings first and foremost. Don’t feel bad for thinking about having sex with me, I’m glad you do. But you do so much more than that. You’re nothing like those guys.”

“I’m not like the other guys?” Peter laughs and then kisses you. (He still can’t believe he’s been kissing you all night). You shake your head, reassuring him.

Hearing you say that helps him immensely. He never felt bad about imagining what having sex with you would be like. It was the fact that it was without your knowledge and he had no idea if you’d be grossed and creeped out if you knew about it because you only saw him as a friend. He was scared of making you uncomfortable if you ever found out.

But you’ve found out now and you’re not just saying that it’s okay for him to think about that, but that you have thoughts about it too. (And now his thoughts are going to be even better, knowing that you might be thinking the same thing as him and his fantasies might turn into more than just fantasies).

The journey back has both of you smiling; what just happened still seems unreal, but every shared grin reminds Peter that it really did happen.

It breaks Peter’s heart when he delivers you back to your room, but he can tell you need sleep and he’s not exactly wide awake either. You kiss him like you mean it and you don’t pull away until you’re breathless.

When he gets to his room, Peter quickly puts your panties in his laundry basket so he won’t forget, and then he throws himself onto his bed and squeals loudly. He doesn’t care if anyone hears, he’s happy and he doesn’t mind if people know.

He gets a message from his next-door neighbour Brian:

Bro, you okay?

I heard a weird noise

He texts back: Y/n kissed me :)))))

Brian: About time, happy for you!

Peter considers going over to talk to his friend and tell him all about tonight. He’s tired but there’s no way he’ll sleep now anyway.

He then gets a phone call from you, and he picks up immediately.

“Peter?”

His face drops at your unsure voice. Did you change your mind?

“Yeah?”

“Did… did that really happen?” He thinks he can hear something positive in your voice but it’s hard to tell over the phone.

“It did.”

“Oh,” you say, “Good. I’m having a hard time believing it actually happened. I’ve been waiting for so long.”

He smiles again immediately, “Trust me, it hasn’t fully sunken in yet for me either.”

“Do you maybe wanna come over?” You ask, “I know it’s late but it’s the weekend so..”

He jumps to his feet and sets off instantly, “I don’t know why we didn’t think of that before.”

You giggle, “Me neither. I guess I was tired, but I’ll just be thinking about you all night anyway.”

You stay on the phone with him until he’s at your door, pulling him in for a kiss before he’s even in your room.

You push Peter onto the bed, lie on top of him, and hug him so tight that he can barely breathe. This would be the best way to go.

You’re both exhausted yet excited and interrupt each other with a kiss every few minutes while you’re talking about anything that comes to your mind.

“How long have you liked me?” You ask.

Peter smiles as he thinks back to the first time you met, “You made me nervous from the start because you’re so pretty, and then we talked about such personal things the first time we met. But I didn’t realise just how attracted to you I was until class a few days later when you were laughing about Professor Garfield’s jokes and talking about his ass.”

You pout and cup Peter’s cheek, “And then later I even made that joke about sucking his dick for a better score. Aw no, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs, “You just came on top of me and not him.”

You hide your face in his neck at the reminder that you just nearly had sex with Peter outside. His hand rubs over your back as if he’s not blushing at the thought of it.

“When did you start liking me?” He asks and you lift your head again.

“I thought you were cute the first time I saw you and then when we talked in the kitchen I knew I’d have to keep you because I immediately felt comfortable around you. And then… I don’t know. You just did your thing. And then my heart did its thing too.”

“I’m glad my charm worked on you.”

“It worked wonders,” you push yourself up on your hands and kiss Peter again, staying on top of him for a while until his lips feel sore.

“But regardless of this romantic… and sexual side,” you shyly smile at each other, “I meant what I said. Our friendship means a lot to me. And I’m glad we became friends before anything else.”

“Me too.”

He knows what you mean. Being friends allowed you two to get comfortable around each other first without any pressure to do things to make you attractive to the other person. Now you have a solid base of trust and you know each other; you don’t have to worry about only showing your best sides like other couples do in the beginning stages. You know each other inside out, (except for the fact that you’ve liked each other for a while — but that’s different), the good, the bad, the ugly – yet you’re still choosing each other. Happily so. 

You both lie on your sides, Peter’s hand reaching over to rest on your hip. He can’t help but smile the whole time.

“Were you planning to kiss me? Or was it spontaneous?”

“I’ve been thinking about how it would feel to kiss you for months now, but for some reason it never occurred to me to make the first move. I was pretty sure you like me but the time went on and you didn’t make a move and I got scared that I’d ruin our friendship if I totally misinterpreted everything and you didn’t like me back. 

“And I would have never forgiven myself for that. But when we were lying in the back of that truck, underneath the stars, I don’t know, it was so romantic and you were looking at me with so much adoration that there’s no way I wouldn’t have kissed you. My heart was leading me, I only gathered the courage because my body did what it knew I had to do, I was not in control at that moment, but I guess sometimes it’s good to give up control. But it was definitely spontaneous.”

Peter leans down so his face is right in front of your chest and he whispers, “Thank you, heart,” to which he hears your gorgeous laugh. Your whole body moves with your giggles, pushing your chest even closer to his face. It takes a second for him to get the willpower to pull his face away again.

You connect your lips to his a few more times, Peter’s heart fluttering with every passing second.

“Just so you know, I have liked you all this time, you were right. But I felt the same as you and you’re the most important person to me so I didn’t want to take even the slightest risk when it came to us. There were times when I thought our friendship would even survive me confessing my feelings and you not feeling the same, but by not telling you there was always the hope that you did like me. 

“But if I told you and you didn’t feel the same, even if our friendship survived, it wouldn’t have mattered because it would have broken my heart into a million pieces. And I couldn’t put myself through that-”

“I’d never do that. I’ll take good care of your heart, Peter.”

“I know you will.”

You share a small kiss, Peter intertwining your hands.

“Okay, looking back, I probably should have known that you like me as more than a friend. Your love for my legs gave it away, but at the time I didn’t realise-”

“How do you know that I love your legs?” Peter asks as he turns red, looking at your thighs and resisting the urge to put his hand on one of them.

“When you were drunk, you told me how much you love them. You were basically drooling because of them.”

“Oh.. I don’t remember that. But I do love them.”

“I know,” you smile as you place one of his hands on your thigh and he squeezes the flesh.

You lie next to each other for a while, breath evening out and Peter thinks you’ve fallen asleep until he hears your voice, “Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“I still can‘t believe that this is actually happening. It‘s like when you‘re at a concert and you don‘t realise that you‘re seeing your favourite artist live and in person, and afterwards you still haven’t realised, and you never really get how lucky you were.”

Peter turns to his side to face you, his tired brain taking a while to answer, but he’s satisfied with what he says, “But a concert only happens once, and we‘ll be together forev— a long time. And longterm. We have plenty of time to realise that it‘s real. Maybe we‘ll realise if you kiss me again.”

You grin immediately and lean in to connect your mouth to Peter’s.

He understands what you’re saying, he can’t quite believe it either. It’s been too long for it to be a dream, he knows that it’s real, but it’ll take a few days for him to realise that he really is the luckiest person on earth. 

He’s grateful that you two have something so beautiful that it nearly feels impossible.

You touch each other for a bit, not sexually, you’re just touching each other’s skin, realising more and more that this is reality.

You lazily make out for a few more minutes until Peter drifts off into the most peaceful sleep he’s ever had, with you in his arms.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ:*:･｡ 

It’s been a few weeks since that one eventful night and you’re spending even more time with each other than before. Making out with you has become Peter’s new hobby.

He loves that you’re experiencing all your sexual firsts together. You haven’t actually done anything more than kiss since the night under the stars, and he’s more than happy to be patient if you need it but he’s looking forward to more.

“Is it okay if we don’t go all the way yet?” You ask him while you’re both hydrating and eating fruit between makeout sessions, “I definitely want to soon, but maybe not… not yet.”

Peter pulls you on top of his lap and holds you, “We established that the very first time we met, didn’t we? Of course it’s okay if we wait.”

“Okay,” you kiss him, “I don’t mean that we can’t do anything though.”

Peter licks his lips when he realises you’re planning something. You push Peter’s chest so he lies on his back and you slot your hips over his. His eyes flutter shut when he feels your mouth on the special spot on his neck and you slowly start grinding on him.

He grabs your hips and opens his eyes again when you stop kissing him to focus on that sweet place between your legs rubbing against Peter.

You stop when your eyes meet, “You have to close your eyes.”

“I wanna see you though.”

“It’s different from the first time, we’re not out during the night. And the position’s uncomfortable.”

“Then let’s change it.”

He’s already hard and if you continue like that he won’t take much longer; but your pleasure is more important to him so he pulls his sweat shorts further up his leg and lifts you onto his thigh. 

Your eyes go down and you realise what he wants you to do, “But you–”

“Shh, this is about you right now, okay? And I’ll cum as soon as you do anyway so don’t worry about me. This okay?”

He sees how his words give you confidence and you nod, letting yourself fully sit down on his thigh. Peter knew he liked your pretty skirt for more than aesthetic reasons because the only thing between your warm pussy and Peter’s skin is your underwear. He could cum from the feeling of your wet heat through your panties alone, but he tries to focus on making you breathless with his kisses once you wrap your arms around his neck and pull his face close.

He holds you as you rock yourself on his thigh, becoming surer in your movements after a while, finding what feels best for you. Peter instinctively flexes the muscles in his thigh when you change your position slightly, and your little gasp tells him to continue doing it.

Your wetness slowly but surely drenches your panties and reaches Peter’s skin. You grab his shirt hard and bury your other hand in his hair, pulling. Peter tries bouncing his leg up and down and is rewarded with the sweetest moan coming from your mouth, followed by a gasp and a whispered: “I’m gonna cum.”

Your legs get weaker while you’re coming but, through his own approaching orgasm, Peter pushes your hips in whatever direction you want them to go and together you try to savour your highs for as long as possible. 

Out of breath, you’re still holding onto Peter tightly. As your hand in his hair slowly lets go, you press a kiss to his head, your hand on his shirt easing too as you smooth down the material.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” You ask carefully but Peter shakes his head and purses his lips for you to give him a kiss, and you smile when you do.

“Oh, wait did you really cum?” You’re glancing down at the wet spot on his pants but your eyes widen when you get off him and realise how much you leaked onto his thigh yourself.

“I don’t know how I couldn’t cum when I have the prettiest, sexiest woman in the world having an orgasm on my lap.”

You lean your head against his shoulder, hiding your face from him while your cheeks heat up. You get off him and he goes to the bathroom to clean up.

You’re absentmindedly biting your lip when Peter comes back and he pulls you out of your daydream with a kiss.

“Do you wanna eat my pussy?”

Peter freezes for a second and then jumps onto the bed. You laugh, “Wait, I need a break first.”

“Okay,” he sits down next to you and swallows. He’s hard already just from the thought of going down on you. He couldn’t be happier that you want him to do it, he’s had daydreams (well, he’s mostly thought about it during nighttime) about it so many times.

“Do you want me to give you a massage?” He asks. It’s something you’ve done for him countless times and he doesn’t return the favour as often as he’d want to because your massages are heavenly and he can barely get up after.

“Yes please,” you lie down on your stomach, “But don’t stand on me.” You both chuckle.

Your massages consist of kneeling or standing on Peter’s back. It sounds painful but to him it’s the best thing he’s ever felt. He doesn’t just like your weight on his lap, he likes you on top of him in various scenarios.

He’s kneading your shoulders for about a minute when you suddenly sit up, “Okay, the break is over, can you eat me out now?”

A smile spreads over Peter’s face and you kiss him, a similar expression on your lips.

You get comfortable on your back and pull your shirt over your head and slip out of your skirt.

Peter sits between your legs, speechless, thumb rubbing over the large wet spot on your panties. You gasp when he touches you there but Peter can’t continue before showing you how much he loves your tits first. They're perfect.

He kisses his way up your stomach, inching further up until your nipple is in his mouth and your hand goes into his hair. He gets lost in the feeling of one of your boobs in his hand and the other one against his tongue until you push his head away.

He worries he’s hurt you but you whimper and spread your legs, pulling them up against your chest, “Please,” is all you can manage to say. Peter’s hands wander down your sides and between your legs, his fingers gliding over your panties.

Peter drags your underwear down your legs slowly, a string of your arousal staying connected to your panties momentarily. He licks his lips and kneels in front of the bed, pulling you to the edge of the mattress.

With your legs on his shoulders, Peter kisses your clit once, watching as your eyes flutter shut. He’s forgetting that this is your first time too, so your expectations probably aren’t too high. And you’re wet from your earlier orgasm and it seems to be doing wonders for you; you already start arching your back when Peter licks up and down your clit a few times.

He savours the taste of you on his tongue, sweeter than anything he’s ever tasted, and knowing that he’s tasting you because you’re wet for him makes things even better.

As he plays with your clit, his tongue in your pussy, he puts a hand on your stomach. It’s just because he doesn’t know where else to put his hand, but you grab some of his fingers, holding his hand and Peter’s convinced his eyes must be shaped like hearts right now. He’s always loved holding hands with you.

He makes out with your pussy, your juices all over his mouth, and he starts sucking your clit.

“Peter..” your voice comes out as a whimper and you grip his hand harder. You arch further into him and your eyes squeeze shut, and Peter can tell you’re coming – on his tongue, with his face between your legs, just like he’s imagined so many times but it’s so much better than what he ever could have wished for.

He only pulls his mouth away from you slowly, not wanting the moment to end. You don’t let go of his hand, instead using your intertwined fingers to pull him up so Peter can kiss you. 

You hug him like you never want to let him go again and Peter gladly complies. He wraps his arms around you and lies on top of you for as long as you’ll have him.

“I’m too tired to return the favour,” you say after a while.

“That’s okay. I just wanted to make you feel good.” 

He’s glad you said it because then you won’t need to find out that he came in his pants ages ago, yet again, and you don’t need to be reminded of what a loser your boyfriend can be and how you’re the opposite.

Peter lifts his head so you’re looking at each other, and you cup his cheeks to kiss him on the lips a few times.

“I’m getting cold,” you say.

“I’ll keep you warm.”

You smile and kiss his forehead, “I should get dressed. And I need to pee. But you can cuddle me again after.” Peter gets up and scoops you up in his arms, earning a squeal from you.

He carries you to the bathroom and even though he’s completely dressed and you’re naked and vulnerable, he can tell you’re content and comfortable by the way you drop your head to his shoulder and let him hold you.

You’re in the bathroom while gets the clothes you asked him to get from your room, but he changes first so he’s not walking around the student accommodation with a mess in his pants.

You’re sitting on the bed in all your naked glory when he gets back. He stares for a second, smiling softly as he realises how lucky he is to get to see you like this, that he’s the only one in the world who does and that you want him to see you like this.

It’s later in the night and you’re in bed, you sitting on top of Peter, kissing him. It’s not sexual; you’re enjoying each other’s company, touching each other, locking lips over and over and over. Peter couldn’t be happier. There’s a smile on his face the whole time.

“I like kissing you. Like a lot,” you say.

“I love kissing you.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna be my boy—”

“Girlfriend? Do you wanna be my girlfriend?” He interrupts you, somewhat surprised.

You grin and throw your arms around him, “Yes.”

“Sorry, I wanted to say it. After you made the first move I wanted to do this.”

“Everything okay?” You ask, realising he’s not telling you everything simply by looking at him.

“Well I don’t know, I kind of thought we were together already,” he says and your face softens.

“Oh. I mean we may as well have been. But we never properly talked about it. And just now I realised how sad I was that I couldn't officially call you my boyfriend, so I wanted to make sure that I could.”

“You’re right, now we have talked about it. And now it’s official. The most beautiful woman in the world is officially my girlfriend,” he beams as he cups your cheek and kisses you again. 

You lie down next to him, his arm around you as you cuddle into his side.

After a few moments of looking at Peter, you start giggling, as if you just remembered something funny or embarrassing about him.

“What?” He asks.

“Nothing just, I’m so into you, and you really weren’t sure if I liked you? I know we‘ve talked about how we were both too scared to ruin the friendship but we were both idiots. 

“I mean, I tried to give you the boldest, most obvious signs. I kept holding your hand, talked about me getting off. I changed in front of you, slept next to you half-naked? Peter, I said I’d suck your dick.”

“Yeah but it was only in relation to you sucking professor Garfield’s dick for a better mark.”

“Knowing me, do you think I’d really suck a professor’s dick to get a better score?”

He shrugs, “Well, not when you say it like that, no. But we didn’t know each other that well yet. And hearing the girl you like say she’ll suck another guy’s dick isn’t nice regardless of if she’s being serious or not.”

You pout and cup his face, kissing him a few times, “I only want your dick, promise.”

“And my dick only wants you,” he says, earning a small laugh from you.

“But seriously, I contemplated peeing while you were in the bathroom with me at that party. If there was an obvious sign that I liked you, it would be that,” you joke.

“Just so you know, you can pee in front of me. And as long as you’re okay with that, I’d also feel comfortable peeing in front of you.”

You scrunch up your face, “We’ll avoid it if we can.” You both laugh but you know it would be no big deal and you’d be comfortable with it. It sounds like a weird thing to bond over, but Peter thinks it’s sweet.

“Anyway, I know I brought it up but can we stop talking about peeing so you can go down on me again?”

Peter’s eyes light up, “Yes, yesyesyes,” and he starts kissing down your body.

*

“So,” Peter asks you a few days later, “You know how you said your sex toy is supposed to feel like oral sex? So who’s better? Me or the vibrator?”

You give him an exaggerated pout and scoot closer to him on the bed, ”Don’t make me hurt your feelings.”

You’ve just come back from a date Peter planned. You got take-out from your favourite restaurant and ate it next to the river that goes through the city. You walked for hours, holding hands, talking, getting ice cream and just being with each other.

While Peter loves going out with you, he’s not sure if anything can beat spending time alone with you, in your bed, utterly comfortable and being nothing but yourself. Not to mention that you two can have sex whenever you want to.

“I don’t mind if you say it’s the vibrator, I mean it’s made for making you feel good and I’m just some guy,” Peter says, “It’s literally called a clit-sucker.”

“Sex with you is better but if you’re comparing the toy with you sucking my clit, then the vibrator is better, yes,” you move to his lap and put your arms on his shoulders, linking your hands behind his head.

“Can I use it on you?”

You bite your lip when he says it, “There’s not much you can do, you just hold it against my clit.”

“I’d love to do that.”

You grin and start kissing him.

He flips you around so you’re under him. He slowly takes off all your clothes and you pull off his shirt. He can’t resist getting a taste of you before he starts, humming as he begins eating you out, tongue in your pussy and his thumb on your clit.

You whine when he stops but you both remember that you wanted to use your toy. He kisses his way up your body, your arousal on his lips.

“You’re so hot, I don’t know if I deserve you,” he whispers into your skin as he’s kissing your belly. You tug him up to you to kiss him with such intensity that tells him he deserves you, all of you. You’re made for each other. And you feel it too.

You reach into your bedside drawer and pull out your vibrator. Peter smiles as he spreads your legs and lies down between them.

“Like this?” He turns it on and you adjust the setting, lying back when Peter presses a kiss on your clit and places the toy on your pussy.

You put your hand over his, shifting it so it’s in the perfect place. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and rests his cheek against your other thigh, occasionally kissing the skin there. He brings his arm over your body, smoothing his hand over your tummy and grabbing one of your tits, playing with your nipple.

Your hands absentmindedly find his hair, burying your fingers in it as he tells you how pretty you are and how he wants you to cum.

You glance at Peter between your legs, smiling and laying your head back down on the pillow. A few moments later he notices your breathing changing and how your hips slightly buck up.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan, your back arching, and Peter puts his hand over your lower belly to keep you down. Your hand tightens in his hair as frantic breaths and strangled sounds leave your mouth, not able to form any coherent sentence.

After a few seconds, Peter wants to pull the toy away, thinking you’re done, but you hold his hand in place until your legs shake and he feels your belly convulsing under his hand. You’re coming until your head drops to the side and you let go of both his hair and his hand so he pulls away the vibrator.

“Oh–God. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. Sorry if I hurt you,” your hand goes through his hair once more but he kisses your hand instead, “Don’t worry.”

You let your head fall back, your eyes not leaving Peter. The way you’re looking at him is nearly enough to make him cum right then and there, but he takes your hand and kisses you instead.

You wrap your legs around Peter’s waist and pull him as close as you can, “Can we go all the way? I feel so empty, I need you inside of me.”

Peter gulps at your words, pulling his hips away from yours so he doesn’t finish before you’ve even started. “Are you sure? Last week you said you wanted to wait.”

“Yeah, I am. I thought it would take me longer to be comfortable around you when I’m naked but I feel so good, and I like being naked in front of you. I like how you look at me and how it makes me feel,” you smile softly and kiss him.

“I like having you naked in front of me too.”

“I know, that’s why I’m so comfortable. And the fact that I want this so quickly shows me that it’s the right thing and also I just really really need you inside of me.”

“Oh my god,” he whispers, closing his eyes to refocus, “I have to get the condoms.”

“Make sure to hide this first,” your hands go to the front of his sweatpants and he playfully narrows his eyes at you because you know exactly that what you’re doing is not helping his situation.

After another kiss from you, he manages to pull himself away from you and hides his hardness as well as he can. He slips back into his shirt and runs to his room to get the condoms you two bought the other week just so you’d have them.

When he comes back you already have your fingers between your legs, “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t apologise, baby,” Peter says before taking off his clothes in record time and joining you on the bed. 

You make out for a few minutes, forgetting everything else. His fingers wander to your pussy, playing with your clit until you can’t keep kissing him anymore, distracted by the pleasure.

He slips one finger into your pussy first, then two.

“Peter, it’s not enough,” you moan with a desperation in your voice that makes him even harder which, up to this point, felt impossible.

“‘M just checking you can take it, get you used to having something inside of you.”

You sigh into his mouth and give him the dirtiest kiss you ever have. “Just so you know.. I don’t know how long I’m gonna last,” he warns you, afraid of disappointing you.

“I don’t care, I just need you right now.”

“What if I cum immediately once I’m in you?”

You hold his face in your hands, “Fuck, Pete, that’s so hot. I want you to cum inside of me.”

“Don’t say that because I will.”

“Please, please, I’m ready,” you whisper.

“Wait, you mean with a condom right?”

You laugh and nod, kissing him on the nose.

“Okay, just checking,” he says, putting on the condom. 

You hold on to his neck as he lines himself up with you, feeling how wet you are. He pushes into you slowly, making sure you’re okay once he’s inside of you completely, “You okay?”

“Yeah, it feels even bigger inside of me.”

He blushes at you calling his dick big and runs a hand down your cheek, “Should I pull out?”

“No, no. Just give me a second.” 

You both take deep breaths once Peter starts rubbing your clit – you because you’re relaxing, Peter because he’s about to cum if he doesn’t focus.

He has you coming around his dick quickly. You press your chest against Peter’s when your back arches from the pleasure and you kiss the side of his face when you’re coming down from the high.

“Lift me up,” you tell him and you end up pushing Peter down on the bed, straddling his lap.

You place your hands on either side of Peter’s head, leaving him with your tits right in his face. You tell him to fuck you and with his hands on your hips, Peter slowly thrusts into you from below.

Your pussy squeezes him so tight, and you’re so warm, “Fuck, you feel so so good,” he groans. 

You start bouncing on him, meeting his thrusts halfway, now more used to him inside of you.

He closes his eyes, trying to think of something else but your quiet moans and your earlier words about wanting him to cum in you make him orgasm after a few more seconds.

He fucks you until he’s too exhausted to move and you grin down at him, both of you lying down to cuddle. 

You don’t say anything for a few minutes, both exhausted and content, only grinning at each other and occasionally giving the other a lazy kiss before you sit up on him again, your nipples right in front of his mouth.

He takes the opportunity to run his tongue around one, but you lean back, dazed, “No, no, you’ll make me horny again,” you smile, “And I don’t think I can take another orgasm right now.”

He kisses your sternum instead and picks you up in his arms so you can take a shower together.

Peter washes your body for you, taking his time to massage every part of you for a few seconds. He wants to spoil and pamper you and take as much work off your hands as he can. He knows you’d do the same for him.

Once you’re both clean, you stand under the water for a while, Peter’s arms around your waist, your back pulled to his chest. Your breathing is calm and your eyes are closed, completely relaxed against Peter.

“I came in here once,” Peter interrupts the silence.

You slowly open your eyes and turn around to face him, a smile making its way onto your face before it turns into a laugh, “What?”

“It was after that night when I got really drunk. I woke up with this perfect ass right against my crotch,” he squeezes one of your ass cheeks for emphasis. 

“You mean back when we were just friends?” You ask, pulling his arms around your body again, “That feels so long ago.”

“And at the same time like it was yesterday.” “Yeah,” you smile, “I probably would have helped you out if you’d asked.”

“Really?”

“I was already into you then and there’s no way I would have been able to–or wanted to–resist if I found out you were horny because of me. I was coming on my vibrator three times a day wishing it was you instead.”

Peter runs a hand over his face, remembering how scared he was that you’d never like him back, “I was wishing it was me too. I heard you that one time, when you were masturbating while I was waiting for you in there,” he nods his head towards the door to your room.

“You can’t blame me, you saw how that thing makes me cum,” you lean your head on his shoulder, hiding your embarrassment.

The moment you look down and see that Peter’s hard again, he stiffens even more.

“You’re getting harder from me looking at your dick?” You ask, licking your lips.

He nods, putting a hand around the back of your neck and gently pulling you towards him, kissing you to distract you from the blush creeping onto his cheeks.

While your teeth tug at Peter’s bottom lip, your hands smooth down his chest, over his faint happy trail and eventually you wrap your hand around his cock. He gasps at the first contact and opens his eyes, meeting your lust-filled gaze, “I can’t believe I haven’t done this before,” you say, starting to jerk him off with a slightly unsure look on your face.

“Is this okay?” You ask and Peter nods, “Show me how you do it,” you urge, lifting Peter’s hand to wrap it around your own.

With a firm grip, Peter guides your hand, “F-fuck,” is all he can manage to get out apart from a shaky breath. Your free hand runs across his chest, occasionally rubbing over his nipples, making him gasp. 

“I really need you to cum for me right now,” you whisper, looking down at your hand sliding up and down his dick. Your words make him groan and before he can prepare, waves of pleasure flow through him, his cum splashing all over your tummy. He can’t stop coming, especially not when you angle his cock further towards you, your belly now covered in him.

“Fuck,” you both moan at the same time and then you smile at each other. You step away from the spray of the shower, sliding a finger across your skin and sucking it into your mouth.

If he hadn’t already cum three times today, Peter would be hard in half a second. He shakes his head in disbelief, not sure what he did to ever deserve a girlfriend as sexy as you. He runs his thumb over your belly, picking up the rest of his cum on you and you open your mouth before he even asks you to.

He pushes it into your mouth slowly and you hum as he does it. Grabbing your face right after, he kisses you until neither of you can breathe. “Can I eat you out again now?”

You grin immediately, “Yes, but I’m tired.”

After you’ve dried off, he carries you to your bed, making sure you’re comfortable on it before his mouth disappears between your legs. He’s proud of how you grip his hair, grinding your pussy against his face and how you cum on his tongue.

He gets a notification on his phone just as he’s done kissing you after he made you cum. He ordered some food before you two went in the shower and it’s about to arrive.

“Go and get it, I can wait,” you tell him, but he makes sure to kiss your forehead and give you water and baby wipes before pulling on some clothes and rushing downstairs to get the food.

You eat it on your bed with a towel laid down to make sure nothing gets dirty. Peter likes how you randomly grab his hand while you’re eating or asking him to pass you your drink.

With some quiet music playing, you make yourselves comfortable in your bed, cuddling.

“Thank you,” you say, looking at him like he’s responsible for all good in the world.

“For what?”

“For everything. For taking care of me. For being you,” you slide your fingers between his. He picks up your intertwined hands and kisses yours, “It’s my pleasure. Thank you for being you, and for being with me.”

“There’s no one in the world I’d rather be with,” you lean over to kiss him, leaving your lips on his for a few seconds. “This white shirt looks so good on you, it’s my favourite,” you tell him, smoothing down the material and then resting your head on his chest.

“Thank you,” he wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding you tight, “You know what looks even better on me?”

“Me?” You ask, already knowing what Peter is going to say and he adores you for it.

“Yes,” he smiles, “You.”

“I like this position, I like hearing your heart beating so clearly,” you say, nuzzling up against him.

“And I like that I can feel a heartbeat as soon as I put my hand here,” Peter smirks, sliding a hand between your legs and immediately feeling the pulsating warmth, even through your panties.

“Don’t blame me for getting turned on when the man I love touches my pussy,” you say, grabbing Peter’s hand into yours and away from your underwear to stop you from getting horny.

It takes both of you a second to realise that you just said that you love him. Probably because you’ve both felt it for a while; first as friends, then as lovers. Even if no one’s said it yet, it was obvious.

“I love you too,” he says softly and that’s when you realise what you just said. You turn towards him and start grinning, meeting Peter’s own wide smile. You start littering his face with kisses until he holds your face in place to kiss your lips. It’s like you melt right into his mouth once your lips touch his.

You spend the rest of the night telling each other that you love the other, giggling and cuddling and kissing until the early morning hours.

  *

Peter wants to sit through this lecture with you on his lap when you get to the lecture hall one minute before the lesson starts and there are no two seats free next to each other.

But you two promised yourselves that you weren’t going to be that annoying couple that has to be together at all times, so you two sit at opposite sides of the room.

Peter’s stomach tingles with jealousy when he sees that you’re sitting next to a guy you know. Brandon. Peter remembers him from the day you and Peter met. When it was Peter’s turn to tell an embarrassing sex story and he had nothing to say, you told Brandon to tell his story instead, distracting everyone and saving Peter.

He smiles when he thinks back to it; who knew that you two would end up in love?

But he hears your giggle through the entire lecture hall, over all the over murmuring, and Peter frowns. He knows it’s stupid if not wrong to be jealous about something so trivial. He’s more than okay with you having a male friend as long as he’s a good person; Peter’s happy about every nice friend you have.

But he’s spent the last few months getting to know you inside and out and you never mentioned Brandon. Now you’re talking to him like you’re best friends. Okay, the thing that bothers Peter the most is that you apparently knew Brandon’s sex story before he told it to the whole party.

Why were you talking to Brandon about sex? And why did you never mention it to Peter?

He knows you’ve done nothing wrong, and it’s ridiculous that he feels like this over a story and you laughing at another man’s jokes. If he was sitting next to you, he’s sure he’d be fine, but it doesn’t help that you’re out of reach.

He’s more curious than jealous, or that’s what he’s trying to tell himself, knowing he has no right to feel this way about such a little thing.

He tries to accept the feeling, tries to focus on what Professor Garfield is saying but throughout the whole lecture Brandon is in the back of Peter’s mind.

By the end of the lesson, he’s more mad than anything else – mad at himself for being jealous. He doesn't want to turn into one of those possessive, toxic and controlling boyfriends. He trusts you and he should be okay with you having dozens of male friends.

He waits for you by the door when the lecture is over, and in the sea of students you and Brandon leave the room separately. Peter’s so focussed on Brandon that he only notices you standing next to him once you hold his hand.

“What’s wrong?” You ask immediately. Peter didn’t know he was being that obvious.

He doesn’t want to drag you into his unnecessary jealousy and insecurity. “No-nothing,” he presses his lips together in a smile and you walk him into a quiet corner.

“What is it?” You sit down and pat the seat next to you for Peter to sit down.

“Well. I don’t know. It’s just, we usually sit together in this class and then we didn’t get to sit together and then you ended up next to a guy you know and I just…” It’s the shortened and less embarrassing version.

You smile, half with pity and half out of amusement, but he knows you’re not trying to make fun of him. “You were jealous? Of Brandon?”

“I don’t know. Kinda. I‘d honestly rather have you look at Andrew’s ass than have you talk to Brandon and giggle at everything he says and–like, I don’t even know him and I just felt insecure because I didn’t feel like I was a part of it,” he looks down, taking a deep breath, “Sorry, of course I don’t mean it like that. Obviously it’s fine if you have male friends. I was just wondering why you haven’t told me about him, because I remember him from the party the first time we met and I realised you never brought him up. And then I got so into my head about being jealous that I felt even worse and now I can’t even tell the jealousy from the being-mad-at-myself apart.”

“Okay, take my hand,” you say, “I love you. And-”

“I love you too,” Peter grins instantly, leaning over to kiss you.

“So, I didn’t tell you about Brandon because I wasn’t thinking about him. If he was important to me I would have introduced you two ages ago. I didn't even realise I was in this class until today. I met him the same night I met you and I was talking to a group of people before we played that game where he told that sex story. But wait.. Peter,” you furrow your eyebrows, “So you remember the story Brandon told?”

“I remember that he told a story, but I was too busy looking at you and being grateful that you helped me out of the situation.”

“Well, his story was about the first time he had sex with his boyfriend. And they’re still together.”

“Oh,” Peter says, dumbfounded, “Now I feel even worse. Why was I so jealous about a guy who has a boyfriend?”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. We’ve been attached at the hip lately, so of course we're not used to being apart. I’m sure we’ll get used to it in a few days. But you’re jealous for the first time and we’re already talking about it, I’m sure we’ll sort it out. I promise we’ll work it out together.”

He pecks your lips again, “Thank you. I think I was way more surprised about my jealousy than actually being jealous. I trust you and I love you and I do that more and more every day. It’s just that I want you so much that I assume every guy feels the same, because why wouldn’t they? Forgive me if I project that onto them and don’t trust them. But I trust you and that’s what matters and what I’ll try to rely on. I’m sorry for making such a big deal out of something small.”

“Don’t apologise, I’m glad you told me how you feel. You’re already not jealous anymore and you’re talking about it and working it out. That’s what matters. You recognise that it’s unreasonable but jealousy is a normal emotion.”

He gives you a small smile, already understanding himself better thanks to you. You’re right, jealousy is something everyone feels from time to time. He’ll learn how to deal with it, and now that he’s with you, feeling loved and appreciated, he can’t even imagine ever being jealous again. He can tell his love is reciprocated. He trusts you, and that’s all he needs.

You sit together for another while, smiling and saying goodbye when Professor Garfield walks past you. You wait until he’s turned around the corner to say, “Wait, what did you say about his ass earlier?”

Peter chuckles, “Oh, it’s nothing. Just the first time we had this lesson you said something about how nice his ass is.”

“Oh, now I remember. But your ass is the only ass I wanna look at now, you know that?” 

“Really?”

“Really. I wouldn’t have asked you to be my boyfriend if I was interested in anyone else’s ass.”

There’s a comfortable warmth in Peter’s chest at you calling him his boyfriend. He’ll always be happy to be that.

“Well,” he thinks out loud, “There are some guys with nice asses, I can’t deny that. But then we can both admire them, okay? Together.”

You laugh, “You’re so cute. Okay, I’ll let you know when I see a nice ass and we’ll appreciate it together.”

“Good,” Peter smiles, okay with you liking other people’s asses because, after all, those asses don’t have this great connection with you like he does. He’s so much to you than a person with a cute ass.

“But your ass is the nicest,” he adds.

“Thank you," you laugh and kiss his cheek.

You lean back on your hands and tilt your head towards your shoulder. This time Peter feels warmth rushing elsewhere.

“You wanna know what I was thinking about during the whole lesson?”

He nods.

“I was thinking,” you look around to make sure no one else is close enough to hear, “about how I can’t wait to have your dick in my mouth.”

Peter’s heart starts beating twice as fast as it usually does, “My-my- my dick? In your- why would— do you want it to be in your mouth?”

“I do. I had a dream about it last night. And I was gonna wait until tonight to do it but maybe we should do it now to relax you.”

“I.. don’t know if relax is the right word,” he says.

“I’ll do it to show you that I only like you then. And because I really need you.”

Peter’s face falls, “No, shit, I have this class now… no, nevermind, let’s go to my room–”

“No, we said our education and college come first, and that we wouldn’t let our academic performance fall off because of each other.”

“Yeah but I didn’t know that that meant saying no to you…” he looks at his lap and back at you again. 

“To me sucking your dick?” You’re teasing him on purpose now but despite the uncomfortable strain in his pants he’s enjoying it.

“Y-yeah..”

“Go to your class now and I’ll see you tonight,” you kiss him and get up.

“No wait–”

“Bye, baby,” you call out and walk away.

A class has never lasted as long as Peter’s next class. He leaves his bunched up hoodie on his lap the whole time even though he’s cold in just the shirt he’s wearing.

After class, he runs home, going to his dorm room first but you’re not there so he rushes to your room instead. You open the door as if Peter hasn’t been suffering for the past two hours, giving him a quick kiss and sitting back down to read a book.

He gets on his knees in front of you, putting his hands on your thighs, “Please. You can’t be serious right now. I need you.”

You pat the bed next to you and he lies down with a sigh, hoping to get your attention but you keep reading; maybe he can take a nap to make the time pass quicker. You pretend to read for another minute or two and then grin at Peter and straddle him, starting to kiss him. 

“Sorry, I thought it would be fun to tease you but I don’t know what I was thinking. I really want you.”

He’s panting into your mouth after a few moments, already feeling relief as you pull at his belt, taking off Peter’s pants and your and his shirt.

“Let me know uh, how I’m doing,” you say as you get down on your knees in front of the bed.

Your words clear Peter’s mind for a second and he leans down to give you a kiss, “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, by the way.”

You shake your head, “No, I really want to. I just don’t know what to do, so, be patient with me.”

“Always,” he reaches for your hand to kiss it, “So I guess you just– oh my god.” He moans as your mouth wraps around him, all wet and warm.

He makes the mistake of looking at you, the head of his cock in your mouth, your pretty lips against his skin, eyes big and gorgeous and so innocent. He’s close so quickly and motions for you to stop.

“Everything okay?” You ask, already knowing what’s going on though. Peter’s eyes go to your chest, perfect tits pushed together by a pretty bra. If you take that off he doesn’t want to know how fast he’ll cum.

“Yes, more than okay. I love you so much, you know that?”

“I do, but Peter, this is torture for me,” you say seriously.

“What?” He sits up straighter.

“I wanna make you cum so so bad, please just let me, I don’t care how long you last.” You sound so horny that it makes Peter’s cock just that much harder in the way only happens when he’s with you, never when he’s alone.

“Okay. But try to go slow, I wanna enjoy it as long as I can.”

You smirk and he already knows you’ll give it your all, but while he wants to enjoy it as long as possible, he also really wants to cum.

You wrap a hand around him, slapping his dick against your tongue a few times, putting on a show for him. But once you wrap your lips around him, there’s no stopping you.

Peter’s skin glistens with a mixture of your spit and his precum and you keep taking him deeper and deeper until all of him disappears in your mouth. “Fuuuck,” he groans, huffing with a smile, accepting that he’s about to cum.

You start going faster, your wet mouth making a loud, obscene sound against his skin. Peter lies down on his back, barely able to keep his noises in.

“God– oh my god. This is the best thing I’ve ever felt,” his mouth falls open as he cranes his neck to look at you taking his dick. He puts a hand on your head, feeling your every movement up and down his cock.

He cums right down your throat as soon you start moaning, mouth stuffed full of Peter’s dick. You taste the first few drops and then jerk him off so his cum lands on your cheek and the sight is so dirty yet so beautiful.

You’re both panting when Peter is finished and you’re smiling at each other, in silent agreement that that was one of the hottest things you two have ever experienced. Your smile has something shy to it too, unsure how you look with Peter’s cum on your face.

But he’s looking at you with pure admiration, not believing how lucky he is for a bit before pulling you up to kiss you.

“Wait, Pete, you’ll get cu–”

“I don’t care.”

He kisses your mouth, and tasting himself on you is the sexiest thing in the world. He kisses his cum off your skin, connecting your lips afterwards, his tongue in your mouth until the cum is gone.

He wipes his mouth, asking something he’s been thinking about for a while, and he can’t go a second longer without it. “Do you wanna sit on my face?”

You’re taking off your clothes before the question even fully leaves his mouth and he takes in the sight of the prettiest woman alive getting undressed in front of him, for him.

He licks his lips when you slip out of your panties, the holy place between your legs shiny with arousal that’s started running down your thighs.

“You’re so wet.. from going down on me?” He asks, grabbing your thighs as you come closer, straddling him.

You simply nod and while you’re making your way up Peter’s body there’s a moment where your eyes meet for more than a few seconds. You don’t say anything, there’s just mutual appreciation and adoration for one another.

This is something good. Maybe it’s the best thing in the world. It is the best thing in the world.

“I love you,” he says, feeling so much more than those three simple words.

“I love you,” you say, your eyes holding such intensity that he doesn’t think there’s a single person in the world who has ever been as loved as Peter is by you.

He hopes he’s making you feel like the Goddess he sees you as, he adores every inch of you, all the things you’ve ever said to him and every second he’s spent with you.

The moment feels like it goes on forever, and at some point, you both move your heads towards each other, lips meeting in a kiss.

He grabs your ass, ready to drown in your pussy and to make you cum as many times as you want.

“Can I…?” You ask as you lower yourself. 

Peter pulls you towards his face and makes love to you all night. 

You spend the rest of the weekend in each other’s arms, feeling like the luckiest people on earth and you probably are.

☆.｡.:*support a writer and reblog if you enjoyed, it helps out a lot.｡.:*☆

#peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #Peter Parker x you #Peter Parker x y/n #Spiderman x reader #Spiderman smut #peter parker fluff #fem!reader #college!Peter Parker #Peter Parker fanfiction #spider man: no way home #peter parker #tom holland #Peter Parker college au #peter parker friends to lovers

[decolonize-the-left]

Reminder that liberals aren't leftists and are in fact closer to being centrists and conservatives. Leftists are people like socialists.

Leftists want everyone's needs met. Healthcare, housing, food, etc and within the USA where the GDP is 23 trillion those things should be provided by the government. Workers should equally own the businesses they run and distribute profit equally as well.

Being a leftist can look like a lot of things- like calling for the straight up destruction of a government- but most can agree that until that happens then everyone's human rights and basic needs should be provided at the very least. Lots of leftists work towards this.

Remember that when leftists ask you to vote for 3rd parties with platforms that include universal healthcare, housing, and police reform.

Because liberals who stopped their political growth in 7th grade will try to make leftists out to be "Russian psyops" or white supremacists because we vote with principles and values and that don't allow us to vote for people who commit genocide, let single moms and their kids starve, and/or call environmental protests terrorists.

They'll reduce all this nuance to us "being immature and splitting the vote"

Quite frankly, I refuse to fall for this narrative in 2024.

We are ALL exercising our right to vote for the person who represents us. No, my beliefs don't line up with Democrats so I don't vote for Democrats ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I'm not "splitting a vote" because I can't split my own fucking vote and I'm not a member of your party. I don't owe your shitty genocidal party any of my loyalty, quite frankly idk why You even vote for them since you say you care about human lives but I digress.

If your guy loses that means your views aren't the majority.

It does NOT mean I'm a Russian Psyop. And because I've already seen a post floating around about how The-Russian-Tumblr-Bots-Were-Real-And-Pretending-To-Be-Black I'm asking y'all to use your brains and critical thinking skills this election.

There's a REASON why they specifically wanted to undermine your trust in BIPOC. So let's think about this for a second.

Why would anyone want to undermine your trust in BIPOC? What kind of things do BIPOC say about the government and it's history? What are the political leanings of BIPOC? What would happen if everyone started to agree with those politics? Which party would those views harm most?

It's crazy to me y'all think those bots were there to help Trump when it's obvious as fuck to me that the Real concern is that BIPOC would make y'all more left which would only be trouble for Biden/Clinton. The only people that would lose votes if y'all voted more left like BIPOC bots told you to would be Democrats. We want Republicans to vote more left, remember? That would be a good thing.

They were on the site to keep liberals from going left and voting for someone like Sanders or Claudia de La Cruz instead of Clinton/Biden. They weren't helping Trump. They were helping Democrats. Republicans aren't the people listening to BIPOC Tumblr bloggers, are they?

And that psyop is STILL working cuz now liberal goons put in overtime to accuse anyone who criticizes the 2 party system of being a Russian bot 🥴🥴

Yeah. I'm sure the two parties who rely on that system definitely didn't expect or want that outcome at all. And I bet they really didn't want you to refuse to vote for anyone outside those 2 parties either. I'm sure they hate how this psyop ended with you having more trust in a corrupted 2 party system and less trust in 3rd parties that challenge the corruption of the system. How awful it must be for them, that the Russian Bots Ordeal ended with MORE trust in the current government and people being less willing to change it :(

#idk how to be anything but a bitch abt this tbfh #liberals #2 party system #russian psyops #or they call you a white supremacist because If You Loved Minorities You Would Vote Blue #literally fuckinh choke and die #anywya #rant #vent #electoral politics #voting #2024 elections #biden #Clinton #sanders #claudia de la cruz #jasmine sherman #trump #im so fucking over leftists being the scapegoat for what is obviously Democrats gaslighting voters

[marvelslut16]

New Mom

prompt number: 14 "Yes. No. I don't know."

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Rating: E(veryone)

Word count: 3.1k+

Warnings: Some Beth hate. Pining. Sad Jack. Angst. Some unrequited love, but overall fluff.

A/N: This is technically a day late, but I had a funeral yesterday so please cut me some slack. I've had this idea for a while now, and fictober finally made me sit down and write. Also, It's my first time writing for CM so I have no doubt that Hotch is OOC. One last thing, this is a lot more Jack centric than I originally planned, whoops.

Jack is sitting atop Derek’s shoulders, a large sign you helped him make for his dad clutched in one hand, and the other holding your hand. Your arm is starting to hurt at the awkward position and you’re more than a little worried Jack will drop the sign and it’ll blow away in the wind before Hotch gets to the finish line. Luckily he keeps his hold of the poster board and waves it at Hotch when he crosses the finish line. 

Hotch is all sweaty and it’s next to impossible to take your eyes off of him. A part of you wants to walk up to him and just lick the sweat off of his face, but you can’t do that for a multitude of reasons, obviously.  Derek puts Jack on the ground when Hotch walks to the water table, and he grabs your hand before pulling you with him to his dad. You smile as Hotch places his medal around Jack's neck, the soft gesture proof that he’s an amazing dad, even though he doesn’t see it. 

“Did you see the sign (Y/N) and I made you?” Jack hops around in excitement, still holding your hand. You smile at the memory of laying on the grass this morning with Jack drawing stars and placing stickers sporadically while Jack did all the hard work writing out ‘go daddy go!’

“Yeah I did, Buddy,” Hotch flashes a smile at you before gazing down at Jack again. “The sign is fantastic!” 

“Look at you,” you smile widely at him, heat starting to creep up your neck when Hotch turns his attention back to you. “I knew you could do it!” 

“Yeah, you were right,” he concedes, having denied you for months now when you had confidently told him he would be able to finish the race with ease. 

“Can you say that again?” you gasp playfully, leaning towards Hotch. “I just love being told that I’m right, especially when it comes from you.”

“Oh shut up,” he barks out a real laugh, pulling you into a sweaty side hug. In that moment Jack wraps his arms around both of your waists, and for a split second you can imagine what being a family with your Hotchner boys would feel like. 

The team is coming up with places to go grab some food, but you aren’t paying attention, still reveling in the feeling of the arms around you, when a feminine voice breaks through your clouded brain. “Hotchner!” a pretty darked haired woman waves from the crowd and Hotch’s arm immediately falls from your side. 

“Beth,” he practically sighs, a genuine carefree smile over taking his face at just the mere sight of her. It’s like a cold bucket of water has been dumped on you, the cold water seeping into your clothes and into your bones, making you feel absolutely miserable as Jack’s hand is being pulled from yours. “Jack, there’s someone I want you to meet!” 

Like the sadist that you are, you watch Hotch immediately pull the woman into a tight hug, jealousy pushes down on you like a ton of bricks, and your heart starts to crack under the pressure. Sure, you knew your infatuation with Hotch, your superior, could never work out, seeing him like this with someone that isn’t you still makes you want to rip your heart out to stop the pain. While the team looks on at the spectacle in confusion, Derek turns to look at you- you can feel his eyes boring holes into the side of his head as he tries to inside of your brain. 

Hotch, Jack, and this Beth woman walk over to the group, his arm is wrapped around her back and the childish urge to cry arises. Jack immediately runs back to you, burying his face into your back, trying to hide from the awkwardness of meeting a new person. Your heart starts to crumble as Hotch informs you guys that he’s invited Beth to join the team for lunch, and Jack’s little arms squeeze your middle tighter. 

“Pretty girl and I actually have plans,” Derek announces, further confusing the team since he was so adamant about trying this new burger joint not five minutes ago. “I’ve been promising to take her to go see the new Urban Streets photography installation at the Smitsonian. So we’ll have to take a rain check on the team lunch.”

You sigh in relief at his saving you from a very awkward lunch, a lunch you’re not sure you have made it through the whole thing without crying. However, you tense up again when you feel Jack bury his face further into the fabric of your tee shirt, making no effort to move from you and towards his dad, even with the new information. 

“Can I come with you and Uncle Derek?” Jack asks loud enough that Hotch, who’s standing next to you, hears his son despite the fact that Jack’s face is pressed tightly to your back. 

You pry Jack's arms from your waist, turn around and squat done so you’re eye level with him. “Jack attack, you have to go with your dad today, but we can do something together next weeked if your dad and I aren’t on a case.”

“But I don’t wan’ ta go,” Jack whines dramatically, and you can’t hold back the smile at his cute little pout. “I don’t like her.”

“Sweetie, you just met her,” you whisper, you know Aaron is listening, but you lower your voice so Beth doesn’t start listening in too. Grabbing Jack’s hands you stare into his eyes, “you can’t judge someone that you’ve only talked to once. Your dad obviously really likes her, please give her a chance.”

“Not Judging, profiling,” Derek covers a laugh by clearing his throat, informing you that he’s listening in as well. “She’s not you, don’ wan’ like her.”

“Can you at least try? For me,” he glares at you and you know you’ve won. It’s obviously a low blow to use his love for you against him, but if Hotch is happy again you don’t want to be the reason Jack doesn’t get along with Beth. 

In the weeks since the incident at the triathlon, Hotch has pulled away from you. He’s no longer talking to you about anything besides the cases, nor is he inviting you over to spend time with Jack. Instead you're spending all of your free time with Derek drinking beers, whining to him, and taking your frustration out by demoing the house he’s currently working on.  

Little fragments of your heart start to break off when Beth is everywhere you look. She’s in a frame on Hotch’s desk, her and Jack are his lock screen, she picks Hotch up for lunch when you guys have paperwork days, and she’s at every gathering the team has. It’s starting to become too much, losing both of your boys, and having it rubbed in your face. Maybe it’s time for you to move on?

“Are you really thinking about transferring back home?” Derek asks, finally getting you alone during a dinner at Rossi’s. You had purposefully made yourself late so he couldn’t get you alone before dinner, knowing you’d get questioned and lectured since he saw the transfer request on your desktop as you two were leaving for the day.

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” you sigh, taking a large sip of the expensive wine Rossi cracked open, using the time to mull over your options. “I’m really considering it right now.” 

“So there’s nothing any of us can do or say to make you stay here in DC?” his watchful eyes on you, profiling you to see how serious you’re being. His brows furrow and it’s obvious that he can tell that you aren’t lying, you really want to leave. 

“You’re leaving?” a little voice shouts from the doorway, his voice cracking. “You can’t leave! You can’t leave me!” 

“Shit,” you mutter, whipping around from where you're leaning on the island to see the blonde take off out of the kitchen and towards the bedrooms. You follow after him without a second thought, “Jack! Jack, wait!” 

“What’s going on?” Hotch steps in front of you, face worried as he looks from you to his son, who’s slipping into the bedroom he uses anytime he crashes while the team is having dinner. 

“He overheard a conversation I was having with Derek, and he didn’t like what he heard,” you sigh as you watch the door click shut, there’s no doubt in your mind that the lock is falling into place and all you can do is watch from afar. “Please just let me handle this, let me talk to him.”

“Fine,” he lets out a long sigh, glancing at the shut door one last time before stepping out of your way. “I’ll give you twenty, if he’s not out of the room by then I’m going in.”

Ignoring his comment, you walk around him and go to the room, immediately trying the handle and finding it locked like you expected. You thump your forehead against the door in defeat, you’re heart breaking at the quiet sobs coming from inside the room. “Jack attack, please let me in,” your voice cracks at the thought of making him cry, you can feel the eyes from the team and their partners on the back of your head, all of them coming to see what your shouting had been about. 

“Fine,” Jack’s broken little voice answers, he opens the door a crack before flopping back onto the king bed. You take a deep breath walking into the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind you. 

You flop down next to Jack, both of you staring quietly at the ceiling for a minute- you counted- before you finally say something. “Please talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he grumbles, turning onto his side and away from you. Your heart shatters, he’s icing you out, for the first time ever he’s not seeking comfort in your arms. 

“Jack please-” your cut off when he jumps out of the bed and away from you the moment you lay your hand on his shoulder. 

“No! You want to leave me,” his brows furrow and he looks just like his dad. But your cute observation is quickly swept to the back of your mind when you notice a fresh set of tears shining in his eyes. 

“Sweetheart, no. I don’t want to leave you,” you whisper, hands reaching out to grab his little ones, and you’re beyond thankful that he doesn’t pull away this time.

“Why would you transfer?” Jack looks so confused, you can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he tries to figure out the answer for himself. 

“Stupid grown up reasons,” you sigh, a tear slipping down your face.

“‘M so sick of hearing that,” he sighs, his voice and posture changing to mimic his father. “I’ll tell you when you’re older, you’re too young to understand, you’re just a kid. Just tell me the truth!”

“You really want to know the truth?” you know his last statement wasn’t directed specifically at you, but adults in general. Jack nods, you sigh before continuing, “I fell in love, and that person doesn’t love me back, not like I love ‘im at least. And I see him every day, it hurts so much. My heart breaks whenever I see him so happy with someone else, and I just don’t think I can do it anymore. The last thing that I want is to leave you Jack attack, but I can’t just sit there and see him everyday.”

“He works for the FBI?” Jack deduces, not really the reaction you expected. 

“Well aren’t you a little profiler?” you sniffle, wiping away tears you hadn’t realized you spilled.

“Daddy!” Jack rips the door open and takes off down the hall. Confused, you follow him, is he smarter than you think and he’s figured out who you were talking about? “Daddy, you need to fire him!”

“Fire who?” your eyes widen in shock and you freeze up, you already know what Jack is about to out your feelings, and in front of everyone. 

“The guy who broke her heart,” you miss Jack pointing at you, too busy making a face at Derek who is starting to cackle. “Please fire him, don’t let her transfer!” 

“You’re going to transfer?” Aaron looks up at you and you don’t know where to look, both him and Jack are giving you matching puppy dog eyes. The rest of the team is staring at you in confusion, minus Derek who is watching on in amusement, and Beth is watching your movements closely. 

“I started the paperwork this morning,” you awkwardly clear your throat, Jack throws his arms around your legs squeezing tightly. 

“When were you going to tell me?” vulnerability slips through for a split second, before his face and eyes harden.

“When I gave you the paperwork?” it comes out as more of a question than a statement. 

“I can’t lose another mom!” Jack cries into your thigh and your heart stops, does he really see you that way? 

Everyone starts to fade away as Jack climbs up your legs, realizing what he’s trying to do, so you scoop him up. Jack immediately buries his face in the crook of your neck, and you can feel tears falling from his eyes onto your collarbone, as well as his body shaking from the force of his sobs. You try to soothe him but all that accomplishes is causing your own tears to spill onto the top of Jack’s head. You can’t leave now, you can never leave Jack. You walk back to the bedroom without another word, assuming that Hotch will be hot on your heels since the three of you obviously have some things to discuss. 

But Hotch isn’t behind you, he’s walking to the backyard with Beth. So you shut the door behind you and try to set Jack down. But all he does is cling tighter and cry harder, so you plop yourself on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Jack quickly resituates so he’s curled up on your lap, and you just let him sit there and cry. Hotch enters the room- without knocking- around twenty minutes later, Jack’s tears have dried, but he’s still clinging to you like his life depends on it. 

“Jack,” Hotch sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out and placing his hand on his son’s back. “What did you mean out there when you said you couldn’t lose another mom?” 

“I already lost mommy,” the boy sniffles, removing his head from the crook of your neck to turn and look at his father. “And I can’t lose my new mom too.”

“Why do you see me as your new mom?” you ask lightly, and know instantly that you’ve phrased the question wrong because he tenses. “I’m not saying your feelings are wrong, sweetheart, I just want to know how you started thinking of me that way.”

“We were doing stuff in class for mothers day this week,” you watch Hotch tense up now, you know how much he tries to avoid mothers day for Jack’s sake. “The class was saying everything their mom’s do for them, and you do that stuff for me. You read to me over the phone when I can’t sleep, even if you and daddy are in a different state. You take me shopping for clothes and toys, and you always get me a pretzel when we go to the mall. You make me and Daddy breakfast and dinner when you guys aren’t working a case, and you help me with my homework when daddy doesn’t know what to do. You come to all of my soccer games and buy me ice cream after to celebrate if we won or to cheer me up if we lost. You do everything a mom does, and I love you.”

“I love you too,” you give him a big smooch on his forehead as you start to sob now, you had no idea those little things you did for him meant so much. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Jack panics when he realizes you’re crying. 

“No, Jackers, I think those are happy tears,” Hotch soothes him, and you nod vigorously in agreement. 

Jack reaches out to grab his dad’s hand, pulling him up to sit next to you against the headboard. Once Hotch is situated, Jack burrows himself between the two of you, your hand in one of his and Hotch’s in the other. “I wish you loved Daddy, then we could be a family.” Before either of you can respond, Jack is out like a light, his crying must have really tired him out. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, you still haven’t looked at Hotch once since he walked in the room, despite the fact that he’s been staring at you the entire time. 

“For what?” he asks genuinely, his free hand reaching to grab yours. “You’re like a mother to him, it’s not that surprising, you’ve clung to each other from the first moment you met. I still remember calling you one night when Haley was out of town with Jess, and Jack wouldn’t stop crying. I knew he would stop crying when he heard your voice, and he did, he always does.”

“I don’t want to get in the way of you and Beth,” you can’t control the way your voice cracks at the mention of their relationship. “Not when you’re finally happy.”

“There is no me and Beth, not anymore,” he squeezes your hand tighter, and you can't help but look at him. “We broke up, actually she broke up with me. She realized that I’m in love with you and that I was dating her so I could ignore my feelings for my subordinate, my best friend. But (Y/N), I do love you, Jack loves you, we are a weird unconventional family.”

“I love you too Aaron,” one last tear trickles down your cheek. “I couldn’t stand seeing you with Beth anymore, that’s why I wanted to transfer. But I couldn’t actually go through it, I couldn't bring myself to leave you, and I could never leave Jack.”

“You are a great mother to him, even without realizing it,” you both glance down at Jack.

“What’s next?” you ask bashfully. Hotch leans forward, his lips landing perfectly on yours, mindful not to squish the sleeping child between you. 

“A long and painful conversation with Strauss,” you giggle at his joke, leaning in to kiss him again. 

#fictober #day 2 #fictober22 #hotch x bau!reader #aaron hotcher x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch fanfiction #hotch x y/n #hotch imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine

[sprout-fics]

I have a soft Thursday thot to throw out of my brain:

I feel like Ghost would actually be the best at comforting someone if they had an anxiety/panic attack. Like, the lot of them are spending time together, and something happens— someone slams something, someone breaks something, whatever.

One of them (e.g. ME, it’s I, I’m the problem) stops dead in their tracks, blood drains from their face, tears almost come out, and he’s there to gently pull them outside, away from everyone. He just talks. Maybe wipes away any tears that come out. But just gently soothes them; you’re safe, breathe with me, everything’s alright.

He understands all too well the fear gripping tight at their throat, the dread that sinks into their bones, the sheer panic that threatens to make them collapse from within. He’s there to pull them back down to earth. No one fights alone.

Hi anon, I'm sorry this took me so long to answer but it really spoke to me. I agree that once Simon figures out what's going on he'll try his best to help, knowing he has gone through the same thing. He's maybe a little abrasive at first, but in the end he knows what it's like to be a victim of fear, so he'll do what he can to bring you down.

Tw: Panic attacks, mentions of captivity and torture, hyperventilation

It’s your first deployment since your rescue. It had taken time to build back up your strength and heal your injuries from the interrogation that occurred while you were in captivity. The weight of your plate and gear feels oddly foreign to you, removed from your memories. Even the weapon in your hands feels heavier than you remember, sluggish as you aim and fire at approaching enemies.

Ghost is at your side, a mammoth figure that keeps you in his shadow, takes point as you move through the abandoned village. The fabric of his scarf wafts softly in the sandy breeze, the town silent except for the suppressed gunfire that echoes out with every shot.

You’re trying to ignore the stammer of your heartbeat, trying to will your breath into steadiness despite the trembling grasp on your rifle. Ghost doesn’t seem to notice you behind him, doesn’t turn to see the wild, fearful look written across your gaze as you desperately try and swallow down panic.

This was a bad idea. You aren’t ready. You should have stayed behind. You can’t-

Something clatters at your feet.

Your eyes fall to it at the same time as Ghost, but unlike him you don’t move out of the way, staring at the grenade with a horrible, rotten dread that freezes you to the spot. 

There’s a hand that seizes you by the back of your vest, hauls you backwards so abruptly you nearly lose your weapon. Ghost’s voice is a roar in your ear, words you can’t hear, blood rising and panic overtaking you as you try again to swallow it down, down, down-

“DOWN!!” He bellows, and you’re pressed behind a wall, into the soft dusty earth with his form splayed heavy atop you. The grenade explodes a split second later, shaking the entire earth around you like it’s fit to crumble. You don’t even scream, eyes wide as dust floats over you both, entire body rigid and frozen. Even when Ghost rises off of you to fire at whoever threw the grenade you can’t move. You try, but your body stops responding, mind filling in the emptiness where movement should be, racing  and spreading sickly heat pulsing through your chest. 

You can’t breathe. Oh god, you can’t breathe.

“Alpha team, how copy?!” Ghost snaps into his comms, irritated. 

There’s a crackle of the radio as the other team answers.

“Alpha all clear. Bravo how copy?”

“Clear.” Ghost responds after a moment of scanning the surrounding buildings for any other hostiles. “Move down range, we’ll RV in five.”

“Copy that.”

You listen to the exchange as if you can’t inhabit your own body, and you try to imagine yourself sitting up, standing, following Ghost as he moves forward. Yet you can’t move, can barely breathe, hands trembling and eyes wide, unseeing. There’s a horrible nausea that rises in your stomach, makes you want to crumple over and retch into the sand, but you can’t even manage that much. 

“Sergeant, what the bloody hell was that?!” Ghost spins on your, hissing, only to find you face up in the sand, a white knuckle grip on your rifle as you try to remember the bodily command to breathe.

“Sergeant?”

It should be so simple. Inhale, exhale. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in-

Two large hands grab you by the straps of your vest, and the air comes rushing back all at once. You struggle, a desperate, cracked protest releasing in a whoosh of air as you try to scuffle backwards.

“Hey. Hey.” Ghost grunts, trying to keep a hold on you. “Kid, look at me. Look at me.”

You do, stare past the charcoal around his eyes and into his stare, trying to remember his name amidst the madness of your mind. 

“G-Ghost.”

He exhales through the mask, the hands on your shoulders relaxing at they pin you seated against the crumbling stone wall. 

“That’s right. Just me.” He tells you, gentler now that he’s realized what’s going on. “You’re having a panic attack. Try and breathe.”

You’re trying, you’re trying, but when your breathe still comes in uneven, gasping inhales Ghost draws you back to him, locks eyes with you as you shudder.

“On me.” He tells you, and you hear him take a deep breath. You follow as he holds, exhales, and then again when he counts. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. It’s hard, but you manage to follow along through some miracle, and eventually Ghost’s voice drops to silence as you continue to steady yourself. 

“That’s it.” He rumbles, voice softer, sympathetic. “You’re alrigh’. Keep breathing.”

There’s a copy of the radio as Alpha team checks in, and Ghost is quick to dismiss it. 

“Medical emergency, standby.” He tells them, and there’s a pause when they ask if they should send a medic or call of exfil. 

“No need.” Ghost responds. “I’ve got it handled.”

You let out the breath you had been holding when Alpha sends an affirmative response, feeling the tension unwind from your shoulders under Ghost’s palms. 

There’s a pause then, as you sink into yourself, feeling the pulsating fear begin to ebb bot not vanish completely. Your eyes fall to your lap, to your trembling hands and sand coated greaves. 

Ghost seems like he wants to say something, form tensing as he tries to find the word, at last providing: “You aren’t…there anymore.”

You look up at him then, blinking at his words. Ghost’s eyes are half-lidded as they look down at you, as if he himself is lost in his memories just like you. For a moment, it sounds almost as if he’s speaking to himself.

“They’re dead.” He tells you, voice a little distant, quiet. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”

They’re dead, you remind yourself. Your captors, the ones who kidnapped and tortured you, they’re dead. Ghost helped see to it himself, had been the one to carry your limp body to the medics, had held your hand for just a moment before you were pulled away. 

He’s right, and as you close your eyes, feel the weight of the memory and the fear fade, you remember not the feeling of fear, but of safety. 

With him. With Simon.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #requests #x reader #reader insert #gender nuetral reader #simon ghost riley imagine #my writing #my fic #my stuff #we're...going to conveniently ignore that this was sent in December #I'm so so freaking sorry anon

[enviedear]

this is an anakin request because i’m hyper fixating over him coming back in ashoka (spoiler alert)!

i was wondering if you would be down to write a fic based around friends to lovers. but like there is a whole admission thing brought on by jealousy.

backstory: reader & anakin trained together under obi-wan in the jedi temple, growing close as friends. but then he sees padme again and falls in love, when the reader is already in love with him. and when he says he’s gonna marry padme, reader looses it and admits their feelings.

i’m sorry this is so long & so specific but it’s been rotting in my brain

ily x

this ask really spoke to me as a certified jealous girl

okay so i'm not sure if this is perfect but i had a vision and went with it, so i hope you like it <3 this is angsty, so warnings for that. and also warning that reader is a jealous jealous jealous girl.

wc— 0.8k |tw— anger, jealousy, running away from your problems, unresolved ending, delulu reader <3

aggravation flares throughout the entirety of your being at the sight before you. anakin, your anakin, with his arms around Senator amidala.

he had mentioned her, far more than any normal amount, in the days leading up to seeing her again. and it wasn't such a bother at first.

you'd laugh off his worried nature at the idea of her presence. you'd ignore how loud his thoughts were whenever she was brought up. you had thought it nothing more than a crush, an interest, an idea.

he didn't even know her. not like you knew him.

and yet, here they were in a passionate embrace, completely immersed in each other and oblivious to your presence.

you clear your throat and watch them stumble away from eachother. anakin's eyes slowly meet yours for a split second and before he has the chance to explain himself, you're darting away.

fury. that's what you feel. seeing him cling onto her in the way you've ached desperately for him to want you, is torturous. you can't decide who deserves more of your wrath— yourself, for being foolishly devoted to a fellow jedi, or anakin, for not comprehending your obvious feelings.

as you run, you can feel him trailing you, can hear him calling out for you— but you continue to run. trying to find anywhere to hide in the damned naboo retreat.

you take a sharp left turn, only to be confronted with his towering figure.

"go away." your voice is dripping with vitrol.

anakin disregards your plea, instead grasping hold of your arm and yanking you into an isolated hallway, "please, y/n, don't be mad at me. i can't help it, i love her."

you fight against him and wrench your arm away from him, "you're insolent, skywalker. you don't love her. you just like to break rules."

he takes a step away from you in shock, "why are you being this way?" when you don't reply, he continues, "i know it's wrong but i do love her. i plan to marry her, here. i wanted you there— i want you to be there."

his words pierce through your soul like shards of glass, shattering your sanity until nothing remains but fragments of pain and anguish.

"marry her?" you can barely get the words out, suddenly feeling breathless.

your anger has evolved into something much worse – something injured and broken apart irrevocably.

anakin nods, his eyes softening as he looks at you. "yes, i love her that much," he says, almost pleading with you to understand.

you feel a pang in your chest as his words sink in. of course anakin was going to fall for someone; how could you ever expect him not to? but you so desperately wanted it to be you.

"i won't be there," you say, barely above a whisper. "i'm sorry."

anakin's face falls and it takes all of your willpower not to reach out and touch him, the way you're so used to. it would only make things worse.

"why?" he questions, eyes searching your own.

"because i—" you trail off for a moment before continuing more forcefully, "because i can't watch the person i love marry someone else."

it feels too real, admitting those feelings out loud to him. hearing yourself verbalize something that has been buried away for years. from the mind of the young girl who used to go easy on him when sparring, to the women in front of him today.

anakin's face falls and a heavy silence stretches between them, until he finally speaks again, voice laced with tenderness. "i didn't know, y/n."

you can feel the tears welling in your eyes but you bite them back and force out a bitter laugh, "of course you didn't," it's all you can say.

you turn away, unable to bear looking upon him anymore. you struggle against your emotions, trying to keep them at bay. how hard it is being so close to something that you can never have.

"i'm sorry," he says softly, his hand hovering over your shoulder before dropping back down. "i didn't mean for it to come out this way."

you close your eyes and let out a deep breath. "it's fine," you say, though there's no conviction in your voice.

anakin steps closer once more and takes hold of your hands gently in his own. you can feel the warmth radiating off him as he speaks.

"but i want you to know that you'll always be important to me y/n." he pauses for a moment before continuing with renewed determination. "and if things were different…if i got to choose who i loved…" his gaze meets yours intensely, locking onto them like iron bars holding fastened shut on an unbreakable door.

you let him give your hands a squeeze before pulling away, "but you can't, believe me, i understand."

and with that you turn from him, leaving him alone.

#anakin angst #anakin skywalker angst #anakin x reader #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x reader angst #anakin x reader angst

[nathabat]

Can you write about how Syzoth and the reader meet and eventually fall in love? Thank you!

oh my god YES ofc anon, this fills my brain w so many thoughts™,,,

✰ content: ## SFW , fluff with light angst (mention of Syzoth's previous family, his loss, Shang Tsung's bullshit no offense baby girl) , probably barely proofread. I speak more casually here because it's a lot of personal hcs LOL. GN!reader, you/your pronouns used.

Syzoth's romance would be THE definition of a slow burn. Meeting him with Cage and the others doesn't really speed that up, but he certainly learns to really appreciate you as a fixture of the group when you help him mourn and wrap his head around his loss. It's really abrupt, so he needs to take his time coping with the knowledge before he even thinks about taking someone else romantically. So he'd value someone with patience and boatloads of empathy. Even if you were a bit awkward when comforting him, he'd manage to find a bit of charm in your ramblings in attempt to soothe his troubled mind.

Of course it's not like you seek him out right off the bat either, so it's a lot of mutual pining as well when yours and his feelings come to light. Syzoth would feel a little guilty, like he's betraying the memory of his lost loved ones by seeking out a human of all things. I like to think Cage plays wingman- and his version of that is forcing as much proximity as possible. Like orchestrating plans just to ditch you two so you're alone for HOURS, and when he comes back he coughs really loudly to announce his presence.

"What? I didn't know what you two love birds would be getting up to while i was gone! Just had to make sure I wasn't walking in on anything scandalous-" (please hit him for me)

Jokes aside, he does really well at teaching Syzoth about "human courtship" and dating culture, and to boost the poor guys confidence. You're like a beacon of pure light and joy to Syzoth, you picked him up when he was down, how could he ever be worthy of you? How could he even repay your kindness at all???

Syzoth does his best at dropping hints after he realizes you've been oblivious to his courting and attempts at wooing you. Turns out, offering you a piece of his roasted swamp creature snack isn't the sweetest gesture- cut him some slack, he's still learning. He'll lay compliments on HEAVY, and he's surprisingly keen to most details of you as a person, but also generally of your appearance. Like if you trimmed an inch off your hair, he compliments how much shinier your hair is after the loss of your split ends. Ignoring the fact that it sounds slightly backhanded

New shirt? He wants to know why you got it. He thinks that certain colour brings out the hues of your eyes! (he thinks that with everything you wear. I think he's just in love with your eyes) New tattoo or piercing? He really wants to take a good long look at it, hear your thoughts and what drove you to such artistic choices, and gushes about how much he adores your self expression.

"It is a beautiful thing, how open you are I mean.. It's like you bare a piece of yourself to the world. I really like it."

He is always so incredibly sincere, flustering the second you also get embarrassed by his words. He isn't a poet, you just make him feel profound and beautiful things.

The first time he properly asks you out, he's nothing short of a nervous wreck. With his clammy hands and shifty eyes, quietly asking if you'd like to accompany him to an Outworld festival. The second he hears a yes from your lips, he's brightening like a star and thanking you. he's not sure why, but he just feels so grateful and lucky for such an opportunity!

Th evening is nothing short of perfect, Syzoth glued to your side like a protective force, his tension easing only when you grasp his hand and point excitedly at some merchant stand that's boasting the cutest trinkets ever. He's smiling wide under his mask as you tug him forward, squeezing your hand gently as his thumb rubs over your knuckles. His heart is melting in his chest when you make him try on a hair pin. His hair is much too short to hold it, and it almost clatters to the ground if you two didn't fumble to catch it- it's a pretty ornament, but he ends up getting you a gorgeous hand crafted necklace.

A beautiful white jade circular pendant held to the chain by a silver frame of koi fish. He thinks it's stunning, even more so as you bite your cheek to contain your excited ramblings as the cold metal grazes the skin of your neck, followed by the warmth of his careful hands as he fastens it in place <3

Maybe you don't kiss on the first date and that's more than okay, because the mere second you had kissed him for the first time, you swore he turned bright red and looked rather faint... It's probably best to ease him into such affectionate gestures.

☄. *. ⋆

#🫧. sfw #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 1 #syzoth #mk reptile #syzoth mk #syzoth mk 1 #syzoth x reader #reptile x reader #mk x reader

[eiraeths]

y’all know janitor from scrubs? he gives me ghost vibes. if y’all don’t know who janitor is just know this: he’s a pathological liar (but it’s over minor things for his own entertainment) and two he actively tries to make the main character of scrubs, JD, life harder over a small little incident. dude can hold a grudge.

anyway here’s a bunch of janitor quotes from scrubs except replacing it with ghost being janitor and soap is JD because it honestly made so much sense in my head. I also think a lot of dr cox quotes fit price or ghost so some of those too. actually price could also be dr kelso in a lot of this good lawd.

———

Ghost: [mouths] I'm going to kill you.

Soap: [silently] What?

Ghost: [gestures and mouths] I'm going to kill you.

Soap: Why?

Ghost: [shrugs]

———

Price: Look, you and I are alike in a lot of ways.

Ghost: We both harbor an internal struggle between the desire to do good, and the urge to become a master criminal.

Price: We don't.

Ghost: We do.

Price: You hate people, and I hate people. What nobody gets is that we never hate indiscriminately.

Ghost: That is so true. I only hate those that have wronged me. Like if they stole my stuff, or put a penny in a door. Or... that guy. See this look he shot us, like he's so much better than we are.

Price: Plus, he's only 25, and earlier I heard him use the phrase "Back in the day".

Ghost: Well, he's dug his own grave, hasn't he? Let's do this.

———

Soap: Did you lose something?

Ghost: No, why? Did you take something?

Soap: No.

Ghost: What'd you take?

Soap: Nothing.

Ghost: What'd you take?

———

[Soap walks out of the elevator as Ghost mops the floor]

Ghost : Hey!

Soap: What? I didn't say anything. I didn't do anything. What imaginary slight have you concocted in that paranoid brain of yours?

[Ghost looks down to the trail of muddy footprints trailing Soap]

Soap: [internally] Crap.

Soap: Well, shouldn't there be some sort of sign... Oh, look at that. Well, you should put it back down before someone slips and falls.

Ghost: Oh, is that what I should do? Good, because I make most decisions based on your opinion. You know what, I'm thinking of splitting up with the wife. Maybe you could mull that over, get back to me, maybe pow-wow. [a woman slips] Floor's wet, ma'am. Little help over here. Little help.

———

Gaz: Cap’n, what's our plan of attack?

Price: When I crush a person's spirit, I like to use a combination of intimidation and degradation.

Soap: I prefer to create an environment in which the subjects end up crushing themselves.

Price: Uh-huh.

Ghost: I like to pick one person and torment them relentlessly for no reason. If I could find them I'd show you.

[poor rookie of the day walks up behind Ghost and wisely decides to back away]

Ghost: He's near.

———

[Ghost sprays a window with blue cleaning fluid and wipes it. He then aims the spray in his mouth. Price takes a second look as he passes by.]

Ghost: I filled it with blue Gatorade. I just do that to freak people out.

Price: Scintillating

———

[As a boy plays with a toy car in his bed, he accidentally knocks over his juice carton]

A Boy: Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no!

Gaz: Hey, it's okay.

A Boy: But now the Ghost Who Hates Spills is gonna come.

Gaz: Who?

Ghost: You're right, boy. He might come this very night. And as you know, that ghost's entire family was killed by a careless spill. Just like yours. Just like yours. Hmm.

———

Gaz: Oh, hi. Are we going out? What's with the jumpsuit?

Ghost: Okay, first of all if we're gonna make it, not a jumpsuit. Shirt, belt, pants.

Gaz: Oh. Ok.

Ghost: Secondly, I think it's time that you knew the real me. All right, here we go. I'm not like normal people. I don't have superpowers, but I'm working on it. For instance, watch me move this pen. [looks at pen, which doesn't move] It worked at home. I don't know. Maybe my table is slanted. Um, anyway, in my spare time, I also enjoy stuffing animals. Usually with other animals. For instance, a badger will hold five squirrels. A squirrel will hold most of a cat. A mouse will hold a shrew and a vole. You get the idea. Circle of life. I have broken the sound barrier, but you must never ask me how. I don't believe in the moon. I think it's just the back of the sun.

Price: Ha! I love a good train wreck.

Ghost: Furthermore, I think if you look closely a monkey-

Soap: Stop it, you. he doesn't know you're joking.

———

Ghost: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa whoa. Watch your step, there, Gaz.

Gaz: Thanks, Ghost.

Gaz: [internally] He is so sweet. But why doesn't he just put up a sign that says "wet floor"?

[Soap screams as he slides across the floor and crashes]

Ghost: Wet floor.

———

Soap: [gasps] Why do you have to jump out and scare me all the time?

Ghost: I don't jump out and scare you. I follow you around all day. I only got about an hour-and-a-half worth of work around here, and the rest of the time, I track you, like an animal.

Soap: You're kidding, right?

Ghost: [chuckles] I don't know. Am I?

———

Soap: Holy-

Ghost: [whispering] Calm down. I didn't mean to scare you.

Soap: [whispering] Why are we whispering?

Ghost: [whispering] I wanted to see if you would whisper because I whispered.

Soap: [whispering] I think I would.

———

Ghost: I convinced everybody in on base that's afraid of me to go outside and spell out the score of the game.

Price: Really?

Ghost: No, you idiot. I'm just gonna tell you the score of the game. Maybe knock your head against the glass.

Price: Look, I was way out of line telling you how that movie ended, but, God save me, watching sports is one of the last pure pleasures I have left in my life, so you tell me what's it gonna take for you to let me go home, sit in my massage chair, and enjoy the game?

Ghost: I would like to perform open heart surgery.

Price: No.

Ghost: How about you perform surgery on me so that I can breathe underwater?

Price: No.

Ghost: I would like a shark that read minds.

Price: No.

Ghost: You and I trade lives for a year.

Price: No.

Ghost: How about a home-cooked meal and an hour in your massage chair?

Price: Done.

Ghost: Done.

[Ghost walks over to the window and looks outside, where a large group of rookies have arranged themselves to spell out "98-97"]

Ghost: Hey, guys, it's off.

[He looks again and they have rearranged themselves to read "Why"]

Ghost: Wow! You guys are organised.

———

Ghost: Look, if I learnt one thing from my parents, it's this. The key to a good marriage is keeping your emotions bottled up until they finally explode and you have to lash out physically.

Soap: You mean, beat each other up?

Ghost: I mean beat yourself up. My mother once snapped her own index finger because my father was late for church. She dented the car, he threw himself down the stairs.

———

Gaz: Soap, you're not that self-destructive.

Ghost: Really? I was gonna suggest he seek professional help. Would you be interested in seeing a cognitive therapist? 'cause I know a guy, he's good. I'm going to give you his card, then I'm gonna bash your head in. I'll see you in the morning.

Soap: I'm in at 7.

Ghost: Wear a helmet.

———

okay that’s it

#cod mw #cod 141 #cod modern warfare #incorrect cod quotes #call of duty modern warfare #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap call of duty #ghoap #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #gaz cod #simon riley cod #cod soap #john price cod #cod price #john price #captain john price #ghost call of duty #ghost x soap #ghost simon riley #soapghost #ghostsoap #soap x ghost #inccorect quotes #incorrect call of duty quotes #task force 141 #cod incorrect quotes #call of duty incorrect quotes #ear incorrect quotes

[gerryrigged]

not me popping in multiple weeks late to your wip list to inform you that the concept of tim going to jason in a sex pollen situation and dick being Displeased about this flipped a switch in my fucking brain. it just spoke to me okay, i'm obsessed. i understand that there probably isn't a lot to say on the concept beyond the fic itself but i'd be thrilled with anything you'd like to share! i am RAVENOUS

Ohhhhh Anon 🤗 that one ate my brain for a solid few days when it first stole up on me, so I definitely feel you. Jealous and possessive Dick is just too good!!!

Okay so this is post-Red Robin, and Dick and Tim's relationship is still a little strained. Like they’ve reaffirmed their care for and trust in each other, they're making efforts to repair things, but yeah. Still stuff they haven’t addressed, and the comfort level hasn’t been quite rebuilt yet. 

Also Bruce fucked off to build Batman Inc. and left Dick to continue as Gotham’s Batman with Damian as his Robin, so there’s still that. 

Anyway, Dick is particularly invested in improving his and Tim's relationship, because he's only become more attracted to Tim since he returned from his BruceQuest more centered, more himself - but also sharper and more enchantingly graceful and competent and gorgeous than he’s ever been before. He's also turned 18, and Dick is tentatively hopeful that they can finally address the potential between them that's lurked under the surface for at least a couple of years now. 

Because, haha, Dick thinks that they are BOTH aware of the long-simmering feelings between the two of them, and that Tim has just been considerate of Dick’s reluctance to start anything while Tim was still underage. He thinks that they had a kind of mutual, unspoken understanding to wait to explore those feelings until Tim was older, if they were both still unattached, and still interested. And okay, their falling out in Red Robin threw kind of a wrench into things but rebuilding their relationship now is a perfect opportunity to maybe try deepening it further 👀💘🥺💞🙏??? 

(HA. Tim has no fucking idea that Dick thinks of him as anything but his trusted younger brother figure 🙃) 

Anyway. Jason is still around Gotham, occasionally causing trouble, occasionally helping. He mostly stays in his carved out territory, but he’ll like, deign to coordinate with the Bats for pushback against Arkham breakouts, or city-wide gang wars, or like, alien invasions, maybe. 

At times, he seems to be circling the Bats. He’s made conversational overtures toward Dick when their vigilante paths cross, which Dick has warily returned. Dick has also spotted Red Hood with Red Robin once or twice; it made him tense and beeline toward them the first few times, but Hood always took off, and Red said it was just work, or Jason fucking around - that he didn't seem to be actively plotting any harm, at least. 

Dick isn’t exactly happy about it, but Tim gets huffy about Dick not thinking he can take care of himself (‘what happened to equals, huh?’) so Dick has to back off. He does extract a promise from an eye-rolling Tim that he’ll call Dick for back-up if things get out of hand and Jason seems to be falling back into old, potentially Tim-maiming habits. (‘partners, remember? that rely on each other?’) 

Then there's a multi-Rogue Arkham breakout. After splitting and converging in various teams to take out the rest, Batman (Dick), Hood, and Red Robin wrap up with Harley and Poison Ivy at the end.

It seems to go smoothly - for a hot second it looked like Red Robin was tagged by some kind of acid spat by one of Ivy’s flowers, but he must've dodged or was able to just quickly neutralize the substance with seemingly no side effects, because he seems okay.

Dick is anxious to get back home to check on Damian - Robin had apparently been knocked out in his and Batgirl’s fight against Scarecrow across town, and may have inhaled some gas when his mask tore.

But he stops, concerned, when he notices that Red Robin is lingering behind, not following. 

He stalls harder, frowning, when Tim snags Jason’s jacket to also keep him from leaving. But Tim just flashes Dick a strained smile. 

“Just want to yell at him about something, it’s fine,” Tim reassures him. 

“Oh yeah, that makes me want to stick around,” Jason grumbles. 

“I think you’ll want to hear me out,” Tim says, low and hoarse, fingers tightening on Jason’s jacket. He clears his throat when both Dick and Jason shoot him odd looks - or, well, an interrogative helmet tilt, in Jason’s case - and waves Dick off again impatiently. “Seriously, go. We’re fine.” 

It takes Tim getting pretty insistent to actually shoo Dick away - he’s weirdly reluctant to leave them alone, gaze fixed uneasily on Tim’s hand, still gripping Jason’s jacket, the way Jason is sort of leaning into Tim, something intrigued in his body language (what does he know that Dick doesn’t?) - but Dick does eventually, reluctantly leave. He’s definitely going to interrogate Tim later to figure out what that was all about. 

As you can imagine, it’s a real knife to Dick’s gut when he finds out that Tim was sex pollened, aware of it and actively fighting through it, and chose Jason to help him deal with it while Dick was RIGHT THERE. RIGHT FUCKING THERE.

I don’t think he finds out from Tim directly. Maybe from Oracle?? Maybe he’s waiting at the Manor for Tim to come by for a debriefing, and he never shows, and Dick gets increasingly worried until he looks up Red Robin’s location data and he’s. Still with Jason. For some reason. At the Bat safehouse nearest to that last battle. They’re right on top of each other, practically. 

Maybe he calls Oracle to fish for info and she (not having any more idea than Tim of the Dick -> Tim feelings) gives him kind of an amused, snarky response about how oh yeah, don't worry, they’re fine 😏; I can’t say more than that, the cameras are blacked out. And Dick’s like, ‘...blacked out?’ and she’s like, ‘protocol, lol, but seriously, they’re fine.’

And Dick is like. Privacy blackout protocol? Tim’s hand on Jason’s jacket? Babs smirking so hard he can hear it through the comm? POISON IVY?

2 + 2 = 4 and Dick is NOT a happy camper. He probably like. Sits there staring at the Red Hood and Red Robin icons layered on top of each other in that apartment ALL FUCKING NIGHT, imagining what’s happening in there, wanting to yell himself hoarse and throw breakable things to shatter against the Cave walls. But he sits motionless in the dark, instead. Aching and second-guessing everything he thought he knew about where he and Tim stood with each other - when he can think through the haze of hurt, jealousy, and anger. 

[INSERT A SWITCH TO EITHER JASON OR TIM'S POV FOR THEIR MARATHON SEX POLLEN FUCK SESSION 😂 WOW THEY ARE HAVING A FANTASTIC TIME WHILE DICK IS JUST. SO MISERABLE. TIM IS SO FLEXIBLE. JASON HAS SO MUCH STAMINA. YAAAAAY.]

I’m sort of divided about how Dick’s actual confrontation of Tim would go, because my dark horny Id wants jealous Dick stewing and stewing and eventually just losing it (possibly prompted by getting dosed by another mind-altering, inhibition-loosening drug? because WHY NOT) and like, borderline dub-con ambushing Tim, possibly tying him down and fucking him until he cries and learns who he belongs to

but then my mushy Id is like NO I WANT DICK TO CRY INTO TIM’S CHEST ABOUT HOW HURT HE IS THAT TIM DOESN’T WANT HIM WHEN HE’S LOVED TIM FOR SO LONG NOW, and for Tim to be like wait wait wait WHAT??? but I DO want you, I’ve loved you for so long, that’s why I didn’t want a cheap meaningless sex pollen pity fuck, that would destroy me! and then they cry on each other some more and make sweet sappy reaffirming (but also lbr intensely possessive) love

and then my SUPEREGO is like stfu you know that’s not how it would go, Dick Grayson represses the fuck out of all debilitating hurts and betrayals and upsets, he has to brood and angst like a MOTHERFUCKER first, and then probably snipe at a baffled Tim about unrelated things because he can’t talk about his feelings, and then pick petty fights with a confused, annoyed Jason about things he’d previously been letting go as hostilities had cooled

and then vent to his friends in highly coded/obfuscated language so they have to stab in the dark trying to give him relevant advice, except for Roy who oh shit accidentally figures out EXACTLY what Dick is so bent out of shape about because Jason talked to him about helping Tim out with the sex pollen incident, and what the fuck Dick are you in love with Tim??? and what the fuck Roy, did Jason GOSSIP with you about Tim, did he BRAG ABOUT FUCKING TIM, Dick is gonna fucking PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE, and Roy has to frantically talk him down. 

and then Dick would eventually confront Tim slightly-too-aggressively about that one time he fucked Red Hood (if it even was just one time >:|), and was that really the best decision Tim, I’m not saying I’m questioning your judgment but he stabbed you in the chest with a Batarang Tim, I’m not saying another much safer and more appropriate person was right there Tim but I was literally right fucking there Tim, I would have fucked you so good you would never want anyone else Tim, why didn’t you want me Tim, why didn’t you choose me???

….also also, I’m undecided on whether I would want to add JayTim tentatively developing feelings from the pollen incident into the mix to make things even more messy and fucked, but honestly!!! That could be more than I want to try and juggle lol

Thanks for the Ask, I appreciate you!!

#if I could leave the JayTim as one long fun no-strings-attached sex pollen romp that could also be great fun #especially in the context of cutting directly away from (and then maybe right back *into*) a scene of Dick - #- crying and dying inside as he angstily tortures himself imagining exactly what they're doing lol #I want to be so mean to Dick 😊 #god this has reminded me of how much fun I was having with this idea #dicktim #jaytim #asks #gerryrigged #gerry words #dc #anonymoose #WIP ask game