#that’s the time of night I like to go through tumblr and see what people are thinking about in their lives

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 34: Anything

You're left behind in Jackson when Joel goes on overnight patrol. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-33 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Smut :). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 9.2k

A/N: We are heading into the final arc of Yearling and we are going to see some TLOU 2 OVERLAP again. There isn't any this chapter but there will be in this arc and here's how: a character from that game will be mentioned as will the spoiler-y incident from a few chapters ago. What happens plot wise in this arc is completely separate from the game and entirely original content BUT there is that character overlap and more specific mentions of the incident and the motives behind it. If you're trying to go in blind to season 2, it might be wise to step back. Feel free to send me a DM, I'm happy to answer any and all questions!

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter

September, 2013

The gunshot made you jump. 

It was distant but sharp, the crack jarring against the quiet of your cabin. Marisa’s head shot up from her book, a frown on her face in the flickering firelight. 

“Was that…” 

“Shhh,” you sat up from where you’d been lying against her, held a hand out to her, ear perked and listening. Another crack, a little louder this time. You set your book down and went to the front window, drawing the curtains and pinning them shut so no light from the fire would slip through. 

“What…” 

“Stay here,” you said, your heart pounding as you got your rifle off the wall. 

“You’re not going out there!” She shot up, her eyes wide. 

“Not gonna sit here and wait for whoever that is to show up at our door,” you replied, grabbing a flashlight, too. 

“Well, I’m going with you,” she said, going to get her gun, too. 

“No,” you said, grabbing a saddle bag with ammunition and turning to face her. 

“Yes, I am,” she narrowed her eyes at you but there was a tremble of fear in her voice, her rifle clutched tightly in her hand. 

“No,” you said quietly, reaching out and gently taking her face in your hand. “You’re not. You’re staying here to look after Savannah…” 

“But what if something happens to you?” Her eyes searched yours, wide and frantic. “You’re her mom, not me. I can’t be that for her like that, just… stay here, we’ll figure it out if they find us just…” 

“Not lettin’ them that close to the two of you, baby,” you said, brushing your thumb over the arch of her cheekbone. You kissed her gently. Her eyes were wet. “I’ll be back soon. But… if I’m not, take care of Savannah for me.” 

You didn’t wait for a response, going to jump on Nike, not bothering with a saddle. You were too afraid to take the time, you had to protect the people who had become your home. You couldn’t lose them, you couldn’t let anyone take them away, you had to make sure they were safe. 

There was another gunshot and you followed the sound, your heart racing, eventually finding a man with two infected nearly ripping him apart. You shot them quickly, the man’s fearful gasps loud in the night. 

“Fuck,” he panted as you turned on the flashlight, shining it around the nearby forest. You caught a glimpse of another infected on the ground about 20 feet away before turning the light on him. He was limp on the ground, his eyes wide. “I think I’m bit, I think… I think they got me.” 

You knelt beside him and looked at his exposed skin. There was a vicious bite on his hand, the flesh already looking sick and wrong and so like Justin’s bite all those years ago. 

You sighed. 

“Yeah, you are. I can make it quick for you, if you’d like. Can’t let you leave here, though. You can wait ’til you turn, if you’d rather.” 

He blinked a few times, staring up at the dark canopy of trees as moonlight filtered through the leaves. 

“Just do it,” he said, turning his eyes to you, cocking his head slightly. “Is it just you out here?” 

“Kind of,” you said. “Got my girlfriend, my daughter. No one else, though.” 

He looked back to the sky and nodded. 

“That’s good,” he said. “It’s hard, being alone. Been alone for a few months now, wife got bit back in June. Should’ve just ended it then, don’t know why I waited this long.” 

You nodded slowly. You understood that. You stood up again, rifle in your hand. The man’s eyes were still wide, looking up at the trees. 

“Here OK?” You asked. “Might be able to get you somewhere you can see the sky…” 

“No point,” he said, still staring up. “Just do it.” 

His eyes refocused, looking at you. 

“And thank you. Know it’s not easy.” 

You aimed the gun at his head and he went back to looking at the trees. 

“I’m sorry it’s endin’ like this,” you said. “Hope you get to be with your wife again.” 

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Me too.” 

You took a deep breath, pulled the trigger and he was gone. 

You stayed for a little while after, waiting to see if there were any clickers that would come for the noise you’d been making but none showed up. You realized you didn’t even know the man’s name. You were the last person he spoke to and you didn’t know his name. 

You cleaned the blood off your hands as best you could and made your way back home, Nike moving slowly through the trees and you didn’t rush her. When you opened the door, Marisa damn near knocked you down, you barely catching her as she threw herself at you. 

“You’re OK,” her voice was thick and wet and she clung to you for a moment before pulling back to look in your eyes. “I was so scared, I heard more gunshots, I didn’t know…” 

“I’m sorry, baby,” you said gently, kissing her, her lips plush and soft on yours. “Didn’t mean to scare you…” 

You got cleaned up and took her to bed and made her come on your fingers before she had to swallow the desperate sounds of your orgasm to keep from waking the baby. You held her close after, telling her what happened in the forest, that you’d go bury the body in the morning and do a check for infected, that she was safe here with you. 

“I think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met,” she said quietly, toying with your fingers, her breath warm on your skin as she lay her head on your chest.

You scoffed. 

“Don’t feel very brave. I was scared shitless the whole time, thought my damn heart was going to beat out of my chest.” 

“Oh baby,” she whispered, adjusting so her face was over yours, the light of the moon making her dark skin glow. “That’s what makes you brave, that you’re scared and you do it anyway. You don’t let the fear own you. That’s why you’re going to make it through all this, I just know it.” 

You hummed, not really agreeing or disagreeing, just wanting her close again. She rested her head on your chest again and you gave her a squeeze, focusing on how she felt against you as she fell asleep. 

It didn’t really matter if it was bravery or not, you supposed. If it kept the people you loved most alive, you could push past the fear. Life wouldn’t matter without them, you would do anything if it meant it would protect them. 

Anything. 

May, 2028

“No way.” 

You cleaned the last of the gunk out from Shimmer’s back left hoof and set the pick down. 

“Bambi,” Ellie drew out your hame, whining it. “Please? I swear, I’ll owe you forever…” 

“I am not coming out to your dad for you,” you grabbed the file. “Absolutely not.” 

“But…” 

“Ellie,” you looked up to her as she perched on a stall in the barn. “No. That’s not something you just do for someone else. If you want Joel to know you’re gay you need to be the one to tell him, I can’t do that for you.” 

“But why not!” She pouted. “You already know and you get it and you can help him get it and…” 

“I’ll help you do it,” you cut her off. “I can be there when you tell him, I can intervene if he reacts badly - which he won’t - but I’m not doing it for you.” 

“That’s bullshit,” she huffed. “I don’t want to tell him…” 

“Then don’t,” you shrugged, finishing filing the hoof down and getting the next horseshoe ready to go on. “Live the rest of your life in the closet if that’s what you want to do.” 

“But that’s not what I want.” 

“Then tell him,” you shrugged again. “Those are your options, kiddo, hate to break it to you.” 

“You know, straight people don’t have to come out,” she kicked at the stall post. “This is dumb.” 

“That I can agree with,” you said. “But, unfortunately, that’s not the way the world works. If you want to be out, you need to come out. It sucks but that’s the way of things.” 

Ellie sighed and crossed her arms, leaning her head on the post at her back. 

“Do you really think I should?” She asked. 

You shrugged. 

“I think you have a father who loves you more than life itself,” you said. “And I think he’s also a man who has proven that he really does not care what a person’s sexuality is, given that he’s married to me. I think you should do what feels right but you should know that Joel is going to love you to pieces regardless.” 

She sighed again. 

“You’re right…” 

“Usually am.” 

She glared at you before going back to staring straight ahead. 

“I just don’t know why I’m so freaked out about it.” 

You shrugged.

“It’s a big deal. You’re telling him ‘hey this person you think I am? I’m actually different than that.’ It’s hard.” 

She considered you for a moment. 

“Did you come out to your parents?” She asked. 

You laughed. 

“No, I did not,” you said. “Never had the chance. I would have eventually, I think. But I was about your age when the world ended and it felt a lot safer to hide it from my parents when I was that age. I lived far away and they weren’t as… open to other ideas as Joel is.” 

Ellie scoffed. 

“I mean it,” you said. “They had a hard enough time handling the fact that I wanted to get thrown off horses for a living. They’d have had a hell of a time understanding why I was bringing a girl home for dinner. You know Joel ain’t that way. All he cares about is that you’re safe and happy. Everything else don’t really matter.” 

You finished shoeing Shimmer and set her hoof down. She twitched her tail and chuffed in response. 

“Can you at least tell Joel you gave me…” She scrunched her nose in disgust. “The talk?” 

You laughed a little. 

“Yeah, that I can do,” you said. “I’ll tell him I told you everything you need to know. Which is be smart about who you take your clothes off with and if a man ever tries anything, cut his dick off.” 

She barked a laugh. 

“Yeah, that I can handle,” she said. “I can’t believe he thought someone needed to talk to me about sex…” 

You were less surprised about that fact than Ellie, but then, you had the full context. 

You’d been watching Savvy and Kyle from what you hoped was a respectful distance, giving her the chance to fall for a boy in the way you always wanted her to be able to. But there was the other part of that, too. You knew what teenagers were like and, while Savvy knew about sex, you’d never given her the sex talk in the context of her being around boys. She had questions about seeing animals mating when she was a girl and you’d answered them and explained that humans worked much the same way. She’d scrunched her face in disgust and you laughed a little, not bothering to tell her that, one day, that was going to be damn near all she was interested in doing. 

But that had come with the knowledge that, in all likelihood, it would be years - if not decades - before she even had the opportunity to find someone she wanted to do that with. You figured you’d update things as she got older or when there was a person she was interested in. 

Now, the time had come. You just weren’t sure how ready you were for that. You’d gone to Joel for advice about it, feeling like you were flying particularly blind in this arena. 

“Shit, baby, been a long time since I’ve had that conversation,” he said as he traced abstract little patterns over your bare skin. “Tryin’ to even remember how I brought it up with Sarah now… My face was burnin’ up the whole time, that much I know.” 

“There were perks to being hermits,” you sighed, pressing yourself closer to him. “Didn’t have to worry about my kid getting knocked up as a teenager for one.” 

“Mmm,” Joel hummed in agreement. “Least she has boys to flirt with now.” 

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” you muttered but smiled against his skin all the same. 

“I can talk to her with you if you think it’ll help,” he said. 

“Let me give it a shot on my own,” you sighed. “See if she will actually listen to me. If she doesn’t, I’ll call in the reinforcements.” 

Savvy had, mercifully, been at least open to the conversation. 

“I already know this stuff, Mom,” she’d rolled her eyes, arms crossed as she sat on the couch.

“You know the biology of it,” you said. “But it’s… different. You’re older now, there are going to be feelings you have that you want to act on…” 

“Ugh!” She buried her face in the arm of the couch. “Please don’t!” 

“You’re young,” you said. “Too young to really understand the risks. Do you feel like you’re ready to raise a child?” 

“No!” She pulled her head up. “Obviously not!” 

“Then you shouldn’t be having sex right now,” you shrugged. “That’s the risk. Not to mention that there are a lot of emotions that come up when you do that with someone, it can complicate relationships and you’re too young to figure that out on your own…” 

“I’m not a baby,” she practically scowled at you. “I can handle emotions!” 

“I’m not saying you can’t,” you said gently. “I’m saying that adult relationships are complicated for adults and, as grown up as you might think you are, you’re still a kid. I understand that you might want to feel close with someone and, honestly, there’s not much I can do to stop you. But I want you to understand what you’re risking if you go that route and I want you to not let anyone pressure you into it, even if it’s someone you care about. OK?” 

“Alright, jeez!” She groaned. “Can we stop talking now? Please?” 

After that conversation, though, Joel became worried about how much time Ellie was spending with Jesse. 

“Never really thought about what she did or didn’t learn in the QZ,” Joel said gruffly that night when it was just the two of you. “What if she don’t know how to keep herself safe?” 

“I don’t think you have much to worry about,” you said, trying to avoid telling Joel exactly why he didn’t need to worry. 

“Would you be OK talkin’ with her for me?” He’d winced as he asked it. “Feel like you’re her mom, think she’d be a little more… receptive to it coming from another woman.” 

You’d said yes more to buy time than anything else. 

You weren’t thrilled about the idea of lying to your husband but you could tap dance around the truth of it well enough. At least, that’s what you were telling yourself. 

“While you’re trying to decide whether or not you want to tell your dad,” you said, getting up to lead Shimmer to her stall. “Think I’m going to call in that favor you owe me…” 

“What favor?” She demanded. “You’re not telling him for me!” 

“No,” you shook your head. “But I’m also not telling him that I didn’t give you the talk and he needs to do it himself…” 

“Jesus…” 

“So,” you continued. “Can I ask you to keep a closer eye on Savvy while Joel is out on patrol the next few days? She’s still… more comfortable talking with him than with me. Want to make sure she’s doin’ OK…” 

“Of course I will,” she said, relaxing a little. “You know, I still think…” 

“Ellie.” 

“I’m just saying!” She said. “I know she’s doing her best to move past shit, she really is, but it would be a lot easier if she knew what she was actually moving past, that’s all I’m saying.” 

“She’s getting there,” you said, giving Shimmer a scratch. “You don’t understand this yet but it’s hard when you know you can’t protect your child from everything. I can protect her from this.” 

“Whatever you say,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m going to the mess hall. As far as Joel knows, you’ve talked to me, right?” 

“Right,” you said. “Feel free to act all awkward and lay it on real thick…” 

“Alright, bye,” she rolled her eyes and stalked off and you laughed, watching her leave. 

It was good to see Ellie acting like she normally did. You knew she was worried about Joel going out on a longer patrol, too.

You were trying not to panic about it. It was time. Consciously, you knew that. He was ready for it, his body as healed as it would ever be. He still had a bit of a limp - one you knew he tried to disguise when he thought you were watching - but he was fully capable. You’d seen it on patrol with him the two times you’d gone, the second one thankfully far less eventful than the first. 

He’d since gone out just him and Tommy, never going too far from Jackson. It still made you nervous, even though he always came back whole and well. You always clung to him when he got back and he let you, holding you against him, a hand running soothingly up and down your spine as he did. 

But this was his first overnight patrol. He was going to be gone for a few days on a route that had been calm lately, you knew you didn’t have much reason to worry. That didn’t make it much easier. 

“What’s got those wheels turnin’?” 

Joel’s voice made you jump as you brushed Shimmer down in her stall. He was leaning against the entrance to the stable, arms crossed over his broad chest as he watched you, his denim shirt rolled up to his elbows. 

“Who said they were?” You asked, giving the horse a final brush before leaving the stall and walking up to your husband, your own arms crossed over your chest. He smiled and quirked his jaw, shaking his head ever so slightly. “What brings you here, cowboy?” 

“Tryin’ to get my wife all to myself for a bit,” he said. “Think I can entice you away from the mess hall for the evening?” 

“I dunno,” you stepped closer. “What’d you have in mind?” 

He shrugged. 

“Just have to see.” 

You laughed, dropping your arms and the pretense. 

“Lead the way.” 

He draped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in to kiss your temple before walking slowly back to your house. When you stopped to think about it, it still struck you as funny that it was your house and that you thought of it that way and not as Joel’s place. But you did, it was the place you’d made your life together, feeling more like you belonged here than you had almost anywhere else you had ever lived. 

When you got in the door, there was a small bouquet of wildflowers in a glass in the middle of the kitchen table, a table that was set for dinner for two. You looked at him, brows raised in surprise. 

“What’s this?” 

He shrugged, a sly smile on his face. 

“Wanted a night in with my girl. Might have talked my way into a steak or two. Think you take yours… medium rare, right?” 

“Yeah,” you laughed. “I do.” 

“Well,” he pulled you in for a long, deep kiss. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and when you’re done, there’ll be a medium-rare steak waitin’ here for ya.” 

“Think I can be convinced,” you smiled against his mouth before kissing him again. “Feel like you’re butterin’ me up or something here…” 

“Just tryin’ to make sure you remember why you’re married to me while I’m gone,” he said. “Try to keep you from getting too fed up with my shit…” You laughed and he smiled. “Go on so I can get this going, you’re too distracting standing this close.” 

You rolled your eyes but obeyed, going to shower and, instead of putting on jeans or sweats after, finding one of the dresses in your closet, one that Joel had never seen you in. You got your wet hair out of the way and went downstairs again, strangely aware of how the dress hugged your curves. 

Joel’s back was to you when you came in but the plates were on the table, steak and green beans and a pile of fresh potato chips on each one. 

“Are you kidding me?” You gaped at them. “You realize we’re already married, right? You don’t have to try this hard.” 

“Like tryin’ hard for you,” he turned around, glasses in hand, and his mouth fell open, blinking a few times in surprise. “Hot damn, baby…” 

“Shocking, know,” you smirked. 

“I ever tell you you’re the most beautiful goddamn thing I’ve ever seen?” He asked, setting a glass down at your place. “Now, let me feed you before I change my mind and try to pull that dress off right here in the kitchen.” 

Joel really did grill a mean steak. He’d even made the two of you whiskey cocktails with a recipe he’d gotten from Julie and, by the time dinner was done, you were pleasantly tipsy and full. 

“Where did you get the flowers?” You asked, trailing your fingertips over the tiny white blooms. 

“Might have gone outside for a bit,” he winced a little. You raised your eyebrows. “Not far, the kids in town sneak out that way all the time…” 

“Wait, what?” You gaped at him, practically jumping out of your seat. 

“Not Savvy and not Ellie,” he said quickly and you settled. “Made sure they know better. But lot of the other kids do. S’pretty out that way, have to take you sometime. Still owe you a trip to the lake. But, in the mean time…” he got up and offered you his hand, pulling you to your feet. “I’ve got someplace to take you tonight.” 

He led you to the living room, a nest of pillows and blankets and sleeping bags set up in front of the TV. 

“Just one second…” he turned the TV on, the opening sepia toned shot from Titanic on the screen. 

“Joel!” You gasped. “Where’d you even get this?” 

“Asked around,” he smiled. “Would’ve gone and hunted it down just to see you get all excited though.” 

You elbowed him lightly in the side and he laughed as the two of you settled into the pile on the floor, you in Joel’s arms with your head on his chest as his fingers trailed up and down the bare skin of your arm. 

The movie was just as good as the last time you’d seen it with Joel. Better, really, because you got to watch it pressed completely against his broad, strong body. But you could only really pay attention so long, twisting in his hold so you were looking at him and not the screen. 

“Know it ain’t exactly a date like before,” he said softly. “But… I do OK?” 

“Oh you blew past OK a while ago,” you laughed a little and he smiled. “This was… thank you, Joel.” 

“Course, baby,” he trailed his fingers over the outline of your face. “Gonna miss you when I’m out there.” 

“You could just not go,” you said. “Don’t think anyone’s holdin’ a gun to your head about it…” 

He laughed once, softly. 

“I know,” he said. “But… I do appreciate you lettin’ me go. I know it ain’t easy for you. Don’t blame you for it. But I’m feeling a lot more like myself since I’ve been patrollin’ again. I feel useful. I missed it. Thank you for letting me find that again.” 

Your eyes searched his. You couldn’t really argue that with him, not when he was being so damn open and honest about it. 

“Just need you to come home to me,” you said quietly. “You can have and do whatever you want, long as you come home.” 

“Long as you’re here to come home to?” He said. “I’m comin’ home. Every time.” 

He kissed you, gentle at first but deepening, until he was shoving your skirt around your waist and pulling your underwear down your legs. He sank into you, slow and firm, his breaths heavy and hot on your skin. You sank your fingers into is skin, holding him close and tight and the worries you had about clutching onto him too hard were far away. 

Joel kept his pace, his body so large and strong on top of and inside of yours. You could feel his heartbeat, his eyes locked on your own and you focused on how close he was to you, how you knew he was safe and whole like this. How you knew he wouldn’t lie to you, that he would do everything to come back home to you. Your body got tight and needy, the heat inside you pulling into the center of you and burning hotter and brighter with every desperate stroke. 

“You’re gettin’ close baby,” he pressed his mouth into your throat, nipping at the tender flesh there before soothing it with a brush of his tongue and a kiss. “Want you to come for me. Love makin’ you feel good, fuckin’ live for it…” 

“Promise it’s not the last time,” your voice was tight, too, the intensity of your orgasm crashing into the fear that you couldn’t seem to shake. 

“Promise,” he pulled back from you enough to look in your eyes again, his large hand coming to cradle the crown of your head. “Nothing’s keepin’ me from you, baby, nothin’, it’s OK, it’ll be OK, promise it will…” 

Your back arched, last ounces of tension gripping you for a moment before releasing in a forceful, desperate wave. 

“Fuck, there you are,” Joel panted, fucking you through it, never easing, chasing his own orgasm through yours. “Feel so good, so goddamn good, fuck, that’s it, keep comin’ for me, know you can…” 

As your own orgasm started to ease, his took hold, pressing himself deep inside and emptying himself into you there. 

Joel pulled himself from your fucked out body with a groan and collapsed beside you, immediately pulling you tightly to him as you gasped short, shaky breaths. 

“You’re OK,” he said gently, still breathing heavy himself. “I’ve got you, s’alright…” 

You buried your face in his neck and fought to catch your breath, focusing on his scent and the feel of him against your skin. 

“I’m sorry,” you said eventually. “I thought I was stronger than this but ever since… I can’t stop thinking about how close I came to never seeing you again and I just…” 

“I know,” he said gently, pulling away from you enough that you could see his face. “I know how you’re feeling. I feel it, too. But I need you to know that I mean it when I say I’m comin’ back. I am, baby.” 

You just nodded and focused on the feeling of him tracing the outline of your face in the dim light of the TV, his body close beside your own. He pressed a soft kiss into your lips, holding you closer as he did and staying close after he pulled away, so close that his nose brushed yours. You stayed like that, not bothering to turn to watch the movie let alone put in the second tape when the first one ended. Instead, you just memorized how he felt against you, how his eyes looked into your own, how his fingers found their familiar paths along your skin. 

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep but you were still entangled with him in the morning, his forehead against yours, his breaths easy and deep in sleep. You ran your fingers through his graying curls and his face tensed a little in his sleep before he adjusted, sliding down your body to bury his face against your chest. You just stroked his hair and held him there, the early morning light becoming pink with the sun. 

When you couldn’t avoid it any longer, you woke him reluctantly and the two of you made your way to the stables, your body tucked against his. He gave you a squeeze before separating from you, the two of you working together to get the horses ready to head out on patrol. You walked with the patrol to the front gate, Joel leading his horse by the reins instead of riding him so he could hold your hand on the way. 

“Be safe,” you said quietly as he faced you, every other horse on the other side of the wall now. 

“Promise,” he said gently, his large hand going to the back of your neck and holding you at just the right angle to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “Take care of yourself and our girls. Gimme somethin’ to come home to, OK?” 

You smiled a little. Like something was going to happen in Jackson. 

“Promise.” 

You watched the patrol leave until they were out of sight, trying to calm the thudding of your heart as you headed for the stable to get started on all the work for the day. 

You’d purposely set yourself up for a busy few days with Joel gone. If you were occupied, your mind couldn’t wander. So you focused on training horses. 

It was the hardest part of your job but also the part you liked the most. You had to concentrate on it otherwise you’d get thrown. The horse could always tell when you were distracted, if you gave them an inch they would take a mile at this stage. 

You were finally thinking about finishing up for the day, the sun low in the sky and your back sore after getting nearly thrown off a horse more times than you cared to count when Ellie and Savvy wandered into the stable, giggling to each other as they made their way over to you. 

You took a moment to fully appreciate what they were to each other. You’d always felt bad for Savvy, having just you in the world, no one closer to her own age to bond with. Now, she and Ellie were attached at the hip, sharing the kind of bond you’d always longed to have with the sister who had never materialized, no matter how much you begged your parents for one. Both of them meant so much to you, the whole of the future wrapped up in them. You had survived a lot to get to this point, horrors you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy, but you’d do it all again to see these two girls find sisterhood in each other. Conspiratorial whispers and knowing laughs and deep love was everything you wanted for your daughter and she had found it here. 

“Terrified to know what this is about,” you half smiled as they walked over.. 

“Why does it have to be about something?” Ellie rolled her eyes. “What if we just wanted to come say hi.” 

“Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two stop by to just say hi,” you said. “So that would be highly suspect. What do you want?” 

“Can we go spend the night at Dina’s?” Savvy asked, the words all spilling out of her at once. “I promise we’ll behave and…” 

“Dina’s?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at Ellie. 

“Yeah, my friend Dina’s,” she gave you a firm look as she said it. 

“And what will you be doing at Dina’s?” You asked, turning your attention back to Savvy. 

“Just hanging out with some friends,” she said. 

“Any boys?” You asked. 

“No,” Ellie said quickly. “Mostly some of the girls who just finished up school and the girls who are about Savvy’s age, nothing crazy…” 

“Please Mom?” Savvy interrupted her. “It’s going to be so fun and I haven’t done anything like this before but I’ve read about it and it sounds so cool and I really want to go and…” 

“And Dina’s sister will be there?” You asked Ellie, who perked up at the question. 

“Yeah,” Ellie said. “And she doesn’t let Dina get away with shit…” 

“You do realize that you’re 18 and I can’t do a damn thing to stop you, right?” You said to Ellie. “Adults don’t need to ask their moms for permission.” 

“I know,” Ellie said. “But so is Dina. And it’ll be more fun if Savvy can go. I’ll keep an eye on her, I promise.” 

You looked between them, Savvy looking more happy and open with you than she had in months, so like how she used to look at you when asking for something when she was small. Her eyes were so wide and hopeful and you couldn’t say no, not when she was looking at you like that. 

“Alright,” you sighed. Savvy squealed. “But you have to behave. Savvy, no drinking. If there are boys, you come home. No doin’ stupid shit like climbing buildings…” 

“Oh that was like one time!” Ellie protested but you silenced her with a look. 

“And I expect everything to stay PG,” you finished. 

Ellie frowned. 

“What the fuck does PG mean?” 

You shook your head a little, some things still surprising you about how different the world was, even after all these years. 

“It’s a saying from before,” you said. “Means make sure whatever you do, it’s family friendly. That means if you say you and Dina are friends, you act like friends.” 

“We are friends,” Ellie rolled her eyes. 

“Oh sure,” Savvy drew out the last word, laughing. “I always want to kiss my friends…” 

Ellie elbowed her and she laughed harder before quieting down. 

“We won’t cause any trouble,” Ellie said. “Promise.” 

“You two have fun,” you said. “And come by the stable in the morning so I know you’re still alive.” 

“OK Mom,” Ellie rolled her eyes, nudging a giddy Savvy toward the door. 

“Thank you, Mom!” Savvy called, giving you a wave as Ellie urged her outside. 

You just laughed and watched until you couldn’t see them anymore before taking your time getting everything set for the night. Your house would be empty overnight for the first time since you’d gotten married. You hadn’t slept without Joel beside you in months, you weren’t in a rush to get home and feel his absence there. But, after a while, you couldn’t stall anymore. You made your way to the mess hall, already mostly empty, but found Maria there with William next to her. She smiled and waved you over and you joined them, sitting across the table as William crashed a carved moose and deer into each other, complete with sound effects. 

“See you’re putting off being home, too,” she said, putting one hand in the middle of William’s back. 

“Yeah, well,” you sighed. “That’s a damn big house for one person.” 

She smiled tightly, knowingly.

“It’s always hard, thinking about them out there like that,” she said. “But this one feels harder.” 

“Yeah,” you said, laughing once, darkly. “It really does.” 

“Hey Aunt Bambi,” William looked up from his toys, his brown eyes reminding you of Joel’s. There was so much of the Miller men in his face it made your heart ache. “Did you know that moose are the biggest deer sp…sp…” he frowned and looked up at his mom. 

“Species,” Maria finished for him before looking over at you. “He’s been obsessed with that carving ever since Joel gave it to him for Christmas so we’ve been learning about moose…” 

“Well, moose are pretty cool,” you said knowingly. 

“I want to see one,” he said. “Mommy says I can’t ride it but I bet I could ride it.” 

You tried really hard not to laugh, William’s springy curls bouncing as he looked down at the carving in his chubby hand. 

“I don’t think ridin’ it would be a good idea,” you said. “They’re big, could be very dangerous. But they are neat to see.” 

“They’re not dangerous,” he frowned. “I bet we would be friends, just because they are big doesn’t mean they’re dangerous…” 

“OK let’s I’d rather not think about you riding a moose,” Maria rolled her eyes. “We can start with seeing one from afar once you’re older.” 

He just sighed heavily, as though the weight of the world were on his small shoulders, and went back to playing with the carvings. 

“I remember when Savvy was that age,” you smiled a little. “She was all about horses, though…” 

“Wonder where she got that from,” Maria smiled back. 

The three of you were the last to leave the mess hall, the clean up team heading to the kitchens  before you started heading out. 

“You’re welcome to come over if you don’t want to be at home,” Maria said, carrying William as he started to fall asleep on her shoulder. “Our door is always open…” 

“Thanks but I need to bite the bullet,” you sighed. “If Joel’s going out on longer patrols again, I need to get used to spending some nights home alone.” 

“Well, the offer still stands,” she said. “As long as you don’t mind my kid babbling to you about moose, apparently.” 

You laughed a little. 

“He can babble to me about whatever he wants,” you said. 

You parted ways and walked around Jackson for a few minutes before heading for the barn where the dogs were kenneled overnight, leaving a note on the log and taking Gatling from her designated place. She trailed behind you home, happy to be under your control again, and you fell asleep with her curled up against your stomach. 

It was a relief to start the next day. You were halfway through your days with Joel outside, not sure if he was safe, too far away for you to see our touch. You could do one more night. You brought Gatling back to her kennel before heading to the stables and getting to work.

The girls came by in the late morning, both looking exhausted but otherwise OK. 

“We’re going to go home and take a nap,” Ellie said, talking for Savvy who was staring straight ahead, looking dazed. “But we’ll be in the mess hall at lunch…” 

“Go sleep before you fall over,” you smiled and shook your head. “Fill me in on everything later.” 

Ellie steered Savvy out of the stable and you laughed a little. Savvy had friends, friends she was staying up all night with. It was everything you wanted for her, watching her grow up both beautiful and sad, thinking she would never have friends like this. 

The girls beat you to the mess hall, their backs to the door you came in, their heads together, talking conspiratorially. 

“She can’t know,” Ellie said quietly. “She’d freak out…” 

“We can handle it,” Savvy said, quiet but sharp. 

“Handle what?” You asked, making both of them jump, their eyes going wide. They looked at each other quickly and you frowned. “Girls. Handle what.” 

“Nothing,” Ellie said quickly. Savvy was looking at you with a strange expression on her face. “Just… there’s a girl we know, this guy is being a dick. I think we can handle it without talking to her because I think if she knew it’d just be extra shitty.” 

You frowned. 

“Not gonna go pick a fight, are you? Because…” 

“No,” she said. “Not picking a fight.” 

“OK,” you said, still uncertain. “But I think…” 

“Actually, Bambi, if it’s OK, we’re just going to head out,” Ellie said, cutting you off. “We got here early and I need to go bug Jesse about something.” 

“Alright,” you frowned, looking between the two of them. “Are y’all sure everything is OK? Because…” 

“It’s fine,” Ellie said before you could finish. “Right, Savvy?” 

“Yeah,” she said, still looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. Part of it like she didn’t know you at all. “It’s OK.” 

“Alright,” you didn’t really believe either of them. “Look, if this boy is a serious problem…” 

“Nothing like that,” Ellie cut you off again. “C’mon, Savvy.” 

She got up and took Savvy’s hand, pulling her to her feet, too. 

“Where can I find you two later,” you said. “Because…” 

“We’ll be home,” Ellie said. “Don’t worry. It’s fine.” 

She started pulling Savvy along behind her but Savvy just stayed where she was, her feet planted, eyes locked on you. 

“Are you sure you’re OK?” You asked, brows knitting together. “If there’s anything you want to talk about…” 

Savvy threw her arms around your waist, catching you totally by surprise, burying her face in your shoulder. You slowly, cautiously, put your arms around her, too, just holding her for a moment. It was so foreign yet familiar, so long since she’d latched onto you like this but holding her one of the only things it felt like you’d been made to do. 

“You can always talk to me,” you said softly, running your hand over the back of her mass of curls and pressing a kiss to her temple. “About anything, I’m always here for you.” 

“I know,” she said, stepping back and looking at you again. “I love you, Mom.” 

You just stared at her for a moment, heart feeling like it was cracking open. 

“I love you, too,” you said, your hands still on her shoulders. “More than anything.” 

“C’mon Savvy,” Ellie said, taking her arm and tugging her away. “See ya, Bambi.” 

You watched them go and debated following them before deciding to give Savvy some space. But, by the time you finished having lunch, you’d thought better of it. You were heading to see if they’d actually gone home but Olivia stopped you as you went past the stables, needing help with the horse you’d been working with the day before. It was hours before you could make it back to the house, bypassing your front door and heading straight for the back yard, knocking on Ellie’s door instead. 

“One sec!” Ellie called and you heard her scramble for the door, breathless when she opened it. “Hey Bambi, what’s up?” 

“Nothing,” you shrugged, not asking for permission and just stepping inside. Savvy was sitting crosslegged in the middle of her bed looking a little more like herself. Or, at least, the self you’d come to recognize her as lately, a little angry with her mouth set in a firm line. “Wanted to see what you girls were up to tonight, make sure everything was OK.” 

“We’re fine,” Savvy said, sounding less angry than she looked. “Just pretty tired.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“Get that stuff figured out with your friend earlier?” You asked, looking between them. 

“Think so,” Ellie said. “We can handle it. Right?” 

“Right,” Savvy said, giving her a firm nod. 

You looked between them, hoping one of them would elaborate. Neither did. 

“Alright, look,” you said. “Both of you are actin’ real weird. I need you to tell me what it is you’re schemin’ up because, while I understand that you want to take care of your friend, you can’t just go around causing problems here in town over something like a break up…” 

“We’re not causing any problems in town,” Ellie said reassuringly. “I promise, we’re not going to go beat up some kid in Jackson or anything like that, I swear.” 

You looked to Savvy. 

“She’s right,” she said. “We really aren’t.” 

You clenched your jaw for a moment. Something felt… off. They were telling the truth but you were uneasy. Something was up. 

“We’re actually still really tired,” Ellie said after a minute. “So, if it’s OK with you, we’re just going to call it a night…” 

“You swear you’re not going to go beat up some boy?” You asked, looking between them. 

“Promise,” Ellie said. “The Jackson boys are safe from us.” 

You sighed, hoping to get Joel’s help getting more out of them when he was back the next night. 

“Alright. You two actually get some damn sleep, OK?” 

“OK Mom,” Ellie rolled her eyes and you smiled a little. At least that seemed like Ellie. 

You went back to the house, sitting at the window to the backyard with a cup of tea for a bit, until the lights went off in their little house. Something still pulled at you but you went and settled on the couch, putting on an old VHS tape that had been in Joel’s house, whoever had lived here before’s recording of some episodes of Seinfeld. You didn’t fast forward through the commercials, marveling at how far away the world that sold things like Oreos seemed. You’d only been about Savvy’s age when this had been recorded. Your relationship with your mother had been fraught, too. As hard as it was to have the only reason you’d fought so hard to survive be distant, she’d done more with you today than you would have with your own mother at that age. You sighed. Maybe you were through the worst of it. Maybe this was just what it was like parenting a teenager, strange distance interspersed with shocking moments of vulnerability. 

You dozed off halfway through the third episode and the pounding on your front door made you sit bolt upright, shocking awake with a gasp. 

The sound was relentless, a fist slamming into wood instead of rapping against it. You scrambled off the couch and pulled the door open without bothering to see who was on the other side of it, your heart in your throat. What if it was Maria? What if something had happened to Joel?

But standing on your porch was Kyle, the boy Savvy had been spending time with, his shock of red hair slick with sweat, his freckled skin blotchy and red. There was a gash on his cheek.

“Mrs. Miller,” he panted, looking at you with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry, they let me go, they let me go to come find you…” 

“Slow down, kid,” you said gently, heart still pounding. You put your hands on his shoulders and guided him inside. “Take a deep breath, what’s goin’ on, is everyone OK?” 

“No,” he shook his head, his eyes still wild and frantic. “No, they’re not OK. He’s got them, he’s got them, I tried to stop him but I couldn’t, there were too many and…” 

“Who’s got who?” You frowned. “Need you to slow down, you’re not making any…” 

“Savvy and Ellie,” he said. Your heart stopped. “He’s got them.” 

***

“Swear to God this is the longest damn patrol I’ve ever been on,” Joel said, happy he could actually recognize some of what was around them now. 

“And we’re even gettin’ back a few hours early,” Tommy gave him a cocky smile. “At least it was an easy one.” 

“Jesus, don’t know if I’d call it easy with how my damn leg is feelin’,” Joel said. “Swear all I’m doin’ tonight is soaking in the damn bath…” 

“See how your wife feels about that,” Tommy teased and Joel rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen how you two look at each other…” 

“Fuck off,” Joel said, smiling all the same. 

“S’what I thought,” Tommy said. 

It had been an easy few days, all things considered. They’d picked off a few stray infected but no signs of a larger group. No immediate signs of raiders, either, the territory they covered broad and quiet. They’d made good time coming back, closing in on Jackson around noon instead of that evening. It was one of those times that Joel was glad that you worked in the stables, happy he’d have an excuse to go right to you the second he was in the gate. He didn’t care that he knew that he smelled, days of sweat and dirt stuck on his skin and clothes. You wouldn’t mind. You’d damn near tackle him, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing your body into his and he’d forget for a moment just how bad his damn leg was hurting after spending two and a half days on a horse. 

But Joel knew something was off the second the gate opened, guards whispering low to each other as Joel and Tommy dismounted. 

“Who died?” Tommy frowned, looking around. 

“Maria’s on her way up,” Jason, one of the guards, said. “She knows what’s going on…” 

Joel frowned at Tommy, who’s face had fallen, skin going pale. 

“I’m sure s’all fine,” Joel said, limping more than usual as he went to stand beside his brother, clapping a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s Jackson, what could happen?” 

Maria appeared then, walking quickly and talking seriously with Warren. 

“Oh Jesus,” Tommy said softly. “This is bad…” 

“Think we lost someone?” Joel asked, voice low. 

“Feels like we’re about to go to fuckin’ war,” Tommy said, matching Joel’s tone. 

“Good to see you two back and in one piece,” Maria said, Joel’s stomach lurching at her tone. She was talking like a member of the council not like his sister-in-law. “Jason, take the horses to get settled. I need to talk to Joel and Tommy.” 

Joel’s heart beat a little faster. She said it like she needed to talk to him, like Tommy was there to make sure he didn’t fly off the handle. She put her hand in the middle of Joel’s back and guided him to the Tipsy Bison, the bar empty this early in the day. 

“What’s goin’ on?�� Tommy asked the second they were in the door. “Is William OK? Why’s everyone actin’ like someone fuckin’ died?”

“William is fine, he’s with the neighbors,” Maria said gently before turning her attention to Joel. “I need you to stay calm…” 

“Why,” he demanded. “Maria…” 

“We don’t know everything,” she cut him off. “We’ve only known about it for maybe two hours, we’re still coming up with a plan and…” 

“Known about what,” Joel demanded. “What’s goin’ on?” 

Maria took a deep breath and looked him dead in his eyes. 

“Bambi, Ellie and Savvy are gone.” 

Time slowed. His heart dropped and there was a high pitched whine ringing in his head. 

That didn’t make sense. This was Jackson. Things were safe here, everything was supposed to be safe here, that’s why he’d stayed here, risked everything to bring Ellie back here, done everything to keep you here when you’d tried to leave before and something had taken you from him anyway. 

“What do you mean they’re gone?” Tommy’s voice snapped him back into his head. “Where’d they go? What happened?” 

“This is everything we know,” Maria held a folded piece of paper out to Joel, his name in your handwriting on one half of it like you were addressing a letter. “We’re doing everything we can…” 

Joel unfolded the page with trembling hands, the crinkle of the paper almost sharp in his ears. 

Joel, 

I know I promised to be here to come home to but Cody has our girls and I’m going to get them back. He told me to come alone or they die and I can’t risk them. Please don’t come after me, not until we know they’re safe. I’ll do everything I can to come back to you but if I don’t, protect them and take care of yourself. They need you. 

If I never see you again, I want you to know that loving you was worth surviving for. Getting to be your wife and taking care of our girls with you was the best thing that ever happened to me. 

Be safe. 

I love you. 

You signed your name, your real name, like you had the tape you gave him for Christmas but there was one notable difference: your last name was Miller. 

Joel’s fist got tight around the paper. He’d lost you and his girls. He’d let the man who had hurt you live and now that had all three of you, doing who knows what to you. 

“They were here yesterday,” Maria’s voice sounded far away. “It must have happened overnight. When Bambi didn’t show up at the stables today, Olivia sent someone to check on her around 10 a.m. and they found the note…” 

Joel wasn’t listening, turning and stalking for the door, taking mental stock of the supplies he still had on him. How much ammunition? He was pretty sure he had a good count of how many rounds he’d fired on patrol but now he was less certain. 

“Joel!” Maria’s voice was sharp, making him stop, one hand on the door, the sunlight pouring through the glass of it oddly bright. How could anything be bright right now, at a moment like this? “What are you doing? You can’t just…” 

He looked back over his shoulder, his brother and sister-in-law, the pair of them standing and watching him with cautious looks on their faces. 

Joel hoped they wouldn’t try to stop him. He loved them both, they were family, but if he had to choose from you and the girls or his brother, his brother would lose every single time. He wouldn’t hesitate to go through them. 

Joel had felt like he’d been meant to do very little in his life. Before, he’d worked a job that let him pay his bills and watched college football for a school he’d never had a shot at getting into. Since, he’d done plenty to get by and distract himself from the emptiness of his existence, none of it feeling like it was worth a damn thing. The one different, constant piece had been how he felt about the people his world revolved around. Sarah, Ellie, you, Savvy. The four of you were his calling. The four of you were why he was here at all. He’d survived the loss of Sarah by the skin of his teeth. In so many ways, he never really recovered. He wouldn’t have recovered at all if it weren’t for Ellie. 

He wasn’t doing that again. He wouldn’t survive it again. This was life and death, not just for the three of you but for himself, too. 

Joel met his brother’s gaze.

“That monster’s got my wife, my daughters,” Joel said, voice dark and firm. “I’m gonna hunt him, I’m gonna hurt him and I’m gonna bring them back.” 

A/N: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I know, more angst. I don't know why I'm like this either. Feel free to yell at me in the comments or my ask box or my DMs. I'll still love you.

Thanks for putting up with me and all my shit and for continuing to read this story. It really does mean so, so much to me.

I love you!!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust @ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost @beccerjune @mumma-moonchild @netonetoneto @mellymbee @purplelye @n7cje @flugazi @evyiione @randomhoex @aliengirl99 @orcasoul @reds-ramblings @pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel @jenispunk @panda-pascal @sarap-77 @flugazi @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @partyofone3413 @cumberpegg @noisynightmarepoetry. @fifia-writes @grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123 @ashleyfilm @arizonadreamingg

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #smut fic

[moonit3]

THE CUTE GUY WITH GLASSES!

➥ warnings/notices: yandere stuff, nsfw, m! masturbation, obsession, reader is gender neutral and is referred by you pronouns, first time writing smut, a little too short (sorry).

➥ yandere! nerd x gn! reader

➥ synopsis: simply because you smiled at him, you’ve gain his heart and attention, now he won’t let you go away.

➥ a/n: first time writing for tumblr and also first time writing smut! quite excited with this one and hopes this reach people who enjoy yandere content （＾ω＾）and of course, beware of the warnings too!

the emptiness feeling inside his heart is more to question if he truly deserves to live in a world where most people are already with their beloved ones. his parents always spoken of love like it’s a magical moment in everyone’s lives, but why hasn’t he experienced it? is something wrong with him?

that question is going through his brain for the past week, and when he was almost ready to give up and preparing himself to spend the rest of his life alone, a special person entered his life, you. a lovely soul who not only is popular in the campus for both looks and charismatic personality, but the very same one who stolen his breath away just because you smiled at him.

“you are max, right?”

“y-yeah, that’s me!”

and you even know his name! mostly people just call him ‘the glass dude’, but you put extra effort to remind it. seeing how you giggled with his nervousness when he asked if you were willing to go to a nearby cafe with him before classes and when you said yes, his heart almost exploded!

our first date! max thought as he admire you drinking your favorite drink and explaining about the recently subjects you are having. of course, being considerate smart, he offered to tutor you after classes in a couple of days without nothing in return, what a lucky person you are to have someone like him~

once the day arrives, you invite max to your dorm (which you share by yourself since your previous roommate moved out), so it’s just the two of you and he can’t be more happier. with every subject he helps you, he can feel you getting closer and closer to see the details on his notebooks. luckily you can’t notice how his member is getting hard with him feeling your thigh next to his and how easily he can see that you lack a vest/bra underneath your shirt.

his mind can’t help but imagine how gorgeous you must be without any clothes on, maybe a couple of beauty marks all over or scars that tell untold stories? that’s don’t really matter as max knows it only makes you even special, yet he can’t stop thinking of the possibility of spending the night with you.

would you scream until you are completely overstimulated? or whimper with his fingers doing pleasure between your legs? the thoughts of it are plaguing his mind as he left your dorm when the tutoring session is over and once he gets to his place, an apartment that he lives on his own, max couldn’t stop touching himself.

—

his lewd whimpering are flying across his bedroom and he isn’t even trying to hold it back with both hands going up and down on his cock, trying to pleasure himself with the many fantasies of [name].

“ah~” a sloppy handjob is the only thing that is helping max to keep himself sane as he imagines his beloved being the one touching him, a scene that is easily imaginable. them, sitting next to his body and teasing his leaking member with their hands, almost ready to release his cum into their face. “[name]…i love you so much!”

and with a few more minutes, he was completely done and empty as his cum is all over his stomach, dirty his body and some part of his hoodie. despite his exhaustion and panting, max is willing to go for one last time before going to bed for the night, after all, he wants to fantasize about his beloved one last time for tonight.

“…next time, [name] will be here to help me with this.”

@moonit3 writings

#yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere original character #original character #yandere #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere x y/n #gender neutral reader #yandere x darling #yandere headcanons #yandere writing #original character x reader #reader insert #gender neutral y/n #my oc max #yandere smut #moonit3 writings #➥·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ moon writings

[kerink]

in light of people's confusion over cecil's longevity in @sexymanotd i wanted to document a bit of his history for those unfamiliar or nostalgic

welcome to night vale is a podcast written by joseph fink and jeffrey cranor. cecil gerschwin palmer is the main character and voiced by cecil baldwin.

it debuted on june 15, 2012 it reached its peak in popularity in 2013-2014

despite this, wtnv has been one of tumblr's top fandoms since staff started tracking fandom-related data in 2014

for the longest time the only thing we knew about cecil's appearance was: "He is wearing a tie. He is not tall or short. Not thin or fat." and that wasn't until episode 19 which aired march 15, 2013. for almost a full year we had no idea what cecil looked like. so tumblr's collective unconscious kicked into high gear and we did what we do best

we created a tumblr sexyman

from know your meme: "Defining traits of the archetype include skinny body type, trickster or villain role and dapper clothing."

know your meme identifies wheatley (portal 2, 2011) and the onceler (the lorax, 2012) as being likely tumblr's first sexymen. and the onceler fandom was at its peak in 2012-2013, the same time as wtnv. in addition to this, the hannibal fandom has been cited as one of the contributing factors to wtnv's success on tumblr.

so tumblr had created an archetype that worked and the wtnv fandom was made up of mostly hannibal fans - the foundation for putting cecil in a suit was there. and honestly? cecil's at work in the show, why wouldn't he be well dressed?

however, while this explains his attire it doesn't explain some of cecil's more unique sexyman features, namely the tentacles. for this we have to return to the 2014 fandom review analysis where you can see the most popular fandom at the time: homestuck

haven't you ever wondered why almost a quarter (189/923 at time of writing) of E rated wtnv fics on ao3 are tagged tentacles or tentacle sex? why cecil having tentacles for a dick is such a seemingly popular headcanon? well look no further then homestuck cultural hold over.

throughout all of this, the development of the sexyman archetype on tumblr and the rise of homestuck, one creator really stands out: kinomatika

kino was one of the most popular homestuck artists on tumblr at the time, popular for their eridan fanart. if you google image search "welcome to night vale" kino's art is still one of the first results you'll get

their design was so popular in fact it was featured in wtnv related articles from the time

and yes there were absolutely other artists giving cecil tentacles and moving tattoos at the time, but it can't be understated the reach kino had and the influence their homestuck roots had on their design choices

i recommend going through the archive of @nightvaleartclub to see how cecil used to be portrayed back in the early days. unfortunately the earliest fanart i've been able to find is july 2013 and i find it hard to believe it took tumblr a year to draw him. although, i started listening at episode 5 and didn't start drawing him until then myself so who knows...

cecil has had tumblr's heart in a vice grip since episode 1, with "20,000 posts, 183,000 blogs and 680,000 notes using the #Night Vale tag" during its first week. tumblr's love for wtnv has always been fairly genuine, from the impact the writing has had on tumblr humor and future story telling, to how wtnv paved the way for lgbt+ representation in indi media, to how it popularized podcasts as a medium for story telling, to the little comforts some of cecil's quotes still bring people today

cecil is not only a founding father of tumblr culture, but also a blorbo of the people. cecil the character in canon has a tumblr account where he posts his art and slash fanfiction.

although cecil's character has developed over time and we've come to see what a ditzy, eccentric, brat he really is, changing his status from sexyman to babygirl, cecil is absolutely a character you should embrace. and you know what... despite what i've said in the past

#cecilsweep

[ID: Images one and two are Google analytic graphs for the search terms "welcome to night vale" and "wtnv" between June 15, 2015 and January 27, 2023. They both depict very sharp spikes around 2013-2014 until the lines decrease greatly over time.

Image three is a drawing of Cecil from Welcome To Nightvale. He is white, with white hair, glasses, a third eye on his forehead, and he is wearing a suit. In the background is the silhouette of a neighborhood from the WTNV official art, a galaxy, and a moon. It is tinted purple. Image four is the always has been meme. Instead of the earth is the tumblr logo, and the text is: “a wtnv fansite?” “Always has been”. End ID] id thanks to @princess-of-purple-prose

#wtnv #welcome to night vale #sexymanotd #cecilsweep

[soulren]

Go spend some time on male pattern baldness or male(AMAB) balding forums/subreddits and such. I did after realizing it is happening to me and the ammount of people who truly don't realize how BRUTALLY it tanks people's confidence and mental health is insane.

There's no cure to baldness by the way, and it can start at any time and there's no way to predict how fast or slow it will go. The only real working option is a daily pill that usually just halts it, but it can stop working or just slow it down or cause major side effects. To regrow you have to use a daily topical solution, or use a roller to wound your scalp. None of these are surefire by the way, and if you stop them you'll just lose your hair and whatever you regained. It's a daily involved thing that might not work and often at best just retains. The best drug, the one that occasionaly gives regrowth, also causes shedding at the start, and can have side effects from growing breasts to brain fog to EDsyfunction(sorry, censoring cause tumblr). Now, those are INCREDIBLY rare and almost never happen but it weighs heavily on the mind of those already spiraling.

But that's just background. What I'm here to talk about is the pure woe you'll see on those forums. People speak as though their lives are over, as though they've lost every chance of finding a woman(predominantly, there's a running idea in such places that women don't like bald men or like them less) or doing anything. You can read countless stories of people who describe that they no longer go outside, are now filled with anxiety and self-hate, have gone from extroverted to never showing their face. And some of these people are kids who lost their hair in high school or even before, or are holding as best they can to a very receded hairline and feel like there is nothing they can do.

And then there's something touched upon far less in those communities, but is important to bring up here; baldness and masculinity. There's the horror of knowing so much of society sees a bald guy as a very masculine guy, at seeing that the best advice for being hot and bald is "grow and beard and big muscles bro". Imagine now you're AMAB balding and nonbinary, or a trans woman who doesn't want to be on hormones.

Just genuinely take the time to look at those forums no matter who you are. Understand what these people go through, what I am currently going through. It is soul-crushing, spiraling, brutal. I have the dream of one day being like Brennan Lee Mulligan or Matt Mercer and starting to lose my hair made me feel like I could never. I felt like and still feel like I would have to be masculine, have to be a bro-y dude, have to look older than I was(I'm fuckin 22). It was the feeling that I could never dress feminine again, never present as a woman when I wanted to again, that I'd always be viewed as a bald guy before anything else.

This is an incredibly vulnerable post for me, and I hope it reaches you all as well in a kind and understanding mood. There's a tendency online for people to joke about baldness, to make fun of it, to treat it as a playfull silly thing but it fucking ruins lives, and it shouldn't. It happens to half the population's sort of bodies and very often. It should just be a neutral thing. You don't need long hair to be feminine, you don't need hair to be feminine. You don't need hair for anything. I guess I'm just saying in general that everyone should be kinder about balding, more understanding, and view it with as much import as they'd view the pixels between this sentence and the next. None at all, I mean.

And for those like me, very feminine guys who wanna keep that and don't want a beard and are terrified of balding, here's some names and I do hope others that see this will add more; Mr. Bruce (also in The Correspondents(band) Alex Ward in LA By Night Jason Carl in LA By Night Cecil Baldwin of Welcome To Night Vale Bob The Drag Queen RuPaul(in looks alone, I know about the whole fracking stuff but this post is about looks) tananasho on instagram Also your mannerisms and style of dress will convey femininity far more than your hair. Yea sure a front-on neutral shot of you may not and maybe you need makeup and stuff, and hell maybe a lot of people might reject you more but it'll just filter down to the people for you.

And to all you artists and writers and creatives; make more bald characters. Try it out. Feminine ones, masculine ones, all sorts. None of the copout nonhuman sort, just dudes and girls and mates and individuals who are all sorts of things and also bald. It might make a few of the people going through the various vortexes of pain that balding causes feel a bit better.

And to those noticing I did not adress female hair loss much here, that was intentional. I am AMAB and currently a nonbinary guy who goes by any pronouns but often likes to present as fem. I learned I was possibly losing my hair and lost two months of my life, no work or going or anything, to male hair loss forums and research and spiraling. Checking my hair twenty times a day, unable to sleep, unable to eat, unable to think. And my situation was NOT unique, but it also did not give me any experience or understanding of female hair loss and what AFAB people may go through with that, so I don't feel knowledgeable enough to speak on it. Also living with baldness WILL get easier and you will find something that works for it, by virtue of simply living with it. Things get easier with time.

#bald #balding #hair loss #hair #hair care #minoxidil #dermaroller #baldness #bald and feminine #bald fem #using a lot of tags due to this being triggering for many and cause I want it to be seen #and because I want those who went through what I did to be able to find it #mpb #androgen alopecia #also I know this post is long but I'm not sorry cause it's important. If even one person has a bit less stress then that's good. #feminine bald man

[ms-demeanor]

i’m curious what your opinion is on the finer points of the case mentioned in the JSTOR post you reblogged earlier. the two sources in the post say that JSTOR didn’t press charges against him and had already settled with him by the time he killed himself. from what i read on wikipedia, the concern seems to be that JSTOR complied with a subpoena, which i don’t believe they have a choice to ignore? if anything it seems like the us government had reason to want him dead for wikileaks and public court records reasons, so they took a terms of use violation and blew it up into a dozen federal crimes.

is there more context i should be aware of? i have no particular affection or malice for JSTOR but the sources i found don’t exactly implicate the database or its employees in murder.

That's from page 175 of this document. This line: "The activity noted is outright theft and may merit a call with university counsel, and even the local police, to ensure not only that the activity has stopped but that - e.g. the visiting scholar who left - isn't leaving with a hard drive containing our database" is where I think the culpability starts.

If someone is downloading 1000s of articles (what seems like reasonable threshold for us to take action), what's wrong with us - or the university in collaboration with us - alerting the cyber-crimes division of law enforcement and initiating an investigation, having cop search dorm room and try to retrieve any hard drive that contains our content, etc. Our content is extraordinarily valuable and hard to replicate by the sweat of one's brow, but can be duplicated by savvy hackers and who knows what they want to do with the content?

Page 379: "Does the university contact law enforcement? Would they be willing to do so in this instance?

From page 1296:

I think the important thing to note here is that JSTOR had worked with MIT and had plans in place to prevent future similar downloads, but remained focused on identifying the person responsible for the downloads and ensuring that their data was deleted.

"I might just be irked because I am up dealing with this person on a Sunday night, but I am starting to feel like they need to get a hold of this situation right away or we need to offer to send them some help (read FBI).

And there it is. Page 3093 of the document.

JSTOR can hem and haw about it all they want, but you can't un-call the cops.

MIT was working with JSTOR on preventing future incidents of pirating, but JSTOR repeatedly said that they weren't going to let it go, that it was unacceptable to drop the issue, that they were going to continue to pursue the pirate.

You can scroll through the document and see the JSTOR tech department and abuse team talking about Swartz as a script kiddie, and a hacker. You can see someone talking about how this was real theft - making the comparison to stealing books even while admitting that piracy doesn't close others out of access.

You can see the thread starts with a joke about punching someone in the face for hacking their system, and includes the tech team ominously considering whether they should threaten the MIT librarians with the FBI.

There's something really important to note here which I don't think that people who aren't PRETTY DEEP into hackery shit aren't aware of: US law enforcement is absolutely rabidly feral about prosecuting hackers. People may be more aware of this now because of Chelsea Manning and Edward Snowden (and perhaps a bit on tumblr because of maia arson crimew), but people who work in tech and who are in infosec - like the people joking about calling the FBI in these emails - would be aware of the bonkers disproportionate punishments faced by hackers. And knowing that, they kept pushing and pushing and pushing for identification of the hacker. They kept digging with MIT, they kept saying that simply preventing future incidents wasn't enough.

Early in the exchange someone from JSTOR asked "what's wrong with us - or the university in collaboration with us - alerting the cyber-crimes division of law enforcement and initiating an investigation, having cop search dorm room and try to retrieve any hard drive that contains our content, etc." and the answer is what happened to Aaron Swartz.

It is absolute bullshit for JSTOR to say "we arrived at a solution privately and didn't want to press charges" after law enforcement has gotten involved with a hacking case, especially one where they're talking about "real theft" and are attempting to quantify and emphasize the amount that was "stolen" from them.

The *public* may believe that private individuals or institutions are the ones who "press charges" but that's simply not the case. It's prosecutors who decide whether or not to go ahead with charges; they do it based on what cases they think they can win and what their office's perspective is on the crime. When you hear about people choosing to press charges it simply means that they decided to tell the prosecutor they wanted the case to go forward. It's up to the prosecutor whether or not that happens.

And the tech team at JSTOR had to know that law enforcement wasn't just going to wag a finger at an academic hacker.

There's a parallel here that happens sometimes when people have their identities stolen by their parents. If you mom takes out a credit card in your name, that's identity theft. That's fraud. That's illegal. If you reach the age of 25 and realize that your credit is ruined because your mom has been defaulting on cards in your name, you've got two choices to fix that: one is to accept the debt and pay it off and build up credit, and the other is to report the identity theft - which will end up with your mom in prison for a decade or so. Ruin your own personal finances, or your mom goes to jail for ruining your finances. So if you find out that your mom stole your identity you can't just call the cops to pressure her into transferring the debt to her name or something. That's not an option. The cops are not a threat to wave over people, they are not a way to get people to fall in line or act right. They aren't someone you can send to a college student's dorm room to retrieve a hard drive and have the matter drop.

When you call the cops on someone you are sending the full force of the law after them, and the full force of the law falls really heavily on hackers, and how heavy that blow can be is something that the JSTOR team must have been aware of when they were making snide comments about calling the FBI because they were frustrated with the noncommittal responses they were getting from librarians.

Ultimately it was the carceral state that killed Aaron Swartz, but they would not have been involved if JSTOR didn't think that what he did constituted theft.

Taking an *EVEN LARGER* step back from that, the idea that information can be owned and locked behind a paywall is what killed Aaron Swartz, someone who fought for information to be free.

Like. JSTOR is a licensing company. At the end of the day, cute social media posts and all, they're the same as the RIAA and ASCAB. They exist to extract a fee from people attempting to access information.

Aaron Swartz and all that he stood for are an existential threat to their core function.

Are JSTOR's hands as dirty as the federal prosecutors? Absolutely not. But they operate on a model that puts them in opposition to open information activists and it ended up with a hammer falling on Aaron Swartz that they dropped.

#long post #very long post

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Some Dad!Cod Character Scenario and Appreciation Post

Characters In Mind: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Alex Keller, König, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

The original creator of the picture, they also have so many works that are used in so many fanfics as well so please credit her. I found her account here on Tumblr (@ave661) and here is the post.

AFAB!Reader and used pronouns are "you"

Apologies if this is a bit too short but;

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

A/n: I've had a good but also bad week (good thanks to @puff0o0 and other extremely sweet mutuals), it's neutral, I'm not here to rant of any sort but my personal life has not been good. I understand that not everyone will like me but it feels as though everyone hates me, most of those people happen to be at school. Sure I'm not really going to do anything about it because I prefer avoiding conflict but those same people are trying to flip the story around as if I'm the one who hates them when in reality I don't and by being mean to me they're giving me a reason to dislike them. Sure I'm average academically, sometimes I have difficulty pulling my weight in group works and I'm not outstanding in reportings but we all have our difficulties. I just don't understand people who love to hate on others because they have nothing better to do.

This is a word of advice to everyone, don't let others let you feel insignificant, you aren't and you have many talents that make you different from them. (I don't really practice what I preach because I love self-deprication, however I don't want people to feel the way I do because I know what it can cause)

Disclaimers/warnings: OOC??, Pregnancy, Implied birth, Children (Pretty sure that was obvious from the title), People who don't want/hate children be warned.

Short note: This is also a dedication to all the Mistki and Hozier fans out there <3

He was so used to the smell of hospitals, the smell of medication, it always indicated death for him but this was a whole new feeling. It was the opposite of what he has seen most of his life

So much so that he refused to hold them, afraid of potentially hurting the fragile little one. He looked at you as if you were crazy when you tried to hand him the baby, "Come on now love, you can't just avoid holding them forever" you said to him as of it was a life or death situation.

Hesitantly letting you guide him through the proper way to hold them, he felt his breath hitch at the sound of cooing. The first time the baby opened it's eyes, the first thing they saw being their dad.

The moment he looked at the baby sealed it, he was going to protect them their whole life, he would go as far as feeling all the guilt of having blood on their hands again if it meant your baby would be protected and cared for.

The baby was so small that it's little head was practically the size of his palm, he didn't know initially what to do when the baby cried and shocked himself when he managed to make them stop.

Once the baby was old enough to crawl, he'd let the baby crawl all over him. The little one babbling non-sense while he just chuckled and replied as if he understood what the baby was saying. Gods be damned if he misses an important milestone such as their first word or their first time walking.

You'd often wake up to seeing him shirtless snoozing on the couch, the tv playing only ads for home appliances late at night while the baby only in a diaper having skin to skin contact with their dad, his huge hand big enough to support the little one from falling.

He almost cried the first time your baby reached for his face an touched it, resting it's tiny little fingers on his cheek, giving him a gummy smile. His little one unaware that they just healed something they never broke.

He NEVER wants to ever see your little one grow up, though sure it makes more memories with them, sometimes they just wish time stops for a second so they can enjoy the moment longer.

Initially was terrified that he'd pass his trauma down but he realized that wouldn't be possible and he will NOT ever let them go through what he did.

Eventually chose to resign from his work because the risk was far too much, what if he died? He'd leave you and your child to grieve over him? He won't be there for them growing up and he'd miss everything.

Sure he's worked most his life to get where he is now but nothing is ever worth more than spending a lifetime with you and your child together. He's been lonely almost all his life until he met you.

You are his family, his everything. He promised that whatever happens, he'll crawl home to you...

#cod x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #call of duty fanfiction #cod headcanons #cod scenarios #alex keller x reader #konig x reader #keegan russ x reader #gary sanderson x reader #roach x reader #pregnant reader #afab reader #Aethelwyne Lia writes

[livingemkayde]

waterfront

neighbor!joel miller/dbf!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: Rated 18+. CONSIDER THIS YOUR FUCKING COMMUNITY LABEL LOL. Minors please dni. Smut. unprotected p in v. age gap. Pet names. Dirty talk. Dom!joel. Oblivious ass reader's dad. Not proof read one bit (per usual). 

a/n: thank you so much for the recent love. you guys are honestly so funny - COMMENT ASK REQUEST PLEASE INTERACT WITH ME IM SO LONELY ON HERE. this lil mini series has really pushed me to write despite some…things (and by things—i actually have been getting a shit ton of hate on my din fic for some weird reason?? so im really happy this dbf corner of tumblr is very accepting cuz that was really making me feel…SAD LMFAO). also do you guys picture joel in this fic as game joel or hbo joel - i wanna know. please enjoy this token of my gratitude as always. 

wc: 4.5k

this is apart of my small dbf!joel mini series, read the previous parts here:

part i part ii

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“Fuck, Joel,” you mutter when you finally relax around him, your tight walls flutter at the feeling of his cock moving halfway out of you. When he pushes back in you see stars.  “That’s right honey —fuck— so good for me,” he pants, bottoming out again and setting a slow pace that punches each breath out of you. “Teasin’ me all day—couldn’t fuckin’ wait any longer.” 

“Sweetie? Have you seen the sunblock?” 

“Yeah dad, in the back bathroom!” you yell back from your room. 

It’s honestly unbelievable. 

Packing. 

You’re packing. 

For a weekend getaway at some beach house property one of Joel’s client’s offered him for the weekend.

Joel’s client. 

Joel Miller.

Who got down on his knees for you at your graduation barbecue. Who fingered you in the front seat of his pick-up truck when your dad was looking for you. 

Who refused to talk to you after that. Not like you were trying anyways. This had to stop. Especially since you and Liam have been talking more and he’s…nice. Boring—sure. But he’s what’s good for you. 

He even got you a job at some hardware store on the other side of town. 

Liam was keeping you company—no—keeping you busy. But not enough to stop the incessant thoughts of your middle aged neighbor who is—even worse—probably your dad’s only close friend. 

You tried to keep your distance. For your sake and Joel’s. You don’t want to know what’s going on in his mind anymore. All you know is he continually runs laps around yours. 

You can’t shake how he looked at the barbecue. How the sea of people parted for him like he was Moses, greeting him with strong handshakes and acrylic nails wrapping around his bicep. But even worse, you can’t stop thinking about how through all those people—he found your eyes first. 

You tried to convince yourself that maybe Joel was thinking the same thing you were. That this—whatever it is—was actually fucking ridiculous and had to stop. 

Because it did have to stop. But it never felt ridiculous to you, as much as you will yourself to believe. 

You tried to convince yourself that much when your hand was down your pants in the middle of the night. Something sounding a lot like Joel’s name on the tip of your tongue as you made yourself come. 

You aren’t sure if your dad has seen much of him either—saying something about how he was booked through the fourth of July weekend with a huge project he was working on with his brother. 

That’s why you were shocked when your dad came up to your room with a grin explaining he counted you in on the weekend getaway with Joel, Sarah, and the two of you. 

You were excited to see more of Sarah — she had really grown up in the time you were away. But with Sarah comes Joel, and you aren’t sure if the butterflies in your stomach were from anxiety or anticipation at that thought. 

A half a day after your dad told you to get packing, you’re in the backseat of Joel’s truck, Sarah at your side, while she talks everyone's ear off about something. You aren’t really paying attention because Joel can’t stop stealing glances at you in the rear view mirror—and let's be honest. You can’t stop either. 

“—so then she said to me that it was my fault. I mean can you believe that?” Sarah slaps your arm gently while finishing her story. 

She looks around the car for approval and the dads just shrug their shoulders. You give her a sympathetic look. 

“Sorry Sarah, sounds crazy,” you say, grabbing her hand. You—honest to god—tried to pay attention but there were so many names thrown out you couldn’t keep up. It didn’t help that the man in the driver's seat kept you up at night—almost every night—since the barbecue. 

“I know! But then Jackson was like okay with it so whatever,” she gives you a knowing look, finishing her story—don’t say anything else because my dad’s here.

“Boys,” your dad murmurs to Joel under his breath, but you catch it. 

You also catch Joel shaking his head in response, letting out a huff and a—

“Tell me ‘bout it.” 

You meet his eye through the rear view mirror and drop his gaze quickly. His knuckles go white on the steering wheel. 

You think you’re almost off the hook and maybe can get some rest but Sarah lets out the first of many—

“Are we almost there yet?” 

Four more of those and you arrive at a secluded beach house on the coast. Joel pulls up to the back of the house, you can see the deck which leads down to the beach. Sarah and your dad hop out of the truck hastily—excited to see the house, and enter through the back door. It leaves you and Joel in the car together. Alone, for a few uncomfortable seconds until he finally speaks. 

“You alright?” 

It throws you for a loop. Joel Miller asking if you’re okay? You must be dying. You look at him through the mirror, an eyebrow raising. 

“‘M fine,” you reply back, monotone.

“Do you wanna talk?” 

Another surprise. 

“There’s nothing to talk about. You made that clear,” you huff, putting an emphasis on you so maybe he can start to feel an ounce of what you do. 

He gets out of the car but you don’t move from your position. Your dad and Sarah have disappeared into the house, undoubtedly claiming the best bedrooms and rifling through the owner’s things. 

He opens your door, his hand hanging off the top of it while his other braces himself on the car near your head. He dips his head closer to you, taking up the entirety of the door frame. 

“You gonna be a brat this whole trip?” His drawl, rich and velvety, almost tricks you into leaning up to kiss him, but you snap out of it from his words. The name shouldn’t make you clench your thighs together like it does. You opt for anger over letting him see what he does to you.

“I’m the brat?” You bite back. He’s not going to do this again. If it’s your last dying wish, Joel Miller will learn a lesson this trip. For leaving you high and dry. For being a fucking asshole, just like you told him at the barbecue a couple days ago.

“You think parading that lil boy ‘round here s’okay?”

“Again with Liam? It’s not any of your business.” 

You look at him. Really look at him—and there’s a certain emotion behind his eyes you can’t place. Like he’s biting his tongue, and you know he is.

“What, Joel? God,” you say, exasperated. 

“Nothin’—I—” he pauses like he’s trying to collect his thoughts before speaking. Then he says something that surprises you—like maybe he really does care about you and what happened in his truck. 

“He make you laugh?” 

You stare at him, shocked, and you can’t help but soften your gaze. You feel like bursting into a puddle of tears—but what’s even worse—you feel like running into his arms. 

“He doesn’t make me cry.” 

He looks down at that. Like he’s defeated. 

“I told you I care,” he throws his words back in your face. From when he had his tongue buried inside you. 

You roll your eyes. 

“What? You think I want it like this?” He continues when you don’t respond.

“I have no fucking idea what you want.” 

“I want to not be sneaking around behind my friend’s back. Your dad’s back.”

“Didn’t stop you before.”

He pushes off the car at that, putting his hands on his hips while scoffing to himself. You think you catch him mumbling something and before you can bite your tongue you urge him to speak up. 

“Insane,” he grunts.

“Sorry?” 

“I said you drive me fuckin’ insane.” 

You pause at that. Partially because his tone suggests it’s not the typical insane but like he can’t stay away from you. Like you drive him up the walls. Like he can’t stop thinking about you. Maybe even the kind of insane he makes you feel. Maybe it's the same thing he does to you. And you didn’t know you did…anything to Joel. 

“That’s my job,” you reply sarcastically instead of saying something stupid—or something you regret. 

You break his gaze—looking down to unlatch your seatbelt. When your hand goes to click the button, you stay fiddling with it; the latch fails to come out of the buckle. 

“‘S jammed. Need to get a repair,” he reaches over you to unlatch it himself. 

But you don’t get your hand out of the way quick enough and your fingers meet over the button. 

He pauses, you both do. The contact makes your head spin. 

You think he’s going to pull away. An apology is already braced on your tongue but instead of moving or retracting, he tentatively rubs your hand with his thumb instead, lacing his fingers through yours like it’s second nature. 

He’s in your space, and he smells like Joel, and you don’t think the two of you have ever shared a more intimate moment. Not even when his mouth was between your legs. 

You look up at him, hesitant, because you aren’t sure what’s going to be looking back. But he stares at you, his eyes soft. Joel looks down to your lips and back up to your eyes. His brow twitches a bit. You let out soft pants—the peaks of your breasts threaten to ghost against his chest. 

He looks at your lips again and inches closer, starting to duck his head. 

“‘M sorry,” he grumbles in a low, dangerous drawl that shoots right up your spine. 

You don’t think it’s a phrase he says often. You’ve never heard it. It sounds foreign on his lips, especially when they’re inching closer to yours. 

“For what?” You squeak out, a breath cutting through your words. 

“Everythin’.” 

Your eyes urge him to continue. 

“Thought I could stay away f’m you.” 

He gets closer. 

“Thought it was the right thing.” 

You shake your head. 

“But I don’t think I can stay away.” 

“Don’t stay away. Don’t go,” you plead with him and shake your head. All of your plans to make him pay have honestly gone out the window. But when he says things like that and he really—honest to god—means them? You know you’re fucked. 

“'M here.” 

You close your eyes at his words and will your tears back when they close. All you can smell is Joel and all you can feel is his hand coming up to loosely wrap around your throat, the curve of his palm hugging your collar bone. 

“Look at me.” In a blink, you do. 

He’s closer, if possible. 

And he kisses you. It’s the first time he’s ever kissed you. It’s not tentative, or aggressive.

This kiss feels like the real apology. Not him on his knees for you and then ignoring you after. He kisses like he’s willing you to forgive him. You know he’s not good with words—that’s why this kiss feels like the heartbreak that had settled in your chest is scattering. It feels like your old fantasies and butterflies breaching the surface are making you moan into his mouth. 

He kisses you like a man starved, but also like he’s scared of messing up again. 

It feels fucking good—he feels fucking good. 

His hand on your throat lengthens your neck to deepen the kiss. Your hands find his bicep and squeeze the life out of him. 

His other hand pulls at the hem of your shirt and almost ghosts the skin of your stomach but the sound of a door slamming snaps you both out of it. Joel turns to see Sarah pushing out of the patio door with her back turned towards you, carrying towels and a cooler. He quickly unbuckles your seatbelt with dexterous fingers, helping you out of the car.

You act like you were helping him unload the flatbed when Sarah turns around—a big smile cast on her face.

“Get your bikini on! Let’s go!” She looks at you and nods towards the ocean over her stack of beach supplies. 

“Alright, alright, I’m going.” 

You hustle into the house with a duffle slung over your shoulder. You can see your dad in the kitchen rifling through the pantry—the cooler for drinks and food abandoned on the floor near the fridge. 

You find a bathroom and change into your swimsuit quickly. You don’t miss the wet spot on your panties. From a kiss nonetheless. You’re beginning to think you’re way more fucked than either you or Joel like to believe. 

You rush out onto the patio. Sarah is probably shoulder deep in the water and it’s way too fucking hot to be sitting under the sun without taking a dip. You haven’t been to a nice beach like this in a really long time. You don’t remember the last time you went on vacation. 

This is nice.  

Joel is being way too…nice. 

You pass him on the way to the beach where you see Sarah jumping through the water. He looks at you, subtly. Out of the corner of his eye. You try to avoid his gaze and hide your blush but you can feel his burning eyes shift to the back of your head as you give him a small smile in passing. 

“Dad! C’mon let's go!” Sarah yells from the water. You look to see Joel staring back at you—you drop his eye when your dad busts through the door. 

“‘N a minute!” Joel grumbles as he throws his duffle over his shoulder, carting in a crate of barbecue things for the weekend. 

Your flip flops splat on the deck as you break into a small jog down to where Sarah is. She smiles at you as you run into the water. The two of you playing in the salty spring like teenagers—well she is—you aren’t. 

You can see your dad and Joel settle on beach chairs some yards away from the shoreline. They sport a couple beers and talk amongst themselves while watching you and Sarah play in the water. 

You catch Joel’s eye a couple times. He even comes down and throws around a football with your dad. He splashes and teases you all day. 

When the sun finally extends down to the horizon and the water turns orange from its light, Sarah tells you she’s beat and basically hobbles back over to the dads on the beach chairs. She slumps down onto the one next to Joel, you move towards them as well, trying not to blush because you know Joel is looking at you before you meet his eyes. 

“Tired?” Joel asks, not to you or Sarah in particular, but it falls on you—Sarah already asleep on the beach chair. 

“Exhausted.” You plop down on the chair beside your dad, taking a towel and drying your hair off before moving to the rest of your body. 

“Want dinner? I’ll make my burgers,” your dad inquires, beginning to stand and take the beers with him. 

“Sounds good dad.” You stand and wrap the towel around your body. “Need a shower.”

You try to wake Sarah up gently, she grumbles and stalks off to the house, you, trailing behind her. She kicks her flip flops off at the entrance and moves to the couch in the living room. She’s back asleep before you get the chance to enter the door. 

Your dad moves to the kitchen, you don’t know where Joel went. Maybe you left him back on the beach. You move to take a cold shower, the small tug in your stomach grew to be quite big when you caught him staring at your exposed skin on the beach. 

When you get upstairs, you enter your designated bedroom. You smile when you realize it has a bathroom attached to it. You strip off your bathing suit, putting it in the sink of your bathroom. 

You wrap a towel around your body and go to twist the knob of your shower. When you tug it towards hot it comes off the shower wall with a chink and you curse to yourself, the water coming out in a leak rather than a stream. 

You huff. This is not what you need right now. 

“Dad!” You call from the doorway of your bedroom—not wanting to venture further in just a towel. 

You turn away from the door—moving into the bathroom, trying to chance figuring out how to fix it instead, when a pair of footsteps fall by your bedroom door. 

“You okay?” A voice calls from your bedroom, but it’s not your dads. 

You jump at the sound of a honey rich southern drawl echoing your name as Joel pushes through the bathroom door to find you in your towel, holding the shower handle.

“Jesus—” he looks away with a cough, you can tell he’s shocked to see you in just a towel. But when he sees you holding the handle he does a double take. 

“What the hell did y’do?” He flips between giving you privacy and moving toward you with an outstretched hand, taking the shower handle into his own. 

“I just tried to turn it on and it snapped off,” you try to reason with him, a flush coming to your cheeks when he comes into the bathroom. 

“Move,” he grumbles, sneaking by you. In the brief moment you come chest to chest, you look up at him and he lets out a groan. His hand snakes by your waist. He looks down at you—a dangerous look in his eyes. 

Joel breaks first, moving towards the shower. 

“I’m gonna—yeah—just…uh thanks,” you gesture to your towel and shut the door to the bathroom behind you. Leaving Joel in there alone. 

You throw on an oversized t-shirt and underwear before he comes out, sans shower handle. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, suddenly self conscious you didn’t have time to put on pants. You aren’t sure why. Joel’s seen…a lot already. 

“‘Course,” he says, but doesn’t leave like you anticipated. 

“You havin’ fun?” He asks. There’s something in his tone that suggests he doesn’t actually care. 

“Yeah,” you reply, breathless, “Thanks for inviting us.”  

“sorry—I—” he points to the bathroom, “thought you were in trouble or somethin’.” 

“‘S’okay.” 

He looks at you, and down to your bare legs, your underwear just peeking out from beneath your shirt’s hem. 

The way Joel looks at you—like you’re the only one who matters—stokes the fire growing in your stomach. The look in his eyes tells you he’s still wrestling with his moral compass. Like he needs to stay away for his own good, but like he said in the car—he just can’t. 

Joel nods, and steps back like he’s turning to leave. You don’t want him to. You need him. When you take a tentative step toward him, he suddenly breaks into stride in your direction. The dam of fleeting touches and wandering eyes for half a day breaks. He grabs your face in his hands, kissing you hard. His tongue slips to run over your bottom lip and you whine into his mouth. 

Your hands come up to rest on his chest. His, wrapping around your waist while he dips his head to start kissing your neck.

“Joel–” you start, but the feeling of his lips on the sensitive parts of your collarbone punches your breath.

He only hums at that sentiment. 

“Where are we going?” you manage to get out, when he’s tugging you into the bathroom by your wrist, shutting the door behind him. 

“Need to fuck you,” he groans into your ear as he spins you around, so your hips press into the bathroom counter. You can look into the mirror and see your reflection. You look entirely too fucked out from a couple kisses and he looks stone cold. 

“J-Joel—ah—jesus,” you moan when his hand dips to your front and catches your clit through cotton. 

“Say please,” he groans into the skin of your neck. You turn your head to catch his lips in a chaste kiss. It's all tongue and teeth, but you don’t mind either way. He’s close, he’s here and he’s kissing you. 

You break away from the kiss just enough to whine out a small, “Please–fuck–”

You don’t really know what you’re asking for, but you know if that’s what he wants—you’d give him anything in this particular moment. 

“Nicer.” 

You whine, the pad of his finger catches your clit just right.

“Please, Joel,” you cut out through bated breath. 

He huffs, you can hear the sound of clinking and shuffling behind you—the tell tale sign of his belt coming undone. 

“Alright, baby, c’mon,” he pushes you down, folds you in half, your breasts pressed against marble. It's cold, and his hot hands on your waist, snaking down to slot his fingers in your underwear makes you dizzy. 

“You’re a tease,” he groans when he eases your underwear to the side, the head of his cock catches your clit.

“Joel—p—fuck—” His cock catches at your entrance. You both pause for a second, reveling in the feeling. One of his hands grips your waist so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises by dinnertime. The other pushes your face down—fingers tangling in your hair. 

“Look in the mirror,” he growls, lifting your head up by your hair, just enough so you can watch his face as his tip slips past your entrance. 

He stretches you out just from that, you muffle down a scream in your throat. 

Joel’s mouth goes slack but he doesn’t react much with his face. He just looks down at your bodies connecting and pants while he slowly slides home. 

“‘S big Joel. Feel so good—oh my god—” he breaks you open and splits you in two. His breath cuts somewhere behind your head—your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. 

He buries himself to the hilt, you curse and mutter inconsistencies into the bathroom. His iron grip on your body goes tighter if possible. 

“Eyes open,” he growls behind you. “You can take it baby, c’mon.” 

You will open your eyes, focusing on him in the mirror. He has a sheen of sweat already casing his forehead, his shirt is half unbuttoned with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“Relax, angel,” he pants. “You’re squeezing me — could barely get it in,” 

He settles there, you try to relax but the stretch makes you squirm underneath him. He lets you adjust to his length, cursing every time you clench around him. It’s filthy. Obscene. He’s pushing your head up — lifting you by your hair, so you can see him spear into you with no remorse. He’s filthy, and so are you. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you mutter when you finally relax around him, your tight walls flutter at the feeling of his cock moving halfway out of you. When he pushes back in you see stars. 

“That’s right honey —fuck— so good for me,” he pants, bottoming out again and setting a slow pace that punches each breath out of you. “Teasin’ me all day—couldn’t fuckin’ wait any longer.” 

“More please,” you whine, meeting his eye in the mirror. The air is thick in the bathroom now, the potpourri on the sill of the window doesn’t really mask much of anything. 

He complies—surprisingly. Moving faster and harder, each push of his hips knocks you into the counter. The grip on your waist gets impossibly tight. The hand pulling at your hair finally lets you rest back down on the counter, pushing hair out of your face when you look back at him. It rests on the back of your neck. 

“Feel so good baby,” he groans. 

“Joel—I’m—I can’t, I’m gonna—” 

“C’mon angel, come for me,” he says, you take another peak at him through the mirror. He looks wrecked. But you look even worse. 

You get impossibly tight around him while he mutters things you can’t hear over the ringing in your ears. You think you hear him toss out a small that’s right when you finally spill over the edge. 

He fucks you through it, his pace doesn’t let up, the coldness of the counter brings you back to reality. Where his breaths are becoming groans and pants and he strokes your cheek with his thumb. 

“‘Nother,” is all he says when your tight walls finally relax, molding to him and only him. 

“I–I can’t—” you say, slumped against the counter. You sound cock drunk. It’s halfway true though. No one else has ever made you come twice in one night. You were starting to think it might be a myth. 

“Know you can, pretty girl,” he goes slow at that, angling down so the tip of his cock catches something inside you that lights the fire again. “There we go. ‘S okay, can feel it already.” 

He pushes you towards another orgasm, it washes over your entire body and you slump against the counter. Maybe it’s some sort of weird trance he has you in. Or maybe you were right and this — whatever it is — is getting bad. Fast. You’re threatening to fall. But he’s there, and he picks you up and holds you down. 

“Jesus. Fuck, baby,” he curses into your skin when your release coats his cock and lets him sink deeper, thrust faster, push harder. 

“Joel—fuck. Fuck.” Maybe the overstimulation should be getting to you, but you stay there like that, as he speeds up and his thrusts become more frantic. He chases after his own orgasm. 

“Turn over,” he says, hastily. His hands move at your body before you can process his words. He flips you around and slots himself in between your legs—sliding back in deep, grinding into you while folding over so his head is in the crook of your neck. 

“Please,” you whimper. You both know what you’re asking for. But he pulls out, ripping your shirt up and spilling all over your stomach and breasts. It coats you, the liquid hot and he dips his head to watch it coat your body. He lets out a strangled string of curses, bracing himself on the counter as he comes. 

He kisses you. Really kisses you. You grab his face and moan into it. Like you’re willing him to stay there, in between your legs forever. 

But he breaks first, moving to grab a towel out of the cabinet above the toilet. He cleans you up gently, wetting the towel with warm water before it touches your skin. The sentiment could make you cry. 

When he’s done cleaning you up, he kisses your forehead. Joel wraps his arms around you as you sling yours over his shoulders. He holds you there, his hand coming to cup the back of your head, stroking your hair and breathing hot kisses into your crown. You smile, lazily. 

He pulls back just enough to look at you. You know you still look wrecked and are in desperate need of a shower—he looks perfect by contrast, completely untouched and definitely unbothered. 

“Dangerous,” he mutters when you look at him through your lashes. 

You kiss him instead of responding.

You know Joel's right—this is dangerous. 

But it feels way too good to stop. 

_

part iv

taglist! (comment or message me if you would like to be added) kisses to you all:

@nostalxgic @iluvurfather

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #the last of us hbo #joel miller #joel miller self insert #the last of us #joel fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal as joel miller #joel miller smut #smut #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel x you #tlou fanfiction #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #dom!joel #dom!joel miller

[wonustars]

𝖫𝗎𝖼𝗂𝖽 𝖣𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆

୨୧ pairing: wen junhui x f!reader ୨୧ word count: 4.4k ୨୧ genre: perv!jun x f!reader, smut (mdni 18+) ୨୧ summary: jun had a secret he's been keeping from you, one that could make or break your year long friendship. out of worry, you visit his apartment, only to discover important items that have been missing from your wardrobe.

୨୧ reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ♡! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you!

୨୧ tags: nonidol!au, uni!au, perv!jun, panty stealer!jun, f!reader, friends2fucking. ୨୧ smut tags/warnings: switch!jun/reader, p in v unprotected sex, cowgirl, slapping, oral (f. receiving), fingering, creampie.

୨୧ note: this was purely made to torment @onlyhuis /lovingly heheh ♡ and becasue she is queen of huihui's :D. i also needed to write a shorter story to get out of my writing slump :p. and a big big ty my mother mars for proof-reading this despite her hectic schedule @onlymingyus 💞🎀

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ ≽^•⩊•^≼

“Is everything ok, Jun?” you ask your friend, turning to him as he sits so far away from you that you feel like you have to shout for him to hear you. 

He tenses up at your question, pausing to think before answering you. 

"Uh, y-yeah, why?” He stutters. 

“Because every time I come close, you’re always so stiff…” you pout, not liking how far away he is.

You’ve only been friends with Jun for about a year but got along well enough to become closer to each other than the rest of the friend group. He’s shy and a little quiet at first, but once he’s out of his shell, he becomes humorous and very endearing. There was a certain charm that Jun had that made people naturally flock towards him, despite his quiet nature. But even in the year you knew him, he didn’t go on dates or mention anything about a girlfriend. 

The curious being you are, it made you wonder why he never tried to spread his wings and mingle a little bit. Always questions why he brushes off people's advances or fully ignores them when girls are trying to get to know more about him. You decided that maybe he wasn’t ready to date or he was trying to focus more on school.

The two of you spent much time at your apartment, not doing anything in particular. It was either scrolling through Tiktok silently in each other's company, studying, or watching a movie. Today is the latter, a little study session with Jun before playing a movie to wind down. 

Usually, study sessions and movie nights called for cuddles, but today seems to be different. Jun hadn’t been acting himself the whole day and it confused you. 

“No, I think I just got the flu or something, don’t wanna get you sick.” Jun choked out a lame response, not trying to blow his cover. 

There’s a layer of sweat that’s beginning to form on his forehead as he tries to quickly gather his school supplies and bag off your floor. If he were to lift his arms any further up, you would catch his bluff, and his large and very hard bulge covering his oversized sweater.

“W-what?” You ask dumbfoundedly. 

“I’m gonna go home and rest up, I’ll see you later, bye!”

The door shuts before you can get another word in. Jun’s abrupt exit leaves you even more confused than you were before. 

A puff of air leaves Jun’s lips as he leaves your apartment, and he feels a twinge of guilt for leaving like that. But he wasn’t prepared to have you sitting so prettily on your couch, changed into nothing but a tank top and some sleep shorts. The sight of your plump breasts and full thighs caused all the blood from his brain to travel south. 

He knows it’s wrong to look at you that way to yearn for your touch, to feel your plump flesh in his hands. And it's especially wrong to want to fuck you till his cock is the only thing you crave, yet he can’t help it. He can’t help the fact that your figure is like a drug and Jun is insatiable. 

When it comes to you, it becomes very easy to turn him on. You could be doing the most mundane of things, but it’ll still get him going. He can’t help but stare, and he knows it’s bad, but he can’t tear his eyes off you. Today, for instance, your loungewear left nothing up to his imagination, and he was able to see every curve and crevice in what felt like ultra-HD. 

The rise and fall of your breasts through your tank top is what got him, and if it weren’t for his sweater, or the fact the two of you only hang out at your apartment, you would’ve found out about his dirty secret. 

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ ≽^•⩊•^≼

You would be lying to yourself if you said that you weren’t curious as to why Jun left your apartment so fast. His urgency to escape made you feel like maybe you had done something to upset him, which is the last thing you would want to do. You valued your friendship with him and if something was going on, you wanted to know how to fix it. 

Being the impatient person you are, you didn’t even give him a heads-up before deciding to show up at his apartment unannounced. Although you know it’s a little rude to barge in, it is all for the sake of your friendship with Jun. A friendship that you value a lot more than your other ones. 

Knocking on his door, you call out for him, “Jun! Open up, it’s Y/n, I know you’re in there!” 

There’s shuffling that can be heard behind the door, indicating that Jun is indeed home. But before you could knock on the door further, he opened it up. His eyes are wide, round glasses adorning his face, cheeks flushed like he’s out of breath. 

“Are you ok? You look warm, are you still sick?” You overload him with questions, pushing past the door and placing a hand on his forehead to check his temperature. 

Jun is startled by your sudden touch, but the fact that you’re in his apartment is what alarms him the most. There were too many things in his room that could incriminate him. He isn’t a murderer or anything like that, just a huge fucking pervert. And as far as he could tell, you didn’t know how much of a perv he was for you. 

He had turned into some type of kleptomaniac the moment you were comfortable enough to invite him into your home. Pocketing your stray panties every time you left a pair in the bathroom, just to bring them back to his room. Fucking himself into the cloth as if they were an immediate extension of you. The silk wrapping around his hard length, soiling them with his cum as if it were your body instead. 

The worst part of it all was that he didn’t feel bad for stealing them, justifying his actions by telling himself that it was the only thing to keep him in control of his feelings for you. He didn’t feel any guilt for taking a new pair after they lost your scent or when they were dirty with his cum. 

But having you in his apartment is like having an ice-cold bucket of water thrown over his head. While you were knocking relentlessly at his door, he was pleasuring himself in a pair he had stolen from your home the last time he visited. Placing the lacey pink thong in his sweater pocket when he excused himself to the bathroom. For some reason, you never noticed or were too embarrassed to bring it up with him. From his point of view, you seemed naive enough to think that you had just misplaced them. 

Jun glances behind him to see that he left his room door open by a crack, meaning he just had to make sure you evaded that area entirely. 

“I’m fine, Y/n, it’s late and you should go home,” He encourages, trying his best to usher you back to the door. 

He curses how stubborn you are because his words have done nothing but make you want to stay even longer. Your two feet planted against the floorboards as if they were glued there. Shaking your head with your arms crossed in front of your chest, you simply refuse his request. 

“I’m not leaving till you tell me what’s wrong!” You exasperate, trying to convince Jun to finally tell you why he’s been acting so weird. 

The gulp in his throat is evident, his strong Adam’s apple moving up and down as he watches your crossed arms accentuate the fullness of your breasts. 

“I-Uh-,” He can’t even get a sentence out when your pretty mounds are right in front of his face. 

Jun’s mouth is filling with drool quickly, and his semi-hard member starts to come back to life. Your anger causes your chest to heave up and down and all you can think about is how they would look without all the clothes in the way. Your nipples all perked up and wet from his saliva, he could imagine it all happening now. 

“If I did something to upset you, I’m sorry,” you sigh, taking his bicep in your hand and squeezing it. 

You look up at him through your lashes with an apologetic look and Jun is practically put into a trance. The way you’re staring at him so innocently, as he can only think of you in a lewd way, causes his dick to pulse in his sweatpants. The long white tee he’s wearing hardly covers his bulge, but thankfully you were still staring at him with a small pout on your plush lips. 

“No! You did nothing wrong, trust me, I really wasn’t feeling well,” he assures you. “I just need some rest.” 

“I can take care of you, I don’t know why but I feel like it’s my fault that you’re sick,” you insist, your stubbornness causing Jun’s heartbeat to start to pick up. 

He watches you grab his arm to bring him back to his room and now he’s getting really scared. The pair of your panties he left on his bed is covered in his cum but somehow nothing is stopping you from leaving his side. 

“Please, Y/n, I don’t want you to get sick,” he begs you, but you don’t stop, “And-And my room is a mess right now, please!” 

Jun is beyond flustered now, but you protest harder, not letting his persuasive words get to you. You’re worried about him, and as the good friend you are, you just want to nurse him back to health. 

“C’mon Jun I know you, it’s probably fine,” you sigh, pushing the door to his room open. 

Before you could move a step further, the sight of his room caught you by surprise. Your back bumps into Jun’s chest as you stand there frozen. The pair of pink panties you thought you misplaced sat on top of his comforter, covered in a white and sticky substance. 

You can hear Jun trying to explain himself, stuttering, and also calling out your name, but it's no use. It all becomes background noise as you start to connect the dots. All this time, you thought you were going crazy or were just downright forgetful. All this time you thought your panties were disappearing into thin air, but here they are, piled up on your best friend's desk. Using them, cumming into them, and most likely doing so while thinking about you. 

A part of you is meant to be disgusted, but you can’t help but feel intrigued. Is this why he’s been acting so weird around you? Is this why he never accepts a girl's advances? Because he’s been jacking off to you and stealing your underwear? 

“Jun…” you trail off, the shock is starting to seep in and you’re left just wondering why and how. 

“Y/n I’m sorry,” is all he can say, his large hand cupping your waist as your back is still flushed to his front. 

There’s something hard poking at your lower back, and it takes you a few seconds to realize what exactly is poking you. This pervert has a boner right now, you say to yourself in your head. It feels huge and the thought of him being secretly aroused by this situation is making your cheeks flush. You would be called a liar if you said that you didn’t think about fucking Jun from time to time. But who wouldn’t come across those thoughts once in a while? He’s attractive, kind, thoughtful, and smart. 

You’ve always wondered what would happen if you took your friendship with him to another level, but you didn’t dare risk it. From your perspective, it seemed like he was just too focused on school to date anyone, and that's why he didn’t have a girlfriend. But from the looks of his room, your assumptions were flat-out wrong. 

“I can explain myself, I’m sorry, Y/n,” Jun rambles on, his grip on you becoming tighter by the second. 

“Jun,” you speak out with a stern tone, turning around to face him. 

You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down once more, his cheek flushed knowing he got caught in the act. It makes you wonder how long he’s been doing this and if you’re the only person he’s been like this about. You just had so many questions that are circling in your head it made you dizzy. Dizzy but also buzzing with curiosity and intrigue. 

“Are you a pervert?” you ask him, but you already know the answer. 

“Oh, um– I–” He continues to stutter and you stare him down, and for some reason, his hand won’t leave your waist

His touch is barely there but it’s sending tingles up your spine, especially with him trying to find words to explain himself. 

“This whole time, have you been fucking my panties to the thought of me?” you’re taunting him now, your voice firm. 

His mouth opens for a second only to close again and you can’t help but laugh in his face. The fact that he has the gall to steal your underwear, but can’t get confronted without stuttering is somehow laughable to you. 

On the other hand, Jun is a mess, he can’t seem to find a way to defend his actions. Although he isn’t sure if he can defend himself right now, there's evidence of him doing the most unspeakable of acts against one of his closest friends. 

“If you wanted me, all you had to do was ask,” your voice barely above a whisper as you place one of your hands on his chest. “I can be a pervert too, you know.” 

“W-what?” Jun is shellshocked, your words are barely wrapping around his scattered brain, but his hard-on is pulsing uncontrollably now. 

You’ve barely touched him and he’s already feeling the pre-cum bead at the tip of his cock. 

“If you wanna fuck me, just tell me,” you go on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear, licking slightly at his ear lobe before going back down. 

If Jun is lost in a lucid dream, he doesn’t want to be woken up. The fact that you're standing in his room, offering yourself up to him, already has him losing his mind. The pulse in his cock just grows harder to ignore as you look at him with expectant eyes. 

A part of him is scared to touch you like you’d break if he laid so much as a finger on your delicate frame. The other part of him wants to press you into the mattress, fucking you with no mercy, to the point where you feel him inside your stomach. 

The darker, more perverted half of him wins. His large hands grab you by the waist while he leans down to capture your lips into a kiss. And God was the feeling of your lips on his heavenly. It’s like he’s licking up clouds, your lips soft and plush, wet and sweet—everything he’s ever dreamed of. He can’t help but groan, enveloping his arms around you and pulling you in by your waist to bring you closer to him. Two arms wrap around his neck and it feels like he's floating on cloud nine. 

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he groans against your lips, his breathing becoming laboured with each passing minute. 

He stares at you so intensely, you could get lost in his pupils with how blown out there are. Jun’s lips are pink and tender from kissing you, and it makes your knees weak. You can already feel the arousal pooling in your panties. 

“Jun, please,” you whimper, placing kisses along his neck, sucking and biting to coax him towards his bed. 

Moving backwards, Jun doesn't let go of your waist. Placing you carefully on the bed, your legs dangling off as your back hits the mattress. Your pink pair of panties that were discarded from the hours prior catch your eyes. It makes you chuckle knowing that Jun has been fucking your panties when he could’ve been fucking you instead. Honestly, if he had been honest with you before, you would’ve told him yes. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve fantasized about this moment,” Jun groans, his hands massaging your curves as he takes in the look of your body. 

He’s seen what you look like before, but the context is different now. You’re about to let him fuck you, and he doesn’t know the reason why you’re allowing him, but he’s not about to complain. 

“M-me too,” you blush, avoiding his gaze a little. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see his own widen a little, surprised to know you’ve felt the same way about him this whole time. 

“Wait really? Why didn’t you tell me?” He genuinely asks you. 

“The same reason as you, I was afraid,” you shrug. 

 Jun just laughs, shaking his head, his round brown glasses reflecting light as he moves. 

You watch him intently as he smiles, playing with the pieces of hair falling down and into his eyes as he lays on top of you. There's something really attractive about the glasses he’s wearing, they just suit him. The thought of sucking him off while he wears them runs through your mind like crazy. So you kiss him instead. 

Pulling him in again, you kiss him hard, letting your tongue lick the insides of his mouth as Jun continues to grope at you. His hands are travelling under your tank top to grip your bra-less mounds. Tweaking and pinching your nipples which causes you to moan breathily between kisses. 

“Just take it all off,” you ask of him, your request coming out as a squeak as he continues to play with you. 

Jun doesn't need to be told twice, he promptly takes everything off of you, revealing your naked body. A groan bubbles up from his throat as he sees you adjust onto the bed so you're lying against his pillows. Never in a million years did he think he would ever get to see you naked on his bed. 

“This is better than anything I could ever imagine,” he mumbles to himself, and you giggle at the fact that he’s talking to himself. 

“And what would you imagine exactly,” you tease him, sitting up to remove his shirt. 

Your hands are quick, taking off whatever remains of his clothing except for the glasses. The moment you get to his boxers, your voice is lost in your throat. The imprint his hard dick left is huge, and you’re wondering if he could fit it all inside you. Trying not to show how intimidated you are by his size, you pull down his last piece of clothing. The tip slaps against his stomach and you can feel yourself drool inwardly. 

“I imagine you just like this, sitting pretty in my bed, begging for me to fuck you, to fill you with my cum,” he whispers into your ear as he lays you back down. 

His hand supports himself by your head, while the other roams further down your body till his hand teases the apex between your thighs. It makes you gasp, the feeling of his cold fingers, prodding at your folds. 

“Is that something you’d like?” Jun continues to talk to you, his voice an octave lower. 

You don’t say anything, more like you can’t say anything. The pads of his fingers are rubbing circles lazily against your clit, moans leaving your lips non-stop. 

“Yes, I want that, please, Jun,” you beg him, gripping his bicep as he slides his fingers against your pussy lips harder. His fingers rub you but not enough to get you reeling over for him. He’s teasing you and you hate it. 

“What do you want?” He taunts you because he already knows, he just wants to hear the words leave your lips. 

You gasp, back arching as you feel one finger push past your entrance, going in and out of you at an excruciating pace. It feels so good to finally be full, it makes you feel lightheaded, but you want more. 

“I want you to fuck me, please stuff me with your cum,” you whine, kissing up his neck to convince him to pleasure you further. 

“Good girl,” he mutters, peppering kisses on your face, “got tired of fucking your panties, I need the real thing now.” 

“Hmph, Jun, so good,” you moan, head thrown back as you feel him add another finger. 

Your thighs spread even further, wanting him to have full access to your body. He realizes this, picking up the speed of his hands. The sounds of your squelching hole getting fingered fills the room and it’s like music to Jun’s ears. 

Jun is lost in a daze, your face scrunched up with pleasure, and your eyebrows furrowed. He admires your beauty and he feels you come closer to your pending orgasm. There was something so intoxicating about your lust-filled gaze, eyes staring deeply into his as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. 

“So fucking tight, and wet,” Jun grunts, feeling your walls constrict around his digits. 

He wants nothing more than to feel you around his cock, but he wants to taste you first. 

“I need to have a taste of that pretty pussy,” he whispers once again, smirking at how your doe eyes follow his frame as he lowers himself between your thighs, “So fucking wet for me, aren’t you, baby?” 

You are rendered speechless, just allowing Jun to use your body in whatever way he wants, but you don’t mind. The feeling of his tongue against your swollen bud makes your eyes roll back. It makes you grip his hair as he continues to push his two fingers into your slit. Having both his tongue and fingers on you is like heaven, and you can feel yourself coming close to the edge very soon. 

“Close, I’m close, Jun,” you gasp out, watching him stare back at you from between your legs. 

You’re mesmerized by how sexy he looks from where he is, the glasses fogging and defogging slightly with each breath he takes. His hair is a mess as you continue to pull at it, and the free hand he places on your thigh keeps you open. It’s a lot to look at and you don’t want to stop. 

The familiar band in your stomach becomes so tight that it snaps, leaving you shaking as you ride out your first orgasm of the night. 

“Fuck! Jun!” you wail, his tongue still playing with your clit as he begins to overstimulate you. 

You practically have to push his head away, the sensitivity sending a prickly feeling all over your body. He just chuckles, the same smirk from earlier reappearing on his face. A sign that he knows he was teasing you after your orgasm, forcing you to grow frustrated with his actions. 

“Fine, if that’s how you want to be,” you spit at him before flipping the two of you over. 

Jun is left dumbfounded as he realizes that you’ve gained control over the situation. Your wet cunt sat snugly against his hardened length. He lets out a groan as you adjust yourself so your folds envelop the underside of his member. 

“Fuck you’re so wet,” he grunts, hands gripping your waist as he drags you back and forth the length of his cock. It feels good for the both of you, your head lolling back as you savour the warmth of his dick rubbing against you. 

“I would fuck this pretty  cunt all day if I could,” Jun confesses, lost in the feeling of your warmth. 

“I want it inside,” your voice is thick with lust.

Before Jun can say anything more, you lift yourself, aligning his tip with your entrance. Fully sinking on his cock, the two of you let out a sigh of relief. The way his length fills you makes your head dizzy with pleasure. You can feel him stretching your walls like no other, and you wonder why you haven’t thought of asking him to fuck you before. 

“You’re tighter than I imagined, baby,” He mutters, and you can tell he’s trying hard to fight off his release. 

“You’re so big, Junnie, fuck,” you whimper, moving your hips back and forth to adjust to his size a bit more. 

You lower yourself to kiss his chest, moving up towards his Adam’s apple, leaving trails of love bites. The movement of your hips begins to speed up, grinding against him to satiate that inherent need inside you. The need to have his cum fill you to the brim, to mark you with his seed. 

Moving back up, you push your hands against his chest to stabilize yourself, bouncing up and down his cock like a woman depraved. Your skin slapped against his torso with every thrust down. Jun can only moan below you, gripping your hips as one hand slaps your ass repeatedly. Mixing your pleasure with a little bit of pain, and your walls constrict around his cock with every hit he lands. 

Looking down at him, his face contorted as you fuck yourself on his length, Jun knows he won’t last any longer. The sight of you bouncing on his dick is making him weak, especially with the view of your tits bouncing in front of his face. 

“This pussy’s fucking perfect, so fucking good,” His voice strained, “Wanna fill you with my cum baby.” 

“Please, Jun, I wanna feel it,” you moan. 

That’s all he needed to hear because a second later you feel the spurt of warm cum fill your hole. A shiver goes down your spine as you wait till Jun finishes emptying his seed into you, your orgasm follows quickly after. Juices coating his length as you let out a little moan of relief. 

You collapse on his chest, lying there, Jun wraps his arms around you as his cock still sits snugly inside your warm cunt. Letting out a hum of satisfaction, you feel yourself start to get drowsy from how much energy you exerted. 

“Can’t believe my best friend is a pervert,” you giggle, your fingers doodling nonsense on his bare chest. 

“I can’t believe my best friend is attracted to perverts,” He argues back, rubbing the length of your back to calm you down. 

You just roll your eyes in response, “You better give me my panties back.” 

© wonustars

୨୧ a/n: ty for reading! i hope you liked it, please kindly leave a comment or reblog :3 or send an ask! ik i want to do a pt.2 of this so lmk what u all think!!! if theres any typos or warning tags missing pls comment or send an ask :) ty again and see you next time ♡

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[rynwritesreid]

A night to remember-Spencer Reid

A/N: Okay, firstly thank you for all the love on mind-games, honestly I might post the next chapter next week but I am not sure. Also, for some reason even if you @ is correct and everything, some times tumblr won’t let me tag you :(

Summary: Spencer is back from prison, and he’s changed but not in all the ways you want. You discuss with Spencer something you’ve been wanting to try and he is willing to give it a shot.

Content: Post prison Spencer. Fem!reader. Mean dom spencer. Sub!reader. Pet names/name calling. Degrading kink. Overstimulation. Orgasm denial. Begging. Established relationship. Smut (and some fluff). Spencer asks a lot of time for your consent (as they should, especially if you are in BDSM dom/sub relationship). Begging. Sex toys. Virginal fingering. Handcuffs(slight bondage ig) 18+

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It wasn’t a secret that prison, and the whole Cat Adams situation, had changed Spencer. It was evident in the way Spencer carried himself, the hardened glint in his eyes that pierced through the darkness. The weight of his experiences behind bars had etched lines on his face, transforming him into someone unrecognizable.

 

He seemed darker; he didn’t seem to mind having to kill in order to protect anymore. He had told you on several occasions that he would kill for you, well his exact words were; “you I’d kill for you. I mean if anyone ever tried to hurt you, I would make sure that’s the last ever thing they’d do.”

 

Though Spencer had always been protective, this was new, and while the rest of the team knew what he had been through recently had changed him, they had no idea just how much it had changed him.

 

Spencer had also changed how he was at home; he was no longer ‘vanilla’, but he wasn’t exactly rough. He treated you like a princess; he would not let you go to sleep until he had at least made you cum twice. And while you loved this, you wanted him to be rough with you, degrade you, to spank you and to deny you the pleasure he so often gives you.

 

But you didn’t know how to bring this up with him. You didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, or like he wasn’t good enough and that you weren’t enjoying what he was doing. However, you also knew nothing would change if you didn’t bring this up with him.

 

One evening, as Spencer cooked dinner for the both of them, you couldn't help but find the perfect opportunity to broach the subject. The room was filled with the aroma of his signature dish, a comforting reminder of the old Spencer, and you felt a pang of nostalgia.

 

As you sat across from him, you took a deep breath and began, "Spencer, I know things have changed since your time in prison, but I need to tell you something that's been on my mind."

 

He halted mid-stir, his knife-wielding hand trembling slightly. You could see the cogs turning behind his eyes, trying to process the implications of your words.

 

"I want to try something new in the bedroom. I want you to be rough with me, to dominate me, to make me feel as if I'm entirely under your control. I mean don’t get me wrong I enjoy what you do now, but I want this, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

 

Spencer set the knife down carefully on the cutting board, wiping his hand on his apron before turning to face you. The look of concern had faded, replaced by a hint of curiosity and intrigue. He had always been good at reading people; this was no different.

 

"Is that all?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "You want me to be rough with you? To dominate you?"

 

You nodded, glancing down at your own hands, fidgeting nervously in your lap. A sudden surge of heat filled your cheeks as you spoke, "Yes, Spencer. I want you to control me. I want you to take me in a way that I've never been taken before. I want to feel completely vulnerable and at your mercy.

 

It was a request he had never received before, but he saw the raw desire in your eyes. He could sense the urgency in your voice, and the hunger that was burning deep within you.

 

"Alright, but I need you to trust me," he said, taking a deep breath. "This will be different, and it might be intense."

 

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. You had never felt this way before, this desperate need to be dominated, to give yourself completely to him. The thought of it made you shudder with excitement.

 

“Well, we can’t do anything now, we need to eat, so you just sit there and look pretty for the time been while I finish dinner, okay?” Spencer chuckled under his breath, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The look in your eyes told him that this wasn't just some fleeting desire, it was something that had been simmering deep within you for quite some time. He knew that he had to tread carefully, as this was uncharted territory for both of them.

 

Spencer continued to prepare the meal, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. He knew that he had to show you the intensity and control you craved without truly hurting you. He needed to make you trusted him completely, and only then could he truly take control.

 

As dinner was ready, Spencer dished up the meal and served it onto the plates. Sitting down, he took a moment to observe you. Your eyes were filled with a mixture of anticipation and a slight hint of trepidation. He knew you were scared, but he also knew that you trusted him enough to explore this new territory.

 

"You have my word," he said softly, looking directly into your eyes. "I'll take care of you, and I'll make sure you feel safe and cherished throughout this whole experience. But you have to trust me. Can you do that?"

 

You looked into his eyes, feeling a wave of relief wash over you at his promise. Trusting him was easy, you knew that. You trusted him with your life, and that was no small thing.

 

"Yes, Spencer," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I trust you."

 

He smiled; relief evident in his expression. "Good," he said, taking your hand in his. "Then let's eat, and we'll talk about what this entails later."

 

As you ate, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within you. This wasn't just about trying something new; it was about exploring a side of your relationship that you had never dared too before. You knew it would be intense, but you trusted Spencer to guide you through it.

 

After dinner, you both sat on the couch, the dishes cleaned up and put away. Spencer turned to face you; his expression serious but gentle.

 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubts.

 

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "I trust you, Spencer. I know you'll take care of me."

 

He smiled, reaching out to cup your face in his hands. "I won't let you down," he promised, his voice firm and reassuring.

 

With that, he leaned in and kissed you lightly, a tender touch that spoke of the trust and affection that had always been the foundation of your relationship.

 

You watched as he moved closer, his eyes never leaving yours. He kissed you again, this time with more passion, his lips lingering on yours. You could feel his hand gently brushing your hair off your face, his touch sending a shiver through your body.

 

"You're mine," he whispered, his voice low and intense.

 

You smiled up at him, your heart racing. This was it, the moment you had been waiting for. You knew that it would be intense, that it would test your limits, but you trusted him completely.

 

"I'm yours," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

 

Spencer slowly pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours. He traced his fingers along your jaw, his touch gentle but firm. He could feel the heat radiating from your skin, a testament to the desire that was coursing through you.

 

He stood up, towering over you, his body tense with anticipation. You could see the change in him, the alpha male dominance that had been dormant for so long beginning to surface.

 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked one last time, his voice deep and commanding.

 

You nodded, your heart racing. You were ready for this, ready to explore the darker side of your desires.

 

With that, Spencer reached down and grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet. He led you to the bedroom, the air thick with anticipation.

 

As you entered the bedroom, Spencer turned to face you, his eyes burning with intensity. He was no longer the gentle man you had known before, but a powerful and dominating presence that filled the room.

 

"Kneel," he commanded, his voice thick with desire.

 

You quickly obeyed, your heart pounding with excitement as you looked up at him. He stood over you, his muscles tense, his eyes fixed on your face.

 

"You're mine," he repeated, his voice a low growl. "And you will submit to me completely."

 

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. You were ready for this, ready to give yourself to him completely. He reached down and grabbed your wrist, pulling you to your feet.

 

"Take off your clothes," he ordered, his voice firm.

 

You did as he commanded, feeling a thrill of excitement as you stripped down to your underwear. He watched you intently, his eyes never leaving your body. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to take it.

 

He took a step forward, touching your skin for the first time. His fingers traced the curve of your hip, the soft skin of your stomach, and the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. You shivered, feeling a flood of pleasure course through your body.

 

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

 

His hands moved up to your breasts, cupping them in his large palms, kneading them gently. You moaned softly, your desire for him growing stronger by the second.

 

Spencer's lips met your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your throat, and his teeth gently nipping at your skin. He moved down to one of your breasts, taking it into his mouth and sucking it gently. You arched your back, thrusting your chest out to meet his lips, and he took the other breast in his mouth as well.

 

He stood up, undressing himself as he did so. You watched, mesmerized, as his body revealed itself to you. He was everything you had imagined and more.

 

He stood in front of you, his erection hard and ready. You reached out to touch him, but he stopped you.

 

"No," he commanded, his voice firm. "I decide when you touch me.”

 

You looked up at him, your eyes pleading. You wanted so much to touch him, but you trusted him enough to follow his lead.

 

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice low and seductive.

 

You complied, your heart racing as you did so. You knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for, and you were ready to give yourself to him completely.

 

Spencer stood behind you, his hands resting gently on your hips. He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "You're mine, and I'm going to take you in ways you've never imagined before."

 

He slowly began to touch your skin, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip, the soft skin of your stomach, and the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. You shivered, feeling a flood of pleasure course through your body. His fingers moved up to your breasts, cupping them in his large palms, kneading them gently. You moaned softly, your desire for him growing stronger by the second.

 

Spencer's lips met your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your throat, and his teeth gently nipping at your skin. He moved down to one of your breasts, taking it into his mouth and sucking it gently.

 

"You ready for this?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

 

"Yes," you whispered, your voice shaking with anticipation.

 

As you spoke, you felt his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. His erection was now pressed against your back, a reminder of what was to come.

 

He guided you towards the bed, gently placing you down on the soft sheets. You could feel the anticipation building inside you, your heart pounding with excitement.

Spencer climbed on top of you, his body hovering above you. He looked into your eyes, his expression intense and full of desire.

 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked one last time, his voice deep and commanding.

 

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. "I trust you," you whispered. "I'm yours."

 

With that, he leaned down and kissed you passionately, his lips crushing against yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring, and tasting you, as if to mark his territory.

 

You could feel his breath against your skin, hot and ragged, matched only by your own. His hips moved against yours, his erection pulsing with desire, and you knew that this was it. This was the moment you had been waiting for, the moment when you would give yourself completely to him.

 

He slowly pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours. He traced his fingers along your jaw, his touch gentle but firm. You could feel the tingle of his fingers on your skin, a reminder of the journey you were about to embark on.

 

He reached down and grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. You felt the rush of dominance that flowed through him, a primal instinct that had been dormant for so long but was now fully alive.

 

"You're mine," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "And you will do as I say."

 

His eyes bored into yours, filled with a fierce intensity that made your heart race even faster. You could see the animalistic hunger in him, the raw desire that couldn't be contained any longer.

 

He leaned down and nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, causing you to moan in pleasure. You could feel the heat of his body against your own, and you knew that there was no turning back now.

 

Spencer's lips moved up to your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, "You're going to love this."

 

You felt his erection throbbing against your thigh, a reminder of what was to come. You were ready for this, ready to give yourself completely to him.

 

He slowly moved his hand down your body, trailing his fingers along your side until they reached your inner thigh. You could feel the heat and desire radiating from his body, and you knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for.

 

As his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin near your core, you felt a surge of pleasure and arousal coursing through your body. You arched your back, pressing yourself against him, wanting more.

 

Spencer's hand continued to explore your body, moving lower and lower until he finally reached your most intimate place. He slowly slid one finger inside you, feeling the warmth and wetness that welcomed him.

 

You moaned softly, your body trembling with pleasure as his finger moved inside you. He pulled it out and brought it up to your lips, smearing your essence on them.

 

"Taste yourself," he commanded, his voice deep and authoritative.

 

You complied, licking his finger clean, savouring the taste of your own desire. It only fuelled your desire for him even more.

 

"You taste delicious, don’t you," Spencer whispered, his eyes burning with desire.

 

With his other hand, he slowly pulled your legs apart, spreading them wide open for him. You could feel the heat between your legs growing, and you knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for.

 

As his fingers continued to explore your body, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you like a tidal wave. You knew that you were completely at his mercy and that he was going to take you to places you never thought possible.

 

Spencer's hand continued to move between your legs, teasing and taunting you with its every touch. You were more than ready for him, your body trembling with anticipation, and yet he seemed to want to savour this moment.

 

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your breath coming quicker and quicker as you felt his fingers slowly enter you again. This time, he didn't stop, pulling out and plunging back in, faster and harder with each thrust.

 

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice ragged with desire. "I want you so bad."

 

You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, throbbing with need, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside you.

 

"I'm going to make you scream my name," Spencer promised, his voice low and sultry.

 

As he continued to thrust into you, his fingers moving in and out of you in a rhythm that was both maddening and intoxicating, you couldn't help but moan softly, your body arching in response to his touch. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your desire for him growing stronger with each passing second.

 

“You look so beautiful like this, surrendering yourself to me, letting me make you moan like the slut you really are.” He whispered; his voice filled with lust.

 

Your body trembled in response, your arousal increasing with every word. You knew that you were completely at his mercy, and you loved every moment of it.

 

Spencer's fingers continued to move inside you, pulsing rhythmically with his thrusts. You could feel his erection growing harder and thicker against your thigh, and you knew that he was close.

 

"I want to hear you scream," Spencer hissed.

 

Just as you were about cum, he pulled a way, a small smirk on his face.

 

“Did you think I was going to let you cum that easily?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement.

 

You gasped, your body flush with disappointment but also anticipation. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, and it was thrilling.

 

Spencer leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'm going to make you beg for it," he whispered, “and remember when you are begging for it, you asked for this, you wanted this.”

 

He slowly put his fingers back in you, but his pace no longer fast, it was slow, and it was deliberate.

 

"Please, Spencer," you whimpered, your body craving the release that he was denying you.

 

“Is that all you’ve got baby? And is this all it’s taken me?” he taunted, his lips still brushing against your ear. "You're going to have to do better than that, little one."

 

His fingers moved in and out of you, teasing your most sensitive spot, and you knew that he was going to make you beg for it. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your body trembling with the need to cum.

 

And just like before he stopped, he wasn’t going to give in even though it was killing him not too. Your eyes were pleading with him, begging him to continue, but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen.

 

“Now if I remember correctly, you brought toys to replace me while I was gone, didn’t you?” he smirked, his eyes locked on yours, “I think it’s time to put them to use.”

Spencer’s eyes were scanning the room, trying to see where you might have put them, he knew it wouldn’t have been in any of the normal places. That’s when his eyes landed on the wardrobe, and he looked back at you.

 

“I can see that look in your eyes, baby. You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “Now did you hide them in there, princess?”

 

You nod yes, unable to form any more words as you feel a surge of anticipation and desire.

 

Spencer walks over to the wardrobe and opens it, revealing a small collection of sex toys that you had purchased while he was away. He grabs a vibrator and a pair of handcuffs, his eyes never leaving yours.

 

"I knew you couldn't resist," he smirks, his voice filled with victory. "Now, let's see how much you can take, shall we?"

 

He walks back over to you, the vibrator in his hand, and secures your hands above your head with the handcuffs. You struggle slightly, but the desire coursing through you is too intense to resist.

 

You watch as Spencer approaches you, his eyes burning with hunger. He runs the tip of the vibrator along your sensitive skin, teasing you mercilessly.

 

"This is going to feel so good, baby," he whispers, his voice thick with desire. His tone is commanding, and you have no choice but to obey.

 

He turns on the vibrator and presses it against your clit, and you let out a soft moan. The sensation is intense, and you can feel your body responding to it.

 

"That's it, baby," Spencer encourages. "You're so wet, so ready for me."

 

He pushes the vibrator inside you, and you feel it pulsate against your inner walls. "Take it all, you slut."

 

Your eyes roll back as the sensation overwhelms you, and you let out a loud moan of pleasure. Spencer smiles slyly, watching as you lose control.

 

"There's my good girl," he purrs. "You're such a dirty little slut."

 

He increases the speed of the vibrator, and you arch your back, trying to get closer to the pleasure. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer, your body trembling with each pulse of the vibrator.

 

"Please," you whimper, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't stop."

 

Spencer grins, his eyes locked on yours. "Not yet baby. I want to see you beg for it."

 

He pulls the vibrator out of you and turns it off, leaving you desperate for more. You look at him in desperation, your pupils dilated, your breathing ragged.

 

"Please, Spencer," you beg, your voice shaking with need. "Please, I need it so badly."

 

He smirks at your desperation, his eyes never leaving yours. "You want it?”

 

With a sly grin, he takes the vibrator and runs it along your outer lips, teasing you mercilessly. You can't help but moan softly, your body arching towards him in response.

 

"Beg for it, baby," he commands, his voice a mix of desire and amusement. "Tell me how much you need it."

 

Your breath hitches in your throat, your desire for him growing stronger with each passing second. "I need it so badly, Spencer. Please, I'm begging you."

 

He chuckles softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "That's my good girl. You know exactly what you want."

 

And with that, he pressed the vibrator back inside you, and you let out a loud moan of pleasure. It felt amazing, better than anything you had ever experienced before. He continued to tease you with the vibrator, moving it in and out of you, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

 

"Please, Spencer," you pleaded, your voice shaking with need. "Please let me cum. Please make me cum."

 

He smirked at your desperation; his eyes locked on yours. "You're going to have to beg for it, my dear," he said, his voice low and sultry.

 

But you didn't care. You needed this. You needed him. And so, you let out a desperate moan, your body trembling with the need to cum. "Please, Spencer," you pleaded, "I need it so badly. Please make me cum.”

 

You were past the point of no return, Spencer's commands and denial only adding fuel to the fire. Your body was on fire, desperately craving the release he was denying you. You knew you could take it no longer, and yet, you found yourself begging for more.

 

"Please, Spencer," you moaned, your voice pleading. "Let me cum."

 

He chuckled, a wicked glimmer in his eyes. "Not yet baby. I want to draw this out," he said, running the vibrator over your clit, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

 

"Please, Spencer," you begged, your voice hoarse. "I need it so badly."

 

He smirked, a devilish look on his face. "But you're forgetting something, you asked for this. You wanted to be treated like a slut, but now you’re begging for me to make you cum?”

 

You knew you needed to beg for it. You needed to surrender to him, to let him have control over your body, your mind, your very being.

 

"Please, Spencer," you whimpered, "please make me cum. Please, I can't take it anymore.”

 

He took the vibrator and ran it along your outer lips, teasing you mercilessly. You could feel the pulsating sensation building up inside you, your body arching towards him in response.

 

"Please, Spencer," you begged. "I need it so badly."

 

He chuckled; his eyes locked on yours. "You really are a dirty slut, aren't you?"

 

You nodded, your mind reeling with the intensity of the experience. Spencer did take some pity on you; he could see your eyes were filling with tears and he did love to watch you cum.

 

"That's it, baby," he whispered, his voice full of desire. "Beg for it, let me hear how much you need it."

 

You choked out the words, your voice rough with need. "Please, Spencer. Please make me cum. I need it so badly."

 

He smirked, his eyes never leaving yours. "Well, aren't you the perfect slut?"

 

With that, he turned on the vibrator and ran it over your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You arched your back, your hips bucking against the vibrator.

 

"That's it, baby," he urged, his voice filled with command. “Cum for me, letting me see what I can do to you.”

 

And with that, you felt the orgasm building up inside you, closer and closer until you couldn't take it anymore. You let out a loud moan of pleasure, feeling the waves rush through your body as you finally succumbed to the desire that had been building up inside you.

 

"That's it, baby," Spencer said, his voice filled with triumph. "You're mine, every bit of you, and you'll never forget this moment."

 

You lay there, panting and sweating, feeling completely spent. Your body was trembling, your mind was still reeling from the sensations you had just experienced. You felt like you had been pushed to the limit and beyond, but you also knew that you had never felt more alive.

 

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm, you couldn't help but feel a sense of submission, a feeling of being completely under Spencer's control. You knew that you had begged for it, and you had enjoyed every moment of it.

 

Spencer leaned down and kissed your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. "That was incredible, baby. You'll always be my dirty little slut."

 

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of pride in the role you had played in this scene. You knew that you had given him exactly what he wanted, and that feeling of power was exhilarating.

 

“Now I am going to go get some water, because that was intense.” You watched as Spencer got up to go get some water, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for him.

 

You knew that Spencer was also going to need so aftercare, because that was his first time doing something like this, but you also knew you were going to have to drink before you could do anything.

~join the taglist~

~taglist~

@iluvreid @nomajdetective @drspencieee@katieeeee314@evvy96 @oliviah-25 @starkid024 @emalynvtgtgfhvgg @krokietino @xohoneybun @spencerreidwifeee @purplepistachi0 @pleasantwitchgarden@bitchassbecky691 @piperb400@queermaxwooo @gemofthenight @topguncultleader @luvpiercethekaty@anna-belle-xd @catsareawesomek @drreidsfavwhxre @oureternalbond@beth-gallagher22 @keiva1000 @k3nzxx@lookingforgodintheclouds @firstunmannedflyingdeskset @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @r-3dlips @keiva1000 @peppersapro @just-a-harmless-patato @miss.daianaa

#spencer reid #Criminal minds #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #dr spencer reid #dom spencer reid #sub reader #mgg pics #mgg x reader #mgg smut #doctor spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine

[houseofanticipation]

It's impossible to count the number of times you've imagined this moment. Late at night, under the covers; in the bathtub, and the shower; on slow days at the bookstore, the summer before senior year; during Mr. Madrigal's long, droning lectures. You fantasized so vividly you could see each scene on the back of your eyelids, hear each sound between breaths. Many a time your hand migrated southward, almost of its own volition. If you were in public, you'd hold it against your crotch, pressing it into yourself with the force of your clenched thighs. In private, you'd be far less subtle.

In all those fantasies, you never imagined it would look quite like this.

The hallway smells like cigarettes and industrial cleaner. The haphazardly patterned carpet is coming up at the edges. The yellow tube light overhead might be attempting morse code, the way it flickers. Paint peels from the door in front of you, and one of the metal digits in the room number has been replaced with one that doesn't quite match: room 233. You raise your hand, your knuckles inches from the door, and then you pause. You're not sure if you can go through with this.

Before you can decide, the door opens anyway.

You started posting pictures in your first year of college. It was just your tits at first. You'd been quietly following those subreddits and tumblr blogs for a while, and you thought it would be a bit of fun, a little thrill. You didn't expect the response you got: dozens of people telling you how much they'd enjoyed it, asking for more. So you posted more, and the people asked for different things. Post your ass. Post your cunt. Post your fingers in your cunt. Post audio of you moaning as you came. The more you revealed of yourself, the more attention you got, and the more attention you got, the more you wanted to show. People wanted to send you tips, so you set up a Cash App address. You never got much, a few dollars here and there, but it was nice to get a free coffee now and then.

And somewhere along the way, apparently, you let slip that you were a virgin.

The message came late last semester, from a Cash App user whose name was just a string of numbers. It read, "I will buy your virginity for $100,000. So you know I'm serious, here is $7000 for you to keep, deal or no deal. Let me know if interested."

It was like one of those hypotheticals you talk about with your friends at the dinner table. Would you work nonstop for a year if it meant you never had to work again? Would you cut off your hand if it meant you never had to die? Would you let a stranger from the internet take your virginity for a hundred thousand dollars? You thought about it for weeks. The 7 thousand in itself was a windfall you never could have imagined. It was the new laptop you needed, four times over. It was a large iced coffee ever day for three and a half years. After graduation, if you were smart, it could be your living expenses for the better part of a year. But a hundred thousand might be a house, or a car, or a few years of freedom to pursue your goals. And when you asked how you could trust him to pay when he'd gotten what he wanted, he told you he'd be happy to pay up front.

So here you are, in a dingy hotel, face to face with the broad-shouldered, potbellied older man in front of you. "I saw you through the peephole," he says. There's something impish about him. Maybe it's the toothy grin, or the way his ears stick out from his head, or the obvious glee in his voice as he looks you up and down. "My, you're much better in person. Come in! You got the money then?"

You nod. You didn't leave the Lyft until it was there in your account.

"Good," he says, throwing the dead bolt. "Let's get to it then, shall we?"

"What should...I mean, how do you want to..." you feel yourself talking strangely. Breathing in the wrong places, words tumbling over each other. "Maybe we should...talk first? Get to know each other?"

"No need for that," says the man matter-of-factly, unbuttoning his shirt. His chest is smooth, his skin a mottled pink. He waves a hand at your body. "Go ahead and get those off."

Back in high school, one of your recurring fantasies involved Jason Meier having his way with you in the back of that beat up convertible he used to drive. That old thing used to get you so wet. It was a piece of junk, but something about the exposure of it...In the fantasy, he's driven you out to some secluded spot outside of town. Cicadas drone all around. The night sky shines bright with stars. He cups your face with one hand, strokes your cheek with his thumb, asks you if this is your first time. He kisses the side of your mouth, then your jaw, then below your ear, then down your neck. As his hands undo the top button of your blouse, he tells you he'll be gentle.

The man is watching you expectantly. With his shirt on, he looked like a portly old man. Without it you can see that every inch of that stocky build is hard muscle. That pink skin strains against his mass, muscle rippling beneath it as he moves. "What are you waiting for?"

Your legs tremble. Your knees feel like they're about to buckle. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. Your body has never done this before. You didn't know you could feel this kind of fear, and yet there's nothing to fight, nowhere to flee. You agreed to this. You decided this was what you wanted. Slowly, you pull your shirt over head.

He groans in the back of his throat, a long, growly sound. His face is a mask of focus, the impish joviality gone, his eyes fixated on your breasts. "And the rest."

You kick off your shoes, pull off your socks. An inch at a time, you slide your shorts and panties over your ass, down your legs, past your trembling knees. You step out of them, and now you're completely exposed. You cross your arms over your chest, then lower them when he grunts disapproval. Almost urgently, he unbuttons his pants, pulls out a long, rigid cock, and begins to stroke himself.

You didn't discover internet porn until your senior year, and before then the only penises you'd seen were a few drawings in your health textbook. In the fantasy, you unbutton Jason Meier's pants and fig. 7.5, "The penis becomes engorged when in state of arousal," pops out of his underwear. You take it in your hands, feeling the weight of it, the girth, and look up into those beautiful brown eyes of his.

This cock is much...realer. It has bounce, texture, even a sound as his hand slides up and down its length. It's longer than the one in that old fantasy, too, and it leans slightly to the left. For years you've wondered what it would be like to see a cock in person, and now that you're here it terrifies you.

"Come here," says the man, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Get on your knees."

You falter. "You didn't...I mean, we didn't agree to that."

"I bought your virginity," says the man. "You ever suck cock before?"

You shake your head.

"Then your mouth is just as much a virgin as your cunt. Get down here."

It's almost a relief to get off your legs, the way they've been threatening to give out. Close up, you can see the purples and blues of the veins under his skin. The head of his cock pulses with anticipation as your lips part, your tongue extends...

You don't think you can do this.

Then his hand is on the back of your head.

You always imagined Jason Meier whimpering as you took him into your mouth. You were never quite able to picture what he would feel like between your lips, on your tongue; the movie camera of your imagination always panned up at that point, to focus on his face. He would let his head fall back in pleasure, eyebrows knit with sensation, lips slightly parted. Now, though, there's no camera to pan. You are here. This is real. And his powerful hand is pushing your mouth onto his cock.

A sound you can't control comes out of you. Your back arches, your hands flail, and then by pure instinct they're on his belly, pushing against him, away from him. Spit runs down your chin, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand. "I'm sorry," you say, looking anywhere but at his face. "I'm sorry, I can't, I thought I could do this but I can't."

There's a horrible darkness in his voice. "I already gave you the money."

"I know, I'll give it back, I'm sorry." The words trip over each other on the way out of your mouth. "I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have, I just, I thought I could..."

His hand is on the back of your head again, and this time his fingers are curled tight into your hair. He jerks your head back, forcing you to look at him, and his eyes are cold and predatory. "I'm not interested in returning what's already bought and paid for." He jams himself back into your mouth.

You always imagined yourself savoring it, taking your time to explore every inch of Jason's length with your tongue, but there's no time for that now. The veiny, throbbing thing in your mouth bypasses your tongue entirely, forcing past your uvula. You gag, then gag again. Your stomach churns and you convulse as your body tries to remove the foreign object, but the man just pushes harder. Your eyes water as he slides deeper, deeper, making your throat bulge, your limbs spasm. As his balls touch your chin, you close your eyes and try to relax your throat.

He holds you like that. You gag for a third time, and thick saliva explodes through the gaps around his cock, dripping down your chin and collecting in a long, dangling rope. Tears roll down your cheeks as you try to acclimatize to the feeling, try to convince your body that nothing is wrong. You think you've got it, and then he moves slightly, and you're gagging again. He groans, grips your head tighter, and in the back of your throat you feel his cock swell slightly. He likes it when you gag for him, says a voice in the back of your mind. The motion is pleasurable for him.

You've got another problem rearing its head. You can't breathe. It was fine at first, but the man shows no interest in freeing up your airways, and in all the gagging and crying, you haven't exactly been conserving your oxygen. You pat his leg, trying to signal to him, but all he does is clap you on the side of the head. Your ear rings, you gag again, and his cock throbs. Black walls are closing in on your vision. The effort of struggling against him becomes too much, and your arms fall to your sides. Your eyelids flutter. You're going to pass out. You're going to pass out, and then what will he do to you?

But just before the world fades to black, he pulls your head back again. You feel every inch of his cock as it slides out of your throat. He lifts your face, and your eyes struggle to focus on his as you take lungful after lungful of glorious air. Drool spills across your lips, but you don't care. You're alive.

The man slaps you hard, leaving a stinging impression of his palm on your cheek. You whimper. Two of his fingers are in your mouth, pushing on the back of your tongue. Not knowing exactly why, you close your lips around them and shut your eyes.

"That's better," he says.

The first time you saw a male sex toy in use was in an ad before a porn video you were watching. You were taken aback by the way the performer had pounded it over his cock, barely more than an extension of his hand. You're reminded of that image as he parts your lips again, and the rape of your throat begins in earnest.

You haven't thought about Jason Meier in years, but at this moment he's the only thing keeping you sane. As your face rams up and down, up and down, you retreat to that beat up convertible, and Jason's soft, thoughtful face. As the man tightens his grip, Jason runs his fingers through your hair. As the man grunts and growls with pleasure, Jason coos your name. With each stroke of his cock down your throat, each spasm of your body, you focus on a different part of Jason's body: his large hands, his long fingers, his shoulders, his jawline, his liquid brown eyes. By the time the man finally releases your hair, you can barely feel your body any more. The convertible is far more real than the squeaky motel bed. The hands on your body are Jason's, soft and tender.

He climbs over the center console straddling you. You lock lips, feel your tongues in each other's mouths, kiss so deeply that it feels as though you share the same breath. He pulls the lever to lay your seat back, and then he's over you, on top of you, lifting your skirt, pulling your panties to the side.

This is the part where, in the old days, you would have slipped a finger or two inside yourself. But this time you don't have to. This time you can feel him inside you, really feel him, and he fills you up like your fingers never could. There's some pain—they told you there'd be pain, didn't they, your first time—but it falls away to the thrill, the lust, the pleasure. Jason whimpers as he slides into you, deeper, deeper, and you moan into each other's mouths as his pelvis meets yours. You take a moment to savor it, breathing each other in, and then he begins to thrust.

You feel drunk. It's exactly like you always imagined it, and somehow better than you could ever have expected. Each movement of his hips brings another sensation: a spasm in the arches of your feet, a hitch in your breath, a churning, swirling need in the depths of your abdomen. Deeper you tell him, harder, and he obliges, pulling you into him, and him into you.

You can feel the orgasm building, but it isn't like any you've had before. Every time you've ever cum, you've been in control. This time, Jason is in control. Jason decides when you cum, how you cum. One hand supports his weight as he leans over you, and the other slides up your belly. You used to watch those hands obsessively. The way he held a pencil, the way he bit his knuckles when he was thinking. Now that hand slides up, caresses your breast. Now that thumb brushes your hair out of your face. Now those fingers close around your throat.

You know you're safe with Jason, but the pressure on your throat triggers some animal fear response in you. You try to squirm away, but his arm is strong, and his hand his firm. Your hands go to his wrist. "I don't like that, stop." He just smiles. It isn't his usual sweet smile, either. This one is cruel. Predatory.

Your face feels tight. Your eyes bulge. You're beginning to panic for real now. "Jason, seriously, stop!" You beat at his arm with your fists, but he easily takes both your wrists in one hand and pins them over your head. You try to kick at him, but he's already past your defenses, between your legs, pushing them uselessly apart. His grip tightens, his rhythm increases, his cock swells inside you. He's getting off on this.

All at once you're back in the hotel room. The man's sweaty red face is inches away from your own, and the lust in his eyes is obvious. His cock seems to push deeper with every thrust, and the horrible thing is that the orgasm is still coming. It's close now, you can feel it, and it's like he knows exactly how to bring it out. You feel floaty, tingly, and that awful pleasure is welling up inside you, a pot about to boil over...

"That's right," he says, his eyes locked on yours. "That's what I was waiting for. That perfect mix of...pleasure...and...fear." He punctuates each of these last three words with a long, deep thrust, and it's these that send the orgasm spilling over. A choked moan pushes itself out of you as your back arches, your toes curl, your legs wrap involuntarily around his waist, tears roll down your cheeks. That floaty feeling has combined with the orgasm to create something like how you imagine heroin must feel; a wave of mind numbing, soul deadening ecstasy. Your insides feel hot, and at first you think that must just be what it feels like when you cum from sex, but then you see the look on his face and realize that he's cumming too. His grip relaxes and he pounds away a few more times at your now-limp body. You stare at the ceiling as he moans, buries his face between your tits, pumps round after round of his warm, thick cum into your cunt, your womb. After one final push he collapses onto you, his cock still inside you, his bulk crushing you into the bed. You don't move.

He strokes your cheek. Fondles your nipple. Kisses your neck. Then he kisses your mouth, his tongue pushing your lips open, his breath like damp earth. You barely see him.

It must be almost ten minutes before he finally gets up, his limp cock sliding out of you at last. You can feel his cum dripping from your cunt as he puts on his underwear, then pants, then shirt, then shoes. "The room is paid for the night," he says with his hand on the door handle. "Thank you for struggling. Taking someone's virtue is so much better when you actually get to take it.

You don't respond.

You don't know how long you lie there, motionless, dripping cum. Oddly, the man who just raped you isn't the one burned onto your mind's eye. Try as you might to return to that sweet teenage fantasy, all you can see is Jason Meier as he held his hand to your throat, and that cruel, predatory smile on his face.

#CW im told this one is realer than usual so be warned #r@pe fantasy #cnc free use #cvmdump #cvmslvt #breeding toy #r@petoy #r@pe kink

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒂 𝒕𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒓 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏

hello, something I came up with that was initially supposed to be written with chris as the man, but seeing as I no longer write for him, I give a huge thanks to @royalsweetteaa for helping me choose.

summary - sebastian decides to download tumblr and comes across your blog, slowly, he becomes obsessed with you and your work.

warning - smut, obsession, masturbation, oral sex, swearing, slightly dark content.

18+ only please, the gif and header I use aren't mine.

On a cool Saturday night, Sebastian lies in bed, staring at his phone as he looks at the app he has just downloaded. He had heard many things about it, had heard that there was fanfiction written about him on this app. Sebastian didn’t think he would ever download Tumblr, but he was taking a small break from acting, hiding away from the world and thinking, why not. He didn’t know if reading what the fans wrote about him would be creepy or exhilarating.

He thinks for a few seconds as he tries to think of a perfect username. Sebastian lets out a noise as one comes to mind. His fingers move fast as he types ‘nottherealstan’, smiling triumphantly when his account is created, and many things appear on his home screen. He lies there for a while, scrolling through, wondering where these stories would be, not wanting to type his name in, but maybe he has to. 

His fingers move to the search bar, typing in his name and fanfiction at the end of it. His eyes widen as he scrolls through, taking his time to read the many stories designed about him. He couldn’t believe his eyes at how people could bring incredible stories to life with just the idea of one person. He continues to scroll until one story catches his eye. 

‘I’m a sucker for you.’ He reads the title, humming as it begins to sound interesting as he reads the summary. He gasps, feeling his cock twitch at how descriptive it starts to get. His hand slowly slides down his body and underneath his trackies. 

You knelt on the ground, looking up at the blue-eyed man, feeling yourself throbbing between your legs as you watched him suck on the lollipop that you were previously sucking on. Your lips and tongue are stained a soft pink, and you whimper when Sebastian slowly drags the lolly from his mouth, making a popping sound and placing it into yours. “Suck, bunny. Be a good girl for Daddy.” 

Sebastian groans, stroking his cock up and down as he continues to read. His breath picks up. No other story had lived up to this one. He felt needy. He could feel sweat building and pre-cum leaking. He quickly blinked away the fuzziness building before his eyes, needing to read more.

You wrap your lips around the lollipop as Sebastian unbuckles his belt, slowly unzipping his pants. You suck hard on the cherry-flavoured lolly, moaning when your eyes land on his hardened member, drooling at the sight of the pre-cum leaking from his angry tip. “You going to be a good bunny and suck on daddy’s cock?” You nod, opening your mouth wider, allowing him to remove the lollipop, replacing it with his member. You moan, eyes slipping closed when the sweet flavour is mixed with his musky one, immediately becoming your new favourite flavour. 

Sebastian moans, squeezing his cock, picking up his pace. Tingles shoot through his body as he realises the thrill of this, imagining an imaginary woman on her knees for him, sucking his cock and worshipping him. No matter his fame, he could never find a woman to act like this for him. Be his little slut, his bunny. “Fuck!” He can’t stop his head from falling back, stroking his cock faster. He needs to stop because he wants to make it to the end of the story. Sebastian squeezes his base, swiping his thumb across his tip and shivering. “C’mon, don’t cum like a damn teenager.” His eyes move back to his phone.

Your head bobs back and forth on his cock, gagging and choking as you take as much of him as you can. Your tiny hands rest on his thighs, moaning as you feel him. Sebastian’s hands fall onto your head, assisting you. His cock twitches, thrusting into your throat, grunting and groaning at the feel of your mouth around his cock. You stare up at him with wide eyes, and your hand moves from his thighs, making its way to his heavy sacks, watching his breath hitch when you cup them. You caress them, softly tugging as you suck and slobber all over his thick member. 

Sebastian feels his orgasm quickly approaching, causing him to squeeze his cock and slam his eyes shut. He can’t, and he shouldn’t. This was so wrong but so good. He could imagine himself in the story and desperately wanted to be the man in the story. The story may have been written about who he is, but he was jealous. He wanted someone like Bunny to be here, be with him. Sebastian wanted to see how this would end. He needed to finish the story before he came. It had seemed that this was a series, and he wondered if it could get any more spicier. 

You continue to suck his cock, moaning when you feel him twitch in your mouth, filling it with thick spurts of his salty cum. You swallow all his goodness, sucking him dry and licking him clean. Your tongue swirls around his tip before you pull off with a pop. Sebastian strokes your head, smirking down at you with hooded eyes. “Good little bunny. Did so good for Daddy.” You whine, grinding against your foot, pouting up at him and opening your mouth when he grabs the lollipop again. You moan against it, sucking on it while he picks you up. “My bunny deserves a treat.”

Sebastian groans, thick amounts of cum spurting out of his swollen tip and all over his hand and sheets. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and his chest heaves up and down as he tries to catch his breath. “Jesus…” He looks back at his phone, eyes widening. “What?! That was the end!” He looks around, knowing this is a series, but there’s no link for part two. “C’mon… What…” He whines, clicking on the blog, feeling his cock twitch at the username, ‘ahornylittlebunny’. 

He scrolls down, checking to see if there is an update, and he lets out a sigh of relief when he sees a post you made that same day. Sebastian imagines how cute you must look when you type these stories out. He reads your words, fascinated.

‘hi, all! I know you’ve all been waiting for part two of I'm a sucker for you, and you’ll be happy to know that I'll be posting it later tonight!’ 

Sebastian licks his lips, knowing he must be present when you post the story. His fingers move fast, clicking your notifications and turning them on. He needed to see everything you posted. He spent the whole night reading everything you’ve written, smirking at the posts about him, saying if you ever met him, you’d instantly become his little slave. Your eyes widen slightly from the other side, watching your phone blow up with notifications of likes, comments, and reblogs from someone named ‘nottherealstan.’

Sebastian can slowly feel himself becoming obsessed, he doesn’t even know who you are, but he’s intrigued and wants you. His eyes light up when he gets a notification that part two has finally been posted, and he feels his cock harden, already leaking pre-cum. “Fuck, such a good bunny.” He growls, clicking the story and slipping his hand into his pants. He groans as he reads, never having read something so sexual before. The title perfectly describes everything for him. ‘beyond your wildest dreams’.

Sebastian slips between your legs as you sleep, groaning when your legs fall open, exposing your glistening cunt to his hungry gaze. He licks his lips, sliding his hands up and down your thighs, getting closer to the sweetest treasure he’s ever known. “Such a cute little bunny, so soft and sweet.” He nuzzles closer, creeping near your cunt. Sebastian slides his hands to your hips, gripping them and dragging you closer to his face. You whimper in your sleep as his tongue swipes against your folds, drinking your juices in and wrapping his lips around your swollen pearl, sucking it into his mouth. “Taste like a dream, bunny.” He groans into you.

Sebastian moans, gripping his cock and rapidly stroking it. He couldn’t get enough. He needed this to be true. But he didn’t just want anyone. He needed you. Sebastian reached down and began tugging his balls, twisting his wrist as he jerked himself. “Shit, bunny. You feel so good.” He slips his eyes closed, imagining you, a faceless woman wearing a cute little bunny costume, those little bunny ears and that fluffy bunny tail. He opens his eyes and continues to read, needing to finish. 

Sebastian pulls you flush against his face as he feasts on your juicy cunt, ravenously sucking on your swollen clit and thrusting his tongue into your tight hole. Your head moves side to side on the pillow, fingers curling into the sheets as Sebastian continues to eat you out like a man starved. You wake with a moan, your back arching as he pulls you even closer to his face, staring at you with those pretty blue eyes. Your toes curl, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as your juices squirt out of you and cover his face. “Oh god! Sebastian!!” You pant, sagging into the bed, clutching the pillow as you come down from your high.

Sebastian can’t help it. His toes curl, his balls tighten, cock twitches frantically as rapid amounts of cum spurt out of his mushroom tip, “Fuck! Shit!” He groans as he sinks back into the silk sheets, placing his phone down and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand before he reaches over and cleans himself. Never having cum so hard in his life, no one had ever made him feel like this. He felt like a teenager again, constantly jerking his cock and cumming. Sebastian picked his phone back up, reading the rest of the delicious story, making sure to reblog with the perfect response. 

‘Fantastic, just fantastic. I’ve never read something so delicious and captivating in my life, and I won’t lie I couldn’t help but touch myself when reading. This masterpiece made me cum twice. What I would do to make you my perfect little bunny.’ Sebastian smiled, sending it through.

Sebastian plugged his phone in and headed to the bathroom. He gets ready for bed, looking at himself in the mirror, and he can’t stop picturing the perfect little bunny beside him, also getting ready with him. Someone who admires him, worships him, and loves him. He shuts the light off, heads back over to his bed, gets under the blanket, and stares up at the ceiling, slowly blinking. He probably shouldn’t have downloaded Tumblr because now he has become obsessed with you. 

As Sebastian slowly falls asleep, he speaks. “Don’t worry, little bunny. I will find you and make you mine, bringing all of your little fantasies alive.” His cock stirs, imagining having you in his arms finally, your wide eyes staring up at him as you realise he’s found out your dirty little secret. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollwork #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan fan fiction #sebastian stan fandom #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan imagines #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan oneshot #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan au #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x fluff #sebastian stan x plus size reader

[luveline]

Hi, I’ve never sent a request before so forgive me if this sounds weird I’m still learning how to use Tumblr lol but what if Eddie and reader go to Roan’s school for parent-teacher conference and her teacher shows them something Roan wrote or made expressing how much she loves her new mom and her new little family🩷 and reader cries from how happy and loved Roan and Eddie make her feel🥹

ty for ur request, it doesn't sound weird at all! eddie and roan —you and eddie attend roan's PT conference, stepmother!reader, 1.2k

You hide from the biting winter wind in Eddie's side. “Is it supposed to be this cold?” you ask. 

“You sound surprised. It's December,” he says, though he puts his arm over your shoulders to cover as much of you as he can. “I told you to wear a coat.” 

“The coat ruins my outfit,” you say. 

“You being cold ruins the outfit.” He nods towards the step up into the school building. “You could say the outfit ruins what's underneath–” 

“What's wrong with you?”  

“An appreciation for my wife?” 

“Stop saying that, you're confusing people. Steve asked me last night if we got married in private–” 

“You're always talking to Steve,” Eddie complains, “he doesn't even call me anymore, he just wants to talk to you.” 

He'd called to ask if he was still babysitting, actually, but Eddie wouldn't know that because he and Roan had been playing monsters at the time, speaking to each other in gruff tones while they made sandwiches for dinner. 

“You have a problem.” 

Eddie can't decide whether to bicker or dote, squeezing you tightly, a promise about new problems lost to the growing ruckus of the elementary school after hours. Some parents have brought their children, but the majority stand chatting in lines to see the teachers. You and Eddie have come through the main entrance of the building rather than the side door where Roan enters, and the walk to Mrs. Lundy's room is longer than usual, though far from unpleasant. Light shines through the windows where a rainbow of creatures have been painted, leaving glowing shapes of apricot, cerulean, and lilac on your skin as you pass. 

“You're like a Christmas tree,” Eddie says. 

“I just need some tinsel.” You point at the decorations hanging from Mrs. Lundy's doorway. “Like that.” 

“You want some tinsel? I'll get you some tinsel, baby, just give me a minute. And maybe distract her.” 

You refuse to help him steal from Mrs. Lundy, and spend your time in line waiting with his hands held firmly in yours to prohibit any theft. Eddie moans about being jailed but is otherwise content. He quite likes it, actually, rearranging your fingers to stroke your knuckles. 

Mrs. Lundy is smiling, happy to see you and brag about your girl. She starts with Roan's general education, her behaviour, her grades, though this young she doesn't have grades so much as milestones. Roan is smart but no wizz kid (not that you care), she's kind (but not always good at sharing), she's loud, and rambunctious, a great artist, and she's very, very happy. 

“She talks about your wedding all the time. Every day. She tells us she's going to be the flower girl, and the best man, and that she has a beautiful dress.” Mrs. Lundy beams. “She's walking on sunshine.” The teacher's smile turns soft, almost wistful. “Well, she's Roan. You know what she's like better than I do.” 

Your cheeks ache with pride. 

“She's a good kid,” Eddie says. 

“Yes!” Mrs. Lundy reaches across the desk for a turquoise-coloured folder. “There was actually something I wanted to share with you both… You know we have creative writing assignments, and obviously we help them with making real sentences, but what she has to say is very much of her own volition.” 

Mrs. Lundy pulls a sheet of paper from the folder and puts it down in front of your hands. “The prompt was what makes you happy,” she says. 

The first sentence is simple. 

My mommy. 

A drawing of you decorates the page above the lines, so clearly you, your smile wide and pink. 

My mommy is kind and I love her. Dad sayd the wedding is speshul becase he loves her, but she will be my mom. She makes me so happy. Mommy says she loves me all of the time, and she brushus my hair. My best part of the day is when Y/N comes home and hugs me. We are so happy, and Lucky gets dinner. I love my dad too, and Uncle Wayn. 

Her spelling errors have been corrected in green pen, and her backwards letters are written forwards for her to copy. You read the entire paragraph in a blur, thinking about how long it must've taken her to get it all down, nearly an entire page in her bubbly handwriting, big letters running off of the page. 

“Needless to say,” Mrs. Lundy says, “that most children write about their families, or their pets, or their toys. But Roan was extremely focused on the word love. She's clearly going home to a loving home every night.” Mrs. Lundy smiles at Eddie. You nearly miss it, reading the paragraph again, and then a third time. 

“Can I take this?” you ask, clearing your throat, tears brewed and bobbing on your waterline, desperate to be shed. “Is that okay?” 

Eddie laughs and elbows you in the arm. “Come on, it's hardly news.” 

You wipe your eyes before you can cry in front of them both. “I'm sorry, just– can I?” 

Mrs. Lundy beams again, emphasising the well-worn smile lines at the corners of her lips and creasing beside her eyes. 

You hold it together well for a little while. Eddie talks over your wobbly silence, a hand on your shoulder, assuring Mrs. Lundy that you're all, in fact, very happy, and he's just glad that Roan is being a good student and friend to her classmates. Mrs. Lundy's kindness and Roan's love letter to you has knocked you entirely off kilter, and you're crying before you've reached the car. They're happy tears. 

“Come on,” Eddie says, taking the paper you've folded carefully from your fingers as they clench. “She's said nicer to you in person.” 

And sure she has. Roan loves hitting you with the saccharine when you're not expecting it. Drying her hair after bath time, totally distracted, she'll kiss your cheek and say, “You're so pretty.” She sprinkles I love you's wherever they'll fit like her dad does, and she shows it with little gifts and cuddles and invitations. Y/N, do you want to have a fashion show with me? Y/N, can we have ice cream in bed? Can I do your hair, please, mommy? 

“It's different. It's different,” you insist, scrambling to find the words. “She's…” You rub your eyes. Your makeup is smudging, but you can't help it. “I don't even know what to say.” 

Eddie shrugs. Lean shoulders, a loving arm behind your back, the car in sight but getting no closer, he comforts you in the middle of the parking lot while the passing headlights kiss your shoes. “You know how much she loves you, babe. This is a good thing, right? You're not upset?” 

“Not upset,” you clarify. 

“Okay, good. Is this a bad time for me to say that I am profoundly jealous right now? I used to get all the drawings and cards, I used to get Mother's day gifts. I have a mother's day card up in the attic… might have to get it out,” —he kisses your cheek— “just to cope.” 

You laugh through a sniffle. “Let's go get it,” you say. 

He presses Roan's assignment back into your hand. “You can keep that one, but don't get it out around me. I'm serious.” 

#eddie and roan #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4

[blueshirtjamie]

"Slut!" // J. Hughes

In which Jack and the reader decide to go public with their blossoming relationship, only to discover that the internet can be a cruel place. Is all of it really worth it? (Inspired by the masterpiece of a vault track Taylor gave us.)

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, insults (the title is slut after all), not proofread so please pardon any small errors!

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: I honestly don't know Jack's personality very well so hopefully I did an okay job of characterizing him. I hope you enjoy this! My requests are always open :)

_____________________________________________

Everyone wants him, that was my crime

You had been dating New Jersey’s star young forward, Jack Hughes, for some time now– but it was a complete secret. Jack was one of the NHL’s biggest names because of his insane talent on the ice. And, much to your chagrin, he was also one of the most crushed-on players in the league. His ocean-blue eyes and sweet smile charmed anyone who laid eyes on him, and you were so afraid of what people would say if they found out that you two were an item. New Jersey Devils fans, and Jack Hughes fans in particular, were nothing if not protective and could be so mean online. You liked Jack a lot–you two had so much fun together, always laughing and doing fun things, and you didn’t want the world to break you two apart. You were afraid to share Jack, something you had shared with him from the start of your relationship. The Tweets, Tumblr posts, and Instagram accounts dedicated to your boy ignited a jealous and protective streak in you, but it was the price you’d have to pay to stay with Jack– and one you’d pay willingly. 

Aquamarine, moonlit swimmin' pool// What if all I need is you?

“I think we should go public soon, babe,” Jack said one night as you two were taking a late-night dip in your backyard pool. You swam over to him and put your arms around his neck, planting a small kiss on his lips. 

“ I don’t know, Jack,” you said. “I’m just so scared of what people will say. What if all I need is you? No one else’s opinions and validation, just my boy?” You gave him a small smile. 

“I know you’re scared, baby,” he replied. “But I want to show you off to the world. Everyone deserves to see my pretty girl and learn all about you and your kind heart.”

You blushed, and a sigh escaped you. 

“Okay,” you conceded. “If you’re sure, J, then I trust you.” 

Jack smiled, pulling you in for a long, slow kiss. The kind that made your stomach flutter and your heart melt. 

Got love-struck, went straight to my head// Got lovesick all over my bed

The moonlit swim replayed in your head as you two lay in bed that night. Jack had been sound asleep next to you, softly snoring, for a while now. You, on the other hand, were wide awake, your mind racing. “I want to show you off to the world,” you heard on loop. The sweet facial expression Jack gave you as you said it. The soft kiss that had quickly heated up. God, you loved kissing Jack, and with each kiss, you felt yourself falling deeper and deeper for him. Each sweet word from his pretty lips intensified your feelings. There was no denying it— you were falling in love with Jack Hughes, and he was right. It was time for the world to finally know. 

The next morning, you sat next to Jack in bed as he scrolled through photos of you guys, trying to find the perfect few to post on his Instagram. Finally, you settled on three– a shot of you two post-game, one with the city skyline in the background, and a selfie of you kissing his cheek. Your heart pounded as Jack typed out the caption: “my whole heart ❤️”. He pressed “post” and you took a deep breath. 

“I could throw up,” you said, curling into Jack’s side. He held you close, placing a gentle kiss on your head. 

“Everyone is gonna love you, babe, I don’t know how they couldn’t.” 

And I break down, then he's pullin' me in// In a world of boys, he's a gentleman

As it turns out, the internet was a cruel place, and not everyone loved you. While the comments on Jack’s post were mostly positive, especially the ones from teammates and other players, others were not so nice. The words “slut”, “puck bunny”, “clout chaser”, and “bitch” floated around a lot, and so you found yourself doom scrolling through social media, reading every comment you could find. Your photos were reposted time and time again on various accounts, and it was overwhelming. Tears welled in your eyes and you tried hard to hold them back, but you were unsuccessful. Once they started falling, they just wouldn’t stop. Jack walked around the corner into your bedroom to find you a sobbing mess. He took your phone from your hands, powered it off, and took both of your hands in his. 

“We’re done with that for today, okay?” he said gently. He pulled back the covers on your bed and helped you get in before getting in himself, pulling your body into his. 

“They’re being so mean, Jack,” you said between sobs. “I knew it was a bad idea, I knew it!” 

Jack shushed you gently, wiping your tears with his thumb. 

“Those people don’t matter, love. What matters is that you’re mine, and I’m going to protect you like my life depends on it. You and me, that’s all that matters, okay?”

You nodded as a sob racked through your body. Jack held you like that, whispering reassurances and stroking your hair until you calmed down, your breathing becoming more even and your cries fading out. He handed you a box of tissues from the nightstand and smiled at you as you dabbed at your eyes and blew your nose. 

“I’m sorry baby,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Jack cupped your face with both of his hands, looking you in your eyes. 

“Hey, there’s nothing to apologize for, baby,” he said. “At some point, you get used to any kind of comments about you and block them out. I forgot that not everyone can ignore it like I’ve learned to. I’m gonna protect you, okay? I mean it. I will tell you time and time again how amazing you are, and I’ll make sure they know it too.” He kissed you gently, and you melted into him. 

I said, "It might blow up in your pretty face"// I'm not sayin', "Do it anyway"// But you're going to

After an afternoon spent snuggling up to Jack and watching movies, you were calm, and the comments had drifted from your mind. Let them talk, you thought. As long as I have my boy, that’s all that matters. 

“Let’s go out tonight,” Jack said, looking at you, his face lit up in excitement. 

“Jack…” you started, an air of uncertainty in your voice. 

“No, I mean it. Let’s go out and be seen, show people that their comments don’t matter in the slightest. Let’s go have fun and get your mind off things, ya know?”

You sighed deeply, contemplating. You could dress up, go out, and have some fun with your boy, or you could stay in bed and sulk. Okay, you thought. Let’s do this. 

“Okay,” you said, looking at Jack and smiling. “But if it blows up in your pretty face, don’t say I didn’t warn you, babe.”

His elation visibly grew as his smile widened. 

“Okay!” He said, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “Let’s get ready, then.”

But if I’m all dressed up, they might as well be lookin' at us// And if they call me a slut, you know it might be worth it for once// And if I'm gonna be drunk, I might as well be drunk in love

So there you were, dressed in a sexy little black dress that hugged your curves and showed off your best assets, your hair and makeup done up. You felt confident, you felt strong, you felt… hot. Jack agreed, whistling at you as you rounded the corner and stepped into his view. 

“Wow, babe,” he said, taking you in. “You are absolutely stunning. I can’t wait to show my girl off,” he smiled, taking your hand and spinning you in a small circle. He pulled you in then, both his hands on your waist, and gave you a long, slow kiss. You melted into him and deepened the kiss. After pulling away, you took in the sight of Jack. Black pants and blazer paired with a crisp white button-down and black tie, hair mussed up in just the right way that you loved on him. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you smiled, meeting his eyes with your own. He smiled back, that charming, bright smile that gave you butterflies every time. 

“Ready to go?” he asked. You nodded confidently. 

“We look so good,” you said. “They might as well be looking at us, right?” 

Jack laughed. “That’s my girl.”

The bar was busy on a Friday night, as was expected, so you two were able to grab a drink inconspicuously, blending into the crowd. Jack kept a hand around your waist the entire time, gently guiding you through the sea of people drinking, mingling, and dancing. You two found a table to stand at and people-watched, chatting and laughing together. It felt good to be out, to be dressed up, to feel confident. Your conversation was soon interrupted by a man, clearly already a few drinks in.

“Oh my god,” he shouted over the music. “Jack Hughes!” 

He clapped a firm hand on Jack’s back. 

“Can I take a picture with you?” he asked, more as a warning, as his phone quickly obscured Jack’s face as he leaned in for a selfie. 

Just as soon as he arrived, he was gone. 

“So it begins,” Jack said, a tone of annoyance in his voice. “I bet that picture is already on Twitter.” 

He took his phone out to check social media, and you leaned close to him, peering over his shoulder. He placed a hand on your lower back, scrolling through his mentions with the other hand. Sure enough– a grainy, dimly lit photo of you two in candid conversation had been posted by a hockey “news” account. 

Jack Hughes spotted with his new girlfriend at a Newark bar! (via @jacklukequinn)

Somehow, this didn’t bother you at all. If you were gonna dress up, they should be looking at you. You two were a hot couple, and the world deserved to see. If they called you a slut, or a puck bunny, or a clout chaser, so what? It was worth it. You had Jack– what they all wanted– so it was worth it. You had the boy who melted your heart with his charming smile, made you feel beautiful with his kind compliments, and kissed you like no one else ever had. If you were gonna get drunk, you might as well be drunk in love, too. You took Jack’s hand, looking him in his eyes. 

“Come on baby, I wanna dance,” you said, a smile creeping onto your face. 

Takin’ your time in the tangerine neon light, this is luxury// You're not sayin' you're in love with me// But you're goin' to

You led Jack to the dance floor, throwing your arms around his neck as he placed his hands on your hips. You swayed them to the beat, moving as close to him as you could be. The world around you faded– the words, the people, the thoughts, the insecurity, all fading away as you danced and the alcohol set in. It was just you and Jack, the neon lights of the bar casting his face in a tangerine glow. He looked at you lovingly, his eyes soft and his smile sweet. You laughed, pulling him close to place a kiss on his delicious lips. This, this right here was all you needed. All that mattered. Just you and Jack, falling in love. If they called you a slut, it truly might be worth it for once.

#hayleywriteshockey #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #new jersey devils

[yikimiki]

Can I please request;

King eren who's been lusting after his personal maid for the longest time. Smut when he has her clean every inch of him during a bath and tells her to clean his cock with her mouth.

I LOVE fantasy aus, this was heaven-sent. Note! Eren is older here, around his early 30s, and I imagined reader to be around early/mid 20’s (though age isn’t specified). Also this is LONG! I don’t know WC Bc I wrote on tumblr but i guess around 4-5K!! 🪦

>> of marble and gold

⚠️ warnings: smut, obvious power imbalance/abuse (so dub-con), dark content because Eren is… obsessive, heavy objectification/degradation of reader (“whore” and such), oral, creampie, bruising/marking

—

The brown leaves twirl to the ground as a new season begins, and King Eren’s patience — and self-control — has reached its limit. After almost fifty years of the Jaeger family negotiating with the neighboring kingdom, the new ruler broke tradition like it was nothing more than a frail wax seal. The message is clear: no more commercial settlements, no more food trade, until they returned with the treasure they had stolen nearly a century ago. Until the vaults are full, and his people are once again able to enjoy their own crops, friendly conversations are off the table.

Surprisingly, it works. After panic has subsided and a tense meeting is scheduled, the threat of an upcoming war is larger than the power of negotiation — with that, a new system is at play, and the table dips a little more towards Eren’s kingdom.

It’s one of the easiest years in a long, long time — plates are full, the people are happy, and the small economy is finally blossoming into something more substancial. Eren is constantly surrounded by all types of people who seek to impress him (or take his newly found riches), little annoying flies buzzing around him during the day, then trying to enter his chambers at night.

But Eren is difficult to impress. He’s a serious man with serious goals, and a short dress skit or an inviting deal isn’t enough to make him pay attention. However, amidst all that calamity, you manage to make him double take.

The influx of people to his lands came with the news of a fruitful economy, so it isn’t a surprise that he doesn’t immediately recognize you. There are countless new servants in the castle, some of which are constantly out of his sight, so your random appearance is, in a way, expected. And, yet, amongst so many faces, his gaze stills in yours.

Once again, Eren is a serious man with serious goals — and with even more serious needs and desires. The switch of your position (from a kitchen servant to his personal maid) is swift and direct, leaving no room for objection. It’s not typical for women to assist royal men in such personal affairs such as bathing or clothing — not officially, at least — so he expects that the change with cause a little fuss. But no one has the guts to go against him.

The first time you see King Eren, he is a giant in front of you, watching closely as you kneel in front of his throne. There are dark shadows over his face and his green eyes shine with amusement, long brown hair falling like a cascade over his features. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he tells you to stand, and countless scars on his hand as he holds yours and orders you to be at his chamber at nightfall, so you can help him bathe. You agree and leave hurriedly, heartbeat booming in your ears.

Eren is a handsome man, that much you knew. But what you didn’t know is how massive and overtaking his very presence is — well, you suppose that is expected of any monarch, but it’s different when you witness it yourself. He is the center of the galaxy and everyone else, yourself included, is simply gravitating around him, moving aimlessly through life until he, even if briefly, gives meaning to it. To have someone so great, so respected, to personally chose you amongst so many to serve him… is strange.

You’re not naive — the years being both a commoner and a woman have taught you more than most maids in the castle would’ve dreamt of living. You know what men want, especially powerful ones like Eren, and you know your position is extremely delicate. Even if, now, you don’t wish to deny any of his advances, you know that the mere possibility would mean death to you. So you accept, even knowing you’re placing a noose around your neck. Even knowing you’re only getting out of this if he loses interest or, somberly, dead.

The first night you spend in Eren’s chambers you know that the first option is nearly impossible. He looks at you like you’re a mythical being, the finest piece of art, watching your movements closely as you help him bathe — your hands moving up and down on the water, keeping the circle of wetting the rag, cleaning his skin, and wetting it again. You’re strictly professional, never staring at his body, especially the parts beneath the water. From your peripheral vision, you see his defined muscles and deep battle scars, but don’t dare to look at it directly.

“Where did you come from?” He asks eventually, scaring you and making you drop the piece of soap in your hands. Eren’s voice is deep and commanding even in such intimate situation, and you feel yourself shrinking. “You’re not from here.”

The second part isn’t a question. “I came from the East, my king.”

Eren isn’t satisfied by your answer. “Why did you come?”

“My family’s farm was burnt down and I needed to work, my king,” you tell him, placing the dirty rag aside as you move to reach for the soap. Thankfully there is a layer of bubbles on the water now, and there is nothing else to see. “So I came here.”

He hums, laying back against the cool material. “Look at your king,” he orders. You blink, overwhelmed, and do as he says. His eyes are looking directly at your soul, one wet strand of hair glued to his forehead, and you squeeze the bar of soap so tightly that your nails dig to the surface. “Better. What is your name?”

You tell him.

“You’re beautiful,” he says. You gulp and sit back against your heels, watching as his hand moves closer to you, pushing your hair behind your ear. Shadows and candlelight reflects on his face like a dream. “It’s quite obvious you’re a foreigner. We don’t have women as beautiful as you.”

“T-Thank you, my king.” You look down. Your heart hammers like a caged bird against your ribcage, your lungs fight against expectation. His touch lingers. “I believe your bath is finished, your highness, do you wish for me to help you into—“

“Finished?” He raises one eyebrow, and you feel the noose around your neck tighten. “It is not. You forgot a place.”

You lower your head. “My deepest apologies, your highness.”

He hums, then startles you as he abruptly rises from the water. You use all your force not to look up at him. “Come. Dry me.”

You blink. “My king, what about…”

“Don’t argue, sweet girl. Your king commands you,” Eren says. There is poison dripping from his lips and you nod, getting up to your feet. “Dry me.”

You swallow. “Yes, my king.”

The pace in which you dry Eren’s body is torturous, your gaze glued to your own hands as you move the dry towel over his skin. First his face and hair, where he stares at you intently, then moving down to his chest, his arms.

Eren himself is enthralled, unable to cut his thoughts of you. Up close, you’re flawless, divine. Every movement you make is perfect, even the way you bite your lip and blink at him makes him dizzy with desire. He has never seen someone as beautiful as you, a young maiden with plump breasts and a delicate face; someone who listens to him so closely yet keeps their distance, respectful and fearful of their king — as all should be. He must have you. More than this, more than as a worker, he must have you, body and soul.

Your body arches as you move closer to his abdomen, touches becoming clearly more clumsy as your hands approach his private parts. The mere anticipation of having you so close makes Eren’s cock grow, thick and heavy, until it’s almost fully erect and you pause, startled.

“There, love. That’s where you missed a spot,” Eren says. You gulp and look up at him, wide eyes searching for something in his expression. He signals towards his erection with a movement of his head. “Clean it.”

“M-My king,” you speak, nervous. “Do you wish me to… clean you? There?”

He nods. “With your mouth. Be a good girl and clean it all up.,” he says. You lick your lips and look down at his large member — you knew it would come down to this and, yet, you are taken off guard. You didn’t think it would be this way. “And it’s Eren. These titles are making me mad with rage.”

You kneel in front of him — Eren realizes he is quite fond of that position. “Yes, my- Eren.” 

Your hand seems so small against his cock, now fully erect, barely taking him halfway before your lips touch his crown. Eren is both long and thick, throbbing in your hand as you suck on his head, humming around him before daring to go a little deeper. The size makes you choke up slightly, but you prevail. You want to pleasure your king, and if this is the way, so be it.

“Don’t be afraid to put it all inside, love.” He sighs. You do as you’re told, fighting against the tears as you push more of his size inside your mouth. It touches your throat and you gag, but you don’t stop. When Eren starts to moan, a deep groan in his throat, you start to set a rhythm. “There it is, there’s my obedient whore. Just as perfect as I had imagined.”

There’s wetness building between your thighs at his filthy words, a growing desire inside you as you look up at him. Eren is a god above you, made of marble and gold, looking down at you like you’re nothing but a hole for him to use. The defined muscles of his abdomen are contracting as you suck him harder, his eyes focused on your stretched-out lips as you struggle to take him.

“Fuck… what a perfect little mouth you have,” he breathes out. You close your eyes and take him even deeper, making a string of curses and threats fall from his mouth. His large hand meets the back of your head and pulls a handful of your hair, moving your face as he likes on his cock. “Good fucking whore,” Eren moans. “My fucking whore from now on. No one will fuck you. Only me.” You gag around his cock, but he doesn’t stop. Eren fucks your mouth until you’re sobbing, until he’s about to spill inside it — and then he pushes your head away. “Get on the fucking bed. I’m going to make you mine forever.”

You’re so overwhelmed that you barely process the walk between his bathroom and the large bed — in fact, you don’t even have time to think about how that is the single largest piece of furniture you’ve ever seen before you’re thrown on the bouncy mattress. One second you’re standing next to your king, and the next Eren is looming over you, kissing you like you’re the air that he breathes, like your mouth is made of honey. His hands are all over your body, literally tearing and ripping your dress in a desperate, animalistic attempt to get you undressed.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mumbles before he latches onto one of your breasts, sucking as his hand squeezes the other one. You’re fully naked now, lying in a bed of rags — rags that used to be your dress.

Eren marks you up with his hickeys, spanks the skin of your thighs until it’s bruised and you’re whining for him to stop. You sob and cry, but he shuts you up with another kiss just so he can tear those pretty sounds from you again.

“M-My king, please,” you beg. The wetness between your legs is embarrassing, and your body is all marked up by the time Eren is done with exploring it. He is lost in the mission of making — of marking — you his, barely even hears what you say. “I need…”

Then something clicks. He holds your face in his hand and pushes it closer to his, squeezing your cheeks together. There is fire burning at the bottom of his eyes, and you know you’ve said something wrong. “You don’t need anything, you don’t request anything. Understand? I’m your king, and you’re my whore. Act like it.”

You swallow — your throat hurts. “I’m sorry.”

“You will be.”

Eren is a serious man and a man of his word. You can’t even think about what to say to redeem yourself before he starts pushing his cock against your pussy, rubbing the tip against your folds once, twice, before slamming himself deep inside you. You sob at the feeling, walls fighting to adjust to his size, but he doesn’t even let the burning sensation subside before he starts fucking you.

“What is it? Did you not need this?” He coos. You half-nod half-shake your head, not even sure of it yourself. Eren sneers at your pathetic situation — all teary eyes and messy hair, holding onto his arms as he drills his cock in and out of your tight hole. And, yet, he still thinks you’re the most heavenly thing he has ever seen. “Your pussy feels so fucking… so fucking good.” He moans. “I’m going to fill it up every night. Get you all full with cock and cum every chance I get.”

Your eyes roll back at his words, as promise feels like a dream. You’d like that — after so many years of struggle and hard work, you would love to be a brainless little hole for your king to use and abuse whenever he wishes. You’d love to be dressed in the finest of silk and kissed with fervor, be treated like royalty, even if it isn’t true. You would love it with all your heart.

“Look at me when I fuck you, whore. Look at your king,” Eren brings you back to reality. You do as he says, meeting the savage look in his eyes as he fucks you harder, deeper, hitting all the sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. “Who do you belong to?” He asks, frowning. “Tell me.”

“Eren— I belong to you, Eren, my king,” you answer without hesitation. Your cunt squeezes him tightly as you cum hard, moaning loud and unashamed. You’d regret it in the morning but now… now you’re made of gold and marble too.

“You’re your king’s. Remember that,” he says. You nod, barely aware of the world around you as you dive deeper into pleasure. “Going to cum,” Eren strains. Forget that — now he looks like a god. Muscles tensing and jaw clenching as he uses your body however he pleases, plunging his cock inside you again and again until your wet pussy milks him dry; cock throbbing as he cums inside you. “Fuck, fuck,” he moans, hips faltering as his cock releases inside you again and again. “God, that’s so much fucking cum.”

A whine escapes your mouth as you feel it soak the sheets beneath you, but you say nothing. You dive into the moment like it’s your last one on earth: a moment in which you’re monarchy, loved and fucked into bliss, not a care in the world but the feeling dripping between your thighs. Though, the illusion never lasts long — you watch as Eren finishes and then rolls around next to you, staring at the ceiling with a sigh.

Even after everything, it feels wrong. Like you shouldn’t be here. “M-My king,” you speak after a second of silence, “should I go?”

He turns to you, somber as always. You can’t decipher his tone as he answers. “Not yet,” Eren speaks. “Only when the sun comes up. If I’m done with you by then.”

#aot smut #eren smut #attack on titan smut #eren x reader #eren x you #snk smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger x you #king eren #eren fic

[vickyzangels]

% “..but i kinda hope they catch us, anyway.”

# synopsis ; an anon asked for sfw and nsfw headcanons for tom but i accidentally deleted the ask while trying to fight for my life against tumblr because every time i added a border two other pictures would disappear tumblr i hope you fall down the stairs

# pairing ; tom kaulitz x reader

# word count ; 551

# tags ; nsfw further under “keep reading” (mdni)

a/n ; i’m gonna drop this first but i have a nearly finished smut oneshot literally sitting in docs rn if i get decent enough feedback on this i’ll drop it

sfw

y’all remember that interview where he said he’d “fall in love for only a night but that he’d be down for true love later”? yeah unfortunately that applied to you, too

this can go one of two ways, you work close to the band as staff or you were a fan at one of their concerts that for some reason has to keep coming back and tom took a visual liking to you

what goes down between you two after he first notices you is vague but tom keeps seeing you every time you’re around and you started weaseling your way into his head at every hour of the day

he’d never admit that though (yet), so he’s still gonna keep up his playboy act for a bit but you’re gonna pick up that he’s being closer to you like making small jokes with you and being a little nicer

god it took you so long but he finally let you squeeze through his shell enough to be relatively close friends for a while but this definitely became a “do i wanna know if this feeling flows both ways” situation

yes the feeling did flow both ways, too bad he was still a player and you didn’t wanna ruin anything so you just endlessly flirted with each other

i am 92% sure he came to you first at an afterparty absolutely wasted and told you in german “du bist so unglaublich schön und ich will dich so sehr.” you are so infuriatingly beautiful and i want you so bad.

unfortunately, bill had to translate for you

i’ve been talking a lot so i’ll try to sum up a relationship with him and add miscellaneous points

he makes an effort to act like a boyfriend in your relationship, like he doesn’t openly flirt with other people out of genuine respect for you

first date was something like you two staying over at one of your houses for the night like a sleepover or doing something in the city

he has never forgotten any important day for you. never. and on that topic, he’ll get gifts for those days nearly months in advance

he appreciates a person with aesthetic

i’m lying, tom would fall head over heels in love if you wear something even remotely close to his style

nsfw

tom is a dog, y’all have seen the way he talks about what he wants to do during sex but he’s the most respectful person someone could probably ever ask for, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to pause everything if you told him you felt a little uncomfortable

the type of guy to fake bang you from behind when you bend over to grab something.

he’d spit in your mouth, having you kneel in front of him and holding your jaw open by squeezing it then making you swallow it if you wanted to be touched at all

this almost isn’t a headcanon but he’s a tit guy, regardless of size he’d froth at the mouth just to hold them

there’s not a big dom/sub thing between you two but he’s a switch because i said so

y’all… his favorite position is doggy or prone bone doesn’t matter as long as he gets to pull you by your neck up to him

a/n ; wow. didn’t think i could write something like this but i have a lot more so lmk if i should make a part 2?

© ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO VICKYZANGELS. do not steal, repost, plagiarize, or use my work for anything.

#tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #tokio hotel #tokio hotel smut #tokio hotel fanfic #tom kaulitz fanfic #tokio hotel x reader #kaulitz twins

[webslingingslasher]

banner made by: @thursdaygxrls

because of the character count (145,091) and tumblrs format skills (it's shit) i had to adjust some sizing but i wanted all of this in one part.

CHAPTER ONE: BRUJA

PETER PARKER’S FIRST WEEK.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6TH 

Steve Jobs is lucky he’s dead. 

Because if he wasn’t, he’d have to deal with a pissed off Peter Parker woken up with a brooding hangover by the screeches of marimba. 

Peter wasn’t sure whose idea it was to throw a goodbye summer bash the night before classes started but he wishes them death. A ‘goodbye summer' party, what a dumb fucking idea. It’s college, every day is summer. If he’s picked up anything from being with the frat for two years it’s that they’ll make up any excuse to party. 

International Women’s Day? Guys can only get in if they’re half naked. 

Valentine’s Day? Singles dress as cupid, couples in red and pink. 

Friday the 13th? Horror movie character costumes only. 

St. Patrick's Day? That’s what those guys lived for. 

It didn’t matter what it was, if there was cause for celebration and drinking, it was going to be a party. Trying to ease a headache he rubbed his temples, it did nothing and proved useless when someone banging a spoon and pot in the kitchen made his ears ring. 

“Chapter meeting! Chapter meeting! Chapter-” Peter yelled as loud as he could, “shut the fuck up!” His head throbbed.

God, he fucking hated the start of the year, all the new people coming in sucking up to him and everyone else in the frat. The secondary members used it to their advantage, most of the officers didn’t impress easily, only using them when they felt like laughing at someone desperately trying to please. 

He had to redo the entire budget, and had to run through the same health and safety meeting that would get ignored, and then he’d have to get physical when someone pushed the rules a little too far. 

Peter had a hangover from hell and almost gagged getting up from bed, shuffling towards his bedroom door in just sweatpants. Yawning and scratching at his scalp as he walked down the stairs, he made the routine walk to the meeting room door that was open, a hidden room behind a bookcase, only chapter officers allowed. 

The room was dark, a gigantic oak table took up the center of the room, black leather chairs surrounded. The frats name and logo grinded into the middle. A pool table in one corner, a bar in the back and several leather couches. Peter took his seat and nodded at his friend next to him, the chapter president paced the front of the room with notes, when the last guy entered the door was shut behind him. 

“Welcome to the hunt boys, we waited all year for this.” 

Trent Simpson, chapter president. Deep alumni, the fraternity in his family for generations. 

“Before we start the meeting, please state who you are and your role on the board. Obviously, I’m Trent Simpson, your president.”

“Matt Paul, chapter vice president.” 

“Nick Aaron, secretary.” 

“Ethan Keznek, sergeant-at-arms.” 

“Peter Parker, treasurer and health and safety officer.” 

“Tarrent Bakner, recruitment chairman.” 

“James Hasco, housing officer.” 

“Booker Thomas, membership development.” 

Trent clapped his hands and motioned to the black folder everyone had. “Welcome to the first meeting of our rushing season for Sigma Nu. In each of your folders you’ll see our potential new members, if you don’t see anyone you like, time to tell me is now.” 

Peter eyed the page, only one thing set him off. Ted and Harry Linus, twins. He hated twins, last year he had gotten put in the middle of so many fights he swore he’d never let twins back in his house. 

Peter’s hand jotted up, clicking his pen quickly. “Nix the twins.” Trent crossed out the names with a sharpie, “nixed.” 

“Next are the outline of our weeks with the rush, and hazing schedules. Parker, I want you and Keznek to print up the chapter handbooks.” Ethan held his fist up towards Peter, he tapped his knuckles on his and looked over the schedule. 

“Finally, and this is a new one. I acquired a friend that can get some hard to get info really easily, so what you see in front of you is every fraternity's event.” 

Interesting, that’s a pretty hard thing to get your hands on, let alone fifteen. Fraternity events were highly competitive, and if they had every event in their back pocket they could be number one. 

Peter fought back a yawn, he wanted nothing more than another two hours of sleep. But his day began here, in a chapter officer meeting, on a Tuesday, with a hangover and only time to prepare for class. God, he really didn’t want to go to class today. He can barely remember what he signed up for. 

“... again, that’ll be next Tuesday, and like usual, freshman welcome on Friday. Any more questions before we close?” 

Booker’s hand goes up, “what about the sororities?” 

“Great question, we’ll only be circling with Zeta and Omega.” 

Peter nods approvingly, that’s nice to hear. Last year they partnered with four sororities and even the party guys were getting a little overwhelmed. It sucked they had to use the frat houses for parties but they chipped in and bought way better alcohol, not to mention all the fucking girls, it was truly pick of the litter. 

Matt Paul shoots out, “can we please promise each other right now we won’t have another Sara situation?” 

There was a reason Peter had two positions, Logan Leeman freaked out when Sara Niks dumped him. Actually went full blown nuts and had to be carted off in an ambulance, no one’s heard from him since. 

“God that was awful, I mean, he knew the chick for what, four months?” 

Peter nodded absentmindedly at Nick’s comment, disconnecting from the conversation and running numbers through his head. His attention was brought back when Trent smacked his gavel on the soundblock. 

“We’re back baby, and it’s open fucking season. One, two, three,” 

The brotherhood chanted, “Sig Nu!” 

—------------

Peter’s rinsing shampoo out of his hair when someone bangs on his bathroom door, he calls out over the rushing water, “yeah?” 

“Hey, some of the guys and I are gonna hit up the food hall before we gotta split, you down?” 

He can’t lie, the dining hall is damn good. He’s missed the breakfast burritos, and Linda. She’s been working in the kitchen at the university for over twenty years, he got to talking to her one day and now goes out of his way to give her a hello. He can’t wait to catch up and tell her all about his summer, and fuck, he’d kill for an orange juice. Oh god, he has to do so much grocery shopping. 

“Yeah, give me ten minutes!” As if on command his stomach growls, he’s reminded of his hangover and he has physics in two hours. At least the shower’s warm. It’s his saving grace. 

University has been good on Peter, he looks like he belongs; top dog on campus feels good. He fills out his frat tee better this year, spidey working double time this summer to make up for the slow six months he’s about to have. Heather gray and red detailing, his pants black, and a signature white snapback. He should’ve gotten a haircut, but he chose to drink like an idiot. The night was fun though, it was worth it in the moment. 

Taking a final glance, Peter tucks the chain around his neck into his shirt, and takes a deep breath before his first day of his junior year starts. 

He’s ready.

—----------------

“Did anyone see Trevor slam his head against the wall last night or was that just me?” 

“You mean Lopes?” Peter really wishes he was around to see that. 

Hasco is on level ten, Peter’s convinced he’s off a bump or two of coke, he’s just a tad too twitchy for his liking. “Bro, he just bounced that fucker off the wall. Stared at me and did it. No fucking reason. He’s fucking crazy.” 

Peter snorts, “why, was he off the powder?” He bites down on his bottom lip when his friends toss him around by his shoulders giving soft ‘oo’s’ at his jab. Hasco flips him the bird, “even if he was, that’s fucked up, right?” 

Keznek follows up, “you think he’d do it again if i asked?” 

Nick pipes up, “ten down on yes,” Tarrent raises a finger, “coked up or sober?” 

“Does it matter?” 

Tarrent nods, “fair enough.” 

Peter cuts through the bullshit, “can we please talk about Simpson and the fucking list this year? Thirty two people is such bullshit, at this point it’s just a dick measuring contest with Alpha Delta.” 

Hasco sniffs as he nods his head, “yeah, not to mention all the fucking shuffling. Too many people for no reason, especially because we’re cutting twelve almost immediately.” Nick scoffs, “you’re telling me, I have to keep track of every motherfucker going in and out.” 

Peter’s best friend lets out a refreshing sigh, “I got the best job, I just make sure Tarrent does his job.” Hasco barks back, “shut the fuck up, Keznek.” 

“If I may, I have the worst out of all of you combined. I have to keep track of every fucking receipt, everyone’s dues, every god damn bill. Then I get to sit around and try to teach consent to a bunch of brain dead eighteen year olds.” 

“And safety! Don’t forget all the fights you had to break up last year.” 

It’s just so fucking tiring sometimes, but he’s the reason he and the entire frat have a place to sleep. “Thanks for the reminder, Nick.” Nick claps his shoulder, “anytime, bud.” Tarrent starts humming, “I’m getting so much food, you have no idea.” 

“I’m doubling down on burritos.” 

Ethan sucks in a breath, “me too.” 

Tarrent opens the doors to the dining hall and voices explode, overlapping chatter from every corner. It pierced through his ears and stabbed at his headache, Hasco sniffs and nods his head impressively, “fuck yeah,” bumping Peter’s shoulder when he walked in. 

“Jesus fucking christ.”

 Ethan holds back a chuckle at Peter’s audible mumble, choosing to mock Hasco instead, nodding at Peter walking by, “fuck yeah, man.” 

Peter nods towards Paul, sitting at a table with his girlfriend and who he assumes are her friends, he doesn’t care enough to actually look. Paul barely gives him a wave between inhaling his burrito, he’s gotten three, meaning he has to do an impressive four, unless Tarrents goes for four, then he’s maxing out at five. 

Things you learn in a frat, it’s the little things that mean the most dominance wise. 

He hangs at the back of the line so he can catch up with his favorite lunch lady on campus, until the closer he gets he can’t see her. Moving his head back and forth but coming up short he assumes she’s in the kitchen. She usually worked the register in the morning and afternoon, but he supposes new year, a new schedule.

Peter slides through the line with six breakfast burritos and a fruit cup, because it’s all about balance. Giving that deathly smile to his second favorite lunch lady, “hey, Mrs. Zoe. How was your summer?” 

Sweat dots her forehead, “hot and long, how about yours, honey?” He can’t complain much, he actually took it slow. “Pretty good, hey, um, is Linda around?” Peter doesn’t know what it is but he knows it’s bad by the way Zoe’s face drops, she looked younger than she was, until she was full frowning, then she looked every bit of sixty. 

“You didn’t hear?” Peter’s scared to say no but still shakes his head. 

“Oh, shit. She dropped a pot on her foot just the right way and shattered the whole thing. She ran out of time off and was let go.” 

Peter feels everything in him shake with rage. 

Linda took care of him for the past two years of his life, and worked harder than he ever has in his entire life. She dedicated decades of her life to this place, an institution built on community, until one got hurt. Linda made sure that even if he was away from home, he was still fed with love. She talked to him, they formed a bond, he asked about her granddaughter all the time, her husband was sick, she was supporting the house, now what? 

“They fired her?” He’s full of pain and anger but his voice comes out timid. 

Mrs. Zoe nods her head solemnly, Peter looks at his tray, he’s not so hungry anymore knowing Linda didn’t make a thing on it. Suddenly six burritos seem daunting. 

“Is she okay?” That’s all that mattered. He had to fix this, he wasn’t sure how yet but it’s his personal mission to get her back where she belonged. 

“She’s still healing up but I guess the university gave her a nice severance package, so she’ll be okay for a while.” 

The line’s starting to back up, “do you think I could get her number? I’ll come back for lunch and get it, if you think that’s okay.” 

A beaming smile, she looks young again, her eyes crinkle and it shows her joy. “I think she’d love that. I’ll get it for you.” Even if he’s mad, he gives her a polite smile, “thanks, Mrs. Zoe.” 

Peter’s heart races as he walks away, the situation swirling in his mind, how fucked it all was. He doesn’t care if they gave her a severance package, she got hurt at work. They should’ve held her job, they should’ve given her a break for the first time in over twenty years. 

How could he fix this? Maybe he could get the frat to do a petition, if they sign it then most of the school would get on board. Or shit, what if they go on protest? Do they sit in strike until they give in to the demand? What if he gets- 

“So sorry!” 

Peter stopped himself from stumbling any further, caught off guard and in the midst of a breakdown he took it out on the assaulter. He doesn’t care if it was an accident, he’s not hard to miss, they just weren’t looking, or paying attention. 

And he can see why, big doe eyes blinking at him. Like they’ve never seen an adult man, as if his presence alone was enough to send them into fight or flight. There’s one reason and one reason only, and it’s written all over their face. 

“Fucking freshman,” he hates them like no other, last year was enough to paint them in a negative light forever. They were babies, new to drinking, new to being on their own, new to parting. And the entitlement was off a new chart level, they thought they were the big dogs because they finally reached adulthood. 

The kind of entitlement that sent them running into people three times their size. 

The girl's face changed, she went from frightened to pissed in under three seconds. It almost impressed him, her eyes narrowed as she looked him directly in the eye. For a second he felt challenged, like someone he had to nearly look down on had equal footing against him. All from a freshman no less. 

Her words hit directly, she packed a punch behind them and meant each word as they spewed. 

“I hope you fucking choke.” 

Peter was left speechless, watching her stomp off, while slowly approaching the table his friends occupied. Hasco and Keznek bickering back and forth, which was pointless, Hasco always has to have the last word. 

“Explain this one to me,” he immediately caught attention. 

“Some freshman knocked into me, almost made me drop everything, then told me she hoped I’d choke. I mean, what the fuck?” 

Peter has to look away when Tarrent spews his idea, egg dropping from his mouth. 

“She wants to fuck you bro.” Sometimes his stupidity hurts, “what? It was a twenty second interaction and she told me to die.” 

“Yeah, that’s how it always starts.” 

The table goes quiet, Ethan’s the first to speak. “Tarrent, I think you should sit in on Parker’s health and safety course for a refresher.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

—------------------------

Peter thinks he’s a little too hungover and it’s a little too early for him to focus on mechanics and math, so he chooses to look over his syllabus and yawn. 

His year was littered with hard classes, approaching the end of his major and now everything counted. The pressure was on, he was prepared to make this his year. He was done with the little kid shit, it was time he got serious and put his future first.

 How boring of him, he was going to need Ethan to help bounce him back. 

Peter’s first and only class of the day was intro to quantum mechanics, having to sit through that much math and theory made his already pounding headache increase tenfold. Taking a harsh inhale he pulled out his phone for the brother’s group chat, hiding his phone in his lap while his new professor droned on.

‘Who’s fucking idea was this party? I’m dying rn.’ 

‘Blame Paul.’

‘that’d be pauly.’ 

‘Keznek emphasized ‘blame paul.’ 

‘blame me!’ 

‘Fuck you, paul.” 

Peter would be lying if it didn’t make him feel a little bit better. Still, blinking under the fluorescent lighting he wished he could wish his hangover away, he’s never felt this shitty in his life, he’s sure of it. He only had forty minutes left, all he had to do was make it through the lesson, buy his books and spend the rest of the day in bed hiding from every and all light and sound. 

It wouldn’t be a terrible year, his professor was the textbook definition of MILF. Blonde bob with streaks of gray, an hourglass figure and oval glasses. Her pantsuit hugged her curves and for a moment he thinks her husband is a lucky guy. 

Plus he was pocketed between the hottest chick on campus and some mega genius, so smart Peter was put to shame. It wouldn’t be a bad week either, after he got this girl's number and invited her over to a party. Peter politely sat through the lecture, going over the syllabus with his professor's powerpoint and writing down anything he deemed important. 

Then the hour was over and he deserved a treat. He worked hard, so now he can play hard.

Fighting through his looming hangover and using every ounce of charm, he turns his head and smiles at the girl. She had long, slick black hair and he wanted to wrap every bit of it around his fist. 

“Hey, I’m Parker.” 

She has a nice smile, and a nose ring, he wonders what else is pierced. 

“Hey, I’m Rose.” 

He’s not sure if it’s a nickname or her real name, it doesn’t matter to him, it suits her well. Peter can see a peek of a tattoo that blossomed from her chest. He wanted to unwrap her like a present and figure her out. 

“Nice to meet you, Rose. I just had to let you know I think I have the best seat partner in the whole room.” 

“I know, right? Teddy is hella smart.” Her grin tells him she knows what he meant by his comment. 

“You seem pretty smart too, maybe we should exchange numbers in case I need any help?” 

God, her smile is fucking raident. 

“Not sure my girlfriend would like that too much, Parker.” 

He exhales a breath, “oh you were waiting to say that.” 

Rose nods, “it’s always a fun bomb to drop. Nobody thinks I’m a lesbian until I say it, then I get the-” 

“I can see it.” 

Her hand raises, “point in case.” She’s still cool. And he has four months with her. 

“Let me try again. Hey, Rose, would you and your girlfriend like to come to our party on friday?” 

There’s that fucking smile. “We’d love to.” 

Peter nods his head, okay with the turn of events. “Alright, Rose, I’ll see you and…” 

“Lily,” she fills in for him. 

“Lily, how perfect. I’ll see both friday.”

Peter gathers his things and stands, his first try of the year was a swing and a miss, unless… 

“Hey, if you were straight would-” 

“My girlfriend will kill you, tread carefully, new friend.” 

Peter can’t wait to meet her, he already likes her. 

—-------------

Peter’s day just got longer or more miserable, because as he should’ve assumed, the bookstore line was wrapped around the building. If only he had given himself a head start, he could’ve done this days ago but there were other things in his personal life he had to wrap up first. 

Just so he could sit in line, under the sun, with a hangover, to buy hundreds of dollars worth of textbooks he’d never use again. 

Ray Bans rested on his nose, blocking the glare of the sun. He kept refreshing his twitter feed but was quickly bored, switching to instagram and endlessly scrolling. Liking a few pictures, his brother’s party posts, an old classmate’s ‘moving back in!’ post, a summer throwback bikini picture from a girl he’d hooked up with a few times the year prior.   

Jostling forward, Peter had to stabilize his stance. Caught off guard and his back ran into, he had to admit it just wasn’t his day. 

He scoffs as the assaulter mutters out apologies. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! I wasn’t paying attention and I didn’t see you and I’m sorry!” 

Turning sideways to look at the girl he gave a bitter laugh, “Jesus Christ, freshman. Want a tip? Look where you’re walking.” 

The girl in front of him looked pissed, “I said sorry, you don’t have to be so mean.” 

Peter pulled his head back and turned to face her full on. “You’re telling me about mean? You knocked into me twice and said you’d hope I fucking choke, if we’re tallying scores I’d think you’re the bully, sweetheart.” 

She huffs, “does the misogynistic shtik always work for you?” 

He holds his hand to his chest, “misogynistic, because I called you sweetheart? I’d say that’s irony, or sarcasm, because you’ve been anything but sweet.” 

“Well… maybe I’d be nicer if you were.” 

Peter’s having fun with this, she’s just shittalking him to do it, and he kinda respects that. His hands move as he speaks, emphasizing his point. “You hit me! Why do I have to be nice?” 

The girl rolls her eyes, crossing her arms in defense.  “I bumped you, I hope you’re majoring in acting because you could win an oscar for your dramatics.” 

His tongue pokes at his cheek, a cocky grin spreads. “Babe, I’m the best at what I do. You think I’d be here and not at Juilliard?” 

Peter won, she scoffs and opens her mouth before shutting it and spinning on her heel, turning her back on him.

“Realized you couldn’t win?” 

He turns back around, hiding a grin, fumbling for his phone in his back pocket. He opens up the ‘Captain Nu’ group chat and sends out a message. 

‘The entitlement from these freshmen gets worse every year.’ 

‘true dat. this freshie charles just got coffee all over me, i can’t wait to ruin his year.’ 

‘rip charles. never had a chance.’ 

‘@trent ally just said her friend is gonna do the ski trip after all.’ 

‘@paul, Ally’s got a friend? 👀’

‘@parker, lol, yea.’ 

‘paul is the world's worst wingman, lmaoooo.’ 

‘Of course he is, he met the girl he’s gonna marry at 16.’ 

‘@parker maybe u would too if you bothered to know their name after.’ 

‘@parker if anyone has dibs on ally’s friend it’s me. we’ve already been in talks. 🤔’ 

‘@trent, yo, tf? We’re gatekeeping now?’ 

‘@paul, invite her to the party friday. We’ll see who she wants, @trent’ 

‘🫡’ 

‘Hold on, Parker’s betting on a chick? I’m getting a lawn chair & a 12 pack rn.’ 

‘Good thing your name isn’t in the mix, isn’t it? @keznek’ 

‘ally said she’s coming, my money’s on trent, sorry parker.’ 

‘Hmmm, I dunno, Paul. Parker’s got that underdog in him.’ 

‘At least E believes in me.’

Glancing up, and noticing a gap in the line he moves up. Putting his phone back in his pocket he glances over his shoulder and peers at the girl with her gaze locked in on her phone screen. He’s learned several things while at the frat, one of the most important, you can never have too many options. 

She’d probably show up anyways, but if she was invited by him to his frat for their freshman welcome party, she’d definitely show up and if Trent wins, he’d have his bases covered. Clearing his throat and turning one eighty, Peter walked backwards to keep up in line, she followed with small steps. Smirking, he stopped quickly, her shoe toe hitting his own. 

She looked up quickly, “this one’s on me, sweetheart.” 

Her mouth opened, but he talked before she could. Before he could regret inviting her. Worst comes to worse, she’d be a good hate fuck. 

“Has anyone shown you frat row yet?” 

“I’m not-” she gives a frustrated sigh, “yes, I know where frat row is.” 

“Cool, so I’m Parker. I’m in Sigma Nu,” he gestures to the emblem on his corner pocket. “And on the first Friday of the school year we throw a freshman welcome party, you should come.” 

Peter can tell she’s trying to figure out his motive, it’s kind of cute, the way she's analyzing him. He immediately throws that idea from his head, he doesn’t find girls cute, he finds them attractive. Cute implies you want them to hang around and she’s nothing but infuriating.

“Uh huh. Sure.” Keeping watch of the line he backs up further, he’s three away from being saved from the sun.

“That’s a personal invite, babe.” 

She gasps, it smells of sarcasm. “My goodness, in that case I must show! How else will I know my worth when I watch you make out with another girl across the house?” 

That stumbles him a bit, not used to his game being called outright. Even if that was something that might happen, being told it would happen made him feel a little shitty. 

“That’s not at all what I-” 

Her hand stops him, “you have backup plan written all over your face, I think the summer made you lose some of that frat boy edge.” 

He just met this chick, after she threw herself into him twice, and now she’s telling him who he is? God damn, the entitlement is reeking from every orifice. 

“You-” 

“Line.”

He had to accept the loss and enter the store, but the second he saw her at his party, he’d throw in a few choice words. Remind the freshman who was on top. 

He was Peter Parker and he was the treasure and health and safety officer, and this was his fucking year. Hangovers and all.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7TH. 

Peter’s looking at a house across from him, it’s a faded yellow with maroon shutters. A plethora of flowers covered the base foundation, the grass was a little long, definitely a few weeks since the last cut. 

It looked like a home. 

He could picture a series of generations passing in and out the front door, it was a small house but the love he felt looking at it felt big. Peter felt just as much love for the woman inside the house, stepping over cracks in the concrete he knocked on the door and looked down at his feet while he ran lines through his head. 

A growing smile took over when the door cracked open, frizzy gray hair poked through. When Linda caught sight of him the door swung open, her arms went right around him, squeezing him with all her might. 

“Peter! Oh my goodness, I thought I wouldn’t see you again! I was going to send you a letter but you beat me to it!” Joy filled his heart, Peter wrapped his arms around her shoulders and laughed. “Mrs. Zoe helped me, I thought she’d call you. Guess not.” 

Linda gave him a parting squash before cupping his cheeks, “she knew I’d love the surprise.” She looks behind her, “wanna come in for some tea?” He took her up on the offer, he needed to let her know that he and the school needed her and he was willing to do whatever he could to get her back where she belonged. 

A blue oriental rug ran from the front door into the kitchen. Peter dropped his backpack by an entrance table and kicked his shoes off. While he looked around at the family pictures stretched across the walls he felt something rub against his legs, a scratchy meow followed. 

Peter looked down at an orange crusty cat, his heart melted. He wasted no time in picking them up and curling them to his chest, “is this Nelly?” Linda turned and smiled at her cat butting her head against Peter’s hand, “yes, she’s an attention grabber. Now you’ve held her, she'll expect it every visit.” 

As he followed Linda he looked deeper into the home, his stomach tugged when he looked into a bedroom off from the living room, an old man lying still in a hospital bed, three full IV bags hanging off a medical pole. 

The sun was coming through the kitchen window creating a sunspot, a sleeping chihuahua was soaking it up. 

“Teeny?” He already knew the answer.

 Linda bent down to pet the old dog, she mumbles while Teeny licks at her nose. “Yes, tú eres mi cariño, isn’t that right?” The cat in Peter’s hold pushed at his chest, a guttural meow while she looked at her food bowl. 

Setting her down, he looked back up to a young female standing by a cabinet, she seemed vaguely familiar. She looked a little flustered, and brushed down her shirt to prove it could fit better. 

“Hi.” Peter took a shot in the dark, “Hey, Kat. Nice braids.” 

Her face exploded in a smile, a faint blush crossed her cheeks. “You remember me?” 

“Yeah, I think we met my first year, you went…” 

“...to work with my grandma after I got in trouble that summer!” She finished for him. 

Linda moved around the small area, setting a bright red kettle on the stove. 

“You were what, fifteen?” Kat’s face went neutral, “I’m eighteen now, Peter.” Kat crossed her arms, subtly pushing her cleavage up. She’s pretty, but she’s too young for him, she can try to make it happen all she wants but he respects Linda too much. 

“Kathrine, go let Teeny out.” It seems like Linda doesn’t want it to happen either. 

“But-” Kat flinches when Linda points a wooden spoon at her, “you dare question me in my own home? Desagradecida!” Her granddaughter hangs her head and slowly passes Peter, going out of her way to brush against his shoulder, he lets her have it. 

The second the porch door slides shut Linda points the spoon at him, “not gonna happen, frat boy. Comprende?” Peter holds his hands up, “comprendido, comprendido!” A smile forms, crinkles by her eyes shows Peter she’s no real threat. 

“Green or herbal?” 

Peter glances at a pouty Kat in the backyard, it brings him back to his early teens. It makes him slightly chuckle, she’d be fine, the first rejection always hurts the most. 

“Green, please.” 

Peter’s been on a roll, spewing everything he thinks she needs to hear about his summer and upcoming school year. She’s nodding along and asking questions when an alarm starts beeping, she jumps from her seat and holds out an arm. “Be right back.” When she tucks herself into the bedroom her husband’s in, Peter feels a little sick. 

It’s the elephant in the room when she returns, she sits back in the teal chair across from him and tosses hair behind her shoulder. Linda’s hands wrap around her mug, steam billows when she blows on the rim. She gives him a knowing smirk, “you want to ask about Ronaldo, don’t you?” 

Peter feels shy, he does want to make sure she’s okay, but also knows it’s not something to really bring up. “Is he okay?” It’s a dumb question, he has to hold back on wincing when she shakes her head. “No. He’s comfortable for now, and he’s home. That’s all he ever wanted while he was in the hospital.” 

He swallows thickly, “is he in hospice?” Linda grabs his hand, “he is. It’s been hard, but we’ve made every decision together. He gave me and our family his best years, I think it’s time I take the brunt.” 

She wears a sad smile, but Peter can still see how strong she is underneath. Patting his hand she follows up like she knows where he’s going. 

“And I am very thankful I get to spend our last moments together by his side. I know it seems like bad luck, but that damn pot put me where I needed to be.” Peter’s smile is faulty, “so, you can’t be swayed into coming back?” 

“No, cariño. I can’t.” 

“But it feels so unfair! They should’ve given you something.” 

Linda clicks her tongue at him, “trust me, mi amor, I know what unfair is. And what happened was a grace of God. I get to watch my husband peacefully pass, and I get to spend the rest of my life watching my family grow. I can finally go see my great grandchildren in Mexico, my life is anything but unfair. ” 

If there’s anyone he wants the best for it’s Linda, and if she sees it as a blessing he could too. He takes a moment, “so, the severance package was good?” 

Linda scoffs, “if you call twenty five years pay at once good, then it’s good.” 

It was everything Peter needed to hear.

Peter finishes off his tea, “I’m still gonna miss you, Linda. No one can make a breakfast burrito like you. Or cut fruit! You should’ve seen the slices of cantaloupe, not one uniform cut!” 

A warm hand is cupped around his cheek, “you come by anytime for a meal. I know you’re local, but if you ever need a mom, a place to lay low, or an open door with no questions asked, you know where I am.” 

It brings tears to his eyes, he blinks fast, chuckling when a tear drops. Peter wipes at it with his sleeve, “I’m really, really, gonna miss you.” 

“You won’t miss me too much, you’ll be coming by every Wednesday for breakfast. Comprende?” 

Peter blows a sharp breath before laughing, “comprendido.” 

—--------------------

Spider-Man pats his tummy looking over the skyline. 

Linda made him a full cast iron of Huevos Rancheros, and when his eyes widened at the size she laughed and said, “What? You suddenly lost your appetite over the summer?” He had not, and ate the entire thing. 

Peter wishes he took up her offer to sleep on the couch while she watches reruns of ‘La Patrona.’ He politely declined, but tortillas and spicy eggs mixing in his stomach made him wish he was taking a nap.

He feels lead in his gut as he swings across the street, too sluggish to fight; he holds out a hand to stop a runaway bike thief. He went flying over the handlebars at an extreme speed, Spider-Man just watched and shrugged. 

An eight year old appeared, throwing his arms around Spider-Man and squeezing. Peter lets out a squeak, “alright, Spidey had a little too many eggs for breakfast-” the kid backs away and stares in amazement. 

“No way! I had eggs for breakfast too!” 

“Look at us, coupla egg eating guys.” 

The kid hugs him again, a panicked mother catches up. “Jacob! You can’t run away from me like-” Jacob bounces as he screams, “Mom! Mom! Spider-Man saved my bike! And, and, and guess what! He had eggs for breakfast too!” 

Sometimes the pure excitement of who he was made the shitty parts of his job manageable. 

“That’s awesome, honey! But you really can’t run away from mom like that.” 

Spider-Man crouches to Jacob’s height, and nods at his mom. “You know what I did when I was eight?” Jacob’s eyes grow wide, “no, what?!” 

“I listened to my mom. And I ate all my vegetables.” 

“Woah.” The child turns to his mom, she gives a knowing look to Spider-Man. “Mom! We have to go get broccoli!” She smiles at her son, “sure thing, buddy.” Holding his bike steady he takes mount, she mouths a thank you and Spider-Man waves her off. 

Jacob gives a parting salute, “bye, Spider-Man!” 

Peter feels like he’s going to puke when he takes flight, he thinks for a second, then starts heading east.

May doesn’t mind that he stopped by for a mid-morning nap. 

—---------------------------

After running through the budget four times, Peter’s positive he’s got the first two weeks handled.

Then, he’d have to rework the entire thing weekly until the final placements were made. And he still has that powerpoint to re-touch, after last year he had quite a few things to add to his health and safety presentation. 

Oh, and the chapter handbooks. That only took up an entire afternoon, even with two people working it. And grocery shopping tonight, he might be able to strong arm Ethan into going with him. 

Not to mention how he doubled up on physics this year, just because he’s gotten used to self-atonement.  

Everything was fine, it wasn’t like he was stressed already. 

Peter waited until the last minute, but he burned more time than necessary and finally pushed himself from his desk chair to go to the chapter’s private quarters, a meeting with Trent mandatory. 

It’s nothing too personal on Trent, but he just doesn’t like him. There wasn’t a real reason, just a general dislike. He was a bit too frat boy for him, although it makes sense, he’s the president, he’s had to make it his entire personality. But still, his subtle misogyny and hint of alpha male made Peter keep his distance. 

Checking for the fifth time, Peter opens the hidden door and slides in. 

“Parker!” 

“What’s up, Simpson?” 

Trent looks up grinning, his eyes clocking the folder in Peter’s hand. “Got my reports?” Peter hands over the folder, Trent opens it immediately and looks it over, nodding impressively at the number. 

“Thirty two recruits and you did this magic? I think I’ll keep you around, Parker. Speaking of, where are we on the shopping?” 

Peter wants to grit his teeth, when Trent said he was treasurer and everything money related would be run through him, he wasn’t exaggerating. “I have late classes tomorrow, so I’ll go tonight. I’m gonna get together with Tarrent and see what’s on the menu, plan around that.” 

Trent nods approvingly, “he’s on strict recruitment duty the next two days, so keep it short. We’ve doubled PNM's.” 

Peter keeps a straight face, “yeah, I know.” 

Trent picks up a tilt, “got a problem with it, Parker?” 

There’s that alpha, the subtle shift of dominance that runs rapidly in a house full of testosterone. 

“Not one, Simpson. It’s like you said, it’s open fucking season.” That makes him proud, “you’re damn right, baby. Now go fill up my fridge.” 

Peter nods, “I’ll check with Bakner and get Keznek to come with me. Anything else?” 

“Yes! I forgot, I’m thinking this year you do the health and safety for everyone. Not just the new recruits. I think some of these newer guys need to be reminded of what this campus and frat really stands for.” 

And Peter thinks that’s a really good idea. Maybe Trent wouldn’t be that awful this year. 

“Oh, Parker, one more thing?” One more thing, that’s fine, he doesn’t have enough on his plate. 

“Yeah?” 

“Harvey’s coming back on Friday, make sure he’s got a spot set up in here.” 

“I’ll make Hasco do it, he’s the housing officer.” Trent must not like his tone, “I know who Hasco is, Parker. Just do what I fucking say.” 

Okay, he might be awful this year. 

“Sure, yeah, you got it. Anything else,” your highness? He added in his head. 

“Tell Paul I need to meet with him, this Ally shit is annoying. He needs to know what he’s committed to.” 

His girlfriend, he’s committed to his girlfriend. And since she’s a human being, she takes priority over a frat house but Trent can’t wrap his thick skull around the idea of it. 

“Got it.” 

God bless the woman that ever puts up with that.

—--------------------

Three sheets of notebook paper, that’s how long the shopping list was. 

Tarrent was prepared and that was appreciated. Instead of having to sit around while he scrambled to prepare something, when Peter knocked on his door and asked about the groceries all he was granted was a grunt and an arm shoving out crumpled printer paper. 

Peter and Ethan walked down the cereal aisle side by side, each had a half full cart. 

“So, I was thinking about the Salander sisters. You think they’d hate me if I went after both and took the one that chooses me?”

Peter grabs six cereal boxes off the shelf, tossing the stack in his cart, he crosses off another item on the list, He’s only got two and a quarter pages left, next time, he’s bringing the pledges. 

“Aren’t they twins?” 

Ethan corrects him, “Irish twins, there’s a difference.” His attention drifted to where his best friend’s pointing, “fruit roll ups, twelve of ‘em. Which one are you trying first?” Ethan shakes his head piling cardboard and throwing it in his cart. “As if it’s a question, obviously it’s Sara.”

“I thought you were more into Sam,” cause he swore he was, “oatmeal, four of each flavor.” 

Ethan speaks over his shoulder, quaker oats sailing, Peter catching each one. “Until she picked you to kiss during that stupid card game.” 

Peter remembers, he apologized to Ethan after too. Ethan wouldn’t hear it, it wasn’t Peter’s fault he was picked, and Ethan made sure he knew it. Sam kissed him, Sam chose him, and he wasn’t owed any real loyalty, they’d only chatted a few times at a few different parties. 

Still, that night had left a bad taste in Ethan’s mouth and she shot to the bottom of his list real fast. Peter had never spoken to her before that night, but Ethan had. And she still chose Peter. 

‘I wanted to tell her no but then I'm the asshole.’ 

‘Dude, forget about it. It’s not like you stepped on any toes, if anything, you got a hookup tonight.’ 

It was tempting, but it was an unspoken agreement that any girl the other one liked, was off limits. So, he never even tried. 

“If it helps, she was a bad kisser. It was wet.”

Ethan shudders, “not sloppy?” 

Peter doubles down, “wet.”

“Do you think Sara’s the same way? Cause I can’t do sloppy kisses.” Raising a finger, Peter corrects him, making his way to the dairy section. “Wet, Keznek, it was wet.” 

“If you think a kiss was wet, what are the chances she also-” 

Peter cuts him off, “no, we’re not going there.” 

“Boo, no fun, how much milk do we need?” 

“A gallon of literally everything.” 

“We’re going to be here forever, I have moves to make, Parker.” 

A snort, “oh yeah? What’s on the radar for tonight?” 

“I don’t know yet, I’m stuck in a grocery store. 

Ethan is such a whiner, he’d do anything you asked but was a martyr through and through. 

Peter’s got it the worst and he’s not complaining, he could, but it wouldn't do anything. He’s got triple the load Ethan has, all he had to do was sit back and make sure the chapter officers were doing their job. 

At least he helps pass the time, and cuts the job in half. 

“So, I hit on a lesbian today.” 

Ethan almost stops breathing, “no way, where at? You think I could get a copy of the security footage?” 

—-----------------

At his current point in time, Peter had no idea what time it was, and he was only sure of three things. 

He had late classes tomorrow and could sleep in, Hasco put on the weirdest movie known to man, he still can’t tell if it’s in english, and he was absolutely baked. It was a new level of toasted, his arms were like noodles on his sides, limp and lifeless. Peter swears he can hear his eyelids blink, or it was Tarrent eating sunflower seeds. 

Peter’s slump against the back of the couch between Ethan and Tarrent, on Tarrent’s right was Hasco. The first, and only, sign of life from Ethan was him slowly slouching more and more until he was leaning on Peter’s shoulder, he assumes it’s to ground him because he’s allowing it for the same reason. 

Hasco’s giggling madly, slapping on his knee while the other three are locked on the screen. 

“We are so fucking high, you know how I know?” 

Peter looks to Tarrent to answer for the crowd, he supplies a ‘hmph,’ between spitting kernels. 

“I just remembered this movie is in portuguese.” 

“Oh.” It’s all Peter could get out, somehow, he understands it more than before. Tarrent is impressively loud, “even if it was in ASL shit would suck. This is like The Fast and The Furious meets Twilight.” 

“Bro, I know! Isn’t it fucking sick?” 

Peter blinks, he can look but can’t see, zoned out in a world of blank space. Ethan wheezes on Peter’s left, even out of his mind he can’t miss a shot at Hasco, “fucking sick.” 

In two days it would be the real start of the year, once the first party of the year commenced, they would never stop. It always felt like there were a million people in the house when the year started, it goes from pledges to recruits and back to members. Then you have friends and girlfriends and sororities, every night there would be at least twenty people downstairs drinking. 

It was a rare moment for the frat house to be so quiet and everyone was enjoying it, the calm before the storm. Peter thinks he’s enjoying it, but he’s also surfing the ozone layer. 

“You guys wanna get pizza?” 

Tarrent is a fucking tank, it’s seriously impressive. 

“Do you know how much money we spent at the grocery store today? Fuck no, make a sandwich.” Ethan smacks his arm, “make it two, no, three, I want one too.” Peter’s so glad Tarrent’s playing nice tonight, he actually stands and nods at the couch crew, “my boys want a BLT?” 

Not that he needs to say it, but it was the best fucking BLT of his life. 

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH

It was always a good day when you wake up before your alarm and realize you have a few more hours to sleep. Mornings like that make Peter feel more energized than eating a bag of chocolate covered espresso beans, a habit he has far too often. 

At ten thirty he couldn’t sleep anymore, throwing his sheets off him and standing with a yawn, scratching his thigh while his eyes watered. He would take a shower, hit up the dining hall with whoever lingered in the house still, then think about thermodynamics. 

His schedule, made while he was in the thick of a concussion from his spidey summer, made him sick. The classes alone made him want to eat a brick, but the days and times he chose fucked him up. His entire week was up and down. Monday he had two classes, Tuesday he had one, Wednesday he had none, Thursday he had one class and for god knows what reason, blocked his lab and lecture back to back on Friday. 

At least it was every other week, two Fridays out of the month he had nothing to do, which was pretty nice. With a big stretch and another yawn, Peter walked to his bathroom and started the shower, his boxers flying to the sink. 

The hot water felt good, his mind raced about the party the next night, how he’d be up most of the night moving things around, and how he had a lab-lecture combo. 

All he knew was that he had some fine opportunities coming up and he’d be dumb to have his bed empty tomorrow night. 

—-------------------

Belgian waffles were the only thing on Peter’s mind, the rest of his day could melt into whatever bullshit that needed to happen so he could carry on to another day. But first, he needed waffles. 

It was a whole bar, a set up of freshly made waffles and toppings galore. Strawberries, blueberries, bananas, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, maple syrup, sprinkles, butter, chopped pecans, and that was just what was on his. 

Peter was double plating, two hands, two plates. Each one had two waffles dressed to the nines, Tarrent following behind with his own. 

“Wanna sit with Paul?” 

Yuck, he was at his girlfriend's table. Ally was nice and pretty cool, but everything he’s learned about her has been against his will. Sometimes she pulls the girlfriend card a little too much, and it really only annoys him when Paul has to drop everything for her. But, for the past two years he’s known her, he can say that Ally was a perfect fit for Paul. 

“Fuck no, that freshman is over there.” She was, when he looked back to confirm, their eyes locked. Peter wasn’t backing down, not after that last interaction. Her eyes focused in on him, he doesn’t know why but his knees felt weak, suddenly he thinks she’s a witch. It wouldn’t be far-fetched, she’s evil, hates men, and makes him feel weird things. Plus, he’s Spider-Man, so they could exist, right? 

It was a staring contest, until Ally caught on to her friend looking at something, when she turned her head to look back the girl stopped her. Reaching out and breaking eye contact, she played like she was in a daze, laughing at something Paul said. 

It was weird, she was weird. Peter couldn’t choose between staying away and getting closer. 

“-Are you even listening to me? God, bro, it’s chill if you like the freshman. You can talk to her, no one will care.” Peter was snapped back to life, “she’s weird and keeps showing up.” Plastic plates click against the table top, the chairs screeching to life. Tarrent flops down, scraping his teeth across his fork when he takes a bite. He’s got a terrible habit of talking while eating, “does she keep showing up or are you just noticing her?”

“I just met the girl, Bakner. I don’t even know her name, how could I notice her?” 

“Maybe cause you want to know her name, Parker.” 

Tarrent doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Sure, she may have caught his attention a little and sure, he might have invited her to the party with the intention of possibly getting into her pants. But that has nothing to do with wanting to know her name or anything. He doesn’t care about girls like that.  

Peter still misses his favorite lunch lady but the waffles were really good this morning. 

He pulls a Tarrent and talks while cheeking his bite, “she bumped into me, several times. And was mean about it, why would I want to know her?” 

“Maybe she likes you, ever think about that, dingus?” 

Well, not really. She doesn’t even know him, how could she like him? The school year just started, unless he’s got a stalker walking around… or a witch.

“Someone taught you the word maybe once and you haven’t stopped using it since.” 

A grin full of bacon, “maybe.” 

Peter can’t stop himself from asking, “why do you think she likes me?” Tarrent’s fork clatters to his plate, “knew it.” 

“Knew what?” 

“I knew you liked her.” 

“I don’t know her! She’s the one that- we’re talking in circles, Bakner!” 

Tarrent pats Peter’s shoulder, which he shakes off and mumbles insults about Tarrent’s IQ level. “You know what, Parker? I think this is the year you get a girlfriend.” 

Peter stares his friend in the eye while he chews and swallows, “eat shit, Bakner.” 

—---------------------

“Welcome to thermodynamics. This is a fast paced, no frills, no bullshit class. If you cannot handle that, you will be left behind. This is a hands-on class, and I have high standards for everyone in here. If you do not follow my rules, you’ll be excluded and shunned from the rest of us. I’m Dr. Octavius, I’ll be your professor for the next fifteen weeks and it is my honor to teach you the fun in thermodynamics.”

This guy was absolutely not fucking around, he was all business and execution. Or as Peter likes to call these people, too smart for their own good. He earns his respect immediately, he’s the type of teacher that would get under his skin and push him to his extreme limits. Those are his favorite kinds. 

“I want each of you to look at the person on your left and right,” the class pauses, but he encourages them to do so. Peter looks at the guys next to him, one looks like a deer in headlights, the other looks more like Peter, excited to be challenged. 

For a second he imagines what his reaction would be if he saw the freshman sitting next to him. It wouldn’t be possible, but he imagines how shocked he would be. And the annoyance, god, he’d be so annoyed. But a small, tiny, itty bitty, microscopic part of him would be glad to be entertained. 

She’s not even around and he’s annoyed thinking about her. 

Why was he thinking about her? Why is she in his mind? Why is he imagining his reaction to her? 

She’s a witch. No other explanation. 

Peter shakes her from his mind and refocuses. 

Dr. Octavius nods at the group, “yes, good, good commit them to memory,” A few people start chatting, and he seems all for it, until his hand raises and everyone silences. “Now, immediately forget them.” 

Even if it wasn’t audible, he could hear everyone choke.

“Because, thirty percent of you will not be here by the sixteenth. If you want to drop my class, do it by then, if not, you’ll be charged for the semester and I won’t hear your sob story.” 

Ice cold. This is the best professor he’s ever had, he has a few more to meet but no way they would compare. This guy could tell Peter to go lay in a bath of acid because he’s not worth the surface matter he’s wasting to exist and he’d lay down for him. 

“I hope everyone here knows what thermodynamics are, if not, you’ve been failed by everyone around you.” He studies the room, reading each face for a moment before smiling. Pressing a button in his hand, the projector turns on, the syllabus on the screen. 

“Any questions?” 

No one raises their hand.

—-----------------

If Peter was a rich man, and he really wished he was, he'd buy himself a nap today. Not that naps are something you can buy, but if he could pay someone to do his work for him then he could take a nap. Normally, that just means employing a pledge to the task, but he won’t have one for a few days. 

The frat pays him, which is pretty nice because it pays him more than he could make in any part time job. It’s hard to become a chapter officer, but when you make it, it’s so worth it. He’s a top dog on campus and in the house, it’s nice having power outside the suit.  

But, he couldn’t buy a nap and he had thirty two chapter handbooks to make, hopefully getting to skip out on the set up for the party the next night. He’d have to go out for booze tomorrow, but he was praying he wouldn’t have to shove furniture around. 

When Peter walked in the house door he could hear something happening in the kitchen and it wasn’t sounding good. Suddenly, Peter felt wide awake. Hasco was yelling at Booker, who was holding back his anger but the wall was faltering. 

Ethan was absolutely useless, holding a bowl of cornflakes to his chest while he watched the brewing flight. He nodded at Peter, then to Hasco spitting insults at a million miles an hour. “Fuckin sick,” the mocking never got old. 

Before he intervened he needed to know if he should, something he’s learned as a man and as someone in a frat, sometimes you just need to fight it out. 

Peter shook his backpack off and watched them bicker back and forth. It was more like a coked up Hasco on a tangent and a way too calm exterior but built with inner rage Booker listening and tightening his fist with each insult. Booker played hockey, he was an athlete on and off the field, meaning, he took all he could before exploding. 

“What’s happening?” Ethan’s in no rush to respond, drinking milk from the bowl. 

“Something that needs to happen.”  

Hasco’s about to get the absolute shit beat out of him, “he’s been screaming for five minutes, I think Booker’s gonna knock him out.” 

That’s fine with him but his blender’s right there. 

“Booker, don’t get his blood on my blender please.” It stops Hasco, but seals his fate. 

“Who-” raging bloodshot eyes on him, “who the fuck’s gonna get blood on the blender? Me? You think this fuckin guy can put his hands on me? You think he can fight me? You think any of you motherfuckers can take me down?” 

Hasco slaps the side of his face, “fuckin do it, pussy. I know you won’t, you’re a bitch just like your mom-” 

Peter and Ethan pull their head back in a hiss, the collison sounded like a crack. It was enough to send Hasco’s head spinning before he dropped, he was real silent real fast. 

Booker stood over him and pulled him up by his shirt, a raised hand in the air. “Don’t fucking talk about my mom, you don’t know shit about her and what she’s done for me.” 

Ethan points his spoon towards him, defending his point. “Facts, the mom card was too far, Hasco.” 

“I should beat your ass, but Parker said no blood on his blender.” 

“Thank you!” 

“Thank your white friend and apologize on my moms behalf,” when Hasco stays silent Booker lifts his hand a little, Peter moves around to see him wince in fear. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it, I was just heated man, you know how it is, it’s all crazy this time of year, cause all these new guys come in and my mind is all scrambled-” 

Ethan’s spoon points again, “that’s the coke.” 

“Hey! Fuck you man! If you wanna fucking go then we can go, motherfucker.” 

“You’re being held down by another man talking about beating my ass.” 

“Fuck all you! The only real one here is Parker, he’s a real friend, he has my back, he’s the only one here protecting me.” 

“I was protecting my blender,” Ethan shoves his elbow into his and mumbles, “health and safety officer,” he corrects himself, “and you, Hasco. It’s my job to protect everyone in the house. Do we need to settle this with a gulag or can it end here?” 

Booker’s over it, and Hasco needs a bump. 

“Let me up and we can hug it out,” and they do. Awkwardly slapping at each other’s back, Hasco giving him a “we all good brotha,” causing Peter and Ethan to wince again. 

“Don’t ever fucking say that to me.” 

“Parker! He’s still threat-” 

“Anything Booker deems racist is gonna get your ass beat, that’s a rule we signed in.” Ethan nods, “can confirm, I was there as witness.” 

“Simpson agreed? Of course he did, Polish motherfucker.” 

Ethan lost it, his shoulders shaking with his laugh. Hasco had something to say about everyone, last year after they butted heads, Hasco called him ‘plant fucker’ for six weeks and it never got old. Ethan laughing made Peter smirk, but he had to kill it before Hasco could catch him. 

“You know I love you, man! No more disrespect on your mom, you slapped the shit outta me. I feel like a bitch, I would’ve rather you punched me.” 

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point.” 

Hasco made a motion of his mind exploding, “wild man, you’re a wild man.” He jumps at the idea of something and looks around the kitchen rubbing his nose, “hey, uh, we all good here guys? I got some shit to do in my room.” 

Eyes are on Peter, he’s the one that makes the call. He assumes everything’s fine, Booker looks bored and Hasco’s running his tongue over his gums, eyes twitching to the staircase. 

“Cleared.” 

Hasco nods, “fuckin sick,” and slithers between Peter and Ethan, slowly walking to the staircase before running up them. Peter’s stating the obvious, but it needs to be said. 

“Oh, he needs a fucking rehab.” 

Booker shrugs, “I dunno, dude. I slapped him sober.” 

Ethan cleans his bowl in the sink, “slapped him into next week, that shit ricocheted off the cabinets.” Booker eyed Peter as he said, “I mean, he deserved it?” Peter raised his hands up, “I said it was cleared, you don’t have to explain or excuse shit.” 

He snapped his fingers and pointed at him, “Parker, you’re my fuckin guy. I gotta get to practice, but you’re my fuckin guy.” Peter waved him off, “you protected my blender, bro. Tarrent loves that thing.” 

Booker jogged away pointing at him, “my guy! Still my guy!” 

Ethan raised his eyebrows at Peter when they were left alone, “you’re gonna love me.” 

“What’d you do?” 

Ethan shrugs, “made use of my day off and printed those handbooks.” Peter feels like he could cry, his best friend really was one, he took one for the team and dedicated himself to hours in the library to do the brunt of the work. 

“God,” A finger stops him, “not done, I also got the folders and brackets from the supply store. All we need to do is staple, stamp and book em’.” 

“You’re the best person to ever exist and I don’t say it enough.” 

“Wanna sit on my balcony and smoke a backwood while we do it?” He can’t imagine a better scenario. 

Then wonders if the freshman smoked, and finds himself aggravated at the thought. Why was he still thinking about her? 

She’s a witch, she has to be. He pushes her away, and focuses on his friend. 

“I’ll cry right now, Keznek.” 

—-------------------

It was nice outside, Peter was comfortable in a hoodie and sweatpants, and so was Ethan. They slowly talked while they worked back and forth. Peter would staple the pages, Ethan would bracket them into the booklets, then Peter would stamp them. 

"You remember those info sheets Trent's 'new friend' got him?"

"Yeah, do you know who it is?"

Ethan hisses when he pinches his finger, “nah, I did find out it's a chick though." Even though they’re alone Ethan leans in and talks low, “and apparently it’s top, top secret. Like, no one can find out, ever. She has something on him.” Those pages are held too tightly to their chests, every fraternity in competition with each other no one dares share or spill. 

“How’d you find out?” 

“Simpson left his computer open, he had it on his notes app.” Peter blows a harsh breath, “how do you think she got it?”

“No idea, but that shit comes at a price. She wants something, and it’s gonna be something Trent can control.” 

There’s a lot he can control, everyone can think they’re the most manly in the house, but Trent owned the title. Peter doesn’t know why, but it makes him itch to find out. Normally, he wouldn’t care, but he has a weird tug that demands to be discovered. 

It was that same tug he felt when that witch looked at him today, and why is he thinking about her? Why is he still thinking about her, he doesn’t even know her name, and she’s mean. Was Tarrent right, was he just noticing her instead of her showing up? Has he been looking out for her? And why in the hell is he still thinking about her? 

He’s right, he has to be. She’s a fucking witch. 

Peter snaps out of it and stamps three books. “What if she’s just bullshitting? Is there any way to prove it’s real?” 

“She’s not and she has. She hacked their computers.” 

It’s blackmail, she needs something over the frat. It’s his job to protect the frat, from the personnel to the building. His guess is money, but the why is lost on him. If it’s frat money he’d find out, Trent would have to run it through him, and if not, he’d find it the next time he went through the books. 

“That’s so weird, and speaking of weird, you remember that chick that bumped into me?” 

Why was he talking about her? Why was he still thinking about her? It just came out, he didn’t even have anything to say. She’s a fucking witch.

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t know, nevermind.” 

Ethan shrugs, “alright. Wanna guess what Tarrent’s doing for hazing?” Peter reloads the stapler, it’s automatic and he feels like a king. “You know it’s my job to prevent hazing, right?” 

“No, it’s your job to prevent poor or dangerous hazing, and guess who makes that call?” 

“Are you saying the definition of poor and dangerous hazing is at my discretion?” 

Ethan teeter totters, “technically mine too, I have to make sure you’re doing your job.” Peter fills in the blank, “by letting hazing happen?” 

“Alright, look. It’s a right of passage, you did it, I did it, everyone in that house and the other fifteen did it. Generations of fraternities have done it dating back to three hundred and eighty seven B.C. Everyone does it, that’s all I'm saying.” 

Ethan looks up at him from the gold brackets he’s thumbing flat on the book, “I know you have…” he tries to find the right words, “higher morals than most of us, and I know you’ll know when to shut it down.” 

“I never said I wanted to stop it, I just meant we’re not gonna be the frat that kills a kid.” 

“Jesus, of course we aren’t, I just didn’t want you killing the vibe.” 

Peter scoffs, “oh, well that’s just insulting.” He can see the end of the tunnel, only eighteen books left. “So, tell me what he’s doing. Please say it’s something better than the drunk soccer match.” 

Ethan cackles, “fuck you, that’s gold. It’s happening for sure.” 

Peter can think of one better, “imagine a drunk obstacle course, like, one of those bounce house ones? But we can make it all manly, so they think it’s something easy but on the other side it’s like a fucking bootcamp.” 

“Railing sixteen beers and rope climbing a six foot wall,” the idea made him laugh just as hard as the soccer match. “That’s so sick, you’re sick for that.” 

Peter stamps three more and finishes for him, “so obviously we’re gonna do it, right?” Ethan nods, “absolutely we are.” 

It falls silent, both of them working together but enjoying the quiet. Peter likes that most about Ethan, since day one he’s felt comfortable around him. He can be himself around him and it’s never once been awkward, they just agree on everything. 

It’s weird, sometimes it feels like Ethan doesn’t care about him but that also makes him a better friend to Peter. He acts like he’s less involved than he is, like he knows that Peter pushes people away when they get too close. The only person closer to Peter than Ethan is his aunt. 

But Ethan pretends he doesn’t know that, and it makes their bond stronger. Ethan’s opinion means the world to him, anything he says is taken with a mountain of salt. And no judgment, never, ever judgment. It takes a lot for him to say it, but he’d trust him with his life. 

When they’re down to the last ten Peter clears his throat, “have you gotten anywhere with the Salander sisters?” Ethan shrugs, “I’ve been feeling this girl in my bio class, she’s pretty cool. I invited her to the party, she seemed into me, I think.” 

“Woah, the Ethan Keznek catching feelings?” 

“Easy, I had two classes with her. She seems like she’d be fun to hang with, I’m not trying to date her.” 

Peter spits it out before he can stop it, “Tarrent thinks freshman and I will end up together.” 

Why the fuck does he keep thinking about her? 

She’s a fucking witch, she has to be. 

“The entitled one?” Ethan knows he can’t get his mind off her, he brought her up twice. And each time he looked like he regretted it, but he doesn’t care enough to push it. 

“Yeah. But he’s kinda dumb, right?” Peter doesn’t even know her, he hates how she’s been popping up in his mind throughout the day.

“He could be, or he may be a clairvoyant genius that sees the future. Personally, I vote for the latter.” 

Proof he’s a best friend, giving Peter an out through a joke. 

“He’s majoring in physical therapy but he should be a conspiracy theorist.” 

Final five, Peter’s ready for dinner. “Wanna hit up the dining hall after this?” 

“God yes, I need lo-mein noodles so bad right now.” 

—------------

The table was rowdy, everyone yelling over each other. If women thought men interrupting them was bad, they should see five men hanging out together. 

“Remember when Booker slapped me?” 

Paul dropped his fork, “no, what, when?”

Tarrent’s holding the edge of his plate to his mouth as he shovels rice in. “That’s hilarious.” 

Ethan sighs dreamily, “yeah, it was awesome.”

“Yes, Hasco. It happened like, three hours ago.” 

“Ah, fuck! I always miss the best shit, this is about to be Ally’s problem.” 

“I was stretching a cheerleader's hamstrings, I didn’t miss out on anything.” 

Ethan drops his fork to point at Tarrent, making sure Peter was paying attention. “He’s bragging, make him stop.” 

“Bakner, stop bragging, some of us are more lonely than others.” His words focused more on Paul, the guy that’s been with the same girl for six years. Like, everyone feels so bad he’s missing out on fights because he’s too busy being in love. 

It’s actually disgusting to Peter. 

“Don’t blame me, you guys are the ones against church girls.” 

Hasco sneers, “cause they try to convert us, I refuse to willingly be beneath another man.” 

Ethan loves riling him up, “hey, you never know, God may be a woman.” Hasco gives him a pathetic look, “c’mon man, not even you believe that.” Ethan nods his head like he’s got a point, Paul looks like he’s sick. 

“That is our lord you’re talking about, he died for us.” Paul’s a devoted christian… only when he felt the need to be. 

Peter taps his chin, “isn’t premarital sex one of the things he died for?” 

“What my girlfriend and I do behind closed doors is not the lord's business. Or yours.” 

The table ooed, Peter nods impressively, Ally’s given him a backbone. He pushes away from the table, he’s stuffed and needs to put his plates away. He also needs to piss. 

No one notices his descent, Peter looks over the dining hall, it’s always empty for dinner. Breakfast and lunch seemed impossible with seating, but for whatever reason dinner was always empty. 

Dropping his plates in a bin he politely nodded at a group of ladies before turning back for the bathroom, mumbling a song under his breath that was stuck in his head. “... Another bottle in the brain. Another girl, another fight,” Peter hit the door open with his shoulder, finishing his mumbling. “Another drive all night.” 

Peter had that weird feeling again, the one he felt when he saw that freshman. And fuck, he’s thinking about her again. 

She’s a witch, a real fucking witch. 

Peter moved his shoulders while he washed his hands, the song replaying over and over. Swinging the door open with this foot, he mumbled to himself again. “.. another bottle in the brain,” 

A voice speaks up, “another girl, another fight.” He jumps, his eyes fall to the left, perched at a high top was the witch. Her mouth wrapped around a spoon, a cup of fro-yo in her hand. Tarrent was wrong, he wasn’t noticing her. She kept showing up. 

“Hey,” he doesn’t like how winded he sounded. Who the fuck was she? 

“Hello, Peter.” 

His heart stopped, no one calls him Peter, no one. Since day one it’s been Parker, when he was recruited he was only addressed as Parker and it stuck. It’s weird she knew what his first name was, his suspicions are adding up. 

He wants to ask how she knew his name, but it’s cliche, and he really doesn’t care. If he guessed, it was probably Ally. It’s still a bold choice that she used it, it definitely separated her from the crowd. 

“And you are…” Waiting for her to fill in the blanks, if he could find out her name he can banish all traces of her in his mind, like a demon. 

A smirk wrapped around her plastic spoon, it scraped against her teeth as she removed it. 

“Happy to have a civil conversation with you?” She thinks she’s clever, she’s not. 

“I’m sure you planned it, considering how you keep showing up around me.” That seems to tick her off, “no, you keep showing up where I already am.” 

“Now you’re just lying.” 

She raised three fingers, “scouts honor.” Peter looks around, “where are your friends?” 

Why is he still talking to her? She must have him under her spell. 

The witch hums, “can’t a girl get fro-yo alone?” 

“It’s a free country, babe. Do you, girl power, smash the patriarchy, all that stuff.” 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re slightly misogynistic?” 

Peter looks up at his brothers, it still seems like his absence hasn’t been noticed. Her eye contact is insane, it makes his knees weak like this morning. It’s gross, her powers have taken over his cerebrum. 

“Just one, I think she doesn’t know what misogyny is.” 

Her eyebrows shoot up, “you’re mansplaining now?” Peter’s eyes look at her mouth when she takes another spoonful. “Has anyone ever told you you’re slightly difficult?” It’s like his words egg her on, “just one, I don’t think he knows what difficult is yet.” 

“Yet? For a person with no name you’re bold.” Normally flirting doesn’t feel like this, he feels like he has to keep up with her. Peter hates that it feels like she always has the upper hand. 

She makes him feel like he could go all night.

The witch proves she’s difficult, “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have an early class.” She jumps out of her seat, for the fourth time she’s left him thinking about her. 

“Have a goodnight, Peter.” 

“Yeah, you too.” He’s weary and doesn’t trust her. 

Her back turned on him as she walked away, his eyes dropped to her ass and tilted his head impressively. He can’t deny a nice sight. 

Too bad she’s a witch. 

When he makes it back to the table it’s unnoticed, except for Tarrent, he gives Peter the smallest hint of a smile.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 9TH

It was the day he’s been preparing for all week. The official start of the year, he wouldn’t be able to get too loose tonight, he’d be too busy kicking out anyone puking, fighting or excessively crying. 

He also had a lecture and a lab today. He hates himself. If he plans it right, he’d have time to take a nap, not that he would, but the idea of one made him feel better. Speaking of naps, he still needs to set up a bed for Harvey in the chapter room. 

Rolling over, Peter picked up his phone and went straight for twitter. It was his morning news, scrolling for a little until a headline caught his eye. 

‘Spider-Menace’s scheduled slump.’ He clicks the link, it opens and he rolls his eyes, he should’ve expected it. 

‘Spider-Menace is no longer patrolling the streets nightly, don’t worry criminals, you won’t be out of a job anymore. To the real heroes of the city, the citizens, we bid ado to the masked vigilante. For the second year, Spider-Menace picked up activity during the summer months, and has plans to become a rare sight during the months that follow. 

It’s unsure what our ‘friendly’ city destroyer is up to, but we do know the ones trained for their job, the NYPD, are prepared for any threat. For more on Spider-Menace, download our app to be the first to know exclusive news updates.’ 

Just like usual, the Daily Bugle was dumb as shit. 

Peter Parker had shit to do, a life to build. Spider-Man didn’t pay the bills, Peter did. It doesn’t mean choosing himself over a daunting responsibility was easy, the first year he stressed himself so thin he lost his abilities. 

No strength, no healing, no heightened listening. He needed glasses for the first time in years, and for a second he swore his asthma came back. 

Needless to say, it freaked him the fuck out. He’s always viewed Spider-Man as a thing he had to do, the great responsibility his uncle Ben reminded him of. And when he lost it, he realized how much he wrapped himself into his alter ego. 

When Peter lost Spider-Man, he lost himself. And he swore if he got his powers back, he’d build a life for Peter outside them. 

And he did. He has been. And no matter what his uncle told him, he knows he’d be damn proud of him for doing it.

Peter pulls at the chain around his neck and looks at the ring on it, it was Ben’s wedding ring. May gave it to him when he turned eighteen, she said he had a dream and needed him to have it. He’s worn it every day since then. 

Bored of twitter he makes the switch to instagram, opening his messages and responding to the videos he’s been sent. For whatever reason he thinks about the witch, he wonders if he could find her from Ally’s page. He probably could, but it feels like cheating. 

Starting his day the same way, he walks to his bathroom yawning and pulling his boxers off. Starting the shower and wasting the time waiting for it to heat up by brushing his teeth, tugging at the front of his hair with a grunt. 

He needs a haircut. 

He should get one before the party. 

He also needs to buy booze. 

And two fucking classes, that fucking guy really was a Spider-Menace. 

‘Half lab, Peter. Half lecture.’ He thanks his own mind for the gentle reminder. The shower feels nice, it always does. On his bad days, the days where everything is too much it’s his safe place. He could stay in the shower for hours, the rushing water calms him, even when it turns ice cold. 

They don’t happen often, but it’s debilitating when they do. He spends his day hiding, on one really bad day he was curled up on the floor of the shower with his hands pressing into his ears as hard as they could, trying his best to block everything out and it wasn’t working, nothing was working. He remembers sobbing, praying to any God that would listen to help him. No one heard him. 

But that was last year. He had an episode over the summer, and as much as she didn’t want to leave him alone, he begged May to leave. Her walking around, or even sitting on the couch was too much. He could hear the fabric move underneath her, he could even hear her breathe. 

It took hours, but when he was defeated and went from hearing the city to a low, constant ring he was ready to sleep. He’d be okay in the morning, sometimes that’s the only thing that gets him through it. He called May and apologized, and told her she could come back to her own home. She laughed at him and said ‘it’s your home too,’ and that made him feel better than a shower ever could. 

But today wasn’t one of those days. Today, he was making it a good day. 

—--------------

Peter’s good day took a small dip when he had to skip breakfast. And by skipping breakfast, he means all he had was a fat spoonful of peanut butter and an apple to go. He forgot to refill his water before leaving and nearly choked to death on the glue in his mouth. 

Every dog in the world had gained his sympathy. 

But, today was a good day. Especially when he was seated next to a smoking hot chick, he wasted no time in casually looking her over, committing details to think of rather than stare. A black skater skirt exposed a tattoo of Medusa that took up her entire thigh, a white shirt with a Vans logo in the center, it was obvious she cut the sleeves herself. 

She was wearing a black bralette underneath, she was flat chested and he didn’t mind one bit. They suited her, she seemed too cool for him. She looked like she would ruin his life and he’d love every minute of it. 

He wasn’t wasting any time, “first time here?” 

The girl winced, he did too the second he said it. 

“That’s your opening line, really? Are you proud of that?” 

Peter shook his head, “I regretted it the second I said it. Usually I’m way cooler, but pretty girls make me nervous.” 

The girl smiles, she has teeth to envy. “Smooth, did you plan that whole thing?” He didn’t, but if she believes it he’s not one to ruin dreams. 

“Maybe things are working out in my favor, like sitting next to you.” 

There’s a gleam in her eye, “you’re a flirter, and that makes you dangerous.” Peter might be laying it on thick here, but she may like it. “Hm, do you like danger?” Her eyebrow quirks, “do you?” 

Oh, he wants her. 

Peter extends his hand out, “Parker, nice to meet you.” The girl shakes his hand, it’s ultra soft. “Nice to meet you, Parker.” 

What the fuck is up with girls not sharing their names? What’s he supposed to do, call them babydoll? 

“Any plans tonight?” 

“Your party, what else would I be doing?” 

Peter’s celebrating on the inside, she’s just been booted to the top of the list. 

“Glad to hear it, if you’re okay with it I’d love to play a game of pong with you.” 

The girl holds a hand to her chest, jewelry covering her fingers and wrist. 

“I’d be okay with it, not sure my girlfriend would be.” 

Peter’s entire world collapses, he meets the girl of his dreams and he’s the furthest thing away from her type. She seems overjoyed to share the news, the defeat on his face is the highlight of her day. When he takes a good look at her he’s reminded of someone else. 

“Is your name…” They say at the same time, “Lily?” 

“I was waiting on that one, handsome. Rose told me all about you, I had to get two for oh.” 

He has to take that one on the chin, “you live up to the hype, Lily.” She’s happy with his words, “same to you, Parker.” 

Peter plays it cool when the lecture starts, he’s trying to make it a good day. But all he can think about are the witches' words. Maybe he really has lost his frat boy edge, so far his only prospects have been two lesbians and a freshman. 

And just like that he has a burnt taste in his mouth, because he somehow rounded his thoughts back to her. 

She’s fucking evil, and she’s a witch.

—--------------

Peter’s standing at the edge of the kitchen looking over the liquor on the counter. It’s an impressive haul, he doesn’t think they have enough coolers and fridges for all the beer. The island would be spread out with all the bottles, mixers, cups, and as tradition calls, jungle juice. 

Tarrent is running around like a mad man, screaming at everyone but Peter to ‘fucking do something!’ Hasco’s preparing in his room and no doubt Trent’s joined him. Paul’s coming late due to Ally, no one’s shocked. Leaving Booker and Nick to follow every command from Tarrent. 

Peter should help out, and he will later, but he’s got to take a shower. He got the haircut he needed and he can feel little hairs poking into his neck, plus, he’s not sure what the night could bring. 

“Give me ten minutes to shower and I’ll help you guys, where’s E?” Booker shrugs, Nick’s sweating like a whore in church and Tarrent pauses to point and laugh. 

“Ha! Parker’s about to go wash his balls.” 

Peter squints at him, “yeah, girls tend to like that.” 

“Yeah- sure, whatever you say, buddy.” Nick looks between everyone’s face while he slowly asks, like everyone is scared of the answer. 

“Do you… Do you not wash your balls?” 

“Showering is a scam made up by Dove soap. People say you only need to shower like, once a week.” 

Peter shakes his head, “no, that’s not… Tarrent you work out all the time, I can’t believe I need to tell you, but you gotta wash your sack. In general and especially before you hook up, imagine a cheerleader after four days of practice and no shower asking you to munch down on her.” 

Tarrent is a different breed, “that’s the difference between us, Parker. I enjoy the musk.” 

Peter gags, Booker says, “man, that’s nasty.” Nick’s actually gagging, he’s got the weakest stomach to exist. 

“That’s what separates you boys from us men.” 

Nick whines through another gag, “I don’t wanna be a man, Parker, don’t let him make me a man.”

—-------------

Peter’s quiet as he gets ready. 

His frat shirt looks good, he’s not one to fawn over his body, but he can’t help but nod impressively at his build. His shirts tighter this year, evidence of hard work. His haircut is nice, it’s a little shorter than he normally goes but he’s not sure when he’d get time to go again, so he wanted some wiggle room. 

Even if it was bad no one would see it, at this point he feels naked without his snapback. Peter tucked his necklace into his shirt, he hates when girls ask him about it. He understands they need an ice breaker but it’s the worst one to bring up. 

Brushing down his jeans and making sure his Nike’s were clean, he was ready for the night to start. He doesn’t know how he did it, but Tarrent had set up the entire kitchen by himself, snapping his fingers at Peter the second he saw him, requesting help for moving the couch. 

Peter’s hands gripped at the edge of the couch, nodding at Tarrent, “ready?” They lift it in one go, moving to set it against the wall, then do the same to the other one, and the chairs. All that was left was a giant open space, couches and chairs were free game, but it made more space for more bodies. 

“Make sure the keg fridge is working, I’m gonna go wash my balls.” 

At least he took the advice.

Peter heads to the garage with a plastic cup and pulls at the keg tap, it takes a second and foam rushes out, then ice cold miller light. It was a small gimmick Peter made when he was pledging and he swears to this day that’s what got him sworn in. 

He bought an old fridge off a grad student and emptied it out, threw a keg in and sawed a hole in the front to feed a tube and the tap. It was genius, everyone loved it. Peter chugs the beer and tosses the foam, they’ve got an hour until people start showing. 

Peter wonders when the witch will show up, will he be able to feel her presence before he sees her? It’d be a nice warning but he doesn’t have the best control at gaging people he doesn’t know that well yet. 

He needs to stop thinking about her, and fuck, he needs to make that bed for Harvey before Trent snaps his neck. Racing around for sheets and pillows, Peter opens the chapter door and sets up the pull out couch, he’s not a homemaker by any means but he’d be fine to sleep here. 

“Oh good, I was making sure you were doing your job.” 

Peter jumps, turning to look back at Trent. “I mean, not really my job, but sure.” 

“You’re testy this year, don’t challenge me in front of Harvey, I need his respect.” Wow, the first time Trent ever admitted he needed something. Even if Peter doesn’t like him, he can respect his dedication to proving he could truly run the frat. 

“Sir, yes, sir.” Peter salutes to his president, it makes him break his rough exterior, he’s nervous. 

“That’s more like it, Parker.” 

—----------------

“I think Harvey’s here.” 

Peter moved to stand next to Ethan on his balcony, looking down at a Mercedes pulling into the driveway. “Yeah, that’s him.” His best friend scoffs, “isn’t it shit how the richest kids don’t appreciate what they have the most?” 

“The fuck are you talking about, Kez? Don’t you have CFO daddy money?” 

Ethan’s sharp, “don’t you have dead parents money?” 

It went silent, both shocked he said it. Until they start laughing, if anyone else had said it, it would be in poor taste. When Ethan says it, he’s laughing with Peter, it’s like he shares the massive trauma with him. 

“And dead uncle, check cleared the second after I turned twenty one.” 

“That life insurance pays out, doesn’t it?” 

Peter nods, breaking from the joke for a second. At the time when Ben had created it and fed into it, it was rare to have such a good plan. 

“Oh yeah, he had awesome fucking benefits. My aunt still gets pension checks, he’s been dead for eight years.” 

“No shit? That’s pretty fucking sick.” 

“And not that they had any obligation to, but his company paid for the entire funeral.” 

Peter doesn’t open up much, but it’s casual with Ethan. Even so, he doesn’t like showing his cards, it was minor, but he’s said more than enough. 

“Hey! You, um…” Peter trails off when he relights the joint, the flame expanding before shrinking back down. His voice goes deep when he talks through an exhale, “got any plans with bio chick?” 

“Nah, I’m just gonna play it cool. We have the semester together, too much too fast and it’s a dumpster fire.” 

True fucking that. Obsessed Olivia ruined the first half of his second year, after that, he swore he wouldn’t hook up with a classmate before a two week period. (Unless he counts the lesbians, and he does not, because it’s not happening.) 

“That’s so real, you’re so real for that.” 

“I’ve been enlightened, I went to a sweat lodge retreat this summer and my third eye has been opened.” 

Peter feels sick, “that’s the most rich kid shit I’ve ever heard.” Ethan smacks his arm, “I know how busy you are in the summer, otherwise I would’ve invited you.” Sometimes he feels like Ethan gives him a wink, wink, nudge, nudge look, but he’s also slightly paranoid and Ethan’s usually high. 

“Oh. Damn. So sad I missed that.” It was monotone, and Ethan waves him off. “Sure, make fun of me now, but next year you’re coming and you’ll love it.” 

“No, I need water. I’ll die.” 

“I mean, you get water, dude. They just suck all of it out of you first and push you to the brink of death and delusion until you give into your ego and admit defeat because you’d do anything for a drop of water.” 

Peter stares at him in horror. 

“It’s awesome, dude.” 

The boys turn their heads at a footstep on the deck, Harvey Gyun in his Burberry glory. He pushes aviators up to his hair, arms open wide in greeting, like he was about to tackle them. 

“What’s up, you short dicks?” 

Harvey’s a cool guy. It’s pretty surface level with him, he’s a rich asshole, only because he doesn’t know any better. But he still treats you well. 

Peter could put up with him snapping at a waitress if it meant he was getting a free two hundred dollar meal, and he has. Several times. 

Peter shouts out, “the king is back!” Harvey nods to the clapping, “that he is, that he is. How about you princesses bow for me?” 

He's an alum. You do what they say, kidding or not. 

The chapter officers bow at his request, Harvey giggles and rubs his hands together. “I forgot I have that power now, I’m gonna fuck with Simpson so hard. Be honest, how freaked out was he about me coming?” 

As much as he didn’t like Trent he promised him he’d make him look good. 

“Not bad, he was actually pretty chill.” Ethan doesn’t need to understand the bluff to back it, it’s his job as best friend. 

“More excited to show you he’s ready for this, you did good at preparing him last year.” 

Harvey can smell bullshit a mile away, but knowing the officers were dedicated to their president speaks volumes. The frat will be just fine without him. 

“Good backing, boys. Daddy taught you well. Finish that,” he points at the joint, “and meet me downstairs. We need a toast before the year starts.” 

Harvey Gyun has a kind of energy Peter’s never seen before. “Yes, sir.” Harvey kisses his teeth, rubbing at his lawline, Peter clocks his watch. It’s sixty grand. 

“Such good boys.” 

When the coast is clear, Ethan turns to Peter with a bit lip and a whimper. “I hate how much I loved that.” It’s not Peter’s preferred voice, but he can’t pretend he doesn’t know what he means. 

“Yeah, good boy makes a man feral.” Peter passes the joint Ethan’s way, “kill it.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good boy.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

—--------------------

Peter looks around the room at his small group of brothers. When everyone else joined in, it’d be a blended family. But no one could ever be as close as these six guys, they’ve been through it all together. 

He’s proud of himself and everybody in the room. 

Three years. They’ve made it three years and as dumb as he’s always thought it was, even with all their minor grievances, he’s made friends for life. Even if they fall out of touch for a few years, he'll be at the wedding and the funeral. 

“I won’t lie, it feels weird not hosting freshman Friday this year. But you fuckers have made it three years in and I couldn’t be prouder in my choice of men to recruit. Tonight, we party, we mistake, we regret and we have fun. And- I think Simpson’s the best president you could have.” 

Trent visibly relaxes, everything he’s been praying for came to fruition. Harvey must have known he wouldn’t be able to do any of those things if he was paranoid of being watched all night. Harvey raised his shot glass and everyone did the same, taking a second to clap Trent’s shoulder before addressing the group.

The group chanted as one, “Sig Nu!” 

Shot glasses double tapped on the counter, tequila was a bold choice. It was just the thing he needed for the night to start. Ethan’s eyes on the clock, he nudges Tarrent. 

“Booker, Nick, collectors fee.” 

They leave to stand guard outside the door, nodding at a forming line. Trent leaves with Harvey, Tarrent goes to set up the music that Hasco will take over once he’s done getting a fix. Ethan’s yelling at Hasco through the bathroom door about ‘not getting too coked up’ and Hasco biting back with a ‘fuck you!’ 

Peter shakes his shoulders and takes a step, Tarrent stops him with a hand on his chest. His voice lowered, looking around so no one would hear. 

“Talk to the freshman. I mean it, Parker.” 

It always circles back to her.

Witch, witch, witch, witch. 

“You’re delusional.” 

“Maybe I am, or maybe you trust me and talk to the girl.” 

Peter wants to correct him, inform him she’s a witch because he can’t get her out of his mind. But the real reason she was a witch was because she made Peter want to talk to her more. 

And that’s not who he is. 

So, she has to be a witch. 

Right?

YOUR FIRST WEEK.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6TH

It may have been the first day of the year, but the cafeteria was buzzing. 

Breakfast in the food hall didn’t feel this busy on a normal school week. It seemed like everyone was sitting with their friends sharing a breakfast burrito or an orange, catching up from summer break. You were entertaining your friend group talking about a summer vacation and part time job you took up to save up spending cash for the school year. 

(And leaving out the real source of cash- it’s cheating and you have to hide your eyes from Noa.)

Five people were at your table. 

Ally Storm, dating Matt Paul of Sig Nu, second and third year roommate. 

Sarah Adams, nursing student and never around.

Prince Otto, three years in and major undeclared. 

Natalie Fieldman, roommate your freshman year, art major. 

And Noa Carter, computer science superfreak. 

The group talked over each other, then quieted down when nine hit. Everyone except you, Ally and Prince went to class. Leaning in when she spoke, you and Prince strained to hear, unaware she’d be spilling secrets.

“All that talk about this summer and you don’t even bring up Harvey?” 

Harvey was the best well kept secret you had, he graduated last year and was an official alumni of Sigma Nu. You’d kept hooking up all summer, before parting ways when you moved back for college, keeping the door open so when he visited there was always an option. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Harvey Gyun? I need when, where, why and what, right now.” 

Holding up a hand you raise a finger at each point, “like three weeks before he graduated, my dorm or his room at a party, to have fun with zero commitment, and Ally would’ve never known if Matt didn’t see me sneaking out of his room at like, five am.” 

Prince sucked his teeth, “he’s a prick, he said he was only sleeping with me.” 

“Oh, what the fuck.” 

Prince was seeing him too? Ally slammed her hand over her mouth, it’s how you felt. 

“Double dipping bitch.” 

You shrug, “you gotta respect a man’s hustle sometimes, Prince.” 

Ally reached a hand out on the table, silently demanding attention. “You know who’s hustling will earn my respect?” A hand patted your shoulder, “our friend here, and it’s currently recruiting season at the frat house, thirty two new boys introduced.” 

Your eyes bug out, “thirty two, what the fuck? How are they keeping count this year?” You could be an actress if you tried.

“Apparently, twelve will be cut by the second week. Then hazing starts, so we’ll scope it out next week and make our bets.” 

“Prince, please pick a winner this year.” 

Green hair swayed when he shook his head, arms crossed. “Nope, I got a thing for the underdog.” 

Ally grinned up at her boyfriend when he took a seat next to her, three breakfast burritos on a plate. Your eyes flashed up for the rest of the frat, scanning the food lines you counted heads. Aaron, Keznek, Hasco, Bakner. Trying not to let the disappointment show you looked back at Ally, talking quicker than lightning to her boyfriend, who definitely wasn’t listening as he scarfed burritos down. 

Looking at the time you frown, you had an appointment with your class advisor and a shitload of books to rent and buy. Standing, you look over to the coffee bar, having enough time you grab another cup and go. 

You rattle your paper cup as show and hitch a near empty bag over your shoulder. “Meeting with my advisor, have a lovely first day my friends.”  Matt gave an extra loud goodbye as you walked off, sending him a middle finger behind your back. Saying quick ‘excuse me’s’ as you passed through the crowd, doing your best to avoid shoulders. 

Approaching the small, self-serve coffee cart you open your cup, then see a ‘please use a new cup each time!’ sign and followed instructions, grabbing a piping hot pot of coffee, full of caffeine and loaded up.

Steam billowed over your fingers as you filled the cup up, peering over the assortment of milk and sugar you grin at your pick of the litter. 

Looking over to your left when someone stands next to you, you feel your heart race. Swiping his card at checkout and sharing conversation with the line worker, you’ve never seen anything more attractive. You allow yourself to imagine him handing his card to a waiter at dinner, a dinner he asked you out to. 

Even more handsome than the last time you saw him, a secret crush. 

Last year he had broken up a fight between some twins that were later kicked out the frat, watching him tear them apart and slam the bigger one to the ground as the other was held back by Keznek, made something click in your brain and suddenly you had your eye out for Peter Parker everywhere you went. 

The comedic irony being you’ve never spoken to him, fairly sure he doesn’t even know you exist. Flying under his radar for two years, last year boosting you with confidence with your hookup partners, you promised this was the year of going after what you want. 

And you wanted Peter Parker. 

Snapping the lid you turn to leave, sliding sideways between two tables. About to cross by the table you were just sitting at, you look down at your shoe, losing balance and shoulder checking the person next to you, quickly apologizing. 

“So sorry!” 

The universe had your back, who else did you bump into other than your crush himself? 

Brown hair hidden under a snapback, a heather gray t-shirt with red details, his fraternity logo on the corner of his chest and a full piece on the back. Brown eyes with a honey ring looked at you, for a moment you felt your chest tighten. Peter Parker was about to talk to you, it felt like your tongue went thick, until his eyes hardened and looked at you with disgust. 

A sneer, “fucking freshman.” 

What a prick, it was a tap and you apologized. He wasn’t the person you’d hoped he’d be, it was a shame he was too cute.  “I hope you fucking choke.” You bark at him, words spilling before you could think, then bolting.

Peter’s eyes go wide at your statement, whizzing by a table and up the steps you leave the dining hall. Stomping away, like your harsh steps could be proof for the discontent you felt. It felt somewhat satisfying, because you felt him watching you all the way out. 

It may have not been what you liked, but there was no way Peter Parker wouldn’t know who you are after today. 

—-----------------------

Shaking your leg and tapping the heel of your foot on the linoleum you look around, arms crossed as you rope over your future. The easy years are over, it’s all about focusing on your major now. 

Your advisor is nowhere to be seen, you can’t imagine how many people she’s seeing this week. Eyes catching the inspirational posters in her office, they’re cheesy at best, but damn if they don’t make you feel slightly proud of yourself for getting this far. 

Gripping your coffee cup, you look at the cafeteria logo and grimace. 

Your meet cute was more like a meet ugly, but maybe he was having a bad day? It’s not like you were all sunshine and roses, the start of the school year sucked, and if you knew anything about last night, he was probably hungover. Unlike you, because you knew the consequences of your actions, you chose to stay in no matter how hard Ally had begged. 

‘C’mon, please?’ she dragged out her ‘e’ and gave you puppy dog eyes. 

‘Tempting, but no.’ your bed was extremely comfortable underneath you. 

‘Please? I don’t wanna go alone.’ if you didn’t know Ally as well as you do you might have given in, but you knew she was full of bullshit. 

‘I’m not getting out of bed, dressing, and going to sit in a loud ass frat house while you practice making babies with your boyfriend.’ 

Argument proved right the next day when she arrived back at the dorm at six in the morning, makeup smeared and a memory of a wild night. The only thing shared before she fell into her bed and passed out for the next two hours was, ‘why did you let me do that? You suck.’ 

Blinking out of the fog when the door opens, you’re greeted by the same advisor you’ve had for the last two years. “Halfway there, kiddo.” Grinning at her words, scared, but prepared for the next step. Mrs. Caliban swayed her hips as she walked to her desk, sitting in her chair and pushing her glasses to her hair. 

“Let’s figure out what books you really need, hm?” 

Settling into your seat and crossing your legs, holding your knee in place with your palms. 

“I’m ready for some of that Mrs. Caliban magic.” 

Watching her look over your classes you appreciate how hard she’s working, crunching numbers and using her knowledge as proof of purchase she tsks as she looks over your requirements log. 

“Half of these you won’t use, my advice? Friend up with a sucker who buys one and use theirs on the rare or off chance you actually need it.” 

Your heart soaring when she gives you your new sheet, initialing on her copy and stopping yourself from bouncing in your seat. You’re getting her a care package, you don’t care what she says. She’s your guardian angel that just saved you six hundred bucks and secured your ski tip this December. 

“Mrs. Caliban, you just did wonders for me, you have no idea.” 

You can’t tell if she’s blushing but her response makes you think she is. 

“The miracles are why I do it, kiddo. Now, if you don’t mind, I have thirty seven others to make today.” 

You caught the hint, scrambling from your seat and hooking an empty bag around your shoulder, prepared to be filled with less books than you were prepared for. How crazy. 

Mrs. Caliban’s voice called out your last name before you could open the door, “I have a good feeling about you, I think it’ll be your year. I’m proud of you.”

And damn if that doesn’t make your eyes water. 

“I’m counting on it now, Mrs. Caliban. Don’t be wrong.” 

Her face tells you you have nothing to worry about, it’s an unamused expression. 

“Tell me, baby. When have I ever been wrong?” 

You can’t think of one. 

—--------------

You couldn’t keep the grin off your face, thumbs moving as quickly as possible across your keyboard. It was already planned for, and it was going to happen no matter what, but what your advisor just did for you tied the bow. And gave you some fun money.

‘Guess who just saved $600 and is DEFINITELY going on the ski trip?’ 

Ally’s response was immediate.

‘telling matt rn so he can secure the spot. SO HAPPY ABOUT THIS!!!!’ 

Butting your hip against the bar doorknob, you swung the door outwards and stepped outside, your eyes adjusting to the light. Blinking quickly, you peered up and took a wide step towards the right, heading to the bookstore. 

‘Dude, you have no idea. Mrs. Caliban is a fucking hero.’ 

‘i will give her my life for making it possible for this to happen.’ 

‘you have no idea, i was about to be so miserable with no other girls there.’ 

‘Prince is close enough.’ 

Suddenly, he has something to say. The group chat was his idea but it’s really just you and Ally talking to each other while Prince reads it and randomly jumps in. Peeking up and approaching the line for the bookstore, which wrapped around the building you looked back down at your messages. 

‘Hey, popping in to say a few choice words.’ 

‘Fuck you.’ 

You heart reacted his message, biting your lip in a silent giggle. Ally laugh reacted, which made Prince follow up with a middle finger emoji. Forgetting how close you were to the line, and lost in the excitement of saving money and going on a ski trip you lose focus and crash into the person in front of you. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! I wasn’t paying attention and I didn’t see you and I’m sorry!” 

And, oh fuck, you recognize that shirt. It was ingrained in your mind that morning. If you thought he wasn’t going to forget you earlier then you’ve just signed it into law, he’d never forget you now. 

It’s proven when he hits you with the same insult from earlier, you don’t know why it annoys you so much, maybe it’s the assumption. Or maybe it’s because it should be obvious that you weren’t a freshman. 

“Want a tip? Look where you’re walking.” He says it with a bitter laugh, like he’s just so funny. 

Peter Parker seemed like a nice guy. You didn’t know him, sure, but when you watched him at parties he seemed nice and respectful. And sure, you get his discomfort but only to a certain level. You did break his personal space twice, but him berating you and making you feel like shit just because you weren’t paying attention was a dick move.

It was an accident, both times. And you apologized profusely, at this point it’s on him to not accept the apology and be bitter. It says nothing about you and everything about him. So, it’s only fair if you call him out on his bullshit and state the obvious, he was a dick that spewed too many pet names. 

It reeked of condescending and you didn’t have time for it. Maturely, you spun your back on him and redirected your attention on your phone. 

Immaturely, Peter asked if you backed down, thinking you couldn’t win in a pissing contest with him. 

You kept reminding yourself it spoke more about him than yourself, until you really didn’t understand the anger so you just have to ask. 

This message was sent privately. 

‘What the fuck is Parker’s problem and who hurt him?’

‘sig nu parker? i dunno, why?’ 

‘He’s a dick. Is he normally a dick or has he singled me out to be his hate train?’ 

‘why is parker picking on you?? no, he’s very nice. what did u do?’ 

‘I bumped into him twice and he keeps calling me freshman :(‘ 

‘well… u better kiss and makeup cause you guys are airplane buddies on the trip.’ 

You stare at your screen with an open jaw, Mrs. Caliban was wrong, it was a terrible year and it literally just started. 

‘Oh you’re fucking with me, right?’ 

‘... right, Ally?’ 

‘😶 ummmm i would lie, but there’s no point.’ 

‘Oh my god, take one for the team and just sit with me. You’ll survive without Matt for four hours.’ 

‘i would. i swear i would, but we already bought the seats, speaking of… i was praying for a miracle and pre-bought your seat soooo. 😬’ 

‘And Prince wasn’t a good enough option????????????????????’ 

‘ok, princess. to be FAIR we didn’t know you hated each other so…’ 

‘plenty of time to kiss and makeup tho!!!’ 

Feeling safe enough to turn around, you ease when he’s got his focus on his own phone. Safely avoiding each other, you can breathe better. 

‘Just so you know my current situation, he’s actively hating me so you kiss and makeup that.’ 

Until your shoes hit his, and he hits you with a cocky grin that sends your heart skipping. It’s unfair he’s so attractive, he can’t be mean and hot, they cancel out. Unless it’s on him, because then it’s down right tempting and frustrating. 

“This one’s on me, sweetheart.” 

Knowing you’ll have to keep the peace for at least three months makes it doable, and if you can keep it cool, then you could avoid each other peacefully. Until a five hour flight; with him, you’re rounding up. 

Peter’s offer makes you question his character. He went from hating you in a second to.. dare you say flirt? Yet again insinuating you’re a freshman, you were about to correct him but stopped. No use, he’d figure it out soon enough. He’d also find out his flight partner soon enough, and if you thought you were unhappy with the news, you couldn’t wait to see him blow up. 

You could see a backup plan written on his face. His attitude flipped in a second, he went from displeased to charming quicker than you’ve ever seen. 

It’s not right how much you wanted to give in, but you wouldn’t be so easy, especially after he’s been so mean. 

Calling him out on his bullshit, you could see he was humbled a bit. Not expecting his play to be announced step by step. What made it better was gaining the upper hand on him, this time you sent him away second guessing himself. 

Smirking, you pull your phone back out. 

‘Nvm, thought it over, Parker seems fun.’ 

‘oh. so he flirted with you.’ 

‘Now, why would you even say that?’ 

‘cause i know you, lol. also, he’s a tough guy to hate. it’s something about him.’ 

Well, you’ll just have to figure that out yourself. 

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7TH

The science building smelt like chemicals, a faint mixture of formaldehyde and bleach. It was oddly comforting and felt homey. Even if you felt like everyone around you was smarter than you, it didn’t feel intimidating. Everyone supported everyone in this hall. 

Your feet subconsciously match to the beat of the music flowing through your earphones, smiling at a person sharing the hallway when you curve around the corner. You liked biology just fine, so much so you’re minoring in it. 

But you could also admit that this particular semester was going to drag on. Field botany just wasn’t your thing. Plants were incredibly boring to you, they always have been. Save the planet, produce more trees, stop cutting them down, produce more oxygen, all those things. 

At the end of the day, learning about plants sucked the life out of you and you were feeling very neutral about the class. You followed a classmate through the door, grazing over the mostly empty room. It was smaller than you expected, you had the pick of the litter. 

Middle, middle row was the superior spot. Close enough to pay attention, but far enough to not gain it. Sitting in the center left you throw your bag in the seat next to you and start to set things up, pulling out your laptop, the class syllabus and a pen. 

Putting your headphones away and sitting straighter, you focus on the whiteboard, in rainbow bubble letters is your professor's name, ‘Dr. Thatcher.’ It’s cute, you grin at the small hint of personality. Watching students slowly fill in the back rows you sit straighter knowing your row would be next, hopeful your neighbors would be friendly. 

Your head turns when the seat next to you is filled, it’s a frat boy. 

“God, I am so fucking excited for this term, how about you?”

It’s Ethan Keznek. You never studied him, you knew who he was but you never actually noticed him, but looking into his eyes all you could think of was how long his eyelashes were. It seems like he’s noticing you too, he’s sly with it but he’s looking you up and down. 

“Plants aren’t my thing, but I’m assuming they’re yours?” 

A toothy smile, you can immediately tell he’s had braces before. He releases a breath before exploding, “god, they’re amazing, aren’t they? Self sustaining, self producing, they literally give us the air we breathe. How could you not find plants extraordinary?” 

Ethan’s eyes have a twinkle, it shows passion. You tilt your chin at him, “please tell me you’re majoring in botany, the world needs a lorax.” He breaks into a laugh, it’s charming and contagious, you smile with him. 

“Lucky guess, what’s yours?” 

You shift in your seat to face him better, “biology’s actually my minor, I’m majoring in english.” Ethan whistles, “big reader?” You nod, “if you ever need some recommendations, I’m your girl.” 

Ethan tilts his head and sticks his hand out, “Ethan Keznek, nice to meet you.” You stick your hand in his and shake it, it’s strikingly soft. You introduce yourself and his smile grows, “well,” he says your name and pauses, both of your eyes looking to the front when your new professor enters. 

He talks softly, “I will make it my personal mission to make you enjoy plants this semester.” You turn to focus on the front but talk out the corner of your mouth, “unless someone like you cares a whole lot…” 

You bite back a grin when you catch him laughing silently, both of you sitting in quiet when your teacher starts to introduce herself. She’s young and a redhead, everything about her seems symmetrical. Something tells you the semester wouldn’t be so bad. 

The class was an hour, followed by an hour lab. Class wasn’t bad, the first day was always easy, mostly introductions to the class, the work and the expectations. You stood and stretched before slowly repacking your belongings, Ethan working at the same speed, you assume to keep up with you. 

As he zipped his backpack, Ethan cleared his throat and looked at you. You raised your eyebrows and waited, “I know it’s the first day, but would you want to be my lab partner?” It’s the first time you’ve truly met him, but you feel nothing but comfortable around him, he’s kind. 

“It would be my honor.” 

—---------

Peter Parker was handsome, and pretty, and captivating and slightly mean. You couldn’t stay away from him, but his attitude was enough to make you question if he’s worth the frustration. 

You swore to yourself you’d go after him this year, you promised you’d get him into bed. But you can’t deny how good Ethan looked in a lab coat; even safety goggles couldn’t dim those green-brown eyes. 

“God I missed this, I was separated from test tubes and pipettes all summer.” 

You breathe out your nose as a laugh, “you’re one of those kids that lost his shit over getting a chemistry set for christmas, aren’t you?” He shakes his head, mouthing numbers as he counts his drops, looking at you and the sheet in front of you, bouncing back and forth until you catch the hint. 

“Oh!” You scribble the reaction, smiling when he corrects you. “It was a botany kit.” 

Looking over at him you can feel a tiny tug on your stomach, it felt like you were losing the plot from Peter. You wanted it to work with Peter, you didn’t really know him outside of surface value, but it felt like you did, and you know that sounds weird, but when he’s around you feel a bit more like yourself. 

But Ethan’s easy. “Of course it was.” Ethan’s back to measurements, “you doing anything Friday?” You nibble at your cheek, you know what he’s about to ask. “Nope, you?” He nods, “the frat’s doing freshman Friday,” Ethan looks over his shoulder to ask you, “planning on coming?” 

Peter may have asked you first, and you promised you’d be committed to the task, but if he viewed you as a backup plan, you should have one too. Not that Ethan was a second choice, he was just another option at this point. 

“Are you kidding? The Sig Nu freshman welcome is famous for a reason, you think I’d miss it?” Ethan diverted his attention to the PH chart on the page resting between you. 

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He cleared his throat and nodded at a test tube, “that’s a solid four, don’t you think?” You hold your hands up in surrender, “you’re the plant expert, lorax.” 

Your pencil is plucked from your hand, he writes his fours odd. He can’t stop making you smile, “well, unless someone like me cares a whole lot…” 

—---------------

The entire group was at your dorm. By the entire group you mean Ally, Matt, Prince, and Natalie. A pack of forgotten cards scattered on the floor, everyone focused on their red cups and speaking over each other. Sarah was unable to join in person, but she’s on a facetime call and jumping in when she can.

“On god, I’m gonna fuck my atonamy professor this year.”  You choked at Sarah’s comment, Natalie immediately cheering, “who is it?” Sarah bit her lip explaining, “just the hottest hunk of ass to exist. Dr. Youge, and trust me, I wanna go rogue, if you know what I mean.”

“Can confirm, he’s sexy.” 

Matt breaks from his twelve minute makeout with Ally, “Prince, you think everyone’s sexy.” He’s nodding accordingly, “because they are.” 

“Is this a good time to say Nate and I made it official?” The group overlaps in exclaims, Natalie in the hot seat for a second, her cheeks on fire. 

“When?!” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” 

“What?!” 

Natalie pushes her hair behind her ears, gold jewelry on display. “Um, well, basically he said he didn’t picture himself settling down but the idea of someone being able to swoop me up made him sick.” 

You and Ally form a chorus, Prince joins in halfway through while Matt claps his hands over his ears, “awwww.” He can’t stand the squealing, “yeah, yeah, yeah…” Matt kicks your knee, “did you know Harvey's coming on friday?” 

Interest piqued, you hadn’t known, but the promise of the night ending in sex was in your cards and it makes everything about the first week of school better. A reward, if you will. 

In two days you have three prospects, Mrs. Caliban was right, this was your year. “I didn’t but…” your eyes shoot to Prince’s, you’d claim dibs because he was yours first, but you didn’t want a hookup to cause a friendship to rift.

“Oh please, I was sloppy seconds. He’s yours.” You stick out your tongue, “why else would he come?” 

“The frat. To help the frat kick off the start of the year, because he's an alum. Of the frat.” 

Natalie scoffs, “Ally, tell your boyfriend he’s stupid. Harvey’s obviously coming for girly and girly alone. Your frat is just a cover up.” It wasn’t, but Matt was gullible and hell bent on proving you wrong. 

“No, it’s tradition. All the old chapter presidents come back after their first graduation. It’s a hello and goodbye thing, like a, um… what am I thinking of, babe?” Ally fixes a piece of his hair sticking straight up, “passing of the torch?” Matt’s thick hand squeezed her bum sending Prince gagging and Natalie blushing. “So fuckin’ smart, I love when you know what I’m thinking.” 

Natalie jumps up after looking at her cracked phone screen, “and I’m thinking Nate’s wondering where I am cause I forgot we had a date tonight.” Ally hissed in through her teeth, “play the ‘helped a crying friend’ card, say Matt and I got in a fight.” 

Matt stage whispers, “we didn’t have a fight, right?” His girlfriend shakes her head, patting at the tuft of hair sticking up from his scalp, “no, honey.” A grin cracks, “good-” Ally interrupts, “unless Nate asks, then we got in a fight and you made me cry.” 

“A total mess, she was weeping all over the floor. Natalie had to help me get her into bed.” Prince jumps in, “I was also there, and crying in support of the Matt strike.” 

“So, call you guys if I need to bury a body? Got it.” You speak over the group laugh, “yeah, right. Call Noa, she’d have that shit taken care of in an hour.” 

“No, but that’s actually so true.” 

“She’s scary but in a sexy way.” Matt groans, “again with the sexy, Prince, good lord.” 

“Everyone’s sexy! We’ve been over this!” 

Natalie slowly gathers her things, giving you and Ally a silent salute at the door, Prince and Matt bickering back and forth. Looking back at your laptop you shrug, Sarah’s made another silent escape. You wave to your friend watching the door creak open, Natalie doesn’t feel bad for missing out. Neither does Sarah, apparently. “Okay, have fun, byeee.” The door slamming made the boys stop, blinking aware and immediately forgetting why they were debating. 

The main squad together at last, you bring the real topics to the table. Clearing your throat and pouring a new drink, you look at the group. “So, Paul, what’s the inside scoop with the pledges and how do I make money out of this?” (As if you didn’t already know.)

Ally and Prince start speaking over each other. “Nope!” 

“Not happening!” 

“There’s a reason Matt doesn’t vote! He’s biased!” Matt plows right through, “thou shall not steal, it’s a commandment, babe.” You snort, “and what would I be stealing?” 

The blonde shrugs, “my knowledge.” 

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH

Sleep was tasting good today, you planned on sleeping in as long as you could. The type of sleeping where you get tired of sleeping and open your eyes wide awake and well rested. 

The keyword was planned, it’s been a nice summer off from Ally and Matt, because you forgot how they were early risers and were dependent on you for their enjoyment. 

“Hey, get up.” You politely ignore the request, it’s already too bright, Ally ripped the curtains apart so you’re hidden under your pillow. 

“Oh roomie, please rise.” Even when a pillow slams down on your butt you don’t move, you even attempt to hold your breath, hopeful they’d think you were dead and let your body decompose into your mattress. You wheeze for air and try to scramble from the bed when Matt throws himself on top of you, bouncing and pushing all his weight into you, rattling your name off like an impatient toddler. 

“I miss the days when Ally slept at the house,” you try and yell it out, it comes out in squeaks when Ally mounts Matt, “it’s my day off and I’m getting dogpiled!” 

“Get up! There’s belgian waffles at the dining hall!” You had the entire day to nap, there were waffles to be eaten. You wriggle around until the bodies on you disappear and you’re heaving for air. Throwing the blanket off and standing you give your friends a staredown before ripping your shirt off. Matt throws his hands over his eyes and screams, “thou shall not commit adultery, thou shall not commit adultery!”

“If you sleep here you see my boobs, Ally knows the rules!” Matt’s screaming at his girlfriend, “it’s a sin! Adultery is a sin!” Ally pushes his side, “you screamed sin before you saw nipple!” You’re changing clothes as fast as you can, if anything Matt would be scarred and keep Ally with him at his place, then you might be able to get some real sleep. 

“Sorry, Matt, but, uh… maybe if you sleep at your house you won’t see my boobs?” Ally gives you a glare from God himself, “Matty, this is what she wants. Next time, you better stare right at them.” Her boyfriend cries out, “no!” You roll your eyes, “all covered, you sinner. I’m ready for waffles.” 

Matt can’t even look at you in the eyes, a weary finger is pointed at your chest. “Temptation lives in you.”

—----------------

 If there wasn’t butter coating each small square in your waffle, there wasn’t enough butter. Noa Carter slides into a seat next to you, wiping syrup from your chin, you smile and take another bite. 

“Pledge secured?” Your eyes shoot around, looking for Ally and Matt, it eases your racing heart when they’re still in line loading up. 

“I’m meeting with Trent tomorrow night.” You feel gross, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do. “Do you think anyone’s gonna find out?” Noa chews on the straw from her ice coffee, “if Trent lets it slip to anyone else then Matt finds out, if he finds out Ally does, and once she knows, everyone knows.” 

“Fuck, I know. He can’t say anything, we- I mean, I have leverage.” 

“You think he can’t buy his way into school again?” You shake your head, speaking while you chew, “not without everyone knowing.” Noa tilts her head, she’s saying ‘fair point,’ with her motion. You grab her hand, “hey, thanks again. For the help, and keeping it between us.” 

Noa was nice, but not kind. She was a valuable resource for the group but made it clear she was into friendships for the transactional side. Noa could keep a secret, and she knew people in places you didn’t know existed, but if you used those talents she’d need yours in return. A deal with the devil each time you talk to her. 

“You’re indebted to me, you know that, right?” She was serious too, not fucking around while trying to get the last bit of coffee through the ice. You nod stiffly, it could be today or twenty years, but when she calls in that favor you have to abide. 

“Hey, Noa!” Ally’s always nice, Matt barely looks at her before shoving the corner of a waffle in his mouth. Noa looks at him in disgust and taps her knuckles on the table, “I'm out, see you later.” Ally pouts, “bye, Noa!” She smiles politely, “goodbye, Ally.” 

You thank her again with your eyes, “you coming to the party tomorrow?” Noa rotates her hand back and forth, giving you a so-so response. “We’ll see.” Watching Noa walk off you can understand how people find her both mesmerizing and scary, she carries herself in a way that screams she’s the smartest in the room and you believe it. 

“What are you wearing tomorrow?” You face Ally and watch her chew on a strawberry, “dunno yet, wanna dress me?” Her face lights up, nodding quickly she swallows, “I got this top over the summer and it’s gonna look so good on you!” Matt speaks staring at his phone, a gameplay blasting through his speakers. “Will Harvey Guyn find it hot?” 

If you could reach across the table you’d smack him, instead you finish your waffle. “Does he even have a room there, cause fucking on a twin is torture,” you look at your roommate, “unless we put the beds together…” 

Ally raises her hand to cover her mouth while she eats, “I’ll be sleeping with Matty at the house, when I come back Saturday afternoon, and the room is how it was when I left and my sheets are clean… I’ll be none the wiser to what happened.” 

You slide your plate away and reach your fork over the table to steal a banana slice, “I was joking but it’s nice to know you’re so-” you chew and stare at Matt while he rubs at his nose and wipes it on his pants; you look back at Ally and grimace. “-kind.”

“Harvey’s crashing in the chapter room, so unless you like a pull-out couch I recommend staying at yours.” You look at Ally, “what’s the chapter room?” You’ve never heard of it, or seen it. And you’re positive that besides the top floor where the members slept, you’ve been in every room of the house. 

“A secret room that no one but chapter officers are allowed to be in. I’ve seen it but I’ve never been inside. I tried one time and Matt told me to leave.” Eesh, if Matt kicked Ally out that means it’s a cardinal rule. “So even if I wanted to, I couldn’t sleep in there?” 

Matt nods, “correct.” Ally leans into her boyfriend and grabs his elbow, he keeps his focus on his phone while she whispers in his ear. Taking some time to look around the dining hall you recognized a few faces, waving at a girl you shared a few classes with last year. 

When you looked up to the upper level, you locked eyes with Peter. You were being sucked in and couldn’t stop. It was like he was telling you to come closer, come talk to him, like he’s inviting you to his table. The chatter in the room fizzled away, time stood still. It felt like your hearts were in sync, it felt like he was looking into you, it felt like you had a crush. 

It felt stupid to think anyone could come close to him. 

Peter wasn’t looking away, instead analyzing you the same way. He wasn’t sneering, he was curious. You never knew brown eyes could be so captivating, you wonder if he knew how dangerous he was. 

Forced to break away when Ally noticed, “who are we looking at?” You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want anyone to know. You stop her from turning, “I thought I saw someone I went to high school with,” you look back up, Peter disappeared. 

“False alarm.” 

-----

It was just you and Spider-Man in your room. 

His plush body laid across your chest, your arms wrapped tight around had flattened him. You spent your day watching Netflix, but after hours it became boring and you switched to scrolling through your phone, hopping between apps before you ended on instagram. 

You clutched Spider-Man tighter when you hit the search tab, his name popping up first. He never used his main account, three posts from the past two years. You found his burner account, it was set to private. You wanted nothing more than to push that request to follow, but he didn’t know you like that just yet. 

The second you were allowed to follow Peter Parker’s finsta, you’d plow through all one hundred and twelve posts, analyzing each one. You chew your lip for a moment and go to Ally’s page, searching through her followers you see his account, you debate on getting her phone and stalk that way, but it feels like cheating. 

It’s eight pm and you think nothing other than frozen yogurt would stop your obsession, so you grabbed your keycard and left Spider-Man to keep your spot warm. 

You had an early class the next day and a party with three people you could talk to, one of them being someone that would forsure be in your bed. If only Peter would have you in his bed first. If you were being honest, you’d love to see Peter fight for you. 

It’s only slightly exhausting being delusional. 

The food hall was dead and you went from mildly hungry to starving the second you smelled food, detoring for a quick sandwich you stuffed it in your bag before crossing the floor for your sweet treat. A prickle on the back of your neck told you to look to your left, at a table with his brothers, was Peter Parker. 

It felt like a gravitational pull, you manifested him being in your life since last year and it’s finally happening. The next time you and Prince go out you’re pulling him into a psychic’s shop for a reading. You were caught by who you think was Tarrent, if you remember correctly, he hooked up with Natalie your freshman year. 

Blue eyes met yours, just the smallest hint of a smile. It sent you turning your head and stepping behind the bathroom wall for a breather, hiding in embarrassment. You counted to thirty before peeking your head from around the corner, Tarrent kept your secret, no one was looking at you. 

This time, watching yourself, you don’t bump into anyone in line for frozen yogurt. You’d hate for another lesson in spatial awareness, unless it’s coming from Peter, in that case you’d take any kind of conversation. 

Even when he’s berating you he’s pretty. 

Leaving with your cup of dessert you watch Peter walk right by you, hearing his mumbles of a Beastie Boys song. You couldn’t help yourself, a chance at hello. It was an opportunity to have a normal conversation, maybe more of his shining character would come through. Taking a seat at a hightop near the bathrooms you wait until your target comes out. 

Humming at the taste of sugar hitting your tongue you look over to his table, you notice Ethan and you hope he doesn’t notice you too. To put it bluntly, you didn’t want Peter thinking he had competition. You don’t even consider Harvey Guyn as competition, he was just a good fuck. He didn’t get dinner with you or take you on dates, and you didn’t want that. At least not from him. 

Harvey’s conversations were dry and always built around impressing the people around him. He had great successes for someone his age, but daddy’s money didn’t impress you much.

You sit straighter when you hear the bathroom door open, listening to Peter mumble rap a chorus you jumped in, “another girl, another fight.” He jumped slightly, surprised to see you sitting right next to him. Taking another bite you stare in his eyes while you wrap your tongue around the spoon, Peter sounds breathless when he speaks. 

“Hey.” 

“Hello, Peter.” 

The look on his face told you if he didn’t notice you before, he did now. Did you just stand out from the crowd with one word? You think so. Peter clears his throat lightly, “and you are…” he wants you to fill in the blank, you find some joy in being mysterious, even if it’s just for another night. You pluck your spoon from your mouth, a wide smirk paints on your lips. 

“Happy to have a civil conversation with you?” It mildly annoyed him and it made your stomach tug, something about his expression made you happy to bother him. Until he called your bluff, you might have planned this one interaction but everywhere else he just seems to notice you. You’ve always had a wandering eye for him but he’s just now catching on. 

Giving him a scouts honor, you promise you haven’t been following him, because you haven’t. It’s that universal pull, each time you’re around him it’s like you’re tasting air while also being breathless. He’s pretty, too pretty for his own good. 

Peter’s tempting even when he’s slightly misogynistic, you think he likes your attitude. If there’s one thing you learned, it’s that a man likes it when he has to do a little chasing. You have an early class and Spider-Man at home. 

Sliding from your seat, your shoes squeak on the linoleum. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have an early class.” Dare you boldly claim he looked a little disappointed? It seemed like he was. You wish him a goodnight and he returns it, you can’t stop your satisfied smile when you feel him watching you leave. 

Quickly stomping up the stairs you look back at Peter’s table, you escaped with only one person looking back at you. Tarrent shoots you a wink, it wasn’t one that was directed at you, but directed at your actions. He knows nothing of you but you have his support, it makes you curious at best, cautious at worst. You stare at the floor until you reach the door, pushing out and taking in the fresh air. 

It didn’t feel as refreshing as when you were with Peter. You shrug it off, you already had someone waiting back at home. 

Spider-Man’s just as dependent on you as you are him.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 9TH

Morning classes sucked because they were in the morning. Morning classes were awesome because you felt like you focused better, and there was a better student to teacher ratio. Ally whined when your alarm went off, you stood with her in solidarity, because fuck waking up to a slow steady build of music. 

“Sorry, roomie.” 

Her hand poked from a blanket, waving you off from across the room. You weren’t sure if it was in annoyance or understanding. She had another hour before her class and she was planning to crush thirty of those minutes by hitting snooze. 

You moved quickly and quietly, only packing what was needed, and opting for an oversized university hoodie sans your bra. You believed in one thing, casual friday; and you honor it every week. Silently shutting your dorm door you cruise down the hallway, taking in the deep silence and empty scene. 

You weren’t a morning person at all, you preferred to wake up slowly and on your own terms, most times hitting snooze way too many times. But you loved the slow calm of the morning, watching the sun fully rise, hearing birds scream the earth awake, feeling empathy for every person with tired, puffy eyes. 

Morning’s were gentle, and sometimes you really enjoyed gentle. Friday was your creative writing class and you think it’ll be your favorite for the next year. 

Your hypothesis proved true because your professor was the hottest silver fox you’ve ever seen. Every fantasy of being bent over your teachers desk was racing through your mind, you didn’t know how you could ever pay attention. 

When he talks, his words curl around your ears, a stubble buzz in your stomach makes you focus in on his lips, watching them pout around ‘S’s. “Hey,” she was late, but Noa was there. “Hey,” you whisper back. 

Her smirk is devilish, “talk to Trent yet?” It’d be a punishment until you finished your plan, then she’d let it die. It’s something to do with making her efforts worth it, and making you owe her a favor. You almost regret asking her, but the payoff is worth the narcissism. 

Since freshman year, you, Ally, Prince and Natalie made a bet on one person rushing to make it into full recruitment. Sarah joined last year but backed out this year, she’d be too busy in her nursing classes, she made it pretty clear she’d be absent this year. 

When it started everyone pitched in a hundred bucks, Natalie won. Last year everyone pitched in five hundred, Ally won. You love your friends, but it left a sour taste in your mouth that people who didn’t need the extra pocket money won. 

You weren’t lying when you had a summer job, but it was quickly drained with class and book payments. None of your friends had to worry about that. So, when you found out that your high school friend's ex-boyfriend's little brother was rushing for Sigma Nu, a plan formed. 

You upped the stakes this year, big time. Tripling the honey pot by three, fifteen hundred each. That was half of your summer job money, but the payoff was worth the temporary loss. You had an in at the frat and you knew how much the competition games meant, being number one fraternity was the most important thing for Sig Nu, especially after losing it last year to Alpha Delta. 

Next step was getting someone to secure the information, enter Noa. She had cracked into every frat on campus and gotten the files, printed them out and completed the job with a pretty folder. It was Noa’s idea to get dirt on Trent, you commended her for her smarts, she claimed she just really hated him. 

The real plan was making sure your pledge made it in and no other friends won so you wouldn’t have to share the honey pot. It was skeevy and made you feel slightly dirty, but sometimes you have to play in the mud so you can eat dinner for the year. 

As long as no one found out, you’d be okay. Although, deep in your heart you know that while your friends would feel betrayed at first, they’d understand and come around. Mostly because Matt would use some christian wisdom on them and smite them into forgiveness. 

“Tonight.” Noa nods, “you impress me, friend. You really, really do.” You give a nervous smile at your new professor when he calls you out for talking, with his wise smirk, you believe Peter Parker may have some competition. 

—----------------

At fifteen past four, you got the message you’ve been waiting on, you bit your lip and opened the text, the contact saved as Harvey G. 

‘You’re coming to the party tonight, right?’ 

‘Just for you 😊’ 

‘I love when you lie to me, it really gets me going.’ 

‘You know what gets me going? Fucking you on a twin XL.’ 

‘Dirty talk, that’s my girl.’ 

‘Wear something pretty for me and I’ll let you call me daddy tonight.’ 

‘You wish.’ 

You’d be wearing something pretty tonight, but not for Harvey. You were dressing up for the pure intention of catching Peter Parker’s eye. It was a personal mission to turn you from a backup plan to number one, worse comes to worse, you’d pull out the best friend card and use Ethan as a pawn. Harvey was a set hookup, you didn’t need to impress him with anything. You’ve never even slept in the same bed, and you didn’t care to. He looked like a snorer. 

Sending a quick text to Ally to try and figure out the game plan, she responds with a very general answer, so you text Prince to come over and entertain you. He responded with a salute emoji, ‘prepare to be entertained.’ 

—--------

You and Prince are tilting your head at the same angle, you’re trying to make sense of what you were seeing but the proportions weren’t adding up. It didn’t seem natural, you block out the exaggerated moaning and follow in tilting your head the opposite way when the camera switches positions. 

“I mean… that couldn’t… feel good… right?” Prince is looking for your opinion, you nod with him. “Yeah, I don’t… this can’t be real, right?” It’s like you've been heard, the camera angle changes and you’re staring at a man’s asshole as he piledrives into his female co-star. Prince gasps with you, “oh my god! How is she doing that?!” You whistle low, “drugs, Prince. Lots and lots of drugs.” Suddenly, Prince becomes interested. 

“You know, sometimes I forget how much the female body amazes me.” You narrow your eyes, “call me a female again, I dare you.” Prince’s voice squeaks, “no thank you, you powerful, beautiful woman.” You pat his green hair, “good boy.” 

For once, Ally entered into your dorm without Matt following behind. Prince clapped and told her he was proud she could walk inside all by herself. Her response was, “aw, you’re so cute when you’re lonely.” Prince pretended to bite her.

“So,” Ally opened her tote bag and pulled out a paper bag filled with Sammi’s Sandwiches. “Wanna eat and get ready?” Prince starts bowing, you follow suit.

 “All hail queen Ally.” 

“Damn right, bitches.” 

The second you took your last bite Ally had you in front of your closet mirror while she stood behind you with two shirts on hangers, alternating to hold up each one over your torso. 

“Ugh, I wanted you in the green but I think the black would be better.” “Yeah, I think if I hang around Prince it’ll be too much green, ya know?” Prince coughed and breadcrumbs spewed. “I’m sorry, you think you’ll be hanging out with me instead of Harvey?” 

“I can’t exactly go in there, grab him, and get out, can I?” Your roommate nods while she fixes your hair, “you absolutely can, I do it with Matty all the time.” You roll your eyes at her in the mirror, “that’s different, you guys are like… common law married at this point.” 

Prince is sitting sideways in a chair letting the blood rush to his head, he sits up slightly and slips out a possibility while you adjust your bra strap. “What are the chances Harvey gets so plastered tonight you won’t hookup?” 

The elastic snaps on your shoulder when you give him a cold glare, “don’t even try to be funny.” He grins wickedly and presses his thumbs to his middle fingers, “not funny, babe. Manifesting.” 

Ally has to hold you back when you lurch at him. 

—--------------

You’re lucky you have Prince to keep Ally occupied, you’re a little too lost in your thoughts as you all walk towards frat row. Keeping your arms to your chest you conserve heat, it’s starting to get chilly at night. The first thing you wanted to do was get Trent out of the way, then you’d chat with Ethan while you scope the scene for Peter. Oh god, Harvey. You had too many men to entertain tonight, it would be near impossible to keep them from bumping into each other outside your revolving door. 

You just had to play calm and make a game plan. Number one would be Trent, number two would be Harvey, so you could make plans for after the party, number three would be Ethan and certainly not least, you’d be keeping an eye on Peter Parker. Your palms feel clammy thinking about your secret with Trent, you push each plan back by one. The first step would be getting some liquid courage. Brought back to life by gentle bantering, your opinion is needed. 

“I could totally ice Matt out, right?” 

“Bro, I have two hundred on it right now.” 

“You think I can’t live without him?” You butt in, “no, but you can’t let him think you’re mad at him. Even when you’re fighting you tell him you’re not mad at him. It’s gross.” Prince nods while Ally gasps in offense, “I’d love to see it, I think he’d have a mental breakdown.” 

“Is it so terrible of me that I don’t like making my boyfriend sad?” 

You hang an arm around Ally’s neck and pull her in, “it makes you a better girlfriend than I could ever be.” She giggles and hangs onto you, “I think frat boys like that, maybe it’s time you start sleeping with a member and not alumni.” 

You’re not hiding anything out of spite, but because you felt like you wanted to figure it out on your own. And she’s a little pushy, if you were to spill on Peter before ready she’d try everything possible to get Matt involved. Sometimes Ally’s wingmanning ruined potential hookups, and by sometimes, it’s every time. “Ha. Good one.” 

Prince steps in to hand his arm around your neck, you three of you stumbling in unison. “Don’t worry, friend. You’ll have your pick on the ski trip.” You flashed a smile, following a crowd of bodies across the crosswalk.

Letting each other go when you hit the first frat house you fix your shirt. Ally was right, it looked really good on you.

There were at least forty kids waiting to get in, only two members on door duty. Following freshmen up the steps you smile at a brother, Prince pays his entrance fee while you hold hands with Ally. 

You take a deep breath, and release it when you step in the house.

Welcome to the start of the year.

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