#I feel so bad for all the combos that could have been so pretty were I to have the ability to cherish them

[trans-guardians]

Heavens save me there are beautiful g1 babies being sold for fodder prices when I could turn them into marvelous beasts were I to have ten thousand lair slots and unlimited money. The universe is unkind

[vngelicc]

teeth. ☆ j.jk

⋆ TAGS — ghostface!jk, breaking in, TW: non-con to dub-con (oc does NOT consent verbally even if she does participate hence the dub-con), brief knife play, cunnilingus, degradation, misogyny(?), objectification, blow jobs, brief face/skull fucking, fuckin in the woods, unprotected sex, nasty talk by jk, possessive!jk, hints of kidnapping/captivity, fear play, facial, jk is lowkey yandere, iconic what’s your favorite scary movie scene but my style, DEAD DOVE, slight praises, ass n coochie worship cause jk is a ass man certified LMAO, cheerleader!oc, college setting

⋆ WORD COUNT — 4.2k

⋆ now playing: teeth - 5sos ⋆

“Color me your color, baby, color me your car, color me your color, darling, I know who you are,”

The music blared loudly, you hummed under your breath while lining over your lips with a dark lip pencil. The hour was getting closer and you realized you had to speed things up if you wanted to meet with your friends on time (you had been stuck in your cheer uniform ALL DAY). You moved around your room quickly while tossing articles of clothing onto your bed, no outfit in particular on your mind.

You uncapped the red lipstick and ran it over your lips slowly, filling in the blank spaces and blending the two colors to perfection. You decided a white long sleeve tucked into your mini jean skirt would serve as a perfect combo. If you were lucky, maybe that cute college senior Kim Seokjin would give you his jacket to wear. The idea has you smiling like a dummy.

Before you can slip out of your skirt the phone downstairs begins ringing loudly. You could have very well ignored it but you don’t feel like listening to your parents nag at you for not picking up the phone if it happens to be them. “Ugh, seriously.” You mutter and quickly run downstairs to the kitchen.

“Hello?” You softly sigh while twirling a piece of your hair around your finger.

“Hello,” some guy’s deep voice greets you, he says nothing else and you tilt your head in confusion muttering a soft ‘yes?’. “Who is this?”

Immediately you frown in confusion and balance the phone between your ear and shoulder, “Who are you trying to reach?” You pop a piece of chicken from your mom’s leftover casserole into your mouth.

“What number is this?”

“Uhh..what number are you trying to reach?”

“I don’t know.”

You hold back a deep sigh and check the time behind you on the clock, you really don’t have patience for this nonsense. Especially for some weirdo who’s either prank calling or just doesn’t know how to work a phone. “Then you have the wrong number,” you eat another piece of casserole, “it happens, take it easy though.” You hang up quickly before he can utter another word to you.

You had just set the phone down when it began to ring all over again, “Ugh…hello?” You stare at the decorative ceiling in annoyance, “Hello?” You say loudly when the other person doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“Why don’t you wanna talk to me? Just wanted to apologize, ‘s all.” He says with a teasing lilt, but it sounds more condescending than anything, “Just wanna..get to know you.”

You ignore the nasty little shiver you get down your spine when he talks to you like that, a deeper part of you is literally drooling over how this guy’s voice sounds but too bad he’s a weirdo though.. Your gut twists uncomfortably as your eyes dart to the side to look out the patio doors. “Okay..well you’re forgiven now, bye.” You go to hang up.

“Wait–if you tell me your name I’ll tell you mine.”

You can’t help your scoff, “Yeah, right. I don’t think so, why the hell would I give you my name? You sound like a total creep right now, you know that?” You huff and open your fridge up for a drink, “Besides, what’s your deal anyways? You keep calling and I’m obviously not who you’re looking for.” You complain while uncapping a bottle of water.

“Because,” he calmly starts, “I wanna know who I’m lookin’ at right now.. Pretty red lips and a tight little uniform on,” he draws out huskily.

You immediately go still, “W-What…how do you..?” you look around the empty kitchen and living room. “This isn’t funny.” You quickly head down the hall to the front door, making sure the locks are set before you go back to the living room and make sure the patio doors are locked as well.

“Never said it was babydoll.” He muses, “Though I do gotta admit, red looks spectacular on you, wonder if you got more around here in your drawers.” He trails off, the sound of drawers slamming close and another opening could be heard on the other side of the line.

You wait with a bated breath listening carefully, you slowly turn your head to look up at the ceiling. There’s a low thumping noise that follows the sounds you hear from the phone. Your eyes slip shut as you try to control the sob that’s about to come out of your throat, “What do you want from me?” You croak in a tiny voice.

“What’s your favorite scary movie sweetheart, hm?” His footsteps are heavy as he starts walking around upstairs in your room.

You blink your tears away and stumble towards the hallway to your only escape route: your dad’s office. “I-I don’t like any scary movies,” you whimper quietly, “p-please, I don’t wanna die.” You sniffle. You can hear him humming in the hallway upstairs now, causing you to duck into the office as silent as you can.

“That wasn’t my question. Time’s ticking babydoll, I’m not exactly a patient guy you know.”

“H-Halloween..!” You whisper-yell, “I like Halloween.”

“Which one?” He asks, you can hear him loud and clear at the bottom of the staircase, “Hm?”

You sniffle softly and back away, “Rob Zombie’s version,” you utter softly and hear him pause in his footsteps. He stands there for a few seconds before he slowly draws nearer and nearer. Your eyes squeeze shut as a terrified whimper escapes your lips, before you can plead with him the door slowly creaks open and a hooded figure stands in the doorway with the phone held up to his ear. You stare at him, the phone slipping from your trembling hand as it slams to the floor with a loud thud.

He tilts his head to the side and raises his gloved hand to wave at you. “Hey there sweetheart,” he purrs from under the mask.

You scream out in fear and knock over the desk chair, you’re lucky as hell your dad has a set of patio doors himself. You slip through the doors and run down the small hill, looking back and forth in time to see the hooded figure chasing after you.

The sounds of leaves crunching and branches snapping fill both sides of your ears. Adrenaline kicks in like never before and has you running the fastest you’ve ever moved in your entire life. If you can lose him in the woods you’ll make it to your neighbors’ in five minutes tops, might even get lucky if you detour to the main road but the hill to climb up will only slow you down.

“Don’t be like that babydoll!” He calls out from your left? Right? You don’t know where his voice is coming from, and quite frankly you’re too scared to look. You hear his heavy footsteps (now) directly behind you before a hand tangles itself in the back of your uniform top, gripping it tight as he stops you from going any further.

The force itself is enough to send you flying to the ground, knees scraping hard against a tree stump. You break your fall with your hands, crying out from the pain that erupts in both palms as tiny twigs and rocks dig into your soft skin. “Gotcha.” He chuckles and squats down to your level to admire your bruised form. You must have gave him a run for his money with how hard he’s breathing under the mask.

“P-Please!” You crawl backwards, back hitting the tree stump, “I don’t wanna die,” you pathetically cry, “I promise I won’t tell anyone if you let me go.” Call it cliche but it was worth a shot to plead with your killer? Stalker? You don’t know anymore.

He tilts his head, “Heard that one before, you’re not the first to beg so sweetly like that babydoll. Almost melts my poor little heart,” he coos mockingly, “but don’t stress your pretty little head over that, you’re not meant to use that brain of yours—meant to sit and look pretty for me.” He purrs and reaches out to run a gloved hand over your dirt stricken thighs.

You curl away and try to escape his touch, “Why are you doing this?” You whimper quietly, watching as his hand rubs circles over your bruised knees. A tremor runs down your spine as his leather gloves run over your shaking thighs, his touch feels scorching hot despite the cool material of his gloves pressing against your skin.

“Been watchin’ ya for a while,” he murmurs, “night n day—just imagining allll the different ways I could have you. Bet you’d look pretty with a mouth stuffed full of cock, wonder how pretty you’d look with cock deep inside your little cunt baby,” he trails off while giving your thigh a rough squeeze, “always did wonder how that pussy tastes.” You can practically picture the shit eating grin he must have under the mask.

You hate that his nasty words have a bubbling heat building in your lower stomach, it shouldn’t be that arousing to you yet here you were in the middle of the woods being fondled by your stalker while he talked about how much he wanted to fuck you. His voice even sounds hotter in person vs the phone.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He chuckles.

You land a harsh kick to his arm with a loud, “Get off of me!” You quickly turn over to stumble to your feet while he curses under his breath and stands to chase after you.

He’s not so gentle this time with the way he snatches you and slams you right up against the tree trunk, letting the chips and splinters bite into your skin unforgivingly. “Thought we were over this,” he growls, “was gonna treat you nice and sweet but by the looks of it you just wanna be tossed around like the filthy little slut you are,” he hisses in your ear while pressing you tight against the tree.

You whine loudly and push back against him in an effort to get him off of you, “Let me go—let go!” You growl angrily, “you’re a fucking psycho creep!” You grit your teeth while trying to turn to look directly at him.

He doesn’t shy away from hurting you to get you to become docile again. He pins both wrists behind your back in a tight grip, squeezing both of your hands until you hear a low threatening pop. A pained little whimper escapes your lip as he forces your head against the bark, “You gonna sit still like a good girl or do I have to tie you up?” He growls menacingly.

“I-I’ll be good!” You cry out as the pain starts to become unbearable.

“What was that?” He whispers in your ear, “Couldn’t hear ya.” He smirks.

A quiet sob slips from your lips as you slump over in defeat, “I-I’ll be a good girl.” You softly reply, too hung up on the pain to reply with the unbridled anger you feel right now. “Just please—let me go.” You sob.

He ignores your cries and instead brings out a rather intimidating looking hunting knife, it cuts into your skin almost right away with the slightest little touch. “Please no—” You immediately begin, thighs shifting as they slide against each other in an attempt to block him from either cutting or stabbing you. The only thing you achieve is the blade running into your thigh and slicing a small line downwards.

“None of that now babydoll,” he whispers while letting your wrists go and setting his big hand over your hip, “just sit still and look pretty for me yeah? Don’t need to think, just feel.” He breathes out as he guides the knife up your skirt, letting the sharp tip (which you noticed was slightly curved like a hook or something) hook under the side of your panties.

Your poor heart hammers in your chest as you begin to hyperventilate, “W-What are you gonna do to me?” The blade tugs at your panties, no doubt already piercing through the flimsy little material.

“Fuck.” You hear him whisper from behind, “You’re driving me fuckin’ crazy you know that?” His tongue clicks in annoyance as he suddenly yanks the knife down, a loud riiip following in suit, as well as your terrified scream/sob. “Gonna have a taste now babydoll, put your hands right there—yeahhh, good girl. Keep ‘em there baby,” he has you bending over with your legs spread wide apart and your hands over the tree, “ ‘s like a fuckin’ dream back here, fat little cunt n a nice ass.” He whistles while smacking his hand against your poor cheek.

You bite your lip as the cool air fans over your moist cunt, at this point in time you have long given up making any excuses as to why your pussy was drooling for this weirdo. Still didn’t mean you were less scared but you figured if you complied the faster things would go over. “Look at this slutty pussy, already leakin’ like a bitch in heat. Does a scary man like me chasing you through the woods get you goin’ sweetheart? Maybe you’re a little more fucked than I thought.” He chuckles.

There’s a brief pause and you wonder what he’s doing back there, so you turn your head to look at him when you gasp softly. He has the mask thrown off to the side, his face in all his glory—messy black hair and a lip ring with an array of piercings on his ears— he sits there with a shit eating grin, “Guess the cat’s out the bag huh?” You eye him with distaste before turning back around, you had at least hoped he was ugly or something.

“God,” he groans, “can’t get over this ass,” he mutters to himself while smacking both cheeks and pulling them apart to expose both of your holes to him, “wanna see it wrapped ‘round my cock, gonna have you squirting and messy babydoll. Might even have to get you on your knees to clean up your mess,” he whispers as his hot breath fans over your pussy lips, “you’re gonna be lookin’ at me with those sweet little eyes of yours too, gonna bust my load all over that pretty face of yours.” His tongue dips between your soft folds, licking from your winking hole down to your swollen little clit hiding under its hood.

Your eyes squeeze shut as his hands steady you by the hips, his face is practically smushed against your cunt as he slobbers over it with his greedy tongue. He sucks on your inner folds, getting every nook and cranny as he slurps up the mess he leaves behind before lapping over your clit with his tongue. Your thighs shake a little, you’ve never had anyone this eager to eat your cunt out like this. He’s a fucking menace and you hate how good he is at this.

“Fuck,” he pants softly, “can’t get enough baby, could eat this pussy for days.” He all but moans while latching on to your clit.

A shocked cry leaves your lips, you dig your nails into the tree bark and hold on tightly as your swollen bud throbs in his mouth. He doesn’t let up, suckling on your clit like a lollipop with just the right amount of pressure around the bud. A new wave of slick gushes from your untouched hole, loud mewls and whines leaving you as you subtly rut back against his face. It’s pure heaven.

He spreads your cheeks apart and pulls back to harshly spit on your cunt, “There you go, get nice n wet for me babydoll.” His hot breath fans over your empty little hole, “Good girl.”

You shouldn’t like the way he’s talking to you, but something about him calling you that has a delirious little whimper leaving you. He dips his tongue into your pussy, the sensation definitely welcomed as you sigh in bliss. His tongue wiggles around and curls upwards to brush over your sensitive walls in a flicking motion.

He jiggles your ass in both hands, moaning at the sight of the fat slipping through his fingers from his tight grip. He flicks his tongue back and forth over your swollen bud, you nearly double over as his tongue traces letters on your clit. “W-Wait,” you bite your lip as your eyes shut and you reach behind you to tangle your hand in his hair.

You freeze when you realize what you’re doing, but instead of getting angry with you he leans into your touch with a low moan. Clearly he loves it so you keep your hand in his hair, occasionally pulling just a tiny bit. When he pulls back to catch his breath, audibly gulping as he sits back on his haunches, “Turn around.” He says breathlessly.

From behind you can hear him shuffling around, the sounds of a belt being unbuckled fills your ears. “On your knees babydoll,” he rasps out while fisting his cock, sliding his thumb over the mess of precum he’s made at the tip of his cock. He’s watching you with dark lust filled eyes as you slowly fall to your knees in front of him, eye contact never wavering.

“Shit—when you look like that you make it harder for me to hold back.” He groans while licking his lip, “Exactly how I imagined you’d look.” He purrs as he brings the head of his cock to smother his precum over them, “Stick your tongue out for me baby—there you go, just like that.” He grins softly.

You lay your tongue flat under his fat cock, delighting in the delicious weight over your tongue. You can’t help but flick the tip of your tongue upwards causing it to brush over a throbbing vein. He releases a quiet hiss, fisting the shaft as he roughly slaps it against your tongue in repeated taps.

“Will you look at that, ‘nother little filthy slut we got here, how many other cocks you sucked huh?” He pushes into your mouth and holds the back of your head with one hand tightly fisted in your hair. You gag around his cock and fruitlessly claw at his thighs, “What’s the matter? Can’t take it? Poor baby can’t handle having a cock stuffed down her throat? Pathetic little thing you are, can’t even do what you were made for,” he rasps out while rolling his hips against your face.

His balls press snug against your chin as spit and drool dribble from the corners of your mouth. Your tears run freely no doubt ruining your makeup for the night, you probably look a hot mess right now. Your stalker moans and pants freely above you, he doesn’t bother hiding how good he feels right now as his cock twitches occasionally. You really lose it when he forces your head down and keeps you still, pelvis pressed right up against your nose as he rolls his hips in quick grinds.

“Oh shit,” he breathes out, “feels so fuckin’ good babydoll, knew you were the one when I first saw you.” He whispers out while slipping his cock out of your mouth, relishing in the gasping noises you make, “Gonna make you into my little cock sleeve, don’t need you doin’ anything else..belong with me right on my cock.” He shoves himself back into your mouth and begins fucking into your throat roughly. You cry and gurgle while weakly slapping your hands over his thighs. He doesn’t let up and only fucks your throat more eagerly.

“Fuck baby, c’mere,” he yanks you off his cock and brings you up to him.

He doesn’t waste time bending you back over the three and shoving his fat cock into you. You let out a loud cry and dig your nails into the tree from the pressure and slight twinge of pain from the size of his girthy cock. It sits nice and snug against your walls, curved slightly upwards to press into your g-spot, not quite hitting it but brushing over it.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper out as your toes curl from inside your shoes.

When a couple more seconds pass of him just idly rocking into you, he pulls all the way out until only the head remains before slamming back in with a loud slap. You jolt in pleasure as a tiny scream escapes, he doesn’t let up and keeps the same harsh pace he started with. His cock punches deep into your pussy, poking at your cervix painfully as you yelp out in pain between your moans.

“Fucking hell,” he moans out while moving his hands from your hips to your bouncing tits, “got a nice little pussy n a pair of pretty tits just for me right sweetheart?” He slaps one of your tits before taking your pebbled little nipple between his fingers and meanly pinching it.

“Mm!” You arch your back and try to twist away from his bruising grip. He manages to grip your other tit and knead it in his big hand.

Loud squelching noises fill the space around you in the woods, some of your slick even drips down onto the ground with tiny wet splats. The sound is filthy and has your face burning up in embarrassment as you hide in your hands with low whimpers and whiny moans. He suddenly changes the angle and begins grinding his fat cock right up against your g-spot, pressing insistently as he hits it over and over again.

“Oh you like it there don’t you sweetheart,” he grins while rolling his hips in slow circles, “go on then, fuck yourself on my cock like the little whore you are. Get that pussy nice and soaked for me.” He growls quietly in your ear while pinching your nipples once more.

A quiet squeal erupts from your throat, you shakily manage to knock your hips into his in a sloppy pace. “Please,” you slur out as your eyes slip shut, “c-can’t do it,” your pace is nowhere near the same as before.

“Can’t what?” He moves one hand down between your thighs, “Hm?”

You press your forehead against the tree bark in defeat, sobbing quietly as you wiggle your hips side to side, “ ‘s not the same, need you to f-fuck me.” You shamefully admit.

“Like this?” He slaps his hips upwards, “Or like this sweetheart?” He purrs and begins plowing into your drenched pussy, stuffing his cock deep inside with every thrust.

You throw your head back with a loud moan, “Yes, yes!” More drool begins slipping from your chin as you part your legs a bit wider and arch your back.

He swears at you from under his breath while rolling your swollen clit between his fingers. The sounds of skin slapping against skin begin louder, his balls collide with your swollen puffy folds and your ass ripples from his pelvis from his harsh thrusts. “Little fucking slut,” he grits out through his harsh punishing thrusts, “fuckin’ mine you hear that? So help me you ever think of looking at someone else I’ll fuckin gut them like a fish n fuck you over their dead body.” He hisses, “Better yet covered in their blood.” He roughly smacks your clit.

You mewl loudly and go still, your pussy pulses like crazy as you feel your orgasm hit you at full force. You cum with your clit trapped between his fingers and his cock stuffed deep. The orgasm is so strong it knocks you off your feet as you wobble and shake like a newborn lamb. “P-Please,” you sob out.

“On your knees,” he growls while slipping from your drenched cunt, “fuckin’ look at me.” He aims his cock at your face and strokes himself with loud slick noises. You stare up at him with a dazed expression, too fucked out to reply. He cums with a low moan, making sure to coat your lips and face with his cum as he taps the head against your cheek, “Fuck…” He sighs in bliss while lazily flicking his wrist.

You blink slowly and the last thing you see is him picking his knife back up.

+

Jungkook hums under his breath while he lazily digs through his bowl of popcorn, he’s been switching channels for a couple of minutes now. Nothing good is ever on these days, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head while flicking through the channels.

“Oh,” his face lights up in joy, “baby come look at this,” he grins and turns the volume up all the way high, “found somethin’ perfect for movie night.” He turns to look behind him, eyes wild and filled with sadistic joy.

“She was last seen Friday in the evening by her parents who were only going a few towns over to visit family. Her friends have all stated she was supposed to be meeting them that night but never showed, one even said they had spoken to her hours prior about their plans to meet. They said she wasn’t acting suspicious or anything—”

A muffled sob erupts, the sound of a cage rattling heard next as Jungkook slowly turns to look at your cowering form. You look so adorable all curled up in the cage like that, mascara streaking and lips wiped red from your lipstick. “Don’t like that movie?” He pouts, “Pity.” He turns back around and replays the entire missing persons ad.

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @gukiebaby @babycandy111

[halloween m.list]

[artssslut2]

Champ

Summary: Arts wife goes into labor during one of his most important matches and Patrick is caught in the middle.

Art Donaldson x Reader

Okay it’s a little long but I like the way it turned out! Please send requests in!

It was July, it was hot and you were heavily pregnant. The combo did not go well, you were so uncomfortable and anyone around you longer than ten minutes knew it especially Art. Art felt terrible he didn’t know how to help, you were so irritated most of the times he felt like it was his fault. But if he acted like it was his fault you would cry and think your a bad wife so he just kept to himself and did the best he could, doing whatever he could for you.

You and Art had been back at home for a few months and were able to get the nursery all set up and were ready to welcome your baby girl. However Art had one last match before you planned to give birth. The U.S open. Luckily it was right by your house this year so you didn’t have to travel. You were doing your best to support his prep but you were kind of pre occupied.

It was the day before the match, Art was off because he always took the day off before a match to rest and reset,

“Can I get you anything babe?” Art asked you standing up from the outdoor lounge bed. It was a painfully hot day and your air conditioning had broke in your house so you and Art were outside relaxing

“No Art sit down. I should be getting you stuff you have the most important-“ Art cut you off while you tried sitting up

“Hey hey stop, it’s okay just relax, you have something big coming up too so let me take care of you” he said making you lay back down

“Art I’m such a bad wife” you started to cry, you felt pathetic, Art knew the drill

“Baby stop your the greatest wife you know that” Art knew what would make you feel better even if it would make him feel worse “can you… get me some water?” He offered more for you than him. You stopped crying and started to stand up and grab his some water,

“It is so fucking hot!” You yelled aggressively handing your husband your water, “I just need this baby to get the fuck out! My back hurts my feet hurt I’m huge and it’s so fucking hot!” You continued on your hormonal rampage Art stood up letting you finish which he learned was best. He walked up to you and wrapped His arms around you, you slowly gave in Art waited a minute before saying soemthing

“You know it’s so amazing what your doing for our little girl, I’m sorry it’s so hot out. But it two weeks we will get to see Lily, and hold her and I will never let her forget all that you did to bring her into the world.” He softly told you. You loved him so much he always knew what to do

“ I love you Art. thank you I’m sorry I’m such a wreck.” You said into his chest

“You’re allowed to be my love… want me to give you a back massage?” He offered, you just looked up at him smiling already going inside.

“I’ll text Patrick and tell him to bring over all of his fans.” Art said picking up his phone

The rest of the night you spent relaxing as did Art, doing some minor prep things for his huge match tomorrow. You knew he was nervous this is the first open of his career. Patrick had brought over four fans which helped but not much.

Throughout the night you couldn’t sleep which wasn’t unusual for you lately but this was different you were having some pain in your stomach and back. You have had Braxton hicks before but these felt different, you were pretty sure they were real contractions. This couldn’t be happening not now before your husbands big match. You tried to stay calm mabye it would pass and you were just over reacting. You decided not to say anything to Art, he needed to focus. If he knew that anything was wrong he would not play as well. Besides the contraction we’re very far apart and not frequent enough to worry anyways.

You picked out Arts outfit like you always did. Art was leaving before you to warm up and get ready.

“Patrick is gonna pick up in a half an hour, I don’t want you to have to drive right now” he told you, you rolled your eyes playfully at his over protectiveness. You may have protested but you didn’t think it was a good idea to drive either.

“Go get ‘em champ” you whispered before kissing him with your arms around his shoulders, he gave you a nervous smile then leaned down to your bump

“Hey Lily girl wish your daddy luck today, okay?“ he kissed your belly making you smile, she definitely was wishing him luck. Art kissed you once more before leaving. You finished getting ready, you had only felt one contraction since he left about fifteens ago. They were starting to get more intense, you wished Art was here to support you.

Patrick came though the front door as you were leaned over clutching the counter top in the middle of a contraction.

“Fuck y/n are you okay what’s going on!?” He rushed over to you putting his hand on your back, the contraction ended after about 40 seconds

“Yeah I’m fine. I’m just… I’m fine” you stuttered. Patrick looked at you knowing you were lying. He looked terrified “I think I’m in labor” you continued. Patrick’s mouth opened wider

“Well should I call Art?!” He panicked already grabbing his phone

“No! Don’t call him!” Patrick looked at you very confused “he can’t know this is the most important match of his Career he can’t miss it or be distracted. He can’t” you had tears in your eyes because of how terrible you felt that this was happening today.

“Y/n you gotta call him it will be fine” Patrick tried convincing you

“No Patrick! It’s fine the contractions are far apart and spontaneous, it might not even be real, and if it is we’ve got a lot of time so we are going to the fucking match and we are going to support my husband and not take this away from him! So get in the damn car right now so we aren’t late!” You ordered, Patrick hesitated then decided to listen to you. You took a deep breath and headed out to the car as well.

The drive to the stadium you had one more contraction only lasting 30 seconds this made you feel better because you knew they should be one minute before thinking about going to the hospital.

You and Patrick sat in the stands, Patrick keeping a very close eye on you. He was scared shitless and it was obvious. The coin toss just happened art was serving first he saw you in the stands and gave you a smile and a quick wave. You did your best to not look freaked out.

The match was going well art won the first set and they were on to the second it had taken about an hour and you had three more contractions but they weren’t too intense. The two player just started the second set when you felt another one hit you like a train this time in your back too, you gasped grabbing Patrick’s forearm tightly. You looked at you,

“Y/n, Y/n is that another one? Y/n”

“Just shut up” you said through gritted teeth squeezing his arm so tight.

“Pat you gotta do me a favor and time them okay? How far apart they are and how long they last, please” you asked him letting go of his arm.

“Of course. But we really gotta go I think we should at least tell someone on Arts team or-“

“No! It’s almost done he needs to win this I’m fine, my water didn’t even break yet” you interrupted him trying to believe your own words, but as the day progresses you started to panic more. You knew it was the real thing now.

It had only been about an hour but it felt like a lifetime. Art lost the second set so now they had to play a third. Contractions had really started to pick up and you didn’t know how much longer you could last.

“Y/n that’s eight minutes apart. Stop this you have to go.” Patrick told you trying to be firm

“Don’t you want him to win!?” You said in a whisper yell,

“I don’t want you to have his kid in the stands!” He whisper yelled back. A few people around you probably cougt on but you didn’t care.

“It’s almost over. Your supposed to go to the hospital at five minute and eight minutes is not five minutes Patrick” you said clearly not budging on your plan. Patrick put his head in his hands, he was a mess, sweating pale you’d think he was the one in labor.

It had been another hour and the match wasn’t over. Luckily things hadn’t progressed to much probably because you were just sitting this whole time. Contractions were six minutes apart. You were in so much pain you couldn’t believe it. You were trying to hide it from everyone but it was becoming harder. Patrick was bouncing his leg nervously and it was driving you insane.

“Patrick stop.” You said glaring at him

“I’m nervous okay. This is crazy”

“I know it is. But can you just stop being so annoying because I’m nervous too. I’m about to give birth on live television at my husbands tennis match.” You told him, he looked at you realizing he should stop being a baby

“You’re right y/n I’m sorry. It shouldn’t be too much longer now. Can I get you anything a water?” He offered putting his hand on your knee.

“Yes please thank you” you patted his hand but before he could stand up the crowd went wild. To be honest you or Patrick weren’t paying attention to the match at all. You looked down at the court. Art had won. You totally forgot about how much pain you were in for a second seeing the confetti fall down to the courts

“Oh my god Patrick!” You smiled Pulling Patrick in for a hug

“He won he fucking won! He’s won the US open!” Patrick cheered, everything felt unreal until another contraction came crashing through ruining the moment

“Fuck Patrick get Art we gotta go now” you said clutching him to help keep you standing, he held you up until it was over

“Okay I’m going just hold on” he said helping you sit down, Patrick ran down the stairs leaning over the edge to motion art towards him art had just finished shaking his opponents hand than ran over to him while simultaneously looking for you in the crowd. You couldn’t hear what Patrick said you just saw arts face go into shock as he was frozen then Patrick hit his arm and art leaped over the bar into the stands. People were still cheering like crazy. Art found you in the stands and bolted towards you kneeling in front of where you were sitting

“Hey baby what’s going on?” Art said out of breath and panicked

“I’m definitely having this baby now” you said feeling another contraction come on Patrick was right behind Art. Now the three of you had caught some attention. Art looked shocked and confused

“Oh my good um okay I’ll- i um- I don’t hav e my car here fuck” Art stuttered looking like a mess still sweaty from his match and in shock that he’s about to have a baby

“We can take mine come on!” Patrick said both boys helped you up out of the seat. The crowd was still cheering and arts coach’s and team were looking for him, he would explain later. He didn’t care about giving a speech or doing interviews or any of that all he cared about was you.

You all piled into the car after making your way through all the people, people were shouting at Art cheering for him asking for autographs but be totally blocked it all out. Art sat in the back you were in the front,

“How long have your been in labor?” He asked leaning over the seat from the middle

“Since this morning, we’ll kind of last night” you admitted feeling guilty all of the sudden

“What!? Why didn’t you tell me y/n!?”

“I couldnt! You had to play, you couldn’t miss this match Art!”

“Well I can’t miss the birth of our child either!”

“Well you didn’t! And I knew if you knew I was having contractions you wouldn’t play as well, and I haven’t had her yet and you won so we are all winners!”

“Guys! Mabye you should focus on the big picture?” Patrick shouted interrupting you and arts disagreement

“Your right I’m sorry baby, I’m just surprised. Are you okay how do you feel?” Art asked shifting to a calming compassionate tone that instantly made you feel more comfortable.

“I’ve been better. I’m just happy you’re here now. I was starting to freak out I thought the match would never end” you reached grabbing his hand looking back at him he looked at you and smiled

“We’re having a baby y/n” he laughed kissing you. Just then you felt something pop, your legs became wet. Fuck.

“Shit I think my water just broke” you cursed looking at Art terrified, you saw Patrick grimace probably worried about his car seat

“Uh um. It’s okay baby we’re almost there just take deep breaths” Art said stroking your arm. Art was terrified but he knew you were too. He didn’t have time to freak out and he needed to be there for you in case you freaked out.

“Fuck I’m scared Art.” You whimpered you hadn’t even realized how scared you were because you were so focused on trying to get through the match.

“I know. Me too. But your already doing so great. I can’t believe you were doing this all alone”

“I mean I was there too” Patrick chimed in but you both ignored him

“Your gonna be such a good mom y/n I’m so proud of you my love” you spoke softly cupping your face. Another contraction ripped through you the worst one you’ve had yet you let out a gutteral moan grabbing Arts hand, you could hardly breath. You couldn’t talk through it, it was much more intense now.

“Patrick how far away are we?” Art asked trying to stay calm

“ like ten minutes but we’re stuck in traffic so I don’t know” he said also trying to stay calm

“I don’t want to have a baby in Patrick’s car” you cried as you felt the contraction coming to an end

“You’re not baby it’s okay we will be there soon” Art reassured but was terrified you might actually have a baby in his best friends car.

You had been sitting traffic for ten minutes and your contractions were now four minutes apart. You were arched off the seat grabbing your stomach trying to get through the contraction, Art looked like he was about to cry from seeing you in so much pain. Patrick looked angry that there was so much traffic.

“Your doing so good y/n/n, just keep breathing okay?” He said stroking your hair.

“Art what do we do?” You asked scared that the traffic wouldn’t let up

“We um we-“

“Finally!” Patrick yelled seeing the traffic break. Everyone sighed with relief.

You had finally made it to the hospital and were settled in a room laying down with Art kneeling by your head stroking your hair. Art sent Patrick back to let his team know why he left and make sure everything was okay. Your labor seemed to be at a stand still, no progress had been made since you arrived.

“Hey I never told you how proud I was of you champ.” You said facing your husband smiling putting a hand on his face

“Well you were kind of busy” he laughed kissing your nose

“Sorry we couldn’t celebrate”

“This is a pretty good way to celebrate are you kidding?” He chuckled

“We’re gonna be parents. Like tonight” you whispered sweetly to him he had tears in his eyes

“Thank you for going through this all baby I owe you everything” he kissed you.

It had been another hour. Very little progress had been made you were so frustrated and just wanted to get your baby girl out and hold her. They suggested walking around to help move the process along which was the last thing you wanted to do. But here you were walking around with Art right by your side. Another contraction came on and you helped in pain, your arms were around arts shoulders as you leaned down in pain. He held you up and swayed you back and fourth.

“I can’t do this anymore” you cried grabbing your husband for dear life.

“What can I do for you y/n how can I help you babe” he asked wholeheartedly

“Can you help me walk, I gotta hurry this up” you said breathlessly. Art came behind you and wrapped his arms under your armpits and walked with you, pretty much for you. You couldn’t ask for a better father of your child. He was the most supportive guy you’d ever seen. He would do this for hours for you.

Now you were settled back in bed exhausted. It felt like an eternity had gone by but then the nurse came in to check you.

“Alright your ready to push I’ll call the doctor in” she smiled. You were shocked and scared. You looked at Art

“What? I don’t I can’t I’m not ready I can’t-“yes you can y/n. I know you can. Your the strongest person I know you’ve made it this far I’ll be here the whole time.” He instructed you. You looked up at him with tears nodding.

It had been half an hour and you were still pushing not making much progress. Everyone could tell you were exhausted.

“Y/n cmon you have to push harder we gotta get this baby out” the doctor said

“I can’t … I can’t do it anymore” you cried feeling lifeless. Art didn’t say anything he just climbed in bed behind you and straddled you holding you up with his body.

“Now y/n push” the doctor told you again

“Baby look at me just look at me. You can do it only a few more than you’ll be able to hold Lily. Okay? You got this champ” he told you tears in his eyes too. You let your head fall back on his shoulder as you screamed in pain pushing as hard as you could. Art was holding you legs back with his arms around you.

“Good good, just one more y/n” the doctor told you

“Your doing so good darling just one more” art was in tears you couldn’t see but you knew. You have one more push before hearing a very loud cry

“Oh my god” you cried as they Laid your daughter on your chest

“Congratulations you have a little girl. “ the doctor smiled. Art was speechless and balling, he couldn’t believe his baby was here he was holding the love of his life who was holding the other love of his life that you two created together, it was a perfect moment.

“We gotta have more Art she’s so cute” you said crying harder every second, everyone in the room laughed,

“I can’t believe it y/n. Thank you so much thank you so so much” he said crying into your hair. He reached his arm around to the baby who grabbed his finger with her tiny hand. You both cried with joy

“Oh my god look at her fingernails” Art said still in disbelief “there so tiny”

“Art we have a daughter” you said to him as he kissed your cheek multiple times

“Does she have a name?” The doctor asked

“Lily” you both said at the same time smiling. You and Art decided on her middle name a few weeks ago

“Hi Lily Jane” you whispered kissing her head. You were so content with your family. All the pain and tears were 100% worth it.

Later on that night Lily was cleaned and wrapped up in a cute little blanket with a hat on in her dads arms next to the hospital bed asleep. Art was smiling down at her still teary eyed. After examining all your babies features you decided she was a clone of her father. She had your lips but his everything else. Even a little speck of brown in her blue eyes that made your heart swell. You had never been more tired but you also had never been happier.

“She’s so beautiful” Art whispered trying not to wake her up “I could look at her for hours.” He smiled

“She looks just like you baby” you told him, he looked at you then her and smiled

“ I don’t know I see you a lot in her too” he told you. Just then you heard a knock at the door and saw Patrick’s head poke through, he was carrying the trophy Art had won

“Hey I thought I’d bring this by” he said quietly “is now a good time?” He asked softly, you nodded and he came into the room

“Wow.” He said carefully walking over to Art staring at the baby in his arms “She’s uh wow she’s-“

“I know.” You finished knowing his was mezmorized by his niece.

“I’m so proud of you guys” he said speaking from the heart

“You wanna hold her?” Art looked up at his best friend

“Oh I don’t know she looks pretty comfortable”

“Oh come on she’s gotta meet her uncle.” Art said standing up and handing him the tiny baby. Patrick took a deep breath staring at her

“Jesus Art she’s your twin” he laughed “Let’s hope she doesn’t get your ears” he teased

“Yeah Pat your one to talk” he he teased back.

Patrick didn’t stay long it was getting pretty late. You and Art decided to announce it on his social media to fill everyone in on why he rushed out of there after winning. He posted a picture you took of him holding Lily in one arm and his trophy from that day in the other. He captioned the picture with

@ArtDondson:

I didn’t think my day could get any better… but it did. Welcome to the world sweet Lily Jane, she’s already our little champ🤍

Of course the post blew up and many people commented and reporters contacted him but he ignored it. At least for now. He had never been so happy with his life than in this moment. This day would go down in history for the Donaldson family.

[xeeljii]

CURRENTS ⋆⭒˚.⋆

PART 1: New Person, Same Old Mistakes

WARNING! Explicit RPF! 

Summary: You and Joost were never lovers, never friends but something in the middle that ended up hurting more, you meet again years later and many things have changed but others stay the same. 

Word count: 4.9k

CW: 18+, f! reader, friends with benefits, mentions of past sex, jealousy, angst, rekindling (?)

The fall had been hard and fast as much as you didn’t want it to. Joost was cute and funny, killer combo and you had great chemistry in bed, cherry on top. The problem was that he had just gotten out of a committed relationship and was not looking for that again, good, cool, totally fine, neither were you. That is what your twenties are for just, casual sex and silly mistakes and he was perfect for that, until it wasn’t so perfect. Because again, he was very cute and very funny and you could lie to yourself about your feelings only for so long before they became unbearable like an invisible hand slowly choking you. 

You and Joost had met one of those days where he had been jumping around from bar to bar getting wasted seeing where he would end the night to avoid ending at his own place all alone again. He had told you you caught his eyes because you had such a pretty face, but in truth he just liked your laughter, you had been with a group of friends and the sweet sound of it kept calling to him like a siren song. He had finally built courage to approach you. You were very beautiful but more than that you were fun, he liked that, he felt like he could talk to you for hours without it getting tiring but also he was very curious to know what you looked like underneath all your pretty clothes so after seeing the way you kept blushing when his eyes lingered on you he bluntly asked. 

“Your place or mine?” He said it with way more confidence than he felt, in those days it was what he did, just fake it until you make it, and somehow it worked, sometimes at least. You had faintly seen trough it but he was so handsome and had an aura about him that pulled people in so you decided to ignore the warning signs. 

“Mine” You replied with a grin. 

Whether it was a good or bad decision you had no idea but you were unwilling to let such an opportunity with such a man pass you by. He had eaten your pussy like a starved man kissing through the lace of your panties, licking and sucking at your folds, you had never come that hard before, never had met someone who did it like it was pleasurable for them too and not just a curtesy at most. When you saw him disappear between your legs at first you had almost stopped him too shy to have him that close to you but he spoke before you could even gather your words. 

“I’m thicker than most so you need this.” He smiled a little self satisfied then looked at your wet heat and added. “But really you have such a pretty pussy it would be a waste not to.” He licked his lips in anticipation and then made you see stars. 

You thought he was bluffing at first but he was honest and he had you melting in his embrace with a few thrust and his deft fingers on your clit. That night he made you cum over and over until you couldn’t take his touch.

“I can’t anymore I surrender.” You said in fake dramatics putting your hand over your hard beating heart, he had laughed, a beautiful sound in the middle of the night, he had the prettiest smile you think you had ever seen, with deep dimples that adorned his cheeks.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” He asked, getting up from bed, you shook your head. 

“Just open the window or my landlord will kill me.”

“Well we wouldn’t want the girl with the prettiest pussy ever dying.” He had said cigarette hanging from his lips as he cracked the window open. 

“You are kind of a pervert.” You said shaking your head embarrassed and hiding behind the covers as you felt yourself blushing at his bluntness, he looked back at you and smiled as he took his first drag.

“If it is only kind of then it is fine.” He blew the smoke outside the room slowly.

The image of him sitting on your chair, naked, smoking out of the window of your tiny apartment would become ingrained in your mind for years to come haunting you when you least expected it. 

In the morning he had woken up and left before you but he had written his number in a piece of paper in the back of one of your shopping lists. Sure, he had probably been the best sex you had ever had, perhaps a little too rough at times but you weren’t entirely sure if getting involved with him further was a good idea, he very clearly had his own thing going on and while you weren’t entirely looking for a relationship you also weren’t entirely not looking for it so you were scared you would end up just being a disturbance in the middle of his easy going life. So you just threw the paper away, promising yourself to just let this be a night of fun and nothing more. But that was not what destiny had in plans for you at all. 

One night after some exams were done your friend group decided to party, someone had gotten tickets for a live show and that is how most of you ended up in some dark venue downing the cheapest drinks you could get. Just your luck, he was the performer. As soon as you recognized him up on stage you felt the room start to move underneath your feet, you felt dizzy like you would float away and yet you couldn’t move at all as if glued to the floor by his magnetism. It was the first of many times you would see him preform but it was your favorite and the one you kept closest to your heart. He was fun and charismatic, had people chanting his music back to him and dancing happily, his stage presence shone brightly but it also felt authentic. Time later you would realize when he was on stage he was most honest and truly himself and when he was with you, well you didn’t really know what to belive. 

You stood there in the middle of moving bodies with booming bass pounding in your ears, completely enamored by his presence, and you knew you weren’t the only one. Out of the corner of your eyes you would see all the pretty girls close to the stage raising their hands to touch him, to get his attention. Star power underneath the surface waiting to come out, he was standing at the edge of greatness and didn’t even realize it. Knowing you had actually had him in your bed not so long ago filled you with a weird sense of pride, but seeing their sparkling eyes beaming up at him also gave you a weird sense of jealousy that you knew you had no right to. At some point during his set you felt you had caught his eye and he seemed to smile when he recognized you but quickly looked away so you must have imagined it. Yet when it all ended and people were quickly dispersing after he disappeared back stage you saw security guard signaling to you with his hand when you looked at him he said. 

”You can come backstage.”

Your friend elbowed you with a giggle. “I didn’t know you were a groupie.”

“Neither did I.” You shrugged quickly and waved goodbye to your group to follow the man to the back of the venue.

You moved through long corridors until you reached a small room filled with people drinking and talking that didn't even look up at you. He appeared right in front of you, still shirtless and sweaty with messy hair sticking to his forehead. 

“Hi!” He said still a little breathless before pulling you in.

You looked around, everyone was busy on their own conversations, he had offered you a beer and you took it.

“Brining girls backstage after your show is kinda trashy.” You said with a small smile, he took a sip of his own drink and shrugged lightly. 

“Well I only bring the prettiest ones so it isn’t as bad, no?”

That one had hurt uncomfortably, you didn’t know exactly why so you just took a sip of the beer avoiding his eyes. He noticed your silence and tried to get your attention back, he had been eagerly waiting for your call and when you didn’t he felt stupid for not asking for your number instead.  

“You didn’t call me.” He said matter of factly staring you down, you were hoping he wouldn’t bring it up, not really sure what your excuse should be for that, he continued. “You just used me for my body and threw me out!” He added faking an insulted tone covering at his chest with his hands, you rolled your eyes at him and laughed. 

“You got me” You said all sarcastic.

He giggled then bent down a little to speak directly in your ear. “Then use me again. Or was I that bad?”

You had snorted shaking your head, you blushed deeply, red blooming over your face quickly.  He liked making you laugh, pulling that sweet sound off your lips and making you blush too, you would become so impossibly beautiful when a pretty red blush adorned your face, those became his favorite pastimes in the months he would be with you.

You had taken him back to your place that night and many after. It started a routine of seeing each other multiple times per week and then almost every day for months. He liked how you became bolder every time you did it, glowed more beautiful in the night with the light of the lampshade and became more outspoken about your desires, shy at first but then couldn’t get enough of him, it made him feel desired and important in ways that he hadn't in a long time.  It made him feel wanted like never before, it made his heart ache hoping for more but too scared to ask for it. And he got better too, was eager to listen to your little whimpers and sounds and the things you liked that made you wetter and hungrier.

He genuinely liked you, having sex was great but he enjoyed listening to you talk about your day, things so mundane he wouldn’t even know about but when coming form your lips seemed so interesting. He enjoyed showering together, in the smallest shower he had ever seen, while you giggled and pushed him away when he tried to grab you just to end up making out naked in the couch because otherwise your water bill would be too high. He like learning what foods you liked and which you didn’t, trial and error with each take out he brought when he visited, seeing the way your eyes lit up when he made a good choice and how you had the tiniest of pouts when he made the wrong one but still always so grateful, it made his heart skip a beat every time he could learn a new expression of yours. He just really enjoyed your company and your time, sometimes he would bring food but your would be too busy for anything else so you would just share a meal while you did your university work and he played on his phone or watched TV, those days ended up becoming his favorites even though he never told you, because when you were done you would always just ask him to stay the night saying it was too late for him to leave and he would, he wanted you to ask him to stay forever.

He liked sleeping in your embrace and waking up before you did to look at your calm beauty, but he also often left before you woke up suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that this was no longer just a fling and he didn’t know what his next step was. 

He would sometimes stumble into your apartment after a show, a little tipsy and all red to the tip of his ears, smelling of smoke but with a pretty smile adorning his face, a face you could never say no to. You didn’t like it at first, the smell of cigarettes would linger on your bed sheets but habit is a nasty monster and then it wouldn’t be so annoying, it would just remind you of him in a nice way even when he was gone by the morning. It also made you feel stupidly important, even though you knew he had no problem finding someone else to entertain his nights, he always seemed to be looking for you no matter how late or inconvenient making his way to your place was. And things were mostly fun, he would talk about music a lot, draw sitting in the little table at your kitchen and just enjoy spending his entire free days curled in your old couch even thought you distantly felt he could probably be doing something more exciting but you never asked because you didn’t want to ruin your own good luck. 

Those honeymoon days kept pilling one onto the other until his presence became a sweet habit and his absence hurt like hell.  He was nice and probably a lot better than some relationships you had had but not everything was perfect, not even close. He seemed to have this mask he would wear for the world, only really honest with his closest ones and you were clearly were not one of them, so you felt like you were staring from outside a window into him and taking whatever crumble of his love he felt comfortable giving you, it made you feel pathetic and so abandoned even when you shared a bed.

You stupidly yearned for more, but knew you wouldn’t get it so you just put on a brave front and kept opening your heart to him hoping soon he would do the same for you. You could tell faintly from the first time you met him he was putting on a persona, that the real man behind that wasn’t willing to come out and meet you and that was okay you kept telling yourself, he was hot and you wanted a warm body at night, that was all. But as the months pilled on, it became lonely, to have virtually a stranger sleeping next to you, someone who would make you cum over and over on his fingers, his mouth, his dick but refused to speak beyond the superficial and was way too good at changing topics when you tried to get closer as if he was slamming a door against your face but with a warm smile plastered on his lips.  

And in truth you were nothing, not real friends and not real lovers. He never once called you his girlfriend in almost a year you had been seeing each other and you never introduced him to your friends. You would meet on nights where it was cold and just play pretend of a life you couldn’t have. Sometimes he would have you backstage with his group and others it would be different girls and you never wanted to learn if he was also sleeping with them or they were just friends, you had no right to know and truly the less you knew the better. He didn’t sleep with them, not really since he met you, it just wasn’t as exciting as watching you remove your makeup while you rambled about annoying projects and evil classmates. Even if he had told you, you wouldn’t have believed him, so he never did. 

The real day things ended between you two happened a couple months before you actually stopped seeing each other. It was a long weekend, he arrived on Thursday night and stayed until Sunday in that little cramped university apartment you rented and that he came to love as if it was part of you. He brought some take out and beer as always and you were just so happy to see him. You spent the whole weekend having sex and eating whatever junk you could get your hands on at some point you stopped bothering putting on clothes that he would just take off. You would eat, fuck, bathe then sleep, wake up and do it all over again so much so the days started melting into each other in a delicious bliss that would last too little. 

Sunday night you were melting into each other’s touch for whatever time it was since he came.  He had looked in your nightstand for the bunch of condoms he brought only to realize too late it was all gone. 

“Fuck.” he whispered, you were underneath him all wet and pliant, ready for his touch. 

“What?” You said looking for what his eyes were searching for and realized. “Oh…”

“I’ll go to the store, give me a minute.” He said starting to get up already thinking about how cold it was outside, how warm your bed was, how pretty you looked and how stupid he was for not bringing more. 

“You don’t have to.” Your voice had felt distant like a whisper, he searched for your face in the dark of the room unsure of if he heard correctly, you looked away avoiding his eyes, you were bright red even in the dark of the room he could tell. “You can do it raw I don’t mind.” You mumbled against the pillows.

His dick had been harder than ever before. “Are you sure liefde?” 

He wanted to, of course he wanted to, had been dreaming about it constantly since the first time you had sex and would fantasize about it when he was away doing some show when he masturbated with your beautiful image in his mind.

“Yeah, I want you.” You had met his gaze, he kissed you slow deeply, like it was the first time he touched you. 

He had taken his time kissing at every nook and cranny of your body, softly massaging at your tired limbs, warming up his way with kisses and asking constantly if you felt good. You kept whimpering with soft tears streaming from your eyes from pleasure and from love at his ministrations, he had his fingers deep into you touching you softly like you could break while petting at your swollen clit, making sure you were ready to take him. When you had felt your climax building up you had pushed at his wrist. 

“I want to cum with you.” You whined. 

He knew in that moment he was in love with you, no matter how hard he had tried to avoid it the feeling just wouldn’t go away and now it was biting viciously at his heart threatening to tear him apart.

He nodded and slid slowly into you asking if you were alright all the way through as you nodded. When he finally bottomed out he stopped moving for a minute so overwhelmed by everything, he kissed at your forehead, at your cheeks, at your pretty nose and deep at your sweet lips. He kept his forehead against yours, thrusting fast in and pulling out painfully slow, your mouths were inches apart, breathing in the same air, lips brushing against each other in perpetual kiss, he reached so deep you could almost feel him in your lungs it was so delicious it made your brain stop working so you blurted out.

“I love you Joost.”

He suddenly pounded hard into you, his hips stuttered as he came without a warning and collapsed on top of you, his full weight on your body, panting heavily right on your ear. He gave you a few more weak thrust as he rode his high with you clinging to his back. 

“Fuck schat feels so good, so good.” He whimpered as held you close to his chest, you felt his heart beating wildly, felt his release paint your walls, and when he pulled out you felt cum start to trickle from your thighs. When he could finally regain his composure a little he looked up at you with beautiful blue eyes. 

“Sorry liefde, you felt too good.” He smiled up at you apologetic.

You loved and hated when he used pet names on you, loved it because it made you feel special and hated them because he would only use them in the middle of sex so he couldn’t be too serious about it.

He was never a selfish lover, he quickly gathered himself up and grabbed at the back of your thighs pushing them to your chest. 

“Hold for me yes?” He had said, you followed his instructions blindly before you saw him disappear between your legs, you felt his warm tongue lapping at your cunt deeply moaning into you sending delicious waves of pleasure up your spine, you were already so close you wouldn’t last at all.

“Joost!” You had screamed, the delicious sensation and the surprise at what he was doing right after cumming inside you mixing into one.

He pushed his fingers deep into your heat to keep you full, pumped into you at slow steady pace while his lips closed around your clit sucking generously and in no time you were coming undone under his touch, he kept licking you through your high prolonging it as much as he could before he felt you pull away from his touch with overstimulation. When you were done he raised his head from between your legs again, chin and mouth wet with your and his release and a proud expression on his face, he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand before laying in bed next to you and pulling you to his chest.

“Isn’t it gross?” You had asked when you could finally breath again so bewildered at what he had just done.

He laughed like the question itself was stupid. “No, not really. Nothing that makes you feel good could be gross to me.” 

He had left in the morning without acknowledging what you said that night. 

You tried to ignore how he didn't reply to your confession, tried to push it behind, tried not to feel pathetic about it. You tried to console yourself by imagining you were probably part of a club of girls he had taken to bed who had accidentally blurted out love confessions in the middle of it, yeah right, that has to have happened to someone else too, right? He was just so charismatic and beautiful you saw the way the front rows at his shows were always adorned with the prettiest girls and if you were not the only one this had happened to then it was less embarrassing. Except it wasn’t, because the thought of him being with other girls made you want to puke. After that you kept seeing him because clearly you had a complete lack of self respect or perhaps you were in love and couldn’t decide which one was worse. 

You remember the day he called you for the last time so well even when you have tried again and again to forget it. You were cooking dinner and just answered his video call while you kept moving around the kitchen. You talked for a bit about some university drama but could tell his mind was elsewhere, at this point you knew better than to push him because what he didn't want to share with you he simply wouldn’t say, you were painfully used to his selective silence. 

Finally he ended the suspense and he spoke. “I’m gonna be gone for over a month.” He sounded uncharacteristically formal and cold in a way you had never heard from him before but you didn’t notice it at the time.

“Oh.” you had said plainly as you continued chopping vegetables. 

To this day he wishes you would have looked at him at least once, then he wouldn’t have been strong enough to say what he did.

“I mean, you can sleep with others you know? You don’t have to wait for me.”

The sound of the knife on the cutting board was the only thing that made cut through the heavy silence inside the tiny apartment, you held onto that knife for dear life as if if you let go of it you would crumble instantly and you couldn’t do that in front of him.

“I see.” You mumbled feeling your eyes burn with tears you were holding back.

So he would also sleep with others right? That is what he wanted to say, he was just looking for a way to softly let you down, to let you know that whatever you had going on had become boring and stale and he was going to visit new cities every night and get his fill of as many pretty girls as he would meet and you would become nothing but a fuzzy image in the rear-view mirror of his life. You felt your heart breaking into dust at the realization that you were nothing to him, that you had always been nothing to him.

He had looked at you through the screen waiting to see if you would say something else, tell him you didn’t want that or curse him out for being so cowardly, for not even being able to face you, but you didn’t. 

“I have to finish this.”

Before he got another word out you ended the call with shaky hands, not even once looking up at him and those were the last words he would hear from your mouth for four years. 

You moved away. You couldn’t stand the thought of running into him, the thought of accidentally seeing him with someone else, you felt you recognized him in the shadows and it made you feel like you were going crazy. So right before he was set to come back you made the decision, quickly made arrangements for a program you had been eyeing at some point but didn’t want to commit to, however right now it was the perfect excuse to leave and never have to look back, never have to sleep again in that bed you once shared, never once having to be alone again in that tiny apartment where so many times you had fallen in love with him and that now felt like a prison collapsing on top of you. 

During tour you had stopped answering his texts and calls, that was fine, he felt he deserved it, but he wanted to make it up to you. At the time when he told you you could sleep with others he hadn’t really meant it, and he didn't do it either, he couldn't stop thinking about you even for a second but he had just felt guilty for making you wait so long even thought he was not even you boyfriend, so he thought this way it would be fine, less selfish with you, give you the opportunity to escape him. However, all he had done was hurt you and break his own heart in the process too. But he could still make it right, when he got back he would take you out, to a proper date in a nice restaurant because you deserved it, you deserved the moon and the stars and he had been an idiot for trying to pretend like he wasn’t deeply stupidly foolishly in love with you. He had bought you this perfume you mentioned once and he would talk to you properly, he would make things right again, he kept repeating himself, and he would figure out what he wanted of you.

When he actually came back you were nowhere to be found, painfully late he realized that you had never introduced him to your friends, never once told him exactly were you worked at or the name of your university and he had been so stupid and full of himself he didn’t bother to learn. Now all too late he realized he had no way of tracking you down. You had gone up in the wind leaving with a piece of his heart he didn’t even realize he had given you. 

As such is life you were back in Amsterdam, four years later. You didn’t feel paranoid that you would run into him anymore, rarely ever thought of him honestly and when you did it was almost a weird funny melancholia. Since then he had become a much bigger star than he would have ever envisioned and you felt a weird sort of pride that you had had a fling with someone like that. You never told anyone aside from a couple of really close friends who had had to dry your tears when everything went wrong but now it was fine. It was a healed wound that only ever really bothered you on cold days, but that was normal you kept telling yourself. You had met for a moment of your lives and were now old strangers, that was all that was left.

At least you thought so until one day after work while you are binge watching some series in your new apartment while shoveling take out into your mouth your phone rings. You had gotten lucky enough to get the same number as before and thought it could serve you to reconnect with some old friends from university but you didn’t even imagine who would be on the other side of the line. 

“Hello.” You say distracted still chewing, you don’t recognize the caller ID.

“Hey.” The voice sounds shaky, nervous, deeper, distantly familiar, no, you are lying to yourself, you know exactly who it is but you wish with everything you have that you are wrong.

“Who is this?” You ask in silent prayer that it is just a telemarketer and just your brain playing a bad joke on you.

“I know it has been a while but I didn’t expect you to not recognize me.” He says laughing uncomfortably, knows he has no right to be calling but still wants you to answer. “It is Joost, I’m Joost I mean.” He sounds stupid, he feels embarrassed, he feels himself blushing, his palms are sweaty holding tightly at the phone until his knuckles turn white.

“Oh.” Your voice sounds like a whisper.

“Listen I- I heard that you were back, I thought-” He stops, takes a deep breath he can’t hear you anymore, wonders if you already hung up, it would be deserved but it would still hurt like hell. “I was wondering if you would want to have dinner with me to catch up?” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Part 2

MASTERLIST *ੈ✩‧₊˚ A/N: lets decide together!

[tangerinesilk]

－ DISTRACTION : DAVE LIZEWSKI

dave was a great study buddy, but there's no doubt he was a distraction. he constantly made you turn your head twice at whatever he said or did whether it was some comic book character he rambled about or how his pale blue eyes shined under the warm lighting of his desk lamp.

pairing ✷ college!dave lizewski x college!fem!reader

rating ✷ r (18+ minors dni!)

tropes ✷ friends with benefits, spicy but no / little plot, unspoken love, domestic toward eachother but no dating, dorky and awkward people in love who just wont admit it theyre in love (sort of) | nsfw warnings below!

word count ✷ 1.7k

a/n ✷ um this was a random thought and it just sort of happened. stg it feels like i blacked out while writing this KSKFFKS what is going on with me. anyways been wanting to write about this cute dork for a while and why not make it really hot. posting now so i dont chicken out but ill edit later.... i always love feedback! xo

[ steamy warnings: mentions of public sex, dom & sub switches, p in v without protection, nipple play, hj + bj, f receiving oral from m, praising + heavy dirty talk, face sitting, finishing inside v ]

typical weekends: saturday night at dave's apartment.

dave was explaining something... it was something. something important, but all you could focus on was his pretty eyes and how soft his lips looked today. he pushed his glasses up more on his nose bridge again, looking down at his book for one of his college classes.

he was so into the subject, you didn't even have to nod. you were occasionally tapping the eraser end of your pencil against your blank notebook, only listening to every other word.

suddenly, your mind wanders to when you two were doing laundry at three in the morning and got a little spontaneous. then getting a bit handsy on the top floor of the library where no one usually was. maybe even the time when you were visiting him back home for one weekend and you both could barely keep it together with company downstairs.

ever since you both agreed on this friends with benefits agreement, your dry spells were no longer an issue. it seemed like both of you were touched starved, but not wanting to meet other people, strangers you didnt want or need to know.

so, after becoming lab partners in your fall semester of senior year, its been nonstop seeing each other. not just for sex, but hanging out to study, going to local comic book stores and libraries, even the occasional dinner and sleepover combo at his apartment or yours.

it seemed like a wild card at first, but you would never admit (outloud) to dave lizewski that you underestimated how great his tongue felt inside your pus—

"y/n, are you even listening?"

you cleared your throat, "hmm?"

he chuckled, "so you weren't... i know, its kind of boring."

now you felt bad, caught up from going down memory lane and he was excited about his new class.

you ran your hand over his curls, "im sorry, dave. my mind was wandering."

he turned, seeming interested, "about what?"

you felt the heat rise to your cheeks, "about... you know..." you trailed then shrugged, "stuff."

dave smiled, "oh yeah? you weren't, i dont know, thinking about me?"

you had seen this confidence grow inside dave as more time passed, and you weren't sure if it was cockiness, but you couldn't deny how cute yet attractive it was on him.

"why dont you go back to what you were rambling about? please. im all ears now." you lean in, placing your hands underneath your chin with your elbows on his desk.

its ironic how his full size bed was behind the two of you yet here you are, acting like this was the first time you've hung out.

he pressed wet kisses against your inner thighs, your clit aching for his mouth as his nose brushed against your skin. he'd let out a nervous chuckle as he noticed the wet spot forming on the center of your panties. you'd bite your bottom lip as he licked his lips, in awe of the mess you were for him.

dave pulled down your panties, shuffling them down your ankles before tossing them to the side. his strong hands run up the top of your thighs before holding your hips, pulling your core closing to his mouth. after his first, yet hesitant, kiss on your clit, you let out a faint moan.

soon his tongue was running over your open slit and tasting your sweet wetness. you arched your back, leaning back on his desk as he flicked your clit a few times. when he pushes his tongue inside you, a rush of heat runs over your entire body. you caress your own breasts and pull at your own nipples as he picks up his pace.

"fuck... god, yes. eat my fucking pussy." you whimpered. he got so weak when you uttered your sweet nothings. as dominant as he thought he presented himself, dave was a sucker for you.

just when you thought it couldn't get better, he slide his two fingers into your slit as his tongue flicks your swollen clit. you told him how you love when he curled his fingers inside you, knuckle deep and gathering your wetness every pump as he brought you closer to your orgasm.

your hips grind against his mouth and hand, painfully near your climax. he cursed under his breath as he felt your pussy clench around his digits. he pulls his mouth away from your clit, trailing more kisses over your stomach then rolls his tongue against your right nipple.

his hand still worked your slit, thrusting so fast that your head was spinning along with the pleasure of him sucking your erect nipple. you glanced down, seeing how his hard pressed against his khakis. just the thought of taking his cock into your mouth made you dizzy, bucking your hips against his fingers.

"yes... make me cum. i wanna fucking cum on your fingers." you muttered under your breath, pulling at his curls. dave's knees were giving out as he held his position but he loved to hear your continous begging.

he was about to see if he could pick up his pace before your hand reached down, sliding into the front of his stained pants and caressing his hard cock. he grunted against your chest, instantly weak from your touch which made him pause.

"hmm, what about i cum on your cock instead?" you giggled as your lips met his, "it's so hard... bet you've been thinking about cumming inside my tight pussy, huh, dave?"

he sighed, "shit..."

"that's what i thought, baby." you say before taking his fingers into your mouth, tasting your own cum. he takes a mental picture even though you've done this in your previous hookups.

you hop off the desk, playfully pushing him on his twin size bed. you slowly get on your knees, running your hand over the crotch of his pants that were already unbuttoned and half unzipped. it's easy for your pull his cock out, practically springing from his briefs.

his eyes are glued to you as your tongue runs up and down the base before wrapping your lips against his red tip. you half-giggle when you taste his pre-cum, then carefully take him all in your mouth. you gag a bit as his tip pushes further in, and he groans when your throat tightens around him.

you push your tongue out to make sure your teeth dont graze his cock as you deep throat him, incredibly slow, so he can watch in awe. he leans up on his elbows, falling apart as you take him in your mouth so easily and your hand pumping the rest of his base.

"fucking christ... fuck." he muttered, his dick twitching inside your mouth as your salvia runs down when you gag on his hard.

his hand runs over your hair, gathering it together to keep it out of your face— also to have a better view of him receiving one of the best blowjobs you've given him.

when you pull your mouth away, you giggle as you pump his cock with your spit lubricating for better motion. his face screws together the faster you pump, and he can barely take the pleasure.

"hmm, i bet you wanna cum on my face... and tits. but, i want you to cum inside me." you say as you but your bottom lip, running your thumb over the cum leaking from his tip.

"me too, baby. fuck!" he grunts, and it makes you smile at how much of a mess he is too.

you rise from your knees, relieving the pressure on them before straddling him on his bed. you pull off your top, tossing it on the other side of the room as he quickly peels his shirt off as well. his big hands run up your body, over your breasts once more as his thumbs move against your nipples.

"god, i want to feel every inch of your cock... so, don't stop until you're finished." you tell him as you run his tip agaisnt your slit before slowly sinking down on him.

"babe, shit... fuck." he whimpered, his fingers pressing into your hips as you arch your back.

"god, im so tight." you moan, "your cock is so big... can barely fit you inside me." you huff, your eyes closed shut as you slowly move your hips.

soon, you meet a nice pace of bouncing on his cock and he loosens up as he watches you move up and down. his bright eyes keep moving between looking at your tits and your face, completely amazed by your beauty.

you run your hands over his toned chest and abdomen, leaving light scratches on his skin from the waves of pleasure coursing throughout your body.

"dave, im gonna cum. oh, oh! i'm gonna cum." you announced to him and he was holding off anyways, his jaw clenched his much that it was beginning to feel painful.

as you arch your back and let out a long whine, he stills his hips as his warm cum fills you up. it was the first time he was fully inside you, and you were aching around his cock, feeling it throbbing against your walls.

he leans up, leaving a soft kiss just above your breasts before you two share another kiss. you can't help but giggle, both of you feeling that sudden hit of exhaustion.

you lift yourself from your cock and cum runs down your slit, letting him see the mess he made. dave smirks, expecting him to say that he'll get you a towel but instead licks his lips and starts to lean down between your legs again.

it was like deja vu. his tongue presses against your swollen slit, tasting your mixed cum before sucking on your sore clit. now you're so sensitive to the touch, you could orgasm again at any moment. he was so in tune with your body that he knew what pace to go and how long you could actually lasts.

you run your hands over your breasts, his tongue moving so perfectly between your slit and clit. you feel his press a light kiss against the area above your pussy before trailing more kisses up your body. then, you two shared another kiss, tasting each other's tongues once more before he laid next to you.

"you know, i've never had a study partner like you." you jeered, pressed a kiss against the start of his jaw.

he blushed, "me neither..." he raised his eyebrows, "trust me."

[dev1lm4n]

lesson one: sensitive

ko-fi | series masterlist

pairing: porn star!joel miller x f!reader

summary: under several notable circumstances, mr. miller finally decided that he'd be the best teacher for your first debut into sexual activities. even when all of it is to prepare you for your successful date.

word count: 5.4k (i know.. i went a little crazy on this lol)

warnings: explicit (18+), set in 2013, pre-outbreak, age gap (joel in mid 30's and reader in early 20's), inexperienced but not dumb reader, fingering, he's kinda mean, check umbrella warning on series masterlist

notes: i had so much fun writing this! tbh this one is super filthy compared to the other one so.. forgive me 🤲 COMMENT n REBLOG if u liked it

“I could take you home if you’d like. Pretty girls like you shouldn’t roam the street alone.”

Simon, more commonly referred to as Robotic Class Guy or French Fries, was surprisingly not half as bad as you thought he would be. He had all the height of a man but none of the bulk. From behind he could be easily spotted as someone in their late teens to early thirties, mostly blaming his horrid graphic tee and skinny jeans combo, but when he turned that face was all boy. His caramel hair flopped over his eyes in the way no office worker could get away with and on his wrist were bracelets in woven leather. 

At first, you accepted his awkward invite out of spite. 

Just to rid yourself of a certain plague festering upon your head, feasting on your brain cells so that you’d think of nothing but Mr. Miller in all his glory. Him with his tight worn-out jeans, spread open enough that you could see a naughty peak of his bulge, while he watched the soccer game. Him with his shirt off, bathing in the summer-induced moisture, while he mowed the front lawn and edged the curb. Him with his thumb parting your lips, looking at you like he’s about to consume you alive, but of course he didn’t. 

At least now that Simon came around, you’d have a new port to anchor your boat on.

“No, thanks, I’m alright. My..”

Who was Mr. Miller to you again? 

Your.. father? Absolutely not. Even if he’s taken you in as a part of the Miller family, just like how he used to say, you would feel like it’d be morbidly repulsive to deduce him to that particular role. For fuckssake, you stick a finger up your cunt every single week to the thought of him fucking you like one of his girls.

Then would a family friend be better of a word? Or should you just say that he’s a guardian of yours? But that’d be confusing, wouldn’t it? You glanced at your watch, counting the hour and minute hand as if it’d give you a revelation on how to answer Simon’s pop quiz.

“Someone promised to pick me up.”

That sure did sound ominous.

With a promise to leave a message to his cell once you’ve returned home safely, you stepped out of the quaint local restaurant. It was warm outside and you weren’t particularly fond of that. Heat has always been your mortal enemy; something about the musty scent of middle school boys’ armpits after PE class mixed in with the pungent perfumes they use to try and hide it has left you permanently traumatized. Your once-cheery mood had long evaporated along with any semblance of coolness. You tugged at the hem of your sundress, fanning yourself with your hand in a futile attempt to find relief from the stifling heat. This is hell!

Where was Mr. Miller?

Mr. Miller must've read your mind, because a honk quickly resonated. He was on the very corner of the parking lot; his large pickup truck looked hilariously out of place when compared to the array of city cars parked by his side. You swore you could see him grin from behind the shaded tint of his window, perhaps entertained at your almost too obvious annoyance. The thought made your heart jump and maybe even did a front-flip. God, you’re helpless!

As you beelined down the sidewalk and on to him, the heat seemed to intensify with every step. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, causing your hair to stick in weird shapes. You just hope that his truck’s AC works.

“Hi.. Hi, Mr. Miller.”

“Hey, sweetheart. How was it?”

The nickname never ceased to exude so much power. ‘Sweetheart’ made you feel as if a tail had grown out right from the hilt of your ass and you had no other choice than to swish it around excitedly. You propped up one leg on the washed-off gray carpet, before swinging yourself into the vehicle in one go. The door closed behind with a loud thud. As you leaned back, you cringed at the feeling of your sweat-soaked dress clinging onto your skin. You felt like some marinated beef, sticky and in need of a quick shower.

“It was alright,” you hummed.

“Alright? Now that made me all the more curious,” he grinned, nudging your side with the edge of his elbow. “Com’on now. Tell me all about it, will ya?”

“Mr. Miller, are you trying to embarrass me?”

Mr. Miller’s soothing brown eyes that were stuck on the glittering street lights came flickering over to you, as if he’s actually afraid that perhaps he’s made you uncomfortable. His shoulders squared and his jaw slackened for just a split second as he tried to grasp for any nuance you’ve just given. You then smiled at him, relieving him of his worries.

It’s a little jarring to say that you think he’s quite cute. In the same way people find puppies cute, or those strawberry-shaped trinkets. He’s a little socially-awkward in his own way. Embarrassed to ask the waitress to bring his plate back, but would be confident bullying his cock into a tight cunt. Would definitely get kooky when asked to join a parents-teacher conference, but would whisper filthy things on the internet.

“I ain’t tryna make you embarrassed,” he huffed out. “I just wanna know you’re safe.”

How nice. If only he knew why you went on dates in the first place.

“He’s alright, Mr. Miller. Kind, decently groomed, respectful,” you replied, flicking through your Twitter feed mindlessly. “Better than most college guys.”

“Did he pick you up?”

Your forehead scrunched up. “I ordered a cab.”

“Did he at least get the door for you?”

“It’s not exactly the 1900’s, is it?” you quipped back at him.

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for your answer.

“If you’re that curious, then no.”

“Well then, did he pay for dinner?”

“No, well.. I did offer for us to split it,” you reasoned.

“Well, sweetie, he’s not too respectful. Is he?”

“Yeah.. but he’s cute.”

He’s cute and you’re desperate to get over Mr. Miller. Terribly so. At first, the entire situation with having your pornstar crush be the head of your host family was hilarious, it’s a joke written by itself. But then the desires went through the roof in a matter of weeks and you’re sure that you’d actually jump him one of these days. He’s attached to the back of your mind like some ghostly presence. Everything he said and done carved at your brittle wall of determination and one day it’s all going to fall apart like broken glass. You needed to stop it from happening. 

There was a minute or so where he didn’t have anything to say. He hadn’t let go of the handbrakes either, though he appeared to be squeezing the leather cover of the steering wheel tighter.

“Cute ain’t enough for a man, sweetheart.”

Mr. Miller finally pushed down the handbrakes and released the pickup truck from the small parking lot. His large hands skillfully turned the wheels to fit through the tiny gaps, guiding the vehicle towards the open road. You shut your eyes for a good minute, then you let out a weighted sigh. Almost as if you’re a deflated balloon.

The drive was going to be a long one, considering the restaurant you’re on was in the heart of the town and Mr. Miller’s humble abode was more towards the outskirts. Would he continue preaching about the importance of Southern manners and being a gentleman? Because if he did, perhaps you’d just shut him up with a kiss.

“I’m just a little nervous,” you broke the silence.

“Because of the boy?”

“Sorta, yeah. It’s my first time..”

You clicked your phone shut, stuffing it on the cup holder next to the car stick. The entire conversation was making you nauseous. You had to press on the button on your left to slide down the windows in order to take in fresh air. Through the open window, a gentle breeze tousled the top of your hair, carrying with it the familiar scent of Summer in Austin. As he drove closer into the outskirts of town, the lights gradually faded behind into a sea of twinkling stars.

“First time in what?”

“In all this,” your hand motioned the idea abstractly.

“You’ve never dated?”

An enthusiastic grin snaked its way to his lips.

“I have! But it’s not- it’s not real. It’s middle school romance. We meet each other in the hallways, hold hands and giggle about it, then go on pizza dates,” you tried to explain. “I’ve never dated properly.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” you tousled your hair in frustration. “Just because, Mr. Miller. I’m not sure either. Maybe I’m just comfortable in my own little bubble?”

“Then this boy.. What’s his name again?”

“Simon.”

“Right, Simon. Are you thinking of dating Simon properly?”

“Maybe,” you muttered.

“Maybe I could teach you,” he paused. “Well, that is if you’d like this old man to teach you old tricks.”

Your hands tightly clutched the edge of your seat. A rise of bile disturbed your throat's peace as a knot of anxiety started to form in your stomach. This is what you’re working towards.

You didn’t want to admit it, because admitting means legitimizing what you had in mind, but you were hoping for him to offer you help in any way that he felt was right. Despite your.. odd relationship with him, he was your guardian and you’ve seen the way he dealt with all Sarah’s problems with soft-spoken words and fair actions. You trusted him to help you delve into this new world of adult romance, but it’s not like you’re expecting for him to agree on it. Shit, shit, shit! You couldn’t think straight.

“Com’on then. Tell me what you’re so nervous of.”

“You’re gonna laugh at me,” you groaned.

“I’m not!”

“You are,” you persisted.

“Fine. I promise not to laugh.”

You took a deep breath. The single word sticky on the end of your tongue.

“Sex.”

The pickup truck swerved.

To your surprise, instead of howling and laughing at your lack of experience, he was quiet. Awfully so to the point where you think you’d rather have him laugh at your patheticness instead of giving you the cold shoulder. You rolled the window back up, giving him your full attention as you waited for him to do something. He looked tense; the grip he had on the steering wheel was so tight you could see the leather developing crescent-shaped marks. What was he thinking of?

“Do I.. do I have to give you the talk?”

“God, no! Mr. Miller, I’m not clueless,” you looked horrified that he even considered giving you the birds and the bees talk. “I am, but I know what happens.”

The hours you’ve spent analyzing each and every one of his videos surely made an impact on how you view sex. Perhaps not the most accurate one, since you were merely looking through a 720p video and not being present in the scene, but you knew how sex goes. How it starts, what arousal looks like, what appears to feel good and what doesn’t, and how good an orgasm looks like when induced by another person. Mr. Miller might not be aware of how much he’s taught you. Not directly, but in a cause-and-action kind of way.

“Then what are you afraid of?” he hummed.

“Making a mistake,” you muttered dejectedly. “Of it not feeling good.”

A beat passed.

“Do you..” he struggled to speak properly. “Do you want me to teach you?”

What were you thinking! It was one thing to harbor intense, disgustingly filthy feelings towards a man who perceived you as an addition to his family, but it was another thing to act on it desperately. Your mind reeled back towards the exact moment when you agreed on his proposition. How you agreed on it instantly as if it wasn’t even a question, how you nodded your head miserably as if you were afraid that you’d miss this one chance, how you buckled your knees at the thought.

God, how pathetic can you be! You didn’t remember much after such a cathartic turn of events. All you managed to compile in that pretty little head of yours was that he took a different interchange, then slipped onto a highway towards.. whatever this place was.

It was on the outskirts of town. Opposite to where he lived. Big trees grew tall and heavy as they provided a mystique veil for the trailer house. You remembered the shade of peeling paint covering the outside, sky blue. The lanterns provided ample lighting for it to be spotted from a distance, but not enough to attract rowdy attention. Mr. Miller told you to come inside first while he secured his pickup truck properly. He mentioned a thing or two about racoons or squirrels, but you were too high off adrenaline to even notice. Being in the property, you instantly knew where you were.

This was his lair.

Where he shoots his videos, where he invites all his pretty co-stars to make them moan and whimper about how good his cock felt and how deep it went, where he edits those striking millennial-core thumbnails. Your throat grew dry and you began to think if it’s time to bail. He’d understand, wouldn’t he? Mr. Miller would just take you home and forget about it. Then, by next summer, you’d be out of his hair and he’d never even think about it.

A creak sounded from the front door. You jumped.

“Hi, sweetheart. You okay?”

You nodded. Your entire body went cold, especially the tips of your fingers and toes as you saw him come close. One step at a time. Almost as if he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t scare you too much. Mr. Miller looked awfully big up close. You never seemed to notice this entirely when you see him around the house, but when he’s confined in this miniscule trailer house, he looked massive. His presence towered over every last bit of your confidence. It’s surely crumpling - your confidence - slowly dissipating into thin when he was flushed against your chest. 

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller.”

He pulled a foldable chair from one of the open compartments, before taking a seat on it. He spread his legs, as always, and had this look in his eyes. 

“You sure you wanna do this?” he paused, before resuming. “You could tell me you don’t feel like doin’ this anymore and I could take you home. Won’t talk about it anymore if you don’t wanna.”

“I.. I want to do this, Mr. Miller.”

“Are you sure? There ain’t no pressure in this. I’m simply here to help you, sweetheart, so if you feel like-”

“I get it, okay, I get it. I trust you. A lot. And I know you’d be the best person to teach me.”

What were you even saying? This was straight out of your wildest wet dreams and perhaps that’s why you’re so adamant about it. You watched silently as he contemplated his choices. Mr. Miller scratched his beard for a short while, his gaze focused beyond you and you could almost watch in real-time how his morals and values crumbled onto the creaky floorboards. He stood up from his small chair and headed right towards where you were standing idly. Is this what May felt like in those videos?

“Alright, sweetheart. I ain’t a vocal man so this is gonna be challenging even for me,” he chuckled gruffly. “Every man has their way of settlin’ with their ladies, but I like ‘em stripped off their clothing first. So will you be a pretty thing and do that for me?”

For a second, you were as still as a rock. Entirely not used to having the person who initiated many if not all of your orgasms giving you these orders in real life. He’s right there in front of you, flesh and bones, telling you to strip off your clothing. It felt like a fever dream. You must’ve had a weird look on your face, because a grin started to form on those chapped lips of his.

Conscious of the mistake, you quickly reacted. Almost skittishly in a way as you pulled on the zipper that’s located on your right ribs. Your fingers fumbled with one another, as if it’s been braided into one, but you managed to loosen it after a few attempts. You slipped your right arm under the spaghetti straps, before you slipped the other one. The only thing holding your modesty together was your one arm that’s holding onto the support-less front flap of your sundress.

“Com’on now. It’s just me. You can act shy and adorable around Simon, but not this old man,” he teased.

You nodded, hesitantly letting your arms fall to the side. The terribly warm weather encouraged you not to wear a bra. Although you wondered if 3 PM you knew that you’re going to be engaging in some promiscuous agenda this evening. You looked up into his eyes for some kind of guidance, in which he responded with a curt nod, before you tugged on the dress so that it’d slide onto the floor.

Now the only piece of modesty you’re wearing is your plain white panties. Your breasts were entirely exposed, cold nipples firming up as it reacted to the change of temperature. This is embarrassing! Mr. Miller was being incredibly methodical in the ways in which he approached the situation, lacking sloppy mouthy kisses and feverish touches.

“Smart girl,” he complimented, almost on instinct. “Let’s get on the bed, yeah?”

You moved adjacent to him. Mr. Miller was gentle when he patted the spot next to him, allowing you to settle down properly while he fixed a pillow behind your back. To think that you’re positioned on the same bed where you’ve witnessed him please an array of girls made you feel some sort of way. A hitch in your heart, a twitch in your hole. You’ve never witnessed him this gentle. He’s always fond of establishing the power he held on the dynamic he’s presented, always telling girls what to do in quick succession and calling them humiliating names if they fail to do as told. With you, he was sweet and rather funny.

“In my experience, one of the things girls like the most is to be withdrawn from control,” he spoke up into the thick air. You didn’t miss the way his eyes cruised along your beaded nipples, or the way it watched you with feral precision. “Of course, it depends on the person. But you. I think you’re a sensitive one, are you?”

You nodded obediently.

“Cross your arms behind your back,” he ordered and watched closely as you followed suit. “Lean back onto the pillow.”

You copied his order. Only then did your finicky brain finally compute that you’re limited off your movements now. With your body weight acting like paper weight for your arms, it’d be impossible for you to react in quick time.

“Good girl.”

His mindless comment made you tighten your thighs together.

“I’m gonna touch you, okay?” he whispered gently. You could watch how he’s slowly approaching you with much caution. His arms caged you in as it dug into the tangled sheets next to you. He’s testing the currents, making sure you’re fully consenting to the experience before he makes any mistake that might ruin your perception of sex. “Ask your little friend to touch you slowly. None of that frisky aimless touching. If he pulled on your nipples and called it a day, I’d leave his ass.”

This little routine he had, the one Wicked Fantasies had, was memorized into your head and to watch it take place right in front of you made you ecstatic. He caressed the side of your face. Gently even with those big, large fingers of his, he managed to take up a good portion of your cheek. Mr. Miller then made his way to your lips. He swiped it once over your upper lip, then another time over your thicker bottom lip. You’d anticipate for him to stick his thumb in deep enough so that he could see your uvula properly, but he didn’t. Instead, he settled on pressing down your tongue as if to pin it against the lower floor of your mouth. A good amount of saliva was collected that when he pulled away, a lewd string remained intact.

“Do you know why I like pinning a girl’s tongue down?” he queried to increase comfort in a way.

“No,” you whispered breathlessly. “Why?”

“It makes ‘em docile,” he muttered. “Encourages submission and I like a pretty girl who listens.”

Mr. Miller’s fingers dragged through the curves and texture of your warm skin, leaving goosebumps on his wake, before he finally reached your two perky nubs. Each one hardened before he could give them the treatment they both deserved, which in a way broke his routine, but instead of being irritated, he appeared to be pleased.

Girls in his videos weren’t as sensitive as you. They didn’t get riled up just by a little touching and teasing. Seeing you like this was a refreshing touch. One that made the wrinkles on his forehead ripple as his eyebrows quirked. He circled his calloused finger around where the pigmentation started. Once, twice. Right until he was merciful enough to press against the apex of your nipples.

You squirmed.

“So sensitive, are you?” he cooed. “Tell Simon to play with your sensitive little nipples, hm? You look like you could cum just by this.”

“O-oh please!”

“Please?”

You couldn’t respond. Not when he’s rolling the most sensitive part of your nipples between the pads of his thumb and the side of his pointer finger. Touching your breasts with your own nimble hands felt nothing like what he’s doing right now. You instinctually grinded your leaking pussy down onto the bed, almost like an animal in heat.

“Poor thing couldn’t even tell me what she wants. What would Simon think, hm? A girl with no self control like you,” he hummed. Mr. Miller quickly held onto your thighs so that you’d stop rocking onto the bed and getting off from pleasure he’s not offering. Your eyes met his, searching for help, but the sweet and respectful Mr. Miller wasn’t there anymore. “Alright now, sweetheart. You have ta make sure that you’re thoroughly aroused before thinkin’ of even touchin’ this place.”

“You’re new at this,” he hummed. His fingers slipped off the hold he had on your nipples before it slid down your stomach and settled precisely above your clothed clitoris. “It’s gonna hurt bad if you’re not properly lubricated. Sex is supposed to be fun, not painful so if some guy tells you that it’s supposed to hurt, don’t listen to his dumb shit.”

Mr. Miller was incredibly informative if you put aside the fact that he’s touching you in all the right places that it’s making you go dumb. He spent the time explaining why an action must be provided and how to perform it, when you know for a fact that this is not what he’s used to doing. Wicked Fantasies was known to be straight with words, using minimal sentences to provide his co-stars with just the right amount of information. You could tell he’s holding back the urge to be meaner, to act the way he likes, just for you to be more comfortable.

“Let’s take a look, shall we? You think I did a good job, darlin’?”

It’s dark out. There’s only one source of light that’s present in the room. A small bedside lamp in the shape of an elephant, Sarah’s favorite animal that’s grown to be yours as well. This session with him felt intimate; you’d expect for him to bring out the bright light panels and reflectors just like in those videos you watched of him, but instead, he mostly depended on the moonlight rays.

You were acutely aware of how those dark eyes of his mirrored your own. The way he studied you was unlike any other, not with an invasive intent, but rather with heed. You watched as he hooked his fingers on each side of your panties. Slowly dragging it down, only to stop to wait for you to ease your thighs upwards.

“Look at you,” he chuckled. “I’m right about you bein’ sensitive. Don’t think we need any lube when your pussy looks like this.”

By instinct, you brought your thighs together, shy that he’s observing you with such vulgar intensity. He hummed out a tone of disapproval and quickly placed his arms on both of your knees, prying the two apart as if he’s opening a stubborn can of bolognese. You bit your bottom lip, stifling the noise of embarrassment.

Anxiety bubbled up inside of you. You wondered if you looked okay down there - no other men had seen it besides him! - or if there was something strange that caused him to halt. There was a lewd string of sticky arousal pooling on the center of your panties. You silently watched as it stretched and broke as Mr. Miller pulled the thin fabric away.

“You’re soaked, sweetie,” he teased.

“Mr. Miller, that’s- that’s embarrassing..”

“You like to touch yourself, don’t you?”

Your eyes flickered towards his direction in fear. Has he discovered your incurable obsession for him and his erotic videos? That couldn’t be, could it? There’s no scientific correlation between being extremely aroused with masturbation as far as you’re aware, but the confidence he exude made you doubt yourself. Mr. Miller moved in a painfully slow tempo, taking his time to caress your inner thighs and stomach before even considering touching you where it ached. His calloused fingers felt different against your skin. It left a fiery trail in its wake.

“No, I don’t,” you lied with a breathless squeak.

“It’s okay if you like to touch yourself, y’know,” he whispered as if taunting you. “Girls who like to touch themselves understand themselves better.”

Mr. Miller finally touched you properly. His pointer finger probed against your clitoris, touching in the lightest feathery manner possible that you couldn’t have felt it if you weren’t concentrating. Your hips followed the brief source of pleasure, only to be disappointed when you notice that he wasn’t there. He pulled his finger close to his mouth and made a big show out of it. The way your arousal glistened under the pale moon rays, Mr. Miller teased you with his expressions and mannerism. He dipped the stained finger in his lips to have a good taste while keeping  eye contact.

“Please touch me.”

“What was that, sweetheart?” he hummed.

“Please touch me again. It feels go-”

You were cut off immediately when he lazily drew a perfect circle on top of your hooded clit.

“Fuck, please, please, sir.”

Ah, he liked that. He liked the new name you’ve granted him. Mr. Miller was kind enough to resume what he was doing. His finger descended down onto your throbbing hole to gather a good amount of slick before he brought it up to aid his ventures.

“The best way to feel good is controlled pleasure. It feels better to be denied than to receive boring continual pleasure, so..” he paused his movement all together. “I’m gonna teach you a little game.”

“A little game..” you sounded like you’re about to cry from his sudden withdrawal.

“Count to ten, properly. Then I’ll reward you with more. If you fail, then we gotta start from the very beginning,” he explained. His warm breath fanning over your sensitive clit. “You think you can do that, pretty girl?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll start now.”

“One, two..”

You felt how he made his laps around your nub. It was much more intense than the pleasures you’ve initiated before. Compared to rutting against a pillow, grinding against a bedpost, or laying under the tub’s running water, this felt like an entire new experience. You fought to keep still, but it’s gradually getting harder when his finger starts prodding against your tight little hole.

“Three, four. Please, Mr. Miller. Oh god,” you whimpered by accident. He didn’t like that one bit by the look he gave you. There weren’t rules and promises to this, no dynamic the two of you have agreed on, but you couldn’t help but be terrified of his disapproval. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sir.”

“From the start,” he ordered.

“One, two, three..”

You could barely remember the numbers in your head despite encountering them almost every day of the week. You’re a smart girl, knows your ways around things, but being touched by Mr. Miller makes you go all dumb.

“Four, five, six..”

Your thighs began to twitch and spasm. You catched the way he pulled back the hood to your clit to get a more direct touch. It was working wonders as the sensation now is a lot more electrifying. Arousal dribbled down your twitching hole and onto the crack of your rear, wetting the sheets beneath you with the sticky clear substance.

“Seven, eight, n- nine!”

You jutted your hips out when his fingers brushed over your clit once more, the sensitive bundle of nerves extra aware of his presence, and he managed to hold you back once more. He’s forgiving. You knew he’d punish his co-stars if they couldn’t stay still like you, but he let this one slide. He continued rubbing slow, tight circles only to alter into an eight shape.

“Ten.”

The ultimatum. It has arrived, your key to heaven.

“Smart girl,” he cooed, never actually stopping. “This little hole of yours looks neglected, hm?”

“Yes, pleasepleaseplease.”

“Touch your clit slowly like I taught you,” he ordered. “You can do that can you, sweetheart?”

You nodded, distraught and ruined. With his sweet permission, you pulled one arm out from your back and rested it right above your clit. Slow and steady. Just like how he ordered. Mr. Miller on the other hand was slicking up his pointer finger with his tongue. Fuck, that looks so god damn hot.

He had pressed his sole finger deep into your warmth with no hesitation whatsoever. The combination of his calloused finger against your walls and the golden freckles inside his narrowed irises had you reaching out for his forearm. Your nails came in contact with his skin as you dug upon it, crescent shapes formed in pinkish shades atop his skin. You had to sit up as the only way you’re getting through this is by leaning on his sturdy arm.

“Oh, you like that, huh? Filthy girls like you love to get their holes filled?”

What you didn’t expect was having him press a second finger in. His one finger was thicker than what you’re used to, but two fingers? That makes you an overachiever for sure. You looked up to meet his eyes frantically. You knew he wouldn’t be kind enough to withdraw the action when his mind is already set on it, but it was worth the try. He cocked his head arrogantly as he pursued his plans. Mr. Miller’s middle finger was a tight fit. Barely able to slip past the ring of muscles. Though when he did manage to get himself in, a loud moan escaped your lips. 

“Mr. Miller. I can’t- I’ve never- never taken two fingers!”

“I know you can do it, sweetheart,” his free hand went over to run over your sweaty hair, admiring every inch of you. “You wanna please that boy, don’t you? Little Simon?”

He was skillful with his fingers, perhaps from his job requirements. Although it’s still incredible how he managed to have you squirming, yelling how you’re about to cum in a matter of seconds. All he did was switch between pumping the two in you, creating the filthiest sounds, and reaching upwards to hit that certain spot of yours. You rubbed your clit with much concentration as you followed after his thrusts.

“Mr- oh.. Mr. Miller! I’m gonna cum, sir.”

“You’re gonna do that for me?” he grinned, pushing his fingers into you as deep as they could go. He maintained a steady pace, emphasizing pressure on that spongy spot up top that you’ve never managed to reach with your stubby fingers. “Pretty girl gonna cum from my fingers?”

“Yes, yes.. sir. Please.”

“Cum for me, darlin’” he whispered. “Show me how good you can be.”

Oh god, you're in a lot of trouble.

[writingstoraes]

tour guide 🎥

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!actress!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: saw the post abt apex filming at silverstone this week and got this idea lol lmk what u guys think! atp you already know who my fc is (it's hailee steinfeld 😝)

about: a well-known actress stars in a film that is set in the world of formula 1 and scuderia ferrari happens to be the leading team to guide the production team and its cast!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya, madelyncline, and 1,249,247 others

yourusername Film prep starts now. Currently glad my parents forced me into getting my driver's license as early as I could as well as my brother introducing me to Formula 1 years ago 🏁

Beyond excited for this movie!

allhailyn WE LOVE U QUEEN WE CANT WAIT

filmthusiast this is such a new role for her im so excited

f1lover film + f1 is always going to be the biggest bestest combo ❤️

lecsluv LMAOOO NOT CHARLES LIKING THIS

zendayyn mans a fan norrisbaby Oh hes quick 😆

yourusername recently added to her instagram story!

yourusername recently added to her instagram story!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, pierregasly, and 1,482,2058 others

yourusername 3/4 done with filming for First Gear 🤍 So much work has been done for this movie and it's been the good kind of overwhelming so far. I've learned so much and experienced so many new things.

Included the one and only charles_leclerc here because majority of the things I learned came from him. He's pretty nice except he was beyond nervous when I drove the car for the first time.

scuderiaferrari We're glad to know Charles was the best tour guide ever! ❤️

lecsmmylove NOT FERRARI STICKING WITH THE TOUR GUIDE DESCRIPTION???

hamilfilm charles leclerc making his way into y/n's official ig account is not something i have on my bingo card

popgirltay u guys r so cute <3 friendship goals!

livelovelecs no, dating announcement next LOLOL

charles_leclerc Why do I seem like the bad guy here, I taught you pretty well didn't I?

yourusername I didn't say you were a bad teacher 😕

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, and 1,102,358 others

charles_leclerc Everyday's karting day 🚘

lecsferrari the red nails??? sir u aint slick who is that

sainzmclaren It's Y/N 😭 She posted karting pics today too

yourusername What do you have to say for yourself that you lost?

charles_leclerc I let you win, jolie 😁 Pretty. ferarrimercs HE CALLED HER PRETTY?????

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya, kendall, and 1,395,299 others

yourusername The student has become the teacher 😎

charles_leclerc Anyone would win if they were fighting kids on track

yourusername I sense sore loser 😝

leclercsyn TOO CUTE IM GONNA COMBUST

scuderiaferrari ❤️❤️❤️

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya, florencepugh, and 2,034,551 others

yourusername Feeling so emotional that filming for a movie that holds a special place in my heart has come to an end 🤍 I am so ecstatic for all of you to see First Gear because everyone involved put everything they had for this film. I hope you guys love this as much as I do, possibly more.

So many people to thank — the directors, producers, scriptwriters, my co-stars, everyone who's worked so hard to make this into reality, I owe you all so much.

But I also never thought I'd meet someone so special. Charles, this past year for us have been so crazy and I'm glad I got to spend it with you. If it helps, the moment they told me you would be giving me a tour of the paddock, I fell instantly 😝

leclercsyn MY PARENTS AAAAA IM SCREAMING

scuderiaferrari We are so proud of you, Y/N ❤️ The whole team is waiting for the movie!

charles_leclerc What do you mean if it helps, I was literally sweating while telling you what a pitwall is

lecslover HES SO FUNNYHTBHRHB

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, ynleclercs16, pierregasly, and 1,673,992 others

charles_leclerc Most talented person I've come across. Watching you on set has become one of my favorite things to do; it reminds me of just how amazing you are. To more karting sessions with you ❤️

Sincerely,

Your paddock tour guide

lecshamilton hes owning the tour guide title, mad respect

sainzlove I AM MELTINGGGGG

f1luvr power couple me thinks?

yourusername Get ready to lose 🥱

--------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy

notes: why i take so much time making these ill never understand anyway i hope u guys like this hehehe thank you sm for reading <3

[teamatsumu]

hello! i was wondering if i could request smth fluffy with sugawara being like possessive?

jealous. (sugawara koushi x reader)

word count: 1105

warnings: fem!reader, it’s all pretty fluffy, slightly suggestive at the end

tags: @keiva1000

There were perks that came with dating the manager for your university’s volleyball team.

First, it meant that Sugawara had an excuse to see you every single day. He could spend time with you during practice and still not compromise the time he spent playing volleyball. He didn’t have to choose between his club and his girlfriend, and that took a lot of pressure off him. It also meant that he was around you for hours on end, even during training camps to Tokyo. He got to show off his skills to the one person he always wanted to impress, and even though he wasn’t a regular, the times that he got to play, he really made it count. And he loved seeing you cheer him on.

The problem was that there were other boys there too, who constantly wanted your attention as their manager. And try as he might, Sugawara couldn’t help but let this bother him a little.

He knew what everyone on the team was like. Tanaka and Nishinoya were extremely attention hungry and loved being praised. And he knew their need for attention from you was merely because you were their manager and senpai. They didn’t have bad intentions. Then there was Kageyama who was always looking for advice, Hinata who was a social butterfly, Daichi and Asahi who had known you for just as long as he had and were good friends with you. All in all, being a manager wasn’t easy and he knew you were responsible for catering to the needs of the entire team and not just him.

But the ugly voice in his head wouldn’t stop, and he couldn’t help but frown when you cheered for Hinata and Kageyama’s quick, or when you would high five Tanaka and Nishinoya after a good receive and spike combo. Sugawara was very rational, he knew that. And he prided himself for that. So he could swallow it down, tell himself it was a part of your job and that it was heartwarming that you got on with all your juniors so well.

But when Asahi asked you, gentle and hesitant as he was, to help him tie up his hair so little strands wouldn’t poke out and irritate him, Sugawara couldn’t stand and watch anymore.

He walked out of the gym, not bothering to change shoes before stomping off down the path that led to the club room, telling himself he needed to calm down and that he was being irrational. He didn’t even notice you blink in shock at his sudden departure, hands paused where you held up Asahi’s hair tie. The ace turned back to look at you questioningly, raising an eyebrow.

“What was that about?”

You shook your head and shrugged, feeling just as startled as the boy in front of you. “I have no idea.”

You gave Asahi an apologetic smile and held out the hair tie to him. “I should probably go and check.”

Asahi nodded immediately and gave you an encouraging smile. “Of course! Don’t worry about it.”

Back in the clubroom, Sugawara leaned his forehead against the cold metal of the locker, trying to take deep breaths. He hadn’t bothered turning a light on, the room lit only by the sunlight peeking in from under the door. He closed his eyes, and all he saw was your hands carding through Asahi’s hair and you tried to get all of them up into a knot. Your face had been the picture of concentration, and maybe slight frustration, and despite how mad the sight made him, you still looked so beautiful.

Suga felt his shoulders slump.

What was he doing? Being jealous of his own friends? People he knew would never, ever try anything with you. People he truly trusted with his own life. Yet here he was, feeling so bothered he wanted to rip you away from them and hold you tight against him. Wanted to tell all of them that you were his, that you kissed him and hugged him every day. Not them. Not anyone else.

There was a soft knock before the door swung open with a slight squeak, making Sugawara jolt away from the locker. He saw your head peek through, trying to adjust to the darkness. You gave him a little smile that made his insides squirm.

“What’re you doing in the dark, Koushi?” You reached for the light switch and flicked it on, making Sugawara blink a bit. He watched you step in and shut the door behind you gently, walking closer to him until he was within reach. He felt your arms wrap around his waist, your body pressing to his and your chin resting on his chest so you could look up at him.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Your voice was a mere whisper, and your touch seemed to calm him a little. He returned your embrace, holding you tight to him and pressing his forehead to yours.

“It’s nothing.” He muttered, giving you a smile of his own. “I’m glad you’re here.”

You gave him a look that told him you didn’t believe his bullshit, and Sugawara had to curse how perceptive you were.

“It’s just,” he tried to think of the words, “sometimes you get too close to the guys and it-” he paused.

“Pisses you off?” You supplied.

Suga shook his head. “That might be a bit too strong.”

“What else do you call storming out of the gym with a murderous look on your face?”

He groaned and rested his head on your shoulder, feeling it shake with the force of your giggles. You cooed at him, running your soft fingers over his scalp.

“Aw, my baby is jealous.”

Suga tightened his hold on you, squeezing gently. “So what if I am?”

“I don’t mind. I think it’s really sexy.”

That made him lift his head, looking at you in surprise. You had a little smirk on your face, and there was a sizzling heat in your eyes. Sugawara’s core stirred.

“Really?”

You hummed low, tilting your head up until your lips were meeting his. It was firm yet gentle, and in your lips Suga found reassurance and validation, and an urgency that you only showed when you wanted more.

He felt something stir inside him again. He tightened his grip just as you pulled away, making a noise of protest. You laughed in response.

“Not here, Koushi!” You giggled.

Suga didn’t protest, only grinning and shrugging, wiggling his eyebrows at you until you laughed again, the ugly voice inside him dimming more and more by the second.

[fatalitysficbakery]

𓆰♥︎𓆪 Bad For Me. —

Jordan Li x Black Fem!Y/n

genre: angst (questionable, not there)/fluff/SMUT.

warnings: enemies to lovers, car sex, slight humor, possessive dom!jordan, got your tea bitch sub!y/n.

synopsis: jordan hates your guts or wants to rearrange them. they haven’t decided yet. (yes they have).

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery navigation menu 𓆪.

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery multifandomed &&’ oc menu #2 𓆪.

❦ ⌫ ❦

She forces her way through the crowds, feeling herself bump into more than one frat boy being obnoxious on the dance floor, when she's finally pushed her way from everyone, her eyes darting around to the bar's seating area, not too many were there on account of the drinks keeping them busied.

She sighs until her attention is taken by a friend waving her over. Fixing the cowboy hat on her head, she makes her way over to them, a gentle smile on her face taking one of the seats next to Emma.

She doesn't notice them at first until she looks up and her smile immediately drops when they wink at her.

"Y/n? Earth to Y/n?" Marie snaps in front of her taking her attention away from the supe.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

"I'm here, ma. I was...distracted. Far too many frat boys in that crowd."

"You didn't see anything you liked out there?" Emma asked, draping her arm around Y/n and passing her a shot.

Y/n smirks, downing her shot, head leaned against Emma's when she speaks, her eyes close for a second, meeting Emma's the moment they open again, shaking her head, "Nah, sweetheart. Ain't nothing for me on that floor, you know me."

"I do. You're very picky."

"I like it that way."

As she talks, a pair of eyes track her every movement like a hawk's, eyes barely leaving her to scope out the scene, when they do look away, it's like something pulls them right back to her, which was the wildest thing to them in all honesty. They'd disliked the supe the moment they first met. There was something about her that just pissed them off.

"You been awfully quiet, Jor." Cate speaks up, leaning forward to observe their every move. "Shifty eyes too. What's up?"

"I just need a shot. That reason enough?"

"I'll take it. For now."

Jordan's eyes roll, and now they're really trying their hardest not to look over at the witch, she had psychic abilities, they were sure she'd had them pinned the moment they talked, and if she did, she didn't let it on, looking at them curiously for a fraction of a moment that felt like hours in Jordan's eyes, every time her eyes met them it felt like she could see through to their soul, rip them open and dissect every flaw.

"I could...go get us some?" She offers, moving from her spot leaned on Emma, legs crossed one over the other. Cate's eyes break from Jordan knowingly, but no one really says a word, what's understood, after all...

"You stare any harder your eyes will pop out of your skull, kid." Cate pats the poor thing on the shoulder, grin stretching cheek to cheek.

↳

Jordan despises you, they despise your very existence, the way your platinum blonde curls frame your face, making your dark brown skin pop out in a way that could distract God from his toughest battles, your lips full and always glossed, black lipliner a staple combo for you, they'd noticed. They'd noticed a lot about you and that's what they hated. You were insufferable in a way that left their mouth watering for more.

A puzzle they were determined to solve.

When you had come back with the shots, they weren't surprised that you caught somebody's eyes. That's another thing they hated about you, they hated that anybody else could look at you and notice the beauty they'd been trying their damndest not to notice.

When you were about to sit down again, some jock who Jordan noticed had been eyeing you for quite some time comes over, and Jordan wasn't exactly happy about it.

It happened so quick, everyone and no one was surprised when it did.

"I was wondering, if you, pretty thing would like to dance with little ole me?" He had the most infuriating southern accent possible and Jordan's jaw set immediately upon hearing it, stood up before you could utter an sentence in response, their form towering over you now as they look up at the douchebag, blonde with blue eyes and overwhelming steroids abuse.

"Move along, alright?" Jordan has a grin of all things on their face, like this was merely entertainment to them, their arms casually draping across your shoulder as if it was meant to be there.

"I was talking to the lady, Li."

"Yeah? You're talking to me now, Jeremy. You okay with that?"

Throughout this all, Y/n hadn't really uttered word, in complete shock that this was happening, I mean this was the same person that had just called you a nuisance a day prior.

"Man, I don't want a problem."

"So don't make one." Jordan's gaze burns into his soul, jaw clenched and eyes darker than they'd been before, they smile, eyes narrowing further.

Jeremy scoffs, turning to walk back off with his friends.

You just look up at Jordan in disbelief, mouth opened slightly.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

After that night Jordan was strangely quiet, you hadn't heard a peep out of them since then, no smartass remark, insult, it was complete silence. Though they lingered. Loomed.

It wasn't until you were pulled into an empty classroom, their scent taking up residence in your every sense, it's hard to pin what it reminds you of but you know what it feels like, and it's the most cliche thought you've ever had.

They just stared at you for a moment like they're trying to get a read on you, size you up, you feel exposed, naked as the day you were born despite the sweater she wore.

"You...You make me so unbelievably angry."

"I do? That's what this is? Anger?" You cock your head to the side, a smile threatening to appear on your lips, eyes so deep they drown in them. Jordan hisses, bringing you closer to them, their breath tickling your skin.

"Yeah that's what that is. Anger. We need to talk."

"I agree. Let's."

Jordan hoists you up onto the table, staring you down like it was their job to, before they speak, you beat them to the punch. "That was wild...What you did last weekend at the bar. For you especially. Wanna address it?"

"What? I didn't want him anywhere near you. So?"

"Since when did I become your problem?" You ask, your hands in your lap almost protectively like you were skeptical of how the situation would go, they could pratically smell the nerves on you, and it made them all the more...needy. Like you were the sundae to satiate their sweet tooth, before they knew it, their arm was snaking around your waist tugging you closer to them.

"You became my problem the second you got here, and I can't seem to get rid of you. I don't know what you're doing to me, darlin' but I..."

"You what?"

Their forehead presses against yours, holding you even tighter against them like you'd crumble if they were to let you go, something so fragile that only they could protect it. That's what you were to them. "I need you. Horribly. And it fucking sucks to have to admit it but there's...there's something about your freshie. Something that latches onto me and doesn't let go. Can't you feel it?"

"I always have." You respond coolly, your hand wrapping around their bicep, and it's absolutely far too late to turn back now nor do either of you want to. Neither of you want to ruin this.

"Then the jokes on me, huh Pretty girl?" They chuckle, pushing your legs apart to stand between them, they trap you between their arms their face unbelievably close to yours, "How could I not understand just how badly I needed you, sweetheart? You're something worse than a drug and I think we need to leave before I tear you apart right here right now." Their voice is deep in your ears, something that vibrates within you like a freight train.

There was nothing in their tone to suggest that they weren't completely serious in their quest to drag you off, you could see their self control dwindling before your very eyes and you knew that if it weren't soon, you'd be bent over a desk in some room a poor janitor would have to clean up later.

It's silent for a breath, but their hold on you only grows tighter, possessive like they were afraid of you vanishing.

Their breath kisses your skin, words a soft promise of their undoing.

"My place."

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

It wasn't my fault, I don't know when the lines had become so muddied but having her by my side just felt insanely right to me, her perfume blanketing over me and imbedding every fucking detail of the witch into my psyche so deep I can never seem to get rid of it, and as she sat beside me singing her heart out to the radio, it furthers my obsession, she, my vice, and the neverending subject of my every thought.

She says something but I don't quite hear it, her scent drowns it all out, euphoria washes over me, and I can hear her rambling on about everything and nothing like she's already so comfortable in my presence.

My hand rests on her thigh, and I tune back in just enough to hear her ask me with a knowing smirk on her face like she could see right through me and then some, and I wouldn't be shocked if she could. That was the thing about her, she was always one step ahead and that's what pulled me to her.

"You weren't listening to a damn thing I said were you, Li?" She asked, leaning forward to look at me better, observing me so intensely I could feel myself growing an unbelievably deep shade of red that kinda irritated me. Maybe that's why I disliked her so much at first. She was the first person here to make me feel things I didn't wanna allow myself to ever feel, especially not with the path my life was headed.

It was her that made me wanna break all my rules, and I've always been a control freak. It was annoying to feel her pushing so hard at walls I thought I'd built so indestructibly. -- Now here she was looking at me with that damned smile of hers, staring through me and making me question everything I've ever known.

"I- Yeah, Um nah. I was a little distracted, I admit." I chuckle too nervously for my own liking, one hand on the wheel and the other squeezing the pretty thing's thigh; I always get a hit when she looks at me like I hold the world in the palm of my hands, and I can just feel my throat squeezing shut, my self control something so fragile when I'm near her.

"I see. What's on your mind?"

She asked me what was on my mind, I think that's when it snapped. I knew about this little hideaway, a spot away from the lights and the threat of being seen, and before I even realized it that's where we were, a shaded space away from everything with the woman I'd been fantasizing about for way too damned long for my liking, she was gonna be the fucking death of me if I didn't fix this.

"Cute. You know what's on my mind. Get your ass over here."

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

She was in their lap within a breath or two, the car wasn't particularly spacious but it was enough for the two of them, a mess of desire ripping off each other's clothes with intent, it was almost like something necessary needed for them survive, something akin to oxygen itself.

Their hand reaches up to tug her head back, hands entangled in her curls, forcing her to look into their eyes directly.

"Ride me." The statement was so simple, so effortlessly whispered between them and it didn't...it didn't get to hang in the air too long either, unrequited was something this situation knew nothing of.

Her body was pressed so closely against them it was almost suffocating, her forehead against theirs when she was fully on top of them. Her chest heaves, their breathing and the sound of the music the only thing heard in the car, and it seemed they were determined to be the loudest things there.

They let out a sharp hiss when their cock is finally exposed to the air and it takes not even a moment for her cunt, dripping so shamelessly, to hover over their hardened length, leaving a heat so lethal to wash over them.

They grip their hand around her neck, tugging her even closer, eyes searching hers with an intensity so palpable it could be cut with a knife. Their hands roam over her like they'd been itching to explore her for a while now and god had they ever been. They'd been absolutely thirsting for it.

"Safeword. Let me hear it."

"I don't know, fucking lime?"

She and Jordan look at each other silently, the hand on the clock ticking ahead before both burst into laughter, Jordan's hands gripping her hips tightly within their palms, the way they look at each other intense, heated, and filled with mutual affection for the other party. "Lime? Fucking lime?"

"You asked for a safeword, I panicked!"

"Yeah?" Their finger trails down her neckline, eyes locking on hers, hands moving her hips in time with their thrusts, a low groan tumbling out of their lips, fingers digging into her asscheeks, pulling as close as they could get her. Closer, if possible.

The way her words die out on her lips, their free hand wrapping around her neck, taking in Y/n's scent, they get closer.

"God you're so fucking cute. Look at that, you're speechless for once in your life. No talking back right now, sweetheart?"

"You...I want you to kiss my ass." She responds, but her voice is weakened, an air of vulnerability washing over her. Jordan catches onto it without much effort on their part, one look at the poor thing and it was clear she was nothing more than putty in their hands. Melting right between their fingers.

"You and I both know you can do better than that. You have done better than that...Where's that spark now, doll?"

Their hand reaches down to pinch her clit between their fingers, breath ghosting over their lips, a shit-eating mischievous-looking smirk on their face, they can practically feel her ending begin.

"Speak up, baby. Be loud for me."

Their hips angle for her g-spot, and with a particularly hard push, they feel her clench around them, cock twitching sensitively when she grips them like a vice and she obliges their requests, singing a pretty little song, all for their utter euphoria.

The way her face twists up, eyebrows knitting, and eyes squeezed tight, lips parted to let a scream out, one so desperately needy it sends them over the edge immediately, their seed spilling into the witch and arms grabbing her tighter without any intent to let go.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

They had to spar the day after, the little witch could feel her limbs aching with every step she'd taken and unfortunately it was only going to get worse; She could see Jordan looking at her with a determination so familiar in their gaze that it made her shiver. She knew she wasn't safe despite what had happened last night.

"Seriously?" She glances at them, narrowing her eyes their way.

"You're not safe because you're sexy, get your ass up."

Y/n silently nods to herself, standing up to get herself prepared, sighing airily, that familiar confident grin shows up on her face. "Fine. Let me beat your ass and shut you the fuck up."

"That shouldn't be so... C'mon, let's go. You're going down, freshie."

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

A/N: happy 21st birthday to me bitchhhh!!!!!!!!!!! here's my lil late lil birthday fic I guess <33.

[paradoxbeta]

WHO IS EOC? i am very curious now!!!

>:) okay SO

tumblr picture formatting is utter garbage and i dont want these to take up too much space so im cramming these drawings into one row (or not if this crapsite breaks on me, because it seems to be REALLY fighting me on this, so if it ends up not making a nice little picture row know that i tried my best). but this is effigy of composure!

he has a couple problems, but the big one is that his superstructure has a terrible parasite situation. the parasites are flat, thin, and able to make it into grooves and pipes the inspectors cant reach. flushing out doesnt do much to dislodge them and they breed faster than they can be killed, so theyve happily made their homes in this sheltered, food-rich haven (to the obvious distress and horror of the host iterator). originally the concept for these parasites were much closer to centipedes and had the placeholder name "synapcipedes," but ive since started leaning more towards an obvious tapeworm motif for them because its gross and i enjoy it morbidly. it also has some pretty cursed implications if you think about it for too long which i have decided are funny/really disgusting/so stupid that they have to stay. i still flipflop between considering them centipedes vs tapeworms though and i dont think thatll ever be rigidly defined. the ambiguity is nice to toy with

on the top 10 list of "things that are not fun" having turbo worms has to be somewhere up there, so eoc has it *rough,* and kind of sort of eventually barrels off into the deep end because of it. his futile attempts to clean his own structure are frustrating enough, and the constant feeling of bugs crawling all over the inside of his body (which only gets progressively worse with time) does no favors either. however, the real big reason why he mentally declines is just because there's a ton of centi-worm things eating like fire through his neurons and other what-have-yous that iterators need to think and function. i think if he only got hit with one of these 3 things then he might have been able to hang onto his sanity, but with the triple combo he doesn't really stand a chance of doing much except stalling his functional death. which is good on him because if i was an iterator and my overseers told me i had a structure infestation, my mental health would have just preemptively swan dived off a bridge before anything even happened

anyhow, exponential parasite population growth meant exponential increase in all this other fun stuff, which means the time from the beginning of the infection to the time eoc is considered officially gone is startlingly short (for iterators, at least). it still took quite the while because losing your marbles is a loonnnng process, but still, yikes. its unfortunate because eoc was a real jokester pre-everything, and a cool guy to talk to. he was one of those people who could come up witty comments for anything like hed been ripped from the script of a sitcom. oh yeah, also, should have mentioned this earlier, but he ends up accidentally amassing a scavenger cult mid-insanity which goes hilariously bad because he's barely aware it's happening. nothing really works out for this poor iterator.

tldr: eoc gets parasites, they erode his brain, he goes nuts about it, (accidentally amasses a cult,) dies

[jesterofcringe]

Hii!! ^^ feeling anxious,, could I request maybe Misty and Nat (platonic or romantic I don’t mind) helping reader get over their anxiety of summer being over/going to the next grade? Doesn’t help reader has summer work to do—

You're gonna be fine!

MistyNat x Reader

It occured to me halfway through writing this that you probably meant adult timeline so sorry if you did 💀

ALSO IF THERE ARE SPELLING MISTAKES PLEASE POINT THEM OUT IM WRITING THIS ON MY IPAD AND TYPING ON THIS THING SUCKS

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

★ You sat on your bed, bouncing your leg and chewing on your pen as you glanced over your summer school work that was nowhere near finished. Six problems in your math packet were done, and four pages of your summer reading had been read. That packet wasn’t getting any slimmer and “Lord of the flies" wasn't reading itself, though you could hope. And hope you did all summer. Now school seemed to be just around the corner, and you weren't any more prepared than you were when school closed at the beginning of summer.

★Try as you might, you couldn't prevent the anxiety slowly creeping into your system. To be quite honest, you tried to by taking time for yourself to best prepare yourself for the upcoming school year. You really only delayed the inevitable because now not only were you stressed about the school year, out you we also stressed about your pile of school work. It was quite the chaotic combo, so you did the only thing you could think to soothe your anxiety.

★You called Misty.

★You and Misty were pretty close. you liked her a lot actually. She was really smart, and always more than happy to help out. So naturally, she was ecstatic when you asked for her help.

★"I'd love to help! We could have a sleepover and knock out that math packet overnight!"

★"Do you really think we could manage that?"

★"Oh for sure! The reading isn't that bad, you could read it in the next few days leading up to school- oh, I know! I’ll stop at the store and get some snacks and a movie for us to watch after.”

★"You'd really do all that for me?"

★"Of course! That's what friends are for :)"

★Although you knew everything was going to be ok, you had let your anxieties bubble up to the point that you knew you'd need a good cry to let it out and start from scratch. You knew you could count on misty to take a little while at the store as you let all of your emotions out through the tear ducts in your eyes.

★What you didn't count on was another blonde spontaneously tapping on your window in the middle of your pity party

★You knew how Natalie's parents could be, so you gave her permission to swing by whenever things got rough. As such it wasn't out of the ordinary for Nat to just appear like this, you just wished she picked a better time.

★You opened the window with one hand while wiping your eyes with the other. As Natalie pulled herself through your window, you walked to the other side of your room in hopes that she wouldn’t hear you sniffling.

★“Hey is it ok if I stay the… oh my god what happened?”

★Natalie was immediately by your side, wrapping her arm around your shoulder so she could guide you to your bed and get you to sit down.

★"Just stressed..." you cried into your hands. She gestured for you to rest your head on her shoulder, her hand combing through your hair, “I guess,”

★ "About what?"

★"This next school year! Harder classes harder teachers, harder tests - l' mean, I just don't know what I'm gonna do!"

★"You're going to take it slow is what you're going to do,” Natalie said with a comforting smile, “I mean, you're one of the smartest people know. Don’t stress about things that haven't happened yet, deal with each thing as they do and you'll be fine, I promise."

★You weren't sure how to respond to people comforting you, so you just nodded, "Alright."

★She tilted your head up, wiping your tears with her thumb, "You're gonna be fine, trust me. We'll cross that bridge when we get there.”

★Natalie roughly pat your shoulder and ruffled your hair. You couldn’t help but to giggle, "Thanks Nat."

★"Anytime," you sat up and once you were off her shoulder she flopped back onto your bed, "Anyways. this might be a bad time but is it ok if I stay the night?"

★"Yeah that's ok but Misty is also sleeping over-" as if magic, once the words fell out of your mouth your bedroom door opened, Misty holding a bag of goodies on the other side, "-Just so you know."

★"Damn" Natalie snorted, "Speak of the Devil."

★"Oh," Misty smiled half heartedly, "Am I interrupting something?"

★"No, not at all," you walked to Misty's side, and she handed you the bag, "What did you end up getting?"

★"A few snacks, some candies," Misty said as she sat on the edge of your bed, "I also got-"

★"- The Princess Bride?" you interrupted as you fished it out of the bag, "Haven't you seen this a thousand times already?"

★ "Well yeah but it's so good! You don't mind, do you?"

★"Fine by me-“

★"I mind!" Natalie sat up, propping herself up on her elbows, "Isn't there a blockbuster near here? We should get Army of Darkness, Van says it's funny"

★Misty frowned, "We don't have time for that, they need to finish their summer school work."

★"Oh shit I forgot to do mine too," you had to cover your math with your hard to stop from laughing, "Misty do you have the packet?"

★“I had to do it last year, but I think it’s in my room somewhere.”

★"Isn’t your house on the way to blockbuster?”

★"That's what I was thinking - Misty and I get our packets while Y/N gets Army of Darkness.”

★"No no no wait you guys can't just copy my work that's-" she paused, pushing up her glasses as she searched for the right word- "Academic fraud!"

★Natalie Shrugged, "We won't copy your work we'll just..." she trailed off, looking towards you for help

★ "Check our answers against yours?" you tried and Nat nodded with approval.

★"I guess it couldn't hurt -"

★"Hell yeah Misty!" you fist bumped her and she grinned, "let's all go together though, a walk seen nice right now.”

★"We have all week, we should get a few movies-"

★" Not Army of Darkness. Let’s get Heathers instead."

[trash-magics-blog]

John Price head canons + Blurb (NSFW)

This is more Price stuff cause I love him and I needed to write like, something cause my other Price thing has been halted for a bit.

HeadCanons

1. He doesn't like to fully choke you but have a nice hold on your neck as he rails you

2. Daddy kink!! He loves when you come up behind him and whisper in his ear calling him daddy while he is at his desk or reading in his chair (using this for the blurb)

3. He prefers to be the dominating one, but there are time where sometimes he just wants you to use him like your toy

4. When he is being more submissive, he likes to be tied up and over stimulated to where he can only think of you cause its also a stress relief, ride him and he will treat you so good after

5. He will leave hickies EVERYWHERE. Whether it be on your neck for others to know your his or in your thighs for him to see later and get a ego boost

6. When you give him head, he wraps your hair around his fist and is pretty vocal, calls you is good girl and princess. He grunts and takes deep breathes more than whining or whimpering. When he gives you head, he LOVES when you sit on his face and basically ride his face, and if you grip his hair he will actually moan so prettily into your cunt. Uses the mouth finger combo like a PROFESSIONAL.

Blurb<3 (long blurb)

John had been in his office for awhile now, and you were needy, and you knew just the thing to make him pay more attention to you. “Enter” John said as you knocked on his office door, he had his nose in some files that you didn't pay much attention too. “Hey John, are you almost done” you asked stepping behind his chair leaning on it slightly, he just responded with a ‘Mhm and didn't even look up at you, which had you less than amused so you decided to make your move. “C’mon daddy, let's have some fun pleaseee” you begged in his ear causing him to drop his pin and slump back in his chair, but it did turn him on, a lot. He groaned as his dick was straining against his pants, he needed you. “Come sit on my lap princess” he reached out and grabbed you hand as you sat down and that's when he realised you were only wearing one of his shirts and only one of his shirts. “fuckin hell… naughty naughty girl of mine ain'tcha” he said while rubbing your thighs, he started to kiss your neck, sucking dark marks along the way. As he did so, you let out gentle moans and started to rock your hips causing his to breathing to get heavier and his grip on you to tighten. “Ah.. Daddy please, I need you” you mewled into his chest, you felt his hands travel up your legs to your ass as he gave it a firm squeeze. He took one of his hands away to unzip his pants and free his cock already dripping with pre-cum. You wasted no time with prep or anything and quickly sank yourself down on him, putting his entire length in you at one time. He grunted and started to move his hips, thrusting up into you while you bounced at met his hips, you were both lost in the moment, you were a moaning mess and he had a grip on your ass that was gonna leave marks for awhile after, you both needed this so bad. John could tell you were getting close as your movements got a little sloppy and your cunt was clenching around his dick in a way that brought him even closer to the edge too, but he wasn't gonna stop till you came. He made sure you always finished before him so you felt that pleasure first. “Oh god Princess… yes, use my cock, Atta girl” he kissed your neck and continued to plow into you. You were to gone to make a sentence but hearing that was just the encouragement you needed to release all over him and coat his balls in your cum with a louder moan. The feeling of you all over him caused him to groan and fill you up with so much of his seed, some of it pooled over his cock cause it was to much. Your body was hot and shaking so you clung to John and rested your head on his shoulder panting. “was that enough fun for right now love? ” John chuckled, he zipped his pants back up and decided to carry you bridal style to your guys bed and set you down. “Just about, thank you” you said closing your eyes and dozing off, you were tired out. John had changed into some grey sweatpants with no shirt, he liked to sleep like that so be could feel your skin against his, it calmed him. As he laid down beside you he pulled you close and gave you a gentle kiss, “I love you beautiful” he whispered and closed his eyes. You guys slept for a good while that day.

A/N: thanks for reading! I wanna do more like this I just need to find time and also get out of the awful writers block😩

[adobe-outdesign]

I am so late to this but I had only just realised Neopets added new gray nostalgic styles with brand-new artwork for combos that don't exist pre-conversion! Do you have a favourite out of them?

(I already did the main grey review here before the new pet styles were released.)

Even as someone who enjoys customization, I think the execution of it was pretty poor. It definitely should've been that you could freely switch between the UC design and the converted design at any point, and the option would exist for pets that were painted after conversion instead of it being a thing you had to grandfather into. Likewise, I'd argue that TNT should've done new UC designs for colours that used to get special poses even after customization, so you wouldn't be losing the beautiful art.

It took the NC Mall and 17 years, but new TNT finally wised up and switched all UCs over to purchasable NC pet styles. Originally it seemed like they were only going to include pre-existing UCs; then, it seemed like they'd do pre-existing UCs plus some other pets with old art but no UCs; and then, finally, we learned that TNT would be giving pets that didn't even have old art styles. This is a great idea, as it gives the pets that didn't get a chance at unique art (Lutaris and Vandagyres being good examples) to have some. Plus the converted versions still exist, so it's just more designs for everyone.

(Pictured: Two UC/styled grey pets with pre-existing old art.)

The most interesting part about these new styles is watching new TNT trying to mimic the classic Neopets' art styles. There's no hard rule as to how old Neopet art worked (because different artists worked on different pets), but the following are what I'd consider the most consistent and important points:

Shading: Hard-lined cel-shading with only one or two layers. Generally high-contrast, especially for grey pets. Sometimes there'll be a small amount of highlights, but not always.

Lineart: Not too thick or too thin with natural weight variation.

Design: Not always present, but often times will include fun little plays on the original design like the Yurble's uncurled ears.

Pose: Easy to read with a good sense of motion. Matches the proportions of the original basic colour pet.

Of course, just because a new pet style isn't quite on point doesn't make it inherently bad (though I personally like the on point ones more, and have highlighted the best in that regard below). The new grey Xweetok style is pretty off compared to an actual UC; like, here's the old sad blue Xweetok pose, which is somewhat similar to it:

You can easily see that there's way too much detail in the shading and highlights (highlights too thin/plentiful, shading too hairline and layered too closely together), and the proportions and design details are also way off model (eyes missing the black "liner" at the back; head way too big; paws too big; ears slightly too big). But dang, it's absolutely adorable, and much much better than the converted version, which looks vaguely ill. It's a good example of how much personality a style can add.

Favorite (New) Species:

Blumaroo: BROKEN HEART FEET. BROKEN. HEART. FEET!! That's such a wonderful detail, and 100% feels like something a UC version would've had. The pose is also really good, and the shading and lineart are pretty accurate (the lines are just a smidge too thick, but obviously not actually a problem).

Bruce: Another pretty good pose with excellent lineart and shading (might be the same artist for this and the Blumaroo)? It's adorably mopey and little things like the extra chubby cheeks and bigger bow add a lot.

Hissi: The shading's not quite as accurate as the above two (one too many layers on the wings, which are also a little too fluffy relative to the non-converted Hissi's wings), but the pose on this one is perfect and really feels like something that existed back in the day. I really like the eye shape in particular and how it affects the entire upper brow, so to speak.

Least Favorite (New) Species:

Bori: Sorry, Bori, but you're not quite right. There's just a lot of things slightly off with this one, like the shading (WAY too much fur detailing that doesn't flow with the actual lineart fur; too low contrast; highlights too minimal in areas like the tail fur). Like I said above, accuracy doesn't matter if the design and pose are good, but that also feels off here. The pose is just kind of strange, like it's about to be smacked or something, and the head is like... off, like it's too far down and too far in in a way that makes it look like it has no neck. It's still got a lot more personality than the converted though, so that's good.

[unique-high]

Hey gurrl I'm new to your blog I absolutely love you stories and was wondering if I could ask one for cha eunwoo I can find an blk female book on him and it frustrating 😭😭

Well the company there are in is hybe

Cha eunwoo is a well established idol and actor while yn is still a trainee that eunwoo fell in love with and as been flirting with but she is an oblivions person so until he told her before she knew. Cha eunwoo age same as current while since yn is a trainee I would say 18

Soo sorry for the long ass quest😘🙏🏾

a/n: omg sorry it took me forever to freaking get to this! Please forgive me. I wrote this in one night so I didn't have much time to check for grammar so I'm deeply sorry for any mistakes.

Eunwoo waits for you after practice. Every day. Always at the door. He waits. The other trainees would playfully poke fun singing KISSING the nursery rhyme as they walk out giggling passing the older male. You're sweaty, your limbs feel like jelly and a tired smile smoothes onto your face every time you see Eunwoo. And damn he loves your smile. It reminds him of the early days of summer when the weather still felt a little nicer.

Sometimes you and Eunwoo didn't need to speak. There was that silent talk that said more. When his eyes said more too but you never notice the way he looked at you. The little pleading behind his dark eyes for you to look at him a little longer and the little hint of love hidden in his irises for you to find.

There's a close enough space between you and Eunwoo as you walk beside him. He intentionally lets the back of his hand brush against yours, just that brief moment of skin-to-skin contact was enough for him though he craved more than that.

“Practice go well?”

“I kept getting the steps wrong again and the teacher scolded me.” you pouted.

Eunwoo pets your head. “Do you want to practice with me?”

He knew the dance by heart. He sometimes watched in on you and other trainees to see how you were progressing.

“Oh...No I know you're super busy preparing for your new drama. I don't want to bother you."

“You won't be,” he said. “You just need someone to fully break everything down to you.”

“Thanks. I'd really appreciate that.”

For you, Eunwoo doesn't mind doing things like this even if his schedule is going to be super busy. He can always make the time for you.

Eunwoo took you to your favorite cafe, down the street from the company's building. Instead of you ordering for yourself, Eunwoo orders for you, knowing your drink combo by heart.

You never had any real friends growing up, even with the other trainees you've been with for almost a year, you still weren't sure if you could consider them friends. But with Eunwoo, you consider him to be your best friend. You and he did the things best friends do, talk in the way best friends do, send TikTok videos back and forth, with “Lol this reminds me of you.” or “This is so us.”

Eunwoo pays for your drink like he always does. And you would shove your money at him to take it. He never does. He's a good friend.

It's when you're both sitting outside the cafe, enjoying the nice weather that Eunwoo is staring at you, watching you drink from your cup. He's staring so long that you become a little insecure.

You choke on a laugh asking, “W-Why are you staring?”

“Staring?” Eunwoo's thick dark brown cock's up.

“Yeah...At me.”

“I'm not starting.”

“You're doing it now.”

“I'm not.” Then he looks away down at his drink while folding the corners of a white paper napkin that's under his cup. “You, um... You look really pretty today.”

You laughed. He expected that. Your voice carries with the slight breeze that pushes by. “I'm not.” You said. “And after sweating all day, I'm surprised you don't think I smell.”

You raise your arm to get a whiff of yourself. Not so bad.

Eunwoo lets himself look at you. But don't full-blown stare at you. He tries to focus on the small things on you; like the yellow mustard stain on the front of your baby blue crop top that you tried your hardest to clean after lunch, then he looks at the lavender scrunchie on your wrist that he gave you back in April, you always wore it as good luck. He looks at the baby hairs on your arm. Then lastly, at the scar on your chin, you had gotten when you were five from your older cousin.

“Even after practice, you're still pretty,” he said.

Now that you think about it. This was Eunwoo's first time calling you pretty and you weren't sure why that coming from him made you feel like you were dancing on your tippy toes.

“You never called me pretty before.”

But he has a billion times in his head.

“Y/n, just accept my compliment.” he smiles. Of course he wanted to move along with the whole pretty thing because damn he wouldn't be able to explain why he thought you were pretty.

Or maybe he could. Or maybe he couldn't.

If someone were to ask him to name the five things he thought were pretty about you, he'd say, “Five isn't enough.”

“Why am I suddenly pretty?” You pressed him playfully.

Eunwoo rips the corner of the napkin under his drink, balls it in a tiny ball, and throws it at your face.

“Did I say pretty?”

“You did.”

“Hmm, I think you misheard me.”

“I didn't.”

“I think you did.” he laughs.

“Why are you denying it now?”

“Denying what?”

“That you called me pretty?”

“Did I call you pretty?”

“Eunwoo, stop messing with me,” you whined.

He winks at you getting up from the table and grabbing his cup and napkin. “I always thought you were pretty. I just never dared to actually say it out loud.” he walks away from the table.

You hop up grabbing your cup as you rush alongside Eunwoo. Slapping your hand out over his forehead, you checked for a fever.

“No fever,” you mumbled. Your hand fell away. “Do friends usually find their friends pretty?”

“Yeah, all the time,” Eunwoo said.

Yeah, but calling your friend pretty while you were in love with them was a different kind of pretty.

“Oh,” you said. You threw your cup in a trash can and so did Eunwoo.

“I think you're just as pretty.”

Eunwoo's face warms up. “D–Don't say that.”

“It's true though. Like your visuals are killer.” You gushed over him and damn, that made him want to stop walking and kiss you.

The walk back to the company was short. Your day wasn't over yet since you had vocal practice in the evening that lasted way later than you wanted to. You and Eunwoo linger in the company's lobby for a few minutes, just talking.

“I want to tell you something before you go,” Eunwoo said.

“Oh, What is it?”

Eunwoo looks around at the few people walking through the lobby, he grabs your hand pulling you to a more private area without listening ears. His heart beats a little faster. His hands get a little sweaty. His words are a little stuck now.

“I like being your friend.”

“Eunowoo, I like being your friend too!” you smiled up at him. And that man could have melted in his shoes.

“Being friends is nice, but I don't think I want to be friends anymore,” he said quietly.

“Did I do something wrong?” There's a creak in your voice.

Eunwoo cups your face with his warm hands that burn at your cheeks. “Of course not, Y/n.”

“Then why don't you wanna be friends anymore?”

“Because....” he paused. “I want something more with you than just a friendship.”

“What do you mean?”

Eunwoo playfully rolled his eyes. “I want us to be together.”

“We're together now.”

He laughs. “No, like I want us to be together together.”

“As in....” You trailed off.

“Boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Ooooh like that.” you smiled warmly.

“Yeah. Like that,” he said. “I've always been in love with you.” it's the way he says it that felt like a soft landing.

“You have?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Since when?”

“The first time you smiled and said hello to me.”

Falling in love with you had been easy. You made it easy for him without even knowing it.

“Oh, god, not that time when I had a milk mustache.” You made a funny face that made Eunwoo laugh.

“Yeah, that time.” That was his favorite little memory of you.

You took Eunwoo by surprise when you stood on your tippy toes and kissed him. Your kiss felt like heaven, like it was the sweetest thing, your lips perfect against his, and he could kiss you every day for hours, if that's even possible.

He kissed you back, his lips moving with urgency, like if he didn't kiss you enough or make it deeper enough you would just disappear. You feel his lips pulled into a smile.

“I love you, Y/n.”

[t-lostinworlds]

I Spy, No Spy | Peter Parker

》 PAIRING: peter parker x avenger/secret agent female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: friends to lovers; fake dating-ish; fluff

》 SUMMARY: You're a trained spy, Peter was not. But you two ended up on a mission together where he was needed to be less of the chatty superhero in red & blue tights and more of a debonair undercover agent in a suit & tie. It shouldn't be too difficult, right? No mask, no web shooters. Just you and him pretending to be fiancés, hiding and making out in a closet to avoid getting caught—simple. Unless he included his overgrowing feelings for you, of course.

》 WARNINGS: peter being down bad & horny™️ for r (my fave genre of peter by the looks of it), slight self-deprecating peter, pet names (darling, my love, babe, angel), peter x suit x glasses (a dangerous combo), mediocre spy-ish stuff, canon typical violence (i.e. guns, knives, fighting, ass-kicking), slight jealousy/possessiveness (both parties), slight pettiness from r, closet make-out, little peter got excited (idk why i said it like that lmao it’s just a boner), cuddling w/ boob grab (not sexual lol).

》 WORD COUNT: 21.3k+ (is anyone still surprised)

✘ MOODBOARD

A/N: this idea has been in my drafts since sept or oct 2020? I think? basically i plotted this a decade ago a.k.a this happens after Endgame but before...anything else (NWH who? lol) this is more an alternate universe tho. i honestly have no idea how i feel about this but i did enjoy writing it. a pretty tame, fun lil spy au fic so nothing groundbreaking sksks anyways! i hope you enjoy!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ PETER PARKER MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

The sun rays that leaked through Peter's bedroom window tickled his eyelids, making them flutter open as he yawned.

A tired smile curled on his lips as he buried his nose into his pillow. It was rather comforting, hearing the faint chirping of birds, the soft rustle of the tree just outside his room, and hell, even the chants in the far-off distance of people training.

It was a peaceful Saturday morning, and Peter really liked that.

To top it off, summer had just begun, so no college work to worry about in the meantime. He was finally having a much-needed break from obligation and responsibilities—well, not entirely since the superhero gig didn't really have actual breaks. But he was hopeful that today was a quiet day, at least.

There were plenty of activities that could take up his whole day. He could start with a morning run around the large stretch of land, maybe pack up some breakfast and eat it by the lake, located at the edge of the area. He didn't mean to sound like some guru, but he could really use being one with nature for a little bit. Maybe he could meet his friends for lunch if any of them were free, or maybe he could spend the afternoon relaxing by the compound's private pool—

"Good morning, Peter."

Peter jumped with a squeak, limbs tangling with his sheets, making him fall off the bed with a loud thud. Groaning, he slowly sat up on the floor, rubbing the back of his head to soothe it.

That was certainly one way to get the sleep out of your system.

"Emergency meeting in conference room A-One in ten minutes."

Well, so much for his plans to relax.

"Got it, FRIDAY."

It was still a bit odd hearing the A.I. as an alarm early in the morning most of the time. She was certainly very helpful though. From scheduling to reminders, simple google searches to more complicated equation-solving whenever he would need help.

FRIDAY was like the compound's own Alexa but much, much more advanced. Well, she certainly wasn't meant to be used as such but nobody could truly blame him for not taking the perks for granted.

And there were a lot of perks living in the place—the Avenger's compound, to be specific—and despite being here for almost a year now, Peter still hadn't gotten used to its extravagance, much less exhausted all its resources.

It was a drastic change from the little apartment where he and May used to live, and he wasn't talking about the size alone.

She was living with Happy now, Peter visiting over for dinner whenever he could. She was a bit reluctant to let him move out at first. It was expected when they'd practically been living together for a good chunk of his life. But he was grown now, so wanting to dabble into independence shouldn't come off as a surprise.

Sure, it was more him being available and closer to saving the world type of independence, but independence, nonetheless.

Plus, Peter simply wanted to give them as much privacy as he could.

Happy and May were like teenagers in love and the things he heard despite the thick walls thanks to his enhanced abilities…he'd rather not think about it. His super hearing definitely helped in making the decision.

He still hadn't stopped patrolling New York, of course. If it was a quiet day on earth—more so, the universe—he still swung about the city, stopping any petty crime he would come across. But when an Avenger's level threat would arise, Peter was now only a couple of doors down, equipped and ready to join the mission.

It was difficult to juggle: his normal life, attending college, being Spider-Man on top of being an official Avenger.

Nonetheless, Peter wouldn't have it any other way.

Maybe it was because he enjoyed the thrill of taking the superhero gig to the next level. Or maybe it was because he was granted the opportunity to live lavishly in the compound. Maybe it was the sheer feeling of accomplishment and pride to be able to save the world. 

Or maybe it was because he got to see you every day.

You, who Peter has an insanely huge crush—no, who he really, really liked.

He might even go as far as to say that he was falling for you.

The two of you had moved in at the same time.

He could still vividly remember how he'd just placed the last box on his bed when the building shook. He peered out his window to see what the commotion was about, just in time to catch the Quinjet landing on the well-kept grass. His brows had furrowed in curiosity when the door opened, watching Sam and Bucky come out first, then a third figure trailing right behind them.

Peter didn't really believe in love at first sight, but God did it feel like that when he first saw you.

Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly love—or maybe it was, who knows—but he really couldn't deny how intrigued he was of you, intimidated even. And that was when you walked into the common room in simple jeans and a pink hoodie.

He swooned the minute you smiled at him when you introduced yourself, his knees wobbling the minute you shook his hand.

It was later on that he found out that you were a former (more like forced) member of HYDRA, abducted at a young age, trained to be one of their elite spies, and brainwashed to do their bidding. Which was why it made so much sense how the one and only Bucky Barnes had a soft spot for you—quite surprising for someone who was known to be a huge grump.

You actually came from Wakanda that day, to erase whatever it was HYDRA planted into your brain. Now, you were a recruit on the team, willing to do good with the skills you now had.

You and Peter were around the same age—part of the young ones, as Bucky pointed out—so it didn't really take long for you to become friends.

Well, a friend he kept ridiculously fawning over, a friend who made his heart race whenever you were nearby, a friend who Peter didn't really want to remain as such.

He was thankful though, being your friend was better than being no one to you at all.

But still, it was difficult to suppress his feelings, especially when you were one of, if not, the sweetest and kindest person Peter had the pleasure of knowing.

Whenever he would stumble into the compound late at night, all badly beaten and bruised, somehow, you'd be the only one awake, helping him up to his own room where you'd then clean his wounds for him.

The first night it happened, you had said FRIDAY alerted you of his presence. You had rushed as fast as you could when the A.I. mentioned he was injured. After that, it simply became a routine for you both.

It was like an unspoken rule around the compound, how you were always the one who'd patch Peter up after missions—unless you weren't present, of course. There were even a handful of occasions where Peter would be the one patching you up, a rare instance where he'd be home from campus while you'd come back from an intense mission that rewarded you with fresh bruises and cuts.

He was convinced you were simply being nice to him, though. You did consider him as your friend and you were kind enough to help with an ailment or two. You were such a caring person overall. He was sure if it was any other person, you'd do the same. So, Peter wasn't exactly special in that regard.

But then you got assigned to help him train every weekend, which only made his overgrowing crush for you, well, grow some more.

It was a new requirement for recruits, learning how to fight without much use of technology.

From the wise words of the new captain: Gadgets and tech should be there as extra sets of tools, not as a replacement for your arms and limbs. If you rely on them too much, they're going to become crutches.

Bucky stared at Sam funnily at that—since his vibranium arm was both a tool and a replacement of his limb—but everyone got what he meant. Being able to take down bad guys with only your bare hands was definitely more helpful than not.

Peter didn't know if someone was secretly spying on him, or had overheard him gushing about you to Harley—or if said friend himself had ratted him out—that led to the two of you being paired together.

Bucky said that you were the best woman for the job to help improve hand-to-hand combat or overall fighting skills. You'd been training since you were young after all, and that was saying something. Peter was probably still learning his additions and subtractions while you had already mastered the art of jiu jitsu. Wanda added that the two of you were already close hence why you got paired together, simply to skip through that awkward phase of introductions.

Peter had a feeling the two were playing matchmaker. But he chose to ignore it.

Either way, it certainly didn't help his predicament.

Being so close to you in that regard, with you wearing those tight leggings and tank tops, grunting and sweating, your bodies getting tangled and just…yeah.

Training with you was enough to make his head—both heads, if being honest, but he'll keep the other one to himself—explode.

You were incredible.

So it didn't take much for him to get distracted by you during your sessions, either.

More often than not, Peter would find himself watching you in awe rather than trying to dodge your punches. You called him out on it a few times, and each time he'd turn pink, the tint on his skin turning darker when you'd order him to do push-ups as a means to discipline. You were strict at times, but he was still so lucky that you were also being patient with him when he couldn't get it quite right the first few times. Although, you being in command and in control only added to his endless list of things he was swooning over you for.

It was admirable the way you would have him so out of breath after a spar and he was the one with superpowers. You were being smart with it, tactical with the when, where and how to hit rather than just throwing a punch for the sake of it. You'd dance around him, gracefully, swiftly, strongly, each move precisely choreographed to outmatch him as if you'd already looked into the future to know what he was going to do next.

Peter was a goner the minute you pinned him down on the floor for the tenth time in that one session.

He didn't know if it was the smug smirk on your face, your knees on either side of his hips, the way you had his hands above his head, or everything all at once. But Peter's blood was definitely boiling with every touch, rushing up to his brain that quickly turned it to mush—or maybe it was rushing down. He really couldn't tell where the pulsing was coming from. If it was his heart or some other organ that gets filled with blood.

By then, he couldn't stop thinking about you, couldn't stop talking about you, head over heels like he was living and breathing for you.

Ned and Harley said it was an obsession at this point but in his defense, you were way out of his league.

And he hadn't even taken into account how you felt about him.

Sometimes, Peter would have an inkling that his feelings were reciprocated. With the way you'd smile at him, the way you'd say sweet things to him, and the lingering touches from time to time, how could he not?

But, what if that was his rose-colored glasses making them seem like something they're not? Was it truly acts of affection and adoration or was it Peter's brain just romanticizing the shit out of simple kind gestures done for a friend?

Then came the thought that you were sweet and kind to everyone. It was just who you are, a ray of sunshine through and through—a ray of sunshine that could kick your ass ten times over but still. He'd rather not give himself too much hope. It was safer to assume that you were only seeing and treating him as a friend and nothing more.

Besides, it was too far-fetched, someone like you feeling something for someone like him.

You'd walk down a hallway with your head held high, while Peter would keep his eyes trained on the tiles. You'd stare your enemy down with no hesitation, your presence commanding, threatening, both words and actions carrying that certain chill that would make anyone second guess crossing you. While Peter would dance around them to avoid proper confrontation, going for silly jokes and sarcastic quips to mask any nervousness he would sometimes feel.

You're one hell of a powerful, strong woman and that's without any enhancements or superpowers involved.

While Peter…well, he's just your dorky, other times clumsy, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

As he said, you were way, way, way out of his league.

So he really couldn't do much but admire you from afar—or up close, but discreetly—until he would grow the extra set of balls needed to actually do something about his feelings for you, especially with the possible outcome of rejection.

He'd like to believe he'd grown quite a bit of confidence after entering college. It was a slow progress but he did manage to break out of his shell. With the number of parties Harry Osborn had managed to drag him into, how could he not? He was quite glad that now, he was able to talk to pretty girls without much stuttering and blushing involved.

But somehow when it was you in front of him, he would suddenly revert to his old high school self again. His cheeks would either be red or pink, barely able to get his words out as he would sometimes stare at you for longer than he should, all awestruck and dazed with admiration.

Peter's point was painfully proven right once again when he saw you down the hallway.

You were wearing black leggings and a black tank top along with your favorite running shoes. It was your usual getup whenever you would train or workout. Yet no matter how many times Peter had seen you in them before, it never failed to make his heart skip a beat. It was nothing fancy at all, but God did it look stunning on you.

It was mostly unconscious, and well, his rational brain did sometimes take a backseat when it comes to you. But his eyes drifted over your body, from your exposed shoulders to your collarbones, flitting momentarily on your chest, before they went to your legs, your tight leggings leaving so little to his imagination as they hugged your thighs. He tried to move his gaze back up to look at you more appropriately but simply got stuck on your hips. There was a slight sway in them as you walked—in slow motion, he was sure of it—with such confidence, and the way you held yourself with power and poise was breathtaking.

Shit. Did the AC malfunction? Why is it suddenly so hot—

"Hi, Pete."

Your voice snapped him out of his stupor. But your bright, beautiful eyes and your so-goddamn-pretty smile all while you stood right in front of him was more than enough to have him swooning again.

"H-Hey," he squeaked, painfully aware of how hot his cheeks had gotten. Add the fact that he hadn't been out under the sun much, he was sure you could see how pink it was. That knowledge alone probably made it a shade darker. Then came the fleeting thought that you might've caught him practically eyeing you up—

He quickly cleared his throat, keeping his head down to hide his blush as he opened the door to the conference room.

"After you."

"Thank you," you hummed, reaching a hand out to squeeze his arm before you moved past him.

It took a lot for his knees not to wobble at the gesture, even more, when he caught a whiff of your shampoo…or was that your perfume? But if you had just gone on a morning run and taken a shower—no, that wasn't your body wash. You didn't look like you'd just got out of the shower, so maybe it was just your scent. God, you always smell so nice.

"Holy—get your shit together man," he grumbled to himself, hastily wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans, fixing up his hair before entering the conference room.

It was relatively empty—well, the whole compound was given that the rest of the Avengers weren't at headquarters in the meantime, caught in other obligations whether personal or otherwise. The only other person in the room was Wanda, sitting across from you.

"Pete," you called, tapping the chair beside you before he could even choose a seat to take. There were plenty of vacant ones. Trying to calm his raging heart, he walked over to your side and sat down. But each beat only grew faster when you tilted your head at him with a smile. "Did you go on a run this morning?"

"Oh—uh, no, not yet," he said, trying his best to keep his eyes on yours rather than let them wander, like…down your lips. Shrugging to seem unbothered, he added, "FRIDAY announced the meeting just when I woke up."

"I haven't either," you hummed. So, it was just your scent earlier, the same one that was filling up his nostrils now as you leaned a little closer to him. "Maybe we can go—"

"Another day, another robbery," Sam cut you off as he and Bucky entered the room.

You moved away from him then, leaning back on your seat, attention now on the captain. An unconscious frown made its way onto his lips, because yes, he was slightly—greatly—annoyed at the interruption.

"Only this time, it calls for a national emergency," Bucky added, taking the seat next to Wanda.

"Global, if we don't stop it in time," Sam sighed, connecting a flash drive to one of the USB ports installed on the table.

"Oh no, did they steal the president's nudes?" Peter joked, immediately shrinking in his seat when the two men shot him a look. "Sorry, sorry, bad joke and definitely not the time—I'll shut up."

"That was funny," you whispered, flashing him a smile and Peter's face immediately burned. He wasn't given much time to respond when Sam cleared his throat.

"As much as that would be horrifying, it's something much worse." He pressed a button on the table that made the hologram come to life. There was only one item shown, a rectangular, gold-colored device, probably the size of a credit card but thicker by half an inch. Sam pointed at it and said, "The Gold Codes."

"The Gold Codes?" Peter muttered, brows furrowed in confusion.

"The president's nuclear launch codes," you answered, always willing to help him out on things he wasn't too well versed on.

"Oh." Peter nodded, smiling at you appreciatively before his face fell, eyes widening in realization. "Oh. That's definitely worse than his nudes."

You laughed, and it made Peter's heart do flips.

"And of course, its partner, the nuclear football. But instead of it being a whole briefcase, it's been reduced to this—" Sam flicked through the hologram, a black device coming up beside the gold codes. It looked like a plain external hard drive, roughly the same size as a pocketbook. It wasn't that big so it was definitely easy to carry around and, by the looks of it, easier to steal.

"Technology advancing sometimes isn't the best," Bucky grumbled.

You sat straighter in your seat, forearms resting on the table as you eyed the devices. There was a furrow between your brows, lips pursed as you tilted your head.

Peter couldn't stop his smile.

He always found your thinking face adorable.

You turned to Sam after a moment and asked, "Don't they change the codes every day?"

"Yes, but as our hundred-year-old resident said, technology is advancing so the card automatically syncs up to any changes made," Sam explained.

"That's the stupidest thing ever," Wanda scoffed.

Peter nodded in agreement. "Why did these even get stolen in the first place?"

"The one who was carrying the nuclear football was a double agent," Bucky said.

"Classic," you scoffed. "And have we found where it is?"

Sam nodded at Bucky, the super soldier rummaging around a bag that Peter just noticed he brought with them. He slid across a black envelope with gold detailing, your brows furrowing as you took it in your hand.

"Oh wow, an invitation to a charity gala tonight at The Aces," you gushed, scanning through the glossy, black paper before you turned to look at Peter. You probably saw the confused look he wore because you offered him a sweet smile before explaining, "It's one of the fanciest ballrooms in New York, most of the galas they hold are very exclusive for the rich and the rich-rich, like filthy 'I can end world hunger but I'm an asshole so I won't' rich."

"Thanks," Peter hummed, smiling.

"I got you." You bumped his shoulder with a wink, which quickly made him blush.

"But it's a smokescreen," Sam continued. "The real party happens later in the night."

"That's what she said," Bucky interrupted enthusiastically, earning a heavy eye roll from Sam and laughs from you and Wanda. The technically old man looked around the room. "What? Did I say the joke wrong?"

"You got the spirit," Peter chuckled.

"As I was saying, they're holding a black market auction later in the night in the small underground theater a floor beneath the building." Sam continued, swiping up the hologram until it showed a floorplan of a theater along with a couple of photos of high-tech armor, guns, and a whole bunch of things Peter couldn't exactly name. What stood out the most to him, though, was the logos: Stark Industries, Oscorp, Pym Technologies, Sable International, and the likes. "Stolen technology and weapons being sold to anyone who has the money to buy them."

"So, it's like the dark web, but fancier," Wanda quipped.

"Stealing items and then selling them to the highest bidder," Peter hummed. "Sounds like the British."

You snorted, quickly covering your mouth when everyone turned to you with raised brows.

"Sorry," you mumbled, kicking him under the table playfully, probably as a warning to stop making you laugh. Peter only grinned proudly in response. He always felt proud whenever he made you laugh.

"Anyway, the nuclear football is easier to find. It's locked in a room along with the other items they're planning on selling," Sam started, flicking through the hologram to show a floor plan of the whole building. He circled the large room in the middle before tracing a pathway leading up to another, much smaller room. "It's located on the east wing, right side of the main ballroom. It has double doors so you wouldn't miss it, especially with the armed guards."

"And the card?" Peter asked.

"Would be much more difficult to retrieve. It's going to be with the person who orchestrated this whole thing. The problem is—"

"You don't know who it is," you finished.

Sam nodded grimly. "Whoever is the mastermind of this grand scheme has been quite good at maintaining anonymity. The only time they're going to reveal themselves, along with the codes, is during the secret auction, which you can't get into unless you're chosen to be there."

"If you think the gala was exclusive, the auction is on a different scale," Bucky explained.

"We don't know what code or secret handshake will be needed to be able to attend the auction. Our best course of action is to attend the gala, scope the scene, and hopefully, get intel on how to join the auction without much breaking and entering involved," Sam said. "I had Harley tap into the security system of the building and guess what?"

"You found an even bigger problem," you and Peter said at the same time.

Sam nodded. "The whole building is now armed with sensors fit to detect every single Avenger's superpower, any Stark-grade weapons and also, vibranium. Bucky's metal arm, Wanda's magic, my wings, so on and so forth. Neither of us could simply swoop in because the second those silent sensors go off, or any commotion will start, poof goes the codes along with our criminal."

Bucky shifted in his seat. "Even if we discard all of that and try not to use it, going in there as, quote-on-quote civilians won't work either because—"

"Everyone would immediately recognize who we are," Wanda finished.

"Since there are only two people here whose faces aren't known publicly"—Sam looked between the two of you—"Peter and Y/N, you two are going to be the ones to retrieve the codes and the football."

"W-What?" Peter choked, eyes wide as he stared at the captain. "Don't they have my powers in the sensors?"

"They only have it for your web shooters and suit, and as far as I know, both are detachable."

"But that's me, that's how I operate," he stammered. Going out there as himself wasn't part of his skill set. He'd feel too exposed without his suit. Not to mention he was going with you. Which of course wasn't a bad thing at all but it only added this pressure to not mess things up. He couldn't live with himself if he'd fail this mission, fail you—or worse, have you get hurt because he wasn't capable enough. "How am I supposed to be Spider-Man without those?"

"You have to give yourself more credit, Pete," you said, placing your hand over his own, the one resting on his thigh. Peter's eyes followed your touch before he met your gaze again, his blush prominent, heart thumping so loud he was scared you might hear it. "You're more than just a suit. And you need to remember how you've managed to make your synthetic web in the first place. So I'm sure you'll do fine with your brain alone. Even then, you still have other abilities, and you have me."

Peter looked at you fondly, a smile curling on his lips as he turned his hand so your palm was over his, squeezing it to silently say thank you. He wasn't even aware of what he was doing, not until he saw your smile turn slightly shy. It was the quick glimmer in your eyes that made him realize he was absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

"Seconded." Wanda smiled at the two of you, chuckling when you and Peter jumped slightly away from each other. You pulled your hand away, Peter frowning at the loss of contact. But he shook his head, turning his focus back on the mission.

"Y/N here also said you'd gotten really good at your hand-to-hand combat skills," Bucky said, an all-knowing smile on his face as he glanced between you two. "So, I don't think you'd need your web shooters as much if ever it comes to a fight."

"Which we hope won't result in that," Sam quickly added with a reassuring nod. "The plan is simple: scope and mingle, assess the scene, try and get some information as to how to get into the auction. Once you've done that, sneak into the vault to retrieve the nuclear football. I've already assigned Harley to make a duplicate device to swap with the real one so it won't trigger the alarm.

"Then, you sit at the auction and wait until the codes come up. I'm sure it will be presented by the anonymous seller so by then, we will be able to put a face on the mastermind. Our agents should already be blocking every single exit of the building by that time so all you have to do is to retrieve the code calmly. Try and ease your way into the main stage, charm and persuade, or whichever way works. Any more questions?"

You and Peter looked at each other, before you both turned to Sam, shaking your heads.

"Good. We've already set your fake identities up, google searches running for miles, the last thing we need are photos, together, individually, candid and professional which would only take a few minutes. Your fake names are already on the guest list, your outfits and everything else you need will be waiting for you at the hotel you're getting ready at as part of the whole ruse," he instructed. "You two are the best and only shot we've got in this. Plan your moves wisely and rely on each other. We can't afford to lose those codes."

"Yes, Captain."

•••

The hotel suite was fancy.

Peter had never been in one this expensive-looking before.

It had its own living room, a minibar, a huge bathroom, a king-size bed, and then a massive window that overlooked New York City. He definitely indulged himself with their complimentary champagne, and given the fact that he couldn't get drunk, he mostly did it for the taste—which was flavored expensive, to those wondering. Hell, even the chocolate they had tasted expensive.

Then again, the two of you were undercover as a rich, engaged couple so it was part of the whole thing. You never know whose eyes and ears were for who in these types of missions.

But still, it was quite the treat and he'd be stupid not to make the most of it—without getting too distracted, of course.

Peter was now all suited up, not in spandex this time. It was a crisp, black, formal suit made with fabric he wouldn't dare guess the cost and a brand he couldn't even begin to pronounce. He had a white dress shirt underneath, paired with a black tie. The one he was currently having a hard time doing as he stood in front of the floor-length mirror in the living room.

He groaned in frustration when he once again messed it up. He didn't wear this kind of clothes often, so he really didn't have much of a reason to learn to master the art of…tying?

"Need help?"

Peter turned around, the breath knocked out of him once he saw you come out of the bedroom.

Wow.

Oh wow you looked gorgeous in red.

It was an off-shoulder, long-sleeved dress, your arms covered in lace as the fabric hugged your figure. The skirt was long as it fanned onto the floor with a really high slit on your right leg to show off the silver heels you were wearing. Your hair and make-up were done to marry the whole style, all while enhancing your natural features rather than covering them. Your red-painted lips though—

"Wow."

"Yeah," you laughed softly, your gaze falling over yourself as your hands smoothed the fabric of your dress. "I don't know who picked it but it's really pretty and it fits really nicely. Perks of having body scans for our suits, I suppose."

"You look beautiful," Peter breathed out, still frozen in his place as he stared at you in absolute awe.

"Thank you," you said, your sweet smile turning into a smirk as you eyed him up and down with a nod. "You clean up nice, too, Parker."

"Oh—uhm, t-thanks." He blushed, shaking his head before gesturing both hands at you. "But you, I—wow, you look, wow."

"Shut up," you laughed, your dress flowing as you moved closer to him. "Here, let me."

Peter wasn't even given much time to recompose himself when you once again took his breath away by simply standing so close to him. Every inhale was just filled with your scent, his heart skipping a few beats as he scanned your face, only a couple inches from his and God did you look even more beautiful up close.

His blush deepened when you reached for his tie, your brows furrowed in that adorable way he'd come to familiarize as you slowly did it for him.

Peter honestly didn't know what to do with his hands, yet there was some sort of pull that he couldn't resist, like an instinct as he gently rested them on your waist. He was distracted by how close you were, but not enough to miss the way your breath hitched at the contact. Testing the waters, he squeezed it gently, biting his cheek to stop his smile from growing when he saw your fingers falter.

But oh did the pride bubble in his chest.

You shook your head, finishing up his tie with a smile. It was Peter's breath that hitched this time when you smoothed it over his chest, your palms flat against the muscle, touch so sweet, skin so warm. You looked up, your smile faltering when your eyes met his.

He didn't know how long you stared at each other. He also didn't know who moved a little closer first, but he definitely wasn't complaining. Not when he was so close that he could count exactly how many eyelashes you had. And he gladly would've if your voice hadn't snapped him out of the trance that nobody could ever put him under but you.

"We should get going," you whispered, but you still lingered for a few more seconds, more than enough for his brain to run its course, thinking that maybe, his feelings for you weren't as unrequited as he thought.

It was the sound of a beeping alarm that broke you two apart.

"Come on, we can't be late," you said after a breath, flashing him a sweet smile before going to grab your things.

"Wait," he cleared his throat, patting around his pockets before finally retrieving a velvet box. You turned around just as he'd opened it, showing you the ring that resided inside.

Your eyes widened, lips opening and closing as you gawked at the sparkling diamond for a few seconds before you met his gaze. "Peter—"

"Oh shit! It's not what it looks like!" he panicked.

Peter did always find himself daydreaming about you often, and he would be lying if he said he hadn't already pictured something similar to this moment. But even he could recognize how many steps he'd basically jumped over by showing you a diamond ring. And as much as he would love to fast-forward to that part, he'd also like to take you out on a date first. Well, if he'd even get the courage to ask you that, anyway. 

"I-uh, you know, us, covering as an engaged couple? So, of course, uhm, you'll need an engagement ring?"

"O-Oh," you fumbled, nodding quickly before you offered him your left hand. "Yeah, of course."

Peter took it in his delicately, fingers running over your knuckles before he carefully slipped the ring on. Squeezing your hand, he reluctantly let go. 

"Did you pick this?" you asked, bringing your hand up to your face, fingers wiggling as you admired the ring.

Peter nodded. "Yeah, I did—well, Bucky helped."

"It's beautiful."

"It looks even more beautiful on you."

Your eyes snapped up to look at him, your smile growing as you hummed, "Charmer."

"It's the expensive suit." He shrugged, a teasing grin with a blush to match.

You laughed that lovely laugh of yours, adoration and pride swelling in his chest.

"Oh, Harley asked me to give you this," you said after a moment, pulling out a familiar pair of glasses before handing it to him. "He said it's all you need to do your magic."

"Nah, it's just a little tool kit I put together, really, kinda like a small computer so nothing magical about it," he chuckled, waving the glasses before putting them on. "It's carbon-based nanotech, passable through metal detectors. I've managed to look up what security system they had installed in the safe and there's sort of a minicomputer inside so it should be easy to bypass the system. I already have the program in here that would run through all the probable security codes so all I need to do is activate the glasses and it would automatically unscrew everything and connect to a hopefully pre-existing female micro-USB slot with the male counterpart in this old thing and—" he paused, face heating up as you gazed at him with a twinkle in your eyes. "What?"

"Nothing, just—you're amazing," you sighed, smile widening before you nodded. "Let's go?"

Peter ignored that way his whole body tingled at your praise and offered you his arm.

Not like it was a new reaction whenever he was around you, anyway.

"Let's."

•••

"Mr. Reid, the car is already waiting for you."

That was the first sentence Peter heard when you reached the hotel lobby. He looked behind him before looking at the man in a suit, pointing at himself in confusion.

"I'm not—"

"Lucas, honey, come on," you cut him off, slipping your fingers in his. You flashed him a knowing smile, squeezing his hand before you tugged him along as you followed the guy.

Right. Fake identities.

"Woah." Peter gawked at the car in front of him, leaning closer to you as he whispered, "Is that a Rolls Royce? Like, the new one?"

"Sort of. It's the Phantom Extended." You nodded with an amused smile. "The best way to blend in with the rich, don't you think?"

Peter was about to open the door for you but then the butler—at least, he assumed that was who he was—beat him to it. So, he opted on helping you with your dress instead, making sure it didn't get caught on anything as you settled inside.

"Thank you, my love," you giggled.

My love.

Peter luckily didn't slip on the expensive lambswool floor mat as he got into his seat.

It's pretend. Get a grip.

Once the car started moving, you pressed a button on the center console, the clear glass that separated the front and back immediately turning into an opaque white, completely secluding the two of you from the driver. He looked at you curiously, nervous—okay, and maybe a bit excited—as to why you decided you suddenly needed privacy. Peter had heard a lot of stories about what goes on in the rear cabin of expensive cars, especially with the partition up, so could it be—

"Did you get to read about our fake identities? The one Sam sent?"

Thinking with the wrong head again, aren't we, Parker?

"I, uhm, no, got too preoccupied with the ring and getting dressed," he admitted, looking at you guiltily. The mission had barely started and he was already messing it up. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, no, it's okay," you reassured with a smile, hand on his thigh, squeezing for good measure. He wasn't able to relish in the warmth of your touch for long as you shifted in your seat, turning around to face him. "I mean, everything is very last minute. I'll just tell you about it.

"Lucas Reid, the young 26-year-old and dashing CEO of Reid Enterprises. You inherited the company at nineteen when your father died of illness," you started.

Peter scrunched his nose. "So, basically, I'm a trust fund baby?"

"Sort of, but you do prove that you did the work," you said. "Company sales skyrocketed when you took the seat."

"What about you?" Peter gestured at your ring, blushing. "Well, apart from being my fiancée."

"I run my own fashion company." You shrugged, winking at him as you added, "Can't be living in my future husband's shadow now, can we?"

Future husband.

God how Peter wished for that to be true.

He shook his head, hands rubbing on his thighs. "Do we have a backstory? Like, as a couple?"

"Not much. Five years ago, we met in Milan during fashion week—"

"Let me guess, sparks flew right off the bat?" he chuckled.

"Love at first sight, obviously," you scoffed, rolling your eyes teasingly.

Not too far off from reality.

"Besides that, it's all the basics from there. Dates, extravagant gifts, and then two months ago, you proposed."

"Right," he started, bumping your knee with his lightly. "So, when's the wedding?"

You laughed, "We're not sure yet. Too busy."

"Of course," Peter sighed, rolling his eyes playfully. "Can't get me out of my office, now can you?"

"I have my ways," you hummed, wiggling your brows at him.

Peter was so sure his face had gone so red.

"You always do," he chuckled shyly, shaking his head before smiling at you. "Can we go over the plan real quick?"

You smiled. "Of course."

Peter knew what to do, obviously. He'd already gone over the plan probably a hundred times in his head. But he simply wanted to make sure he wasn't missing anything, especially something that could potentially jeopardize the whole mission. He couldn't afford even one single misstep, not when you and your safety could be put at risk—and the millions around the world that would suffer if those weapons got into the wrong hand, of course.

"We're almost there," you said once you've gone over the plans twice, eyes scanning across the windows. "It's just on the next turn."

Peter's heart quickened.

He didn't even notice that his emotions had gone evident on his face. Not until you squeezed his arm.

"You okay?" you asked, brows furrowed in concern.

"Yeah! Yeah, of course," he said quite unconvincingly. It was when he heard the ticking of the turn signal did his nerves shift to overdrive, his eyes wide as they met yours. "Shit, I don't think I can do this. I mean, I'm not usually out there with my face showing, you know? And I'm so so so not James Bond, I'm the farthest from James Bond I'm like, Lame Bond. I'm not smooth o-or charming or suave enough to be a spy—oh no. No, no, no, what if they find me out right away? I'm going to mess everything up and this is going to go horribly wrong and—"

"Hey!" you interjected, hands cupping his face, squishing his cheeks slightly as you pulled him closer, eyes boring into his with determination. Peter didn't know if it was the proximity that shut him up, or if it was your scent that overpowered his senses—probably both. "You're going to be fine. You've got this."

He gulped, nodding before letting out a shaky breath.

You smiled reassuringly, thumbs brushing over his cheeks, his skin turning redder with each caress. "Be observant, you don't have to talk. With this kind of crowd, trust me, the quiet ones are the most intimidating. If there's anything you feel like it's a bit off, trust your gut, and let me know, okay?"

"Okay," he breathed out, nuzzling into your palm absentmindedly, finding a sense of comfort from your warm touch.

"And if it gets overwhelming, just follow my lead."

•••

Peter got out of the car, nodding curtly with a tightlipped smile at the driver who opened the door for him.

He decided at the last minute that Lucas Reid was going to be a stoic, passively quiet CEO with a resting 'serious' face that only means business.

Peter straightened up his suit before he offered you his hand, the huge rock on your finger glinting underneath the city lights as your palm met his.

He gently guided you out of the car, helping you fix up your dress before offering you his arm. Your fingers curled around his bicep as you kissed his cheek with a soft thanks. Peter smiled at you warmly, pulling you closer to his side as you made your way inside the building.

Stoic and passive except towards his lovely fiancée, of course.

He might or might not have stumbled upon a few Mobster Spider-Man fanfictions on some website not too long ago. And he might or might not have taken some inspiration from it.

"Please take a basket to put your phones and any other electronic devices in and step under the detectors one by one," one guard instructed.

Adjusting his glasses, he pulled out his newly upgraded phone. It was sponsored by the Avengers obviously since he couldn't exactly rock up with his old, cracked one, with him being rich and everything. He smiled at the lock screen photo—it was of you and him, your lips pressed against his cheek, taken just a couple of hours ago to have photos to make this engaged couple gimmick believable—before he placed it in the basket you were holding up for him.

You smiled reassuringly before you stepped under the metal detector first, Peter following just closely after.

He let out a nervous breath when he saw how heavily armed the guards were. A variation of M17s and a couple of AK-47s were in the hands of fully uniformed men from head to toe. They look like your typical SWAT team, but Peter knew they were more dangerous than that, especially when their morals were as corrupted as he'd presumed.

He was an enhanced superhero, yes, but he sure as hell wasn't bulletproof. And as much as he could probably dodge a few shots, he would rather not take the gamble of finding out exactly how many he could avoid.

That wasn't what he was worried about, though. Because as he felt your fingers slip back into his, he was reminded of how vulnerable and defenseless you were. No superpowers, no bulletproof vests, still an amazing badass who without a doubt could take on two guys in a fight and win, but still a human who could get badly hurt by a simple pull of a trigger.

There were only so many bullets he could jump in front of you for.

"We're going to be fine," you whispered, squeezing his hand as if you could sense his worry. "I got your six."

Peter squeezed back. "And I've got yours."

The two of you stayed close to each other, arms linked as you headed towards the ballroom. But once the huge archway came into sight, you leaned closer to him.

"You go ahead," you whispered in his ear, squeezing his bicep. "I need to go to the bathroom."

Peter nodded.

He knew that some agents had already hidden some of your equipment hours before. Well, he hoped they successfully did, anyway. If not, then, you both might have to compromise.

Peter didn't know what exactly he was expecting when he entered the ballroom but it definitely wasn't as fancy as this.

The ballroom was grandiose in itself with its ornate marble columns and crown moldings, complementing the beautifully impressive murals that covered the ceilings. Even the red curtains that draped along the walls seemed far too luxurious for the mere fact that they were curtains for crying out loud.

Peter had never seen so many chandeliers hanging all in one space, not to mention, ones that seemed to be decked out in gold and crystals…or were those diamonds?

Everything was decorated with a color scheme of cream, black, silver, and gold, from the round tables and accompanying chairs. To contrast were various glass structures illuminated by some kind of light as they glinted and shimmered even from the corner of his eye. There was an open bar in one corner, a long table of finger foods and various desserts, and live music coming from the string quartet on a rotating, circular stage right in the center of a—is that an indoor fountain?

"Wow," you gasped as you appeared beside him, your eyes twinkling underneath the chandeliers. "It's gorgeous."

"Yeah," Peter sighed, eyes trained on the way your face glowed in awe as you admired the space. "Gorgeous."

Your smile brightened as you tilted your head, gaze meeting his. Then, your brows furrowed, stepping in front of him and eyeing the top of his head. "Come here. I need to fix up your hair."

Peter ducked his head without question, hands around your waist as he let you settle the mess of his windswept curls. He found the furrow of your brows absolutely adorable, but the way your tongue slightly poked out of your red lips made him want to just pull you in and kiss you senseless.

You tucked a few short strands behind his ear, gently pressing your thumb into his concha, the earpiece fitting snugly before he heard a faint crackle and then a deep voice.

"Parker, can you hear me?"

"Aye, aye, Captain," he muttered.

He heard a few snickers in the background followed by Sam scoffing sarcastically.

"My, aren't you two cute."

Peter's brows furrowed, confused eyes meeting yours. "What does he mean?"

"I answered the same way," you giggled, shrugging as you smoothed over his tie and buttoned up his suit jacket.

Peter's heart fluttered at that.

"We'll be on the line listening. Be discreet. Only communicate what's necessary."

You and Peter shot each other a look, grins widening into a knowing smirk.

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"Jesus Christ."

The line went quiet, presumably Sam muting their end until further notice.

Peter shook his head, chuckling before turning to you. "So, what now?"

"Scope," you said, waving back at a random woman who was making their way over to you both. You turned to him with a smile. "And mingle."

•••

Peter was so far out of his element.

He was already a terrible liar when under pressure, stuttering and blubbering until he would end up telling the truth. And that was around people he got along with.

Now how was he supposed to make small talk with the rich all while pretending to be rich himself when he clearly was not?

His best course of action? He didn't talk.

It fit well with the persona he'd created, anyway.

He was mostly following your advice—well, more like literally following you around. He was like your trophy fiancé in some way, and honestly, Peter wasn't opposed to it.

You were taking charge, and all he had to do was scope the scene, nod and smile whenever he was acknowledged while mostly speaking only to you.

From an outsider's point of view, he probably looked like such a puppy for his girl, only meeting your eyes, hovering by your side, his attention and touch always on you. A hand on the small of your back, an arm around your waist as he hung onto every word that slipped past your beautiful red-painted lips. For them, he was simply a man completely enamored by his soon-to-be wife. So it definitely sold this whole fiancé gimmick you two got going on.

Then again, it wasn't like he had to pretend that much, either. It wasn't hard to act all smitten with you because he already was. And, okay, he was playing it up a little. Peter would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy acting like you were his and he was yours, even if it was only for a mission.

Other than that, he also quite enjoyed indulging in the food and beverages that were paraded around by the waiters. It tasted so good, so obviously made with high-quality and expensive ingredients, but most importantly free. Could you blame him for taking advantage of it?

He was being an opportunist, he was well aware, which was why he didn't think much about downing the very tasty champagnes they offered, especially when he was free from any consequence that the drink brought—well, one of the consequences.

Because as much as he was immune to the buzz of the alcohol, he couldn't say the same for the effects it brought on his bladder.

It didn't really expand when his abilities got enhanced.

With how utterly gorgeous you looked tonight, it shouldn't have surprised him that the second he left your side, some men in this gala would take his absence as an opportunity to make a move.

He might've been acting like a guard dog, he admits, glaring at anyone who dared to glance at you wrongly. You were "his fiancée" after all, he was simply playing the part of your possessive protective husband-to-be.

That was what he told himself, anyway.

But still, when he came back after his little bathroom break, Peter wasn't too keen on what he saw.

You were talking to some dark-haired man wearing a bold, fully gold-colored suit and an even bolder beard. He didn't look old, but he didn't exactly look young, either. Or perhaps his facial hair played a part in that regard. He was—as much as he hated to say it—well-built and good-looking. If Peter was to guess, he was probably in his early 30s.

The interaction looked innocent enough, and Peter wouldn't have found it a big deal if this guy wasn't eyeing you up like you were a piece of meat.

"Amelia Devonché," the man greeted, his French accent thick, his flirtatious tone, even thicker.

So that's your fake name.

"The one and only," you said, smiling as you tilted your head. "Although I don't think we've been introduced."

"Halbert Auclair," he said, bowing as he held out an open palm.

Halbert? What kind of name is that?

"Pleasure to meet you," you hummed, slipping your hand into his.

"Pleasure's all mine. You look quite lovely tonight, mademoiselle," he crooned, bringing the back of your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

Peter's jaw clenched, an intensely heated emotion boiling his blood, only relaxing slightly when he heard your fake giggle.

He'd heard your real one enough to differentiate the two.

"Why, thank you, monsieur."

Clouded by his emotions, Peter took long strides towards you, swiftly wrapping a possessive arm around your waist and pulling you to his side, kissing your temple and then, without thought, near the corner of your mouth.

Your eyes snapped to meet his, a fleeting look of surprise on your features before you quickly masked it with a smile. "This is my fiancé—"

"Lucas Reid, one of the youngest yet richest CEOs here today," Halbert interjected, offering his hand out to shake.

"Hmm," Peter said with a curt nod, his grip a little tighter when he shook it.

"Man with few words, I see," Halbert chuckled dryly, flexing his fingers once they were free from his hold.

Peter bit his cheek to stop a smirk, pushing his glasses up before slipping his hand into his pocket, looking at you with a much more relaxed smile.

"My fiancé isn't great with crowds. Always stuck in his office, he is. The only thing in his mind is the business, and well, me," you gushed, resting your left hand on his chest, tilting your head to flash him a smile. "Am I right, handsome?"

"Very much so, darling," Peter said, unaware of how his voice sounded. He was still running on jealousy that he couldn't help but gently take your hand from his chest, bringing the back of it to his lips and then kissing the diamond ring on your finger. He smiled at you sweetly as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. "You still owe me a dance, my love."

You blinked a few times, lips parting before you shook your head with a soft laugh, "Oh, yes! How can I forget."

"Have a lovely night, madem—"

Peter didn't even wait for him to finish his sentence as he gently ushered you towards the dance floor, just in time for the string quartet to play their version of Quando, Quando, Quando.

So…he didn't quite think this through.

Peter had no idea how to dance.

His boiling jealousy was quickly replaced with nervousness and dread as you guided his hands, one on your waist, the other curled around yours.

You were so blatantly staring at him that his nerves could only grow tenfold. It was only a matter of time before you realized just how jealous he acted. Hell, he only just realized it after the emotion had left his system. And despite avoiding your eyes, he could still sense it, how you were trying to figure out why he'd done what he just did.

Peter cleared his throat, "Something wrong?"

"Are you okay?" you countered, placing your hand on his shoulder before moving to the music.

He didn't know if he should be thankful or slightly embarrassed that you were the one leading the dance. But then again, there probably would never be a time when Peter wouldn't follow your lead—dancing or otherwise.

He'd follow you to the ends of the earth if he could.

It was working, though, bodies synchronously swaying to the sound of strings as if you'd done this plenty of times before. It was either a testament to how good you were at basically everything—a quick learner, a leader, a teacher and hell, a dancer—or just how well you two complemented each other.

Peter believed it was both.

"Yeah," Peter chuckled timidly, eyes trained on the ground to avoid your eyes and to make sure he wouldn't step on your foot. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seemed…" you paused, hand squeezing his shoulder lightly. "Angry."

Peter blushed.

Jealous. Not angry.

"I'm not," he brushed off, shaking his head. "Got nothing to be angry about."

"Right," you hummed, and it sounded like you didn't believe him at all.

"Did I mess up?" Peter sighed, worried eyes finally meeting your curious ones.

"What? No. You just came off as quiet which isn't a big deal," you reassured, smile widening with amusement. "Where did that South London accent come from, though?"

"Wait." Peter blinked, frowning. "I did an accent?"

"Yeah, you did," you laughed. "Which I didn’t even know you could do."

"I guess I was too nervous to even realize," he admitted, chuckling. "I've been binge-watching The Great British Bake Off lately, maybe I just picked it up."

"So nervousness makes you do accents," you hummed, smiling. "Interesting."

"What?" He narrowed his eyes at you teasingly. "Don't tell me you like a British accent too, like, half the world apparently."

"It's cute," you admitted with a shrug. "But I like your accent more."

Peter blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah, I like the kid from Queens," you said nonchalantly.

Peter almost stepped on your foot. If you weren't a trained spy with quite good reflexes, you might've gone home with a bruised toe.

You shook your head, giggling as you pulled him back to the rhythm of the dance. "You're going to have to keep the charade if you speak to other people, now, though"

"Yeah, didn't really think about that." Peter scrunched up his face, clearing his throat before he looked at you shyly. "I really don't dance."

"Well, you're doing great so far," you hummed, pulling him closer as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Peter secured his on your waist then, both of you gliding across the dance floor to the symphony of the strings as you held each other's gaze. It was impressive, really, that this was the first time you both danced together, but danced like two spiders spinning their silks in a synchronized choreography to create a large heart-shaped web.

Then, he felt bold, confident.

He didn't know if it was from that same pull from earlier tonight, his senses being muddled by your overpowering presence, your warm body pressed so close against him, or the sweet lure of the music that added something to the air.

Perhaps it was everything all at once.

But Peter couldn't help but lean even closer, the tips of your noses just a hair's breadth away.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his gaze fluttering across your face before meeting your eyes.

Peter reveled in the way your smile got shy.

"You've said that already."

"Once will never be enough."

You shook your head with a giggle, eyes twinkling, "And you said you aren't smooth."

"Like I said," he started, lowering his voice, shrugging with a teasing grin, "It's the expensive suit."

Peter's heart warmed at your sweet laugh, that certain pull growing stronger at the lovely sound. He dipped his head, noses touching before he pressed his forehead against yours. He squeezed your waist when your breath hitched, warm and inviting as it tickled his lips, tempting, oh so close—

"Ahem."

You both jerked back, eyes wide with surprise.

"Sam! You've ruined it!" Peter heard Wanda hiss through the earpiece.

"He was finally getting somewhere!" And that was Harley.

Peter's whole face grew hot with embarrassment, squeezing your waist, still keeping you close as he looked away.

He completely forgot about the comms being live and open to everyone back at the compound.

Then again, all of them had been suspiciously quiet until now. 

"Well, damn, I'm sorry? But this is an important mission, not a radio drama?"

"You just had to cockblock—"

"I'm surprised you even know what that means, you white fossil—"

You cleared your throat, smiling at Peter shyly. "Any intel?"

"I think that French dude is our bad guy," he answered swiftly, ready to change the subject or else his knees might go out.

"Auclair?" You raised a brow at him with a smirk. "How so?"

Peter might sound like he had a vendetta against the guy who shamelessly flirted with you. But, he did have a few points to back his claim.

"It's kinda weird how quickly he knew about us. Unless he stole the guest list and researched every single one of the names or he's the host. Also, he really made a point in stating how rich I am. You only do that when you want money for the auction. And if that's not proof enough—" Peter pulled a black and silver playing card out of his pocket, the same one Halbert gave to him during the handshake. "Seven of hearts, well, kinda. It's more arrows than it is hearts. All of them are pointing downward no matter which way you turn it. Look—" He turned the card, an almost holographic effect as the arrows remained south. "That's not how normal playing cards are. So I assume it means downstairs to the secret auction. And we've got about an hour max until it's seven. And if that's not obvious enough—" Peter showed you the back, tilting it to the light to expose the words 'Big Toys, Bigger Guns' in the middle in gold lettering.

"Cheesy, but it works," he finished.

"That's a really good catch, wow," you praised, grinning proudly. "Someone's getting the hang of this already, huh?"

"Watching those James Bond movies finally paid off, I guess," he chuckled, nodding at you. "Plus, I got a good teacher."

You smiled. "Keep a careful eye on him," you instructed, snorting a little when he all but glared when he found the man. You squeezed his slightly tensed shoulders. "Subtlety."

"I don't think I need to be subtle because he keeps eyeing you like he stands a chance as if the rock on your finger isn't big enough. You're my fiancée. So me glaring at some guy with too much beard who looks at you far too long for comfort let alone appropriate isn't out of the ordinary," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Men are pigs I tell you."

"Someone's committed to the bit," you teased, smiling far too bright for it to be innocent. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jealous."

Peter quickly snatched a champagne flute from the tray when a waiter walked past, handing it to you with a small curtsy.

"You look parched, my darling."

You rolled your eyes but took the glass anyway, your grin telling him that maybe you like the accent more than you were letting on.

But she likes your accent more.

Peter couldn't stop his heart from melting at the thought.

He was also glad that his distraction worked, his jealousy hopefully forgotten as he guided you toward the bar once the song finished.

"Door's unguarded," you murmured against the glass, sipping gingerly before you handed it back to him. "Stay here and keep an eye out. I'll find us a key."

Peter nodded, sitting on one of the stools as he carefully and deliberately followed your movement. Not that he thought you couldn't handle yourself, but an extra pair of eyes will always be better than none. Also, he was being observant of his surroundings, his enhanced senses helping in making sure there wasn't anything suspicious going on, keeping him on high alert in case he needed to jump in.

He watched with pride as you slyly stole a keycard from a gullible enough guard who was too distracted by your flirting. It was an impressively swift sleight of hand that if he wasn't paying attention enough, he would've missed it.

Still, Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes at how stupid and easy these guards tend to be, any focus and rational thought out the window all because of an alluring smirk, a teasing touch and a glimpse of skin—the simplest seduction from one gorgeous woman.

But then again, he wasn't exactly one to talk. Because as innocent as a bright smile from you, Peter would literally do anything you ask him to.

He was far too focused on you that he didn't even realize that someone had replaced your seat, not until he heard his name—well, the fake one.

"Lucas Reid."

Peter turned, eyes landing on a woman wearing a gold dress, curled, long hair framing a somewhat familiar face. Peter wasn't blind, he could see she was objectively pretty. But she simply could never hold a candle next to his gorgeous fiancée—fake or otherwise.

"Greta Auclair," she said with a smile, holding out her hand.

Peter didn't miss the flirtatious undertone in her actions. How could he when she was so adamant on fluttering her eyelashes at him, or the way she wasn't subtle at pushing up her chest, the low-cut top doing so little to hide…it? Them?

Not that he was looking. It was simply in his line of sight.

"Auclair," he hummed, shaking her hand briefly as he tried to make sure his accent didn't sound so forced. He honestly didn't know why he decided to make things harder for himself. "Any relation to Halbert?"

"Twin sister," she waved off, flipping her hair to one side.

Peter nodded without another word, attention swiftly shifting to search for you in the crowd.

"I must say, I've heard a lot of things about you," she hummed as she leaned forward, fingers curling around his bicep, gold-colored, manicured nails glinting underneath the light as she squeezed the muscle. "Apart from being a quiet man, of course."

Peter's resolve faltered a little, the gesture completely catching him off guard.

What's up with this family and overstepping personal space?

"Good things, I hope." He smiled tightly, crossing his arms over his chest, subtly shaking her hand off.

"Oh yes, very good things," she giggled, hand on his thigh as she leaned forward with a smirk. Winking, she added, "Naughty ones, too."

Peter gulped as he leaned back.

"O-Oh, uh—"

"Lucas."

He quickly spun around on his stool to the sound of your voice, facing you fully. His eyes widened in surprise as you gently nudged his knees apart but he didn't even hesitate to make room for you to stand in between. He placed his hands on your hips when you pulled him closer, your arms snaking around his neck.

Peter didn't know exactly what was going on, but he certainly wasn't complaining. Besides, like he said before, he would always follow your lead.

Yet still, he looked up at you in both curiosity and confusion, trying to gauge what was going through your mind. But you certainly were better at reading people than he was. Or perhaps that was you simply being a master at masking your emotions. Because apart from the slight edge on your smile, he was coming up empty.

"You must be Amelia," Greta interrupted.

Your grip on Peter's shoulder tightened, eyes rolling with a scowl before you turned to Greta with a forced smile. "Yes, hi."

Peter's brows raised at your uninterested tone, even more when you didn't even bother prolonging the conversation as you turned back to him, body leaning closer.

Interesting…

"Can you help me find the bathroom?" you purred, tone seductively sweet to match the implication of your words. You pressed your chest against his, faces only inches apart as your fingers played with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

Peter short circuited.

He merely stared at you in awe, blood growing hot, heart pumping erratically as his grip on your waist tightened.

Peter would be lying if he said he wasn't at the least bit turned on.

"Please?" you added with a pout when he didn't manage to speak for a good few seconds.

It was the slight pinch on his skin that snapped him out of it.

"Of course, my love," he said, clearing the lump in his throat as he hastily stood up.

Peter wasn't even given the time to get his bearings straight when you immediately took his hand in yours, pulling him away from the bar and down the hallway. He squinted at the sudden brightness of the ceiling lights, greatly illuminating the cream wallpaper with intricate gold-colored patterns, similar crown molding from those in the ballroom, and various paintings hanging on the walls for guests to admire. The space was obviously still for public access, but it was relatively empty.

Once you two were alone, you didn't bother hiding your emotions. And Peter could clearly tell that you were angry.

It was making him slightly nervous.

"Is everything okay?"

You ignored him.

Peter frowned when pulled your hand from his and put some distance between you. He watched as you tensely opened a metal door, entering in haste without looking back. He ran after you to avoid getting locked out, the two of you entering another much smaller hallway that could only fit one person at a time. It was more of a tunnel, to be honest.

He never liked it when you were upset, especially during a high-risk mission. But most of all, he hated disappointing you, and with the way you were acting, he could only assume he'd done something wrong.

Peter was hot on your tail, carefully watching your every sharp turn, just to make sure he wasn't going to lose you. Though, it wasn't long until you two emerged into a hallway that was similar to before.

You were staring straight ahead, heels clicking angrily as the skirt of your dress rapidly swished with every harsh step.

Oh you were pissed.

"Did I do something?"

"You shouldn't be distracted on the job," you said, tone clipped.

"But I wasn't distracted," he defended, his frown deepening.

"Flirting, distracted, same thing," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "It's not the time to woo girls. This is not a frat party."

Flirting? Woo girls?

"But I wasn't flirt—wait," he paused, his smile breaking out as realization dawned on him.

He could be quite oblivious sometimes, but he was not dumb. This wasn't going over his head, not when the way you were acting looked far too familiar. He'd seen the same thing happen only a couple of minutes ago, after all.

Because you weren't angry. 

Much like how he wasn't angry moments before your dance.

Peter stopped, looking at you carefully with arms crossed over his chest, smirking as he quoted your words,

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jealous."

You halted in your tracks, shoulders straightening with a huff before you continued walking.

It told Peter everything he needed to know.

He couldn't wipe off his smirk, pride bubbling in his chest, confidence boosted that little bit more as he jogged after you.

"There's going to be two guards at the door," you instructed monotonously once he reached your side, eyes avoiding him. "I'll distract one. You take care of the other one."

Peter stood straighter with a salute, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Yes ma'am."

You rolled your eyes, but he didn't miss the way the corner of your lips quirked up.

•••

"Excuse me, ma'am, this area is restricted."

"Oh, dear! My apologies, is this not where the bathroom is?" you gasped, and Peter was impressed at how clueless you sounded. If he didn't know you beforehand, he never would've guessed that you'd be one of the most elite and smartest spies there ever was. "Would either of you fine gentlemen guide me to where it is?"

Peter heard the two guards grumble before one spoke up gruffly, "Go. I've got this covered,"

"Yay!" you giggled, clapping your hands excitedly. "Thank you so much!"

Peter couldn't stop his grin at how cute you were.

When you and the other guard were out of sight, Peter made a run for it. Guard Two only caught a split-second glimpse of him before his fist harshly connected with their jaw, wincing when he heard a faint crack.

"Sorry," Peter whispered with a grimace, standing straight and adjusting his glasses. "Didn't mean to hit that hard."

He quickly turned towards the sound of grunts and hisses, fists colliding against muscles and then a body falling onto the floor. He rushed towards where you disappeared, entering the hallway just in time to see you fixing up your dress. Your eyes met his when he walked over to you, your smile sweet yet proud.

"Need a lil help carrying this guy," you said, gesturing behind you.

He nodded with a chuckle, eyes trained on your face once he reached your side before his brows furrowed.

"You got a little—" Before he could think about it, he reached a hand up, thumb rubbing over the corner of your mouth, attempting to get rid of the smudged lipstick.

He couldn't help but stare, easily putting him in a trance as he smoothed his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it away slightly before letting it plop back, your warm breath tickling his skin when your lips parted.

Your little outburst of jealousy earlier might've boosted his confidence a lot more than he'd initially let on.

"Peter," you murmured. "The guard."

"Oh! Right," he cleared his throat, moving over to the unconscious guard, hauling them over his shoulder effortlessly as if they weighed nothing. He walked over to the second guard, doing the same over his other shoulder. When he turned around, he saw you standing there, brow raised. He shrugged, smirking. "Super strength."

You shook your head, rolling your eyes, "Show off."

Peter laughed.

After carrying both guards into the room—unlocked thanks to their keycards and fingerprints—you busied yourself with their weapons.

Peter was looking through the various crates and boxes, all labeled with familiar and not-so-familiar logos, some in different languages, while others were completely blank. Some items weren't hidden at all, from high-tech guns in glass displays to alien guns in wooden crates, various iterations of vibranium shields, and holy shit, is that a Wakandan spear?

"Where the hell did they get all of these? This is so much ammo in one room—"

Peter's words died in his throat when his eyes landed on you.

You were leaning over, one foot resting on one of the boxes on the floor, your fingers grazing your leg as you carefully pulled your skirt up inch by tempting inch until your thigh was exposed to him. Your gun holster later came into view, the straps squeezing the supple flesh tightly and fuck—

Peter had never wanted to be an inanimate object so badly ever in his life.

He quickly averted his gaze when you pulled your skirt back down. He pretended to read the labels on some crates as he cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt because Jesus it's getting really hot in here.

"Take this," you said, walking over to him with your hand extended, your fingers curled around the barrel of a gun.

Peter's eyes widened as he looked at the gun and then at you. "We haven't gotten to this part of my training yet."

"Come on, you've seen some movies."

"Since when did movies become tutorials?"

You stared at him for a moment, shaking your head with a chuckle before holding up the gun before him to demonstrate.

"Safety on when you don't want to shoot, safety off when you want to shoot," you said, flicking the pin on the side of the gun. "Cock it only once. It's semi-automatic so after that, all you need is to pull the trigger for continuous shots. Grip with two hands, dominant hand tight around it, other hand on top. Don't try to be arrogant by holding it with only one, especially when you've never fired a gun in your life. Point and shoot, simple. Make sure you aim at the bad guy, though."

You took his hand and placed the gun in his palm, smiling at him sweetly as if you hadn't just given him a loaded weapon.

"Got it?"

Peter stared at you dumbfounded, gulping as he held it to his chest, "That's definitely not all there is to it when using a gun."

"Hey, don't worry," you said reassuringly, squeezing his shoulder. "It's just for precaution. You might not even need to use it."

Peter nodded with a sigh, staring at the gun in his hand before he slipped into the hem of his pants, snuggly kept there by his belt.

Rookie mistake.

"Make sure the safety is on before you put it there, wouldn't want an accident to happen."

Peter froze before he quickly pulled it out, aiming the barrel as far away from him as possible.

He groaned in utter embarrassment when you laughed.

"Can you just carry it for me?" he asked, pouting for good measure. "Please?"

"You're fine," you giggled, gesturing at your leg. "And I only have one thigh holster."

Yeah. I saw.

"I really don't want to shoot myself in the balls," he said, physically shuddering as he screwed his eyes shut. "And I think you're aware of how clumsy I get sometimes."

You laughed out loud, shaking your head as you moved back toward one of the unconscious guards. Peter watched you curiously as you started checking their suits, a faint 'aha!' leaving your lips before you started taking one of their jackets off.

Peter's brows shot up. "What are you—"

"Jacket off," you interjected, showing him a shoulder holster. He did as told as you walked back to him. You helped him slip the harness on, clicking buckles and adjusting the straps before taking his gun and slotting it in soon after. You tilted your head as you smooth it over him. "Better?"

"Much," he breathed out, smiling at you gratefully as he slipped his jacket back on. "Thanks."

You returned his grin, patting his chest before you went and looked for the safe.

Which didn't take too long.

"They could've at least made it inconspicuous, shit's too easy," you scoffed, gesturing at the safe that had a huge American flag on it, stars and eagles, too, as if it wasn't obvious enough. You looked at him with a knowing smile. "Do your magic."

Peter squatted in front of it, taking his glasses off and twisting the nose bridge. There was a soft whirring sound before the glasses turned into a mini, android spider.

Carbon-based nanotech will always impress him. Imperceptible to metal detectors all while never losing its function and durability.

"Of course it's a tiny spider," you muttered, delight laced in your tone.

"What?" He looked at you over his shoulder with a teasing pout, holding up the spider in his palm. "You don't like him?"

You purse your lips, shaking your head before meeting his eyes. "He's cute."

"And hopefully he works, too," he said, turning back to the safe before carefully placing the little guy on the keypad. It took a few moments for the mechanical spider to do its thing. Peter let out the breath he was holding when the safe opened without a hitch. He looked at you with a grin, gesturing at the device inside. "Voilà."

You scrunched up your face. "And that proves that you can't be good at everything."

"Hey!" he gasped. "It wasn't that bad."

"Just leave the French accent alone," you teased, though your eyes were shining with admiration. "But that brain of yours is definitely something else."

Peter blushed, waving your compliment off, "Nah, it's just—"

"Shut up, Parker," you scoffed playfully, but your smile was genuine. "You're incredibly smart and annoyingly amazing. It's not up for discussion."

"Thanks," he chuckled shyly, cheeks turning redder. He gestured at the nuclear football, before looking up at you. "You have the decoy, right?"

"Oh, right." You nodded, reaching into the neckline of your dress before you pulled the rectangular device out, showing it to him with a proud grin.

Peter stared at you, mouth agape.

"What?" you snorted, shaking your head at his surprised face. "I don't have pockets!"

"You could've asked me to carry it."

"I can't exactly bring you with me into the ladies' restroom now, can I?" you said, shrugging. "And I couldn't just hand it to you in the middle of the ballroom with all those people."

"Touché," he hummed, taking the device from your hands. His brows furrowed as he turned it in his palm. "Is it supposed to be warm?"

"It's been with the girls in the past hour or so, of course it's going to be warm."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he tried not to let his curious thoughts wander.

He was failing, though. Miserably so.

Because holding the device when it's been in your boobs made him wonder exactly how warm your boobs would actually feel if it was direct contact, right in the palm of his—

"What?" you asked, none the wiser, briefly. Because then it was immediate, the realization crossing your face, probably noticing just how red his face had gotten. "Oh my god—Peter!"

"Sorry!" he squeaked, hurriedly turning his back on you, focusing on the task at hand.

"My boobs are clean, by the way."

"That wasn't the route my thoughts went to," he grumbled.

"Yeah, I figured," you giggled. "Just wanted to confirm."

He rolled his eyes even though you couldn't see him.

Focus. You got this.

But just as he was about to switch the devices, you moved closer to him, bending over until you were at eye level with the safe, your scent overpowering to the point of being distracting.

"Y/N," Peter sighed, head hanging low as his hand fell onto his sides. "You're making me really nervous when you're breathing down my neck."

"Sorry! Sorry," you laughed, heels clicking as you moved further behind him. "I'll just…step back."

With bated breath yet careful fingers, Peter swiftly switched the devices, blowing out his cheeks in relief when nothing happened.

"Great job, Pete."

He shot you a smile over his shoulder and closed the safe, letting his spider friend reverse its steps before taking him off the safe, pressing its tiny tummy for it to turn back into glasses.

Peter put it back on, running his fingers through his hair before turning to you.

You beamed and held out your palm.

But just as he was about to hand you the device, he quickly pulled it back with narrowed eyes.

"Are you putting this in your boobs again?"

You stared at him in amusement. "I didn't grow any pockets at the last minute, so yes."

"Don't you think it's dangerous?" he reasoned, carefully waving the device to get his point across. "I mean, this is the real thing."

"It's not radioactive," you chuckled. "It's not going to suddenly blow up."

"We don't know that—"

"Hey, don't worry," you hummed, your reassuring smile turning mischievous. "I'll still have my boobs at the end of this mission."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm concerned about you, like, as a whole person."

"Yeah, I know, and that includes my boobs."

He groaned, "Is this becoming a thing?"

You shook your head, laughing, "No, no, I just didn't think I'd find out that you're a boob guy, during a mission, no less."

"I'm not a boob guy," he scoffed.

Peter was a you guy, to be honest, as in you as a whole person—eyes, boobs, lips, butt, thighs, everything included.

And personality, obviously.

You laughed, leaning close to kiss him on the cheek, throwing him off-guard that you were able to take the device from him without breaking a sweat.

Peter sighed in defeat.

He really wasn't any better than any of the guards in this building.

"Come on," you called, hands now free, the device properly hidden with 'the girls' as you opened the door for him. "We need to get going."

•••

You both were navigating your way back into the ballroom when the hairs on the back of Peter's neck stood up.

"People incoming," he warned, grabbing your hand as you pulled you down a hallway. His enhanced hearing just about picked up the sound of guns being loaded. "Armed."

"How many?" you asked, your free hand picking up your skirt as you walked even faster.

He tried to listen closely, calculating the footsteps that echoed down the hall sans both of yours

"Four," he confirmed, brow raising. "Maybe Five."

"That's too many. The minute they'll see us, they're going to get suspicious. It's going to be too late for both of us to take all of them down without at least one sending a signal," you rushed, testing out every door down the halls in hopes that you'd get lucky. "We need to find a place to hide."

"Shit," Peter cursed, looking from left to right of the hall. "They're coming from both sides."

"In here!"

He wasn't given much to process your words when you all but grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pushed him inside a room. The space was quick to grow smaller when you followed suit, your dress knocking over a broom on your way in.

Of course it had to be a janitor's closet.

As if his life wasn't already filled with enough clichés.

Peter grabbed the handle to pull the door close, darkness swallowing you both as it clicked shut. He felt around the metal knob only for his fingers to fall on an entirely flat surface.

"There's no lock," he said, so deathly confused. "What kind of door has no lock?"

"Quiet!" you hissed, pressing your palm over his mouth.

Peter stared at you wide-eyed, his pupils slowly adjusting to the lack of light that he was only now able to gauge just how close you two were.

"Listen," you whispered.

He nodded, closing his eyes as he concentrated on distinguishing the voices.

"The guards have been knocked out."

"Nothing is missing in the room."

"Still, check everything. Be on high alert for anything out of the ordinary."

Peter's eyes snapped open, panic settling in as he heard the footsteps growing nearer.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, voice muffled by your palm. You removed your hand, eyes confused yet expectant. He explained in hurried whispers, "They're not suspicious of anything being stolen yet but they're coming this way. If we get caught, they're going to immediately find out what we're up to and we're doomed."

Peter watched as your face went through different types of emotions. First, it was worry, a flicker of panic crossing your eyes only to be replaced by something else entirely. The crease between your brows deepened, lips pursed as you tilted your head.

It was that all too familiar thinking face he'd grown to adore.

A second later, your brows shot up, eyes wide, and—if he didn't know any better—twinkling as if a light bulb lit up on top of your head.

"Not unless we make them believe we're just some couple needing a quick fix."

"What?" Peter asked, confused.

You only gave him a sheepish smile and a barely-there whisper of,

"I'm sorry."

Peter wasn't given the time to ask what you were apologizing for when you suddenly grabbed him by the nape of his neck and crashed your lips against his.

He stumbled, his back hitting the shelves. Although the way his head was spinning was definitely not because of the impact.

Peter groaned, kissing you back immediately and with fervor, his hands gripping your waist, head tilting as he pulled you closer.

He shivered when your hand moved down his chest before moving inside his jacket, only realizing that you were slipping the nuclear football between the holster, tugging the straps a little tighter to stop it from slipping out.

Then, you guided his hands, much like with your dance earlier. Yet this time, one landed on your exposed thigh as you hiked your leg against his waist, placing the other on top of your ass.

Peter felt like he was about to faint.

But with every bit of respect he had for you—which was a lot—he still hesitated. 

He was unsure as to how far he was allowed to go, deeply worried to cross the line of no return. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable by pushing your boundaries.

He also didn't want to ruin everything he had with you. Whether that was you being his friend or you being his teammate, he really didn't want to lose any of it.

Peter didn't want to lose you.

"It's okay," you whispered against his lips, probably sensing his inner turmoil. "Touch me, Peter."

That was the last thing that made any sliver of his self-control snap.

He growled, squeezing your ass and your thigh simultaneously, pulling your body flush against his as if you could go any closer.

Your gasp was met by a low groan, your hand fisting his jacket as the other took home in his styled hair.

The door swung open, a momentary stream of light illuminating the tiny room. There was a disgusted growl before the door slammed close, darkness covering you both again but neither of you stopped.

Peter gripped your hips, pushing you back slightly until you were the one pressed against the closed door. He cupped the back of your neck, arm curling your waist as he slotted his thigh in between yours in a desperate need to be inhumanly closer.

Your soft moan just about made his knees buckle.

It also made him feel daring enough to gently tease his tongue against your bottom lip. You let him in with his ease, both of you moaning as your tongues did their own dance inside your mouth.

It was intoxicating.

The faint taste of champagne mixing with the taste of you. 

It was something that Peter probably spent a great amount of time thinking about yet nothing in his imagination ever came close. No matter what his brain had conjured in the past, it could never do you justice.

It was addicting.

Your pretty little sighs in response to his soft groans, how you were everywhere, your scent, your taste, your overwhelming warmth engulfing his very being. Peter was drowning in all things you, the very thing that could make him breathe again.

It was too much, yet he needed more.

You were so close, but not close enough.

Peter's hands glided down your body until he was cupping your ass, their warmth settling on each of his palms. But just as he was about to tell you to jump up into his arms, you placed a firm hand on his chest.

Your lips detached with a soft pop, the back of your head softly thumping against the door. You gasped for air, hands fisting his jacket before you rested your forehead against his.

He really needed to remember the fact that he could hold his breath longer than any average human could.

Peter put his hands back on your waist, fingers squeezing as he nudged your nose.

"Y/N, I—"

"Like you, too."

Peter's eyes widened, head pulling back as he stared at you in shock. Whatever confession he had left his brain, a lump caught in his throat, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he failed to string any letter into words.

Oh boy he was flustered.

The thought of you, you, someone so confident, someone who is way out of his league liking him back, him, little nerdy, dorky, stumbly old Peter Parker, it made his heart soar.

"I'm a trained spy, Pete, I know how to read people," you giggled when he stayed silent for a few seconds. "It's written all over your face. You really haven't been subtle about it the whole night, either."

"I don't think subtlety is my specialty," he whispered, a shy smile growing on his lips as he pressed his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses brushing in the sweetest of ways.

"It really isn't." You nodded in agreement with a wide smile of your own.

"So I don't think I need to be subtle about this," he started, gaze holding yours. He was nervous, but if he didn't say this out loud, he might just explode. "I'm falling for you."

"You're so cliché," you giggled, his cheeks growing hot, his whole body melting, his heart jumping out of his chest and landing straight into the palm of your hand when you added, "I'm falling for you, too."

"Really?" he asked, surprised yet his voice came out a little shy.

It was obvious enough. The words had been said. But he wanted to make sure because this just seemed like one big lucid dream and he'd actually die if he were to wake up any moment now.

"I mean, I haven't been subtle about it either," you giggled, kissing him briefly yet sweetly, brushing your nose with his as you breathed out, "But yeah, I do. I feel so strongly for you Peter that I just—I feel nervous, I feel giddy, I feel safe and appreciated and I just feel so, so happy whenever I'm around you and I just, whatever I did in the past didn't matter because you accept me for me and I trust that you've got the best intentions, I trust you with my life, and you're just the sweetest most thoughtful and I'm just glad to have known you and—" you paused, shaking your head with a soft laugh, "I'm such a sap."

God this felt like a dream come true.

"I like you being a sap," he chuckled shyly. "But I'm just…me, though."

"Exactly," you confirmed, smile genuinely laced with pride. "You're brilliant, Peter Parker. How can I not fall for you?"

Peter's cheeks were starting to hurt with how wide his smile was, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining.

"You're so way out of my league," he whispered, arms wrapping around your waist.

"I could say the exact same thing to you," you giggled, pecking his lips. "But let's debate about this another time, yeah? We still got some codes to find and a bad guy to catch," you said, turning around swiftly to face the door before he could even have a chance to stop you.

"Wait, don't—" Peter sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on your waist tightening as his face landed on the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Your back was against his chest, bodies pressed up far too close. "—move," he lowly groaned against your skin.

"Oh."

Peter felt his whole body heat up from embarrassment. Because he knew you could definitely feel it behind you. He could hear the fast pace of your heart, and if that wasn't a tell-tale sign, he didn't know what was. And no matter how much he tried to pull away, even just slightly, the small space of the closet wasn't letting him do so.

"I'm sorry, I am so, so, so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen I—"

He tried to move away from you again, but clumsily elbowed the shelf on his right instead which made a few empty buckets topple over from the top. He quickly pulled you back to avoid you getting hit by the falling cleaning supplies, but in turn, it made your ass press against him a little harder.

"Fuck," he groaned, body going rigid when you gasped. You probably think he was a proper pervert now. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that either. And I tried to control it I swear but it's just—my senses are enhanced and you're so close and that kiss was really hot and you're even hotter and your ass really feels nice in my hands—shit! I shouldn't have said that, I should not have said that. I mean not! Not that it's untrue, it's very, very true. You've got a really pretty and nice ass and I should really shut up goddammit—"

You cut him off with a giggle, head tilting to the side as your fingers reached up, burying it in his now messy brown hair.

"I feel flattered that a kiss got you this excited," you teased, earning a soft whine from him.

"It's not just a kiss when I've been wanting to do it for so long," Peter confessed, kissing your shoulder softly before he mumbled, "And it's not my fault that you're out here looking like a goddess."

"Look at you," you giggled, squeezing his forearm that was wrapped around your waist. "That expensive suit is really doing wonders with your smoothness, huh?"

"It brings out the suave in me," he hummed, grinning. "Makes my eyes pop, too."

You let out a sweet, hearty laugh.

Peter chuckled, heart warming as he buried his face into your neck.

"How about you take this because I really don't want to accidentally drop it," he started, pulling the device out of his jacket and handing it over to you, kissing your shoulder with a deep breath, "And just give me a second to calm down."

You giggled.

But what you said next did anything but help.

"Yes, sir."

•••

It was quarter to seven when you both made your way down to the underground theater.

There were fewer people this time around. Peter supposed it was expected. What, with a secret auction selling dangerous weapons, you simply couldn't hand out invitations like it's free candy. It could land in the wrong hands—well, right hands, in this case.

He fiddled with the card inside his pocket, free fingers pushing up his glasses, eyes narrowed at the guards by the entrance.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, noticing how they were ushering people into the theater individually. "I think it's a card for each person and we only have one—"

Peter stopped when he found no sign of you.

"You're not supposed to disappear without letting me know," he said through his comms.

He heard you giggle in response, "I was supposed to be back before you even notice."

"Point still stands," he grumbled. "Where are you?"

Peter grinned when he felt a familiar warmth behind him, your arms wrapping around his waist as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

"Hi."

"Hi," he chuckled, taking your hand to pull you by his side. He circled his arm around your waist, brow raised. "Where'd you go?"

You smiled innocently, yet the proud glimmer in your eyes was unmistakable. You held a hand up, a black and silver card pinched between two fingertips.

Always ten steps ahead of him.

It made him want to push you against a nearby wall and kiss the living daylights out of you.

"Now, how'd you get that?"

You winked. "You know I have my ways."

Before Peter could respond, everyone suddenly turned around to the sound of a commotion.

"Sir, you're not allowed without an invitation," one guard said.

"But I had it!" a man with a stark white beard exclaimed, patting around his pockets, "It was here!"

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir."

"Well, you just lost your highest bidder!"

Peter turned back to you, impressed. "You need to teach me how to do that."

"I can't teach you all my tricks—" your laugh died once you walked by a lamp, illuminating both your faces in this otherwise dimly lit entry hall. You pulled him back under the light, your eyes widening. "Oh shit."

"What?" he asked, worried. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just—" you snorted, gesturing to get him to come closer, hand cupping his cheek. "There's lipstick all over your mouth."

Peter blushed, chuckling, "Would it be so bad to just leave it?"

"You look like you just ate a can of tomato sauce."

Peter pouted.

You shook your head with a laugh, thumbs brushing as much lipstick stain as you could. Just when he thought you were done, you cupped his face, pulling him closer to kiss him firmly on the cheek.

"There," you hummed, giggling, "Since you want my lipstick on you so bad."

"It's hot," Peter shamelessly admitted with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes but grinned anyway, taking his hand and pulling towards the entrance.

"Come on. Let's go spend the millions we don't have."

•••

It took a few more minutes for everyone to settle in their seats. You and Peter choose the front-right corner. It was near the stage but not at the center of attention.

As the clock struck seven, the main stage lights lit up. There were a couple of marble statues littered across—for decoration he assumed—and vases filled with wildflowers he could never name. Right at the center was a white podium, a huge projector screen behind it.

Then, a flash of gold appeared on the stage.

Peter immediately knew who they were.

"Welcome, everyone," the Auclair twins said in sync.

"Why is it always evil twins?" he said.

Obviously, he knew about Halbert, he was the one who gave him the card. But he didn't expect his twin sister to be in on it, too. But then again, the guy seemed to be all beauty with no brains.

And no, he wasn't biased.

"I knew there was something off about her," you scoffed, arms crossed over your chest, pout prominent as you glared at the stage. You were starting to look like you were throwing a tantrum. But Peter decided not to say anything.

Yet.

"I think you all know why we've gathered here so I won't bother you with unnecessary semantics," Greta started, waving her hand at the projector, now showing a live feed of the room you broke into earlier. "Any or all of those high-grade toys could be yours tonight, if you're willing to empty out your pockets, of course. But, to lift everyone's spirits up," Greta paused, giggling wickedly as she dug her fingers into the neckline of her dress, procuring the star of the night, and the bane of yours and Peter's existence.

"The Gold Codes and the nuclear football, available for bidding at the end of the night," she purred, waving the card around as if it wasn't one the most dangerous items on the planet. "We have to save the best for last, of course."

"So hiding things in your boobs is a common thing then," Peter said, catching the sour look on your face from the corner of his eye. He was trying really hard to bite back his smirk.

"So you found the codes before anyone else did."

"What?" Peter looked at you confused. "But I didn't."

"You did," you said, jaw ticking. "You just didn't know you were already looking at it."

It took Peter a moment.

"I was not looking at her boobs."

"Sure you weren't," you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"Darling," he drawled teasingly, playing up the accent, the fire in your glare unmistakable as you met his eyes. He pinched your chin between his forefinger and thumb with a grin. "You've got nothing to be jealous of."

Huffing, you pulled your face off his grasp, "Shut up."

"You know," he started, daringly throwing his arm over your shoulder. You were never one to cross when you were angry. But Peter simply wanted to have some harmless fun. After all, this was the first time he'd ever seen you like this. "I still haven't decided if you're cute or hot when you're jealous."

"Don't tempt me to punch you."

He chuckled, leaning to press his lips against your temple. His smile widened when he felt your whole body relax beside him.

"So, what’s the plan?" he murmured against your skin.

You shifted in your seat, resting your head on his shoulder.

"We wait until the codes and the football are up for bidding," you mumbled. "Then, I'm going to be a show-off, placing a higher bet over anyone while moving closer to the stage. Once I'm in good proximity, cause a distraction and I'll swipe the codes."

"Got it," he confirmed, flinching in his seat when he heard the bang of a hammer.

"Your numbered paddles are under your seats. Now, let's begin."

Peter had only seen auctions in movies, and they always seemed to be the most boring thing ever.

He never expected them to be as anxiety-inducing as this one.

It was probably the fact that these were dangerous and deadly weapons, carelessly sold to anyone who had the money to buy them. 

His heart would sink every time he'd hear that fucking hammer.

Peter was fidgeting with the bridge of his glasses, eyes sharply trained on the stolen Chitauri gun being wheeled off the stage.

"Relax," you whispered, hand on his knee to stop it from bouncing. "We've got backup near the premises. Once we secure the codes, they'll immediately interfere. None of those weapons are getting out of this building."

"They're buying it like it's candy," Peter grumbled frustratingly. "As if lives won't be put at risk if it gets out there."

"Next up, Oscorp's drone satellite," Greta introduced excitedly. "Bigger, better, deadlier than the one by Stark Industries."

Peter's fist clenched. "Why do they always find the need to one-up each other?"

"Egomaniac billionaires," you supplied, hand curling around his fist, bringing his knuckles up to your lips before you intertwined your fingers together.

It helped him calm down a little.

"Things are starting to get boring, don't we think?" Greta laughed, waving around the controller. It was either she wasn't aware of how dangerous the device in her hand was, or she simply didn't care. Her wicked grin told Peter it was the latter. "So how about we do a little test run?"

"Shit," he cursed, sitting upright. "That's not part of the plan."

"You're the faster one," you said, tone calm as you tugged your skirt discreetly and pulled your gun out. "When I give the signal, immediately run towards her and secure codes."

"What signal?"

You stood up, gun raised.

Everyone froze as you shot at the wires that held the scaffolding that was hanging on top of the stage. It immediately gave way, dropping onto the wooden stage and blocking both exits on each side.

Chaos erupted then.

The people running towards the small entryway made it difficult for the guards to get in right away.

But Peter was still staring at you in shock.

"Go!"

He snapped out of it, taking long strides towards the stage, reaching the twins just in time before they could even manage to escape.

"Mr. Reid," Halbert chuckled darkly, pushing Greta right behind him before pulling out a revolver. "You should've bought a gun."

"Well, good thing I did," Peter quipped, reaching inside his holster only to find nothing. He looked up, eyes wide. "Shit. I dropped it."

"Oh my God—" Peter heard you groan in disappointment, and he could practically hear that eye roll.

He would've found the time to be embarrassed if Halbert hadn't started shooting at him. He dodged every bullet easily. His enhanced reflexes paired with how inaccurate this guy's aim was, it wasn't really much of a challenge.

And no, he wasn't showing off.

Okay, maybe a little bit.

Peter couldn't stop his chuckle when he heard the familiar clicking of an empty cylinder.

"Well, looks like I didn’t even need one," he bragged as he stalked towards Halbert, yanking the gun out of his hold before hitting him on the side of the head with the butt of his own gun, rendering him unconscious. He turned to Greta with a mocking tut, "Your twin isn't the wisest, isn't he?"

"No," she scoffed, smile widening as she glanced over his shoulder. "But he bought us time."

Peter saw the entryway clear of civilians, the armed guards swiftly invading the theater.

"Shit."

A flash of red caught his eye, your sharp heels clicking rapidly before you slid on the floor, picking up the gun Peter dropped. You knelt on one knee, gun in each hand, aiming it toward the guards and raining hell on them motherfuckers.

You didn't miss a shot.

He shook his head in awe, "And you said to hold it with two hands!"

"I've fired guns since I was twelve!" you said, tilting your head to throw him a smirk. "I think I can be an exception."

How could he argue with that?

Peter swerved to the right, heart thumping as the glint of a knife covered his periphery. He grabbed their wrist, pulling him forward in one swift motion and throwing the culprit towards the seats.

"Who brings a knife to a gunfight?" he huffed as he kicked away the knife that fell out of their hand.

Peter's attention got stolen by your growl.

His eyes landed on you just in time to see you grab a man's forearm from behind, using all your body weight and the right momentum to throw him over your shoulder, a pained scream when you undoubtedly dislodged his arm, the knife clinking onto the floor. You kicked the guy on the head, his eyes rolling back as he turned limp. You stepped on the knife's handle to fling it into the air, catching it with your left hand before flipping to your right, holding your skirt taught before cutting a new slit on your skirt. Then, you spun, red dress flowing with the motion as you kicked the guy running towards you on the side of his throat.

If Peter wasn't in love before, he sure as hell was now.

"What?" you panted when you caught his gaze, brows furrowed.

"That was so hot," Peter breathed out, your eyes rolling for the umpteenth time before they suddenly widened.

"Down!"

He ducked as you threw the knife, the blade soaring past him and landing into the guy's shoulder, the gun that was aimed at Peter's distracted ass dropping onto the floor.

He looked back at you in absolute wonder.

And did his pants grow a little tighter?

"Will you marry me?"

"Jesus—focus!"

"Is that a 'no'?!" he called out teasingly, elbowing one guy on the chin before hurling his unconscious body toward his allies. He called it the bowling move. Taking a gun from the floor, he turned to you with a pout. "Can't believe you'd reject me, babe!"

"Kinda in the middle of something here!" you yelled back, shooting a guy on the leg before knocking him out with the butt of your gun. You stood straight with a deep breath, tilting your head with your lips pursed before nodding behind him. "How about you help me get those codes first?"

Peter turned, seeing Greta dragging her twin towards the side exit.

"Oh yeah, right," he chuckled sheepishly before going after her. "My bad!"

Fully catching him off guard, Peter flew forward and landed on his chest when Greta swiped his legs. He rolled onto his back, narrowly avoiding the six-inch heel she dug into the floor where his head was supposed to be.

"So you can fight," he breathed out, doing a kip up to get back on his feet.

"I bite too," she hummed, winking. "And I've been wanting to sink my teeth into you, pretty boy."

"Uh, thanks?" he chuckled dryly, face scrunched up. He swerved the knife she threw at him, looking back only to see she got two more, one on each hand. He sighed, "Great. You throw knives."

"What?" she asked, tone mocking as she flipped one in the air, catching the blade in between her fingers with ease. "You don't like knife play?"

"That doesn't sound like fun," he grumbled, running towards her, swiftly ducking as she kicked her leg before grabbing her by the ankles.

Greta fell on the floor with a thud, yet she was quick to kick his knee with her other foot, Peter hissing as her sharp heel dug into his skin. She used this slim window to pull her leg forward, dragging Peter with it and making him land right on top of her.

"Quite a handsome face. Maybe we can go out for dinner sometime," she purred, running her tongue over her lip as she traced his jaw with a knife, sharp tip teasing his throat. "The real party happens later in the night, of course."

"Yeah, no thanks," he breathed out, pulling his head back and quickly grabbing her arms, flipping her onto her stomach in one swift motion. Peter pinned her down using his body weight as he knocked the knives out of her hands. He pulled her wrist towards her back, his knees tight on either side of her hips as he sat up. Holding her wrists with one hand, he undid his necktie with the other, tying her up securely before letting go.

"Kinky," she huffed out a giggle.

Peter rolled his eyes, pulling her up by the shoulders until she was seated on the floor. He walked around, dusting off his suit and adjusting his glasses—they got sticky tape on the sides to not let them fall off during fights. He thought about this ahead, thank you very much—as he stood in front of her.

"I guess it's true what they say about the quiet ones," she said, head tilted as she shamelessly ran her eyes down his body before meeting his eyes. "You're a different kind of man, Lucas Reid."

"The name's Parker," he said with a deep voice as he buttoned up his jacket with the utmost seriousness on his face. "Peter Parker."

You scoffed loudly.

Peter immediately spun, his landing eyes on your figure standing behind him, your jaw tight, arms crossed over your chest, a scowl on your pretty face with that fiery glare to match.

Oh you were pissed.

But Peter had a feeling it wasn't at him.

"You've been itching to do that the whole night, have you?"

"Maybe," he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, nodding towards Greta.

"Just take the codes."

Peter stared at you like you'd grown a second head.

"What?" you asked, voice taut, so clearly getting annoyed.

"You take the codes."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because I respect women?"

You blinked a few times before dropping your head with an exasperated groan.

"What? You know where it's hidden!" he exclaimed in defense, gesturing towards the bound woman. "I'm not just slipping my hand in there!"

"I have a feeling she won't mind," you muttered to yourself, but thanks to his enhanced hearing, he heard you loud and clear. "You've practically been humping each other."

Peter decided to keep quiet, scared that you'd actually punch him this time.

Though the glare you shot him was proof that you knew he heard you.

You shook your head, another eye roll before you walked over to Greta, bending at the waist until your face was level with hers.

"Let’s make this quick. Left or right?" you asked.

"Dégage, salope," she hissed.

You gasped, hand over your mouth in feigned shock. "Now, that's not nice."

"Wait, what did she say?" Peter asked as he stood by the sidelines, not too close but not too far. He was giving you the space to do your thing.

"She called me a bitch," you cooed, pouting condescendingly. "Fine. Since you don't want to make this easier for us—"

Before Peter could even question what you were about to do, you stomped on a knife, catching the handle mid-air and straight up slashing the blade in front of Greta.

"Woah!"

Peter downright expected you to have chopped her whole head off—okay, maybe slit her throat because the knife wasn't that big.

But nothing happened.

No chopping, no slicing, no blood, nothing.

Well, not until a split second later when Greta gasped, the top half of her—really expensive, he assumed—dress sliding down her body.

Peter looked away immediately, face hot as he screwed his eyes shut, turning his back on her for good measure.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N," he muttered, taking his glasses off to rub his face with his palm.

But he couldn't wipe his smile off.

Peter knew you could take the codes without having to cut her dress. You were simply being petty. And it was safe to assume it had something to do with the way Greta had been shamelessly flirting with him for the whole night.

Your jealousy fed his ego a little bit.

"You can look now," you said, tone low. "She's covered."

"Are you sure?"

You scoffed, "It's not like you don't want to see it, anyway."

Peter swiftly turned, only catching a glimpse of Greta now wearing Halbert's jacket with the matching gold tie gagging her mouth.

He immediately turned to you who was standing to the side, looking anywhere else but at him. He walked over, rubbing up and down your arms until you uncrossed them. He pulled you closer by the waist, nudging your nose while mirroring your pout.

"Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad."

"Then why did you do that?"

"I had to get the codes."

"Yeah, but it didn't have to involve boobage exposure."

"Boobage exposure," you snorted, the corner of your lip twitching as you finally met his eyes. "I feel like that's something you enjoy."

"I didn't even look!" he defended, his smile widening when you tried your best to hide yours. "I promise. I didn't want to, either."

You shook your head, sighing, "You're such an annoying dork."

"Your annoying dork."

That made your smile appear.

"My dork, huh?" you hummed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

Peter smiled, pulling you closer, tip of his nose brushing yours. "Well, if you'll have me, that is."

"Have you as what, exactly?"

"Your boyfriend," he said, slightly surprised by his own boldness. But then again, you two had already established what you felt for each other. The fear of rejection wasn't there anymore. Shaking his head with a smile, he added, "Wait, answer that on our date this Friday?"

"Love the newfound confidence, Agent Parker," you said, giggling. "And yes, to both questions,"

"I really like the sound of Agent Parker," he hummed, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Am I a certified spy now?"

"Eh, if you don't drop your gun next time, then sure."

"Come on," he sighed, pouting. "I could use a name change, you know, like Spy-Dork-Man."

Peter burst out laughing when you physically cringed.

"Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't kick you because of that god awful pun."

"Because I'm your dork now, bad puns included, so you're going to have to get used to it from early doors."

"Touché," you laughed.

Peter looked at you adoringly, but just as he was about to kiss you, a sudden ruckus of applause made you both jump, stance on defense reflexively.

It was the team, right in front of the stage, clapping and wolf-whistling like a bunch of assholes.

Peter groaned, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he wrapped his arms around you.

"About time you two solved this…tension you have," Wanda said as she reached the stage, gesturing at the two of you before she held her hand out to Bucky. "Hand it over, Super Soldier. She technically kissed him first,"

"Maybe I shouldn't have held Sam back from unmuting the line in the closet," Bucky sighed, pulling out his wallet and handing over twenty dollars.

"You had a bet?" you gaped at the two of them.

Peter turned to Sam. "You tried to interrupt us again?"

"I wouldn't have to if you guys didn't constantly forget that your comms aren't reserved for the two of you only," the Captain chuckled.

"You guys were so cute, though," Wanda said with a smile.

"The smooching sounds were a bit much." Bucky grimaced.

"Don't forget the abundant talk about boobs and ass," Harley laughed, appearing from behind everyone with a bag in hand. "Good thing you finally grew those balls though, Parker. I've grown really tired of hearing you whine about your obsession—sorry, I mean, crush on her."

"Shut up, man," Peter groaned, burying his face back on your shoulder to hide.

"Leave him alone," you laughed, rubbing his back in comfort.

"I wished I could've hacked the cams earlier so it would've been like watching a James Bond movie meets rom-com live," Harley said. "But the audio was good, popcorns still definitely enjoyed."

"Lives were on the line and you guys enjoyed popcorn," you deadpanned.

Sam laughed as he patted both of your backs. "Nah, we just knew you two got it handled."

"What are you guys doing here then?" Peter countered, glaring at them.

"Clean up," Wanda said, cracking her fingers before adding, "I also need to erase your faces off of people's memories because blowing your covers wasn't exactly part of the plan."

"And this guy practically gave out his real name," Bucky chuckled, patting Peter's shoulder before moving over to the unconscious men lying on the floor.

"I couldn't let the opportunity slip!" Peter protested. "It's probably going to be my only James Bond moment, I had to take it."

"That was pretty stupid," you said, scrunching your face at him with a laugh.

"I know that now, thanks," he grumbled.

"Here." Harley tossed him his web shooters and mask, and Peter felt a sense of comfort as he snapped them onto his wrists.

"Pete, you think you can swing us home?" you asked, slipping your fingers into his.

"Yeah, of course," he chuckled, squeezing your hand. He could definitely get used to feeling your affectionate touch constantly.

"Right, we're going to leave this to you guys, now bye!" you called out before you all but dragged him towards the exit, Peter's groan and your laugh echoing down the hall when Sam yelled,

"Use protection!"

•••

You both were honestly too tired to even attempt and continue what started in the closet.

Well, you did try to.

When you landed back at the compound, you both decided to go to your separate rooms and take much-needed hot showers first. But getting to your quarters in itself probably took around ten minutes, all because Peter simply couldn't help but stop every couple of meters down the halls, pressing you against the nearest wall to kiss you senseless.

It took you shutting the door on his face for you both to finally wash off the sweat and grime of the day.

After he was all cleaned and clothed, he didn't waste any time making his way out of his room. But when he opened the door, you were already standing there, fist in the air, mid-knock.

Peter chuckled as he grabbed your waist and pulled you into his room, giggles and satisfied sighs bouncing off his walls as his lips covered your own. He grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you with ease, a murmured comment from you about him showing off his super strength as he carried you to his bed.

But the second you both hit the mattress, it was simply far too comfy and soft that the intense heat of the kiss gradually simmered into a mellow warmth. His body was covering yours, fingers intertwined, lips moving slowly, lazily yet just as sweet. 

And after a few more moments of you two languidly kissing, you ended up settling with cuddles for the night.

Now, here you were, being the little spoon with your back pressed against his chest, limbs tangled, bodies warm and snug under the covers. He was drawing lazy circles on your stomach, his eyes growing heavier with each rise and fall of your chest, the steady beat of your heart lulling him.

Peter thought you were already fast asleep. And he was just about to follow suit until you spoke up,

"Are your hands cold?"

"Not really," he murmured, voice a little rough. "Why?"

"You can always use my boobs in case you need to warm them up."

He groaned, burying his face onto your shoulder. "Are you ever going to let this go?"

"What?" you giggled softly. "You just seemed so interested in their warmth earlier. I'm allowing you to quell your curiosity."

Peter lifted himself a little, just so he could get a clear view of your face.

"Is this a genuine invitation for me to cup your boobs?"

"Only if you wanna," you said, turning to him with a soft smile, eyes half-lidded. "No playing, though."

He nodded with a laugh, settling behind you and gently sneaking his hand under your shirt, no pressure or anything so that you'll be able to move away whenever you wanted to. Then again, you were skilled enough to break his wrist, anyway.

But you didn't do that, not at all.

Instead, you shifted in your place, providing more space for his arm to fully wrap around your torso until he was cupping a boob in his hand.

You sighed, body melting into the mattress even more, your back warmly pressed against his chest as you nosed his pillow.

"They are really warm," he hummed, his whole body relaxing as he let his hand just…be there, without any malice whatsoever. "This is oddly comforting."

"Yeah," you mumbled, a loud yawn following suit. "Like stress balls."

Peter chuckled, "That's one way of describing it."

You hummed, yawning out a soft, "Good night, Pete."

Peter smiled. "Good night, angel."

The next response he got was your soft snores as you finally drifted off to sleep,

Peter didn't expect his night to end with you sleeping in bed with him, all cuddled up in his arms, let alone, with him cupping your boob—which he surprisingly found comforting and adorable rather than anything else.

But he did expect to fall asleep with a huge smile on his face.

And then later in the morning, the thing that would wake him up wouldn't be the sunlight anymore, it'd be your warmth, tickling his skin as you cuddle closer to him. A tired, yet satisfied smile would curl on his lips as he would bury his nose into your hair, breathing in your sweet scent. It was much more comforting, hearing your little snores and sighs, or even your occasional mumbles about whatever it was you were dreaming about.

It was new, but definitely something he could get used to.

It was going to be a peaceful Sunday morning with you, and Peter really loved that.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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[basil-does-arttt]

Devil May Cry 2. The pimple-faced teenager of the series, widely regarded as the worst game in the franchise.

While yes i agree with this viewpoint to some degree, and i think all the jokes about it being the worst one are funny... i honestly dont think the game is THAT bad. In fact, i think people give it too much shit.

Ill start out by saying this: no, the game isnt amazing. Its under-developed, rushed, and in no way is it up to the same standard as the other 4 games. Im not saying its this perfect game, but its not as horrible as some make it out to be.

Ive played through the game on the original PS2 version and the remastered version, and although im yet to complete Lucia's campaign, i can confidently say the game is mediocre at worst really.

First the gameplay: Boring? Yes. Definitely. Do you like standing in one place and shooting everything for 15 minutes untill it drops dead? This is the game for you. But you dont have to do that, it just happens to be the easiest option because the controls are so jank. I spent (some) time myself learning the combos, turns out it depends on the way you angle the joystick, and once you get the hang of it, its not that difficult to S rank combat encounters at all. Its annoying, but not impossible, and the combos can honestly look pretty cool imo.

The movement is also another thing, the dodge animation takes way too long to perform but i do like the forward dash. Its a nice alternative to using stinger as a makeshift movement dash, i wish they kept it for furture versions of Dante. (Yes i know theres the trickster dash, but he doesn't do a flip)

I also really love the flying mechanic with aerial heart, and the different kinds of core thingies you could combine as a whole. A unique feature that kinda got combined into other things in Dante's design.

A few of the bosses, if they had been fleshed out and maybe balanced a bit better, could've been just amazing too. Furiataurus for example. One boss i feel was done well though was The Despair Embodied, and although you can just stand around and shoot it to death like everything else, you do actually have to put effort in to not get hit and die. (Trismalga is also kinda in that boat too, a well(ish) done fight you actually have to put effort into, but i personally didn't like it.)

Next, level design: You have to admit they did some cool things with the level design. *some*. The whole "grungy city" vibe is something i found very interesting, and the trippy purple iteration of lower town was, while infuriating to navigate thanks to the camera and graphics (esp on the ps2 version), was actually quite neat. I also really liked the clock tower in Lucia's campaign.

And also, the music. Can i just say, i think dmc 2's soundtrack is my favorite one out of all 5 games. The ambient background tracks are almost dreamy, especially Lucia's ones, the boss themes honestly go hard and the piano track that's repeated throughout the whole soundtrack just sounds good. If you take anything away from this post, its that you should listen to the soundtrack. (I reccomend the tracks "Unholy Relics", "Cry for the Moon", and "Shoot the Works")

The character designs are another thing i think they did well in this game. In my humble opinion, Dante's dmc 2 style is the best looking one in the whole series. Lucia also looks quite cool, her devil trigger form especially.

The characters themselves, Dante especially, need work, but might i remind you the developers were rushed when making this game. They didn't have enough time to do everything they wanted to do, 6 months before the game was supposed to release they didn't even have it in working condition. It was only thanks to Itsuno stepping in as the director that we got this game in the first place, and all he could do was salvage what the team had already created and get it in a releasable state before launch.

If only they had a bit more time (and maybe resources), dmc 2 couldve been quite the cool game. Though, on that note, if it werent for dmc 2's catastrophic faliure and Itsuno's prompt pestering for a sequel so the franchise didn't die outright, we wouldn't have gotten dmc 3. Though i think Capcom would've made a 3rd game regardless of the scenario.

All in all, i dont think dmc 2 is that horrible of a game. If you have the remaster collection, or even the original PS2 version, at least try it. Give it a go, play through the first few missions and kill one or two of the bosses.

Don't take it seriously, just have fun and enjoy the game in all its janky half-finished glory. If you look at dmc 2 that way, i think you'll enjoy it a whole lot more.

Or dont. Yknow, its your choice.