#Spider-Man birthday party

[house-of-slayterr]

My Birthday Wishlist, no pressure obviously, just if y’all wanted to get me anything 🥰 I understand money is tight for a lot of people this year. But I can’t buy my own gifts this year 😭 but I still plan to make my own cake so I’m excited as hell!

Tag: @gabrielle-de-lioncourt-anon @lestat-anon @louis-depointedulac-anon @queer-and-utter-chaos @emeraldfangs @mothmans-kingdom @joelsgeetar @x-littlemoth @skxllz @bluecoolr-main @oceansrose2002 @willowbrookesblog @stu-machers-girl @britany1997 @ace-of-hearts-and-spades @nekoannie-chan @shonkgobonk @myers-meadow @ajarofpickledtears

[demigod-of-the-agni]

A little special something for something even more special. Hint: it's about love and fears and birthdays and new beginnings

(@/marvel hire me <3)

[sciderman]

https://youtu.be/c0w24DLClOg?si=-UT7zFT85gRnsGaX

Hoping you’ve seen this video, wonder how the kids doing

real footage of me when all the anons were telling me to kill spider-man during civil war

[thefallenangel2008]

A few days ago I had my birthday party and that was my cake.

I'm not obsessed with Spiderverse at all.

[amazingdealsblog]

Watch "Thachu 5th Birthday Celebration Vlog | Spiderman Theme Birthday Party | unforgettable moments" on YouTube

[nouearth]

let me in.

peter parker x male reader.

summary: peter struggles to balance between life and work, and it's ruining his relationship with you.

wc: 6.6k. genre: smut. warnings: andrew!peter, college au, established relationship, brief fighting, brief injury and blood mention (nosebleed), misunderstandings, peter reveals his identity, dry-humping, over the pants (or suit) handjob, body worshipping, lots of sweat, fingering, frotting, riding, spandex fetish, reader has a thing for peter in his spider-man suit!

You were starting to feel antsy. You could feel it—the nerves kicking in again. Anticipation—a suspension of doubt—made your hands clammy at first, but it was the time that made your hands clutch nothing but air. You rubbed the sweat off your hands onto your pants, your knees not so comforting with their pointedness.

Acceptance—when it was evident that Peter was late, again.

Birthdays have never been a big deal in your family. Sure, it was great that you had the privilege to live another year. To witness yourself grow older, to stand a few inches taller, to live a little more knowledgeable than yesterday. But growing up with parents who had to constantly work, well-late into the depths of night, it had never been more than a birthday wish that had greeted you in the mornings, and bid you slumber in the evenings. Since then, you knew not to expect anything.

If only Peter hadn’t made such a big deal out of it this year.

“Excuse me?” The familiar timbre of a voice speared your thoughts; deep and tunneling as you were transfixed on the glasses of water before you. Yours had been refilled, though a little sparse compared to Peter’s full cup.

Your eyes widened with feigned curiosity, a small smile plastered alongside to hopefully negate any annoyance from the waiter—because you expected what he was about to follow up with.

“Hey… uh,” he shifted on his feet awkwardly, eye bags weighing heavier than the last time he had checked up on you. You looked around, surprised by the amount of patrons who had filled the space around you while you were daydreaming. Laughter and smiles completely lit up the room. The dim lights were practically stationed in the restaurant for decoration, and seemingly to spotlight your ‘dinner for one’ status. “I’m sorry, but… we have no more tables to fill, and if you aren’t ordering soon, then we’ll have to give your table up for the next party...”

It was obvious that you weren’t, you hadn’t even torn into the buttery bread rolls that were piping hot forty-five minutes ago. Now, the fat had solidified into spotty, yellow clumps, though you doubt that would’ve been enough to detract from the quality of the rolls.

“Oh, I—“ You pulled out your phone to check your messages again. Nothing. Swiped down to refresh your conversation with Peter. The loading icon felt like it took forever, you half-expected that your phone was updating the thread with Peter’s messages that somehow got lost in the void of the restaurant’s spotty signal. 

And nothing.

“I—yeah… uh. I-I’ll head out.” It was embarrassing. Even if the waiter had given you a sympathetic smile, you hated knowing that you wasted his time. You hated that you selfishly occupied a seat when someone else would’ve been done with dinner by the time you exited. 

“Thanks—” 

You hated that you had your hopes up for things to be different.

Again.

The night was dreary. Not even the wind had greeted you like the others when you stepped out. Soft and fluttering against your skin, but scolding enough to make you put your coat back on. Luckily, your apartment wasn’t too far from the restaurant, a fifteen minute walk at most if you speed-walked. Shoving your hands in your coat pockets, you then ambled along the sidewalks, wallowing in your feelings with a playlist that belted in your ears once you plugged your earbuds in. 

You didn’t have the energy left to hurry home.

Once you crossed the last intersection, you felt a little bit more at ease. Seeing the familiar apartment complex at the end of the block picked your pace up a step more. You paused your music once you neared the entrance, just a turn away before you could finally bury yourself in your bed. 

You reached into your pocket to grab your wallet. The weight in your palms instantly reminding you to deposit the cash tips sometime soon before the stretch of the leather had become unbearable to fit in your pocket. 

Your walk slowed as your attention was fixated on your wallet, fumbling it open clumsily to retrieve your keycard. In midst, you caught a glimpse of a photo print of you and Peter, standing shoulder to shoulder with the biggest grins as Peter had a peace sign above your head, doubling as bunny ears. Honeymoon phase, they’d call it. Where you were beginning to discover more about Peter, and Peter was beginning to discover more about you. Likes. Dislikes. Hobbies. Memories. It felt like yesterday when you two were spending every second of your day with each other. 

Now, it would be a miracle if Peter returned a call.

With the keycard in your hand, you turned the corner, and towards the entrance, the smiles from the photo print reflecting onto yours as you could vividly hear Peter’s pleas to retake them again. The flash of the cameras always made him blink.

If only you had been focusing on where you were going instead of the still image of the first memory between you and Peter, maybe you could have avoided the collision altogether when you approached the door. You suddenly found yourself on your back, facing the night sky as clusters of stars twinkled in laughter. There was a slight throbbing to your forehead, a mark you’d reckon would appear as purple within the next 12 hours despite the painless… pain.

“Oh god— I’m so, so, so, sorry! Let me—“ If the beating your face took to the door hadn’t snapped you back to reality already, the familiar face before you certainly pulled you out of your thoughts like whiplash once he helped you back onto your feet. Your vision instantly cleared of haze, as if his simple presence was your remedy.

“(M/N)?” Peter interrupted himself, his eyes widening. You could see the wheels turning in his head when the dim light spotlighted your features: eyes, nose, lips; flesh and bone that he was well-acquainted with.

“Peter—“ You took a moment to scan him. It was like all the other times he had been late. His fringe; stuck to his forehead with a mixture of sweat and water, the latter being a last resort to clean himself up. His knuckles; bruised and torn with minuscule cuts barely able to conceal the truth behind his scars. His necktie; clumsily done with the knots coming loose. Though, whether the silk unfurled by Peter’s own sloppiness, or by the increasing frailty of his fingers that had become susceptible by even the most delicate material of neckties; it was futile to mention it to him. You knew he’d shut you down with another excuse.

“W-what are you doing here? Are you okay? I-I’m so sorry—I was on my way to you and—Oh god, you’re bleeding!“ Breathless, panting, not only because he was panicking from running late. 

But because of adrenaline. You could see it in his eyes. The alertness. The high.

“What—“ You wiped your nose with the back of your hand, only to see a smear of blood blotted across your skin. “Shit.” 

Another thick drop splattered in greeting.

“Peter, it’s a nosebleed. You’re acting like I had my arm chopped off or something.” You’ve been applying pressure to your nasal bridge, pinching it tightly to barricade the stream of blood. All while you had your head tilted over Peter’s sink, in case of the blood leaking past your hold. “And how long does it take to find a cotton ball?”

“I’m trying—“ His one-sided game of hide and seek with the bag of cotton balls was leaning in favor of the latter. Medicine cabinet: empty. Bedside drawer: foreign coins and bills. You were watching him from the corner of your eye, a small limp to his step when the lightbulb seemingly lit up overhead and had him dashing towards the kitchen. 

“Found it!”

Peter’s touch was delicate. Tender, like the forming bruise on your forehead. He was adamant on taking care of you, even if frankly—you would’ve done it much faster had it been a solo endeavor. Cotton balls were plugged up into your nose, and a warm face towel was laid across your forehead. If an intruder had the audacity to rob Peter’s apartment, you’d imagine you would find yourself lucking out. Peter joked that you looked like patient zero.

“All done. See? Nothing to cry about.” He was joking again, the smug smile across his face a clear indication of it—and the laugh that he couldn’t help but contain.

“Ha. Ha. Thanks, Dr. Parker. Now, how much do I owe you? I’m paying outta pocket.” For a brief moment, you forgot that you were upset earlier. All because of how nice it was to actually see him again. He pressed a kiss to your lips, a comforting gesture if his constant apologies weren’t enough. Stay focus. 

“So, about dinner…”

“Oh,” Disappointment softened Peter’s smile. You could see it tightening, even as he was organizing his room. Though, it was really a matter of tossing his clothes on the floor back into the laundry basket. “Listen, my… bike got stolen and—“

“Peter…” You sighed, pinching your nose bridge because you feared another avalanche of a nosebleed incoming. That, and because it helped you maintained your composure. “You said that the last time. Three times, actually.”

“Third time’s… the charm?” He was joking. Again. But even he wasn’t laughing at it because he’d been cornered. Called out. Embarrassed that he thought that would even work on you. Embarrassed that he thought he could get away with it. 

Again.

“Peter.” You called out, straightening your posture against the headboard of the bed when he sat at the end of the mattress. Shit, it’s happening.

“I… I don’t know how to…” The veins in his hands, they lined perfectly to the cuts, scrapes, and bruises on his knuckles. Clear as day now that he wasn’t hidden under a dim light. “I just…”

He had his hands around his face, rubbing his temples, his cheeks, his nose, anything that could alleviate the accelerating drill of his heartbeat. 

You were hopeful to get an answer out of him. A proper explanation. But it pained you, knowing that in a few seconds—what he would tell you would only confirm your yearning suspicions of his strange behavior.

He doesn’t love you anymore. He’s cheating. You’ve become a nuisance, an absolute bore in his life. Actually, you’re a bad influence on him. You’re holding him back. He needs to let go of you to accomplish better things. He never loved you.

It’s happening. It’s fucking happening. All he has to do is say those words. The dreaded five words you’ve heard once from him in a nightmare.

I want to break up.

“If you want to break up, just say it.” 

It sounded softer in your head, but the tears that had welled in your eyes finally bursted into droplets. They ran down your cheeks, and your voice broke during its pursuit. 

Something commanded you to let those words slip out. 

Maybe it was the ghost that you and him had been theorizing about since the night you’ve helped him move into the apartment floor above you. Carrie; you nicknamed her, and Peter would scold you for doing so because he had the suspicions that giving her a backstory would ultimately reassess his home as a possessing ground. To this day, he swore he saw a shadow looming in the corner of his room on a perfectly stormy night.

Or maybe it was the months of frustration that you had accumulated, snowballed because of your own selfish reasons to continue being with Peter for as long as you could, even if you saw the signs, because you couldn’t bear to see yourself without him. Live, when you two had promised so many futures together.

“What? No, (M/N), that’s not—“ He jolted up at the mere mention of separating from you. There was a chill. The room suddenly felt colder, and then warmer—scorching hot, when the glossiness of your gaze reflected into his. He began joining you by your side. “Hey, hey, I would never—“

He broke into a cold sweat. He’d never seen you like this. And to think that he was the root of this—of your pain—it was all overwhelming.

“Peter, there’s always something going on with you. Y-you don’t text me for days. You ignore my calls. You disappear without telling me. You’re always late. And… you’re always hurt? And you think that I’m dumb enough to not notice that you aren’t? How you’re limping? How you’re always bruised and—For god’s sake, Peter, I’m just as smart as you, we have the same GPA and—“ You took a breather, a gulp because you were rambling now. Your cheeks felt hot, from your sudden outburst and from embarrassment, because the latter half of your rant immediately negated the idea of some kind of affair.

“Okay, maybe you aren’t cheating, but—“ You felt him tug you into his arms, but you wouldn’t budge. Instead, you pushed away, edging to the other side of the bed to face him.

“I would never.” He sighed, his arms dropping as soon as you removed yourself from his embrace. 

“Then what is it? You’re leaving me in the dark here. I barely see you anymore, you know that?”

“I know.” He was biting his lips. Chewing, as if he was internally debating something. A decision that could either ruin you, ruin him, or both.

“Then?”

You waited. Watched his fingers fiddle with one another as he continued turning the screws in his head. Your heart would jump whenever he would open his mouth, anticipating whatever had caused so much turmoil in his life, but there was a last minute decision that kept him silent.

Crickets.

Nothing.

“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re doing. But you’re getting hurt and I’m just… worried.” Your gaze dropped to his hands again. Pale, veiny, and full of life yet they’ve looked like they’ve been worn out. Torn. “At least tell me it’s not gambling.”

“Well—in a way with my life, it kind of is like gambling—“ He thinly smiled, hoping it would at least make you crack a smile.

“Peter!” You scoffed, nudged his side with your elbow out of frustration, then surrendered when you brought your knees up to your chest, and buried your head in between your knees. “Not funny.”

“Okay, okay, just… you can’t tell anyone.” His voice softened.

“We all know that between you and I, you’re the one with the running mouth.” Your voice muffled in the space between your legs, hands tucked around your nape.

“I’m serious, (M/N)” Pleading now, he held your hand in hopes to get ahold of your attention again, squeezing so you’d look at him. You do.

“I won’t tell.” It was a promise. Peter didn’t need you to clarify because he could see it in your eyes, honest and sincere. Determined, as if you were willing to protect him.

“Okay… and also, don’t… freak out.” Peter was off the bed now, wandering in the middle of his room as he rolled his shoulders back, relaxing the muscles in his back like a wrestler preparing for his next fight. He gestured for you to follow him out to the stairway, out into the cold. 

“Why would I freak—“ There was something around his wrist. No, wrists. You thought they were watches, but there were two devices around him. They were strapped with a similar black leather to your wallet, to Peter’s, and a red button protruded in the middle of it. “Peter, what are you—“

You stopped a few feet before Peter, watching him closely, yet afar. Afraid, yet intrigued. Concerned, because he was on the ledge of the staircase now, perched like an animal. Yet there was a grin on his face. Not crazed like a madman considering he was acting like one, but foolish. Goofy, giddy like the times he’d hide stuff from you, and wait until you’d notice it was gone.

“Like I said, don’t freak out.” 

“Peter, what are you even—“

With that, he opened his arms like wings that spanned across his back and flipped into the air as if the wind would carry him across city to city. As if he was recruited as a sponsor to the heavenly gods with the incredible height he’d taken off in, pursuing the clouds, the wind, the stars, and the night simultaneously all in multiple slings.

Into. The. Air.

Into the fucking air.

You raced forward with a yelp, as if you would’ve made it in time to catch him. To catch his hand before he fell. To hold him one last time before he’d land on the ground and shatter every bone in his body.

If he had landed. 

No, you blinked once—twice—no, at least in the double digits because this was all a dream. It was all a dream, right? That you caught a glimpse of Peter somehow slingshotting himself from window to window, from rooftop to satellite, like it was a mundane day job one had to endure to put food on the table, to pay the bills.

Right?

You paced around the stairs, raced towards one floor to another, bending over the railings because—Peter disappeared. He was gone. If he had smashed into something, you would’ve heard him. You would’ve heard him in yelp in pain. You would’ve heard the metal railings shake. You would’ve heard him cry for help. 

Instead, you heard the sound of wind. Whistling as it sailed leaves to the west of you. 

As if it carried a hint along the way.

“Peter?! Peter—Fuck, fuck!” You followed the sound of the whistle. The source of the pitchy sound. Fluttering when your head spun closer to the note, wavering when you were getting colder, then peaking when your gaze lifted, higher, and higher, until it landed on him.

Peter.

Peter, perched over the rooftop of the apartment complex like a bug. The moonlight framed his silhouette, emphasized the texture of his suit; protruding grids that encased him like a nest; and you’ve never been more intimidated. 

Red and blue spandex tightly-fitted over the muscles and body of the man you have been more than well-acquainted with. You’ve seen it before. It was familiar. On the news, on the papers, on the internet.

“You’re freaking out!” He yelled out, clearly amused in your frozen state of shock.

He peered over at you with a smug grin, aimed directly at your bafflement before pulling a mask over his head. It was the icing on top in rendering you utterly incapable of stringing up any words. The lens of his mask reflected off of you, mirrored your astonishment in clear display, and you sensed that would be a memory Peter would be carrying to his death bed.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“Okay, so, just to clarify,” You were winded, still recovering from the heart attack Peter had nearly given you after he took you on for a stroll in the night. Into the sky.

Luckily his bed was right beside you. As soon as your legs gave out, you fell back into his mattress, and stared into the ceiling, speechless. Peter joined you after, bringing you into his arms. He’d always been aware that touching you in any way or form brought you back to reality. “You are… not a cosplayer?”

“Honestly? That would make me way more money than what I’m making right now.” You couldn’t keep your hands or eyes off of him. Peter was still in his suit, and that gave you the perfect opportunity to run your hands over the webbed texture of the spandex.

“Just a few more months until my lease is up. I can move in, and that’ll help with the rent. For both of us.” It felt like silicone, or rubber. Whatever it was, it was durable considering how thin it felt in your fingers when you rubbed it in between them.

“Just like that? You’re not mad?” Your hands came to a halt when Peter suddenly took them, and rested your palm on his cheek, coincidentally on the cut that you’ve never noticed. 

“Why would I be mad?” Quieter. Your voice mellowed into a whisper as you catalogued the amount of beatings his skin had taken. Caressed the marks you were too selfish to notice. Exhaustion wore on his face, and yet he never looked so peaceful as he gazed into your eyes. 

Pretty eyes, Peter thought. Ones that could motivate him to get back up after falling. That feels nice, when you pressed a kiss to his damaged skin. A touch that made him believe there was a reason to suffer, to be great, to be all of this.

“Well, for starters, it’s your birthday and… I completely blew it.” Peter closed his eyes when you began brushing his hair back, knotted in cold sweats, but you fanned your fingers out to undo them until they felt somewhat tidy in your strokes. Smooth and soft. He sighed, “Again.”

“Can’t entirely blame you. How would I look if I were to complain about missing you, when you’re out there risking your life for everyone?” It wasn’t a question, but you wanted him to look at you. To respond. And he does, when you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, and he returned it with a silken one, a following grin. “All I wish for was that you told me sooner, I guess.”

“Yeah,” He figured he’d save the details of the ‘friends’ he had made along the way some other time. For now, it was all about you. “Wow, you’re not even going to wish for me to be safe?”

“Hey, you know what I mean! That’s a given.” You rubbed at his chest, finding yourself quickly accustomed to the scales of his costume. The red was striking against your palms, comforting almost. 

“Still. I want to hear you say it.” Peter rolled onto his side and slipped an arm under your back, scooting closer to you. His signature goofy grin never failed to knock a similar one out of you. And unwillingly drawn out, when he began pinching at your sides in quick snips.

“Stop—“ You laughed, your hands occupying themselves to defend your body from his quick attacks. But Peter was fast, avoiding your arms and hands to find another opening that you’d abandon. “Stop, stop! Stay safe! Happy?!”

Closer and closer, you found yourself beneath him, framed by his body as he took your arms above your head and pinned them secured with his tight grasps.“Incredibly.”

Your legs spread open to make room for his body, only for Peter to wrap them around his waist, to press his body into you, kissing you like he was driven to steal your breath.

“This your way of making it up to me?” You broke apart from the kiss, only briefly, before the taste of Peter, the softness of his lips reeled you back in for another kiss. Languidly paced until one’s accelerating lust for one another had taken ahold of the wheel and shifted gears, into a weightiness that kept your mouth parted open while Peter’s impulse to explore you had become evidently clear.

“Problem with that?” He’d been driving his hips into you, grinding his front with your own. Both clothed, infuriatingly covered, but the pressure in between your bulge and Peter’s was too pleasing to ignore. Too satisfying to make him stop. “I should take this off—“

“No, wait—“ You grabbed his forearm when he reached back to unzip his suit. To be honest, you never thought about how he even got in or out of the suit in the first place, but that was beside the point. Something about this suit, this costume, whatever you wanted to call it; it was a turn-on. 

The way it fit snug against Peter’s body; how every fiber of muscle was stretching the material to its limit. Maybe you were just turned on because you associated it with him being a hero. For god’s sake, that was as much of an aphrodisiac one could be if you happened to be saved from a falling tower. 

Or maybe, it was simply how Peter looked in it. Unabashedly handsome, yet himself, seemingly courting you further into his webs, as if he hadn’t already from day one.

“Keep it on. I like it.” You muttered, fiddling with the collar of his suit. It was snapped on tight, but you managed to slip a finger or two past, to pull at it with a stretch.

“Then how are we going to…” He abandoned the few inches he had unzipped, providing a small relief to the squeeze around his body while his broad back was bare and tense towards the ceiling. 

“Then, you’ll take it off. But for now, I just want to…” One hand was on his nape, pulling him down for another heated kiss, while the other traveled south between your body and his. Further, lower, until you cupped him at his crotch. Rubbing, squeezing, and palming at the thick, growing center. “Want to try something…”

You could feel him smiling, a crooked one flattened against your own grin when he whispered, “I should’ve told you sooner, shouldn’t I.”

“You think?”

You were getting harder, your pants beginning to tighten around the center as you palmed him. It was a heavy handful in the beginning, but Peter’s bulge began to unfurl. It didn’t take long, didn’t take much of a stroke for him to unravel from his tuck and thicken into a full-blown erection towards the left side of his thigh. It pointed downwards, the plump head evident through his suit, and you were beginning to drool in Peter’s mouth at the haziest image of it.

“Come on, I need to get out of this… It’s killing me.” It wasn’t like Peter to beg. It was charming, cute, sexy, all the synonyms that could describe how you felt all day and every day about him, and you squeezed, because he wasn’t being patient with you.

“Birthday boy gets what he wants, don’t you think?” He winched into your mouth, and you swallowed him. Swallowed every ounce of breath, and breathed it back out with a kiss. Sloppy, heavy, your tongue weighing on his because you wanted to keep his lips apart, mouth open to hear his moans.

Peter grunted again once you began stroking his cock, touching him like it was a delicate plate of chin. Fingertips only, dusting him off with little pressure so he wouldn’t shatter.

“What are you going to do about it, hm?” You continued your short, limp strokes. “Just going to take it? Hm?” Your wrist was weak, lazy as it became limp to tease him even more. Peter sucked in a breath, doing his best to maintain his composure, but it was all futile, all those attempts of sucking in his lip to chew, to hold back his moans, because you’d slap his clothed cock, grasp it tight in your hand, and massage as much as you could gather.

“Fuck, baby—“ You had him under your control. Even if his hands were free, you knew he wouldn’t lay a finger on you. He knew that if he did, you’d stop touching him, stop stimulating the blood running down every vein of his cock, fueling his erection. His desires. 

He couldn’t let that happen. Not after the day, the week, the months that he’d been having. 

You and Peter eventually switched places: Peter resting on his back while you sat in between his legs, marveling at the stretch of his suit. Somehow, his cock looked bigger than you’d remember. Squished and pressed flush against his thigh like this. The suit was like a magnet, inviting your hand back to his cock and refusing to let you go.

“Just relax.” You commanded him. He was watching you slouched up against the headboard, gravity weighing his eyelids lower. With his legs spread apart, he provided you excess space as you began massaging his right thigh with your free hand. “Is this okay?”

“Mm-hm...” He knew you were talking about the pressure on his thigh, but the strokes over his cock remained supreme in his mind. Championed through as you pressed harder into the shaft, massaging tenderly from vein to vein. The protruding webbed texture of his suit pressed into him, rolled against cock like the inside of a fleshlight, ultimately adding onto the already gratifying pleasure. 

It was glorious.

“More…” Peter gritted through his teeth, a selfish need for more escaping from his lips in huffs. Grunts, when you’d fulfill his wish with two hands now, kneading his cock like dough. 

Thick, stiff, throbbing dough.

Before the complaints could come pouring in, you shimmied your pants off in a hurry, tossing it in the corner before greedily climbing onto Peter’s lap. It was like he read your mind, perhaps another secret that he’d been hiding, because he immediately took you into his arms. An embrace, a tight one that grounded you against his bulge, pressing your body weight until it restricted the blood flowing into his erection, as well as preventing an escape.

“You’re so hard…” You marveled at how rigid he’d gotten under you, grinding your ass against the large mass, beating and throbbing with every rut.

“I’m so hard.” He confirmed, complained, and bragged all in one smile. He then took you by the nape to kiss you again. Hard on the mouth, slow with his tongue to taste you and your desires, his desires. His other hand rested on the small of your back, guiding your grinds at first before his fingers looped into your waistband, tugging once before stuffing the strap under your ass cheeks. Your hard-on was the only thing keeping the cotton material from slipping off while you continued grating your hips. “Just like that…”

To make it easier for you, Peter repositioned his erection so it was facing north, towards his navel, in its sublime mass. Your briefs had been tossed to the side now, completely bare bottomed against him while you mounted over him, and rode in needy strides. It was a sight to behold, something that Peter reckoned he should savor. He folded his arms behind his head, providing a self-made cushion for the weight of it, and watched you. It was entrancing, like a dance. You swiveled your hips to a ghosting rhythm, one that could only be heard between two hearts, two parties, between the two of you, man to man.

“Like this…?” Breathless, you unbuttoned your shirt open, but left it present on your body. Sweat formed over your neck, dribbled down to your bare and exposed chest;  it was practically an open-invitation for Peter to ravish you. And so he did, with a haunting groan as he held you, contained you in the warmth of his arms as he simultaneously pulled you forward, and pushed himself off the headboard to meet you in the middle.

He kissed you on the neck, achingly hard when he sucked, and then enthralling, sweat-inducing when he bit into your skin. He couldn’t contain himself. You tasted too good, and it’d been too long since he had you just like this. “Just like that. Your cock against my cock, fuck. I love it so fucking much.” He muttered hot against your neck, panting because he was sweating too. The spandex felt tighter on his skin, constricting against him with every drop of sweat.

“Oh, fuck…” His lips had latched onto your nipples now. Peter’s tongue worked magic on your two nubs, flicking and swirling over their perkiness until you felt swollen. Raw, when he bit, pulled, bit, and bit again. You buried your face into his hair, rocking yourself back and forth with your arms holding him close to your chest, gliding your cock against his print as if a gun was pointed to your head, like your life depended on making Peter come.

You were delirious, humping Peter without a single thought other than to get him off, and you’d reckon that was the goal lingering in Peter’s head as he began rocking back into you. It took a while for him to find your rhythm, chasing after it in slower, sluggish beats, but eventually he caught up to you, snapping his hips against your own, grinding his cock against yours like two crescent moons caressing the other’s curvature.

“Close…” He muttered into your shoulder. Your shirt was hanging off, exposing more of your skin, but Peter made sure you didn’t feel a single chill with the marks he had followed up with soon after. It was like he had done it on purpose. Made you feel safe in his arms, comfortable in the warmth of his body, worshiped with the amount of care he had given your body. Frozen, when you felt something prod at your pucker. Then enraptured, when Peter pushed a wet finger inside of you. 

Tremors, chilling tremors ran down your spine as you took the single digit Inside of you with one determined push. “Fuck—“ Your back arched, chest pushed forward towards him, and your hips jolted forward in one strong, and delicious swipe against Peter’s cock. “Peter…”

It was a mouthwatering display of food before him. The perky nubs on your chest, the veins in your neck, the mole on your body, the strain of your thighs on overdrive, the swollen head of your cock; Peter didn’t know what to lay his finger on first, what to mouth on, what to kiss, and suck, and latch onto until you’d scream. Whichever it was, he knew you were desperate for him. Begging, sweating, whimpering, for Peter to lay a finger on you. Another finger inside of you now, and you rolled your eyes at the stretch he was providing you with, a fulfilling wish that startled your hips once more.

“You’re so good, so good for me…” Peter was staring up at you, marveling at the layer of sweat on your body. It glistened with every movement, dripped heavily with every thrust of Peter’s fingers, and tasted just like how he remembered. Salty when he licked up your neck, up your chest, against your nipples, and repeated. Your body was his, and Peter was determined to let the world know. Determined to remind you in case that you’d forgotten.

Your hands were wandering. Grabbing and touching at anything and everything that could linger in between your fingers. Peter’s hair, his head, shoulders, chest, your cock and his, his back. Everything. You couldn’t keep your hands off of him. Even if he was covered from head to toe, you were touching him. Because he was yours.

“Gonna come—“ You cupped Peter’s jaw to straighten his posture, to kiss him sloppily on the mouth, and he pulled his fingers out of you, resting them on either side of your hips as he joined you once again in grinding hips. The pleasure was overbearing, drilling into each individual brain until the smallest movement would render you both speechless. Panting in slurred moans of each other’s names, of profanities that you two had rarely used in your lifetime on earth.

“Me too…” Peter pushed himself on top of you now. Your arms were tied around his neck, tighter than the necktie he had on prior, and your legs; they wrapped around his waist equally secured, if not even tighter, as he thrusted against you. 

You were too distracted, unable to respond to Peter’s constant licks in your mouth. He was desperate for you, suckling on your tongue and chasing after it once it slipped out because of your moans. They were rattling, each breath immediately vaulted in the back of Peter’s throat because he couldn’t part from you. Couldn’t imagine a life where he would. And if he had to, at least he’d have a part of you inside of him. Even if it was a whisper. 

He thrusted harder, panting into your mouth, his nose practically smushed flat against yours. He wondered if you could imagine that life, a life without him.

“P-Pete—Shit, I’m—“ Your fingers dug into his nape, grounding him impossibly closer to you when that feeling had suddenly come to stun you in place. 

It simmered hard in your stomach, then to a rolling boil as it traveled lower to your pelvis. You squeezed your stomach, clenched your toes, and your eyes widened when Peter’s hips showed no signs of faltering. Your cock swelled and your balls jolted, tightened, until you finally saw stars bursting into flames and let gravity have it come crashing down on you. Shivers had you enclose your arms around Peter, holding onto him tight as you felt yourself crumble and spill all over your chest and his suit. You came with a gritted grunt of his name, sinking your nails into his nape because you had nowhere else to channel your spasms as Peter kept rocking against you, drunkenly astonished by how you came for him. By how much you needed him.

It didn’t take long before Peter came right after. He buried his head into your neck, stifling moans into the heat of your neck, clammy with sweat, yet comforting as he filled the inside of his suit with thick, large loads. You felt his cock throb against you when you reached down to help, to ride out his orgasm to the fullest. His cock pulsed as you’d imagine several thick pumps of his load would gush out and uncomfortably layer his navel. If only his suit hadn’t been waterproof, because there was no doubt that he would’ve been leaking out of it by now.

You’ve never been so jealous of spandex.

He was hot in your ear, panting, breathing you in, then breathing you out as you slowed the strokes on his softening cock. Then a sudden inhale, a jolt of his body, when you squeezed hard, to seal the deal in covering the entirety of his cock in his own cum. It was filthy. It was shameless. It was Peter.

“Driving me crazy here…” Peter sluggishly lifted himself off of you to face you, a sleepy smile plastered across his face as you kept kneading at his cock, increasingly sensitive with every second.

“Not enough to drive you away, right?” You smiled, drowsy yourself as you quickly found your high coming to a crash. Though, you mustered enough strength to hold Peter’s cheek in your palm, tenderly caressing, to which he immediately kissed as soon as it reintroduced itself. 

Peter sighed, holding your gaze for what felt like minutes, and yet you wished it could be for longer. 

It was different this time, the way he looked at you. The same amount of love and warmth, yes. But they no longer wavered, no longer tried to find something else to look at in case you were prying about. 

“Never.” 

Instead, they stilled, relaxed the longer you stared into him, into those brown eyes of his, because you were in now. 

You were finally in his life.

How much you needed him?  His question had been answered.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[spdrwdw]

♡ Childhood Bestfriend Miguel Headcanons ♡

6 year old Miguel who was your next door neighbor and would walk with you to the bus stop every morning

7 year old Miguel who would play with you outside during the summer, going to the neighborhood playground with you and the other kids

8 year old Miguel who you would be paired up with in class with for a project, and you would go to each other's houses to work. Your mom's would make you both snacks, and if you were at Miguel's house, you two would take a break and play Mario Cart together, along with Gabriel

9 year old Miguel who invited you to his birthday party at his house, and you would bring him the best gift out of all his friends and he wouldn't stop talking about it for days

10 year old Miguel who you would go trick-or-treating with. He would be dressed as Spider-Man, cuz they were his favorite superhero

11 year old Miguel who gave you a big box of chocolates for Valentine's Day, along with a teddy bear and flowers while looking away in embarrassment, stating that it was his mom's idea

12 year old Miguel who went to your birthday party, despite it being only girls there and it being Barbie themed. Everyone called him Ken that day. He didn’t mind it, cuz that meant he was your Ken for the whole day and got most of your attention

13 year old Miguel who shared his first kiss with you while you two were seated at the back of the school bus

14 year old Miguel who would play video games with you well into the night on a school night and you both had to be quiet as to not wake anyone up

15 year old Miguel who would be in your biology class and you would both always partner up and do science experiments together. One day, the class was dissecting frogs and you hid your face being a notebook while Miguel dissected it

16 year old Miguel who punched the guy you were dating for cheating on you with another girl

17 year old Miguel who took your virginity, and vise versa, during a mutual friend’s birthday party. You two had snuck to an empty room and did it. There was no condom used so you ended up freaking out, but, after taking a couple pregnancy tests, you two were relieved you weren’t pregnant, and Miguel decided to stock up on condoms after that

18 year old Miguel asking you out to prom with a whole mariachi band outside your door (it was Gabriel’s idea). Miguel was very flustered as he held up a sign that read “would you go to prom with me?” Of course, you said yes.

Bonus: 18 year old Miguel confessing his true feelings for you during your high school graduation ceremony. However, you both were heading to different universities so contact would end up being long-distant and as result, you two would end up dating other people

[1wngdngl]

It's been kinda crazy the last few weeks with my birthday, Thanksgiving, etc. So here's some stuff I meant to post sooner 😅

First, there was the comic con in my town on the weekend of November 11-13. I spent my first day there getting all my shopping out of the way so I could spend Day 2 on attending panels. We even had the Nostalgia Critic pay a visit and do a live riff of Batman and Robin! I also spent way too much money, but at least I mostly got Lego figures and little fridge magnets so they don't take up (too) much space.

Actually, the little NWH Doc Ock figure on the far right - the Cosbi Hot Toys version - was not from the convention, but bought on eBay from Japan, since it's apparently a rare find in the US. I saw it on a few other blogs and decided I had to snag it before it was discontinued 😍

My birthday was also a week ago, and that was likewise much fun. We had a homemade "high tea" and watched the BBC Pride and Prejudice, Doctor Who, Sherlock, and the Great British Baking Show.

Maybe my most unusual gift was a Japanese-language translation of Pride and Prejudice. I've been trying to get back into learning the language, and I've been using the fun "renshuu" app a lot for that purpose. The book is sort of a goal to work toward - when my Japanese gets to the point that I can accurately analyze the differences between the original and translated copies, then I'll be pretty happy. (And then there's my Japanese translation of The Hobbit to work on after that...)

I also had fun playing the Lord of the Rings "Exit" game over Thanksgiving. We've done several of these games as a family - it's not /quite/ the same as a real-life escape room, but it's the next best thing.

Okay, I think that's most of the recent stuff. I'm sure Christmas will produce a few more posts.

Gotta go check out a few video games now before the Cyber Monday sales are over 😁

[flamingo-writes]

@midnightnoiserose I’m gonna reply here bcs tumblr doesn’t let me post one long reply in the comments djjdjfjf

@midnightnoiserose I think it’s a bit of a shame, because Hobie’s character actually allows for a lot of dark content. Like, punk in general discusses a lot of problems and the punk scene is actually pretty unsafe. From the friendly gigs, the mosh pits can be quite dangerous adjust but fun. And then there’s the not so friendly moments during marches and manifestations. And there’s a lot of things that haven’t been explored. (I mean understandable, people want the fluff and the smut and I also want those as much as the person next to me). And I —as someone who’s called herself a punk for literally half of my life— have a lot of very strong opinions on various topics, and one of the reasons why I loved Hobie’s character so much (from the moment his comic got serialised last year) is because of who he is as a person. I Can relate so much to him.

The fact that they made him so hot in the movie was 😭😭 chefskiss. but tbf Hobie already was my dream guy hahaha but I digress.

There’s so much potential in writing Hobie in a fanfic where punk ideologies are thoroughly discussed, and all of the hardships and unfairness that happens in the world are talked about. You can’t talk about rebellion without oppression, and all the things those entail. Hobie is just the perfect character to put through these scenarios, it’s literally his natural habitat. —Also me projecting myself bcs that’s why I wrote fanfics in the first place. I tend to project sometimes a little too much of myself in my fanfics.

I have another Spider-Man fanfic (incomplete, I will finish it I promise 💀) in which my strong opinions on power abuse and general rebellious traits shine through the MC/Reader.

I will also project in that other fanfic, but in this one MORE bcs I live for punk. I love talking about punk ideology.

I’m thinking of writing a multi chapter Hobie fanfic, but I need motivation and free time 🥲 it will have heavier/darker themes, a lot of things discussions revolving punk ideologies, oppression, corruption, feminism, as well as other ugly parts of reality such as drug consumption, physical violence, SA and so on.

What I don’t know is if I should post it on AO3, or perhaps here? Or maybe both??? Idk what do you guys think?

[demigod-of-the-agni]

it is love that conquers all

Hari merely shrugged, about to turn back to his homework when he spun around to look at Flash again. ‘Wait, what did he forget?’

Snickering, Flash leaned back on his haunches, hands bearing his weight. ‘Hari, my good man, Puny Prabhakar forgot his birthday.’

Teen And Up Audiences, Gen/Multi, No Warnings post-atsv // college era // coffee bean gang // hindu mythology Multi-Chapter | 3/3 | wc: 32,781

chapter 1

[seduzist]

one more time

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary. a failed marriage couldn’t stop you both to have a fun night, right?

cw. a little angst, smut, g!p! wanda and reader are milfs lol, drinking, smut, dirty talk, degradation, basically porn with plot. i wrote this really sleepy when i wake up i will proofread, sorry.

you liked to think of yourself as a great, great mother, and hardly someone would say the opposite, you only lets your twins eat candy on weekends, always do your best at birthday parties and were the most caring and lovingly as a mother can be without getting weird or overprotective. 

but on the last week you felt you really needed some time with adults, not that you didn’t loves with your whole heart every second you spent with your kids, but you really needed to have a casual conversation with someone who doesn’t believe in santa anymore, or that doesn’t ask you how much is 100 plus infinite, or you would lose it. 

so, when your coworker asked you to go for a coffee after your shift you thought twice about the idea of call your ex-wife and ask her if she could catch the twins after school and maybe take them to the park for an hour, it couldn’t be that bad, could it? that’s what you did.

kate bishop, the coworker who invited you, was very funny, it was clear that she was very nervous being by your side which you find cute and made you feel confident, but you just couldn’t enjoy the moment more than a little bit, you couldn’t see her as someone who could really make you feel anything, at all.

after all the talk you got back home frustrated, texting wanda if everything was fine.

[you]

hey, everything’s fine? 

on my way to home rn

[wanda]

yep, we’re at the park 🛝

i’m gonna take them for some pizza 🍕🍕🍕

idk when we’re coming back but i let u know 

😉

you laugh at wanda’s need to use so many emojis in every text, but thanked her in your mind to let you have more time for yourself, so when you got home you made sure to make it worth, you took a nice, long and warm bath and served yourself some wine, enjoying the complete absence of sounds of little steps running on the ground and the constant screams of “mom!” followed by a complaining about a toy or about it’s brother. 

it was very relaxing and relieving but you thought about how it would be when they got back and started the chaos all over again.

fortunately, that didn’t happen, when wanda got back to your house the twins were dead asleep in the car, she only had time to call you before you open the door and see her carrying both of their unconscious little bodies to inside, each one of them resting their head in one of her shoulders. when she got close enough you helped her, taking carefully Tommy in your arms, making sure none of them would wake up, and guiding her to their room upstairs. when you and wanda done putting them in bed and cover them up with a spider man and a batman blanket, you made your way downstairs silently.

when you turned around to take a look at her, suddenly you felt something that you didn’t know exactly what was it. maybe it was the alcohol running in your system - it’s been so long since you’ve got drunk - maybe it was all the frustrations and thoughts you’ve had about her the entire day, maybe it was your fertility period or the fact you didn’t have any sex for the last three months. but wanda looked so, so hot.

with a slight blue jeans and a black shirt, her casual clothes didn’t have anything special as well as her face, with the makeup she always wears, but there was something really different, it was probably in your eyes.

not that this really mattered, because you didn’t even remember how it started, all you could really memorize is how her lips felt against yours and how her hands felt running all over your body, reminding you of the times you were still together.

reminds you of everything, your first time at the bathroom of her fraternity party, that was inexperienced, desperate and hungry, made you discover a few things about her and about yourself. the first time after your wedding, when she made sure to be the most intimate, romantic and loving night you’ve ever dreamed about before the honeymoon. the make ups after a fight, rough, careless, wild, it used to be the most common in the last months of the marriage.

somehow you felt it all over again when you kissed, not knowing exactly how it started, but just like the first time, you were desperate for more.

wanda’s hands reached the hem of your pajamas’ shirt, the silk was thrown over the floor exposing your breasts, the warm skin being such a sight for her eyes, and she wasted no time in closing her mouth around one of your nipples, with both arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

you could feel your pussy almost dripping, it’s been long since the last time you had anything, but now wanda was right there, and she could give you everything, her mouth on your breast felt good but you craved more.

“i want you, now.” you whispered, putting your hands on her cheeks and gently bringing her up for another kiss, in a desperate attempt to make her understand how much you needed her inside of you, but wanda never failed to that before and the cocky smirk she gave you definitely showed she was not about to let that be the first time.

soon, you were sat naked at the counter of your kitchen with her body between your legs, taking off her black shirt and taking just a second or two to admire her body, perfect just like you remembered, her perky breasts begging to be touched, but both of you were so eager. wanda looked like she didn’t had sex in a while as well as you, she was rock hard without much stimulation and when she put her jeans down along with her boxers, your mouth watered at the sight.

looked a little bit bigger than you remembered and made you feel scared for a moment, you knew that would hurt despite the time without it, but a small part of you wanted the pain.

“i missed you so much, y/n.” wanda said, a little breathless, catching your attention to her face again. her strong hands pulled your legs around her waist and her throbbing cock made contact with your center.

you both moans at the contact, so needy for each other, wanda takes one hand to her cock, jerking it off before positioning at your drenched opening, making sure to look at your face while sliding the head in.

the woman’s eyes lightened up when you opened your mouth and let out a quite loud moan, beating your lashes at her with doe eyes, begging her to fuck you without saying a single word, and that’s what she did.

putting a hand above your mouth to keep you quiet and the other holding your thigh to keep you in place, she started moving her hips, thrusting forward and making you let out moans that she would die to hear but this wasn’t the time. your nails sunk into her back at the painful feeling of being stretched out by her shaft, but still you enjoyed it.

“didn’t you missed it? being stretched out by me, hm?” her husky breathless voice in your ear sounded sinful and dirty and you immediately shaked your head as yes, letting out another moan that was muffled by her palm “you’re so tight, fuck, i forgot how tight you were.”

after her last inch entered you, which you take proud of being able to take without asking her to go slower, she takes her hand out of your mouth, immediately kissing your lips while your pussy adjusted her size, her tongue slipped inside your mouth, you tested like red wine and your hands find its way to flood her breasts, you felt her hard nipples against your palms and wanda had to break the kiss to let out a little moan at that, but soon her mouth were on yours again and her hips were moving.

the sensation of her cock going in and out of you was like heaven, her heavy breath against your lips while she tried to kiss you and swallow your moans was so, so intoxicating, she was all over you and you didn’t want this to end.

“you feel so good, you’re so good– fuck, wanda!” you did your best to whisper these words instead of screaming them at the top of your lungs, but at every thrust of her hips her cock reached deeper inside of you, stretching your insides in a delicious way.

“you missed being my little slut, didn’t you?” she said against your lips, her pupils so dilated to the point the green in her eyes almost disappeared. you agreed with your head, scared that if you tried to say something it would be too loud and wake the twins who still sleeps safe and sound in their room.

when her movements became messy and desperate, she brings one hand to your pussy, stimulating your clit in circles with two fingers and that’s how you knew she was close, you closed your eyes, feeling your own orgasm coming, the knot on your stomach getting tighter as wanda’s fingers became faster, as well as her cock inside you.

“cum for me.” she breathed out against your lips and you happily did.

your back arched and your eyes rolled in your head while your shaking legs pulled wanda even closer, if that was possible, the tight of your pussy around wanda’s cock while you came on her made her almost cum inside you, but she couldn’t and she knew, so she did her best to hold it until you finished.

when the last drop of your cum coated her cock she took it out of you, making you feel empty but the sight of her jerking off and cumming all over your belly while calling your name was enough to please you for now.

both of you panted heavily, unable to speak for two or three minutes, wanda rested her head on your neck, while you caressed her hair slightly and for a moment it didn’t felt like a mistake, it felt like pure love again.

wanda grabbed a napkin across the counter to clean your belly and took you to the couch, sitting comfortably by your side and then was your turn to rest your head on her shoulder. your breaths were still heavy and your legs weak, your sweaty bodies fitted each other perfectly.

“we have to put our clothes on.” wanda said after a while, and you agreed, but none of you moved.

the situation would probably be awkward for a lot of couples, but wasn’t for the two of you, maybe it was the intimacy you get after 8 years of marriage but it sounded just like casual conversation, except that there’s no clothes and no inhibitions between you.

“we’ll never do this again, this was an only time thing.” you said calmly, looking up at her.

“yeah, an only time thing.” she agreed, but if you wasn’t so tired to read her eyes you would know that deep inside she wanted nothing more to be with you again.

[ladycaramelswirl]

It Happened in Texas

Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader❤︎

Chapter 2 : five year olds are better than you (at making friends)

series masterlist

A/N: Yet again I’ve written an unrealistic scenario for the plot. And I’ll do it again. This is just crack plot and some fluff. The team having a good time. Use of y/n a few times.

Fun fact for context: most handcuffs used by law enforcement have universal keys

word count: 2.8k

Enjoy! 🤍

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

You make it through the next few months without any issues. You go on a case, report to Strauss and decline any of the team’s non-work-related invites. The team is polite, but you (deservedly) feel like an outsider. And Hotch still ignores you most of the time. You’ve both managed to somehow do your job and pretend the other person doesn’t exist. The team pretends not to notice. Your days start to seem cyclical, but at least unlike Houston, no one refuses to work with you. 

“Hi!”

You startle from your paperwork to see a child smiling at you. He’s sweet looking, with blonde hair and big brown eyes. How did a child get in here?

“I like your hair. Are you daddy’s new work friend? Are you also a superhero?”

It’s an odd lineup of questions. You try your best to answer them.

“Thank you. I like your hair too. I’m not a superhero, I think. Your dad is a superhero?”

The child nods seriously.

“He’s not a real superhero like Spider-Man, but he’s a superhero to me”, he tells you. 

Your heart melts. His father must be a really great dad.

“That’s so cool! Are you here to visit him?”, you ask.

The child nods. “But he’s busy right now”.

You don’t remember anyone on the team mentioning family visiting today. 

“What’s your name? 

“Jack”.

“Hi Jack, I’m y/n”.

Who was this kid?

“Uncle Spence!”

You watch the young profiler hug the child. 

Jack tries to hustle him for candy, but Spencer apologises and says he doesn’t have any. You offer him a chocolate from your drawer which immediately makes you Jack’s favourite. He decides to take residence on your lap. 

You look at Spencer. 

“Uncle?”

He looks flustered. 

“Oh that’s just what he calls us. He’s Hotch’s kid”.

What? This little angel?

“Jack? Jack where are you?”

You look up to see Hotch come out of his office looking distressed. 

“I’m here!”, the boy shouts.

Hotch makes his way over.

“Sorry buddy the meeting ran late I - ”

He notices where Jack is sitting and looks at you apologetically. 

“His school suddenly closed today and I couldn’t get a babysitter. Sorry if he bothered you”.

Oh? So he’s not ignoring you if it’s in front of his kid. Noted.

“No that’s okay. Sorry for giving him chocolate. He said he was hungry”.

Hotch picks him up from your lap. 

“It’s not a problem”, he tells you. “Sorry for making you wait Jack. Let’s go have lunch”, he tells the child. 

Jack looks at his dad. 

“Can she come to my birthday party?”

Hotch looks between you and his son hesitantly. 

“Buddy it’s in three days. She might be busy”.

Jack looks devastated.

“Please?”, he asks you.

“That’s okay. I can come”, you tell him.

“See dad!”, Jack tells Hotch.

“I’ll text you the address. And thank you”, the older Hotchner tells you.

“No problem”.

————————————

You make sure to enter the party late and wait until you see Hotch talking with a parent to sneak in. The BAU are all in one corner, drinking and laughing together. You steer clear of them and leave your present on the gift table. When you’ve run out of moms to talk to, you start clearing up garbage and washing dishes. A little blonde head pops up beside you.

“Hi!”

“Jack! Happy Birthday!”

He opens his arms for a hug and you bend down to oblige.

“Why are you tidying up?”, he asks.

“Well I didn’t really have much to do and I wanted to help out”, you tell him.

Jack frowns.

“So you don’t have any friends?”, he asks, deeply concerned. 

“No, I have friends. I-“, you think to yourself. You had uprooted your life to move to D.C. for this job. The only people who you knew in the city were your coworkers. Who you avoid because technically, you’re spying on them. Jesus Christ, the kid is right. You have no friends.

Jack sees you come to the realisation in real time and pats your arm like you’re a dog.

“That’s okay. Sometimes people have very little friends. Like my dad. Uncle Dave always says, that’s why you have no friends Aaron”, Jack tells you, imitating the older man.

You choke on air.

“Auntie Pen says dad would have more friends if he smiled more. Do you smile?”, Jacks asks you seriously.

You nod. 

He seems satisfied. “Then you can prob’ly have friends”, he tells you. “But if not, it’s okay because you can be my friend”.

You smile. How did such a grumpy man raise this kid? 

“I’d love to be your friend Jack”, you tell him. “You’re my favourite Hotchner. But don’t tell your dad”. You didn’t need him thinking that you were trying to get closer to the team by befriending Jack.

“Don’t tell me what?”

You turn to see your scowling unit chief.

You feel your stomach drop, but his face causes Jack to giggle. 

“It’s a secret!”, he tells his dad, jumping into his arms. Hotch picks him up and gives him a soft kiss on his head. He whispers something in Jack’s ear which makes his eyes light up and he scrambles to the backyard. Hotch looks at you for an explanation.

You shrug you shoulders. “A secret’s a secret.”

Hotch stares at you like he can somehow read your mind if he looks at you long enough.

“You’re very loyal”, he says. 

His tone is accusatory, and you’re certain he’s talking no longer talking about Jack.

I don’t want to be, you want to say. But you need your job.

“I care about my friends. That makes me loyal”, you say.

He scoffs. “She’s not your friend”.

You try not to roll your eyes. Obviously you don’t think Strauss is your friend.

“And are you?”, you ask. “My friend”.

Hotch stares at you like you’ve sprouted a second head, but he doesn’t have time to answer because Jack tackles you into a hug. 

“Thank you thank you thank you!” 

You’re thrown off balance by the force of the child and almost fall over. Hotch grabs your arm to keep you steady then quickly lets go. Jack holds up the Lego set that you bought him. 

“Dad this is the one I said I wanted! The limited edition one!”, he says excitedly.

Hotch smiles at his son. “That’s so great buddy”.

Jack runs off to show everyone else. Hotch looks at you gratefully.

“I’ve been looking for that everywhere. I can’t believe you found it. You got it in two days?”.

After overhearing him asking JJ about it in the office and had scouring the internet for one, you had used your day off yesterday to go to some sketchy seller in New York because they refused to ship it to you for some reason. You had technically bought it to get on Hotch’s good side, but the hassle was worth it to see Jack’s face light up. 

“I care about my friends”, you shrug.

Hotch stares at you again. 

“Well I’m sure Jack appreciates it. Thank you.”

You nod and he looks like he might say something else, but he just grabs a bag of chips and moves to head back to the party. You move back towards the sink.

“You don’t have to do that”, he tells you. “The dishes, or tidying up - you’re a guest. Thank you for everything you’ve already cleaned. But you should enjoy the party”, he tells you before leaving the kitchen. 

You don’t want to go back outside yet so you clean what’s left in the sink and then walk back outside. Jack immediately spots you and makes his way over. 

“Thank you for the present”, he tells you. 

“You already said that”, you laugh. 

“Yeah, but my dad said I have to say it again properly”, he tells you seriously.

Oh. Had they talked about you just now?

“Well you’re welcome. I hope you like it”.

“I like it”, he grins. And then he’s grabbing your hand and dragging you over to the BAU. 

Shit.

“Auntie Emily! Auntie Pen! Y/N is super awesome but she has no friends! You should be friends!”

Nononononono. 

The whole team stares at you and you feel yourself turn bright red. Thank God for foundation. You need to fix this, now.

“Jack, that’s um very nice of you, but-“

“What do you mean Jack?”, Emily asks. “She’s our friend already. We even sleep in the same room on trips. I don’t do that with non-friends”, she adds. She’s talking to him, but she looks at you. 

Thank God for Emily Prentiss. You shoot her a grateful look.

Jack looks at you sadly. “Does this mean we can’t be friends now? Because you already have grown up friends?”

“No way! Of course we’re still friends”, you tell him. Jack beams. He’s so cute, you think. You wish Hotch smiled this much.

“Ok! Then I’m going to play Star Wars now”, he tells you, running off. You’re immediately reminded that you’re standing beside your coworkers who are all grinning at you.

“I am so sorry-“, you start.

“She refuses to come out for drinks, doesn’t talk to us outside of work, but she tells a 5 year old that she needs help making friends”, Derek teases.

“I don’t need help making friends! I-“

“Name one time you willingly came for drinks with us”, Emily says.

You both know it’s none.

“I-“

“Leave the kid alone. She’s probably scared of all of you hounding her with all your questions”, Rossi chides. 

“This is so great!”, Penelope tells you. “I mean you’ve been avoiding us so we thought you didn’t want to be friends, or Strauss was telling you things about us, but if you’re just freaked out, we can be totally be normal!”

Spencer coughs. “That last part may prove difficult”.

Penelope smiles at you and lightly smacks him.

“So? You want to have drinks after this?”

You should say no. But Penelope was right. If you kept saying no, it sent the wrong message. You did like them.

“Ok”.

The group raises a glass to you and you smile. 

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

—————————

This was bad. When they said ‘have drinks’, you thought they meant at a bar, talking over drinks like colleagues. Turns out they meant drinking games and shots. At Hotch’s house. Post birthday party, which meant everyone was already a couple of drinks in when you started. 

“Truth or dare!”, JJ shouts.

“Dare!”, Penelope yells.

“I dare you to… wear one of Hotch’s ties and pretend to be him for the next round!”

Derek grins. “Good luck baby girl. Don’t let the boss man kill you.”

Penelope makes a point of furrowing her brows. “Don’t call me baby girl. That is inappropriate for the workplace”, she huffs in a deep voice. The whole table erupts in laughter. Then Emily turns to you. 

“Truth or dare!”

You’re not sure you can handle any questions at your level of inebriation.

“Dare”.

Emily looks like you’ve handed her a briefcase full of cash. Oh no.

“I dare you… to kiss the person this bottle lands on!”

God, if you’re there, help me, you think.

Hotch huffs. “Prentiss, she’s your junior, and we are not teenagers. That’s just harassment. Change the dare.”

Thank all that is holy.

Emily pouts. 

“Fine. I dare you to … handcuff yourself to the person the bottle lands on for the rest of the night. Except for when you go to the bathroom”.

What?

“Prentiss-“

“No! If she’s not comfortable, she’s capable for speaking for herself”, Emily says. “Right?”

You nod. You’re pretty much already sitting together with everyone - it won’t make much of a difference anyway.

“It’s fine.”

Emily beams and spins the bottle. I mean it might not be so bad. Being cuffed to Penelope or Spencer could be kind of funny.

“Hotch!”

You had to be cursed.

“Prentiss, this is -“

She ignores him and cuffs his wrist, and the other one to yours. 

“Okay! Now everyone give me your keys so they don’t secretly uncuff. I’ll keep them, so let me know when you need to use the bathroom”.

Hotch glares at her, but everyone hands her their key. Then they move on to bother the next person.

JJ moves over so that Hotch can sit next to you. You hadn’t realised how little space there was on the couch until it’s his thigh touching yours instead of hers.

“I’m sorry about this. Usually they’re less… chaotic”, Hotch tries to explain.

“That’s okay”, you tell him. 

It’s nice. The team reminds you of James, your best friend from your previous job at the Houston field office.

“Can Jack sleep with everyone shouting like this?”, you ask.

Hotch nods. “He’ll pretty much sleep anywhere if I tuck him in first.”

That’s sweet.

“He’s a great kid.”

“Thank you.”

You manage through the next few hours. It turns out that Hotch is a great conversationalist when forced to not ignore you. You’re actually enjoying the way the team somehow ropes him in to things because he’s not great at saying no to them. But it starts to get late. 

“Prentiss? Can you uncuff us please?”

Emily sways and giggles drunkenly. “You’re so nice and polite. Why can’t everyone else say please when they’re asking for things? Derek is rude”, she pouts. “And don’t call me Prentiss. It makes me feel old. Call me Emily.”

“Ok. Emily, please can you give me a key?”, you try again.

“What key?”

“To the handcuffs?”

“I don’t have a keys, I gave mine to Penelope”

What?

“Prentiss, this is not a joke. We all gave you ours. Just give us one”, Hotch scowls.

She leans in to whisper, but in her drunkenness it’s quite loud. “I don’t have any keys. But he’s so mad”. She looks at you excitedly. “Do you have a key?”

“No Emily. I gave you mine”, you tell her patiently. Hotch finds Penelope.

“Garcia! Prentiss says you have the keys to the handcuffs”. 

Penelope stares.

“No I don’t?”

“Emily?”

She looks devastated.

“That’s too bad. He looks mad. Hehe. Bad, mad”.

You and Hotch looks at each other in exasperation. 

“Do you have any spares?”, you ask. 

He shakes his head. 

“My spare is in my car, but I left it at the office yesterday”.

Neither of you can exactly drive to the office handcuffed. And everyone else is highly intoxicated. 

“So we have to just wait until they’re sober?”, you ask.

Hotch runs is free hand over his face.

“Unfortunately”.

You watch everyone else settle down in the spare bedrooms or go home. Then it’s just you and Hotch in the living room.

“I’m sorry, I’d offer to sleep on the couch, but…”, you both look at a happily sleeping Emily. “I’ve only got my bedroom left”.

“Oh.”

“Or we could not sleep? Just drink coffee and wait for… however long it takes them to get up?”, he offers. 

That’s not going to work at all. You don’t function well after staying up all night. Or after too much coffee.

“No, it’s fine. We should sleep and I’m sure you’re tired after the party today”, you tell him. 

“Okay”.

You both reluctantly make your way up the stairs. He offers you a toothbrush and you both brush your teeth in silence. You can’t exactly change handcuffed, so you get into bed with your regular clothes. Hotch turns off the light and you both lie there in the dark. 

“Good night”, you say quietly.

“Good night”, he says back. 

Somehow you both fall asleep.

————————————

You wake up to the smell of cologne and a soft fabric pressed to your face. It’s warm, and you snuggle into it to get closer. Then you feel something poke your shoulder. You blink open your eyes to see big brown eyes on a tiny face. 

“Are you and daddy friends now?”

What?

You look up and see that the warm thing you’re cuddling is actually your boss. You immediately yank yourself back, but forget the handcuff. It yanks him on top of you and the jerking movement makes him wake up.

“What?”, he mumbles sleepily.

Then he realises what’s going on and tries to scramble away.

“Oh, I am so sorry-“

“No, I forgot we were handcuffed and I pulled too hard-“

“That’s my fault-“

“Dad can I have pancakes?”, Jack asks.

You both turn to look at him.

“Of course buddy. I’ll be right down. Can you give daddy 5 minutes?”

“Okay”.

Jack saunters out of the room.

Hotch groans. “I am going to kill Prentiss”.

You giggle, but the sentiment is pretty much the same. 

“Let’s go find her”.

It turns out Emily had hidden the handcuffs under a plant “to be safe” and she apologises profusely as she uncuffs you both. 

“Next time I say no to a dare, it means no”, Hotch tells her.

“Okay”, she tells him. And then looks at you and grabs your hands in supplication. “I am so so sorry. Please forgive me. And don’t let this stop you from going out with us next time, because I promise it’s usually not as bad”.

Hotch glowers at her from beside you. But he seems pleased that at least you’ve been apologised to.

“I have to make breakfast for my son, so go home, or help set the table”, he tells her. 

She rolls her eyes at you.

“Yes sir”.

Hotch stomps away.

Emily and you lock eyes and start giggling. 

Maybe having friends in the BAU won’t be so bad.

Chapter 3

[spooky-salesman]

ITS ON SIGHT!

Moldavite in years 2099

The leader of The Chameleons and probably the last

Even though he's a great leader just like his dad and his grandfather but years 2099 never have any mercy for anyone and at the end.. his life ended by his own Chameleon hands..

[erinwantstowrite]

Who has clocked yet Peter and Ned being early stages of “besties” the way Dick and Wally are/have been “besties”? And who in the Marvel world has noticed?

It’s so funny to me that Peter is Dick’s mini-me when it comes to that. And I’m assuming, from context clues, that Peter and Ned gonna take just as long as them to confess.

Sending so much love. I’m so close to rereading for the foreshadowing. I shouldn’t, cuz school, but I want to, for mental health.

the very first was Happy because he drove the two of them back from school one day to hang out at Peter's house, the second was Tony when Peter's birthday party came up and Ned was the first invite (+ Peter told him he wanted to tell Ned about Spider-Man), and the third to figure it out was Tim. (these are just the people who realized without other people bringing it up. Tony talked to Pep about it and she thinks it's adorable). if i can make it flow in the next chapter, i want Dick to notice when Peter brings up Ned, but tbh it might take longer for him to figure that out

and yeah- Peter and Ned are gonna take a while to figure it out. for context, Ned KNOWS about his own crush and is actively ignoring it because he thinks Peter is straight. Peter has no idea about anything yet, including his own orientation, so it's gonna take him a fat minute to figure it out. and let me tell you, the realization scene for Peter is going to be SO funny if i can actually pull it off (it'll be a while so i can't say FOR CERTAIN that this scene will happen the way it happens in my head)

[alottiegoingon]

hc!friends to lovers

lottie matthews x fem!reader

summary: going from friends to lovers with lottie

warnings: lottie mentioned as lesbian once, pure fluff, nsfw at the bottom so MDNI there, not proofread

this was a request so i hope you enjoy it 🤞

@l0tt1emy this is me tagging youu

WHEN FRIENDS

୨୧ being friends with lottie matthews would include spend your saturday night on her huge house (more like a mansion to you) when her parents were out for work or just so busy that they wouldn't even notice you there

୨୧ you didn't know that, but she would spend the entire day thinking about you when it was a sleepover night

୨୧ sleepovers would be a casual thing for you and it was your favorite moment of the day cause lottie would turn it into a fashion show to model her new clothes for you

୨୧ speaking of it, you would constantly find yourself waiting in fitting rooms and their uncomfortable seats when lottie was trying on thousands of clothes just to buy (steal) one or two

୨୧ "do you think it looks too pink?" lottie comes out from behind the curtains to display the outfit she was trying on, featuring a fluffy pink cropped cardigan with short sleeves paired with a high-waisted, pink skirt that features vertical stripes

୨୧ "no, you look perfect," you say softly, eyes filled with affection while feeling a nervous flutter stirs in your stomach

୨୧ in parties, you would usually stick to her side and even though lottie wasn't extremely popular, people knew who she was. either because her parents had loads of money or cause, let's be honest, she fucking was stunning

୨୧ when offering to get her a drink and she would look at you with those pretty eyes and nod like "okay :)))"

୨୧ if you were part of the yellowjackets, during jackie's idea of telling the girls what you admire about them, you would DEF make her blush on purpose

୨୧ "lottie matthews..." you say lightheartedly and she's already screaming internally "you have the prettiest hair i’ve ever seen and a great fashion sense. and, yeah, you suck at french but you are so good at soccer and you have the biggest and kindest heart ever"

୨୧ and she's giggling and nervously rocking from side to side with her cheeks matching the color of her clothes

୨୧ lottie was a lonely kid and since her parents were always away, she would be taken care of by maids and housekeepers so she was easily anxious when speaking to people her age. luckyfor her, she would hide it quite well and the mean and cutesy lesbian in her would mask it greatly

୨୧ "does someone want to tell kelly kapowski to maybe worry less about prom and more about not fսcking up nationals?" lottie was mumbling in front of the mirror, fixing her bangs and makeup and you were ready to agree with anything she said

୨୧ "i know right?" but you didn't even know what kelly kapowski had said

୨୧ putting her money to good use, one of her favorite ways to show you how grateful she was for your friendship was to buy you things. not like once or twice but ALL. THE. TIME.

୨୧ books, vhs tapes of your favorite movies, vinyl, a cute dress you mentioned once, nice shoes, stuffed animals, things that reminded her of you. all you can possibly think of!!!

୨୧ "lot, you didn't have to. this must have cost a fortune!" and it's just her standing at your front door, hidden behind a huge teddy bear she bought for your birthday and a brand new walkman

୨୧ one night, when lottie's parents were home, she sneaked you in and you almost fell to your death when climbing the walls like fucking spider-man and getting to her room through the window but her perfume lingering around made everything worthy when she hugged you

୨୧ "thank you for coming, i know it's late," she lies in bed and tap the empty space beside her for you to join her. "it's okay, i was just watching a movie. i'm glad you called me"

୨୧ 'movie’ you said, but the flashback of you sleeping buried under the covers and snoring like an old guy comes to your mind...

୨୧ i feel like lottie would have a hard time opening up to people and letting them in but if they were genuine, she would trust them. but def insecure about telling you about her visits to the psychiatrist cause we all know she's just a silly girl with a few issues...

୨୧ but you were so respectful, reassuring and understanding to her that she doesn't feel ashamed or judged

୨୧ during that specific night when you were just hanging around together in her bed and talking about life, an accidental graze of her nose on yours led to an awkward moment that led to awkward giggles and an awkward and messy kiss and this was all you needed to call her your girlfriend

WHEN DATING

୨୧ even when dating, lottie would often feel insecure and ask you for help. reassuring her and telling her that there she wasn't broken and there was nothing wrong with her was something you always had to do but it didn't bother you at all. you were lottie's biggest worshiper and could spend hours just telling her how BADLY you loved her

୨୧ hear me out. lottie was a big fan of holding hands. you could be in class, watching a movie, reading together, talking with your group of friends, and even eating, but she was ALWAYS staring at you with pleading eyes and her palm facing up, extended in your direction, ready for you to hold her hand

୨୧ if you think she spoiled you too much already, you better take a seat cause that girl would show up at your place with presents all the time. "i know we agreed on saving money but i know how badly you wanted these..." you're speechless when she gives you something you really wanted

୨୧ but you can't get mad, you just thank her and kiss her adorable pout :(

୨୧ loves loves LOVES to give you small gifts as well like a pretty shell she found when going to the beach once or even her ENTIRE shell collection

୨୧ strongly believe that she would be the greatest big spoon ever and would love to cuddle you but doesn’t complain if you want to hold her

୨୧ lottie is TALL. a three would be afraid of her! im 100% convinced that she would put your stuff in a place you can't reach so you have to ask her for help. "baby, are you busy? can you get that for me?" and she's fighting demons to maintain her composure, resisting the urge to smile as she handles you the book she had just tucked away on the top shelf

୨୧ over protective lottie!!! she isn’t exactly jealous cause she trusted you a lot but is always around and keeping you in her sight. she has her arm around you all the time, drives you EVERYWHERE (makes her driver do that), and is always ready to defend you

୨୧ oh the many things that happened in the backseat that the poor driver had to ignore...

୨୧ if the crash had happened, one single mumble of yours about how hungry you were was ENOUGH for her to call nat and travis out. "lottie, there's no food. we looked everywhere!" "look harder!"

NSFW (MDNI)

୨୧ lottie spoils you with cute gifts but she’s not innocent. she would buy you the prettiest lingerie in the store just to fuck you in those 🤭

୨୧ she would adore when you face ride her. she just can’t resist to your moans and soft noises or how you feel so shy and dirty about it but just can’t stop. she loves to feel your legs around her face

୨୧ in fact, i’m a strong believer that she could just cum by hearing you moan her name. you can’t believe your eyes when you feel her nails dig into your thighs and lottie desperately closing her legs and rubbing them together, groaning into your pussy :(

୨୧ big fan of overstimulating you!!! holding your hips to keep you riding her face or her strap if she’s under you or rubbing your clit even after you made a mess on her fingers just to watch you squirm and cry for her 🤓

୨୧ i’ve mentioned this before BUT fucking you against a mirror in dressing rooms? she’s all in. even better if she’s fucking you from behind with a strap AND forcing you look at your messy and humiliating reflection in the mirror

୨୧ now when it comes to her, she loves when you suck her but keep your eyes on hers. eye contact is!!!! her fingers go crazy in your hair, pulling and holding so tight that it hurts but you don’t give a damn about it

୨୧ she wouldn't ever say no but she prefers to have her time with you instead of quickies. im a lottie hopeless romantic truther!!!

୨୧ i feel like she's not really loud when you're eating her out or fucking her, she just moans your name and lets lots of soft, weak and breathy noises and whimpers out 😵‍💫

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ notes: happy birthday to me! when this posts i'll officially be older, and celebrating by being cringe (writing this). i also love that picture of misha. it's him at my birthday party for real. he told me himself (lying)

↳ warnings: none!

↳ song: rock your body—justin timberlake

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• Special occasions like this are few and far between

• The Winchester family hadn't had a proper birthday in decades. While Dean clung to memories of gas station twinkies in replacement of a birthday cake, Sam remembered most of his birthdays with a sort of sad animosity. Up until walking out on his dad for Stanford and spending his birthday that year with Jessica, he hadn't had a single enjoyable birthday party. Maybe that was part of the reason he refused to let you feel the same way about your own birthday—even if none of you were kids anymore

• Worst case scenario, the world is ending again and you all have little time for delicacies. If that's the case, you'd get a quick pat on the shoulder from Dean, one excited bear hug from Sam, and very confused Cas wishing you the best of births before being told to continue packing the shotguns with salt rounds

• "With age comes responsibility, so keep loading those guns. Spider-Man said that."

• "For someone that watches so much trash tv, you know so little about media, Dean." You snorted at your friend, fingers nimmbly crushing salt into a line of rigid red shells before moving onto the next group

• "Shut up before I decide to give you your birthday noogies." He pointed a finger at you from across the room with a single raised eyebrow. Off to the side you saw Cas ask Dean what birthday noogies were not-so-quietly, and you struggled to hold back a laugh

• Even in the worst situations, they could always manage to make you smile

• Best case scenario, however, it's a free day. Nothing to do, no devils to fight, no ghouls to stop—nothing. Just you, the guys, and time on your hands that you all normally never have. So what better way to utilize it than with a little surprise party?

• Sam would be the most into the whole birthday party shtick. He'd insist that it was the least they could do for you after all the years on the hunt together, and even got Dean to budge after a few minutes of petty debating

• "It's stupid and cheesy, Sammy. We're grown adults. We've fought the devil beforr for christ's sake." Dean gave his brother the stink eye from his spot in the drivers seat. Groceries stores and Mom & Pop stores passed them by as they ventured into the nearest town, but neither of them paid attention to their blurred surroundings

• "Come on Dean." Sam twisted his torso and turned to face him fully. "Don't tell me you don't remember the look on their face last month when we brought them back a souvenir from our hunting trip in Alabama. You would have thought we brought them a new car. Besides, this is the one chance we've had in a while to actually celebrate something." Sam's eyebrows tilted up as he recalled the memory, shooting a knowing look at Dean's side-profile

• "So what? I say we just tell them happy birthday like a regular person and call it a day." Dean grumbled

• "Is that why you're driving in the nearest direction of the bakery here?"

• Dean didn't respond

• "That's what I thought."

• "Shut your pie-hole or I'm kicking you to the curb."

• Once the boys get back to whatever new place you all are holed up for that week, a couple of crinkled bags in hand, they call on Cas to help out with setting up whatever decorations Sam had forced Dean to throw in the cart

• Cas didn't take nearly as much convincing to partake in the setting up of festivities, but he certainly did need a lot of it explained

• "I thought angels were familiar with the concept of birthdays?" Dean asked at one point while watching Sam pull part of a cake out of the oven. His hand was slapped away when he went to grab at it, and he glared at his younger brother momentarily

• "We are." Castiel's gruff answer came shortly. "But we stopped keeping count after the first couple thousand years. And it was never done like—" He flicked the party hat atop his head curiously, "—this."

• "What did you guys do to celebrate?" Sam asked while popping the lid to a can of store bough frosting open

• "Pray."

• "Naturally." Dean rolled his eyes sarcastically. A blanket of silence fell over the room after that as Sam set out to frost the first part of the cake. Then—

• "Hey. How come none of you are wearing paper hats?"

• "Oh, trust me Cas. It'll mean a lot more to them if you were the one wearing it." Dean's grin was borderline evil as he looked at the angel

• It's safe to say that you laughed the hardest you had in a while once seeing Cas looking so hesitant in a mini cone hat

• Overall, it's the best birthday— the best day —that you've had in a long time

• You didn't need much, and as a hunter you'd come to expect almost nothing. But knowing that your friends— the short tempered, college dropout, otherworldly friends that they were —took it upon themselves to set all this up for you was the emotional equivalent to a punch in the gut. A lovely emotional punch in the gut

• "If you start crying, I'll leave." Dean snapped at you when you eventuallyvoiced how much this meant to you. But the threat was empty, and you all knew it

• Sometime during the party, you had managed to wrestle a paper hat of his own onto his head, and how it sat on the side of his head like a crooked unicorn horn. Occasionally he'd reach for it as if to take it off, then lower his hand with a small smile

• "Shut the fuck up and give me a group hug, Dean." You grinned with teeth, gesturing at him to stand up

• "Wait, no, I take it back that's worse."

• "I will kill you, Winchester. I swear I'll do it."

• You ended up getting your group hug that day, even if it took Castiel trapping Dean between you and him to get him to stand still

• "I hate it here." He griped with a groan. Sam could only laugh as be watched his brother struggle in Cas's iron grip, and said angel was smiling a bit to himself. You felt your heart swell; even if the look on Dean's face was downright murderous

• "Smile or I'm egging Baby on my birthday night." You said before setting the camera's timer and holding it up above you all

• "You wouldn't—"

• "Watch me."

• All four of you have your own copy of the photo from that night, kept in your seperate pockets and bedside table drawers. To this day you find yourself smiling when you look at it, and even if you'd never know it, so do they