#but if I ever get ahold of that man I will be having words I am losing my shit here

[yeti-zeus]

I actually cannot even get to the point of processing if I have any criticisms of the plot decisions in Rings of Power because I am so distracted by the production quality. Any other franchise fine, I can deal with bad wigs and fake looking armor, but Lord of the Rings?! I know they are better than this!!! The original trilogy was so beautifully hand crafted and TROP literally has even more of a budget there is no excuse I am tearing my hair out. Wētā this isn't you babe where is the basement of two guys hand assembling every piece of chain mail, you look like you went on a Spirit Halloween spree.

[sukunasweetheart]

oh, to fit him like a glove...

WARNINGS; ooc sukuna, virgin!reader (well... not for long), size kink, BREEDING, vaginal fingering, sukuna only has one dick here cuz i wanted to make it less complicated, COCKWARMING, stomach bulge, degradation, praise, sukuna is a four armed king, overstimulation, mouth-hands, EXCESSIVE CUM

based on this anon's ask! dividers credit; @/cafekitsune

word count; 3k

imagine being sukuna's precious princess of a wife-- whom he spoils and dotes on because its in his interests to do so. like any other woman, youre tiny compared to him, so having you take his cock eventually will be very tedious work, and sukuna will need a lot of patience.

and we all know, sukuna is the most patient man in the world... at least when it means that it'll be worth it for him at the end. and to him, you are worth everything.

he's proud and pleased to be your first... sukuna can't help but feel keen about the idea that he will be the only one ever to have had the pleasure of being so intimate with you.

he watches you intently, as you struggle to take even two of his thick fingers in your tight hole, tearing up and whimpering as he tampers with those delicate spots inside you.

"nngh.. sukuna... that feels so good..." you whimper his name delightfully, it almost makes his enduring patience snap.

outwardly, his face looks calm as he looks down at you with soft lust that takes the form of an almost blank expression.

"does it?" he asks, with a certain playfulness in his voice.

his fingers move a little faster, scissoring you inside and pressing in an upwards manner, where it makes you gasp the most. you're producing so much slick, but your hole is still so tight and unrelenting, clenching around his thick digits even more. sukuna thinks about good it'd feel if his dick was inside instead, and he feels himself aching with desire, twitching and leaking precum from his hidden erection.

...not yet.

he dutifully touches you to your orgasm, and watches with a hitched breath as you tremble on his fingers, walls fluttering against them. your sighs and soft moans reach his ears like nothing else.

his extra hands grope at your breasts, finding solace in them.

"do you think i'm ready yet?" you ask tenderly, after your breath returns to normal.

"... hardly, my love. that was only two of my fingers," sukuna tells you languidly, as he feeds your slick on his digits to the mouth on his stomach.

"only two? oh dear..." you sigh with sorrow, "will i ever be able to take you whole one day?"

he smirks at the question, and leans down into your chest while holding ahold of your hand.

"well of course. i'll make it happen no matter what. i promise."

the way he says it sends a shiver down your spine.

when it does happen, you best be ready for him to breed you full every night.

however, on some days, the urge gets unbearable, even for himself. he's been saving himself up a little, so he could pour everything inside you when the time comes, but the lust gets overwhelming, clouding his sight and judgement.

one night, you gesture towards the bulge in his pants, with a shaking hand.

"what about you? isn't it painful to always withhold yourself like that?" you ask, wanting for him to feel good as well, instead of just yourself.

sukuna grows silent, sweating bullets as his dick throbs upon your mention of it.

the next minute, he's taking it out and slotting it between your thighs, rubbing up against your slit and seeing how the size compares to your stomach.

the temptation is too great.

not. yet.

this was the whole reason he was avoiding using his cock with your body in the first place - because he was afraid he'd cave in and attempt to deflower you when you weren't ready yet, still too tight for him to squeeze in, causing you pain only.

if it were anyone else, he wouldn't bother... but you're one that he cherishes too much... he wants to work to make the end result even tastier. the moment where he'll finally claim you entirely.

the bed creaks as he thrusts in and out between your thighs, rubbing his twitching dick against your hole oozing with slick, also brushing up onto your clit that's swollen from arousal.

" 'm sorry... i wish... there was more i could do..." you whimper sweetly, squeezing one of his large hands.

"there's no need for that. whatever i can't put inside you now... i'll pump in twice as much, once you're ready for me," sukuna whispers gently, holding your hand back, a groan resounding in the back of his throat.

rewards become so much sweeter after restraint. like how you wouldn't pick and eat an unripe fruit from a tree.

"you're doing plenty enough for me... for now," he tells you breathlessly. he adores the glossy look in your eyes.

his cock continues to glide back and forth, and he feels so hot between your thighs.

"i... i want your tip inside when you cum, please," you say, eyeing his dick with a certain neediness.

"are you sure, love?" he asks, hoping you'll say yes. you nod fervently.

sukuna feels lightheaded at the thought of it, all the while his dick gets more and more sensitive against your thighs... his balls feel so heavy and full, all those times he held himself back coming to catch up on him.

you squeeze your legs around him harder, making him groan, cock pulsing for all it's worth. he thinks about how tightly your walls would clamp around him. the heat from your insides, and your slick covering his shaft. he's close.

he suddenly spreads your legs.

at this stage, he's only barely able to get his tip past your entrance. it's possible when he does it slowly enough. you whine beneath him, doing your best to not go against his arms that are pinning your legs down.

a drop of sweat rolls down the side of his face. sukuna uses an extra hand to stroke the rest of his dick as his tip remains snug inside your puckering hole. when it comes, he gives a choked-off gasp from how good his first-in-a-while release feels.

he has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from burying himself any further.

the ropes of cum seep and trickle into your womb in thick, heavy spurts, and the hotness of it gets you breathing unevenly, being so aroused by this sensation. there's a copious amount. he continues jerking himself off to get every last droplet out, and his own hand can feel the intense twitches of the veins on his erection.

it's not nearly enough to satisfy him, but it's enough to keep him patient.

once his tip pops out from your wet hole again, his spend come out of it in large globs, and sukuna can't help but admire the sight, his dick twitching weakly in his hand.

he abstains from cumming all over again for another few weeks- another few weeks of stretching you out with his fingers, and prepping you to perfection.

when the day finally creeps up, where he believes you're ready to take him whole, sukuna hears and feels his heartbeat in his own ears.

ever so slowly. he's sitting down on the edge of the bed, and he has you lower yourself on his throbbing cock as he's face to face with you, ever so slowly. your body trembles lightly and he feels it on his hands and fingers as they're placed against your hips. sukuna senses your anxiousness that flows from you in large waves.

your hole is so tight, trying to push the intrusion out, but the wetness from your slick helps his cock slip inside easier, and sukuna's breath is kept within the back of his throat as you swallow him up deeper and deeper.

he's sweating. you're sweating. but soon enough, you're sat on his lap completely, having gotten all of him inside you at last. you can barely breathe with how tightly you enclose around him. how his cock is nudged up snugly against your cervix, pushing the literal air out of your lungs. and the way you feel it twitching inside.

sukuna has never been more patient, more self disciplined, more repressed than in this moment. one wrong movement and he feels like he could snap and start thrusting in without concern for you in any moment. no. he shouldn't do that. it would ruin all everything he's done to build you up for this moment.. but your walls keep tauntingly squeezing around him...

"i- i can finally fit all of you inside..." you say with glee, tears on your lashes, but looking very proud of yourself. it snaps him back to sanity, a little bit.

"of course... you were made for me, after all. so perfectly mine, fitting me like a glove," sukuna mumbles, as his bigger tongue licks against your clit, arousing you more so that you could loosen up for him. his praise gets to your head and makes you feel sheepish, wanting to do more to please him. but you don't think you can do that, just yet.

"can we stay like this for a bit, please?"

"that would be...for the best. can't have my wife splitting in half, can i?" sukuna jests rather sinisterly.

"oh, you..." you pout at him. the larger tongue rubs against you more persistently to distract you, and he smirks as it does the trick. you whimper, and your walls pulse gently around him making him groan. your eyes get half lidded, already feeling somewhat exhausted, and you lean your face against the large man's chest.

veins are bulging out of his arms, and one on his forehead. you seem so relaxed, unbeknownst to the fact that he's currently doing everything to keep himself together. you're like a tiny mouse trapped in the claws of a tiger.

sukuna starts to bite and kiss down your neck and shoulder to satiate himself.

few minutes after you've calmed yourself a little, your eyes start wandering down, taking notice of the bump on your stomach, from having him inside you.

"it goes without saying, but you're so big..." you press against it without thinking, and you feel him throb inside you intensely. sukuna grabs your wrist with a growl.

"are you trying to test my patience right now?"

you look at him with wide eyes, from how unusually on edge he is... something about him being all restless makes you feel aroused. you're doing that to him. a man who rarely ever feels. but you've gotten him all sensitive.

" 'm sorry. kiss me?" you ask sweetly, lips curling up in a foxy way.

his gaze softens.

"when you ask me so sweetly... i can't deny you, can i?"

and he leans down to press his lips onto yours, despite seeing the mischief in your eyes. your arms go around his neck, and as he's kissing you, his hands go for your breasts.

you tighten up on his leaking dick, making him moan into your mouth. his grip on your hips squeeze harder, but he doesn't stop kissing you.

you want to make him cum. you want him to lose control from being inside you.

sukuna breaks the kiss with a little choked off heave, when you begin to roll your hips around him slightly.

"you're getting awfully ahead of yourself-"

you cut him off by latching your mouth to the side of his neck, suckling and running your tongue against his skin while your hips keep moving.

he'd call you cute, but it's working. sukuna grits his teeth and his eyes get heavy lidded, dick getting impossibly harder. his heavy breathing adds to your excitement.

"i never knew my wife was such a whore. i'll be sure to return this favour later," sukuna tells you with a low voice, his hands now guiding your hips against him.

you're wordless, as you continue running your lips and tongue up his skin, moving onto his jawline, only giving a whine in response, feeling his tip press into the entrance of your womb.

such lousy movement usually wouldn't be near enough for him, but...

his head lulls back, exposing the way his adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows thickly, getting close... your little kitten thrusts and the way you're tonguing the sensitive area under his jaw...

sukuna's hips jolt into you for the last time.

" 'm cumming-"

his mouth hangs open as he releases - dumping weeks' worth of seed into your cunt. his body jerks against you and you bite into his shoulder.

his cock throbs erotically in your clamping walls, and you milk him effortlessly, and you moan on his neck, while still suckling and tonguing the same area, feeling the hotness of his cum as it thickly pours into you, making your belly swell a bit from it.

sukuna groans as he seeds your womb properly for the first time, two hands on your hips, one against the back of your neck, and the remaining arm wrapped around your waist to keep you still as his dick pulses inside you.

your head is whirring from the tense situation, being creampied so lewdly for the first time, to think that he's released inside, and the feeling of his every breath as he orgasms, is enough to make you feel so exhilarated.

suddenly, he stills.

it makes you a little nervous, so you detach your upper body from him and aim to look at his expression. but before you can make any further movement, you're suddenly thrown onto your back against the soft mattress of the bed in the speed of light. he keeps himself buried in you, making sure to plug you up nicely.

when you meet his eyes after a shocked gasp, you see his darkened expression, his eyebrows furrowed, but his mouth curved up in a toothy, sinister grin.

"you really tested me back there, didn't you?" he rasps, grabbing your face and forcing you to keep your gaze on him.

"i hope you're aware that i'm not letting you get a wink of sleep tonight."

not a word gets out of your mouth, before sukuna pulls his dick back, and slams his hips into you, his thick cock dragging against your tight walls.

your voicebox makes a noise that you never thought was possible, a noise that's mixed with both a moan and a scream.

"oh, fuck..." sukuna mumbles gutturally, beginning to thrust in and out of you the way he's always wanted to. your hands fist the sheets behind your head, and his hands keep your legs spread apart for him, while the other two pinch at your breasts roughly, groping at your flesh so brazenly.

his heavy balls slap against your ass as his hips rut into you, making sure to drive himself in to the hilt, before pulling out to the tip and doing that all over again.

you squeal and mewl under him, eyes watering from pleasure and already getting overstimulated as he fucks you senseless. to think that only a few weeks ago, you were only able to fit two of his fingers. it all feels like a fever dream.

sukuna breathes heavily, his muscles glistening from his own sweat as he indulges in his reward, his reward of you, and your cunt that is finally nice and loose for him, sheathing him so nicely, coating his dick with your slick like the harlot you are. his laboured breaths stutter when your walls pulse around him as you reach your orgasm-- your head tilting back into the mattress.

cock leaking more precum into you, sukuna's eyes become half lidded again as he gets close to his second release.

"you're gonna drive me crazy," he grunts, as his tip reaches your cervix again and again and again.

his thrusts become erratic, and then halts as he busts another thick load into you, making you cry out pitifully.

"fuuck, fuck, fuck...." sukuna shudders, leaning down on his forearms, getting so close that you feel his breath ghosting against your skin, while his other two hands grip onto the sides of your hips. his pecs rub up into your tits and the tongue from his stomach messily laps away at your clit as he empties his balls into you, your pussy seemingly trying to squeeze him dry.

all of his eyes close up as he then kisses you like he's trying to swallow up your tongue. you whimper against his lips, doing your best to reciprocate, struggling to keep up with the pace of this kiss.

he breaks away from your lips.

"c'mon, not good enough. put your tongue into it more," he instructs breathlessly, with somewhat of a disappointed expression. your mind is too hazy from the intense lust but you give a short nod with teary eyes, which makes him smirk before pushing his lips onto you again.

you kiss him back the most you can, and he hums in pleasure, your tongue finally intertwining with his. it distracts you from how full you feel right now, even with only two of his loads in you.

his thrusts slowly start back up again.

"s-sukuna-!" you gasp, breaking the kiss.

"i warned you... it's gonna be a long night," sukuna tells you. he seems to have become more sound of mind after that second orgasm.

"give me more..." he mutters, leaning against the crook of your neck, and licking a stripe up against it, "my precious wife."

your arms wrap around his neck, holding him tight. he grins, and you feel it on your skin.

... eventually when his third load fills you up, he's running his tongue against the shell of your ear, two mouths sucking at each of your nipples, from the way he clasped his palms over your breasts at the last second.

you're trembling beneath him, tears now running down the side of your face, babbling nonsensical words at him.

sukuna leans back to run his third hand through his disheveled hair to slick it up again, and he grins at your state of overstimulation. he feels so good inside you. it was worth waiting and preparing you for so long.

once your orgasm subsides a bit, he finally detaches his mouth-hands away from your tits, making a line of saliva stretch between in the process. then, the mouths disappear. your body relaxes. but sukuna's cock is still inside you.

"you alright, my love?" he asks smugly, looking down at your state of fatigue caused by intense pleasure.

you mumble out something of a 'yes', and he chuckles. his eyes trail down to your now slightly pudgy stomach.

"you're so full with me, my dear wife. haha, it's quite the lovely sight," sukuna tells you softly, pressing his hand down softly against the swell of your tummy. you jolt a little, whining.

"sukuna... too full..."

he leans down closer to your face and wipes the sweat off your forehead, before bringing his lips to the same area gently.

"we can stay like this for a few minutes. rest up. but we're not done yet."

he hasn't even had the chance to sink his teeth into you yet. just a little more. you can do that for him, can't you?

Masterlist

[theresascove]

wanna feel you against me ₊ ⊹

rock climber!ellie williams x f!reader

your friend takes you rock climbing—and shit your belay instructing partner is hot

tw: not proofread, SMUT, modern!au, sensual flirting, sex on a floor mat, grinding, fingering (r receiving), kissing, strangers to lovers, r’s friend is a bit annoying, r is wearing a tank top, muscle kink, cum kink (if u squint)

wc ✎ 1.9k • this is based off a real experience of mine

It was a random suggestion. Rock climbing, something very fun but you feel it’s not talked about a lot. Your friend brought it up, texting if you’d like to join her to go rock climbing for no particular reason (she wanted to see her boyfriend). You had nothing else planned that day, so why not. With the admission fee of $10 an hour, it sounded like a great time.

Your friend drove, chatting the entire way about how her boyfriend’s been doing this since forever. Mainly she was getting on about how he would teach her and she was almost crushing like a middle schooler. It was cute, also a bit annoying because it was the entire conversation until you arrived to the place. You had a feeling that once she saw him, he’d leave you behind—but whatever, you’ll still have fun.

“I think he’s inside, and he’ll help us get set up. I think he said he’ll be at the desk.”

She was right, he was standing just to the right of the desk. He greeted you with a smile before hugging and kissing your friend.

“Okay, I have it in the system that you’re both on a belayer climb—“

You looked away from the rock walls at him once those words were uttered. Your friend looked to you with a smile, “I forgot that detail.”

You sighed, “I don’t know how to climb with a belayer. I only know how to with the automatic climb.”

Some pop song that was being played across the facilities filled the awkward second. Her boyfriend waved you off, “no worries, gimme a second.”

He walked back towards some office room, leaving you with your friend. She looked around, staying silent beside you. You’re feeling a little like you shouldn’t have come until you saw the woman walking behind her boyfriend. Like an old cartoon you almost felt your bottom lip drop open in a gasp.

“Here, she’ll teach you. That okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah that’s fine.”

He started to bring your friend over to get set up to climb, and she looked back at you—mouthing a sorry. She’s lucky that this woman is attractive.

The woman looked to you with a smile, reaching a hand out, “Name’s Ellie. I’ll be assisting your climb today.“

Holy fuck, her hands—the tattoo trailing down her wrist and stopping near her bicep.

Your inner turmoil was hidden deep within you when you reached a very steady hand back to meet here, voice clear and calm as you introduce yourself.

“Never done belay climbing, huh?”

She says, reaching to grab ahold of the shoe that was of the sizing you told her.

“No, never have. I’ve only done pulley.”

“Well today you’ll learn. We can take it easy, of course unless you prefer to just full send it.”

You grabbed the climbing shoes from her, “absolutely not, I have a slight issue with heights. So, I’m interested to see how this goes.”

She rests a hand on her hip, “scared of heights—? Or?”

“No,” you finished pulling the strap, “just worried if I’ll fall from a high height—like nothing will catch me.”

“No worries there, I won’t let you. What size? I’ll grab your harness.”

She walks back out with this thing that always looks a mess—similar to a ball of combined necklaces getting caught on each other. She hands it to you, laughing and reaching her hands around you to help strap it on when you struggle.

“Ever strapped before or—? You’re shit at this.”

You almost choked, “no. I mean I have, I just don’t do it often.”

“That’s crazy to me, all I’ve really ever known is rock climbing.”

She walks onto the mats with you in toll, “how long have you done it?”

“Oh man,” she sighs, looking for an empty spot, “since I was really little. Friend of mine, Joel—he taught me and I’ve had a love for it since.”

She widens her stance after grabbing a spot, “alright, you know the basics I assume? Keep your hips close to the wall. Here start climbing a little and I’ll adjust a bit.”

You gripped onto a few rocks, all of a similar color—green and climbed up a foot off the ground. Ellie reached her hand, sliding it onto your hip to adjust your posture. Her grip is stern, leaning it where she sees as right.

“Keep a hip close to the wall. Helps posture, makes it easier on your body.”

You nod, moving forward as she directs.

“Mm, good. Here I’ll get you set up now.”

She looks excited to do so, moving back to grab chalk and such. Fuck you really shouldn’t be almost imaging scenarios just from seeing her hands—her back and arm muscles flexing from the slightest movement.

The climb runs smoothly, especially with her. Her instructions are easy to follow. The little praises throughout the climb is really what motivates you. If she told you to go left, you did—you trusted her. And it was fun as hell, laughter shared when you’d mess up your left and rights or make a silly comment.

Two hours flew by and you weren’t even realizing how the facility started to grow emptier. Families, friends, children, couples—all started to leave. The windows out front, having opened up for the sunset light to shine through—now showed how much time had passed since. It was dark save for the street lights.

“Hey,” your friend called, a thin layer of sweat covering her, “they’re closing soon. You ready?”

Honestly you didn’t want to leave. Seemed Ellie didn’t want you too either.

“Im closing tonight, if you wanted to you could stay for a bit.”

The boyfriend appeared after, “perfect. Are you okay with dropping her off though? It’ll be a little late, I mean it’s already like ten.”

She waved him off, looking to you with a smile. With them gone, the two of you shifted over towards bouldering when you asked to see her climb. You especially were tired, fingers cramping from where you were pulling yourself up on the rock wall.

“What level do you usually boulder on,” you ask from where you laid on the mat—leaned back on your elbows.

She stood in front of the wall, hands up and behind her to tie her short hair back into a ponytail, “usually like 7 or 8.”

“So,” you drawled out the o sound, eyeing the curving wall for the level she described, “the purple?”

She looks back to you before angling herself on the wall. A hand on one before she moved with ease towards the next few—climbing her way around the curve until she was almost dangling on the side. It was silent as she did so. You were enthralled for many reasons. One for her agility and strength. Two for the way her back moved when she reached for another.

She fell down once she was out on the other side, reaching the ground with a raspy laugh. You smiled, licking your lips when she got close.

“Gonna try?”

“Oh there’s no way,” you point to the wall, “if you wanna see a bug squirm sure but.”

“No, you’ll do fine. I’ll help if you want.”

With how close she stood behind you, moving your hands to the right rocks and pushing your hips close to the wall—you were fighting your insane thoughts. You could see the freckles that lined her face, could smell her woody scent, her voice was clearer beside your ear. And damn something snapped in you. She felt it too.

Her eyes would linger on your chest when you leaned, you eyed her up and down—giving her a sly grin. The air changed. Her touches would linger, your voice got softer. You really wanted her and it really seemed she did too.

“Your friends said that?”

You asked, arms crossed. She finished her drink, shrugging, “I don’t know. My friends say I’m intimidating. That I give off dominant vibes.”

Whatever came over you then, you’re glad it did.

A finger slipped into her harness, tugging her just a bit closer. Nothing uncomfortable, but it did close a bit of distance.

“Are you?”

That set it off. Her eyes got dark, pupils blown as she looked down to your lips.

“Damn please let me kiss you.”

A smile and a nod later she had you on your back on the mat, hands above your head as she kissed you breathless. She tugged her white tank over her head with an arm. Her sports bra that was peeking the whole night was revealed.

You weaved your free hand into her hair, kissing her while undoing her pony tail. The rubber band fell somewhere, but that didn’t matter to you at all. You were hot, body slick and shiny. She was in a similar boat, lips open and panting—coming back down on yours with little wet sounds. You moaned so sweetly in her ear when she dragged those red lips down your neck.

“Fuck you’re so hot,” she mumbles, breathing in deep on your neck before biting.

You laugh, “says you.”

She snaps back then. Her moods switching as she places soft pecks down your body until she kissed right above your pants. You nodded, begging her.

“Don’t gotta ask me twice,” she whispers to nobody in particular as she slides them down your legs—leaving you in your underwear.

She slid her finger between your folds, breathing shakily when she sees how you shudder. You’re warm again when she hovers you again.

“Please I need you to let me fuck you. Shit you’re so hot, I need you.”

“Please Ellie—“

Her name coming off your pretty lips was enough to make her groan. She smiles like she’s high, kissing on your clit over your underwear. You gasp, a hand tugging at her hair while the other dug into the mat.

She tugged your underwear to the side, slipping a finger in. A hand flew to cover your mouth, eyes shutting. Slight embarrassment filled you knowing she’s seeing how wet you are, meanwhile Ellie’s on cloud nine—getting high off of you.

One, two, three fingers later and you have your back arched towards her. Her focus is on your face, eyes darting around to catch every shift. Eyebrows furrowing, lips dropping open, your deep breaths, nails gripping tighter on the spongy mat.

“Els, oh fuck-!”

You cried. Her pace was steady, you guess it’s from the way she works her arms out daily for hours. It pays off.

“Ellie—Els!”

She kisses your jaw, “come for me, please.”

Her body on yours, her veiny fingers working you open, her pale green eyes on yours, her little pants. Fuck you came hard. You gripped onto her tighter, actually with force to make her wince.

“Damn,” she brings her fingers out, licking them.

“Didn’t know you had this in you,” you breathe out, “you look innocent.”

She hums, “not to my friends apparently.”

Your pants are slid back on your legs by her truly. Her body sliding to lay beside you.

“Wanna go on a date?”

“Like now?”

“If you wanna,” she starts, looking away from you almost nervously.

“I’d love to.”

[sanjisblackasswife]

Thinking about how OPLASanji is a more closeted pervert than an open one. (Part 1)

IHadTo.

Blk Fem Reader x OPLA Sanji

CW: Sanji has tattoos(🌚), Suggestive, Kissing, Touchy Touchy Sanji, ….please read his dialouge in his voice. No smut BUT next time will be filthy smut<_< just setting up the plot here okaayyy i havent wrote in a while.

“So fucking pretty..”

“You say ‘sum Sanji?”

“Nothing, madam.”

Sanji was relentless. Him so new to the crew you and him managed to get pretty close quite quickly. It’s been a few weeks now and Zoro has pointed out about 15 times already how touchy and —in his words “Freaky” he is towards you.

“Either you’re that dense or just as perverted as him because how can you not feel his dick against your ass when you both are—“

“Zoro.” Nami cut him off with a stern tone, you blink at them both on the deck. “Enough, okay.”

“Somebody had to say it,” Zoro took a sip of his drink, settling back down on the chair, “It’s been constant dry foreplay from you both and it’s annoying—“

“…Sorry.” You murmur, not really sure how to answer to him, he looks at you, scoffing. “I don’t think sanji is intentionally being like that he just—“

“Well he is. A blind man can see how he fucks you with his eyes.”

Slightly confused as to why Zoro would even think Sanji is a pervert. He isn’t. He can’t be??

He’s so sweet, and charming, you can’t deny he was one of the few men you met that have caught your attention; his dimples exposing themselves when you make him smile, his pretty delicate hands that grabs ahold of yours when he kisses your knuckles, his pretty jewlery, and when he speaks in your ear, that fucking accent of his—-

…maybe him being a pervert wasn’t too bad.

I mean, he wasn’t hurting you nor ever made you uncomfortable? You both are adults.

And adults have needs.

And if two adults have attraction for one another then…well…it shouldn’t matter much?

You shook off what Zoro said and headed back to the kitchen, maybe he was just teasing you again.

But if he wasn’t…you could possibly make use of this new information.

——-

“Y/n, my love, how are you babe? Thirsty?” Sanji smiles at you, already preppping for dinner you grin warmly back at him and take a seat at the table, his eyes follow your figure, trailing down to your waist, and glued to your ass until you sat down.

For a moment you were quiet, not responding yet to his question, but admiring Sanji’s hands, how quickly he can chop food, how pretty his fingers are, you nearly nip at your lip when you notice him roll up his sleeves and see—-

“Oh!” Your eyes widen mindlessly, you walk towards the large kitchen island and lean over, “You have tattoos?”

How could have you not notice? it’s been almost a month being together and you never peeped? He had a half sleeve done and honestly it looked so..

“You like?” Sanji’s chuckle makes you break out of your daze. “I got my first one when i was 16. And then well, it became a slight addiction.”

You stare back at his forearm again, the pretty art marked on his skin, noticing the veins complimenting it made you nip at your lip again. He smiles, your pretty round eyes watching him as he cooked, but again.

Sanji’s eyes wondered.

You were in a trance at his tattoos, trying to count and see every detail of them you didn’t even notice your breast spilling out of your low cutted tank top onto the counter.

Your pretty brown chest, literally shining from a mixture of a bit of sweat and lotion you put on earlier with your small gold necklace dangling in between your clevage, Sanji tries to tear his eyes away, but he can’t help it.

You’re so fucking gorgeous. He seen you and Nami and he was already infactuated with you both, but you seemed to be more open to entertaining his flirtatious advances than Nami so he started to fall for you a bit more.

Hugging him at Arlong Park really got him going, your breast pressed against his, the way you kissed his cheek, and you were just so happy to see him he almost felt his pants get tight from that alone.

He wanted you bad it was almost admirable and pathetic.

“I have more tattoos. Y’know if you ever wanna see ‘em.” He teased, knowing damn well he was serious.

“Hmmmm.” You walk around the counter to face his side, finger tracing the rim of the counter top. “Well maybe….where are the others?”

“I have one on side, one on my shoulder, on my back—“

“Your back?” Your eyes lit up. “Can I see?”

Sanji started to stammer, “I— um… Really? You sure?…..okay just…give me a moment.”

You giggle at his urgency to clean up his mess, putting the roast in the oven he walks towards the kitchen door and locks it, his mind running a mile a minute he turns to face you to see you happliy sitting on the counter smiling, “C’mon lemme see! I love back tattoos!”

Sanji exhales, unbuttoning his shirt he feels your gaze, once his shirt is fallen to the ground he turns, you nearly gasped seeing the huge tattoo on his spine.

His very pretty spine.

“woah.” Sanji hears your footsteps approach him, he hisses slightly at your touch, you did always have a habit of touching when not asked. “It’s so pretty.”

Your hands start to move around the outline of the art, also noticing the small scars and bruises he has gotten in past fights. You lightly touch one, and he immediately turns around, causing you to jump, “Oh. Sorry.”

“No, it’s alright. You like them?”

“Mmhm…” you land your hand on his shoulder tattoo, not even taking note to how closer sanji approached you.

You both stare at each other for a moment, it was only 2 seconds but it felt like an eternity until Sanji decided to close the gap between you both.

His lips were so soft against yours you couldn’t hold in any moan you had released, you felt his hand cup your cheek, moving you backwards onto the counter, the kisses started to get more intense the more access you allowed him into your mouth.

Nothing but the sounds of water crashing, usopp and Luffy outside playing and heavy breathing filled the kitchen. Sanji just couldnt help himself—-

His mind was fuzzy, he knew in the back of his mind he shouldn’t have been so bold with his actions but to feel your body weight against his,

a slap or two was worth it, but it never came.

Sliding his tongue inside your mouth he pushes his leg in between yours, you really don’t know why you haven’t stopped him yet, maybe it’s the way he so easily picked you up by your ass and sat you on the counter, or maybe it’s how his hands are squeezing your breast, but you knew eventually you had to—-

“Okay!” You pulled off, both of you trying to catch your breath, “Wait…I….Sanji…”

He stared at you like a lost dog, damn near ready to get scolded with his pink puffy lips, you giggled. Holding his cheek, “I’m..sorry.”

You knew he shouldn’t have been sorry, he only did what you allowed him, and luckily he was a great kisser so it wasn’t anything you technically regret doing.

“Sorry for what?…I liked it.” You took his hand and teased, “Unexpected, but…I like it.”

You brush his hair back, going in for a slower and deeper kiss, your felt his cold palms rub the sides your your bare thighs, pulling you closer so you can throw your arms over his shoulder.

You nor him haven’t had this kind of touch from another person in a long time, and you both were clearly attracted to each other …so…why not bite the bullet?

“Let’s go to my room, Sanji…”

[wtfsteveharrington]

"an exploratory kiss, testing the waters between them" with Luca please!

a/n: i love luca so so bad i fear s3 has giving me horrific brain rot for him baby boy i’m knocking on ur door and getting on one knee

contents: kissing, some pda, cluelessness, all my faves

"I mean... I think we're just friends, right?"

Luca takes a long swig from his cold beer pint. Using the drink as an excuse to buy himself time to think. It was some draft IPA that was just the perfect level of pretentious where he didn’t look like a dick but separated himself from some domestic bottle. Something that would matter to no one except a man with his level of perception anxiety. Condensation dripping down his wrist which your eyes follow, trailing the drops as they roll down his forearm.

"Right. And would it be worth risking things between us to test out... Something more? Because I don't want to lose you just to find out we’re being a touch crazy.”

"I don't want to lose you either." You rush out after his sentence, shaking your head while resting your hands on your knees. The rough material of your jeans against your palms helping to keep you grounded.

It had been a half an hour since you and Luca passed some wonderful older woman on the street who needed directions. Luca was able to relay them by heart, though it didn’t stop you from double checking on your phone to ensure you didn’t send her off on a misguided path. She beamed at the two of you once she knew her way, patting Luca’s arm and asking the question that has broken the two of you ever since. “How long have you two been married?”

To which the two of you sputtered out a mess of words, none of which made any sense, and the older woman gave a tsk tsk tsk. “You better propose before it’s too late. Shouldn’t let such a catch get away.” The takes off on her journey. Both of you stood their with your jaws dropped before you finally started continuing on your path to the bar and trying to laugh it off.

But neither of you could let it go.

“We could-…“ You take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders back and strengthening your resolve, “We could kiss? That way we can feel there’s nothing there and get it out of minds.”

Luca stares down at his beer, eyeing the way the foam is slowly dissipating and contemplating his options. “Just one kiss?”

You nod, “Just one. Lips only, no tongue, nothing crazy.”

His body’s turning to you, eyes filled with apprehension. Searching your face for any sign of doubt, which he doesn’t find, before nodding back to you. “Just one. We’re realize how silly this is and put it behind us.”

Luca’s hand comes to rest on top of yours, the bar suddenly feeling so much warmer and intimate than before. Thankfully no one was paying attention to your little table tucked away in the back corner. He’s watching your breathing, watching your expression. Catches your tongue dart out to moisten your lips and he does the same.

He’s close enough now where you can feel the warmth rolling off his body, you can hear each steady breath he takes. “Just… Stop me if this is weird, yeah?”

You nod, leaning in as well until your noses brush against each other and your eyes fall closed before your lips connect against his. They’re slightly cold from his drink, hints of beer still on his lips. You stay connected for just a moment before you pull away, eyeing him apprehensively.

“How was that?”

He sucks in some air, staying close to you still. “It was, uhm, chaste. To say the least.”

There’s a flush on your cheeks at that.

“Well… I mean, We can do a real kiss if you want.”

Luca’s eyes are on yours, his hand moving to slide up your thigh and grabs ahold of it. “We should just make sure, y’know? Because that told me nothing.”

It’s a flawed plan but you’re not thinking as clearly with him this close.

Your arms wrap around his neck and you bring the two of you closer once again. Your lips finding his and you let out a soft moan as you feel his part under yours. He takes the chance to let his tongue slide against your bottom lip before slipping between your lips and into your mouth. You lace one of your hands in his hair while his free arm wraps around your waist now.

It’s his turn to groan into the kiss. The sound causes you to press your thighs together while your tongue moves along his. Your breathing is picking up and you’re convinced he can hear just how hard your heart is beating.

He tastes sweet. The IPA mixed with vanilla from the custard he kept having to taste during service. It was addicting to say the least.

Minutes, hours, days pass by as you lose yourself in him. Eventually you hear him groan, pulling back slightly to press another kiss to your bottom lip before leaning back in his chair. Beaming at your shocked expression.

Your hand comes up, fingers resting against your lips as you chase the feeling of the kiss. Oh.

Luca has to adjust himself on the seat, chuckling at the sight of you as he tries to relax his breathing. “She, uh, she might have known what she was talking about.”

Luca looks smug, even with his blushing cheeks, as he takes another drink of his beer. His hand never leaving your thigh.

[mockerycrow]

Hey hey, can I request the 141 boys + König's reaction to a random soilder slapping fem! Reader's ass, preferably platonic! where they see reader as a sister. Thank you your work is *chef's kiss*

141 + König’s Reaction to Fem!Platonic!Reader’s Ass Slapped By Rando

cod masterlist

I’m having a 400 follower celebration!!

A/N: I feel ehhh about this one, but rest assured that i tried!! also, all characters are aware you can defend yourself. they are just protective.

You were talking with him softly, leaning an arm on the nearby counter with your hips jetted out. You laughed at something he said, your head tilting to the right for a moment before there’s a loud smack! you make a panicked noise and turn around quickly and you’re met with the face with a young man with a smug face, with an expression like he did something that you liked. Your eyebrows furrow and you prepare to give the young man an ass whooping when he swoops in.

-> John Price

“Keep your bloody hands to yourself, soldier!” Oh, Price is fucking fuming. He doesn’t stand for workplace harassment and unwanted touching for anyone, this is the fucking military—not a place to try to hookup.

Price does not let the man get a word in, even when the man is stuttering out his apologies—that are ordered by Price, by the way—and he drags him out of the kitchen area to file an official report of his behavior.

He subtly threatens the man, ensuring that if this behavior continues, “you will be dealt with. I will promise you on that.”

Price is very aware that you can handle yourself, but he just was not in the mood.

-> Kyle Garrick

He’s seething and Kyle doesn’t hesitate to push the man away from you, shouting, “Have you gone absolutely mad?!”

It does not matter if this man ranks above Kyle, he throws ranks out the window by this point, yelling about how he’s disgusting. “You’re acting like a bloody chav, get ahold of yourself!”

You’re so convinced Kyle is about to punch this guy, but he shows a good amount of self-restraint, spitting another insult through gritted teeth, voice low, “Next time you’re being dodgy, I’m throwing you to the fuckin’ wolves.”

-> John MacTavish

He pushes himself between you and the offender, an unhappy and unamused look prickling at his features. He has a faux-smile, his lips tight and uncomfortable. He laughs and claps a hand down on the man’s shoulder, making the man wince from the force.

“Buddy!” Soap calls him, his tone edging onto unsettling happiness. He’s absolutely furious because no one deserved unwanted touching. Soap sees you as a little sister and he’s always been protective of his little family. the 141

He leans in and whispers something to the man, causing all of the color to drain from the guy’s face and he runs off, causing you to glance at Soap. “What did you tell him?”

Soap just offers you a cheeky smile. “Oh, y’know, If he decides ta’touch anyone like that ever again, I’ll make sure that he physically cannot.”

-> Ghost

Ghost immediately pulls rank, right away. He isn’t the type to do it really, but this is absolute unacceptable behavior. His voice is dripping venom and is rough as sandpaper, nearly snarling with every word—yet keeping a calm composure at the same time.

“Go outside and dig a hole. Don’t stop until it’s as deep as your height.” “W.. What? Sir..—“ “Do not make me repeat myself. Go on.”

He 100% uses PT (physical training) as a punishment on these types of guys, and ordering him to dig a hole is a task laced with humiliation.

His glare screams “I’ll kill you if you touch her again, and I’m not joking”. Ghost is very protective of the ones he cares about, and that includes you,

-> König

Using his size to his advantage, he looms over the man with a deadly glare, the rumors you’ve heard—the terrifying man that belongs on the battlefield? That very man appears in the common kitchen that night.

He’s also the type to pull rank—and this is one of those times no one realizes he’s a Colonel until he mentions it and absolutely does if the guy talks back to him. “What did you just say to me?”

König snarls with every word, berating the man’s behavior, asking him if he would like that done to him or any woman in his life, etc.

You would have to hold this fucker back from actually hurting him, or else you’d end up with König on a two week suspension.

[sharkenedfangs]

— ☆ “IT’S ALL IN THE FAMILY.”

#. — synopsis : because you — you stupid little fuck, should have known better than to assume the worst out of this sick family you’ve been unwillingly forced into from your parents unfaithful divorce. well, guess what? you were fucking right, and now — you only have yourself to blame, baby brother.

#. — content warning! incest, step-cest, dub-con at best, non-con at worst, brief mentions of bullying and violence, alcohol intoxication, big brother whitney being a creep, whiny little sister kylar, daddy bailey being bailey, virgin male reader, semi-forced blow job, cream pie, shit writing and shittier plot with two disconnected scenes.

#. — word count? wait, you guys count the fucking words and don’t raw dog it in the notes app? like, real long, I guess. checked, it’s 7.5k w, jesus fucking christ.

#. — asher’s unhelpful note. “I did it purely for the sister fucking. so I had to churn something out. something filthy — and I mean fucking disgusting shit, y’know? (keep in mind, this is a repost of my old writing from around may, so if it’s dog shit then my writing has progressed from dog shit to even shitter dog shit.)

Divorces papers hastily signed away, the ink dotted onto the lines promising that this was indeed reality along with leathered suitcases packed to the brim. Family problems never were easy, much less when it had all happened far too quickly. To your parents separating, the familiar grip of your mother’s hand stringing you far away from the house you had grew up in, it all seemed like one bad dream. Unfortunately it wasn’t, no. This was the harsh reality of things, hands clasped on your shoulders as you were forced to introduce yourself to the man she had vowed to marry and the children he bore.

Fuck, if only your mother hadn’t remarried.

“This is stupid.” You muttered beneath your breath to which your mother, sharp as ever had somehow heard.

“Oh please, this is necessary. Unless you wish for us to keep on living in that cramped apartment? I am only doing what is needed for us to survive.” She sharply retorted back, not leaving much room to argue with as it was the truth. Your lives had been much more difficult since the divorce, selfish father that took everything else with him and went away to god-knows-where, probably off to spend it all in one go at the sleazy brothel in town. Filthy bitch.

Yes, it had been hard, but if you had been given one more year, finished school for real, graduated and got a job — Perhaps then, you would’ve been able to provide for the two of you and—

“Why don’t you introduce yourself, dear?”

Breaking out of your reverie, you had faintly registered then that you had arrived into this overly large establishment your mom referred to as your new home. Standing before you was probably the man she had fussed about so much during the uneventful drive. Dark, slicked back hair and stern eyes that dragged over your lips down to the curve of your throat, almost as if to criticize. His outstretched arm and hand stuck out waiting, that was probably for yours to shake which you reluctantly did.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir..?” You uttered coolly, enduring the firm grasp he had on your fingers till he finally was the first to pull away.

“Bailey.”

“Bailey.” You repeated back the unfamiliar name as if to slowly get used to it, knowing you wouldn’t.

“Whitney, Kylar, come down here and properly greet your brother.”

One boy — you assumed to be Whitney, a little older than you, stood at the top of the oaky staircase, perched over the banister. Ruffled blonde hair and sharp blue eyes hidden behind his fringe, eyeing you with disinterest as he made his way down the creaking steps and over to you.

“Nice to meet you.” He grinned, taking ahold of your hand in his with what was evidently a faux smile, one that didn’t quite reach his mean eyes that matched his father, a lingering streak of maliciousness in them. Even his grip, barely restrained in its force, threatened to crush your hand before ultimately letting go.

“You too.” Forcing a smile back, both of you knew then, the stifling tension that brewed in the air — Neither of you were going to get along here.

“Hey freak, it’s your turn.”

Another, you had barely noticed, a smaller girl scuffling about in the background, anxiously fiddling with the ends of her oversized sleeves, skittish green eyes purposefully avoiding your gaze whenever you so much as glanced her way. That must be the only daughter, Kylar. Cute thing she was, though your mind couldn’t allow yourself to continue that stray thought any further considering the implications that’d involve after meeting your soon-to-be-step-sister. Fucking get your mind straight, will you?

“P-Pleasure to meet you..” In contrast to her brother’s confident strides, she shuffled towards you before clasping your soft palms together in a hold, weakly shaking it.

“..Pleasure is all mine.” You replied, matching her weirdly formal way of speaking.

Well, she didn’t seem so bad compared to the rest.

The introduction didn’t last very long, lacking any real warmth usually found between two shared families merging together as one. It felt more stiff than anything though you couldn’t spare the thought to think it any further, an ushered murmur said to make yourself at home.

As you made your way over to your new room, hauling your hefty luggage up the wooden stairs, something within the depths of your guts stirred from the shared eyes that bore into the shape of your back, intently observing your every move.

The walls here felt unbearably bare.

Like the people that lived in it.

Ironically enough, your new room was much bigger than your older one, leaving little room to complain as you did when your mother had announced you’d be moving into a new place. All the reasons, no matter how good had earned nothing but a gentle shake of her head, dead set on her decision to drag you along. And to say you hadn’t even told Robin you’d be moving away, best friends since childhood that shared everything between the two, except for this apparently. Imagining his freckled face, worry etched across his features had you wanting to go back to the town you knew, knowing you couldn’t.

Sighing lowly, you sat down onto your bed, hearing the slightest crinkle beneath your weight as you felt an uncomfortable, sharp lump underneath it. That.. Reaching for the covers, you threw aside the thick blankets that covered the suspicious looking lump, revealing fresh packets of condoms haphazardly scattered across the sheets and an old, raunchy magazine displaying a cute-looking school boy getting brutally fucked against the lockers by his own bully.

Heat burned your face at the lewd sight, quickly shoving your little “gift” under your pillow so you couldn’t spare another glance at it. Fucking bastards and their sick jokes, “gifting” you shit like that.

You weren’t like them. Fucking perverts.

Were you?

—

Whitney was the first to change that.

From the first time he laid his eyes on you, you knew then what he thought of you, distaste apparent over his features, the slight curve of his upper lip curled into a snarl. It was obvious, your step-brother didn’t like you. Shit, maybe hate would be a more appropriate word for the things he’d do. Whitney had made it clear from the get-go, the empty names you’d call each other were utterly meaningless, rarely slipping past his own lips. ‘Little brother’. Fuck, you were a pain in his side more than anything else, dropping by unannounced into his life just like that simply because your shitty mother happened to divorce, meeting his dead beat father who then strung up with yours.

The blonde didn’t attempt to hide his obvious disapproval of your presence in his house, blatantly knocking his shoulder into yours whenever he passed by, mouth cruelly drawn into a snide grin as you toppled down to the cold, hard, wooden floor with a dull thud. The bullying didn’t stop there either, often encountering the delinquent in the school hallways, surrounded by his usual cronies that stuck to his side like a bunch of desperate, panting puppies, eager for his approval. They simply wouldn’t leave you alone, went through your damn locker too, ransacking everything that sat in there before carelessly throwing aside the remnants into a nearby trash bin, left to fend for yourself.

Weak, useless. That’s what you were to him, and nothing else. Soon enough, he’d get rid of you, have you snap and run away, it was merely a matter of time.

Well, that was the initial plan he had made up in his mind — Too fucking bad for the poor bully that life didn’t go always as planned, not when he caught you fresh out of the shower, worn towel snugly tucked around yours hips, a bit lower and he’d catch a glimpse of your— Fucking snap out of it, Whitney! The fresh droplets of water that’d trickle down the curve of your back, cascading over the smooth surface before gently dripping onto the fuzzy carpet below. Fuck. Didn’t help that he was staring a tad bit too hard, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from your bare form shamelessly displayed before him. You were doing this on purpose, weren’t you? Tryna get him all distracted, fill his thoughts with nothing but your thighs sticky with his cum, your lips lightly parted to obediently suck on his fat cock, lapping away at the beads of pre-cum that trickled over the curved length.

Knew he had cracked the second his hand had reached for his cock, fisting his dick for all it was worth, hem of his shirt roughly held between his teeth as he jerked himself stupid to the thought of you. His annoying little brother, fucking bitch, oblivious to the effects you had on him whenever he came with a stifled curse, several strings of cum that’d messily splatter across the curve of his toned stomach and his cotton sheets, staining it.

You, of course, lay ignorant to his frequent glances trailing over your frame, mistaking it for the hostility he had shown you over the past few weeks. You were partially right, except this time it was out of frustrated lust, cock stirring beneath his ripped jeans at the mere sight of his younger sibling now. God, not even the dumb whores that’d sloppily suck him off in the grimy bathroom stalls between classes did it for him anymore, eyes shut in a haze to imagine it was your mouth instead wrapped around the tip of his cock.

Dumb slut. Dumb fucking slut you were, didn’t know what he had in store for you. Take it as payback from having infested his mind with thoughts of you that stray to other thoughts and to other.. that’d eventually end in the same scenario, fucking your slutty mouth wide open.

Yeah.. Actually having you choke down on his cock didn’t sound half-bad now that he thought about it.

So why not make it happen?

It had been a mistake then to accept his offer over drinks, get to know each other better, he had cheerfully claimed with a friendly arm wrapped around your shoulder. Bullshit. Think he gave a shit about that? The only ache in his mind had went straight down to his slowly hardening cock underneath his grey sweats as his plan was brought into motion, insistently pouring more and more of his friends stolen bottle into your cup until you had lost track of the exact number. Prideful as ever, you had gulped it all down, unrelenting despite the nausea that had crept in your guts and the dizzying blur of your vision.

A hint of a rosy flush had started to spread throughout your skin, lightly dusting your cheeks with half-lidded eyes intently gazing back at your older brother’s slouched form atop the cushioned couch. The dribbling liquid sloshed lazily in the glassy bottle that threatened to spill from your weakened grasp on it. TV faintly flickering in the background, playing some outdated show that had since long been forgotten by the two of you, leaving the remote abandoned on the coffee table.

“Cmon, don’t be such a baby.” Whitney would taunt whenever you hesitated in your sluggish movements, silently observing the rhythmic bobbing of your throat as you took quick shots from your half-full glass. Lightweight, he mused in his mind.

“I’m not a baby.” You retorted back with that fucking cute pouty expression he adored.

Fuck. That’s the look. That goddamn look of yours he was waiting for. Nothing better than some arrogant slut all fucked up, practically begging to be taken on his own fucking couch.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.”

“Whitney?” Shit, the way you’d call his name all whiny too, slipping past your own lips. Had his cock twitch like fucking hell, painfully aching between his spread legs.

“Hm? What is it?”

“Why are you so mean to me all the time?? What did I ever.. What did I ever do to you?? I—I just don’t get it.” You hiccuped pathetically, stumbling over your own words, already half-drunk from the fizzling alcohol in your system.

Ah, so you didn’t seem to get it at all yet, did you?

How cute.

“‘Cuz I wanna fuck your noisy mouth, that’s why.”

“..What?”

Blinking back at him, you didn’t even get the chance to register or mutter out another word before he was upon you. Knees firmly planted to each side, increasingly aware of his encompassing frame that towered overs yours as his clothed crotch faced your drunken expression. If it had been any other time, perhaps the blonde would’ve paused then to greedily drink in the sight before him, but this was Whitney after all and he never liked to waste time on silly notions like foreplay, preferring the rougher options that came along with it.

So, fuck it all, right?

With practiced ease, he hurriedly shucked down the elastic waistband of his grey sweats past his hips, hefty cock confidently springing free from the constricting confines of the cotton fabric as it lightly smacked against the curve of his bare stomach. Fuck, you haven’t had the slightest idea how long he had waited for this. Merely a matter of a few weeks for you, though for him, your older brother was dying to sink his dick in that whorish mouth of yours. Looked like you’ve never taken a real cock either, snugly shoved down to the hilt of your inexperienced throat that he’d train till it became a sixth sense to you, gratefully swallowing down his salty cum.

Calloused fingertips tenderly dragged along the swollen flesh of your bottom lip, bloodied cut reopening from the time the bully had split your face open on his fists for the whole school to see in the busied courtyard on a particularly rainy day. Licked his knuckles clean too after that rough beating you took, savouring the heady taste of the crimson mess you left behind, groaning all the while. Had him stupidly hard for the rest of the day, itching to relieve some tension once he got back home. Great times, really.

Now would’ve been the time then, probably— to sputter out your firm opposition over this, resist somewhat. Maybe kick the motherfucker in the balls, satisfyingly watch him writhe on the floor in agony before scrambling up the ancient staircase to hysterically yell about how you nearly got raped by your aforementioned step-brother, to your dozing mother. Christ, that would’ve been the sane decision to do then yet, the bubbling drinks coursing through your veins had thoroughly taken its effect on you, blood rushing down lower to the wrong region, the sinking realization nearly making you bolt upright.

Fucking fuck— you were hard.

And Whitney hadn’t failed to notice.

“Shit, are you getting hard from this?” The delinquent snickered hoarsely to himself, making a show to lightly tap at the growing bulge underneath your own jeans, all too visible despite the rough fabric that covered it. “Should’ve known you’d be into it. Your body speaks for itself, y’know. You want this, you cock whore craving slut.”

No, no. This was all wrong. Must’ve been. You liked girls, didn’t you? Squishy cunts and fat tits you could easily slip your cock into — god. Didn’t like guys and if you did, your step-brother who treated you like nothing but shit would’ve been last on the fucking list.

But you secretly do like being used this way, don’t you? Baby brother.

“I’m n-not fucking—“ Attempting to deny the harsh statement, you cut yourself off from the sudden intruding tip eagerly pressed against your lips, flushed cock head leaking thickly and smearing sticky pre-cum all over.

It wasn’t an order nor anything else that hung heavily in the air, a simple gesture, a subtle thrust of his hips that had his actions speak louder than any words would’ve been capable of. Either you do it or not, the delinquent couldn’t have cared less regardless, always used to getting what he wants and by god, if he wasn’t going to fucking get this. Because the signals alarmingly ringing through your head felt faint in the face of this, shakily inhaling the musky scent of your big brother’s throbbing cock subtly twitching in response to your feathered breaths against it, dribbling out more translucent pre-cum that melded with the scarlet stain of your bloodied lips.

Out of your damn mind — That’s what you were. To even properly consider the implication at hand here. Yet your lips won’t stop from parting, from sticking your pink tongue out, clumsily imitating the gestures those submissive girls in the cheap porns you’d watch underneath your thin covers late at night, shamefully enough. Always thought you’d be on the receiving end of that one day, dutifully patting at the soft hair slotted between your thighs however here you were, shyly pawing at Whitney’s naked hips instead to steady yourself.

All your fault, all your damn fault so shut up and take it, alright? Shouldn’t had led him on like that, now you’re only reaping what you sow, slut.

Felt more like he was plainly fucking your mouth than you were sucking him off, sharp, punishing thrusts meeting your open mouthed lips to drive himself deeper in that warm throat that reflexively tightened around his length whenever he hit a particularly sensitive spot — drawing another string of adorable, strangled whimpers from you. “Shit, you sure this your first time? You’ve got the mouth of a — hah, fuckin’ filthy glory hole.” Heat prickling up the nape of your neck at the direct statement uttered, the brief realization of your inexperience being taken away like this, from a blowjob. On the giving end. A first, that will mostly likely not be the only first after this, not when you’re unconsciously getting off to the thought for more in store despite your haze filled brain begging you to reason. Ah, fuck. He’s gone and got you stupidly cock drunk now, didn’t he? The bastard. Slurred mutterings tumbling out above you, almost hasty in how he handles you, wanting to truly savor this never-ending moment when his body can’t stop on its own, too eager to be fulfilled of this yearning pleasure he sought out from you firstly. Thankful for your lack of gag reflex that somehow has you forcefully endure the ruthless slam of his hips, struggling grip straining onto his thighs for leisure, promising to leave a fresh set of bruising marks on the tanned flesh.

A delighted sigh softly escaped from the blonde as you finally gave his dick some much needed attention, experimentally running the flat of your tongue along his leaking slit, coaxing out more dribbling fat globs of pre-cum before slowly and carefully taking his full girth in the warm depths of your tight, wet mouth. “Ah— Fuck. Yeah, that’s good.” No way can he hide the barely restrained, high-pitched, almost needy whimper that threatens to slither past him as you so prettily suck him down to the base, slobbering all over his throbbing balls that has him huffing out a cursed moan of satisfaction, eyes rolling back. “F-Fuckin’— god.” Can’t help the sheer guttural groan that slips out from how tightly his baby brother’s virgin lips sweetly glide around him, the uncertainty in your movements making it all the more endearing as you struggle to take him all in, saliva dripping over your chin to land in varying wet dots on the cushioned pillows. Looking so damn pretty like this with a mouthful of cock, your big brother’s pulsing cock specifically. So don’t blame him then when his hips automatically snap back, slender fingers instinctively reaching for the back of your head to entangle themselves through the soft strands of your hair, ruffling it.

It’ll be more than that though, the sick realization dawning upon him of this opportunity handed to him on a silver plater, free of his taking, of course. Not some other replaceable slut he can find anywhere else by chance, but one forcefully bound to him whether they like it or not since what can you possibly do? Come running with tears in your eyes to your mommy about what your big, mean, older brother did to you? His father will certainly not be one to help you for that matter, that’s for damn sure. Who the hell will believe you then? No one. Fucking nobody. Inadvertently handing him free range to do whatever he so pleases with you, whenever, where the fuck ever. Oh, but it won’t only stop there, y’know. Ruining you fully for the sake of his own selfish pleasure, corrupt that naive view of yours that has you blush bashfully at a bunch of lewd illustrations plastered onto the printed pages. Soon enough, the majority of your days will be lazily spent in his room, leaking cock dribbling profusely from the kitten licks you’ll so cutely give him then while he absentmindedly scrolls on his phone, grinning proudly as you inevitably beg for more of him. And shit, Whitney isn’t one to disappoint either — he’ll have you rightfully rewarded for such behaviour, in public to be exact. Clip a nice, leathered collar around your neck along with a leash too, tug at it a bit to show off his newfound pet, his loyal little brother that sloppily sucks him off and happily sinks onto his hefty cock at a mere snap of his fingers. Drives him fuckin’ crazy merely thinking about it.

That’s right, suck on your big brother’s fat cock to selfishly earn his twisted love, his blind adoration and protection of your being. His pet. His slut. His beloved baby brother. His now blood, flesh and soul tainted throughly by him himself. Personally service him on your knees like the whore that he knows you are. Fucking get on your knees and earn it.

All too soon, despite wanting to stretch this further solely to ingrain the addictive noises of your stifled whimpers and drooling mouth inside his perverted mind, visibly struggling to take him all in as he shamelessly used your throat like some sort of flesh light stretched to the hilt — He can feel himself reach the brink of his limit, confident hips stuttering in their steady thrusts to greedily bury the tip of his quivering cock into the back of your throat one last time. “F-Fuck. Stay like that — just fucking stay like that.” He hissed sharply between strained curses, head thrown back like some cheap virgin whore who’s just received his first ever mind blowing blow job. The familiar overwhelming heat curling in the curve of his belly, like a coiling string on the verge of popping. Balls tightening in need, pulsing spurts of his fat load squirting out of the head of his cock to messily splatter across the surface of your pretty fucking face, ruining you for his own amusement.

Should’ve busted his load down your throat just to hungrily watch you swallow it down, though he supposes that the cum stained look adorning your pretty face is a sight to behold on its own, taking a good minute to appreciate the mess before him.

A blank, pristine canvas that he had helped ruin and stain with the filth of his very own actions.

It suits you, really.

“That’s a — hah, good boy.” Whitney heaved roughly between ragged breaths, the uncharacteristically gentle praise laced in his tone differing from his usually sadistic nature. If it weren’t for the sticky mess that obscured your vision along with the heat of his sweating palm placed flat across your forehead, you’d notice the strange fond, warmth that had settled into his softening gaze, a sort of reverence in of itself. “My good fucking boy.”

“So good for big brother, aren’t you?” He smirks knowingly at your hitched gasps of breaths, struggling so stupidly to form back a snarky insult as per usual.

Ah, he gets it now — really fucking gets it, glazed over eyes settling onto your evidently hard, twitching cock still tented pitifully against the front of your jeans, frantically humping at the air like some sort of rabid, horny, untrained puppy in heat, tongue lolling out. Aw, so fuckin’ cute when you’re cock drunk and needy for big brother. Makes him wanna do it all over again.

For that, he should be properly training you then.

“Whitney— fuckin’ cmon, please.” Whining so pathetically in a way that sends a jolt straight down through his spent cock, immediately standing up to attention once more. You’re really asking for it, fuck.

So damn cute, but so impatient too. Maybe he should fuck your virgin ass next, stuff it full of his cum and see what happens to that bratty mouth of yours then. Shut you up a bit.

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Just— keep still for me.”

Well, can’t be having his little new pet go frustratingly neglected like that, can he?

—

Kylar, your precious little sister, all too eager to be the first, but the second to sink her mark into you. Convince you a bit more.

Needy as she was, she wasn’t as bad as the rest that inhabited this sick place you reluctantly called home, a flicker of warmth among the distant coldness that resided in this house. Much unlike her brother, the dark haired girl didn’t seem to dislike you in the slightest, often shooting you the smallest of smiles whenever you two briefly locked eyes at the dinner table or in the shared hallways by mere coincidence.

‘Course, she did have her questionable moments whenever you caught her rifling through your drawers, namely the ones where your underwear lay neatly folded in the cubicle space. Promptly muttering out an unbelievable excuse as to why she needed your boxers before bolting past your stunned self, red in the face. Or that time she had decided to curl up onto your bed, lovingly burying her nose into the warm sheets that you slept in, relishing in that sweet scent of yours she’d catch a whiff of as you drew closer next to her at the table.

..Yeah, she certainly had unresolved issues, but it beat the constant poking fun at that Whitney would do. The rough shoving into the metallic lockers that’d clank heavily from your weight, the shared snickering that came along with it and the forced blow jobs that you had somehow eased into over time despite yourself. Fuck, why were you even thinking of that asshole?

Freak or not, she didn’t harbour any of the senseless cruelty this town had to selflessly offer and that was good enough. Enough so that you had found yourself increasingly spending more and more of your time with Kylar whenever you weren’t forcibly dragged along to some shoddy place your big brother roped you into, leaving the loner to her own whims for the day.

So it was no surprise then when the two of you grew closer, a little more than you had expected so to be the one sat onto her worn out bed, her hideaway — she’d call it, a moment of respite from the constant teasing she had to go through from her older brother. A means of escape, perhaps? And for you, it was no different either, all the same. Gladly listening to her overexcited rambling about this and that, about the fine mangas she had newly bought at the local, dusty library, the half priced anime figurines she had found on display beyond the glassy windows that separated them — matching pearly bracelets made of shiny gems and rocks carefully picked at the park she’d sow together to gleefully tuck around your wrist, whining sorrowfully at her own being too loose for her delicate wrists. Cute. Your little sister was real fucking cute, more so than you’d like to admit at times.

So much so you couldn’t ignore the growing knots in the pit of your stomach whenever your knees fortuitously bumped against each other, a sign — a silent, repetitive warning of your shared proximity that was crossing past the treacherous line of two mere siblings. Yeah. Okay. So you found her cute, so what? Big fucking deal. Plenty of guys found a girl cute, didn’t mean jack shit, didn’t mean they wanted to fuck her till she clenched pathetically around them, sniffling miserably at being fucked brutally by their kind, soft-spoken big brother they naively put their trust into. Right, that’s what you were. Nothing more. A responsible big brother she could certainly put her faith into since her other piece of shit brother couldn’t bother with that shitty role, something you’d curse him for on the daily. One she could seek out at a moment’s notice, spend time with to her heart’s content like a normal, unsuspecting relationship between siblings should be.

Not some perverted creep of a big brother who’d steal periodic glances her way, instinctively trailing down to the soft, plump and pink flesh of her parted lips, glistening sinfully from the wetness of her saliva — a habit she unconsciously did despite claiming not to. Gulping thickly, you hadn’t registered how her seamless chatter had ceased to a stop, deafening silence befalling upon the both of you as you stared at each other like some sort of stiff actors awaiting for the next act on stage. Wait, were you staring? Fuck, you were — and she hadn’t failed to notice by the looks of it, blooming flush adorning her pretty, pale cheeks you’d like to press gentle, reassuring kisses to, squeeze under the weight of your palm. Maybe have her spill a few stray droplets of tears across the rosy surface while you’re at it, make her cry the same way Whitney did.

Oh, you’re such a fucking bastard for this one.

“W-What is it? Do I have something on my face?” Her sudden squeak had you stilling in your tracks, twisting the spread sheets without meaning to from the timid pitch of her shrill voice. Look at her, trying to hide behind her torn sleeves in attempt to draw attention away from her bashful blush, becoming a fidgeting mess under your gaze.

Fuck, no. It was more than that, Kylar. It was the pout of your lips that you wore, the black strands of hair that framed your face so beautifully, the exposed sliver of skin of your thighs from that short skirt you slipped on. It was all you, but dammit all — fuck.

“Hm? No, it’s nothing — really.” Liar. Drawing back to create a manageable amount of space between you both, a reminder not to act upon those disgusting urges of yours, better not to. Bad idea to be thinking with your dick, no man’s ever made a reliable decision with that one. Even so, Whitney did it with you and — nothing particularly bad happened, did it? Would it be so wrong, if you were to do the same? Selfishly grasp for what you so dangerously desire, drop meaningless hints here and there to care for her wants, such a gentler option than any boy could ever treat your dearest little sister?

Would it?

Too lost in your endless train of thoughts, your eyes falling upon Kylar’s green own that bore with such intensity you hadn’t seen before, almost as if contemplating — no, waiting for something to happen. Though you couldn’t tell what it was, her actions were enough so to speak on their own with how she shifted considerably towards you, used mattress dipping from the creaking weight over the wooden floorboards. Ah, was she..?

“Ky—?”

Before your mind was even fully given the chance to process it, like the leap taken before the shuddering dip of a waterfall, her inexperienced, virgin lips clumsily smashed into yours, knocking the wind out of the both of you from the abrupt step taken by your little sister. Sweet. So sweet. Pink tongue tentatively swiping along the scarlet cut of your bottom lip, ushered gasps accompanied by startled squeaks as she timidly gave you what she thought was a simple kiss, but felt more like a pornographic make out session with how she so desperately shoved her tongue deeper. More. Wants more of this, more of that honeyed taste she yearned to savour, to finally enjoy while her other dumb brother so greedily took you away every time she wished to be the one at your side instead. It wasn’t fair, not fair at all! He’s so mean, so why does he get to string you along whenever he so pleases? Should be her, only be her to fill that solemn space. Only her, only her—

“W-Wait, wait— Kyl— fuck.”

As if struck by the weight of what she had just done, the loner recoiled back instantly in a fit of panic from the sheer brashness of her actions. Oh, how could she let herself so easily fall to such temptations? What if you hated her now? Or worse, were repulsed by the kiss? Wouldn’t be able to live it down then, quivering lips and bubbling tears threatening to spill freely down the length of her flushing cheeks from her overreactive imagination running rampant — because she’d rather die than to have you loathe her so.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to— umm.. I thought that maybe you.. wanted me to—“ The girl stuttered uselessly, trailing off in an aimless direction only to shrink back in her unbecoming position. Silence only answered her in return which she took as the harsh reality of rejection, mustering up all the courage she possibly had in her lithe frame to at the very least subtly peek at the current expression painted along your face. Would it be anger? Disgust? Disappointment even? Surely if you hated it that much, you’d have plainly kicked her right off the bed by now, right? Storm out in a fit of shock and never so much as glance her way again.

The sight to greet her instead wasn’t an unwelcome one though — no, far from it actually, her gaze deliberately falling upon the blazing flush of your face down to the evident bulge straining painfully between your legs, palm nervously placed over it in a half-assed attempt to keep your dignity at bay — shit. It’s one thing to be kissed by your younger sister but to get fucking hard from it is like shameful admission on its own, a visceral reaction that could not be denied no matter what reasonable excuses may tumble from your lips. “..It’s fine. I don’t mind, actually.” You’re really no better than Whitney in that aspect, but when an opportunity presents itself, it’s only fair to mindlessly grasp for it, is it not? More worrying is the debauched idea that forms in your mind in regard to the enamoured expression worn by her wobbly lips and wide-eyed look, not-so-subtly rubbing her plush thighs together in a hint of arousal. Oh, so that’s how it is. If the sloppy kiss itself didn’t confirm it then this surely did, a surge of confidence rushing momentarily through your body at your next actions.

“Like I said, it’s fine, Ky.” That fucking nickname again. Unable to stop yourself from dragging your cute little sister closer towards you till she consequently found herself comfortably placed onto your lap, blinking stupidly at the bold move done by her normally gloomy, big brother. Silly girl.

“Siblings do it all the time, it’s not weird. It’s natural.” Lying through your goddamn teeth with a certain ease that even surprises you internally, but oh, is it so worth it as her viridescent eyes glimmer brightly to the whispered reassurance in your casual tone, acceptance easily slipping through. “But Whitney and I don’t—“ She starts, only for you to immediately latch onto her endless questioning with the seed having already been planted, too late to fucking back out now. “You and I are different. I’m nice to you and you’re nice to me, so it’s normal if you want to. We can do that cuz’ everyone else does it, alright? You don’t have to be shy with me about it, Ky.” Every carefully measured word to make it seem as though this was the norm, knowing fully you’d be seen as freaks and degenerates by your peers attending the nearby school. Not that they didn’t already think so with Kylar, the rumors having grown out to such an unhealthy proportion that it pestered the poor girl at every corner in the narrow hallways. Poor thing.

So isn’t it your job as her big brother to make it all go away? Make her feel better.

“Shh, just let me..” Soothing circles rhythmically rubbed in a recognizable pattern along the edges of her skirt, repeated affirmations of want so to ease her chattering mind over the possible morality of this newfound situation. Could’ve said no if she didn’t secretly desire this, though her actions seem to say so otherwise with how she earnestly complies, willingly tucking her arms to her sides to let your hands do the rest. Good girl. So docile, like a porcelain doll, sharpening breaths noticeably deepening from the careful tugs of her short skirt, revealing the confirmation of her depraved wants as the wet patch of slick soaking through her plain, white panties is bared. Your adorable little sister isn’t so innocent as you thought, is she? Contrary to her modest choice of underwear. Getting fucking wet solely from being leered at so openly by her step brother, even going so far as to spread her soft legs for better viewing.

“See? Isn’t it frustrating to be left all worked up like this?” Agreeing nods promptly interrupted by the press of your thumb against her clothed slit, such a sweet, hitched gasp elicited from the lazy circles traced onto her swollen, twitching clit. A free view of your younger sister’s scrunched up expression morphing to one of pure, unadulterated pleasure, scarred fingertips tightly clutching at the fabric of your shirt, but that’s the least of your concerns at the moment, really. “This good?” There’s no real need to ask when you can naturally rely on the shivering of her dainty figure, breathy moans of y-yes and feels good! along with the guiding of her needy fingers, flush against her slicked heat. A flick of your thumb is all it takes to have her turn into a babbling mess, bucking her hips up to meet your cupped palm, incidentally grinding onto your aching hard-on. “S-Shit, okay. Look at you, hah — so fucking wet already.” Barely able to discern the own pitch of your voice, but who the fuck is supposed to properly maintain their composure when your little sister is so prettily begging for your cock?

Effortlessly peeling away at the sticky fabric of her cotton panties, slipping it down the length of her legs to thoughtlessly throw away onto the wooden floor beneath. No time to fucking think, not with how cute her cunt looks, pink and dripping with slick coating the smooth surface of her inner thighs. Ah, and she’s already impatiently fumbling with your belt too, smiling so happily once it loosens to eventually tug your own underwear down too, leaking cock eagerly springing free from its restraints. “Want it that bad, lil sis?” Fuck, does it feel wrong to even be calling her so in your current predicament, yet so damn right too. The pleading nods, urgently clinging to your frame to press against as she grinds her sopping cunt along your flushed tip, whining whenever it knocks just right up against her puffy clit, squelching from the melding fluids. “W-Want it, want it inside, please.”

“B-Big brother—“

As much as you like the high-pitched mumblings of your dearest Kylar, there’s really only so much edging you can take before promptly snapping your hips up in tandem with her own, relishing in the slippery warmth that lovingly welcomes you, stretched folds accommodating to the sheer girth of your length. “Oh, fuck — Fuck, just relax for me. You feel so.. hah, so good.” Collectively sighing in relief at the intrusion of your pulsing cock squeezed so nicely by her constricting walls, having to steel yourself from the tight suck of her cunt snugly wrapped around your tip. “You’re doing so good for me, taking me so well.” Softly hushing her breathy whines intertwined with a mix of pain and pleasure, fingertips digging harshly in the tender flesh of her hips to guide her quivering frame up and down the length of your cock. Isn’t this what she wanted after all? Such a quick learner too, steadily bouncing to match the pace you had set, your wandering hands slipping past the hem of her loose shirt to greedily palm at her perky breasts which prompts another moan to exit her parted lips. Uncaring for the increasingly noticeable squeaking of the worn mattress when your little sis is so cutely riding you, doing her very best to satisfy your immoral urges and have you mark her slicked insides with your seed.

“What a good sister.. So good, aren’t you?” Cute, pink tongue poking out, begging for another messy kiss pressed onto her swollen lips which you dutifully oblige with another muffled groan. Sloppily planting your own against hers, treasuring every shuddered gasp to swallow down and stifling her open mewls. It’s borderline disgusting how desperate you are, savouring every thick inch engulfed by the sloppy suck of her baby sister pussy, reappearing briefly only to bury yourself balls deep once more into her defiled cunt. Isn’t really your fault with how fucking tight she is, is it? Barely grasping the reality of the situation which is the very high possibility of being heard from outside her room right this moment, but fuck — you can’t slow down, not right now, not when you’re already on the verge of spilling your cum deep inside. Damn Whitney, the bastard. Damn to hell your parents, your indecisive mother and her new husband, this is heaven itself right here. “I’m close—“ You huff out in a sort of warning, though it’s more of an invitation to Kylar, an opportunity for you to shoot your thick seed in her wanting hole, practically locking her legs tight around your waist.

Anything for you after all, huh? Her beloved. Her darling. You just didn’t know it yet! And to say it came true on its own, openly enjoying the sensation of your fat cock instinctively fucking into her tight, little sister hole. So close.

“Cum inside me, please. Let’s finish together, big brother. I-I’m close too—“

And that’s all you really need, precise thrusts upwards hastily turning into erratic humps to lazily grind against her ass, wanting nothing more but to see the dumb, drooling, fucked out expression painted across her adorable face, the convulsing of her cunt stuffed full of your length when she does have her first ever orgasm. A few clumsy circles drawn over her used clit is all it takes to have her cumming, slick trickling out of her fluttering cunt to drip over the base of your cock and stain the pristine sheets beneath. “Ah— God, you’re so fucking tight.” Fuck, fuck, fuck — Shoving the hilt of your cock as deep as possible into your little sister’s stretched out hole to rightfully mark her pink insides with your seed, spurting out thick, white strings of cum while you fuck yourself deeper into her womb and downright have her experience her first ever accidental cream pie too. It’s only then when she pitifully whines for you to stop that you do eventually pause, hips drawing back to stare in awe at the dribbling globs of cum spilling out of her sore cunt. “S-Sorry.” You mutter out apologetically with a sigh, the tension easing out of your muscles once she giggles softly in response to your strained apology. “It’s okay. I-I liked it a lot too.”

“Did you?”

“Mhm, I did.” Kylar sleepily mumbles back with drowsy eyelids, the exhaustion washing both over you all at once from, well.. all the movement involved. Let’s leave it at that, actually. Plus you deserve the rest, don’t you? Wouldn’t be fair to leave your adorable sister all alone in her twin bed without her older brother’s body to warm it with too, yeah? It’s fine to lay yourself down next to her curled figure snuggling closely against yours, drape an arm over her waist to remind her of your presence close by, make her feel secure and at ease. A silent, ushered promise to clean her up later once you two awaken, affectionately pressing a single kiss atop her head one last time before sleep takes her first. It’s your role to as the big brother, after all, isn’t it?

“..Good.”

[barbiiecams]

terrible two’s

dad!drew x mom!reader, just a cute lil family blurb again cus i think this concept is sooo hilarious 😭

“no mama, mine!”

“bad dada!”

“no!”

these were only some of the things you were hearing ever since aaliyah had turned two. even a little before then, she got the ability to talk and used it to the max. you loved that she was a little yapper, but she definitely knew how to make a scene.

ever since she was an infant she loved attempting touching outlets, and now that she knew the word “no”, that was her favorite thing to say when you’d stop her.

“aaliyah, don’t touch.” you moved her away from the wall. that’s all she needed to hear to start flaring in your arms.

“no!” she’d scream back and all you could do was restrain her as best as you could or distract her.

what seemed like a forever wait, drew finally came back through the door with aaliyah’s favorite snack since that what she was complaining about almost the whole day.

and that’s exactly how it would always be until she found something else to complain about.

“DADDY! CHIP!” she somehow managed to break out from your hold and run over to drew with a grocery bag in his hand.

“yes baby, i have your chips. can you sit down?” he says to aaliyah as he locks the door, and also makes sure the bag is out of her reach.

“wan chip!” she whines. this wasn’t even the worst type of tantrum she would have. and it definitely wouldn’t be the last of them either

“you’re gonna get your chips, aaliyah. you need to sit down.”

“daddy chip!” she whines even more.

“baby, can you sit down for us? and then you can have your chips. sit in the big girl chair.” you took ahold of her hand and walked her over to her princess themed chair that sat in front of the TV.

she finally listened to one instruction of the day, and sat in her chair with a big smile on her face, contradicting her previous whines.

drew hands the small bag of cheetos from the chip box and hands it to her, “here you go.”

“thank you daddy!” she says while opening the bag by herself and diving in. if there was something she definitely didn’t play about, it was her cheetos and ms rachel.

as she’s finally getting settled, you let out a breath of air while walking into the kitchen, not planning to make dinner at all tonight with the way she was acting.

“and you were sooo excited for a girl.” drew shakes his head as he sits at the kitchen island.

you roll your eyes. “you’re the one that spoils her 24/7.”

“so do you, ma’am.” he responds quickly

“whatever, old man.” you grabbed the house phone and dialed the pizza place’s number, exhausted and hoping aaliyah would crash right after bath time.

“those trick babies make terrible toddlers, i’m telling you.” drew says as he stands up once again most likely to go shower.

he wasn’t wrong either. aaliyah was like the perfect baby you could ask for. but she was definitely giving you a run for your money as a toddler.

[yandereunsolved]

🐉 ✧ Yandere Aemond Targaryen ✧ 🐉(part 2)

With you, this has been Aemond's only safe place since you were hired when he was but a child, and so were you. He would see you following the other maids and workers around like a lost duckling, constantly tripping over yourself, and failing at the simplest tasks. You grew proficient over time, but that didn't stop the harassment that came from young Aegon and the others. He had to become blinded in one eye to truly see you.

He thought you foolish at first. He pitied your futile attempts to reject Aegon's advances. Your education was nonexistent, and your manners only the minimum. You had not the physical strength of the guard nor the cunning that every power-hungry noble possessed. You did have two things that made you worth his time: your curiosity and comfort.

You didn't gasp in horror after his horrific disfiguration. You didn't scold him for not being wise or mighty enough to win the battle of being ambushed. Chastising him was not within the rights of your station, but many below him still did. Perhaps that is why he was so surprised when you were the only maid who offered to change his bandages and report to the maesters on his healing.

As you got bolder in his care, you dared to lightly caress the scar with the pad of your thumb. He would never admit how embarrassed he felt that you had taken such a liking to him. You seemed so content with the fact that he was now damaged goods. What lady would want a man with such a deformity?

You even gave him a porcelain eye for his socket as a gift. It wasn't the best made, but it was the most you could afford. You spent half of your weekly wages on such a thing. Aemond could feel a fiery sensation rising in his gullet. His fingers caressing the porcelain and meekly thanking you before dismissing you back to your duties.

He never wore the gift, as it wasn't what he had truly hoped for. Even as a sapphire remained in his empty socket, he always kept that glass eye in a wooden box right next to his bedside. He sat up many nights with pathetic droplets of sadness rolling down his pale face while clutching the object. He couldn't be strong all alone, but your token of good faith helped him get through his darkest hours.

That is when his courtship of you truly began. It was subtle. He had grown into a young man, and you had grown to be a fine worker within the walls of the Red Keep. Many would be suspicious if he always asked for you to care for him and do your duties near his room instead of having to traverse all throughout the castle.

He would leave you small gifts, like how a dragon will offer dead beasts to its rider as a sign of affection. They would be flowers from the gardens, trinkets, and silk cloths. Small notes of words that are translated into High Valyrian. "'Avy Jorrāelan', it means I love you in High Valyrian. I am sure your lips are sweeter than any pastry the finest chefs could bake." The short notes became increasingly violent and lewd over time. "One day, I will kill every man who has touched you who is not me. I will ravage you atop their dead corpses, and you will see their blood mixing in with my spilled seed." You stopped reading them. So he switched to another tactic. 

He had you carry his gear when he went to ride Vhagar. He introduced you to her, and she loved you just as he did. He could see it in her eyes. He's never seen the savage beast look so at peace. Vhagar went as far as to gently grab ahold of your clothing and tear at it. It caused you to become fearful and hide behind Aemond, but there was a certain mischief behind his dragon's actions.

"My prince, I fear your dragon dislikes me." You mutter so softly that his ears are barely able to pick the words up.

"I think she is very fond of you. If she hated you, then she would have eaten you already." There was an air of amusement present in his voice that you haven't ever heard before.

"Should I take comfort in that?" You inquired while a bit confused about this peculiar situation.

"You should."

"I shall, then. She is your dragon, and you know her best. You always end up being right about these things—I mean you are extremely intelligent. You are just always able to figure these things out. Your good looks and charm help to. I—" You felt you said too much and shut your mouth.

Aemond learned to tease you in such a way that would get you to spill these thoughts of yours. He did it so shamelessly. He made sure those bastards knew you were taken through his method. He almost kissed you just to prove that neither Jacaerys nor Lucerys would ever be able to lay a hand on you. He didn't have to worry about Aegon anymore. His drunk of a brother learned well not to trifle with you after he gave him a broken nose and a bloodied lip. If anyone dared upset you, especially those not his kin, well, they have particularly gruesome deaths.

All of this and you thought him mostly indifferent to you. None of the most twisted emotions ever rose to the surface when he was around you. He always waited until in private. He knew he had to keep you in his clutches. He couldn't scare you away quite yet. 

"Dear?"

"Me?" You squeak in surprise.

Aemond tucks a dragon's breath flower behind your ear as you turn to face him. No words escape him. Only a contented smirk appears. Before you have an opportunity to question him, he walks off. How strange. You gently adjust the flower in your hair. It makes you oddly giddy. 

"How cute." You murmur.

Aemond heard your words. He couldn't wait for the morrow. He will take you back to Vhagar and confess his love. He will offer you to become his spouse. His mother surely wouldn't be happy, but he would. And if the worst comes, he will burn down all of Westeros just to be with you.

[mochiwonz]

✉︎ - you love me too? ♡

𓍯𓂃 content : fem!reader x lee heeseung , fluff , cursing , skinship (kissing , hugging etc) heeseung is older than reader by 2 years , he babies her a litttleee , hes also kind-of a flirt and doesn't rly realize it ♡

𓍯𓂃 word count : 1.1k

𓍯𓂃 note : wrote this with orange haired hee in mindddd :3 i apologize for any grammar mistakes and this is my first time actually writing a fic, so pls don't hate me if this is complete ass !! (leave some notes or reblog if you enjoy :D)

Another agonizing day at the coffee shop. Disrespectful people were definitely the absolute fucking worst. Just because you're serving them drinks doesn't mean they get to treat you like shit. God, you just wanted to be in his arms, having him caress your hair and sit with you while he listened to you ramble on and on about how terrible work is. Heeseung always made you feel validated, like your feelings were real feelings and that they actually mattered. You sigh as you text him for the sixth time today "hey hee, i'm home..where are you? txt me plz" At this point, you're getting worried. He's supposed to be home, he always answers your texts.

*Ping!* Oh shit, it could either be your boss or heeseung. "Please be hee please be hee!!" you say out loud, hoping it'll do something. You slowly pick up your phone, hands shaking, and-

"YES ITS HEE!!!!!! FINALLY oh my god"

His text read "hey sweets <3 sorry for not responding...was busy doing smth at the salon. c u soon!" What? Salon? When has he ever been to the salon?....oh. The last time he went was when he dyed his hair back to black.

Oh shit, you're in big. fucking. trouble. God knows how much you love and adore and want heeseung, who wouldn't? He's like an angel, perfect nose with big bambi eyes, tall, and has the most beautiful smile you've ever laid your eyes on. One problem though, he's your bestfriend. Bestfriend of 4 years, actually. Bestfriends don't like eachother like that. It's fine, you just have a little crush...it's not like you love love him, right? Plus, he probably doesn't even want you like that.

Right as you were about to make your way to the shared bathroom, you hear a sound. Footsteps. Footsteps that could only belong to lee heeseung. Fuck.

"Hey sweets" he says, and you can hear his grin. Surprised, not expecting his voice to be all up in your ear, you quickly turn around. Oh. My. God. You're faced with a grinning heeseung with......orange hair?!

"YOUR HAIR IS ORANGE??" you exclaim quite loudly, sounding a bit too excited. He chuckles a little, and holy fuck he looks absolutely delicious.

"Yeah sweets, whatcha ya think?" he asks, in an almost flirtatious tone of voice.

What do you think??? You think you're 1. about to fucking explode, 2. lunge at him because he's so fucking fine, and 3. cum in your pants. Or, to be honest, all of them at once!

"Oh yeah, right uhm it looks fine!" God, you made it so obvious.

"You sure? You seem like you're lying sweets." he says while looking deeply into your eyes with his own beautiful bambi eyes and playing with his new orange hair. You swear he's purposely doing this. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, fuck. Get ahold of yourself y/n.

"Hee, of course i'm not lying. You look good, really good actually..." Shit, shit, shit. Why did you add that last part?? All you want to do right now is dig a hole into the ground and bury yourself.

You hadn't realized you'd been looking at the ground for a whole minute - sucked into your thoughts, until heeseung put his big hands on your chin and lifted your face to meet his.

"Yeah? I look really good?" he questions, voice laced with some sort of excitement. And as soon as your eyes meet his, he smiles. And all of a sudden, you realize, you don't have a crush on this man. You're whipped for him, you're in love with lee heeseung.

"Yeah..." you say under your breath. "Well thanks sweets, means alot coming from you, you know that right?" he tells you, with a sweet voice - almost cooing.

You don't respond, you can't respond. You're flustered as fuck. The man you realized that you're in love with, is less than 2ft away from you and almost...flirting...with you?

Almost a whole minute of silence goes by, nobody moves. Pained from the awkward silence, you decide to say something.

"Hey hee?.." you say, voice sounding small. "Mhm?" he hums, interested in what you're going to say next. "So okay, how do I say this. I think i'm in love with you. Actually, wait no, scratch that shit, i'm so fucking in love with you. I don't know if you even see me like that. You're so perfect inside and out, the man of my dreams actually. I don't even know what to do with myself when i'm around you. When you talk to me in a gentle voice or comfort me when i'm upset, all I want to do is kiss you. And I knoww this is cringey as fuck but I can't help it" you say, now out of breath from your rapping. (LMAOO<33)

Heeseung has an expression on his face that you can't seem to put your finger on. Shocked, unhappy, confused...you don't know. Before you could come up with any negative thoughts, he finally talks.

"Sweets...you mean that?" he asks, voice just as gentle as before, if anything - even more gentle. Can he stop staring at you like that? You're on the verge of exploding.

"Of course I mean it, dumbass." He giggles in response, and then brings his left hand onto your head as if he's patting your head and right hand to your cheek, softly caressing it with his thumb. "Fuck, I love you so much beautiful. And you're right, i'm a complete dumbass. I waited way too long to confess, i'm sorry sweets." he says, smiling at you and you swear you can see hearts in his eyes.

"Wait...you love me too?"

Instead of responding to you, he brings you closer to him. You can feel his hand slowly moving from the top of your head to your waist. To not make it awkward, you bring your arms around his neck, causing you to tippy toe a little. He has the softest smile on his face. You thought you were in love with him? God, he is so in awe of you and your beauty. You probably weren't even aware that your cheeks were all pink and adorable.

You watch his eyes move from your lips to your eyes and back to your lips. "Sweets, can I kiss you? Wanna know how you taste so bad."

And shit, how could you ever say no to him?

"Yes, please kiss me" you say in response, sounding desperate(as fuck).

As soon as he hears the "yes" slip out of your beautiful lips, he's quick to bring your faces closer together and close the gap. And fuck, his lips are perfect. It's like your lips were made for his and his were made for yours. Both of you were savoring this moment, your very first kiss with the man of your dreams, lee heeseung. Once you were out of breath, you finally pulled away - a string of saliva connecting your guys' lips.

Wasting no time, he picks you up as if you were as light as a feather, and spins you around like the princess you are. "I can finally call you my girl and my princess, and kiss you whenever I want!!" he exclaims, and you can tell hes smiling hard.

You laugh, feeling the happiest you've felt in forever. You look down to see him smiling at you, looking at you as if you were unreal. An angel. His angel ♡

oh my god LMAO hope this isn't too bad :p my other works are here <33

[fullybooked]

What Are My Other Options?

Title: What are my other options? Pairing: Insomniac!PeterParker x Reader Word count: 9.6k Warnings: mentions of cheating (but Peter would never) Notes: F/T = favorite topping Summary: The reader has come to the conclusion that Peter is cheating on them. What else are they supposed to think when he’s always running off and constantly canceling their plans? That he’s Spider-Man?

It wasn’t often that you got a chance to dress up anymore. As a grad student, there was very little spare time to spend on your appearance, and when that kind of rare opportunity arose, you jumped at it. So you didn’t feel bad about spending the last hour in front of a mirror, tossing around outfits, and destroying the closet in the process.

The occasion? The New York Times Gala. You’d been working for the biggest news outlet in the state for your graduate program for investigative journalism, a spot you had fought tooth and nail for. Every News Outlet and invited celebrity would be there, the Daily Bugle, The Wallstreet Journal, USA Today, and you’d heard whispers of Tony Stark attending. You hadn’t even learned until last week that you would be allowed the attend as well. As nothing more than an intern, you hadn’t seen there being a reason.

But your boss had given you the news last Friday, and you’d practically skipped home to tell your boyfriend, Peter, about it. And that you had a plus one. He’d been almost as excited as you.

Which is why you were finding it hard to believe that he wasn’t home right now. He wasn’t getting ready with you, he wasn’t even answering your calls or texts. So while you were excited, there was a bubble of worry hiding underneath.

“Where is he?” You’re muttering to no one but yourself. The last touches of your outfit were going on, and the last train you could take would be at the station in 20 minutes. Your window was closing.

Looking down at your phone while adjusting your choice of red accessories, you start to wonder if something bad had happened to him. After all, New York was crawling with supervillains and regular villains alike. And Peter was equipped for any kind of fight he might’ve run into. Ever since you met him in your first year of college, he had been one of the most peaceful people you’d ever met.

Your red shoes rest by the door, and while pacing your living room, you decide to call his Aunt May. She would surely know if anything, bad or good, had stopped Peter from coming home on such an important night. You click on her contact, resisting the urge to bite your nails from nerves.

It’s only two rings before she answers, “(Y/N)!” she answers happily, “I’m a little shocked to be hearing from you so late, is everything alright? Isn’t tonight your Gala for work?”

Aunt May was nothing short of a saint. Kind and caring, traits she’d taught Peter as she raised him. You adored her, the two of you always got along great when you and Peter volunteered at FEAST or went over for dinner. You weren’t sure if the lack of concern in her voice should make you more worried or not.

“It is,” you tell her as you watch the clock tick on, “but I haven’t been able to get ahold of Peter all night. I’m starting to worry. Have you heard from him?”

There’s a hum of confusion on her end, “I’m afraid not, dear,” she says, “but I wouldn't start worrying just you. We both know how bad he is at keeping time.”

It was true. Peter was chronically late. Normally, it was funny, except for the few times he was an hour late to your date nights. But this was different. He knew how important this night was for you and your career as an investigative journalist. 

“I know…” you agree with May, “It’s just…I can’t be late for this, and the last train is leaving in 15 minutes.”

Your phone buzzes in your hand as you speak to her, and you bring it away from your ear to glance at the screen. A photo of you and Peter in front of the Ferris wheel at Coney Island is on screen, his name appearing with heart emojis next to it. Relief floods your system.

“Oh!” you gasp and return to speaking with May, “that’s him! I’m so sorry for bugging you May!”

She chuckles, “don’t be, dear. You two have a good time!”

You hang up, immediately answering Peter’s call, “Pete! Where are you!? I’ve been calling you all night!”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” his voice sounds winded and tired, like he was running, “I just…got wrapped up in something at work, me and Doc were talking about his lab and…I’m really sorry!”

“Well, where are you?” You ask. There was no point in telling him it was okay, because it didn’t feel okay, “the last train is about to leave and we can’t be late–”

“(Y/N), I don’t think I’ll be able to make it,” his voice cuts you off before you can continue your nervous ramble, “Me and Doc are still wrapped up in this lab project and I won’t be able to make it back in time for the gala. I know how important this was to you and I promise I will make up for this tenfold for the next 20 years–”

You could hear the rushing wind of New York behind the phone as he continued on an apology that you didn’t feel in your chest. He sounded sorry, sure, but you could only feel disappointment in his words. Your shoes are on your feet, and you’re looking at the clock hanging next to a vacation photo of the two of you on the beach. Your lack of response is response enough to him, but you’re too busy deciding if you should be angry or not.

“(Y/N),” he says your name, “I can’t say I’m sorry enough, but you’ll do fantastic even if I’m not there.”

“Seriously?! Of all nights, Peter, you have to pick tonight to flake out on me? You know how important this is and you can’t even look at a clock for two hours?!”

You had 10 minutes to get to the train station from your apartment, a task that would surely try and ruin your hour of work on how you looked.

“I know, babe, I’m so–”

You click the end call button before he can finish. Fumbling with your keys, can feel your cheeks warming up in a rush of emotions. First, embarrassment. A couple of people in your office had been excited to meet Peter, and now you would show up alone. Stood up by your boyfriend of 4 years. The gala would go on without him, and you would have to put on a pretty smile to go along with it. 

Which is exactly what you did, barely making it on time to walk with your boss into the decorated hall. Telling your coworkers that your boyfriend had eaten some bad takeout for dinner and was at home nursing himself back to health. Hoping nobody saw how your eye twitched whenever Peter texted you before turning your phone on do not disturb. 

That night, you locked the bedroom door and left a pillow and blanket on the couch.

★★★★★★

Something you and Peter had in common was your love of pizza. Both of you had differing opinions on the best pizza place in New York, but you did agree that any pizza was better than no pizza. So when you two moved in together, it was an unspoken rule that at least one night a week, you scaped whatever money you had together and ordered a large pizza.

“It’s my week to pick,” you remind him as you sit cross-legged on the couch in your studio apartment, holding the phone of power in your hand, “and I say Benny’s.”

Peter is standing in the kitchen, pulling a can of soda from the fridge, “aw man,” he says, “but they don’t have the good pepperoni.”

“But they have the Italian sausage,” you remind him, already pulling up Doordash on your phone, “and it’s my night.”

Peter looks over his shoulder, a smile on his face that always makes you blush and look away like a teenager, “you’re lucky I love you,” he says, “and I’m willing to part with the good pepperoni.”

You giggle back, “Aren’t I the luckiest? So half sausage half (F/T)?”

“It’s your world, babe,” he says as he walks around the couch to sit beside you, “I’m just living in it.”

“That’s the answer I was looking for,” you look over at him with a grin.

These nights were the ones you loved the most. The two of you in pajamas, ordering your favorite food, waiting for the newest episode of Game of Thrones to air, in the quiet of the apartment. Where the noise and air of New York felt like it was miles away, and your little bubble couldn’t be disturbed.

Peter leans down, his eyes soft when he looks at you, and he kisses you slowly. Every kiss with him, deep or small, left you with fire in your veins. Whether it was innocent or lewd, at home or in the park, an apology kiss or a hello kiss, you always felt like you were walking on the hot air of a volcanic eruption. He pulls away, smiling like he was looking at the sun for the first time.

“Hm,” you gaze back at him, “I don’t care how much you kiss me, I won’t be swayed into Lenny’s.”

He gives a dramatically fake sigh, “There went the plan of seducing you into mushroom on half.”

“Well, I didn’t say that…” you roll your eyes, still smiling. You were always smiling with Peter. Or, most of the time you were.

His phone dings on the coffee table in front of you, the screen face down but illuminating the light-colored wood around it. It caught you off guard for a moment, that his screen is face down. And that he picked it up immediately. But you didn’t let it bother you for long, deciding to order the pizza while he checked whatever notification he had. 

Just as you hit delivery, Peter stands up from the couch in too quick of a motion to be reassuring. You jump slightly at his speed, looking back at him in confusion. Tilting your head, you look as he shoves his phone into his back pocket.

“Pete?” you say in an unsure voice, “is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s great,” he says. The slight rise at the end of his sentence makes you narrow your eyes, “It’s just uh…Doc texted me and uh he says he’s had a breakthrough on this project, but he needs my help with it..”

You can’t hide the disappointment in your expression as he makes a reach for his keys hanging by the door, and for his bag by the couch. 

“Oh…” you say, trying to mask the sound of defeat in your voice, “right now? It’s almost nine pm.”

“Yeah, it’s just…a really important project,” he insists as he pulls his shoes on hurriedly. You would think he’d just gotten a call from the police with how quickly he was moving, “and you know Doc, he’s always rushing through the numbers, so I should just make sure he’s got them all right before moving on.”

He was rambling. His voice was rising and falling. Every tell he had that he was lying, but you didn’t want to jump to that conclusion. What was there for him to lie about? What would have him running from the apartment so late? He did care a lot about the projects he and Doc had going at the lab, he was always doing some kind of numbers crunch for his boss.

Peter slows his pace when he takes note of your expression, avoiding his eyes, “I swear I’ll be right back,” he says as he walks back towards the couch where you sat, “30 minutes tops, I’ll be here before the pizza guy, I promise.”

So it wouldn’t be a long late night call by Doc, then. That makes you feel the tiniest bit better, and you give him a small half-hearted smile. What were you supposed to say? No, don’t go to your job that you’re so crazy passionate about? Don’t go help your boss on a project that could potentially change lives? You make no move to stop him.

“I promise,” Peter repeats when he doesn’t see a lift in your spirits. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours again, lighting you on fire from the inside, “don’t start the episode without me!”

You tried to take that as a sign that he meant it. Half an hour and he would be back with the pizza still hot in the box. So you kissed him goodbye and sat on the couch by yourself in the apartment. As soon as the episode started, you hit pause and texted Peter that you had done so, letting him know that every second you were away from Jon Snow would be counted towards your next pizza night.

20 minutes passed, and the pizza showed up with steam rising from the box. His half with sausage and mushroom was untouched as you grabbed a slice from your side. Just because he said to wait on the show didn’t mean you had to wait for dinner.

30 minutes, and you figured he was fighting the night rush on the train. He didn’t answer your text message, but he probably needed all of his attention on his work right now. You don’t make a fuss, keeping the show paused.

After an hour of no response, you get fed up of sitting with just your phone and decide to unpause the show. If he came in and mentioned it, you would tell him to watch it tomorrow night while you were at work. But he doesn’t come back. Even when the episode is over, you haven’t heard the jingle of the keys in the lock. 

Two hours late, as you decide to pack it up for bed, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. From the kitchen, putting the box of pizza in the fridge, you heavily roll your eyes. Your disappointment was riddled with hints of anger, but there was also confusion. Peter had always been flakey, he’d always been late, he’d always been absent-minded and forgetful, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d put his phone face time when around you lately.

It could mean nothing. In fact, it probably did mean nothing, but there was a sense of dread in your gut. You weren’t sure you wanted to face the idea that was forming in the back of your head. Because you loved Peter, you loved him so much you weren’t sure what life had been like before you started loving him. He made you feel safe and seen and understood, he made you feel like someone important in a city where nobody mattered unless they were on the front page of a magazine.

And if there was one thing you were sure of anymore, it was that Peter Parker loved you too. Nothing had shaken that fact over the last four years, and you weren’t sure anything ever would. 

But you could still be upset with him when he did things like this. Like bailing on your traditional date night, like standing you up on one of the most important nights of your rising career. You picked up your phone, reading the text from Peter that had come in two minutes ago. All the lights in the apartment were off, and you were ready to tuck yourself into bed.

His message read, “Baby I’m so sorry. I’m gonna be a little while still, please don’t be too mad at me.”

The words “I’m so sorry” were starting to grow old to you. You lock your phone and leave it in the living room with the screen facing up, no response, and your chest getting heavier and heavier as you sit in the empty apartment by yourself.

★★★★★★

He’s just late, you tell yourself, like always. He’s always late.

You couldn’t even tell yourself that he’d never been two hours late befor because he had. Sitting in the corner booth of Leo’s pizza, more dressed up than you should be for a place like this, you try to convince yourself that Peter was late for a good reason.

The train broke down, he’d had his phone stolen, sandman was on the loose again and he had to take the long way here.

But the news was mostly quiet, with no attacks, and he hadn’t even texted you. Again. 

You stir the straw in your soda, watching the melting ice bump into the sides of the glass as your mind runs rampant. After Peter had bailed on your pizza and Game of Thrones night, you had been angry and hurt and unable to hide that from him. His apology? Take you out to Leo’s for dinner, your favorite pizza place of all time.

There was no way Peter would stand you up for your apology date. Not even he was the absent-minded, you were sure. You’d been talking about it just this morning over breakfast in the kitchen. He’d given you free rein of the toppings, and he would meet you here after work.

Looking at the clock, two hours had become three, and Leo’s would close in one more. Sitting back in your booth seat, you swallow the lump of emotions that wanted to burst out.

“That boy still not here?” Leo, the man behind the counter, asks you.

The burly Italian man had been witness to your guys’ relationship grow. From your first date to your anniversary dates to your celebration dates. He’d seen it all from behind the counter, and you were sure he would be witness to every other milestone. At least, you had been. 

Sitting in the booth alone, you were beginning to wonder if there was anything beyond these four years with Pete.

“I wish I knew, Leo,” you admit and look down at your phone.

It buzzes as you’re looking at it. But when you see Pete’s name pop up, you don’t feel any sense of relief or anger or even sadness. Maybe you just didn’t want to feel it all at once in front of poor Leo. He didn’t need to witness that part of your relationship. 

Pete had said, “Where are you at? Working late?”

You couldn’t help the scoff, “he forgot about me,” you say more to yourself than anyone else.

“What was that?” Leo asks when he catches a hint of your mumbling.

You look up from the phone, tucking it away into your pocket, and give the man a tight smile, “nothing, Leo. Sorry for wasting your time.”

Pushing yourself out of the booth, you wonder how you would go about this. Peter had been bailing on you more and more these past few months. With date the gala, with date night, and not to mention the countless nights he comes home so late you think he’s an intruder half the time. Had he always been like this and you were only noticing now that you lived together? Or had you just ignored it because of how much you loved him?

“Not a waste of time,” Leo assures you as you walk towards the door, “you and Peter will come back soon, I’m sure.”

He sounded confident. But you couldn’t even bring yourself to politely agree. You thanked him again. You texted Peter back while taking your time walking towards the train station.

“Well, I was at Leo’s,” you reply, “waiting for your amazing apology date.”

Not even a full minute goes by before his caller ID appears on your phone. You answer it out of pure curiosity, too tired to be angry at him anymore or even upset with him. He’s speaking before the phone can even fully reach your ear. Pete’s voice sounds frantic.

“I'm on my way!” He insists, “just give me two minutes and I’ll be there, I swear, (Y/N)!”

“Forget it, Peter,” you hope your voice doesn’t sound as strained as it feels, “I already left. Go back to work.”

“I wasn’t at work, I was…” He doesn’t seem to have a good answer for her, “Just give me two minutes, (Y/N) and I can still make this date happen, I promise!”

“Peter…” You weren’t sure you wanted to go back to the apartment and face the conclusion you were drawing, “all I’ve heard the past month are apologies and promises you don’t keep. It’s exhausting.”

“I know, I know, I’ve been a shit boyfriend but I’ll get it together, I know I will.”

“Even your apologies need apologies,” you sigh, rocks sitting in your chest and making you walk slower, “how many more nights are you going to stand me up this month alone?”

“None!” He insists, “It’s not gonna happen again, ever.”

“Why has it already happened six times then?” You shake your head as you reach the train station, your stomach rumbling as you regret not getting a slice of pizza to go, “and yes, I’ve counted. That’s just this month!”

There’s no immediate response on his end, and the silence makes the rocks in your chest grow to fill your stomach as well. It was like every conversation you had was giving you more reason to believe that suspicion that you wanted to forget about because it made no sense.

In the night air of New York, you can smell pizza and trash trucks littering the street. And somewhere in the distance, the sirens that were always going in this city. You weren’t sure if it was from your end or Peter’s

“(Y/N), when you get home I swear we’ll talk this out,” he finally breaks his stretch of silence, “I’ll be waiting for you, and you can yell at me for however long you need but–”

You close your eyes for a moment and grip the phone, “do not say you need to go.”

“I have to go…dammit,” he mutters the last word to himself, “I’ll meet you at home, (Y/N), I’ll be there and we can work this out.”

You shake your head, watching as a train approaches the boarding area. One that wouldn’t lead you to the apartment but to somewhere else. You step onto the nearly empty car, watching a few people shuffle out and pay you no mind.

“Don’t bother, Peter,” you say, “I’m staying with my parents tonight, okay? So just go back to whatever work is more important than I am.”

★★★★★★

A very common task given to you at work was getting coffee. Usually, it was the first thing you did in the mornings when your boss handed you a company card and a piece of paper with everyone's order on it. Sometimes throughout the day, you would be sent on other various food and drink runs, but only around meal times.

Sitting at your desk, you were looking over the files on your computer that contained a few of the articles being pitched to your boss that afternoon. Your task was the weed out the “boring” ones by trying to decide what he would deem boring in the first place. You weren’t expecting any kind of task before the meeting, so all of your attention was on the article on your screen.

“(Y/N)!” You jump nearly out of your desk chair when your boss yells your name from across the room, “We need a coffee run before this meeting!”

Your boss was not a man of patience, so you had a few seconds before he got annoyed with your lack of movement. Closing the tab on your computer, you grab a piece of loose paper and a pen and start across the room of office cubicles towards him.

“Your usual, sir?” You ask him in the fake professional voice you’d taken to using with him.

He nods his head and holds up the silver credit card for office expenses, “Yes, and an iced chai for Martha when she gets here, and a vanilla latte with soy for Marcus.”

You scribble down the other orders as you nod your head and take the card, “I’m on it, back in a jiff.”

“(Y/N)!” here it came, “can I get a lavender mocha?!”

Everyone would shout orders at you as you left when they heard a coffee run was being called. Normally, you tried to get out of there as quickly as possible before too many orders piled up. Because no one would offer to come with you to help carry them, and you could only carry so many steaming cups before you were destined to spill them on yourself. 

The paper is filled before you’re in the elevator anyway, leaving you with 8 orders of coffee. You liked being at work because you hardly had time to think for yourself. Unless you were doing some kind of food or drink run, and then you had entirely too much time to yourself. And right now, you didn’t want to spend too much time in your head.

For the past three days, you had been staying overnight at your parent's place in Queens. During the day you would be at your apartment, getting ready for work or making your meals, because you knew Peter would be gone at the lab. You hadn’t come face to face with him since the morning he stood you up for his apology date, and it’s because you couldn't bear to look at him. Just the thought of confronting him with the truth made you nauseous. You weren’t sure you wanted him to say it out loud or not.

Your parents hadn’t minded when you showed up, near tears, telling them that you were at least 80% sure that Peter was cheating on you. They’d offered you their guest room and told you to think about things with a clear head. Your mother had been very adamant that you talk to him first.

But you’d been ignoring his calls and texts like the plague. Partly because you wanted him to know what it felt like to be ignored, and partly because you weren’t sure what you wanted to say to him yet. You knew you would talk to him when you were damn well ready, and you weren’t ready. Not this morning when he sent his usual “good morning” message and asked if you wanted to meet for lunch. 

Maybe tonight you would talk to him. You would bite the bullet and get the truth, even if you didn’t like what it was.

As you stand and wait for your two coffee carriers, you look down at your phone and all of Peter’s unanswered texts and voicemails. He was persistent, especially when it came to your relationship. You love that about him. 

Peter Parker didn’t do anything half-assed. Everything he did from school to work was 100%, and relationships had never been different. At least not until now. He’d loved you as much as you loved him, you had been sure of that until now. You just didn’t understand when that had changed. What had made him back away from you to the point of forgetting about you multiple times a month?

“(Y/N)!” You hear it called from up ahead. You look up from your phone, wondering if your order was done already. But you see a familiar face walking towards you in a grey sweater vest and a head of thinning brown hair with small glasses.

You smile and turn your body to face him, “Doctor Octavius!” You greet, “it’s been a while!”

“It has,” he agrees as he reaches out to shake your hand, “it’s so funny running into you here. I’m here every day for lunch but we’ve never run into each other.”

You shake your head politely, “this is an odd time for a coffee run for me,” you assure him, “so how are you? Things at the lab doing okay? Peter is so excited to be working with you.”

“And I’m happy to have him,” Dr. Octavius says, “he’s passionate about helping people, that boy,” he then waves a hand through the air to laugh, “if only he could be on time for once in his life! But I’m sure you know all about that.”

You give a pained smile, hoping it looked more real than it felt, “You have no idea,” you agree and then try to forget about the sore subject in your relationship, “but I’m sure he’s making up for it with all the late nights, he’s always thinking about your guys’ projects.”

Dr. Octavius laughs while pushing up his glasses, “Oh, I wish we could do late nights,” he tells you, and your heart begins to pound, “I’m afraid I don’t have the funding to keep workers past normal hours. But that’s not an issue for now, I’m glad Peter has some spare time to spend with you. You two remind me so much of me and my wife when were young…”

His word became muffled. No late nights. He didn’t have the funding for late nights. But Peter had been telling you that he was at work, with Dr. Octavius. He’d been telling you that for months. If he wasn’t there…where had he been going? Why had he been lying to you? What was the point of lying to you?

You’d never been the kind of person to tell Peter what he could and couldn’t do. It was his life, his choices, his spare time. Why did he feel the need to tell he was somewhere when he wasn’t? The weight in your chest stretched down to your stomach, and you wondered if anxiety-vomiting was a real thing. It felt like you were about to find out.

“Order for (Y/N)!” Your name breaks your trance as well as the conversation with Dr. Octavius, who was still speaking despite you not hearing it. You look up at the barista counter, where your 8 drinks are waiting for you to grab them.

“Oh, I’ll let you get back to work,” the doctor says as he hears your name as well, “I hope we run into each other again, (Y/N).”

“Me too, Doctor,” you tell him, hoping it sounded scincere, “good luck with your research, I can’t wait to hear about it!”

The doctor smiles, and he’s about to turn away when he looks back at you, “Oh, and (Y/N), great work on that Oscorp piece last week!”

Any other day, you would be ecstatic that someone had read you piece in the back of the paper and at the bottom of the website. Especially after all the work you put into gathering information on Oscorp’s underhanded carbon emissions from half of their facilities. But you didn’t feel that excitement, you hardly felt anything about it. But you thanked Dr. Octavius and grabbed your row of drinks off the counter.

Your brain was in another world entirely as you balanced everything on your hands. Peter had been lying to you for months. Maybe even longer than that. He was bailing on your dates, leaving you alone in the apartment at night to “work.” Still, you tied to put half of your focus on getting back to work in time for the meeting without spilling anything. You only took your eyes off the coffee to check your footing.

But the streets of New York were never kind, not even to those having a month full of bad days. With your eyes on the coffee, you fail to notice an incoming biker barreling down the sidewalk. There’s a ding of a bell that makes you look up, but it was to late to get out of his way without spilling anything.

What’s one more bad day, You think when you realize your situation, on top of all the others?

Still, you yelp as he barely swerves around you, your foot caught under his thin tire. When you jump from pain, your hands instinctually let go of the coffee trays. The smell of lavender and espresso douse your nice work clothes, and hot liquid burning the exposed skin it touches. You jump back from the biker, who was already whizzing past you and disappearing into the city. The edge of the sidewalk was right there, and your heel is already too close to the edge.

“Whoa! Watch out!” You hear someone calling down at you, but what were you supposed to do? You were already slipping into the road and watching as cars didn't bother to slow down.

There’s a burst of air at your side, a hand on your hip, and your feet are barely picked up off the ground before being sat back down a few feet further into the walkway. You saw the red and blue before you could process the entirety of what had just happened. Spider-Man, the walking legend of the New York streets. He was the small time hero whs ometimes got into big-time fights. Your boss absolutely loved him.

You’d never had a personal enounter with the hero before, and you didn’t think you would ever need to. But you’d heard plenty of stories from other people while working. He was a good man, someone who cared about the people of New York, even the small people like you who didn’t have their names on billboards. 

“Are you okay?” He aks you.

His voice was a little distorted when you heard it, robitcally. It must be another way for him to protect his identity, you assume. Maybe his suit was more high tech than people realized. You look over at him, wide eyes, coffee all over you, your skin tinted red from the heat, and you say nothing at first. Taking in the situation. Taking in the information Octavius had given you, and the only conclusion you could draw from it.

Spider-Man tilts his head as he lets go of your waist, “Miss…are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Besides the burning coffee your arms an your throbbing foot, you shake your head. But you could feel the emotions you were pushing down starting to bubble over. A month of ignoring signs that the person you loved more than anything was cheating on you, hoping it was all some big misunderstanding. Your job piling more tasks on you because you could take it, with no breaks and hardly time to eat lunch. You just wanted a pizza night with Peter, with your favorite show and your favorite person right next to you. But he was, clearly, with someone else when he was supposed to be with you.

Your eyes start to burn.

“Okay, good,” Spider-Man says with a nod of hs red and blue mask, “that was almost bad. Do you need smeone to uh…walk you back to wherever you’re going?”

Why did he care? You were fine, just getting more upset by the second. Any minute the dams would burst and you didn’t need a superhero seeing you cry over spilled coffee. So you shake your head again, trying to wipe the coffee from your skin.

“That looks like it hurts,” Spider-Man comments when he sees the light burn on your arms, “we should get some ice on that. That coffee shop should have some,” he points to where you had just come from.

You shake your head again, “I’m fine.”

But even to you your voice sounded thick with emotions he woudln’t understand. Hell, you didn’t even fully understand them. What you understand is that Peter wasn’t going to be who you call anymore after a bad day. You wouldn’t go home to him tonight  because he would be gone, tell you it was for work, and then turn his phone upside downwhen he got back.

“Alright miss, if you’re sure,” he says, “but some ice water might make it feel better. I��ve had few coffee burns before too.”

You weren’t sure what the final straw was, but you couldn't stop it anymore. The tears fell, and you drop your head into your hands to block it from anyone who walked by. But nobody in New York cared about people who cried in the street, you knew that. You just didn’t want to be the weirdo on this day who broke down in front of a coffee shop. Keeping you cries as internal as possible, you begin to turn towards the coffee shop once more.

“Whoa,” Spider-Man stops you, “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Why are you crying? It’s just a few cups of coffee, we can order more.”

This stranger sounded so much like Peter in his words that it made you cry a little bit harder. Peter was the go to for any kind of comfort. He spoke so calmly when you were loosing it that if made you feel more in control. You hated it right now because you weren’t in control of anything anymore. 

Spider-Man places a covered hand on your shoulder that you’re too upset to brush away. 

“It’s everything!” You sniffle on the street, people pushing around you without sparing your emotional break a glance, “I’m gonna be late to the meeting because i have to chage clothes, and now I have to get more coffee, and I think my boyfriend is cheating on me!”

Hearing the words out loud, you cries become harder to muffle and tears begin to fall onto your palms. Peter was cheating on you, you were sure of that. There was nothing else that explained his behavior and lies. Normally you wouldn’t wail about your problem to a stranger, but what could it hurt? It’s not like he knew you or Peter, and he would forget about this in an hour when he was pulling a kitten from a tree.

“Wait, why would you…” his voice sounded hurried at first before he stopped and corrected himself, “um why do you think that, Miss? That your boyfriend is cheating on you? I really doubt that’s the case, I mean I don’t know him but I think that’s way out there to assume, not that I know anything about your relationship–”

“What do you care?” You turn from the super hero and back towards the coffee shop, where you try to swallow down your cries and sniffles long enough to order your coffee for a second time.

★★★★★★

Your boss had not been happy to see you appear in coffee covered clothes with a slight limp. He’d been the slightest bit concerned when he also took note of your red eyes and ruined hair, but then told you to go home and change as quick as humanly possible.

But you didn’t move like you were in a rush. Actually, you drug your feet back to your apartment hoping that Peter would really be at work. You didn’t even want to walk into the home you shared with him knowing that he had been running around with someone else while you were there alone. But you had no where else to go and change that was within a one-train-ride distance.

You unlock the door, eyes still stinging at the corners, your clothes sticking to your body. And there was a slight sting in your skin where the coffee had hit. Maybe Spider-Man had been right about icing it. Maybe a cold shower would make you feel better physically and emotionally, but you doubted it. 

You open the front door, dropping your keys in the tray by the door.

“(Y/N)! You’re home!” You nearly jumped out of your skin when Peter’s voice came from the living area, “please, we need to talk!”

You look at him as you shut the door behind you, and you wanted to start crying just seeing him. But you held it in and turned away from him.

“I don’t have time for this, Peter,” you tell him, “I’m late for a meeting and I have to shower before I go back.”

“Please, (Y/N) even just a two minute conversation, I swear,” he pushed, walking after you as you went towards the bedroom where you had a bathroom connected, “you don’t even have to talk, just listen.”

“I don’t have time for this!” You repeat, starting to get irritated in the sadness you felt when he spoke your name. You reach the bedroom and make a beeline for the bathroom, wondering if he would disappear before you got out. He follows you up until you close the bathroom door in his face. Your tears fall again under the cold water, and you hope he can’t hear it.

You showered, changed, and blow dried your hair. Not as quickly as you could’ve, but quick enough for your boss to think you moved as fast as you could. Part of you didn’t even want to go back in, but the other option was staying here and facing the music with your boyfriend.

Who was still there when you opened the bathroom door. Sitting on the bed you two shared. His side was strewn about from sleeping, his pillow crooked, the blanks tossed aside. But your side was untouched, even your half of the blankets pulled up. You were always the one to make the bed. He immediately stands up when he hears the door open, turning towards you.

His normally put together hair was frazzed. He ran his hands through it when he was upset. It was one of his tells when he was nervous and tried to hide it. 

“Peter…” you sigh as he gets up to follow you from the bedroom, “please, not now. I have a lot to do at work, and I don’t need to be thinking about this while I’m there.”

“You won’t come home at night,” Peter says behind you as you reach for your shoes by the door. They still had coffee marks on them, “you only come back when you know I’m at work, I don’t know when we’ll be able to talk aside from showing up at your work. Which I have thought about, believe me.”

“Then just wait until I’m ready to talk,” you tell him, “what’s wrong with that option?”

“Because I really want us to go back to normal, (Y/N). I want you to come home, and I want to see you next to me in the mornings, and I want to hear about your day–”

“We can’t go back to normal, Peter,” it looks like you were doing this now. There was no way around it anymore. Part of you was relieved, “not after this. I don’t even think there can be an us to go back to.”

“Please don’t do this, (Y/N),” he pleas, approaching you but keeping enough distance between you that you didn’t feel trapped here, “I know…that…I know you think that I’ve been doing something, I know what you think and you have to know–”

“How would you know what I think, Peter?” You ask him, your throat threatening to close, “you’re not around to hear what I think anymore! You’re never here, you’re running out in the middle of the night, you’re lying about where you are!”

“I know that I’ve made some stupid mistakes this past month,” he insists, “but I can fix it all, I swear, and you’ll never have to deal with those problems again.”

Fix it all. He couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t fix the fact that you didn’t believe a single word he said now. Or that you would always wonder if he was looking at someone else when you went out on dates. But you still looked at him and you loved him because you knew what it felt like to be loved by him at one point. When had that changed? When had he stopped loving you? Was it so quick you only noticed now, or had it been so slowly you hadn’t noticed at all?

“Just…” you inhale deeply and try to keep your breathing steady, “tell me the truth…please. Are you cheating–” 

“No,” he shakes his head before the question is even out.

“--on me? Are you seeing someone else?”

“No,” he repeats, “I am not, have never, and will never cheat on you, (Y/N), I promise.”

“I don’t believe your promises anymore, Peter.”

“I love you,” he takes a few steps to close to distance between you two so he’s standing directly in front of you. He reaches down for your shaking hands, like he wanted to steady to flurry of emotions you were feeling, “I love you so much, and that is a promise I have never broken. Why do you think that? Why would you ever think I would chose someone over you?”

You pull your hands away from his, sick at how at ease he could still make you feel when he spoke with such a calm voice. You didn’t want to be calm or sad. You wanted to be angry. But his brown eyes only left you feeling small and defeated.

“What else am I supposed to think?” you shake your head and take a step away from him, “what are my other options? Of course there’s someone else–”

“There’s no one,” he presses, “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved like this.”

“So you leave me at a table by myself at Leos?” You ask with a disbelieving headshake, “and tell me you’re at work when Dr. Octavius says he can’t keep you after hours? If you’re not cheating, Peter, then why all the lies? Give me the truth, or I don’t think I can handle being loved like this anymore.”

He doesn’t say anything. Your shoe are on, youre reaching for the doorhandle, and you don’t think he’s going to stop you. That hurts more than anything. Or mayb all of the hurt was piling up and you didn’t know what was the most painful anymore. You couldn’t look back at him for fear you would crack and beg for an answer. 

Your hands on the door handle, you want him to stop you, but you refuse to beg him to choose you.

There’s a thwipp sound behind you, and then something cold has your hand pinned to the doorknob. Unable to turn it. You look down at it, and a pile of white spiderwebs is covered your hand entirely. Looking back at Peter, his hand is out and pointed in your direction. His eyes are wide, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing either.

“I-I’m sorry,” he says and takes his hands through his hair in distress, “I didn’t want you to find out like this, but I couldn’t let you walk away thinking that I had cheated on you.”

Your head was going a mile a minute, probably not even on Earth anymore, and you were staring down at the webs covering your hand. Your first coherent thought was that it was Peter you had cried in front of an hour ago, crying about your cheating boyfriend. The second thought was that this also made sense for all the lies and the leaving. 

“I’m not gonna stop you from leaving me,” He’s rambling behind you, “even though I’m ready to get down on my hands and knees and grovel for one more chance, but if you need to walk away from me then please just know the truth when you do it. I love you, (Y/N), and that is the only thing I’m sure is true anymore.”

You sniffle, your tears having run dry, “Peter,” you say in a dull and emotionless voice, “can you come get this shit off my hand so I can go back to work?”

★★★★★★

Needless to say, you didn’t get anything productive done after that encounter with Peter. It wasn’t hard to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t cheating on you. You’d been looking for a reason to do that for a month now. But the fact that he was Spider-Man?

Your Peter, who hated violence, who was as peaceful as a butterfly, who didn’t even like watching MMA fights, was a crime fighting superhero? With powers? And you’d been living under the same room as him for a year and had never noticed?

Your brain was connecting the pieces of every time thing that had happened. Like when the sink handle had broken off one morning in Peter’s hand when you’d first moved into the apartment. You’d laughed about it, thinking about what a funny stroke of bad luck he’d had. Or when he’d come home bruises along his back and say he’d fallen while trying to get work on time. It had sounded true at the time, but Peter wasn’t the clumsy type. Now you knew why. He was coordinated enough to fight super villains.

None of what you needed to get done happened at work. You could hardly process any words you read, and any conversations went in one ear and out the other. Your boyfriend was Spider-Man, you were still grappling with that revelation by the time you got off. 

You decided to go home. Now that you knew Peter wasn’t cheating on you, it felt like you could at least see the place again. However, on your walk to the train station, you were hyper aware of every se of sirens that went off somewhere in the distance. Which was every three seconds in New York, and the worry you felt knowing he could be at any crime scene was arguably as bad as the anxiety you’d felt all day.

Of course you could text him. But after ignoring him for three days, it felt only right to talk in person. You hoped you would be home when you arrived, but if not, you would have to wait. It would give you time to think of what you were going to say. Of how you wanted to go about things now that you knew the truth.

You unlocked the front door with anxiety running through your veins. On the other side, the remains of his webs from earlier were still hanging from the doorknob. He’d cut you free with his house keys, and you’d left before you could see the webs closely. When he wasn’t inside, you looked at them a little closer. They were as thin as real spider webs, but you’d felt how strong they were when holding your hand down. Peter was genius enough to make these himself, that’s for sure.

The apartment was empty. You didn’t hear any sign of Peter. So you place your keys in the tray by the door and take a seat on the couch, letting things slowly settle in your head. 

You sent Peter a text, “I’m at home. We should talk.”

You honestly weren’t expecting a reply, so you set your phone down and decide to find something to eat. As you silently open the fridge, your options are slim. There’s one can of Dr. Pepper, left over pasta, and a container of uncooked mushrooms in the drawer. Peter clearly hadn’t been shopping while you were gone. You reach for the left over pasta, figuring it was your only option that required minimal cooking tonight.

“(Y/N),” your name makes you jump a mile in the air, a yelp leaving you. Spinning around, you see Peter.

He’s sitting on the edge of a newly opened window that led to your fire escape. In a familiar red and blue suit with a web design on it. The mask is crumpled in his hand, like he didn’t want you to panic when you saw him. His hair is a frizzed mess, and his eyes are staring at you like he was shocked to find you standing in the kitchen.

“You’re here,” he says as you place a hand on your chest to feel how hard your heart is hammering.

He steps into the living area, and you can see the suit in clear lighting. He came in so easily and with skill. Like he’d done it a million times before.

“That’s how you get in without setting off the alarm?!” You ask him in disbelief.

He looks back at the window for a second, and then back at you, “Yeah,” he confirms, “It doesn’t wake you up, and it’s less stairs.”

“Less stairs,” you repeat and nod your head, setting your cold pasta on the counter, “yeah, makes sense, sure.”

Peter puts the mask on the coffee table beside your phone, “you want to talk?” he asks, as if confirming it was you who sent the text message, “I wasn’t sure you were ever coming back, if I’m honest.”

“Well I did ask for the truth,” you tell him, leaning back against the, “I can’t be mad that I got it.”

There’s silence on his end. Like he wasn’t sure what to say next. But you weren’t either. A few things came to mind, but you didn’t know where to start. So you decided on the first thing that came up when you opened your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” you land on, “for thinking you were cheating.”

Peter looks up, eyes wide, clearly not having expected that, “what? Don’t apologize, I’m supposed to be apologzing.”

“Yeah, well, I figured I owe you one too.”

The space between you two felt like miles, but it was only feet. And the apartment felt cold, like you were both avoiding making the first move. You wanted him back at your side, as close to you as he could be. You wanted to sit on the couch with Peter as your peasonal heated blanket, listening to his heartbeat as you fell asleep. 

“I owe you about a million more,” Peter shakes his head and finally breaks the distance separating you two, “I never should’ve even let you begin to think that I would pick someone else over you. I should’ve told you the truth years ago, I should’ve told you the moment I realized I loved you, I’m sorry.”

He’s maybe a foot away. He’d closed the distance up until now, and you decide to close the rest. Your hands reach out, the feeling of the suit alien under your fingers, but his warmth reminds you that its him. Pulling him forward, he practically melts into you as you wrap your arms around him. Burying your face into his neck, feeling his hair between your fingers. It was Peter, your loyal and loving Peter.

Peter holds you back. Now you know that the strength he’s holding back is because he doesn’t want to hurt you. How could Peter ever hurt you? He loved you, and you loved him. After too long thinking that that was a lie, it was a relief to know it was still true. Keeping this kind of secret couldn’t have been easy for him, just as it hadn’t been easy for you to think he was being unfaithful. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask him as he leans his body against yours, his face buried in your hair in relief, “it’s been years, Pete, you could’ve trusted me with this…”

He lifts his head, only enough so he could press his forehead to yours, “I do trust you,” he says, “but I also love you more than life itself, so I have to protect you above anything else. There’s a lot of people out there who wanna hurt me, and I will not let them use you to do it. I can’t do that to you.”

“Pete trusting me with something like this isn’t damning me to being a damsel in distress,” you inform him carefully, using your hands to gently swipe his messy hair from his eyes.

The apartment was dimly lit, something you’d always complained about, but you could see his face clear as day as he clung to you in the kitchen light. His brown eyes glossy with tears, the freckles dotting his cheeks that you counted when you couldn’t sleep. You though your knew everything about him, every part of him, but he had been hiding an entirely differen life from you. A life that couldn’t have been easy to shoulder all on his own. You couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him for hiding from you only to protect you.

“I couldn’t risk it,” he admits, his voice as soft as the light above you, “but I also couldn’t stand the thought of you thinking that I didn’t love you with every cell in my body. I needed you to know the truth even if you still left.”

You shake your head against his, “this isn’t going to drive me away, Pete,” you assure him, palms coming to a rest on his cheeks, “what’ll drive me away is the lies. Promise me no more lies, Pete, please.”

He’s nodding his head before you can even finish the sentence, “No more,” he says, “no more lies or secrets, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You believed him. Not just because you wanted to, but because you could feel that me meant it. Every doubt that you’d had in your head is flooded away as you make the first move to kiss him. His lips were as soft as they always were, his movements just as gentle. He was still your Peter, the same guy you fell in love with over Leo’s pizza. He leans forward, pinning you against the counter so he get a solid grip on your waist. 

He hoists you up with one hand, and you can’t help but gasp as he lands your butt on the counter without blinking. He chuckles at your reaction, settling himself between your knees in your shock.

“You’ve been hiding this the whole time?” you ask, now more interested than anything else. You lock your legs around his hips, “Pete, we could’ve been having some real fun with this.”

Peter grins, “Trust me, I know, I’ve had a few dreams about it.”

[outermaybanks]

possession - kinktober day three - stepcest + Rafe

a/n: pretend this isn't technically posted on nov 1 i wanted at least 3 kinktober fics i have learned my lesson next year i will pre-write at least 5 fics before oct

cw !! DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT - definitely dubcon, possessive rafe, backshots, step-siblings

You were only seven when your mom got married to your stepfather. She hadn’t taken you to meet him until they were engaged, so to your child brain, it felt like you gained 4 family members overnight. But even after the wedding, and the years following, there was one member of the family your mother put effort in keeping away from you: your stepbrother, Rafe. 

She never said it outright, no one really acknowledged it; the closest thing you got to some sort of undeniable proof was when Rafe offered to drive you to a party and your mom practically shouted at him that she wouldn’t allow that, an argument quickly breaking out until Ward just had to drive you. 

You don’t know why she insisted on keeping you two apart, maybe it was the way Rafe looked at you; maybe it was the way you looked at Rafe. By putting such effort in keeping you two distant, your mother succeeded in making you more curious in the boy. Like she dangled a carrot in front of you, then yanked it away. Sarah and Wheezie felt like siblings; so why didn’t Rafe?

Now that Ward was in a coma, your whole family minus Sarah uprooted, Rafe decided he was the man of the house,even going as far as to give himself a new hairstyle and hit the gym harder. But that didn’t stop your mom from trying to maintain control; especially when it came to you. 

“Y/N, clean up your shit, I’m tired of finding leggings in the bathroom” Rafe’s voice suddenly entered the living room before he threw your leggings at your head. You quickly tore them off, rolling your eyes at Rafe’s attitude, but then before you could even process what happened, his hand had a grip on your chin, fingers squeezing your cheeks to make you look at him. “What was that?”

You couldn’t reply, your heart racing as your eyes flickered between his, not to mention with how tight his grip on your face was, you doubt you could’ve gotten a coherent word out anyway.

“Hey, hey! What are you doing? Get away from her,” your mom shouted as she came into the living room. It was Rafe’s turn to roll his eyes as he reluctantly released his grip on you. “She needs to learn respect,” Rafe explained. “That’s not for you to decide. Go.” “Don’t talk to me like that, woman.”

It was like a stand-off. The air felt heavier, more intense now that Ward wasn’t here to get inbetween Rafe and your mom.

“It’s fine, mom, really,” you said, standing up from the couch and grabbing the leggings off the floor. “Good girl,” Rafe said quietly, but not softly. “No, no it is not fine. You do not touch her, got that?” Your mom challenged, turning her attention back to Rafe. “You’re not in charge of me.” Was all Rafe said before walking past your mother. She looked at you, almost apologetically, like this was somehow her fault, but you just walked upstairs to put your leggings in your hamper. 

That was the first time Rafe ever challenged your mother when it came to you. And he only grew more cocky as days passed. 

Rafe went out of town for business, at least that’s what your mother told you. He was gone for about a week, and when he came home in the middle of the day, seething, you had been home alone.

Rafe walked in like a man scorned, a man with an objective.

“Rafe? Mom said you would be gone for-” you couldn’t get the rest of your sentence out before Rafe took ahold of your face, fingers squishing your cheek as his large body backed you against the wall. “Shut the hell up,” he hissed. “Rafe-” “God, you just don’t know how to listen, do you? I said shut the hell up.”

Your eyes flickered between his, but not in fear, in wait; curious to see what he would do next. And Rafe took that as a challenge.

Without a word, he pulled your face forward to have enough momentum to push you over the arm of the couch, the impact knocked the wind out of you. Before you could even turn around, you heard the clinking of his belt.

“Rafe-” “Don’t play innocent. I see the way you look at me. I know you want this.”

You tried to stand up, Rafe just shoved you back down rougher, pulling his pants down to his knees before pressing himself against the flesh of your ass; the weight of him pinning you down.

“I know you feel the same way… and I know you feel this-” he rocked his hips so the tip of the tent in his boxer prodded against your traitor of a pussy. Before you could process what was happening, you felt a coolness hit you as Rafe pulled down your leggings and panties in one go. 

“Rafe- stop, this isn’t right-” “Fuck what’s right, you want it?” Rafe asked, rocking his hips more, his boxers starting to get a damp spot from your wetness. “I think she wants it…”

You let out a gasp at the feeling, your face felt hot with embarrassment, both at the betrayal of your body, and the realization his question posed. If Rafe wasn’t your step brother…

You didn’t have time to ponder, your breath caught in your throat as a strangled mix between a whine and a moan escaped at the feeling of Rafe’s thick cock pushing inside of you slowly. 

“Yeaahhhh, she fucking wanted it,” Rafe mumbled in a low voice. “Rafe!” “I know baby, s’okay… let me take care of it.”

You didn’t know if it was meant to refer to you, or his boner, but once you felt the stretch caused by him, you didn’t care, your brain practically mush as all your silly little daydreams from your horny middle school days came to life. You let out a soft moan when he started to move his hips.

“Mmmm that’s it, fucking take it,” Rafe seethed as his pace became merciless. “Rafe!” you cry out, a whiny moan following immediately after, your fingers digging into the plush of the couch. “Always knew I’d have you like this… now that your mommy isn’t here-” Rafe’s hand came down onto your ass and the sound of the slap rang in your ear. The sting of the skin perfectly complimenting the pleasure of him filling you. “Oh my god-” you breathed out like a sigh of relief as your body collapsed forward, but Rafe wrapped his thick bicep around your neck to pull you back up against him and keep you there.

“Stay right here, sweetheart… Be a good girl… so fuckin’ tight, what, those loser ain’t fuckin’ you right or somethin’?” Of course Rafe would find a way to give you shit while being balls deep inside of you. All you could do was whine in response. “Guess I gotta fuckin’ do everything ‘round here..”

His words made your walls flutter against him, and a low groan left his throat, his hand slapping your ass once more harshly gripping your hips to forcefully make you meet his thrusts. 

“Oh fuck- oh fuck- oh fuck-” you repeated yourself, too far gone to think of new words as he pushed you closer and closer to relief. “You gonna cum on your step brother’s dick, huh? Dirty girl… thought this was wrong? What would your mommy think?” You don’t know what disgusted you more, his words, or the effect they had on you, but all you could do was whine in response.

“Oh, baby girl doesn’t want to think about that?” Rafe’s pace increased, and never wavered. “What about Ward? Can’t wait to tell him how tight this pussy is-” “No- No-” You breathed out in a panic. Another slap on your ass. “There she is… let me hear you beg for it.” “Mmm- Rafe-” you whined breathlessly. “I said beg. Or I won’t let you cum,” Rafe pushed down on the small of your back to force you to arch, the tip of his dick deliciously hitting a new angle. “You’re so close… can feel it… can feel the way you're squeezin’ me.” 

“Please! Please, Rafe, let me-” “You can do better than that- c’mon, don’t make me stop-” his pace started to slow, eliciting a loud whine from you. “Nooo, please please please, don’t stop, Rafe!”

His pace tentatively increased, small whimpers and moans leaving you as all your resolve was officially gone, all you cared about was the feeling building in your stomach.

“There’s my good girl…” Rafe praised. You only muster a moan in response; trying to reach behind to pull him impossibly closer. Rafe hooked his arm around your throat, and pulled you up against his chest, his other arm crossing over your torso to hold you up. “Let me have it, baby… let me feel you cum on my cock.”

Your head fell back against Rafe’s shoulder, your eyes squeezing shut. Your hands reached behind you, desperate to hold onto him, something, anything. Your orgasm washed over your body like a wave, and Rafe’s relenting movements were the undertow, pulling you back for more and more.

“Oh- fuck- mmmm- fuuuucccckkk-” Rafe groaned as he came inside you, the warmth filling you being the exact thing you needed after the intense climax.

Rafe’s hold on you loosened, and you both slumped over the edge the couch, panting breathlessly. 

“I always get what I want, sweetheart. Everything- all of this… it’s all gonna be mine. And that includes you,” Rafe said softly, his fingers moving stray hairs behind your ear.

[watermelonlovershigh]

Day on the Yacht Turns Baby Making on the Yacht

AN: i've had this idea ever since these photos came out and knew i had to write it. and lots of you guys did too because you ate up this concept. so here yall go. hope you enjoy.

This story contains: mentions of sea sickness, trying for a baby, having sex on a yacht, slight choking (kinda), slight biting (during the sex)

{ husband!harry - softrry - current harry era }

word count: 1,962

When you're fertility tracker goes off on the yacht to let you know that now is a good time to try for a baby, you make the excuse you feel seasick and have Harry come to the bathroom with you where he fucks you good against the counter top.

You and Harry decided one way to celebrate Love On Tour ending was to rent a yacht for the day and take it on the water with a couple of his friends and family. The day you chose to sail on the waters was beautiful. The sky was nice and blue and the Italian heat was hot but not too hot. The sight of your gorgeous husband was also making the view ten times better, but that's just your opinion.

Everyone on the yacht was having a great time. Some were laying out to tan. Others were sitting around with wine coolers, chatting to one another. Harry, being the man who brought everyone together today, was going around and trying to spread his attention.

First having a laugh with his long time Italian friends who are actually a gay married couple which you both attended their wedding three years ago. Then sitting beside his sister Gemma and her long time boyfriend, Michal. Of course Harry pays attention to you as well, asking if you're alright and bringing you another drink when you mention being parched.

About two hours into your yacht ride your phone buzzes in your hands. You didn't really have cell service in the ocean so you thought that was weird. But when you checked to see who texted you, you realized it wasn't a text. It was a notification from your fertility tracking app that tells you when you're most fertile and need to try for a baby.

See, for a few months now you and Harry have been trying to get pregnant. You knew his tour was ending in July and thought it would be the perfect time for you to settle down for a while and have a baby.

At first you just had sex willy nilly to get pregnant, but after several negative pregnancy tests, decided to download an app to help tell you when you're most fertile. Though not every time you have sex is with the sole mission of a baby. Sometimes you just have sex for simply the intimacy aspect.

Fuck, you internally curse. How the hell are you gonna fuck your husband while you're on a yacht surrounded by his friends and family. Thinking for a minute you come up with a plan. You can fake being seasick so he has an excuse to go down to the bathrooms with you and do some quick baby making without anyone batting an eye.

Knowing it's now or never, you fake grown and cry out, "Harry..."

He looks over at you from where he's sitting beside his sister and asks, "Yeah, love? What's the matter?"

Not exactly wanting the whole boat to know you're seasick, you wave him over to you. Harry gets up imidiantly and stalks over towards where you're sat on the side edge of the yacht. When he's close enough, you whine, "Just feeling a bit seasick. Can you take me to the toilets on the bottom level, please?"

"Yeah, of course, baby." Harry is quick to agree. The genuine worry on his face makes you feel bad for lying. But you know you won't feel bad in a few minutes when his cock is deep inside of you.

He takes ahold of your hand and very quickly steps over to Gemma to inform someone, "Hey, Y/N is feelin' a bit ill. M'gonna take her to the toilets. Hopefully we won't be gone long."

Gemma frowns and replies sweetly, "Awe, that's fine. Hope you feel better soon, Y/N." You mouth a "thank you" and tug Harry's arm in the direction of the stairs that lead to the bottom floor of the yacht.

While on your journey to the bathroom, Harry kindly asks, "When did you start to feel sick? You could have told me sooner and I would have seen if I could've borrowed a motion sickness pill off someone for you." How did you get so lucky to have married such a pure and sweet man.

Before you answer, you barge in the one toilet bathroom and Harry is fully ready to hold your hair back while you vomit. But instead, is taken back when you turn around and kiss his lips hard with need. "Baby....... what, thought you were gonna be sick?" he mutters confusedly against your mouth.

You pull away, breathing heavy and respond, "I lied. I needed an excuse to have you come down here with me and fuck me. Got the notification on my fertility app saying my fertile window is open and now is the best time to try and conceive. I need you to fuck me and come inside me. Right now."

Harry tosses his head back and says, "Fuck!" rather loudly. Though he is a bit uneasy about potentially getting caught having sex on this yacht, he could never pass up the opportunity to fuck his sexy wife and give her a baby. "Well, okay then. Do you need, like, warming up first or..." He's fully ready to eat you out or finger you for a minute to get you fully aroused if you needed that.

Harry's too kind sometimes. Always thinking of your wellbeing and needs. You laugh and grab his hand to lower it to the front of your swimsuit. "No, babe. Seeing you in these tight, green swim trunks has had me wet for hours, see." His fingers come in contact with your clothed wet pussy and that has him hardening right up.

"Alright, turn around and lean over the sink f'me." Harry instructs and you do as told. This yacht's bathroom is rather small but you'll make it work. You've had sex in much smaller spaces before but those are stories for another time. Harry drops to his knees and as he goes to slide your bikini bottoms down your legs, he kisses over your ass cheeks and the back of your thighs.

"Harry, we don't have time for that, just put a baby in me. Hurry." you grumble. You're far too impatient for him to tease you right now. You just need him to fuck you.

As he stands back up and drops his green swim trunks to his ankles, Harry retorts, "Alright, stop being bratty. I'll give you what you want. Know I always do, m'love." He takes ahold of his now very hard cock and gives it a few strokes to make sure its fully erect for you. When it is, he helps spread your legs how he thinks would work best for this position and leans over your back, carefully nudging his dick in your soaked hole with the guidance of his right hand.

"Ohh, Harry!" you can't help but moan while he's pushing all the way in and that causes him to slap his left hand over your mouth to silence you.

"Love," he says from behind you're body, "gotta stay quiet. Can't risk anyone hearing us." You nod your head in understanding and bite your lip to silence yourself when you feel him bottom out. Then without warning, Harry pulls his hips back, leaving just the tip inside your cunt, before slamming forward.

The hand Harry had over your mouth has moved down to your neck. Not with the intentions to necessarily choke you, though he is applying slight pressure, but more so to help you stay upright and look at yourself in the mirror. The scene of Harry fucking you from behind has got you even more turned on than before. The way his tan skin is glistening with sweat. The way his curly hair has fallen over his forehead. The way Harry is looking right into your eyes from over your shoulders in the mirror. It's all so intense.

After a couple of minutes, Harry can feel the knot in his stomach tighten and he knows he's about to come. Your tight pussy just feels so good hugging his cock. Wanting to see if you were up there with him, he questions in heavy pants, "Are you close? M'bout to come. Just feels so - fuckin' - good, Y/N!"

You nod and squeak out, "Yeah, I'm close too, H." Knowing you may need a little bit of extra help, he takes his right hand that he had stationed on your hip for stability and reaches in front of you until he finds your clit. When he does, he begins rubbing the nerve in tight circles and that's exactly what pushes you over the edge. That and his cock rubbing against your g-spot from this angle. You nearly fall forward because as you come your legs give out and if Harry wasn't pressed up behind you, you're sure you would have collapsed onto the boats floor.

"Ah, God!!!" you gasp while waves of pleasure roll through your body. Your orgasm triggers Harry's and he shoots his load as deep as he can inside of you. His hips falter their movements and he has to bite down on your shoulder to quiet himself from the moans he's dying to let out.

Slowly, everything comes to a stop and you're both left sweaty and panting for air in this small yacht bathroom. Harry carefully removes his hand from your throat and you slowly start to lean forward over the counter top again. The movement causes you to accidently pulse around his softening cock and he curses in slight pain. "Fuckin' hell."

"Sorry, sorry." you repeat out of breath and Harry shushes you by gently responding, "It's alright. Gonna pull out now and then I'll help you up on the counter so my cum doesn't drip on the floor." You nod and Harry carefully pulls his dick out your pussy and turns you around to lift you up on the small countertop beside the sink.

Now face to face, Harry can't help but to lean forward and plant a kiss to your lips. The kiss stays soft and airy. But knowing people above is bound to become concerned with how long you've been down here, you whisper, "Love you. Thank you for coming down here with me and I hope we made a little baby. Can't wait for our family to grow."

Harry nearly cries and gets hard again at the same time with all this baby talk. "Y/N, no need to thank me. Love you so much and would do anything to give us a baby. Even if that means break away from my friends and family to fuck my wife in a yacht's bathroom in the Italian ocean."

---------------------------

Harry helped you get cleaned up and properly dressed again as well as redress himself. Then you both walk hand in hand back up to the top deck again where everyone looks at you with concern. Gemma's the first to come up to you and asks, "Feeling better, love? You can have a sickness pill if you need one? I always bring extra."

Feeling bad for everyone's genuine concern on your sea sickness but also happy you weren't actually sea sick, you decline, "Oh, no thank you. I'm feeling much better now. Your brother is a great doctor."

Everyone continues to have a great time. Laughing and enjoying the summer sun. Until Brad, Harry's friend and personal trainer comes up behind you and gasps, "Y/N, why is there a bite mark on your shoulder? Are you alright?" Your eyes go wide and Harry who heard the entire interaction goes pale in front of you. To the point he looks as though he may actually get sea sick.

"Um, um.." you stutter. Well fuck, how do you explain they're your husbands teeth marks from where he bit your shoulder to conceal his moans while coming inside of you to give you a baby.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe14  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

 // @luv-flor7777  // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown  // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar  // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone //  @goldenkhae // @lntwithharry // @shadowygladiatorlight  // @manifestrry  //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts  // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @stylesmygucci // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

[lady-ashfade]

Always In The Meadow

luke castellan x fem!reader

-£ I’m not even sorry for this

-£ words: 800

-£ warnings: blood, angst, no happy ending, book spoilers, show spoilers, killing, being stabbed, death, shadow & bone reference.

@targaryenluvs don’t hate me

it has been years since you met the troubled new kids to camp. they had survived on their own for months with nothing but each other and you could tell how bad they had it. alone, with only each other when the dark world of monsters tried to hunt you at every chance they got. that was a nightmare. then, they lost one for their own at the top of the hill after her father tried to save her from being killed, turning her into a tree.

but you seemed to get close to them after a while, a boy named Luke became your best friend. you were there when he cried, when he yelled, or when he laughed. his smile was captivating to your eyes, you liked the smile lines showing and how he looked. he was pretty, so pretty. and you were there when he got a dragon scar on his cheek. even comforted him for that too.

where one went the other followed and every camper knew that. you two blossomed together and grew more confident. everything you did was together. you even took annabeth under your wing quickly, you hated how small she was to go threw what she did.

it pained you to never notice his true Intentions.

“was it all acted?” your body grew tired from the fighting you had been doing. your sword held up in front of you with his pushing against yours.

his eyes didn’t look the same. you’ve seen everything he had to offer but this was new. a new man you’ve never seen before.

he pushed back with a groan as you feel onto the ground on your back with a pained expression. you couldn’t win. you’ve been trying for years to win against him but failed every the time. you were too caught up in his expression and handsome face. even now all you could do was admire him.

“no, i didn’t think i would come to this.” he admitted before swinging his sword down only for it to hit the dirt as you roll alway from the attack. you panted heavily and try to stand up before he could do anything else.

lifting your sword up at him. he looked at your pain eyed as blood and dirt covered your face. “you’ll have to kill me.” there was still the hope in side of you that he would stop and come back to your side. that’s all you ever wanted.

“only one of us can leave today,” his chest rosed and fell rapidly with sweat coming from his skin. “i wish it was different.” you both understood what had to happen and a second of peace was standing. looking at each other for one of the last times.

rushing forward you take a swing but he was quick to block, twirling his blade quickly and trying to give a blow back.

he wish he would have stopped, that this wasn’t necessary to happen. you had disarmed him of his blade. he looked up to you, as pretty as he remembers. the cold tip of your weapon pressing against his chin. “don’t make me do this.” you plead.

but you always had a weak spot. every time at camp you let your guard down and each time he’d end up winning. he was quick with it knowing he could stop if he saw your wide eyes look at him. so he grabbed the handle of your sword and onto of your hand to push it up, his knees inching up as his other hand met your abdomen.

you frozen and looked down. the sharp pain appearing after a second of being numb. you saw a dagger in his hands only the shiny part not able to be seen.

“luke?” you whispered as you knees became weak and started to fall back. his arms wrapped around you before you could hit the ground, your weapon falling next to you.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry.” he started to cry and stand above you. his hand now covered into the blood leaking out of you. you grabbed ahold of him weakly.

“don’t let me die, please,” you started to cry yourself and try to stand up but your body wasn’t working with you.

“don’t move, stay still-” his voice crook as he tried to smile down at you, “that’s it beautiful.” he tried to praise you as your body becomes limp. your used your last strength to lift your hand up to his face and cup his cheek.

“meet me in the meadow.” you whispered as the last tear rolled to the side of your face into your hair. He could hear and feel the final breath you took as your heavy eyes shut and hand fell onto your chest.

he cried out and it echoed through the woods. he brought you closer to his chest and cradled you back and forth. his best friend was destined to die at his own hands.

his lips kissed your forehead, “always.”

[hatsukeii]

boxers / timeskip!miya atsumu x reader

genre(s) - slice of life??? friends with endless romantic/sexual tension between them, mutually oblivious pining up until the end, atsumu being a little BITCH :/, reader is so hot btw im saying it now you guys are so hot, hotter than the little BITCH atsumu (ngl i do fw his ass tho...)

warning(s) - suggestive but not nsfw!! atsumu being FUCKING ANNOYING, tiger balm if you get it you get it, and like crude humour which is just my branding atp sooo

wc: 1039

tldr; if you're going to make atsumu fulfil your fashion dreams, you should at least look good, which shouldn't be a problem if the only person judging is atsumu himself.

author's note 1: a man who yearns is a man who earns ;) and sometimes a girl just wants to write yearning men to escape from finals so

"'Tsumu, how does it look?"

You reveal your completely renewed, upgraded, rejuvenated outfit, with Atsumu's boxers peeking through the top of your jeans loosely. Perfect, down to the minute details. Once again, you had graced Atsumu's apartment in the middle of the night, for some redundant reason. Last time, it was to take his carton of eggs. This time, it was to borrow a pair of his boxers, of all things.

"It looks cool. Are we done now?" It looks better than cool, much more than cool encompasses. His favourite pair of boxers (definitely a coincidence) sits lopsided across your waist, your jeans holding them in place. The tie sits around your neck, trailing down your torso atop the half-buttoned, collared shirt. You look much better than cool. You look hot, and that is a problem. So much of a problem that Atsumu is resisting the urge to run up and press both hands against your waist, even tug at the waistband of his boxers. You know, just to adjust them. Like best friends do.

You shake your head boldly, contemplating whether you should drop the idea. But alas, you've come this far, even managing to secure a pair of his boxers. It's all or nothing for your fashion discovery now. You stare back at Atsumu, eyeing him up and down as your heart pounds and you consider your next words very carefully. A confused look greets his face, the same one he's made ever since he was in high school. The look that he makes at you when you offer to visit him and rub tiger balm into his shoulders in the middle of the night, or agree to go to all his volleyball games every single time, no matter the day.

"Can you kiss the collar?"

And that just about does it for Atsumu's fragile constraint. His face flushes instantaneously, a hand shooting up to rub across his mouth, before travelling behind his neck to massage it. You wait for a response, your clasped hands becoming clammier with every stagnant second that passes. A stick of red lip stain sits in your back pocket, all you need now is his green light. The air of his living room becomes a pool of slick oil, impossibly heavy, suffocating.

"Yeah, sure."

Your mind blanks. He was not supposed to say yes. You wanted him to, yes, that did not mean that he should have. However, it is too late to regret your proposition now, as you pull the lip stain from your back pocket and approach him on the couch. He winces at the colour, and your hand reaches to cradle his face, angling it just enough to apply the red all over his lips.

"So glamorous, Atsumu, you should be thanking me."

"Shut up, annoying," you manage to scarcely make out from his attempt to speak without moving his lips. He means that out of love, considering he used to call you annoying for actually showing up to his house to massage his shoulders after each match, nagging at you to get rest and leave his soreness be. All out of love between best friends, you're sure of it.

You let go, giving him free reign of your shirt. He looks up at you, pointing at the pointed collar, and you nod in approval. Risque, exactly what you intend to emulate. Shaking, he grabs ahold of your shirt, pressing a firm kiss into the fabric. You smell of the perfume he bought you in celebration of MSBY's first win. Oakwood, orange peel, vanilla. Of course, it was just returning your favour of offering to visit him in the middle of the night, and massage tiger balm into his shoulder blades for two hours.

He pulls away, taking a look at the shirt. Judging by your peculiar choices of a tie, boxers, and a half-buttoned shirt, this is far from risque enough for your liking. He tugs at your top again, peppering kisses across the hem, and you swear you are ready to drop dead right then and there. Not that he's never kissed you before, eight years of friendship does lead to his occasional kisses on your cheek at parties when the two of you would end up drunk off shitty mixers, or your affectionate kisses at the top of his head after match losses as he sits against changing room lockers. All a part of being best friends with Atsumu Miya. Yet as he continues his assault on your shirt, hands grabbing at the fabric tightly and hair tickling the skin of your neck, for the briefest of moments, you wish that he would bring the kisses up instead of across. Fleeting thoughts, pay no mind.

He stops, looking up at you. The lipstick is smudged across one side of his cheek now, and it takes everything in you not to grab his face, and kiss it off of him. His eyes flicker from your face, to your collar.

"Is this enough?" More than enough. You grab his face anyways, rubbing your thumb across the right side of his cheek with a click of your tongue. What a pity that your lipstick isn't ending up on you instead.

"You know, you look really good right now." You babble out before you can catch yourself, and Atsumu's eyes return to your face, boring holes into your eyes. You release his face, a knot forming in your throat as you register your sudden confession. Atsumu breathes out a chuckle, glancing and tugging at your collar.

"I did a pretty good job too, it's a shame I want it off."

He returns to your face, colour matching his red boxers, and your maroon tie, and finally fulfils your wishes as he brings his kisses upwards to your mouth. The remaining lipstick smudges around your lips as you hold his face, body positioned between his legs and your knee pressing onto the sofa. His arms fall back to prop his body up on the couch, surrending all control to your will. You pull away from him, and he almost sulks at the separation. God, he looks so fucking pathetic, staring up at you as if you're the subject of his waking dreams. He should definitely keep this going.

"Stay over tonight? Please?" He mumbles, nestling his face into your palm the way a cat does to its owner.

"Yeah...yeah, I'd like that."

author's note 2:

head empty, no thoughts, just mike faist in challengers, kissed collar shirts, and yearning men. Sometimes a girl just needs to listen to some 5sos and write about looking pretty in someone's boxers and lipstick stains :) Last happy fic I'll write for now, we're going back to giant bittersweet fics next time, might need to try some other characters from diff animes though...

also! this is a total change of style in how i usually write, i wasn't feeling particularly inspired, just wanted to rot and write to kill time, hopefully it's not too bad because it's definitely not my best work imo mmmmm :/

anyways tags!!

@starlysama @chuuya-brainrot @bailey-reeds @fiannee

ok im gonna go now love u bye bye kids

[jake-g-lockley]

Gentle Sutures (Marc Spector x reader) 

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Wanna be Tagged?

A/N: This story is for my dearest @softieekay thank you for being there for me <3 Warnings: slight hints of past abuse, but the rest is fluffly fluff flufffff

Word count: 1.4k ☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Marc Spector was head over heels in love. He had been standing in one spot for god knows how long, staring at you while you worked. Never in his life was he accustomed to so much calm. If his alter did not sign him up for volunteering, he would have just been sitting at home, sulking as usual. Now all he wanted to do is walk over to you and tuck the beautiful coil of hair that frames your face behind your ear, not that it bothered him, he just wanted to touch you, feel your skin under his fingertips. "It’ll only take a second, auntie." you said, the biggest, most purest smile gracing your face.

Marc grew to love that smile in the past few months travelling around with you. You are a junior resident, always keeping to yourself but you lit up the whole woom whenever you interacted with patients. In the times that he spoke to you, or gained the courage to approach you, he found out that all you wanted in this world was to help people in need. He knew from the way you would treat them, you would definitely become a world class doctor.

Marc watched as your dexterous hands drew blood as quick as ever, even before the patient got a chance to wince.

"Are you a nurse, my dear, your blood drawing technique is excellent! '' the patient exclaimed.

"Oh no, auntie, I am merely a doctor. "You smiled shyly.

"Well, coming from a former nurse, you make an amazing doctor, my dear!" the patient said, taking ahold of your hand.

Marc could tell that you had a faraway look in your eyes, just for a few seconds before snapping out of it and squeezing the patient's hand back. Your eyes suddenly met Marc's as if you knew he was watching and Marc swore his heart nearly stopped when you gave him a small smile.

"Marc, I think it's time for you to walk away and stop gawking at her like a lost pigeon, mate." Steven suddenly said, making Marc blink and turn on his heel comically, almost running into another volunteer.

“That one’s handsome.” your patient tells you as you snickered at the confused army man.

Your eyes widened and you covered it with a gentle scoff.

“I don't date who I work with, auntie." you say sticking a plaster on the patient's arm.

"But you're thinking about it." the patient says with a sing-songy voice. as she gets up and you roll your eyes playfully.

Truth be told, you thought Marc Spector was one of the most interesting human beings you're met. Whenever you had the chance to look into his eyes, you knew he had been through a lot. You felt like you wanted to unlock every single secret behind those eyes but at the same time you wanted to help him forget all of them.

You watched as Marc stumbled around for a while, mumbling to himself. You watched as a little boy toddled up to him and started pulling on his housers. Marc turned and startled himself but knelt down next to the boy and smiled.

You felt something pull at your heartstrings as you watched Marc interact with the boy. Your hand immediately found your necklace as your thoughts dived into your past. You strained hard to keep the thoughts at bay but it only made you tremble. you pulled the chair behind you and slumped on it, the horrible yelling filling your head and ears.

You didn't realise you had your head in your hands and that you were not breathing until you heard your name. You lifted your head and your eyes met big brown ones which were full of concern and worry.

Marc tucked your hair behind your ear and cupped your face in his hands. You found yourself mimicking the breathing he was making you do and soon your heart slowed and you calmed down. You closed your eyes and leaned into Marc's touch as his thumb stocked your cheekbone.

"Sorry, I don't know what came over me. '' You whispered, but Marc was already shaking his head gently.

"You have nothing," Marc's thumb wipes the tear dripping out of your eyes, " to be sorry about.

You sighed and nodded, your hand caressing Marc's hand  that was so ever gently cupping your face.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You looked up at the sky and sighed as you placed your kindle aside. You felt better now, but you kept imagining Marc's beautiful brown eyes calming you down. You breathed in, the salt in the air filling your lungs with warmth. The rhythmic cadence of the waves echoed like gentle sutures, delicately mending the fractures in your tender heart.

"You don't look like the beach kind of person, you know. "A deep Chicago drawl suddenly interrupted your thoughts.

You gasped as you turned to your left, big brown eyes and tanned skin meeting your sight. The eyes widened slightly and the person moved back slightly.

“Sorry, sorry, you scared me for a second. Too stealthy dude!” you chuckled, clutching your chest.

"Force of habit." the army man gives you a gentle smile and scooches closer.

The both of you sit in silence for a while, listening to the sound of the waves and watching the sky print its own masterpiece as the sun sets over the horizon. The silence was comforting, and Marc's presence was more than a warm blanket that you had been expecting all your life.

You were the first to look away from the sunset.

Marc was absolutely stunning in the evening glow. You found yourself smiling at the way the corners of his eyes pinched as he gazed at the view before him. The hook of his nose and his plump lips made the blood rush to your face.

“You done gawking yet, doctor?” Marc smiled and turned to you.

“I was not gawking” you scoff, which made Marc belt out a laugh.

Suddenly, Marc’s hand was on your face. He plucks something from your face and shows it to you.

“Eyelash.” Marc turns his whole body towards you and looks at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “Make a wish, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to just have peace and quiet. Your life has been loud and scary, a little quiet would be all you need to heal. Peace would mend your heart and god knows where you would ever find it, but you wished with all your heart.

With that, you blew and felt warmth fill your heart.

“Hey.” Marc whispered .

You slowly open your eyes to see Marc looking at you with a dopey, boyish look on his face.

“You are an amazing door, you know that?” He says, cupping your face with his left hand, his right reaching for yours that were on your lap. 

“And you're gorgeous.” you swoon, your brain misfiring the second you leaned into his touch.

“Woah, where did that come from?” you say, pulling slightly back, but Marc held you in place.

“You are exceptionally gorgeous too, sweetheart.” Marc quips and gives you the most dazzling smile.

Nothing could have prepared you or Marc for how you reacted next. You leaned in and placed the softest kiss you've given anyone on Marc's lips. You pulled yourself back almost immediately, your hand flying to your lips as you watched a bewildered expression creep up Marc's face. “Oh god Marc, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that, don’t know what’s happening-”

“Shut up and let me do that again” Marc cut your jabbering off instantly.

With a lurch, Marc pressed his lips to yours and you felt your body give way as your hands gripped at his shirt, falling and pulling him down with you. You deepened the kiss and Marc groaned into your mouth. When you both finally broke apart, you were out of breath and Marc pressed soft kisses on your neck until you came to.

“That was …” “Absolutely amazing, just like you.” Marc gazes down at you, admiring the way your hair is splayed around you like a halo and the light of the sunset making your skin glow. Marc lays down next to you pulling you closer to him as the both of you stare into each other’s eyes as if you were searching for something. “What now?” you whispered, your heart preparing itself to hear the worse from Marc. “You don’t need to worry about what is next, my angel, just be in the moment.” Marc’s words curled around your scared heart, encasing it in peace like no other. “I’m glad I found you.” you say, tears forming in your eyes.” “I’m glad I found you too sweetheart.” Reblogs are appreciated ~~ Tagging: @fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @whatsliferightnow @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @alexxavicry @autismsupermusicalassassin @flordelalunas  @euphoricosmo  @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sugarpunch-princess @violet-19999 @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ghostheartbeat @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @britishscum @spookyysilverr @bubblezuku @cookielovesbook-akie @mandoloriancookie @pimosworld @thewintervalkyrie @anonymously35 @nerdreader @marylovesdilfs @jakelockleysdoll @pigeonmama @sarveshishwarishsuta