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im-sleepdeprived · 7 months ago

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do u think u can do a Peter Parker x reader where reader is gone for a while and has her phone off, and Peter gets super scared only to find out she’s alright?? I love ur work u’re the best xx

'No location found'

pairing: peter parker x reader

a/n: thank you for the request !!!! i had this written, then I decided to rewrite it lmao. I pictured college pete but Im not sure if I specified, also not sure if anyone saw my post abt writing a fic inspired by ‘peter’ by taylor swift but i think im going to start working on that and that its gonna be a mini series👀.... so stay tuned and request something in the meantime !!

warnings: none

masterlist, requests are open !!

“That’s not what I said!”

“Oh? Well, that’s what I heard.”

You two had been going at it for a while now. Peter had missed yet another date you’d both planned. It’d been a while since you both spent time together, and you thought he was finally going to change that. Until he just stood you up again.

You’d thought after moving in together, you’d see him all the time. The opposite was true. He was always out, either on patrol, at Stark Tower, or wherever else his Superhero duties took him. The problem was, that place never seemed to be with you.

“Y/N please-”

“No, Peter! I’m sick of it! I try to be understanding, I really do, I try to give you grace, but every time I do it’s like you just make it worse.” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “Honestly at this point, it feels like you don’t even care anymore.”

His face fell. “Come on baby. You can't seriously think that! It was just a mistake, I won't do it again.”

You nodded, “Right. Think I’ve heard that one before.” You turned around and walked towards your shared bedroom.

“Woah, hey. Wait a minute, where’re you going?” His voice was hurt, and you almost felt bad for turning your back.

Shaking your head and looked down at your dress. You’d gotten all dressed up, expecting a nice dinner followed by a walk in the park. You said, “I’m tired, I’m gonna change and get ready for bed. Sorry, but hey, at least now your schedule is freed up,” you gave him a weak smile, “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Y/N you know it’s not like that. Look you’re all dressed up,” he reached for your arm, “we can still go out. Please, let me make it up to you”

Looking into his eyes, it took everything in you to pull away.

“Peter,” you whispered, voice so quiet, yet so full of emotion.

“I don’t want us to fight,” he begged.

'We’re not fighting, not anymore. I just want to be alone.”

“Okay.” He nodded, but still kept his hand on you, reluctant to let go. “I’ll sleep on the couch?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice right now.

He deflated. He wasn’t exactly expecting you to object, but still. It hurt that you wanted to be away from him so bad.

“Good night,” he muttered, watching you walk towards the door with sullen eyes. “I’m right here if you need anything.”

You gave him the tiniest tip of your head, not even bothering to turn around, “Night.”

There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight.

You slept in that day. It was Saturday and you didn’t feel like doing anything. Even after you woke up, you stayed in bed scrolling on your phone, heart pounding a little harder when you saw messages from Peter pop up, before effectively sliding them away.

After a few hours of doomscrolling, you stepped out of the room. You could see a throw blanket neatly folded on the couch, you have no idea if he’d even used a pillow. Your heart thrummed with guilt and you decided that tonight he was definitely sleeping on the bed. Or at the very least, you’d sleep on the couch.

Walking into the kitchen, you noticed a tray with a note sitting atop a covered plate. When you got closer, you saw that the note held a cheesy breakfast pun. So Peter.

I love you a waffle lot! With a bunch of hearts around it. You couldn’t help it, you cracked a smile. He was such a dork. And you loved it.

You heated up your breakfast and had gotten well into eating when your phone started ringing. Was it Peter? You didn’t really want to speak to him, not yet at least. You’d kind of hoped you wouldn’t have to until tonight-

You picked up your phone and almost let out a sigh of relief when you realized it was just one of your friends, Maddie. Then you felt bad for feeling relieved.

You answered the phone. “Hey Mads, how's it going.”

“Hi Y/N! Good! I was just calling to see if you wanted to go out tonight? Listen, before you say no-”

“No that sounds great actually,” you cut her off quickly, eager for an excuse to get out of the house. You’d been canceling plans for way too long in hopes of spending even a moment with Peter, and it seemed as if even your friends had noticed. But no more.

“Really? Great! So there's this raging new club,” she went on, giving you all the details of who was going and who might be there and you listened but barely felt a hint of excitement. You weren’t sure if it was because it was a frat party, and those things rarely appealed to you, or if it was lingering feelings from your argument with Peter. Which reminded you why you’d wanted to go out in the first place.

“We’re gonna pregame at my place though, so stop by here and I’ll take you!” She finished, making you smile. Maddie was always sweet, a little more wild than you, but that’s what made you like her.

“Sure Maddie, thanks for the invite.”

“Of course, can’t wait to see you, I feel like it's been forever since we went out together.”

You let out a small laugh, “I know what you mean. But we’re gonna change that tonight.

You said your goodbyes and hung up. You needed to start getting ready soon, despite you just eating breakfast, you’d stayed in all morning and it was pretty late already.

You got ready quietly, only a playlist you’d turned on droning in the background as you did your hair and makeup. You walked over to the closet to pick out an outfit and felt a little sad. Usually, Peter was here during this part, helping you pick out something, annoying you when he said you looked beautiful in everything.

“Peter! I need real criticism!”

“Well, I can’t help it if my girl looks stunning in everything!”

You picked out a nice outfit you deemed fit for clubbing before grabbing a pair of heels and stepping out of your room. Looking around at the empty apartment you realized you should probably let Peter know you weren’t going to be home tonight. You didn’t feel like calling him though, and if you didn’t want to open his messages from earlier either so you decided to take a page out of his book.

Grabbing a sticky note, you wrote down the briefest of explanations, before sticking it on your fridge and leaving.

He had sent texts saying Good morning!, Do you need anything?, and another explaining he’d be out for a while but he’d made you breakfast, all in hopes of you responding to him. You didn’t, but that wasn’t too shocking to him. It didn’t make it hurt any less though.

He knew he fucked up. He knew he’d disappointed you again, let you down again. He knew he deserved this and more. He should be grateful you weren’t giving him the more. And he was! But he couldn’t help the small selfish part of him that just wished you would let him take you out tonight, or give him something else he could do to make up for it because there was nothing he hated more in the world than when you were mad at him. And he did not want to sleep on the couch again. Sure it was uncomfortable but that was the least of his worries. He hated not sleeping next to you.

That had been his favorite part about the two of you moving into your own place, that he got to hold you every night. After a rough night of patrolling, or working too long on his studies, or a new gadget, he got to go home and hold you, get lost in your touch, and that always made everything better. And it killed him to know you were just down the hall, and he wasn’t with you.

He tried his best to rush everything, trying to get all his work done for the day so he could spend the whole night with you. He was planning a movie night, bingeing all your favorites. He was gonna give you a proper date, soon, but right now, all that mattered was you two spending time together.

On his way home, he stopped at a corner store to grab snacks for the two of you, making sure to get all your favorite ones. He even stopped at a flower shop not far from your apartment to grab you a bouquet and his heart fell when he realized how long it’d been since he’d done this. He definitely deserved the more.

He knocked on the door of your apartment a few times and his heart fell as he realized you were either dead set on ignoring him, or you weren’t home. When he pulled out his keys and let himself in, he realized it was the latter.

Sighing, he set down the bags of snacks and placed the bouquet down as he ran a hand through his hair as he walked around. He entered the kitchen and felt a little better when he saw the dishes he’d used to plate your breakfast were washed and on the drying rack, meaning you’d eaten.

He was about to pull out his phone to see if he’d missed a text from you when he saw something on the fridge.

“Went out. Be home late.”

His brows furrowed as he read. He didn’t know you had plans. Hell, he didn’t even know if you had plans now, your note barely explained anything.

All he could do was wait until you came home to sort everything out.

Peter could handle the silent treatment (barely), but what he couldn't handle, was not knowing if you were safe or not. No. That wouldn’t fly.

He’d sent you a text when he got home, letting you know he got your note and to have fun and be safe.

An hour later, he sent another text. Just as a little check-in. Still no response.

It had been about three hours since he’d gotten back when he noticed that his messages had lost the little mark that indicated they were delivered. Weird.

He tried to call you, he’d refrained from doing so before because he thought he should let you have your space (which was why, he assumed, you’d left in the first place) but it didn’t even ring, he just got sent straight to voicemail.

What made him really start to panic, however, was when he went to check your location, which he felt so stupid for not doing before, and it wouldn’t load. It kept saying ‘no location found’ making his heart beat harder.

This was worse. You were ignoring him, his messages and calls weren’t going through. Something was wrong, was your phone off? Were you mugged? Or even worse-

He stopped himself before he could spiral too hard. That wouldn’t help, right now, he needed to figure out where you were and if you were okay. He knew you weren’t the kind of person who would go out to bars or parties alone. Maybe you went out with a friend? Or maybe you were at a friend's? It was a place to start.

He started calling your friends, people he knew you might go out with, and on the fifth call he finally got answers. Or…something like that.

“Hello?” Maddie yelled into the phone, making Peter pull his phone away.

“Hey Maddie, it’s Peter.”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s dude,” she slurred.

“Yeah, yeah, Y/N’s dude. Hey listen, is she with you? She went out tonight but she forgot to tell me where, and now my messages aren’t sending.” His pulse was racing. It sounded like Maddie was out, if the blaring music in the background was anything to go off of, and he was desperate to know you were okay.

“Sorry Patrick, what’d you say,” she asked making Peter’s brows furrow. They weren’t exactly friends, but he’d met Maddie a few times. Enough times for her to know his name was not Patrick.

He shook his head, that didn’t matter right now. “Y/N. Is she with you, do you go out together?”

“Oh!” She exclaimed as if she’d just remembered something. “Yeah, she is!”

Peter let out a sigh of relief.

“Or, she was.” He held his breath again.

“What do you mean ‘she was’? Where is she?”

“I dunno, she left I think.” Maddie let out a little hum as if to say ‘too bad!’ and Peter was sure she must be extremely intoxicated, otherwise there was no way she could be so casual about something like this. He could barely keep himself together.

He ran a hand over his face as he tried��not to raise his voice. This was getting frustrating. “She left? Where’d she go? Where are you right now?”

“I don’t know…she was bored I think. She was off today. S’shame, she looked so hot.”

His heart clenched when he realized the reason you were off, was because of him. You didn’t have fun, so you left, now he had no idea where you were and it was all his fault.

“Where are you, Maddie?” He repeated.

“That new club on 27th! Get down here Paul, it's so much fun!” She gushed and Peter rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this.

He hung up quickly, not bothering to say goodbye before he got up to put his suit on. He couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you because you were upset and distracted because of him. That you weren't even speaking to him.

There was no way he was going to let anything happen to you.

You were walking outside, up and down the sidewalk. You knew it wasn’t the safest decision but you didn’t really care. The club was stuffy, humid, and way too loud. You just needed to breathe, and then you’d go back. Maybe.

You considered hailing a cab and going back home right now. You’d send Maddie a text, but she probably hadn’t noticed you’d left in the first. She’d been having a blast, unlike you, drinking shots and dancing with every guy she felt like. You weren’t sure she remembered you stopping her to tell her you’d be gone for a bit.

On second thought, you were kind of hungry. You hadn’t eaten anything other than Peter’s waffles for you that morning and there was an amazing smell floating from a food cart at the end of the block. You could help yourself to something before going home.

Before you could reach the food cart, you were flying. Or rather, swinging. You knew who it was right away.

Just as fast as he’d snatched you up, Peter put you down on an isolated rooftop, leaving just you and him high above everyone else.

You were about to reprimand him, about to demand an answer as to why he’d just done that, but there wasn’t a chance before he was pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Pete?” Your voice was soft, you sensed there was something wrong and suddenly any anger or annoyance you held, from now or the night before, disappeared.

“You’re okay,” he mumbled as if that was his way of an answer.

Your brows furrowed. “Well��yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He pulled away then, taking off his mask, and you saw just how terrified he looked, scaring you as well. There might’ve even been a little red rimming his eyes, making you wonder if he was holding back tears. “I came home and I brought snacks and flowers and I thought we could spend the rest of the night together but saw your note. So I texted you and I get that you’re mad at me-”

“I’m not,” you said, and you meant it. You weren’t mad at him, especially right now, seeing him all shaken up like this. “But what's wrong?”

“My texts weren’t delivering, my calls went straight to voicemail, and I couldn’t track your location. Y/N, I got so scared something happened and you weren’t talking to me.” He sniffled and your heart broke a little.

You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, but when you tried to turn it on—dead.

“God sweetheart, never do that to me again. Please.” He looked at you desperately, “Yell at me. Fight with me. But please never ignore me anymore, I can’t stand it.”

“I’m so sorry Petey, I had no idea my phone died. I would’ve said something I swear. I never want you to worry like that.” Your hands went up to hold his face.

He brought a hand to hold your wrist. Gently running his thumb up and down your hand he said, “I always worry about you sweetheart, it’s my job.”

You shook your head, “You worry about all of New York, I don’t need to add on to that.”

“No,” he said quickly, looking offended you’d even say that, “No. Never think like that. You are the most important thing in my life, okay? You’re my first priority and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, that I don’t show that or say it enough.

“But I’m going to do better, I promise. I’m going to make it up to you because I can’t lose you, I need you Y/N.”

You didn’t reply, instead just smashed your lips onto his. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you tight. It was a kiss of forgiveness, of second chances, and new beginnings.

He pulled away first, but not before pressing multiple kisses all around your face. “Heels off baby,” he said as he knelt down and started working on your heel straps, lifting each foot onto his thigh before undoing each one. You didn’t even realize how much they’d been hurting until they were off. “I’m swinging you.” He picked you up swiftly, one arm wrapping itself around your ribs.

You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Peteyyyy. You know the wind tangles my hair too much.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning over to kiss you on the top of your head, “I’ll be careful, c’mon.”

You move your head to peck his cheek and then hug him tight, “I love you.”

He grinned, pulling you in closer. “I love you more sweetheart.” He leaned back and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Hold on tight, Spider Monkey.”

You burst into laughter, “You did not just say that!”

“Oh I totally did,” he gave you the goofiest smile, making you laugh again.

“Ok, just…don’t let me go,” you said as you wrapped your arms tighter around him.

“Never,” he replied, and something in his voice told you he wasn’t just talking about swinging.

2K notes · View notes

rosenclaws · 2 months ago

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Hi again! 👋

I'm throwing another request at ya since you did such an awesome job with the last fic idea I requested. (Thank you again for that)

This time with the OG Logan and all his kitty cat hair glory lol.

The reader has similar powers to scarlet witch. Like telekinetic powers, levitation, etc. Can it be a scenario where she loses connection (like how wanda feels connected to vision) with Logan and thinks that he's dead and she just snaps. The villians who claims they killed him mock her and she pulls the move like wanda did in Endgame where she's like you took everything from me, and the villians don't know who she is and she's like you will and just goes full beast mode on the villians involved.

Bonus, Logans alive, he just was knocked out real bad and sees the whole fight happen and was like wow I love her and they reunite and it ends all fluffy with a kiss, maybe a proposal? Lol 😘

Heartbeat || Logan Howlett x Reader

a/n: This was such a great request and I have to say I really loved writing this. I did. go a little angstier than I thought I would and its darker than I expected it to turn out but I really hope you like it. Your mutant name is firefly. Also. I still haven't seen the movies so I apologize if its not accurate to how the X-Men work or anything im sorry sdakfjl;

warnings: fake out death, violence, blood, killing, angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, the reader goes on a rampage, he calls you honey, reader almost dies, creepy ass villian guy.

wc: 2.3k

"You alright there honey?" Logan's hand gently rests on your shoulder.

You're staring blankly out the jet window, watching the clouds pass by as you ready yourself for what is pretty much a suicide mission. A whole organization that had been hiding underground, dedicated to eradicating mutants.

They've studied you. Planned. They know things, your strengths, your weaknesses. A few people had infiltrated their base and what they found...It made you shiver. Photos and articles and deeply personal information.

They had photos of you and Logan.

It made you paranoid sometimes. Like they were always watching. So you had to put a stop to it as soon as possible. You didn't go on missions often. Your powers were, quite destructive. Powerful yes but not always needed but the X-Men needed everyone they could. You take a deep breath and try to smile convincingly.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Logan snorts and cocks an eyebrow.

"You're lying right through those pretty teeth." There's an air of fear in the jet. You all know what might happen if you don't succeed.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. Promise."

"Yeah they're no match for the Wolverine and Firefly." Scott teases making Logan roll his eyes. Scott just loved messing with Logan, taking any jab he can to lighten the mood.

"Can it bub." He turns his attention back to you, happy to see a small smile on your face. Logan takes your hand and places it on his chest. Your hands glow as you reach deep and feel his heartbeat.

"See?" You take a deep breath as you listen.

Sometimes you got too much into your own head. Your powers were tricky and when you got overwhelmed Logan always knew how to calm you down. The world around you fades as you focus on the beat of his heart. The rise and fall of his chest. He was your rock. The jet jolts and Logan holds onto you as you stumble.

"Think I got time for a quick smoke before we head out?"

"No you do not." Storm walks up to the two of you, she shoos Logan away who reluctantly leaves.

"We're landing in 10 minutes, are you ready Firefly?" You take a deep breath and nod.

You stare at your hands as you little particles of orange start to sprout from your fingers. You had control of your powers most of the time but they were still a work in progress but you knew that this mission was important so you couldn't afford to lose control.

Once the jet lands Scott and Storm tell everyone the plan again. This was for the future of mutant kind and there was a lot at stake. Each of you had a small usb drive that would corrupt and destroy any files still left in their system. Infiltrate and destroy all of their plans.

"Do you feel like pancakes?" Logan asks as you step out of the jet.

"What?" He shrugs and stands a little taller.

"There's this diner, open all night. Thought that after you'd want to get something to eat." You know what he's doing. Trying to make you feel better, to believe that you'll make it out alive. You can't die if you have a plans.

"Sure Logan, pancakes sounds great."

"Then it's a date." Logan heads in the opposite direction of you.

He's part of the brute force while you slip into the shadows. Still it pains you to be away from him. A storm rumbles in the distance and you hurry off to your position, afraid of what was to come. Still you keep going.

This was going to end tonight.

"Shit!" You hiss as a bullet wizzes past you.

Things had went to shit pretty quickly and it's an all out brawl now. With a wave of your hands soldiers go flying to who knows where. You sneak behind one and infiltrate his mind. Using his fears to show you exactly where the main computer was being held. He falls to the ground and you step over him as you sneak inside.

It was getting bad, you could feel it. Feel the tiredness and pain your friends were feeling. The guards fall one by one as you make it to the center console room. Exhaustion was creeping up on you. Your powers exerting every bit of strength you had. Still you knew what had to be done.

You plugged in the usb drive and watched as the system crashes, deleting every single bit of information they could have on the X-Men. Then you slowly envelop the console with your powers, crushing it until there's nothing left. You press your finger to your ear, alerting the team you had wiped their main computer in the comms. There's nothing but static on the other end.

"Guys?" You feel your heart start to race as you run out of the building.

"Hello? Anyone? Storm, Jean, Logan?" Still nothing.

Suddenly you feel this horrible, horrible pit in your chest. You stop in your tracks. Blood running cold as terrible feeling washes over you. Logan. You can't explain it, but somethings wrong.

"Logan!" You plead into your comms for him to respond.

You burst through the doors and back onto the field. Your breath hitching as you see the destruction in front of you. For any normal villain's they would have been nothing in the way of you guys, but these people knew exactly who you were. Exactly how to stop each and every one of you.

It was a losing battle.

Your eyes dart around as you send blast after blast, trying to help but with every move of your hands you feel weaker. Suddenly you hear a loud yell, you turn around to see Logan driving his claws deep into the chest of someone. You feel relieved seeing him still standing.

"Logan!" You call out to him and he looks your way. There's blood splattered all over his face and he looks worried. He runs towards you as fast as he could go.

"Get down!" He roars.

BANG

It all happens so slowly.

You look to your side to see a man with a gun aimed right at you. The exhaustion plagues your brain as you react too late. You see Logan running at you. A desperate look in his face as he jumps at you. You hit the ground and so does Logan. He rolls away and lays still. To your horror there's a bullet right in his forehead.

"Logan!" You screech.

You scramble to his side. He's not getting up. Why is he not getting up? He heals. He should be fine. His healing factor should have kicked in so why isn't he getting up. You reach out to him but someone grabs your leg before you can. Your hands dig into the ground as you're yanked back. Dragged to the center of the field.

"Get the fuck off me!" You kick your feet and scream loudly.

Your hands glow but you're face is shoved to the ground, a foot on your neck slowly stopping the air from entering your lungs. You can feel your strength draining. You try and use your powers but you can't.

"He's dead sweetheart. Think we don't know about that neat little regeneration of his?" The man above you laughs and you start to feel sick.

"We're not fucking stupid." He takes his foot off your neck and you gasp for air. He reaches down and grabs you by the neck, forcing you to turn and look at Logan.

"Where's that healing of his now?" Logan remains unmoving, you try and reach out to him. Using any bit of your power to search for him but nothing. You can't feel anything. Tears start to fall as you let out an anguished cry.

"I thought you were supposed to be strong? We heard so much about you and now look at you." He lets go of your neck and you crawl to your knees. Clutching your chest as sobs wrack your body.

"Don't worry though," You hear a gun cock behind you.

"It'll be over soon. Go ahead and say hi to your little boyfriend for us."

You look up at him and feel nothing but an overwhelming amount of pure rage. How fucking dare they. They threatened your life, your friends, your world. They took your peace. They took Logan. The love of your life, he died saving you. Your hands glow bright orange, your chest heaving as you glare at the man standing in front of you.

"Oh look at that, looks like you can do something." He sneers. You chuckle darkly. Tilting your head to the side you smile. Your eyes start to glow as you become strangely calm.

"You took everything from me...So I'm going to take it all from you." You scream as a large wave of energy bursts from your body.

A wave knocking back everyone in your radius including your team. The line of friend and foe blur as you go on a rampage. Disposing of anyone who came after you with ease.

"Firefly!" Storm calls out to you, you were becoming uncontrollable. No one can even get near you. Jean tries to get into your head but you block her out.

No one can get to you now.

They took him from you and you were going to make him pay. You stalk to the ones that were foolish enough to stay. Though they were crawling away now, pleading for mercy. It almost makes you laugh. They were showing no mercy when they planned to eradicate you and your friends. Why would you show them any now?

"That's enough!" Scott fires a beam to stop you in your tracks.

"They're surrendering." He reaches out to you but you push him away.

"I don't care." You snarl. You raise your hand and lift the stragglers up in the air. You're about to slam them to the ground but someone grabs onto your wrist.

"Stop!" The grip is tight as they spin you around. The glow in your eyes fade as you take in who stands in front of you.

"Logan?" You whisper. You try and shake your hand free but he doesn't budge.

"Let them go, honey." He says gently.

"They tried to kill you." You feel the fire come back but Logan does everything he can to calm it.

"But they didn't. They can't hurt us anymore." Still you don't move. He loosens the grip on your hand, taking your other hand and placing it on his chest.

"I'm alive, just feel." Slowly you lower your hand, softly letting the men fall as the rest of the team deal with them as you collapse into Logan's arms.

"I thought you were dead!” You cried. You rest your head against his chest, hand still gripping his suit.

“You weren’t moving and I, I couldn’t feel you.” He cradles the back of your head and holds you tight.

“I’m so sorry I scared you honey, I’m alive. Just knocked out for a little bit.” Logan feels horrible.

Maybe if he had been a little quicker you both would be okay and you wouldn’t have had to deal with any of that. He grabs your face and kisses you with an intensity you've never felt. It's sloppy and desperate but full of life. He's alive. He's telling you that he's alive.

When you pull apart there's still tears streaming down your face. Still so overwhelmed from everything. He lets you cry into his chest as he soothes you. Wiping away the tears as they come.

"I love you so much." He whispers so only you can hear.

The rest of the team watch but don’t say a word. Letting the two of you sit there as long as you need. Soon your tears dry up but you don’t let go of Logan.

It’s a quiet walk to the jet. Everyone is absolutely drained. You lean on Logan's shoulder as he draws shapes on your thigh with his thumb. Your hand rests on his wrist, pressing into his pulse just to make sure he's still breathing.

"Pancakes." You say quietly. Logan looks over in slight confusion.

"Huh?"

"You promised me pancakes," You crack a tired smile.

Logan stares at you for a moment before laughing in disbelief. The weight of what happened finally catching up to him. How close he was to losing it all, how close you were to complete destruction. The toll it's taken on everyone in the jet. The last thing on anyone's mind mind should be doing anything other than sleeping for a week yet pancakes feel like the best fucking idea ever.

"Yeah we can get pancakes honey, as many as you want." He kisses your forehead and places his chin on your head.

"With chocolate chips?" You ask playfully.

"I'll make 'em put in extra. Just for you." You hum happily as you lean in closer to him.

It's still a long flight back and one by one everyone starts to fall asleep. Soon it's just the rumbling of the plane. You look up to see Logan has fallen asleep, you watch his chest rise and fall. Just for a little bit.

He grumbles in his sleep, twitching slightly. There's a scowl on his face as he starts to shift more. Quietly you tap your fingers against his head, taking away his nightmares. He stops moving, relaxing under your touch. You smile softly as you slide your hand down to his chest.

Closing your eyes you feel his heart again. In the back of your mind swirls the horrible memories of today but you choose to ignore them for now. You close your eyes and allow yourself to rest. The steady beat of his heart acting as the perfect lullaby.

Just a steady reminder that everythings okay, there's nothing to fear anymore.

Thump

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine #logan howlett angst

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d0rothydraws · 3 months ago

Text

Reader gets attacked on the way home from work late at night.

content: f!reader, violence, possessiveness, murder, blood, after care, fingering, sweet talk, sex.

w/c: 2.2k

Ao3: Here

a/n: I have like 3 other fics im working on, one being where he helps you on your period but apparently thats too soft for my brain because it told me that I needed to write something where Sylus kills for you because I wanted to feel something. Please read the content descriptions, If you aren't comfortable with violence, you can skip to after the break.

It was late, work went longer than expected and you were exhausted. Usually, Sylus would pick you up when it was this late but he had what he called a "non negotiable meeting". He offered to have Luke or Kieran pick you up or order a ride but you refused, stubborn as ever. You were a capable hunter, and besides you've done this walk hundreds of times before. Though, even yet, if Sylus couldn't be there, he did everything in his power to make sure you were safe.

The sound of the mechanical bird's wings was loud in your ears as Mephisto landed on your shoulder, Its eyes shining in the dark, almost like Sylus' himself. "You were waiting." You mumbled as you turned the corner to set off on your journey. Mephisto just turned its head slightly, ruffling its feathers.

A few minutes passed and you heard footsteps behind you. Your shoulders tensed as you put a hand on your gun. You weren't sure what happened, it happened so fast as the steps grew louder, faster. More steps than you could count. An ambush. Your body moved on its own as you turned to try and shoot at one of the men, at any of them. Your gun going off as your body hit the ground. Mephisto flew at them, his razor sharp beak aiming at their eyes. While he did manage to harm one of the attackers, the other two were still surrounding you as the third slapped the crow away.

"What's a pretty little thing doing out this late." One of the men said, pulling a knife out as they watched you try to reach your gun that was just out of arm's reach. Before you could grab your backup plan, the smaller gun Sylus had given you for emergencies, the second man stepped on your hand, making you scream in pain as you were immobilized.

"Eat shit." You hissed, not giving up the fight as you squirmed under them, trying to throw them off of you as the one holding the knife straddled your hips. You spit at him, and in return, he grabbed your jaw. His other hand held the knife against your throat. You refused to show the fear in your eyes as you felt the steel kiss your skin.

"You're too pretty to be using words like that, princess." The man spit. You tried to throw him off of you but the knife pressed harder into your neck. "Keep going and you won't be saying anything soon."

"That fuckin bird got my eye boss! Can't see shit." The third man said, trying to cover his eye to stop the bleeding. The second man spoke up in a mocking tone. "Suck it up, you got another one don't ya? Anyways, ya won't need to see in order to hear the sounds she's gonna make when we-"

The alley filled with black and red smoke. Your heart raced as you heard the sound of Mephisto, and then- "You should know better than to touch what isn't yours." Sylus said calmly, appearing through the smoke as the red and black coils snaked around the men's necks, lifting them in the air. You couldn't move, your body felt paralyzed from the attack. You could only lay there as you watched Sylus approach as the men were raised higher and higher. He looked calm but there was an anger behind those eyes, a fury. Your heart raced, the sounds of the three men that attacked you background noise as your eyes locked with Sylus. Slowly he leaned down to help you up, his touch gentle yet you could feel how tense he was.

One by one the men fell from the sky, each tendril releasing them one by one. As each of the bodies fell from extreme heights, their cries were silenced on impact. Falling to their death efficiently. You didn't see the bodies, barely heard the sound, as Sylus pulled you into his chest, blinding you from the event. You could hear his heart racing, his lips against your ear to cover the sound behind you. "I'm sorry I took so long, sweetie." He said, his voice tense as he rubbed your back slowly as if checking for injuries. "Let's get you cleaned up." He muttered as the coils wrapped around the both of you. It felt surprisingly warm, like a warm gust of summer air. In moments it was as if you were flying, being guided across the city and through the N109 Zone back to his home.

▬ ♦ ▬ ♦ ▬ ♦ ▬

The night was a blur, you felt numb, mentally and physically. Sylus didn't say too much, there was a look in his eye that you have never seen before. His touches were soft as he helped bathe you, cleaning the grime and dirt off of you, paying extra attention to the areas that the men touched as if to replace the memory.

After you were clean, he helped change you. A fresh set of soft pajamas, your favorite cozy fluffy socks to add to it. Slowly, he lead you to the bed. The smell of him filling your senses as you laid down. The images of tonight filled your mind, the faces of the men. How fast everything happened. The feeling of that knife against your throat. Your heart started beating faster as your body tensed slightly.

Strong arms wrapped around you, settling behind you on the bed as he pulled you close against him. He tangled his legs with yours as his hands gently rubbed circles against your skin. His lips against your ear as his words cleared your mind like a prayer.

"It's ok. Nobody will ever touch you again, you're mine. And I'll make sure of that." He whispered, his words sincere as he kissed your ear. "I'll make you forget everything that happened today." He said as his hand dipped under the band of your pajama pants trailing the curve of your hip.

You felt your mind start to melt as you focused on his words, his touch. The smell of sandalwood and bourbon against your nose as the feeling of his hand made you shiver. You felt like you were in his embrace for hours as he whispered into your ear, his hand teasing and grazing your skin gently but with purpose.

His other hand moved under your shirt, trailing up until he reached your chest. Slowly, he rolled one of your nipples between his fingers. His lips moved to your neck, kissing the skin softly before nipping, leaving small red marks down to your shoulder. His hand dipped under the band of your underwear, pads of his fingers brushing against the wetness between your thighs. You gasped softly, a hand moving around to curl into his hair, pulling his lips closer into your skin where he purred in approval.

"That's it kitten, feel every bit of what I do to you." He whispered, voice hot from the feeling of your hand in his hair. "You're doing so well, I love how you shiver when I touch you like this." He said as a finger pushed inside you slowly. Your eyes rolled back as you arched against the hand, moving your hips slightly only for his legs to tighten more, still tangled in yours. "Shh, relax. Don't rush, just enjoy it sweetie."

You felt your body tingle at each touch, each word he spoke into your ear. Your moans became louder, a second finger, and then a third thrusting into you at a slow, deep pace. You gasped his name softly, feeling your core tighten as his thumb brushed against your clit. "That's it sweetie, say my name." His voice practically vibrated in his chest, the praise making you clench around the fingers, earning a soft sound of his own pleasure from him. You could feel how this was affecting him against your back. His pants tight from his cock straining the seam.

You couldn't take it anymore, the feeling of him overwhelmed you. Your body clenched around his hand harder, pulling him closer as his thumb pressed against your clit, the friction much needed as your body tensed, a soft cry of pleasure erupting from your throat as you arched back against his chest.

Gently he pulled his fingers from you and to his lips as he tasted you. A low sound rumbled in his throat at your taste. "You always taste incredible, kitten." He said, his hands wrapping around you again, pulling you close as he nuzzled into your neck.

Your heart pounded, body craving more. You figured he didn't want to push you, considering tonight's events, wanting to focus on what you needed. But what you needed was him. You moved a hand behind you, finding the bulge that had been growing against your back since his touches began. He inhaled a sharp breath, slightly tensing before a soft chuckle tickled your ear. "Are you sure you aren't too tired? Tonight is about you." He said but didn't pull your hand away as you palmed him through his pants making him groan. You turned your body, facing him as you kept one hand on him, feeling him twitch under your hand and the other curled in his hair again. Your lips brushed against his.

"The only thing I want tonight is you." You breathed against his lips before kissing him. In an instant his hands were on you again, his body over you as he returned the kiss. It was slow, passionate. Usually his kisses were rough, fast. But tonight was different. Tonight he could have lost you. And it would have been his fault. He felt emotions he had never felt before as he moved your hands gently away from him, holding your wrists loosely with one hand as he pulled your pants down with the other. You helped kick them off once they got low enough. Pulling back from the kiss as you looked up at him.

After a few more minutes, touches and kisses, his own pants were discarded. He moved your legs onto his shoulders as your body was pulled down the bed, closer to him as he teased your entrance with his cock. You both moaned, shivering at the feeling as you looked up at him. You didn't need to beg, not tonight. He needed it just as much as you.

You felt him enter you, inch by inch as he stretched you. You felt every nerve in your body shoot with that sweet feeling. The stretch of his cock made your mouth open in a needy cry. His eyes watching your face, your reaction to him. It never grew old, seeing you shake in pleasure before he even began. He turned his head, leaving kisses on your calf and knee as his grip tightened around your thighs.

As he began to move your eyes closed, consumed by the pleasure of him. "I wish I could stay like this forever." You moaned, not even thinking as you said it. You didn't care, he felt too good and honestly, your words held truth. He chuckled slightly, the sound strained as he groaned in pleasure as you clenched around him. You felt him twitch inside you at your words, his thrusts getting slightly rougher.

"Keep talking like that kitten and I just might." He said, his voice rough as he lifted your hips slightly, thrusting down into you deeper. You cried out, hands moving to claw the bedsheets. "Seeing you moan under me, all needy. So wet and desperate for me. All mine." He purred as his thrusts got more irregular. Your heart pounded as you heard his words, your mind racing with thoughts and imagery that nearly pushed you over the edge.

His hand moved between your thighs, brushing against your clit again as he kissed your leg again, looking down at you. A thin layer of sweat was on his forehead, his hair clinging to the area. His face was blushed, his eyes glossy and lips parted and swollen. You looked up at him, taking in the sight of him.

You felt him release deep inside you, the feeling sent you over the edge as he fucked you through both of your orgasms. The sound of heavy breath filled the room as he slowly pulled out, your legs feeling numb as he gently laid them down as he climbed back beside you, pulling you into his arms.

His kisses peppered your skin, his hands held you close as he felt you relax against his chest. After a while he would help clean you up again, but for now he wanted to cherish this time with you. There was no rush. And tomorrow? Tomorrow was reserved for him to pamper you no matter what you wanted. He felt guilty for letting what happened happen tonight. He would never tell you, he knew you would know from the extra displays of gifts and affection. But nonetheless, he vowed to never let anything like that happen ever again.

No matter what.

#sylus #love and deepspace #lads #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #l&ds #l&ds sylus #l&ds x reader #smut #sylusposting

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libingan · 4 months ago

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im actually so fuckign exhausted yall. i spend 1hr and 30 minutes traveling to my college only for the fuckin professor to talk for five minutes

im done. i hate college.

anw, this is bimbofication w price x fem! reader

every detail in your life had been meticulously planned. you’d once been known as the brilliant strategist in your company, always thinking five steps ahead. but with that sharp mind came a constant stream of stress—late nights, deadlines, and an ever-growing burden that threatened to swallow you whole. then, john price entered your life.

john was everything you never knew you needed. his presence was calming, his touch gentle, and his words reassuring. he quickly became the anchor you clung to, offering you something you hadn't realized you'd been missing: a chance to let go.

he made it easy, too. "you don't have to think, love. let me do that for you," he'd say, his voice warm and full of promise. gradually, the stress began to melt away. you quit your job, stopped worrying about decisions, and let john take care of everything. he made sure of it.

now, your days are filled with relaxation and mindless entertainment. you're his pretty little doll, and you couldn't be happier. no more complex thoughts or worries—just simple pleasures and the warmth of john's love.

this evening is no different. you're lounging on the couch, playing a word game on your phone. the letters swirl together in your mind, forming simple words. it’s almost instinctual; you're not really thinking, just passing the time until john comes home.

you hear the door open, and your heart flutters with excitement. you don’t even bother looking up, too focused on the game as the familiar sound of his footsteps grows nearer. he comes up behind you, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

"are you thinking again, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice a low, affectionate rumble. you can feel his breath against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "you know daddy doesn’t like it when you do."

you pause, suddenly feeling a little guilty. you know better than to let your mind wander too much. "just a word game, daddy," you mumble, setting your phone aside. you look up at him, your eyes wide and apologetic.

his clicks his tongue, and he reaches out to gently cup your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "yes, a word game. you need your brain for that, baby girl."

a small pout tugs at your lips and when john holds out his hand, you reluctantly place your phone on his hand.

“atta girl,” he murmurs, placing your phone on the coffee table.

john circles his arms around your waist, pulling you to his lap, your back pressed up against his chest. “do i have to empty out that pretty little head of yours, sweet thing?” he whispers, low and sultry. you shudder at his tone, feeling that familiar rush of heat burst through your veins.

he chuckles at your reaction, hands roaming down your body, lightly squeezing your tits before traveling further below. once his hands were at your lap, he gently pulls your thighs apart. “gonna be good for me, sweet girl?”

his words alone send a spark of arousal down to your core, a small whine escaping your lips as you nod.

john leans in, kissing the spot behind your ear. he hooks one hand under your thigh, pulling it up to your chest, your skirt hiking up to expose your bare cunt to the air.

“no panties? dirty girl.” he mutters, his free hand inching closer to your pussy, two fingers finding their way to your clit and pinching down hard.

“ah—!” you gasp, legs instinctively shutting. john tuts, keeping your right thigh help up firmly to your chest. “behave yourself, doll.”

a small, high-pitched whimper escapes you as you try to ease your muscles.

“there we go,” he chuckles, “good girl.” john’s fingers release your clit, sliding down to push your lips apart. “daddy’s gonna help you, okay? make sure not a single thought comes into your dumb little head ever again.”

john’s fingers gently pad against the sensitive nub, rubbing slow, teasing circles against it. a low moan escapes you, eyes fluttering shut. your head tips back, falling on to john’s shoulder.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” he lovingly coos, a small smile forming on his lips as your hips buck against his hand. “my pretty girl,” he says, “only need to think about looking good and feeling good. isn’t that right, baby?”

just as you were about to respond, john fastens the pace of his hands, pressing down harder on your clit, massaging the swollen nub with newfound fervor.

“a-ah—! oh! daddy! f-feels s’good!” you cry out, already feeling that familiar sensation in your belly.

you’re close. so close.

“oh, i know that look,” john pipes up, his voice taking a more teasing tone. “go on, sweet thing. cum for daddy.”

he gathers the slickness from your cunt, dragging it back up to your clit, continuing his unrelenting pace. the lack of frictions makes your toes curl, hands flying back to grasp at john’s back.

however, just before you could finally go over the point of no return, john pulls his fingers away, eliciting a loud, resounding “no!” from you, hips desperately chasing after that delicious feeling.

you hear john chuckle darkly from behind your, pulling your skirt back down before easily lifting you up.

“daddy…?”

“you were thinking without my permission, baby. daddy needs to remind you who’s in charge here.”

#call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod #cod mwii #cod x reader #call of duty smut #john price x reader smut #john price x fem reader #cod mw2 price #john price smut #cod mw price #john price x reader #john price x fem reader smut #x fem reader #x female reader #john price

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irndad · 2 years ago

Note

hi im back! okey so def can see spencer still wanting to hug and snuggle with you even when fighting or mad at each other. he even gets genuinely ??? confused ??? when you try to sleep on the couch instead of in bed at night. he holds you and either reader or him is like "i know we are snuggling right now but i am still super pissed off at you." lol i can just see it. he may be petty when mad but he wont stop trying to touch you bc its a biological need of his and no argument is more important than needing you 🥺

enjoy this I did it very fast!!!! ily

He knows he’s not easy to be with sometimes. She would never say it, but it’s true. He doesn’t always get the jokes, sometimes pushes things too far and without even knowing it the ground gets pulled out from under him.

And sleep- Sleep is so complicated. The memory of the first time she slept in his bed is etched into a place he could never erase. Spencer had always had trouble sleeping, either fear or alertness plaguing him into the late hours of the night. He used to lie awake, the kind of exhausted that feels like it’s seeping out of your bones, while constantly facts he’d unwittingly memorized about how sleep deprivation can cause brain damage.

But then she’d come into his life. All soft words and gentle disposition, and there really is something magic about the way that everything just dissipates when her warm, soft body curves into his own. He’s slept well almost every night since.

Except today, she isn’t coming to bed.

It’s his fault, and he knows it. He wasn’t being fair. She hadn’t seen him for two weeks (and he hadn’t slept nearly enough without the weight of her form beside him since the last time he saw her) and she’d said that she wanted to be prioritized more.

“I haven’t seen you in weeks, Spence!”

His head was killing him. Was it actually possible, for a headache to kill you? Her voice is audibly upset, and it’s alarming how he could be the cause of it.

“Please,” he had said through labored effort, “Can we talk about this later?”

“When would you like to talk about it? Because I don’t ever know if you’re leaving-“

“Do you even know what it is that I do? That it’s not a choice for me to go? I have to do this. I can’t pick and choose and honestly, I don’t want to. If you don’t get that, we’re not doing what I thought we were doing.”

It sounds foreign, his own voice. And it’s after he’s said it that the sick taste reaches his throat because oh, that means the end. Her lovely face is unreadable for a brief moment, before something like grief splays over her expression.

It’s silent for a beat, and Spencer wishes he could swallow the words back up, rewind his life like a battered VHS tape where he’s not so stupid to mess up the one thing that’s ever brought him peace.

“You’re not yourself, Spencer. I’m gonna give you a minute.”

A minute, it turns out, is hours in the living room. She hadn’t left, thank fucking god, but she hadn’t come back. Of course she hadn’t. She wasn’t the one who needed to apologize.

He’s just so tired.

He thinks of her so-sweet voice, the curve of cheek- the junction of her neck and shoulder, and how much he would like to have her pressed against him. He pads out into the living room like a nervous puppy, and sees her sleeping on the olive green couch she had picked out. Her hair was splayed across the arm of the sofa, and her head laid on a throw pillow, their fuzziest blanket draped across her form.

His first thought is how low he’s dropped, that he’s jealous of a blanket.

His second his that she is not coming to bed. He sits beside her gingerly, and the scent of her body wash lingers in the air.

“Are you planning on coming to bed?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” He can tell she wants to sound cold, but the truth is much worse; she sounds guarded.

“I always want you to.” It’s the most honest thing he’s said today, and it’s just not fair, how much he revolves around her. How he has waited 14 days, 13 hours and 34 minutes to hold her again and managed to ruin it within the first 20 minutes of having seen her again. He grabs her hand, soft and pliant against his in a way that almost makes his heart leap. “Please? Come to bed?”

Her gaze softens, the warmth and light that guides him back in her eyes, and he hopes his relief isn’t too visible. It’s then that she drinks him in. It feels too revealing like she can see right through him. His clothes are old. He’d rushed off the jet to see her, and the half moon circles under his eyes only lend to the unimpressive picture of himself.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes, touching the side of his face. He instantly leans into it, the contact more than he’d be willing to give up to save his dignity. “Come here.”

She wraps her arms around him, and he pulls her into his lap, squeezing her tight to his chest, like she might disappear.

“I’m still mad at you,” she says, looking at him with such affection it betrays her words.

“That’s okay,” he says into her collarbone, “As long as I still have you.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic

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01zfan · 1 year ago

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bad idea, right? | s.es

ex!eunseok x reader | 6.4k words

inspired by the song bad idea, right by olivia rodrigo.

contains: drinking (reader is tipsy at most), slightly toxic relationship, randomly put in other idols for some good ole world building, cunnilingus (fem. receiving), missionary, a lil crying.

you look at the text on your phone, contemplating all the decisions that have led you to this moment.

im outside.

it started out as a normal night. you went out with your two friends to a local dive bar you recently started to frequent. but just before the last call your friend showed a text of a party near you that was “lit”. you had planned to leave this with your friends at beginning of the night. your plans quickly changed after your third shot at the party. from that moment on you were texting your ex, eunseok.

the worst part is that you had been so good about no contact. the night of the breakup you laid in your bed with tear stains on your pillow and cheeks. you had told him that you guys would remain friends but you realized that you would never be able to move on unless you cut him from your life completely. so you blocked him on every social media platform and then deleted and blocked his number as well. the solution was to not even give yourself the option to reach out to him and not let him even try to speak a word to you. you would see him occasionally due to overlapping friend groups but you were so good at pretending he wasn’t there. unfortunately, tonight was the night you folded.

the music at the house party wasn’t overbearing, but the alcohol was making you irritable.

“can they turn the music down?” you yelled into yunjin’s ear.

“i can’t hear you!” yunjin yelled back.

“can i have another shot?” you yelled at giselle this time, who had a vice grip on a bottle of vodka. when giselle looked at you with confusion you pointed at the bottle of vodka then pointed at your red solo cup.

“i think you’ve had enough to drink.” giselle laughs. you look to yunjin for support but she nods in agreement with giselle. ever since the breakup, you often found yourself in the position of being their de facto daughter. the pair had always doted on you, but you always credited that to them being two years your senior. when eunseok broke your heart (or you broke his) this increased their maternal instinct to protect you.

“i’m literally going through a breakup and you wont give me a shot?” you put on your best betrayal act to efforts to bum alcohol off your responsible friends. both yunjin and giselle laugh.

“you and eunseok broke up months ago” giselle says.

“you tend to bring him up only when you’re drunk so i’m actually starting to think the alcohol has a reverse effect.” yunjin says. giselle’s eyes light up at the realization.

“wait that’s actually true! you never talk about him any other time.” giselle agreed.

you quickly realize this conversation isn’t going in your favor. so you pull out all the stops and become the most dramatic version of yourself. you point the red solo cup towards giselle, shaking like a leaf. you paint your face with a look of dread, like you are dying of dehydration.

“need…..alcohol” you say in a fake raspy voice. giselle playfully narrows her eyes.

“okay but this is the last shot. for all of us.” giselle is pouring a little bit into all of your cups. you three clink the plastic cups together and swiftly take it.

almost immediately after that shot your mind started tormenting you with flashbacks. eunseok having your legs spread while he felt you up everywhere. being bent over the kitchen counter completely at his mercy. feeling his big hand press on the small of your back. how he used to have you like a folding chair taking it all. you tried hard to push down the thoughts but you swear you could hear him over your shoulder calling you a good girl before you sat down on a barstool. giselle and yunjin look at you.

“everything alright, buddy?” yunjin says slowly, already knowing what you’re gonna say.

“i’m dizzy.” you confess. and it was the absolute truth. flashbacks of being with eunseok made you realize that you were starved in every sense of the word, nearly knocking you off balance. you swayed a little bit and giselle grabbed your arm.

“okay i think it’s time to call it a night!” giselle giggled as she held on to you, also a bit tipsy.

giselle and yunjin left with you in tow. walking in front of you, leading you through the crowd. you made sure that they couldn’t see you pull out your phone. your tipsy fingers worked quickly texting a number you knew you shouldn’t have memorized.

heyyy

once outside the cold air sobered you up enough to the point that you made a plan. the first step of the plan was to be sent home in an car alone.

“i don’t want you guys to stop having fun because of me.” you say, turning towards giselle and yunjin.

“the party was getting boring anyways. i just want to go home and watch some tv at this point” giselle says looking at her phone. you assumed she was looking at prices to get home. “are you cool with spending the night at our place?”

before you could answer you felt your phone vibrate. someone was calling you.

you unfortunately already knew where you were going to be tonight. you just couldn’t let your friends find out.

“i want to go home honestly. in my own bed.” you said stretching your arms out and yawn.

“are you sure that’s even safe? you drank alot tonight.” yunjin says.

“yuqi is already up around this time, if i need help she will be there for me. besides the amount of alcohol i drank was like super spread out over the night.”

yunjin and giselle look to one another. time to pull out the trump card.

“i feel like ever since me and eunseok broke up you guys treat me like i’m a baby. i’m an adult i can make my own decisions.”

after saying that, you can see the faces of yunjin and giselle change. you know that they also want to be alone without you tagging along, sticking to their side like a child.

“it’s only because you’re drunk, that’s why.” yunjin says.

“the cold air is sobering me up. and i’m going to bed immediately once i lay down.”

yunjin and giselle debate on what to say. before they can come to an agreement, a car comes and stops on the curb. it waits in front of the house.

your phone has since stopped ringing, instead you get a small vibration indicating a text message. you quickly take a glance at your phone to see what it says.

black rolls royce phantom license plate cvent1

call me when you get in.

you look towards the car parked on the curb. you’re certain that it’s the car eunseok sent you based on the description.

“my ride is here” you say meekly, knowing what reaction you are going to get. yunjin and giselle look at you confused and flustered.

“when did you call a ride?” giselle asks.

“why didn’t you tell us?” yunjin sounds angry.

“yuqi called it for me, she said she owes me from last time we went out drinking.” you say, rubbing the back of your head.

you are impressed at how quickly you came up with the lie, since you are quite flustered as well. how did he know where you were? where was this car going to take you? you had so many questions but you had to seem confident that you were going home, or else they were going to tag along.

“i told you i’m fine, yuqi is going to be waiting for me outside and everything.” you assure your friends.

“okay, fine.” yunjin gives up trying to debate with you.

“text us when you get home.” giselle points at you, trying to be as authoritative as possible.

“i will. i love you guys.” you go over to yunjin and giselle to give them hugs.

“love you too bae.” yunjin says giving you a hug.

giselle gives you a hug before opening the car door for you. you make sure the door is closed before the driver says “ride for eunseok?” you nod your head and roll down the window.

“i’ll text you guys when i get home!” you shout to your friends as the car drives off.

“make sure you drink water!” yunjin yells as you drive off.

you roll up the window and click on the notification of the missed call. you expect it to keep ringing, to leave you hanging the way you left him hanging.

it can’t even get through the first ring.

“hey. are you in the car?”

you can’t say anything back. it has been so long since you’ve heard his voice. since it’s been directed at you. your nails instinctively dig into your thigh, trying to use the pain to bring you back on this plane of existence.

“hey.”

silence. you forgot to answer his question

“yes i’m in the car.”

“alright,” eunseok says and pauses for a moment. “it’s taking you home.”

“what? i thought it was bringing me to your place?” you say a little louder than you thought. the driver looks up at the rear view mirror to look at you.

“do yunjin and giselle know who called that cab for you?”

god, you hated him so much. the smile you could hear in his voice. the way he already knew you were lying to them.

“they think yuqi called it.”

“they think yuqi sent you a rolls royce?”

“they don’t know cars, eunseok.”

you can hear a sigh on the other end of the line. you wonder what he’s wearing. if he’s wearing pants that hugged his legs in all the right places. or that navy hoodie that was a little too big, showing off the area surrounding his neck. you think about sweatpants drifting a little too low, that would give you the slightest peak at his body

“what are you thinking about?”

“what are you wearing?” you try to whisper so the poor driver isn’t subjected to your suggestive thoughts you say out loud.

eunseok laughs on the other end of the line.

“how much have you had to drink?”

“i had a few but over the course of the night. i’m not plastered.”

another long bout of silence. you start thinking about yunjin and giselle’s disappointed faces when your lies eventually catch up to you. they aren’t directly friends with yuqi, but all it takes is one conversation to reveal the truth. or they could be worried that you got into a car you thought was for you.

“was it a bad idea to call you?” you say. you play with the hem of your dress.

more silence.

“well, can’t two people reconnect?”

you try to not let your smile change your tone. you grab the end of your dress, wrinkling the fabric.

“can you make this car go towards your place?”

“it already is.”

“you’re such an ass.” you groan into the phone. he was too good at playing you.

“text me when you get here. i’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

after the driver leaves you in front of the building you sent the text. you go to the door and try to punch in the code from muscle memory but nothing happens. instead you opt to sit on the steps, trying to calculate when would be the appropriate time to text your friends you made it home safe.

your thoughts are interrupted by the front door of the building opening. you look behind you and see eunseok staring back at you. you quickly stand up.

you two stand like that for a moment, staring like deers caught in the headlights. eunseok is the first to compose himself.

“pretty dress.” he says after looking you up and down. he walks back into the building holding the door open for you.

the two of you are now in the lobby, trying not to make too much noise. you walk down the narrow hallways of the lobby, muscle memory taking you towards the elevator.

“it’s out of service, princess.” eunseok used your old nickname and you stopped dead in your tracks. you turn around nonchalantly but just hearing that nickname has you ready to jump him in the small hallway.

“you live like five floors up.” you groan looking up the winding staircase. you make a loud clack with each step in your boots, your feet will be sore tomorrow.

eunseok lets out a breath and walks down the steps and bends down. “hop on.” is all he says.

now he’s giving you a piggyback ride up the countless flights of stairs. you try not to focus on how he’s palming your thigh, or how you can feel his toned body through his hoodie. eunseok carries you like you’re nothing and that feeling returns when you think about how he used manhandle you and toss you around like a doll. you let out a deep breath, inhaling his smell that you find so intoxicating.

he finishes going up another flight when he pulls you a little closer to his body. you pull him in a little tighter with your arms.

“how was the party?” he tries to sound nonchalant, looking over his shoulder at you to ask the question.

“how’d you know i was at the party?” you ask. although you already know. user36384847383 on instagram that always looked at your stories had to belong to somebody.

“you always do something after the bar.” eunseok looks away, realizing he might’ve gotten caught.

“i didn’t start going to the bar until after we broke up.” you say, smiling.

“we are here!” eunseok says before loudly letting you go. you find your balance as you walk down the hallway towards his door. with his hand on the small of your back, he makes sure you are balanced. his hand is almost like a ghost, not daring to push you towards his apartment in any way. despite this, it still feels like you’re heading towards your doom. months of no contact down the drain. all the hard work trying to forget everything about him has been reversed. just as you think about turning back, his hand slowly drifts down to rest on your ass.

you’re in front of his door now, and he looks at you while turning the doorknob. you look at him, look at his lips and the flashbacks hit you again.

fuck it, it’s fine. you use your hand to push open the door and the two of you walk in.

you kick off your shoes and close the door behind you. eunseok kicks off his sandals and here you two are, standing in his entry way. last time you were here you had the last of your things in a backpack holding back tears. now here you are. tipsy and horny and confused and…

“there’s no pressure here. i know no contact was important to you. you can sleep on the bed and i can take the couch.” eunseok leans against the wall opposite of the door. you hear what he’s saying clearly, but when you see the way he’s looking at you, you can’t hear your thoughts.

you walk over to him and you grab his hand. eunseok looks at you, waiting for your next move. you take his hand and put it on your waist. instantly his hand finds purchase in the dip, squeezing like he’s trying to check if you’re real.

you look up to him and kiss his lips. he brings you in closer. you lean even closer to him. eunseok puts his hands underneath your thighs and you jump. he catches and holds you easily, deepening the kiss.

“the couch?” you ask, pulling away. eunseok starts walking you towards his room, passing the small beat up couch.

“anton is coming home in the morning. he’s been sleeping there.” eunseok pushes open his door. you see almost nothing has changed, expect for the missing framed photos of you two.

“i thought you lived alone?” you closed his bedroom door behind you, still in his arms.

“he needed a place to crash closer to campus while he works on some music thing. and i was a little lonely.” eunseok finishes his sentence with a little laugh. he brings you back in for a kiss and you put your hands on his shoulder and cheek.

should you say you’re sorry? if he felt lonely because you iced him out for months? should you say aw because he’s is opening up to you? everything is too confusing all you want is to turn off your mind and feel good.

like he always has been able to, eunseok knows what you’re thinking. that’s why he wordlessly sits on the bed, back resting against the headboard. he sets you down on the bed and you face him. you look at his lips before you can lean in for a kiss, eunseok gently turns you around. eunseok pulls you into him, so your back is flush with his chest. he puts his head over your shoulder to whisper into your ear.

“spread your legs.”

you do it without hesitation. spreading your legs you also bend them at the knee. your dress bunches up above your hips as an effect. eunseok’s hands are on your inner thighs instantly, caressing the plush skin. eunseok laughs at how pliant you are. how desperate you must be.

“forgot how soft you are.” eunseok breathes into your ear. “remember how you’d always close them on me, baby? when i’d eat you out?”

how can he be so vulgar with all his clothes still on? you felt your face heating up, recalling the memories too. all you can do is nod and lean further into his chest. you let your head lean back, resting on his shoulder. you are giving him full access to your neck. and use your hands to push your dress further up your body, just below your belly button. you’ll never be able to voice how badly you want him to kiss you everywhere, not without dying from embarrassment.

“that’s how i know you aren’t getting fucked right. so hot and bothered just by this.” he laughs into your hair now. he’s got you and he’s got you good. nothing on god’s earth could pull you away from this feeling. especially when his slender finger pulls the elastic band of your panties, letting it snap back into place on your skin. you whimper, grabbing onto his arm.

“so sensitive.” his middle finger slowly touches your cunt. he ghosts the finger in a repeated motion up and down. “so. so. sensitive.”

“i’m just really, really horny right now.” you try to regain your composure or at least some sense of control. this is abandoned when eunseok smacks your clothed heat. you jump backwards, moving further into him. you can feel his dick against you.

“ouch.” you say in a breathy whimper.

“i’m sorry.” eunseok is all but convincing, smirking into your hair. his middle finger presses a little harder into you. “but i think you deserve a little pain.” eunseok goes back to slightly raising the waistband of your underwear to let it snap on your skin again.

you want to protest but you absolutely can't deny it. you take this as penance. for leaving him alone and ignoring him after the breakup. for blocking him with no explanation. for calling him for dick after getting a little tipsy. so you let your fate rest in eunseok’s hands as you let out a sigh.

“good girl.” eunseok knows you have completely submitted to him. “i’ll take good care of you.”

eunseok starts slowly sucking at your neck and you crane it desperately to give him more space to work with. your panties have been pushed to the side and his lengthy middle finger still slowly drags itself up and down.

“you’re so wet.” eunseok presses his finger a little deeper into your slit. he repeats this motion and you can hear the wetness, like tapping a puddle.

“has anyone else seen you like this?”

you shake your head. no one else could ever have you spread out like this. although what you and eunseok had is over, he was your first for everything. slowly the two of you chiseled away at the walls you put up in embarrassment of being in college with no experience. you found out what made eachother insane in bed. you still remember getting over the hump of showing eunseok your bare body for the first time. laying in bed naked and in embrace. eunseok telling you how beautiful you were. no one else in this world will ever have you open like this or could see you in a moment where you’re so weak.

“only you. always…only you.” you couldn’t tell if your string of words were intelligible. all you knew was that eunseok slipped his finger inside of you.

the grip on his arm only tightened as you spread your legs even wider. against your back you could feel him twitch.

“what about your fingers?”

“they don’t feel as good as yours.” you pout. now you're grinding your hips into his hand, begging for more.

“add another one.” you say, out of breath.

“say my name.” eunseok says simply.

“add another one eunseok,” eunseok uses his index finger to tease you. “please.”

eunseok has two fingers in you now. just from this and hearing his breathing in your ear you’re close to losing your mind. eunseok doesn’t even have to move his fingers anymore. you are doing the grinding all on your own. eunseok uses his free hand to pull the low cut of your dress down to expose your boobs. he pinches a nipple in his hand and you gasp out loud.

“god.” eunseok moans into your hair. you whimper in response, focusing on all the work he’s making you do. “you know i almost fucked that girl you always said liked me.”

“yeji?” you try your best to sound disgusted, but all eunseok hears is your breathy moan.

“yup. she talked big game and everything. but she can’t compare to this.” eunseok uses his free hand to squeeze your boob for emphasis.

i just…i would’ve just fucked jaehyun.”

almost instantly eunseok removes his fingers from you. he withdraws his lips from your neck. you look back at him in confusion.

“jaehyun would never do this for you. go forward. ass in the air.”

you get on your hands and knees in front of eunseoks lap. you move a little forward as you try to hike your ass in the air as high as possible. you haven't had an opportunity to practice your arch in a few months.

“it’s like muscle memory, baby” eunseok is behind you bringing your body up slightly to perfect your form. the power in his grip catches you off guard while you become a ragdoll to him.

you hear eunseok get off the bed and the zipper of his hoodie. he takes his time taking off his clothes, probably reveling in the fact you are waiting for him in such a compromising position.

eunseok comes back onto the bed and slowly brings your lower half to meet his. you feel his length and you moan purely from the feeling. you move your ass back in efforts to grind back on him but a handful of your ass keeps you in place. eunseok takes your panties off from behind you, helping you lift your knees off the bed to completely remove them. you don't say anything when you see eunseok put your panties in the drawer of his bedside dresser.

“be a good girl for me.” eunseok says it into your bottom half, so you’re unsure if he’s talking to you or your pussy. you comply anyway, staying in the spot he leaves you.

you can feel eunseok staring at your spread pussy. he doesn’t say a word, nor does he touch you. the lack of interaction the anxiety starts to kick in. what if he says he doesn’t want to do it anymore? what if you think hes looking at you but hes looking at his phone texting someone? it doesn't make any sense why you look back, afraid to see his face of regret. instead you see eunseok’s face with an emotion you can’t pinpoint.

“what’s wrong?” your voice is so quiet. eunseok’s is even quieter.

“can i eat you out, baby?”

eunseok eats your pussy like a man who is starved. he started by licking the entire length of you in one swift motion. this is followed with him tonguing your slit. you try not to think too much about his nose and how it pokes your ass. eunseok pulls away from your slit and his tongue attaches to your clit. he sucks on the sensitive nub while flicking it with his tongue. you try not to rock into his face, chasing a high you haven’t felt in months. after eunseok gets his fingers in the mix you are lifting yourself off the bed. his ministrations only pick up in intensity, trying to bring you to the brink as fast as possible.

slowly his face pulls away from your clit after straining his neck to reach it. the angle was originally pretty awkward, with eunseok on his knees spreading your cheeks to eat you out. you were under the impression that him pulling away meant you’d be getting his dick next. instead, eunseok gets on his back and pushes himself so slot in between your legs. you see his face, so serene and protected. his eyes are so brown and his lips are so plump and his hair is so mused. nothing can replace eunseok in your mind. you are too preoccupied with your feelings to stop yourself from being brought down to his face with his strength.

you don’t want to accidentally put all your weight on his face and break his neck. you try pulling yourself up, but his hands on your thighs hold you in place. he looks up at you with wide eyes, like an animal whose food is being taken away. he eats at you with a hunger you’ve never seen. before you know it all your reservations are gone and you’re riding his face.

“eunseok…it feels so goodddd.” you lean back, hands grabbing his thighs to steady yourself. “i can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“i can’t believe you’re letting me. i want to die with you on my face.” eunseok uses his hands on your thighs to bring you even closer to his face. he fucks you with his tongue, lapping up everything your body gives him.

you can feel your orgasm coming. your skin starts to feel like it’s on fire with the white and fuzzy feeling coming to you. you look down at eunseok, who is already locked into your face. he’s checking your emotions and reading you like a book. your moans are the gospel or the angel that comes to sit on his shoulder and whisper in his ear. eunseok smiles into your pussy, knowing you’re close. you want to so badly gain control of the situation, to remind him that he let you in after ghosting him. that he’s the one who got you here. so you look down at him, trying to give him the exact same knowing smirk he’s been throwing at you all night.

“you would do anything for me wouldn’t you?” you give a wicked smile as you slow your pace to grind on his tongue. “just for a taste.”

eunseok can’t speak with a mouthful of you. he opts instead to nod his head vigorously and increase the speed of his tongue.

“do those bitches that you text know what you’re doing? still just a fuck toy for your ex?”

eunseok shakes his head. he murmurs something into your clit. you ignore him again. that’s something you seem to be good at.

“i’m close eunseok. baby i’m so close.” you pick up your speed again, closing your thighs around his head. eunseok keeps you in place.

right before you reach your peak you start tapping his hands that are holding your thighs in place.

“eunseok i wanna come with you inside.”

eunseok looks up at you and holds eye contact. you look down at him, so determined to get you to finish. before you can come to your senses and repress your orgasm, it hits you like a freight train. it makes you throw your head back and let out a cry and you ride out your high on eunseok’s face. he takes it all in stride, tongue still prodding at your entrance.

once you come down, you realize that you definitely suffocated eunseok to death. you raise yourself off of him, still suffering from aftershocks of that orgasm. when you pull yourself off, you see that eunseok has the biggest stupid grin on his face.

“hey, are you still alive?” you laugh poking his face.

“was it good?” eunseok opens his eyes.

“it was.” you sit on the edge of eunseok’s bed, feet touching the ground.

nothing is stopping you from getting up and walking away. you could actually call an uber to your apartment and then you could text yunjin and giselle without feeling so guilty. you almost get the gumption to do it but then you feel eunseok move up from his spot on the bed to sit beside you.

“was it too much? you didn’t use our safe word so i thought it was okay.” eunseok uses a soft hand to make you look at him. he looks worried. you don't doubt that he can feel all your conflicting emotions, sleeping with your ex. you wonder if he feels the same way.

“it was perfect, really. i needed that.” you reassure him, putting your hand over his.

“then what’s wrong?” eunseok looks in your eyes then at your lips. you look at his.

“i think i need more.” you whisper truthfully.

eunseok uses his hand to bring you closer, kissing you. he pulls away after his tongue darts out to lick your lips.

“more?” eunseok smiles. of course he’s going to make this a living hell for you. but you humor him, because that feeling is building up all over your body again.

“more.” you answer.

eunseok goes to your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin. he pulls away before he can leave a mark.

“more.” you don’t move your neck, hoping he gets the point.

“you want me to leave a mark? what will yunjin and giselle say? or all your other boyfriends?” voice is dripping with fake concern.

“i don’t care.” you do care, but self sabotage has already gotten you this far. you are a go big or go home type of girl.

“okay princess.” and eunseok is at your neck, sucking and biting with an energy you’ve never seen from him.

you put your hand over his dick. he’s still wearing his boxers, so you can see a wet spot. now it’s your turn to tease him.

“i never took you for the type to cum in your boxers, babe.” you give eunseok’s dick a squeeze. “you must be really pent up, huh?”

eunseok laughs and leans back on the bed, propping himself up on his hands.

“you gonna help me out?”

you nod. eunseok grabs your hand and leads you off the bed to stand in front of him. he reaches up to bring the zipper on your back as low as it’ll go. he sits back on the bed, back in his same position.

“take your dress off for me.”

you slowly take off one sleeve. you work your way to the other. you let it slowly hang off the upper half of your body as you take off your bra. you drop your bra to the floor. you can hear eunseok behind you moving, probably freeing himself of his boxers. you think about how eunseok has always liked your ass, so you make a show of taking off the lower half of your dress. when that drops to the floor, you turn around facing him.

eunseok has his dick in his hand, slowly stroking himself. you forgot how mesmerizing he looked like this. eunseok was so good at keeping his composure it always felt like a treat seeing him act on his own wants. right now, he wanted you. eunseok got up from the bed and came up to you. you had to look up to see his face. the way he towered over you made you feel something you weren’t ready to come to terms with yet.

eunseok brought you into a deep kiss, as you two were in an embrace, he was slowly moving you further and further back until you hit the bed. he brought an arm behind you and led you down. when your back was on the bed, he broke the kiss.

“i still have condoms.” eunseok said looking in your eyes. he played with your hair, resting like a crown on the bed. you really were his princess

“i haven’t been with anyone,” you admit shyly “i’m still on the pill too.”

“i haven’t been with anyone either.” you had already known, but it was reassuring to hear it from him.

“can we do it without a condom?” you ask. eunseok kisses your forehead a little too sweetly.

“of course princess.”

eunseok brings you closer with a quick pull of your thighs. the feeling of excitement and nerves shoots up your spine. it really has been so long. eunseok slapping your heat with his dick brings you back to the present.

eunseok lines himself up at your entrance, and leans over both arms at your side. you grap one of his arms for stability and comfort. you just needed to be touching him.

“let me know if it hurts too much. you remember the word?”

“i remember.”

“okay.” eunseok kisses your forehead. he kisses it again and you can feel slight pressure. he starts attacking your face with kisses everywhere as he sinks deeper and deeper in. he ends with a kiss on your cheek before he bottoms out. you both moan in unison, so much time has been lost between you two. you already feel tears welling in your eyes. before eunseok can look you in the eyes, you pull his head into the crook of your neck and hold it there. without saying anything, you move your hips back and forth.

“feels good?” eunseok huffs into your shoulder. he tries to sound cocky, but you know it’s getting to him too. you can’t stop yourself from clenching around him. how the pressure feels so good and you feel so full.

“please keep going.” you whimper.

“okay princess.” eunseok kisses your neck and he pulls back his hips to thrust back in. you settle into the pace eunseok has set. slow and deliberate, trying to hit all the spots you thought he would’ve forgotten by now. a soft hand grips your breast and you arch into his touch.

“it’s still sensitive eunseok.” you haven’t gone for a second round since you and eunseok were together, getting yourself to be relaxed while climbing towards your second climax was hard.

“i know baby i know. you don’t want me to stop though right?” eunseok took your earlobe into your mouth. his pace was getting faster, you had to reach for the wall behind you to steady yourself.

“no. please don’t stop.” you used your other arm to pull him closer. you weren’t sure if you were about to cry due to the overstimulation or the fact that you missed the man on top of you. his teasing nature, his attentiveness. how warm he was always. it was hard to remember why you ended things in the first place, especially with him moaning in your ear.

“feels so good.” eunseok kissed your cheek. he brought his arm underneath your body, bringing you into an embrace while still fucking into you.

“i miss this. i miss you.” he admitted into your shoulder.

“i miss you too, eunseok.” you couldn’t stop the tears.

“i want you back more than anything, you know that right?” eunseok’s pace was increasing, he was close.

“i know. i like it…” you try hard to piece your thoughts together, but your mind is becoming filled with eunseok.

“like what? me watching everything you post like some fucking stalker.”

“shows me—shows that you care.”

“can i look at you baby?” eunseok asks, the most desperate you’ve heard him all night.

you pull his head from the crook of your neck and let his forehead rest on yours. for a moment worry crosses his face as he sees your tears. he uses his thumb to wipe an eye clean. the silent acknowledgement has you wrapping your legs around his waist to bring him closer. eunseok grabs one of your legs and helps you put it over his shoulder. this new angle has you digging your nails into his skin.

“god i missed this pussy,” eunseok smiles down at you, wiping away tears from your other eye. “she’s always been mine hasn’t she?”

“yes. she wants you to come inside.” your brain fog is letting your lewd requests come out quick and jumbled.

“of course princess.” eunseok comes back down to you, bringing desperate lips to you. you can hear when he cums inside, letting out a line of profanities with your name mixed in. you can feel when he cums inside, dick pulsing. you cum after he brings a hand to your clit, rubbing revolutions on the bundle of nerves. you grip onto his arm, biting your lip to hold back a love confession.

you two ride out your highs together. eunseok’s hand comes to a slow top and he slowly pulls out of you. you both whine at the loss of warmth, but he lays next to you and pulls you into his chest. you want to protest, that it’s a bad idea for you to spend the night at his place.

instead you opt to fall asleep when he gives you his hoodie to sleep in, head rests on yours, and he begins to rub gentle shapes into your thighs. this was arguably a bad idea, perhaps the worst one you’ve ever had. tomorrow you will deal with it, but the rest of the night belonged to the two of you.

#01zfan: eunseok #eunseok smut #riize smut

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nova-is-a-writer-now · 2 months ago

Text

Highway Heat

Summary: Your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere and the trucker you flag down offers more than just roadside assistance.

A/N: Lord oh lord… I tried to be good i swear, i really tried to behave. The thing is my sweet beta reader @hautecouture02 requested a little roadside encounter one shot with Joel, specifically asking for FLUFF, and i swear on everything holy I tried my best to keep it PG… but sometimes things don’t go as I planned. So here, take this absolute filth of a one shot that’s little more than PWOP. ENJOY!!!!

Warnings: As previously stated, this is pretty much PWOP, Trucker!Joel i know nothing about trucks lol, maybe some dub!con at first but the internal dialogue shows hella consent, groping, fingering, a bit of praise and a bit of degradation, pet names like so many of them im not gonna list them all almost too many pet names if you believe in such a thing, grinding, oral male receiving, deep throating

Masterlist

You’re a good person—hell, a great person even. You give your spare change to homeless people, you donate to the puppy shelter every once in a while, you hold your friend’s hair back when they’re throwing up in the back of the club. You’re definitely not the type of person who deserves to be stranded in the middle of nowhere, sweating buckets despite wearing nothing but a spaghetti strap tank and the tiniest pair of shorts you own. This feels like some kind of cosmic punishment.

It is, undoubtedly, the worst possible time for your car to stop working. You’d been putting off the usual checkups on your car for months, knowing full well it was overdue for an oil change, a tire rotation—or whatever men who know their way around a toolbox always say. Your ex used to handle all of that for you, always acting like it was his job to make sure your car ran smoothly. He was that kind of guy who would go out of his way to make your life easier—didn’t mean he was above cheating though.

So now, you’re stuck in your geriatric Honda Civic, the AC busted and the engine refusing to start.

After a few minutes of trying to will it back to life, it’s clear you’re stranded.

You step out of the car, and the heat hits you like a goddamn slap to the face. The road’s deserted, no signs of life for miles, and of course, your phone has no signal. Perfect. Just fucking perfect. You glance down the road, hoping for a miracle, when you spot the rough outline of a truck—a big one, maybe a sixteen-wheeler—coming up in the distance.

Relief washes over you for about two seconds before your brain kicks in, running through every horror movie scenario. But it’s not like you’ve got a buffet of options, so you throw up your hand, waving the truck down as it rolls closer.

It’s a beat-up old thing, paint chipped and covered in dust, but it comes to a slow stop right behind your car. The door creaks open, and out steps a man.

He’s tall, broad, with a face lined with age and tan from long days under the sun. The net cap he wears lets a few of his longer dark curls peek out, the front pieces overpowered by graying hair. He sports a faded plaid shirt and jeans, a pair of well-worn boots kicking up dust as he steps toward you. His dark, intense eyes size you up like you’re part of the landscape he’s used to navigating.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” His voice is deep and gravelly, but the drawl is the star of the show, thick and sweet like honey.

You clear your throat, trying to keep your frustration in check. “Car broke down. Won’t start. No service either.”

He nods slowly, like this is exactly the kind of situation he expects to find out here. “Well, good thing I’m passin’ through.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes a little at that, but desperation makes you bite your tongue. “Think you could take a look?”

He stares at you for a moment, long enough that you wonder if he’s going to offer any help at all. But then he lets out a low sigh, scratches the back of his neck, and walks over to your car, popping the hood like it’s second nature.

For a while, there’s nothing but the sound of him tinkering under the hood, the occasional grunt or muttered curse as he checks things out. You stand there awkwardly, feeling the heat bearing down on you, watching as beads of sweat gather at the back of his neck.

Finally, he steps back, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Shit’s runnin’ on fumes. When’s the last time you had it serviced?””

You shift, feeling stupid. “A while. My ex used to handle it, and, uh… I’ve been busy.”

He gives you a look, something between amusement and pity, before shaking his head. He leans against the car, arms crossed. “I can tow you to a shop in the next town, but it gon’ be a ride.”

You blink up at him, surprised at his offer. “You don’t mind?”

“Nah,” he says, with a shrug, “I’m headin’ that way anyway.”

He moves back to his truck, grabbing a few chains and a tow hitch from the back. Within minutes, he’s hooking up your beat-up Honda Civic to the rear of his truck, working with the ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times before.

“You sure this is safe?” you ask, watching him as he tightens the last chain.

“As safe as it’s gonna get,” he replies with a shrug, brushing the dust from his hands. “Ain’t no mechanic shop out here, so this’ll do ‘til we get to the next town.”

You hesitate, then eye him. “You’re not gonna, like, chop me up and throw me in a ditch, are you?”

He chuckles at that, a nice gravely sound. “If I was, don’t think I’d tell ya, sugar. But no, I ain’t in the business of chopping people up.”

You look at him for a bit longer before sighing. “Fuck it, let’s go.”

He turns, heading back to his truck, his broad back facing you and making it a hell of a lot harder to concentrate

“Name’s Joel, by the way,” he says, glancing back over his shoulder as he opens the passenger door for you.

“Thanks, Joel,” you say, stepping up into the truck’s cab, the cool air from his AC hitting you like a blessing. Maybe your luck hasn’t run out just yet.

You sink back into the seat as he climbs up on his side of the cab, letting the icy air wash over you. There’s something else prickling at your senses though—something that has nothing to do with the temperature. It’s him.

Joel’s glances are obvious, a little too long, lingering like he’s sizing you up. Normally, it’d make you roll your eyes, maybe even tell him off. Old guy like him eyeing you up is nothing you’re unfamiliar with. But today? With the way your body feels sticky and tired, and the way the breakup has left you all out of sorts… you’re almost enjoying it.

You’ve been craving attention and the shitty one night stands with guys from dating apps have done nothing to satiate that need. It’s been months since anyone has touched you and that rational part of your brain that would be yelling at you to be aware of the sleazy old trucker who just picked you off of the side of the road is sounding real quiet right now.

“So…” His voice pulls you from your thoughts as he shifts in his seat, resting one hand lazily on the wheel. “Where you headed?”

You hesitate, eyes on the road ahead. “Just… trying to get home.”

He hums, slow and deliberate. “Home, huh? Got anyone waitin’ on you there? Boyfriend?”

The word slices through you, sharper than you expected. You tighten your jaw, glancing out the window. “No. Not anymore.”

Joel makes a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. “Well, ain’t that a shame. Pretty thing like you, all alone.”

You should hate the way he says it, the way his eyes flicker toward you like he’s just waiting for an opening. But instead, there’s a strange warmth pooling in your stomach, your pulse picking up in a way you’re not proud of. You shift in your seat, crossing your legs like it’ll somehow tamp down the growing tension in your body. He doesn’t miss it, his smirk growing a little wider.

“That line work on most girls?” you quip, trying to keep things light.

Joel chuckles, the sound low and dangerous. “Depends on the girl. But you look a little… flustered.”

Your cheeks heat up, and it’s not just the sun this time. “I’m not flustered.”

“Sure about that, darlin’?”

You glare at the open road, biting your lip as you try to ignore the way his words are messing with your head—and your body. It’s been way too long since anyone’s looked at you like this. Really looked at you.

The silence stretches out as the truck rumbles along the deserted road. You try to focus on anything but the tension in the air and find it’s impossible. His presence feels inescapable, it fills the cab wrapping around you, pressing down on every nerve.

“You never told me,” Joel says after a while, breaking the quiet. “Where’s home?”

“Texas,” you say quietly, your voice a little steadier now. “But I’m not in any rush to get back.”

“Family trouble?” he asks, his eyes flicking toward you again.

“Something like that,” you mutter. “It’s complicated.”

He hums in response. “Don’t I know it.”

You shift in your seat, crossing your legs, catching Joel watching you out of the corner of his eye. His gaze lingers a little too long on your bare thighs, and there’s a flicker of something dark passing over his face, but he says nothing.

You want to ignore it—God, you should ignore it—especially since you’re stuck with him for a while longer. But the rising heat in your body and the quickening pulse beneath your skin make it hard to think straight, harder still to make good decisions.

So you bite.

“You gonna keep staring, or is this part of your charm routine?” You cock a brow, trying to ignore the way warmth crawls up your neck.

A slow smirk curls at his lips, but he doesn’t look away. If anything, he leans in closer, his hand resting just near your leg, making the air between you buzz. “You think I’m layin’ it on too thick?”

“Little bit,” you quip back, though your voice betrays you with how soft it comes out. You bite your lip, trying to stay sharp, but his eyes flick down to the movement, and the pulsing need low in your stomach tightens. “It’s not working, though.”

His smirk widens, like he’s enjoying this far too much. “Funny. Seems to me it’s workin’ just fine.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the way your heart races when he shifts closer, his fingers brushing against your leg. The touch is light, almost casual, but it’s enough to send a shiver racing up your spine, your breath catching in your throat.

“You can roll your eyes all you want, doll. It don’t change the fact I can see what you need, clear as day,” he purrs, his voice dropping lower.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” you snap back, though your words lack the heat you want them to have.

“Little bit of attention.”

He reads you too well. It drives you insane. “I don’t need anything from you. Just get me where I need to go.”

A quiet chuckle rumbles from his chest. “That so? ’Cause the way you’ve been shiftin’ in that seat says otherwise.”

You bristle at his words, but the truth sticks like a thorn. There’s a reason you haven’t told him to stop, a reason you haven’t shut this down. You’re tired, frustrated, and the way his eyes keep grazing over you… you can’t stop wondering how easy it’d be to let him pull you under, to let him take all your worries away.

“You’re losing it, old man,” you shoot back, even though you know it’s a losing game. He sees right through you, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna make it easy.

“Am I?” he purrs, his hand sliding up to rest fully on your thigh. “So, you don’t want me touching you like this, darlin’?”

The way he says it—slow, deliberate, laced with that sweet, thick accent—it’s all innocence, even though everything about it screams otherwise. You know you’ll be hearing that “darlin’” in your head later, when you’re playing with yourself.

You smirk, giving him a little more rope. “I didn’t say that.”

He hums, eyes flicking between the road and your legs. “And I’m guessin’ you wouldn’t say a word if I moved my hand higher, would you?”

Your legs part just slightly, almost like an instinct. Barely noticeable to anyone else. But not to Joel.

“Look at you,” he drawls, a shit-eating smirk spreading across his lips. “Already makin’ it easier for me.”

You’re about to fire back, ready to keep this banter rolling, when his fingers slide higher. A soft sigh escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“You ready to stop actin’ up, or we still playin’ cat and mouse, pretty girl?” His eyes lock on yours, dark and unwavering.

Your pulse quickens at the challenge in his voice, your breath catching in your throat. His fingers are still on your thigh, warm and rough, and it’s messing with your head. You know you should stop this now, make him pull his hand back, but you’re not sure if that’s what you want.

“I’m not acting up,” you murmur, trying to hold on to some sense of control, even though his touch is making that damn near impossible.

His grin widens, like he’s got you exactly where he wants you. “Mhm, sure you ain’t.”

You glare at him, but it’s weak. Pathetic, really, and the worst part is he knows it. He knows how to get under your skin even though he has known you for half an hour, knows exactly what buttons to push to unravel you just enough to keep you hanging on.

“I mean it,” you snap, though your voice wavers. His hand shifts slightly on your thigh, fingers curling just enough to make your stomach twist into knots.

“I wanna believe you,” His voice is low, a quiet rumble that vibrates through you, all the way down to where you’re aching for him to touch you. He leans in a little more, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off him, smell that familiar scent of worn leather and something dark and intoxicating. “But you keep lettin’ me touch you. Kinda sends a different message, don’t you think?”

Your heart’s pounding in your chest, the steady rhythm of it loud in your ears. You don’t know how to answer, don’t know if you want to answer. Every rational thought in your head is telling you to stop, but your body isn’t listening.

Instead, you shift slightly, your leg pressing into his hand, just enough to encourage him to keep going. His eyes darken, and a slow, dangerous smile tugs at his lips.

“Thought so,” he mutters, and then his fingers start to move again, sliding higher, testing the boundaries you haven’t set.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the sigh that’s clawing its way up your throat, but it slips through anyway. He hears it, of course he does, and the satisfied gleam in his eyes makes your face flush with heat.

“You wanna tell me to stop, now’s your chance,” he murmurs, his voice soft but carrying an edge of challenge, like he knows damn well you’re not going to.

His gaze shifts between the road and you and it almost seems like every time those eyes are back on you they become darker.

You glance at him, your heart in your throat, and there’s that flicker of hesitation—you should say something, should stop this before it goes any further—but the way his fingers are brushing higher, dangerously close to the ache between your legs, makes it impossible to think straight.

So you just meet his gaze, and you don’t say a word.

His smirk grows, and his hand drifts even higher. “Good girl.” This time he fully gropes your thigh, groaning like he’s been waiting to unleash this. “You wanna take these off for me, sweetheart? Let me give you as much attention as you want.”

He must have some psychic hold on you because you follow his instructions with no hesitation this time. Your fingers eagerly unbotton your shorts and pull the zipper down, lifting your hips to shimmy them down.

He looks at you for a lot longe than he should taking into account he’s currently driving a beast of a vehicle. “Lord above… you’re a sight and a half, darlin’”

He goes back to massaging your thigh, making circles with his thick fingers, going each time higher. Once he reaches your panties he stops and just rests his hand there, right at the edge of where you want him most. His fingers teasingly brush the fabric, enough to make you gasp, but he doesn’t go any further.

“You’re gonna have to ask for it,” he rasps, his voice thick with something darker now. “Tell me what you want, pretty girl.”

His words are like a key turning in a lock, and your resistance crumbles. You can’t deny it anymore, not when his hand is right there, so close to what you need, your entire body burning up under his touch.

“Joel…” you whisper, your voice almost pleading now, barely more than a breath.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand pressing a little more firmly, his fingers tracing along the outline of your heat through the fabric. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

Your breath stutters, and your hips shift on their own, pressing into his hand. You’re barely hanging on, the tension between you two crackling like a live wire, but he’s still holding back, waiting for you to give in completely.

“Please…” you finally manage, the word spilling out before you can stop it. It’s humiliating and liberating all at once.

“Please what?”

You let out the shadow of a moan. “Please touch me.”

Joel’s hand slips under the fabric, his fingers finally finding your core, and the groan that escapes him sends a shockwave of heat straight to your core. “Good girl,” he breathes, his voice like gravel as his fingers start to move in slow, torturous circles.

Your head falls back against the seat, a whimper escaping your lips as he finally gives you what you’ve been craving. “Jesus, Joel…”

“Feels good, huh?” he rasps, his eyes flicking from the road to you, watching the way your body reacts to every touch, every motion of his hand. “Told you I know exactly what you need, baby.”

You’re melting under his touch, your body humming with the pressure of his fingers moving against you, his voice guiding you deeper into the haze of pleasure. You’re not even sure what’s more intoxicating—the way he’s touching you or the way he’s talking to you, that low, commanding tone unraveling you completely.

“That’s it, sweetness, grind on my fingers, make that little pussy feel good” Joel growls, having a harder time keeping his eyes on the road now.

“Fuck… that feels you good da-“ you stop yourself before you’re able to finish the word. Your ex didn’t like you calling him that, so you usually kept that particular kink under wraps, but something about Joel is making it surface back up.

He looks up at you, pupils blown out. “Say it… say wha you wanna say baby.”

You lose all restraint and moan loudly. “It feels so good, daddy.”

“That’s right, babygirl.” He moans “Daddy’s fingers make your pretty cunt fucking drip don’t they?”

His words send a wave of pleasure through your body, a mixture of shame and intense arousal surging in your chest. You’re too far gone to stop now, letting the haze of lust pull you under completely.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word slipping out like a confession. “So fucking wet.”

Joel’s fingers move faster, rough and skilled, coaxing you into a rhythm that has you arching your back against the seat. His other hand grips the wheel tight, knuckles white, and you can tell he’s barely hanging onto his self-control, but that only makes it hotter.

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ dream,” he growls, voice thick with desire. “Been wantin’ to ruin you since the minute you sat your pretty ass in this truck.”

The vulgarity, the way he talks to you—it should feel wrong, but instead, it’s like gasoline thrown on the fire already burning inside you. You grind down harder on his fingers, chasing the high he’s offering, the tension building fast in your core.

You glance over at him, his jaw tight, eyes darting between the road and you, and there’s something so filthy about the way he’s trying to keep it together while driving, the way his control is slipping. You want to push him, make him lose it completely.

“You’re losing it too,” you pant, breathless, pushing your hips into his hand. “Can’t even keep your eyes on the road, can you?”

His gaze snaps to yours, dark and predatory. “Careful. Keep talkin’ like that, and I’ll pull this truck over.”

The threat in his voice makes you shiver, heat pooling low in your belly. You’re right on the edge, your body strung tight as a bow, every nerve lit up under his touch.

“Do it,” you challenge, voice breathless and wrecked.

Joel’s eyes flash with something dangerous, his hand gripping your thigh so hard it almost hurts. Without another word, he swerves the truck off the road, gravel crunching under the tires as he pulls into a secluded spot off the highway.

Your heart is pounding, adrenaline mixing with the arousal as he throws the truck into park and turns to face you fully. The look in his eyes is feral, like he’s done holding back, and you brace yourself for what’s coming next.

“Such a little attention whore, baby,” he growls, unbuckling his seatbelt with one hand, the other still teasing you between your legs. “I’m all yours now.”

In one swift motion, he pulls you onto his lap, your thighs straddling his hips, the weight of his hard length pressing against you through his jeans. He is big, a lot bigger than you expected and it makes your mouth water,almost like your body is showing you how badly you need him in a million and one ways.

His hands grip your hips possessively, eyes locking with yours as if daring you to make the next move.

You don’t hesitate. You grind down on him, both of you letting out low moans at the contact. The friction sends sparks flying up your spine, and you can already tell this is about to be the kind of reckless, dirty, no-going-back encounter you’ve both been craving.

Joel’s hands slide up your back, fisting in your hair as he pulls you down to feast on your neck. His lips trail down, biting at the sensitive skin there, and it’s too much, too intense. You feel like you’re going to combust right here in his arms.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he mutters against your skin, one hand slipping between you to push your panties aside, his fingers slipping through your slick heat again. “Filthy little slut, letting a stranger put his fingers inside you. Gonna make you come so hard you forget your own name, pretty girl.”

Your hips buck against him, the promise of release so close you can taste it. “Fuck, Joel, please…”

“Try again. You know better.” his tone is firm and commanding, all the previous playfulness gone.

“Please daddy, let me come”

“That’s it,” he groans, his thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure, pushing you right to the edge. “Come for me, darlin’. Let me feel this tight little whole clench on my fingers.”

The way he says it with such authority, has you unraveling in his lap, your entire body trembling as you come hard against his hand. Your vision goes white, pleasure crashing over you in waves as you grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

Joel watches you, his eyes hooded and hungry, soaking in every second of your release. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers until you’re shaking from the aftershocks, your body limp and boneless against him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and satisfied as he finally pulls his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips to taste you. “Tastes even better than I imagined.”

You’re still catching your breath, head buzzing from the intensity, but the way his hardness presses against you makes it clear you’re far from done. It’s not like those other times when finishing a guy felt like an obligation, when the effort barely felt worth it because they didn’t take the time to get you there first. But Joel? Joel made you come so hard you can’t help but want to return the favor. It’s not a chore—it’s something you crave.

“My turn,” you murmur, fingers already working at the button of his jeans.

His grip tightens on your hips, eyes darkening as he watches your hands move, but there’s a flicker of restraint. “Don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart. Can’t have this beast of a truck just parked in the middle of the road.”

You shift back onto your own seat, lifting your leg off his lap to give yourself the space you need. The desire to make him feel just as wrecked as you burns in your chest, so you lean down, your gaze steady on his as your fingers trail lower.

“You can drive,” you say, voice low, teasing. “I’m not stopping you.”

Joel’s eyes flash with something dangerous, his jaw ticking like he’s fighting with himself. For a second, you think he’s going to tell you to stop, but then he huffs out a breath, shaking his head with a low chuckle. “You’re trouble.”

You smile up at him as you feel him start the engine again, your hand slipping lower, teasing him through his jeans.

Joel’s breath hitches as your fingers brush against him, a low growl vibrating in his chest. His hand tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he tries to focus on the road, but you can tell he’s losing the battle.

His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he tries to keep his cool, but you can see right through it. The way his body is responding to your touch, the way he’s barely holding it together, it only spurs you on.

You undo his jeans and pull the zipper down, feeling the heat radiating off him. His breath stutters, and his hand slips to grip the side of the seat, trying to ground himself as you free him from the confines of his jeans.

You wrap your hand around him, feeling how hard he is, how thick, and the groan that escapes his lips sends a thrill through you. “Fuck,” he breathes, eyes flicking between the road and you, his control slipping more by the second.

You lower your head, your lips grazing his tip, and Joel’s entire body tenses. His hips buck up, instinctively searching for more, and you can’t help but smirk as you take him deeper into your mouth.

“Holy shit,” he groans, his voice rough and ragged, his hand instinctively flying to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

But even as he says it, there’s no hint of him wanting you to stop. He keeps urging you on in slow, measured strokes. The tension in him is palpable, and you can feel the way his control is fraying with every flick of your tongue, every inch you take him deeper.

His breathing grows ragged, and he glances down at you, eyes dark with heat and disbelief. “You’re so pretty with a fat cock stuffed in your mouth baby, look at you ”

You hum around him, the vibration making his hips jerk again, and the low groan that rips from his throat sends a fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through you. He’s unraveling, right in front of you, and you’re loving every second of it.

You pick up the pace, your hand working him in tandem with your mouth, and Joel’s growl turns guttural, his grip on the wheel tightening. “Right there, darlin’ girl, don’t stop…” he hisses, head tipping back slightly as his hips move in time with your rhythm, chasing the release that’s so damn close.

His eyes flick between the road and you, pupils blown, struggling to stay on course even as his focus is being torn apart by you.

“Fuck, baby… I’m not gonna last if you keep—” He cuts himself off with a harsh groan, his hips bucking again, muscles taut and trembling as he loses the last shred of his composure. He’s completely at your mercy now, and it’s making him wild, his control slipping fast.

You don’t let up, your hand dropping lower to play with his balls, and he’s right on the edge, teetering dangerously close. His breath comes in ragged bursts, and his body tightens under you, his hips jerking harder, more desperate now.

“Where do you want it, baby?”

Instead of answering you take him deeper down your throat, your nose burrowing in the dark curls at the base of his cock, his smell so musky and intoxicating it makes you dizzy.

“Shit, shit—” Joel’s voice is a strangled growl, and then you feel him pulse in your mouth, a low, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he finally comes undone. He’s barely holding onto the wheel, the truck swerving just enough to make your heart race, but it’s clear he’s past caring. He spills hot and hard into your mouth, the sound of his release drowned out by the pounding of your own pulse in your ears.

You keep going, milking him for every last bit, until he’s trembling beneath you, his breathing ragged and uneven. When you finally pull away, he’s still gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters, his voice rough and wrecked. His eyes flick down to you, wild and wide, before darting back to the road. He lets out a breathless, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. “Best hitchhiker I’ve ever picked up, that’s for damn sure.”

As if on cue, the truck finally pulls into the shop, the hum of the engine fading, the weight of what just happened still hung thick between you two. Joel cuts the ignition, his hand lingering on the key for a beat too long, like he wasn’t quite ready to step back into reality. He realizes his now soft cock is still out and starts to zip himself back up.

You try to gather yourself, smoothing your clothes and brushing a hand through your hair as if it’d erase everything that had gone down on that highway. You can tell it’s gonna stick with you for a good while longer though.

Joel clears his throat, glancing over at you with a look that was somehow both satisfied and conflicted. "Well, we’re here," he mutters, but his hand was already fishing in his back pocket for something. "Here." He hands you a crumpled business card, his name scrawled across it with a number underneath. "In case you run into any more car trouble or, y'know... anything else."

The corner of his mouth twitches, like he knows damn well this had nothing to do with the rugged old thing and everything to do with the heat still simmering between you. You take the card, trying to hide the smirk tugging at your lips.

"Thanks," you reply, pocketing it casually, though the way your heart raced gave you away. "For… you know, all of it."

He just gives you that signature look of his—half-smirk, half-smolder—and with that, you slide out of the truck, legs still feeling like jelly as you walked away. You didn't even need to turn around to know his eyes were glued to your retreating figure.

#joel x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller #trucker!joel #joel smut #joel miller smut #joel x reader smut

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inferencesarchives · 10 months ago

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`•- Jealous Norton Headcanons

norton campbell (survivor) x gn reader

prompt: jealousy

warnings: jealousy (yeah no shit), physical touch

a/n: i have a hard time writing jealous characters but im gonna try my best today raaah hopefully i do alright also this is valentines event day 4 wahoo alright cool let's get on with it already

ever since the two of you got in a relationship with each other, norton couldn't help but feel protective over you.

he doesn't mean it in a bad way, of course! it's just that he's used to having things he cares about being snatched away, and he doesn't want to lose you as well. he cares about you more than anything else in the world, after all.

don't worry, though, he's not protective to the point where he's constantly hovering around you, obviously. he understands that you want to hang out with your friends sometimes, and he trusts that your friends wouldn't do anything malicious towards you. he doesn't let it get to him.

what does get to him, though, is whenever someone seems to start getting a bit too comfortable whenever you two hang out. you brush it off at first, obviously, since pretty much everyone at the manor knew about your relationship with norton. surely, they doesn't mean for their actions to come off like that, do they?

but norton isn't convinced. something about the whole situation just feels... off to him. he tries not to ovethink it, but he just can't help himself. something about it just seemed to make him feel strange and sour inside. he knows that they likely doesn't mean any harm, but...

he's left feeling bitter and uneasy as he keeps thinking about it. he doesn't quite seem to realize the way he subconsciously starts appearing by your side more and more, keeping a watchful eye on anyone else around. it's just his protective instincts. he doesn't mean to suddenly start sticking to your presence, it just... happens.

norton doesn't really seem to realize that he's jealous. he just wants to keep you safe and remind anyone else who dares to make a move that your his, and you don't plan on leaving him anytime soon.

if the situation calls for it, he pulls you closer to him almost subconsciously. he wraps an arm around your waist and holds you tightly next to him, shooting a nasty glare at whoever was getting a bit too close for comfort. he'll even go so far as to grunt at them, angrily telling them to back off, though he does his best to keep his emotions under control.

if you try to tease him about this later that night, he just grumbles and denies everything you say with the tiniest tint of blush on his cheeks. him? jealous? no, he'd never get jealous... where'd you get that idea from?

a/n: me when i. nortbn cmpball

thanks for reading, and remember to take care of yourself!

#`•- main hall in the archives: headcanons #`•- events in the archives: the philomena's propellente's countdown to valentines day #philomena's files #norton campbell x reader #identity v x reader #idv x reader #fanfic #fanfic author #fanfiction #fanfiction author #x reader #norton campbell #identity v prospector #idv prospector #identity v #idv

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chrispotatos · 3 months ago

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beg - chris sturniolo

summary: chris, your ex came over to your house telling you how much he needed you so you made sure he told you just that.

warning: hand job, mommy kink, overstimulating, blow job.

a/n: i lowkey didn't fuck with that mommy shit but yall hoes got me gagged so i just had to im looking at you rose.

my ex chris had just came over uninvited, he always does this asking me for thing material things that is but this time he was asking for me. so i planned to be what he needed but he was going to have to ask way nicer than he did.

"c'mon chris i know you can ask way better than that" i teased pulling up a chair infront of his sat body on the bed. i was making him do this because when we were together he'd normally boss me around in the bedroom and now it's my turn, i just know he's dreading it too thats what makes this more fun for me.

"can you touch me" he asked i raised my brows and made a hand gesture for him to go on "please" he whined. "of course i can" i said with a sarcastic smile

i pulled his sweats down to see his aching hard dick spring free "no underwear? almost like you knew this was gonna happen" ,,no, but i sure was hoping" he said, eliciting a chuckle from me. i grab his cock and wrap my lips around his tip, "oh fuck-" he moaned loudly. his hand goes to my hair and pushed my head down more, i gag a bit and swat his hand away pulling off.

"you want me to stop?" he shakes his head rapidly "thought so" instead of putting my mouth on his dick again i stroke him with my hand. a strangled whimper leaves his mouth "gonna make me feel bad if you don't speak" i cooed "wanna hear that pretty voice"

"don't stop" his hip thrusted into my hand so i stopped "no- keep going. I'm sorry, I'll be good" he whined screwing his eyes shut.

"that's right" i put a firm grip on his erected cock pumping up and down at a faster pace then before. wet lewd sounds and his little whimpers and moans here and there was the all i heard besides us two talking.

"feels so good m-" he cut himself off biting his lip to keep himself from talking "go on finish your sentence" i said in a low tone encouraging him to finish his sentence. "I'm not saying that" just as i got at nice pace his cock twitched in my hand i threatened to stop "you do wanna be a good boy f'me right?" i said he nodded "yes, please- mommy" it was like he chocked up the words 'mommy' it did little to shock me and only turned me on more. "i wanna be your good boy" he mewled.

his orgasm soon washed over him. the warm, white sticky cum oozed onto my hand. i stroke him slowly, riding his orgasm out. "that wasn't good was it?" i pouted "wha-" he winces at the contact my hand made with his length. i lick all the cum that leaked on his dick, he was a moaning mess. "you came without my permission that wasn't very nice"

"give mommy another orgasm hm?" i kitten lick his tip before wrapping my mouth around his cock and bobbing my head up and down "mm- feels so good" he babbled. he laid back and let his elbows help prop himself up, he rutted his hips fucking my mouth, making me gag. i pull my mouth off him again to speak "you wanna come?"

"mhm please- can i come for you" i nod wrapping my hands around him running my finger over his tip i slowly but aggressively pump in an up and down motion "m' so close" he moaned out. i put my mouth at the head of his dick, it still glistening from his last orgasm. his warm load soon painted my throat, i swallow everything and wipe the mess around my mouth.

"you did such a good job for me" i praised "lemme go get a towel to clean you up" he just nodded and thats all i needed from him to know it was okay to go get a towel. i came back with the cloth to clean him up and he hissed at the touch and held my wrist "no- please" ,,im just trying to clean you baby" he let go of my wrist allowing me to finish. i went to go put the towel away and when i came back he had already pulled his pants back up and sat up

"can i stay" chris asked, i took a moment to think. he was my ex after all but it didn't end on real bad terms i just wasn't ready for anything serious yet so i broke up with him. "I'd be happy if you did" a smile spreaded across his face, he got under the blankets and left them open for me to get in too.

a/n: please tell me i did a good job 😣 i don't really right sub chris or matt

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader

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heartpascal · 1 year ago

Text

or is it loneliness?

▹— (eventual) spiderverse found family x platonic!reader

▹— summary: you need closure, and information. two visits kind of give you that.

▹— a/n: guys idk what im DOING. i have things planned for atsv but not how we’re gonna get there … rn im just yolo-ing. im not a big fan of this one but im gonna start writing the next one asap, which will hide fully be more found family-ish lmao arachnid is gonna start warming up to them all some day i swear

▹— warnings: angst, injuries, not good thoughts, dead parents, sensory issues, explosions, violence, fighting, blood?, damaged hearing for a good minute, peter b parker eating burgers deserves its own warning, food, mention of throwing up / nausea, insecurities about being good enough, refusing help, idk what else, if ive missed anything let me know!!!

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree (everything taglist) @justmare @uniquemonstrosity @lacunaanonymoused @erensbbg @dulceteris @noxxing @escherichiacolli @ray-rook @i-3at-kidz @miwagila @stoneforests (is it freedom’verse) — also i only tagged those who explicitly asked to be tagged!

MASTERLIST , part one

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You spend a long time sat on the edge of the open window, staring out at the traffic below after getting back from Spider Society HQ. There’s a tangible relief that comes with returning to your dimension, like a weight being removed, a tension that is finally released from where it had been pulled taut. Your shoulders feel just as heavy as they did when you left, but you try not to think about it. You try to be happy that you’re back.

While you wouldn’t say it aloud, and you hate to even have the thought, you don’t think anybody had noticed you were gone. But then again, who would? You have no reason to be so upset about such a thing.

Time slips by as you diligently sew up the tears in your suit, frowning as you hold it up once you’re finished. It looks nothing like it used to, but then again, neither do you. Things have changed, it only makes sense that your suit would, too. You wonder if travelling through alternate dimensions can alter your perception of things. You’d swear that your suit had been a different shade before you left, lighter, maybe, but you have nothing to compare it to.

At least now, this time, when you put on your suit there is evidence of damage that Gwen Stacy had caused. The stitching along your the material where she had tore into you is a tangible thing, physical, and you run your fingers across it as if it might disappear. It’s almost a relief, to be able to feel where she had caused you pain, as opposed to the invisible ache she had left within you after fighting her the first time around.

Alongside the scar raised on your body, the fight with Gwen had left you with a sort of paranoia. An uncertainty in the back of your mind that has you glancing over your shoulder, has you messing up simple manoeuvres as you panic, thinking you hear her voice.

It must have been your third day back from the HQ that you come to the conclusion that you have to visit Gwen Stacy in her prison.

The decision doesn’t come easily. It comes slowly, torturously so, a realisation that deafens you as you glare through squinted lenses at the city around you. You won’t be able to go on like this, getting yourself hurt in stupid ways all because you’re not certain that she’s back in her prison. You’re meant to be a hero, which means that messing up, despite whatever paranoia that lingers in the back of your head, is unacceptable. It has consequences.

Seeing her in the flesh will likely be the hardest thing you’ll ever do. Except, maybe, not killing her when you caught her in that other dimension. You keep your mind on the fact that she won’t be able to touch you, that she’ll be walled away, to reassure yourself that there is no risk of either of you hurting the other — at least, physically.

But seeing her isn’t the only difficult part.

No, the hardest part is stepping back into an identity that you had lost your grasp on, long ago. You wear your old clothes, clothes that you hadn’t put on in months, and try to remember how it felt to be you, rather than Arachnid.

“Hi, Mrs. Stacy.” You say, when the door to an all too familiar apartment opens just a slither, and you catch sight of her wrinkled eyes. There’s a noticeable change to them when she realises who you are, and she’s slamming the door shut, undoing the chain, and reopening it before you can say another word.

She whispers your name like she can’t believe it’s you — and you can’t blame her.

You had disappeared, months ago, after the death of your father. Going missing was far easier than being placed in a foster system that would only hold you back. It had been so much easier, not having to face anyone, not having to speak at his funeral.

“Hi.” You repeat, when her stare lingers in the silence for far too long. The sound of your voice once again breaks her out of her trance, and she’s rushing forward to pull you into her arms as if you were her child. You suppose, in some ways, it was quite a lot like that. At the very least, your presence will remind her of the daughter she had lost.

“Where have you been? Oh, honey, I was so worried.” Mrs. Stacy says, her voice trembling by your ear as she squeezes you tight, unfazed by your lack of reciprocation. “Come inside, please.”

You follow her through the doorway, closing the door behind you as you had done so many times before. Not looking around at the apartment is near impossible, but you’re not sure how much familiarity you can take. Even just seeing Mrs. Stacey’s aged face makes your chest ache, your legs feeling shaky.

“Sit down, honey, let me get you a warm drink.” She says, a tremor to her voice as she bustles towards the kitchen which is adjoined to the living room. The news plays on the television, and you’re glad to hear a weather report, rather than some city-wide attack. Mrs. Stacy is quiet as she goes through the process of making your favourite drink, but with your enhanced hearing you listen to the telltale clink of a spoon against ceramic. You listen closely to her hitched breathing as her footsteps pad back into the room. “Here.” She hands you the warm mug, and you don’t comment on the way her hand shakes.

“Thank you.” You say, though it feels stilted, wrong, too formal. It’s hard to be normal in this setting, to be whoever you used to be, especially as she stares at you like she’s seen a ghost.

Mrs. Stacy stares at you for a long while before she speaks again, as if she’s still not sure that you’re real. “Where have you been? After—After your dad… we didn’t know what happened to you. Are you safe? Do you need help?” She asks, frantic once she’s gotten started on her questions.

“Mrs. Stacy, I’m fine, really.” You lie, smiling tightly over the rim of the mug as you hold it towards your face. Before, you would’ve burnt your tongue drinking it too fast, but you’re hesitant to drink it at all. The last thing you want is to become too familiar to your old life. “I’ve been staying with some friends, downtown. It’s been good.”

She raises a brow at you, and stares for a moment longer. “Honey… you don’t look well.” She tells you, and raises the back of her hand to press it against your forehead. Her frown only deepens when you flinch away from the touch. You try not to curse yourself too much, but can’t help reprimanding the way you hadn’t anticipated such an action.

The skin on your forehead is clammy, but that’s just the anxiety, the nerves at being back here. Arachnid can’t get sick.

“Listen, I… I was hoping I could ask a favour from you.” You say, hesitantly, gripping the warm mug tight between your hands, but loosen your fingertips against the ceramic when you hear a minute crack.

Mrs. Stacy furrows her brows, looking more concerned by the second, but nods. “Of course, anything.” She tells you, and places one of her hands against yours on the mug.

“I was hoping I could visit Gwen.” You voice, after one last moment of hesitation. The way her face immediately crumples at the request doesn’t give you much hope, especially as her hand withdraws from your own. “I—I know you don’t get to see her very often, and maybe it’s selfish, but… I don’t know. I wanted some kind of closure, I guess.” You ramble on in response to her silence, glaring down at the liquid still swirling in your mug.

“Honey,” Mrs. Stacy interrupts, her voice soft in contrast to the way yours was growing in volume. You quiet immediately, your gaze drawn up to where her tearful eyes stare at you, her expression almost mourning. “I would never deny you that, but you should know… I haven’t visited Gwenny since she was put in there.” She admits, her stare dropping to her lap, almost ashamed.

“Oh,” You voice, softly, in response. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed— I—I mean, I can’t even imagine—”

“No, don’t be silly, how would you have known?” She replies, raising her eyebrows at you strictly. “Now, I can get you that visit. I’ll call my attorney first thing tomorrow, but… really, honey, do you need me to call someone for you? Who are these friends?”

Her voice is familiar, and it’s kind, which makes it all the more painful. It’s strange, seeing the resemblance between her and the Green Goblin, and it makes a part of you ache. Your life wasn’t the only one torn apart by Gwen. In fact, her mother probably faced the worst of it. With her husband being long gone, her oldest son away at college, youngest withdrawn after her daughter became a homicidal maniac, who did she really have left? Who was looking after Helen Stacy?

You smile at her, as best as you can without tearing up, and reach out to grasp her hand, which she readily accepts. “I’m okay, Mrs. Stacy, I… It’s just a few friends of my dad, from his home town. Their kids, too. It’s better than being put in the system.” You tell her, and can only hope that she believes you. You have no way to back up these lies, knowing those friends of your father don’t exist.

“You could’ve stayed here, you know?” She says, teary and squeezing your hand so tightly you can hear your bones creaking. You smile sadly at her.

“You’re a much stronger person than me, Mrs. Stacy. I couldn’t even face my dad’s funeral, let alone be around the memories of somebody I lost. This place, it—it reminds me of her.” You explain, voice shaking as you hold back your own tears, swallowing them down and trying to breathe through the ache in your throat.

The way her heart breaks is almost loud enough for you to hear it, but she nods her head understandingly, regardless. “Of course,” She says, nodding still, “But know you always have a place here, okay?”

“Okay.” You respond, heart clenching so tightly you’re not sure it can pump your blood any longer.

“Now, what’s your number? Your old phone was disconnected.” She says, shaking her tears away to pull out a pad and pen from the coffee table. She sets the notepad against her knee, looking expectantly toward you.

“Oh, right,” You stutter, teeth chattering as you comb your mind for the number of your burner phone. “There was a mixup, because it was in my dad’s name.” You explain needlessly, still searching your mind for the answer. Finally, you remember it. You listen to her ballpoint pen scrape along the paper as she writes the numbers as you say them, and then she clicks the pen off after writing your name beside it, underlining it twice.

“How about I give you a call with the details of your visit, okay, honey?” She asks, nodding with a pleased hum at your affirmative. “Good. Stay for dinner, okay? I’ve missed you.”

Who are you to deny her that?

Though, even as you try to pretend that you help to set up the table for her benefit, and as you hug Gwen’s little brother tightly when he comes home for his, you know, deep down, that it’s for you. That this is a moment of selfishness that you’ll let yourself have, because god, you deserve it, don’t you?

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It’s thirteen days post Spider Society discovery, and you’re starting to regret the way you discarded that watch so carelessly. Not because you want to be a part of some cult of superheroes, but because you wish you had asked some more questions.

Surely Miguel O’Hara must’ve known a way to stop these villains from appearing in other universes? And if he did, had he already implemented whatever it was to stop Gwen escaping again? How exactly did she escape the first time? Was it a coincidence? Is there somebody out there, working behind the scenes, helping her get out?

You, unfortunately, have no way to answer any of the burning questions nagging at the back of your head. While a part of you hopes that you never see any of the Spider Society weirdos again, you also desperately want answers. Especially if it meant you could call off your visit to Gwen Stacy.

But the day arrives as any other does, and you spend every moment before the drive over to the prison desperately hoping that one of the Spider-people will show their face. None of them do, and you’re left to get into Mrs. Stacy’s car and simply brace for the journey ahead.

You’re pretty sure that swinging would be quicker, or easier, but you had no way to explain that way of transport to an interrogating Mrs. Stacy, and so you had to relent to her insistence on driving you. Now, you sit here, shifting in the seat of the car, uncomfortable without your suit underneath the clothes you used to wear on a daily basis. Even the knowledge that it’s stuffed into the bottom of your tattered backpack in the boot of Mrs. Stacy’s car doesn’t bring you any comfort.

Instead, the rough material of an old jacket has your skin crawling like you were being bitten by a thousand mosquitos, and the trousers on your legs itch like you’re allergic to them.

You suppose, really, that the spider bite that gave you so many powers had to have more drawbacks than just destroying your life. It only makes sense that your heightened senses would extend to the receptors on your skin. It makes every movement in these clothes torturous, and you wonder if it had always been this way, or if you were just so unused to wearing your old style of clothes. Either way, you hope that you won’t have to wear them for much longer.

If it all goes to plan, you should be in and out of the prison, just ensuring that Gwen Stacy is actually in the cell as she’s supposed to be. Then you just have to endure the fifty minute drive back to the city with Mrs. Stacy, and you’re free. You won’t have to wear these clothes again, won’t have to use your name, no — you can just sink back into the half life that is being Arachnid. It’s better that way.

“Okay, honey, here we are.” Mrs. Stacy says at last, having shifted her car into park. She pointedly avoids looking at the looming high-security prison ahead, instead focusing on you as you wipe your sweaty palms against your trousers. “Now you take as much time as you need in there, alright? I’ll be just out here, if you need me.”

You smile tightly at her, nodding with what you hope is more of a grateful expression rather than a grimace. “Thank you, Mrs. Stacy, really. I appreciate it, more than you know.”

That much was true — after all, it wasn’t like you could tell her that she was allowing the vivid paranoia you had been experiencing to be put to rest after her daughter escaped to another universe. Mrs. Stacy, from what you could gather, didn’t even know that Gwen had been missing for any amount of time. She had no idea what Gwen had done, how many more people she had hurt, but you assured yourself that it was better that way. Mrs. Stacy already had to deal with plenty, and that knowledge surely wouldn’t help.

She was already dealing with her own grief and feelings on the situation, as well as trying to support her two sons in the matter. Given what Gwen’s little brother had asked of you when he found out about you visiting her, you knew that he hadn’t been to visit Gwen, either. It seemed that he wasn’t coping with it all very well.

“Of course, you’re family. You should know that by now.” She says, smiling with teary eyes, reaching across the console to grasp your hand tightly in her own.

Her words take a stab at your chest, especially considering what had happened to everybody else who had seen you as family. Dead parents, villainous best friend — it really didn’t bode well for your loved ones. You just reassured yourself with the fact that you’d be able to disappear as soon as the two of you returned to the city. You couldn’t put her in any danger, that way, or her remaining kids.

“I’ll—I’ll see you after, okay?” You respond, squeezing her hand in return before quickly letting go and throwing open the car door, getting out and catching a slither of Mrs. Stacy’s surprised reply before you shut the car door.

There are guards waiting for you at the gates, checking you are who you say you are, scanning you for weapons before you even get in the building. They’re satisfied after their searches, content that you weren’t stupid enough to bring a weapon into a highly secure prison. You keep your focus on your breathing as they walk you in, handing you clothes to change into as well as a box to put all of your belongings in.

The scrub-like clothes they give you are even worse than your own, sending shivers up and down your spine at the feeling of each fibre scraping against your skin. You just try to breathe through it. Luckily, the rest of the security checks blur by, which means less time spent on agonising over this visit. You barely hear a word of the statement they read to you before you go in, and your hand cramps as you write your signature against a dotted line of a waiver. All of the other legal things were sorted out by Mrs. Stacy’s lawyer, which you are more than thankful for.

Instead of having to deal with that, you just have to wait.

You think that the waiting might be the worst part of it all. With the scrubs making your hairs raise and promoting uncomfortable shivers up and down your body, as well as the cold metal seat that they sat you on, you’re far too aware of everything around you. You can hear the hundreds of heartbeats in the buildings, the beeping of security doors, the footsteps heading your way. You can smell the coffee that the head guard in the adjoining room to the one you’re in is drinking, as well as the day-old sandwich in his desk. Worst of all is the way your own heartbeat is thrumming in your throat, padding harshly against your chest, so loud in your own ears that it slowly starts to drown out everything around you.

Gwen’s footsteps are heavy, accompanied by the clinking of the chains she’s shackled in. You can practically hear the maniacal laughter that had come from her whilst in that alternate dimension, even though she’s completely silent as she enters the room.

She smiles at you when you look up, and for a moment you’re fooled — it’s soft, gentle, kind. But then you see the glimmer in her eyes that was distinctly not Gwen, and you feel the scar along your side throbbing with phantom pain.

You smile tensely at the guards, who regard you with looks of gentle concern and caution, before they attach her chains to a link on the floor beside a chair three metres away from where you sit. They nod at you, which you return, and you watch as they go and take their positions beside the door before you move your eyes back to the elephant in the room — which is Gwen Stacy.

“So, you missed me?” She asks, baring her teeth in a grin that has too much teeth to be anything friendly. Gwen regards you closely as you stare at her, watch for any signs of flickering, any signs that this isn’t real. Her brows raise slowly, the longer you’re silent, but you’re in no hurry to talk. “No? Is that not it?”

“Sure, I miss you.” You respond after another stretch of silence, tilting your head to study her more closely. You don’t acknowledge the way that your voice shakes as you speak, the way it comes out in something closer to a croak before you swallow harshly against your dry throat. “Thought I’d come to check in.” You add, brows furrowing to make sure she gets your true meaning.

“Ah,” She voices, then laughs, shoulders shaking, chains clanking loudly against her metal chair. “I get it, now.”

Gwen doesn’t add anything else after that, even though you suspected that she may take this opportunity to loudly claim that you were Arachnid, outing your identity once and for all. Apparently, if she does want to out your identity, she doesn’t want to do it like this, as she stays silent until you speak.

You sit forward on your chair, ignoring the way the guards at the edges of the room shift uneasily at your movement. “Your mom arranged this for me, you know?” You say, eyebrow raised. She probably knows what you’re doing, or what you’re trying to do, but she doesn’t voice it. Instead, she just shifts to lean backwards in her own chair, sighing as if relaxing.

“Hmm, so she can visit.” Gwen says, nodding her head as if it’s all making sense now.

“She can, she just doesn’t want to. Neither does Georgie.” You respond, and find satisfaction in the way her eyes flash at the mention of her little brother, the nickname that the two of you both used to call him. She recovers quickly, but you can tell that she knows it wasn’t quick enough. The Green Goblin cracked, right in front of your very eyes. It’s proof that, if anything, her little brother has some meaning. “He wanted me to tell you something.”

Her head tilts across from you, though she doesn’t move from her laid back position.

You clear your throat, and look at the words you’d written on your skin. She tilts her head forwards the slightest amount, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, glancing at the guards who look just as uncomfortable as you feel. “He said that he misses his Gwenny, but he doesn’t want you coming home.” You stare at her as you repeat his message, the one he had told you nervously, as if he was truly afraid that Gwen would escape and come back. Her eyes twitch as she focuses on keeping her expression cool, but you know that the words have hit something in her, even if it’s part of the Green Goblin. “Looks like you even ruined your own family.”

You’re up on your feet as she lurches forwards, flung backward from where she tried to go against her chains to rush toward you. The guards are in front of you in mere moments, but you weren’t in any danger. Not as long as she stayed in here.

It’s almost satisfying, to see her chained up. It’s so different to seeing the Green Goblin on the outside, where she could be your Gwen Stacy. Whereas in here, bound by chains of heavy metal, clothed in uncomfortable looking prisoner scrubs, she was nothing but the Green Goblin. It was reassuring, almost, to be able to pick apart something physical between the two.

She bares her teeth at you, animalistic in a way that Gwen never was, and glares at you as you follow one of the guards out of the room, the others closing in on her, ready to take her back to whatever cell she came from.

The clothes you wear become less overbearing as you keep your focus on the guards taking Gwen away the whole way back through security, only switching back to your surroundings when they hand you the tray of your own belongings to change back into. You’re relieved for many reasons, and you try to focus on that feeling as you approach Mrs. Stacy’s car rather than the way your jacket itches.

Mrs. Stacy looks as if she wants to speak as you get in the car, as if she wants to ask about your visit, but she seemingly can’t bring herself to do it. You keep your mouth shut.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Not a month later, your daily activities are back to normal, uninhibited by the daunting idea of Gwen being free. Still, though, you think about her more often, as much as you did in the time after she was put away the first time.

Mrs. Stacy had tried to call you more than once since, and at the two week mark you’d had to invest in a new burner phone. You just couldn’t risk anybody getting a hold of it and seeing her contact, or the ringer going off and exposing your position in a fight. No, it was better for her not to have your number. Besides, you had hers memorised if you needed to call her.

It was better if you tried to reduce any connections to Gwen Stacy. You’d be much better off, the less you thought about her.

Despite knowing that, you couldn’t help it. And despite seeing that crack in the Green Goblin exterior at her little brother’s words, you didn’t have much hope for her. You don’t think they’d let her out of prison even if you could find a cure, somehow. The fact of it was that Gwen Stacy’s life was over. She had no hope of a future in this world, the Goblin had destroyed that. All you could do was remember her and hope beyond anything that in one of those alternate dimensions, you and Gwen were happy together.

The thought of it played on your mind every day, a lingering pain that stung at your eyes. You thought about it so much that you had even imagined the world where Gwen had never become the Goblin, where you and your Gwen were happy. It was a suffocating image, one without any hope of being true, but you couldn’t help thinking about it.

Even as you fought villain after villain, petty criminal after petty criminal, you thought about it. Even now, as you were swinging around a bridge, dodging all the debris this villain was throwing your way, it played on your mind.

It was a distraction, and it was one you needed to get rid of.

That much became certain as the villain you were facing, Tombstone, managed to get a hit on you, sending you flying across the bridge. You landed on a car with a groan, the windshield cracking below you, and you rolled your eyes as the person in the car held a hand on their horn until you managed to climb off, a distinct Arachnid-shaped dent left in the bonnet.

Well, that would be aching tomorrow, that much was for sure.

He grinned where he was stood across the bridge from you, showing off his filed teeth, as if trying to intimidate you with the pointy edges of them.

“You’ve been a formidable foe, Arachnid,” Tombstone says, his voice barely a whisper above the wind, but you can hear him perfectly. You suspect he knows as much, and that only makes you nervous. “But I think it’s time for our battle to come to an end.”

“I actually agree.” You respond, stretching your aching back and feeling a bone shift when it definitely shouldn’t. You can’t help but wince, gritting your teeth and glaring over at Tombstone across the bridge.

You’re getting tired of these villains, of their constant spiel about how the world should be, about how everything should be how they wanted it to be. What was so wrong with the human population that everybody couldn’t just get along? Surely, if everybody got along, listened to each other, the world’s problems would be solved. But then again, this is New York, and it’s a city in which greed is bred.

A light press against your webshooter has you slinging high up on the bridge, staring down at Tombstone as he watches you intently. You’re planning your next move, considering all the variables, when a burst of orange manifests into the air behind him. He looks confused as you falter in your web slinging, dropping slightly before you catch yourself, and he turns around just in time to receive a curled fist to the face, courtesy of a familiar man in a red and blue suit.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” You murmur, lowering yourself to the bridge to approach this Spiderman, glaring at where Tombstone stands, straining against a red barrier that had materialised from the device Spiderman had placed at his feet.

“I hate that guy!” The familiar voice of Peter B. Parker says, shaking his fist as he hops slightly from one foot to the other, his lenses squinted before he finally turns to acknowledge you. “That guy sucks.”

Your brows are furrowed, eyes squinted behind your lenses as you stare at Peter, confused. This Tombstone guy isn’t an anomaly, is he? While you hadn’t faced him before, you knew that there had been a battle between him and another vigilante down in Hell’s Kitchen. And he knew your name, hadn’t been calling you Spiderman like the last anomaly. So why was he here?

Peter sighed, as if he was disappointed to be met with your confusion. “You got a place, kid? Or a burger joint, maybe?”

With that same amount of confusion, you nodded, brows furrowed as cops came to collect Tombstone, who was still in a fit of rage. You can just barely hear him swearing to get you back, both of you, through the barrier. Peter gestured a hand forwards for you to lead the way, and with slight hesitation, you swung off with him following.

Now, the two of you are sat in a Shake Shack, despite you wanting to head back to the offices you were set up in. Peter had ordered two burgers, one for you and one for him, though you had decidedly rejected the one he pushed towards you. He had only shrugged, and accepted it onto his own plate.

“My wife’s pregnant, can’t even stand the smell of these.” Peter groans, stuffing what must’ve been at least a quarter of the burger in his mouth. You just nod at his statement, though you had to admit you were slightly surprised that this guy was going to be a dad. But then again, you’re pretty sure you can remember your dad scoffing down his favourite food in a similar way. “Now listen,” He continues, speaking with his mouthful and paying you no mind as you cringe at the sound. “Miguel wants to strike a sort of… deal with you.”

“Okay?” You respond, brows furrowed. You look around the place, uncomfortable with all the people staring at Arachnid in a booth beside an old man stuffing his face. The lenses of your mask squint with you as you look at Peter, waiting for him to add anything on to explain his statement. “Then why’d he send you?” You ask, at last, when Peter makes no move to speak of his own free will, too engrossed in his second burger.

Peter held up a finger, gulping down a sip of his strawberry milkshake. “Said something about this being good practice for me,” Peter eventually answers, flashing you a smile. “You know, being a new dad and all.”

He seems to realise quickly that that was the wrong thing to say as your eyes narrow further, visible only through the shift of your lenses. The last thing you need is some random guy trying to father you. Even just the idea of it irritates you, makes the very blood rushing in your veins feel hot with anger. You had a dad, and look what good that did you. He’s gone.

Not to mention the implication of you being a child! You’re far from being a kid. You’ve been looking after yourself for some time now just fine. Whatever deal Miguel wants to strike with you is because they need you. Not the other way around. You knew that you shouldn’t have let that Spider-doctor fix you up.

“I’m not some kid. I don’t need you lot, you need me. Don’t get it all twisted, Peter.” You respond as he continues to look like a deer in headlights, clearly kicking himself for revealing what Miguel had said. You keep your voice low, fighting to stay unheard with the quietened air in the diner. “Now hurry up and tell me about whatever bullshit deal you want to strike with me, so I can say no and we can go our separate ways.”

“Kid,” Peter sighs, before immediately wincing as he realised he just directly disregarded your statement about not being a kid. “Sorry, Arachnid,” He corrects, settling his hands on the table in front of him, finally taking a break from his almost-finished food. “Nobody’s saying you can’t do this.”

“Sounds like that’s exactly what you’re saying.” You mutter, averting your eyes from Peter and instead narrowing your lenses at the people still staring in your direction.

“All we’re saying is that you shouldn’t have to do this alone,” He continues, ignoring your interruption with nothing but a quirked brow. “It’s a tough job. Everybody needs someone to look out for them, you know? It’s in our nature to feel responsible for everything around us, as Spider-people. But you can’t carry the whole weight of the world on your shoulders, it’s too much!”

You stare blankly at him, remaining unimpressed with his whole speech.

Peter sighs once more, looking at you with hesitant hope that you’ll come around. Unfortunately, you’re not about to let these people think that you’re incapable. If anything, Peter’s little speech was just adding fuel to your fire. You liked proving people wrong — it’s what you thrived on. You needed to prove them wrong. Because if you didn’t, what did that make you? You couldn’t let people be right about their assumptions of you. If you couldn’t prove everybody wrong, then that meant some of the things people said about you were right. And with the amount of people who accused you of being responsible for more deaths than you saved, who portrayed you as a menace rather than a vigilante, who said you weren’t worthy of your powers, who said whatever divine intervention had given them to you was wrong, you couldn’t let them be right. You wouldn’t.

“I already told you people. I’m not interested.” You spit out at him, feeling your frustration brimming over the edge. Why would nobody just trust you? Was that so much to ask? You understand that you had made mistakes, that you had cost people their lives, but you were trying. Why couldn’t that just be enough?

Peter says nothing as you slide out of the booth, stomping your way out of the Shake Shack as if you were some kind of grumpy teenager. He could only hope that his unborn child was a less grumpy teen, but then again, he was pretty sure you had every right to be miserable. Correcting himself, he could only hope that his unborn child never experienced your reasons for being so miserable.

You make your way towards your office building, swinging through the streets whilst doing your best to keep your heightened hearing down. You really didn’t want to have to deal with anything else, tonight. All you wanted was to get back, to put on the only clothes other than your suit that didn’t make you want to crawl out of your skin. Even if it was just for an hour, you’d take it.

While you had gotten used to how quiet it was in the building a long time ago, you couldn’t help but think that tonight, it felt almost… eerie. There was something tingling, buzzing at the very base of your skull, but even as you strained your hearing, your sight, everything, you couldn’t detect anything out of place. Everything seemed normal, so you couldn’t understand why you were so on edge! It couldn’t just be Peter’s presence, surely, because he posed no threat to you. So what was going on?

Picking up your backpack filled with belongings, you stared around at the empty office, the breeze that flowed through the open window sending a shiver down your spine, even though you weren’t feeling cold. Something wasn’t right. You just couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Hello? Anybody there?” You call out, straining your hearing once more, trying to listen out for even the slightest sound. A movement, a breath, anything, even as you couldn’t help but think that this was the most cliché horror movie like moment that you had experienced to date. Still, you heard nothing, but that nagging feeling didn’t dissipate, and you quickly lost all desire to change out of your suit.

The unease you felt only grew stronger as you stood there, unsure what to make of the feeling. It was quickly growing towards being overwhelming, but you didn’t know what to do.

Luckily for you, you didn’t have to make a decision.

Unfortunately, the decision was made by one of the very people you were trying to prove yourself to.

Peter B. Parker — or at least, you were pretty sure it was him — swung through the very same window you had, only to grasp a hold on your arm and pull you out of the window as he jumped straight back out of it.

Now, you had been Arachnid for a long time now. You had gotten used to the swinging, to the way your stomach dipped and your throat tightened, but you had never experienced it where you weren’t the one in control. Finally, you understand why people you brought to safety had, on occasion, thrown up immediately after you set them down on their feet again. The feeling of falling, of having no choice but to trust somebody else to catch you, it was terrifying.

But what was infinitely more terrifying was the way that the very floor of the building you had just been stood on exploded.

The blaze was blinding, even with your lenses protecting your eyes, but the noise that came moments later was much, much worse. And sure, you had been around explosions before, but never one that big, never so close. And never so unprepared for one.

Your ears were ringing, and you vaguely realised that you had become dead weight in your shock, with Peter struggling to keep his grasp on your arm firm. After a moment, you had the sense to grab his forearm in return, trying to assist him in holding you up. He didn’t seem as effected by the explosion in comparison to you, and you wondered if he’d had the time to put earbuds in his ears as you had sometimes done before a fight. Either way, you were insanely envious as the pain in your ears increased, leaving you struggling to focus on holding on to Peter.

When he set you down, which couldn’t have been more than a minute after he had grabbed you, considering you could still see the office building smouldering, you had to hold a hand over your mouth even over your mask, trying to rid yourself of nausea. Smoke was leaking into the darkening sky, and you saw the flash of sirens below, but heard nothing other than the distinctive ringing that felt like it was melting your brain.

Peter’s hand was squeezing your shoulder, and after a moment in which you didn’t acknowledge him, he was gripping your other shoulder with his spare hand, shaking you the slightest bit. You looked up at him with a groan, squinting past the floating lights in your vision to see that his mouth was moving, no sound coming out. You shook your head, trying to get rid of that incessant ringing, but it didn’t work. You dropped your chin to your chest again, hands bracing against your ears as if they could ease your pain, and you didn’t make a move as Peter removed one hand from your shoulder.

Mere moments later, the same tingling you had felt before the building you were in exploded returned, stronger, more intensely. Your head snapped up, frantically looking around, paying Peter no mind as he spoke into the orange-glowing watch on his wrist. You breathed through your nose, trying not to cough at the smoke permeating the air, and you just managed to push Peter over the edge of the roof of the building, with you diving after him, as another explosive went off.

That explosion was smaller than the last one, and the only reason you had managed to avoid it was because you knew it was coming. You knew what the alarm bells in your head were trying to tell you now, and you spotted the projectile just seconds before it reached your feet.

Part of you was glad that your senses were dulled from the first explosion — your hearing, especially, as it meant you were less effected by the close-range on this one. You saw Peter’s eyes widen as he looked up above you at where the explosion had just occurred. You just about managed to web him before shooting a web towards the next building, feeling something in your shoulder pull sharply with his extra weight and the suddenness of the move.

You squinted down at him as he gripped the web attached to his chest with one hand, his lips moving more frantically as he spoke to a hologram projected by the watch on his other hand.

“Shit, what is going on?” You asked, though mostly to yourself, but the only way you could tell you had even voiced the words was by the way they rumbled out of your throat. That explosion had messed up your hearing, for the moment, anyway, and you quickly realised that with your slow healing and the ringing in your ears, this fight was going to be majorly difficult.

You only had a moment to think that, before something snapped the web that was holding you to the building, sending both you and Peter falling through the air. Embarrassingly, you’re pretty sure that you let out a yell of some sort.

All the air was knocked out of you the next second as something hurtled into you, sending you careening towards the windows of the closest building. Peter, for a moment, had a shocked expression on his face, before he seemingly realised what was going on, smiling and letting out a string of words that you didn’t hear. You groaned as your sore back collided with the window, smashing upon your impact, and you were sent sprawling over a desk, a monitor breaking underneath your sudden weight.

Yet again, there was a hand against your shoulder, and you paid it no mind as your head dropped back, thudding against the desk. You couldn’t help but groan, the duress that your back had been under today was certainly taking its toll, leaving your whole spine throbbing with pain. On top of that, you were struggling to catch your breath, and with the sudden adrenaline provided by the spider-sense fading, the intensity of the pain in your ears was increasing.

Finally, you managed to peel your eyes open to see a concerned Peter B. Parker looking at you, with Miguel O’Hara stood beside the shattered window, staring out menacingly, as if daring whoever it was to attack again. Peter said something else, squeezing your shoulder, and all you could do in response was hold up one thumb.

Miguel seemingly barked out an order over his shoulder, and a moment later, you were squinting against the bright orange light of a portal.

Peter was hauling you to your feet, leaning to hold one of your arms over his shoulder, practically carrying your weight towards the portal looming ahead. “No, no, wait,” You said, and you felt the way your words slurred as you became slightly delirious with a mixture of pain, adrenaline, and desperation. “Stop, I gotta—”

He only shook his head, before tipping the two of you forward until you both fell into the portal.

The dizzying feeling of inter-dimensional travel definitely didn’t help the pounding in your temples, nor the nausea you had previously been feeling, and you had no choice but to try and focus on Peter’s grip on you as you squeezed your eyes shut. When the world finally stopped spinning, or feeling like it was falling away around you, you opened your eyes just enough to take note of where you were — which was back in the Infirmary of the Spider Society HQ.

You shook Peter off, standing on your own weight and waving him away when he tried to assist you as you swayed once more. You glared, eyes narrowed, and turned to head straight back through the portal you had come from, only to see it close before your very eyes.

The same Spider-Doctor from the last time you were here snapped a band around your wrist, and you squinted down at the red and blue band. It made you feel lighter, even slightly, which felt good on your aching bones and muscles. You opened your mouth to speak as the Spider-Doctor led you to sit down on an empty bed with white sheets, but you vaguely saw the way his mask shifted as he presumably spoke. You couldn’t tell what he was saying with his mask on, but a minute later, you felt a sharp prick against the inside of your elbow.

You just about had the lucidity to murmur “You fucker—” before you succumbed to the weight of your eyelids.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

When you woke up, it was to a throbbing pain in your forehead, that only got worse when you tried to open your eyes. At the very least, you were glad to have your hearing returned to you, albeit slightly muffled, which you were only aware of because the sound of voices across the room was the reason for you waking.

“I’m just saying, maybe knocking the kid out wasn’t the greatest idea!” Peter B. Parker’s annoyingly loud voice says, slightly high pitched in the end. Who he was saying it to, however, you couldn’t say, not without opening your eyes. And that didn’t feel like a good idea, the lights even with your eyes closed feeling like too much.

Instead, you just groan, bringing your hand up to rest over both of your eyes. “It wasn’t a great idea.” You say through gritted teeth, more than annoyed over the situation you found yourself in. Honestly, what did these people have against leaving you be? Why did they think they had any right to tell you what to do, or how to handle things, or to overrule you when it came to your own treatment?

“Hey, kid!” Peter responds, drawing the letters out in that typical oh shit voice. From the snippet of the conversation you had caught, at least he was seemingly trying to advocate for your consciousness. However, that didn’t change the fact that he was there when that Spider-Doctor knocked you out. No, you were still pissed. And when you got your hands on that doctor? He was in for it.

Any other thoughts or feelings on the matter were overturned when you realised that your hand was resting over your eyes, not the lenses of your mask.

Who do these people think they are?

You open your mouth to jump into a rant on that exact subject, on the audacity that they all have, but find yourself silenced by somebody grabbing onto your free wrist, and seemingly dropping your mask into your hand. You feel it until you’ve got it the right way around, and then pull it over your face.

The lights are much more bearable with your lenses back over your eyes, but it’s still painful, and still worsens that pounding in your head. But it does mean that you can see who’s around you; Peter, Miguel and the Spider-Doctor. You have half the mind to leap at that doctor, but Miguel is raising placating hands in your direction before you can make the move to do so.

“Let’s all calm down.” Miguel says, placing his hands on his hips when your eyes only narrow at him.

“What is wrong with you? Who gave you people the right to—to take off my mask? To knock me out? Hell, to come to my universe and get in my business!” You practically yell out, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the way your back hurts with the movement and glaring when the three of them step forward to help you.

“If Peter hadn’t gotten there when he did, you would’ve died.” Miguel responds plainly, seemingly aggravated by your irritation. One of his arms is raised in a gesture towards the man, who smiles almost guiltily, as if helping you was a crime. Which, in your mindset, it might as well have been. “There was an anomaly, a villain from another dimension targeting you.”

“I can handle myself.” You spit out, though the way the room spins when you stand is almost a direct contrast to your words. Your blood is rushing through your veins, and you realise that there’s a machine beeping next to you, increasing in frequency. As you look, you realise it’s measuring your heart rate, and you yank wires off of you that you hadn’t even noticed before, as if they were exposing you somehow. “And that doesn’t give you the right to take off my mask. Who does that?”

Spider-Doctor raises his hands, as if surrendering, though seems unintimidated by the way your glare switches to him. “It was necessary. Your hearing was severely damaged by the explosion, you needed treatment. You have dampening-buds in your ears now, while your healing catches up.” While that sounds reasonable, it only makes you angrier. Why did these people even care if some anomaly killed you? If your hearing was damaged? Why did they insist on bothering you?

Miguel sighs, pinching his nose, before he lifts his head up to speak to you again. You just about stop yourself from making a snotty comment about his attitude. You didn't even want to be here, and here he was, acting like dealing with you was such an inconvenience to him. It was frustrating. “Your universe seems to be at some sort of epicentre of anomalies, and we don’t know why. Yet.”

“We’re just trying to keep you safe. You can’t deal with all of those anomalies alone, nobody can. Sometimes, you need a team.” Peter says softly, like he could convince you of the matter. “Believe me, you don’t want to learn that the hard way.” He adds on, smiling almost hesitantly, as if there’s a memory he’s thinking of connected to his own words.

You’re sighing through your nose, your teeth gritting together as you regard them. “Okay, fine, you want to come take out your anomalies, or whatever? You do that. But anything more than that isn’t welcome.” You say, at last, your eyes narrowed towards them as you wait for their responses.

You still don’t really understand it, any of it, but it’s becoming clear that you have no choice but to deal with these people. Apparently, they were not budging on all of this stuff, which — fine, so long as they stay out of your way. The last thing you need is a bunch of Spider-people stepping on your toes, or making you seem incapable in front of the citizens of your own dimension when in the end, they’ll all up and leave.

After all, you can remember your mother telling you how important it is to do things yourself. The moment you start accepting help, you relax, and when they decide they don’t want to help you anymore? You’re screwed, your sense of independence reduced to ashes. And as Arachnid, there’s far too much at stake to risk that happening.

“Here,” Miguel says, only nodding his agreement — or at least, that’s what you assume the nod was for. He throws a watch towards you, and you catch it with some confusion. “In case you see any anomalies before we do.” He explains as he watches you fiddle witht he watch in both hands, glaring down at it as if it was offensive. He’s relatively satisfied when you relax at that explanation. While Miguel doesn’t voice what else it’s for, knowing you’d only get irritated and refuse the watch, he’s silently hoping that you’ll understand. It’s so you can come to them, if you need them. They can only hope that they’ll be able to tell you that, one day, before it’s too late, without the offer scaring you off.

“So, I’m good to go?” You ask, looking between the three Spider-Men still staring at you and the watch you hesitantly clasp around your wrist. They nod, or, Peter and Miguel do, while the Spider-Doctor throws his hands in the air, exasperated.

“That dimension is yours,” Peter says, leaning over to see the screen of your watch. “The button at the bottom will input this dimension as the destination. Just press that,” He points to another button, “To open the portal to whichever dimension has been typed in.”

You nod, still pissed that he’d let the Spider-Doctor knock you out, but at least you didn’t give him a snarky comment. Instead, you just pressed the button to go back to your own dimension, and stepped through the portal the moment it was big enough for you to go through.

You didn’t expect for him to follow you through.

“Hey, listen,” Peter says, almost reluctantly, as if he doesn’t want to upset you. When you turn to him, he raises his hands, as if to further prove that sentiment. “I am sorry that he knocked you out, I didn’t know he was going to do that.”

“Okay, fine, apology accepted.” You say, flatly, turning to survey where exactly you are. It doesn’t take you long to notice the remains of the building you had been camping out in, the building charred and the air still thick with all the smoke that had been produced.

“I wasn’t done,” Peter sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose momentarily. “I also wanted to say that I’m sorry about your building. And I wanted to ask, well, mention about how when Doctor-Peter took off your mask, he noticed you don’t have anything protecting your ears, like other Spiders with your level of enhanced hearing do.”

You turn to stare blankly at him, while mulling through where exactly you’re going to stay in your head. If you’re being honest, you’re not paying his words much mind. So what, you don’t have anything protecting your hearing? Sure, sometimes you had stuffed earbuds into your ears when you knew you were going into a rough fight, but you didn’t know when some psycho exploded your building right in front of you. Plus, it’s not like you have unlimited resources to figure out some way of protected your ears under your mask while also letting you effectively use your hearing.

“Okay? And?” You ask, voice edging on the side of boredom. In all honesty, you just want to be left alone. You want to put on your comfy clothes, curl up into a ball and go to sleep so you can dream of a world where everything is okay. The likelihood of that happening is small, but not impossible, right?

“Well,” Peter hesitates then, which piques your interest the slightest bit. “Here, I had these made back when my hearing was crazy sensitive, but it’s not anymore, so I got no use for them!” He says, holding out two blue and red earbuds in a clear case. “You gotta wait until your ears are healed up to use ‘em, but I figured they’d do you more good than me.”

For a moment, you’re ready to deny him. To glare and insist that you don’t need his help. But then, he had said that they were originally for him, and he didn’t need them any longer, so really, would it be so bad to take them? To accept this one thing? To allow yourself to be saved of this tiniest bit of pain?

“You’re sure?” You ask, likely the least aggressive you’d spoken to him, though that’s not to say that it was asked softly. You were still firm on not accepting their help, on doing your own thing, but you could accept this much, surely? It couldn’t hurt.

Peter smiles, a short laugh leaving him, and he waves the box towards you. “I’m sure!”

“…Thanks.” You say, shortly, as you accept the earbuds offered to you. He also hands you the backpack that you had lost track of after the attack, and you accept that far more quickly. You’re glad that it feels the exact same weight as it did the last time you held it, before you shove the earbuds into the opening and zip it back up.

There’s a portal still open on the rooftop the two of you stand on, and Peter backs up to go towards it almost reluctantly. “Also, if you need somewhere to stay—”

“Don’t push it,” You respond, quickly, cutting him off before he could finish what he was saying. He doesn’t take offence to your abruptness, and smiles with a nod, before he disappears into the portal. You stare out at the city around you, looking in the direction of another building you had been very reluctant to return to. “What is my life?” You ask yourself, rhetorically, because you don’t know how you’d even answer that.

You glance behind you to ensure the portal is closed, before jumping off the rooftop, freefalling, relishing in the way the cold wind soothes the pain in your back. Before long, though, you have to shoot a web to catch yourself. You head towards the only place you know will be suitable for you, but can’t shake the way the thought of it chills you.

All you can do is hope that this multiverse stuff will be over with, and soon.

1K notes · View notes

fairyhaos · 1 year ago

Text

❖ take care of me anyway // yoon jeonghan

jeonghan x gn!reader, 1.7k+ words

tags: office worker!jeonghan not rlly relevant to the plot tho, sick fic, fluff, established relationship

warnings: brief fever-induced hallucinations ig?? but theyre rlly cute, pet names, reader has a cold

notes: im sick. like, 'i have a cold' sick. and i also have another sick fic planned so uhh yeah im a little Unwell in the head too

There are ten minutes left of Jeonghan’s lunch break when you finally call him.

“Hello, my darling,” he says, his tone both parts dry and amused. “How are you?”

“Sick,” you reply, and even just that word sounds horribly bunged up. “But you knew that already, didn’t you? You called in sick for me.”

Jeonghan just hums, smiling a little as he adjusts the phone against his ear, walking down the street back to his company building. “Maybe I did.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, and he can almost hear you pouting on the other end of the line. There’s a rustling sound as you adjust yourself in bed, and he sighs.

“How sick are you?”

“Very,” you say, miserably, and then give a series of harsh, wet coughs that has him wincing. “Very sick. I only just woke up, but my head is just…” You don’t finish your sentence. Just make a very pained sound like a wounded puppy.

Jeonghan chuckles. “Gee, I wonder how you managed to get so sick. It’s not like walking home in the pouring rain without a coat makes you ill, isn’t it?”

You whine at that, upset. “Han, I told you, I was gonna call you but my phone was dead. I had no choice! Wanted to get home fast to see you,” you add in a mumble, sounding dejected.

He smiles at that. “It wasn’t like I was going anywhere, though,” he points out. “I was all comfortably squished on the couch. I wasn’t gonna disappear any time soon. You could’ve taken your time. Waited for the rain to pass.”

“Yeah, but still,” you huff petulantly, then sniff. “Can you make soup when you get back home?” you ask after a beat, and sniffle again. “And also buy some tissues? And meds? And give me cuddles?”

Jeonghan chuckles at how pitiful you sound, resisting the urge to coo. “No.”

“What?” You’re whining again, and you sound all bunged up but Jeonghan just smiles, amused. “But your darling Y/N is currently suffering the worst cold in the entire world.”

“But alas, I think my darling Y/N is the sole person to blame for this cold,” Jeonghan says, lips twitching upwards. “Don't you think so?”

“Come take care of me anyway.”

“No.”

You make a noise of discontent, sheets rustling as you shift around in bed again. “Hmph. Worst boyfriend ever. I’m breaking up with you.”

That makes him laugh, the stunned sound being pulled out of him by your deadpan tone, and he grins to himself out on the street, rounding the corner until his company building is in sight. “Whatever you say,” he singsongs. “I’ll see later, okay?”

“Whatever. Bye.” A pause. “Have a nice day.”

Jeonghan smiles as you hang up, looking fondly down at your contact name. He’s standing in front of the company entrance, now, and he has three minutes of his break left. Just enough time to get into the elevator and up to his office.

He pockets his phone, turns on his heel and traipses off to find the nearest pharmacy.

───────────── 🧂

You’ve been drifting in and out of sleep the entire day, constantly stuck in that drowsy, so-sick-that-nothing-feels-real state, and you’ve hallucinated Jeonghan coming home a total of thirteen times in the past five hours.

At least, you think it’s been five hours.

Maybe it’s been less than that.

Whatever. Time is weird.

The point is, your mind is all fuzzy and everything feels like it’s floating, so when someone who looks an awful lot like Jeonghan comes into the room, you just groan. Hallucination Jeonghan #14 has come to pay you a visit, it seems, so you just frown and give him the response that you’ve given all his other clones.

“Go away. Stop trying to sell me fish.”

Hallucination Jeonghan #14 makes a confused noise at that, walking closer to your bed, leaning over to adjust your pillows and pull you up into a more upright position.

“I don’t want your fish,” you say, just in case he didn’t hear you the first time. “Stop it.”

That makes the hallucination chuckle, and his hand comes up to your forehead.

Cold. Huh. None of the other hallucinations touched you before.

His hand drops from your forehead, swiping at the soft skin under your eyes gently, and his fingers are blessedly cool against your skin. You hadn’t realised how much you were burning up before.

“You’re really, really sick,” Hallucination Jeonghan #14 murmurs, and he sounds so concerned, before pulling out a bottle of water from one of the plastic bags he’s holding. Woah, you hadn’t even realised he was holding them. “Here, darling. Drink.”

You obediently take a sip once he uncaps the lid for you, before making small noises of distress when some of it spills down your shirt. Hallucination Jeonghan #14 (wow was it a mouthful to say, even in your head) just hushes you gently, dabbing at it with tissues that he’d procured from the plastic bags.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, and his hands take yours, clasping them around the bottle. Once you’re holding it, he gets up, and for a horrible moment, you think this hallucination is going to leave again. You kind of like this one.

“Where’re you going?” you ask, but it comes out as more of a slur of vowels. You’re not sure he understood a word.

“Drink up,” is all he says. He fishes out a packet of pills from the bag (it’s like a magic bag, you think blearily. It seems to have everything inside it). “Have these as well, okay? I’ll go make that soup you wanted.”

You nod, blinking. Dutifully, you sip the water that the hallucination has left you, because really this was one of the most gentle, doting, Jeonghan-like Hallucination Jeonghan and it kind of feels like he really does have your best interests at heart.

Unlike the other Hallucination Jeonghans, who just wanted to sell you fish. This one really seemed to care about your well-being.

You blink again, slowly.

Oh.

By the time Jeonghan comes back with a gently steaming bowl of chicken soup on a tray with a mug of tea, you're more lucid than before, pouting at him as he comes closer, having remembered his last words before you’d hung up the phone.

“You said you weren’t going to take care of me.”

Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, setting the tray on the bedside table, before sitting down on the edge of your bed, wordlessly picking up the bowl and spoonfeeding you some soup. You open your mouth easily, and he hums in approval with a smile.

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my darling be sick all alone, hm?” he says. “I can’t do that. Especially if you’re also seeing hallucinations of me who are trying to sell you fish.”

He continues feeding you soup in tiny sips, and the entire situation feels weirdly vulnerable, with you propped up on pillows and Jeonghan making small noises of approval every time you successfully swallow a spoonful. Like you’re a little baby bird, or something.

But he smiles so lovingly at you the entire time, so it’s kind of hard to feel too embarrassed.

“Well done,” Jeonghan murmurs, once you’ve finished half of the bowl. Your boyfriend is affectionate, almost overbearingly so at times, always poking you in the side or pinching your cheeks or tweaking your nose, but the softness with which he treats you right now is a whole other level of affection entirely.

Jeonghan cares deeply for you. You know that. You’ve never doubted how much he loves you, and he never gives you reason to doubt it. But still, when he smooths down your hair and strokes the back of your hand and gazes at you so gently, it makes you realise yet again that oh God, he loves you.

“We’re going to get you to finish the rest of the soup in a minute,” he says, reaching down towards the plastic bag at his feet, “but first. I wanted you to have this.”

Out of the bag, he pulls out…

A fluffy bunny plushie.

You blink, tilting your head, sniffing in confusion and also to try and unblock your bunged up nose. “What?”

“Say hi to Jjongie,” Jeonghan says. “He came up to me when I was buying your soup, and I couldn’t not bring him home.” The bunny’s pink ears flop adorably into its eyes as he holds out the soft toy to you. It even has a cream coloured ribbon around its neck. “He’s gonna keep you company whenever I can’t be here for you.”

“Oh,” you say softly, taking Jjongie from him with a smile. You rub your thumb over the soft fur of the bunny’s cheek. “He’s adorable.”

Jeonghan beams, proud. “Of course he is. He’s a me-substitute.”

You look up at him, smiling. “Han, I—” You can’t finish your sentence, too choked up. Literally. You suddenly start coughing, hand coming up to cover your mouth, and Jeonghan rushes forward with the mug of tea and an opened box of tissues that he suddenly procured out of nowhere.

“Hey, it’s okay, no need to cry over it,” he says teasingly as you glare at him, eyes tearing up from how hard you’re coughing. You accept the tissues and, when he pushes the tea insistently in you direction, you take the mug too.

“Yeah, yeah.” You blow your nose with one hand and then drink the tea, noting with a smile the subtle notes of honey in it. “Thank you,” you add, softly, looking down at Jjongie in your lap. Jeonghan really has gone out of his way for you.

Jeonghan just shakes his head, picking up the soup bowl again. “Thank me once you get better,” he says. “You can take care of me after. I’ll probably be catching your illness from looking after you.”

You grin, blowing your nose again, and even you can’t miss the way that Jeonghan watches you, eyes devastatingly fond.

“Yeah, but you’re gonna look after me anyways, aren’t you?”

Jeonghan grins, unashamedly bright. He taps the spoon against your lips, smiling wider when you sip the soup, the mug of tea in your hands, Jjongie the bunny in your lap.

“Duh. I love you too much not to.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @butiluvu @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @raevyng @isabellah29

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imababblekat · 4 months ago

Text

Scars That Bind

**WARNINGS**: implied ptsd, scarring, angst (but w/ happy ending)

~~~~~~~~

@httpvomitello ,"Hi Hi, how are you? So I was wondering if you could do a one shot with Donnie x f! reader who is his girlfriend. It would be after the event of the second film, where she helps with the fight and everything. However, she ends up with a big scar on her back, but she never got around to revealing it to the others because she was ashamed to show it, and because of that, in those weeks she almost didn't let Donnie touch her, whether it was a hug or a kiss. Until one day, he accidentally sees the scar, and after her explanation, he comforts her and things get better.

A/N: oh boy this is much longer than i had planned it to be! hope y'all still enjoy though! im just gonna go cry in a corner after having written this ╮(T▽T)╭

~xXx~

It had been weeks, and yet the events of the Kraang attacks still effected you. Effected your life. It hadn't been as often as early on, but you still had nightmares. Still awoke sweaty and fearful from a nightmare that played out way differently and more devastating than how the real battle had ended victoriously. Well, mostly victoriously. Yes, the four ninja brothers you had helped and fought alongside went home with some new scars that they would no doubt proudly brandish, but the one you took home made you feel anything but proud. Anything but strong like how the turtles felt about theirs.

The large, healed but still freshly ugly wound across your middle back would be a forever reminder of how things could have gone terribly wrong for you that day. You were lucky to make it out alive in the end, but you had not only been physically scarred, but mentally as well.

What if you hadn't made it out of that slippery situation? What if it had happened and then Donnie, your everything, wouldn't have even known, to busy off fighting the big bad boss? How could you leave him, leave everyone, so suddenly in your foolishness to be more than what you were? A fragile human, trying to be a hero like her mutated boyfriend who had been training to fight his entire life?

The near death experience left you thinking and imaging the worst nearly every waking moment, and it seemed to effect more than just your lonesome. It had started to effect your relationship with Donnie. You can't remember the first moment it happened, but you remember every other time you had rejected his touches. The poor man couldn't get a kiss from you, much less a hug, and he had no idea why. The hurt in his eyes always tugged at your heart strings, but not as much as if he were to find out about the permanent alteration to your body.

If he found out, he would surely blame himself for not being there to protect you. Something you wanted him to not do. He along with his super brothers had more pressing things to be worried about, not a single human when they had the whole of New York on their shoulders. Your horrific dreams of death had also instilled in you that very great possibility of just how much danger you truly were in being with them. Yes, it was something that you had all known. April, Casey, and even Vern were just as in likely danger simply by being friends with the turtles, but no one really realizes the weight of something till it comes crashing down on them. Like it had to you.

If one day something happened to you, you didn't want to leave behind a deeply heartbroken and changed Donnie. Making distance would surely make such a casualty easier to deal with if there was nothing no longer there right?

Right?

You chocked on a sob, eyes screwed shut with clasped hands against your reddened face. The staggered cry quietly echoed off your bathroom walls, the only other sound being the slight slush of water in the tub you had planned to get into before you had caught a glance of the cursed marking on your back in the mirror. Now, you sat on the edge, trying your best to reason with your recent actions, but your heart and subconscious knew the truth and would not let you get away so easily.

Images of Donnie's hurt face only a couple hours ago still projected freshly in your mind. The pain in his eyes when you stepped back from his open embrace and rejected his goodbye kiss before you departed for home. You've seen the genius sad before, but never had you seen him so dejected. Knowing that you were the cause, hurt even more.

"But it's for his own good.", you sobbed aloud.

Than why did it feel so wrong?

Suddenly, something had fumbled and hit the tiled floor loudly, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin as you swiftly turned on the edge of the tub to see the last person you wanted to in this exact moment.

There, standing in the entrance straight as a pillar and eyes so wide they might pop out of his head, was Donatello. He had come to return back your phone, that of which he had called deciding it was finally time to talk about your standoff behavior towards him when it rang from the lair lounge. Now though, a call to work out the reason was no longer warranted, the off color patch of new skin and flesh on your back still crystal clear in his mind.

"I. . .", Donnie faltered, one usually a dictionary of speech, now speechless.

You on the other hand, were much more reactive. Your heart picking up pace, as you were quick to grab your towel and wrap it around, stepping out of your forgotten bath and racing to get out of this situation.

"I-I wondered if I had forgotten that, thanks Don, you can go-"

You had tried and failed to push your way past Donnie after swiftly grabbing your phone off the bathroom floor, but the turtle in purple was much faster and had grabbed hold of your arm just as you entered the hallway.

"How. . .how long have you. . .", Donnie swallowed, still struggling to find the words.

You felt your heart drop in your chest seeing the agony in Donnie's knowledgeable gaze.

"Donnie, please. . .", you mutter barely above a whisper, lip beginning to quiver.

"When you said you went to the hospital to check on a friend, did you really go for yourself?", he questioned, brows furrowed as he looked down at you, but you were careful to avoid his gaze.

You tried to pull your arm from his grasp, but Donnie held firm. He wasn't letting you go this time.

"(Y,n), please, I'm just trying to understand."

"There is nothing to understand.", you gritted out, angry with yourself for the tears that threatened to spill once again.

"How could you say that? You have a-"

"I know!", you finally snapped, glare flashing up towards Donatello.

Said turtle was stunned, but soon relaxed his expression, slowly letting go of your arm to take a step back. You cursed yourself internally, looking back to your hallway's carpet and holding yourself tight. A moment of tense silence befell the both of you, neither speaking and both refusing to look at the other. Your heart ached, and so did his, but it was not you who apologized first.

With a tight throat, Donnie was first to speak quietly.

"I'm sorry. . ."

"Don't say that.", you thought to yourself, another stinging pang shooting straight through your chest. Fighting back the urge to cry, you shook your head, chancing a glance at your slumped boyfriend.

"No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. It's just. . ."

Donnie looked up just as you looked down the hall, but your gaze was else where. It was a look he was all to familiar with, one he'd seen after terrifying incidents he and his brothers had experienced.

"Is that why you've been so distant?"

By that, you knew Donatello meant your scar.

The reference broke you, nodding as you started to sob and weep, new tears making new streaks down your face. Donnie muttered a quiet 'oh', opening his arms as you quickly crossed the short distance to fall against his plastron. The moment his strong arms wrapped around you, your heart had exploded, cries racking your body as you sobbed loudly, not caring if the neighbors heard. It had been so long since you had embraced each other, since you had been this close to the person you fell so deeply in love with, that the sensation of Donnie holding you felt as though you had finally returned home after an arduous journey across rough seas.

The entire time you cried Donnie stood cradling you, rubbing your arms softly and murmuring quiet whispers of "its okay" and "let it out" against the top of your messy hair. Neither of you knew how much time had passed, Donnie undoubtedly willing to hold you up if your legs no longer could, but soon you had calmed, only letting out shaking breaths and a few soft sobs here and there. Once you felt you had regained enough strength you gingerly used Donnie's strong plastron as leverage to push your self back, just enough to still remain close but also peer up into his worried gaze.

"I'm sorry Donnie. I never wanted to hurt you. I was so scared about how something happening to me would effect you, when I've been causing you that pain this entire time. I'm so, so sorry Donnie.", you choked out, feeling as though you were ripping off a band-aid and at the same time having heavy weights lifted from your shoulders.

"Oh, (y,n).," Donnie muttered, reaching up to move a strand of hair from your sticky, tear stained face. "I only wish I had realized sooner what you were going through. You shouldn't have faced this alone. I should have been there to help."

You bit your bottom lip, shaking your head slowly.

"No Donnie, that's exactly part of why I acted the way I did. I don't want you to blame yourself for what happened."

Donnie's grip on you tightened, a pit forming in his chest. That scar. It grabbed him by the throat and had him in a choke hold the second he stepped into your bathroom. When had you gotten it during the Kraang attack? Were you alone the whole time? How did you get such a wound?

Donatello had to be quick to stop his thoughts before they spiraled into picturing unsavory images of just how exactly you had been hurt. He hated it, this revelation that something seriously bad had happened to the person he loved and he wasn't there to do anything about it. If he'd lost you, he'd surely would have lost himself.

Leaning forward with tightly shut eyes, holding back his own tears for your sake, Donnie's lips pressed firmly to your forehead before slowly pulling back. His beautiful gold eyes found yours, a comforting smile gracing his features as you tiredly peered back at him inquisitively.

"Sorry, dove. I can't say that I won't, but I promise I'll try to as long as you promise me something."

"Anything, Donnie."

"Promise me that you'll always remember I'm here for you. That you can come to me about anything, and to please let me help fight your battles with you, just as you so bravely have done for me."

Your lips formed into a smile, the first genuine one in who knows how long. Your head fell against Donnie's strong chest once more, your arms squeezing him this time and feeling your soul being filled with a warm, positive feeling for once as the tallest ninja turtle returned your embrace with just as much love.

"I promise.", you spoke just above where Donnie's heart lay protected by plastron, the feeling of another gentle, loving kiss being placed against the top of your hair.

~xXx~

#bayverse tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt #bayverse donnie x reader #bayverse donatello x reader #tmnt x reader #aged up tmnt #female reader #angst #angst with a happy ending #@httpvomitello #imababblekat's writing

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