#i never shut the fuck up about video games <3

[tenmyoujump]

phd in yapology

[featki]

Stages of a petty dispute !

— pairing: 西村力 x reader (both members of enha) — contains: angst, fluff, crack if you squint so exponentially hard, talks of dieting/body image issues, ni-ki‘s dumb and oblivious, fighting, pettiness, think that’s it !

The cause

Getting your hair and makeup done was boring, but Riki came along every time (wether you asked him to or not) so at least he was there to keep you company

Riki and Jake both sat on the couch showing each other stupid things on there phones and play fighting

At one point you and Riki had gotten into a conversation Mainly complaints from you about how unfair the manager was to you about dieting, Riki being Riki took this as a chance to make a joke. "Well maybe you should stop eating so much and he wouldn’t be so tough on you" He laughed, pretty loudly despite the joke not being funny, you looked at him through the mirror, almost disgustedly, just to see Jake not laughing either.

If anything he looked just as confused as you, but despite that Riki smoothly changed the subject and started joking around with Jake again. You turned back to the mirror, not looking at anything in it, simply spacing out. Riki had never made those types of jokes about you, he always talked about your body in such a sweet way, it was shocking to say the least.

2. The start

Workday was done, you were back at the dorms, and Riki was nowhere in sight.

He was probably in his room playing video games, as you could tell from the loud gun noises. Meanwhile, you sat in your room, confused and slightly heartbroken he would say something like that.

It had been hours since the incident and it’s all you’ve thought about. Riki, out of all people should know that wasn’t funny. Joke or not. Out of all people, HE would know about your image issues HE would be the one to know about your eating habits, The phone chimed, pulling you out of thought, it was Riki

"Babbbbyyyyyy can i come lay with you

i’m tired and i want to hold you" You wanted to say no fuck off but you didn’t, that would’ve been too straight forward and you wanted to be petty and drag it out. Make sure he felt realllllyyyy bad so you texted back "Not rn, i’m studying" Dry and assertive. Not at all how you text him usually, it was perfect !! "mmm okay :("

"can i come in after?? pretty plsss" You just ignored this one

It made you feel a litttlee guilty but he deserved it for being an ass

3. The rising emotions / tension

It had been 2 days since you've started ignoring Riki (kinda)

You were only answering his texts here and there and you hadn't let him sleep with you not even once.

Sure it was only 2 days but it was too much for him, he got used to sleeping with you, and he struggles to fall asleep without you now! You even locked the door just in case he tried to come in after being ignored over the phone

Riki started to get suspicious

He presumed the worst, you fell out of love, you were cheating, he did something wrong without realizing it, he didn't know what he did, but he intended to find out

But it's kinda hard when you won't stop dodging him

Night 3 of being ignored, and it got increasingly harder for him to sleep

It was 1am and he hadn't been able to properly keep his eyes shut for longer than 5 mins so he decided to get some water

When he walked out to the kitchen he saw you, wearing only his t-shirt, some shorts and a jacket

He loved seeing you in his clothes so it was like a jab to the heart

he almost got on his knees and started begging for forgiveness for whatever he did right then and there

"What are you doing up so late baby?" You looked up to see him walking towards you "Just getting some water"

"Ohh me too" It came out kind of shaky sounding, like he was trying to make small talk with a stranger

"Here have mine" Putting the glass down you started to walk off, not noticing Riki's hand reaching out for your wrist, just barely missing you.

While you went back to your room Riki sat in the kitchen kind of hurt.

He pondered on going after you but the last thing he wanted to do was annoy you or upset you more so despite the need for physical connection, he drank the water and went back to his room.

He laid in bed for another hour before giving up and playing some video games to pass the time

Riki got a solid 3 hours of sleep that night

Riki is dying and is determined to figure out what he did

4. The climax

Day 4 of being ignored, he felt like he was going to pull all his hair out

During dance practice he thought of every thing he did that could warrent this type of reaction and every way he could fix it

After thinking for a while he came to the conclusion that he must've made you jealous, probably from talking to Danielle for 0.2 seconds regarding work things

How? He had zero clue but that didn't matter.

After practice while everyone else went to lunch, he booked back home to shower and head out. He ran to your favorite cafe, and your favorite boba shop.

By the time he got back home, everyone else, including you, were back home, and he already thought about what he was going to say when he got back; sure you had gotten jealous before but it never seem to make you this upset so he had to go all out this time.

He knocked on your bedroom door, hoping you'd actually let him in this time, "who is it?"

"Riki" There was a moment of silence that made Riki worry even more but you told him to come in so he was relieved but, you were confused when he walked in with boba and bags.

You thought maybe he was finally apologizing, perhaps he finally realized what he did and wanted to own up to it.

You put down your phone and walked over to him, as he put the boba and bags on your desk. He seemed a little more nervous the closer you got but he took a deep breath in and started talking

"I know I messed up, and you don't have to forgive me but I want to make it right." Good start good start

"I don't want anyone but you baby, I mean I barely even talk to her. It was purely for work I promise." Huh

"But I completely understand your upset, and you have every"

"What" You cut him off mid-sentence, mainly just cause you were confused

"uhh what?" Riki though, seemed more confused than you

"What are you on about Nishimura"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhh, you're mad at me?"

"Obviously."

"And I'm trying to apologize?" He seemed unsure of himself

"Okay... for what?" He thought long and hard about his answer "Talking to Danielle the other day?..." DUMBFOUNDED

You couldn't believe that's what he genuinely thought you were upset about

"Bro I do not care about Danielle." emphasizing the "not"

Riki's eyes widened with confusion "Haha what."

"You didn't seriously think I was upset about you talking to Danielle? About work?" He gave a sheepish smile

"I'm sorry baby I really don't know what I did but I can NOT handle being ignored like this."

"The eating joke Riki. How do you not understand that, that wasn't okay." It's like the gears started turning in his head "OHHHHH"

You rolled your eyes "Oh my god baby I am so sorry."

"You laughed when other people make those jokes so I assumed it was okay..."

"No it's not okay Riki?? I only laugh because they're my bosses, I'm not allowed to be upset about it"

It took Riki a second to process and think, "I know I know, I'm realizing that now. Seriously I am so sorry baby... I clearly wasn't thinking it through and it was a horrible joke to make."

You nodded, verbally telling him to go on

"You don't have to forgive me, I know it was shitty but just know that I didn't mean it, baby."

He walked closer to you, putting his hands on your face, "You are the prettiest girl in the entire world, and I mean that. I never meant to hurt you that much baby, and I promise I won't ever make a joke like that again. And I'll think more thoroughly about the things I say, the last thing I want to do is upset you pretty."

You looked up at him, your eyes glossed over slightly.

What Riki did was wrong, but deep down a part of you knew he didn't mean it.

And he was so good at making you feel better.

You got on your tippy toes and kissed him.

It was deeper than usual, the lack of time together made it sweeter

Riki pressing into your lips and savoring every last second.

"I love you so so so so much."

"I love you too Ki. And I'm not mad at you, it just... was shocking? To say the least, I didn't expect it from you of all people, nor did I expect you to take 4 days to apologize" You smiled slightly

"But in the end, you did apologize and you took accountability so that's all that matters. Next time I'll come to you first without ignoring you for days, it was petty."

"No no it wasn't petty" He rubbed your cheek "But please don't do it again, iv got like a solid 10 hours of sleep the past few days and I almost threw myself off the HYBE building." You giggled at that, happy to hold him again

Riki went back in for another kiss which led to a long night of catching up.

Kissing, cuddling, "I love you"s, ect ect, gross couple stuff.

Riki was dumb sometimes and wasn't the best at using his words, but he always tried for you and even showed it in his own way and that's all that matters.

@ featki

[world0fmadness]

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ✩ ˚ SOMEPLACE SILENT

oscar piastri x silent hill / horror game obsessed! reader x lando norris ( kind of )

faceclaim: none!

୨୧ this is uh… this is just very self indulgent to be honest! i’m someone that cannot shut the fuck up about video games in general but especially silent hill and other survival horror games so yeah! i haven’t slept in 20 hours, i’m running on monster energy so sorry for any major errors

୨୧ part two of this smau available here

reading music recommendations: the reverse will by akira yamaoka - laura plays the piano by akira yamaoka - waiting for you by akira yamaoka

ynlovesthehorror: it’s raining and hailing outside today… you know what that means… classic survival horror game marathon 🥳

landonorris ✔️: girl you would’ve done this if the sun was shining and the birds were chirping…

> ynlovesthehorror: shut your mouth

> landonorris ✔️: i’m telling oscar

> londoacaryn: never beating those future throuple allegations i fear…

oscarpiastri ✔️: miss you tons, can’t wait to get home and watch ❤️

> ynlovesthehorror: miss you more! can’t wait for you to get home, i still have lore to explain :3

> landonorris ✔️: oscar she told me to shut my mouth, tell her off

> oscarpiastri ✔️: no way mate, you deserved it

> landonorris ✔️: right well i’m just gonna drive off a bridge then i reckon, since you obviously all hate me so much 💔

> oscarpiastri ✔️: okay

> ynlovesthehorror: okay

> danielricciardo ✔️: okay

landoontop: my favourite wag, she just wants to chill all the time 😭

ynlovesthehorror: THIS IS A 100% REAL NOT FAKE NOT ALTERED NOT MANIPULATED IMAGE OF THE F1 DRIVER LANDO NORRIS AND A UNKNOWN ASSAILANT TRYING TO SILENCE ME IN THE PADDOCK FOR TALKING ABOUT SILENT HILL TO HIS ENGINEERS

landonorris ✔️: GET A GRIP YOU MUPPET 😭

> ynlovesthehorror: THREATEN ME ALL YOU WANT I WONT BACK DOWN

danielricciardo ✔️: DISTURBING! someone needs to show this to the FIA…

> landonorris ✔️: DONT ENCOURAGE HER

landoontop: and where was oscar when this was happening?

> ynlovesthehorror: toilet 😔

> landoontop: seems suspicious… you don’t think…

> ynlovesthehorror: 😟

> oscarpiastri ✔️: 😳

landoscaryn: she couldn’t be serious if she tried 😭

ynlovesthehorror: went to the paddock with oscar today! you already know the psp had to come with me <3 also l*ndo got me this shirt… i think he might feel bad about threatening me with a gun for being passionate about a game

landonorris ✔️: still going with how i and a unknown assailant apparently put you in a chair and pointed guns at you for talking to our engineers about silent hill?

> ynlovesthehorror: you left me traumatised

> landonorris ✔️: absolute muppet

> ynlovesthehorror: thanx for the shirt :3

❤️ liked by landonorris and oscarpiastri

danielricciardo ✔️: nice seeing you again yn! thanks for letting me borrow your psp for a bit, took me way back

> ynlovesthehorror: you’re welcome <3

oscarpiastri ✔️: always a better race when you’re here ❤️ love you lots, my lucky charm

> ynlovesthehorror: you flatter me too much, love you more <3

charlesleclerc ✔️: the paddock is always more fun with you around! hope to see you again soon yn 🙂

> ynlovesthehorror: only if you bring alex and leo with you again

> charlesleclerc ✔️: leo? sure! alex? absolutely not

> ynlovesthehorror: don’t hate me because your girlfriend liked my nerd swag

> landonorris ✔️: “swag” someone run her over

ynlovesthehorror: me at comic-con last year vs me at comic-con this year! i have a new sidekick :3 oscarpiastri

oscarpastry: holy fuck

> iluvf1: holy FUCK

> piastrilover: HOLY FUCK

oscarpiastri ✔️: most fun i’ve had at an event in a long time, love you lots ❤️

> ynlovesthehorror: i finally have a bf that will cosplay with me 🥹 AND HES AUSTRALIAN AND SUPER HOT

oldf1lvr: well… this is it! this is the cutest thing to ever happen in the history of f1 couples

landonorris ✔️: nerds

> ynlovesthehorror: you get absolutely no bitches, leave my comment section

> oscarpiastri ✔️: lando you messaged me that you were upset we hadn’t told you we were going to comic-con this year and you would’ve come dressed as james if yn wanted

> landonorris ✔️: snake

> landoontop: lmao poor lando 😩

eatoscarlikepastry: so this confirms that oscar is a silent hill fan too right?

> landoontop: idk… he might just be dressing up with her, supporting her!

> ynlovesthehorror: he wasn’t a silent hill fan before i met him, he didn’t even know wtf it really was 💔 i changed that real quick, he’s almost a big of a fan now as me… almost

oscarynlove: something just happened in my brain and i don’t know what…

danielricciardo ✔️: good work on crafting the costumes both times yn! always lovely to see your talent

> ynlovesthehorror: don’t praise me, i’ll cry

> landoscaryn: she’s just like me </3

> danielricciardo ✔️: don’t be stupid! you deserve praise love ❤️

> oscarpiastri ✔️: she’s crying but she says thank you lots

> landonorris ✔️: what a strange girl…

> oscarpiastri ✔️: 🙄

ynlovesthehorror: life update! me and osc got a kitten :3

maxverstappen ✔️: good choice of pet!

> ynlovesthehorror: thank you maxi pad

> maxverstappen ✔️: 😕

oscarpastry: oscar with a kitten oh my god… what did you name it?

> ynlovesthehorror: heather <3

> landonorris ✔️: of fucking course you named her that…

oscarpiastri ✔️: i love our child ❤️

> ynlovesthehorror: our BABY!

charlesleclerc ✔️: i must bring leo over so they can meet and be best friends!

> ynlovesthehorror: yes 🥹 next week!

iluvf1: they’re the cutest couple on the grid i fear…

❤️ liked by landonorris

ynlovesthehorror: you’re the james to my mary (minus the murder part) i’ll always be waiting for you ❤️

eatoscarlikepastry: i’m so obsessed with them…

landonorris ✔️: “minus the murder part” i just… why can’t you just be normal?

> oscarpiastri ✔️: i don’t want her to be normal ❤️

> ynlovesthehorror: you heard the man

landoscaryn: WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN?

oscarpiastri ✔️: i love you, lucky charm ❤️

> ynlovesthehorror: love you more speedy <3

oscarynlove: you as mary or maria and oscar as james when?

> ynlovesthehorror: soon… very soon :)

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨୧ ˚ NEW ADDED BONUS ˚ ୨୧ ⋆｡˚ ⋆

a chat is needed

[itneverendshere]

erase all of my memories without you - rafe cameron.

part 2 of can't remember anything before you.

pairing: rafe cameron x thornton!reader; brother's best friend! trope or best friend's sister! trope lmao; fem!reader.

word count: a lot??

WARNINGS: boyfriend!rafe <3; rafe being the biggest lover boy; tooth-rotting fluff if im being honest; topper's a dick but just for a sec; rafe is down bad; so cute.

“rafe, i told you, no hickeys!”

“can you blame me?” he has that mischievous gleam in his eyes, like he's testing just how far he can push your boundaries. “you’re just so pretty, baby.”

you roll your eyes, trying to maintain a serious tone despite the playful grin pulling at your lips. “shut up.” 

being with rafe cameron was not on your yearly plans, but every single day, you thank your lucky stars for finally doing something right. he's a total game-changer, your personal slice of heaven. 

who would have thought the universe had that kind of surprise up its sleeve? 

he leans in closer, breath warm against your ear, arms wrapped securely around your waist, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. "i should visit more often if that’s how you’re going to greet me each time.”

you can't help but lean back into his embrace, savoring every moment of closeness.

"you should." you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers gently tracing circles on his hand. “wouldn't mind that at all."

you’d been together ever since that fateful night in your garden, months ago. 

sneaking around had its thrills, especially with your brother always lurking nearby, but nothing compared to the challenge of a long-distance relationship. late-night calls, stolen moments of intimacy over video chats, and endless messages are your lifelines. 

so when rafe finally stepped through the door of your new york apartment last night, after weeks apart, it was no surprise that you couldn't help but pounce on him, eager to make up for lost time. his slutty grey sweatpants, his choice of comfortable for a flight, were imprinted into your brain. 

“so, so pretty." he murmurs, lips brushing against your earlobe, “y'know i can't resist leaving my mark on you."

you playfully swat at him, a grin spreading across your face despite your half-hearted protest, “topper would kill you."

rafe snorts, the sound traveling through your body as he presses a kiss to your temple, “he can try.”

you can't help but feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of keeping your relationship with rafe under wraps. it’s not like you don’t want to make it official, god, you do. but you’ve spent the last four months having him all to yourself, you don’t want other people to butt in and ruin everything with their unsolicited opinions. 

being with him feels right. he's your rock, your constant in a world that's always changing. 

“can we go back to bed now?” rafe’s warm breath tickles your ear as he speaks, his voice laced with a hint of grogginess, sleep still clouding his brain, “it’s fucking freezing.”

you chuckle quietly at his sleepy request, the sound mixing with the gentle hum of the heater as it struggles to combat the winter chill.

“course." you murmur, unwrapping yourself from his arms to press a tender kiss to his cheek, "let's get you warmed up."

his fingers don’t let you move an inch away, circling your wrist to pull you closer against his chest again, big cheeky smile on his face as he looks down at you. “you gonna warm me up, peach?”

"i might." you reply with a sly smirk, trailing a finger down his shirtless chest. "but you might have to work for it a little."

rafe's eyes widen with mock surprise. "is that so?" he asks, his voice low and husky as he pulls you closer. “well, lucky for you, i’m up for a challenge."

you’d never felt butterflies in your tummy until you started dating this man. he has you wrapped around his fingers, and you don’t want out. it physically hurts you to even think about a time when you didn’t have rafe like this.

you can't imagine being anywhere else but here, wrapped in his embrace.

with a playful giggle, you give him a knowing look. "’m counting on it," you murmur, as you pull him closer. you stand on your barefoot tiptoes, arms lacing around his neck. “really missed you.”

rafe's arms tighten around you as he pulls you impossibly close, his warmth enveloping you like a cozy blanket. his gaze softens, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter even faster.

 “missed you too, more than you know." he murmurs, his breath mingling with yours as he leans in to press a docile kiss to your lips.

“always thinking about my girl.” 

as his lips meet yours, a wave of warmth washes over you, melting away any lingering traces of cold or distance. fuck, you’re in love with him and if he keeps kissing you like this, you might confess earlier. you’re way in over your head.

you sigh contentedly against his lips, savoring the feeling of being so close to him after being apart for so long. his touch, his scent, his presence—all of it feels like home to you. breaking the kiss reluctantly, you rest your forehead against his.

“stop staring at me like that peach.” he scolds, but there’s no bite to his tone as his fingertips brush your cheek lightly. “gonna end up buying this fucking building if you keep that up.”

you smile again, that’s all you seem to do around him anyway, as his beautiful eyes sweep up from your lips to meet your own. “rafe cameron living in new york? i’d pay to see that.”

rafe chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending pleasant vibrations through your body. his fingers trace lazy patterns along your cheek, his touch sweet and affectionate.

“you'd pay to see it, huh?" he teases, a playful glint in his face as he leans in closer to you, his breath warm against your skin. “’m that good of an investment?”

you can't help but laugh at his playful banter, shaking your head. you love that you get to see this side of him, how soft he is with you, only you.

“you’re alright cameron.”

"jus’ alright?" he feigns offense, his hand moving to rest over his heart in an exaggerated manner. "take it back.”

“nop.”

rafe lets out a dramatic sigh, pretending to be wounded. "no?” 

you can't help but giggle at his theatrics, finding it endearing how he always manages to lighten the mood.

"you big baby." you tease, poking him playfully in the side.

“oh, i’ll show you big.”

before you can even wrap your brain around his innuendo, you’re being thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. he does it so effortlessly you almost swoon. 

you squeal in surprise, the sudden movement catching you off guard. "rafe, what the fuck?" you laugh, squirming slightly as he carries you effortlessly across the room. “what are you doing—hey!”

his palm smacks against one of your cheeks, covered by nothing except a pair of his ralph lauren boxers. “taking you to bed, where you belong.”

you play along, pretending to protest even as you secretly enjoy the attention. 

"and what if i don't want to go to bed?" you retort, trying to sound defiant.

rafe stops in his tracks, his grip tightening around your legs. "oh, trust me, peach," he says, his tone turning serious for a moment, "you definitely want to go to bed."

“hmm, not sure.”

“it’s okay brat, you’ll be sure soon enough." he teases, deep voice making you want to do the most immoral things on every single surface of your apartment.

a repeat of last night. 

you play along, feigning uncertainty as he deposits you gently onto the queen-sized bed, his stare burning with desire as he hovers over you, thick arms caging you in. one of your hands wraps around his bicep, nails grazing the skin as you glance up at him, head tilted to the side.

rafe’s eyes instantly move to your neck as your hair slips behind, tongue poking out to wet his lips, "i don't know, baby, might have to convince me."

he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "consider it my pleasure." he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizingly gentle kiss.

you feel a shiver run down your back as rafe's lips meet yours, his kiss sending a surge of electricity through your body. you’ll never get used to this. his touch is both tender and assertive, his lips moving against yours with a practiced finesse that leaves you breathless. 

it's like every nerve in your being wakes up, responding eagerly to his touch.

as he deepens the kiss, his hands roam over your body, tracing the curves of your waist and hips with a possessive urgency, with a sense of familiarity as if committing every curve to memory. his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss even further, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips before delving into your mouth in a hungry, desperate kiss. you melt against him, surrendering. 

you feel a surge of heat pooling in the pit of your stomach, your breath catching in your throat as he explores you with a hunger that leaves you trembling.

“better than alright?” he mumbles against your lips and you find yourself unable to resist the pull of his touch, arching against him in silent invitation. his lips trail a path of fire along your jawline and down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake, “lost your voice, huh?”

he’s so addicted to sucking harshly on your skin, nibbling it playfully to drag out and elicit the sweetest sounds from your mouth. a melodic moan escapes your parted lips.

“you’re such an asshole.”

“there she is.” rafe's husky chuckle fills the air, sending pleasant vibrations through your body as he continues to pepper kisses along your neck, each one igniting a fiery trail of craving in its wake. “’m your asshole though.”

“not if you keep teasing.” 

his lips pause their trail, hovering just above your skin as he looks up at you, one of his brows raised, "teasing?”

before you can protest his lips are on yours again, hungry and demanding. his hands roam over your body with a newfound urgency, tracing every corner and eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. he has the audacity to hush you when he pins you harder with his hips, clothed cock rubbing perfectly against you. 

your nails can’t help but dig into his shoulders, pulling at the skin. the way he's moving against you makes you feel like getting on your knees and letting him do whatever he wants to you, for however long he wishes to.

but then, your stupid intercom is buzzing.

you both freeze, caught in the throes of passion interrupted. rafe drops his head on your shoulder, groaning. 

"seriously?" he mutters, his voice tinged with frustration as he rolls off you, giving you space to sit up.

“it’s probably breakfast.” you’re smoothing out your rumpled clothes— if you can call an oversized tee and boxers an outfit.

rafe lets out an exaggerated sigh, flopping back onto the bed, “’m so hard it hurts.” he whines, throwing an arm over his face.

“you’ll be fine.”

“can’t even see you right now, might cum in my sweats.” he mutters, his voice muffled by the fabric of your pillows.

you stifle a laugh, shaking your head at his melodramatic response.

"you're ridiculous." you tease, moving to sit beside him on the bed.

rafe peeks out from under his arm, giving you a glare, his bottom lip jutting out in a comically exaggerated pout. “and you're making me harder, stop touching me and go get the door.”

you lean in to press a quick kiss to his cheek, feet planted on the ground as you attempt to get up, but he’s quick to pull you down again. his beefy arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back on top of him.

“rafe.”

“gimme a kiss before you go.”

“though you didn’t want me to touch you.” you tease, leaning down to press a short kiss to his lips. it's meant to be quick, just a peck, but his hand snakes up to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. settling on your lower lip, he draws it into his mouth, sucking lightly, pushing you even closer. he runs his hands along your sides, one stopping just below your covered breasts—

“the door,” you manage to stutter out between kisses, “behave.”

when he finally pulls away, both your lips are slightly swollen, red and you’re both breathless.

 "there," you say as you push yourself off the bed once more. but this time, rafe lets you go without protest, admiring you with a lazy smile as you make your way to the door. 

when you moved back to new york three months ago, you chose to do it independently. while your parents owned at least three penthouses in the city, you needed something smaller. what was the point in living alone in such big apartments? you’d be miserable and alone most of the time.

you chose a smaller studio, fancy enough to be your type, but cozy enough to make you feel at home, even though you were miles away. 

as you reach the door, you glance back to see rafe still lounging in your bed, arms crossed lazily behind his head. you shake your own, turn back, and open the door.

your heart immediately falls through your ass.

“topper?!”

he ignores you, pushing you aside to enter as he focuses on removing the thick scarf around his neck, struggling to get it off as he rants.

“about damn time, you know how long i was outside?! swear to god i hate this city, it’s freezing for no reason and—is that rafe fucking cameron on your bed?!”

you freeze in place, feeling a knot form in your stomach as you watch topper's reaction unfold. rafe, ever the cool customer, sits up in bed, a smirk playing at his lips as he meets your brother’s incredulous gaze head-on. you can feel a headache forming in the back of your head. 

"hey, top." rafe geets, his tone casual as if he's just encountered an old friend. which he has because that’s his best friend. "long time no see?"

topper's eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of rafe lounging on your bed, “okay, okay. what the fuck is going on?”

he's going to freak out on you.

you clear your throat, trying to find the right words to explain the situation, “he’s visiting.”

top nods, not leaving his best friend out of his sight, “clearly! why are you in my sister’s bed, cameron?”

“was i supposed to sleep on the floor?” rafe replies, tone nonchalantly as he shrugs casually.

you’re going to kill him.

topper's jaw clenches as he shoots rafe a glare, clearly unimpressed by his answer. "you know damn well what i mean." he says, his voice menacing, so different from what you're used to.

rafe's smirk only widens, “relax, man," he says, his tone dripping with casual indifference. "we were just hanging out."

and about to have sex, but your brother doesn’t need all the details. 

topper's expression darkens further at your boyfriend’s flippant attitude, and you can practically feel the terrible outcome. 

"in her bed?" he asks, his voice dangerously low.

you step forward, hoping to defuse the situation before it escalates any further.

 "topper, it's not what you think," you begin, but your brother holds up a hand to silence you.

“and why are you wearing his clothes?”

you glance down at your choice of outfit, flustered, you try to come up with a plausible explanation, “uh—well—it's a funny story, i-i'm out of clothes actually, who knew doing your laundry took so much work?”

his attention flickers between you and rafe, suspicion evident in his expression. you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

"out of clothes?" he repeats, his tone incredulous. "and you decided to borrow his?"

you shift uncomfortably under his scrutinization, trying to come up with a better explanation, but you can’t. “yeah?”

he squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s in pain, “please tell me my sister isn’t fucking my best friend.”

you swallow hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you, but rafe speaks before you can conjure the words. 

“your sister isn’t fucking your best friend, happy?” 

you shoot rafe a warning look, silently pleading for him to play along and not make the situation worse.

you step forward, again. “topper, please, it's not what you think,” you say, your voice tinged with desperation. “rafe just came to visit, that's all.”

topper's stare softens as he contemplates, but his expression remains guarded. “and you didn't think to tell me?”

you bite your lip, feeling guilty for keeping your relationship with rafe a secret from your brother. “i wanted to, i just... didn't know how.”

rafe interjects, his tone more serious now. “top, i know this probably looks bad—”

“it looks really bad,” topper interrupts, his frustration evident.

“but nothing's happened,” rafe continues, ignoring the interruption. “we're just friends.”

but your brother is still inspecting you. and it’s only when his eyes descend to your neck, you realize what he’s looking at.

“is that why she got at least three hickeys on her neck?”

you feel a flush rise to your cheeks as topper's accusation hangs heavy in the air. you stare nervously at rafe, hoping he'll come up with a believable explanation, but he just shrugs nonchalantly, as if the hickeys are no big deal. 

“they’re not hickeys, i burned myself with my curling iron.”

“yeah and i’m fucking adriana lima on my spare time.”

“okay?” you quickly turn your head back to the wall because you think you're about to puke up everything you just ingested.

"oh fuck, not you." top groans in frustration, seeing where rafe googly looks are directed, “not you two! you can't be serious?! that's my sister, dude; come on!" 

rafe finally stands up from your bed, his tone is firm, his expression serious as he steps closer to your brother, his hands held out in a placating gesture. “it’s not like that.”

topper glances back and forth between you two, focusing on the blush of your cheeks and the adoration in rafe’s face now that you are looking back at him. a sick, knowing feeling had been building inside of him since he walked through the door. 

“i can’t fucking believe this.” 

“it’s not like that,” rafe repeats, walking to your side, hating the way your eyes are starting to water. he keeps his hand on your arm, thumb brushing circles over your cold skin, “we’re together. and watch your fucking tone when you speak to her.”

“don’t tell me how to speak to my sister!"

rafe's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. despite that, his hand remains steady on your arm, offering you a silent anchor of support. you feel a knot tighten in your stomach as you testify the tension between the two most important men in your life escalates.

"guys, please," you interject, your voice trembling, "this isn't helping anything."

“you’re in love with her, cameron?”

topper’s question makes you want to dig a hole in the middle of your studio and run.

what the hell?!

he can’t just barge in and make everything a mess. this is what you were afraid of, people meddling with your relationship. you and rafe haven’t discussed it yet. yeah it’s clear you’re in love with him, but you want to be the one to tell him and vice versa. you don’t want him to feel pressured to do it.

rafe's hand tightens on your arm, anchoring himself with the feeling of you beneath his fingertips. his eyes search yours for guidance. you can see the conflict in his expression.

he doesn’t shy away from the question, and his gaze never leaves yours. he traces every line of your face, “yeah, i am.”

the words hang in the air, a declaration that changes everything and nothing all at once. then time stops. your stomach turns unhelpfully, and you feel your skin turn clammy. 

from the corner of your eye, you see the shock register on your brother’s face before he can hide it. strangely, he seems to understand now, perhaps more than you realized he would. for a moment, there's silence in the room, the weight of rafe's confession settling over all of you. but then topper lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging with the weight of understanding.

"okay," he says, his voice softer now, lacking the edge of anger from before. "okay."

you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, feeling a sense of relief flood through you. despite the uncertainty of what comes next. 

rafe's hand finds yours, intertwining his fingers with yours in a silent gesture of solidarity. you squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch grounding you. 

"thank you," you say to topper, your voice barely above a whisper but brimmed with gratitude.

he nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "just... take care of each other, okay?"

“can you leave now?” rafe all but interrupts the sentimental exchange, “kinda need to properly confess.”

topper raises an eyebrow at his abrupt request, clearly caught off guard by the bluntness. but after a second of hesitation, he nods, pushing himself off the wall where he's been leaning.

"yeah, sure," he says, giving you a meaningful look before turning to leave. "just... be careful, both of you. i’ll stop by later for dinner."

you offer him a small smile in return, feeling a shit ton of emotions swirling inside you as you watch him go. once he's out of sight, you let out a sigh, the tension in the room finally dissipating.

rafe releases your hand, moving to close the door behind topper before returning to your side. his expression is softer now, focused solely on you. 

"you okay?" he asks, his voice soft as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you nod, offering him a shaky smile. "yeah, think so. that was... unexpected."

rafe pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if he never wants to let you go. 

"m’ sorry peach," he murmurs against your hair, his voice filled with regret. "didn't mean to drop that bomb on ya like that."

you sink into his embrace, finding comfort in the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart. "t's okay," you whisper, your voice barely audible as you nuzzle into his chest. "just wish it had been different."

he presses a kiss to the top of your head, arms tightening around you protectively. "i know," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves.

then, as if a floodgate has opened within you, the words spill from your lips, raw and unfiltered. "i’m in love with you too, rafe."

his arms around you tighten, as if to reassure himself that your words are real. 

"i love you," he murmurs against your hair, "more than anything."

you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “you’re gonna make me cry.”

he pulls back slowly, cupping your face in his hands and wiping away the tears that have started to fall. "hey now, no tears, baby. only happy ones, yeah?"

you nod, sniffling but managing a watery smile. "yeah, happy tears. because i love you, rafe cameron."

he smiles back, a gentleness in him you've never seen before. 

"and i love you, more than anything in this world."

you can't help but lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palms against your cheeks. his stare is full of tenderness, his thumb gently brushing away the last traces of tears.

"you're everything, y’know that?" he murmurs, his voice overflowing with sincerity.

you nod, feeling a lump forming in your throat at the depth of his words. "yeah, i do. and so are you.”

he leans in closer, lips capturing yours in a sweet kiss. he moves against you with a gentle fervor, his hands cradling your face as if you're the most precious thing in the world to him. and in that moment, you know without a doubt that you are and as you pull away, breathless yet content, you rest your forehead against his, savoring the closeness and the warmth that surrounds you.

"i love you," you whisper.

"i love you too, always," rafe replies, his voice a gentle caress against your skin.

[cordeliawhohung]

all i can think about it ghost getting a hand tattoo of a skull (just the nose and mouth) and him using his tattooed hand to cover y/n’s mouth when she’s being too loud when he’s fucking her in the barracks. it makes him feral at the sight of half of y/n’s face being covered with a skull

i am so glad i'm not the only one who goes feral over the thought of simon covering your mouth with his hand to shut you up. thank you for feeding my delusions <3 also i apologize this took me a bit to write ;aslkdjf (also wait now i'm realizing maybe you just wanted to share in a delusion but... too late i already wrote all this so)

masterlist

warnings: smut!!! minors dni! slight breath play, somewhat established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, slight degradation if you really squint. bad editing. military inaccuracies to some extent, i'm sure. 1.4k words because i'm an idiot

Everybody knew that the walls in the barracks were thin. Sure, the rooms were nice and the common area was comfy and furnished, but you could hear everything. The person upstairs listening to Amy Winehouse, your next door neighbors playing some video game, someone taking a shower downstairs; you could hear it all. And with your lieutenant's cock buried deep inside of you, you were more aware of the paper thin walls than normal.

Simon had you laid out on your back, legs spread wide to accommodate his large frame as he settled himself into your heat. You were utterly bare and exposed to him, as your clothing had been torn off long ago, while the only articles of clothing he had bothered to take off was his jumper and mask. He had hardly unzipped his pants before trying to sink into you.

Each time Simon thrust inside of you, a moan bubbled up in your throat and threatened to escape, but you held it back like your life depended on it. Your bunk mate was gone, but that didn't save you from the prying ears of everyone around you. But fuck, it was almost too difficult.

"Fuck," Simon hissed. He could feel the way you fluttered around him, practically begging him for more. There was a heaviness in his eyes as he looked down at you, but his breath was surprisingly even and calm despite the pace in which he fucked you. "Look at you. So fuckin' beautiful, love."

His hands roamed your body, starting from where he had been holding your hips and slowly working up. On his left arm was a sleeve that covered the expanse of his forearm. It was something dark, and littered with skulls and guns among other things. You never had the time to study it as much as you liked, but you were more familiar with the tattoo that covered his right hand. It was a plain black inked tattoo that had the mouth and nose of a skull. There was something about the way that it accentuated the thick muscles and every vein and tendon in his hand that made you go feral.

And god, the way his hands slid up your body? Watching the ink of his skin trace up from your hips, over your waist and rib cage, until they settled on the tender flesh of your breasts? A pitched groan pushed past your lips as you arched your body into his touch.

"Nuh uh. What happened to bein' quiet?" Simon asked facetiously. His pace slowed but only a little as he leaned forward, lips brushing against the tender flesh where your neck and shoulder met. "Thought you said you were gonna behave."

You swallowed a thick lump in your throat as you caught your breath to the best of your ability. He was always so teasing with you, so much so that it was almost infuriating. But those beautiful brown eyes of his almost made up for it.

"Sorry," you apologized in a pathetic tone that surprised even yourself. "Just feels so fucking good..."

"I know, sweetheart," he said, accentuating his sentence with a particularly deep thrust. "But we can't have the whole base hearin' you like this. What'd you think they'd say if they knew it was my cock makin' you feel this good?"

He didn't even give you the time to think or answer before he leaned back and pounded into you with more fervor than he had before. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, and Simon drank it all up. Every twitch of your legs, the bouncing of your breasts, the way your chest heaved and strained against moans begging for freedom. It was his. All his.

His left hand came up and settled on your lower stomach for a soft moment. Like he was enjoying the way your muscles tensed with every thrust of skin against skin. But things changed when he slowly added pressure. It felt like Simon had your very soul in a choke hold. The tip of his cock had already been abusing that spongy spot inside of you, but as he pressed on your stomach you felt that friction only build.

You couldn't hold back the moan that left you after he did that. All you could focus on was the climax that built inside you with near concerning speed. The intensity of it was so strong that he ripped another moan from your lips, and then another.

Until your moans were quickly smothered.

His free hand clasped around your mouth, and any sounds that you had been making were muffled into the palm of his hand. Simon opened his mouth as if to say something, as if to chastise you, but whatever scolding he was going to give you was quickly lost in the back of his throat.

That beautiful ink on his skin, the one you loved to admire so often, almost looked better on you than it did him. With his hand muffling you, the mouth of the skull tattoo lined up almost perfectly with the features of your face.

Worried that he was going to stop, you looked up at him with an apology in your eyes. But you were surprised to find something other than feigned disappointment in his. There was something else there, something feral glinted in his eyes as his irises dilated.

Shifting his hand up, Simon's palm covered both your nose and mouth, lining your features up perfectly with the half skull face of his tattoo. Your breathing wasn't fully restricted, but you could feel your lungs burn with each breath you took.

Then, with one hand over your mouth and the other still pressing on your abdomen, Simon began rutting into you with a force that felt primal. The ever level headed lieutenant turned into a crazed dog at the sight of you with that fucked out expression in your eyes and every sound you made lost into the flesh of his skin.

"Just couldn't keep quiet, could you?" he asked, though his tone was far from upset. "Said you were gonna behave, now look at you. Made a fuckin' mess outta you, didn't I sweetheart?"

You were coming undone before you could fully process it. Between the way your mind spun with lack of oxygen, the pressure on your stomach, and his voice? It was a miracle you even lasted as long as you did. Something snapped inside of you that sent a warm wave through your body that drowned every single one of your senses. Your cunt fluttered around Simon's cock as your orgasm rendered your mind blank, and he let out a low grunt at the sensation.

Giving you a slight break, Simon's hand lifted off of your stomach, but his thrusts continued in the same needy, nearly animalistic, pace. After a few more sloppy ruts, his hips rested firmly against you as he spilled inside of your cunt. Even with him buried deep inside of you, you could feel the way his cum seeped out of you, as if he filled you to the very brim.

Simon's hand finally fell away from your mouth, and he collapsed forward where he pressed gentle kisses along the side of your neck. Your breaths came in heavy, but you still managed a chuckle as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I'm beginning to think you like it when I'm loud just so you have a reason to shut me up," you teased.

"And I'm beginnin' to think you like me shuttin' you up," he countered as he nuzzled his nose against your cheek.

Though he couldn't see your face, you rolled your eyes at him but pulled him closer anyway. The person in the room underneath you had finished their shower, and your neighbors seemed to have gotten bored of their game. However, whoever was above you was still listening to Amy Winehouse. You wondered if you should get them a condolence card of some sort.

"I'll fuck you properly one of these days," Simon spoke up.

Eyebrows pinching together, you tilted your head to the side to rest it against his. "Was this not a proper fucking?"

The muscles in Simon's arms flexed as he lifted his torso off of yours. Dark eyes met yours as he looked down at you with a slight smirk. It was an expression you knew well, as he could be quite the cocky bastard. Still, you would be lying if you said that look didn't excite you.

"You've no idea, love."

GAH i had such a hard time writing this for some reason? the smut wasn't smutting (and i feel like it still isn't) but i really hope it was enjoyable anyway! i'm half awake writing/editing this after waking up from a migraine nap but i figured you guys deserved a treat <3

[silkscream]

angel unaware

ꨄ︎ pairing: peter parker x silk!reader

ꨄ︎ synopsis: you’ve known peter since you were fifteen, shortly after you were both bitten by the same spider. it was too obvious that you’d end up loving him. as you drift apart during your first year of college, you’re not sure how much longer you can keep dancing in circles with him.

ꨄ︎ genres: best friends to lovers, angst, idiots in love, slowburn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort

ꨄ︎ tags: rated explicit/18+ (smut), alcohol usage, mention of drug usage, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), characters are 19, mild violence, gun violence (there is a school shooting in the beginning but there aren't too many details)

ꨄ︎ wc: 13.8k

ꨄ︎ notes: omg. happy valentine’s day y’all. i’ve been working on this Big Bertha for literal MONTHS and i’m so happy to finish it and share it with you. thank you for being around even though i haven’t been the most active; this is a gift to you <3

ꨄ︎ listen to the playlist!

The spider bit you first.

It isn’t until you’re fifteen that someone else finds out about it.

In many ways, you should’ve known. The symptoms, the hypervigilance, the strange, gradual transition of filling out your body. You blame puberty first, but this feels more than abnormal. It's almost as if it's bursting through your skin. The only other person who seems to mirror your coming of age is Peter Parker, whose twitchy nature exacerbates the longer high school goes on.

You keep your head low because there’s no reason for you to tell anyone about your powers. Not even the boy about whom you’re positive shares the same curse as you.

But then the videos come out. Red and blue lycra flying through buildings, a blurred figure saving cats from trees, webs shooting and swaying as onlookers stare like it’s a circus act. He calls himself Spider-man and you think it’s awfully corny.

You’d be a fool to think that you were safe from the antics of Avengers propaganda, rubble, and ash blocking your way to school on more days than not. You’d be a fool to think that you could evade the classic tropes of American violence that force the president to lament about "unthinkable tragedies" multiple times a year. At this moment, you’re a fool for getting yourself locked in a janitor’s closet while there’s an active shooter at Midtown High.

Your breath hitches when the doorknob jangles in front of you. On instinct, you stick yourself to the ceiling, far in the corner with your senses on fire. You’ve never actually had to attack anyone before. You aren’t entirely sure how this would play out with a gun involved.

Peter Parker’s labored breaths fill your eardrums, and without thinking, you shoot your webs directly at him. He stumbles, clumsily tripping over an empty mop bucket. He looks up at you in confusion. He’s wearing half of his suit.

"You. You just–"

"Shut the fuck up," you hiss, covering his mouth with your palm. In the darkness, your eyes widen. Someone is near.

It’s a stupid ordeal. The crime happening, this meet-cute, the way your senses feel haywire being this close to him. Both of you are holding your breath, your heart is pounding erratically in your chest, and blood is rushing through your ears.

The day ends with you and Peter making it out of the closet through a vent and the shooter getting subdued by the police. A troubled sophomore who barely knew how to use the gun in the first place made it easy for Spider-man to intercept the weapon the moment the kid raised his arms.

Peter follows you home that afternoon like a stray cat, babbling over a game of twenty questions that you aren’t in the mood to entertain. Somehow, his presence leaves your chest feeling warm and light, and you realize that you don’t mind the company. Twenty questions become routine.

He’s the only one who gets it, of course.

He tells you about the Avengers, ignoring the way you scoff under your breath. Secretly, you’re only a little jealous. Not because you want that kind of prestige or even a fancy suit, but because at least there’s a group of freaks out there who know.  "How come you didn’t tell me?" Peter asks you. He looks small on your couch despite his sixteen-year-old sleeper build and the fact that he’s taking up more than half of your space.

"What do you mean?"

"If you knew about Spider-Man this whole time… why didn’t you say something?"

"What, like I was supposed to seek you out on the street with a mask on?"

He gives you a pointed look. "You had a feeling about me. In school. Didn’t you?"

You don’t answer, which, to Peter, is an answer in itself.

"I didn’t want to be any trouble. It’s my burden to deal with," you say slowly, blinking up at him.

Burden. Peter smooths the word over in his mind and watches the way your nimble fingers pick at the threads of your sweater. He suddenly feels guilty for pestering you with questions, especially after the trauma of today.

"It’s not a burden," he says carefully. You don’t protest, but he knows there’s a certain level of repression inside you that won't let you give this part of yourself up. As if his knowing about your powers would only be that — knowing. He keeps staring at your fingers.

"You don’t have web shooters?" He gestures to your hands.

"Comes from my fingertips."

"No fucking way. You gotta show me."

"You saw it today," you chuckle as you take a breath.

"Not really," he pouts. The amber-brown of his eyes is annoyingly irresistible, and you know it because of how hot the back of your neck suddenly feels. There’s a hint of a taunting smile on his face, as if he knows.

You take him to the fire escape outside your bedroom window. It’s barely past five and it’s already gotten dark. Luckily, your bedroom faces an empty alley.

"I’m not some circus act, just so you know," you warn him.

"Please," he tuts. "If anything, we both are. Two arachno-freaks."

"You should rebrand as that," you say with a grin.

You shoot a web to the fire escape railing above you, holding yourself up and swinging like you're in P.E. climbing a rope. You feel ridiculous, to say the least. You quickly shoot more webs after a quick scan of your surroundings to swaddle yourself in something resembling a cocoon. It hangs like a playground swing from the metal above.

"Holy shit! Does it ever… run out? Do you get web blocks? Does it come out of anywhere else–"

"I’m not answering that." Your cheeks heat up at the insinuation.

"Sorry, just curious." He holds his palms up in defense, then reaches to touch a fingertip to the silk holding you together. It feels soft like cotton candy and is much less sticky than what came out of his web shooters.

He asks you to swing with him, and for some reason, you say yes. You don’t like to swing very much, and if you do, you try to look for construction sites or abandoned scaffolding to evade attention. Tonight, however, the New York City lights look warm against the velvety backdrop of the sky, and you decide that flying through the air with someone else feels better than doing it alone.

____

He doesn’t understand your desire to stay under the radar. Whenever he brings it up, you take the opportunity to bring up the New York City disasters that have gone underway before the two of you even graduate. If anything, you’ve been a decent backup, but you refuse to be in the public eye. You don’t want to be Spider-girl.

But you don’t mind swinging around the city in your handmade suit, spun and woven together with the silk that flows straight from your fingertips. It’s one thing that Peter’s jealous of, but it helps him when he needs to patch up a wound when he’s on the go with you.

Peter comes through your window with a red gash on his thigh. You can smell him before you see him.

"Ugh, you broke the streak. Five days without a scratch. That’s a record for you, Parker," you sigh, already rummaging through your drawers for the usual first-aid kit.

"I’m fine." He winces as he crouches down carefully on the floor. You’ve gotten good at minding your business and not asking about his wounds, at least not ones that aren’t too deep into the flesh. He knows it would only hurt you if you knew.

"And yet you’re here."

"I wanted to see you. You know I always want to see you."

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You kneel before him, pouring hydrogen peroxide onto the gash as you dab gently with a hand towel. He hisses and grabs your forearm with more force than he intends to.

"You’ll be fine," you reassure him gently.

"Yeah. I could've done it, you know," he says as he carefully holds your gaze.

"‘S’fun sometimes," you reply without looking at him. Carefully, you wrap gauze around his leg. "When I was little, my neighbor and I used to play House, but it always turned into, like… Hospital. And I’d pretend to be a nurse and take care of her, I’d tuck her into bed, and I’d give her lollipops from my Halloween stash for being a good patient."

Peter chuckles. He wobbles slightly as he stands up with your help.

"Am I a good patient?"

"Mm. A very brave boy," you say as you pat his cheek.

"What, I don’t get a treat?"

"Your treat is staying alive." You take him by the wrist towards your living room couch.

He doesn’t know what he’d do without you. It’s not right for him to think of you as an extension of himself, but he often yearns for your presence like a phantom limb whenever you aren’t on patrol with him. He realizes you're the yin to his yang.

It excites him, the images of you two that end up on the Internet. How good you look together. You, on the other hand, dread any semblance of perception by the world.

"People are catching on, you know. Ned found a subreddit on you the other day," Peter murmurs into your lap.

You snort, rolling your eyes the way you always do. You fiddle with the soft strands of his hair. It’s second nature to you. "Ned needs to reduce his screen time tenfold."

"Rabbit."

You sigh dramatically at the nickname. He’d adopted it after the many jumpscares he’d give you when he’d sneak into your room at night. You’d become so accustomed to him that your spider-sense would dull when it came to Peter. He was your source of comfort.

"What, Pete?"

"Why don’t you patrol with me?"

"You know why." It’s too stressful. Too public. Too many run-ins with death that you can anticipate.

"It’s better when you’re around."

"You’re a big boy, Peter," you murmur. Your hand slides across his scalp again, this time with your fingertips settling in the space behind his ears. You aren’t looking at him; instead, you are watching the documentary on the television at a low volume. He crumples at your touch.

"May says you’re my guardian angel. Every time something really bad has happened, it always worked out because you were there."

"I mean, it probably helps when you have another Spider-person as a backup."

"I think she’s right, though."

You don’t say anything. You’re tempted to reply with something sardonic or self-deprecating. You put too much faith in me. But you can’t – he’s looking at you with something that you can’t fathom. Something earnest and entirely too fragile. You have to look away.

He hums, sighing into a tattered copy of Hamlet. "I can’t deal with any more Shakespeare."

"You’re such a slow reader despite being a goddamn genius."

"Did you just say something nice about me?" Peter raises a brow.

"Oh my God, relax, Big Bang Theory."

He scoffs and swallows down a smart-ass remark. A grin lingers in his mouth as he settles back into the book.

____

You’re apart from Peter for the first time since age sixteen. You don’t tell him – you don’t tell anyone – but you decide on an out-of-state university because you don’t want to feel tethered to him. Your friends consider you and Peter a package deal, and yes, he’s probably the first real best friend you’ve ever had, but the gnawing inside of you telling you that distance is needed doesn’t stop.

You, the black sheep, are the antithesis of your hero of a best friend, despite being bitten by the same spider. You’ve always wondered if your story was supposed to play out like some sort of Shakespearean tragedy because of your bond with Peter, so you decide to take your mind off of it. At least it won’t be as painful as severing it completely.

It feels free to be away from all the chaos. In Rhode Island, you can focus on your art and fold your feelings away in a neat little envelope. You’d rather die than let any of that out, especially when Peter insists on such frequent FaceTime calls.

Sometimes, you fall asleep to the sound of his voice. He tells you about taking a train down to Providence in the middle of September to visit you like some kind of long distance boyfriend. The thought makes something in your stomach bloom and stagger in the same way. He doesn’t keep his promise – chem labs are already kicking his ass halfway to Thanksgiving break, not to mention the crime rate in New York City rockets beyond normal.

Thanksgiving comes, and both of you are the same. Peter is exactly as boyish as you left him three months ago, though his brown hair has grown longer and he wears blue-light readers to help with the mild headaches he gets from staring at screens.

He isn't attached to your hip like you expected. Your week off is filled with missed texts and a marathon of TV shows about broken women—the kind with dark humor and falling in love with priests.

The next time you see him, your roommate is out of town. It's not an unusual occurrence given how little she spends time in the dorm, always elsewhere with her new boyfriend.

Peter takes up so much space in your bed that you almost offer to push the two twin beds together, but the feeling of his warmth is too comforting. Propped against the wall, you’re hip-to-hip with him as you scroll through Netflix on your laptop.

You can feel him staring. It becomes routine, or maybe it’s your senses, but you can always tell when he’s merely observing you, watching you carefully like ripples on a pond. You've never really chastised him about it, but it doesn't help that you know he can tell when you're nervous. He has you memorized.

He likes the way you look when you concentrate. Sometimes, when you’re deep in thought, he likes to take his thumb and smooth out the ridges of your furrowed brows even though you end up swatting him away. When he does this now, you look up at him with wide, doe eyes.

"Still as indecisive as ever."

"I have to be, otherwise you’ll just put on Gilmore Girls," you scoff.

"You’re the one who showed me that!" Peter protests.

"And then it was the only thing you wanted to watch to the point where I genuinely considered locking you out of my Netflix account!"

He doesn’t bother to argue, instead resorting to poking you in the side. You squirm immediately, yelping as he continues. He flashes you a leering grin as you whine in dissent, flinching from the feather-like touch of his fingertips dancing across your skin.

"You’re so annoying," you huff, curling your body toward the wall.

"And you love it."

More than you’d ever know.

You pause, rolling your eyes at him. You contemplate kicking him again just to get a rise out of him, anything other than the short silence between you that feels more present than it should be. Your stomach feels warm at his proximity, but then again, Peter’s built like a human furnace anyway.

When you attempt to playfully shove him, he catches your wrist with quick reflexes until the two of you are tangled together. It’s easy to fight with him when you’re both running off the same biological fuel. When he ends up on top of you, you forget how to breathe.

The two of you stare at each other like this, as if frozen in time. It’s you who looks away first, then back to his big brown eyes, settling a palm to his cheek. You can feel how hard he is. You wonder if he knows.

It’s something you’ve only thought about in your subconscious, in dreams, or in moments when you’re bandaging his wounds. How would it feel to have his skin all over yours? It’s a selfish thought, but it rings in your brain without warning at times like these, times of such closeness. The spider bit the two of you for a reason. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

It’s a curious thing for sure, but there are doors you don’t want to open yet.  

"One episode and then I pick a movie," you mumble.

____

You don’t tell him about transferring when you come back for Christmas break. It feels embarrassing, despite knowing that he’d be ecstatic about the news. RISD proved to be too difficult for your one-track mind as you found yourself sleeping in more and more, flaking on the most rigorous of classes due to your mood. You’d successfully gotten into Pratt for the next semester and were fully moved out, thankfully. But when you see Peter in the arms of another, you wish you hadn't left.

You should’ve expected it, maybe. Peter had always had a thing for Michelle Jones but could never quite get past the friend zone. It seems as though your absence has nudged him further.

No, that feels too selfish to say.

But it’s still too difficult to bear in the loneliness of December, knowing that when the New Year’s parties hit, you’re still the black sheep. Even in a shiny little dress.

You don’t see him much over winter break, but he gets you a silver necklace for Christmas with a spider pendant hanging on it. It’s more sentimental than you expect, and it’s the nicest gift you’ve ever received. It certainly beats the Lego set you’d gotten for him.

Now, in your black cocktail dress, you smile dopily at Ned Leeds as the rest of the room counts down at the television, waiting for the ball to drop. It’s bittersweet when you remember last year’s countdown, in which Peter insisted the two of you swung out to Manhattan to watch the ball drop in person. You remember how much you wanted to kiss him then, but you didn’t. Thank God for his hero's anonymity and the impediment of his suit.

"Five, four, three, two, one – Happy New Year!"

Makeshift confetti falls to the ground as you watch him and MJ kiss. There’s enough champagne in your system for your heart to grow warm at the sight of it.  

____

January is cold. Desolate. Even if you have your friends around you in New York, the place that feels most like home, you’ve come to realize. But there’s still something missing, something lacking. Like you’re inside a familiar place inside a dream.

You ignore the itch, learning to numb it with champagne. It worked on New Year’s, and now it’s been working for several weeks. You don’t leave your apartment.

Even though Peter Parker is a text or phone call away, you fade into the background of his life, watching him through newsreels and YouTube videos. You’re on his mind more than you’d expect. He doesn’t know why, though he does realize that your absence bothers him in small ways.

Sometimes, when he’s on patrol, he’s frustrated by his loneliness, especially in the dead of winter. You were never one to play the hero – he knew that – but it was still comforting to have someone to patch up his wounds or soften his fall. The webs that flow from your fingertips have always been strong, enough to form hammocks in between the corners of his bedroom or a makeshift suit.

And then there are the dreams. They feel real, vivid, and much too physical for something that his mind could conjure in his unconscious. You had only kissed him once before (in real life, that is), at a stupid basement party in the ninth grade, before the two of you were friends, but shortly after the initial spider bite. Although it’s something that’s only been brought up as a joke these past few years, Peter remembers vividly how hard his heart was pounding when the glass bottle landed on you after what felt like an excruciatingly long spin. He could never forget the feeling. He wonders if you feel the same.

It’s not something he should be thinking about right now. Especially when you’re not his girlfriend. He’d rather die a thousand deaths than have you know what you do to him in his dreams when you’re nothing but a reverie of your own silk-spun webs and soft, bare skin. You treat him like prey. He loves it.

Peter can nearly smell you, that sandalwood-citrus shampoo of yours, and your warm breath over his face. Your little whispers of praise, your tiny whimpers. The image of your eyes struggling to stay open while you’re underneath him is burned into his brain.

"I missed you," you say breathlessly. "Missed you so much."

God, how is this a dream? He can feel you so clearly. Until he doesn't, and he wakes up with a groan, an exhale, and an excess of sweat on his brow. Not to mention a dampness below him.

"Fucking Christ," he curses under his breath.

The ghost of you is on his bedroom ceiling, in the corner of his room. Something nearby smells like you, even though you haven’t been in his room in ages. This makes something in his chest hurt until he decides to get out of bed.

He wants to see you, but he feels guilty knowing what he's just dreamt about. He can’t help that the person that makes him feel the most human is the only other one who shares the venom in his blood.

Sometimes he follows you. It feels almost meditative for him to sit on a rooftop and watch you from the window of your favorite cafe, reading and writing and breathing. The brightness of his phone screen illuminates his face as his eyes scan over your contact. Your face smiles back at him, but there’s a distance considering the lack of texts between the two of you over the past month. He sighs as he zooms in on your location – the two of you had shared each others’ years ago and only found it convenient to keep.

Peter doesn’t know why he’s feeling all this yearning all of a sudden – sometimes he recognizes the feeling in his body and he thinks of you and he thinks of safety. Other times, like now, he knows that it only breeds guilt.

But he misses being quiet with you, misses the mundane intimacies of him poking you and you fixing his hair. All the small expressions you make with your face that only he notices. There’s something empty in the space he usually holds for you in his heart, and he doesn’t know why.

He has to see you. Maybe then, something in his brain will click, or he’ll see you as the old friend you’ve always been, and he can blame the heat in his body on his subconscious.

You’re predictable with your routine, because this afternoon, he finds you in your usual spot by the window at your favorite cafe again. You’re writing in your journal with your noise-canceling headphones on, so Peter’s presence is completely unknown to you. After he gets his coffee, he watches you from afar, just for a little bit.

As if on cue, you already know. The moment you skip a song and a millisecond of silence fills the space in your head, you feel him immediately. You always know when he’s around.

"Peter," you murmur without thinking. Your gaze is soft but carries the surprise of a deer caught in headlights.

"Hey," he smiles. "Mind if I sit here?"

He gestures to the armchair across from you, and you nod.

Peter knows how to coax your warmth from you, because within minutes, he has you talking about school, what’s on your mind, and why it feels better to be holed up in a cafe than sit miserably at home. You do the same for him, though you notice he’s more reserved for some reason – he’s tight-lipped about MJ, and doesn’t delve into the details of his hero work. He prefers to bombard you with questions instead, listening intently to your most recent fixations or the newest movie you saw alone in theaters.

"You replaced me yet, Rabbit?" he teases you.

"Never," you scoff, tipping your coffee cup to hide any embarrassment on your face. You haven’t heard him call you that in so long. "You know me. I’m a lone wolf."

"Pratt seems like your crowd though, no? No one at Midtown High was a match for you. You were way too cool."

"Mmm, true, yet you’re my best friend."

"Hey!"

Your laugh is like a song to him; he can’t help but smile ear to ear when he hears it.

"The only person who talks to me at school is this guy Cam from my ceramics class. He’s actually from Brooklyn so we took the train together to get home and he’s around for break, which is cool."

Peter’s face nearly goes cold at the sound of someone else’s name, though he stays composed.

"Fun. Are you two…" He gestures vaguely.

"We hooked up like, once, but I don’t really know where it’s going." You say it so nonchalantly like it’s an afterthought. You’re not even looking at Peter.

"If he fucks anything up, you know where to find me."

You smile, rolling your eyes in that bashful way you do when you shrug things off, and it’s more apparent to Peter now how much he adores all your little quirks and mannerisms. He realizes that he might have them all memorized.

"We’re actually going to a party tonight if you want to come. A friend of a friend’s birthday party in Manhattan, I think? I think her name was Anna?"

"Oh, my friend Gwen knows her and invited me!"

"Small world." You swallow down the image of Peter at the party with an ESU girl for a second, and it feels rough in your throat. But you’ll manage. You always do. "Is MJ coming?"

Peter shakes his head. "Ah, she’s in Philly visiting family. I’ll probably go with Gwen and her boyfriend Harry, though."

You feel shame in your relief. It’s sickening how much you have to bury your desire and your tenderness because you know better. You know that even though the two of you were bitten by the same spider, it doesn’t mean you’re necessarily compatible. Sometimes you think your attraction to Peter is some biological fluke determined by the cells in both of your bodies. And then you think, God, how can anyone look into his brown eyes and not feel a thing?

You're both warm in your chests as you part ways, waiting for your next meeting.

____

The night of the party, Peter revels in the sight of you wearing your spider necklace, which sparkles under the flashing lights of the penthouse apartment you’re both in. His mood dampens when he notices the tall boy attached to your hip like a guard dog.

It’s a stupid game and he knows it. The way he pretends not to see you or acknowledge your presence is cruel, but it feels safe for now. He doesn’t feel ready. He’s high off some gummy that Harry had given him an hour earlier, and it’s still fogging his senses, and even though he can be cloudy and nonchalant at this party, his paranoia precedes him. It feels like you’re everywhere.

He shouldn’t feel this way. Why does he feel this way? You’re his best friend and you have your own life that’s separate from his – he knew this would happen the moment he found out you were going to different colleges. Despite that, there’s a piece of you tethered to him that he can’t bear to cut off. It makes him feel sane, the parts of you that you’ve given him.

But now, he sees you laughing and swaying your hips with someone else’s hands resting on your waist and it makes his face burn.

"Dude," Gwen snaps her fingers in front of his face. Peter blinks back at her. "Are you good?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"Harry wanted to do a shot, you want to join?"

Peter nods numbly, following the blonde to the kitchen. He watches everyone else in the kitchen pour shots and drinks like they are rehearsed marionettes. Harry snaps him out of his daze once he slams down a shot glass full of vodka in front of him.

"Drink up, Parker!" Harry cheers.

The alcohol burns Peter’s throat, but he feels the head rush and the warmth. It feels good, makes him feel looser. Malleable. Invincible, maybe, if he took two or three more. But he knows he has to pace himself. He hates that his default setting is to look for you no matter where he is. But when he scans the room this time, you’re downing a glass of champagne alone.

Your body feels heavy at the moment, so you don’t register him plopping down on the couch next to you. You wake up to the sound of his voice as you always do.

"Hey, you."

"Hey."

Your glass of champagne is empty, so you take the beer bottle out of Peter’s hand without saying a word, and he lets you. He watches you gulp a bit of it down. Maybe you’re a little too drunk. Maybe you’re imagining the way his eyes scan your body.

You’re drunk enough to feel social, but truthfully, you’re deathly afraid of being alone with anyone right now. Being alone with someone would make you feel much too raw and vulnerable, so you convince Peter to introduce you to his friends that you’ve never met, and you try to cope with the fact that they look like they were cut straight out of a magazine.

"Peter talks about you all the time," Gwen gushes, sipping from her champagne flute.

"He does?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course," she nods incessantly.

"Only incredible reviews all around," Harry nods, drunkenly slinging an arm around Peter’s shoulders. The brunette smiles sheepishly, bashfully. You raise an eyebrow at him along with a coy smile.

"Should hope so," you tease. "He wouldn’t have gotten through high school without me."

It’s mostly a lie considering Peter was the star student and you were barely second to him. Maybe fifth or sixth. In a way, your words are true, because Peter’s agreeing with you.

You zone out as he starts a story from junior year and you have half the mind to chime in when needed. Harry suddenly puts a whisky coke in your hand and you don’t want to refuse out of politeness, but you know the mix of different alcohol will have your head banging in the morning. Peter downs half of his within a millisecond.

"What?" he asks when he notices you making a face.

"Since when do you drink so much?"

"It’s a party," he shrugs.

"Peter, when I brought you to your first party, you refused to drink anything that wasn’t a fruity canned cocktail. You won’t go near wine let alone whiskey."

"A semester at ESU changes you," Harry interjects. "He’s still a little fruity, though."

Peter chastises him as you and Gwen laugh. As the boys bicker, Gwen gets your attention. She asks you mundane questions, like your major, your zodiac sign, and what you thought of the season finale of White Lotus. You’re grateful when she beckons you to follow her to the kitchen to make another whiskey coke.

Her glossed lips twist to the side, eyes bright with a teasing glance. She has the ability to make you feel calm, almost excited to be there.

"He is obsessed with you," she sneers.

"What do you mean?"

"He just talked about you so much when we met him that I had to stalk your Insta, and I was like Jesus Christ, that makes so much sense. If I wasn’t with Harry I’d snatch you up myself. And then when I met his girlfriend and I was confused that it wasn’t you. Unless you’re doing that, like, exes-that-are-still-best-friends thing."

You blush and nearly choke on your drink. "Peter and I never dated."

"Seriously?"

You say nothing, only forcing an amused smile. You don’t know where to put her assumptions, but you sure as hell can’t keep them.

"I’m actually, uh, here with someone," you mutter, pretending to look around. Briefly, you lock eyes with Peter on the couch, who’s pretending to listen to Harry's rambling. Your eyes flit away quickly. "I think I might step outside for a smoke and look for him."

You don’t have to turn around to know that Peter’s eyes are following you. Or maybe you’re just drunk and projecting. Gwen’s bubbly nature makes her seem like the type to gossip, and just because your best friend happened to talk about you doesn’t mean that there was anything under the surface. But then you notice his slightly nervous energy tonight, the silver necklace around your neck, and the last time he visited you months before, when his body was so close to yours.

A pair of hands situate themselves on your waist and it makes you jump. The warmth feels different, as does the sudden smell of sharp cologne, and then you feel your heart drop the slightest bit when you hear his voice.

"Was looking for you," Cam slurs. You can smell the beer breath as he exhales on your neck, making you shiver.

"You sure? Because you’ve been MIA for like forty-five minutes."

You try to keep your voice even, sighing when he plants a kiss on your neck. Any animosity in your tone is completely ignored.

"I was catching up with some people that I wanted to introduce you to," he says, tugging you along by the wrist like a child. You pull up a chair to a firepit surrounded by a group of strangers, and the charade of icebreakers returns. There’s no point in remembering anyone’s name.

You think about returning inside to look for Peter or maybe Gwen and Harry, but being on Cam’s lap is distracting you. At some point, a joint a passed around, and the feeling of the boy’s arms around you makes it easy to melt into nothing.

____

You’re right. You always are. Peter Parker doesn’t drink, and he’s never drunk this much in his entire life. He’s been sitting in the bathtub for… how long? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that his senses were dulled to the point of detachment and he needed to get alone to ground himself.

He’s so out of it that he doesn’t realize someone’s knocking on the door of the bathroom, and his reaction time is too slow before Harry barges in.

"Are you hiding in the bathtub?" Harry squints.

"No, I’m just… hangin’ out," Peter stammers.

Harry snaps out of the facade of a confused daze and shrugs, unbuckling his belt with nonchalance in front of the toilet.

"Dude!"

"What? I’m turned around!"

Sighing, Peter looks around his surroundings. Generic brand shampoo and conditioner. A deformed bar of soap. A red solo cup with clear liquid. He remembers suddenly – he’d filled an empty cup he found with sink water before getting in the tub.

His brain swims with dizziness and mild nausea that mix up his stomach. Gulping down the water, his throat burns immediately, only to realize that it isn’t water at all. It’s fucking vodka and seltzer. Harry’s turned around again, cackling before washing his hands.

"Idiot."

"Fuckingshitjesusfuckingchrist," Peter groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You should just drink straight vodka at this point, man."

"Oh, I do," Harry agrees. He crouches down, squatting to meet Peter at eye level. A warm palm taps Peter’s cheek. "You good, bro?"

"Mmm," Peter nods. His breathing turns shallow as he hunches over, pulling his knees into his chest.

"Jesus, you need to get home, don’t you?"

"‘m fine. You go home."

"Gwen’s been nagging me to for the past ten minutes, so I might. I’d let you crash on the couch, but we’re getting up early to go upstate. How are you getting home, bro?"

Harry frowns when he realizes Peter is barely listening. "Pete!"

He grimaces at Harry’s constant fidgeting. With an annoyed sigh, he shoos the other boy away with flailing arms.

"Heard you," he slurs. "I’ll– I’ll share an Uber with Y/N."

Harry sighs with exasperation, pulling Peter’s arm forcefully to get him out of the tub and down to the living room of the house. Peter is dizzy in his vision, clumsy in his movements, but finds clarity when he glances towards the couch and sees you sitting there with furrowed brows.

"Peter? Are you okay?" you ask.

"Yeah, absolutely not," Harry says. "Gwen and I gotta head home and we’re leaving early tomorrow so he can’t crash. You guys are like, neighbors, right?"

You swallow a lump in your throat, briefly turning your head to glance back at Cam, then back at Peter. He looks at you with a guilty cadence, though his eyes lull with a tiredness that is unusual for him. He’s corpse-like, still hanging onto Harry’s shoulder like a lifeline. It makes the pit of your stomach stir.

It’s unlike him, to be this drunk. The only other time Peter has been this drunk was once in high school, when he was slurring his words all night and determined to clutch you like a teddy bear in his twin-sized bed. You recall his warmth and how his post-puberty figure appeared gargantuan to your body. Foreign, but warm. Comforting. When you think about taking Peter home tonight, you feel like you aren’t allowed to lay next to a body that doesn’t belong to you.

"Yeah, I’ll take him home."

____

"Coulda swung home myself," the boy mumbles. You hit him on the arm and give him a chastising look. Thankfully, your current Uber driver speaks a limited amount of English, not to mention the radio is on blast.

"You couldn’t have. You’re so fucking drunk, you’d kill yourself," you hiss in a low tone.

"Not if you were with me."

"Well, I wouldn’t be. I wasn’t even gonna go home tonight."

"Ah. Of course. Cam,” he exasperates. “Is he your boyfriend?"

You sigh. "No, he’s not."

"Right, you don’t… you don’t do boyfriends," Peter murmurs, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

The car stops in front of Peter’s apartment building.

"Thank you," you say stiffly to the Uber driver as you drag Peter out of the car. The elevator ride is awkward and quiet, as is the fumbling of keys when Peter tries to unlock the door.

He leans on your body as you coerce him into his bedroom, with him thumping onto his bottom bunk.

"Jesus. I feel like if Richie Rich called you an Uber himself you could’ve easily made it up the elevator by yourself. Right, Pete?"

"Mhmm. He’s such. A worry wart. For some rea–" Peter makes a gulping sound that makes your face pale. Immediately, you grab his trash bin and place it between his feet.

"‘m not gonna puke."

"I think you might, Peter."

He pauses and examines you as you kneel in front of him. He’s so drunk, so awfully drunk, but he has enough sense in him to take the caution that the anxious voice in the back of his head commands. But fuck, you look so pretty. He doesn’t know what to do about it.

Peter takes a strand of your hair in his hands and curls it around his finger. His shallow breaths feel louder than they should be. Or maybe they’re yours. He can’t really tell.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. "I won’t vomit. I promise."

You sigh.

"I should get going–"

"Can you stay for a little?"

Swallowing, you nod. You get into bed with him, because, quite frankly, you’ve had your fair share of alcohol tonight, and laying down in Peter’s warm bed makes you want to melt off the bone.

"I'm sorry for fucking up your night." Peter turns to lie on his side and drapes an arm carefully around you. His hand is feather-bare on your hip.

"You didn’t."

"You were gonna go home with Cam."

"It’s fine, Peter. I wanted to make sure you were safe."

"Like a chore."

"Not like a chore."

"Yeah, okay."

He does that thing again – holds a strand of your hair in his hands. He runs his fingertips nimbly across your scalp as if he’s handling an injured bird. As if he’s afraid you’d bite.

Your eyes are huge, like flying saucers. He used to say that all the time, especially whenever you came to his apartment after experimenting with any new drugs. You only felt safe with him – you had told him that – and he took care of you and your big eyes and your tendencies toward erratic behavior. He always knew how to calm you down. And now, in your adult lives, you were doing it for him.

You let him keep his hands in your hair and he doesn’t know why. There’s a theory he wants to test – one that he dreams about even when he knows he shouldn’t. He thinks about it in vulnerable moments. He considers that maybe this is a vulnerable moment.

His fingertips trace your face between the edge of your eyebrow and the baby hairs on your hairline. He taps along your temple gently, smoothing across the softness of your skin until he sculpts down your cheek and jaw. He blinks once, then twice. And then he rests the pad of his thumb on the corner of your mouth.

Almost automatically, you part your lips. Your mouth is pink, dusted with a purplish-red in the center from the merlot you’d drank hours before, and he wants to lick it off you.

He feels your heart beating, too, and you can hear his. It's a loud bang that resonates in between your eardrums. It’s that shared venom that makes your bodies so acquainted with one another. You briefly consider whether a human body can overheat and burn away simply by being touched by another. You wonder how human the two of you can really be.

You close your eyes.

"What are you doing?" you whisper. Your voice is gossamer-thin, barely there, but you’re so close to him that he hears it so clearly.

"Whatever you want." His voice is dripping honey.

You shake your head, still with your eyes closed. Peter’s hand descends to your jaw, thumb on your bone, with the rest of his fingers warming up your neck. You feel like you might just choke on the feeling of it.

"No, that’s not fair. That’s not… okay."

"What?"

"You’re drunk, Peter. Don’t do that to me. Please."

"What am I doing?"

Your face scrunches up as your eyes open to look at him with a pained expression. You have to close them again. You don’t want to look at him. You want his hands off of you, so you push them away.

"You’re with MJ."

"I… I know."

Your face is crumpled as you inch out of his bed. You’re back to kneeling on the floor in front of him.

"Please don’t leave," Peter whispers.

"I’m tired. I’ll sleep on the top bunk," you mumble. You try not to let him catch you sniffling.

"Goodnight.” You don’t respond.

He falls asleep shortly after and smells your perfume even in his dreams. When he wakes up, he smells you. But you’re nowhere to be found. There’s only the cold air coming from a crack of his window left slightly open.

____

It’s not your fault, but you’ve broken his heart a million times. The night of the party was the most recent one. To be fair, he had also broken your heart. He was just too fucking drunk to remember most of it.

You’ve become a ghost, barely texting Peter back, and when you do, your responses are short and clipped. You don’t have much time to hang out, and he realizes he doesn’t either, not when he has MJ to spend time with along with his Spider-Man duties.

But he would make time for you if you wanted it. He wonders if you know that. He feels too ashamed to tell you that himself.

It’s been like this before, and he’s been able to cope. The way you’re on his brain and won’t leave —stuck on him like a parasite. It’s his fault, he decides, not yours. He knows he’s not being fair. Not to you, not to MJ, not to himself. But he keeps it all in and hopes it doesn’t boil over.

Truthfully, Peter wants to avoid everyone. He understands now why you abhor winter to the degree that you always have. The desolation is too much to bear when there’s not much sunlight in January to activate dopamine receptors, so Peter sleeps in longer than he should. Late enough for Aunt May to get on his case about it.

"Something’s up with you," MJ accuses him on a Thursday evening. It’s one of their ritual movie nights with pizza and wine.

"Huh? Nothing’s up," Peter shrugs.

"No, I know you. Something’s wrong."

"I’m fine, Em." A lie.

It’s a miracle that Michelle Jones sees through Peter’s bullshit because it means that she has the incentive to protect herself from any future bullshit that may break her later on. Peter is too numb to process any of it. There was the refusal of admission, the attempt to keep up the wall of his emotions, which crashed down soon enough by the time MJ was out of the door.

He thinks he should call you, but he doesn’t.

____

Peter is used to scrapes and bruises. He’s seen more than enough charred flesh than a nineteen-year-old should. You had never asked to be his caretaker, but over the course of years, that was what you became. His guardian angel.

He used to make excuses to come over after patrol, trying to coax you out of your nest of a room for just an evening. He'd always known you were far more talented than you gave yourself credit for when it came to spider abilities, but it felt more like a curse than a gift for you to bear.

Some nights, he dreams of you falling stories beneath him. Your face is covered in rubble and ash, and although his nightmares often start with this, he knows that somehow, it’s his fault. It feels visceral, the burning in his calloused hands. Torn lycra to show the dirt underneath his fingernails. Hot tears dripping.

He starts taking that Ambien you gave him years ago.

After that, each day passes like he’s trapped in a nightmarish purgatory. No, that’s an exaggeration. He’s just a victim of a New York winter, and he misses you more than he wants to admit to himself or anyone else.

"I can take care of myself." And with that, the image of you disappears.

"I know," he murmurs softly. He’s always known. It is insignificant in comparison to how badly he wants to take care of you if you let him. Your voice echoes in the cavern of his room. You get farther away by the second until you disappear completely, and he evidently wakes up.

Even in your worst state, he’s obsessed with your honeyed skin. It doesn’t matter the number of bruises or cuts – he caresses them all with his nimble fingertips, and he’s ready to kiss them until they heal. He thinks about this sometimes, how much he cares for you and your body. What he'd do if you just let him in, let him devour you however he pleases, and it disgusts him.

In his dreams where you’re hurt, he’s willing to sacrifice whatever he can so that you can revert to your clean, unbothered state. I’d never let anyone break you. It’s a prayer for him. One that he whispers in your ear whenever he can, at least in these dreams. In reality, he knows that he has to let you go because he knows you. Knows how much you want to be free and alone. How you can take care of yourself. You’re not a damsel in distress – you never have been. But Peter feels like he was made to care for you. It would gut him all the same regardless of whether you loved him or not, and he was willing.

When it’s real, he doesn’t know what to do. He didn’t ever think the two of you would be in this position.

He’s been in enough battles to know how these things end. Mr. Stark had walked him through it all and been by his side while the rest of the Avengers repaired the other broken bits of the universe.

Right now is one of those unique times, the quiet and wretched ones, where Peter is contemplating breath after breath before imagining the full picture. Shambles of the street he’s in. The ache of his bruised body and the blood that he sees from yours, that he shouldn’t have seen, because you said it yourself. You’re not a fucking hero. So why is your blood streaked on the palm of his hands?

The distance between you and Peter doesn’t matter – it never does. The moment you’d felt a dread stirring in your stomach, there was a sharp pain in your head that refused to leave unless the working adrenaline in your body was satiated. It wasn’t the same adrenaline that circulated within you from a night of debauchery – instead, it felt like poison. A compulsory kind of pain, a sharp jolt to your senses. Tonight, you’d felt Peter in danger, and it would’ve killed you if you couldn’t get to him. He'd been the destination you'd been dead set on by the end of the night because of your spider instincts.

The police broadcast was too muffled for you to understand much of it, but you picked out the parts where Spider-Man was mentioned and followed through on them. Although you didn’t fall into the shadow of his hero work, you still kept enough tabs on Peter to know where he would usually be on patrol. It wasn’t like he knew, or that you’d ever told him, but when he was starting out as another guard dog for the Avengers in high school, you needed to at least know his approximate location in the event that something went terribly wrong.

An explosion blasts in the center of a park, where the two of you would meet in the middle between Queens and Stark Tower. This is where you lay your courage down. This is where you find Spider-Man’s mangled body before anyone else does.

"Peter," you huff. "S’gonna be okay. You with me? I’m gonna make sure you’re okay."

He’s just less than conscious, the stretch of his animated eyes limited by his weakness. When he sees your face, however, his face glows – not that you can see it through his mask.

He says your name with a fervor that surprises you. His voice is raspy.

"‘m fine. I have to stay," he grunts, his pain palpable. You know that he’s telling the truth, but you don’t want to leave him alone in his misery.

"Peter. You’re hurt."

"You go home. I’ll come find you later. Just let me–"

"You’re fucking limping."

You had always carried yourself like a feather-like, lithe ghost. Quiet, whereas Peter was bold, despite the fact that his anxious nature had rendered him a boyish thing all these years. This is why he’s surprised that you carry him easily with your supernatural strength. He forgets that you have the same abilities as him. If anything, he’d think you were stronger than him in every way.

Even with his thick skin, he melts into something malleable, comfortable. The solace of your arms makes him feel better already.

A pang of small guilt rots away within him, knowing the circumstances of your last meeting. You’re too good. He didn’t deserve to be saved by you, to be patched up with your nimble fingers like he had been treated when he was younger and more naive.

"I can make it to my place, it’s okay," he rasps gently.

You don’t have to say anything, because bullshit radiates through the stern expression of your eyes, your mouth in a grimace. You had always been stubborn and today isn’t an exception. With your webs, you crochet a path for him toward your home, lifting and catching the boy effortlessly as you swing.

A gentle sigh escapes his mouth when the two of you crawl into the safety of your fire escape. The night is quiet behind you. When he looks at you, you have to look away, fixing your hair nervously or occupying your gaze anywhere but in his direction. His eyes are poignant in their longing, though you’re unsure of what he could be thinking. If he’s sorry about before. If he’s ashamed.

Your wispy webs wrap around the parts of him that hurt, but you wince when you check on him to see that the white fibers are slowly saturated with the dark crimson of his open wounds.

"Peter, you have to wash up," you whisper. "Shit’s gonna get infected. I can put some gauze on you after you shower."

He nods wordlessly when you ask him if he can manage the shower on his own. He feels vulnerable, and although your presence is always desired by him, he finds relief in the hot steam of your shower, alone with his thoughts. He’s still shaken from the explosion. Not completely catatonic, but tense. As if he isn’t in his body at all.

When Peter emerges from the bathroom, he looks like a stranger. Scars adorn his sides. Your face crumples at the sight of his fresh wounds.

"C’mere."

It doesn’t take you long to fix him up, cleaning his cuts and wrapping gauze around his stomach and chest. His quiet grunts startle you, as if he's a wild animal. Eyes screwed shut, brows cinched in pain. A heavy exhale and a mumbled apology followed.

You forgive him with a soft touch and a hushed whisper. He wishes the ache would stop. He wishes he could lie on your bed and have you whisper in his ear all night until the sound of your voice lulls him to sleep.

There aren’t many words exchanged, and you want to ask him why. If you did something. But then you think about the images on the news and his withered face, and you decide not to probe the sphere of trauma surrounding him. Peter has probably gone through more in the last twelve hours than you have in a week.

You stop him before he tries to make it out of your bedroom door and towards the living room.

"I don’t mind sleeping on the couch, I’ve done it before."

"It’s like sleeping on a rock, Parker. You just gone through God knows what," you chide. "Just… get in here."

As he breathes in and out, he nestles in your shoulder, his clean hair tickling your bare skin. There’s a nasty guilt that lurches from your sternum. As if you were the reason for his pain. For the state of his body. And you think back to the desperate look in Peter’s eyes the night you took him home from the party. Were you too cruel, then?

It’s like he steals the words from your mouth. He beats you to it.

"I’m sorry," Peter murmurs. His amber eyes blink up at you, unfathomable. You flash him a downturned grin.

"For what?"

"I feel like… there’s been a distance between us lately. And I don’t want that, because you’re my best friend. And now you’re taking care of me when you don’t have to. I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate it. That I, um, lo–," he stammers. He chews on his bottom lip. "You’re really good."

"‘m not all that good, Peter."

But of course, you are, he protests in his head. You are the moon and the stars and everything in between.

"I’m sorry for not being around."

"Not just your fault," you shrug. "Phone works both ways."

He knows you better than you think because, within seconds, his palm rests softly on your cheek, where he feels a hot tear.

"What’s up, Spidey?" he asks you. It makes you laugh.

"Shut up." You shake your head, trying to hide your face. The feeling of his thumb rubbing your cheek makes the tears flow even more. "I wouldn’t know what I’d do if something bad happened to you. If I couldn’t get to you. Or if you – if you were gone."

"I’m okay, Rabbit. We’re okay."

"Yeah," you chuckle, trying to hide your tears.

"Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried."

You feel warmer in his grasp. His small breaths fall on your arm as his body curls up next to you. He’s bigger than he’d been before back when you were teenagers. The jaw is chiseled and sharp. Not as soft and boyish as you once knew. With your senses, you can discern the steadiness of his heartbeat as his chest rises and falls into slumber. You fall asleep soon after, dreamless but full of warmth.

____

Waking up next to him is nothing new, but it’s been years. You never thought anything of it when the two of you were sixteen, staying up all night reading creepypastas and watching movies until you’d fall asleep on top of each other by four in the morning.

After a night’s sleep, Peter's sullen face is a bit brighter despite his dark circles. His limbs are entangled in yours, bodies fused together. Yin and yang. You can only assume that this is how it will always be.

You keep mental notes of him like trinkets. The uneven slant in his left eyebrow. The faint freckles dotted along his nose, the one near the corner of his mouth. The faint shadow of hollowed-out cheeks. Peter is still half-boy to you, and half-man, but you didn’t want to come to terms with it. Maybe he was something else. Half-ghost. Half-angel.

Slowly, over the course of a few weeks, he comes back to you again. Sitting together and reading at a cafe. The occasional 3 am swing. Walking around high at the 7-11.

"Did you like Rhode Island?" he asks over a joint one night.

You hum for a second, trying to come up with an acceptable answer. It wasn’t that you hated being in Rhode Island. It was that you hated being away from him.

So instead, you shrug. "It was nice to get away from everything. Providence is still a city, but it isn't as large as all this–”

You trail off, making a vague gesture with your hands. Chaos, Peter presumes.

"Less overwhelming?"

"Sure," you say, nodding. "I missed being home, though."

I missed you.

Peter passes you the joint. His brain feels fuzzy. Warm. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He massages your ankle absentmindedly.

"I get it," he says, breaking the silence.

"You get what?"

"Wanting to leave. I've been thinking about it," Peter shrugs, his eyes squinting in the late afternoon sun. "Sometimes I wish we could pack our bags and go to the countryside. See some cows and shit."

We. We. We.

"There are cows upstate," you snort.

"You know what I mean."

"We can do a road trip."

"You can’t drive."

"I am aware and perfectly fine with being a passenger princess. In fact, I’m looking forward to it," you grin.

He yanks your ankle this time, causing you to slip from where you’re sitting on the pavement. Giggling, you swat away his hands, but he’s too quick, untying your shoelaces as you kick and thrash.

"Honestly, it’s probably better for society if you never get behind the wheel," Peter teases. He dodges you when you try to kick him in the shin.

"Oh, but you can be? You get so distracted so easily! Whenever you’d practice driving, you’d miss so many exits or be too anxious to merge on the highway."

"Okay, well, you’re just a force of distraction," he shrugs, throwing his hands up in defeat. "You have that effect on people."

You look at him quizzically, your eyes narrowing. If there’s anything behind his statement, he doesn’t show it on his face. Peter knows his cheeks are burning, however.

There are more moments like these. Ever since you’d rescued Peter that night, he’s grown accustomed to spending hours of his day idly looking for you, learning your class schedule, and following you home like a pet when it’s time to unwind. He stays for hours like he used to when you were kids, and although he always thinks he’s overstaying his welcome, you don’t seem affected.

You curl into him more these days, like a sunflower stretching toward the morning glow. There are more lingering touches, here and there. You have to remind yourself not to get too comfortable, but God, he makes it so easy.

So the burning question pops out during a marathon of Chainsaw Man.

"Does MJ care that we hang out so much?" you blurt out. He looks at you like you have three heads. Also, his mouth is full.

"Um, webrobrup," he mumbles. He frowns as he looks down. Hot Cheeto fingers.

You mock him, of course.

"English, yeah?"

He chuckles as he finishes scarfing it all down. He shyly licks his fingertips, and you have to stop yourself from staring at the way his fingers enter his mouth. Ugh, gross. This is hardly supposed to be hot.

"We broke up."

You keep a straight face. It’s not like you’re excited or anything. You realize you shouldn’t be surprised because… why else would he be so available to you lately?

"Shit. You really fumbled, then."

"Shut up," he laughs.

"Seriously. Who else is gonna wanna put up with you?" You both know the answer to that.

"It was mutual," he says, shrugging. "I’ve got all my Spider-man shit, she’s getting into a bunch of extracurriculars and even a research internship even though we’re literally first years."

"Classic MJ."

"Yeah."

"We’ll get you back on the market, buddy," you tease, patting his head like a dog. A coy smile lights up your features. It makes something inside him melt.

"I’m not a piece of meat."’

You click your tongue.

"Oh, right, you’re an insect."

"Hey, so are you!"

____

You used to think it was a kind of twin telepathy, the magnetism to Peter that you felt. Bitten by the same spider and entangled in the same web. You realize as you grow older that it’s more than a platonic bond. It feels like wanting to share the same skin.

Or maybe it’s the wine talking.

It’s not your job to keep Peter afloat at the party right now, but both of you remember too well how the last party went. He continually sips water in between gulps of whiskey like a paranoid freak, which you tease him about. Maybe it’s just the darkness of his eyes under this light, but his pupils look wide and dilated.

It’s almost March. You’d both endured a proper New York winter, which usually extends until April if you’re lucky, but global warming has other plans. It's warm enough for you to pair one of your favorite dresses with an oversized Carhartt jacket that used to belong to Peter before the bite bulked him up significantly. You fiddle with the black velvet wrapped around your body as you pretend to listen to banal conversations, leaning your head into Peter’s bicep.

You keep picking at loose threads obsessively. You think about your fingertips and their webs. You think that maybe you should take up crocheting to distract your hands from their restlessness.

Peter grabs your hand away from you, squeezing it slightly, not even looking at you. His flushed palm rests against yours. Gently rubbing your thumb between your finger divots

If you were a cat, Peter would imagine you purring right about now. He wants to take you into his lap, stroke your hair while the alcohol subsides in both of your systems. The thought of you on top of him causes his cock to twitch slightly. His rose-colored cheeks are from the whiskey, he reassures himself. An affirmation. He lets go of your hand.

He knows that this isn't the time or place for such thoughts, so he makes an effort to push the desires down. He knows they'll come up again when the whiskey leaves his veins, but at least he'll be of sober mind.

Christ, he feels like he's at a middle school dance. Especially when you run off with a spring in your step to socialize with some girls you recognize from school. The smell of your hair lingers next to him. It's sweet and slightly floral, a scent that makes him think of when you were kids.

His ears perk up like a dog's when you call his name, reaching out to him so that you can introduce your best friend. He has the right mind to be polite, even funny at times, but he knows he pales in comparison to your current charisma, which contrasts with your usual wallflower nature.

Peter likes watching you talk, and you like that he watches you so intently. When you know he's watching, it's easy to deadpan some drunken jokes and elaborate superfluous tall tales from your high school days. His eyes are bright, and his bottom lip is chewed in between his teeth.

Suddenly, he gets to be alone with you in the kitchen. Your scent permeates the air. He could drown in it.

“Rabbit," you whine petulantly. "Swing me home."

"How drunk are you?" he chuckles with adoration.

"Not very. Just tired, s'all," you respond with a yawn. You scrunch your nose. "Can I sleep at yours?"

Peter looks at you with a soft gaze. "Of course, angel."

Angel. He's never called you that before. You decide that you like the sound of it.

By the time midnight comes around, you're barefoot in his bedroom, black velvet spinning loosely around your figure. In Peter's blurred vision, you look like a friendly apparition, one that particularly favors "Champagne Coast" by Blood Orange.

"Come into my bedroom, come into my bedroom," you quietly sing along as you sway your hips.

"You're already in my room."

Your smile beams at him, huge and illuminating, and impossible to look away from. Peter wishes that he could bottle up this moment to revisit it, or maybe live in it for the rest of his life. The sweetest way to exist.

Your body sinks to his level -- no, collapses -- as you roll over his heavy frame and rest yourself on your back. Your hair fans out like you're underwater. Your lips are red and wine-colored, freshly bitten. When you turn your head toward Peter, his hand plays with the exposed nape of your neck, fingertips grazing the creases of your skin.

"You used to be so gangly, you know," you murmur. Your voice is lower than usual.

"Okay, well, I'm not anymore."

"I could totally still take you in a fight." Still refers to the times when the two of you would attempt something along the lines of combat training, if combat training was just you unleashing your hotheadedness with your mutant powers instead of with your fists. If you weren't so agile, maybe Peter would've had a chance of winning.

"I'd like to see you try, angel."

It's decided -- you are on top of him, knees bent around his waist as you wrestle. The fabric of your dress pools around your waist in a way that feels sacrilegious. Peter has his hand on your thighs, and his touch feels white-hot to both of you, so he closes his eyes, tries to focus on swatting you away like a bat instead. When he opens his eyes, he meets your devilish ones, gleeful that you've managed to pin his arms above his head.

It would take two inches to break this spell of separation. He keeps trying to keep this bubble intact because the last time he tried to pop it, the look on your face made him want to dig a hole and lay in it forever.

Peter feels sorry for many things. He feels sorry for the times he's intruded, when he's made Mr. Stark angry, for the times he couldn't be there for you. He feels sorry that you had to take care of him when he wanted to do that for you.

Right now, however, Peter doesn't feel sorry at all. The slight twitch of your pulse, the way you smell, the curve of your bare shoulders -- it's all too tempting for him to feel sorry for. So he kisses you.

He's surprised when you nearly bite him back. You inhale sharply, pressing your body against him as you let go of his wrists and rest your palms on his jaw instead. Your kiss is fervent, desperate.

His brow cinches in confusion when you pull away.

"Wha--"

"Fuck."

"What is it?" He frowns.

"I owe Ned twenty bucks."

"What?"

"I just remembered. At graduation, he was like, teasing me that we were gonna get together, and we bet on who would make the first move. I was just entertaining him, but you know how that kid gets about twenty dollars."

"So you thought you were going to make the first move, then?”

“I mean, yeah. How was I supposed to know that MJ was going to cuff you before I did?”

“You snooze, you lose, I guess,” he deadpans.

“You don’t even fucking deserve me, you little freak,” you taunt, tickling his exposed midriff.

“God, I know. I’ve known that for a while. Too bad I want you regardless.”

He smiles as he captures your lips again, tasting sweet and smoky at the same time. He coaxes you onto your back and you revel in his body heat and the way his large hands grab the plush of your thighs, pushing and pulling your skin taut. It’s so erotic that it almost feels dirty.

You kiss him back like he’s your last meal while you roam your hands under his shirt, then to his protruding collarbones, then experimentally, to the tufts of his chestnut hair. You pull a bit too hard due to your eagerness and he lets out a mewl that you never could’ve imagined to come out of him.

“You like that, don’t you?” you taunt darkly. “Is that why you always want me to scratch your head when we watch movies?”

“I don’t care what you do as long as you’re touching me,” he breathes out, like a confession. “Don’t care how you touch me, s’long as it’s you.”

A tepid blush soaks your face. You shut him up with another kiss. He licks at your bottom lip, groaning softly at the feeling of your soft body against his.

“You’re so pretty, Peter,” you whisper.

“You are.”

Before you can react, you hitch a breath in surprise when you find that his hands have fully reached above the hem of your dress and onto the bare skin of your hip, toying with the elastic of your underwear. You part your legs, bending your knees so that you can pull the fabric off.

He sighs as his fingers tease the slot of your cunt, which grows wetter and wetter with every touch. Your sensitivity makes you squirm a little. He can tell so easily that you’re falling apart for him. He loves it.

You nearly whine when he takes away his fingers from you. Instead, he towers over your body, pulling your legs toward him as he pulls up the hem of your velvet dress and cascades kisses on your knees. He slowly works his way up to your thighs, biting gently, then hard. Meanwhile, his hands roam the perimeter of your chest and your ribs, all soft and pliable for him. You’ll be delighted when you wake up to a bruise on your thigh stuck in the shape of Peter Parker’s mouth.

A shiver lacerates your lower body all the way up to your neck – you feel it, viscerally. All from his mouth. He slots his tongue onto the bud of your clit going slowly just to watch you squirm.

“Please,” you beg.

“Please what?” His eyes are as dark as the sky. As dark as your dress.

“Your– your mouth. I need it. Please. More.”

Peter’s grip on your thighs tightens as his face moves closer to your center, licking incessantly as you cry out. You attempt to muffle your sounds with your hand covering your mouth, biting the skin on your palm. Your blood is hot, pumping hard, all the way down to your swollen clit, and he treats you like a man starved.

“Oh my God,” you gasp. “More, please. Pleasepleaseplease.”

He listens to you, forcing his ring and middle finger into your cunt and curling upward. Your legs shake involuntarily when he does this and it takes everything in him to not stop just so he can see the look on your face head-on. You look so beautiful right now.

“Gonna cum, Pete. Fuck.”

He closes his eyes as he savors your sweet taste. He feels it when you cum as if it’s happening in his body, too. A jolt to the sense. A vivacious rumble. Your mouth is slack, jaw falling open with your eyes screwed shut as you finish, and Peter towers over you to watch. He’s never seen you like this. He wants to keep the image of it forever.

You thank him with a messy kiss, not caring about the remnants of your lipstick. Your hands attack him, teeth nipping at his earlobe as you help him undress. Soon enough, the two of you are naked together, limbs entangled and kissing without paying any mind to oxygen.

You take his jaw in your hand as if he’s a delicate thing. Easy to break. It’s your turn to tease, now.

“What do you wanna do?”

“You’re such a little shit,” he mumbles, but he can’t help but grin.

“Tell me about it, Spidey.”

“Want you, Rabbit, want to make you feel good.”

“And how exactly will you do that?”

“Gonna fuck you. I’ll make you cry if you keep being a little shit like this, too.”

There’s no time for a reaction. He’s on top of you, pinning you down, and he licks your collarbone up to your jaw as you whine like a newborn kitten. He spanks your ass and you have to your bottom lip to keep from being too loud.

“You want it that bad, huh?”

“Yeah,” you respond breathlessly. He melts at the sound of your voice, cooing softly as he playfully bites the skin of your cheek.

You love him like this, a burst of passionate energy focused on you and you only. His little angel. You remember your rabbit heart caged in your sternum fragile and thumping like an earthquake for him.

He pauses to give you another kiss, this time sweet as he licks up the bottom of your lip. You can feel him at the crux of your legs and you can feel the want pumping in your veins. Patience. Patience. Patience.

“You want me to go slow?”

“Of course not.”

You’re so relaxed in his grasp. Gooey with your desire that it might disgust you if you weren’t so enamored. You keep your eyes on him when he enters you – you want to see the look in his eyes.

Peter feels selfish wanting to tease you like this. He’s slow when he enters you, listening to your sweet exhales.

“Easy,” he warns. “‘m gonna take care of you, don’t worry."

Please floods your entire body like a heat stroke. You bend your knees upward and rake the smooth terrain of his back, lifting your hips up at the same time. He thrusts once, then twice, and already, he feels like he’s ready to unfurl completely.

“Fuck,” he groans. You’re so goddamn wet. Soft. Velvety.

“Don’t be shy, Peter,” you murmur. “C’mere.”

You keen into the way he buries his nose into your shoulder, shallow breaths uneven and erratic as he continues, losing control bit by bit as he goes on. His pleasure is the knife you twist inside yourself.

You gasp at the way he can carve you out, the way he knows exactly where to put his hands as he grasps for your body, like he’d molding you from clay. He drinks down your moans with his mouth, eyes fluttering at the impact of your cunt clenching him.

Peter props himself up now, moving his body backward so he’s perpendicular to your core. He holds you by your hips a little too hard, but you’d always liked it rough. You liked it when he would cuddle you or play with you or put his entire body weight on you. To smother was to be encased in something akin to love.

“Fuck,” he hisses, getting the hang of a constant rhythm. His hips slot with yours as his cock thrusts deeper into you, until he can feel the slight tremble of your thighs.

“You okay?” he asks, chest heaving.

“Yes, keep going. Keep going.”

You underestimate how fragile you are. A rough thrust almost has you there, until he pulls out of you like a stolen breath, and it leaves you whining.

“Pete.”

“Shh, I’m just trying to pace myself,” he breathes, jaw slack and glistening with sweat. “You feel too fucking good.”

“Come back or I’ll break your wrists.”

He chuckles, but you’re dead serious. You lift your body to him so you can pull his down, kissing him with a ragged hunger that’s all teeth and lust. He’s quick to match your vigor but with more tenderness than desperation. It makes you melt, how natural it is, how this is how it might’ve felt in a past life. Your bodies entwined in a way that’s proverbial.

He listens to you. Fucks you much rougher than before, giving in to what he wants, because he’s not sorry about how much he wants you. Your broken moans curl out of your throat and into his mouth and the feeling of him deep in you makes you feel like a balloon ready to burst from the pressure.

It’s like Peter reads your mind, because suddenly, his hand is around your throat. You’ve never looked more angelic to him than you do now, eyes half-lidded and your reddish mouth all lax.

“So fucking beautiful, I love you,” he mumbles against his mouth.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

All of Peter’s muscles are tense from holding back. Fuck, he doesn’t want to cum until you do.

Luckily, the way his cock stretches you out has you nearly drooling underneath him. He touches the deepest parts of your insides like he belongs there, like he was meant to be there, as if the way he turns his hips toward you is a vow in itself. You whimper at the feeling of it all and he nearly loses it.

“I’m so close,” you pants. Thank fucking God.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cum for me,” he coos. “You’re doing so good. Fuck.”

Your gaze lingers on the shape of his mouth. You think about how his voice sounds when he calls you angel.

Your orgasm comes like a flower blooming, like a beam of light in the darkness. He feels it, too, so vividly like he shares your body. It feels strange how much he feels that he hasn’t felt before, and it makes him come undone right after you.

He pulls out of you and spills onto your stomach unceremoniously with something in between a grunt and a whimper. He’s all over you. You want to bury your body into his.

“Peter,” you whisper, your gaze languishing.

“Yes, angel?”

“I think I owe Ned fifty bucks now.”

He looks at you incredulously but you can’t keep the facade, bursting into laughter as he groans in annoyance and flops his body on top of yours.

“Ew, clean me up, at least,” you complain.

“Right,” he says, nodding. And he does, with a spare t-shirt from his floor absentmindedly while he shares a grin with you. “You serious, though?”

“Of course not,” you scoff. “Ned Leeds will never get anything over twenty bucks from me.”

He laughs and it sounds like heaven.

“You said you loved me,” you tell him.

“I do love you. I’ve always loved you.”

You could cry right now. Surely the influx of endorphins in your body is breaking the rest of your brain.

“I love you, too.”

You kiss him again, open-mouthed, teeth sucking slightly as his lips. He takes a fistful of your hair while his other hand caresses your jaw. It excites you when he breaks the kiss by pulling your hair. His cheeks dimple the slightest bit when he smiles at you.

“Don’t do that, you’re gonna get me hard again.”

“You have the stamina,” you shrug, hugging one of his oversized pillows to your chest.

“You’re cute.”

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“How come you call me angel now?”

Peter shrugs. He rubs his hands on your calves.

“You’re my guardian angel. Always have been. And you’re not allowed to complain about it being corny because it’s true.”

Peter is shy all of sudden as if he hadn’t just fucked you. His brown hair is tousled to bedhead perfection, messy and slightly frizzy, and the warmth of his skin radiates from the way his whole body seems to blush in front of you.

“I have a proposition.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Come on!” You nudge him, kicking him with your feet. You get off of his bed to rummage through his dresser drawers for an oversized t-shirt, just dodging his attempts to grab you by the waist.

“Okay. What is it?”

“We should use our webs next time.”

He blinks, smirking, indulging you for a second.

“Deal.”

tagging mutuals: @meliapis​ @cutetomholland​ @userholland​ @sparklingsin​ @tomdutch​ @userholland​ @vendettaparker​ @selfcarecap @simplykenni​ @uhlxis​ @cordiformity​ @sapphicsoie​ @seolaseoul​ @honeyspidey​ @logangarfield​ @justapurrcat​ @arachine​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​ @ohcaptains​ @aniqua

[simp-ly-writes]

The Comment Section (pt.2)

─────── · · A Social Media AU Fic

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x gn!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Commenters are starting to get more and more worked up the longer you and Spencer grow apart.

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, angst, attempt at comedy, more angst, light swearing, fluff, mutual pinning.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | PART ONE | PART THREE | PART 3.5

─ · · A/N: thank you all seriously for the comments and support on the first part, hope you all enjoy this next one equally as much :)

─────── · ·

Super Smash Bros: Battle of the Chosen's

Smosh Games ✓ [Subscribed] Like 100k | Dislike | Share | ... 7.75M subscribers 1.1M views 2 weeks ago click to expand

4,683 Comments

username97 2 weeks ago Dear Diary, its day 14 and there are still no videos of Spencer and (name) together. username05 2 weeks ago Always love the Shayne and Spencer duo, but can they go back to their partners now? username39 6 days ago When's the next episode of Bored AF?? username22 6 days ago Okay, but why haven't I seen (name) in any gaming channel videos lately? I haven't watched in a while, can someone get me caught up? ▼ 12 replies ↳ username66 5 days ago So Spencer didn't exactly explain to (name) that FNAF was not the simulation-type game or party/table-top that they are used to playing but a horror-simulation. (name) got really scared and then super annoyed at him and they haven't been seen together in videos since then. ↳ username69 2 days ago They're overreacting, has to be doing this for views or attention. No other explanation. ↳ username66 1 day ago (edited) (name) is their own person with their own emotions and friendships. In the field they work it intermingles with life and the lives of so many others in ways that people like us will never get to experience correctly. They are entitled to their own feelings and if they think Spencer broke their trust somehow- they can act however they want however right or wrong that appears to others. ↳ username69 1 days ago Well maybe you both should just grow the eff up and shut the h*ll up. ↳ username01 1 day ago Maybe you should do the same username69? Can't even swear like a real fucking adult. username51 just now And so the Chosen Universe Lore expands... username81 just now first.

─────── · ·

Guess That Smosh Skit!

Smosh Games ✓ [Subscribed] Like 62k | Dislike | Share | ... 7.75M subscribers 477k views 2 weeks ago click to expand

2,199 Comments

⚲ Pinned by Creator SmoshGames ✓ 2 weeks ago Both new and old shows are coming soon, what are you hoping to see next? ▼ 765 replies ↳ username01 2 weeks ago Tell Spencer to buy (name) flowers, on theirs hands and knees begging, or write them a card- anything!!! ↳ username33 1 hour ago Spencer and (name) recreate famous ********** scenes. * [this comment has been censored for interfering with Youtube's Community Guidelines; for more information press HERE] ↳ username39 6 days ago BORED AF PLEASEEEEE. username20 1 hour ago Please, please, please bring Olivia back more, her small mutterings always have me rolling on the floor XD username24 3 hour ago I 100% forgot about the Every [Blank] Ever series! So good to see bits of it again! username55 2 weeks ago Anyone else keep rewatching old videos and fan-edits of (yourshipname)? I'm gonna keep acting like nothing ever happened like some other people...

─────── · ·

my favorite (name) and spencer moments :)

(Yourshipname) Updates [Subscribe] Like | Dislike | Share | ... 1.12K subscribers 217k views 3 years ago click to expand

999 Comments

⚲ Pinned by Creator (yourshipname)updates ✓ 2 weeks ago Thank you for all the support on this video recently! I wish it didn't have to come from this though... P-P username55 2 weeks ago Even before they both appeared on camera officially, there are so many background clips of them sitting together, sharing food and vacations in pictures, even pet-sitting?? Like c'mon, theres only so much a girl can take (╥﹏╥) username11 30 minutes ago This comment section is for our collective tears ಥ_ಥ username09 just now 19:45 My favorite clip ever of them, its so soft. Spencer with his eyes closed as (name) fixes their hair in the background of TNTL behind the screen. They're so effortless with one another... username03 1 week ago Lets make a thread! Post your favourite (yourshipname) moments underneath this comment! ▼ 173 replies ↳ username97 1 hour ago Spencer and (name) sharing a kickstart during DND sessions. Spencer and (name) sharing a kickstart during DND sessions. Spencer and (name) sharing a kickstart during DND sessions. Spencer and (name) sharing a kickstart during DND sessions. ↳ username66 2 days ago (name) being so excited over beating an Elden Ring Boss on stream that she runs and kisses Spencer on the cheek before brake dancing in the background while Spencer stares blankly at the camera, cheeks red and eyes wide. MWAHAHHAHA ↳ username04 just now Would have to be (name) dropping the burrito under the table and Spencer placing his hand above their head so they don't hurt themselves 𓏗ᵕ𓏗 ↳ username02 3 days ago 2022 Truck Simulator: Spencer, hand on their knee driving. It is my kryptonite. ↳ username15 1 hour ago (name) dancing with and twirling Spencer after Smosh the Sitcom. I want it as a GIF and framed. ↳ username11 4 days ago Has anyone mentioned their San Diego panel together? That whole hour is surreal, the head resting on shoulders, gripping one another in laughter, holding hands- speaking into the mic at the same time. OR HOW THEY WERE WALKING THE FLOOR TOGETHER IN MATCHING COSPLAY AFTER. ↳ username06 1 hour ago Darts and how they acted like one another. ↳ username32 30 minutes ago 27:49 Chosen Spencer pinning (name) to the wall during that interrogation bit changed my brain chemistry. ↳ username03 just now Wow, this is most responses I've ever received- thank you everyone!! ↳ username17 15 minutes ago 17:12 Them taking a power nap together at the same desk. username33 just now How have we entered a new era of how every "Where's Anthony?" is now a "Where's Spencer/(name)???"

─────── · ·

It's Awkward... (Who Meme'd It?)

Smosh Pit ✓ [Subscribed] Like 62k | Dislike | Share | ... 8.29M subscribers 565k views 1 week ago click to expand

5,199 Comments

username08 1 hour ago That meme coming from Ian was wild! ▼ 199 replies ↳ username87 30 minutes ago 16:16 Dog in Burning House: "Spencer when (name) doesn't want to play games with him - "this is fine, I am fine"" XDDD ↳ username02 20 minutes ago I would have never expected Ian to make that meme out of the list. ↳ username44 5 minutes ago IKR!? Like up against Alex, Courtney, and Trevor? No wonder no one picked him for it. ↳ username87 just now But we all are forgetting the best clip after: 17:12 Spencer proceeded to slip off his chair and hide underneath the table while Amanda was screaming defence and pointing fingers at the crowd. Has to be in the top 50 moments of all time. ↳ username44 just now YES! I love how the whole cast was AFTER THEM. They live for their relationship just like us. <3 username24 3 hour ago The editing team needs to be spotlighted more, BC all their memes were straight fire!!! username08 1 week ago You know when Shayne is hosting that its gonna be a good video ▼ 8 replies ↳ username97 5 days ago Doesn't Shayne already host most of the videos? ↳ username08 5 days ago That was the point- all the videos are good...

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: want a part 3 anyone? what do you want to see happen next?

[d1s1ntegrated]

hiiii i actually am obsessed with your shiggy hcs and i just have to ask… can we have some hcs of gamer shiggy 😓 more specifically would he play dress to impress on roblox (or just roblox in general) if we asked… thank u sm!!!

YES YES ABSOLUTELY MY LOVE

ask and you shall receive 🩷

shiggy gamer hcs (pt1) <3

he's reached diamond in league. he has over 600 hours in the game. it's very obviously his favorite, and he gets especially into "the grind" as he calls it. sometimes you have to remind him to get up from his chair if he's been there for too long.

he has a pair of blue-light glasses you bought for him because he constantly got migraines from gaming all night. he grumbles when you tell him to wear them, but does it anyways.

if you have a gaming laptop or pc, he's constantly checking it out and offering to upgrade it. he yelled at you one time for not deleting your downloads after trying to mod a game.

he actually built his own PC. he's extremely proud of the work- which, he should be. it's a beautiful build.

the first time you asked him if you guys could play roblox together, he looked disgusted. but you begged and pleaded, and he agreed. (he already had it downloaded. he just didn't want you to know he played it.)

now, at least once a week, he asks if you wanna play your silly dress up games with him (he's such a simp)

he SAYS he'd rather spectate the whole ordeal, but he's actually really good at it HAHA. he gets mad if you lose or if he loses, he automatically goes on rants about how you had the best outfit and those "npcs" are stupid and have no fashion sense (this is coming from the man who only wears black sweats and old band tees)

he actually only plays minecraft in creative mode, he likes to build shit for you for when you guys play together

he has a ridiculous amount of bells in animal crossing. like, his debts are paid off, and his house is huge. his island is actually...really aesthetically pleasing.

he still plays on his 3ds. he likes playing the older pokémon games

his favorite pokemon is zoroark.

he tried to get you to play overwatch with him but you guys kept dying and he shut his entire pc off.

he also tried to get you to play apex with him. guess how that ended.

he actually doesn't like COD, he says it's boring.

HE SUCKS AT MARIO KART! he pretends like he doesn't but every time you guys play, a controller gets thrown (and it's never yours).

very rarely turns his mic on when he's online, but when he does, it's to say the most creatively fucked up, debilitating, horrid insults known to mankind.

however he IS NAWT racist. or phobic of any kind. he just hates everyone equally

okay, this is all i got for now <3 i hope i did okay with the roblox part, i dont play a lot of roblox i just see a lot of DTI videos and have minimal knowledge ;-; maybe i should play it LOL.

thank you for the ask! i will return with more at some point 🫶

[eccentricallygothic]

| Video Game Brat |

Description: One in which Simon wakes up to find his baby whom he had carried to bed and away from her gaming system waging war on Roblox through her iPad that she has managed to sneak in.

Pairing: Daddy-Dom!Simon Riley | Baby-Sub Female!Reader. 

Warning(s): Ddlg, m!dom, f!sub, fluff, they're in love, bratty reader, size kink, age gap, manhandling, spanking/belting threat but it's empty, soft vibes, caring protective Simon, allusions to dacryphilia towards the end. Minors do not interact. 

Note: Coping piece because Lord knows I am exhausted to fuck and sleep evading like my life depends on it. Feedback is appreciated <3 

.

Tap. Tap. Tap. “Fucking noob” although Simon could sleep through literal war because of his military training, his eyes crinkled as his face scrunched from the light he could feel on his face. It was his baby's scent mingled with her vicious curses that brought him out of his slumber for he realized that under this circumstance he couldn't and won't tolerate the noise because he could tell just what was going on. 

His eyes opened before darting to his girlfriend's side of the bed and sure enough, she was propped up against her mountain of fluffy pillows as she furiously typed away on her iPad. 

Simon sighed as he let his eyes pull shut just for a second before he moved his hand to block out the light exploding out of the screen of the device. 

Baby was too engrossed in her cyber fight to notice his stirring and since she couldn't express her frustration through voice chat due to the almost 7 foot beast laying next to her who just happened to be her strict Daddy -especially when it came to her wellbeing-, she slammed the tips of her fingers down on the screen in an unceasing fashion. 

“Bullying children on your kiddie games instead of sleeping, again?” Though she started a bit because she thought he was asleep, it didn't waver her determination. 

“More like noob cunts who can't design for shit” Simon's eyebrows raised as he let his eyes close again. “And it's not a kiddie game. It's a fight to the death!”

Ever the brat. 

“Language, please” she scoffed before rolling her eyes. “And it's way past your bedtime, young lady” Baby didn't budge, instead hugging Toto the puppy plushy Simon couldn't help but envy sometimes before she continued to hurriedly go about her game. 

The man shook his head before reaching for her iPad. The girl gasped before her eyes widened to the shape of saucers. “NO YOU WOULDN'T–!”

“You know when I brought you to bed it was so you would sleep and not so you could melt your eyes on this thing” he had thrown her over his shoulder a few hours ago after pulling out the power cord of her gaming station. Only to wake up to find that she had somehow managed to sneak in her iPad. She had never been a rival to his strength, yet she passionately struggled against him to keep her gadget. “Let go or you can have the belt on that bratty little butt tomorrow” it was an empty threat and she knew it. Sure, it used to intimidate her at first because Simon was not the most friendly looking man and his scarred up build did not help. But spankings and the like were punishments he did not prefer for her himself for she was too small and adorable for him to rough handle.

Which was the reason why she was spoiled so rotten.

“Like hell I will!” Simon sighed before freeing the device from her vicious little harmless claws with a firm jerk before turning it off and placing it away, his other arm easily holding her smaller body in place that lunged in the direction of the iPad almost instantly when he half turned to put it away on the bedside table. 

“Ughhh, noooooeee!” Simon easily picked her up before bending her into the little spoon position, ‘knocking’ Toto off the bed in the process before placing her back against his strong chest and pulling the blanket over her squirmish form. “Ugh, you're such an old man with your stupid bedtime rules!” He was unfazed and unbothered as he dipped his face in the crook of her neck before closing his eyes in satisfaction. “Leave me meanie I don't like you!” She meant leave me alone but he knew her brain was at times too small to form proper sentences. “I don't like you, I don't like you, I don't like you!” He felt her little feet kick protestingly under the blanket. 

The idea that her rivals or rather haters probably thought she had pussied out pissed her off. 

“You don't have to like me, just go to sleep” he simply answered in a concluding manner, smiling in satisfaction at the way she kept muttering begrudgingly yet did not dare raise her voice since he had used his Daddy voice this time around. Simon snorted before dozing off with his baby in his arms, fully aware that she would keep pouting through the darkness of the room until she dozed off. 

Her claiming she didn't like him when he wouldn't let her have her way was nothing new. It had surprised him at first but then he understood that it was just her bratty way of expressing her disapproval. He was unbothered, because he knew he would wake up to breakfast with a note, ‘I don't like you because I love you INFINITY times Daddy ♡’ or something along the lines. That was, if she woke up before him. Or it would be with a drink, or a snack or lunch perhaps dinner. She was not good at ignoring him for too long though in times of brattiness she pettily tried to pretend that she was. 

One way or another, she would tell him that tomorrow. 

Either while being held in his arms or while crying on his cock.

But she would. 

That was the only way.

For now, she was resting and he dozed off feeling at ease now that he knew he had safeguarded his baby's wellbeing. 

And that mattered more than anything. 

.

[lovelyiida]

mha marriage headcanons<3

INCLUDES: bakugo, iida, midoriya, denki, kirishima, sero

WARNINGS: implied fem reader, vulgar language, sexual themes.

MASTERLIST

WORDS: 0.9K

KATSUKI BAKUGO

• the both of you always have hectic schedules...being pro heroes and all.

even when you guys are apart, you never shut up about each other. Especially bakugo whether that be interviews, events, etc. he's always about 'my wife my wife my wife.'

when both of you finally have time off, you need to be physically ripped off one another. hip to hip, chest to chest, lips to lips, you name it.

he loves it when he's finally able to relax from his hard days and come home and cuddle with his wife, he's not able to show his timid side all the time, he was so thankful for you.

you were the sun, moon, and stars for him. nothing you could do was bad in his eyes.

that's why if anyone ever talked shit about you, he'd lose his shit.

pull the "do you know who the fuck I am? Do you know who my wife is?"

he's just so happy to have you.

IZUKU MIDORIYA

the. perfect. husband.

anything you want, you get.

hair? done. nails? did.

he feels bad that he's never really there due to him being the top pro hero. so he always makes sure you're taken care of.

multiple calls day and night, he loves to hear your voice...or moans.

loves to show you off when he can, usually at special events where he's able to bring a date.

"hey! have you met my wife? she's lovely isn't she?"

"yeah my wife and I have been married for three years now, she's the most perfect wife I could ever have!"

TENYA IIDA

high school sweethearts, proposed at graduation.

had the biggest wedding out of everyone

values both of your privacy very deeply, one day he caught a peeping tom at your vacation villa. finding out that it was the paparazzi, he punched him square in the mouth.

wants kids, very, VERY, badly.

preferably 3 (2 boys and 1 girl).

if you ever were pregnant, he'd spoil you ROTTEN.

not one finger would be lifted.

sadly, Iida is the type to have favorites (he's a girl dad, no questions)

will do anything and everything for you, sometimes he does too much.

"I don't need your help, Iida"

"baby please."

SHOUTO TODOROKI

he didn't love you at first...

forced into a quirk marriage, it was cold, quiet, and lonely.

things would be so awkward, laying in a bed with a stranger that you are miraculously married to.

he knew that you didn't want your marriage to turn out like this, not speaking to each other only when necessary, empty conversations, and no signs of love or adoration besides a hand held in public outings.

so he decided to get to know you.

sooner than later, your relationship began to blossom into a beautiful relationship. the both of you felt like teenagers falling in love, the bond you discovered was so deep and intimate, it was love at second sight.

he became absolutely smitten for you, so smitten, he decided he wanted to get re-married. and you gladly complied.

BIG RING. BIG WEDDING. BIG CAKE.

he cried seeing you walk down the aisle, he honestly cried the whole wedding. he was so thankful for a woman like you in his life.

HUGE HONEYMOON.

EJIRO KIRISHIMA

beautiful marriage, a happy home , and way too many kids. six youngsters in total, 4 girls and 2 boys.

no one expected you to have so many kids, he just can't help to be all over your beautiful body.

from the loud tea partys with sharp plastic tiaras and itchy too-toos, to the late video game nights, he loves every moment with his children. and to top it off, he gets to kiss you goodnight.

even though you two have so many children, they have never been seen by the public. only photos of them when they were just born.

if he ever found out that his children were exposed to the media, he will go apeshit.

loves all of his kids, there are no favorites in this household.

but if he did have a favorite, it would be you.

DENKI KAMINARI

also, high school sweethearts, split up before graduation but got back together two years later.

it took a couple of years before Denki popped the big question, he wanted to be sure about your relationship before he made such a big commitment.

the proposal was intimate and private, just like the wedding. only your and his closest friends and family could attend. he wanted to make sure things were absolutely perfect.

the both of you are the peoples' favorite couple, always seen on variety shows/competitions.

CANNOT keep his hands off of you, no matter where you are.

in private or in public, his hand would be on your lower back when standing, or when you'd be sitting next to him he would rest his head on top of yours whilst his hand caressing your thigh.

from someone who is known to be of higher energy, he loves that he's able to be his calmer self around you.

he just can't get enough of you.

SERO HANTA

the last to marry

he loves you SO MUCH

he also had a big wedding, but the honeymoon was amazing, so amazing, it became the reason why you had two beautiful children today.

while they may not be angels, they are yours.

sometimes sero and your little devils would play pranks on you, hearing their loud giggles and tiny footstep ran away from you, it was annoying but you loved it.

sometimes you would come home from a patrolling shift and see sero singing the kids to sleep as he softly strings at his guitar.

you think to yourself how you wouldn't have it any other way.

hello guys!!! glad to be back for a little, I know I've been gone for a long time but I've been in school and it's currently beating my ass. hopefully I'll have more time to write soon.

also, like my new user and theme??

- lovleyiida<3

[shadesslut]

quick rec if you have time ☺️

richie inviting his friends over to his appartement for a get together but spends most of the evening embarrassing and humiliating ethan (he's such a shitty brother).

so ethan takes y/n (whom richie is infatuated with) to his room and fucks her to make her moan so hard, all the guests hear her. he does everything to make her scream and embarrass richie in return ;)

Thank you! I hope you like it<3

brotherly love

MINORS DNI

Pairing: (Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader)

Content Includes: (Smut, light humiliation)

Summary: After being made fun of by his older brother, Ethan finds a way to make sure he will never be made fun of again.

Masterlist

part 2

✮

✮

✮

Ethan always had a complicated relationship with his brother. Since they were little, Richie would always try to scare the younger brunet. He would make elaborate pranks on how Ethan would die or get hurt, and they always worked on him. Ethan grew sensitive over time, never letting his guard down either. Especially around Richie.

When Richie moved out and bought his own apartment, Ethan jumped for joy on the inside. Since the older brother no longer lived with Ethan, he could finally relax. He could walk into the kitchen without having to stay quiet, and he could invite people over.

Unfortunately, all of this stopped once Richie came home for Christmas, bringing some friends along with him. Ethan panicked once his father said Richie arrived back; he already felt his anxiety rise.

The visit was alright. The only good thing about Richie visiting was his friends that he brought. Ethan had taken a liking to one of them; a girl with y/h/c hair and a bright smile. Her name was Y/N, and Ethan was already imagining his last name with hers.

That had been two months ago.

Ethan was now sitting on a green sofa in his brother’s new apartment. Him and his sister, Quinn, were invited to Richie’s apartment warming party. Ethan didn’t really have the urge to go, but he desperately wanted to see Y/N again.

She was across from him on the other couch, chatting with another girl. He had been watching her ever since she came in, gazing at every inch of her body.

Richie snapped Ethan out of his gaze as he plopped down next to him. He wrapped his arm around Ethan’s shoulders, slightly shaking him.

“Ethan,” he drew out. “Whatcha looking at?”

Ethan’s shoulders tensed at his older brother’s question. Richie knew about Ethan’s not so little crush, and he planned to make sure everyone else knew.

“Nothing.” Ethan mumbled, shrugging Richie’s hand off. Richie looked at Ethan with a sinister look painted across his face. He looked over Ethan’s head at Quinn, who shook her head at him.

“Hey Y/N,” Richie yelled, still looking at Ethan. Y/N’s head turned to Richie, smiling.

Richie stood up and walked towards her, sitting next to her. “You met Ethan, right?” He asked, pointing towards the curly-haired boy.

She nodded as she looked at Ethan smiling. “Yeah, I have.”

“You know any girls that’d be into him? And into the whole ‘pathetic guy’ look?” He laughed as others chuckled at his joke. Ethan’s fists tightened at his brother’s taunts. Y/N looked at him awkwardly and slightly smiled uncomfortably.

“You know he took a video game design class last semester? You’re such a geek aren’t you little bro?” Richie quipped again.

“Enough, Richie.” Quinn warned, yet was trying to hold back a laugh.

Ethan’s face reddened as he looked around the room, seeing how everyone was looking at him. “Shut up.” He muttered.

Richie leaned his head towards him, “What did you say? I can barely hear you.”

Ethan looked over at Y/N before glancing back at Richie. Richie’s eyes brightened as he noticed, and Ethan immediately regretted it.

“You better stay near me, Y/N, or else he’ll start creeping on you.” Richie told her, leaning his elbow on her shoulder. Y/N looked at Richie, and then at Ethan.

Some people laughed while others looked at Ethan judgmentally. Ethan cursed under his breath and stood up, stomping to Richie’s room. He could hear Richie and others laugh as he walked away.

A few minutes of Ethan’s knee bouncing up and down and him breathing slowly in and out, allowed Ethan’s anger to sizzle away. He sat on the edge of Richie’s bed, glaring at a picture of him and Y/N on his desk.

“Fuck you, Richie.”

He turned his head towards the door that slightly opened, Y/N’s head peeking through. “H-Hey,”

“Hi?” Ethan responded.

She stepped in and closed the door. “Richie’s an ass.” She said as she sat down next to him. She looked away, guiltily and sighed. “I’m sorry about earlier, I should have said something.”

He shrugged and played with his fingers. “It’s okay.” He said softly.

“It’s not, but, I know how we can make him mad.” She suggested, leaning towards Ethan.

Ethan raised his eyebrows at her. Is she…suggesting what he’s thinking?

“How so?” Ethan asked, setting his hands on the mattress.

She swiftly got up and straddled Ethan’s lap. Ethan gasped and shifted under her body. “Something like this,” she whispered in his ear.

He looked down at their hips, then looked up at her. “If you’re gonna let me do this, I’m not gonna hold back.” He spoke, his voice deep and his eyes dark. His hands reached for her hips, holding her harshly.

“Fuck, okay.” She moaned as she ran her hands through his curls.

He picked her up and kissed her roughly, throwing her on the bed. Oh he was so, going to gloat to Richie about fucking Y/N in his bed. She gasped as she landed, and looked up at Ethan.

He licked his lips and started undoing his belt, causing her to slide her shorts down quickly. He stepped out of his jeans and raised his arms as he allowed her to take off his shirt.

“You’re so hot,” She breathed against his neck, thrusting her hips upwards. He whimpered and grinder against her. His dick was already hard, and he could feel the wetness that grew between her legs. He kissed her until he couldn’t breathe; it was the best feeling in the world.

They were pawing at each other, both fully nude now. Ethan stared at her tits, they were so perfect, and all he wanted to do was suck on them.

He lowered his head and licked her nipple, which started to peak shortly after. He covered her nipple with his whole mouth as he sucked on it. She threw head back in ecstasy from the pressure.

“Ethan, I need you to be inside of me right now.” She moaned, tugging at his curls. He groaned and looked around the room.

“I don’t have a condom.”

She smiled at him and pulled his head back down as she kissed him. “I’m on the pill.”

He had a devilish smile on him now. As he lined himself up with her entrance, he looked in her eyes for approval; to which she nodded. He thrusted his hips slowly, halfway inside of her.

“Oh,” he moaned, slowly. He shut his eyes closed to focus on the feeling of her around him. She caressed his chest, and he pushed all the way in.

“You feel so good,” she cooed at him, arching her back.

He started moving his hips at a slow pace, in and out. He was a whining mess, while she tried to keep quiet. He wasn’t going to let that continue.

Ethan looked at Richie’s nightstand and saw a picture of Richie, which made him furrow his brows in anger. He was going to make sure Richie knew who was making Y/N feel so good.

He thrusted at a harsher and faster pace; pulling all the way out and pushing all the way back in. Now, she was moaning louder.

“Oh fuck!” She sobbed. She had tears in her eyes from the mix of pain and pleasure. Ethan dropped his head to lick the tears off. He reached his hands down and picked up her legs to put over his shoulders.

Her eyes rolled back at the position. The tip of his dick hit her sweet spot, which drove her crazy.

“Yell my name, yell my fucking name,” he growled in her ear, still thrusting deep inside her.

She whined softly and scratched his back. “Fuck, Ethan,”

He rolled his eyes back and quickened his pace. He reached his hand down and rolled his thumb over her clit harshly. The noises in the room made Ethan’s ears redden; wet and slapping noises filling their ears.

“Ah! Ethan!” She yelped at the new sensation. “Fuck me, fuck me!”

Ethan smiled to himself as she screamed his name, hoping to God that Richie could hear. He heard footsteps approaching the room and a faint “What the fuck is that noise?”

He saw the door crack open, meeting eyes with Richie. He glared at him with a menacing stare as he continued to thrust inside of her. Richie’s eyes widened as he glanced between Y/N and Ethan. He stood still at the doorway as Ethan continued to fuck her.

Ethan had heard a few of Richie’s friends laugh at him, and they pulled him away from the door.

Ethan smiled to himself, looking back at Y/N. He thought about Richie, and how he would never let him make him feel worse again. He knew Richie wouldn’t be able to, he wouldn’t be able to after tonight.

The two of them moaned and kissed each other as they slowly reached their high. Ethan thrusting in faster than ever. She moaned his name one more time, filling the entire apartment. He kissed her neck as he stuttered his hips a few more times as he came inside her. He dropped his weight on top of her, sighing with pleasure.

“Fuck Ethan, didn’t know you had that in you.” She moaned, breathing heavily.

“Me neither.”

She wiped the sweaty strands off his forehead, and then kissed the top of his head. “We should film next time for Richie.” She laughed.

“Oh, you know we are.”

[hyuuukais]

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee mino x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> gen, y/n panics a bit, cheating mentioned

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT -> AMERICA? (wc: 617, 12 screenshots)

"Happy birthday, Y/n!"

Games and snacks are set up in your living room with string lights put up around the perimeter to light up the room. Your new shark plushie sits squished in your lap as you battle it out with Han on Mortal Kombat (not your first choice, but hey, it was fun). Minho steals the controller from you and you're about to argue, but the devilish smirk on his face has you blushing and giving him a playful smack on the shoulder instead.

There are board games and video games played for hours on end, the bowls of food dwindling severely as the night goes on. Apartment 143 is filled with laughter and love, and you've never been more grateful for the people around you. NingNing squeals with joy as you open her gift, a handmade necklace with your initials on it to match her own that she wore tonight. You almost cry, knowing it's a remake of the ones you made for your tenth birthday, the first you spent with her. After all your gifts are opened, Minho leaves to get the cake.

Hyunjin leans over to you, tossing an arm around your shoulder. "I'm gonna miss this when you're in America."

Fuck. No one breathes with how silent the room falls at his words, your own getting caught in your chest. Avoiding eye contact with those around you, you try and think of something to say and fail. You can feel your face turning red, feel your breathing picking up and chest getting tight. Tears are welling in your eyes and before you can realize, they're falling.

"America?" Minho stands at the island with a lighter in his hand, all candles lit up and casting a warm glow on his lower face.

"I-" You swallow thickly, unable to speak, unable to take a deep breath. You break free from Hyunjin and run to your room.

Cool wood against your back, blanket on your bed, your perfume. Think of things that are familiar. The softness of your slippers, Doongie purring in the corner, warm arms around you-

Warm arms around you.

"Shhh," Minho brings you into your bed, tucking a blanket up to your chin. His chest is fully pressed against your back, taking deep breaths for you to mimic. "You're okay. Breathe."

It takes a few tries, but your tears have run dry by the time you've taken a few successful breaths. You're tired, eyes shut and limbs heavy. Usually, the feeling of breath on your neck would irritate you, but feeling Minho is reassuring. He deserves to know.

"I got offered a chance for a promotion, but it's in America," You announce.

"That's... that's great Y/n," Minho replies quietly. "You should be proud of yourself."

"I haven't gotten it yet-"

"But you will," You turn around in his arms, nose touching nose. "You're a great writer, I've read your stuff, and you're familiar with the dance piece already because of Lily. You're going to get this, there's no way you won't."

He tucks a hair out of your face, hand staying put at your jaw and eyes flickering down for just a moment, enough to say I want to, do you?

"Minho," You exhale, meeting his sight.

"Y/n."

"Thank you for believing in me."

For a moment, you both just lay there in each other's company before Minho urges you to turn around. When you do, he pulls you closer so your back is against his chest and your breathing pattern matches his. You think you can hear shouting outside for a minute, then a door closes and it's silent, but all you can really focus on is the feeling of Minho.

notes -> sorry for the long wait 🥲

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @puppyminnnie

@tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta

@borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer

@babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw

@s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @stayatinykatsy @ilovejeongin007

@btswestan @multifandomedsimp @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers

@catchingskzzzs @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa

@wyzminho @fic-for-readers @dreamerwasfound @imsiriuslyreal @lailac13

@palindrome969 @lixie-phoria @aalexyuuuhm @sunflowerbebe07 @st4rhwa

@lukeys-giggle @jabmastersupriseee @judeduartewannabe @gaysontheprince @stepout-09-15

^^^ orange means i can't tag you

[weebsinstash]

Really like the idea of a yandere Vox who is so ride or die for his overconsumerist capitalist Musk-esque lifestyle UNTIL he sees it negatively affecting his darling and does a complete 180

like take that poly red string soulmate Vox x Reader x Alastor concept and, you've got Alastor KINDA warming up to technology and willing to watch TV and do other things with you but he's still not a fan of you being on your phone constantly and some of the video games and movies you consume. He's on the couch reading a paper and (affectionately) rolling his eyes as you and Vox take turns headshotting each other in a video game and hollering "hell yeah, suck my fucking dick!!"

Meanwhile Vox is just 200% chronically online and loving it until one day he asks you why you wear baggy clothes all the time and you're ever so casually replying "because my body is fucking icky, duh" and Vox has absolutely no idea what you're talking about until you break down on a tangent about it

I was watching a clip the other day where someone was pointing out that Marilyn Monroe was considered the 50s icon of beauty and there are plenty of photos with her with thick thighs or a visible belly pooch and, imagine Vox sitting there, the disbelieving 'are you joking?' smile falling off of his face as you just, go OFF, "why would I wear anything other than sweatpants? I have fucking CELLULITE VOX, I'll NEVER have leggings legs no matter how thin I am, and look at my hip dips, they're so fucking GROSS, and my butt isn't shaped right, I have banana rolls, and, do I have siren eyes or doe eyes?! Am I bunny cute or am I frog cute?! And look at how bad my facial balancing is! Ugh, where's my gua sha?! I'm so tired of being UGLY!!"

Later that week Alastor is looking up from his paper to see Vox just, slowly entering the room, sloooooowly shutting the door behind him, looking to his old friend, "so hey! Funny idea, stop me if you've heard this one before but, I was thinking we could uh, maybe take their phone away annnnnnnnnnd... not give it back?" and here's Alastor, "oh, funny story! So earlier today they asked me if I 'wouldn't like them anymore' if they got COSMETIC SURGERY, yeah, ON THEIR FACE BELIEVE IT OR NOT, so, naturally, I'm already one step ahead of you :)" as he just casually gestures to the smashed wifi router in the garbage can in the corner of the room

You just get home from work one day and Vox has his CRT head back on and you're told 'if you want to look something up online, you can use the desktop in the computer room, and only 3 hours of screen time' and it all but blasts you 15 years into the past 💀 no more nights where you're gaming for 5+ hours straight and ruining your sleep. No more skipping meals because you're hyperfocused and binge-watching an anime while also playing an idle game on your phone. No more Alastor and Vox finding out you're just smoking bowls for hours literally nonstop because you need some sort of extra stimulation while you doomscroll and watch 3 hour long roast reviews for shows you've never watched

Alastor catches you swiping through an app and you get a divisive video thrown in your face from some alpha dude bro podcast, "yeah, a real man knows how to protect his lady! She should be at home cooking and keeping the house clean, not running around like a tramp and doing dumb chick stuff! All women need to focus on is marriage and being good wives, you know, a TRADITIONAL relationship!" and Alastor is just, swiping that shit out of your hand, "he DOES have a bit of a point, repulsive as he is! I suppose I'll have to start looking at potential dwellings that can fit you, me, and, I SUPPOSE Vox too 🙄" and little do you know he's already got a cute little home in the 'burbs set up already. He's just... you know! Waiting for the right moment to let you and the annoying TV bastard know that you'll be moving! Maybe he'll just... wait until the day of! Nothing beats a fun surprise, right? ^^ he doesn't want either of you... trying to run away or anything after all haha!

[pepsiboyy]

HEARTSTRINGS. - p1

masterlist ⚜ p2

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: after moving to massachusetts from florida, y/n lives with her half brother, nathan doe, who is part of a small garage band. their sassy guitarist, chris sturniolo, can't help but get on her nerves. but there's something about him. warnings: use of y/n lol, mentions of drugs, cursing a/n: rewrote the FUCK out of this, i hope this one is SO MUCH BETTER. love u guys. <3

"chris?"

"phone charger girl!"

"the fuck is he doing here?" my voice boomed in the garage, causing nathan to flinch slightly.

"woah, you two know each other?"

"sort of." chris responded with that stupid smug smirk on his face.

"not at all, actually." i responded quickly, immediately shutting down chris' disgusting expression.

my heartbeat was racing. i couldn't feel anything but anger in every fiber of my being. i couldn't help but remember to myself earlier today.

i had been living in massachusetts for about three days now. very interesting place, very different from florida.

after my mom's drug addiction became a major issue, cps was informed and i was sent to my dad's in boston, where i was completely unfamiliar with everyone and everything.

my dad's side, they weren't complete strangers if checking his status on facebook counted as being close.

shortly after i was born, my mom took me and left my dad in boston while we fled to live in florida. and as i get older, i can't help but feel more hatred towards the woman. my dad was a great guy, never deserved the way she treated him. he definitely did not deserve his first child being ripped away from his grasp a few months into my life.

when my mom and i moved to florida, my dad met another woman and had a child with her, whose name is nathan.

he seems like a really cool guy, an awesome brother to have, so i was looking forward to this move a lot, more than i probably should have.

the feeling of fresh air was appealing to me and the feeling of finally being there to reassure my dad that i want to be with him was even more exciting to me.

nate and i clicked pretty quickly, talking about our music taste on the way home from the airport. we talked a lot about video games, and he told me he was involved in a small garage band and plays the drums.

"that's so fucking cool!" i exclaimed with a bright smile, and nathan nodded.

"yeah! we mostly do covers now, but i plan on releasing some new and original music soon."

i nodded as i stayed focused on nate as he spoke, playing with my hands in my lap nervously.

the fact that this kid was my brother was so mind blowing to me. i couldn't wait.

the doe family had left to go to an event they had only bought three tickets for. i reassured them over and over that i was okay with staying at the house and continuing to settle in. and with that they left.

i dug through my bag and frowned when i came to a tragic realization.

"fuck." i cursed under my breath as i stood up and slid on my shoes.

time to go to that one gas station down the street we stopped at on the way here from the airport.

i left the house through the front door and slid my earbuds into my ears, playing my favorite playlist as i walked down the street.

boston was a lot more close together than florida. it genuinely made my heart happy.

about fifteen minutes into my walk and i find the gas station, pulling the door opened and look at the employee at the counter, smiling faintly to greet him. his eyes were glued to his phone though, so i turned to make my way up and down the aisles and look for the phone charger that works for my phone.

"eighteen dollars is fucking bizarre." i muttered under my breath at the charging brick box that i now have between my fingers. i carefully took it off the bar and grabbed a six ft long cord, making my way to the counter.

this is great. no job, new place, and i was already burning a hole into my savings for a fucking phone charger.

i set the two boxes on the counter and began digging through my pockets to find my wallet, the boxes hitting the counter a little harder than i had intended.

"woah there, sensing some aggression from 'ya. boyfriend start an argument with you or what?"

i finally found my wallet, but my eyes shifted quickly to the boy at the counter. "excuse me?" i asked, my face flushed at the thought. "it doesn't-" i blinked a few times. this kid was insane. "just ring me out please." i sighed as i inserted my card in the cardreader.

"relax sweetheart, just yankin' your chain." he stated defensively, skipping through the prompts on his screen. his hair was a little longer than average, and fairly wavy. he had a silver cuban link bracelet on one wrist and a few small handmade ones on the other, a ring or two on each hand. he had silver hoops in his ears and a plain black t-shirt on over his blue baggy jeans.

i stared at him in disbelief before i put my pin into the pad, yanking out my card as soon as it beeped and quickly shoving it into my wallet. chris set the charger boxes into a small plastic bag, placing it on the counter between us.

"i'm not your sweetheart," i narrowed my eyes at the nametag on his shirt, sucking in through my teeth, "chris."

i gripped the bag and left the gas station, and never turned back to see chris with his arms raised, and that disgusting smirk on his face.

my music was playing extra loud in my headphones in a desperate attempt to drown out the sound of nate slamming the drums in the garage.

i carefully sat up, my hand moving to run through my hair as i slipped on my shoes and stepped down the stairs. i was just wearing some pajama shorts and an oversized hoodie, but who even cares, right?

my hair was thrown into a messy bun, and i had one earbud in as my eyes were glued to my phone. i turned the doorknob to the garage carefully before stepping in and lifting my head as the music came to a halt.

and with that, my eyes widened.

and that's how we got here. with a finger pointed to my face.

"the fuck is he doing here?" my voice boomed in the garage, causing nathan to flinch slightly.

"woah, you two know each other?"

"sort of." chris responded with that stupid, smug smirk on his face.

"not at all, actually." i immediately barked back, crossing my arms.

nate looked between us both and shrugged it off quickly before he pulled a chair beside him. "come listen, y/n. i think you'd like it a lot." he told me.

i couldn't say no. i really was curious to hear nathan play. "okay, sure. just for a bit though." i reminded him of the time, and he smiled brightly and sat down in his seat.

i felt chris' eyes burning into the back of my head the whole time, his shaggy brunette locks perfectly draping over his forehead, which was a bit damp, while his eyes shifted to focus on his guitar again.

nate turned to me with a bright smile, grabbing his drumsticks as he glanced to the other two, making sure they were ready.

i watched the three and smiled as they began playing.

they were really good, actually.

better than i had expected them to be.

with nathan slamming the drums with his drumsticks and the boy i didn't know yet playing the bass, chris actually knocked his part out of the park.

chris glanced up for half a second, where we locked eyes. my eyes widened as he turned back to his guitar and a small smile grew on his face.

i hate this kid.

the song came to an end, and i turned to nathan, applauding happily.

"you guys sound great, genuinely. have you guys worked on any original stuff?"

nathan chuckled and shrugged, glancing between the other two. "a bit. chris writes phenomenal lyrics. we're working on it."

i glanced to chris for a moment, who was now gently strumming the strings of his guitar. i gulped as i stared at his hands, then turned back to nate. "i'm excited for you guys. let me know if i can do anything to help?"

nate nodded happily, and i stood up.

"alright, i'm gonna try and go to sleep. good luck to you guys." i waved at the three, and smiled at nate, my eyes quickly glancing at chris who waved softly back, no clear expression on his face anymore.

and with that, i opened the garage door and shut it, before taking a deep sigh and leaning against it.

"dude, you didn't tell me your sister was bad as hell," an unfamiliar voice rang, which i assumed was the bassist.

"wh- ben, gross! shut up dude," nathan quickly stated.

i cringed at the boy's comment, shaking my head quickly as if he could see me responding or something.

"invite her more often." chris stated blankly, standing up from his seat as he adjusted his guitar strap.

nathan turned to chris and narrowed his eyes.

i quickly stood up and made my way back to my bedroom, laying flat against the bed and turning up the music playing in my earbuds.

chris playing guitar and writing some lyrics.

it made me genuinely curious about whether or not this guy actually wrote good lyrics.

i hated being curious about him.

but i needed to know more.

masterlist ⚜ p2

comment to be added to taglist!! taglist;; @sturnioloshacker

[lil-quinnie]

part I part III part IV

LIVE VIDEO

modern!gamer!eddie x  f!reader

warnings: 18+ cussing, dirty talk, grinding, soft!dom eddie, daddy kink, slightly non con, anal play, thigh riding, filming without permission, exhibitionism, let me know if i forgot something.

word count 1576

You are being a brat the whole day, talking back and snapping at anything Eddie would tell you. He and his fucking computer, you swear he likes the game more than he likes you, and today you were not buying it.

"Eddie, i swear to god if you don't turn this shit off and go shower i gonna go to the party without you.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, fingers clicking into the keyboard "Bug, you have said 30 minutes, it's not passed even 15 minutes, what got you so worked up today? Jesus"

Eddie's new vice of the week. make live videos on twitch and brag about how good his games skill was, it was not bad, actually you were proud of him, he helps anyone who messaged, mostly his friends but, yeah! it was important to him, and because of that, today you wanna ruin it.

While he rambled something in front of the camera, you were walking from behind him all the time, just in a towel while humming some melody that just distracted your mind. 

"Baby, C'mon, this view” he points up and down to your body “is just for me, not for any weirdo who is watching this shit, go put some clothes on princess, please".

You froze to his comment and sighing mid phrase “At least someone'll"

 "what did you say?" he snapped back at you.

The weight of your bratness through the long of the day starting to get through his skin, you recognized the look on his face, the little lit pupil behind the brown ocean eyes, you don't know what was passing in your head before you did what you did.

"I said" you cross your arms through your chest, pinching the ending of the towel, Eddie could read your next movements like one of his campaign,

"AT.LEAST.SOMEONE.WILL" 

Before you could unwrap the towel from your body Eddie pulled the plug, shutting the whole set off.

you started to chuckle when the towel dropped on the floor, a tiny black sleeveless dress was under it, Eddie's face got red, nostrils blowing hot air to your face, you never saw him stand up so fast, his hands on your wrists tugging you to his bare chest.

"You wanna act like a brat? you are gonna be treated like a brat" 

he bends you over his lap, pushing your head down and your ass up, he still could hear the sound of your laugh, mocking him, driving him crazy.

"Acting like a child the whole fucking day, FINE! i'm gonna punish you like the fucking kid you are"

Your dress pulled up through your waist, letting your softs cheeks all on display for him, he let a little moan escape from his lips from the sight of your underwear, tracing his fingertips on the lacy's patterns. 

The first slap was not hard, is almost for test the water, on the third slap you started to hiss "So fierce snapping at me all day"

slap

"but can't take 3 fucking slaps?"

slap

"where is your big girl's word babe?" he grabbed the fat of your ass, slapping one more time

"what? cat got your tongue?"

you let a loud moan escape from your lips when he ripped another pair of your expensive underwear, he open your ass, letting your holes exposed for him "so fucking wet and i don't even touch you, such a needy little whore" he traced his finger lighter than he never touched you before, ghosting over your thigh little asshole.

"Eddie, what…what are you doing?" you clench around nothing, when you feel his saliva dripping through your hole.

slap

he pulled you up, hands on you hair, lips on the lap of your ear whispering so smoothless causing goosebumps

"Brats don't get to talk, honey" he stuffed your mouth with your ripped panties. 

Head pinned to the dirty carpet from his room, Eddie give slaps on each of your cheeks,until hear your soft crying

"What was that slut? Ready to apologize to daddy?" his finger circling around your greedy hole, making your throbbing cunt hurt with the negletting feeling.

You are overwhelmed with the pressure he is applying at your asshole, you didn't see when the monitor turns on, you didn't notice the red light from the camera, you didn't feel when Eddie pushed the chair backwards leaving only his bare chest and your sore pinkish ass on the grid of his webcam.

"I'm not listen baby, daddy need your answers" 

he sunk the fingertip of his thumb on your asshole, making you cry

"i'm sorry daddy, 'm so sorry, please stop, please please please, 'm gonna be good again, i will be good" 

He had that familiar smirk on his lips, he knew he had cracked you already, now you are just a whimper little baby and he is your daddy.

"Let me explain how this is going to work, baby doll" he separated your butt cheeks, spitting at your hole, getting all slick and wet

"i'm gonna use this pretty hole as much as i want, and maybe if you ask real nice, i can let you cum, understand?" 

"Yes daddy" you answered through the small moans leaving the back of your throat while his thumb stretched your little tight hole with his whole thumb.

"That's it babe, such a jealous bitch, feeling jealous about a fucking computer, huh?" he spit again against your hole, making you clench around his finger, eddie growl and slapped you buttcheek, bringing tears to your eyes.

"Y-yes daddy, i'm a jealous slut" you was squirming under his touch "more, please please please, gimme more daddy, i'll be a good girl, please", he was teasing your hole with another finger, sinking slowly and deep, fucking you painfully slowly, slapping your ass harder as he increse his finger's pace on your asshole.

"Daddy, I need to cum, please please make me cum" you cry into the feeling of eddie's finger working at your sore hole, in and out harder and harder at the sound of your pleading. His voice was low but you could hear the smirk through it

"i'm not gonna touch you doll, not gonna touch your neddy, pretty little pussy angel" he deepened his fingers into your asshole

"Make yourself cum, angel, ride my thigh while i fuck your puckered hole" you do as you was told, starting to grind your neglected pussy into eddie's tight, your back arching at the pressure at your clit, letting pornograph moans slip through your lips, waking something feral at eddie's chest.

"That's it, such a good girl, a good good girl for me" he was abusing your hole, 3 fingers stuck deep while his free hand deepening your hips at his bare tigh, the sound of your wet slit made eddie twitch inside his pants, you kept rubbing your sore clit while eddie fucked your ass with his fingers, fast and hard enough for you to know that sitting down it was gonna hurt for a few days.

"Daddy, i'm gonna, oh!fuck, please, daddy, let me cum, please please, i need to cum, let me please, so full, you fuck my ass so good daddy, please please, OH MY GOD, PLEASE BABY"

Eddie twirls his fingers in your thigh hole, stuffing you full so good with his fat fingers. The known warmth building into the lower of your belly, your hips bucking sloppy at his thigh. Eddie still fucking you through your orgasm

"That's it, such a good girl for daddy" he pulled you from your previous position, now chest to chest, your head resting on his shoulder while he petted your hair "you are perfect baby, took everything i gave to you, made yourself cum like a big girl, don't you?

you sign, voice muffled by his neck "yes daddy, but i..i...never mind"

"What was that love? tell daddy what do you need" he demanded "i want you to fuck me, please, i was a good girl"

``'m tell you what, sweetheart. You made a huge mess at my thigh, got daddy all wet and slick" he said at your ear while rocking your body at his thigh "get on your knees and clean daddy's up, ok?, use this pretty little mouth of yours to do something that works, and maybe, if you do a good job, daddy let you have his cock deep at your pretty pussy, deal?

"mhm, yes daddy, anything for you" you got at your knees and start to lick and suck at eddie's thigh, so focus on doing a good job but you did notice his body shuffle, you did hear the clicks and before you could stand up, eddie guided your head to his balls, making you worship them.

He fast type at the chat of his twitch chat

"that is how to tease a woman the right way, fuckers, you are VERY fucking welcoming."

Eddie grins at the sign of 750 viewers at his almost unwatchable channel.

"Can we fuck right now Teddie? i really need you" you said, looking at him with big pleading eyes, the ripped pantie now in your hands, he caress you cheeks with his thumb and kiss the top of your head before whisper "of course, my love, anything for you"

Eddie took you off the ground and shut the computer off, before walking with you to his bed, still with the shit ass grin on his face. “I love you princess”

[zombiigrll]

Could you make a fic for Carl where he’s kind of yandere-like? You can get creative with it, but just something creepy like that. It’s okay if not! 💛

──────────────────────────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

BLOODY VALENTINE. ⋆｡°✩ yandere!carl grimes x reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 1.5K ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ use of y/n, gore mention, blood, murder, 'yandere-like' carl (i hate using the word yandere but i don't know what else could be used T_T), crying, vomit, takes place in alexandria .ᐟ SUMMARY .ᐟ ⭑ it was pretty obvious you and carl had liked each other for a while. but after you started getting close with ron, carl started to change. ꩜ .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ thank you so much for the request anon! i've never really written something like this before so i hope its to your liking <3 also this ofc isn't in character for carl, so i know some of the writing isn't gonna seem like him n stuff :p

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────────────────────────────── you had known carl since the prison. michonne found you on a run and took you in. and ever since then, you and carl would always hangout together. you were practically inseperable.

...that was until you guys arrived at alexandria and you met a boy named ron.

you and carl met him together when his mother and rick decided it'd be nice if the two of you made friends with people your guys' age. "you guys have video games?!" you immediately took interest to the moving characters on the television in front of ron and the boy named mikey.

"yeah, you want a turn?" ron asked, moving the controller toward you.

"yes, please!" you beamed, reaching to grab the controller from his hand when your finger grazed his, making you flinch a bit in embarrassment. "oh, sorry."

carl instantly noticed this interaction and walked over, ripping the controller out of your hand.

you frowned. "hey-"

"we're leaving." carl looked at you, then back at ron angrily.

"uh, why?" ron raised an eyebrow, squinting at carl.

carl scoffed, throwing the controller back to ron and aggressively grabbing your hand in his, practically dragging you out of the house.

"dude, what the fuck?" you shoved carl away from you once the two of you got outside.

"i don't like him. he's weird." carl blankly said, staring down at you as if your reaction was unnatural.

"he didn't even do anything! all he did was give me a controller, what's so weird about that?"

"he just met you and he's already trying to make moves-"

"no, carl. he wasn't. he was being nice." you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms together. "if anyone is being weird, it's you. what's wrong with you right now?"

carl looks at the ground and laughs before bringing up a hand to the side of your face. "nothing is 'wrong' with me. i'm fine."

"obviously not. you've never acted like this before." you shoved his hand away, shaking your head.

carl looks at you, upset, but at the same time, furious. "whatever." he walks away, shoulder-checking you as he passes.

you look back at him, confused. carl was the sweetest boy you've ever met. he's always been there for you through everything, so what is the matter with him right now?

you brushed the thoughts away and walked back into rons house, trying to clear your mind from whatever the hell is happening with carl right now.

...

the two of you hadn't spoken to each other in a while. you've been spending your time becoming acquainted to the people of alexandria, and he'd been off doing whatever.

you haven't really seen him at all, except for when you'd go home. he'd be on his porch, shaking his leg with his arms crossed. every. single. day.

he was scaring you, and you weren't confident enough to ask him what's wrong. especially not after the way he shut you down last time.

you were sure it was just him going through puberty. you never knew how boys developed, so you assumed all boys acted like how carl was acting. jealous and insecure.

you didn't even like ron, not like that. he was dating enid, and you liked carl, even if he was being weird. you just wanted to make new friends.

but today felt awful. you woke up with a sick, eerie feeling laying in your stomach. something felt wrong, but you didn't know why. you put your clothes and shoes on and stepped outside, and alexandria was silent.

"...hello?" you called out loudly. no answer.

you looked around your surroundings and noticed that some cars were missing, which you assumed was due to rick and a few others going out on a run together.

'maybe ron is here?' you thought as your gaze went towards his house. you started walking closer to the dimly lit building. as you stepped onto the porch, you rung the doorbell twice. "hello? is anyone home?" you asked through the door.

you heard a voice from the other side. "shit." a raspy, distressed voice spoke.

"are you okay?" you knocked on the door loudly as that sound.

silence.

"i'm coming in." you quickly opened the door, a disgusting stench filling your nose. "what the hell..?"

you looked around and the living room and it looked normal for the most part, despite some oddly moved furniture and some glass on the ground. but that smell. it was nauseating.

"who's there?" you asked, looking around at your surroundings as you stepped closer to the hallway, which was also closer to the strong stench. "i know someone's in here, just answer-"

you froze as you looked ahead through the doorframe and into ron's room.

there was blood everywhere. and a figure facing away from you wearing a very familiar sheriffs hat.

"oh, my god." you gagged, covering your mouth with your hand as your eyes widened at the scene.

a clinging sound was heard, a bloody knife falling to the ground. right besides ron and mikeys bodies.

you were about to pass out. you brought up your arm to hold onto the doorframe for support.

"...what did you do?"

the boy didn't respond. instead, he turned to face you. there was blood stained all along his face and body, and his eyes looked dark. he stepped closer to you, which made you step away in fear.

"i'm not going to hurt you." he softly spoke, reaching out a bloody hand in your direction.

your eyebrows furrowed in fear as you looked him straight in the eye. "are you kidding me..?"

carl brought his bloodstained hand up to your cheek, resulting in the fresh blood spreading along your face and a shiver rolling down your spine.

"i love you."

as he spoke, your faces were inches apart, the smell of iron filling up through your nose. your eyes widened further and you shook your head away from his hand. "you.. you killed ron, you killed mikey, and... now you're saying you love me in a room splattered in their blood?" you laughed fearfully.

he stayed silent, taking in your terrified expression.

"you told me you'd always keep me safe. you'd always make sure i would never feel afraid again." you reminded him, stepping further back. "you failed. miserably."

"y/n-"

"don't." you cut him off. your eyes focused back to the bodies, and you fully processed everything. your body jerked up and you threw up right by your feet. "..holy shit."

"i just.." carl shook his head. "i didn't want to lose you. i didn't want you to leave me."

"so you fucking murdered ron and mikey?!" you yelled, wiping your mouth off with your sleeve. "do you hear yourself?"

carl stayed silent, staring down at the ground with clenched fists.

"i liked you, carl. only you." your voice softened as tears began glazing over your eyes. "there wasn't any competition. it was only you."

carl looked over at you, wide eyed and confused, more guilty than before. "..what?"

"you didn't have to.. to kill people to show you love me." you pointed behind him, reminding him of what he did.

he was speechless. guilty as ever. he was shaking frantically. tears flooded his eyes as he brought a hand up to his face, which only resulted in more blood spreading across his already bloodstained face.

you laid your head on the wall, recollecting your self. carl just stood by the doorframe spacing out.

"...what do we do now?" he finally spoke, his voice wobbly and quiet.

"i don't know!" you snapped again, raising your hands over your head. "it's your mess."

"please, y/n." he begged, running a hand through his hair. "what can i do to fix this?"

"i..." you trailed off, staring at the whole scene again. "shit, carl."

you walked into the bathroom at your side and threw a towel and bucket of water out to him. "clean it up." you said before turning around to walk out of the house.

"wait." he called out.

"what?"

"are you going to tell anyone.. what i did?" his voice sounded scary, but terrified.

"not if you don't get caught." you sighed. "forge a note, hide their bodies, whatever. i'm not apart of this anymore."

carl nodded somberly. "i'm sorry."

you left the house.

...

things weren't normal at all after that day. i mean, why would they be? carl hid what happened the best he could, actually taking your advice to forge a note. you kept your word and stayed silent. jessie was a mess after that day, unsure why her boy and his best friend 'left alexandria.'

you didn't know how to feel about carl anymore. he loved you still, as far as you could tell, but you couldn't understand your feelings for him.

you knew you still loved him despite everything. but you felt as if you couldn't forgive him for taking away the first friend your age you'd made, and taking jessies son away from her.

he was basically just some sort of bloody valentine to you.

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