#opening night showing of spider-man: no way home

[highvern]

Nights Like These

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x f!reader

Genre: fluff, neighbor!au, Nightwing! mingyu based off this, bartender reader

warnings: very dumb people (mingyu x reader), suggestive but no explicit smut

Length: ~2k

Note: merry gyumas!!!!! this is revenge for spider woo from @gyuswhore if you hate it, it's bc i wrote it in like 3 hours. thank u @the-boy-meets-evil i will be enacting my revenge on you soon. MWAH!

summary: On nights when you close the bar late, a friendly hero always happens to be around to walk you home and share his woes about the crush on his neighbor.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

With the rain pounding down in thick sheets, you rush home. On nights like these, when you're the last one out of the bar, completely alone, are always the worst. The bus doesn’t run this late but at least you’re only a few blocks from your apartment. A ten minute run if you don’t stop.

The rain abruptly halts. Not that you’re lucky enough for the storm to pass but because someone falls into step beside you. “Need an umbrella?”

You don’t even need to look to know who it is. He always shows up when you have the closing shift. The man who runs around the city in a spandex suit and calls himself Nightwing. 

The first time, some creep had been trailing you from a distance. Thankfully, most of the businesses on the way back to your apartment stayed open later, the nice apartments have doormen so you could run into one at a moment's notice. But as soon as you noticed the weight of a gaze on your back it vanished with a short scuffle. When you turned to find the source of noise, Nightwing stood guard as the creep spirited away.

From that night on, if you got off after midnight, he was there to escort you home. 

The first few times he followed from a distance. A couple yards, then ten feet and then one night you waited for him to walk beside you like a normal person. Most nights you were too exhausted to make conversation but he kept you both entertained, asking easy questions or staying silent if you were particularly irritated. But usually, on those nights you felt his eyes on you from one of the alleys you passed, or from the rooftops. He gave you space but kept you safe. Even when you insisted there were far better things for him to do in a city that never sleeped. People who needed him more. But Nightwing shook you off each time.

“This storm came out of nowhere,” you say, huddling closer. He’s big, taking up most of the space by default. You try not to touch him but the heat of his body is pleasant considering your soaked clothes, chilled straight to the bone.

“Yeah, downtown is already flooded.”

“Already walked all the other girls home there?”

“Ha-ha,” he huffs. “I actually work in an office there.”

Oh. In all the nights he’s chaperoned you home, he’s been careful not to reveal too much about himself but some things naturally slip out. He wants a dog but is never home enough to take care of it. One of his friends burnt a fish in his apartment and wasn’t allowed to come back. He tried reading some of the books you talked about but wasn’t a big reader. This is the first time he’s offered information so personal.

“So even superheroes have day jobs?”

“Gotta pay rent somehow.”

“Maybe take up being a security guard. Or Uber but walking women home late at night.”

“Nah,” he smiles, a flash of white teeth between pink lips. “I do that for free. Part of the job.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Sometimes you think maybe he likes walking with you. But as he said, it’s a part of his job. His civic responsibilities to protect the street from creeps and weirdos. Besides, the only other personal information you know about him is the fat crush he has on the girl in the apartment next to him.

“How's your neighbor?” you ask.

“She’s okay. Still acts like I don’t exist.”

“I doubt that’s true.”

“You said she’d like it if I gave her something I cooked, I did.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

“Damn.”

You think of your own neighbor and how grateful you are that he does something similar. Mingyu was overall, a great neighbor. Grabbed your packages from the mailroom and left them on your doormat when he could, shared food if he made too much which was frequently, and managed to keep his rowdy friends quiet when they were over. But you typically only spoke to him in passing. Strictly neighborly. How are you? They didn’t pick up the trash today? Can I borrow some salt? By the way, I made an entire pot of spaghetti and I cannot eat it alone. Want some?

Recently he offered more and more. A blessing really because by the time you got off work you were too exhausted to cook and too broke to justify paying for the fees for delivery. Everytime he offered you food though you weren’t sure what to do with the tupperware. He was rarely home when you were; conflicting schedules. Last time he brought you the extra brownies from his office party. The tote bag full of clean containers sat next to your door for whenever you saw him but lately he’d been MIA. 

Maybe Nightwing’s neighbor felt the same way. If he had a job and ran around town at all hours it was unlikely there was a good time for them to talk.

“Have you tried asking her out?”

“Yes.”

“And?” Your shoulder brushes his arm but you ignore the contact. Not like you can feel much with the numbness from the freezing rain.

“No luck.”

“Maybe she’s shy.”

He levels you with a look meaning that clearly isn’t the problem. For a second you wonder what he looks like without the mask. The tiny scrap of blue, black, and white obscuring so much. Obviously, he’s handsome. Maybe she’s a little intimidated. You would be. Even if his neighbor didn’t know who he really was, he had an aura around him. 

And even if he wore baggy clothes, they wouldn’t hide his physique or height.

But you can’t dwell on those thoughts because then you think of your neighbor who is also tall and muscular, and somehow reminds you of a golden retriever.

“Well, you seem normal enough. Even though you wear a weird amount of spandex for a grown man.”

He laughs, the edges of the umbrella shaking with him and exposing you back to the elements but you don’t mind. The sound is rich and warm, forcing the chill away. “What is a normal amount of spandex?”

“Probably zero,” you joke. “Maybe you should just ask her out. Honesty is the best policy or whatever.”

“Or whatever. I’ll remember that.”

“Well,” you sigh. The front of your apartment is in view. Nightwing will wait until you’re inside to leave, tucked safely behind the glass door and up the stairs out of sight. He hands you the umbrella for the last fifteen feet he always refuses to accompany you, and disappears out of sight.

You don’t tell anyone who walks you home at night. It’s a nice little secret between you and the city’s hero. But sometimes you wished you could. If only to explain how confusing it is that Nightwing reminds you of Mingyu. A bizarre thought. Mingyu is an architect and hardly has the time for a pet, let alone to save the city every night. You leave the thought at the threshold of the stairwell.

The trek upstairs takes longer than you’d like. Five flights of stairs down is a lot easier than five flights up and with your limbs just now warming up, it's a process to rally enough energy to climb even the first few. Good thing is with it being so late, you aren’t at risk of holding up a line to the top. 

By the time you reach the third floor, the sensation returns to your extremities. By the fifth, the only thought in your head is a shower and the cozy warmth of your bed. 

As you reach the final steps, shuffling like a zombie, the universe decides your night isn’t over yet.

Your neighbor, hair washed from a shower, white shirt and pajama pants wrapped around his figure, emerges from the opposite staircase, where the trash chute is. Maybe you have a crush on Mingyu but half the building does too. He’s a good neighbor, he’s nice, and he’s handsome. 

Okay, maybe it’s a big crush and you can’t figure out if he’s just nice or if all the nice things he does mean a little bit more. You should probably ask Nightwing what he thinks the next time he walks you home. He’s a guy, he’d know.

But right now, Mingyu gets to see your best impression of a drowned rat.

Lovely.

“Hey,” he says. His door is at the top of the stairs you just climbed, and yours at the top of the stairs he just climbed. When you pass by, you can’t help but get a whiff of his body wash. Cedar, citrus, and soap mingling pleasantly. 

You grunt in response. “Hey, Mingyu.”

“Late night?”

“Something like that.”

You both stand in the hallway, waiting for something else to say but nothing comes up. Somewhere below a door slams and the patter of feet echoes through the stairwell.

Mingyu turns away first. “Well, good night.”

“Wait!” you call, cringing at the harsh reverb of your voice.

He whips around, eyes wide, cheeks rosy. Like a little kid with their hand stuck in the cookie jar.

“I have your containers! I’ve been meaning to give them back.”

“Oh.” He deflates slightly but you pay no mind. 

You shove the metal of your apartment door open and rummage through your kitchen for the tote full of plastic containers. When you exit, Mingyu is waiting on your doormat, hands in his pockets.

Racking your brain for something – anything – to say, you blurt. “Um, the brownies you made were great.”

That pleases him. Behind the thick rim of his glasses his eyes soften, cheeks lifting from a shy smile. “Thanks. It’s my mom’s recipe.”

“That’s nice.”

Neither of you move. Content rather than awkward. At your back, the rain pounds against the windows, thunder clapping, an occasional streak of lighting. A dull lullaby.

“Hey,” he starts. “Would you ever wanna hangout? Like a date?”

You couldn’t have heard that right. 

“A date?” you parrot.

“Or not! It doesn’t have to be a date if you’re not interested or…”

“A date sounds nice,” you grin, cheeks bursting. “What are you doing in thirty minutes?”

“Watching Survivor.”

“I’ll bring the popcorn. I just need to shower really quick.”

Mingyu blinks like he can’t believe any of it. Like you agreeing to hangout with him was never an actual option or that this entire thing is a fever dream. It’s cute. 

“Ugh—” he swallows. “Yeah! Okay. Just…knock wherever!”

Tucked away in the steam of the shower, you scrub and shave and scrub again. Feeling a little more human with each minute. You don’t bother with make up or anything fancy. Mingyu asked you out with mascara running down your cheeks in the hideous shirt the bar makes you wear. The bar is incredibly low. 

Settling on some sweats and a hoodie, you make the trip down the hall to 6F and knock just like Mingyu said. You sit a safe distance away on the couch but like two magnets you and Mingyu draw closer and closer until his arm is over your shoulder with a pretend stretch and you’re nodding off against his chest.

At some point, you both move to his bed. Or Mingyu asks and carries you across his apartment when you nod. His bed sounds like a great idea. The storm clears by the time you wake up. The first thing you do when Mingyu blinks awake, arm curled around your back like you considered leaving, is leave a gentle kiss on his jaw. 

You give him a better one as a thank you for coffee, and another when he makes pancakes. He lifts you onto the counter, taking place between your knees as thanks for the perfect whip cream smiley face decorating said pancakes. 

Next time you see your spandex clad friend, you’ll have to let him know honesty really is the best policy.

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[yeollie-plz]

Fill

Miguel O’Hara x F! Reader

Synopsis: You babysit Mayday, it puts thoughts into Miguel’s head.

Genre: smut!

Warnings: smut, 18+, breeding kink, unprotected sex, pregnancy kink, p in v sex, kissing, biting, fingering, choking, spanking, daddy kink slipped in there at the end

Gif credits to owners!

Miguel was expecting to come home to his beautiful wife, eat some food, maybe make love to her, and bask in each other’s warmth until they fell asleep. What he sure didn’t expect was to come home to said wife babysitting Mayday for Peter. You might have forgotten to mention to Miguel that you were babysitting tonight.

Honestly, you didn’t mention it because you didn’t want him to say no and Peter and MJ really needed the night out. No baby. So now you and your husband were going to have a night in. With a baby.

To say Miguel wasn’t thrilled would be an understatement. He was borderline angry with you at the “slip” of your mind. It’s not like Miguel hated Mayday in any aspect but the thought of you holding a baby brought up strange feelings inside of him.

He had tried for the year that Mayday has been around to try and push those feelings down. But every time he saw you even glance at the baby had him all in a fit. Miguel didn’t think he’d ever be ready for a child again, but seeing you so motherly was changing his mind.

I mean, he didn’t think he’d ever want to get married again and there you were changing his plans.

You two have had the baby talk before, as well. You were always so understanding of his past and never pushed him too far. But he did notice the disappointment on your face when he had said he never wanted kids.

Never? Why had he said never? It was such a harsh conclusion and in recent months, it was one he was regretting making.

He could imagine you now, belly full of his seed, a prominent bump showing what the two of you had made.

Shit. He needed to get those images out of his or he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

Shaking his head Miguel retreated to the kitchen, leaving you to continue to play with the baby uninterrupted. Busying himself with looking through the cabinets, like he wanted to cook something.

“Miggy?” You questioned as you entered the kitchen, Mayday perched on your hip. He turned and took in the sight, imagining what a mini you would look like. He sighed.

“Did you want me to make you something to eat?” You were trying to read the look on his face.

“No.” He grumbled and pushed pass you and into the living room.

“Miguel, I know you’re mad that I didn’t tell you. But it was an honest mistake. Plus, you know I love Mayday and since we-“

“Don’t.” He cut you off. Your mouth snapped closed at what you were about to say. Before you could apologize Miguel made his way to the bedroom, slamming the door closed behind him. You blinked in shock, you didn’t want to start a fight in front of poor little Mayday. This would have to be brought up later.

It was nearing the time that Peter was supposed to arrive to pickup Mayday. You were a bit sad to say goodbye to her but you were also exhausted. Suddenly, you understood why Peter didn’t even change out of his pajamas most days. Especially with a spider baby!

She stuck to everything! And being someone without powers, your knowledge on the matter wasn’t very strong. Sure, you knew a lot about Miguel’s powers but he was what…Spider-Man number 30 out of 1 million? You wished you could ask Miguel for some help.

Eventually you figured out the best way to unstick Mayday was to distract her. Show her a toy, play peekaboo, maybe give her snack. Anything to keep her hands busy and off your ceiling. You hadn’t heard Miguel much through the night. You figured he had gone to sleep or was silently doing some work.

When you agreed to watch Mayday, you hoped the two of you would be able to do this as a team. But obviously, that thought was all wrong.

Peter came about 30 minutes later, knocking on your door. Miguel heard the door open, a few words being exchanged, and a rush of thank yous as the door shut once again. In a few quick steps you were moving across the house and throwing open the bedroom door. Miguel’s wife was not happy.

“Really Miggy? Slamming my doors now?” Usually the tone of her voice would make Miguel instantly apologize but he was too wound up to care.

“Yes I’m slamming our doors!” His voice was slightly raised as he gave a lackluster response, cringing at himself.

“All this and because I decided to help Peter out! You know they never get to go out. We are their friends Miguel, we should be helping them out!”

“I don’t mind helping out our friends, but this favor…I just.” He groans, running his face across his face and through his hair. His usually tight posture, slumping in exasperation.

“What Miggy? What is so aggravating about that little baby?” Your hands were on your hips, face turning red with your increasing anger. He was not going to get away with throwing this tantrum.

“It’s not the baby that is aggravating! It’s me seeing you with the baby!” His eyes soften as he admits the truth.

You were shocked, not understanding the meaning behind his words, “I’m the aggravating one?”

“No! Mi amor, it’s how I can’t get the thought of you round and pregnant out of my mind. The image of you running around chasing a child that we created. I thought after everything that I would never want that again but…”

It finally clicks, “You’re mad we don’t have a baby!”

“I’m mad I’m not inside you right now putting a baby in you” His eyes darken and rake across your form.

He crosses the room in three long strides, wrapping his arm around your waist pulling your body into his. His lips ghost along your neck, his hot breath creating goosebumps on your skin.

His mouth reaching your ear, whispering, “Do you want that? Want me to get you pregnant, baby?”

You can only whimper in response, which eggs Miguel on further, finally connecting his lips to yours. Desperation coats the kiss as he basically devours you.

He nips at your lower lip, pulling away. Looking down at you he takes a step back, your body reacts instinctively and tries to close the distance again. He stops you by cupping your clothed core. A strangled noise passes your lips as he uses his other hand to pull your dress over your head.

“Mmm, wore this like you knew I’d want easy access. Always so eager for this cock, hm?” His deep voice and words cause you to get even wetter.

The hand on your core moves a bit to tease you. He feels your wetness, moaning in satisfaction.

“I might not even need to prep you, baby. Wanna breed you like you weren’t meant to be bred.”

His hand grips your neck leading you towards the bed. The hand now makes it way behind your neck and brings your lips to his once again. The force causes you to moan.

“Why don’t you get on all fours for me?” He says it like a question, but you know it’s a command.

You do as you were told and get onto the bed on your hands and knees. You let your knees naturally rest a bit apart, knowing that he will just adjust you if he needs it. A hand runs down your spine, sending a shiver down with it. It reaches your ass and gives a squeeze before landing a firm smack there. Suddenly you hear a rip and feel your wet core exposed to the cool air. You glance down realizing that he had torn off your underwear.

You gasp, “Miggy!” Usually you would’ve found this extremely hot, if those weren’t your favorite panties!

“I’ll buy you new ones. Besides until you’re pregnant you’re not leaving this bed. You won’t be needing panties for a while.” Okay, now it’s hot again.

He doesn’t wait for you to respond and inserts a finger inside of you. He pumps the finger in and out quickly, testing how wet you are.

“Already all wet and ready for me. Just how I like you.”

Quickly, he pulls the finger out and before you can even protest at the loss he pushes his dick fully inside of you to the hilt. Another gasp passes your lips at the intrusion. He gives you no time to adjust before setting a pace, ravaging your body with his thick cock.

He continues his assault, pushing deep inside of you before pulling out almost completely and repeating the action. The force of his thrusts are making it hard for you to think, let alone hold yourself up. But when you start to fall to your elbows, his hand is quickly wrapped around your throat holding you up.

“Have you at the perfect angle, can feel all of you.” Is all he says as his fingers tighten on your throat. Your vision goes black from the intense pleasure.

He fucks into you harder as the pressure of his fingers releases slowly, letting some air back into your lungs. When you have enough air, you are moaning out as a particular thrust hits the perfect spot.

“Miggy please, need you to make me cum. Need your cum in me.”

His large body incapsulates yours at your confession. The hand that was on your throat makes it way down to your clit, rubbing circles into it. His teeth bite down into your shoulder, sending a shock of pleasure through you as you cum hard onto his cock.

The clenching of your orgasm causes him to groan and falter a bit, before he regains his head and pace.

“Mmm, gonna cum in you baby. Gonna make you a mommy.” He says as he shoots his seed into your awaiting womb. His orgasm seems longer and stronger than usual as he bites your shoulder once again.

After he recovers, he releases your throat, letting you fall into the plush sheets. Miguel slides out of you and pulls your body into his. He rubs your back in slow circles, calming you both down.

Eventually you speak up, “So what do you think? Think it worked, daddy?” Lust drips from your voice at the name.

“Fuck, maybe, and even if it didn’t I’m ready to go again. Just want you so full of my cum that you can feel it with every breath.”

And fill you he did.

[greensagephase]

"Made by Spider-Man himself"

Pairings: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Female!Reader Summary: After failing to find spider webs for Halloween decorations at the store, your husband surprises you. Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: fluff; established relationship, marriage; Spanish spoken, but translations are provided within text; suggestive comments, so MDNI; terms of endearment; I think that's all; this was just an idea I had the other day and needed to write it🥺 Masterlist

You sigh heavily next to Miguel, your eyes scanning every single spot on the shelves in front of you, hoping to find at least one box.

Next to you, Miguel glances at you. “Why the heavy sigh, mi vida [my life]? What are we looking for?” he asks, turning to the shelves again.

“Some spider webs for Halloween decoration to put on our front windows, but I’m too late.”

“Too late? Baby, it’s still about two weeks before Halloween.”

“I know, but people start buying as soon as the stores put things out, and the norm now is that stores start putting a holiday’s decorations like two months in advance.”

“Which is insane, by the way,” Miguel murmurs, eyes scanning for spider webs. “Are they normal spider-webs, or…?”

You sigh again and pull out your phone to show him a screenshot from some short video that seems to have come up on your feed. The video displays the LED spider webs, attached to the creator’s windows. He nods, realizing there’s nothing like that on the shelves.

“Maybe we can go to another location?” your husband offers.

You smile softly at him but shake your head. “No, mi corazón [my heart]. It would be pointless. I’m certain we won’t find them anywhere. It’s too late at this point. The video popped up last night on my feed, and again, most stores put everything out two months before the holiday, so… I’m sure every single box has been sold at this point.” You shrug and put your phone away. “Maybe next year I’ll have better luck. Do you want to go somewhere else?” you ask, already deciding that next year will be your best bet.

“No, I don’t need to go anywhere else, mi vida [my life]. I just wanted to come with you,” Miguel says as you both begin to head out of the store. He frowns, not failing to notice your little pout. “Are you sure, preciosa [precious]? We can make the drive to another location. It’s no problem.”

You smile again and take your husband’s hand, which has been brushing against yours this entire time, as you head to your car. “I’m sure, mi corazón [my heart]. Let’s just go home, okay? I’m going to make some delicious, cozy, and warm food for us.”

With a smile, Miguel pulls you closer to his side, still walking. “Alright, preciosa [precious]. Let’s go home,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before he opens the car door for you, always the gentleman.

A few hours later, you’re on the couch with a blanket over you while re-watching one of your favorite autumn shows in the living room. You glance towards Miguel’s workroom, wondering what he’s working on. Earlier, after having dinner and cleaning the kitchen together, Miguel told you he needed to work on something regarding the Spider Society, so you decided to settle in the living room by yourself.

Fixing your position on the couch while the intro of a new episode starts playing, you hear Miguel’s footsteps, signaling that he’s left his workroom.

“Mi vida [my life]?” Miguel says, his footsteps growing closer.

You lift yourself up, smiling just at the sound of your husband’s voice, thinking that maybe he’ll join you now and you can cuddle.

“Baby,” you start, your eyes landing on him, but freezing when you see what’s on his hands. You stare in awe. “Wait…”

Miguel grins as he walks closer to show you, displaying the item in front of you for a better view. “Are these okay, preciosa [precious]?” Miguel asks, still wondering if the amazing and sweet gesture he’s made for you is ‘okay.’

“Miggy, you made spider webs out of your own for me?” you ask softly, in awe. You look up at him as he gently hands the spider net over to you, your heart filled with so much love for Miguel, your sweet husband.

“Cualquier cosa para ti, preciosa [anything for you, precious]. I know it’s not the sam -” Miguel starts while you accept the spider web and carefully place it on the couch before lunging yourself at him, catching him by complete surprise.

“I love you!” you say, throwing your arms around him. “You’re the sweetest! What did I do to deserve you?” you ask, hugging him tightly.

Despite being caught off guard, Miguel’s arms instantly wrap around your body, pulling you closer. He smiles and lifts you up easily, he’s Spider-Man after all. Smiling, he presses his forehead to yours. “I couldn’t stand seeing mi hermosa esposa being disappointed [my gorgeous wife]. That little pout pulled at my heart strings. It always does,” he whispers, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against yours. “When we were having dinner, I remembered I’m Spider-Man and I build things. So, I figured, why not build some spider webs out of my own for my lovely wife?”

Slipping your fingers into Miguel’s dark locks, you nuzzle your own nose against him. “Eres el esposo mas dulce [you’re the sweetest husband]. So kind and loving to me — so much that you entertain my silly shenanigans,” you whisper.

Miguel hums and lift his face just to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. “It’s not silly shenanigans. You have no idea how much I love seeing you getting excited about decorating our home for the holidays.” Miguel pulls you closer before settling on the couch with you attached to him. He smiles and positions you so you’re sitting on his lap comfortably before cupping your face with his large hand. “For so many years, I went on without celebrating anything. It brings me so much joy to see you excited over the decorations and being able to decorate with you. It was a great joy to make these for you, too,” Miguel gently states, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“You made more than one?” you whisper.

“I made you a few so we can place them all over the front of the house,” Miguel whispers back with a grin. “And the best part? We don’t need any extension cords or batteries.”

You chuckle and give Miguel a kiss on the lips, gentle and sweet. “Thank you, mi corazón [my heart]. You’re truly the sweetest.”

More than content with your reaction, Miguel grins. “Want to go ahead and put them out? I’ll get the ladder and hang them for you. I’d do it without the ladder, but…”

“We don’t need our neighbors to know they live next to Spider-Man,” you finish with a smile.

“Right. It’s our little secret,” Miguel responds, leaning forward to press another gentle kiss to your lips before the two of you collect all the spider webs Miguel made and head outside.

It doesn’t take long for Miguel to place them around the front of your shared home with your assistance, and by the end, your home looks amazing with the spider webs and the other decorations you have out. You’re so happy that you take a few pictures just for memory keeping, something you always do, while Miguel watches you fondly.

After finishing taking pictures, the two of you head back inside to warm up by cuddling on the couch, just like you were hoping. The show you were playing earlier is still going, but you don’t even care much about it at this point since you’ve re-watched like a million times anyway, so you focused on caressing Miguel’s face, who looks more than happy with the attention. He leans into your touch, his crimson eyes fluttering in delight due to your soft hands.

“I bet everyone is going to say how wonderful the spider webs look when we host the little party on Halloween,” you whisper, remembering that you both decided to host a small Halloween party for the neighbors. “I’m going to have to pay you back.”

“Mmm, yeah? What do you have in mind?” Miguel asks, his hand moving to your hip, caressing it lightly.

“Hmm, I’ll think about it,” you reply. “I have an idea,” you add, earning yourself a gentle squeeze at your hip and the sweetest, laziest smile from your husband, who you know doesn’t care if you reciprocate the kind gesture in any way since he did it out of love.

Halloween Party

Dressed in matching costumes with Miguel, your Halloween party is a success. You set up age appropriate games for the kids and made sure to have plenty of delicious food and candy, on top of what the neighbors brought over. At the end of the party, Miguel and you stand outside on the front of your home to see the last couple out for the night.

“You two have a great night. Thank you for the good time,” Mrs. García says with a smile. “It was lovely!”

Miguel and you smile, standing next to each other. You feel your husband’s arm around your waist from the back, his warmth seeping into your own body.

“It was a pleasure, Mrs. García. I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you reply, pleased with yourself since the small group of people you invited seemed to have enjoyed themselves.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, but those spider webs! They’re so wonderful. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but where did you buy them?” the older woman asks, her husband looking at the spider webs with interest, too.

You grin, recalling that the very next day after Miguel and you hanged them, the spider webs were a point of discussion around the neighborhood. You can only guess why.

“My mom bought them for us, but I’m not sure where she got them from since they don’t have a company logo or something like that,” you lie, finding it easy to do so because it’s not the first time that you’ve been asked where you got them from. Of course, you had to fabricate some lie because you can’t tell them your husband made them.

“That’s a shame. They’re so wonderful. I was thinking,” Mrs. García starts, staring at one of the spider webs. “They look so much like our superhero’s. It’s as if they were made by Spider-Man himself.”

You grin at that, feeling Miguel’s hand squeeze your side. “They do, don’t they?” Miguel says quietly. “But my mother-in-law got them for us. Where from? Solo Dios sabe [only God knows].”

After cleaning up and completing your night routines, you lay next to Miguel on your shared bed. You can’t help but stare at him with full admiration and love. You find yourself doing that often, wondering how everything led to this beautiful life with this beautiful and gentle man. Smiling, your eyes move over that beautiful chiseled face, loving how cute your husband looks with his reading glasses. You watch him flip the page on his current read, seemingly unaware of his wife’s eyes.

You can’t help yourself — he looks so handsome laying on his side of the bed, shirtless with grey sweatpants as bottoms.

“¿No te han dicho que es de mala educación cuando te le quedas mirando a alguien [Haven’t they told you it’s rude to stare?]?” Miguel asks, smirking softly and looking at you.

And God, no matter how long you’ve been together, that smirk and voice does things to you. Your cheeks feel hot and suddenly you turn shy under your husband’s gaze. “I was just admiring the view,” you confess softly. “Can’t help it.”

Still smirking, Migue places his book on the nightstand and removes his reading glasses. In seconds, he has you straddling his lap with ease. He wraps his arms around your waist, his hands caressing your sides. “Mm, I find myself doing that too often with my lovely wife,” Miguel whispers.

You smile and cup Miguel’s face. “Is that so?”

“Mhm, so much. I’d be a trillionaire if I was paid for looking at you,” he replies, making you chuckle.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For making the lovely spider webs. I love them so much!” You press a soft kiss to his lips. “You have no idea how many compliments they got and how many times I had to lie about my mom buying them for me, so they wouldn’t get any ideas about where they came from.”

Squeezing your sides, Miguel grins. “Anything for you, preciosa [precious]. And it seems our little white lie worked. Hopefully no one thinks too hard about them, like Mrs. García.”

“’Made by Spider-Man himself’ — she got it right on the head,” you whisper, amused before leaning forward again and pecking Miguel’s lips. “I’m gonna have to thank Spider-Man himself for lending me a hand.”

“Hmm, yeah? I’ve heard he loves cookies and sweet tamales [I think everyone knows these; Latin dish],” Miguel replies in a whisper, brushing his lips against yours, still holding you close. “Perhaps you can thank him like that, with something sweet.”

“Ah, ah,” you tease. “I did have a feeling he has a sweet tooth.”

“The worst,” Miguel answers, grinning. “He loves sweet things… Like his sweet wife, who has the sweetest lips, voice, and….” Miguel trails off and begins to pepper your face with gentle kisses.

“Hmm, what were you going to say there, arañita [little spider]?” you ask, amused, while Miguel continues showering you with kisses.

Pulling back, Miguel smiles. “The sweetest soul I know,” he whispers.

“I don’t think that’s what you were going to say.”

Miguel chuckles. “No, but it’s the truth all the same. You’re the sweetest and I’m so thankful to be yours,” he adds, his hands moving to your ass, squeezing gently, before leaning forward to kiss you slowly, tenderly, and lovingly on the lips.

You kiss him back, still cupping his face. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips when you pause the kiss just to tell him that.

“Y yo a ti, mi vida [and I you, my life],” Miguel replies in a whisper. “Te amo [I love you].”

You kiss again before you pull back, feeling something poking you. You grin. “Spider-Man really does love sweet things, hm?”

“Mhm, he has a craving for something sweet right now,” Miguel answers.

“Did you know Spider-Man's wife loves it when her husband wears grey sweatpants?”

“I may or may not know that,” Miguel murmurs, using a hand to caress your cheek with a mischievous grin.

“Something tells me you do know,” you only manage to say before your husband rolls over on top of you to get his sweet tooth satisfied.

A/N: Thank you for reading!!

Alondra❤️

[fauustic]

Hello! I hope you are having an excellent day! Soo I saw you asked for Miguel requests so.. only if it's possible and if you could, may I request some Miguel O'Hara dating hcs?? Please and thank you! ^^

you are so sweet! thank you for being for my first request, anon!!

Dating Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

comfort, fluff. angst. miguel's complicated, but he loves you more than anything.

warnings: insecurity, possessiveness, brief/subtle obsession? he's totally devoted to you, but in truth he just absolutely adores you. again, my spanish isn't the best so i had aid using a translator!

word count: 1745

You thought Miguel was infatuated before as he snatched any chance he could be with you? The moment he officially became your boyfriend, he couldn’t go one moment without reminding you of his affections.

Miguel is intense, eager to express how much he loves you after so long of keeping it contained. He can’t get enough of you, as his lips finally brush against yours– it takes him so much control to not black out and have his way with you.

It's not that he has a high sex-drive, he’s just so reliant on physical affection for reassurance. Miguel will take every chance to ghost his lips over your skin, whether it be between the juncture of your neck and shoulder or treating your hands as if they were made of gold. He felt as if it was his purpose to make you feel cared for, as his teeth grazed your knuckles.

His trust had been broken many times before you stepped in his life, which shocked him with fear at the idea of getting hurt again as he tried his best to open up about himself. But once you obtain his trust, show him that your intentions of being with him were nothing less than pure, the loyalty he has for you rivals anything you've experienced before. 

Though, due to the insecurities Miguel tries to keep to himself, some questions he may throw at you in the dead of night after returning back home late were heavy. He'd slip between your hold with a heavy sigh, skin still damp from the shower he took moments prior. You would ask him what's wrong, telling him he could talk about anything– and that's when the doubts and hurt rose to the surface.

"Do you think I'm a bad boyfriend, cariño?" Miguel would ask, voice broken and full of worry as if he's in physical pain at the idea that he's not doing enough for you. Not keeping you happy, or loved. Before you had the chance to wash away his worries, the exhaustion fogging his brain would make him ramble more, unearth his mysterious thoughts that he'd kept tucked away when the sun was shining. It was always a learning experience for you, and it made your relationship even stronger as Miguel learned to be more open and you learned how to reassure him that he was amazing by just being himself.

On nights like that, you'd drown him in kisses and swipe away the stray tears that may have fallen against his skin.

As much as Miguel loved dousing you in affection, he couldn't help but trip over himself like a lovesick puppy when you'd pass by a kiss his nose without a moment's notice, or slip your arm around his own to keep yourself from losing one another in the busy streets of Nueva York.

His demeanour was soft when it came to you because you were a safe space he craved for so long. And when that space is threatened, he can't help but show a part of himself that he won't ever be able to contain.

Miguel's jealous. Very much so.

He wasn't used to feeling such a way when the bouts of jealousy would flow into his veins and short-circuit his brain. Even before the two of you were officially together and you both shared the same space at work (you being a lab assistant at the time and him being a chemist), his scarlet gaze unconsciously scouted every move another individual made as an effort to be more than friends with you.

A seductive laugh from someone who leaned a little too close for his comfort or the whisper Miguel picked up on about a "bar a couple blocks away, we need to get drinks sometimes." Oh, it made him see red.

You never knew it, but your reserved, polite dismissal of intimate advances saved multiple people from returning to their stations with a burning glare or even a broken nose.

The jealousy and possessiveness came hand in hand.

So after a night of you possibly testing his patience unintentionally, he'd play off the excessive bite marks and hickies as heat of the moment the next morning. But you even knew how he felt about you, and the repetitive chanting of "You're mine, mi conejito. Mine, you hear me?" Another bite. "I ever see someone on top of you like that, taking advantage of your kindness. Los mataré." He'd sputter with his spit and your blood intertwining like the most delicious taste he's ever been blessed upon. He'd generously share the taste with you.

Gifts such as jewellery was common, but never anything too expensive or flashy, you warned him. You were more than willing to adorn the things he gifted with you in mind, but at the beginning of you two dating he had gone overboard with an engraved diamond necklace that had everyone's head spinning.

Miguel loved knowing that, a little fang smirk as he hummed to himself with his ego inflating like a balloon. You popped it easily, establishing the boundary of toning it down– but he couldn't help but forget sometimes. He'd beg for your forgiveness as he promised how he knew the rules, but the "ring he passed by on his way home was just, so you he couldn't pass up." Usually this excuse dived into a plethora of compliments, and relating the piece of jewellery to the idea that it has your favorite flower or color. You couldn't help but cave, the little argument long forgotten when he'd slip the expensive metal on you himself. Always ending with his lips to the gift and your skin in one kiss, a content expression in his gaze.

When he finally was comfortable enough to reveal his secret to you, his other life he desperately kept under the wraps, the confession was scarier than anything he's ever done in his entire life. Miguel faced criminals every sundown, putting his life at danger for his own morals. He's been genetically mutated, a painful process which he's still trying to accept. He's lost so many people in his life, Miguel would lose himself if you left too.

But as you accepted the truth, you soon accepted everything that came with it.

His teeth, the fangs he would muster up every and any excuse for, would be freely showcased now in every cackle and smile he had to offer. His obsession with biting you strengthened tenfold. You thought the amount of marks you had beforehand when he got jealous was too many? He introduced you to a whole new reality.

Of course, with the cat out of the bag, Miguel would show all the things he deemed ugly about his transformation with a guilty stance and a downward gaze. He'd get mad at himself for not controlling his retractable claws when getting too into whatever he was doing with you, he'd grow distressed at how you'd react when his surroundings grew too overwhelming because of his different, more advanced senses. 

It wasn't until you finally caught Miguel when he slipped into your shared apartment where you drilled it into his head, lovingly, that he shouldn't be ashamed to be himself around you. That's what you're there for, to be his biggest supporter. By that night, he would be bent over on the toilet seat in the small space of your shared bathroom, hissing when alcohol came in contact with his wounds and purring when a massage relieved his tension. Stories became common between the two of you, shared within the safety of bathroom walls and fluffy towels. Miguel would recall almost every detail of a specific mission or an on-the-whim job. Sometimes, he could feel the anxiety in your soul, but he'd reassure you with a promise and a sweet kiss. Suddenly, Miguel became very good at lullabies.

Miguel was needy, in a way where he couldn't stop himself from asking for another kiss when you'd already given him fifty. He also would hound to give you one more kiss when you refused, which made him pout in a way he'd never show anyone else.

Pet names became like a second language as Miguel sputtered almost all of them under the sun, except the ones he obviously found distasteful. "ángel, cariño," were no doubt something he called you often, but once the both of you grew more comfortable in your relationship he soon began calling you things that reminded him of you; "Mi conejito, mi lucero del alba." You would ask him why you reminded him of a bunny, and with a cheeky laugh he'd say because he's the "big bad wolf" in the silliest way possible. Yet, a more serious answer came to the term of endearment "my morning star." 

Miguel began calling you that due to his relief of seeing the morning sky peek through the pitch black, lighting up stars before drowning them out. You are the morning star he finds and catches every time the late night bleeds into early day, reminding him that the danger is over until the next night. You were his protector, as his scars met cold kisses and blood found the warm press of a washcloth. You kept him hopeful.

Miguel was a complicated boyfriend, but his heart bled for you. If you found yourself overwhelmed and needed a break or a split altogether– of course he'd accept your wishes. Was he truly the man of honor he tried to believe he was if he couldn't let a single person step out of his life for their own happiness?

It hurt him badly, and despite the swirling thoughts of bringing you back and keeping you to himself– he never allowed himself to cave. Miguel tried to play the hero, and despite knowing that most would view him as a monster– you wouldn't want that for him. You wanted him to be happy more than anyone ever had, you just couldn't take his complexity. And that's okay, Miguel knew that.  It's unlikely your relationship would ever take such a heartbreaking path.

You two are together still, happy and settled into your own routine. Miguel, being able to find a balance within his chaotic mind and you were able to find a purpose for someone you loved.

Miguel needed you as much, if not more than you needed him. He was absolutely enthralled with you, devoted until his last breath.

[ghouldump]

here a silly request... louis has a sister and that's who lestat is interested in and louis is just a means for lestat to get what he really wants! I'm imagining that scene with lestat, louis and lily where lestat practically just used lily so he could sleep with louis, Louis will be so much more worried about Lily that he won't even notice Lestat seducing his sister 🤫🤭

Spider And The Fly | Lestat De Lioncourt x Reader

ෆ when Lestat uses Louis as bait to lure and trap his actual prey.

this is FAR from silly !!

Fierce, Secretive, Cunning, you were quite a vixen with everyone wrapped around your fingers as if you were a goody two shoes - but Lestat could see right through you. He remembered the first night he'd laid eyes on you.

You had no business being on this side of the city, some salesman pressed against you. You'd paid one of the many prostitutes to warn you, if Louis came through, and low and behold, he had just parked.

Pushing away from the guy, you pretended to be uninterested, unlike seconds ago. He kept trying to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, but you kept shrugging him off.

“What’s the matter, darling?” he asked, his hand brushing down the sleeve of your dress.

“I need to get going,” you said, standing, but he followed, throwing the money on the table, and going outside.

“Hold on now, princess,” he said, trying to stop you and kiss on your cheek, while you attempted to push him away. Unexpectedly, the man was punched, groaning, confusedly staring up at Louis.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked you.

“I came with some friends, but they left, so I was going to get a drink,” you said, pouting at your dearest big brother.

“Hell no, you don't need a drink, get in that car and wait for me,” he pointed. Nodding a solemn expression in place, you walked to the car. As you passed Lestat, he could see the mischievous glint in your eyes, you could put on a good show.

He had to get close to you, he found out about your background, your usual circle of friends and associates. How other than Louis, you were the only other child to have some sort of socialite status. You were popular amongst men, and while you weren't a loose young woman, you weren't as innocent as you led your family to believe.

There was only one problem, you were impossible to get to. Louis was protective, extremely protective, perhaps it was his way of projecting his fears. Whoring out women, day and night, yet the idea of his baby sister doing the same thing bothered him. Paul, when he wasn't chasing down Louis, expressing his dislike of Levi, or at church, he was trying to warn you to stay away from men, in general, and Grace was too focused on her wedding to care as much as the two. It was challenging, but Lestat wasn't going to give up easily.

He became close with Louis, and while he enjoyed the man and what he had to offer, Lestat already had made his decision. He recalled fondly, the first time you'd met each other.

Sitting at the dinner table, next to Louis, he was cordial with everyone in vain conversation. Abruptly, the front door could be heard opening, before your head poked into the dining room.

“Y/n, where have you been?” your mother started.

“I was over at Anna’s house,” you said, as you waved everyone at the table, making your way to the empty seat next to Louis.

“This is Lestat de Lioncourt, he is a friend of mine, this is the baby of the family, Y/n,” Louis said, as you sat down. Facing the man, you thought how handsome he was. He was probably Louis’ lover, heaven knows he had never brought a woman home.

“I have heard many things about you,” he said.

“I hope only good,” you smirked, briefly glancing at Louis.

“Of course, Louis goes on and on about you,” he smirked.

The conversation shifted back to Grace and Levi as they went on and on about their wedding. Picking at your food, you sat uninterested in the topic. “Is this all they talk about?” you heard, making you look up at Lestat.

His mouth hadn't moved, as he still faced Grace, nodding his head as she spoke to him. “I see why you're always disappearing” you heard again.

“Excuse me?” you spoke, everyone’s attention turning to you.

“Something wrong?” your mother asked.

“Nevermind,” you shook your head.

“Be careful, ma chérie, they’ll think you're like your brother,” he said, this time when you looked up, everyone sat frozen.

“What is this?” you asked him.

“A specialty of mine,” he smiled.

“Unfreeze them,” you demanded.

“I’d like a word, I have anticipated this moment, since the first time I laid eyes on you,” he smiled.

“You and Louis, are you not together?” you asked him.

“We’re colleagues, who like a little fun on the side, but you, your brother is very protective over you, a precious gem, inaccessible, but I wonder if he knows you aren't even a virgin. Even I can't help but want a taste from you,” he said before everyone unfroze, continuing their conversation.

This was only the beginning of seeing and questioning the essence of the Frenchmen. It was also the start of the inception of Lestat’s plan.

“You okay, pudding? You look a little on edge,” Mr. Clèmence asked, reaching to touch your lower back. He was your father’s business colleague before he passed, and also a creep. Not long after you turned twenty-one, he began trying to bed you.

“I’m okay, I think I‘ll have another drink,” you smiled.

“Go on and hurry back, we have some catching up to do,” he whistled as you walked away.

Rolling your eyes, you regretted accepting the party invite and having to deal with his perverted tendencies. Walking to the bar, you made small talk with a few old friends along the way, thanking the bartender as he replaced your empty glass.

Making your way back to the table, your heart sped up, seeing Mr. de Lioncourt. What was he doing here? When did he get here? Was Louis with him? Why was he talking to Mr. Clémence? They seemed to be having an interesting conversation until you approached.

“I’ll be right back, Y/n,” Mr. Clémence said, standing up, and walking away. He looked hypnotized, never meeting your eyes as he left.

“Join me”

“Is Louis here?” you asked him.

“Louis is working, he has an establishment to run,” he smirked, crossing his leg over the other, as you sat down.

“Then what are you doing here? You don't want business with Mr. Clémence, he's a crook,” you laughed.

“Yes, depraved swine, I am here to see the star of the night, Ms. de Point du Lac,” he said, smirking.

“You seem special to my brother, I don't want to cross any boundaries,” you shook your head.

“Is Louis the only thing stopping you? Or is it the act you plan to keep up for your family and friends? You and I aren't much different, carefree, meant to live your truth, unapologetically, without fear of judgment”

“You wouldn't understand, we’re from two different worlds,” you told him.

“And with just the snap of my fingers, I can make you a part of my world, I just need a yes,” he said, you didn't realize how close he was to you, until now.

“Mr. de Lioncourt-

“Lestat,” he corrected you. Gulping, you stared into his eyes, he was inches away from your face.

“Lestat, I appreciate your offer, but I will have to decline. Louis has the business, Grace has Levi, Paul has the church, and Mama. It is up to me to make a name for myself and have something of my own. I can not ruin my future because I was known as the French man’s créole plaything, good night,” winking at him, before standing up to leave.

Your rejection only added fuel to Lestat’s burning lust. He bit his lip, watching as you walked away, and headed toward your driver. So set on what you needed in life, or what you thought you needed, you were willing to sacrifice everything you were. Marrying an attractive, but poor man, or an old ugly rich man, and for what? To please your family and finally receive the approval you craved, to show them you had something of your own - but this, this fantasy, was not what you truly wanted. You wanted freedom, from misogyny, racism, social pressures, etc.

“I will set you free, from the troubles of this life, ma chérie”

Time went on and Lestat was no longer a concern in your mind. You'd seen him at a few events, sometimes alone, sometimes with Louis, regardless, you kept your distance. He'd stare, but you ignored him. Eventually, you didn't even acknowledge him anymore. There was still a small feeling that you were being watched, or followed, but you ignored it until it went away completely.

“Paul, you have a fever, mama said to lay down,” you told him, helping him into bed.

“I’m alright, really, I just need to see Father-

“I’m more than sure God wants you to get better before you go to church,” you said, sternly. Putting his head down, he nodded, climbing back into bed.

He had been sick with a nasty cold, and you had been helping your mother take care of him, since everyone else was too busy.

“I have soup,” your mother announced, holding the tray with the porcelain bowl on top.

“Good, and now you can explain to your son why he needs to get better before he runs off to church”

“Paul, Y/n is right and you're risking getting others sick,” she told him, setting down the tray.

“Where’s Louis, maybe we could read a few chapters together, like old times,” he said, hopeful.

“Sorry, Paul, he's working-

“Go get him, he won't mind coming home,” your mother told you.

“How am I supposed to know where he is? You want me to go around the French Quarter screaming his name?” you asked. Louis was never in one place for long and it would be a struggle to find him, now that the sun was setting.

“Check at Mr. de Lioncourt’s house, and the red light district,” she said lowly.

“No, Y/n, you have to stay away from that devil,” Paul shook his head.

“His address is in the address book, please, I think it would be nice for him to bond with Louis,” she said. Holding back the urge to groan, you nodded, leaving the room.

She was always trying to accommodate Paul, he had his issues, please Louis, he carried the family, help Grace, she was the first to marry - but what about you?

Taking the car, you went straight to the red-light district. You frowned at the smell in the air, as you looked around. You didn't see him or his car anywhere in sight.

“Hey, have you seen Louis?” you asked Bricktop, one of his madames.

“He left a while ago, either went home or to that French man, he didn't say,” she told you.

“Thank you,” you said, reaching over, giving her a few cents, before driving off to his home.

By the time you parked, night completely covered the sky. You couldn't differentiate between the vehicles, as you pulled up to the curb. Turning off the car, you hope that he is in this house because you did not want to see this man for the fun of it.

Anxiously, you approached the gate, raising your hand to knock, and you realized it was unlocked. Making your way to the door, you reached to knock, when the door opened.

“Lestat”

“Y/n, it is a pleasure to see you, what can I do for you, at this hour?” he smirked.

“I'm looking for Louis, is he here?” you asked, standing on your toes, attempting to look over his shoulder.

“Come in,” he opened the door, stepping to the side to let you in.

“Well, is he here?” you asked, as you walked in, watching him shut the door.

“You knew he wasn't here, ma chérie, but you had to give in to your desire only a little, to see me again,” he grinned at you.

“What the hell are you talking about Lestat, get out of the way,” you said, seeing that he stood in front of the door.

“You can fool them, but I see you, I know you wanted to give in, you want to give in, but you're too afraid, you'd rather hide your true self from the world,” he said, moving out of the way, walking towards the living room.

Rolling your eyes, you went to reach for the door but stopped when he spoke again.

“Just so you know, what happens in secret, is always revealed”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Mr. Clémence, Mr. Smith, Gabriel, William, Isaiah, he seems like he is you're favorite. Funny how people with the very names from the Bible are usually the most troubled, I mean, look at your brother,” he laughed.

“Shut your fucking mouth, you don't get to speak about him or any of them-

“I wonder how poor Louis would take it, knowing his innocent baby sister is a femme fatale, struggling with hypersexuality because she didn't get enough love as a child”

“Does Louis know that you're a dick, he'd love to hear that,” you spat, but it only made him smile.

“Bathrooms, boats, fields, cars, at the park, it would break his heart, to know how erotic you truly are”

“You've been watching me, you pervert,” you realized.

“I think you're entire family would be disappointed, moans such as those could only be made by a nymphomaniac”

“So tell them, is that what you want to do? Are you jealous? They get to have me any way they'd like, but you were rejected,” you taunted.

“I have you where I want you,” he smirked, tilting his head.

“The only place you'd ever have me is in your dreams”

“Is that why you haven't left yet? I moved from by the door and you followed me, you want to argue for my attention, but it is already set on you. I could never be jealous of any of them, they don't make your heart skip a beat, make you nervously chew your lip, clench your thighs together, I do,” he said, approaching you.

“Asshole,” you said, backing away from, them and turning to leave. However, your feet stopped on their own, running back to him, jumping into his arms.

Pressing your lips against his, you moaned as he hungrily explored your mouth, reaching for the back of your dress. Lestat was frightening, not because of how mysterious he came off to be, or his appearance, or background - but because he was always spot on. He had been right about you.

You last track of time, Louis wasn't even a thought, as you gave yourself to Lestat. In his lap, on the loveseat, panting in the most ungodly manner, you gasped, as he bit into your neck. The pain was quickly replaced by pleasure, his cool arms wrapping around your warm skin. It wasn't until the euphoric ecstasy came down, that you realized what you'd done and with whom. He was special to Louis and yet here you were, lying against him.

“I’m sorry, I need to go,” you said, scurrying to get dressed, your hand going to your neck, holding the two holes in your skin. He smiled, satisfied, for now, at least he had more access to you, with his blood in your system.

Rushing home, you tried to look as natural as possible, taking the small backup scarf from your purse, tying it around your neck before entering the house, and going upstairs to your room.

“Hey, they told me you went looking for me?” Louis spoke from the bottom of the stairs, making you turn around. Your eyes softened, guilt plaguing your mind of your actions.

“Yeah, I stopped by the district, at Mr. de Lioncourt’s and I drove around a while,” you lied.

“Sorry about that, I went to see Ms. Lily, her birthday recently passed,” he said.

“It's okay,” you said, told him.

“What’s with the scarf? It’s hot as hell tonight,” he chuckled.

“The mosquitoes are tearing me a new one, I had to hide my neck, I can't wait until winter,” you said, going up the steps as he laughed.

Entering your room, you immediately pulled off the cloth, staring into your reflection. Wincing, your fingers pressed against the two holes, moving to your lips, you thought about Lestat, how he kissed you as if it was his last kiss. Held you, as if you would slip away. He was everything you could ever want, and he was right about all of the things he'd said and for that reason, you would have to stay away from him.

“I’m so glad you're feeling better, partying just isn't the same without you,” Anna, your best friend, pouted, intertwining your arms, as you both sat in the back of the car.

“I know, I think I caught whatever Paul had,” you said to her.

“Lie”

You heard, making you glance around, but he was nowhere in sight. It had been two long weeks of hiding away in your room. At first, it was only until the bruising went down, no amount of makeup could hide the holes in your neck. Then it started, calling for you, telling you to come to him, but you couldn't, you wouldn't. He plagued your mind, crept into your thoughts and dreams. You felt crazy until it finally stopped, immediately, you were rejuvenated and accepted Anna’s invitation to her boy toys party.

“Your mother had you tending to him again? I swear, you need to get married Y/n so you can get away from them,” she said.

“Uh, Laurent lives in the French Quarter?” you asked, feeling the hairs on your body standing, as you recognized the area.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you, he recently bought a house here,” she said, your eyes landed on his house, as the driver drove past.

Parking in front of the large home, you stared down the road, he stayed minutes away.

“Come on, I can't wait for you to meet him,” Anna squealed, dragging you into the house.

As the party began, houses down the road, Louis faced a dilemma. He and Lestat had been growing closer, concerning too many. He knew by their looks the multitude of slurs they were biting back. Lestat had brought Ms. Lily to his house, insinuating on a threesome. However, after a little kissing, he whispered into her ear, grinning as she fell into a deep sleep.

“Ms. Lily?” Louis pulled away, worriedly staring at her.

“She is only sleeping, where were we?”

“I’m supposed to trust your word, wake her up?” he said, lightly shaking her.

“I can't, she's in a deep sleep, she’ll wake up…eventually,” he chuckled to himself.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, she's innocent,” Louis screamed at him.

“When has prostitution become innocent?” Lestat laughed, watching as Louis picked her up, carrying her out of the house.

“Stay away from me”

“Y/n, come to me, I can not wait much longer, ma chérie,” he called out.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you leaned against the wall, the glass to your lips, as you listened to Anna’s boyfriend and his friends go about uninteresting matters.

“Ma chérie, I will set you free”

“Get out of my head,” you muttered under your breath, looking off to the side.

“You said something?” Anna asked you.

“No, I think I seen someone I know, I’ll be right back,” you excused yourself, going outside.

“Y/n, come,” he said, as soon as you were outside. You were beginning to panic, your body moving on its own, headed to his house. To his front door, until you reached for the knob, entering. Going to the living room, you stopped, his back facing you, as he stood in front of the piano.

“Why are you doing this to me? You have Louis,” you asked him.

“I have never wanted Louis, it was always you,” he said, as he finally faced you.

“He just left and wants me to stay away from him, you have no competition, ma chérie,” he continued.

“Lestat, I told you, I can't-

“I love you, and I see you, your efforts, your attempts to please everyone around you, to live up to the standard they have for you - but you don't need that with me. There is nothing too little or too much, you could do, to change the unconditional love that has grown,” he said. Embarrassed, you covered your face as you began to cry. You couldn't recount a time anyone had ever said something as loving.

“You don't want me, I’ve pretended my whole life-

“I want nothing more than to have you, and so you've done a little acting, it doesn't matter. Accept me, and your life will start anew, and you can decide, according to your standards what is best,” he said, he was in front of you within milliseconds, reaching for your hand.

“What are you?” you asked him.

“I will teach you, what I am, what you are, and what you're meant to be, I just need a yes, a simple nod from your beautiful head,” he said, caressing your hand.

Staring into his pale eyes, you wiped your tears, before hesitantly nodding.

“Yes,” you said, taken by surprise when he pressed his lips against your own. Kissing along your neck, you released airy moans, your eyes shut. Taking the back of his hand, he wiped the makeup from your neck, revealing the mole-like scarring from the bite.

“Your new life starts now,” he said, his fangs sinking into your neck.

In the end, the fly was left tangled in the webs of the beautiful spider, awaiting death. Lestat had succeeded and he couldn't wait for the eternity ahead, spent together.

[alottiegoingon]

hc!friends to lovers

lottie matthews x fem!reader

summary: going from friends to lovers with lottie

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

this was a request so i hope you enjoy it 🤞

@l0tt1emy this is me tagging youu

WHEN FRIENDS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WHEN DATING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NSFW (MDNI)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[mewhenimanangel]

moon river, miles morales x reader

pairing: earth 42!miles morales x spider!reader

synopsis: after spending the night with your friends and a scare from a spider, you woke up the next morning to an unwelcome surprise

wc: 2.7k

warnings!: swearing, suggestive themes violence, sexual harrassment, google translate spanish

translations: princesa - princess, tu mamá en casa? - your mom home?

part 1 ♱, next ♱

you were walking down the street with your friends mila and serenity, bags in hand from the bodega down the block. "let's take a picture real quick" serenity said, taking out her phone. just then your eyes flicked down to see a spider crawling on your arm, to which you screamed out "get it off me get it off me! oh my god!" you were practically crying at this point. spiders were not something you played with, at all.

your friends flicked it off you, laughing at the way you were screaming. "don't play with me i know you seen how big that motherfucker was. like ew" you rolled your eyes. pretty soon you were at your building and you said bye to your friends, entering your apartment. "mommy i'm home!" you shouted out. "hey nas" you said hi to your little brother sitting on the couch watching gumball. "hey." he flatly replied. "where's mommy?" you asked taking a sip of the arizona you'd just bought.

"i don't know she went somewhere with her friends. told me to tell you." he answered. you mumbled an alright before heading to your room. you got your stuff together for a shower and when you came back and got dressed again, you heard your window unlock and lift open. you darted your attention to the window, ready to grab a weapon.

you calmed down once you saw a familiar head of two braids. "miles i almost beat your ass" you sighed putting the knife you kept in your dresser back. he scoffed "as if you could. i'm untouchable princesa" he closed the window behind him and made his way over to you.

he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into into a kiss. you smiled against his lips and held his face. "tu mamá en casa?" he asked, pulling away for a second. you shook your head no "good" he said pulling you back into the kiss. his hands traveled down to your ass, both hands on each cheek squeezing. thank god for your tiny boy shorts.

he tapped your thigh telling you to jump up. you followed instructions and wrapped your legs around his waist, not breaking the kiss. he moved over to your bed, gently dropping you down. he moved in between your thighs and kissed your neck, sucking on a spot he knew you liked earning a small mewl from you.

you pushed him away "okay wait my mom might not be home but nasir is" you told him. "oh alright" he said moving away not before pressing pecks all over your face and lips. he got up and went to your door going out into the living room, you following behind. "yo lil man!" miles said going over to where nas was sitting. he jumped down from the chair "miles!" he exclaimed running up to him. they did their secret handshake while you went to fill your bottle with water.

"nas did you shower and everything yet?" you asked your brother. "uh huh" he answered pulling away from miles' hug. "how come miles is here?" nas asked you. "just had to come see my girl. and my favorite lil bro" he smiled, walking back over to you. "we're gonna go in my room okay nas, are you good out here?" you asked the boy making sure the front door was locked and the lights were off. "yeah i'm okay"

getting back to your room, you turned your lights off and your fairy lights on. you got in your bed and pulled out your laptop, miles following after getting settled between your thighs. "what episode were we on again?" you asked him. you had forced him to start watching gossip girl with you a few weeks ago and even though he refused, he wound up getting more interested in it than you. you put on the show and he grabbed a hello kitty wrapping it in his arms.

you played with his hair and just watched him. it was a little funny actually, for someone with such a hard exterior to be hugging a hello kitty teddy bear wrapped up in your rose patterned sheets.

when miles' dad died two years ago it really took a toll on him. he became extremely distant, skipping school for days at a time. sometimes a whole week would go by where he didn't talk to you at all. his dad died during a bank robbery, getting shot multiple times while trying to save the hostages. four years ago, the spider-man of your city died getting beaten to death by kingpin and ever since then brooklyn's crime rates have only gotten worse. miles' dad was really the last drop of genuine goodness in the local police department.

eventually though, miles came back around, deeply apologetic for staying away from you. you of course told him it was alright and you guys got back into the swing of things. when he got lost in the darkness, you became his light.

you eventually fell asleep, miles staying in between your legs and when you woke up the next morning he was gone. he sent a text around three saying he had to go to work and he was sorry to leave. whatever job he had seemed to be very demanding, whenever you brought it up he would brush it off saying it wasn't that big of a deal and you didn't need to worry. you never pressed too much about it not wanting to drive him away again so you dismissed it.

you got up and went to the bathroom to brush your teeth, but when you were done, the toothbrush wouldn't let go. you tried your best to shake it off your hand, using your other hand to pull it off only for it to get stuck too. your thoughts were so loud you thought someone was screaming at you. "what the hell?" you whispered. you scraped the toothbrush off on the side of the sink. you opened the door only for your hand to get stuck to the knob too. "fuck man what's going on!" you shouted. your mom came and opened the door for you. "n/n what the hell are you screaming in my house for" she said narrowing her eyes at you.

"i don't know my hands keep sticking to things and i have a huge headache." you replied pulling your hand off the knob, it coming off the door. "girl what the hell is going on!" your mom said picking up the knob. "i don't even know?! i can fix it later!" you said rushing to your room.

alright you had to figure out what the fuck was going on. your eyes landed on a comic book nas must've left in your room: spider-man. you'd read them before obviously, you furrowed your eyebrows. no there's no way that's what was going on. you thought back to the spider that landed on you last night, quickly checking your arm to see a small rash where it landed. there was a small string of web inside it, you pulled it out and examined it. no fucking way.

you grabbed the comic book and read through it, how was it even possible for two spiders, your world already had one. you aimed for a plushie that sat in your desk chair, you copied the finger motions in the comic and shot a web out. your eyes almost bulged out of your head when it soon came shooting out of your wrist. "holy fuck.." you breathed out.

walking over to a wall in your room that was relatively bare you pressed your palm up against it, it sticking. you pressed your foot up next and began crawling up your wall. soon you were on your roof, your curls flipping upside down. out of nowhere your fingers began popping off one by one and you fell to the floor, hitting your waist on the side of your dresser. "ow fuck!" you yelled, groaning as you rubbed your side.

"alright for real what is going on with you this morning? you alright?" your mom said barging into your room. "y-yeah i just tripped and hit my side" you groaned. "alright well come eat, i made eggs and pancake" she told you, walking off.

after breakfast you ran to your closet to change into an outfit. "not this shit again" you grumbled tugging on the door, all of a sudden the door popped off the hinges making you let out a gasp. your mom was gonna kill you if you kept destroying her house like this.

struggling to get into your baggy jeans and some random t shirt, you told your mom you were heading out and you kept the comic in your handbag, taking it out to read more while on the subway. the same thing was happening to peter parker in the book, he stopped the unwanted sticking by finding something to relax him. one thing that always relaxed you was your music, so you popped in your earbuds and put some on.

you reached your destination, begrudgingly walking up the stairs of may parker's house. the door opened and you saw the woman who's nephew was in the news four years ago. you had researched where to find her and looked up her address online. you hate to track down this lady and bring up old news about her dead nephew but if anyone knew how to help right now, it was her.

"h-hi, um i know you don't know me but my name is y/n" you said nervously tapping your nails. "hello, how can i help you?" she asked with a smile. "um im sorry to bother you but i was wondering if i could talk to you about peter parker...spider-man" you asked in a small voice. the lady's face dropped and she stepped back beginning to close the door. "wait! please i'm not sure what's going on but i think the same thing that happened to him is happening to me!" you frantically spoke. that caught her attention as she opened the door again.

"what do you mean?" may asked raising an eyebrow. "um i got bit by a spider last night and then this morning i woke up with the sticking, the strength, the loud thoughts. i even shot a web out of my fricking wrist earlier." you explained. "please i know you don't know me but i don't know who else to turn to" you pleaded. she looked at you for a moment, seemingly taking in all the information you just spewed at her. "follow me" she spoke up after a minute.

you followed her through her house, leading out back to a shed. you furrowed your eyebrows wondering where the hell she had taken you. "u-uh where are we going?" you asked. "just trust me" she said, suddenly the shed turned into an elevator and within seconds you were way underground. your jaw dropped seeing all the high tech spider technology scattered around the room. there were suits and gadgets you'd recognized, others you didn't.

"listen, i don't frequent this place as much as i used to for...obvious reasons. but, if you're gonna take on the challenge of becoming new york's next spider-man, i wanna help ya out." she told you. "w-wait i never said i would become the next spider-man." she suddenly began measuring parts of your body and your height. "can you fight?" she asked. "yeah my uncle owns a boxing gym and he takes me there a lot" you answered, confused. "do you know how to shoot your webs?" she asked again, taking your arm in her hand, examining the microscopic hole in your wrists.

"uh i've only shot one? i don't even know how i did it" you admitted. "i'll get started on your suit and your web shooters" she said moving over to a desk in the corner. "hey i never said i was gonna become the next spider-man" you said following behind her. "listen, kiddo. you've been chosen to get these powers. now i don't know how because based on what i've seen there's not supposed to be two in one universe. but you have these powers now and you're going to have you use them. i know it's a lot to ask of you to suddenly start taking care of our city, you're just a young girl. i don't know how and i don't know why but these powers were given to you, and with great power comes great responsibility." she told you.

you didn't say anything just taking in what she told you, eyebrows furrowed. you were only looking for a way to get rid of these powers or subdue them, you weren't ready to become some spider-man copy. "listen, think about it. i'm gonna go ahead and make what you're gonna need. come back tomorrow after school if you think you're up for it." may told you, you nodded your head.

she showed you back to the front door and you said your goodbyes. you had really big decision to make, the words 'with great power comes great responsibility' ringing loudly over and over in your head.

you stayed out the whole day deciding to do some damage to your wallet. you were already out and you were stressed so why not? it was getting a little late and you decided it was time to head home. you tensed up and your ears rung, hearing people argue in some back alley.

"nate get off of me!" a girl's voice said. the guy ignored her cries and kept pushing himself onto her, wrapping a hand around her neck. "nate!" she yelled out gripping at his hands to pry them off. you quickly ran over and dropped your bags on the ground. "yo you stupid fuck she said to get off!" you shouted. he looked over and scoffed "yeah and what are you gonna do?"

"god i fucking hate motherfuckers like you. dirty nasty men thinking you can get anything you want. turning women into subjects of your torture just to get your tiny little dick wet" you spat making your way closer to him. he threw the girl on the wall and walked over to you "why don't you mind your own fucking business and get out of here" he said getting ready to push you, you grabbing his wrists before he could. man these powers came in handy.

you twisted his arm around his back and slammed him into a wall. the girl he was bothering ran back and watched as you beat him up, sending punch after punch to his face. you already knew how to fight but this super strength was real useful.

finally you figured he had enough and grabbed your bags. you looked around for the girl again but it seemed she'd already ran off, you grabbed your shopping bags and went home leaving nate in the alley.

the next day at school all you could think about was your powers and your new found responsibilities. after your altercation with that guy you realized that you could help so many more people if you went through with becoming spider-man.

you hopped off the bus and walked up to may's front door, knocking. she opened the door with a smirk on her face "knew you'd be back" she said opening the door further for you to come in.

you got down to her secret basement, her opening a chest and showing you the contents. you saw a spider mask staring back at you. you pulled it out of the chest, gawking at the black suit with a light pink spider on the chest, intricate designs resembling webs on the sides and on the back. the eyes of the spider mask had a light pink outline and your web shooters a matching shade. “why don’t we head upstairs to try it on?” she asked, happy you seemed to like her work.

you quickly slipped out of your school uniform and into the spider suit. it fit like a glove, fabric strong enough to protect you but thin enough for you to stick. you tugged the mask down and admired your look in the mirror. “ya like it?” she asked, smiling. “i-i love it! it’s so me. i just don’t understand how you did all this so quickly.” you said tugging at the fabric.

“hey i know my way around some machines.” she laughed. “come on, i’ll show you everything you need to know”

[clovermoters]

Black and (Fluro) Yellow

🕷️ln4 x reader

🕷️ lando if he was spider-man

🕷️warnings: panic attack, kinda angst idk notes: hill the fluro suit had me thinking and this

🕷️ a/n: this is barely edited and kinda bad but enjoy!! <33 also im trying to write more so gimme ideas

The final bell rang through your ears as the school day ended and the bustle of the weekend was underway. You packed up your books, waving a polite goodbye to your teacher and made your way to your locker. You felt a pinch in your side and you swung your head to find your boyfriend, Lando looking at you with a goofy smile. “Hey where did you come from!?” you smile up at him while you continue to empty your belongings into their home for the weekend. “Calculus, i swear if i have to listen to that man talk about quadratics for another minute i'm going to lose more brain cells than gain.” he complains. “Well at least now we get to go and do nothing.” you say as you wrap your arms around his waist and place your chin on his chest. “About that..” he sighs and you know what's coming.

He's been blowing you off for weeks. It started with little things such as not saying goodbye before leaving school or not seeing each other between class periods. But now he's been completely ditching you. He refuses to tell you why and you’re starting to worry if you’ve done something wrong. You deflate as you prepare to ask him what the excuse this time is when your phone chimes in your pocket. “Oh it's laur..” you click the link your friend sent, you gasp “what the fuck”. Lando looks at you puzzled as you flip your phone around to show him.

It's a video of the new vigilante known as “spiderman” beating a man to a pulp in some alleyway, throwing punch after punch until the man was on the ground bloody and bruised. Once the beating was done Spiderman is shown swinging away before the video cuts off. “Did he just kill that guy-” “No. he didn't.” Lando cuts you off quickly. The slightest clench in his jaw and tense in his shoulders did not go unnoticed. “Well how can you know for sure…he was hitting him pretty hard.” you counter. “You can see the guy moving before he swings away.” he says firmly, as if he knew this as a fact. Spiderman showed up about a month ago, earlier sightings of him have consisted of him helping cats down from trees and escorting the elderly across the road. The public had grown to love him and his friendly neighborhood activities. But recently, he's been violent and the city has been working to catch him. Unfortunately with the identity of the spider being unknown, the police have come back empty handed. Lando gently takes your hands into his as he changes the topic “Look, I'm sorry but Max wants me to help him with his physics homework and he's got a test tomorrow. So I will see you tomorrow okay?” he says softly. He can see the hurt in your eyes as you give him a slight nod and a quick kiss before walking off towards the bus station.

Lando hates how he's been treating you these past weeks. Blowing you off for shitty excuses that he knows are shitty but he can't stomach telling you the true reason why. He's watching you walk off as he feels his best friend clap him on the back of his neck “you ready for tonight boss?” Max says in his ear. He notices Lando's stare and follows his eyes to where they've been trained to follow. “No lando we cant think like this” shaking his head. “You'll see her tomorrow.” he firmly reassures his friend who's beginning to question the late night activities he's been doing for the past month. “I'm not sure about that max..” he sighs “i cant keep watching her deflate everytime i cancel on her” he says quietly. “You could just tell her-” “NO.” Lando shouts, shooting his head towards max. Telling you would be like pouring sea salt into an open wound. Lando would rather give up everything, than tell you the truth about where he is at night. “Okay okay! Don't tell her, but either way..you're going out tonight.” Max says, putting his hands up in surrender as he begins to walk towards the student parking lot to his car. He turns around towards Lando who's still stood next to your locker staring in the direction you walked off in. “you coming or what?” After a beat of contemplation, with a heavy sigh, Lando makes his way to Max's car.

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

You were sat on your bed, doing homework on your ipad. You Glanced at the time, double taking the clock sat on your nightstand when you see the number it read. Holy shit. you’ve been here since you got home at 4pm…it was now 6:30 pm. You jump off your bed and quickly check your phone, expecting a million texts and calls from Lando wondering what you're doing and complaining about Max's inability to understand the basics of physics.

Nothing. Not a single text.

You feel your heart drop. He hasn't texted you in 5 hours when he asked you to meet before you left school for the week. The tears prick your eyes as you check your other notifications seeing nothing from your boyfriend. Could he be cheating? No. he would never do that to you. But would he?

Your thoughts race through your mind as the panic begins to set into your chest causing your breathing to become uneven. Your vision starts to swim and your phone falls to the floor, your arms going numb. You hear your mom call your name for dinner but the noise goes in your left ear and immediately out the right. As if you have been submerged underwater. You feel your legs give out and you land ass first at the foot of your bed.

The loud thud heard from the kitchen causes your mom to shout for you again to pulse check.. When nothing was heard back she rushed upstairs to the source of the noise. When she finds you in hysterics she's in front of you instantly, cupping your face to wipe the tears. She helps you steady your breathing and bring you back down from your panic attack. “What's got you so worked up sweetheart?” she softly asks and she moves to your side. You explain everything that's been going on with Lando recently. She thinks for a moment before she speaks up “how about, we get some food in you. Then I drop you off at his place and you two can talk this out.” she offers. You give her a small smile, nodding as the two of you get up and make your way downstairs to eat dinner.

-----

You stare at the apartment door marked with the 4 before you bring your hand up to knock. The door opens revealing landos Mom, Cisca. “Oh hi honey what brings you here?” she asks, letting you inside the apartment. “I was hoping Lan was home.” She gives you a sympathetic smile, shaking her head. “No not yet, but he should be soon. How about you go wait in his room for him and I'll bring you a cup of tea.” you nod weakly and wander towards Landos room as Cisca moves to the kitchen. You leave the door ajar and lie on the bottom bunk of his bed, eyes darting around the room, flashing memories of the past 2 years that have been written in the walls. You turn your body towards the wall snuggling into the comfort of Landos smell embedded into the sheets you’ve spent countless hours in. your eyes start to feel heavy as sleep takes over your body. deciding a small nap while you wait couldn't hurt, you let your mind drift off.

-----

You’re woken by the sound of the window opening. finding that you're still alone in lando’s bed you sit up hoping it's him just opening up the window. You look over to find the window open, yet no one next to it. You think nothing of it due to the wind and sit up to reach for the cup of tea Cisca left you on the nightstand while you slept. You sip your tea sat on the bunk as your eye catches a figure on the ceiling. Yes, the ceiling. You see that black and fluorescent yellow suit you’ve seen all over social media for the last month crawling around on the ceiling of your boyfriend's bedroom. What the fuck is spiderman doing in Landos bedroom?! You thought to yourself as the man gently lowered himself onto the floor and reached for his mask, removing it.

And that's when you saw him.

Those curls you run your fingers through whenever you get the chance to. Those curls you help tame when he takes his hat off after a long day. Those curls you love with your whole heart. Those curls which belonged to the boy you loved who was currently standing with his back to you, wearing spidermans suit.

You gasp, causing lando to look up and freeze. He doesnt turn around to face you, he knows who he's going to see. He knows it's over. The moment he's been dreading since that spider bit him that night. He's going to have to explain his past month and a half to the one person he didn't want knowing about this. The one girl he wanted to keep protected from this new hobby he's got himself tangled up in. and yet here he was frozen, staring at the picture frame sitting on his dresser.

The picture of him and you from the first time you went to the London eye. The picture is you two at the top with Landos hands around your waist and your arms swung around his neck. Your faces are squished together wearing the brightest smiles on your faces. Looking back, Lando wishes he could stay in that moment forever, frozen in time. But he knows that can't happen.

He slowly turns around to face you and look you in the eyes. Your lips slightly parted due to shock and hair slightly messed up from your nap. The mug slips through your fingers and falls to the floor shattering and spilling the lukewarm tea. “Shit” Lando whispers as he springs to action, grabbing the towel from the back of his door to soak up the tea, he looks up to you “are you okay? No cuts?” you're frozen, unable to speak, staring at him in that suit. All you can do is nod at him while he gently picks up your feet, placing them loosely on his bed while he cleans up the broken mug. You pick at your fingernails anxiously while you wait for him to finish cleaning.

After a few minutes he sits down next to you, freshly changed into a hoodie and sweatpants. Your eyes are trained on your lap where your hands sit pulling on the thread of the hoodie that you’re wearing. After what feels like hours of silence you’ve had enough “why didn't you tell me?.” you demand, you want answers. You want to know how your boyfriend and who you considered to be the love of your life became the person who you see brutally abusing people in alleyways. He turns to look at you, eyes full of regret. He opens his mouth to answer you but you cut him off, cupping his face. “fuck what happened?!” you stand up looking for a first aid kit when lando stands up to stop you, grabbing your hands “baby, baby stop it's okay max already helped me clean it and it’ll heal by the mornin-” “MAX KNOWS??!??!” you shout a little too loud for lando’s liking. He puts his hand over your mouth, shushing you so you don't wake his mother. “yes max knows because he was with me when it happened” he explained calmly, hoping his emotions will radiate onto you.

He slowly releases your mouth and you sit back down “are you gonna let me explain to you how this happened now?” he raises an eyebrow waiting for your answer. You give him a nod to continue and he takes a deep breath.

He began to explain how one night walking home from your house with max a radioactive spider bit him. He explains how Zac Brown, one of the richest men in the country, approached him and helped him understand his powers and the new responsibilities that come with them. He even was the person to make Landos suit for him.

“I'm really sorry that I’ve been a shit boyfriend recently, i never wanted you to get caught in this” he says, playing with your hands. You can't help but giggle “Here I was thinking you were cheating on me yet you were out fighting crime.” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting it against your own “never in a million years my love” he says. “How about we get some sleep?” He smiles, squeezing your hands intertwined with his. Agreeing that this conversion should happen with a good night's rest. The two of you move to lie down in Landos bed cuddled against one another. Your head rests on Lando’s chest with his arms wrapped around you like you'd disappear the second he let go. As sleep beings to take over you hear a faint “i love you” coming from the boy beside you. You look up to see him already meeting your eyes “i love you too” you smile, kissing his chest before falling asleep with him safe and sound.

[madxyy]

Selfish

| pairing : peter x reader

| summary: your boyfriend comes home injured--as usual--late at night and you can't help but want him safe from his life as spider-man

| warnings: fluff, touching wrists (sigh, again), y/n used once, baby used, peter being cute and angsty as usual, reader also being cute, light angst

author's note: i am trying to write angst so bare with me lol

2 am. 

It’s always when you hear that faint knock on your window that makes all your worries wash away in a split second. But not today, no, today was different. You were waiting all night to hear that thud on the firescape or the cries of the window seal being opened. All night you were absorbed in your own anxieties and worries. Your hopes were dreading as time went by. You were getting scared for the local crime fighting hero and you did everything in your power to take your mind off it.

You really did. 

Drawing, watching tv, listening to music, cleaning the room—which was a bad idea as it just bought you a reminder of the boy who has your heart. You would stumble upon Peter's belongings that were scattered around your shared apartment like confetti: his engineering notes, his sweaters, his latest sketch of a brilliant idea he had to improve his spider-man suit. It only made your heart ache even more, longing for his presence and increasing your worries for your vigilante boyfriend. So you would take another route and try binge-watching a new season of a recent tv show you are watching, which would likely just be collecting dust in the column of ‘continue watching.’

Your mind keeps on going back to him. ‘He’s okay. He’s okay.’ You thought to yourself. ‘He’s coming back to me. He’ll be alright. He’s probably on his way right now. It’s just going to be a scratch, hopefully. He's going to be okay, right? Oh god. Oh god.’ 

As much as you love and adore that your boyfriend is helping the city and its people by saving anyone from another lab experiment gone wrong or from a dangling car that’s about to fall off a bridge, you can't help but wonder if he would ever take care of himself. It’s hard seeing him everytime he comes through your window with a new bruise on his keen jawline, a wound on his ribs, a scar on his hip. You couldn’t deal with it anymore. You wish he stopped just for his own safety. You know it’s selfish but is it so wrong to want him safe? Just the thought of turning on the news and seeing J. Jameson reporting: “Breaking News: Our local friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man reported dead by …” 

You want him back with you already, his arms wrapped around you, drowning you into his warm embrace, so distinctly Peter, while he whispers soft and reassuring words that always mend your heart. You long to hear his random facts about science, see his lopsided smile that always welcomes you back into reality whenever you wake up next to him each morning. You yearn for his contagious laugh that makes your heart throb in delight over the euphonious sound. You want to smile at the tics he does when he gets nervous or the way he avoids eye contact and scratches the back of his neck when he is stuck in an awkward situation. You want him to be back so you can smooch the newly embedded scars that are planted all over his body which you love kissing away everyday when he wakes up. You want to see his dimples that adorn his face when he smiles wide enough because he finally got his web shooters to work, followed by a triumph fist bump to the air. You want to see his eyes, oh his eyes: brown, soft, autumnal, brimming with love and warmth, despite the grief and cruelty he has been absorbed in. His scent, a mix of cedarwood and asphalt (due to his high-flying urban adventures). You want to see the way his hair sticks up in the morning whilst the sun gives it a mixture of honey and bronze aura, running your hands through the mused up tufts of hair, which always leads to the corners of his eyes crinkling up as a sleepy, boyish smile tugs up on his rosy lips. 

Selfish. You can’t help it. 

You waited as long as you could; staring at your window for who knows how long. Your eyes were trained on the window for a good while, but you couldn't help it, all this anxiety finally got to you and you were feeling drained and your posture slumps with exhaustion. Your eyes burn from keeping them open, and soon those same eyes start to slowly droop. Blinking back sleepiness proved futile; your head eventually settled onto the cool silk of your pillow. The material greets your cheek, making it easier for you to be welcomed into slumber. 

It was 4 am, yet your worries haven’t gone down at all. Your eyelids started to grow heavier, and darkness gradually enveloped your senses, until you heard a faint knock on your window, piercing the silence. 

Your heart leapt, and you twisted towards the sound. In an instant, sleep was gone.

Not even a second later you heard your window opening—mm the sound of the cries. Your tired, red eyes snapped open. You were met with a disheveled and drained Peter Parker. His hair sticking to the nape of his neck and forehead, sweat giving him a post-shower appearance. A large laceration marred his chest. Oh. Your stomach dropped, eyes widened with horror at the sight of the injury. It looked like he was scratched -- no, clawed by someone or something. With quick motion, you quickly peel away the sheets, disentangling yourself from its soft embrace, and quickly hurrying to his side.

“Peter” you gasped softly. A hand settles onto his latex-clad one, the other arm wrapping around his waist to support him as you guide both him towards your bed, placing him where you had lain just seconds before. “It’s not that bad, don’t worry about it, seriously, I mean you should see the o-” Peter quickly swallows his words upon seeing your stern glare. He slumps his head downwards as he sighs in defeat. 

You sigh, telling him quietly that you'll be back soon. You left him for a few moments before coming back with a wet rag. Gently, you tug at the suit, trying to cautiously take it off him without aggravating his wounds. Soon, you were met with his bare torso, which is marked with a huge claw mark. You mentally steel yourself before starting to lightly clean around the injury, dabbing the wet rag gently onto his toned chest as you avoid his eyes. It’s not like you were trying to make him feel bad, but you were also trying to cope with the situation. You don’t know if you were mad, relieved, sad, maybe all of the above? Uncertain emotions swirl within you, but one fact anchors your turbulent thoughts: he is here, safe, and alive. That's what truly matters.

Peter seems to catch your avoided gaze, he studies you for a few minutes. Biting the inside of his cheek as he purses his lips to the side, trying to figure out how to approach this situation. He takes in your furrowed eyebrows, the way you’re also biting the inside of your cheek as you put all your strength into avoiding his worried amber eyes. He knew the consequences of inviting someone into his dangerous life, it wasn’t exactly a warm and inviting embrace, nor was it appealing, but what he didn’t fully grasp is how it truly hurts you, in more ways than one.  “Y/N…” he whispered, rough hands that have been through so much and experienced so much, reaching for the comfort of your skin but you gently dodge his touch, leading to a sudden twinge of anguish in his heart. You give him a slight smile to distinguish any suspicion – I mean, you weren’t doing a good job at it – before you continued cleaning the dirt away from his injury. Peter’s eyebrows furrow while his lips start to droop downwards, a frown laid upon his lips at the rejection. 

Biting the inside of your cheek harder to stop the tears from flowing down the curve of your cheekbones. You keep on wiping his cuts clean, overs and overs again, getting flashbacks of his visits from the last time you had to patch him up. Blurred vision starts taking over your eyesight and all you can think about is his pain, what he goes through, his blood, the thought of losing him, life without him, the many ‘what ifs.’ The many times he almost visited death's door. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, it was like a burning sensation bubbling in the back of your throat, the sadness was too hard to keep buried down now. You started shaking and before you knew it your sobs filled the walls and all your fears were coming out of you in the form of a liquid pea that contained so much. As soon as the warm liquid left a path down the curve of your cheeks, peter panicked and rose to action just like the hero he is—your hero. 

Quickly sitting up and fixing his posture, which made him wince slightly from the injuries but he pushed through, his mind set on you and only you. He wipes the tear away with the pad of his thumb and takes the wet rag away from your slightly shaky grip; gently putting it on your nightstand before he lightly reaches both of his hands out and holds onto your wrists.

“I can't” You choke out a sob. 

“Hey shh it’s okay baby, what’s wrong? You can’t, what? Tell me,” He coos. 

He hunches down, trying to find those eyes of yours that he swears are otherworldly, but you just can’t. You can’t see him like this. Hurt. In pain. Suffering. It pains you that he is in this much pain -- you can’t. “Peter I just… ” he gently takes your face in his hand, caressing your cheekbones with his thumbs that are growing wet from your moist cheeks. His heart hurts from the sight of you crying, it conjures a deep-seated throb of pain in his eyes. “Look at me,” he whispers softly, gently nudging your head up with his right hand that is slowly descending down to grasp your chin as if you were a treasure, in a way you are, to peter you are his treasure, the main reason he even gets up or even tries, you are his rock, the only thing that makes sense in his life, and god does he love you, he loves you so much that his heart hurts. A quiet sigh escapes you, it sounds defeated. “Please,” He pleaded oh-so-gently, his gaze unwavering but patient. You sniffle before swallowing down a ball of saliva forming in your throat. As soon as you look up you are met with a pair of almond-shaped umber eyes that are filled with the utmost care, worry, and a hint of guilt. 

“Talk to me..” he whispers desperately, his heart crushing at the pain you are experiencing, he just wants to take it all away with his soft whispers but he knows they will be in vain. Shakingly exhaling “I can’t,” you frantically shake your head. “Please baby…” A few silent beats pass before you finally look back up to find those amber eyes looking back at you with nothing but worry and sincerity. 

You take a deep breath before swallowing deeply ”Peter...I just…” another beat passes. You take a sharp deep breath. “I just really wish you would take more care of yourself, I...I know you love saving people and fighting crime and trust me I love you deeply for that but you come home everyday with a new wound that’s even deadlier than the last one,” You pause, licking your salty lips. “aren’t you worried that maybe those people that you save won’t have anyone to save them if they’re local neighborhood spider-man won’t be there to save them anymore..?” You ask him, almost in a plea. Peter bites the inside of his cheek, thinking over your words with a solemn expression forming on his face that are littered in small cuts from his last escapades. He diverts his gaze to the floor and the room is quickly overcome with silence as he takes in your words, letting the heaviness of your words sink in.

The silence fills the room, it lets you both engulf into your own thoughts. Peter knew what it meant when he finally told you he was the unmasked superhero. He remembers spilling his deadly secret on a rooftop late at night, where you both were admiring the stars, laying on a blanket and talking about anything and everything. He remembers looking over at you and admiring the way the moon was cascading down on you, making you look even more angelic and completely ethereal. 

Peter looks at you hurt and guilty and god do you hate that. Both of you guys shared a gaze that held so much that it made the room feel denser as the distant sounds of ambulances filtered through the slightly open window. A breeze wafts in, brushes against you both, causing small goosebumps to prick up on your skin. Peter grew to learn from his past relationships and the impact it had on his partner knowing he was Spider-Man, which is why it hurts him to know he is the one making you feel like this. A calloused hand slowly creeps up, gently grasping your cheek with the utmost care, as if you were made of glass and he was scared of causing further harm. “I know, I know,” He murmurs, his voice breaking while his toughened fingers absentmindedly traces the curve of your cheek. “It’s just so hard to stop when I know I can make a difference.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat as his words sink in. Your heart breaks knowing how much his words are true and the scary reality that he won’t stop until crime is put to bed and everyone can roam around the streets freely. You shook your head, one hand gently grasping his wrist. “But at what price, Pete?” you ask ever-so-softly like the question itself was forbidden territory. Those eyes that he loves so deeply, look up into his eyes and it causes a gnawing feeling in his chest, almost making him wince from how hurt you look, how scared you look. Peter bites the inside of his cheek a bit harder while furrowing his brows, trying to think of what to tell you because he himself doesn’t know.

He takes a shaky breath, adjusting the grip on your face and slowly pulling your head a bit closer until both of your foreheads are resting against one another, a silent plea for understanding in his eyes. The brush of skin itself was tender-filled, telling a millions of words with just one movement. “I am just sick of all the crimes happening here and the cops not even doing anything about it.” Peter whispered, his voice a low blend of anger and helplessness. You could feel the raggedness of his breath, each exhale a testament to the battles he fought alone in the shadows of the city. The close proximity allowed you to see the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes shuttered as if bracing against a storm of inner conflict. “Peter, I know you care – it’s one of the things I love about you,” you respond gently, reaching up to smooth a stray lock of hair from his clammy forehead. “But you can’t carry this burden alone. It’s too much for one person, even for Spider-Man.” Your voice was a soothing whisper, trying to pierce the armor of duty he wore so steadfastly.  

Peter simply nodded, the weight of the world momentarily lightened by your understanding. You saw the fortress around his heart crumbling, if only just a bit. His eyes, usually so vibrant and full of life, now shimmered with unshed tears, reflecting the constant battle between his duty and his love for you.

“I’m sorry…” Peter’s voice broke through the silence, each word heavy with remorse. He leans forwards, delicately kissing your forehead which grounds you and makes you close your eyes momentarily as you cherish the soft kiss that eases your heart just a bit. “I am sorry for not fully understanding what you are going through. I am so, so sorry,” He whispers into the dark night, the words flowing into the air as gently as ever. A few beats of silence pass while you take in his words. It gave your weary heart time to mend. Peter leaned back slightly so he could get a better look at you, his gaze locked with yours, conveying a depth of sincerity and vulnerability. “I’m truly, deeply, sorry” He whispers once more before he starts to softly press kisses underneath where your ear and jaw meet, your cheeks, forehead, nose, the wrinkles in the middle of your eyebrows, smoothing them out with the pad of his thumb, and finally kissing your lips, so delicately, it makes you want to cry even more. 

The kiss was so deliberate, it was a bundle of promises that his lips sealed to keep, an abundance of love, tenderness, deep affection and care that runs so deeply into his veins that it affects his touches and kisses, he can’t help but pour it all into the kiss, he just wanted you to know how sorry he is. He wanted you to know that he never meant to hurt you, whether it was indirect or direct. It makes your heart flutter and reassures your timid heart. Slowly one hand moves to cup the left side of your face as his other hand descends down towards the side of your neck as peter tastes the saline on your moist-tear lips, but even that doesn’t stop him from pressing gentle kisses against your lips, it only fuels his love, turning the kisses even more tender. Each kiss conveys a message of “I’m sorry, I love you, please know I love you.” You can taste the metallic on his lips as your lips were caressing his back as equally gently and lovingly, your kisses filled with a message of “It’s okay, I love you.” 

Peter slowly pulls back from the kiss, his mouth hovers over yours, his breath fanning over your lips, noses rubbing against each other in the tenderest manner ever. Both of your eyes were still closed, taking in everything, cherishing one another. His right hand moving back up to cradle your face, both hands cradling your cheeks and caressing them with the pad of his thumbs in a feather-like caress. You nuzzle your cheek against his right hand, feeling the rough and calloused palm that you grew to admire and adore. It always provided you with such care and comfort, always caressing or reaching out to gently touch you. Both of your hands now encircled around his wrist, caressing the inside of it so softly that it makes Peter almost melt.

Slowly, Peter opens his eyes. His amber gaze held nothing but love and the utmost care. Shortly after he opened his eyes, your eyes opened as well. Both of you search each other’s eyes as a white noise of admiration passes you both. After a moment of silent communion, the air between you both thickens with unspoken words and shared feelings, Peter finally speaks, his voice a soft murmur against the quiet room. “I can’t promise there won’t be more nights like this,” he says, his honesty laying bare the truth of both of your lives entwined with danger and uncertainty. “But I promise you, no matter how many crazy guys in suits I have to fight, I’ll always do my best to come back… to this, to us.”

This promise, simple yet profound, strikes a chord within you. It’s not a heroic declaration from Spider-Man, but a heartfelt vow from Peter Parker, the boy behind the mask, the one you fell in love with. His words acknowledge the reality of his life—danger is part of the package, yet he’s equally committed to your shared life, to you, and he isn’t going anywhere.

You feel a surge of mixed emotions: fear for the dangers he faces, gratitude for his honesty, and love for the person he is. “And I’ll be here,” you say, matching his tone with a blend of seriousness and affection, “not just to patch you up and be your personal nurse, but to love you.” The corners of his lips quirk up, his eyes twinkling with love as he takes in your words. He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, a silent vow of his commitment. “Thank you,” he whispers, gratitude resonating in his voice, “for everything.”

“Of course,” You whispered. 

The two of you stay like that, embraced in the warmth of your love for one another, finding comfort in the silence that now speaks volumes. The world outside, with its chaos and challenges, seems momentarily distant as you both cherish this safe haven of understanding and love you’ve created together.

[miguelswifey04]

you please yourself and miguel catches you

warning: 18+, p in v, dom! miguel, sub! reader, masturbating (fingering)

its been a lonely night all by yourself as you opened the gates of heaven between your legs as you pumped a couple fingers inside of you, eliciting moans that sounded like angels singing in a cacophony of pleasant sounds. you thought you were alone so you let yourself go and be loud as your body had wanted you to be as you reacted to the way your own fingers curled against your g-spot. you felt lonely without miguel who was out in the city protecting those who needed his protection as spider-man 2099. your husband wasn’t always there and that meant you both couldn’t be as intimate as you wanted. you respected that finding ways to pleasure yourself whether it be your fingers or sex toys (vibrators and dildos). miguel knew that as he never pressed on the matter—he truly did feel bad but what was he supposed to do when he’s the spider-man of nueva york?

on the same night that you were pleasuring yourself, you thought you were alone but you weren’t. what you didn’t know was your husband, miguel, had already arrived home but he was listening in by the door of the bedroom you both shared. he heard your loud airy moans and the squelching sounds of your now soaked pussy swallowing your fingers as you pumped them fast in and out of you. he felt himself get hard hearing you be loud thinking you were alone. he even heard you call out his name while you were fantasizing about your own husband fucking you like the dirty slut that you were for him. he started to palm his hard cock that was now leaking precum onto his mesh suit. miguel couldn’t take it anymore as he felt desire and a need to fuck you senseless take over his body. he opened the door to the beautiful you of you squirting from finger-fucking you swollen pussy.

panic flickers within you as you realize that miguel has caught you in this vulnerable moment. before you can react, he swiftly moves towards you, an intense and dominant aura surrounding him. he locks eyes with you, his gaze piercing through you, and a mix of surprise and amusement dances across his face.

“so, enjoying yourself without my permission, are you?" he murmurs, his voice laced with a combination of dominance and tantalizing curiosity. he crosses the room in a few strides and stands before you, a clear intent in his eyes.

without a word, miguel takes control of the situation. he grasps your hand and forcefully pulls it away from your throbbing core, denying you the pleasure you were seeking. his grasp tightens around your wrist, asserting his authority.

“you forget that your pleasure belongs to me," he asserts firmly, his dominant demeanor unyielding. "you will learn to seek my permission before indulging in such acts in the future."

as a punishment for your disobedience, miguel pushes you against the nearest surface, his body pressing against yours with an almost suffocating force. he takes control of your body, his hands exploring and claiming you with a possessive hunger. he then guides your body and pushed you down over the desk, “since you’re been fingering your self, how about i fuck you so good???”

“please—yes!” you moan out as you feel him pushes his cock into your pussy as his hands grip onto your hips. the sight of your tears only seemed to further ignite the desire and possessiveness within miguel. miguel’s eyes darkened with a mix of dominance and concern as he gripped your hips tightly, his thrusts becoming more forceful. his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, his voice husky with desire. "surrender to me," he whispered, his words filled with a primal need. "let me give you the pleasure you deserve." as the pleasure overwhelmed you, the need to suppress your moans became increasingly difficult. the raw intensity of the moment, the feeling of being completely consumed by miguel. he was relentless and showed no mercy. your husband was hungry to pleasure you and you let him take you completely.

the pleasure merging with the sharp sting of tears that streamed down your face. the combination of sensations, the ecstasy of miguel filling you from behind, pushed you to the brink of ecstasy.

miguel’s movements became even more relentless, his grip tightening on your hips as he thrust deep within you. your walls clenched around him as you climaxed, your release gushing over his hard length, splashing onto his skin. “oh my fucking god,” you moaned out as you laid on top of the desk…miguel picked you up quickly and laid you softly onto the bed.

“how’s my pretty wife doing tonight?” he peppered kisses and made sure you were satisfied.

[bunny-lily]

Tether Me - Chapter 1

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader

Summary: “Jesus!” You shrieked and jumped with all the elegance of a newborn fawn, spinning on your heel to find a head of blindingly white hair and pearly canines equally as eye-burning greeting you through a wide grin. Though you couldn’t see the man's eyes behind those curiously round shades of his, you could picture how his cheeks crinkled his hidden hues at the corners.

If any of the Greek or Roman gods were real, he’d outshine every one of them without breaking a sweat. 

“Not quite,” the unfairly gorgeous stranger replied with a snicker from where he leaned against the fence, “but I’m flattered.” CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here)

AN: no particular additional warnings for this chapter. I'll add new warnings for any chapters that might require them (for example, nsfw)

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2

WC: 15.3k

Seeing your new…home in the unforgiving glare of daytime made you realize that the realtor spent more time photoshopping the box of danger to make it appear appealing than actually selling it. Gave it to the first poor buyer that bit the bait and dashed off.

Said poor buyer was you. Apparently.

A rickety bamboo fence, chipped and scratched by god knows what, wrapped loosely around your property, the pathetic poles clinging to life by threads about as strong as spider silk. Quite the sad barrier. Honestly, you had no idea how it managed to remain upright this long at all. 

The description on the site you found it on was very, very vague with anything regarding the building. Even with your prodding, the most you generally got was “well, nobody died in it, and it’s still standing.”

Good enough for you, clearly, considering you slapped the Sold! sign on the damn listing yourself maybe 30 minutes and a glass of wine (or three) after finding the soggy, depressing shack.

Granny was right. This thing was a damn mess. It should have been condemned ages ago.

You couldn’t decide if it was bigger or smaller than you expected. Somewhat disproportionate was the best way you could put it. The terrain surrounding it was much more expansive than the photos showed, the boundaries only sort of marked out by the aforementioned sad barrier. It was considerably isolated, which you weren’t really complaining about, but you noted way too late that taking care of all that overgrown grass was going to be a nightmare on your back. Arms, too. Every part of your body, honestly.

The building itself had certainly seen better days, such as the day it was built, and perhaps the day after, if you were being generous. The agent was very shifty about exact details, but in his defense, this place was basically in the Bumfuck Middle of Nowhere, Japan, in likely one of the smallest countryside villages there was in the whole country.

You were also substantially intoxicated and ready to put down your life savings on anything.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to go that far, but you truly underestimated the scope of this ‘project’. The entire plot needed a fresh splash of paint at minimum. Ideally, you needed to shear the lawn of all those super pretty weeds that you were very tempted to just leave as is because they were so pretty, mhm, would be an absolute shame to get rid of them.

You’d need to clear out the stone path leading from the fence gate to your front door that you quite literally stumbled over last night. Or just toss the stones altogether, because fuck those things and whoever put them there.

The outer walls needed a good scrubbing, and another, and one more for good measure. Quite a few shingles on the roof showed signs of being ready to split your skull open with only a wayward breeze needed to push them off the edge. The hinges creaked horribly on every part of the building, enough so that you were certain the entire village would’ve been awoken by you tripping over yourself to get into the house had you not been a decent 10 or so minute walk from the closest cottage.

And all of this was just what was outside. 

That fence, ugly little shit that it was, was either going to become your worst nightmare, or a begrudging friend. 

You noted with mild interest that your house resembled western abodes more than Japanese ones.

Maybe if you kept the place rundown, people wouldn’t think to stop by your place unannounced. Ah, what a delight that would be. If you were lucky, nobody knew the property had been sold yet. If you were extra lucky, you could get your shopping done (plus whatever other errands you couldn’t do from home) by keeping your head down, and none would be the wiser to your existence.

Aside from Granny, of course. Kinda hard to hide from that woman now that she’d given you food off her own back. You needed to do something in return, but you set that on the back burner for now.

The interior required basically everything to be fixed up, that was non-negotiable. You refused to sleep on crusty wood floors and old tatami that had long since been glued to the surface beneath with gods know what. At the very least, you needed to somehow clean the floor. Preferably, mend the walls, plug any holes, get the pipes functioning if they weren’t already, and a whole other fuckin’ list of soul crushing deeds that needed completion.

Furniture, while questionably not a necessity for survival, was definitely a need for you. If only so you had something to sleep on other than the basically flat, nylon bag laid out in the corner of the room you gracelessly snored within.

But how?

You planted your hands on your hips and exhaled through your nose. “I wonder if Amazon ships to this place…”

A pipe dream, certainly; but, gods, would it make your life so much easier.

You could try to build your own furniture, but you trusted running with scissors more than you trusted your own potential handiwork. Which meant repairing the house itself on your own was likely a very bad idea.

“Ah, fuck,” you hissed as you realized the other shit you’d need to do aside from creating an actual proper space to live. “I’ll have to learn how to sew and garden and fucking carpent and everything…”

You groaned as you pictured every task that awaited you, and subsequently buried your face in your hands. Maybe you should have just torn the whole fucking thing down, bought a plastic shed from the nearest city, dragged it over, set it up, and called it home sweet home. You didn’t need that much space anyway, right?

“No, can’t regret this now, too late to regret this, you chose this,” your voice was muffled and grit out through clenched teeth. “Made your bed, now sleep in it, idiot.”

“Yeah, kinda dumb choice, if you ask me.”

An unexpected voice originated from behind you, startling the living daylights out of you and shooting your heart straight out of your body. 

“Jesus!” You shrieked and jumped with all the elegance of a newborn fawn, spinning on your heel to find a head of blindingly white hair and pearly canines equally as eye-burning greeting you via a wide grin. Though you couldn’t see the man's eyes behind those curiously round shades of his, you could picture how his cheeks crinkled his hidden hues at the corners.

If any of the Greek or Roman gods were real, he’d outshine every one of them without breaking a sweat. 

The warming late-spring wind grazed through the fluffy locks of his hair like the delicate touch of a lover’s hands, weaving through the fine strands and carrying his scent to you.

Mixed with the heat of the approaching humid season, you caught faint hints of sweetness, with an underlying minty tone and something you couldn't name. He was too far away for you to pinpoint the exact fragrance, but you had no intention of just skipping right over and shoving your nose against the junction of his neck to get a better whiff.

Or maybe his chest? The way he was slouching made it difficult to gauge his height, but you had a feeling he was a great deal taller than you, and the stout slope you stood on would do you virtually no favors.

The shiver that went up your spine at the thought was promptly ignored.

“Not quite,” the unfairly gorgeous stranger replied with a snicker from where he leaned against the fence, arms slotted between the bamboo sticks. How it held him up without crumbling into dust was a miracle in itself. “But I’m flattered.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you placed your hand against your chest, trying to will the wretched thing to calm down. Handling adrenaline was not your forte, much less from a scare like this. With your eyes narrowed, and only partially because of the accursed brilliance that was coming summer, you glared at the man. He was far too relaxed and cocky for your liking, still sporting that goofy grin that had you feeling things you didn’t want to address now.

Or ever.

“Who are you?” You queried.

“I should be asking you that, pretty girl.”

Your nose wrinkled incredulously. “Pretty girl?”

He chose to overlook your objection, instead nodding towards your house. “Never thought I’d get to witness this shithole get bought by anyone, let alone someone like you. Thought it’d get torn down sooner than have a hundred yen tossed towards it.”

Your eyes rolled. Hard. He wasn’t wrong, it was a shithole, but now it was your shithole. The less reminders about its miserable state of existence you had, the better. “Gee, thanks.”

“No problem.”

Completely against your will, you snorted. He was going to be a wonderful source of entertainment, or he was going to be a thorn in your side, just like the sickly sticks under his arms. The jury was still out on it.

You stared at one another for a few seconds that dragged on too long before you raised a brow. “Weeeell…?” You drew out the word.

His head cocked to the side. “Well?”

“Your name. You never told me who you are.” You knew it was polite to introduce yourself first, but fuck that, he scared the hell out of you. The responsibility was on him.

“Oh, right,” he straightened up, then bent forward with one hand to his chest and the other outstretched sideways in an extravagant bow. “Gojo Satoru, the very one and only. What about you, sweetheart?”

Pet names aside, there was a debate in your mind, an argument between whether you should give the admittedly attractive stranger your real name, or create one on the spot. You had done the latter in your later months of running all over your home country like a chicken without a head under the stupid belief that it'd further separate you from the anxieties clinging to your shins. 

You were paranoid. That was easy enough to decipher.

Your conscience had spawned this nerve wracking idea that those you ghosted – from scorned lovers who scarcely got further than kissing you, to the jobs and employers you abandoned suddenly – were after you. 

It left you constantly scanning your 6 from over your shoulder with the fear that they’d come chasing you down, eager to dig their claws into your paper-kite flesh and permanently force you down. You could visualize them tearing through your wings, winding layers of rope around your throat and knotting the dangling strings so tightly that not even the sharpest blade could break through the binds, much less let you breathe. So, you frequently lied about your identity as much as you could.

You inhaled slowly through your teeth, not enough to whistle, but enough to ground you. You were on the complete other side of the world, far away from those who would care to snarl and bare their fangs at your heels as they ran faster than you could – if there were any who desired to at all. You were somewhere new, somewhere unfamiliar, a place where nobody knew you, or could possibly know you by any means.

You told not a soul about where you’d gone. You never did. Like ash in the wind, you disappeared faster than anyone could blink, any memory of smoldering embers long forgotten.

Maybe…maybe you were safe to at least slip forth some truth about yourself.

Like most things you did nowadays, you told him your real name on a whim, and hoped it wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass.

He hummed as he repeated it to you, as if testing it on his tongue, dipping in for a small taste. Then, that stunning grin returned, and your heart fluttered behind your ribs.

You stubbornly stamped your heel down onto it. You didn’t know why it decided to start acting up, but you were not going to entertain it.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he cooed. “What brought you here of all places? So rich you’re bored? Fell for a scam? One of those girly things?”

You scoffed.

“Or maybe you’re running from something.”

The blood in your veins froze over in an instant, your body going rigid as you stared at him. He…he couldn’t have known, right? The way he stated it, rather than asked – like he knew – had you struggling to swallow, to so much as twitch your fingers. There was no way. You– you were nobody, a blank slate, an outsider–

His head cocked to the side playfully, and the spell he had cast on you withered away as quickly as it came.

Finally able to breathe again, you vented out the air you unknowingly held and turned your face slightly away, hoping he didn’t catch your slip-up. “One of those girly things,” you settled, to which he nodded eagerly, as if you just confirmed the existence of a theory of his that ‘girly things’ were real.

Not that he was wholly wrong, technically, as you did have ‘one of those girly things’ urges from time to time. The desire to cut or dye your hair, pick up a new name, rearrange your room, or hop on a plane to the furthest fucking location you could imagine.

“Why’d you choose this…thing then?” Gojo jerked his chin towards the shabby hut.

“It was cheap,” you answered simply. 

He bobbed his head in acknowledgement. “Where are you staying?”

Your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked at him, your brow knitting. “...Here?”

“...Here.”

“Here.”

There was a brief pause, then he burst into laughter, his arms hugging his stomach. “Oh, god,” he wheezed. Personally, you couldn’t find what was so funny about the situation. “You serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

His finger slipped under the right lens of his glasses, presumably to wipe a tear away as he worked on calming himself down. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Fire flared in your veins as opposed to ice this time. “Hey!”

“I mean, seriously, who in their right mind would stay inside that thing?”

Your lip curled over your teeth in a snarl. “Oi–”

He bulldozed right along, completely ignoring you. “There’s gotta be, like, ghosts in there. Or a shit ton of spiders. Lots of spiders, actually.”

That got your attention. A shudder shot up your back and you squealed in fright, shaking off your hands to rid yourself of the phantom feeling of creepy crawlies on your skin. “Spiders?”

The milky-headed male nodded staidly. “Tons. And, y’know, the other obvious health hazards. I bet there’s asbestos in those walls.”

You opened your mouth to argue that your house had only been abandoned for 20 years, and that asbestos had been cut out of usage some 40 odd years ago, until you remembered that 1) asbestos didn’t immediately go out of use when the dangers were revealed, and 2) you house was abandoned 20 years ago, not built 20 years ago. Who knows how old it actually was? 

Given its appearance…

He must’ve seen the panic on your face, because he gave you a piercing smile, an expression you very swiftly understood was one of scheming. “You should come stay with me.”

The world halted around you for the seconds it took your mind to process what he said. “...Hah?”

“I said, you should come stay with me,” Satoru shrugged nonchalantly. “I have spare guest rooms.”

“I– you– stay with– what?” 

The grimace he gave your house could only be described as ‘execrating’. “I mean, come on, you’re not really thinking of staying there, are you? You’ll be sending yourself to an early grave like that, you’re too cute to die so soon. Just come stay at my place.”

Was he a murderer?

Your brain finally caught up with a click and you scowled. “Oh, yeah, that’s super safe,” you responded sardonically. “New girl in a new town full of total strangers with who-knows-what motives, lemme just go stay with the first guy that invites me to his home.”

“Come onnnn, you can trust me,” he whined, pouting.

“I literally just met you.”

The ease with which he gave up gave you whiplash, having expected him to keep pushing. “Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “Hey, did you know that your backdoor doesn’t have a lock?”

You paled.

Definitely something a murderer would say.

Your head whipped to gawp at your dwelling with wide eyes, a full on war raging through your head now.

On one hand, yes, he was a complete and total stranger. A hot one, but still an unknown entity who could just be buttering you up. Maybe the reason the house had been abandoned for so long was because anytime a new owner came in, they got snatched up by the handsome boy who invited them just like he invited you, never to be seen again.

He could have been lying about the lock – though it honestly didn’t matter, someone could probably just break through a wall if they pushed hard enough on it.

On the other hand, if he was telling the truth (how did he know that? Why?), he was the only person you knew even a little in this itty bitty isolated village (Granny doesn’t count). Anyone could go through that door at night and there you would be, wrapped up in your shitty, thin sleeping bag, prime kidnapping material. You basically did all the hard work by tying your own limbs right up yourself, easiest catch of the century.

At the very least, you knew Gojo’s name and face. Granted, the first item there was debatable, but he didn’t seem like the type to lie about his name – boast about it, more like. You’d be already acquainted with your would-be assailant, so it’d be nice to know the face of your kidnapper-slash-torturer-slash-killer, if only so you could punch a picture of it over and over in your afterlife, wherever death may take you.

You shifted your gaze to him and crossed an apprehensive arm over your chest, propping your elbow up on it while you pinched your chin in consideration.

There he was, the sly rat, wearing that dumb (cute) (no) grin of his as always, patiently awaiting your answer as if he already knew it. Nothing about him seemed inherently dangerous on the surface, but don’t they say serial killers are charming and charismatic people? He was a bit energetic for a murderer, though.

You weighed your options carefully. You could spend another horrid night in your house with the knowledge that there were likely insects everywhere, and possibly even asbestos in the walls, and who knows what else. You’d have to brush your teeth by using your water tumbler again, and…oh, fuck, you hadn’t even thought about the bathroom yet. How were you going to shower? Wash your face? Do your business? 

Then there was your poor excuse of a bed, more plastic than anything even remotely comfy. Same with the pillow, you might as well have been sleeping on the bare ass floor. Your neck ached at the thought. Then there was your food issue, your clothes, your devices…

You sighed.

“What’s the catch?” You questioned reluctantly.

He merely raised his hands in a shrug. “No catch.”

That was way too easy, but the prospect of an actual bed and a tidy (hopefully) homestead was too good to pass up, serial killer owner be damned.

Future you was just getting more and more tasks thrown at her, such as your new objective being to find an inn to live in while you figured out your home issues. And getting a job to afford said inn. But that was for way later, when you weren’t losing your goddamned mind.

“...Fine,” you surrendered. Like a pussy. Weak.

“Yippee!” Satoru cheered, somehow smiling wider. “Good girl, knew ya had a brain somewhere up there.”

Your stomach flip-flopped at the simultaneous praise and insult, confusing your head with emotions (and hormones) that you did not want to unpack. Cheeks reddening rapidly, you hissed at him through a tight jaw, shooing away the kindling something that pooled in your tummy. “You–”

“C’mon,” he interrupted you before you could even start, already turning to leave as he waved his hand over his shoulder, “I’ll show ya the way. Ain’t far from here.”

Flustered, you stuttered indignantly, watching him walk away. You shook your head in defeat and jogged to catch up to him, needing to speed walk to match his ridiculously long strides. “Oi, slow down! You’re too damn tall!”

“You’re just short,” he argued, his hands interlocking as they rested against the back of his head. “Pipsqueak.”

You gasped in offense as if you weren’t at tiddy-sucking height. “I am not a pipsqueak!”

“You totally are,” he purred, treating you like you were some sort of adorable pet. “I bet I could pick you up and throw you if I wanted.”

An unwitting laugh bubbled out of you, and for some reason, you decided to play this frivolous game of his. “I’d like to see you try.”

You immediately regretted it as he reached out for you with a shit-eating expression of absolute delight, making you yelp and race off ahead of him, screeching as he chased right after you.

“Wait, no, don’t!” Your voice rang clear, fright mixed with childlike thrill spreading to your limbs as you scurried down the open road. “I was kidding!”

“Get back here!”

The wind blew past your ears, tangled into your hair, followed the curves of your body as you darted about alongside it. You let it guide you, toy with the fabric of your shirt, cup your face with cool hands. You breathed deeply, and you flew, untethered and free and so overwhelmed.

Somewhere above, beyond the boundless and endless cerulean, a star flickered.

You screamed when you felt his hands pinch your waist, catching Satoru’s devilish gleam as he passed you, and suddenly, you were the one chasing him. He cackled as you tried to catch up to him, taunting you all the way. 

Curse his long legs. 

You wondered how he managed to keep talking so cleanly and easily while you were struggling to maintain your breath and gait.

All those years of metaphorical running, sadly, did not translate into actual, physical running. Air stung your throat, and you only faintly recognized that you were running after him through the village, more focused on keeping that head of ivory tresses in sight.

Yet, somehow, contrary to how concentrated you were on that task, he managed to slip from your view when he turned a sharp corner and seemingly passed through an invisible barrier of some kind. He had to, because when you turned that same corner just seconds later, he was nowhere to be found.

Slowing your sprint into a trot, then stopping altogether, you bowed over and planted one hand on your knee while the other clutched your side.

“Oh, god,” you groaned, your body aching in several places, both internal and external. “I almost regret skipping gym in school.”

Peeking up through your hair to check around, every part of the street you were on seemed innocuous, normal, without any obvious hiding spots Satoru might have jumped into. 

The vertically dominant fucker.

Cautiously, you marched forward, breathing heavily as you took slow steps. The game of cat and mouse had turned into hide-and-seek, and the sucker chose not to warn you. Granted, you would have done the exact same thing, but it was within your right to bitch about it, you were at several disadvantages.

The first alley was clear of anything, even objects. Nothing more than a small gap between two buildings, you doubted he would’ve managed to squeeze in there given how giant he was. Plus, where would he have gone even if he did wiggle into it? 

The next alley was the same story. There was more space, but very little within said space, only a couple crates that were too small to hide him. Again, giant.

Everything, you belatedly realized, was completely uncharted territory to you. You should have listened to Granny and explored the village first. But, if you had, maybe you wouldn’t have a real bed to sleep in tonight. Presumably. You were putting too much faith into Gojo being genuine about the bed – and not being a serial killer – otherwise you were sleeping outside.

“Bastard.” The pain in your hip subsided and you righted yourself, inspecting every direction for any indication of white hair. It would be significantly difficult to hide that feature in an area like this, where pretty much everything had a neutral-dark colored theme, and most people had black or brunette hair.

You wondered why he was towheaded. A question for another day.

He was a magician, or trickster, you ruled, rather than acknowledging the fact that he knew this town far better than you did and likely would for a while to come. 

Grumbles passed through your lips as you stood akimbo, squinting at everything skeptically. “Where the hell–”

“Boo!”

You swear your soul ascended. You could picture the trail it left behind as it rose into the heavens, pulling with it a choked croak of terror from you. The sound could hardly be considered a shout, you resembled a frog more than you did a goat in the screaming department.

Demented cackling erupted behind you as you leapt forward and clutched your chest, swinging around to glower at the boy in utter disbelief. Twice now he had done this. Twice! Beside yourself, you rushed over towards him and smacked his arm repeatedly, which only fueled his laughter. “Dick!”

“Fuck!” Satoru heaved, reaching his whistle register. “Priceless! Oh, my god, you should have seen your face.”

“I’m gonna kill you!” The threat was far less menacing than you wanted when your own voice was as squeaky as his. 

By the time he calmed down, you were both panting – you out of chagrin (and for the sake of your poor heart), and him to get precious oxygen back to his smooth brain. 

“I’m serious about that, by the way,” you pouted at him. “I’m gonna kill you for scaring me. Again.”

He beamed at you and reached to pat your head, but was intercepted by your hand, only to dodge around it and manage to get a few head pats in anyway. “Sure you will, sweets.”

You growled and stomped a few steps away, stopped, then whirled back around when you remembered you had no idea where you were going. He simply crossed his arms over his chest and scrutinized you with that stupid, supercilious visage.

“Go on,” he encouraged eagerly. “Ask.”

The inside of your cheek was going to be sore from how much you were chewing it. You were at an impasse; let him win, or try to find his place on your own. With no idea what it looked like. Or what direction to even go.

You imagined you’d have better luck wearing a blindfold if you tried the latter option. Either way, he was going to win, you could acknowledge that. Conceding and requesting his continued guidance meant handing over his victory on a silver platter, or he’d get some decent entertainment out of watching you try to figure out where the hell he lived.

Gods, you were regretting moving here already.

“Show me how to get to your house,” you mumbled.

The tall freak fake-cooed at you. “Aww, come on, you can do better than that.”

If glouting could kill, you would be slow-roasting him over a grill. In the meekest voice you could manage, you muttered, “please.”

“Hmmm?” He canted closer towards you. “Didn’t quite catch that.”

You could feel your sanity draining like sand in an hourglass. Just to get it over with, you spoke properly. “Please show me how to get to your house.”

The jubilant grin he gave you had you reconsidering that blindfold idea you had. “Better! Good girl, come along, now.”

Oh, your insides could just melt.

No, you argued with yourself as you trailed behind him, reluctantly obedient. You are not getting horny over that, you sad sack of potatoes. You’re just pent up. A pretty boy calls you a good girl and you’re a sobbing mess under your pants.

Pathetic.

He whistled a sharp tune as he lazily led you, weaving around the architecture in such a way that you knew you never would have found the damn place on your own – or find your way back, for that matter. He was doing this on purpose to get you confused just to fuck with you, you knew it. 

You were placing a lot of stock in him not being a murderer.

“Keep up, shortie,” he waved his fingers over his shoulder. “We’re almost there.”

Taking a (albeit mild) hike up a road traveling up the mountainside was not something you expected nor planned for. Now you were lamenting skipping gym. Not that participating more in exercise over a decade ago would help you currently, but at least you’d be able to believe you were stronger than this.

Satoru watched you with no small amount of amusement as you finally caught up to his still figure, lips curved. “Man, you suck at this.”

“I didn’t exactly study hiking in school,” you grumbled, closing your eyes and breathing deep.

“I’d hardly call a walk ‘hiking’,” he commented, and you wimpishly smacked his arm. “We gotta work on your stamina.”

You could hear the smirk and underlying innuendo without needing to see his stupid, handsome face.

“In your dreams, pretty boy,” you muttered.

“How do you know what I dream about?”

Your eyes popped open to glare at the man as he fluttered his lashes and pressed his fingers to his chest. “You’re a menace,” you scowled, ignoring his faux ‘innocence’ in favor of looking ahead.

And getting the wind utterly knocked out of you.

This grandiose mansion was where he lived?

Balking, you stared up at his house from beneath the arch of the moon gate in front of it, taking in the sheer magnitude and extravagance of it, even from just the outside. A variety of leafy trees, well trimmed bushes, and aromatic flowers decorated it in precise symmetry, each individual blade of grass nipped to preeminence. 

There was a garden off to the left, freshly tended to and beautiful with a pond in the center. You couldn’t see what was in it, but you wouldn’t be surprised if koi fish were there as well.

A partially shaded gazebo stood on the other side, right next to a gentle creek that trickled leisurely. A stone table sat in the center, and you could imagine drinking tea in the early morning there, when the sun would hit it at the right angle to warm you up.

The aesthetic was prizewinning; a wonderful, skillful mix between traditional and modern, all incorporated into a house you thought could only exist in one of those style magazines.

How long had it been here? How had it been built so extravagantly? How much did it cost?

All these painfully curious questions, yet, the first thing you thought to say when you opened your mouth…

“You said it was nearby,” you pouted. “This is the other side of town.”

“Eh?” He glanced down at you. “Doesn’t seem that far to me.”

Your index finger flicked the outside of his thigh. “That’s because you’re a walking tree.”

Gojo slapped his thigh in the same spot, beaming at you. “These are good for a lot of things.”

“I’m sure,” the unamused deadpan you gave him had him snickering.

That shit-eating grin was back and he waggled his brows. “I could show you.”

“Pass,” you rolled your eyes, addressing his house instead. “Why is your house so far away from the village? Up the whole ass mountain and everything.”

He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Dunno. It was built here a long time ago. Obviously upgraded over the years, duh, but if I had to guess, it’s because of the hot spring. The rest of the village just built lower down the path for convenience, or they were intimidated by the Gojo name.”

“Hot spring?” You furrowed your brow. 

Nonchalant as always, he nodded. “Yeah, there’s a natural hot spring in the backyard.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say you have a hot spring in your backyard?”

Being the rich boy that he was, he cocked his head to the side and spared you an inquisitive peek, as if to say ‘you don’t have one?’ “Yeah? You wanna see?”

“Uh, yes?” You gawked shamelessly.

Satoru grinned and beckoned for you to follow, and you skipped right along behind him, barely managing to remind yourself to hurriedly take off your shoes at the door. You had to force yourself to be careful and line them up neatly. You also used this chance to eye the obviously rich-people footwear. You wouldn’t hesitate to bet that one pair alone was worth more than one of your kidneys.

All worries of him being a potential monster dashed out the window as you let him lead you through the winding halls to a shoji door near the back of his house – you had to guess, you were not paying attention at all. You were too focused on the expensive decor and feeling way out of place.

The scenery that greeted you as soon as the door slid open had you stopping dead in your tracks in shere awe.

He hadn’t been lying, there really was a hot spring in his backyard. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care about his smug expression, mindlessly allowing him to gently push you forward with a hand to the small of your back.

“Close your mouth, you’ll start drooling,” he teased.

Your jaw clicked shut and you shot him a half-hearted glare before your attention returned to the pool of steaming water ahead of you.

The entire area was gorgeous, honestly. Round stone circles created a path along gravel from the engawa to the basin, which was surrounded mostly by rocks with plants growing between cracks and around the base here and there. Massive pines encompassed the entire area, giving you the sensation of safety and protection.

A trail on the side led somewhere else, winding between mounds of perfectly maintained green terra, though that was of insignificant interest to you at the moment.

An instruction was murmured against the shell of your ear, and you wordlessly and thoughtlessly obeyed. “Look up.”

“...Oh.”

High above, between the gaps in the trees, you had a prime view of the sky, spanning across the ring the forest created, deep and wondrous and so…clear. The brightest blue you had ever seen. If the moon got caught just right, exactly in the middle, you believed magic would happen.

The towering pines kept the area shaded and pleasantly cool, and you were swept away by the urge to sink into the hot spring and let everything else fade away. 

When you lowered your chin to look at him, you found he was already gazing at you, his grin softened to a small upturn of his lips at the corners. He was just so…divine. Moonflower hair framed his face, cottony and fluffy, and though you couldn’t see his eyes clearly through the indigo tint of his shades, you could feel them. They were piercing, capable of seeing right through your skin and witnessing your heart beating as it stuttered and struggled to regain its footing. 

The way he studied you felt so familiar.

An intense watch, pinned directly on you, making the hairs on your nape stand.

You yearned to see his hues without the barrier his dark, round glasses provided, and you wondered if they could rival those of the sky, or the gods’. 

“Whatcha think?” He asked silkenly as he leaned forward and tilted his head to be closer to you.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured in response without really thinking, the words flowing out of you without your conscious action. “It’s like a dream.”

You weren’t sure if you meant the eden you were brought to, or the heavenly being beside you. Either way, he smiled radiantly at you and nudged your shoulder lightly with his own.

“Wanna touch it?”

Your lashes fluttered as you tried to come back to yourself and not let your mind wander to places you could not reach. “The hot spring?”

“Mhmm.”

It took a considerable amount of effort to tear your eyes off of him and set them back on the cirque of water hidden beneath mist. Like a siren’s song, you slipped on the outdoor slippers nearby and stepped off the engawa, pacing along the stone path. It was smoother, flush with the terrain, unlike the haphazardous placements of the ones you had at your own home.

The pool was milky, tinted with a rich, capri shade, reminding you instantly of a lagoon, or a salt flat mirroring the zion above that went on as far as the eye could see. A miniscule waterfall trickled placidly from the highest outcropping, following the narrow and shallow path it had carved for itself over countless years.

You resisted the urge to cup it in your hands and drink it like sacred nectar.

At the edge, you knelt down and skimmed the tips of your fingers across the water’s surface. Goosebumps broke out across your arm and you shuddered inadvertently. Heat spread over your palm as steam coiled around you, surrounding you partially in a cocoon of warmth. The temperature bordered on the line between too hot and not enough finely, urging you to crawl beneath the water’s cusp and embrace the cradle of coziness.

“Good, isn’t it?” Gojo startled you as he spoke from where he knelt down next to you. He seemed to be proficient at scaring the shit out of you. This close, you could detect his attar clearly, and the last part of his unique fragrance finally fell into place.

Lemon.

He smelled like sweet lemons and mint.

“Yeah–” you squeaked, and cleared your throat to try again. “Yeah, it’s really nice. Like…perfect, actually.”

He snickered and dipped his hand into the diaphanous liquid, bringing it back up to splash it onto your arm. With a cry of mock offense, you splashed him right back, cracking up as you managed to get a decent scoop into his mouth. 

You didn’t know what it was about him. Rightfully, you’d only been aware of each other for less than two hours, but it felt like you’d known him your whole life. The banter flowed easily, the games you hadn’t played since you were so young that you could only vaguely remember, the way he spoke to you, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

No heavy feelings sat on your chest, creaking the brittle bars of your ribcage, filling you with an innate sense of dread and desire to flee and never stop for a second. Nothing of the sort crossed your mind. No rock weighed in the pit of your stomach, no widow’s voice murmured in your ear.

It was just you and him, in a bubble of time where nothing and everything mattered all at once. Every breath you took was meaningless, yet held the weight of the world. Every twitch of his fingers could rest even the weariest souls, or rend the sky apart should he ever care to. 

But he didn’t, and neither did you. 

This pocket-sized domain of serenity you found yourself in brought forth dormant feelings of ease and comfort. 

They didn’t feel like a mask painted on to cover the blooming, spreading bruises under your skin and behind your solar plexus. They didn’t feel like a temporary setup to sate your mind until the panic overwhelmed you all over again.

Rather, they composed a nest of the finest blankets you’d ever touched, let alone slept within. You wanted to crawl in and close your eyes and hibernate, sleep as life passed you by. You wanted to live in this moment forever.

The shoulder of his shirt grew damp where he rubbed his curled lips against it. “Kitty’s got claws, huh?”

“Fangs, too,” your nose scrunched up as you gave him a sly, Cheshire cat smile. “I’ll let you kill me if you let me use your hot spring first.”

“Deal.”

You snorted. “Not even gonna dispute it, huh?”

“I’m assuming the ‘kill’ part is optional here.”

“I won’t push my luck then,” you accepted as you stood up, shaking any excess moisture off your hand. Upon remembering Granny, you pulled out your phone from your purse, tsking at the 47% charge level in the top right corner, then glanced at the time. Midday.

Satoru peeped over your shoulder after he rose up. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“Time,” you replied, shooing him away to stop him from being nosy. Not that you really had anything worth hiding. 

Most of the pictures on your phone were photos you’d taken of the outside world during your trips, random things that meant something at the time you snapped the pic, but meant absolutely zip now, or blurry images of animals that refused to stay still for you.

“Granny wanted me to explore the town to get more familiar with it, then stop by for lunch,” your phone locked with a click as you stuffed it back in your bag and continued your explanation.

He whistled. “Adopted by Granny, and on your first day, too? That’s impressive, means you’re special.”

“Eh?” Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Why? She seems like she’d be a nice person to everyone.”

He chuckled as you both headed back into his house. “Granny’s a prickly lady. Don’t get me wrong, she cares about everyone in the village,” he reassured you as he let you step in first and slid the door shut behind him, “but mostly in a ‘I-will-throw-my-shoe-at-you’ kind of way.”

“Huh,” that didn’t sound too far off from Granny, given what you knew, but you had also only met her that morning. “She gave me free food and told me she’ll have a list of handymen when I go back today.”

“Wow. She won’t even let me steal a candy bar from her store, and I’ve known her my whole life. Must mean you’re really special.”

“There’s a difference between buying and stealing, Gojo,” pausing in your steps, you frowned as contemplation came over you. “...Do you think she thinks I’m incompetent?”

“Probably.”

“Gojo!” You hissed at his lackadaisical response.

His hands raised in surrender. “Kidding, kidding! I think it just means she likes you. C’mon, I’ll show you around town.”

Following his actions, you tugged your shoes on while you thought aloud. “I didn’t even do anything. Walked around her store like an idiot and nearly ran into her.”

You stepped out of the house behind him, waiting for his response. You had expected him to laugh and indeed confirm that you were an idiot (which would be twice that day, if you were keeping proper track), or come up with another quip to taunt you with, but he was quiet, pondering something.

“You have this…aura about you,” he eventually responded. “You’re different.”

“In what way?” You approached the topic carefully, wondering if that was a good or bad thing.

His shoulders lifted and dropped. “Dunno, I’m not good with words. You’re just different. You’re easy to like.”

The incline down from his house back to the village was easier than going up it, a slow slope that followed a mild curve. The road was smooth, free of cars. Those you had seen were parked along the streets below, and not often used from what you could tell. The walk gave you time to consider his words.

You’d heard them before, but nobody ever clarified how you differed from others. He said you were likable, so you chose to believe he meant it in a good way. You’d try to pry more information out of him at some point to sate your cautious curiosity.

“How long have you been here?” You asked instead to change the topic, then winced, remembering that he mentioned his family had been here for a long time.

“Eh,” he tilted his hand side to side a few times. “Maybe 15 or so years, including my baby years.”

Oh. Turns out you were…wrong?

“You weren’t born here?”

“No, I was,” he corrected. Ah, so you were. “I just spent a few school years in Tokyo before returning not too long ago.” Sort of.

“Oh, I see,” mindlessly, you took his hand when he offered it to help you step over a gap at the bottom of the hill. His palm radiated warmth, one you missed when he pulled away and continued leading you along. “Why’d you come back?”

“Missed home.” Your gaze met his when he shot you a glance from over his shoulder. “What about you, sweets? Where'd ya come from?” Upon your answer, he nodded. “Came a long way to get here, huh?”

It’s probably best if I don’t tell him why I came here. Not yet. Not ever. “You could say that,” you responded, stopping when he did. You were grateful that he didn’t push the topic.

He pointed towards something, and you angled forward to see around his body, listening carefully as he explained what was where as he guided you through the winding streets.

“Doctor lives there,” you raised a brow at the full body shudder he experienced. “She can get scary when she’s mad. Otherwise, chill person.”

“Noted.”

While you were curious about the doctor of this village, you had no intention of meeting her by ending up in her clinic after doing something moronic, like tripping on those stupid stones outside your front door. Or walking in purely to introduce yourself. That’d be weird.

As he pointed out various family homes, stores, and miscellaneous locations, he listed off names you definitely weren't going to remember anytime soon. You found it endearing that he knew everyone and shared some tidbits of gossip with you – “Auntie Furiko lives there and she totally has a grudge against Mirio-san for stealing her man.” – and he even imparted some knowledge about a few historical places and things in the village, such as the bridge over the river having been built some 400-odd years ago. 

“It was originally built as a passage that only allowed humans through,” he explained. “Back then, cursed spirits were a common thing, so the founders here created a path that had a sort of invisible wall that cursed spirits and objects couldn't get through. Like a curtain.”

“Huh,” you responded plainly as you examined the bridge. “Couldn't the spirits just go through the river?”

His candytuft hair fluffed as he shook his head. “The veil goes around the entire village, the bridge was just there for convenience's sake,” he cocked his head towards you. “But those are just legends and stories. There's plenty of tales about jujutsu sorcerers that could see the cursed spirits and eradicate them. Some people still believe cursed spirits and sorcerers are a thing, and blame disasters, like earthquakes and tsunamis, on them.”

You raised a curious expression. “Do you believe in that?”

Satoru shrugged. “To me, it’s like believing in ghosts or demons. Even if they are real, there's no way they'd beat me,” of course, he said that last bit with full-bodied, unadulterated confidence. “I'm the best.”

A fond snort escaped you. An egomaniac as a new friend(?), that seemed exactly like the kind of trouble you'd get yourself into.

Your eyes shifted over to peer at the Wayo Kenchiko edifice situated higher up, reminding you of the wonder you felt when you first saw it.

You turned fully towards it and tugged on Gojo’s shirt to draw his attention to it as well, your interest taking precedence as you regarded it. “Hey, what’s that?”

“Hm?” He followed your line of sight. “The temple?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s technically a shrine,” he clarified. “It was built when the settlers first got here, dedicated to the wolves of the mountains.”

You squinted at him. “Wolves?”

He nodded eagerly. You never would have guessed him to be somewhat of a history buff. “Yep. Wolves are like…guardian dogs. They’re long gone now, but way back then, it's said they hunted alongside the settlers. Wolves are seen as messengers for mountain gods, so people would pray to them for safety, good hunts, and good harvests.”

You nodded as you followed along. “So you guys primarily farm here, then?”

“More or less. Though we do get a lot of imported stuff from the neighboring city, like the things in Granny’s store. We do mostly exports there. It’s where a lot of the people in this village work.”

“Really?” You frowned slightly. “Isn’t that city, like…an hour or so from here?”

He acceded and tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, why?”

“Just seems like a far way to go for work.”

Gojo shrugged as he started walking again, leading you further into town. “Keeps our village alive and well. We gotta keep up with the times, ya know?”

“Suppose so,” you acquiesced. “What do you guys farm here?”

“Ehh, rice and soya, I think,” the teasing twist of his lips had you preemptively rolling your eyes. “Surprised you didn’t know that, girlie; moving to a new place you know nothing about seems risky.”

“I didn’t exactly spend my time digging into the dirt of every single person here, y’know.”

He snickered. “I have dirt on everyone. You want some gossip?”

You huffed. “I’d rather meet someone first before you air their dirty laundry to me. I wanna have an unbiased palate.”

“Oh, so you want to meet the people in this lil’ valley of ours?”

“No,” you replied automatically, then pressed your lips tightly together at your minor flub. “I meant– it’s not– I’m just not–”

His boisterous laughter cut you off, simultaneously making your eye twitch and relief flood you.

“Relax, pretty girl,” he patted your head and you scowled. “I’m just teasin’ ya.”

“I’m seriously going to kill you.”

“Cute,” he crooned, and you groaned.

By the time you two walked up to your kind-of-not-really-grandmother’s shop, you were starting to become familiar with this particular section of road. From here, you knew how to get ‘home’, something you were dreading a touch. You weren’t looking forward to seeing the catastrophe that awaited you.

“And this is where I leave you for now,” he stopped with you in front of the store.

You frowned minutely, an uncomfortable pang of disappointment settling in your chest. “You’re not coming in?”

“Nah,” Gojo shook his head. “Got stuff I need to do. I’ll have someone pick you up from your house later, once you get your stuff. Gimme your phone for a sec.”

Your brows knitted together as you pulled out your phone and unlocked it for him. His fingers grazed yours as you passed the device, causing you to shiver at the temperature difference. They were so warm – or maybe your hands were cold. The touch lingered on your skin, your mind clinging to the tiny wisp of sensation.

The screen of your phone coming back into your line of sight brought you back from mildly zoning out. Almost uncertain, you took it back from him and peered at the screen to see what he did.

You snorted.

He set up his own contact in your address book, making it extra flashy and everything, too. ✨❤️Satoru❤️✨ graced your sight, and you couldn’t help but feel like that wasn’t the first time he had done this, the flamboyant clown.

“There,” he grinned. “Text me when you’ve got your stuff from your place.”

Stuffing the device back into your purse, your moue returned. “You want me to bring my shit to your house?”

His brow raised in response. “Uh, yeah? Were you just gonna leave it in that drab hut?”

“Well, I just thought I’d get a room at an inn or something tomorrow, so I don’t have to bother you.”

The usually bright expression on Satoru’s face fell somewhat, his voice taking a earnest tone when he said your name. The back of your neck tingled at the chime of your name passing through his lips. “You’re not a bother. Seriously, I have more space than I know what to do with. You can stay at my place as long as you need, I insist.”

His change in demeanor threw you for a loop. There was something lying under the surface of his countenance, hidden under layers of a façade wrapped too tightly around his inner being for you to ever hope to see what was beneath. The switch from goofy to sincere struck you as odd, and while you could have jumped back on the ‘he’s a psycho’ train of thought, his insistence didn’t resemble that of a hunter panicking about losing his prey.

Rather, it stemmed from a genuine offer made out of concern for your wellbeing. Sure, he could have been hiding some intentions (he definitely was), but he did show you the path to his house, convoluted as it was, at least some of its interior, and even the hot spring carved behind it. When you mentioned Granny, he seemed amused, rather than worried, and showed you around these confusing and interesting backwoods.

Thinking about the whole mess you had gotten yourself into, what with buying a house in a province you knew nothing about, and your limited funds, an uneasy heaviness sat in your gut. If he was suggesting an option of solace and shelter while you figured your shit out, you had very few reasons to decline.

A bit too readily, perhaps, you set aside any preconceived notions you had about him being suspicious and nodded. “Alright. Thank you, Gojo.”

“Just Satoru is fine,” that smug visage returned, all earlier signs of sobriety fading as quickly as they came. He turned back towards the way you came from, waving over his shoulder lazily. “See ya later, sweets.”

You spied on him for a while, until he disappeared around a bend, and sighed. Considering everything that happened so far, you surmised you were in way over your head.

The doorbell to Granny’s store pinged a sweet tune as you stepped in, finding the familiar scene nearly untouched from before. The air inside was pleasantly cool compared to outside, encouraging you to relax.

“Granny?” You called out as you stepped further in, glancing down the first aisle. “Are you here?”

“Ah!” The woman you were searching for called out from a separate room, appearing through a door you hadn’t noticed at the back of the store before, carrying a bento box. “Perfect timing, I finished that list for you.”

She beckoned you towards her as she rounded the counter, setting the bento box down on top of it and digging around for something under the tabletop before straightening and holding out a sheet of paper for you to take. Your fingers closed around the yellow notebook sheet and you peered down at the writing. 

You silently thanked her for having a neat hand, as you were a tad rusty on your hiragana.

A row of names spanned down the paper, along with numbers next to each one. She had also included their specific occupations, making your life that much easier. 

“Those are some folks in this village that can help you out. Unfortunately, most of them work in the city, so I fear you might not be able to fix up your house so soon,” Granny noted solemnly as began untying the beautifully designed furoshiki wrapped around, presumably, your food. “Let me call up a friend to find you a place to stay for the time being.”

“Oh, n-no, it’s fine, Granny!” You raised your hands in front of you. “I actually found somewhere to stay.”

She raised a brow at you. “With whom?”

The nervous laugh you let out was meek and not very reassuring. “I, uh…ran into Gojo Satoru, and he offered to house me. I was gonna find an inn, but…’

A perturbed expression morphed her stern features. “Really? Little Satoru offered to house you?”

Little was a gnarly stretch on her part, considering Satoru easily dwarfed both of you. “Is that bad?”

Granny sighed and shook her head as she finished undoing the cloth. “Not necessarily. He’s a troublemaker, that one, but…well, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him invite someone who isn’t one of his close friends to stay with him before.”

“Huh,” Your lips curled downwards. Were you actually so unique that he treated you differently than others? “He’s a bit…” You fumbled with your words, trying to find the right description. “Dramatic, for lack of a better word, but he showed me around and said he’ll have someone pick me up later.”

Her movements had slowed as she kept her eyes on you while popping open the box, studying you. She grabbed the pair of chopsticks in the lid and held the food towards you, which you took without fuss and with a quick ‘thank you’. The length of silence was beginning to unsettle you, so you tried to cover it by taking a bite of the katsu she prepared for you.

And maybe groaning tacitly because, fuck, was it good. Astounding, otherworldly, you would bet easy money that no 5-star restaurant could compare to Granny’s cooking.

Eventually, she spoke again, albeit puzzling you. “It’s no wonder you caught their attention. You are a beautiful, bright young woman.”

Your chopsticks hovered mid-bite. “‘Their’?”

“Mhmm,” the older lady nodded and tsked fondly as she grabbed a hand towel and wiped down a portion of the already spotless surface under her hands. “There’s two of them.”

A pin could drop in the room and it’d be deafening with the silence created by your shock. “There’s two Gojo’s?” 

Her amusement turned into full blown laughter. “No, but there might as well be.” she corrected herself. “Those two are stick at the hip–”

The jingle of the bell over the door and the call of someone cut her off. You turned to watch as an attractive woman with mid-length brunette hair stepped into the room, carrying a box in her arms. Were all the people in this town contemptuously stunning? “Granny, I got the–” she stopped promptly upon seeing you. “You’re new.”

You nodded and your pseudo-grandmother introduced you. 

“I see,” the brown-haired girl said with a nod. “Well, nice to meet you. I’m Ieiri Shoko, your local doctor and mortician. Just call me Shoko.”

So, this was the doc– wait, what?

Your eyes widened. “...Mortician?”

“Correct,” Shoko grunted as she dropped the hefty box on the floor with a grunt. “Which means you shouldn’t do something stupid or piss me off unless you want to end up in my morgue.”

Now you had two reasons to fear her, counting Satoru’s warning. “Duly noted.”

Your gaze followed her as she reposed against the nearby wall, crossing her arms over her chest. “When’d you get in?”

“Last night.”

“Helluva place to settle,” she commented. “What brought you here of all options?”

Settle.

I’m not so sure about that.

You chewed another piece of katsu and swallowed before answering. “Population. I’m not a very big people-person.”

A smile lifted her lips and she exhaled through her nose. “You and me both, girl. If you wanna be as far away from mass civilization as possible, this is the best place to be. Second only to going nomad and living in a forest alone like a witch.”

She sighed wistfully, and you had the sneaking suspicion that part of her yearned for that kind of lifestyle. “Looks like you’ve thought about it before.”

“I have, but this town is full of idiots that need me, or they would have died a long time ago.”

“Shoko, be nice,” Granny scolded half-heartedly, though you could spot the amusement in her eyes.

“What? I’m not wrong,” Shoko averred as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. 

Just as she went to open it, Granny swatted her hands and gave her a scathing glare. “Not inside, Shoko. Really, go outside, at least.”

The doctor/mortician grumbled as she stuffed the box back where it came from, giving Granny a weak stink eye. “Anyways, welcome to this miniature province of ours, girl.”

“Thanks.”

“Mm,” she acknowledged, then began a lecture. “Avoid the west trail that goes past the village boundary and up the mountain. Nothing bad there, just has this weird smell to it. Probably haunted by some shit,” Shoko informed you. “Also muddy half the year. Grandma Ai can and will talk your ear off if you stop for more than a second. Good luck getting away from her if she ever catches you.”

You munched slowly as you listened to her advice intently. In any of the cities you stopped by, there weren’t really any communities – not like this, anyway – so you were fascinated by the dynamics these people displayed.

Yes, you were wary, sure, but learning about the town’s intricately interwoven families and neighbors didn’t mean you were getting close to anyone. If anything, it meant you could avoid attachments.

…Right?

Yes. Right.

“–Wednesday is trash collection day, but you might have to bring your trash closer into town if you’re too far out. Oh, and don’t go to the park on Thursday nights–”

You blinked yourself back into full awareness. Your safe haven the park was off limits now? “Wait, why?”

She humbled you with a deadpan that had you straightening your back, imploring you to obey. “Aoi and her boyfriend like to fuck there on Thursday nights.”

“Tch,” Granny clicked her tongue, glaring at Shoko. “Don’t be so crass. We have a guest.”

“Ah, don’t worry,” you waved off her concern. “I don’t mind. I appreciate the forewarning. Besides,” your lips curled into a playful smirk aimed towards Shoko, “I like when people are straightforward.”

She returned the grin with a sly one of her own. “You and I are gonna get along well.”

Similarly to Satoru, speaking to Shoko was easy. It felt like you were reconnecting with old friends – friends you knew when you were unfledged and barely remember anything about, but the link was there.

She nodded as your conversation concluded and pushed herself off the wall, evidently needing to return to where she came from. “Well, if you need me, you know where to– ah, wait, you don’t.”

Shoko patted down her body, presumably in search of her phone or a notepad, but you reassured her hastily. “No, it’s fine! I do, Gojo showed me around earlier.”

Her head whipped up so quickly, you worried she might have snapped it when you heard it crack. “Oh, god, you already met that idiot?”

The short laugh you let out was undignified. “Yep. He’s very noticeable.”

“You can say that again,” she grumbled. “Please don’t tell me he did something dumb and embarrassed himself, or weirded you out. Don’t pay attention to him, he’s just like that.”

“Well, he said I could stay at his place since the house I got is in…less than favorable condition.”

She stilled on the spot, her brows slowly coming together in a visage of utter confusion. “...What? He said you could stay with him?”

“Is he a murderer?” You questioned, only half joking. “I knew it.”

“No, no, he’s not, he’s just…” She turned her gaze to Granny. “Did you know about this?”

“I’m as surprised as you are,” Granny responded.

Your tummy shifted uneasily. “Is…that a bad thing?” You knew Granny said it wasn’t earlier, but you had to ask again.

“No, not really…” Shoko was not easing your nerves whatsoever. “Just unusual.”

“How come?”

She pulled her lips to the side in consideration. “Gojo Satoru is someone who…likes to hide things.”

“Oh, so he is a murderer.”

She demurred at your conclusion. “Last I checked, no. Regardless, he can be kind of a dick sometimes, so don’t take any of his more outlandish shit to heart, yeah?”

You bobbed your head loosely, your mind already off creating heinous conspiracy theories about your benefactor. “Yeah. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Mm, it’s no problem,” she approached you and held out her hand. “Gimme your phone, I’ll give you my number. You can text me if he tries to pull some shit with you.”

Getting a strong sense of déjà vu, you handed her your phone and watched as she punched in her number, then called her phone to get your number as well. Yours was back in your hands in record time, contact set to just her name.

“There. I gotta head off for now, it was nice to meet you, girl,” Shoko waved to you and Granny as she disappeared through the door.

Soft huffing from behind you had you peek at the woman. “What?”

“It’s nothing,” Granny appeased. “Just seems you’ve had an eventful first day here, no?”

“No kidding,” you mumbled, pouting when you saw that you had finished your food. She took the empty box from you, pleased by it being practically licked spotless. “Thank you, it was really delicious.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed your meal,” she nodded. She must have put a lot of effort into it.

A thought occurred to you then. “Granny, do you know where I could possibly get a job?”

She raised a brow at you. “You want to work?”

“Well, yeah,” you scratched your cheek. “I’d try to find a job online, or the city, but I don’t really know what kind of work I can get with the first option, and I don’t have a car or anything for the second one.”

Her fingers cupped her chin in consideration. “How about you work here?”

“In your store?”

“Yes,” Wait, that easily? “I could always use more hands here. I’m getting up there in age, and my hands ache often. You’d be helping me a lot.”

“Are you sure…?” You gave her a concerned mien, subconsciously flicking your eyes down to her hands. “I don’t wanna take from you more than I already have.”

Granny merely brushed away your worries. “Nonsense. I could use the company, too.”

Okay, now you were starting to get suspicious. Things were lining up too well.

Well, you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, but considered keeping your guard up.

“Alright,” you agreed, if somewhat hesitant. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Granny’s expression was heartwarming. “Wonderful! How about you take a week or so to settle in, then you can come start when you’re ready?”

“Well, I can start sooner. If you need the help anyway.”

“How about a few days?”

Stubborn old lady, you loved her already. “Fine, a few days,” you conceded, soughing. “Thanks again for the food, Granny. And for the job. I should probably get my stuff from my place and bring it to Gojo’s. You’ll be okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, dear,” she shooed you away with her fingers. “Go on, now. I’ll see you soon.”

The warm air raised goosebumps up your arms as it swept over you upon leaving. It smelled distinctly sweet, a natural fragrance you quickly became fond of, enjoying it wholly during your walk back home. It had been shorter this time, the transition from defined road to coarse, packed dirt closer to town than you remembered it being.

What you were not fond of was your house, however. Your spite towards those stepping stones leading to the door growing worse as you avoided tripping over them again. The stench upon opening the front door also blew you back, making your entire face scrunch up.

“Why did I do this to myself,” you grumbled as you cynically walked in. Daylight made your perception so much worse. Every flaw was practically highlighted in bright, blaring white.

You mulled over convincing Satoru to just let you live with him and forget this damn thing ever existed to begin with. 

Discovering your luggage where you left it, you cringed. It just kept getting worse. The floor was sticky everywhere. With what? Who knows. Did you want to know? Abso-fucking-lutely not. It took you less than a fraction of a second to decide to abandon your sleeping bag where it was. 

Like hell were you going to peel it off the tacky wood, let alone use it again. Not like you needed to if you had somewhere to stay anyway, right?

Since when did you become such a wastrel?

Ugh.

With a shake of your head, you rescued your suitcase and luggage bag, letting them feel the same fresh air you could. It was the little things in life that made you so grateful for this pristine oxygen. And the bigger things in life that made you extra grateful, like Gojo Satoru and his stupidly large house. 

Bless him for giving you the opportunity to sleep in an actual bed, rather than suffering in the outdoors. Him being a sneaky skunk notwithstanding.

Welp, here goes nothing. You tapped his contact, then the bubble under it. You were just going to assume he knew who was texting him.

This is the start of your conversation with ✨❤️Satoru❤️✨.

You, 16:24

Yo

Got my stuff

Alright, now you just wai–

✨❤️Satoru❤️✨, 16:24

(＾▽＾)

give it 10

The fuck.

Emoticon aside, the instant reply caught you off guard. Didn’t he say he had things to do? The day was just full of wonders, huh?

Ten minutes went by fast when you pulled up some random bad fanfiction to scroll through mindlessly. Your attention was drawn away from the half-written mess when a black sedan rolled up in front of your property, and you whistled low. 

Why the hell was a rich boy like Satoru living in the sticks and not in some penthouse in the middle of Tokyo?

A spindly figure climbed out and bowed at you politely, hands clasped together in front of him. His voice was wispy, light and reserved. “Pleasure to meet you, miss. My name is Ijichi Kiyotaka, Gojo-san requested I bring you to his residence.”

Ah, he seemed so nervous. Poor guy.

You nodded, choosing not to comment on it. You were intimate with the feeling and didn’t like others pointing it out, you figured he wouldn’t, either. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

He shook his head as he popped the trunk and helped you tuck away your luggage. “It’s no trouble at all. Though, admittedly, it is nice to not have to drive far out this time.”

“Oh?” You questioned as he opened the back door for you and oh, my, were those leather seats? The car was lavish both inside and out, and probably cost more than you and your shoddy lil’ shack combined. You waited until he got into the driver’s seat, taking the extra few seconds to admire the car that you definitely should not have been in as it was clearly too high class for you, before continuing. “Do you usually have to drive to the city?”

“Yes,” Ijichi confirmed, starting up the car with a smooth purr that you barely heard. Leave it to the wealthy to find the best of the best in any category, uncaring of prices. “I’m normally just a chauffeur for the Gojo household.”

You bobbed your head in understanding, peering out of the tinted window to watch everything move by. The traditional architecture was beautiful, something you admired. It made your house stick out a bit like a sore thumb, considering the more western design; you pondered why it was built like that.

The twisting road leading up the mountainside began and ended all too soon, the whole trip lasting less than 5 minutes total, your destination completed with Ijichi parking outside of the mansion.

Ever the gentleman (though, he might have been resolute in helping you with your belongings directly due to fear of some kind of punishment looming over his head), he took your things and led you into the house. “This way, please. I’ve already set up your room for you.”

“Oh, thank you,” you murmured, taking this chance to gawk at everything more properly. Frankly, it smelled rich inside, you didn’t want to think about how expensive even just the vase on the coffee table was.

The sliding of a door signaled your journey’s end. Ijichi bowed and ushered you inside first, though you kind of wished he went in before you, because you were positively floored and most definitely seemed like an idiot with your jaw hanging open. What the fuck? Satoru said this was a spare room? You were expecting maybe, oh, I don’t know, normal guest room things?

Not the epitome of a deluxe hotel for fuck’s sake. The room was at least twice the size of the one you slept in yesterday, the bed was glamorous (queen size, too, Christ), the bedding laid so nicely that you debated sleeping on the ground a second time, just to avoid messing it up. Especially because the fluffy rug at the foot of the frame was so downy, you wanted to drown in it. 

There’s no way this was real. Someone had to have been playing a joke on you. You spun to watch Ijichi as he carefully set your suitcase and bag against the wall by the door, waiting for him to rip the proverbial, and likely not fluffy, rug from under your feet.

Instead, he bowed once more, eyes closed. “Should you need anything, you may call for me. The restroom and bathroom are on the right when you exit. Please, feel free to bathe, if you wish. Make yourself at home. Gojo-san is out right now, but will be back by evening.”

You barely stuttered out a semi-coherent thank-you as he left, sliding the door shut behind him and leaving you in this splendor.

Surely this was a joke. You dreaded the inevitable turn, expected the door to open to a cackling Gojo Satoru as he wheezed his lungs out and pulled some ‘I can’t believe you fell for it!’ bullshit.

But it didn’t happen. 

For however long you stood there, staring holes through the closed entrance, nobody came to reveal this was all an elaborate joke, with you playing the unsuspecting and dumb victim. You laggardly let out the breath you had been holding and poked around the room with cautious hope. It really was spectacular, but you truly wondered how long Gojo would let you stay here.

By the gods, you were tired of thinking, though, and a shower would be heavenly. You could worry about everything after you were scrubbed dirt-free.

…Assuming you wouldn’t get jumped in the shower instead of the bedroom.

“You’re being paranoid,” you scolded yourself under your breath as you opened your suitcase to grab a change of clothes. But, really, could anyone blame you? You were sure someone else would have felt the exact same way you did.

Unless they were a professional freeloader or something.

Your soap and tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner were so sad compared to everything else around you. You should have checked if Granny’s store had any bath products.

The bathroom was just as luxurious and fully stocked as everything else in this damn estate. Dark, rich wood encompassed the room; a sink was to your left with a sparkling mirror above it, an open shower to your right towards the back, and the chef-d’œuvre of it all: the sunken bathtub at the end. A frosted glass window was situated behind it, shades partially lowered to allow natural light in through the bottom.

Fuck, you were so out of your depth.

But were you going to deny enjoying such riches at least once in your life? Hell no.

You turned to set your stuff down on the counter space by the sink, glancing towards the row of very expensive bottles of different types of cleansers lined up against the wall, and the note in front of them. 

Grasping it, you saw it had your name on it, written by hand. You flipped it over to see the short message left behind.

These are yours, use them as you please

~Satoru ♥

Ohoho, fancy products you could only ever scowl at forlornly at the store whenever you saw them, fantasizing about using them, though ultimately being shunned by the price tag? Fuck feeling apprehensive, you were damn well going to use those and indulge in feeling and smelling like a queen.

You’d never stripped faster in your life. You barely had half a mind to fold your clothes somewhat neatly and set them on the counter, rather than scattering them all across the floor as you stumbled out of your socks and hopped to the shower on one foot. 

Even the millions of knobs and stall-less design couldn’t deter your avidity, each one subjected to random twisting until you figured it out.

As soon as the bottles were on the recessed shelf under the showerhead, you loped under the hot water and groaned, planting your forehead against the cool wall whilst it poured down your back. You practically turned into putty, all your sore and tense muscles unwinding noticeably. The shower pointed out exactly how sleeping on the floor in your own house jacked up every part of your body, because ow. 

You honestly believed you could stand there forever, reluctant to leave, but that bathtub was calling to you.

So you grabbed the body wash first and flipped it over to read the label.

Oatmeal and almonds. Mmmh sweet fuck, you could dissolve into a puddle. It smelled heavenly, and you were giddy out of your skin knowing you were about to smell like that, too. It felt so silky-smooth on your palm, the perfume automatically coating you as you rubbed it in and savored the sensation. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to go back to normal, poor-person soap without lamenting the loss of this.

You can’t miss what you don’t know, and boy were you going to miss this if you had to leave it behind. Satoru did say it was yours to use and keep, though, didn’t he? Maybe you could yoink them when your place was all fixed up and you had to leave.

Suds coated your body in a thick layer of iridescent, white bubbles, flowing down the planes and curves of your figure with the water, rinsing every bit of your body to superb asepsis. Your hair had never known such extravagance when your fingers glided right through your locks, leaving them soft and addicting to touch. You understood now how Satoru’s was that fluffy.

You wanted to touch his hair, too.

Shaking your head to shoo away any very wholesome thoughts, you squeezed the excess water from your hair and turned off the shower, shivering at the sudden chill now that the perpetually toasty mist wasn’t surrounding you anymore.

Careful to avoid slipping, you tip-toed over to the tub and knelt down beside it, reaching for the handles. Hot water burst forth from the tap, rushing to fill the basin, and you noted how deep it was, contemplating if your knees would peek out from the surface if you sat with them bent. You had to be extra vigilant to prevent falling asleep in it and drowning.

You could drown after you got to take a dip in the hot spring in the backyard. Of course, you’d prefer not having to drown at all, but if you had to choose, you’d opt for the hot spring.

Daydreams of swimming in it played behind your eyes as you sank into the tub with a delighted sigh. What tranquility, lucking out like this. You didn’t know what god to thank, if any, but you’d happily grovel on your hands and knees to show your immense gratitude. Just getting a chance to live (well, bathe) in splendor for a single day was enough to fulfill some innate, deep desire you had inside.

Now that you had a moment away from the hectic day, you let yourself recount everything that happened, and question how the hell you got here.

Not 24 hours ago, you had arrived, a poor fool that nearly kicked the bucket on your own front porch, and since then, you were sort of adopted by a grandmother that fed you instead of throwing her shoe at you, met an eccentric, wealthy man who took after a deity ripped straight from mythos, and landed yourself not only a place to stay, but a place with said deity.

“What the hell…” You mumbled to yourself as you lowered yourself until only your eyes remained above the water, blowing bubbles. 

How did you get here?

Was this some sort of punishment? Give you a taste of the blest, then wrench it away from you? Karmic cruel and unusual castigation?

You grumbled underwater and lifted your head back up to breathe. Of course, you couldn’t help being paranoid, all of this was way too good to be true. Like some sort of game show–

Oh, god–

You sat up pin-straight and covered your chest, scanning the bathroom ceiling and walls for any hidden cameras. You scoured every surface, squinting extra hard to spot potential blinking lights or unusually-reflective circles.

Nada.

You went boneless, lounging against the back of the tub as you exhaled heavily.

You had probably been in the bath too long. Your fingers were starting to get pruny, and your brain all jumbled up with anxiety and skepticism.

Sluggishly, you pulled yourself out and dried off while the tub drained, pulling on your clean clothes with a relieved hum. You couldn’t remember the last time you treated yourself like this, if ever. 

You heard someone speaking from beyond the hallway, so after dropping off your old clothes in your room, you ventured out through the living room, where you found none other than your savior, chatting away with someone on the phone. He turned to you and instantly lit up.

“Ha-hey!” Satoru grinned and waved you over after quickly ending his call, laughing through his greeting. “You got here safe?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, moving to sit beside him at the kitchen island. “Ijichi-san is good at his job.”

The towheaded boy snickered. “Good, or else I would have flicked his forehead.”

“So, you’re the reason he looks so anxious all the time,” you scolded him, then apologized. “Sorry, by the way. I didn’t mean to drag you out of your conversation.”

“Bah,” he brushed it off. “No big deal, wasn’t anything important. So, settling in okay? Seems you already got familiar with the soaps ‘n’ stuff I got you, yeah?”

You nodded eagerly, lifting your arm to sniff at your wrist. “They smell so good, where did you get them?”

He planted his chin on his palm. “Nowhere you can afford.”

Your eyes narrowed into a sharp, unamused glare. “Wow, thanks.”

His cheeks crinkled his hues, and you realized he was still wearing his shades indoors. The glare of the sun no longer turned them into mirrors, allowing you to partially see through them, but the deep ocean hue of the lenses prevented you from deciphering the exact color of his irises.

What an abnormal choice of glasses. You knew people wore circular shades – they made them for a reason – but all the people you’d seen wearing them could never pull off the style.

Satoru was different, though. They suited him flawlessly; refined and dignified, yet boyish at the same time, just like the bearer.

“Let me know when you run out,” he said. “I’ll get you more.”

You jolted in surprise. “Oh! No, no, it’s fine! I’d feel bad using them all up, I don’t want to imagine the price tag…”

He pouted at you. “Why? You saw the note I left you, didn’t you? They’re yours, I got them specifically so you could use them.”

You worried your bottom lip. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t do anything I’m not sure of.”

Well, that’s all you needed to concede. “Alright. Thank you, I like them a lot.”

His moue instantly turned into a brilliant, cheek-aching smile. “I’m glad! Had me worried I picked the wrong stuff.”

His giddiness was contagious, making you giggle. “No! Not at all, I’m just– I’ve never seen the brand before.” It being a Japanese brand notwithstanding.

“Well, duh,” he rolled his eyes as he hopped off his stool and sauntered over to the fridge. “They don’t sell this kind of stuff in normal stores.”

“Where’d you get them from, then?”

“Made Ijichi fetch ‘em.”

You sighed heavily. “Poor guy. You work him to the bone, don’t you?”

He humphed as he withdrew something from the fridge – bento boxes, you recognized. He placed one down in front of you, and took his spot at the island back. “He’s fine. Gets paid well. It’s not like I make him go to the city for every little whim I have.”

You huffed as you pulled off the lid to your box, your mouth instantly salivating at the food within. You barely had the conscious thought left to clap your hands and murmur ‘itadakimasu’, as well as mentally slap yourself when you recalled that you had forgotten to do the same with Granny. 

You were able to restrain the moan of delight this time, unlike in front of the old lady, but damn was it hard to.

“Fuck…”

Gojo cackled beside you. “It’s good, I know.”

“Who made this?” You questioned, hand covering your mouth as you chewed. Ijichi must have been a good chef, too.

The man gave you a cocky smirk. “I did.”

…Hah?

You regarded him flatly, disbelieving. “Funny.”

“I’m serious!” He glowered.  “Is it so hard to believe I can cook?”

“A little,” you confessed around a bite of sausage. “Rich boys don’t usually know how to cook.”

His gaze pierced directly through you, brooding as he stuffed his mouth. “I’m never gonna cook for you again, just for that.”

Oh, so he was gonna do that? 

Hm, might as well play along.

You set down your chopsticks and turned to face him, slapping your hands together as you lowered your head to beseech his mercy. “Please, O’ Honored One, Gojo Satoru-sama! Forgive this witch her foolish words!”

He lifted his chin, judging you through his round shades with the pretense of a king adjudicating his subject’s worth. A few seconds passed before he nodded in approval. “Better. You’re forgiven.”

“Yay,” you laughed, immediately going back to eating. “It is really good though, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he responded, virtually inhaling his serving – not that you were any better.

“Where’d you learn how to cook?”

He swallowed and paused, speaking a fraction softer. “My mom taught me.”

Maybe a touchy subject. You noted it as something to not approach, instead choosing to compliment them both. “She taught you well.”

The boxes were empty in the blink of an eye, and you were both saying ‘gochisousama’ with a satisfying puff.

He grabbed the chopsticks and both boxes, placing them in the sink and filling them with water. “So you did research Japan a bit, eh? Knowing our customs.”

“I believe it comes with the territory of learning the language, yes,” you hopped off the stool, reclining against the counter. You winced minutely when your spine popped.

“How long have you been speaking Japanese?”

“Ehh,” you tilted your hand diagonally a few times. “I learned it a while back. I was studying abroad at the time. Didn’t really know it’d come in handy now, though.”

He dried off his hands with the hand towel nearby and cocked his head to the side. “Oh? You weren’t planning to move here?”

“Not…really,” you shrugged and rubbed the back of your neck. You had to tip-toe this line of conversation carefully.

He grinned, leaning forward to meet your gaze head-on as if he had just hit some sort of jackpot. “So you are running from something after all.” Fuck. “Well? What is it? Mafia?” No. “Loan sharks?” No. “Robbed somethin’ big?” No. “Exes?”

…Sort of.

“Let’s go with exes.”

“You’re quite the mysterious woman,” he chuckled low, voice taking on an evil little rasp. “Makes me wanna open you up.”

You batted your eyes, your brain lagging as your cheeks heated up because what the fuck, real men weren’t supposed to be this hot, and you were not supposed to be this asthenic in the knees just because he had a handsome face and an absurdly attractive voice that decided to say the most deviant shit.

“And you’re a terrible, terrible man, Gojo Satoru,” you admonished to cover your nonplussed emotions. 

“Mhm, mhm,” he nodded in complete agreement. “I’m a terrible, terrible man that decided to take you in out of the goodness of my heart.”

You sighed. “You’re going to use that against me, aren’t you.”

“Absolutely, I’m never letting you live this down.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, earning yourself a smirk hidden poorly behind an offended scoff. An oddly domestic sentiment perched in your center, just beneath your breastbone. A decent meal and the slow end to an intense day had you yawning behind the back of your hand. 

He yawned after you, the action infectious, and moped like a kid that wasn’t ready to go to bed.

The emotional weight of everything was coming down on you, and you craved for nothing more than to pass the fuck out under those incredibly plush and cozy looking blankets.

“Think that’s our cue,” you grumbled and rubbed the corner of your eye with your knuckle. “Or mine, anyway. I’m ready to conk out and sleep for, like, a century.”

He chuckled lazily, the noise husky and low. It wasn’t particularly late, no, but you felt like you’d been struck with a bus filled with mental and physical tax collected over a great deal of time. He waved you off, turning to strut down the hall opposite of the one you came through, and left you with a still cheery farewell.

Finally.

You well-nigh sprinted back to your room to nab your toiletries and sped through your simple nightly routine, impatient and antsy to dive into that queen-sized mattress. It’s not that you disliked Gojo’s company, quite the opposite, actually, but you were tired.

Usually, you tried to put off sleep until your body gave out in the early hours before morning, uncaring for the dreams that inevitably spawned, no matter how little or how much sleep you got.

But now?

Those sheets were hailing you.

You couldn’t brush your teeth quick enough. Your face was practically still damp with your moisturizer as you dived under the duvet and keened. You’d never known such opulence in your life.

Your legs kicked with glee as you snuggled in, squeaking and curling on your side and clutching the fabric of the blanket tightly in your hands to ensure it went nowhere while you pranced around in dreamland. Heaven. Pure and simple. Heaven with the fragrance of new pin laundry and your body wash, that held your head on the coziest lap, that hugged your form and incontinently coaxed you under the waves of hypnotic slumbering.

Comfort surrounded you. The mattress underneath you was the ideal level of firmness, the blankets were warm without being overbearingly hot, and being in such a neat environment swiftly lulled you into a far easier and more satisfying sleep than you’ve had in a long time.

banner by cafekitsune ♥

[soraphic]

i haven't proofread this one yall be kind:(

the night air was stickily humid,the kind of weather that warranted open windows and skimpy night dresses. the kind that lured a certain spider back into your home,breaking many personal vows to just leave you alone. you had kept the room empty,dark,only dimly lit by the reflective light of the moon casting shadows through the lace curtains you'd left open - an invitation to his presence. it was a way of making him comfortable,even with the colourful chrome shielding his identity,the darkness just made him feel that bit more safe.

your thin sheets had been thrown to the side,only barely tickling your ankles as you watched him. your dark hair strewn over your shoulder,lipstick smudged and the spaghetti straps of your teasingly thin,black nightdress falling over your shoulders.

he breathed deeply,lips parting against the mesh of his suit as you ghosted yours over his. you were used to the retroreflective eyes of his suit,you almost felt as if you could see through them now. like you could see into him,past his physical appearance underneath the mask.

you ran a finger teasingly under the edge of the mask,bunching it around your fingers as you lifted it slightly. his breathing was steady,fingers gripping at your plush hips as you straddled him,giving you unadulterated control over him. you left it to rest just over his nose,revealing his almost paper-thin lips to you,pouted and swollen. you ran a thumb over the dip of his cupids bow,unusually defined. you rubbed gently at the almost lack of stubble decorating his top lip,biting back a smile at how new york city's spider-man was a boyish youth who could barely grow facial hair. your fingers were curled around his jaw,the deep red of your nails mixing with the ghostly pale of his skin,a perfect match to his costume. "what do you look like?" it was almost a whisper,your eyes trained on the big,white of his suit as if you could make contact with him that way.

he breathed deeply,"you know i can't,it wouldn't be--"

"no," you cut him off,leaning to press a wet kiss to the piece of fabric just above his cheekbone,"i don't want you to show me. just tell me."

he was dumbfounded for a moment,wetting his lips as he stared at you. what difference would a description make? after-all,you still wouldn't actually know.

"tell me,spider." you cooed,running your lips along his cheek,"what is it? big,brown eyes?" you moved to press a kiss to the tip of his nose,"a piercing blue?",another kiss to his eyebrow,"green?" you made contact with his eyes,pulling back slightly as if to ask him to answer you.

"brown,the first one."

you hummed at this,continuing to trail your lips toward his ear,wrapping them around the shell over his mask. "my favourite."

your declaration had him almost hopeful. "what about your hair?"

"it's also brown," he started,moving his head to try and chase your lips again,growing bored of you suckling at his clothed ear. "i guess you could say curly."

you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips,just to satiate him for the moment. "just my type,bug."

he let a breathy chuckle pass,one that had your ears pricking and your eyes flicking up to his face,not that you could really see his expression,anyway.

"you got any freaky birthmarks?"

"no." he sounded almost offended at the question.

"scars?"

"not any that you haven't already seen."

you hooked a leg around his waist,teasingly slow as you curled inwards,pulling him toward you. you leaned back on your elbows,making a complete show of the movement and showcasing your accentuated cleavage to him,the straps of your thin nightgown dangerously low.

"easy." he warns,conscious of the blaring city that needed to be patrolled just outside your window.

"what? afraid you might overstay your welcome?" the smirk you wore was sickly,it rattled peter so much he felt like his bones were overheating,pushing any kind of feelings beyond pure,animalistic attraction down before he even had chance to indulge.

"'thought i was always welcome,baby." he said it like a statement,leaning down to slot his body above yours. his right palm was flat beside your head,the dip in the bed causing your body to lay slightly lop-sided,your hip popping just enough to brush perfectly into the palm of his left hand,giving the flesh a soft squeeze.

you dodged his kisses,leaving him to press wet dots to your jawline as he whined beneath you. "don't you have a neighbourhood to be saving?"

"-not when i have a beautiful lady right here who needs my help." he was quick,running a clothed finger through your slick to emphasise his point.

[yourmomsgranddad]

— THERE GOES THE SPIDER

— PAIRING: Kate Bishop x fem!Stark!reader

— SUMMARY: How do you lose a man? (You forget to cherish him.)

— WORD COUNT: 4.8k

— WARNINGS: based off the episode of 9-1-1, but also hangover, peter and mj wedding, reader and peter dated in the past, reader is a lesbian, peter and y/n being the best friends, cursing

You groaned as your eyes broke open.

What happened last night?

You looked around the room and you didn't recognize anything around you.

You weren't in your room at home. You weren't in Peter's room at his apartment. The bedding was too nice and you could see the living room from the bed.

This was a hotel.

When did you get to a hotel?

A soft groan could be heard beside you. Your eyes went wide. You didn't want to move. Who did you go to bed with last night?!

"Where the hell am I?" The mystery person voiced.

You reached over to grab the blanket and cover your face. You were suddenly embarrassed. You recognized that voice.

You almost didn't want to breathe in fear of her spotting you.

"Who is that?" She shoved, pushing you slightly but you kept the blanket in place, not showing anything.

"It's me, Kate."

Sound stopped, she knew your voice too.

You slowly brought the blanket down, causing her to hit you with her pillow. "What are you doing in my bed? And why are you wearing a bright pink quinceañera dress?"

You looked down in confusion and surely enough, she wasn't lying. Underneath the plush white hotel blanket laid a bunch of pink poofs covered in pink glitter that seemed to have painted the sheets beneath you.

"I don't know what's weirder about this situation. The fact I'm wearing a quinceañera dress or that you know what that is." Kate's lips made a thin line as if she was embarrassed by how she knew what they were. But you didn't feel the need to peel that back, there were more pressing matters at the moment.

You went back to scanning the room as if you weren't in bed with one of your best friends at the moment.

The room seemed to be trashed. Piles and piles of food containers opened on the floor and whatever its contents were caked in the carpet. Another pile of jackets on top of a very huge spill. And what seemed to be a snoring body underneath a throw.

You squinted for a second, making sure you were sure until your eyes went wide. "I think there's someone over there." You told Kate whose eyes went right to where you were looking, her face reflecting yours.

Kate was quick to leave the bed, going to search it immediately. But she fell back into the bed as if something was weighing her down.

She looked down at her hand and weirdly enough, there was a handcuff around it.

You both physically paused, looking at each other in astonishment.

"This all seems eerily familiar."

You squinted your eyes in suspicion while Kate identified the cuff. It seemed to be connected to a chain which she followed under to the pillow. She lifted it up, revealing a very sparkly pink suitcase.

"Where the fuck did that come from?!" Kate shouted, looking at the suitcase in terror.

"What happened last night?" You rubbed your head. At this point, that question was rhetorical, neither of you knew the answer and you were just waiting for someone to yell out all the answers.

Suddenly the body on the couch began to move, moving the blanket off of his face as he woke up.

Both you and Kate stared at the action in anticipation.

Out popped bright silver hair that was absolutely rustled in every way possible. You would recognize it anywhere.

You jumped out of bed, crawling over to the couch.

You gave him a harsh shove until his eyes opened. He gave a sleepy smile that made you somehow a little more mad about your situation.

"Cute dress." He commented, his deep Sokovian accent cutting through the silence.

"Dude! Where are we? Why is Kate handcuffed to a sparkly suitcase?" You basically shook him even harder which wasn't agreeing with the alcohol that was definitely still in his system.

"Not sure, still drunk, ask Ned." He muttered before falling back into his pillow and closing his eyes.

"Where is he?" You wondered loudly, shaking him again, more agitated than before. Pietro reached for the pillow by his feet, lifted it up, and threw it presumably at Ned's position, all with his eyes closed.

"Ned!" He shouted.

Just then Ned rose up from the stained jacket pile, looking like a zombie, pushing them all to the ground. You watched in disgust, your expression reflected on Kate's face as well.

"You're sitting in a stain, Ned!" You complained, a whine apparent in your speech. You felt bad for him but he didn't seem concerned.

"It's fine, it's only vodka. I'm soaking it up in my pants." He nodded it off as if it wasn't that important. But on the list of the things of most importance, it was at the bottom.

"Where are we?" Kate shouted from the bed. Everyone's eyes went to her as they didn't even know she were here.

"Oh easy. We're in Peter's hotel room. This is the one Mister Stark got for him since he wanted to keep with the tradition of not sleeping next to the bride the night before the wedding."

You and Kate let out a tiny breath; one question off the list.

"Where's Peter, Ned?" You felt like this was an obvious question but you still felt the need to ask it.

"Oh I don't know." He fell back into his leakage.

You looked down at the floor, what were you going to do? And where was Peter?

A loud knock was heard on the front door.

"Yo, Pete!" Your recognized that voice of your father. You shivered as if you were getting in trouble as a kid. "Better get a move on, kid! I'm not the one getting married today! You are!"

What to do? What to do?!

"Um Peter will be up in a second, Dad! We're still trying to wake him up." You lied, you looked behind you to see Kate making a disappointed face at you. But you couldn't take back your lie.

"Tell him we need to put feet on the ground. MJ's not going to wait all day!" Then as quickly as he came, you could hear his shoes step away from the door and you knew you were in the clear.

Jeez, what happened last night?

The night started off so normal too.

You were sitting on Peter's bed and he was switching between ties nervously.

"Which one, seriously?" He turned to you but you could not be anymore uninterested.

"Who cares what I think? Choose whatever tie you want."

"You should. It's the tie you're going to have to sit next to all night."

You lit up immediately, grabbing the one beside you, throwing it across the room. "Well burn that orange monstrosity."

"Oh come on, Y/n. How are you a lesbian and hate the color orange?"

"Not every woman who likes women is a lesbian, douche-rag! But I don't know." You deflated. He kind of got you in a box. He couldn't help but chuckle before looking at you concerned and confused.

"Did you date me because I looked like a girl?"

"No. Actually, I broke up with you because you didn't. But who cares? You're getting married tomorrow!"

"Just—i'm worried. What if, in a few years, one of MJ's friends convince her that I look girly and that she should divorce me? I couldn't handle that. And neither will Luke and Leia, our future kids who will get separated in the divorce. They won't survive, Y/n!"

His voice was strained as he began biting his nails.

How had this nervous wreck created one of the best proposals ever seen, said so from Ned?

"Well MJ is smarter than that. One. And two, I'm friends with her and I promise I won't badmouth you." He let out a chuckle, the first one since you had gotten here.

He texted you and told you it was urgent.

Who knew urgent meant what he should wear tonight; tonight was his bachelor party.

"I don't know what I'm worried about. She wouldn't have said yes if she didn't mean it." You nodded.

"It's going to be fine, Parker!" You reassured him as you walked over to him, standing behind him in the mirror. "We're going to party very hard tonight and then tomorrow is going to be the greatest day of your life, okay?"

"I invited Kate," he muttered, his eyes closed as he didn't want to see the look on your face, he already knew what it looked like.

"MJ's about to be a widow."

You raised your hand to hit him as he flinched and ducked.

"We're not married yet! Don't hurt me! I'm just trying to help you!" He stood up slowly, causing you to put your hand down in anger, instead vying to cross your arms.

"You two like each other! I'm just removing a few obstacles, jeez!"

"Y/n? Y/n!"

You zapped back to the present, looking at Kate who was shouting down at you, she was now standing in front of you, suitcase dangling beside her.

"What are we going to do?! We don't know where Peter is! He's supposed to be getting married in a few hours."

So many questions.

And no answers came to your mind.

Your eyes began darting around the room, looking for something, anything to help you.

But there was nothing.

You glanced at the clock.

It was 12:45.

Peter was getting married at 4.

You had time.

"Ok, here's what we're going to do. We have at least 2 hours before Peter has to be at the altar. The location is only a few minutes away. That means we have to find him ourselves before my dad or MJ start freaking out, okay?" Everyone nodded, taking in what you said.

"So are we going to do in the meantime?" Kate wondered, not looking at you, more examining the weird case still attached to her wrist.

"This hotel has a dry cleaner, I know that for a fact. Our clothes should be down there. I'll take Pietro with me, we'll get our clothes and some coffee in his system. Kate, you see if you can get the case off your hand or the stain out the carpet."

You all nodded and you were gone, grabbing Pietro and going to the door.

"Um, it says here, Miss Stark, your dry cleaning was delivered to your room. No one was in there so they left it on the bed."

You and Pietro looked at each other in confusion. "No one? We just left the room and there were two people in it." You mentioned. The man behind the counter began typing violently.

"Nope, no one was seen when they dropped off your clothes."

You were beginning to make a timeline of events in your mind.

You remembered seeing Peter last night but he wasn't in the room with the rest of you.

You know you were in the room a few minutes ago.

But for some reason, it wasn't on the hotel's radar.

Now you were wondering even bigger; what the fuck happened last night?

"So many questions arise, all unanswered." Ned replied. You had relayed all the facts you had gotten from the man at the front desk and it didn't give anything helpful.

You tried to think, to keep everything in your mind clearly but it was kind of hard considering Ned's butt was in front of the fan; apparently that's how he was going to get the vodka out of his pants; it was not working in the slightest.

You looked around the room, maybe something would pop out and scream at you.

A wrapper.

You jumped out of your seat rapidly and flew over to the bed. Weirdly enough, it was wedged in between the bed and the floor. You fished it out with ease.

Why did it look so familiar?

"What's that?" Pietro wondered, taking a sip of his coffee, looking at you as if you were crazy.

But you didn't notice; your brain was calculating where you knew it from.

Lightbulb!

Your eyes went wide as you looked at your friends with urgency in your eyes.

"I know where to look next."

Running down the street Home Alone-style was not easy in a quinceañera dress, you were learning.

But you were determined for answers to your questions.

And your questions lead you to a place of absolute familiarity; Delmar's sandwich shop, a place you knew all too well considering it's one of Peter's favorite places. It made sense that's where you would get answers.

You pushed through the door and slammed the counter as if he owed you money. Mr. Delmar was immediately startled.

"Miss Stark, what are you doing here? The wedding is happening soon!" He stressed; he was aware of the schedule as well, he WAS invited.

"I understand that, Mister Delmar, believe me, I do. But I'm here because I think we came here last night." Your tone couldn't sound more unsure, you weren't absolutely confident of your words. But you hoped he could give you some type of certainty.

Luckily, he seemed to know what you were grabbing at.

"Yes, you did."

As Mr. Delmar recounted what he remembered from your visit to his shop last night, you could feel your memories returning.

Peter could tell how awkward things were between you and Kate were considering you hadn't said anything to her as she entered the limo that your dad bought you. Although your eyes hadn't left her once.

He didn't know how to bring you two together. He scooted closer to you and just gave you a look; a look you wished he would stop giving you. A look that just spoke 'tell me now, whatever it is'.

"Staring is rude. Why don't you talk to her?" He asked, trying to be subtle. Limos weren't exactly private places.

"What would I say to her, Pete? 'I think you're pretty, you should kiss my mouth?'"

"Yes, that's exactly what you should say to her."

You rolled your eyes, he couldn't be serious.

"I'm not joking, Y/n/n. It worked with MJ."

"But you and MJ were made for each other, America's favorite couple. I don't even know if Kate's gay."

*She was wearing a suit to the night's events.

"Something tells me she might be."

Your face crumpled as you looked at him incredulously. "Why should I listen to your gaydar? We dated for a year!" You whisper-shouted.

His face reflected yours. "Girl, we dated for a year! Why should I listen to you?!" You couldn't hide the giggle that spat from your mouth, he wasn't wrong.

"All I'm saying is that I might not be able to talk to her comfortably until I've had a few drinks and something to eat."

His eyebrow raised; Peter smelled something he could help with.

Just then, he leaned forward, grabbing two champagne glasses and a full bottle of champagne.

"One of those things I can help out with right now," he began as he was pouring you both a drink immediately. "The other thing?" He banged on the window, grabbing the driver's attention so he would roll the partition down.

"Take us to Delmar's please."

He nodded as your smile began to grow. You hated that he knew you so well.

"So Peter was with us when we got here." Sadly Ned was voicing the one thing that was bouncing off your head. But you dare not ask that question; you wouldn't get the answer that you want.

"Did we say anything about where we were going next, Mister Delmar?"

He shook his head, causing your panic to grow.

"Your mouths were full of sandwich. All I know is that you were yelling at the man driving you, unintelligible nonsense."

Driver? Dang, you forgot Happy was driving you all night. Maybe he had some answers!

"Thanks, Mr. Delmar, for your help. I'll see you at the wedding later." He nodded solemnly.

As you were slumping out of the store with a destination, you could hear briefly under Pietro's breath, "If there is a wedding."

You turned around immediately, stopping everyone from exiting.

"What if I just killed you right now? With my bare hands." You threatened, your face not matching your words.

His eyes squinted; he wasn't about to back down.

"How would that look? 'Daughter of famous tech tycoon kills boy from starving country.' Say goodbye to your poofy dresses, prinţesă." He fluffed your dress before running off at full speed.

"I hate him so bad." You jokingly said into the sky, your eyes fully closed.

"If it makes you feel better," your eyes opened to reveal Kate standing in front of you, struggling to hold her suitcase. "You are working that dress."

You knew she was only joking but it didn't stop the heat that fanned your cheeks.

But that wasn't important right now.

Finding Peter was.

So you both set off down the street, going where you knew you shouldn't.

The wedding venue.

Everyone's eyes were on you. It was fair, you were in a pink poofy dress, it was out of the norm. Especially at your best friend's wedding.

You found Happy immediately.

Luckily, he was doing what you expecting him to be doing; bothering Aunt May while she was helping.

"Hey, Happy. Do you think you can come over and answer this question?" You wondered, looking around, hoping no one was looking at you (everyone was).

"Where did the dress come fr-" You didn't give him time to finish, grabbing him and snatching him off to the side. He was going to take too long to get there anyway.

"Where did we go last night?!" You whispered, maybe gripping Happy a little too hard.

"The sandwich shop." He seemed a little nonchalant. You wondered if he would remain that way when he noticed Peter was missing.

"After!" Kate shoved, accidentally hitting him with the suitcase.

"Where did that suitcase come from?!" He rubbed the spot.

"That's what we want to know!" Kate shook with anticipation.

"Um, after the sandwich shop, you guys made me take you to a bachelorette party that was happening at a hotel close-by. I was confused but okay." He shortly explained; you felt it coming back.

You guys had a few more drinks in the limo and eventually you started losing it. But you weren't at the point where you felt like you could talk to Kate.

"Maybe if we had a better setting." You slurred to Peter as you were buying your sandwiches.

You didn't know how you got so drunk, it felt like you only had one drink. But you didn't count.

Suddenly, Pietro came slumping in, grabbing you and Peter by the shoulder so you could hear him better. "These bachelorette girls just invited us to their party. It's at a hotel down the street. Can we go?"

On a normal night, Peter was known to say 'no' to all Pietro's weird single activities—he invited Peter to a lot and he had to keep telling him he's engaged—but tonight for a reason that was not apparent to you yet, he said yes.

Pietro skipped up in glee, he was lucky you were drunk. Or else, you would made fun of him all night.

You gave your best friend a sideways glance, this was unlike him. But he just gave you a smirk. "Found your setting."

He grabbed your done sandwiches and your arm before running back to the limo.

"Being surrounded by all those drunk girls, you can try out your lines. Get out your jitters before you try going for the big leagues." Peter slurred. You wanted to blame it on the beer googles but he was making some type of sense. You had no problem talking to random girls, Kate was the thing you were scared of.

—

You found yourself being very comfortable with the bachelorette girls. It was very easy, they weren't looking for anything and neither were you.

You were just having fun. And drinking. A lot.

You had lost Peter and the others as you got into the party, you figured they were just having fun.

That was until Pietro found you, looking very frightened.

"What's up, P?" You wondered, mid drink. "I thought I was hitting on one of the bridesmaids. It was the bride and her soon-to-be husband wants to kill me. We have to go." He grabbed your hand and basically dragged you back to the group. Well Ned.

Ned was hanging out at the door, chatting up some girl when you came up to him, out of breath. While Pietro recounted what he said to you, you noticed something.

"Ned, where are Peter and Kate?"

"Forgetting their son and leaving him home alone?" He joked, making both boys let out a drunken giggle.

"No. Peter Parker and Kate Bishop." He shrugged.

"And that's all I know." Happy finished. "I lost you guys after that. New York is a big city." He seemed nonchalant as if the groom wasn't missing.

"But if Kate was with Peter and we have Kate with us, where's Peter?" Pietro inquired, already trying to get his hands on their finger foods.

"He's at the hotel." MJ came out of nowhere, smacking his hand before he could touch. You all froze, you didn't know how to finish having your conversation with her there. "He's not missing."

"Huh?" You, Pietro, and Kate all shouted at the same time, causing all the eyes to turn back to you.

"Peter? He's at your hotel." She also seemed a little too nonchalant but that was just MJ's aura. "How do you know this?" Kate said.

"Because you called me."

You all shared looks, hoping you all would just know the answer from just seeing one another.

"You called me crying, saying I was going to be a widow because you lost Peter. I had to explain to you that's not how that works. And we found him and Kate fighting a bunch of drag queens in front of a bank. They were robbing it." MJ explained, very deadpan.

"Is that a hate crime? That feels like a hate crime." Ned mentioned before he joined Pietro in his quest to grab the hors d'oeuvres.

"Wait. Is that where the suitcase came from?" MJ gave a nod. "It's full of cash. I called the cops but it's New York, there was a million muggings happening, people getting shot. So you decided to keep it. I don't know why you hand-cuffed it to yourself."

"In the hotel?" That was the part you were stuck on. "Where? We were in the room. He wasn't there."

"You lost Peter?!" You froze at the sound of his voice. You felt like you were in high school again. You turned around slowly to see your dad, seething. At least it wasn't May.

"Kind of. He wasn't in the room when we woke up."

He wanted to question the dress but it was last on the list.

"I don't know how not. I sent you guys up the elevator and I saw you go to the room." MJ seemed confused but now since she drew the lines, you could perfectly color in the picture of the rest of the night.

"We were kind of pissed you ended our night. So we left out the back stairway." You explained, your mouth a thin line. "And Peter didn't come with us. He wanted to go to bed. So he went in the room."

"Well what was the number of the room he went into?" Your dad was now playing detective with the rest of the group. Luckily you could see clearly now. "297, the room we woke up in."

Without any type of warning, you let out a loud gasp, catching everyone's attention.

"We were in the wrong room!"

That was all you said before you took off, out of the venue with everyone following after you.

"We were in 297. But I guess since we were drunk, the number got jumbled and Peter realized." You clarified as you trudged through the hotel hallway, holding the pink madness so you didn't trip.

"He went to the right room and we didn't notice because we were out of it."

You finally were in front of the room, now you all froze.

Something hung in between all of you and none of you wanted to say it out loud.

"What if he actually lost?" Well, Pietro wanted to say it.

"Shut up!"

Your hand paused before it scanned the key on the door. You bursted inside with hope but...

"He's not here."

You sunk. You were sure you were correct. You saw him come into this room. If he wasn't here, where in the hell in New York could Peter Parker be?

"Should we call his phone?" Pietro questioned, his phone already open and looking for Peter's contact.

"Wouldn't matter. Peter could sleep through a tornado. May had to drown him in order for him to get to the SAT." You noted, sitting on the bed in anguish.

But you were very lucky that Pietro didn't listen to you, for once. Because he clicked on Peter's contact and let it ring.

You were about to tell him it was useless, that you should return to your search because this could be Home Alone 2. But then you heard Peter's ringtone ring throughout the room; it was Pocketful of Sunshine.

"He's here!"

You all sprawled out, looking in every corner, hoping for the sound to grow louder. You searched under every blanket, each cushion, even in the bathroom.

You were about to give up, maybe he left his phone in here.

But then you reached for the closet. You weren't even looking.

Yet there Peter was, curled up in a ball, sleeping on his blazer. "Peter?" You gave him a shove, no movement. If he were any other person, you would have thought him to be dead.

You were about to get the bucket when MJ pushed through everyone to get to him. If anyone were to be able to wake him up, it would be his soon-to-be wife.

And she did, very easily.

"Where am I?" He wondered, letting a long overdue yawn.

"The closet." You answered.

"Not anymore." He joked, causing you all to let out a little giggle. At least you knew his humor was still intact.

"Why are you in the closet?"

His face crumpled and you feared the worst. "I thought it was the bathroom."

"Ewwww!"

The wedding ended up being a success.

You figured the bachelor party was a warning, a warning for MJ and Peter not to get married. But they were America's favorite couple, nothing would deter them from each other.

No drag queens robbing banks. Not getting lost. No bachelorette parties in hotels. Nothing stopped their wedding.

You saw Peter unsure last night, wondering if MJ was going to want to marry him, become a Parker. But now, as you looked him, there was no sense of uncertainty. Just love.

It was beautiful.

—

Pietro was finally enjoying the hors d'oeuvres while you sat across from him, enjoying a Capri-sun. No more drinking after last night.

You tried to not make eye contact, Pietro was swallowing the mini hot dogs like they were nothing. He was like a rabid dog.

But your attention was taken off him when Kate began walking up to you, eyes full of wonder. You had almost forgot you had a crush on her, today was pretty hectic.

And she was just pretty.

Your cheeks felt hot, your throat felt like it was about to close.

"Want to dance?" She put her hand out, pulling you up out of your seat. She guided you out to the dance floor where MJ and Peter were already.

Her hands fell onto your middle as you began to groove to the slow music playing. Her eyes fell on yours and you felt like your legs were going to turn into putty.

But you couldn't ignore the question that had been plaguing your mind since last night. So you decided to ask it.

"Why did you run off last night?"

Kate looked to you, perturbed. So you decided to explain further.

"At the bachelorette party, you and Peter disappeared. Why?" She suddenly deflated, you felt like you did something wrong. You almost wanted to take it back immediately and forget it entirely. But she spoke first.

"I got jealous. Of you and the bachelorette girls. I know it wasn't anything but I felt it. And Peter ran after me. Since I was drunk, I spilled my guts and he snitched on you." She grimaced.

Your eyes went wide.

"MJ's about to be a widow. For real this time."

You went to break away from her to go put Peter in the chokehold he so obviously wanted but Kate grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.

Without warning, her hand fell upon your neck, pulling you in for a nice chaste kiss.

[scatorcciogf]

let the light in

¬ summary: spider!lottie saves you from a criminal. established relationship but reader doesn't know she's spidey yet :) ¬ warnings: cursing, gun mentions (nothing happens), slight violence + injury. gn!reader ¬ word count: 2.5k.... i swear this was supposed to be a drabble

it’s a quiet night tonight. 

well. as quiet as it can get in the city that never sleeps. but you’re not necessarily in the city — you’re on the outskirts, waiting for a bus back home — so it's way calmer. you were visiting a friend, got a little carried away (see: watching three bad horror movies instead of just one), and now you're definitely gonna have to wait a while until you can catch a ride to the city. 

you sigh, sitting down on the bench. you wish you had lottie there to keep you company, but she had to stay behind and study for an upcoming biochem test. you curse her for being such a responsible student and you curse nyu for existing, and then you take out your phone because you should probably shoot her a text.

at the bus stop now :) see u soon, you write. 

you don’t expect her to reply quickly, considering that she usually leaves her phone in the other room when she wants to focus on something. you’re surprised to see her read it immediately, type for a few seconds, then disappear again. you’re about to ask her about it when she calls you instead.

“hard at work, i see.” you say in lieu of a greeting, and you can almost hear her eyes roll.

“i’m taking a break. don’t be a brat.”

“why’d you call?”

“i wanted to hear your voice. i miss you.” 

you chuckle. “it’s been, like, six hours. you’re ridiculous.” 

despite your teasing, you think it’s cute — and she knows that. she knows how easily you melt at her sweet words and soft smiles.

“well, i also wanted to talk with you while you wait. you know, make sure you’re safe. i don’t like the idea of you being out alone so late at night.” she argues.

“and that’s very sweet of you,” you say, smiling. “but there’s literally nobody here. you don’t have to worry about me, you should go study.”

she groans. “but this lesson is so boring. and i’m only revising now, anyway. it’s not that important.”

“lottie.”

“fine… but if you get kidnapped, don’t blame me.”

“as if you could do anything about it all the way from our apartment!”

“i would think of something.”

and you open your mouth to tell her to just go already, but your words die in your throat as you feel something hard and cold pressed against your back. the next voice you hear comes from behind you, not from the phone, and it's much deeper and rougher than your girlfriend's. 

“hang up. right now.”

fuck. did you accidentally manifest getting kidnapped? you're frozen in both fear and indecision, bar your shaking hand. was that a gun or a knife? you want to tell lottie to call the police, but you're also afraid of what the man would do to you if you did. what if he kills you anyway? fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“baby?” you hear her confused voice at the same time as he shouts: “i said now!”

you want to tell her you love her before you end the call, fearing that you might never get another chance, but you find yourself too paralyzed to speak. instead, you press the button and drop the phone, hearing it shatter as it hits the ground. you know she knows anyway. 

the man speaks again, and you realize his voice is muffled by what must be a ski mask. “give me all your money. come on.”

you shake your head, eyes welling up. “i don't have anything on me, i swear.” 

“don't make me hurt you. just give me your fucking wallet.” 

“please,” you somehow manage to say as you show him your pockets are empty. “i already told you, i don't have my wallet with me.”

“and i don't believe you. what about your bag?”

you feel your heart rate picking up as he gets more aggressive in both his tone and actions — you're going to have a bruise with how strongly he's pressing his gun to you. if he doesn't actually pull the trigger, that is.

you slowly reach for your bag. you really don't have anything valuable in there, besides headphones and a water bottle. maybe he'll be satisfied with just that if he's particularly thirsty. 

you open it up and shift it vaguely towards where he's standing. “see? no money. please just—”

you're interrupted by a sudden thwip sound behind you. weird sound for a gun to make, you think, before you realize it's not the gun that you heard, but rather what grabbed it. a thin, but seemingly firm, spiderweb-like fluid, swiftly tugging it towards—

spider-woman. holy shit. 

“have you ever considered getting a job? it's this thing where you contribute to society and get paid, instead of mugging innocent people at night.” she says, tossing the gun aside. 

your mind is still racing, but you have the common sense to step away from the guy. it's only when you turn to look at him for the first time that you realize he doesn't need a weapon to be able to hurt you — he's massive. and now, it seems, pretty angry too. 

“not you again,” he growls. “mind your fucking business.”

she jumps down from the tree she was in, elegantly landing a few feet away from you. her gaze doesn't leave him, however. 

“the safety of people who live here is my business.”

he scoffs. “what are you gonna do, then? arrest me?”

“something like that.”

he lunges towards her before she can make the first move, looking ready to strangle her. she's too quick for someone like him, though, and she dodges every punch he tries to throw her way. you assumed she'd immobilize him with the web or something, but then again, what do you know. maybe she's just too busy trying not to get beat up. 

they spar for a minute or two, the guy holding up better than you thought he would. you should probably run away or call the police (scratch that, she just stepped on your phone and you swear you heard a crack! in between all the grunts and hits), but you're so captivated by the whole situation that you can't look away. it's not every day you get to see spider-woman up close. 

she kicks his side and manages to shoot the web into his eyes while he's catching his breath. he winces and swears loudly, stumbling back. he's scratching at it, and you can tell it's very tough to get it off. 

“oh, fuck this!” he exclaims before she can do anything else. 

still functionally blind, he starts running away, slamming against you in the process. he's clearly not impacted by it because he just continues running off, but you are. it was too forceful for you to stay on your feet, and in a flash, you're on the ground, dull pain in your head from hitting the bench. 

“ow…” you mumble, reaching to touch the back of your head. 

you feel blood under your fingers. great. you think about telling spider-woman to call the ambulance before she goes to catch the bad guy, but she's hurrying towards you before you even have to ask. you can't see her face, but you can tell by her voice that she's worried. 

“are you okay?” she asks. “oh, god, is that blood?”

you hum in response, starting to feel a little dizzy. your eyelids suddenly feel heavier, too. 

“no, no, don't pass out. talk to me. what do you feel?” 

you blink a few times, trying to stay awake. “i don't know… i feel dizzy. and in shock. and it hurts.”

she sighs. “i know, but you can't fall asleep, okay? please. you'll be okay, i just have to get you to a hospital.”

“aren't you going to run after him?”

“that guy? no, i'll just find him later,” she turns to look at your bag. “do you have any tissues or something? we should apply pressure to— you know.”

“no,” you shake your head. “it's fine, i'll just…”

you try to get up, but you soon realize you didn't just hurt your head. you feel sharp pain in your ankle, too. you're not entirely sure you could stand up if you tried. 

spider-woman notices, and she seems even more concerned. “it's not fine. i'll carry you.”

“you can't exactly swing around if your hands are occupied.”

“then i'll walk,” she retorts, inching closer so she can look at your head. “are you sure you don't have anything we can use for that?”

“positive.”

she looks back into your eyes. “you're bleeding a lot.”

she's still for a few seconds. you wonder if she's finally considering the logistical nightmare that would be carrying you to a hospital. you wonder if she's just going to give up leave you there, bleeding and unable to move. 

then, she takes a deep breath and removes her mask, pressing it firmly to your wound, and you wonder if you've gone insane, because the eyes you make contact with are lottie's, and there's no way that isn't a hallucination, right? 

you don't get the privilege of processing this information, though, because the pressure is painful and makes you feel lightheaded again, and soon enough, you pass out. 

— 🕷 —

your eyes sting when you finally open them. it's too bright in the room, both because of the sunlight and because of how… white and clean everything is. 

so she did get you to a hospital. 

you sit up, beginning to register the dull pain that's still present in the back of your head. you look around, and there she is — curled up on a chair beside your bed, blissfully asleep. you smile at how cute she looks, but then you remember last night, and your smile is replaced by a tight feeling in your chest. 

she can't actually be spider-woman… right? 

you clear your throat, not really willing to wait to find out. you hope the conversation you're about to have will be less confusing than the thoughts floating around in your head. 

“lottie?” you call out. 

her eyes immediately snap open, then widen when she realizes you're up. she shifts in the chair, clearly nervous. 

“oh my god, you're awake. how are you feeling?”

“i'm fine.” you pause. “how are you feeling?”

she seems to stiffen. she just looks at you, as if she's trying to think of what to say. 

“you know, since that guy got in quite a few punches.” you add. 

she sighs, looking away. “i thought you were already passed out when i… when i took off the mask. your eyes were already closing.”

it's a confirmation, and you're almost surprised that she didn't try to act confused or change the subject. but it's lottie, and she's never been good at lying to you. 

(despite the fact that she hid her superhero identity from you for the whole duration of your relationship. although, in hindsight, there were a couple of times where it was your own fault you didn't connect the dots.) 

you shake your head. “no, i saw you.”

you can’t really read her; the look on her face — is it shame or relief? maybe it’d be easier to tell if she just looked at you, or said something. anything but the uncomfortable silence filling the room right now.

“i’m also fine,” she says after a few moments, “knuckles were a little bruised but i heal pretty quickly.”

you nod, relieved to hear that, ignoring how surreal everything about this is. you’re not sure which is harder to process — the fact that you had a gun to your back or the fact that the person who saved you from getting shot was spider-woman, who is actually your girlfriend. your chest feels heavy again. she finally looks at you, and you open your mouth to ask her something, but you both speak at the same time. 

“how did—”

“i’m sorry for—”

“you can go first.” you say, offering a small smile.

“i’m sorry i never told you. i wanted to, but it’s just… difficult to get the words out. i didn’t want you to worry, either, that’s the main reason. you already have enough on your plate.” a beat. “but now that you know… it’s fine if you want to break up. i lied to you, and i know it’d be stressful knowing this, so.”

your eyes widen. “what? lottie, i’m not gonna break up with you.”

and, well, you’re pretty sure the look on her face is relief now. 

“no?” she asks quietly, and your heart breaks a little as you realize she fully believed what she said.

“no, of course not. oh my god. come here.”

you shift a little to the side so she can sit next to you, and she does, albeit a little hesitantly. you pull her closer, enjoying the warmth as her body presses into yours. you slide an arm around her waist and pull her in for a gentle kiss, before putting your head on her shoulder.

“are you sure you’re not mad?” she asks.

“i guess i’m more in shock than anything else.”

she tenses a little. “i can’t believe this happened to you. i’m so sorry, i should have stopped him, i…”

“lottie.” you look up at her. “you did what you could. which, speaking of, how did you get there so quickly?”

she grins. “i have my ways.”

you roll your eyes, then close them again, burying your face in her shoulder. a few moments pass where you’re just holding each other in silence, and if you hadn’t just woken up from a coma, you would fall asleep on the spot. as it is, though, you just sit there, breathing in her perfume. 

“does anyone else know?” you ask after a while.

“not really, no. i didn’t want anyone to get wrapped up in this.”

“really? i figured you’d have laura lee as your sidekick or something. you know, have her pray for you every time you go out to do your thing.”

she laughs. “i didn’t think of that. it’s not an entirely bad idea.”

you weakly slap her on the arm. “hey, no. i’m helping you now. i won’t tolerate competition.”

“helping me? you don’t plan on getting a costume of your own, do you?”

“mmm, i was thinking more along the lines of patching you up when you get home. i like seeing you shirtless.”

she grins and pulls you in for another kiss, a little less gentle this time. she slides her arms down to your waist and you let her press your bodies together as tightly as physics allow, melting into her. you still have a lot of questions — both about the life she’s been leading behind your back and the life you two are going to have from now on — but they can wait. for now, you’re content with just getting to kiss her senseless until a nurse comes for a check up.

[bunnypeew]

Hiya!

So I have this request thing for Alastor!

Alastor x Fem!(if that's ok) co-hostess and they like knew each other when they were alive and were co hosts!

Mon ange - Alastor x Fem!reader

That sounds so cute!! yes I can definitely give it a shot, I'm guessing she was the co-host to his radio show :3c

She has been looking for a job for a couple more days now since her last job didn't end up very well. She heard of this Hazbin Hotel was something about rehabilitation, so she thought that maybe she could find a job there as a hostess, the same job she had when she was alive back when. So that she did, it was quite some time till she found the way to it but when she did it was a pretty swell walk, arrived at the hotel she knocked on the door awaiting a reply. This blonde opened the door with an excited face

''Oh my god! hi! I'm Charlie welcome to the hazbin hotel!! How can I help you,,

she says in an eager voice grabbing Y/n hands to give them a shake, she then gives her time to reply to the question she posed

''Oh right. Em, I'm not sure if you are looking for employees but I kind of was looking for a job, if that's okay,,

this made Charlie even more excited, which Y/n thought was impossible but there it was. With a little gentle push, Charlie made her come inside the hotel to see the lobby where a bunch of other demons were hanging out. A spider demon was sitting at the bar with a cat demon, on the other side a girl with an x over her eye was holding up an angelic spear and looking at Y/n, and finally near them now there was another rather tall demon, his aesthetic being mostly composed of red and a little bit of white on his collar, Y/n eyes made their way up to the mans face seeing he had a rather sinister smile, something about that was quite familiar to her but she couldn't put a finger on it

Charlie started presenting every demon to her, Angel Dust, Husk and Vaggie, waiting for this creepy guy to get presented

''And this is our hotel Host Alastor!,,

hearing that Y/n froze giving him another look from head to toe to see if this person was actually her Alastor the one she had known her entire life and with whom she co-hosted the radio broadcast most of New Orleans was listening to at the time. She walked a little closer to him, her hand reaching for him a little bit

Memories started to flow in as she heard that name, memories from when she was still alive, 1930s New Orleans, Louisiana. She had been quite the charmer when she was alive, not exactly to attract men but in general she had a charming personality. She hadn't really found anyone she actually liked for years, not being one for relationships anyway but it was when she went to this speakeasy for a couple of drinks that she found her someone, at the time they were just talking to each other each and every night about all kinds of stuff, especially cooking, since Alastor was a real foodie and loved to talk about some of his mother recipes sometimes, But it was not until one night where she went to visit him at his home near the forest that she found out about his hobby of killing and eating people, at first she was quite scared about it but she knew that he wouldn't hurt her for the world, so she felt safe around him even for what he did. At that time, Alastor suggested she become his co-hostess for the radio show he put up, and since she was kind of head over heels for him she accepted. they would put up shows almost every night talking about all kinds of stuff and playing mostly jazz music, sometimes the occasional love song Y/n would put into giving a hint to him, It took a while for Alastor to realise what was going on in her mind, he could tell something was bothering her but he couldn't put a finger on it, it was not until you actually confessed to him one time before a broadcast that he understood what was going on

''Oh mon ange you should have told me sooner, you know I'm quite rusty when it comes to romance, but I do accept your heart as mine~,,

He said that the night before he would be found dead in the forest near his house, shot through the forehead by some hunter who mistook him for a deer, their relationship ending there and then leaving Y/n heartbroken and alone.

''Alastor?,,

she mutters out loud looking him in the eyes, his smile falters ever so slightly looking at the shorter woman, some sort of confusion in his eyes as this person seemed to know him, and then it finally clicked in his head

''mon chéri? Y/n is that you?,,

he speaks in a soft but firm voice, reaching out for her hand, taking it in his looking her up and down once before realising it was in fact her, the co-hostess he had on his radio show, not to mention, his chéri.

''Oh my stars Alastor it's actually you, I thought I'd never find you again!,,

she says going for an embrace, and surprisingly to everyone Alastor accept it right away, putting his arms around her shoulders and squeezing

''so you two know each other?,,

Charlie says out of nowhere looking at them with a 'You guys were an item at some point and I know it' look on her face

''yeah, we both hosted his radio show when we were alive! I was the co-hostess, it was such a pleasurable time for us both, and yes we were kind of a thing.. which I hope we could still do...,,

she says turning her attention fully to the deer demon before her. with a soft smile on her lips and a gentle touch on his hand. Alastor looked her softly in the eyes, himself wanting to be closer to her once again in another lifetime, or deathtime. He wanted nothing more at that right moment.

''Of course mon chéri, I would love nothing more, hell you said you were looking for a job, how about getting your old one back! my dearest you are fit to be my co-hostess once again ha!,,

he says with a power-filled voice, his gaze still soft on her, taking her hand now and placing a kiss on it.

''Mon ange,,

A/n: here it is!!! I actually loved writing this one Im so soft for Alastor speaking french istg, hope you enjoyed this one shot :3c

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Home Away From Home 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, jealousy, mentions of loss, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki, Peter Parker (tall!reader)

Summary: You’ve been friends with the Odinsons since childhood. After years of separation, you reunite on Midgard after the destruction of Asgard, but find yourself caught between your old and new lives. 

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Peter’s abode is intriguing. You find all Midgardians have such character in their homes. Stark's is elaborate and expensive, as all things he does, and the spider-hero's being is reflected in his simple but overcrowded decor. 

He has shelves of books and little figures. You investigate them as he rustles in the kitchen. You laugh at the miniature of Thor, his proportions comical as his head is far too big for his body. It’s even more amusing to think Peter would have it all while knowing the god himself. 

“Have you read any comics?” Peter asks. 

“Comics?” You put the tiny Thor back. You wish you could show him. 

You face Peter as he sets down a large bowl of popped kernels. He stands straight and grins, “graphic novels.” He steps around the coffee table and nears you. He takes a slender book from the shelf and opens it to show you the colourful illustrations within. 

“No,” you lean in to admire the pictures. “I did read a book about a strange immortal stalking this poor girl. It was about night time, I think...” 

“You read Twilight?” He chuckles. 

“That is the one. I didn’t enjoy that,” you say. “It isn’t proper the way the Ed—Edmund? Behaved.” 

He laughs again and slides the book away. “I only saw the movies.” 

“There are moving pictures?” You tilt your head. 

“Uh, yeah, maybe we can look them up after we watch some wrestling.” 

“Yes, watch wrestling,” you echo his sentiment with a lilt. “I’m intrigued. Show me.” 

You follow him to the couch. You sit and bounce a little on the spring furniture. You press your hand to the cushion and test the structure. It should do. He sits beside you, fidgeting as the hits buttons on the small remote. 

Your eyes flick up to the screen as he shuffles through the menu. Stark loaded up a device for you with all sorts of moving pictures. You find the TV too frustrating. 

He sets the remote down as the audio blusters and the images begin to move. A deep voice narrates the sights on screen. A man in bright yellow attire postures and poses as he comes down a slanted aisle. You stare inquisitively at the square platform surrounded by ropes. 

“That’s Macho Man Randy Savage,” Peter explains. 

“Macho Man,” you nod. 

“He’s going to fight Hulk Hogan,” Peter says. 

“Hulk?” You look at him. 

“Not Bruce,” he assures. 

“Ah,” you accept and focus on the screen. 

There’s music and a crowd cheering, roaring for the two figures as they put on a show just to get into the square pen. You tilt your head as you watch, leaning forward. 

“That’s the ring,” Peter says. “That’s where they fight.” 

“Hm, interesting.” 

A man in stripes comes to hold up a belt with gold on it. It’s not the sort of thing you would wear. 

“That’s the championship. The winner gets to keep it.” 

“It is not a very nice accessory,” you tut. “In Asgard, we fight for fun or gold. Who would want that?” 

“Well... it’s about what it means. The World Championship. So... they’re the best in the world.” 

You hum and watch on. The men tangle in each other. You stifle a laugh as they begin. The way they hit each other, the way they seem to dance, and do everything so deliberately is silly. 

“It is fake,” you say. “They don’t mean to hurt each other.” 

Peter sighs, “didn’t I say so?” 

You look at him and grin, “you Midgardians do stay too quiet. You never say what you mean.” 

“Oh?” His brows furrow. 

“Yes. You play at fighting and you play at your true intent,” you insist. “You bring me here and say let us watch the wrestling show but I know what you want.” 

He gulps as his eyes widen, “you do?” 

You scoff and reach to ruffle his hair. You stand and unclasp the buckles on your shoulders. Your satin tunic falls forward and unveils your naked chest, the fabric caught up in the belt at your waist. Peter gasps. 

“How do you prefer, dor-dígull?” You reach under the satin and unknot your belt. 

He stares up at you. “I didn’t--” 

“On Asgard, it isn’t a big matter,” you shrug as you free the belt and shimmy out of your top. You step out of it, your chest swinging and drawing his attention. “I have been rather looking forward to it.” 

“You mean...” 

“Oh,” you stand up, your hands on your leggings, “have I made a mistake?” 

He blinks and his cheeks tinge red, “no, I mean, I want to but I didn’t expect...um, well... usually guys make the first move.” 

“Hm, then you make your move, dor-dígull,” you swipe down your leggings and untangle your feet from the bottom. “I will take your lead.” 

He takes a deep breath and his eyes flit up and down your body. You feel tingly and a bit eager. Is it normal for Midgardian men to be so skittish about it all. 

He gets up and strips off his shirt. His chest is thickly muscled, his stomach too. He might be short but he is well-built. He undoes his denim pants and pushes them down, nearly tripping as he fights to get them off. 

You look around and eye the space, “on the sofa?” You wonder. 

“Ummmm,” he drones as he continues to strip. “I guess...” 

“Mm,” you hum and examine the cushions. 

“Unless, er, there’s the bed--” 

“You Midgardians are too slow,” you grab him and turn him, pushing him down to sit on the couch. He tries to cover his bobbing cock as he falls onto it. You tut and swat his hand away. “Let me show you how to do it right.” You snake your hand down between your legs and feel between your folds, “I’m ready.” 

“Uh, okay,” he flattens his hands on the cushions as he gapes up at you. You grasp his shoulders and bring yourself to straddle his lap. 

You grip his member and stroke it as you hover just above it. Your press his tip along your wet folds and tease him. Your hold on him is firm. He throbs and groans at your touch. 

“Mm,” you pause at his erratic shaking. “This is not the first time?” 

“N-no,” he stutters, his cheeks lighting up even more. 

You laugh, “then it will be the best.” 

You push his tip against you and slowly descend onto it. As you sheath him in your aching warmth, he sighs and pushes his head back. He trembles as you take him to his limit. You take his hands and guide them to your hips and begin to rock. 

“This is the better sort of wrestling,” you jape and move his hands up to your chest.