#stupid thoughts are only good for arguing when they actually sound
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man dude u are an absolute GOD with how much writing you keep pumping out THANK YOU FOR FEEDING USSSSSSSSSSS
I’m just having fun
Everything Is Alright Pt 122
IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader
• Optics on the ceiling overhead, on anything but you and your two mates fussing over you, Megatron swallows a growl. That all too familiar feeling of alienation that he remembers from the mines lifting through him. Thought that he'd gotten past this. That it could no longer hurt him, but it's as bitter now as it was back then. Being right there and ignored. Not belonging. And he hates it with a passion. "You two realize this changes everything," he says to Soundwave and Starscream and the Seeker's optics immediately narrow.
• "What exactly does this change?" Starscream growls, hand cupping the back of your head when you finally lay your cheek on his chassis. “I can tend to my mate. I don’t need either of you.” And you stiffen against him. Because as much as he despises the pair of them, you’d chosen them. Wants so much to resent you for that. For forcing him into this mess. They’re not his trine. Not brothers. They’re enemies. Wings drooping slightly then flaring when Soundwave immediately tries to comfort you, he growls. “But my mate does. For some reason.”
• Fighting a smile because that’s probably as civil as Starscream can be given the circumstances, you reach back a hand and Soundwave laces his servos with your fingers. And you’re painfully aware of how messed up whatever this is between the four of you is. That none of them are exactly happy. “Can we just try to start over?” Know you’re asking a lot of them. That this is all your fault anyway. “But you’re so tired of the fighting and scheming.
• “I’m not going to suddenly forget how many times your traitorous little Seeker has stabbed me in the back,” Megatron growls, but he sounds more tired than truly angry. That alone helps Soundwave relax some. Wants to pull you away from Starscream, separate you from him so he can just focus on your emotions. Wanting to try and figure out why you’d fully bonded Megatron after shunning him. It’s what he’d been working towards, but it still hurts that you’d chosen the warlord over him. How many times had he put Megatron ahead of himself, though? Should be used to it. Doing the hard things for the greater good. Even if it hurts. Always loyal. Obedient. Not allowed to want anything for himself, but he does want you even if you don’t want him.
• “Because you’re running the cause into the ground,” Starscream snarls wings lifting and the warlord’s head turns to stare at him. And he’s never been free to speak his mind without fear of pain or retribution, but he can say whatever the pit he wants right now and he’s untouchable because they’re both fully bonded to you. It’s like a dam falling in his processor. All the frustration, hate, and anger pouring out. “Do you have any idea how many stupid decisions you make? How many actions are driven by your desire to kill Optimus, not actual strategy? But what the frag do you know about strategy anyway? A miner and a gladiator. You have so many advisors and you don’t listen to any of us, too busy acting out your little vendetta while the cause suffers. I believed in you.”
• “You only believe in power,” Megatron counters, rolling and propping himself up on an arm. And your skin prickles, not really liking being so small and between them while they argue. Feel Soundwave hook an arm around your middle and pull you to him and away from Starscream like he’s concerned too. “You lie and scheme and paint yourself as a worthy leader, but you’re a coward scrabbling for any power or control you can get your servos on.” Yeah, you don’t want to be anywhere near them if they’re about to brawl. Both tensed like they’re seconds from launching at each other and then slowly relaxing to make you realize you were holding your breath. And Megatron glances at you, vents noisily and resumes staring at the ceiling. “You’re brave with our little pet to protect you.”
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Slowly remembering how to do this/accidentally stabbing myself with the needle so many times. I’m much rustier at this than I thought, though 🫠 looks more like Wheeljack’s illegitimate love child than Starscream at this point. Just a few more pins to finish my bag now
#transformers x reader#starscream x reader#megatron x reader#soundwave x reader#starscream#megatron#soundwave
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me being tortured is like literally bad enough and affects me either way whatever is going on aside from that are you all crazy or something
#i'm not discussing that.#anyway#like i mean it it was just literally so easy not to hurt me every time#and then when it got bad you were all like well am i supposed to be making sacrifices for you now#when the point is just that it was just as easy for everyone else involved too#aaand now we're in a dumpster fire#you're not an evil horrible freak you're just doing horrible things#you know#so don't be weird#idk i can't stand these people i want to do things about it and i'll miss you not being awful to me whatever i do so just so you know#not scary things#hate saying that though#and just miss you in general yk i don't think it's possible to ever get enough of you if you don't hate me saying things like that#idk idk idk i'm being devasted and feel like crying for ten million weeks and feel ten million affectionate feels#and then i'll change moods and post something excited or funny or Katsura or private something and you'll just think it's all a lie again#idk!#stupid thoughts are only good for arguing when they actually sound#so you're just getting ice cube emojis but they're actually heart shaped and come with iced latte#if you're okay with that and it's not particularly icy ice either so it's nothing like that dw 🫶#like even if you suddenly did something cool rn or later i like already know you don't understand anything at all and that you did all that#so that's bad c':#you don't accept me about something this important you don't accept all of me i guess#because how else right#and like i don't know myself there's never a limit to how bad things can get#but damn you're cool#nothing scary mhm#in terms of spells#and on an unrelated note obviously🩷
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good girl, gone bad
oneshot
word count: 6k
genre: established (secret) relationship
pairing: good girl y/n x bad boy jk
summary:
“I can’t believe anyone actually likes those stupid fucks. I mean, the hickeys, it’s like he wants everyone to know he actually fucks.” You stay staring just a tad longer at the buff (sexy) jock, short enough so that Karina won’t notice. This time the boy proudly parading the trail of hickeys down his neck smiles at you and parts with a quick wave, some blonde hair boy from the group laughs at him and shakes his arm teasingly. You can’t help but to smile too, it’s barely there, but he’ll know. You decide to turn around and follow her steps. “Yeah totally, me either.” What your best friend doesn’t know won’t kill her… right?
warnings: basically just pwp but plot went missing (oops!), swearing, smoker jk (i swear if anyone complains in my inbox i'll haunt you), explicit sexual content; jk has a huge dick ok, consensual recording/pictures, car sex (don't fuck in a car), hickeys, unprotected vaginal sex, dirty talk, spanking, squirting, breast play, blowjob, fingering, cunnilingus, come shot (on face), slut shaming (again lol), come tasting/swallowing, stomach bulge (my fault i love this one), choking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie
a.n: sorry for a late update hope yall dont mind, but i just wanna get rid of all my drafts they are PILING. lol forgive me for only always writing about jungkook, but he's so easy to write about. he breathes, and i instantly open my notes app (im not even joking). this has been sitting in my drafts since his LA trip (iykyk) it sparked a conversation and i wrote it. i want that man bad... and im lesbian :D
ANYWAYS enjoy and STREAM GOLDEN for our golden bunny <3
p.s: i'll probably come back to this couple but its a oneshot for now... but wouldn't no nut nov be fun with this jk?? everyone say yesss. ok bye.
—> m.list
—> welcome me on ao3 & twt
—-
“Ugh, what a piece of shit.”
Before you even get to ask who, the motorcycle roars back to life across the parking structure belonging to the very one and only, Jeon Jungkook. A group of college jocks crowd around the man. There’s a cigarette between his fingers, he’s not paying it much attention though. He's deep in conversation, laughing at something one of them said, clearly more invested in the joke than anything else around him.
As the laughter dies down, he looks over, eyes connecting while he brings the cigarette to his pierced lip, slowly inhaling the toxic fume. The terribly annoying (yet somehow sexy) tattooed jock on his loud motorcycle winks towards your direction, before selfishly exhaling that poisonous smoke into the air. Fuck, you really, really wanted to hate him too.
“Yuck.” Karina gags with a scrunch to her nose, turning a cold back to them and you’re grateful to her because you almost get stuck in his lustful gaze.
“Yeah… yuck.” You reply with no real meaning somehow managing to convince her you meant it.
“I hate him and his stupid friends. They are killing the Earth slowly and they don’t even give a fuck!” Karina argues in all her given glory and in her environmental science major mindset. “Plus those cancer sticks reek, why must the general public suffer because they can’t last thirty without them.”
Jungkook could last thirty without them. Way more than thirty when you were around him, especially when he was given something (or someone) to entertain himself with, but you couldn't say that aloud so the sudden thoughts stayed safe and sound in your head.
“No, no they don’t. But what can we do?” There’s a sigh and then you clear your throat. “Should we get going now?”
Your arm wraps around hers, gesturing the way back to campus with a swift wave where you both had been meaning to study given that classes finally started cramping in heavy assignments.
“Yes, please.” Karina is quick to sharply turn her heel and walk back towards the building. “I can’t believe anyone actually likes those stupid fucks. I mean, the hickeys, it’s like he wants everyone to know he actually fucks.”
You stay staring just a tad longer at the buff (sexy) jock, short enough so that Karina won’t notice. This time the boy proudly parading the trail of hickeys down his neck smiles at you and parts with a quick wave, some blonde hair boy from the group laughs at him and shakes his arm teasingly. You can’t help but to smile too, it’s barely there, but he’ll know. You decide to turn around and follow her steps. “Yeah totally, me either.”
What your best friend doesn’t know won’t kill her… right?
—-
“You taste disgusting.” There’s a muffled laugh pressed into your lips, as your tongues meet halfway, meeting each other’s lips in a bruising wet kiss. Your ass grinds roughly against his lap, groaning into your mouth while you bring your ass flush down, feeling his soft cock harden below you. His right hand grips your right ass cheek, jiggling it in his hand, before smacking it (with love, of course!).
“Yeah?” Jungkook smirks, bringing his mouth against your throat, sucking and licking everywhere there was space. He sneakily leaves little love bites behind even though he knows you’ll kill him for this later because you have somewhere to be after this. He even bites your ear lobe gently between his teeth, before he cockily whispers. “You love it though.”
The whimper that leaves your mouth should be illegal. It only drives Jungkook crazier.
Both hands find purchase on your ass now, spanking you once again in each cheek. Though Jungkook was a bit disappointed he wasn’t seeing your flushed bare cheeks on top of him, but he guesses he can settle for now. “You gonna let me fuck you now baby?”
He gropes your asscheeks without any hesitation, still leaving wet kisses buzzing onto your skin, stealing a quick kiss from your raw-bitten lips.
“Mm, only if you ask nicely.” You tease, dragging a finger along his jawline.
With this, Jungkook laughs, throwing his head back. Your hand comes to fist his hair, while he drops another wet smooch onto your lips. “You know I’d do anything for a piece of this ass angel.”
You smile into the kiss, grinding harder against his now– hard cock. You felt your folds leak of your own arousal. It was so undeniable. The attraction between you two, the desire to take each other apart, to be within each other’s arms. There was no place like Jungkook’s lap. Here you could stay forever.
“Imagine what people would say if they saw you like this baby.” Jungkook starts teasing, tugging your shirt off with no trouble. Your breasts catch his attention, noticing that you are wearing that black lingerie set he had bought for you last Valentine’s Day. “Fuck. Look at you baby.”
He squishes your breasts together, leaning up to kiss the uncovered tender flesh on both sides. You don’t even attempt to hold your moans back. “I– nghhh.”
“Did you expect to get fucked today princess? Hmm? Is this all for me?” Jungkook’s words work like magic, they drip off his sinful tongue like honey. You bring your body flush against his, burying your blushing face against his neck. “Don’t get shy on me baby, tell me. Did you wear this all for me?”
He purrs sweetly and you only nod, cheeks burning red.
It's not like you were embarrassed of him, no in fact, you were happy to announce that the college campus’ certified bad boy is all yours and has been for the past two years.
There was no exact moment to this, the attraction had always been there.
You had first officially met Jungkook in one of your general ed classes. Statistics, to be exact, which he would have one-hundred percent failed had it not been for you passing him the answers mid exams. It wasn’t like that to begin with of course, it took you some convincing. To be fair and to your excuse, it was so hard to say no to those beautiful big brown eyes.
At first, you assumed he was doing this all, acting lost and playing dumb, to get into your pants which he succeeded. However you had enough dignity left to make him work for it. Until you realized those secret smiles, stolen glances, and subtle hand holds were much more than just a silly game. You had fallen for his charm, and against everyone’s advice to stay far away from him, you fell in love with the (not so terrible) bad boy and let him take over your heart completely. It happened so randomly and so all at once. It was confusing, new, but most of all, liberating.
Being with Jungkook was so freeing and the thrill of being caught with him was so worth it. It didn’t matter what people thought of you or him, you both were willing to die on this hill of love.
Jungkook, too, had fallen quickly. How could he not? There was nothing to dislike and everything to love. Your pouty scolds, he looked forward to. The stolen glances across campus were his favorite, a secret only you and him held close to heart. There were times where your cheeks would flush pink, because he would steal kisses from you behind the campus library. You were seriously his favorite person ever.
“Jungkook stop! What if someone sees us?” You would whisper-shout, a pout would form against your will.
Jungkook would just kiss your worries away again and again and then say. “You’re the cutest little thing alive baby.”
“Are you trying to change the subject?” It was hard to speak between kisses, that and the fact that he would squish your cheeks together like the adorable boyfriend he was.
“I don’t know. Is it working?” His reply was cheeky and lips would start trailing down your neck and then you determined, yes. Yes, it is working. Fuck it all.
It’s safe to say, he was yours since the start of it all, as you were his. Wrapped in each other’s fingers before anyone had realized it, now you were inseparable.
“Answer me princess.” Jungkook pulls you back gently, observing your flushed face. “God, you’re so beautiful.”
Of course, this only makes you blush harder, but you do manage to admit. “Y-Yes… I wore this only for you. Always for you.”
Jungkook smiles, pecking your cheek. “Then I’m the luckiest man alive angel.”
He cradles your face, before leaning in to kiss you. This time, you guys take your time. Your mouths stay closed, taking the time to really feel the plushy feeling against your own and enjoy each other’s presence. You felt as if you were floating in clouds.
“Jungkook.” You mumble onto his lips and he hums, but that’s not enough so you call his name once more with intent. “Jungkook.”
He pulls back with a questioning look. “Yes, my love?”
“Can you please just fuck me already?” The words come out barely above a whisper, even after fucking you so many times, you could be so shy at times.
Jungkook breaks out into a bunny-like grin, holding back a stifled laugh. “So much for wanting to make me say please, look at who’s pleading now.”
“J-Jungkook…” Your face goes hot again and he laughs once more, patting your ass softly.
“Okay. Okay, my love. Enough teasing, I’ll fuck you since you asked so nicely baby.” Jungkook takes his sweet time taking off his own shirt, and pulling your skirt off. It was a bit tricker, given you were both in your car which was not fit for two people even in the backseat, but you guys always made it work.
You were still scared to ride to campus with him as much as he begged you to because it would blow your secret relationship, but fucking on campus has yet to be off-limits. Mainly because Jungkook fucks you all too well, and you aren’t one to say no to good dick (oops).
He attaches his mouth right above the bare skin of your left breast. He holds your tits in his hands, pushing them together, stuffing his face right between them. Jungkook makes sure to pay attention to both breasts (it’s only fair), rubbing your hard buds through the black lace which hardly covers them. You bite back a moan, feeling him rut up against your heat, his hard length pressing stiffly against you, your walls already clenching, desperate to feel him inside you.
His tattooed hand slips below, releasing the nipple he had been tugging on earlier. You feel the tip of his fingertips brush against your panties. “Fuck, you’re so wet baby. I can’t wait to be inside you.”
Surely by now, you were dripping onto the lace. His erection is still pressing against your inner thigh. “D-Don’t wait then.”
Your boyfriend smiles, bringing his lips to yours. “Behave. You’ll get some dick inside you soon.”
Like the brat you were, your eyes rolled back so used to being spoiled. He pays it no mind though because his tongue comes out again, licking your lips apart. Your tongues meet once more, this time you suck his tongue into your mouth, brushing it against the roof of your mouth. He taste quite bitter, it’s the cigarette from earlier, yet somehow and against all judgement, he tastes fucking delicious. Especially when a grunt slips from his throat, feeling you roll your barely covered folds against his fingers.
He allows this, putting more pressure with two fingers, feeling you drench his fingertips even through your panties. Jungkook pushes his tongue deeper into your mouth, spit mixing as he reciprocates the favor, sucking gently on your tongue. You tasted like the strawberries you had earlier for lunch and Jungkook groans, greedily swallowing the taste in your mouth.
What an innocent sweet little thing you were and he was about to ruin you all.
Cigarettes and strawberries.
Quite the pair.
You whine into his mouth, unable to hold back much longer. “Please, Jungkook…”
He smirks against your mouth. How much he loved the way you fell apart on his cock. Especially more, when he had barely had his hands on you and you were already begging for more. Jungkook pulls back, but not before you whine a soft “no.” He holds your cheeks in his palms, forcing you to look directly into his hazy eyes.
“Imagine if people knew baby.” His voice comes out more sultry, rough around the edges. His thumb carrasses your cheek, patting your mouth open. “How much of a slut you were for this dick.”
His words make you mewl (he knows how much you get off to this thought), he slowly eases two fingers into your mouth, holding your chin in place. You made sure to suck on them as he liked, your tongue coming flat against them.
Jungkook bucks his hips into yours, chest rising while he watches you suck, like the good girl you were. “Imagine if they really knew, baby? Such a sweet girl like you, with someone so dangerous and reckless like me. What would they say? Hmm?”
He pulls out his fingers, seeing them barely glisten under the light.
“I- I don’t know.” Your voice is dry and soft yet, you are incredibly horny.
“You don’t know? I have a few ideas.” Jungkook chuckles, hands brushing along your back. “Can this come off?”
He tugs your bra from behind and you hesitate to nod permission. “Good, I wanna watch them bounce when I finally fuck you.”
By now, you have given up resisting him, so you moan pathetically as he shreds your bra with ease and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking the tender bud into his tongue, flicking it and placing it between his teeth. He tugs and licks the sting away, watching with hooded eyes as you squirm against him. Your face burns imagining the idea.
What if people knew? How would your friends react? They would surely be disappointed, Jungkook was good for nothing but trouble. Yet, he was perfect to you. You were willing to defend him from hell and back. Whatever it took for them to believe you.
Jungkook moves to the other bud, placing it into his mouth, cupping and gripping your breasts. His mouth was hot and heavy against your nipple, his tongue caressing the hard bud. He squeezes them one last time before letting them drop, watching them bounce gently against your chest. Yup, Jungkook was the luckiest man alive. There was nothing better than this moment right here.
Heat travels your body quickly, feeling your own chest rise, struggling to breathe in the steamy car. Your boyfriend looks down, communicating with his eyes instead of actually saying anything, your hands quickly move to his belt, tugging them off and throwing it anywhere else. Desperately, you unbuckle his jeans, harshly pulling his boxer down, just enough to watch his dick spring out. The flushed, wet length smacks against his stomach, watching as his abs clench at the sensation. If you stare any longer, you’ll start drooling. “So good for me angel.”
There’s no time to waste.
“Wanna suck you off.” You breathe out, voice filled with desire and lust, clearly it takes over because usually his girlfriend was much shyer and timid, but that all disappeared when Jungkook’s cock was present.
“Yeah?” Jungkook watches you drop on your knees, your pretty knees will for sure suffer the consequences of your horny choice, but there was no stopping this. He pats his thighs as he leans back to give you enough space. “I’m all yours, baby girl.”
Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek when he feels your warm mouth wrap around his dick. Your tongue comes out messily, practically salivating and dripping all over him. There’s probably not a single day that goes by that you aren’t sucking his dick, but it was quite the experience every damn time.
“F-Fuck, I wish you could see yourself.” He struggles a bit because the sight is fucking sinful and if people knew you like he did, they wouldn’t believe the person in front of him.
His personal little cockslut.
You pop off for a second, hand still wrapped around his length covered in your spit. “Yeah? Then take a picture for me, Kook.”
Double fuck.
When you first started dating Jungkook, you were against any pictures at all. After time passed and to his luck, you came around and you would let him take pictures, but only if he promised your face wasn’t in the frame. Now, his camera roll is covered with images of you and your blooming relationship. You didn’t care anymore about covering or blurring your face out. His camera roll consisted of just about everything, pictures of you sleeping peacefully against his chest as you would nap, videos of you laughing on the random adventures he would take you on, but never images of you nude. Never ever was he allowed anything that could probably incriminate you both, even if he would beg, ever-so sweetly. It seems like you came around after all. Bless you.
“Fuck, don’t talk to me like that princess, you have no idea what that does to me.” He’s never heard you sound so fucking sexy. Jungkook bites his lip, recovering his phone that had dropped earlier on the carpet. “You sure about this baby?”
“Yes.” Then you are back on his cock and he shudders, already snapping a few pictures. Your eyes looked up at the camera, making a show out of it all.
Jungkook tries controlling his heavy breathing but with a sinful tongue like yours, it’s impossible. “Can I record this princess, only if you’ll let me, of course.”
You take him deeper into your throat and nod furiously on his cock. You trusted him enough, you knew Jungkook could never hurt a single soul, unless they tried him. Point is, he would never do anything to break that trust so hell yeah, why not add more to his long collection.
“God, you are so perfect baby. Made for me and only me.” Jungkook’s voice is nothing short of possessiveness. He presses record, caressing your hair softly, almost petting you for your work like the good girl you were for him. “Imagine if they knew how well you take cock baby. How perfect those plump lips look around my dick. You’re like a dream come true princess, my personal cockslut.”
You moan around his length, loving the bitter taste on your tongue and Jungkook has to hold back from fucking your throat, though he thinks you’ll love it anyways.
“Can I fuck your throat?” His voice is raspy and you open your mouth wider, nodding so prettily with dick stuffed in your mouth. Jungkook is careful when placing your hair in a little makeshift ponytail for the meantime and as best as he can with one hand as he starts to thrust into your warm mouth. “So beautiful and all mine. Isn’t that right princess?”
You don’t get to reply, but the vibrations of your moans that manage to run through his cock answer for you and it almost makes him smile. What a good girl you were. Pretty things like you deserved to be spoiled and he couldn’t wait to give you the fucking world.
And was he fucking loving the show you were putting on for him becoming more needy and desperate on camera, your eyes rolled as he brutally used your throat for his liking.
Jungkook bites at his bottom lip as he begins to roll his hips with much more force, feeling your throat take him down with greed. “Fuck baby, your throat feels amazing. Taking me so good.”
He lets you go when he feels you tap his thigh and you gasp for air, tears threatening to leak down your face. “W-Want you to come on my face.”
Your voice is hoarse and his eyes widen at your sweet request.
“Aren’t you just perfect for me today baby. Just you wait, you’ll get the best dick of your entire lifetime.” Not that you would know since he was your first and he knows that, proudly carries that in his cocky ego, but you always believed him. No one could fuck you better than this, you were sure. You bat your eyes at his promise and he comes down to kiss you messily, the camera records jackshit, but it captures your whiny moans and the sound of your lips smacking against one another. He pulls off with one last kiss and adjusts the camera frame back towards you as he takes his hard length and slaps his swollen, wet dick along your cheek. “Open up princess, I’m really fucking close.”
You take him in with no hesitation and go to fucking work. Slurping and licking all over his length, your chin dripping with saliva, but you don’t even care anymore because his grunts and whines keep you going.
Every now and then you look up at the camera making sure you do your best to keep him coming back. You know he will probably rewatch this every night that you aren’t there with him. And your predictions are correct because Jungkook’s already planning on watching this tonight and jacking off to it while you are out with Karina doing God knows what. All he knows is his sweet girl will be doing something productive while he’ll be coming undone in your gracious honor.
“I’m close baby.” He groans sexily, and his breathing starts to become sharp. “Look up baby, right into the camera, gonna come all over that perfect fucking face.”
Doing as he says, you look up sucking him dry, your hands come to relieve what you can’t cover with your tongue. His hand pushes you off for a second. “Tongue out baby.”
He fucks his fist and it doesn’t take long before he squirts his load all over your face, grateful that most of it lands on your tongue, you swallow it all immediately, humming gracefully at the salty taste.
Jungkook’s eyes are blown out as he catches his breath and lets his dick flop back down against his thigh, you look like a fucking sin and he must be the Devil because he’s about to commit about thirty tonight. “Give me a second princess.”
He says between breaths as he stops recording with one last picture of your come-soiled face, still breathing heavily as he throws his phone on the floor again, thankful that he has something for later. You giggle against him and he almost awes as you throw your head against his bare thighs into a laughing fit. “Okay.”
He huffs a dry laugh and pulls you up. “Times up. Come here.”
Jungkook is quick to capture you in a sloppy kiss, not minding the leftover mess of come on your face, he doesn’t wanna mess up his masterpiece just yet. You soon grow desperate in his arms, but this time he doesn’t mess around.
“Lay down.” Your bare back lands on the seats and he shoves himself between your thighs. Again, it’s steamy and fucking cramped in your car, but you both couldn’t care any less right now.
His tongue hits your slit not bothering to move your matching panties, but the effect is almost the same. He licks a long strip watching you soil the silky lace mixing his spit with your own arousal.
You moan sweetly as your legs come apart letting him completely devour your heat. Jungkook pulls off, tugging your spoiled little black panties to the side and continues on with his mission. His tongue finds your clit and you swear you could come like this.
“R-Right there. Please.” Your boyfriend doesn’t let up either, eating your sweet pussy like it deserves. His tongue flicks your bud, building the sensation in your tummy. Jungkook sucks on your clit selfishly.
His chin is covered in your arousal. He’s humming and moaning deep inside your pussy, your juices stick onto his tongue like candy and he greedily swallows the treat whole.
“B-Baby.” Your voice is struggling like his was earlier, but it’s there. He lifts his face from your heat, eyes in a lust-filled trance. Jungkook knows he’s pussy-whipped, but at least he admits his problems!
“Yes, my baby.” Jungkook’s eyes are blown out and he looks just as wrecked as you are.
“C-Can I take a picture?” He almost gapes at your request, the amount of times you took him by surprise today. At this point, he would let you do anything, fuck his morality!
“Do whatever you want princess. Pictures, videos. I’m all yours.” He gives you his full consent and permission to do anything so you are quick to grab his phone (you’ll send them over to yourself later) and start snapping pictures while he dives back in for seconds.
Jungkook keeps your legs open while you are a whimpering mess above him, struggling to get the best picture. You have no idea how he was doing this himself, the pictures come out blurry as he continues to devour you as if it was his last meal.
He also puts on a show for the camera like you did so nicely earlier for him. Jungkoook’s eyes hood as he stares up, he even winks for the shot. If college didn’t ever work out for either of you, this would be something to look into. Good thing that was not the case, at least for you, his little straight A student.
“I’m g-gonna come.” This only makes your boyfriend go crazier between your folds. He drops eye-contact with the camera and instead solely focuses on that pretty pussy presented for him. Jungkook’s tongue is sin itself, not letting up once as more arousal drips out of you. He slowly teases a finger inside, building your orgasm quickly as he fucks you open with his middle finger. “I’m– nghh. Fuh-fuck!”
The sentence is never finished as you start to squirt onto his tongue, creating your own little masterpiece on his face. Jungkook has never swallowed anything down faster than right now and he’s loving every second of it. Completely pussy-whipped and all, but at least he’s happy!
Your boyfriend finally detaches himself from your heat and the sight is nearly adorable. His hair is now all fucked up and he’s a sticky mess everywhere (you are sure you look no better).
“Yum, I could do that all day.” Jungkook shamelessly says.
“Mm, I’m sure.” You say coming down from your own orgasm, he gives you a few seconds to breathe as you set his phone down again. Jungkook takes his shirt from the floor and wipes himself clean. He does the same but it’s no use, the come that landed on your face has dried up and he doesn’t wanna scrub it off and end up hurting your precious face.
Jungkook kisses your cheek affectionately as an apology.
“There’s dry come on my face right?” You start to scold him, but he smiles with all his teeth apologetically and you forgive him at that moment.
“Guilty.” He smirks, proud of his work, he thinks you truly haven't looked better.
Wrapping arms and legs around your boyfriend you whisper innocently. “I was promised dick of a lifetime, unless… unless you lied to me?”
Jungkook scrunches his nose cutely while he looks at your perfect pouty face, doe-eyes begging to be fucked. “I never lie, not to you at least.”
He makes you laugh and he detangles your legs from his waist. “Now let me focus, I have a reputation to uphold.”
There’s no laughing once two fingers press into you and you gasp at the invading feeling, but the stretch only burns for a while before it turns into pleasure and you are whimpering at his touch. “Fingers so deep.”
He smiles and you throw your head back. “Yeah? My dick goes even deeper baby, I’m just making sure you can take it.”
“I can take it.” You breathe out against his pink lips. “I was made for you.”
The taller’s eyes nearly eat you alive, fuck you were so sexy. “That you were baby. My perfect little cockslut.”
His fingers pull out of you brutally and you whine, but he kisses you roughly making you forget the loss. A hand wraps around your throat, squeezing it with purpose. You squirm in his hands and he pops off your lips.
Fingers coated with your arousal trace your lips and you take them in greedily, sucking your own juices off the tattooed fingers, moaning at the delicate taste, his other hand still locked around your throat.
“That’s my girl. All fucking mine.” You nod around his fingers and he finally lets go, gasping for fresh air. “‘M gonna fuck you now baby.”
Your legs fly open in response, letting him have his way with you.
“Do me a favor?” He asks while taking his hard length in his hand, jerking himself off while he awaits your response.
“What?” You hum, confusion written all over your face.
“Record this for me. I want you to see how I break you apart. How this pretty pussy makes a mess all over my dick. I want you to remember this fuck for the rest of your life.” His voice drops a few octaves and you can’t help but gasp and moan at his vulgar use of words.
You used to be innocent, at least, that’s what Jungkook used to think. In a way, he thinks you still are. Untouched and pure, only for his eyes and his hands to touch. Jungkook is honored that he was your first, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. He was gentle and took care of you every step of the way. It was like that until you were begging and pleading for more. Sweet then, and sweet now.
He’s created a little monster, but he knows that your heart is pure and that’s what he loves most about you.
“Okay, yes.” His phone is back in your hands and you click record, watching him line-up his cock. Jungkook groans as he disappears snuggly inside you. “Mmm.”
He lets you get used to the feeling and once he feels your breathing stabilize he starts to thrust himself with strong strokes inside you.
Like the first time, you are struggling with the phone because you can’t stop shivering and shaking, you feel him in your guts and recording is much harder than pictures because it lasts longer and you can't stay still for that long. Not with dick inside you.
“K-Kook. I— oh.” You stop to moan when he hits your g-spot and he continues ramming that same spot over and over. “I- I can’t. Hand’s shaking.”
Your sweet boyfriend grabs the phone and lets you settle yourself. “That’s okay princess, I got you. Just lay there, I’ll take care of you.”
He records himself ramming into you for a few minutes, watching himself disappear into you on camera. The taller one can't even believe this is his reality. How did this even happen and most of all with him of all people? He truly was the luckiest man alive!
“‘S deep, Kook.” He fondles one of your breasts as he keeps a harsh pace, rubbing the hard nub with his thumb.
“Yeah baby? Tell me where you feel it.” He whispers loving the way you tremble, your gaze struggling to keep up with his.
“Right here.” You touch right below your belly, palm flat against the feeling of his cock inside you. “So so deep.”
You mumble something else, but he doesn’t get to hear it because your high pitched moans drown everything out. He lets go of your breast watching them bounce as he continues to pound straight into your sweet spot.
The camera catches it all though. The mess between your thighs look just as delicious on film as they do in real time. The sounds you make, the squelching noise that is being created by his cock going deep inside you, and most of all, it captures your beautiful face as it comes apart.
He presses on your stomach right where your own palm rests and you strangle out a whine. “I- I can’t. T-Too much.”
“You can take it. Remember?” His dick tears through you from the inside and you start yelling when he increases his pace. He’s fucking you mercilessly now and you can’t control the sounds that escape. “You were made for me, princess.”
“Yes, yes, I am.” You sound beautiful, but you would kill him if you guys got caught now especially in the position you guys are in.
His firm hand finally comes off your stomach and instead two fingers go inside your mouth, muffling your screams and whines.
The car rocks back and forth. He’s sure people know what the fuck is going on, the windows are foggy as fuck, for fuck’s sake, but you would hate him much worse for not finishing you off.
“Mmff, don— stopff.” He nearly giggles as you struggle to speak, but he keeps his promise quite well. He fucks you ever harder and deeper, his cock will surely fall off after this, but it’s all worth it. He slams inside, bottoming out fully before pulling out and repeating the same steps. “Fuhh-uk.”
“You like that baby?” Jungkook rasps feeling you squeeze tightly around him, which only means one thing, you are really fucking close. “Gonna come all over my cock princess?”
“Mmff.” You are quick to nod and hum sweetly. He decides to pull his fingers out, spit dripping all over. “Yes, yes. Please, don’t stop. Harder Kook- ah!”
Jungkook almost forgets he’s recording and he centers the camera again, wanting to capture every last second of this. You are glistening all over, he’s made a complete mess of you, but he is no better. Jungkook is dripping sweat and yet, that doesn’t stop his mean and precise strokes against your velvet walls, stretching you in ways you didn’t even know were possible.
The final straw is when you feel his messy fingers start toying with your clit and you are coming once again all over your back seats and wetting his cock just how he likes it. Being a squirter had its own perks with a boyfriend like Jungkook because that meant he never stopped fucking you until you completely had nothing more to give.
Jungkook curses when he starts to see your orgasm trinkle out, he fucks you all through it though, feeling the water-like pressure against his slit. And it doesn’t take long before an orgasm catches up to him.
“Inside.” You plead with a pout, eyes completely blown out.
With one last curse Jungkook comes deep inside your walls. He catches his breath for a few moments before pulling out slowly, making sure to capture the dribble of his come which sadly hangs onto your hole. “Push it out for me princess.”
“Nooo, we’re gonna make a mess Kook.” Jungkook shakes his head, a smile on his face because a mess has already been made.
“I’ll clean it. Now, push it out baby.” You almost cover your face because you are sure you turned red, but you start to push his seed out of your hole and he’s tempted to fuck it back inside.
“Fuck. That’s it baby. Perfect comeslut. Isn’t that right?” He stops recording once he’s gotten the shot he wanted and he starts to wipe you down with his shirt, lucky enough that he has a back-up hoodie to cover him after he’s done.
“Yes, all yours.”
You both smile against each other’s lips before he whispers. “I love you princess.”
“I love you more.”
“Impossible baby.”
—-
JK❤️: hiiii 🙂
me: hi baby :) everything okay?
JK❤️: marvelous 😇 i just came watching that video we took earlier ;))
me: baby! 😠 i'm out with karina! can you not talk about sex for two seconds while im out
JK❤️: sure! just came all over myself totally wasn't watching our sextape back ;)))
me: nice talk jungkook.
JK❤️: come home soon~~ i miss you :((((
me: love you too lol
JK❤️: not more than me. come home soon im serious!!!
me: i'll see you later jungkook. ❤️
JK❤️: 😠😠😠
me: ❤️❤️❤️
#jungkook fanfic#bts fanfic#jungkook x reader#bts smut#jungkook smut#bts jungkook#bts x y/n#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x you
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neighbor!toji finds you sitting in front of your apartment door late at night as he's coming home and at first, he's really not planning on saying anything. he still doesn't know you, he hasn't talked to you – the most you've gotten is a look and a nod whenever you happen to take the elevator with him or when you just bump into him on your way out. and he really isn't the type to make small talk but with your knees pulled to your chest and your head rested on top of your hands, you look miserable and toji finds it very hard to ignore you.
he keeps stealing glances at your curled up figure as he searches for the keys in his pocket and it's only when he's got the door open, he swallows the weird lump in his throat.
"y'wanna come inside?" his voice is raspy, tired, but it does the job of luring you out of your little bubble.
there's a moment of silence.
toji isn't stupid, he knows the dangers of the world and it doesn't take him long to realize how strange his offer might sound. his eye twitches out of sheer embarrassment as he averts his gaze, rough fingers fidgeting with the keys in his hand.
"that would be really nice actually, yeah."
there's no suspicion in your tone, nothing that would indicate that you're thinking what he's thinking. toji's mossy green eyes meet yours and he's met with a look he knows all too well.
exhausted.
"just so i can charge my phone?" you're already trying to apologize for yourself. to tell him that you'll only stay for as long as you need, afraid that you're bothering him.
but he just gives you a hum, patiently waiting for you to push yourself off the ground. for a moment, you stand next to him in front of the door, waiting for him to step inside first but when he gestures to go in before him, you don't argue with him. your hushed 'thank you' doesn't go unheard.
his apartment is tidy. probably even more so than your own. it looks surprisingly cozy – the light isn't a big, bright one but a dimmed down one instead and the sight of his big couch makes you let out a soft sigh. from the corner of his eye, toji observes you. he hasn't had anybody over in a long time and now here you are.
he tells you to take off your shoes and to take a seat while he goes to look for a charger, giving you the perfect opportunity to take a better look around the place – dvd's, old magazines and newspapers, a few movie posters and one singular plant. it's not a lot but it still feels like a good home.
at the sound of his voice, you snap out of your thoughts. your fingers brush against one another as you take the charger from him with another 'thank you'. a
"you're not going to kill me or anything though, right?"
...
for a man his size and his age, he feels a bit small under your gaze. you're blunt more than anything and he's just a little caught off-guard by your question.
"no."
"that's good."
you break the eye-contact to look for a place to plug in the charger and he feels relieved. "you feel safe."
you say it like it's nothing.
"i wouldn't've accepted the offer from anyone else, i think. well, maybe from the lady across the hall but then again, she'd just scold me for being up so late and i'm way too tired for that."
the words slip from your lips as if they're light as air while toji needs a second to really hear you, to know that he isn't making you uncomfortable. that in your eyes, he isn't scary or threatening in any shape or form. perhaps you're just naive for putting your trust into a stranger like this but toji still can't help but feel a little warm inside.
he doesn't say anything and you don't mind his silence. you do thank him a third time and let your lips curl into a proper smile when he almost unintentionally raises his brow at you – like it's weird that you're doing that.
he ends up bringing you a glass of water before joining you on the couch, both of your eyes set on the tv screen and the show that plays on it as you eakt for your phone to come alive again.
it doesn't feel wrong to just be with him like this.
it's right enough for you to let your exhaustion sneak up on you. your eyelids grow heavy without you even realizing it and then you're already dozing off on your neighbor's couch.
your quiet snores are so unfamiliar, the mere idea of somebody being able to fall asleep in his presence so surreal that he's left sitting there dumbfoundedly. regardless, he reaches for a blanket before throwing it over your body ever so carefully and turns down the volume of the tv as to not disturb you.
a stranger, a neighbor. somebody, who makes him feel a bit more alive. a silly comment, a blunt reply. a smile and a thank you.
a push to keep on going.
#soggy wet cat toji strikes again#everything i write is always very self-indulgent but this is like . next level#this is very VERY selfship coded okay#this is also . very not proofread#like i am half-asleep rn..#but i needed to get it out#ilove him#wahhhhhhh#also reader has no keys i only now realized that i didn't say it in there anywhere lmao#ahh whatever i sleep now#zzzzzzzzzzzzz#toji#mickey is daydreaming#miji
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Hello
See Me Through You Series
You had me at hello
Synopsis: The day that you met the love of your life and didn't realize it until almost a year later
Series Masterlist
Stepping onto the sidewalk as you had just left the building where your journalism class had just ended, your phone suddenly vibrated in your back pocket. It took you a minute to grab it, seeing as both of your hands were occupied at the moment. Doing a balancing act with your purse, backpack, keys and your binder that contained your notes, but was too big to fit in your backpack, you finally had a free hand.
Pulling it out of your back pocket, you saw it was your younger twin brother by three minutes Ja'Marr calling on facetime and took no hesitation to answer it. This was his fifth call to you today and knew that about four more would come your way and the worst part about it was that it wasn't even noon.
Not that you were upset about it. If your little brother called and needed you, he always became the priority and everything would be dropped at that very moment.
“What does your ugly ass want?” You asked him as his face came into view. He promptly rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth before saying anything. You could tell that he was in the gym and was probably waiting on you to get there since you had promised to work out with him.
“If I'm ugly, so are you because we're twins, stupid!”
“No, that's what mom and dad tell you but they actually found you in a dumpster and felt sorry for you and took you in.” You told him as you laughed and started to make your way back to your car to head to your apartment that was off campus.
It was only a few miles down the road which you were thankful for and the good part is that you could also drive home to see your parents on the weekends if you wanted to.
You were relieved when Ja'Marr decided to attend LSU with you because the two of you had never been apart in your entire lives. Deep down you knew that you would have eventually adjusted to him not being at the same college as you, but also glad that you didn't have to go that route.
“Y/N!”
“Just kidding! What do you need assistance with, little one?”
“Little one? I'm 6’1 and you are BARELY 5 feet on a good day. Try again.”
You were suddenly taken aback as you saw someone come into the frame behind him and did a double take once you recognized who it was.
Growing up in a sports filled household, college football as well as the NFL was not foreign to you. You watched both of them and knew players as well as their stats forwards and backwards. So to your surprise, you were actually seeing him in real time. You heard of the transfer happening, but it was different seeing him right in front of you.
So the rumors were true, he was really here.
Joe Burrow
Who used to play for Ohio State apparently was now playing for LSU.
“Ja'Marr, I will hang up. State your business or move on.”
“I thought you were supposed to meet me at the gym to work out AND bring my headphones that I know for a fact you stole.”
“YOU CAN'T PROVE IT!”
“Hmm, funny. I recall you asking me to use them last week and I haven't seen them since.”
“I threw them away.”
“WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DEMAND ON STRESSING ME OUT? And I have someone here I want you to meet.”
“Who?”
“Will you just hurry up and get here and stop arguing with me!? I can pick your ass up and throw you across the room.”
“Hmm, sounds like a threat. I'm calling mommy. Bye.”
“Uh hold on, WAIT! DON'T CALL HER!”
Click.
Once back in your apartment, you quickly changed into your pink and black Fabletics workout set with your matching HOKAS and went on the search not only for Ja'Marr's headphones, but also yours. Since he let you borrow his, you didn’t bother trying to find yours even though you know you should have.
The both of you worked out with each other several times a week and it was important seeing as he played football and you were on the gymnastics team with your best friend, Erin.
Putting your curly hair into a high bun since you didn’t have time to straighten it this morning, you grabbed your wallet, water bottle, and keys before making your way back down to your car and heading to the gym.
Walking inside, you spotted him along with Joe in the corner next to the weight rack and promptly came up behind him and attempted to pick him up as you saw Joe's face giving a small smirk because of the gesture. You admit that you didn't realize how tall Joe actually was and you noticed that he was taller than Ja'Marr when they stood next to one another.
“HEY! Oh, it's just you. Joe, my big little sister by three minutes and she will never let you forget it, Y/N and Y/N this is Joe. And you are never going to be able to pick me up.” He told you while patting the top of your head as you were now trying to pick up his left leg.
“Just you watch. It's going to happen one day when you least expect it. Anyway, Hi Joe, and Ja'Marr you should know better. I already know who you are.” You told him and he looked a little confused before greeting you.
“Hey, you do gymnastics right? I saw you compete over the summer.”
You smiled before nodding, taken aback that he knew who you were also. Not a lot of attention was put on gymnastics unless it was during the Olympics. Your goal was to go to Tokyo in 2020.
“Didn't take you for a gymnastics type of guy.” You replied while attempting to fix your hair that had now fallen out of the bun you put it in. You blamed it on not being tight enough the first time.
“It's entertaining to watch.”
“Hmm, because of the outfits?” You asked as you were trying to feel him out and you could've swore you heard Ja'Marr mutter something under his breath.
“No, I just think it's insane how you can do all those different types of exercises and routines just like it's nothing. You can literally visualize where you're going to land before it happens.”
“It's the same with football when you think about it. You're a quarterback so I can imagine that before you decide where you're going to throw and who you're going to throw to what the end result will be.”
“Something like that.”
“Stop interrogating the man! Sports journalism is her major and she thinks she's smart. So she of course knows all of the players and their stats. I’m convinced she’s going to start memorizing playbooks and try to get on the field with us.” Ja'Marr said as he turned to Joe and you pinched his arm resulting in a yelp as Joe let out a small laugh.
“I'm smarter than your dumbass. That's for sure and are we going to work out or stand here all day? Besides I wasn't interrogating. You can't get to know someone unless you talk to them and ask questions.” You told him as you gave him his headphones.
“I'm ignoring you and what are we working on today?”
“Hmm full body I guess. I already did my legs, back, shoulders and arms this week.” You answered as you shrugged and put in your headphones. Flipping through your phone, you tried to find the perfect playlist in order to get through the workout and hopefully finish strong.
You usually hated working out with Ja’Marr since he would always want to add on something extra at the end of it when you were ready to go home and crawl into the bed.
Joe and Ja’Marr quickly agreed and it was decided that the three of you would warm up by running on the treadmill for three miles before going back to the weight rack.
On your second mile, your music was suddenly cut off by your phone ringing. Looking down you saw that it was Trevor, your boyfriend of one year who happened to play baseball at LSU and that was one of your primary reasons for going there. Also having your brother there was a plus.
Deep down you knew that your brother didn’t like him, but to you he was the best thing since sliced bread and could do no wrong in your eyes. But what you didn’t notice was Ja’Marr glancing over at your phone and seeing it was him and rolling his eyes.
You simply finished out your third mile before going to call him back leaving Ja’Marr there along with Joe who had turned down the speed to a brisk walk as he had done the same.
“I fucking hate her boyfriend.”
“Wait, what? He’s here too?” Joe asked as he was looking around.
“No, I saw that he called her and I’m guessing that she went to go and call him back. I can’t fucking stand him and she could do so much better. But she’s happy and the last thing I want to do is ruin that for her. He honestly treats her like shit from what I’ve seen, but I guess she doesn't see it that way.” He confessed as Joe had his eyes on you as you were standing in the corner. He figured that you were on facetime by the way you were holding it and making gestures with your hands.
“But he makes sure to never do that shit in front of me because I will take his ass down. I’m always going to protect my sister. I honestly wish that she was with someone who respected her and didn’t take her for granted like his ass does. She is honestly the sweetest most generous person despite how much we might bicker and she doesn’t deserve someone who takes her for granted. But you'll eventually be able to see how sweet she is for yourself. She literally lives up under me. When you see me, nine times out of ten she’s not too far behind.”
It was at that moment, you walked back over to them and Ja’Marr could tell that you were visibly upset.
“Pebbles, what’s wrong?” Ja’Marr asked but you simply waved him off.
Ever since you two were about six months old, your aunt on your mother's side started to call the two of you Pebbles and Bam Bam and the nicknames had stuck. It also was no coincidence since your mom used to love watching the Flintstones when she was small just like you and Ja’Marr did.
“Nothing, I’m fine. Let’s hurry up and get this done.” You responded as you felt tears forming in your eyes and you did your best to quickly wipe them away.
“You aren't fine so don't stand up here and lie to me. Did he upset you?”
Joe could now see that he was visibly upset which was in turn making you more upset.
“Don't worry about it, I just want to get this done so I can go back to my apartment and study.”
“If you need me to kick his ass, I stay ready.”
“JA'MARR! NO!”
“And Joe will back me up too. You should see how much he can bench press. No one will know.”
“I… I appreciate both of you very much for offering even though you literally just threw Joe in there without giving him a say in the matter, but I promise I'm good.”
“I'm here for assistance if needed.” Joe said and that put a small smile on your face.
“Yeah about that, show me how much you can bench press.”
“Oh lord, Joe you got her started. Now her competitive ass is going to see if she can beat you. She might be small, but don't let that fool you. She also eats like a grown ass man.”
“Bam Bam, keep talking and I will throw that 60 pound dumbbell at your head.”
The workout was winding down and you wanted to work on your pull ups a little bit more since the upper body was your weakest area. You stood in front of the pull up bar and noticed that Ja'Marr was in the middle of his set, so the only other option was to ask Joe for help to reach the bar since there was no way in the world that you would be able to get up there on your own. But he beat you to it as he walked over to you.
“Need some help?”
“Hmm, definitely yes since there is no way in the world I'll be able to reach it by myself.” You replied as you both laughed.
“I got you. Jump up and I'll lift you the rest of the way.”
Nodding your head, you turned around and felt Joe's light touch on both of your sides. You couldn't quite explain it, but when his hands made contact with your skin, the feeling that it gave you felt unreal. Almost if it was something out of a movie. Shaking it out of your mind, you focused on the task in front of you as you jumped up.
As promised Joe helped you the rest of the way and stepped back once he saw that you were hanging onto the bar.
“Do you mind just standing there to spot me? Pull ups aren't my strongest thing.”
“Yeah, I'll be right here. Go ahead, you think you can do twenty?”
“Hmm, let's find out. I think I can.”
Fifteen of them came with ease and when you started to struggle, you once again felt Joe's hands on your waist and he helped you do the rest of them. You let go of the bar with him then catching you and placing you on your feet.
“Thank you for that.” You told him and you received a cheeky smile in return.
“Any time.”
“By the end of the semester, my plan is to be able to bench press the same weight or more weight than you.” You playfully told him and the smile that he had before became wider.
“I'd love to see that, princess. So let's put some money on it.”
“How much? 50?” You asked not really knowing how much he was willing to put up.
“Nah, you can do better than that.”
“Okay, 500.” You said as you shrugged.
“Damn, I didn't think you would go that high, but okay. Ja'Marr also mentioned to me that since you're the oldest, what you say usually goes between the two of you.”
“He's teaching you well.”
“Hmm, we'll see if that holds up between the two of us.”
“Looks like we just have to see then, won't we Burrow?”
The next day, you found yourself yawning at five in the morning absentmindedly taking small bites of your protein bar as you began to stretch with Erin coming over to sit next to you.
You hated that you had gymnastics practice so early in the day, making all of your classes be in the afternoon or late at night. The campus itself was huge and you didn't always necessarily feel completely safe when you had to walk back to your car late at night.
“So, did you break up with Trevor yet?” She asked as she began to stretch her arms.
“Uh? Good morning to you too, Erin.”
“Good morning, now did you two break up yet?”
“No, Erin.”
She sighed before rolling her eyes and looking at you in disbelief.
“Nobody likes him! Dump his ass! And I don't like the way he treats you. Truth be told, I've never liked him.”
“But I like him!” You exclaimed and she gave you a blank stare.
“Yeah, only you and his bald headed mother. You could do so much better. Oh! Who did you meet yesterday when you went to workout with Ja’Marr? I guess you fell asleep and never read my text.”
“Joe Burrow. He plays quarterback.”
“Oohh, he's cute! I heard about him transferring here. Break up with Trevor and date him! There, problem solved.”
“ERIN!”
“What? You have addressed me by my name a lot this morning. I like my plan and I think it'll work. Besides, he's a sucky ass baseball player. My goal is to get my best friend to become a WAG and being with him is not going to get you very far. He didn't even get a scholarship here. He was a walk-on!”
“I have literally only met that man one time and yeah I've said your name a lot because how do you wake up this unhinged!?”
“So? Love at first sight is an actual thing. I wasn't there, but I know it happened. And it's been that way since we were three.”
“And he did help me with my pull ups yesterday.” You told her as you shrugged your shoulders.
“I'm going to start planning the wedding when we leave. My class doesn't start until one today.” She replied as she smiled at you.
“I…-”
“What are you two going on about over here?” Your other friend Alisha asked as she sat her bag down to the left of her.
“Y/N is getting married to Joe Burrow! We have to start planning!”
“Erin, shut up!”
“Oh, but he's cute. Do you know if he has any brothers?” Alisha replied as she sat down on the other side of you.
“I.. don't but I will find out for you.”
“And slip them my number while we're at it.”
“He helped her during their workout yesterday. At this point, we can say it was their first date.”
“Erin telling everyone's business as usual.”
“Hey! I'm just good at storytelling! And he had the perfect view of your ass if he helped you with your pull ups now that I think about it.”
“Sometimes I honestly cannot believe you're my best friend.” You said as you couldn't contain your laughter anymore.
“And you aren't getting rid of me any time soon.”
Gymnastics practice was always long and draining so you knew what to expect every time. They typically lasted for three hours and when you were finished, you either got breakfast on campus or went back to your apartment to make something as Ja'Marr would also be blowing up your phone to feed him even though he was on an entire meal plan just like you were.
After taking a shower and throwing on some leggings along with an LSU sweatshirt and your converses, you started to walk out the building with Erin since Alisha had to hurry up to get to her class on time, when you spotted Joe.
Of course, Erin noticed too and squealed.
“Ooh, there goes your man!”
“Erin, be quiet! I don't want him to hear you! You are too loud for it to be eight in the morning!”
“Why not? And I'm always loud. I'm responsible for this love connection and I'm going to be the maid of honor. He NEEDS to know me.”
Joe had turned around and once he spotted you began making his way over.
“Oh shit, here comes your husband!”
“I hate you. I hate you so much right now.”
“You'll get over it.” Erin said as she smiled.
“Morning princess. Just got out of practice?” He asked as he came up to both of you.
“Morning and yes. Now I'm going to stuff my face. Oh Joe, this is my best friend Erin.”
“Hey Erin, pleasure to meet you.”
“You too and the pleasure is all mine.” She said and you couldn't help but laugh quietly to yourself.
“I was actually going to get food if the two of you wanted to come with me.”
“Y/N will go! I have class but she is free ALL MORNING. So I'm going to go and Y/N, I'll text you later. Have fun you two.” Erin practically yelled and you looked at her as if she was crazy.
“And then there were two. Where did you want to go to eat?” Joe asked as Erin had started to walk away.
“You're from Ohio, so you need to get a taste of some good southern cooking that makes you feel like you have just gained ten pounds.”
“Lead the way.”
“We're going on a little adventure off campus, my car is just over there. I think you'll like it.”
Less than a mile from campus was Louie's Cafe that had amazing breakfast as well as brunch foods. Anything that you could possibly think of they served.
On the ride over, the two of you just made small talk and when both of you had placed your orders for your food, you wanted to see how he was feeling for his first game that he would be playing in on Sunday because you already knew Ja'Marr was a nervous wreck.
“How are we feeling about Sunday? You nervous?” You asked as you took a small sip of orange juice.
“A little bit and I can admit it. I mean I played when I was in Ohio, but I was the backup. Now I'm actually starting. A lot of pressure on my shoulders and I feel like I have something to prove. I want them to be able to see that they made the right choice.” Joe told you and you were clinging to every word.
“But that's so exciting! What made you transfer here though out of all places?”
“I didn't want to be sitting on a bench for four years. I wanted to be able to play. I know that I'm good, but I just need a chance to show it.”
“Hmm, I do love a man with confidence. Well I'm very excited for you and my brother. I hate how you guys aren't playing here, but I'll make sure I'm watching.”
“Always confident, never cocky. And I'll try to get my first win as a starting quarterback for you.” He responded as he gave you a small smile.
“I can't wait to see it happen so once you get back here, we can celebrate. I can cook, so I can make you something.”
“I've been craving something my mom makes all the time, Snickers Salad.” Joe replied and you looked at him confused.
“Um? Is that an Ohio thing? Because I have no idea what that is.”
Joe nodded as he laughed and your waiter had set your plates down on the table in front of you.
“It is, but I can always text you the ingredients you need to make it. I figured you could do it justice since Ja'Marr never stops talking about how well you cook.”
“You need my number to be able to do that.” You Cheekily said, but he fired right back.
“Mine is in yours, already. I put mine in when we first got here since I want to be able to see more of these special spots you know about.” Joe confidently told you as he was pouring syrup on his banana pecan pancakes that had been recommended by you.
“I've literally only known you now for about 36 hours and I can say that I like being around you.”
“Good, because I like being around you too.”
Just then your phone rang and of course it was no one other than Ja'Marr.
“Pebbles! Are you at Louie's Cafe!?!? And you didn't take me!? I checked your location! I'm hungry too!”
“I took Joe instead because he doesn't get on my nerves like you do.” You told him as you stabbed your eggs.
“WAIT, you took Joe!?!?”
“Yes, say hi. You're on speaker.”
“Hey Ja'Marr.” Joe said as he was trying not to laugh.
“Joe, just make sure my sister gets me something to go. I'm about to starve messing with her ass.”
“I got you.”
“Bye, baby brother.”
“Wait! I didn't give you my order!”
“Text it to me, bye.”
Once you hung up and placed your phone back on the table, you looked back up at Joe to see him staring at you.
“When do you have class?”
“Not until one.”
“You want to do some more exploring with me? I feel that it's now my obligation as your unofficial tour guide.”
“I get to be around a pretty girl so I'm all for it.”
“Joe, you do know that I have a boyfriend right?” You asked as your face heated up.
“Someone as pretty as you, I'm not surprised. But what does that have to do with me?” He asked as he winked at you.
This is the first time in your life that you were speechless.
#joe burrow#joe burrow fanfiction#joe burrow lsu#joe burrow x black reader#joe burrow x reader#joe burrow imagine#joe burrow fluff#joe burrow fanfic#joe burrow fic#joe shiesty#cincinnati bengals#nfl imagine#Spotify
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INFINITELY YOU
part three // spitfire
SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.
WARNINGS - 18+, minors DNI
WORD COUNT - 4.5k
// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite
name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker // tobey!peter = pete
On the walk back from Peter Pan’s, it seemed as though Parker had managed to entirely escape the sputtering awkwardness that had ensnared him the night before.
And, after countless city blocks of listening to him babble about absolutely everything and anything, you realized that there was one very striking similarity between him and Peter.
Both boys had a fervent interest in all things nerd.
“New Hope takes place nearly two decades after the rise of the Galactic Empire, meaning that Leia is only nineteen when she's kidnapped and forced aboard the Death Star! Which is like, absolutely insane, right? Seriously! Imagine being nineteen years old and stuck inside of something that has the potential to obliterate an entire planet!”
Shoving open the lobby door to your complex, Parker hardly even waits for you to hum your agreement before continuing his retelling of the Star Wars film.
“And at the exact same time, Luke is finally beginning his Jedi training! Which, honestly, nineteen is actually super old for that, but-”
Moving towards the stairs, Parker close on your heels, you cut him off with a question. “Too old? Nineteen is hardly even an adult,” you argue. “What age do most Jedi start training?”
“About four or five, so obviously Luke was way behind,”
Not even a full three stairs up, you come to a grinding halt, leaving Parker to bump into your back. “Four?!” You cry out, wide-eyed as you spin around to face him. “That’s insane!”
Parker only lifts his shoulders, clearly not understanding the reason for your horror.
Furthering your point, you add, “There’s nothing ethical about taking a bunch of little kids and training them to be weird, intergalactic warriors!”
“It’s the best way to train them!” He lifts his hand defensively, explaining, “The earlier they start training, the less likely it is that the kids will have formed an attachment to their families! That way they learn to act out of logic instead of emotion!”
For a heartbeat, you’re rendered entirely speechless by the absurdity of his claim, left to stand with your mouth agape as you blink at him.
“That sounds like emotional abuse,” you finally huff, shaking your head. “Actually, scratch that—it doesn’t sound like emotional abuse, it just is!”
“It’s not abuse-”
You hold a hand up, stopping him before he can say anything else. “Give me one good reason why a group of adults should withhold love and affection from children if they aren’t abusing them.”
“Uh, how about the fact that love is basically what made Anakin turn to the dark side!” Parker scoffs, clearly unwilling to recognize how insane the notion he was pushing actually is.
“Or maybe Anakin turned to the dark side because he was indoctrinated and traumatized by some stupid space cult!”
The expression on his face is downright laughable.
It was as if you had just reached out and slapped him across the face. His jaw went slack, his mouth hung open in blatant offense. As a sputtering noise falls from his lips, trying and failing to come up with a good rebuttal, you smirk.
“Exactly,” you boast, taking his inability to speak as a sign of victory.
Twirling on your heel, you continue up the stairs, nearly all the way to the top before you finally hear him come stomping up behind you.
“The Jedi Order is not a cult!” He finally shouts after you.
Already traipsing through the hallway, fiddling with your keys, you sing-song, “Whatever you say, bug-boy.”
Reluctant to admit defeat, Parker continues grumbling under his breath as you unlock the door, spouting something off about your lack of respect for George Lucas.
“Look,” you tell him, pushing the door open, “if liking Star Wars matters this much to you, then I’ll gladly watch them with you.” A wry smile plays on your lips as you turn to look at him, standing in the doorway, “Maybe watching them will be enough to change my opinion on turning kids into galactic slaves.”
Eyes narrowing in a playful glare, he’s only able to hold the expression for less than a few seconds before a laugh causes him to break character. “I just can’t believe that Peter hasn’t made you watch them already,” he admits. “I had you watch them so much that you could probably recite the scripts from memory alone!”
His amusement dies off as soon as he finishes the sentence. Despite having been the one to bring it up, the mention of his world seems to cast a sullen shadow over him, ruining his sweet, boyish smile.
Curiosity instantly claws at you, begging you to ask him why his world seemed to have such a negative effect on him. Or, rather, why his version of you seemed to have such an effect.
This had happened last night too, when you had asked him if the two of you were friends in his world—and it was because of this that you assume that you’re somehow the common denominator in his discomfort.
Still, you don’t let yourself ask him about it. For as much as you’re starting to like Parker, you don’t know him nearly well enough to try prying into his life.
Not yet, at least.
“Well, you’re more than welcome to force me into sitting through them in this world, too.” You tell him sweetly, sweeping an arm out to gesture inside of your apartment, inviting him. “It’s not like I’ve got any plans for the rest of the day.”
You couldn’t even remember the last time you did have plans. Life had been so quiet since that last night with Peter and Mj—the night when everything went so horribly wrong.
Parker sucks in a breath through his teeth, a hand coming to rest against the back of his neck. “I should probably get back out on the streets,” he reluctantly says, sounding more like he was convincing himself of that than you. “But, I don’t know, maybe we can take a rain check on it, yeah?”
Disappointment washes over you, sudden enough that you’re sure it shines through on your face. It takes a shocking amount of willpower to stop yourself from trying to persuade him to stay, wanting to remind him that two other Spider-Men were already running themselves ragged in pursuit of the villains—so why did he have to go, too?
You had grown used to his constant talking, having found solace in the chatter that kept you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Selfishly, you wanted him to stay so that you wouldn’t have to be alone; so that you wouldn’t have to risk thinking too long about Doctor Strange or the multiverse or constants or Peter.
The thought of admitting any of that out loud, however, felt incredibly humiliating.
“For sure,” you force a smile, trying to ignore the many thoughts swirling in your mind. Then, eyeing the slightly too-tight Ramones shirt that he’d stolen from you, you add, “But shouldn’t you at least come in and change?”
His nose wrinkles slightly as he shakes his head. “Nah—I think this city has more than enough spider-people swinging around it right now. I figure we might actually benefit from one of us patrolling on the ground-level, y’know? Maybe I can ask around for any giant lizards or blown light bulbs.”
It’s hard to tell if the last bit is meant to be a joke or not, but you laugh anyway if only to avoid knowing why you should be worried about lizards and light bulbs.
“Sounds like a plan,” you second his idea. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later then?”
A surprising sense of joy lights his eyes at the sound of your hesitance, unfitting of the simplicity of the moment, but charming nonetheless. He grins—a wide and endearing sort of grin—as he takes a step back, “I won’t be gone long,” he promises before reminding you, “lock the door behind you, alright? And if you need anything-”
He pauses, patting the pockets of his jeans only to remember that he didn’t bring a phone with him to this universe—and that, even if he did, there likely wasn’t a wireless plan good enough to support multiversal travel.
“If you need anything, call 911.”
“Got it,” you laugh, watching as he stumbles backwards towards the stairwell, cheeks red with faint embarrassment.
Turning to go inside, you can’t ignore the warmth that now blooms in your chest.
You could definitely get used to having him around.
A peculiar sensation prickles at your skin, curling along your spine like icy fingertips.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
The usually comfortable atmosphere of your apartment had shifted. An eerie tension fills the space, a near-suffocating feeling that has the very walls holding their breath, humming a tune of warning as you inch further into the living room.
Your stomach twists as the sharp tang of exhaust fumes fills your nostrils. By the couch, a faint breeze rustles the curtains of a window, wafting in the nauseating scent of the city street below—a window that hadn’t been open when you left earlier.
A mere foot or so away, you notice that the picture frame Parker had been fiddling with before is now lying on its face, having been knocked off the end table and abandoned. Atop the table, you notice that the lamp is sitting askew, its base just inches from tumbling over the edge and joining the frame.
Someone had come in through your window—and it didn’t appear as though stealth had been very important to them, given that they had clearly stumbled into the table upon their entrance.
Adrenaline floods your senses, your spine stiffening as you take a series of slow, quiet steps.
Moving towards the corner, you carefully reach out a hand to grab the metal bat propped against the wall. The bat had been an unlikely housewarming present from when you first moved in, given to you by Peter’s mentor and your own reluctant renegade, Tony Stark. For nearly two years now it had sat in this corner, unused and gathering dust—until now.
You wrap your fingers tightly around the base, wincing slightly as the rubber grip pulls at the still-healing flesh on your palm, making you curse yourself for not properly bandaging the wound last night.
But you’re used to pain—and so you’re easily able to bite back against it as you ease through the living room, checking for any sign of the intruder's presence.
As you walk, gripping the bat like your life depends on it, you can’t help but hear Tony Stark’s voice echo in your mind.
If you’re gonna live alone, then you should have some sort of protection—he had told you, gently placing the cool steel into your hands for the first time, a ribbon tied sloppily around it—not that you need it.
Satisfied with your search of the living room, you start easing towards the hall. You’re good at sneaking around, having had a lot of practice at it—every movement you make is calculated, every footfall so purposefully gentle that it’s nearly silent.
Quiet as you were, you could do nothing to ease the sound of your blood thrumming wildly in your own ears, your heart pounding against your chest.
The incessant beating worries you—because you know that there are people in the world with the unnatural ability to hear such things. Peter, even with his enhanced hearing, had to be close to someone in order to hear something as soft as their heartbeat; but you had heard rumors that there were others who could hear a pulse from miles away, others like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.
The thought makes your blood run cold, though you try to push the worries from your mind. From what you know, the Devil doesn’t have a habit of breaking into apartments, nor was Queen's his usual jurisdiction.
No—what you were dealing with had to be no more than an average burglar!
An average burglar who, somehow, scaled up the side of a building to break into your apartment…
Alright—you think, approaching the end of the hall—perhaps it’s a not-so-average burglar, then! Still better than the Devil.
Peeling one hand from the bat’s handle, you curl your fingers around the doorknob to the guest room, Parker’s room. You ease the door open slowly, trying to keep the old hinges from crying out as you peer into the space.
The sweet scent of vanilla is the first thing that hits you, contrasted by the subtle bite of vetiver.
Parker—the room smells of him, even though he had only been here for one night.
On the bed, the quilt is rumpled and thrown about, pillows strewn about. The doors of the armoire are wide open, a few old shirts hanging over the edge of one of the shelves, no doubt from when he went digging through your clothes in search of something to wear.
The room was messy, but empty.
Your shoulders sag, half-a-breath loosing from your lungs. The relief is short-lived, however; as by the time you edge back into the hall to turn towards your own door, you’re overwhelmed with dread.
If whoever broke in was still here, then this was the only place they could be—save for the bathroom, though you seriously doubt any burglar would have much interest in scouring through your toiletries…
Easily, gracefully, you twist the knob, the metal yielding quietly to your careful touch.
The curtains are tightly drawn, eradicating any trace of sunlight and leaving the room cloaked in shadows. But, even in the darkness, you’re able to see the rough outline of a figure sprawled out across your mattress.
For a split second, you think of Parker’s advice to call 911, the weight of your phone suddenly heavy in your back pocket.
You think of how you should follow that advice.
You think about how fast you could run—if you would be able to reach the front door before they could catch up to you.
But then you stop thinking, disregarding all logic and reason as you take a step into the room, as if drawn in by some invisible force.
Remaining mindful of your surroundings, you slowly approach the edge of the bed. Squinting in the darkness, you try to study the body laid out atop your comforter. Watching the steady rise-and-fall of their chest, it suddenly hits you that, whoever they are, they’re asleep.
Slinking around the corner and coming to stand at your bedside, you’re finally close enough that you can see them in spite of the absence of light. Crimson and blue spandex clings tightly to their arms as they cling one of your pillows to their chest, and you feel your entire body sag with relief as you loosen your grip on the bat.
So this must be Peter 2.
The fabric of his mask is bunched up and resting along the bridge of his nose, which is somewhat smushed against the pillow he’s holding, no doubt leaving him to breathe in the scent of laundry detergent and your perfume.
Lower, you can make out the subtle contours of his jawline and the curve of soft, pink lips. Higher, you’re met with the impassive stare of then white lenses sewn into his mask.
The lenses shield his eyes from your view, and a curious feeling begins to tug at the furthest corners of your mind. Take it off—it seems to whisper, compelling you to move in closer, your shins pressing against the side of the mattress—take it off.
You grit your teeth and try to ignore the feeling, try to ignore the velvet-voice slithering through your mind; begging you to look at him, to touch him, to notice him, to-
Pain shoots along the side of your temple, likely in response to the sudden tightness in your jaw. It distracts you enough that you’re able to shake the strange feeling long enough to regain your focus—even if the remnants of it still linger.
You shouldn’t be interested in him—you should be pissed at him.
Not only had he broken into your house, which was already bad enough, but he had also climbed into your bed and made himself cozy! The absolute gall, the audacity he must have, has you allowing the tiniest sliver of rage to ignite inside of you.
Both hands still gripping the bat, you lower it from where it rests against your shoulder to swiftly jab its head into his stomach.
A cough sputters past his lips as the impact pushes the air from his lungs.
You’re actually shocked that you landed the blow—in truth, you had expected his spider-sense to kick in and detect the incoming hit, waking him with just enough time to dodge the shot. But, apparently, his instincts had made the mistake of assuming that you were of no threat to him.
“Morning sunshine,” you chime, your feigned cheerfulness set off by a sneer.
He’s scrambling into an upright position, knees sinking into the mattress as he presses a hand against the sore spot you’d created on his stomach. “What the fu-”
His voice is hoarse—from sleep or pain, you’re not sure—and he doesn’t finish the curse spewing from his mouth once his head shoots up towards you, as if finally registering the sound of your voice.
“I don’t know what things are like in your world,” you muse, swinging your bat back to rest against your shoulder, “but in this one, breaking and entering is considered a crime.”
He’s still catching his breath, and while those damn white lenses covering his eyes give so little emotion away, you assume that he’s going to apologize. It’s what Peter would do, and Parker, too.
But not him.
“Your friends said I could stay here,” he defends himself. Taking another deep breath and extinguishing the burning in his lungs, the lower-half of his face transforms into a defiant smirk. “It’s not breaking and entering if you were invited.”
“And did they tell you to sleep in my bed, too?” You shoot back, brows rising in annoyance. “Word of advice: next time you’re invited to stay in a total stranger’s house, maybe try not to repay their kindness by crawling through their window.”
He mocks you without missing a beat, “Word of advice: you live in a shitty neighborhood—if you don’t want people coming through your windows, you should try locking them.”
“Ah, right! Cause the average person is definitely willing to scale the side of a building for the prospect of an unlocked window!”
“You’re a pretty girl in a dangerous city,” he drones, lifting a shoulder as he meets your sarcasm with purposeful calm. “You’d be surprised what people would be willing to do for a chance at getting you alone.”
The insinuation sends a shiver down your spine, but you mask your unease, flashing a smile that’s more predatory than sweet. “Aw,” you coo, “so you think I’m pretty?”
He returns the expression, skillfully avoiding your derisive question. “I think you’re irresponsible—and a little cocky.”
“Better to be cocky than a felon,” you remark. “Just spare my neighbors the acrobatics show next time, would you? Maybe try knocking on the door like a normal person! Preferably when you’re not dressed like… that.”
It’s not that his suit wasn’t nice, because it was. But it lacks the advanced Stark-tech that makes Peter’s suit so uniquely sleek, meaning that it was likely safe to assume that no one in this world would mistake this boy for the real Spider-Man.
Unless they were to catch him scaling up the side of your building…
“I tried knocking.” he sounds exasperated, as if you are testing his patience. “You weren’t home.”
You snort a laugh, wondering if he truly believes that is all the reason he needs to break into someone's home.
“Then you should’ve waited until I got home,”
“I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. I was too tired to wait.”
“Then you should’ve slept in the alleyway with the rest of the strays,” you hiss at him, fingers tightening around the bat as your frustration builds.
The sheer ferocity in your voice gives him pause, stunning him into silence.
Then the corner of his mouth begins to twitch upwards, lazily grinning at you as if he actually enjoys the verbal onslaught.
You can tell that he’s watching you through those white lenses, and his tongue darts over his bottom lip, you feel your breath catch in your throat. “Fine,” amusement dances in his tone as he raises his gloved hands, “fair enough.”
For a moment, no sound comes from your parted lips, leaving you to stand there gaping at him until you remember how to speak. “Fair enough?” You echo, shaking your head slightly. “That’s all you’ve got? No apology?”
He moves, forcing you to take a step back as he shoves his legs over the side of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s not as tall as Parker, but he still stands an inch or so higher than you, making it hard to not feel intimidated as he stares down at you, your own face staring back from the reflection of his lenses.
“Better not push your luck, Spitfire,”
He’s baiting you—he has to be! Using a stupid nickname to get under your skin, to try and prod further at your short temper. And it’s working—god, you hate how much it’s working!—because you find yourself contemplating putting his superhuman durability to the test by whacking him over the head with your bat.
“By the way,” he says before you have a chance to act on your intrusive thoughts, pointing at your hands, “you’re bleeding.”
As if his words switch a flip in your head, you’re suddenly aware of the acute throbbing in your palm. You loosen your grip on the bat, letting it clatter recklessly to the floor as you hold your hand out to examine it.
Unsurprisingly, the rubber handle managed to tear open the barely-healed cut on your palm, courtesy of your too-tight grip on it. You hiss through your teeth, watching as blood oozed from the cut, dripping down towards your wrist.
Slipping past you, the boy only half-manages to stifle his laugh. “You should probably take care of that.”
He’s already slipping out into the hall by the time you regain enough awareness to follow after him, gritting your teeth against the pain.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
“To the other room,” he calls over his shoulder. Once he’s standing in front of Parker’s door, he spins back around to face you, his snarky expression still in-tact. “Where I’m hoping you won’t follow me.”
Everything about him causes your blood to boil—his grating voice, his insolent attitude, his stupid soft lips.
“Would it kill you to be nice to me?” You exclaim, your voice strained with pain as you try to wrap your hand in the lower half of your shirt.
It takes no-time for blood to start seeping through the thin material, and you certainly don’t look intimidating like this—the lower half of your abdomen on display as you try to apply whatever pressure you can to the wound—but you don’t care.
“I don’t have to let you and Parker stay in my house—I’m doing it because I’m nice, alright? And, so far, you’ve been nothing but a dick!”
The thin fabric of his mask shifts, brows furrowing at the mention of Parker. Unlike Peter, however, he doesn’t bother commenting on the nickname. “Nice isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe you. Especially since you’re the one calling me names.”
The levity in his tone makes you want to scream—what was his deal?!
You press harder against your bleeding palm, your breathing turning shallow. You’re not sure if it’s frustration or pain or what, but you feel like your head is spinning. “Look, I don’t know you, alright? But this? Isn’t gonna work,” you bark at him, chin lifted defiantly as you stare into his mask, unrelenting. “If you plan on staying in my house, then you’ll get your shit together—got it?”
His head tilts, curiously watching as you continue your frantic speech.
“No crawling in through my windows or sleeping in my bed or smarting shit off! And take off that stupid mask!” You huff, shaking your head. “Or, I don’t know, pull it down the rest of the way! Just do something because you look stupid like that!”
The words are spewing from your mouth like a torrential downpour, fueled by the rage swirling in your stomach and the throbbing in your hand and—
He laughs, a genuine laugh that isn’t born of derision, and you feel your racing thoughts slow to a halt. “You should work on your insults,” reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs his mask off. “Because that was pathetic.”
It’s no longer just your thoughts that have slowed, but the entire world. Everything around you feels like it has come skidding to a stop—leaving you staring up at him like a dumbfounded idiot.
He’s beautiful—a commonality among Peter’s variants, it seems.
He’s smirking, an infuriatingly charming smirk that lets you know he has no intention of listening to your demands for him to silence his quick wit. But you’re not focusing on that—no, you’re focusing on the features that had been hidden from you this whole time; his dark hair, tousled from removing his mask, falls in a chaotic halo around his face, contrasting the vibrance of his eyes.
His eyes.
They leave you breathless, and you hate it. Colored with the deepest cerulean you’ve ever seen, his eyes feel like staring into the depths of a crystalline ocean. You can almost feel yourself getting swept up in their tides, feel them enveloping you in a feeling of familiarity, as if this wasn’t the first time you had been pulled into their ebbing waters.
“Have we–” your mouth has gone dry, your voice cracking. “Have we met before?”
It’s a ridiculous question, and you recognize that even as it’s spilling from your lips. You couldn’t have met him before—not when the two of you weren’t even from the same universe!
He seems to be thinking the same thing, and you’re already preparing to take the full force of whatever smartass comment he’s about to fling at you. “I’ve met you,” he says simply, taking you by surprise. Then he inclines his head towards your still-bleeding hand, “You should patch yourself up before you stain the carpet.”
You look down at your hand, at the hem of your shirt, soaked in blood.
“But just so I know,” you look back up, his body half-turned towards the door, his fingers resting against the knob, “if Peter and Parker are already taken, then who does that make me?”
You have to force yourself to take a breath. “What did I call you in your world?” He’s silent for a moment, staring at the floor and chewing on his lip. Then, pushing the door to Parker’s room—their room—open, he smiles.
“Pete.”
a/n - ayyy, pete's finally here! and, ofc, lots of other little important details sprinkled around as well.
also, i really wanna say thank you to everyone who has been reading and enjoying this story so far! it truly means the world to me to read all of the nice comments and to know that you guys are interested in this story! so, again, thank you 💖 as always, please comment/like/reblog and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!
part four, titled "blooms of subterfuge", to be released april 29th
#peter parker imagine#no way home imagine#peter parker fan fiction#peter parker fic#peter parker one shot#mcu imagine#spiderman imagine#spiderman fanfiction#andrew!peter imagine#tom!peter imagine#tobey!peter imagine#tom!peter x reader#andrew!peter x reader#tobey!peter x reader#peter parker x reader#spiderman fic#peter parker#mcu x reader#mcu imagines#marvel x reader#marvel imagine#marvel imagines#andrew garfield#tobey maguire#tom holland#spiderman headcanon#spiderman imagines#tasm imagine#tasm imagines#raimiverse imagine
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Street Rat p2
word count: 3.6k (WOO ON A ROLL LOVES!!)
A/N: DEFINITELY out of my writers block! only took about, 3 hours? usually takes me like a full day when i'm unmotivated but here we are!
----Enjoy Loves----
Okay so maybe you were following Sevika around for weeks on end now, but it wasn't exactly your fault- it was hers.
All that being nice and giving you food, or just being human and providing for someone who obviously couldn't take care of herself properly. She had been dying to get you off her tail with you following her like a stray dog constantly, you were ruining her reputation with your weird attachment to her.
The regulars she played cards with gave you weird glances but she always seemed to scare them off from bothering you when you were digging around in people's dumped junk with a stern gaze. You definitely seemed to live up to your name of a street rat with your constant wandering off to find someone that shined under the dim lights of the Undercity’s lamp posts, she had even gotten you a small bag as well which had honestly surprised you.
You scoffed when she threw it to you, “Are you serious? I don't need this shit.” you spat sharply, god she wished she could rip that sharp tongue out of yours out of your mouth. She set down her cup, whatever liquid she was drinking sloushing out.
“You think I don't see you storing your little trinkets out in dumped boxes? You're pathetic, the amount of times I've seen people swipe from your little stashes is ridiculous.” Your brow furrows at her words, you're not pathetic, you're smart, hell- brilliant even! “WELL, Miss.im so smart, i'll have you know I have many stashes around the city,”
“and how many of them stay full?”
you pause.
“...like.. three maybe…” you admit with a pout, “Then take the bag” she says sternly.
You grumble as you snatch the bag off the table, examining it with cold eyes but muttering a quiet “thank you” under your breath- then you're gone.
You choose not to stick around her during the day, too many eyes, you stay on the outskirts of the city- just like today.
you squirm up the broken fire escape, trying your best to host yourself up with- little success. You hate to admit that Sevika’s ‘gift’ was actually pretty helpful, much more storage for cogs and other useful stuff- only downside is that you put way too much stuff in it.
“come on!-" You hiss under your breath as you hang onto the railing, trying to throw the bag up onto the floor of the fire escape so you can get yourself up. Such you were fit, your worked out a good amount, but.. your weren't exactly sure what to really work out.
The bag thudded onto the rusty fire escape with a loud clang, the sound echoing down the alleyway below. You winced, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one had heard. The last thing you needed was some nosy thug poking around while you were mid-scramble.
"Stupid bag," you muttered, wiping sweat off your brow. The thing had been helpful, sure, but damn if it wasn’t heavier than you thought it would be with all the “essentials” you’d crammed into it.
With a deep breath, you grabbed the edge of the fire escape again, gritting your teeth as you hoisted yourself up. Your muscles strained against the weight of your own body, your arms trembling as you kicked your legs to get some momentum. “Okay... almost there...”
Finally, with a groan, you managed to drag yourself up, collapsing onto the cold metal floor with a loud huff. You rolled onto your back, staring up at the dim, flickering lights of the Undercity’s skyline, panting like you’d just run a marathon.
“Maybe I should’ve worked out more…” you mumbled, glaring at the bag now sitting innocently beside you.
The memory of Sevika tossing it to you came to mind, her cold, stern gaze practically daring you to argue with her. She hadn’t been wrong about your stashes getting raided—half of them were basically public property at this point—but still, you’d never admit she had a point. That’d be giving her too much satisfaction.
As much as you hated to admit it, the bag was starting to feel like a lifeline. Not just because it kept your things safe, but because... well, it was from her.
You sighed, sitting up and brushing your hands off on your pants. “Whatever,” you muttered to yourself, swinging the bag over your shoulder again. “It’s just a stupid bag. Doesn’t mean anything.”
As you climb further up the ladders you find yourself at what you call, home. The climb had left your muscles burning, but as you finally pulled yourself up to the top platform, a sense of relief washed over you. This was your little corner of the world, tucked high above the chaos of the Undercity, where few dared to tread.
"Home sweet home," you muttered, glancing at the haphazard setup before you.
The patchwork of old carpets and threadbare blankets was hardly luxurious, and the wooden crates stacked into a leaning structure could barely be called stable. Still, it had its charm—if only because it was yours.
You ducked under the slanted “roof” of your makeshift tent, the faint smell of oil and dust filling your nose as you tossed the bag onto the ground with a loud thud. Sliding down onto the pile of blankets you called a bed, you let out a long, drawn-out exhale, the tension in your shoulders finally releasing.
After a few moments, you sat up, rolling your sleeves as you reached for the bag. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got this time,” you murmured to yourself, the habit of talking aloud in your solitude one you never quite managed to break.
One by one, you started pulling items from the bag: cogs, rusted bolts, wires tangled like a bird’s nest, a couple of scraps of metal that might be useful if you ever found a decent buyer. You laid them out in neat rows, sorting them with a critical eye.
“Junk, maybe useful, definitely junk, hmm… potential,” you muttered, setting aside a few pieces you deemed worth keeping.
Every so often, you paused to examine an item more closely, holding it up to the dim light filtering through the cracks of your tent. A faint smile tugged at your lips as you found a small, intact gear with its teeth still sharp. “Hah, not bad,” you said to no one, setting it aside with a sense of triumph.
This was your ritual, your little piece of order in an otherwise chaotic world. Sorting through the refuse of the Undercity, finding bits and pieces that others had discarded without a second thought—it wasn’t glamorous, but it was yours.
Your contented sorting came to an abrupt halt as the distant noise filtered up through the layers of steel and grime below. First, it was the sharp crack of something breaking—glass, maybe, or a chair being hurled against a wall. Then came the muffled yelling, too distorted by the distance to make out the words.
You froze, your fingers hovering over a twisted wire. It wasn’t unusual to hear fights in the Undercity; hell, it was practically the soundtrack of the place. But this time was different.
This time, you recognized the low, gravelly tone of one of the voices. Sevika.
Your stomach twisted as you strained to listen, hoping you’d misheard. But there it was again—her voice, cutting through the chaos with a sharp bark of anger.
“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, scrambling to your feet. For a moment, you hesitated, torn between staying put in the safety of your little hideout and the nagging pull of curiosity—and maybe worry—that pushed you toward the ladder.
Another crash, louder this time, made the decision for you. You grabbed the strap of your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you moved toward the edge of the platform. Your heart pounded as you carefully climbed down, your usual annoyance at the shaky fire escape forgotten in your rush.
By the time you reached the lower levels, the noise had grown louder, more distinct. You crept closer, ducking behind a stack of crates as you peered around the corner.
There she was, Sevika, in the middle of a small brawl. Three guys, maybe more, circled her like vultures, but she looked as unfazed as ever, her mechanical arm gleaming under the dim light as she sent one of them flying with a single swing.
Your first instinct was to turn back, let her handle it. She was Sevika, after all; she didn’t need help. But as another thug lunged at her with a broken pipe, something in you snapped.
“Damn it,” you hissed, gripping the edge of the crate as you tried to come up with a plan. Or maybe you’d just jump in and wing it. Either way, you weren’t about to leave her hanging.
Though your- stupidity gets the best of you as you reach for a broken glass of whatever and throw it at one of the men, hitting his head
The moment the glass shattered against the man’s head, you felt a rush of pride. Bullseye. But that fleeting sense of accomplishment was quickly replaced with a cold, sinking feeling as the three men turned toward you, their expressions darkening like storm clouds.
He wiped a hand over his face, now dripping with blood from a jagged cut the glass had left, his glare locking onto you like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’ve got a death wish, kid,” he growled, taking a menacing step forward.
“Oh, crap,” you muttered, your bravado evaporating in an instant.
Without another thought, you turned on your heel and bolted, your heart pounding in your ears as your boots slapped against the slick pavement. Behind you, the sound of shouts and heavy footsteps echoed as the men gave chase.
“Stupid stupid stupid!!” you hissed to yourself, dodging around a stack of broken crates. This wasn’t exactly the first time your mouth—or in this case, your impulse to throw things—had gotten you into trouble, but this? This was a new level of stupid.
You ducked into a narrow alley, squeezing through the gap between two rusted pipes as the men shouted behind you. Your pulse was racing, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you scanned the area for an escape route.
Up ahead, you spotted a ladder leading to one of the upper platforms, the kind you’d climbed a hundred times before. “Come on, come on,” you whispered, practically leaping toward it.
As you grabbed the rungs and started to climb, one of the men reached the base of the ladder, cursing loudly. He jumped, his fingers grazing your ankle, but you kicked out with a frantic yell, forcing him to let go.
“Keep running, street rat!” one of them yelled.
“Oh, I plan to!” you shouted back, your voice dripping with sarcasm despite the panic clawing at your chest.
You scrambled onto the platform above, your legs burning and your breath coming in ragged gasps. From this vantage point, you could see Sevika below, taking advantage of your little distraction you created. For a split second, you thought about doubling back to help her, but another shout from below reminded you of your own predicament.
"She better appreciate this," you muttered bitterly as you darted off into the shadows, praying you could lose your pursuers before they decided to make good on their threats.
–
“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Sevika snarled as you sat next to her at the little market you had come to know for your routine feeding, “those guys could've and would've killed you!” She hissed.
“I was helping!” you grumble, “Helping doesn't mean almost getting yourself killed!” Sevika shot right back.
“You should've been able to take those guys easily, they were so much smaller than you!”
“I had it.”
“Didn't seem like it Toolbox.”
“Stop calling me that,”
“Toolbox.”
“Street Rat.”
“Mines cooler anyways.” you hum, Sevika scoffs with a shake of her head, “You fucking wish.”
“Well,” you start, shoving the fruit you had stuffed in your bag into your mouth, biting into it sharply, the juices running down your chin- “I deserve a thank you.”
“You are not getting a thank you for making me worry,” Sevika spat, “awww, so you do care!” you hum sarcastically, “oh, my heart might just explode with joy!”
Sevika rolled her eyes so hard you were surprised they didn’t pop out of her skull. “Don’t flatter yourself Rat. I care because you’re a liability. If you go and get yourself killed, that’s just one more mess I have to deal with.”
You snorted, chewing noisily on your fruit. “Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, Sevvy.”
Her glare could have melted steel. “Call me that again and see what happens.”
“Sevvy.” You said it sweetly, almost a purr, batting your lashes for extra effect.
The mechanical fingers of her arm clenched with a faint hiss, and you couldn’t help but grin, even as she loomed closer, her presence casting a shadow over you. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” she growled, voice low and dangerous.
“And brains,” you added smugly, leaning back as if her looming didn’t faze you. “I mean, I did save your ass, remember?”
She scoffed, crossing her arms. “If by ‘save’ you mean ‘made my life infinitely harder,’ then yeah. Thanks for that.”
You bit into your fruit again, savoring its sweetness as you shrugged. “Same difference. You’d miss me if I wasn’t around.”
“I’d sleep better, that’s for sure.”
“Awww, Sev, you’re so sweet,” you teased, wiping juice off your chin with your sleeve. “No wonder people love you so much.”
Her lips twitched, like she was fighting back a smirk. “You’re lucky you’re useful sometimes, Street Rat. Otherwise, I’d have tossed you into the gutter by now.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you said, grinning despite her insult. “Admit it, Sevika. You like having me around.”
She shook her head, muttering something under her breath as she turned her attention back to her drink. You took that as a win, leaning back against the table with a satisfied smirk.
“So,” You hum as you throw the finished fruit onto the street, “Where we going now?”
Sevika stood up, pushing in her chair and throwing her cloak over her mechanical arm “I'm, going home.”
You frowned, tilting your head like a confused pup. “Home? What about me?”
Sevika glanced over her shoulder, her expression flat. “What about you?”
You scoffed, standing up and brushing the crumbs off your clothes. “I thought we were a team now.”
She barked a laugh, the kind that was more mocking than amused. “Team? Don’t flatter yourself, Toolbox. You’re just a stray I can’t seem to shake off.”
You put your hands on your hips, leaning forward as you shot her a challenging glare. “Stray or not, you’d be bored without me, and you know it.”
“Bored?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow as she adjusted her cloak. “More like finally at peace.”
“Sure, Sev, keep telling yourself that,” you quipped, falling into step beside her despite her best efforts to stride ahead.
She stopped abruptly, turning to face you with a sharp glare. “What do you want, huh? A place to crash? A warm meal? Or do you just like annoying me?”
You grinned, not missing a beat. “Little bit of all three, honestly.”
She exhaled sharply, clearly trying to rein in her irritation. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, here we are,” you said with a cheeky shrug.
For a moment, Sevika just stared at you, her jaw tightening as if she were debating whether to knock you out or just walk away. Finally, she shook her head, muttering something about bad decisions as she turned back toward the street.
“Fine,” she said gruffly, not bothering to look back at you. “Follow me. But don’t think for a second this means I like you.”
Your grin widened as you fell into step behind her. “Of course not, Sevvy. This is purely professional.”
“Call me that again, and you’re sleeping in the gutter.”
“Love you too,” you teased, earning a sharp growl from her as the two of you disappeared into the crowded streets of the Undercity.
God she hated you.
As you follow her not too far behind she doesn't look back- until she hears a loud CLUNK.
She looked back to see you diving into a dumpster, your legs propelling yourself further into it.
Sevika stopped dead in her tracks, her mechanical arm twitching slightly as she turned to stare at you, her expression an unreadable mix of irritation and disbelief.
“What the hell are you doing now?” she called out, her voice carrying that sharp edge of exasperation she reserved just for you.
Your legs flailed for a moment, kicking at the air as you wormed your way further into the dumpster. “I saw something shiny!” you shouted back, your voice muffled by the metal container.
Sevika pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath. “Shiny? Are you a crow now?”
“Shut up, it might be important!” you countered, your voice ringing with mock indignation.
The dumpster rattled as you rummaged around, the sound grating on Sevika’s nerves. She glanced around, noting the amused—or horrified—looks from a few passersby. She sighed deeply, her patience wearing thin.
“You know,” she said, her tone flat as she leaned against a nearby wall, arms crossed, “there’s a fine line between being resourceful and being a complete idiot. Guess which side you’re on.”
You didn’t respond immediately, too engrossed in whatever treasure you were hunting. A moment later, you popped your head out of the dumpster, holding up a slightly dented but intact pocket watch. “See? Totally worth it!” you declared, grinning triumphantly.
Sevika raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “A broken watch?”
“It’s vintage!” you argued, shaking the watch for emphasis.
“Yeah, sure. Vintage trash,” she shot back, turning on her heel. “Let’s go, before someone mistakes you for actual garbage.”
You hopped out of the dumpster, brushing off your clothes as you jogged to catch up with her. “You’re just mad you didn’t see it first,” you teased, tucking the watch into your bag.
She didn’t respond, but you swore you saw her roll her eyes as she picked up her pace, trying her best to ignore you.
But your voice was grating, the way you chatted away about god knows what, trying to take apart the watch as you walked, proving to Sevika by the brand name on the inside of the watch that it was definitely worth something.
“See? I told you, I know what's useless or, worthy!” You hum happily.
you were definitely a lot different from when Sevika first saw you, when you were a lot more sharp and,I guess hateful. Now here you are, talking her ear off about some history behind the watch.
Cute.
Sevika shook her head firmly, no, absolutely not, you were not cute or anything like that, you were a dingy kid from the streets, probably not even 26, you had your whole life ahead of you.
Sevika’s gaze flickered over to you as you babbled on about the intricate history behind the watch, your hands working quickly to twist and turn its parts, barely looking up as you walked beside her.
“Mm-hmm, sure, sure,” she muttered, her focus on the path ahead, though her mind was starting to wander despite herself. You were relentless, a flurry of words and energy that kept bouncing from one topic to the next, your excitement practically buzzing through the air. It was almost impossible not to listen to you, even if she didn’t want to.
But cute? No.
You were just some kid, a street rat, sure, but not in a pathetic sense anymore. She couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Maybe it was how you had this endless drive to find the value in everything, even when it was so easy for someone like her to overlook. Or how your once sharp edges seemed to have softened over time, the constant biting sarcasm now replaced with, well, an actual willingness to communicate, to engage.
God, what the hell was wrong with her?
She tried shaking it off, focusing on the weight of her boots as they hit the cracked pavement. She was not about to get all sentimental or soft. That would be a mistake.
“I’m serious, Sevika,” you continued, eyes sparkling as you looked up at her, “I could sell this for a few cogs. It’s pretty rare, maybe even more than that if I find the right buyer!”
She made a noncommittal sound in her throat, but inside, something shifted just a bit. You really are something else, she thought.
Her mind screamed at her to pull away, to put some distance between herself and you before she made a mistake, but here she was, still walking beside you, letting you prattle on and on.
“Yeah, whatever, just don’t go blowing it on something stupid,” she muttered, though there was a flicker of something in her voice that she quickly smothered.
You gave her a sidelong glance, not missing the subtle change. “You really do care, huh?”
She didn’t answer, instead pushing her shoulders back and picking up the pace, determined to ignore the way her heart seemed to tighten. She could still feel the eyes of the people around you—at least, that’s what she told herself.
But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t just about saving you from getting yourself killed anymore. Maybe... she was just stuck with you, whether she liked it or not.
“Keep dreaming, kid,” she said gruffly, her voice betraying none of the warmth creeping up her spine.
“Aw, you're soft, Sev," you teased, and she felt her chest tighten even more.
"Shut up, Streetie," she snapped, the words coming out far too fondly for her liking.
“Streetie? that's a new one,” you giggle slightly, seeming to notice before you cleared your throat.
(turned it into a series :) p3 is out now!)
#fanfic#queer#sevika x reader#street rat sevika fic#sevika#sevika arcane#lesbians make the world go round#i'm crying i love them#Spotify
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⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚LIMERENCE PT 2 [tasm!peter parker x reader]
pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader
part 1
⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ after finding the courage and the balls to ask you out, Peter couldn't help but test the waters.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNINGS ୨୧ dub/non consensual (reader is drunk and drunk people cannot give consent), terribly written smut (i'm a virgin i'm sorry, I have no idea what goes on actually in the bed), oral (fem receiving), drinking, drunk reader, overstimulation, everyone is 18+ here lemme know if I missed any. MINORS DO NOT READ
If you don't want to see my dark stories in the future please block the tag #madi: dark content
A/n: I'm sorry this took a whole ass while, it's probs 90% story and 10% smut. Like it's probs shit, the smut's the reason why I couldn't finish this sooner because I had no idea where it was going. Also tried to write 2012 slang, idk if it even sounds right. don't steal any of the shit I've written or else I'm going to turn you into Victoria Heyes from terrifier ❤️🫶/srs
Peter shuffled in his sleep. Tossing and turning. Sleep never found him, how could it? He did something so unforgivable. Having an obsession with someone who barely acknowledges your existence is one thing, but sneaking into her house, completely crossing every single line, and then jerking off to the scent of your panties while imagining you on top of him, riding him as you creamed his cock with your cum.
The air felt heavy and there was an almost stifling silence in his small bedroom, while his mind worked in the manner of a broken machine, looping thoughts.
Every single thing about you — your laugh, the spark in your eyes when you spoke of something you loved, the way you uttered his name — his mind kept replaying like a broken record. Each one felt as fresh as if it had just taken place a moment ago, and each one pulled at something deep within his chest.
He had spent years arguing with himself about what he was doing. He told himself that viewing you from a distance was merely innocent fascination, a little crush. But that had been a lie. What he had done the night before, sneaking into your room was not a mistake; it was a deliberate decision.
Peter was filled with doubts, a regular person would call him lovesick, a creep even. Is she really worth it? Peter admits something he'd been avoiding for a while.
He wanted you.
Not as a classmate. Not as a partner for a stupid project. He wanted you in a way that was raw and desperate and consuming. Oh, he wanted you to look at him the way you look at the rest of the world with trust, with affection, with the same ease that made you laugh at his dumb jokes.
The realization hit him hard. The weight of it sank into his chest like a boulder, but there was a rush of something else too-something darker, more intoxicating.
Peter sat up abruptly, there's only one way or another, heart hammering as he snatched up his phone. Tapping out a quick message, he did so with trembling hands.
"Hey, u free 2nite? Was thinkin maybe we could finish the proj & grab dinner after. My treat. :)"
He stared at the screen, his thumb hovered over the send button. The fear crept back in, whispering in the back of his mind. What if she thought he was crazy? What if she rejected me outright? What if everything he'd built up in his head came crashing down?
Many thoughts crowded his mind, neither of them was good
As he stared at the text, his finger quivered. His stomach tightening in knots. The reply was already forming in his mind—would you say yes? Or perhaps he was weird for asking, for suggesting anything other than school?
But what if he didn't ask? What if he kept on pretending that this crush wasn't eating him up from the inside?
I've got to do this; he tried to steady his breath. This would never come again.
Deep breath and then Peter clicked "send."
Time seemed to stretch into eternity. His mind was racing, spinning out into the worst-case scenarios. You could just say no or even laugh it off and tell him it wasn't a good idea. It's a biology project, after all. That's what it was supposed to be—right?
That crumbled page of biology scraps lay on his desk as evidence of the project you both were working on. It was supposed to be a simple collaboration, probably will last for a few weeks if he was lucky, and then he'd just go back to being invisible to you.
But he didn't want to go back to being invisible.
He sat there at the edge of the bed, hunched over in an awkward position, his elbows rested on the stretched knees, and he stared his phone, convinced that at any moment it would leave his grip. He had typed the message, the own words glowing brighter as he waited.
He had redone it like at least a dozen times, but all versions felt way too casual to too formal. His current message was just right; friendly, innocent enough but still an invite.
What if you think it is strange? What if you don't even reply at all?
He shook his head to stabilize his breathing. It's alright, he told himself. His not asking for something crazy. It's only a dinner.
But it wasn't just a dinner. It was the convergence of years of quiet yearning, stolen glances, and missed opportunities. This was the first real step toward something more, if only he could find the courage to take it.
He shunned his phone flat on the bed thinking that might ease the tension in his chest, but it didn't. His heart raced as seconds ticked by on the clock, each second feeling like an eternally long wait.
What if you didn't reply?
What if you did?
His thoughts were interrupted abruptly as his phone buzzed.
He grabbed it with trembling hands.
"Sure! I'm totally in. Where r we meeting? 7?"
He read the message over and over again: You're saying yes. Relief was an actual weight that was just lifted as disbelief flooded him as he blinked at the screen, rereading the message to make sure it hadn't been imagined.
For a moment, he allowed himself to smile, but it quickly disappeared. Now that he got the answer, a different kind of panic struck.
What happens next?
"Yea 7’s cool, I’ll pick u up @ ur place"
He looked up at the clock-6:30. In thirty minutes, he needed to get ready. Thirty minutes within which he needed to figure out how not to screw this one up completely.
Peter fell out of his chair and quickly rifled through his closet for something fresh and unique that didn't look like it had just been thrown on five minutes ago. His room was strung out in a mess of hoodies and T-shirts that didn't do any good as he tried on piece after piece-each feeling wrong.
"Relax," he murmured at himself while gazing at his reflection in the mirror. Hi hair looked like he just crawled out from under the bed, his face was red, and no matter how many adjustments he attempted on the clothes, he still looked like the awkward kid he'd always been.
Peter raced around his pod-sized room in search of a shirt that didn't scream "high school loser." The bed was a battlefield littered with crumpled hoodies, a checkered flannel, even his Midtown Science Academy T-shirt.
"Peter?" Aunt May's curious sounding voice called out from the hallway.
"Yeah?" he shouted back while looking through his closet and listening.
"Why does it sound like a tornado hit your room? Are you okay in there?"
Peter groaned and threw another hoodie onto the pile he was amassing on the bed. "I'm fine!"
The creaky door slammed open a moment later, and Aunt May peeked her head in. Her sharp eyes traveled the disaster area that was his room, from the piles of clothes, and even down to the one sneaker he was wearing.
"Uh-huh. Fine." She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "What's all this about? A wardrobe crisis?"
He sighed at her and rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing serious, okay? I just… I'm going out."
May raised an eyebrow as her lips twitched as if trying hard not to smile. "Going out? As in… on a date?"
"What? No!" Peter's voice shot up as he spun around, waving his hands. "It's not a date! It's just dinner. For a project. With a friend."
By now, she wasn't even trying to hide her grin. "A 'friend,' huh? Is this the same 'friend' you've been talking about nonstop since this biology project started?"
"I don't talk about her nonstop!" protested Peter, turning into a shade of tomato. "Oh, you definitely do," Uncle Ben countered from outside the hallway and into the room, sporting the knowing smirk of someone who has heard too much. "Half the time, it's, 'Oh, she's so smart,' and the other half is, 'She's so good at this lab thing.'" He said with a dreamy tone
"Okay, okay, so I get it!" he groaned while burying his face in his hands. "Can we not do this now?"
Ben laughed and slapped Peter on the shoulder. “Relax, kid. We are just teasing, and you've got this.”
May walked into the room and picked up one of the forgotten shirts from the bed. Holding it up, she said, "What is wrong with this? Nice but casual, not slobby."
Peter squinted at it. "It's too—I don't know; plain?"
"Plain is better than looking as if you are trying too hard," she said, tossing it to him.
Uncle Ben nodded sagely. "It's right." "You don't want to go full tuxedo on a first—uh, not a date," he added quickly, holding up his hands when Peter glared at him.
Peter huffed but pulled the shirt over his head anyway. "You two are the worst," he muttered, though his tone lacked any real bite.
May smiled and reached out, smoothing the collar of his shirt. "We are not the worst. We are just proud of you. It's good to see you putting yourself out there."
"I'm not—," Peter began, but Ben cut him off.
"You are," Ben said firmly. "That's a good thing. Just be yourself, Pete. If she's as great as you say she is, she'll see what we see, a smart, kind, slightly awkward but very lovable kid."
Peter's face burned. "Yea, you really know how to give a pep talk."
"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Ben fired back with a grin.
May handed Peter his second sneaker. "Here. Don't forget this, unless you're planning to really impress her with your one-shoe look."
Peter rolled his eyes but could not quite hide the grin that crept onto his lips. "Thanks, Aunt May."
So Ben called after him as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "And remember, kid—Italian places usually give you breadsticks first. Don't fill up before the main course!"
Peter groaned loudly. "I'm going now! Bye!"
He was there, at your door, heart pounding heavily, as if wanting to burst out from the body. He lingered for a while, staring at the doorbell.
What if this is a mistake?
But before you could think otherwise, the button pressed his finger.
And then echoed the sound of the bell from inside, and Peter felt that the earth would open up and swallow him whole in an instance. He heard footsteps, and then the door opened.
There you were.
"Hey, Peter!" you said, smiling that effortless way that made his breath catch in his throat, stepping aside and gesturing for him to come in. "You're right on time, I just need a minute to grab my bag."
Peter managed a small smile and stepped in, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. "Yeah, of course. Take all the time you need."
You disappeared into another room, leaving Peter hanging awkwardly at your door, his eyes darting about. It was a very warm and inviting house, in harmony with the kind of person you were. The faint hum of a television in another room was muffled, someone talking, and he could hear that easily.
Your presence returned with your bag slung around your shoulder and you ignited the nerves again in Peter.
“So,” you said, smiling at him, “where to?”
Peter hesitated just a beat too long, his mind scrambling to come up with an answer. "Uh, I was thinking Italian? That okay with you?"
"Italian sounds great," you said easily as your smile widened.
Peter's heart raced as you stepped out the door, walking beside him toward the small restaurant a few blocks away. The night air was crisp, and for the first few minutes, he was too caught up in his own head to say much. But then you started talking, asking him about his day, about the project, and the sound of your voice eased some of his tension.
You made him feel like he belonged, even without having a word to say.
When the restaurant came in sight, Peter turned to you. Nerves still there but mixed with something else: a quiet and hopeful excitement.
Maybe just maybe, tonight will be the beginning of something real.
The walk to the restaurant was such a nerve-racking experience. Each step Peter Parker took beside you felt like a step closer to something he wasn't ready (or was actually hoping for). His hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, fingers curling and uncurling, while trying to keep steady pacing alongside you.
But you appeared to be at full ease. You talked about the cool evening, how the trees' leaves were beginning to rustle with the cold wind blowing, and even the faint smell of roasting chestnuts from a street vendor a few blocks away. Peter heard everything, nodded, and punctuated things now and then with the occasional "Yeah" or "Totally," but as for his thoughts, they were running wild within him.
This is well. This is the standard. This is alright, He didn't over hypothesize for the hundredth time.
As much as there was relief in now having something solid to focus on, Peter was panicked that it all became real at that moment.
He opened the door for you, his hand trembling slightly as he held it.
"Thanks," you said, giving him a swift smile before stepping inside.
"Uh, yeah. Of course," Peter mumbled as he hung his head and followed you in.
The hostess took you to a corner besides the glass window, a cozy little spot with a flickering candle in the middle of the table. Peter's hands trembled as he took the chair and gestured you to sit on it.
The menu in front of him could be in another language as he stared dumbly at it, words bringing into a blur while the thoughts buzzing in his head were getting harder to put to rest.
Don't be weird. Just be normal. What does "normal" even mean? Stop overthinking! You've got this!
"This place is nice," you commented as you scanned the menu. "How did you discover it?"
"Oh, um, my aunt used to like it here," Peter said, grateful he could answer such a question. "She says the lasagna is the best."
You grinned. "Aunt May has good taste. I will try that."
He nodded, yes, but could not stop the rush of nervous thoughts flooding his mind. He glanced at the menu as if studying it although he already knew what he would order. But his mind was instead filled with every possible thing he could screw up tonight.
Don't talk too much; don't laugh strangely; don't look like an idiot.
Here came the waiter, and you ordered effortlessly, laced with a polite smile as you handed him the menu. Peter stammered out his order and felt his palms sweat as he gave it. When the waiter walked away, Peter could feel your eyes on him, and it took everything he had to meet your gaze.
"So," you said, leaning in with elbows planted on the table, chin cradled in palm, "what's your thing, Peter?"
"My thing?" he said, taken aback. "Like, my thing?"
"Yeah, like… what do you do for fun? What are you really into doing when absolutely no one else is watching and judging?"
Peter blinked, trying to think of something that wouldn't sound lame. "Uh, well, I like photography," he said. "And science, I guess. Experiments, stuff like that."
You perked up. "Photography? That is cool. What kind of pictures do you take?"
"Mostly city stuff," he said, his voice gaining a bit of confidence. "You know, like weird angles, shadows, reflections. It's probably not that interesting to most people."
"I think it sounds interesting," you said. "I would love to see your pictures sometime."
Peter's heart was pounding so hard. "Really? Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, if you want."
That made the conversation flow more easily. You told him about your love-hate relationship with math, how sometimes you spent too long procrastinating by watching cooking shows instead of doing your homework, and how one time you tried to make crème brûlée and almost burned your stove.
“I had to open every window in the house,” you said, laughing. “My mom came home and thought I’d burned dinner. I didn’t tell her it was supposed to be dessert.”
Peter grinned, feeling just a little bit more at ease. “Maybe stick to cookies next time, huh?”
“Noted,” you said with a mock-serious nod.
Then it was time to eat. You both started digging into it while still keeping up your conversation. Peter quickly found himself becoming much more relaxed, finding it absolutely easy to talk to you when he didn't over-analyze every word. You burst into laughter each time his jokes finished, and whenever his eye fell into yours, everything around faded.
There was little doubt that he was doing this because he was desperate enough to strike a topic that wouldn't make him sound like an idiot; this was the reason why he asked, "You, uh, good with the whole project?"
You leaned back, fiddled with the napkin on the table, and said, "Yeah, it's actually been fun. Well, I mean, we work well together, and you're much smarter than I had thought."
Peter blinked. "Wait, you thought I wasn't smart?"
"No, I just-" You smirk, it's clear you're enjoying his reaction. "You always seem kinda… busy with stuff, you know? You're not exactly the loudest guy in the room."
"Well, I, uh…" Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm, uh, more of a behind-the-scenes guy. You know, less talk, more… action?"
You laughed, the sound light and easy, and Peter felt himself get a little more relaxed. Maybe you weren't judging him.
'This place have wine?' you ask all of a sudden, not looking up from the menu.
Peter blinked. "Uh… I think so?"
You smirked and put your feet up on the table after throwing the menu on it. "Perfect. I could use a glass."
Peter was at a loss on how he should respond. It just didn't seem like the kind of person who would order wine to go with dinner-at least, not in his limited and admittedly romanticized view of you. But when the waiter came by, you ordered an entire bottle without hesitating, barely glancing at Peter for confirmation.
"Um, yeah, sounds good," Peter said weakly, even though the thought of drinking anything stronger than soda made him nervous.
The waiter nodded and disappeared, leaving the two of you alone in an awkward silence.
But the waiter was back again, this time with a bottle and two glasses, which he laid down with a polite smile. And before you knew it, the deep red liquid was already swirling around in your glass because you had poured it in haste from the bottle.
Want some? You asked, already halfway through your first sip.
“Uh, maybe later,” Peter said.
You shrugged and took another long drink before putting the glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Suit yourself.”
The most casual kind of conversation developed between you: you asked Peter about what he was interested in, and he managed to stumble along throwing together great lengthy descriptions about why he loved photography and science, and the words came out too fast for him to think them. It almost seemed like you were listening to him, however, because he went on to nod before even asking follow-up questions, which made him for the first time in a long time feel that he wasn't entirely invisible.
By that time, he was becoming aware, as the hours slipped away, that you were filling up your glass more and more often. The bottle was now half empty when the food came, and you were already sporting rosy cheeks when the alcohol was pouring into your system.
“This is good,” you said, hardly bothering with your plate in order to gesture with your fork at it. "I mean, really good. Good call, Parker.”
The smile that appeared on Peter's face was that of nervousness. "Thanks. I'm glad you like it."
Now you leaned back in your seat, holding your glass up to the light. "You know, I don't really do stuff like this. I've kind of never had dinner with classmates. It's just a little… weird, you know?"
Peter sank a little. "Weird, how?"
"Not bad weird," you said immediately by waving your hand. "Just… different. Like, generally, I would just be at home watching some lousy reality show and trying to forget how much homework I have to do."
Peter chuckled, even though he had no idea what to say next.
After a sip of wine, the boy looked up at Peter who immediately landed his gaze upon the bottle. You seem well into your first glass with a heightening sense of ease that you appeared to be at his home. Maybe it was because of the wine or perhaps how you were looking at him right now-not with judging spectatorship but with a strange kind of understanding that made him feel as if he were not really out of place.
It was only a count of seconds before the food arrived while you already had a second glass in hand. Peter's stomach flipped at that moment. This wasn't the way he was used to seeing you, all loosened up and speaking without that slight guard he usually saw when you were around. You appeared different tonight, and Peter couldn't quite figure it out if it was a good thing or not.
However, the conversation was still going on, only that as soon as you took a few more drinks, conversations shifted to more profound, much more personal things. Laughter spilled from your lips more freely, although Peter saw that smiles were now somewhat uncontrollable. Maybe it was the wine; maybe it was just the ambience. In any case, he could feel something shifting, like you were letting him see this version of yourself you weren't sure he was supposed to see.
"Peter", you said, looking at him with wide eyes after a long sip. "What's your big dream? Like 20 years from now, what do you see yourself doing?"
He shifted around uneasily on his chair. And that question was sudden, a little more intense than he would have reckoned it to be. He was not used to being asked about his future like this.
"Honestly?" said Peter, leaning back a little and looking down at the half-finished plate in front of him. "I don't really know. I think- I think I want to do something with science, or photography. Maybe combine. Don't know really. Just like, I want to fix things, you know? Help make the world a little less broken.''
You were quiet for a moment, and Peter wasn't sure whether it was because he'd said something wrong or whether you were just thinking. But when you finally spoke, your voice was softer, almost quieter than before.
"I think that's really admirable, Peter."
That was it. That one simple sentence hit him harder than he expected. He wasn't used to compliments like that- not from you, not from anyone. The words were a strange dream, and for a second he just looked dumbfoundedly at you trying to really understand what you mean.
Peter had never imagined the night to go this way. Not even in a million years. But here he was, walking alongside you, swaying slightly on the sidewalk with less steadiness in your step than before. Surprisingly, the wine had hit you faster than he figured, and he wasn't so sure if he should be concerned or just chalk it up to the kind of night it had turned into.
"Hey, I'm-" You hiccupped, laughing lightly at your own clumsiness. "I'm fine, Peter. Really."
But Peter wasn't so sure. His instincts were whipping him into overdrive-the same ones that always made him want to leap into action when something was amiss. "Yeah, I don't think you are," he said, trying to keep it light. "Let me just walk you home, okay? Just to make sure you're good."
But you rolled your eyes, with an almost sheepish smile you gave in, "Fine, fine. I get it. You're worried about me."
"Yeah, I am," Peter said, his voice a little quieter than he intended. "But you're my responsibility right now, okay?"
You exhale a small laugh, and Peter can't help but take note of how completely giddy it sounded, a little like you weren't quite sure where you were or what you were doing. You leaned against him, and then Peter was surprised at how easily you let him help you with that.
The way home was otherwise silent except for the occasional trip and the muttered apologies from you. But Peter didn't mind it, sensing closeness, although strange. Everything was just weird tonight. The brushing of your hand against his as you reached for your keys. That laugh of yours that wouldn't leave his ears. The vulnerability you seemed to wear in your eyes at that moment.
So, then you reached your door, and you suddenly stopped and stood there, fumbling with the keys in your hand. Peter moved closer but silently offered to help. You shook your head.
"I've got this," you said, though your words were slurring just enough for Peter to catch the uncertainty behind them.
After much effort on your part, the door finally opened. You leaned in again, and Peter nearly lost his heart as he had to rush forward to steady you.
"Whoa, take it easy," Peter said catching you as you stumbled. "Let me help you."
You smiled up at him, glassy and unfocused. "I'm fine, Peter," you slurred. "Just a little…tipsy."
Peter chuckled and guided you up the walkway to your front door. "Tipsy, huh? Well, let's get you inside and safe, then."
As you both reached the front door, you fumbled with your keys and Peter had to gently take them from your hand and unlock the door himself. You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling with amusement.
After some time and a couple of tries, she got the door opened.
"Okay, inside," he said, his tone a little more powerful now. You did not resist him as he helped you through the door, but there was a strange sadness in your eyes that twisted Peter's stomach.
You moved slowly to the couch and finally sank down on it; the wine was exhausting. Peter stood near the door for a moment, wondering his next move. He wanted to shoot his shot, his thoughts wandered to somethings more inappropriate. Wasn't this all about getting you safe? Ensuring you did not end up passed out somewhere in a big, messy pile of sheets and regrets.
"Can you just… stay for a bit?" you asked quietly, with barely a whisper.
Peter hesitated. He didn't want to go too far, and he couldn't just leave you here, not looking so…fragile.
"Yes," he spoke softly, entering then into the living room. "I'll stay for a bit"
You nodded at him, gazing at him with tired eyes. "Thank you."
Peter perched on the edge of the couch; his hands awkwardly balanced on his knees. What a strange space there was between you two now, strange in that it was so very close, yet so far away. He wanted to be of some use and ensure you were okay, and yet the way the glance kept coming from you in that direction somehow felt… off. It was like walking on a fine line.
Peter looked at you longingly, you were so beautiful.
Too close and too perfect, he found himself sitting next to you, and Peter felt the pressure of so many things left uncommunicated fill his chest. He needed to do it. He needed to say it.
"Peter?" Your voice was a soft whisper, a little uncertain. Wine had aided this whole relaxing process, yet made almost everything feel slightly out of focus.
Peter swallowed, heart pounding in the chest. He wasn't entirely sure if it was the alcohol that has found narrate in your system, or if it was the raw honesty of the moment, but he knew very well it was now or never, the one chance to say all he had kept bottled up for months.
"Yeah?" he whispered, getting closer so that he was almost against you now.
"It's just that, I… I'm sorry if I've been too much tonight," you said, your words slightly slurring as you allowed your gaze to drift over his face. "I didn't mean to get that drunk."
Peter felt his breath hitch in his throat. "It's fine," he said, his voice softer now. He could feel his palms sweating, his heart racing faster than ever. "I just… I just want to make sure you're okay."
You smiled up at him, but it was a little foggy, and Peter could tell that the wine had dulled your clarity. Still, you were so beautiful, standing there, looking at him with those eyes—eyes that made him feel like he mattered.
Peter took a sharp breath and let a sudden breath of air come out. It was as if a magnet was pulling them together, and he was drawn to it. "So, uh– I was thinking…" He hesitated for a moment, then recovered his composure, trying to calm the trembling in his hands. "I've been thinking about you for a long time. Like, longer than I should have."
His brows knitted further in confusion as Peter quickly realized that the rest of the sentence was failing miserably in getting through your mind, as if the actual words were swimming around in it, suspended in fog. He stepped closer, unable to stop himself.
"If I—" He let out a shaky breath. "You know, I've been loving you for so long now. And tonight, I couldn't hold it anymore and just… broke the dam."
Your expression shifted slightly. Confusion clouded your gaze. You blinked, trying to piece together his words. "Wait, what?"
Peter took a step closer, completely incapable of holding himself back. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he felt the heat between you intensify. He reached out, his hand brushing gently against your arm. "I love you," he whispered again, barely able to breathe. "I love you so much, and I've been too scared to say it. I've watched you for so long, and I—" Peter stopped mid-sentence as he looked at you, eyes looking like a lost puppy.
"You're so beautiful, so so beautiful" He leaned in, your face was so close to him, his lips brushed against yours. He held your face as he licked your lips.
You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin with just the proximity of Peter's face to yours, and the goosebumps it sent down your spine. Those eyes were filled deeply with a longing expression and captured yours as if drowning you in its depths. There was air that quite vibrated between the two of you, and the heat that seemed to take form could even be felt emanating from his body.
"I wanted to do that for so long," Peter whispered. His voice shuddered with desire. Gentle words falling like a caress to send shivers through you: "Wanted to touch you, hold you, kiss."
His lips brushed against yours when he spoke, making your body spark with electricity. You were pretty much melting into him, as if his very desire were consuming your human body. His lips, soft and gentle, just as firm and insistent. You tasted like wine.
"You're so beautiful" he said as his hands went underneath your dress, his hands inching close to your under garments. He touched your clothed core; he used his index finger to rub your clothed cover clit
You squirmed in his touch, "P-peter" You mewled in his mouth
This just seemed to fuel Peter even more, as he set aside your panties as his smooth fingers rubbed your now exposed core. Peter looked at you, he slowly kneeled as he spread your legs.
He looked at your wet core, as if it was a painting that he couldn't understand. Without warning he then sucked your glistening pearl; his tongue probed the inside of your gummy walls as his fingers rubbed your pearl. You cried out, your body arching up to meet him, and Peter felt a surge of excitement. He was in control now, and you were at his mercy.
He knew it was wrong, you were drunk after all, but he couldn't help it, this was his only chance.
He licked and sucked at your clit, his fingers plunging in and out of your dripping wet pussy, you cried out in ecstasy, your hands tugging at Peter's hair. But he didn't care, all he cared about was your dripping we cunt.
Anticipation dwells in the coiling mouth against your body, sending shivers along your spine. Every inch of you is lulled into stimulation by his gentle probing, drawing near to a soon-to-be-hidden insistent demand. You can feel that hot air glazing across your skin, soft scraping with teeth, and relentless pressure from his lips, all of which accompanies his tongue.
Your hands are clenched while he works, fingers digging into the sheets or perhaps his hair, holding him there. Your hips jerk primitively, as though to push him deeper and encourage more pressure, while your breathing makes raspy sounds mixed with soft mewls of pleasure.
One hand is busy at your hips, molding you solidly into place, while the other slips only up over the curve of your waist before settling over your breast.
You feel yourself immersing in the sensation as your focus is honed into one. The only critical thing is the feeling of his mouth on you. The whole room begins to fade away, and you're left with only the slushing wet sounds he makes and your breathless gasps, groans, and cries.
Peter on the other hand felt like he was in cloud nine, his mouth was now fully covered in your arousal, but he didn't care. He continued lapping at your cunt, accompanied with his middle finger thrusting in and out of you.
As the intensity rises, so do your frantic movements: the hips jerk and thrust as though reaching toward some ill-defined height. His mouth is a scythe-like blur of tongue lashing and probing until the pressure builds and you're all quivering trembling muscles, precariously balanced on a knife edge of release.
Your mouth is wide open, frozen in a silent scream on your lips, and your entire body starts quivering at the moment of release.
Then silence engulfs the outside world; its only inhabitants are trapped in a silent world of raw lust. His mouth is a furnace, raging, and threatening to engulf you completely, but you lean into the flames, thirsty for the intense heat that only he can provide. Your skin is slick with sweat, your heart thundering like a runaway train as your body builds toward the inevitable climax.
Your cries intensify as tension rises, a mournful cry into this frantic air, a scream savage, echoing off the walls as your body strains towards that release. Your muscles quivering.
Before you knew it, it almost hit you like rough wave of pleasure.
His cock twitched, his balls tightening with anticipation, as he felt the warmth of her your release in his mouth. That alone could make him cum his pants. He had never been this close to a woman before, and the thought of exploring your body was almost too much to bear. And here he was doing exactly just that.
You were beautiful to Peter, but you looked ungodly when you were in a state of release. The way your chest would heave up and down, how your mascara was running down your eyes, and your lipstick smudged on the side of your face.
"You're so beautiful" he said, barely even above a whisper.
"P-peter— OH MY GOD!"
He suddenly took a long slow stripe of your pussy, as if savoring everything, but then stopped when his tongue reached your clit. He sucked on your little pearl as if it was lollipop.
You moaned loudly as your back arched and your toes curled, "P-peter" You whimpered
The way he was sucking on your clit, along with his fingers that was thrusting deep inside you. It made it nearly unbearable. The last few moments or so almost sent you spiraling into one of those severe orgasms that made you see stars on your ceiling.
Loud moans slipped from your mouth, you wondered if your parents were at home, what if they see their sweet girl falling apart underneath the so-called weird kid of your school.
Your hips bucked against his mouth, trying to ease the bittersweet pleasure he was giving you. "P-peter, oh god, stop, I c-can't take it anymore" you begged in a voice very nearly a whisper. Body trembling, your hands reached instinctively for his hair, holding him.
He continued his performance on your clit. A familiar knot kept building inside you. Suddenly, the moans turned into loud gasps, and your body began to shake uncontrollably. P-peter, I…I think I'm going to come again" you finally whisper. To that, he only sucked harder, licked harder, his fingers falling on a rhythm with his tongue swirling relentlessly on your sensitive spot, bringing you to sweet agony. Your back arched up, you gasp while screaming, "P-PETER!"
Heaving and shaking with each pulsing moan, you lay there with your body's hypersensitivity after such intense pleasure receding. Finally, Peter raised his head. That satisfied smile on his face was testimony to your ability to elicit such feelings from him. And with his eyes, he stared at you, every flicker of lust speaking volumes about what was crossing his mind. Then he kissed near the center of time in your inner thigh, his lips dragging softly, and then moving to lie with you at the side of the couch
Peter's smile slowly faded as he noticed your catch of breath, replaced with a show of real concern. He stroked your hair as he gazed into your eyes. "That was intense," Peter said. "You're shaking." His voice was tender, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. "Time to get you to bed, all right?"
He managed a slowly rise from the couch while extending his hand forward towards you. You grasped onto it and found your balance shaky; nonetheless, Peter assisted you toward leaving the living room, down the hallway, and into your bedroom.
Peter opened your door slowly, revealing the bedroom from that night. Snap out of your thoughts Parker!
The bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room. Peter placed you carefully at the edge of the bed. He knelt down to remove your shoes and started undressing you slowly and carefully. He threw the covers over you as you laid back in bed, tucking you in like a young child.
"Rest," he whispered as he brushed his lips against your forehead. "Sleep, I'll be here when you wake." He sat beside you, stroking your hair with his hand. Your eyelids began to feel heavier, and weariness, along with all the forms of pleasure, finally overtook you. Peter was the last person you remember as you slipped into slumber, where upon you felt the warmth beside you that offered the source of a much-needed sense of safety.
@gloomskulls 2024, DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE OF MY WORKS IN ANY OTHER WEBSITE. Photos don't belong to me
#tasm!peter x you#tasm peter parker x reader#tasm spiderman#tasm peter parker#tasm!peter parker#the amazing spider man#tw dark content#madi: dark content#dark!peter parker#tasm peter parker smut#tasm!peter parker x reader#dark peter parker#dark!peter parker x reader#peter parker#yandere peter parker#peter parker smut#peter parker x reader#marvel smut#andrew garfield#tasm imagine#tasm!peter x reader#peter parker imagine#andrew Garfield imagine#tw dubcon
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something good ⋆ bucky barnes
summary: bucky is about to go to war without confessing his feelings for you. you are about to watch him leave without confessing your feelings for him. that is, unless one of you gets up the courage to do something about it...
"I...need some fresh air. I'll be back."
Steve looks like he's going to argue with you as you push the chair out, but then you glance toward where Bucky disappeared in the crowd of people dancing, and Steve's face softens before he gives you a nod.
"We'll be right here," he says, pointing to your barely-touched drink. "Be careful."
The alley behind the bar is damp and quiet, cool from the rain earlier in the day but blissfully empty. You lean against the bricks and tip your head back, closing your eyes.
Steve was wrong — you should have stayed home.
He'd begged you to come out tonight; it wasn't just the two of them, he'd said, his eyes wide with hope. A few others had been invited, too, old friends who Bucky had wanted to see one last time before shipping out tomorrow.
And girls, of course. Girls with big smiles and bright eyes, who looked at Bucky as if they were hungry and he was a steak dinner.
To his credit, though, Bucky had asked you to dance first, and you'd said no. No, because it would have been impossible to act casually around him with your hands on his chest and his on your waist.
So, yes, you’d needed some fresh air after that. How could you not, when—
"Are you mad at me?"
You turn toward the voice that came from down the alley. Even though it's dark, you, of course, recognize him instantly, silhouetted against the weak light coming from inside the bar.
"Me? No, you—I'm not," you reply, your tongue feeling like it weighs three pounds. You attempt a smile. "What are you doing out here? You should be inside, enjoying your last night, no?"
Bucky shrugs and walks closer, but only far enough so you can see each other without straining.
"I was looking for you," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Steve said you'd come out here."
"I'll go back inside soon, I promise. Don't worry."
He doesn't move except to kick a loose pebble away from his toe. "Why didn't you want to dance with me?"
Your stomach plummets at the question. He sounds almost hurt, and you wish you could explain yourself to him in a way that doesn't include blurting out your stupid feelings in the process.
"Uh...I don't know, I just...well, no reason," you stumble, wishing desperately that you weren't such an idiot. "I thought I'd keep Steve company while you...you know."
"Danced with the rest of them?"
You nod silently.
Bucky makes a scoffing sound before running a hand through his hair. "They're all the same."
"Okay..."
"It's not, uh, it's not what you think," he continues, taking a step forward, then back again as if he's unsure of how close to stand. "The girls — they're nice and pretty, sure, but...they're just not... I don't think they're my type, I guess."
"Uh-huh," you murmur, turning your gaze downward toward your shoes, suddenly finding it easier to look anywhere but at him. "Yeah, well, we better get back before—"
"Is there somebody else?"
The air in your lungs vanishes at his abrupt question, and you look up as your heart starts beating out of rhythm.
"Excuse me?" you whisper, surprised that you've even found your voice. "Somebody else?"
"Somebody that you...that you're seeing," Bucky says slowly, his words strained, as if every one causes him pain.
You stare at him for a second, hoping this is a joke, that maybe Steve put him up to asking these ridiculous questions — or maybe he's been drinking too much — because, surely, Bucky couldn't possibly be trying to ask you what you think he's trying to ask you.
"Bucky, let's just go back inside—"
"It's Steve, isn't it?" he cuts you off with the most absurd statement yet. His expression softens. "It's okay, really. If you are, I mean. He's a really good guy."
"Steve?!" You actually laugh at the absurdity of it all, shaking your head until the shock fades away into incredulity. "Jesus Christ, no! I mean, Steve is...he's like a brother to me, what...what the hell are we even talking about?"
"But...there's someone?" he asks again, sounding less upset than he had a few moments ago.
"No, not—no," you say, slouching against the wall and shrugging halfheartedly. "There's no one. Honestly, there hasn't been since..."
"Since when?"
Since I met you.
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose and praying that a sinkhole will open up and swallow you whole. This has gone on long enough. "I don't know. It's...been a little while. I don't know what you want me to say, really."
"I just wondered."
"Okay, fine."
You start to walk back to the door leading inside, but Bucky moves so quickly that you run smack into his chest.
"Wait, just—"
He grabs your hand and holds it gently, thumb softly brushing along your knuckles.
Your breath hitches at the unexpected contact. You glance down at where he's holding onto you, then back up again, confused, curious, wondering if this is real and not some strange dream you'll wake up from any moment now.
You exhale with a shaky laugh when he lifts his other hand to your cheek and rubs his thumb across it, stopping at the corner of your mouth.
Slowly, so slowly, he leans in.
"Bucky," you breathe, his name soft on your tongue.
His forehead touches yours, and you reach up to rest a palm against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your fingertips.
"Do you not want me to...?"
He's never been this close to you, but everything about the moment feels familiar — the heat radiating from his body, the light scratch of his stubble on your cheek, the smell of him surrounding you.
You lift your chin slightly. "I do, but..."
"Just..." You feel the warmth of his breath on your lips; he's so close now that they brush against yours as he speaks. "I wish I'd...said something before it came to this."
"Before what came to this?"
"That I'd have...asked you. Proper, like. Dinner, movie. You know, the way it shoulda been. Before I...before I leave."
You stiffen at the word leave, pulling back so that you can look him in the eye.
"Bucky..."
"I wish I would've asked you to dinner. Would've loved to take you to dinner," he says, his eyes searching yours. "Wouldn't that have been nice, doll?"
A small smile lifts the corner of your mouth. "It would've."
"It could've been nice, you and me."
"I think it could have been."
"Yeah?" he chuckles quietly, lifting your hand and bringing it to his lips. He presses a kiss to the back of your fingers, then your palm. "I think it can still be. You see, I'm quite selfish. I'd like to go to war with something good to think of. Something — or someone — to come home to. That'd be worth coming home to."
"Like...Steve?"
It's a joke, of course, and Bucky, to his credit, does laugh, too. Then, he slips a finger under your chin and tips your face up toward his. You hold your breath as he dips his head to place a gentle, barely-there kiss on the corner of your mouth. "Not like Steve. No."
The music from inside the bar becomes louder, a woman's voice singing softly, sweetly. Stars fading, but I linger on, dear...
"I..." You clear your throat nervously, fiddling with the collar of his jacket. "You better come back to me in one piece."
"You gonna be waiting for me?"
You smirk. "I mean, I already waited this long, so I might as well—"
The rest of your words disappear into his kiss. You gasp at the sudden, almost desperate press of Bucky's lips on yours, but then he brings his hands to the sides of your face and kisses you more gently, more slowly, more purposefully, as if he has a lot to say to you in this moment but words fail him and the only thing left to do is this — to kiss you, over and over, again and again, to say, with his lips, with his hands, with every inch of himself...that he'll come back to you.
You whimper as Bucky's teeth catch your lower lip and tug before letting go. He pulls back far enough to look at you, to see your swollen lips parted. "So...that means yes, right?"
"Yes," you murmur. You slide your hands over his shoulders and into his hair, pulling his mouth back down to yours. "It means yes."
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky x you#bucky x reader#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier imagine#winter soldier x fem!reader#winter soldier x you#marvel fanfic#marvel imagine#bucky barnes scenario#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes one-shot#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes headcanon#mcu fanfic#mcu#mcu fanfiction#mcu imagine#bucky barnes headcanons#bucky barnes hcs#bucky barnes hc#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes blurb#bucky barnes drabble#bucky barnes dialogue#bucky barnes fluff
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PLSS WRITE MORE LEON 🙏🙏 that’s all im requesting but if you could make something rough w/older leon and younger reader??
leon s kennedy x top male reader
a/n : reader is around 24 and leon is 34 (10 years age gap). leon is afab again (obsessed with afab leon mb), reader's gender isn't really specified but written to have a dick
you've always looked up to him, he's the reason why you wanted to became a cop in the first place. something about him, attracts you. thankfully, your parents is quite powerful so you got yourself in the same place as him. working with him is your dream ever since he saved you when you were a teen. he might not remember you, but he's been on your mind since then
you were lucky enough to finally get him as your partner later on. all the sweat and tears were all worth it because now you're finally assigned together. actually working by his side feels so unreal for you. after months of being together and you basically flirting with him all the time, it finally happened.
you both were drunk and one thing lead to others. you confessed to him and he accepted, though he did hesitate at first because of your age gaps but still, it very much surprised you that he actually have feelings for you since you entered the agency but never really have the courage to say it to your face. he never really have time for relationships as he was always busy with works, but you were glad that he's willing to be in one with you.
it's your anniversary today, it has been 2 years since you've been together with him and everything went smooth. though, you did ended up arguing with him a few days ago.
it was over some stupid stuff. he keep saying things about how being with someone's old like him isn't really ideal and you should find someone your age. he even suggested for you to see other people that will suit you better, which breaks your heart a little because how can he suggested something like that when he knows that you love him very much :( don't he understand that you only wanted him and he's the only one that's perfect for you ?
but, you do understand his worries, he think too much about what others said. 10 years is a lot to others, but to you? you don't really care, he can be 50 and you'll still love him nonetheless.
and tonight, is the time you'll show him, how much you love him.
you prepared the room with flower petals on the floor, lightly scented candle on top of the bedside table, and a towel laid in the middle of the bed. now you're just waiting for him to come home, sitting on the edge of the bed, playing with your phone
he came home a few minutes later, with flowers in his hands, surprised by your preparations, he gave you a big smile "happy anniversary" he said, passing you the flowers "i..apologise for what i said before. i wasn't thinking right and i know that i hurt your feelings that time" he said, putting his hand on your face "it's okay, i am not mad about it anymore. it's our anniversary, so let's enjoy it to the fullest" you responded, putting your hand on top of his
the flowers he gave you are truly beautiful, but not as beautiful as him, laying on the bed. legs spread, face flushed. you specifically told him to wear a special made lingerie for him. it suits him perfectly, the white laces looks really good on him.
pushing the panties aside to take a look at his pretty pussy. playing with his clit and spreading his hole. it's so wet that you're sure you don't even need the lube. blowing air on it to make him shivered. "hurry" he demanded. he's so cute when he act like this , but you can't give in tonight. you thought of something that you've always wanted to try. suddenly raising your hand and
plap !
the sounds of his wet pussy meets your hand. his eyes were wide, mouth opened, feeling shocked of your sudden moves. you didn't say anything though, just flashed him your usual smile
plap !
"w-wait! stop" he said, trying to push your hands away "hmm you sure? looks like you're enjoying this" you teased him again, putting your fingers in his hole, your fingers sliding in so easily from how wet he is. sweet moans leaving his pretty lips. as he was enjoying it, you pulled your fingers out, which caught him off guard. as he was about to say something, you raise your hand again
plap !
you spank his pussy again "what...? what was that for?" he asked, confused and aroused at the same time. face flushed from embarrassment, he never felt like this before. he had no idea why you're doing this all of the sudden, like you're treating him more rougher than you ever did before. he's not used to this but, he doesn't hate it ♡
you didn't answer, instead, you land another spank on his pussy making him shuddered. he tried to struggle to get away from you but your grip is just too strong !
plap !
again
plap !
and again
plap !
as you spanked his pussy for the last time, he squirted all over your palm. you were shocked to see how he became just from being spanked on his pussy, guess he's really enjoying this.
tears are forming in his eyes, looking up at you. you just flashed him a smile before sitting right above his face, pulling out your dick from your underwear.
"suck" you told him. he was hesitant but did as he told. as he was going down on you, you pushed his head, forcing your cock to the back of his throat.
he was struggling to breath, hands gripping your thighs. you pull out, just to push it all in again. you were using him like a toy.
it felt too good for him, the way your cock reaches all the way to the back of his throat made his mind all blank, all he can think of is your cock ♡ the more you thrusts, the more he feels like he couldn't breath but, don't ever stop, because he's very much enjoying this.
you came deep inside his throat, making him swallowed it all. he knew that you weren't done with him as you grabbed the lube that you specifically put on the bedside and pour it all over your hand. "let's try something new" you said, moving his hair out of his face
before he even had the time to respond to what you just said, you push a finger in his asshole, the excessive amounts of lube making it quite easy to slide in. "feels weird" he whimpered, you shush him, playing with his clit to distract him from this unfamiliar feelings. slowly, you keep adding fingers until you feel like he's stretched enough
you positioned your dick right in his asshole. "w-wait" you slowly pushed your dick inside him, stretching him out. he's still quite tight despite all the stretching you did earlier. his hands gripping the sheets. you kiss him and played with his clit to ease him.
you finally pushed your cock all in, his pussy's juice dripping all over your hand. you started thrusting slowly but becoming rougher and faster as he eventually get used to it
you fingered his pussy as you thrust your dick inside of his asshole. his moans filling up the room "im close" he said, hands gripping your shoulders
you pushed his legs further to his chest, thrusting your dick deep inside him. your thrusts becaming sloppier now that you're close. you came inside him after a few more thrusts and he squirted all over himself right after. he's so easy to squirt <3 you're glad that you laid the towel down on the bed before or you'll have to do extra cleaning later on.
you pulled out and laid beside him, his head on your chest
"what was that all about ?"
he asked, his fingers drawing circle on your chest
"proving my love to you"
#sub character#top reader#top male reader#d3vilcvntz's works#leon x male reader#sub leon kennedy#anonasks
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warm hues! - xu minghao
warnings: none
pairings: xu minghao x reader
genre: tipsy minghao? friends to lovers!
wc: 1.3k
drunken confessions series
check out my masterlist! // hao's m.list
the sun has already set by the time you decide to call minghao. he’d been in his art studio all day, working on his latest project—a piece he’d been tight-lipped about, only dropping vague hints whenever you tried to pry. knowing him, he was probably lost in his own world, forgetting to eat, drink, or even take a break. the thought makes you frown as you wait for him to pick up.
after a few rings, you hear his voice, soft and slightly breathy, like he’d been completely engrossed in his art before your call interrupted him. “hey,” minghao says, a smile evident in his tone. “what’s up?”
“hao, are you still at the studio?” you ask, already knowing the answer.
there’s a pause, then a light chuckle. “yeah, why? missing me already?” he teased.
you roll your eyes, though your lips curve into a smile. “i just wanted to bring you dinner. you’ve probably forgotten to eat again.”
“i didn’t forget,” he argues, though you can hear the lie in his voice. “i just... haven’t had time.”
“exactly my point,” you say, grabbing the packed meal you prepared with him in mind. “i’m on my way. don’t even think about touching another paintbrush until you’ve eaten.”
he hums in response, and you can picture the way he’s probably smiling to himself, eyes crinkling at the corners. “okay, okay. i’ll wait for you.”
–
when you arrive at minghao’s studio, you’re met with the faint scent of paint and the warm, earthy aroma of wine. his art studio is a familiar place, filled with canvases leaning against the walls, paint splatters on every surface, and brushes scattered across the tables. minghao himself is standing in front of a large canvas, wine glass in hand, his cheeks flushed a soft pink.
“you actually listened to me,” you say, surprised to see him waiting by the canvas, paintbrush set aside.
he turns to you, a smile breaking across his face. “of course i did. how could i not when you asked so nicely?” his voice has tipsy lilt to it, and you realize he’s more than just a little buzzed.
you raise an eyebrow, holding up the bag of food. “you’ve been drinking?”
“just a little,” he admits, holding up the almosy empty bottle of wine. “it pairs well with painting.”
you sigh, setting the food down on a nearby table. “come on, you need to eat something. wine on an empty stomach isn’t a good idea.”
minghao laughs, setting his glass down and obediently following you to the table. he sits across from you, and you can’t help but notice the way his gaze lingers on your face, his eyes soft and warm.
“thank you,” he says quietly as you unpack the meal, his voice carrying a sincerity that makes your heart flutter.
“hmm,” you reply simply, avoiding his gaze. “just eat, okay?”
he does as he’s told, taking bites of the food you brought while occasionally sipping his wine. it isn’t long before he starts talking, his usual calm and collected demeanor slipping as he grows more relaxed.
“you know,” he starts, swirling the wine in his glass, “i’ve been working on this piece for a while.”
“yeah?” you prompt, curious. “what’s it about?”
minghao hesitates, his eyes drifting to the canvas he’d been working on. it’s partially finished, splashes of colors blending together in a way that’s both chaotic and beautiful. there are hints of a figure in the center, but it’s not fully defined yet. he seems lost in thought for a moment, then turns back to you.
“it’s... inspired by you,” he admits, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. “or, well, because of you.”
your eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, you can’t find the words. silence hangs between you, and minghao’s smile falters, a nervous, almost panicked look crossing his face.
“you don’t have to say anything,” he rushes out, his voice strained. “i know that probably sounds weird, or maybe you think it’s stupid, but i couldn’t help it. you inspire me, and i... i’m in love with you. god, i shouldn’t have said that. i’m sorry- i just-”
“hao,” you finally interrupt, your voice soft but firm. he stops rambling, his wide, anxious eyes meeting yours.
“why do you think i remind you to eat and bring you food all the time?” you ask, your cheeks burning. “why do you think i worry about you spending all day in here, forgetting to take care of yourself?”
minghao’s mouth opens slightly, his panic giving way to confusion. “why…?”
you let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling your heart race. “it’s because i care about you, too. a lot.”
minghao’s expression softens, but there’s still a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “you do? you do…,” he answers himself, “but..like as a friend..or…?” he whispers subconsciously, trying to mask his nervousness, his voice barely audible.
you nod as your fingers start brushing against his where they rest on the table. “I would like to bring you food all the time, every day actually. without needing to care or worry if I sound overbearing. if thats..what you want too?”
his lips part, and for a second, he looks like he’s still processing your words. then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face; one that’s full of relief and disbelief all at once. he laughs, a sound that’s almost giddy, and he reaches out to gently cup your face.
“are you sure? will you really do that? you know I love the food you make me.” he asks, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.
“yeah,” you whisper, your voice steady despite your racing heart. “i’ve never been more sure of anything.”
minghao's eyes search yours, and you can feel the way his fingers tremble slightly against your skin. His smile doesn’t waver, but there’s something soft and unguarded in the way he looks at you, as if he can hardly believe what he’s hearing.
“then,” he says, voice hushed and tender, “i want that. i want everything you’re willing to give me.” his forehead leans against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath mixing with yours, a silent, shared exhale that says everything neither of you can quite put into words.
you close your eyes, your hands moving to rest over his, anchoring the moment in your memory. the world outside his studio feels distant, almost nonexistent, as if the only things that matter are his touch, his smile, and the way your heart beats in time with his.
“hao,” you whisper, opening your eyes to find him already watching you. there’s a playful glint there, even amidst the sincerity, and it makes you smile despite yourself.
“yes?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.
“finish your food before it gets cold,” you tease, breaking the moment with a light laugh. “you promised, remember?”
he lets out a laugh, one that’s full and genuine, and the tension between you both dissipates like mist. “right,” he agrees, finally pulling away, though his gaze never strays far from your face. “but only if you sit here with me while i eat.”
“of course, always.” you reply, settling in beside him and feeling his shoulder brush against yours. it’s a simple question & a simple answer, but the meaning behind both of them, so much deeper.
minghao picks up his fork, taking another bite of the meal you prepared, and you sit together in the comfort of his art-filled sanctuary, a newfound understanding shimmering in the air between you.
“thank you,” he whispers, his voice full of awe. “for being here. for always taking care of me.”
“thank you too, for always listening so well & letting me take care of you.” you murmur, your heart swelling.
“only because it's you.”
minghao pulls you into a kiss, he hopes you know that this kiss is an unspoken agreement he promises never to break.
#seventeen#seventeen imagine#seventeen fluff#svt#svt fluff#svt x reader#svt angst#fanfic#seventeen x reader#the8 fluff#the8 angst#the8 imagines#the8 fanfic#xu minghao#the8 seventeen#seventeen the8#the8 x reader#xu minghao x reader#xu minghao fluff#xu minghao angst#xu minghao fanfic#xu minghao imagines#minghao x reader#minghao fluff#minghao angst#minghao imagines#minghao fanfic#minghao seventeen#minghao
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Almost, Always
♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader
Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?
CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating
Author’s note: part four! are we learning from our previous mistakes? TAKE A WILD GUESS! after this, have one more chapter to go, and i know ive been consistently posting every week, but im afraid that the last part is going to take me a whole extra week to finish (bc ill be out of the country for a sec) so, my apologies! but i hope this long chapter makes up for the extra wait! <3
Wordcount: 6.5K
part one - part two - part three - part four - part five
“I didn’t say he doesn’t… I just said, he has never actually said it.”
Emily’s jaw dropped, and you immediately regretted saying what you just said.
“No, stop. He has said it. Forget I said anything. It’s fine.”
You knew exactly what she was going to say.
She’d alluded to it from the start. Rolled her eyes at him. Made faces of outrageous confusion that told you, how can someone behave like that, without having to say the words aloud. Without making you hear them.
“I’m just saying…” Emily started, and showed you a facial expression that made you feel stupid for even bringing it up.
“It’d be better for you to leave him.”
You laughed, like she made a joke, yet so aware that she absolutely wasn’t.
But listen, if you didn’t laugh, you’d cry, because you knew, you knew somewhere in the back of your mind that it probably was better for you to leave him.
Not a truth you wanted to face though.
There were still too many easy excuses for you to make.
So... you made them.
But Emily’s face remained quite serious.
“Emily. You don’t mean that.” You said on the back-end of a giggle.
“Are you joking? My God, it’d be so much better if you left him. Better for you, better for, well, me. Can’t even tell you he loves you? What is he on?!”
You shushed her, and looked over your shoulder in the general direction of your bathroom and listened for a few seconds. The shower was still going. He couldn’t have heard her.
Good.
Not that Emily’s general opinion was a huge secret. But still. It was nice if the peace could be kept for the night.
“He does tell me that.” you argued, much softer. “Just...”
“Just does it when he’s about to hang up the phone? Just a quick, casual, love ya, when he’s saying goodbye?”
“Well, he–”
“Or does he only say it when he’s about to come?”
“Emily.”
“Oh, God. You’re so beyond help, I don’t even know what to tell you anymore.”
For a moment, you avoided eye-contact. Pressed your lips together and looked around the room whilst your friend tried her best to get it into your head that Joe really just wasn’t it.
“You know you’re in second place.” Emily said, suddenly much more earnestly. “You don’t deserve to be in second place.”
Which was a nice sentiment. A thing a best friend was meant to tell you. A bit like a parent calling their baby a genius because they accidentally made a bit of babbling sound like a real string of words.
“Well,” you said, taking a deep breath in and giving Emily your best smile. “So is he, so I guess we’re even.”
He wasn’t.
These were two different leagues.
But suggesting that Emily was in first place with you was the quickest way to make her feel appreciated even though her advice went untaken.
It always did.
Emily was a good friend and always gave excellent advice. And you were a good friend because you always listened to what she had to say. Or, you thought you did. Would tell yourself you did.
But then you simply wouldn’t follow any of it.
You hadn’t taken her advice when she’d told you to stop fucking around in a fourteen month situationship.
“I like how this just… works, don’t you?” Joe had said one evening when you were wrapped up on his sofa together. You’d made a comment that someone had flirted with you and had asked if you were single. You hadn’t known what to tell them.
Joe had just shrugged then.
“Let’s not push for something if it doesn’t need it. Something not broken doesn’t need a fix, does it?”
And you’d disagreed then. Had hoped that he’d grow a little protective and would’ve gone, um what do you mean of course you’re not single. For a while you also hadn’t wanted to define anything, because fuck commitment, right? But it had been over a year and Emily said that you should ask him to just fucking label it already.
You hadn’t.
You also hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you that she thought this guy wasn’t going to make you happy.
Hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you that she thought this guy was ultimately just there for a bit of fun, but not really much else.
Hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you to just leave him already when you told her he had never sincerely told you that he loves you.
“I know you’re smart enough to know that it’s absolutely wild that he’s not said–”
“It’s because you just hear all the bad things, I’m sorry. I should also tell you about the good shit.”
“Oh, yea? Like what?” Emily challenged, and in the silence that followed, you heard the shower turn off.
“Like... look! Look what he got me!” you said, picking up a bag from a dining table chair.
Your friend looked at it for a moment, blank faced, and then narrowed her eyes in suspicion.
“Got you? Like, he went out and bought that for you? Or, was that sent to him by the brand, and he just passed it on?”
You looked at the bag you were still holding, then gave a small shrug. “I don’t know. He still gave it to me.”
It was a nice bag.
“Not exactly the same is it.”
No, it wasn’t. But... you know. You could pretend it was.
“Still counts.”
“Okay. If you think so.”
You didn’t think so, not after what Emily had just said, but you were willing to accept it for the nice gesture, and that was all you cared about. Or, what you told yourself was all you cared about.
“I think so.” You definitively told Emily, breaking into a smile to really sell it.
Just when she was about to roll her eyes at you and maybe try her hand at talking a little more sense into you, Joe called you from the bathroom.
You left Emily on her own for about a minute before joining her again.
“Okay. Let’s go. He’s not coming.” You grabbed your coat and found your bag. The one Joe had given to you, but hadn’t spent a penny on.
“He’s– what?”
“He thought of something that still needs doing. He’s not coming.”
Emily stared at you from where she was sat, watching you hurriedly wrestle your arms into the sleeves of your coat as she slowly caught up to speed.
“So, I’m sorry, but have we just waited for him for ages for fucking nothing then?”
You ignored her tone, finding your phone, your keys, and then Emily’s coat as well.
“Let’s go. If we hurry, we might beat the rain.”
You chucked Emily her coat, and she almost didn’t move her arms in time to catch it. With the front door already open, you gestured for Emily to make her way through, calling, “Bye! We’re off!” into the flat.
Emily, under her breath, very mockingly sing-songed, “Love you!” in that same tone as she walked past you, making her point once more.
You didn’t repeat her, but instead rolled your eyes at what you decided was a joke, and then loudly said, “Don’t wait up!”
You didn’t wait for Joe to answer before you slammed the door shut.
It’s been weeks.
Months, technically, although it doesn’t feel it.
“Please be home, please be home, please be home,” you mutter to yourself as you rush your way down his street. “Please be in the fucking country, for just this fucking once…”
You’d texted and had gotten no coloured ticks from him. So then you’d called, but it just rang for ages before you were eventually sent to voicemail, and that’s something you don’t do. Especially not now. Not about this. Hell would have to freeze over before you’d leave a voicemail message. You could delete a text thread, or a voice note. But, a voicemail? Once a voicemail sends out, there is no undoing that.
Maybe you’re crazy, but what you’re doing now feels safer.
It’s after midnight, dark, the streets wet from earlier rainfall, but you feel wide awake. You’ve got Emily’s words ringing in your ears still, and you’ve not been able to shake them yet.
Her advice.
Or, well, it was more just her opinion. She had expertly dressed it up as a fact, though, which is probably why that one sentence still held you in a vice grip.
Telling her about how you’d had a few… moments, with Joe, since you’d broken up with him, turns out, was the wrong thing to do.
You just really wanted to tell her about the wine.
The expensive bottle you’d satisfyingly dunked into his kitchen sink.
It’s been weeks by now, but you still think about that all the time. And every time that you do, you feel pure glee spark inside of you.
You thought she’d be the same.
You thought she’d absolutely love it.
But then, after you had told her all about that night, she’d just looked at you with so much disdain and disappointment, it startled you into rambling excuses, none of which sounded true to your own ears, let alone hers. She then had shook her head, and sort of muttered something to herself that you asked her to repeat.
It’s those words that haven’t left the forefront of your mind since.
You didn’t ask Emily to clarify herself. You hadn’t gotten into an argument, either. You had just… moved onto a different topic. A lighter, easier to digest thing to talk about.
It left those words to rein freely, left those words at liberty to inflate themselves until they were all you could think about, and the feeling had clawed at your chest for the rest of the day. The rest of the night.
You hadn’t been able to answer the question, what’s wrong, that you were repeatedly asked until it made you upset.
“Nothing’s wrong! Stop asking me what’s wrong! God! You asking me what’s wrong a million times a minute is what’s wrong!”
Something is wrong though.
Obviously.
You just left someone in your bed for this.
Ringing Joe’s doorbell is a quick action, fingers pressing that familiar button before you can have any doubt of what you’re doing. It takes longer than a few seconds before you hear a small beep.
“Joe? I texted you, can you reply to my text?”
A silence follows, and for a moment you think maybe the intercom doesn’t work properly, or maybe he just hadn’t heard you.
“I– I sent you a message, check your phone–”
A loud click of the door unlocking and a loud shrill buzzing sound interrupts you.
“No you don’t have to– just text me back, will you?”
No answer follows, but the loud buzzing persists. After a few more seconds of it, you know Joe’s just holding down the button until you go inside.
That wasn’t the plan.
With a frustrated grumbling sigh, swearing under your breath, you push yourself into Joe’s building and make your way to his front door.
In the lift you decide you won’t let the doors close properly when they’ll open on Joe’s floor. You’ll tell him from half inside the lift that he just needs to check his phone.
You just want an answer.
But then the lift doors open and one foot steps out as you lean into the hallway, expecting to see Joe waiting by his front door, yet he isn’t.
You make an angry face, nose pulling up and showing your clenched teeth with a frown. You’re in a building where people are asleep so you can’t make any noise, but you absolutely would have otherwise. Joe leaves you no other choice but to get out of the lift, and begrudgingly, you make your way over to his doormat.
When you get closer, you can see how the door’s been left open.
“Hey,” you whisper-yell into the flat, “Joe?”
You get no answer, and take a few careful steps inside to find him standing in his kitchen in a T-shirt and a pair of boxer-briefs. He’s got his back turned to you, and is seemingly busy cleaning up mess he’s left out from dinner.
It’s the fucking middle of the night.
It’s dark in Joe’s flat, the only light in the room coming from his under cabinet LEDs, and it’s weirdly warm for the time of night, you think.
“Hey, I–” you start, voice low because it’s late, but you quickly get cut off by Joe.
“Did you close the door?”
You blink a few times and watch Joe very carefully load some things into his dishwasher, making little to no noise at all. No plates softly clashing, no rattling cutlery.
“What? No. I–”
“Will you close the door, please?” Joe asks, but it sounds like a demand. Sort of cold, a little detached.
“All I’m here to say,” you try again. “Is that I want you to check your phone...”
Joe stands up straight and finally looks at you. Whilst maintaining eye-contact he slowly closes the dishwasher until it latches, machine clicking shut, and when he then just... keeps staring at you, you throw your head back like an annoyed teenager, and reluctantly do as you’re told.
You go to close his front door.
In the kitchen you hear the tap go, and when you join Joe there again, you can see how he’s filling up a glass with water.
Joe is about to take a sip when he suddenly decides against it and lowers the glass.
“Water?” he then asks, and holds it out to you with a stretched arm.
You’re slightly confused, but you take it, and then watch Joe reach for another glass from a cabinet and fill that one for himself.
“Thanks, but…” you place the glass on his counter and hold two hands up to Joe. “I’m just here because I need an answer to a text.”
Joe, with his mouth in his own glass, sort of looks at you a moment as he gulps water down.
He looks tired.
Which, yea, that checks out.
You fucking woke him up, didn’t you?
There’s so many reasons to declare yourself clinically insane right now, but you’re holding onto the notion that this is actually all totally normal with all of your might. If you pretend to believe it, you might just be able to trick Joe into it as well.
But Joe just looks at you like he’s waiting for you to give the real reason of why you’re there.
“So, if you could just, check that. Answer it. That’d be great.” You force a polite smile and step back. “That’ll be all.” And you turn to leave again.
“You’ve been crying.” Joe stops you in your tracks.
You turn back to him.
“No. Well, yea I was, but that’s not– I’m fine, that was about something else, not this. You don’t have to– stop, I’m going to go, please... respond to my message. I’ll read it when I get in, and that’ll be that.”
“Wait.”
Joe picks up the glass of water you’ve just put down and gives it back to you. When it’s in your hands, he even gives it a little push upward to ensure that you have a sip.
“I’ll go get my phone.”
And he’s so calm and agreeable that it feels rude to do anything else but take a sip and wait for him. You watch Joe walk out of the room to go get his phone, and it’s a lot of opening and closing doors, everything done as quietly as humanly possible. Then, you suddenly notice how hot you feel in your coat. It’s really fucking warm in here.
That’s new.
That’s... weird.
When Joe comes back, he closes the door behind him again and looks at his phone as he unlocks it.
“Why did you call me?”
“Just–”
“I’ll read the text.”
In silence, you stand and watch Joe open his texts and read your message. Messages. There’s several. Then, he starts typing back, and, this is what you came here for, but now that you’re standing in Joe’s kitchen in the middle of the night, having pulled him out of bed for this, you almost want to tell him he’s being an idiot. He can just as easily answer your question in person.
His message sends, and your phone buzzes in your pocket.
Joe places his down and gives you a tired stare.
“Yea, okay. Th-thanks.”
“Read it.”
It startles you.
“No, that’s…” You’re so stupid. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Read your message.”
You feel like a fucking child that’s being scolded by a parent.
Guilt.
Regret.
Self-inflicted, which makes all of it so much worse.
Every feeling sits dark and sticky and bitterly uncomfortable in your gut, clinging to all the edges, stretching longer until the shadows overtake all of the previous excuses you had for being here.
You shouldn’t have come.
You shouldn’t have gone to wake up Joe over something so insignificant and, well, dumb. It’s embarrassing, and you want to leave.
“You’re here now. I’m up. Read your message.”
You inhale deeply. Hold it there for a moment.
He’s right.
The damage has been done.
You’ve dipped a toe into this strange pond, and now you might as well canon ball yourself right into this uncomfortable mess, no matter how cold the water might be.
The only way out seems through.
You pull your phone from your pocket with a clammy hand, and fucking damn it, you’re sweating underneath all of your layers.
“I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have woken you up.”
Joe just lets his eyes drop to your phone before he looks right at you again, his very stance issuing the orders.
Read the fucking text.
You see the notification and open your phone with face ID. Your own messages to Joe catch your attention first, before you see his reply.
“Were we as good as we’re going to get?”
“What we were together”
“Was that really as good as it can get?”
“Ever?”
You didn’t have to send the same question in various different ways, but that’s what had happened.
Emily’s reaction to the stand alone get-togethers you’d participated in with Joe hadn’t been what you’d expected. You’d hoped for a level of girl power encouragement. For a loud get it girl, or a, yea babe get what you want.
Instead, you’d gotten a sigh and shake of her head, followed by a soberly mumbled, “You really do deserve each other…” that you’d asked her to repeat.
Before she’d always said that Joe didn’t deserve you. That was always the point she tried to get across. The idea she tried to sear into your brain. Joe was beneath you, and you were far above. Always.
And then suddenly, now you are no longer too good for him?
Suddenly you’re on equal footing, and you deserve each other.
What the fuck.
You look at your own messages and realise in that very second that you have no idea what kind of answer you are after from Joe. This isn’t a coin toss situation where you know what side you want that coin to land on the moment it get’s thrown into the air. Fear strikes you lightning fast. No matter what Joe is going to tell you, it’s going to be wrong.
What the fuck are you doing at Joe’s flat?
And why is it so fucking hot in here?
The only way out is through.
You read Joe’s text.
“Darling it’s late, let’s not do this over text”
A non-answer.
You look up at Joe, who is now leaning against his kitchen counter, legs crossed at the ankles, arms crossed over his chest. His head tilts to the side a little and neither of you speak.
It’s oddly unexpected that the guy in his underwear exudes more confidence than the girl bundled up in heavy layers of clothing.
You frown and read the message again.
For a second you debate what to do next. What to say. If this is going to be the end of this interaction, or if it’s going to be just the beginning.
It’s late, though.
You inhale deeply. Slowly.
Then, resign.
“Okay.”
Because honestly, what were you really even expecting from him?
Your soft little defeated okay isn’t what Joe expected though, you can see it in the minor change on his face. The eyebrows that quirk up slightly, his jaw that loosens, the eyes that round out...
“I’ll um...” you say softly, letting your phone sink back into a pocket before pulling at your sleeves to let them cover both hands.
Joe steps forward and bends to look at the clock on the oven behind him before he says, “Well. Since you’re here. Might as well.”
He gestures an arm at his dining table. At one of his chairs. It’s hard, but you do your best to ignore the memories of the last time you were there, sat in one of these chairs. Well, technically, you hadn’t sat in one of the chairs... Joe had sat on one of the chairs and you–
“Am I going to get an explanation of what’s going on?” Joe asks as he pulls out a chair for you.
Finally, you remove your coat.
“It’s a long story.” You say, then think for a moment and add, “No it’s not, actually. Emily said–”
“Ah. Emily.” Joe sits down in a chair opposite. “How is Emily doing?”
“Shut up. She’s fine.” You exclaim, voice a little raised in defense, and you’re immediately shushed by Joe. He holds up a hand as he perks up, and you get the message, lowering your tone as you add, “This isn’t about her.”
“It’s not?”
“No. She just said something. I…” you trail off for a second.
Your head’s a scrambled mess of doubt and insecurities and it doesn’t help that all you’ve done in the past few hours is overthink every single thought that’s popped into your brain. It’s a bit of a journey to retrace your steps and go back to the start of all of this.
“We were talking, and suddenly she... she said something and I’m just… I wanted to know if you think that… if you think what I texted you is true.”
“You just… wanted to know… if I think…” Joe narrows his eyes up at the ceiling as he thinks, slowly repeating your words.
It’s condescending.
Patronising.
Joe’s making fun of you.
“All right, be fucking honest or–”
“No, no. I’m sorry. Sorry. It’s nearly two in the fucking morning,” two already big eyes comically enlargen, but don’t make you laugh. Wrong audience. “But, yea, you’re right. Honest. I’ll be honest.”
You take a deep breath in preparation of what he’s about to say.
Were we as good as we’re going to get?
“Imposing question, though.”
Yea, you’re aware. It’s why you hadn’t been able to sleep and had eventually decided to just get up and out of bed, leave the boy you had in there on his own, and make your way over to Joe’s.
“I don’t know.”
Wild how you feel about five inches tall whilst simultaneously feeling like you’re taking up too much space in the room.
“You don’t know.”
Typical.
“Well. No, I… was it as good, wait, what was it?” Joe looks past you and sees that he’s left his phone on the counter. “Was it as good as it could be?”
You exhale through flared nostrils, frustration forcing your eyes shut for a moment.
“Were we as good as it’s ever going to get for us?”
“Were we as good as it’s ever going to get... I mean, I think so? I– But–... you tell me. Were we?”
And Joe’s right. It is late. You have spent hours thinking that question over, and you couldn’t answer it when you weren’t as tired as you are now, so it’s useless to even try at this hour.
You shrug, and for a moment, it’s quiet. You don’t know how to go about leaving now. You came here for something you aren’t going to get and so, fucking now what?
“Why um... why have you been crying?”
“Oh, I...” your fingers find your sleeve to rub. “I was asked why I couldn’t sleep, and I... well, I couldn’t really explain, so...”
Joe frowns in confusion, not understanding.
“I don’t know, you try listening to someone say shit like, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong I can’t help you, fifty times in a row, and try not to fucking snap.”
They’d been tears of angry frustration, mostly with yourself, and they’d actually surprised you. You hadn’t expected to cry, but, you felt hurt by words your best friend said to you, so you guess that does add up, actually.
Something slowly dawns on Joe before he then leans back in his chair and nods, scrunching his nose, and he whispers, “Jasper.”
“Jasper.” you confirm, and it makes you chuckle a little before a yawn breaks it up.
Joe watches you. Lets his eyes take you in. It’s the middle of the night and you’re very clearly going through something, but he hasn’t got the answers to the questions you’re asking him, and he hates it.
Wishes he could help.
Wishes the questions you wanted answers to weren’t so impossible.
Joe watches you yawn. Watches your eyes blink slowly as you stare into space for a moment. It’s so quiet, he can hear his clock tick on the other side of the room. Then suddenly, you smile.
“I told Emily about the wine... about how I was a complete bitch and poured that bottle right down your drain.”
And Joe can’t help but feel more amused at your smile than feel annoyed about his expensive wine being wasted. He won’t let his face show it though.
“Bet she enjoyed that.”
“Yea I thought she would, but... she just... she said that we deserve each other. Whatever that means.”
Joe watches your fingers rub along your sleeves. Knows what that means.
“That’s not true.” he suddenly says, voice low and sincere.
“Oh, right,” you huff a laugh and half-heartedly joke, “I don’t deserve you, of course.”
Joe doesn’t laugh.
“No, I mean... well, yes. Technically.” Before he continues, Joe shakes his head in an attempt get his thoughts in order. It’s late. “But not in the way you just said it. In that... you probably deserve better.”
“Probably?”
“Yea. And so do I. Probably.”
Hmm.
You silently mill that over for a second. Aren’t sure what to make of it. If there’s even anything to agree or disagree with there.
“But, who’s to say. All we know is that we weren’t the best before.”
Joe stresses that last word and then lets the words float in the air for you to draw your own conclusions from. It’s certainly true that you weren’t the best together - hence the break up that eventually happened. But Joe’s expertly sharing the blame, which is not a fun truth to face.
The before saves it, a little.
The before makes it sounds like Joe’s talking about two people who no longer exist. Like, those people are gone. That door is closed. And look at you now. You’re a whole new set of two different people. It’s a different world, and you’ve changed. Grown. Learnt.
Who knows what you’d be like now.
Joe can’t predict the future.
And neither can you.
“Hmm.” you hum, eyes trained on the surface of the table, body flushed with conflicting feelings you don’t know how to put into words. Instead of stumbling through words until you find ones that make sense, you remain silent and pull at your sleeves so there’s more fabric for your fingers to run across.
“Hey,” Joe leans forward a little and catches your attention. “Are you okay? Do I need to be worried about you?”
You smile and let it take over your whole face as you shake your head no before you bring your hand up to cover another yawn.
“No. But I should go. This was never meant to be– she just… I don’t know, Emily got into my head and I didn’t know how to get her out.”
Joe contemplates in silence. Wonders if he’s okay with the idea of you walking out and going home right now, in this state. It’s almost three o’clock.
“I don’t make the best decisions after midnight. Sorry.”
You push your chair back and get up on your feet, the plan being to give Joe a quick polite hug goodbye before you make your way back to his front door.
You’re tired, but you know the second you step outside into the cold air that will make your lungs feel sore, you’ll wake up enough to make your way home without any problems.
But then Joe decides you can’t just go.
You can’t just leave.
He’s stuck.
You’re stuck.
You’re stuck in it, together, in this muddy sludge of whatever the two of you have become now. One of you is going to have to step out of their shoes and escape, and Joe thinks it should be you, because you’ve escaped this quicksand of a relationship before. You know how to get out.
It’s weird that you willingly came back.
Keep coming back.
And it’s awful that Joe just keeps inviting you in. Welcomes you with open arms every single time.
But he wants you to stay. It doesn’t have to be like before. Things can be different. Better.
He decides he’s not just going to let you leave, so when he stands up and you go in for a hug, he takes hold of you by your upper arms and starts moving you towards his sofa.
Says, “Come sit for a second.”
And no resistance comes from you. Joe thinks it must be because you’re tired. You’ve cried and you’ve worried and you’ve let all of it eat away at you until you decided to reach out to him, and now, he wants you to stay. He’s not a fan of how, from a certain angle, it looks like he’s taking advantage of the situation, but... you’re both adults.
He’s not doing anything illegal.
Well.
There’s a girl in his bed.
It’s why the flat is warm and why all the doors are closed. Joe shouldn’t have let you inside. Shouldn’t have made you come in and shouldn’t have made you close the door behind you. Shouldn’t have given you a glass of water and shouldn’t have sat you down.
He doesn’t want you to leave now.
There’s a girl in his bed.
And you’ve got a Jasper in yours.
Joe’s closeness to you will come at a price, he’s aware. But it’s one he’s willing to pay. One he’s got the cash for, no problem. Name the sum and he’ll double it.
He’s got you by the arms and is walking you over to his sofa. You are stopped just before you’re about to step onto the area rug.
“Shoes off,” he says, like he gives a shit. You know he doesn’t, but listen to him anyway, and know that taking your shoes off means you’re not going anywhere. At least not for a while.
You get turned around and get sat down, and immediately, you feel far too comfortable. The seat’s too soft. The cushion’s too fluffy. Memories of the hours spent snuggled up on this sofa shoot into the forefront of your mind and you want to warn Joe that it’s not going to take much for you to fall asleep.
But before you can, he pulls a throw blanket from the other side and hands it to you, and you realise that getting comfy and cosy is actually the goal here.
There’s a guy in your bed, who you’ve just… left. Didn’t tell him anything. Just got out, got dressed and left.
You take the blanket from Joe.
It’s probably a good idea to at least let him know something. Send him a text. Let him know you’re okay. But that little voice of reason in your head gets drowned out when Joe sits down next to you and helps sort out the blanket so it covers you both.
“Sit for a second?” you ask through a soft half-suppressed laugh as Joe settles in beside you, your thighs touch underneath the throw. “Am I staying the night?”
“I don’t know, I don’t control what you do. I just want to sit for a second.”
Joe stretches an arm behind you that you think he’s going to rest on top of the sofa, but it moves your head forward a little as it grabs hold of your bicep to pull you in a bit more.
“Joe...” you warn, but it sounds lighthearted and sleepy.
“What?” Joe acts all innocent, but you can hear his amusement when he adds, “Just for a second.”
Joe is still shuffling in his spot, using his other hand to sort the cushion behind him, then pulling the blanket and tucking it under his leg, followed by him using his chin to fix the bit of flipped cotton of his T-shirt sleeve – it’s a lot of faffing for someone who wants to sit for just a second.
He’s nearly done, a centering sigh half way out of him when, suddenly, you feel how he pipes up a little and see how he looks across the room. His phone’s still on the counter, and for a second, Joe debates getting up to go and get it.
You determine on his behalf that he doesn’t need his phone by draping your arm across his stomach and snuggling up.
It’s warm in Joe’s flat.
And this little nest is perfect.
“Fine.” you mutter softly. “Jus’ for a second.”
Joe pauses for a moment as he looks down at how you let your nose brush his arm, your eyes already closed, and he grins as he sinks back down into his sofa.
You don’t make the best decisions after midnight.
Neither does Joe.
Maybe you do deserve each other. Maybe you don’t.
But you deserve this, you think. And you mean that in the best way possible. You deserve to be comfortable, and cosy, and toasty warm in a dimly lit room with a man who smells really nice.
You deserve to cuddle up next to someone who truly values your presence and genuinely just wants you to be there with them for a little while.
You deserve the soft tickling fingertips that delicately dance across your hairline, lingering there for far longer than ‘just a second’.
You deserve the barely whispered, super soft “Love you.” spoken so tenderly and punctuated with a gentle kiss pressed to the top of your head, it makes you tighten your arms around him.
You fall asleep in the soft glow of the under cabinet LEDs with the knowledge that the next morning is bound to be awkward. But this is still infinitely nicer than trying to fall asleep with Emily’s words on your mind. It’s difficult to think about impossible-to-answer questions when you’re wrapped up in strong warm arms that want you there, so you allow yourself to sink and to drift until dreams fully take you.
A loud bang of a door slamming shut wakes the both of you with a violent jolt.
Two pairs of tired bleary eyes look around the room, and there’s a fleeting moment of confusion. Your mind scrambles to piece together where you are and what just happened, but all your mind can focus on is how dry and heavy your eyes feel as you blink to adjust to your surroundings.
“Oh, fuck,” Joe croaks, groaning as he goes to sit up. He looks over his shoulder, then rubs a heavy hand across his face before he goes, “Yea…”
You feel disoriented and frazzled, and move to sit up just enough to look over the back of the sofa with squinty eyes to see what Joe is even looking at.
All you see is an open door to the hallway that leads to his bedroom.
“What was that?” you ask, thinking maybe something dropped or knocked over somehow. When Joe gets up and walks over to his bedroom to check, you think that’s it. Something fell because gravity finally got a hold of whatever Joe had been precariously balancing on a bookshelf.
But then you hear Joe audibly sigh and dejectedly go, “Yea, she won’t be coming back.”
That takes minute to land.
It’s too early for your brain to comprehend what just happened, but slowly, puzzle pieces click together.
Oh.
Oh, that’s fucking detestable, isn’t it?
When Joe walks back out, he’s wearing joggers and is holding a ball of socks, and you hope there’s a different explanation than the correct one you just concocted. He looks at you for a moment, and you can tell by the look on his face that he feels awful.
Right.
Emily can fuck off.
You don’t deserve each other.
You deserve better than this.
Okay, so, yea, admittedly, you aren’t really one to talk, seeing the personal choices you have made over the past eight hours. But the choices Joe has made in that same span of time are just as bad, if not worse.
You decide to give into the feeling of wanting to lay back down rather than to face whatever this morning has on offer for you. You disappear from Joe’s sight, and cover all of your face with your hands that press and pull at your skin.
This is such a mess.
“Emily can fuck off.” You mutter into your own palms, hoping Joe can translate that and connect the dots of your disdain for him in this very moment.
You should leave.
Should check your phone for any messages or missed calls, and you should leave.
Never come back.
Learn your fucking lesson already and never set foot into this flat ever again.
But then Joe leans over the back of the sofa, and with knitted eyebrows that show off every single line on his forehead, he softly asks, “Do you want a coffee?”
You drop your hands.
Look up at him. The kind face. His short hair sleep messy. Jaw line. His mouth.
You should leave.
“Um…”
Oh... oh no.
“Yea…”
Fuck.
So close.
“Yea?”
You almost had it.
“Yea. I could use a coffee.”
Almost.
---
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Modern!Davos Blackwood headcannons (pt. 2)
— The hastily written during work break edition —
I get messages from the stars, when you’re making love to me — Messages From the Stars // The Rah Band
i go to college to get more knowledge but why does college interfere with my tumblr writing 😔 I’m not even at school yet and I’ve gotta start kicking into academic gear..
In light of some recent episode developments. I think I’ll rescind the headcannon that his name is Benjicot Davos. It’s just Davos now. (Lowkey… I thought HBO would just honestly write out the character of Benjicot… I was apparently wrong when they just mentioned him ig) anyways new headcannon Davos has a little brother, surprise. Ben’s gotta learn unhinged behavior from somewhere after all.. and what better way to start than with his “cool” older brother.
You know that text post that goes like “Have you ever argued with your girlfriend?” “Nope. She tells me to shut up and I do.” That was actually a text convo between Davos and his friend. He’s dumb, but not stupid. If you tell him to do something he’s doing it (as long as it’s legal… then again he’s really not the type to listen to the law)
He likes slow and domestic mornings. Getting up late, brushing your teeth together. He’ll flick water at you as you’re brushing your hair or doing your skincare routine with the most dopey and tired smile. He knows he’s won when you stop what you’re doing to stare at him with an unamused look. He washes his face like a lunatic though (both hands just furiously rubbing his face with little to no product). He’ll make the coffee and you turn on the tv. Pure silence except for the background noise of a news channel or show. Don’t even get him started on the part where you both fall back asleep on the couch as the sun rises and sunlight funnels in through the curtains. Pure bliss.
He LOVES girls night. How did he get an invite? He didn’t! But he’s quiet and normal, so he gets the girls night pass. It could be just you, or a few friends, even a group. But Davos will be there using the face masks, eating the finger food, drinking the fancy drinks. His girls night pass gets revoked though because he does not pay attention to the talk. He’s too busy devouring the charcuterie board to care about drama! …oh that’s the whole point of girls night? Oh… “Oh—and we like her right? …she’s problematic? …So we hate her? Oh… okay yeah she sounded weird—“
“Unique” pet names. There’s always the classics (love, darling, cutie, honey) but he’s got a few under his belt that turn heads, in a bad way maybe. He starts off pretty tame, he uses “my lady” a lot (chivalry-pilled). “Ma’am” too. “My lady” has a chance to devolve into “my liege” :/ Davos calls you pookie and you call him pookie back. You’re both pookie what can I say (sometimes uses the shortened ‘pooks’). Every single pet name he uses must have ‘my’ in front of it. “Do you want to get that pizza from that one place, my lady? Yeah? Okay—No I can pay don’t worry about it, my lovely.”
If you’re not a gamer, but you like to play in both casual and competitive games with him. The only reason you’re having a pretty good game in a competitive game is because Davos is fighting for his life to give you guys the W. Sometimes you’re a little lost, sometimes you clutch up. But usually it’s him, keyboard furiously clicking, eyes darting around his monitor. His face is literally in the monitor he’s so locked in. And you’re just in the call like (“Aw dang it I died.. woww you make it look so easy!”) “Me? No you’re doing work too—look at all those assists and kills you got. You’re pulling your weight too. You get ‘em low I clean up. It’s these other fuckers on our team that aren’t—“ (he went 30/14/5 and you went 10/21/16)
Regardless of your skills in video games, he gets so hype for you in them. Casual or competitive, he’s screaming about every single achievement you or you both make. A clutch round you win all by yourself? GG EZ TELL EM TO GO NEXT THEY DON’T WANT YOUR SMOKE. You build something in your shared Minecraft world? Stunning, beautiful. The architecture is to die for. The redstone? You did that all yourself? He would’ve thought you followed a tutorial it was so good!
Can eat, will eat. He’s a big strong boy, he’s gotta eat. Which means if you ask for Taco Bell or McDonald’s at 2 am? He’s gonna get some with you! You can honestly just text him an order and he’ll understand right away. This turns into you both driving around late at night, music blasting and you feeding him fries. Speaking of food; he’s a heavy believer in the ‘boyfriend tax’. He will steal a sip of your drink or a bite of your food, regardless of consequences.
I do believe Davos is sassy. It’s like dangerous levels of sass he gives you sometimes. It makes you do a double take. Side-eyes, eye rolls, scoffs, dramatic sighs. He is a drama queen.
How he deals with others who bother you in public can range between normal and not normal. Davos has a few options that run through his mind when you encounter a catcaller or unwanted advances. He can either tell the guy to fuck off, start a fight, start barking at him. He will bark, he has barked. It startled you more than the offending guy. But also Davos knows when to get serious, when to actually deal with someone who’s invading your space or not leaving you alone. He’s a tall dude, he works out. He can be pretty imposing. And he’s not afraid to be the first one to hit or push, especially if the offending man has gotten on his nerves too. And not just because they were trying to flirt or shoot a shot at you.
A big aquarium date guy. Or any date really. Actually, any way he can hang out or be near you is considered a date to him and something that makes his day much better. He likes spending time with you, and he likes showing you off to the public. He gets to walk next to you and say “that’s my date! They’re on a date with me!” It’s perhaps the best part of the whole day, being able to be seen right with you. Even if you’re just a passing couple, two people in the midst of a whole crowd, it’s still something to Davos. And that something tells everyone that you’re his.
#davos blackwood x reader#davos blackwood#hotd x reader#hotd season 2#benjicot blackwood x reader#benjicot blackwood#house of the dragon#benjicot x reader
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I immediately gave you a follow since you wrote Drayton content. Toothpaste man!!!
Anyways, I love drama. I like the idea of Drayton pining after the reader while also making Kieran jealous 😭😭 could you write something like that??
Please take care of yourself btw! You write wonderful content!
We love our toothpaste man! And I'm so glad you like my stuff. This is so sweet of you and such an amazing request as well I would love to do this for you! I really do hope you like this 💜💜
Side note: I got a shiny Popplio when I read your request so I named it Cloudy as a little nod to you whenever I play.
Pokémon Scarlett and Violet Indigo Disk DLC Spoilers ahead!
A rivalry between the Dragon Elite four members and the Champion of the BB League turns into much more than just a race for Pokémon battles. When Drayton just wants to take you out on a date, Kieran's jealousy comes out to play, only pushing Drayton's goal to win your heart more.
SPOILER WARNING AHEAD (Indigo Disk Main Story and a little bit of The Teal Mask)
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A Dragon’s Heart | Drayton x Reader
“Awe, come on~ just one date!” Drayton innocently pleaded, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His eyes staring down at you whilst you scribbled down notes from your previous shiny hunt.
You shook your head with a cheeky smile on your face, as you continued to scribble, “And my response will remain the same Drayton, a cafeteria chat is not a date! Maybe I'll say yes when you think of something creative, hm?”
“I’m creative! The cafeteria is just easy, it's not too noisy since everyone eats out in the terrarium! Plus free food!” He joked, attempting to make it sound appealing, even though he knows it's not good. Unfortunately, his brain can’t think of anything good enough, at least for him. Everything he’s thought of, he doesn’t think is good enough for you. And he’s thought of a lot. “I can help you out with your shiny notes, you know~ maybe even join you on a hunt!”
“Drayton, you don’t know the first thing about shiny hunting, let alone actually joining me on one.” You sighed jokingly, looking up at him as you closed your notebook, “If I remember correctly, didn’t you fail a shiny Pokémon?”
His face turned slightly red, embarrassment washing over him for a moment as he grumbled to himself, “Hey I thought the Axew was sick… It’s not my fault I didn't know the Axew was going to run from me!”
“You threw a berry at its head!” You exclaimed, lightly chuckling when you saw his embarrassed face. “And you call yourself the Dragon expert”
His embarrassment turned into laughter as he thought about how stupid that was, the pair of you laughing together with bright smiles on your faces.
Your laughter didn’t go unnoticed however, from across the room, Kieran's eyes glared into Drayton. The sound of you laughing along with him only fuels Kieran's desire to be the best. But the jealousy was too strong for him to focus with the two of you laughing. “If you two are finished chirping like Starly’s over there, Drayton, you have a battle in five minutes. I suggest you get going.”
“Relax Kieran, I got plenty of time bud! Besides, it's unlikely they will be on time, it takes a while to prepare for a battle against one of us. So my opponent can take as long as he needs to!” Drayton argued with a hint of playfulness in his voice as Kieran gritted his teeth. A small smile crept on your face when you heard Drayton’s response, that was something you always admired about him. His patients was contagious, never rushing anyone into anything, always trying to make someone smile. Sure he has his moments of cockiness but that just adds to his character, every Dragon has a bite after all.
“Spoken like a true Elite, Drayton!” You chimed, standing up from the sofa. Drayton’s face turned a light pink, his heart lightly thumping. Surprised at himself that something so simple made him blush. His dragon heart only making more room for you.
Kieran's heart pounded in rage at your words, annoyed over the fact you were saying those words to Colgate and not him. Eventually, he puts on his no fudges given face and turns towards you both fully. “If you want to remain as the top Elite four members, Drayton, I'd get to your battle. I still have the power to remove you from this club.”
“Alright Alright! I’m going!” Drayton sighs, raising his hands in defeat. Kieran shook his head displeased as Drayton stretched his arms up, a sigh leaving his mouth before turning back to you. “So about that date… How about instead, as a warm-up, you come watch my battle as my special guest? That way, it’s not our official first date and I still get to spend time with you.”
You raise an eyebrow at him, trying to see where he’s going with this and what extra little plan he has going on inside that head of his. Until he raises a hand up for you to take, a genuine smile on his face as he patiently waits for your decision. With a bright smile, you take his hand, “I think that is a fair deal.”
“Have fun moping, Kieran!” Drayton yells as he gently pulls you along with him towards the door. Kieran had steam coming off his body as he watched the pair of you leave, and not just from Drayton’s response. A smirk appeared on Drayton’s face when he saw the jealousy in Kieran’s eyes.
Soon his focus returned to the matter at hand, and he smiled at you, pushing and holding the door open for you as he guided you through it, “After you sweetheart~”
#drayton pokemon#drayton#drayton x reader#pokemon#pokemon dlc#pokemon indigo disk#dlc#pokemon scarlet and violet#pokemon fanfiction#fluff#fanfic#gn reader#reader insert#rival kieran#kieran#jelous#pokemon sv spoilers#pokemon spoilers#the teal mask#pokemon x reader#x reader
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I Can't, I Have Rehearsal
pairing: socially awkward!park sunghoon x fem!reader
genre: high school au; crack, comedy, fluff
synopsis: What happens when you get seated right next to the most handsome boy in your entire grade? Well you thought it'd be a great excuse to get to know him better, but the guy won't even talk to you! After a mishap in the science lab, you come to find out that Park Sunghoon, the cold-hearted prince of EN High, isn't in fact rude, he's just afraid of women.
before you read: character profiles
warnings: language, cooties, wild subplot, loser enhypen
word count: 3.78k
taglist (open): @ancnymcnzjy
note: part 1 of my and scene! series, loosely based off en-drama.
Log 3: Wednesday - March 6th, 2024
The blaring screams of his alarm clock has Sunghoon jolting from his sleep. “Oh my god,” He gasps, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “It was all just a dream!” He says relieved.
Jumping out of bed, he hurriedly gets ready for the day. Once clean and changed, he walks to the kitchen, opening a packet of natto to indulge in.
“Yeji! Don’t forget to comb your hair,” He hears his mother scold as she enters the kitchen. “Oh, Sunghoon, you’re up?” She sounds confused.
“Yeah, I’m walking with the guys, just like every morning.” He shrugs her off. She doesn’t say much after that, only rushing his little sister around the house, helping her get ready.
“I’m off, see you later.” Sunghoon waves goodbye as he heads out. “Have a good day!” His mother smiles.
“He’s having a good morning for someone who locked himself in his room last night.” Yeji grumbles. “Your brother is… a teenager Yeji, let him be.” Her mother tries to keep a positive mindset.
“Will I be like that when I’m a teenager?” Yeji asks, looking worried.
“You better not, your brother is enough trouble as it is.”
In the past ten minutes no one has said a single word. Sunghoon can’t seem to figure out why though, his eyes searching for the answer.
Finally, Jungwon clears his throat. “Sunoo,” He calls out. “How did your audition go? For the theater club?”
The other boy suddenly sighs. “You won’t believe it- they rejected me!” Jaeyun looks completely shocked, eyebrows furrowed together.
“I know! And then they had the audacity to ask me if I could instead be a prop decorator when I’m meant to be on stage!” Sunoo groans.
“That’s mean,” Heeseung frowns. (He keeps popping up out of nowhere, he’s like a ninja, it’s starting to actually scare Sunghoon).
“But then something happened on my walk home,” Sunoo hums, rummaging through his pocket. “Some guy stopped me when I was getting ice cream, he said to call him and I could become an idol!” Sunoo flashes the fancy business card in front of all his friends.
“Is that real?” Riki swipes it, observing both sides of the cardstock. The card gets passed around, and everyone gets a good look before it’s returned to Sunoo.
"Belift Lab? What kind of stupid company name is that?" Jungwon scoffs as he reads the card.
“Do you guys think I should do it? Being an idol sounds fun.” Sunoo smiles. That is until Jaeyun shakes his head. “Sure yeah you’re famous, but don’t you want to be an actor? That’s pretty different.”
“True, you could be training for years before you debut, or maybe you don’t debut at all,” Jungwon adds.
“Riki A’s older brother almost became an idol, he says he trained for like almost 3 years.” Riki comments.
“Oh gross, I think I’ll just stick to acting.” Sunoo tosses the card into a nearby trash can.
“Was he from a good company?” Sunghoon asks. Sunoo shrugs. “Don’t know, I've never heard of them.”
“Sounds sketchy, probably good you didn’t say yes.” Jungwon agrees.
As the six of them continue on their walk to school, there’s the familiar sound of a thud behind them, causing them all to turn.
“Fuck, I got my pants dirty,” Jongseong grumbles as he stands up, dusting himself off. “You’re late,” Sunghoon teases, making the other boy roll his eyes. “I’m early actually, and I have been this whole week.” Jongseong argues.
“It’s only Wednesday.” Sunoo points out to him. This has Sunghoon confused. “What do you mean? It’s only Tuesday.”
The boys all stop, turning to Sunghoon with crazed expressions. “Sunghoon, it’s Wednesday,” Jaeyun shows his calendar on his phone.
He takes a closer look, stepping forward. Right there on Jaeyun’s screen it lists the date: Wednesday, March 6th.
“No.” Sunghoon stumbles over his words. He looks up at his friends. “That means yesterday-” He chokes up.
“Dude are you high?” Riki asks, concerned. “Do you not remember what happened yesterday?”
Yesterday. Tuesday. March 5th.
He went to school, and then he went home. Yeah. No. Maybe?
Because then that would mean that what happened wasn’t a dream-
“You left home early, remember? Actually you ran out, Jaeyun had to drop your stuff off.” Jungwon clarifies, and suddenly everything clicks.
After humiliating himself in front of you and his entire class, Sunghoon didn’t even think about dashing out of the classroom. To be honest, he just kept running, past his homeroom, past the front doors, and right out the school gates down the street.
“Sunghoon!” Jaeyun shakes him by the shoulders. “Are you okay?”
He doesn’t respond, brain shutting down.
Sunghoon has to be wrestled into his seat. Jaeyun and Jongseong hold him down, trying to convince him to apologize to you.
“Just say you’re sorry,” Jongseong holds him firmly down by the shoulder. “Yeah! I’m sure she’ll understand.” Jaeyun tries to stay positive.
“Please, please just let me go. You guys are my friends, can’t you just-” “We’re doing this because we’re your friends you idiot.” Jongseong argues.
Sunghoon tries to argue, but is swiftly shut up when Jaeyun suddenly announces your arrival.
“Hi Y/n! You’re looking nice today.” Jaeyun sounds overly enthusiastic as he compliments you, his arms are not so subtly trying to get Sunghoon to turn your way.
“Hey Jaeyun,” You sound unsure as you get closer.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Jongseong.” Sunghoon’s other friend greets you.
“Hi,” You say quickly before clearing your throat. “Um, Sunghoon, do you think we can talk really quick? In private?”
Sunghoon shakes his head no, but his two friends decide to take matters into their own terms.
“Oh, he’d love to! Right, Sunghoon?” Jongseong stares him down. Sunghoon clenches his jaw and rigidly nods.
He’s released by his friends, and like a robot, follows you out of the classroom. He’d try to make a break for it, but he could feel both Jongseong and Jaeyun’s eyes following him down the hall.
You lead him to a corner by the janitor’s closet, it’s a lot quieter as it’s away from the rowdy crowd of teeangers.
He stands far from you, not able to get closer than 10 feet. But you begin to close the space in between you, forcing Sunghoon to back up. Except he instead ran into a wall and found himself cornered by you.
“I was worried you wouldn’t show up today.” You begin to speak, stepping back and keeping a respectable distance. Sunghoon is as stiff as a board, eyes trained onto his feet.
“I wanted to say I’m really sorry for what happened yesterday.” You suddenly apologize. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I had no idea you were scared of girls, Jaeyun told me after you ran away.”
His best friend of the past eight years, Sim Jaeyun, revealed his most deepest darkest secret?! He felt so betrayed.
“But I want you to know I want to help you.” You say, and suddenly Sunghoon is looking at you (more like the outline of you, he still can’t look at you directly) with wide eyes.
“I mean we’re seatmates and club members, we should be able to help each other out.” You begin to explain. “And Jaeyun kind of asked me to help you.” You add sheepishly at the end.
Sunghoon was seriously going to get his revenge on that kid.
“So what do you say?” You ask, rocking back and forth on your feet as you patiently wait for his answer.
Sunghoon felt trapped. On one hand, his looming fear of women was stopping him, but on the other hand provided a (very scary) solution to his big problem.
“H-How would you help me?” He coughs out. “I was thinking we could start by being friends? Maybe work on the small stuff.” You offered.
The small stuff, yeah, he could deal with that, right?
Eventually, he nods, causing you to clap your hands together.
“Great! This is going to be easy, I promise!” You grin.
It was in fact not easy.
All morning you would try to get Sunghoon to give you as much as a look in your direction, whispering to him random questions and facts to try and start a conversation.
When lunch finally arrived, Sunghoon had never run so fast to the cafeteria before in his life.
“I’m gonna kill you Sim Jaeyun!” Sunghoon is seething as he sneaks up behind his friend. Jaeyun’s signature smile vanishes, and is replaced with fear.
“Sunghoon please-” “You told her?!” Sunghoon leads Jaeyun to sit down at their table.
“How else do I explain why you suddenly dipped in the middle of class? I could’ve told her you had to take a massive shit, but I didn’t!” Jaeyun argues, tugging Sunghoon off of him.
Hmm, touche.
“This was for the greater good, we all agreed on it.” Sunoo suddenly adds in. Sunghoon turns to his friends in shock.
“You guys voted? With Heeseung?!” He points to the (technically his) senior. Heeseung stared wide eyed, looking slightly guilty.
“We voted because you’re getting out of hand. Dude, my older sister ran into you at the supermarket the other day with your mom and when she said hi, you hid behind the cans of soup display.” Jungwon reveals.
“I thought she wouldn’t recognize me.” Sunghoon winces from the embarrassment.
Heeseung (awkwardly) claps a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Sungho.” “-Sunghoon,” Jaeyun whispers to him the correction.
“It’s okay, Sunghoon.” Heeseung pretends to have never made his mistake. “Everything will be alright.”
Sunghoon turns to him, lips thin. That one look has Heeseung’s arm falling back to his side.
“Come on Sunghoon, stop acting like this. You already agreed to let her help you anyways.” Jongseong argues. The boy sighs, rubbing his face in despair. Even Sunghoon can’t believe he still agreed.
“I take it back, can you guys tell her I’d rather be a hermit for the rest of my life and never want to see another woman again?” Sunghoon asks, looking stressed.
“Well don’t look now, but I’m pretty sure that’s her coming our way.” Jungwon points out, sipping his drink as he nods to his right.
The younger boy proves to be right, you’re making your way through the crowded cafeteria, holding your tray of food as you walk confidently towards Sunghoon and his friends. Unfortunately for him, Jaeyun traps him down to his seat before he can run again.
“Hey Sunghoon,” You smile, waving as you stop at the head of the table. Jongseong kicks his shin, forcing him to respond.
“Hi,” He grunts. The other boys snicker, finding all of this amusing.
“I was just wondering if we’re still having Calligraphy club today after school?” You ask.
Oh crap. With everything that happened today, Sunghoon had totally spaced out and forgotten what he’d promised the day before.
“He wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Riki grins at you. The youngest sticks his hand out to you, giving you an enticing smirk. “I’m Riki B by the way, you like younger guys?” His question earns him a slap on the arm by Jongseong.
As Riki gasps from the pain, you chuckle awkwardly. “So I’ll see you after class then? At the old library?” You check, facing Sunghoon again. He stiffly nods, still not looking at you.
“Cool, see you!” You finally leave, going to eat a few tables away. Once you're gone, Sunghoon feels as if he can breathe again.
“She’s pretty.” Heeseung giggles, earning quiet but strong agreements from the other boys. “You sit next to her?!” Sunoo sounds surprised, mocking the boy in question.
“Okay, shut up. All of you.” Sunghoon glares, his ears turning red.
“Don’t worry Sunghoon,” Riki begins to chuckle. “I won’t actually steal your girl, I’ve got my eyes on someone else.” He teases. “Just don’t get too butt hurt when she falls for my good looks and charismatic charm.”
Sunghoon rolls his eyes, deciding to ignore the youngest.
“Speak of the devil,” Riki suddenly laughs. “Yo shortcake!” He stands up in his seat, hollering at someone.
A girl in the sea of students spins around, first looking confused, then angry as her eyes land on the tall boy. She promptly flips him off, before stomping away with her friends.
Riki laughs, finding the situation funny. “I’ll see you guys later, with my new girlfriend.” He says confidently, dumping his food in the trash to go chase after the poor girl.
“Oh this is gonna be good,” Jungwon begins to chuckle, pulling out his phone before following his friend. “Send me the video!” Sunoo shouts and Jungwon gives him a thumbs up. “I pray for that girl,” Jaeyun shakes his head.
“She’s gonna need a miracle to get rid of him,” Jongseong agrees. “Same way Sunghoon’s gonna need a miracle to get out of Calligraphy club today.” Sunoo comments.
This was always one of Sunghoon's favorite parts of calligraphy: the setup. Being able to prepare and organize before he wrote felt calming in the sense that it was a comfortable pattern. He opens his box, revealing his multiple brushes and supplies safely packed inside.
Relishing in the silence, Sunghoon carefully takes out sheets of paper, placing them to his right. Using water from his designated calligraphy water bottle, he pours a small amount into his shallow ink stone.
Like a machine, Sunghoon begins to sternly rub his ink stick against the stone, breaking it down and mixing it with the water to create the dark opaque ink. He sets this to the side once finished, taking a piece of paper, and flattening it out with his paper weights.
With a deep breath, Sunghoon feels his heart calm down to a trill. This was the most relaxed he’s felt all week.
“So that’s how it’s supposed to look, huh?” Your voice interrupts his thoughts and suddenly Sunghoon is reminded of why you’re here in the first place.
Across from him you sit, copying him as you begin to set up your own supplies. You do so messily, but nonetheless, you get the job done looking satisfied.
“Okay! I’m ready whenever you are.” You clap your hands together, eager to start. Opposite to you, Sunghoon is silent as he begins to dip his brush into his ink, carefully calculating his brush strokes as he writes, quoting a poem he enjoyed.
“So, are you actually scared of catching cooties?” You ask, not so subtle. Your abrupt question has him frozen.
“Cause if you are, has anyone told you that cooties aren't real? It’s just a thing kids say-“
“I know.” He interrupts. “I just…” He loses the words, grimacing instead. You two grow quiet again, the tension in the air is thick.
“What are you writing?” You eventually speak up again.
“...It’s a quote from the poem ‘Flowers That Bloom When Shaken’ by Do Jonghwan.” He explains.
You nod. “Well I’m drawing a cat playing in a field.” You suddenly hold up your paper, showing him your art.
If he thought your calligraphy was bad, it was safe to say you weren’t an artist either. “Looks like a second grader made it.” He mumbles. You huff, grabbing a new paper.
As you both return to writing in silence, Sunghoon is able to focus and finish his piece, setting it to the side to let it dry properly.
He notices you suddenly stop writing, setting your brush down as you lean back into your chair. You sit with crossed arms, observing him. This has Sunghoon feeling like his skin was crawling.
“Sunghoon.” You call out. “Let’s play a game.”
He pauses. “I don’t like games.”
“Too bad, this is a fun one.” You assure him. You sit upright again and lean against the table.
“We’re just gonna ask each other questions, and we have to answer them.” You say it like it’s so easy.
“What if I don’t?” He fidgets.
“Every question you answer, you get to go home five minutes early.” You prompt. Sunghoon’s eyes flit across the room to the door. Leaving early sounded nice.
“We get three questions each, okay?” Sunghoon slowly nods. You clap your hands together, excited.
“I’ll go first,” You clear your throat. His heart begins to race, palms getting sweaty, and mind running wild at what horrible grotesque questions you could ask him.
“For my first question…” You hum. “Why do you like calligraphy?”
That wasn’t what he expected you to ask him.
“I-” He chokes, blinking as he tries to formulate an answer. “I… feel calm when I do calligraphy.” He answers slowly. “I can focus better, and I can relieve stress.”
“See? Wasn’t so hard was it? Now for the next question, maybe try looking at me and not the table.” You tease, and he begins to feel embarrassed.
“Now you ask me a question.”
Sunghoon shifts in his seat. There’s been something that’s been bugging him all day.
“Why-Why did you agree to help me?” He steals a quick glance at you, before opting to focus on the bookshelf behind you.
“Don’t get upset when I say this,” You mumble. “But you looked really scared yesterday at the science lab. I got worried when you ran off and didn’t come back. I thought I did something wrong.”
You were worried… for him? You two barely knew each other and yet you still stressed over him deserting you in the middle of class. Even more confusing, you thought it was your fault.
Sunghoon feels his heartbeat slow down.
“Okay, my turn again.” You clear your throat. “Are you scared of like all girls? Or just some of them?” Your curiosity seems to have gotten the better of you.
Sunghoon tilts his head to the side. “I’m normal around my mom and my sister. Family for the most part I'm fine. But I have trouble around everyone else I guess.” He sheepishly admits.
“I see.” You nod, and as you turn slightly, he catches a glimpse of your pouted lips. You seem to be deep in thought.
“My turn.” He speaks up, already prepared with his next question. You wait attentively.
“Why did you join the calligraphy club?”
You shrug at his question. “We visited my grandparents for the new year. My grandmother gifted me a set. I wasn’t gonna use it originally but then my friend convinced me to join the club. You guys know each other, his name is Kai. He said you were really nice and that you’d teach me.”
Sunghoon knew Kai alright. Kai was very close to his calligraphy club senior Soobin. The boy would often hang out in the club room last year when Soobin was around. He had no idea you two were friends.
But what really caught Sunghoon off was how highly Kai regarded him. They didn’t speak much, as both were pretty introverted. The fact that their little interactions were good enough for you to believe your friend was surprising to him.
“Thanks.” He nods, feeling a bit better about himself.
“Okay, my last question.” You drum your fingers against the wooden table. “Why are you scared of girls?”
If Sunghoon was being honest, he had a feeling you’d ask him this. He’d expected it earlier on, but there was no doubt you’d want to know how his fear started.
His words clump up at the back of his throat, refusing to come out as you wait patiently. He glances at the door and is reminded why he’s doing this in the first place.
“You can take your time, don’t feel pressured to tell me everything if you don’t want to.” You assure him, sliding back into your seat.
Your words help calm his nerves, and Sunghoon nods as he takes a deep breath.
“I wasn’t always scared.” He says after a moment. “But when I was seven, I got bullied by the girls in my class.”
“Everything used to be normal, but then one day I came to school and all the girls were whispering about me. They wouldn’t play with me, talk to me, they’d just watch me from afar and gossip.”
“And it was just me, none of the other boys in my class had it happen to them. When I tried to ask one of the girls during recess, she screamed at me to leave her alone.”
“After that, I just stopped talking to girls. I feel like I can’t understand them, I don’t know what they’re thinking, what they’ll do, or what they say. Even now, everyone’s always whispering about me like I'm disgusting.”
There’s anger in his voice as he finishes, and Sunghoon realizes his fists are clenched. He releases them, swallowing thickly as he tries to relax.
He slumps in his chair, hiding his face in his hands. Despite how horrified he was right now, he felt a bit relieved you now knew his secret.
“Please don’t tell anyone this. You’re one of the few people who know.” He admits.
“Okay, yeah. I promise.” You say softly. Your voice brings him some sense of tranquility.
“Why don’t we go home?” He nods solemnly, and the two of you clean up.
You two don’t speak again until you’re outside, the brisk March air hitting you both in the face, a large contrast to the warm temperature from inside.
“Thanks for telling me all of that back there.” You say, gripping your school bag as you two walk side by side (albeit a few feet in between you both, Sunghoon still wasn’t used to the idea of close proximity).
“Jaeyun probably would have told you anyway, that snitch.” Sunghoon mumbles. Hearing this makes you laugh. Something about it makes his ears turn red, and it's not from the cold.
“Oh!” You gasp, jumping up. “We forgot, you still have one more question to ask me.” You remind him.
Sunghoon begins to think, not sure what to ask. Unconsciously he turns, more focused on hearing your answer to realize he’s actually looking at you.
“How do you actually plan to ‘help’ me?” He raises a brow.
You look up at him and smile, giggling to yourself. “You’ll just have to wait and see!”
You skip ahead of him before waving goodbye as you head down a different street on your way home.
Sunghoon doesn’t wave back, instead, he stands there in the cold as your figure eventually disappears. It’s then does he realize his friends were right.
You are pretty.
Log 2: Tuesday - March 5th, 2024 | Log 4: Monday - April 1st, 2024
I Can't, I Have Rehearsal masterlist | and scene! series masterlist | kpop masterlist
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All Play, No Work
Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
Not Easily Broken Universe
Masterlist | General Masterlist Summary: Reader walks in on their son yelling at Natasha
Natasha thought it was a simple request. One she’s asked him plenty of times before. It’s time for dinner and she needs him to put his toys and video game away. The mountain of toys and blankets around him signals he’s had his fun. Video games weren’t even allowed on school nights but she let him have it this time.
“Toys away please,” Natasha requests. “Say goodnight to your friends. You’ll see them tomorrow at school.” Ryan nods his head mindlessly the first time. His hands never leave the buttons on his controller. If anything, his fingers move even faster. He understands what she’s asking but he’s too into this round of Fortnite to actually do it. Just ten more minutes. All he needed was ten more minutes. Natasha wasn’t going to press him. He usually listens. Though these days he’s been testing his limits more and more. With a sigh, she goes back into the kitchen to finish prepping for dinner. It’s the first family dinner the four of you have had in a while. You and Emma stepped out to the store only an hour ago to pick up rolls. Emma’s favorites.
Natasha is finally putting the finishing touches on her baked salmon before she can put it into the oven. All of those cooking classes you two took years ago finally paid off. Her lack of cooking skills was her only weakness and you both joked about it constantly. Now, she was insanely good. Her need to perfect the craft-making her even more willing to try new recipes. And she wanted to be able to feed her children healthy meals. Natasha opens the oven with one hand while shoving the glass casserole dish onto one of the racks. She closes the door and walks over to begin chopping cucumbers for the salad. She loses track of time lost in her own world as she prepares the rest of dinner.
A scream from Ryan pulls her from her thoughts. Natasha sets her knife down. Hadn’t she told him minutes ago to put it away?
“Come on, go faster,” Ryan yells from his seat on the couch. Natasha walks with measured steps into the living room. She stands in his line of vision so that he can see her.
“I asked you to put it away, Ryan.” She interrupts his talking. He pretends to ignore her only sending her a glance.
“In a minute,” He hyper focuses on the screen in front of him. He’s having too much fun to finish now.
“Did you finish your homework?” Natasha asks. He’s seven. Of course, he didn’t. Even after she asked him to bring it to her to check.
“I can do it before the bus comes,” Ryan says.
“No, that’s not an option, especially when you don’t even like waking up early enough to finish the homework,” Natasha did not want to deal with a tired kid dragging his feet over addition and subtraction. “Off, now.” Natasha holds out her hand to take the controller from him. She waits, with a sliver of patience, for him to hand it to her.
Ryan smacks his lips. He makes a sound akin to a growl as he presses a few buttons to quickly turn the game off.
“This isn’t fair, AJ’s mom lets him play for however long he wants,” Ryan frowns.
“I’m not AJ’s mom,” Natasha replies. “I gave you more than enough time to play and to pick up your toys. Your mom and Emma will be back any minute and we’re eating dinner as a family.”
“Well, I wish she was my mom. She’s fun,” Ryan mutters. “I don’t want any stupid dinner.” He adds as an afterthought.
Natasha frowns. His anger is far and infrequent since you’ve been around more but he’s definitely still testing his boundaries.
“You don’t have to eat but you do have to put your things away,” Natasha says. She’s not going to argue with him on why he should. She’s not one of those parents that are controlling every aspect of their child’s life but she’s also not a pushover.
“I don’t have to do what you say!” Ryan stands from the couch. He’s barely taller than Natasha’s shoulders but he’s challenging her.
“Ryan Matthew Romanoff,” Natasha begins. “I’m not going to ask you again. Toys away. Video games on my dresser. If you’re going to act like this I’m not going to let you play on a school night anymore.” This seems to set Ryan off and he does something without thinking. A bad something.
You manage to catch the tail end of the conversation as you and Emma enter through the front door. He yells “I hate you,” while tossing the controller at Natasha’s head with full force. Neither of you was expecting this show of anger and you gasped when it collided with her forehead. Natasha’s quick reflexes aren’t quick enough as she stands in shock. For a second, Ryan does too. He looks up at Natasha with wide eyes and a look of fear on his face.
“Ooo,” Emma’s teasing, and surprised tone doesn’t help the situation at all. You pass her the grocery bag before walking over to them.
“Hey, that is completely unacceptable,” You shake your head. Your voice is a little louder than necessary. Just on the edge of yelling as Ryan jumps at your words. For a second he wonders if this is grounds for a spanking. You would never. Right?
“I didn’t mean-”
“I don’t want to hear it,” You shake your head. “What’s going on?” You turn to Natasha to inspect her forehead. An angry red bruise quickly formed just above her eyebrow.
“I asked him to put his toys away,” Natasha’s hushed tone and the tears in her eyes set you off more.
“And this is how you react? Throwing things at your Mama?” You turn back to Ryan. He doesn’t respond only dropping his head to the floor. “No, don’t do that. Pick your head up. You pick these toys up like she asked and you go to your room. Leave the video game on the bedroom dresser.” It’s an instruction just like Natasha gave. He doesn't question you or say anything this time. He moves quicker gathering his toys to put in the bin in a corner of the living room. You can see Emma teasing in the corner of your eye. “Unless you want to be in trouble too I suggest you go find a seat in the kitchen or in your room.” Emma scurries away hoping not to find out what trouble means. “We’ll be back in here in a few minutes and everything better be off this floor.” You grab Natasha’s hand to pull her down the hallway into the half bath. You tap the counter to instruct her to sit on it and she does.
“Has he done that before?” You ask and it’s Natasha’s turn to avoid your gaze. “He has?” Natasha nods slightly. “I know you said he’s been getting into trouble at school but this? He’s hit you before?” Natasha nods again. You remember the phase both kids had when they were younger. As toddlers learn to express their emotions and anger. You taught them better than that. At least you thought you did.
“He gets little bursts of anger,” Natasha shakes her head. “I can’t…I don’t know what to do with that.” She admits. “Kerry says she spanks Miles when he tried it but I can’t. I can’t do that.” Natasha bites her bottom lip nervously. “He’s going through a tough time and -” She doesn’t want to resort to corporal punishment. Her own childhood was riddled with exactly that and more. She won’t put her kids through that. Not even with their less-than-good behaviors.
“That doesn’t excuse it, Natasha.” You say firmly. You bring your hand up to caress her cheek and inspect the bruise on her head. “Jesus, Nat.” You breathe. “I didn’t know it was this bad.” You know you have to nip this behavior right in the bud. Now. It was unacceptable. “Are you okay?” You ask.
“I’m fine,” She lies straight through her teeth. You won’t push it. Twice now both kids have said they’ve hated her. A concept even you find upsetting. They’re directing their anger at her when it should be directed at you. Natasha doesn’t deserve it. She doesn’t.
“I’m going to go and talk to him.” You say. “Take your time in here and I’ll check on dinner.” Natasha’s eyes flutter closed at the kiss you place on her head. You look her over one more time before exiting the bathroom. The first stop is the kitchen. This is where you find Emma coloring at the dinner table. She’s humming to herself and swinging her feet under the table.
“Mommy, is Ryan going to get in trouble?” Emma asks. “Because he said he hated Mama and he threw his controller at her. That’s a no-no.”
“Don’t worry about Ryan’s punishment,” You tell her. “Worry about Emma’s punishment. She told me you said that to her too.” You close the oven after checking it to come and kneel beside her. “What’s with that?”
“I was just mad,” Emma shrugs.
“I understand that,” You tell her. “But that’s not something I ever want to hear you say about or to her. Do you think that makes her feel good when you say that?” Emma’s feet stop swinging as she thinks about it. “Would that make you feel good if someone said that to you?”
“No,” She shakes her head.
“Well, I’d suggest we find better ways of expressing ourselves, right, Baby girl?” You give her a small smile at her look of deep thought. “We’ve gone over better methods than this. You feel angry you talk. You go to your room and take deep breaths. You try again later.” Emma nods. She understands. “Now finish your coloring while I go talk to your brother.”
“I’m going to make a picture for Mama,” Emma decides. Her little legs continue to swing as she pulls one of her crayons from the box. Maybe that will make Mama feel better.
You stand to your full height and take a deep breath. Talking to Ryan may not be as easy. You go to the living room first to find it cleaner than before. All toys put away, tv off, video game missing. He’s done as told. You walk next up the stairs to his bedroom. He’s lying on his bed, arms folded while looking up at the ceiling. He quickly sits up at the sight of you. You try to cool off as you sit next to his legs.
“You want to tell me your version?” You give him a chance. You’re not here to be angry with him. Even if the scene before made you upset.
“I just wanted to play some more,” Ryan shrugs. “She told me to put it away. I didn't want to.” He summarizes.
“You didn't want to,” You repeat. “And how long had you been playing?”
“I don’t know. A long time.”
“Even though it’s a school night and she already allowed you to play in the first place,” You deduce. “And instead of listening and doing as told you decided that you would hit your Mama with an object that could have seriously hurt her. Am I getting that right?”
“Yes,” Ryan mumbles with a look of guilt. He drops his head again and you shake your head.
“Hey, look at me,” You gently prod. “This isn’t the first time you’ve done that. Hit her. Or said you hate her.” You question. “You’re getting into fights at school too? You’re in the second grade. What could you be fighting about?”
“Nothing,” Ryan dismisses a little too quickly.
“You don’t have to lie to me,” You place a hand on his leg. “ Did someone say something to you?”
Ryan pauses. “ Michael said Mama was the reason that you left. Because she’s the Black Widow and she’s a killer and that she did bad things. He said his dad told him that. I told him he was a liar. I don’t believe him. Mama’s not a bad person. She’s a good person. She’s an Avenger.” Ah. That’s where his conflicted emotions come from. While he's been protective of Natasha when it comes to you, he’s also battling feeling like she’s the reason why you left.
Left.
“I’m glad you told me that,” You thank him for his honesty. “I know how confusing it must be for you to hear that about your Mama.”
“But is it true?” Ryan asks. You don’t know which part he’s referring to. “That you left because of her?”
“No,” You sigh. “Ryan I left because I had my own things going on. Nothing to do with your Mama. We hit a rough patch. It’s. It’s not easy to explain but I felt that you would be much better off without me. All three of you. I didn’t want to hurt her anymore. Your Mama didn’t make me leave.”
“Oh,” Ryan’s bottom lip trembled. “I’m always so mad. I didn't mean to hit her. I didn’t. I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Whether you meant to or not you did.” You lightly scold him. “You know better than to hit people. I won’t have it. Especially not with your Mama or Emma. The same goes for her.”
Ryan bursts into tears emotions too big for him to express himself properly.
“I don’t want her to leave, too.” Ryan cries. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He buries his face into your neck clinging to you as he sobs. You raise a hand to cradle him in your arms. “I’m sorry. I won’t hit Mama again. I won’t yell at her. I don’t want her to leave.”
“I know,” You whisper into his ear. You feel like complete and utter shit. Truly. You allow him to cry in your arms for a bit longer. Finally, you pull back to look into his eyes. “No one is leaving. Not me. Not Mama.”
“B-but you did leave,” Ryan pouts.
“I know and it was the biggest mistake of my life,” You admit. “Just like I said in the diner I’m working to make that up to you.” Ryan sniffles. “That also means we have to work together as a family to make sure we’re all treating each other fairly. Which means no more of those temper tantrums or outbursts.” Ryan nods.
“Can I go say sorry to Mama?” Ryan questions. You sigh again.
“Ryan, are you hearing me?” You wipe the tears from his face. “Just because you apologize doesn’t mean it’s okay if you’re just going to do it again.” Words you should live by you know.
“I hear you,” He whispers. “I’m not going to do it again. I swear.”
“I’m taking your word for it,” You said.
“Is Mama going to hate me now?” He voices his fear. “Since I did something bad?”
“No, Mama could never hate you,” You say. “Go and talk to her.” Ryan scrambles from your lap to run downstairs in search of Natasha. You stay behind to take a breather. Family therapy may not be so bad.
Ryan finds Natasha in the kitchen marveling over the picture Emma has drawn for her. Before she has time to react he’s hugging her side and apologizing profusely. Natasha removes her arm from being squished between them to wrap them around his middle.
“I’m sorry, Mama, I won’t do that again.” His words are muffled as he pushes his face into her shoulder. “I’m really sorry. I promise.”
“Okay, okay,” Natasha leans back to look into his worried brown eyes. “I accept your apology, Ryan.” He looks up at her forehead before frowning.
“I’m sorry, Mama.” He repeats.
“I know,” Natasha says. “How about we finish dinner together? Hmm. Then we can talk about your punishment.”
“No game for two weeks?” He guesses and Natasha laughs.
“Three.” She smiles at his groan.
“I guess that’s fine,” Ryan still clings to her. “I can help with cooking.” He moves back to stand just as you reach the kitchen. You’re content to watch in the background as she works around them.
No more tantrums. For today at least.
fun question - how would you have handled this ?
#natasha romanoff#black reader#natasha x reader#black widow x reader#black widow x female reader#natasha romanov#natasha x you
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