#unless you’re here to be nice to me idk

[legisaskerator]

g

[rosicheeks]

Well and truly in love with you

😘

[reidrum]

like i would | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

a/n: ok im gonna be honest idk how i feel about this one, i just wanted to finish it and put it out so apologies in advance if its not the best lol. this was requested with the prompt "i bet he can't fuck you like i can"! feedback and reblogs are always appreciated ! thanks for being paitent while i got this one out <3

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, fingering, munch!spencer, jealous!spencer, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you whack it), reader's bf has a name which i hate in fics but its so hard to write this trope without a name so, afab!reader,

summary: a confession about your sex life makes it's way to the one person you'd hope wouldn't hear, and now he's determined to rectify the way you've been wronged

wc: 4.5k

_____________

you were a great asset to the bau. it was why you were personally recommended by emily to transfer out of sex crimes, the skill set you brought alongside the field training you had proved to be vital for the team’s success lately. you were also a great asset to the team. the bau was notorious for having people turnover fast, and you knew they were apprehensive with newcomers. but you managed to hit it off with every single member, one more than others.

spencer reid did not expect someone like you to join the team. not that he didn’t have faith in your talents and skills, he’s read your file and obviously knows you’re more than qualified to be here. he just did not expect someone who looked like you to join the team, someone who didn’t look beaten down by the horrors of the world and still believed in pots of gold at the end of rainbows. 

it didn’t help that you were so beautiful he literally would feel his heart ache when you walked in. like literally, would have to rub his chest to soothe the pain. and as spencer would, he would logic out his feelings with science because that’s all they are, scientific chemical reactions in the body. but what he felt in your friendship, what he felt when he was lucky enough to be in your presence, was something no textbook, theorem, or equation could explain.

so imagine the size of the fucking hammer coming down on his head when he finds out you have a boyfriend who: 1. is not him, and 2. is an actual real life bozo.

apparently you’d been seeing damon from organized crime for about a month now, that’s what he heard from penelope, and you ‘claim’ to be super happy. 

spencer doesn’t buy it.

he’s seen the way your ‘relationship’ operates, and he’s got the facts to back it up. damon never lets you get a word in when you’re in group settings, even purposefully talking over you when you’re clearly attempting to speak. majority of the time he’s condescending about your job as a profiler for the bau, saying that him and his team bring down drug rings, but you guys ‘just read their horoscope or whatever and decide the killer.’

it made spencer’s blood boil hotter than the sun. he couldn’t figure out why you put up with it, and why you continue to.

the final straw that broke the camel's back about his disapproval on your relationship choices, is what he overheard on the jet one time on the way back from a case.

the girls were talking in the back of the jet, unaware of spencer’s very awake mind despite his visibly sleeping body.

“i don’t know guys,” you had started with a sigh, “you think it’s weird right?”

“that your own boyfriend won’t go down on you? yeah hon, that’s fucking weird.” emily strikes.

“what did he say exactly?” jj asked.

“he said it increases the risk of STIs on the mouth? and doesn’t like the feeling of thighs crushing his head? and that even with all the … grooming … it’s still unnatural ?”

emily gagged while jj continued, “um…but do you like…on him?”

“yes! he literally won’t touch me unless i do!” you rage whisper.

“i am about to give him an organized crime to deal with,” emily half jokes, “what an asshole, why are you still with him?”

“i don’t know, he’s still nice to me i guess, and maybe i’m just being dramatic. or maybe i’m just not someone people go down on, who knows.” you sigh.

spencer stops listening, he can’t hear you talk so poorly of yourself. not when it’s so far from the truth yet you’ve been indoctrinated to think it’s accurate. how anyone could take advantage of you like that is beyond him, but it did light a fire inside of him and made him determined to help you realize you deserve so much better. if that happens to be him, then who is he to fight that?

—

spencer doesn’t get his chance to prove it to you for another two weeks, when you’d come over to his apartment for a movie night after getting in a fight with damon, your date night being canceled and leading you to spencer’s doorsteps, all dolled up with tears lining your eyes asking to come in.

he doesn’t even have time to be mad at your shithole boyfriend when he’s ushering you inside, offering you to sit on the couch while he goes and put a kettle on the stove for tea.

“i’m really sorry to just show up like this, spence.”

he doesn’t even blink before calling out from the kitchen, “don’t apologize, i’m always here for you. anytime and anywhere.”

you give him a soft smile before returning your gaze to the soft glow of doctor who.

he returns cradling two mugs in one hand and a pack of haribo gummies in the other. spencer doesn’t care for gummies, he’s more of a chocolate guy, but he knows it’s your favorite. so he makes sure to keep a couple bags in his apartment for you.

“my favorite!” you gush. his heart warms at your smile as he sits next to you on the couch. you naturally gravitate towards him to lean your head on his shoulder, and it’s automatic for spencer to wrap an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.

the whirs and whooshes of the tardis fill the silence for the next hour as you visibly become calmer than when you first arrived. he decides this is a good time to ask, “do you want to talk about it?” as he turns his head to look at you.

“i don’t know,” you say quietly popping another gummy in, “i’m starting to believe it's just a me problem. like, maybe i’m just objectively not a great partner, and that’s why we keep getting in these fights. you know this time, he said i’m not worth all the effort and stress i bring him and that because of me he’s gonna bald at 29? i’m not a scientist like you or anything but even i know that, at least, can’t be my fault.” you end with a chuckle.

spencer knows he should probably comfort you in this time of honesty you’ve graced him with, squash your insecurities like a pesky bug on the windshield, and tell you how beautiful you are in as many words it’ll take for you to believe it (and he knows a lot of words).

but right now? he’s just fucking pissed.

not at you, never at you. at your situation, yes. at that sorry excuse of a partner let alone agent, immensely.

so he can’t help what escapes his mouth next, “why do you let yourself get treated like shit?”

you look up at him in surprise, at both the cursing and what he said, “what?”

“you’re constantly talking about how awful he treats you, and yet everyday you still go back to him knowing it’s going to repeat the next day. i just want to know why you don’t respect yourself enough to not let that happen to you.”

pulling away to sit far from him on the couch,  you start letting the annoyance show on your face, “spencer, that’s not fair at all. you think it’s my fault? do you really think i want to feel like this?”

“yes!” he shouts, “you seem like you do with how much you crawl back to him everytime, and everytime you let him back in.”

“okay, i think i should go,” you stand up and grab your things, “it was a mistake to come here, goodbye spencer.”

he grabs your wrist before you can get too far, “i just have to know, what is it?”

“what’s what spence, let me go.”

“what keeps you going back to him, it can’t be because you love him. it’s obviously not because you’re happy with him,” he lets out.

“you don’t know anything about me or my life, spencer!” you snatch away your arm and start heading towards the door.

“it’s definitely not because the sex is good, because i know it’s not.”

any emotion you had on your face wipes away like an etch a sketch, staring blankly at the door, hearing the man you’ve harbored a crush on since you started at the bureau years ago, telling you he knows your sex life is abysmal.

your voice comes out small, “h- how would you know that?” you don’t dare to turn around, knowing that if you did any resolve you held onto, any denial of emotions you’ve stripped from yourself would come pouring out like a broken dam.

the couch groans at a loss of weight, and the floorboards creak closer and closer to you.

“i heard you, on the jet.”

you’re especially glad he can’t see the blood draining from your face. if your heart already wasn’t at your feet, it’s most likely six feet under at this point. 

he heard you?

“when you were talking with the others about how he doesn’t reciprocate, and won’t sleep with you unless you get him off.” he continues.

the room is getting hotter by the millisecond, temperature about to be comparable to the sun’s core. it’s one thing to have just anyone hear the intimate details of your life, but spencer? the man to which you’d been using damon to get over?

the only sound that can be heard is your increasingly heavy breathing, and spencer feels like he’s caught a fish on his line and is ready to reel you in as he inches closer to you.

“you’re okay with that? not being taken care of in the way you deserve?”

his presence is merely nanometers behind you, the ghost of his fingers looking for landing on your hips. when you don’t move away, and he hears your breath hitch at the contact, he sets his hands more earnestly on your curves as he leans down to the nape of your neck.

“just don’t know,” kiss, “how anyone,” kiss, “wouldn’t want,” kiss, “to give you everything.” kiss.

your head lolls back onto his firm chest as he whispers in your ear, “cat got your tongue, sweetheart? you were so mouthy not even five minutes ago. be honest with me, has he even ever made you come?”

the whimpers escape you without warning and you find a single decibel of voice to speak, “spencer…” hoping the whine would dissuade him to let it go.

“uh uh, i asked you a question,” his arm tightens around the front of your waist to press back and fully feel him, “answer me.”

your lexicon has depleted except for the one word you know he’s desperately waiting for you to say, and the one he knows is the answer. yet you know the second it leaves your mouth, everything changes. and maybe you’re okay with that.

“no.”

spencer hums lowly, “has anyone made you come?”

“no.” you say again, softer this time.

“should we change that?”

this was not what you expected when you came to see him after your failed night out. the amount of processing you’d done in the last year to essentially not be thinking about spencer 24/7 was extensive. and you were ready to render it all useless in a matter of seconds.

so you let the strap of your bag fall down your arm and hit the ground with a thud, and finally turned around to look the good doctor in his eyes. while his voice held traces of anger and frustration, you came to see his eyes were full of reassurance and comfort, the spence you always knew to prioritize your wellbeing more than anything.

he looked down at you and slid his hand to up to cup your jaw, and he hears the smallest murmur, so delicate yet so full of want leave your lips.

“yes.”

that was all spencer needed to catch your lips in a heated kiss, moving your body to the closest wall as he places a hand behind your head to protect you from the wall’s impact while the other pins your waist to the wall.

you move your arms to wrap around his neck and keep him pinned to you with no escape, like he’d ever want to. his lips detach from yours and make a descent towards your neck again, taking deliberate effort to locate the sensitive spots.

he finds one just behind your ear and spends time sucking and bruising up the spot, relishing in the soft whimpers leaving your mouth. while you’re lost in the sensation on your neck, you don’t notice spencer move one of his hands closer to the button of your pants, effortlessly (and impressively) opening it up.

detaching from your neck with a heavy pant, he moves back to lean against your forehead with his own and look you in the eyes to ask, “is this okay? we can stop if you want, i didn’t mean to be so forw-“

“please don’t stop.”

he searches your eyes for any conflict and finds none, considering it the okay to continue his downward descent. he returns his lips to the second home they’ve made on your lips and starts to push your pants down over the curve of your ass, leaving your panties on.

the flash of purple lace underwear glares at him when he glances down, and suddenly he remembers what got him in this position in the first place.

“were you wearing this for him?” he lets out condescendingly, “you really think he deserved to see you like this?”

spencer’s fingers brush against your front, leaving your heavy breaths hitting him in the face. you can’t think of anything to say. hell, you’re not even sure if you know any words right now. all you can offer is a pathetic moan, and spencer doesn’t think that’s enough.

“come on, don’t get all shy now. what were you expecting him to even do, hm? thought you said he didn’t care about making you feel good.” he taunts as his middle finger traces the outlines of your cunt through your panties.

you shudder at the contact, leaning your head back against the wall as he refuses to break eye contact. he’s waiting for you to say something, raising his eyebrows expectantly as he’s slowed down his movements on you. taking a shallow breath you open your mouth, “h-, he didn’t care, just thought if i ke-, kept looking nice he’d wanna, fuck, do something.” you moan out.

“and did he?” he moved his hand back up to slowly slip into your panties.

his finger dips all the way down to your entrance to gather your wetness and spread it all the way back up to your clit, your mouth dropping open as you let out a whiny, “no.”

“what a shame.” he dips a finger into your hole and you let out a pornographic moan.

he drags his finger in and out slowly making sure to watch your face as it contorts in pleasure. once he feels you’ve gotten used to it he slips in a second finger, increasing the pace and moving his thumb to circle your clit again.

“oh fuck,” you cry.

“baby, you’re so tight.” he whispers. the way you clenched around his two digits made feel almost pussy drunk, and he wasn’t even inside you yet. he starts to wonder if damon was doing anything really to prioritize your pleasure, and it only just worked him up more. he felt more determined to bring you to finish, so he picks up the pace and increases the pressure on your clit.

you drop your head to his shoulder no longer being able to hold yourself up anymore, the sensation of his fingers on you taking over, loose whimpers and moans falling out of your mouth every other second.

“spencer…shit, i’m gonna come…”

“let go for me, baby.” he whispers in your ear.

the pleasure barrels through you like a wrecking ball, knocking the wind out of your mind and body. your legs turn into jelly and you almost fall before spencer holds you up. you try to regulate your breathing into his shoulder, hoping to calm down before you look up and meet his eyes again.

he makes that choice for you when he gingerly lifts your head up, his eyes silently asking if you’re okay. you don’t even bother responding before softly pressing your lips to his again, hoping he can feel your response to his silent question.

the kiss picks up in urgency, and soon his hands are back to exploring your body again. they slide down to the backs of your thighs while he murmurs a small, “jump.” and lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist. without breaking the kiss he walks you both to his bedroom and places you on his bed with care.

his fists flank you on both sides as he leans down to kiss you, and he moves further down kissing along your neck and chest. you reach down to the bottom of your top to pull it over your head, leaving you in the purple lacy bra that matches your panties.

he detaches from you and stands at full height, gazing at the sight of you spread out on his bed with your hair framing you like a halo. he can’t even help himself when he says, “you look so beautiful, angel.” the blush rises to your cheeks, and you beckon him to come back down to which he happily obliges.

spencer moves down further towards your hips, and his lips ghost over the lace band spreading along your waist. his fingers play with the fabric and he moves his face to be directly in line with your clothed cunt. your breathing gets heavy, and you anticipate what he’s about to do.

“wait, you don’t, you don’t have to do that, spence. i already came.” starting to feel a bit guilty at the man above you potentially feeling obligated to do this, as you realize that if he heard you on the jet, he heard about the one thing damon refused to do for you.

“sweetheart, i’d love to keep making you feel good as long as you let me, okay? you gonna let me make you feel good?” he breaths, pressing chaste kisses to your inner thighs.

you give a slight nod and he gently pulls your panties off your legs, marveling at the light glistening off your cunt. he kisses up the plush of your thighs before pausing right where you need him the most. you look down at him and meet his unwavering eyes full of love.

he places a long kiss to your core before licking a long stripe. you moan out languishly, the euphoric feeling taking over every sense in your body. you’re unable to comprehend how you went so long without feeling this, it almost feels criminal. and the way spencer was eating you out, felt like this was doing it for him too even though you were the one getting pleasured. 

it turned you on even more to know he was getting off on how much you were enjoying this. your head was spinning off into another realm, and the only thing tethering you to this reality was the grip of your hands in his hair. his tongue made circles and shapes all over your cunt before dipping down to thrust into your hole.

your thighs shake and threaten to clamp shut on his head, and he uses his wide hands to wrap around your thighs to hold them in place. “oh my god fuck, that feels so good…spence…please..” you’re not even sure what you’re begging for, but of course, spencer does when he adds a finger into your hole and moves his tongue to focus back on your clit. the combined sensations were enough to tip you over the edge for the second time tonight, your release glistening on his chin as he moved back up to kiss your lips again.

your heavy panting tries to bring you back down from your high, a mix of sweat and the taste of you lingering everywhere. 

spencer smooths your hair back as he moves his body to lie next to you, “i think, damon’s a fucking loser, if he doesn’t think that’s worth doing.” he says between pants.

you hum in agreement, or just in acknowledgement at whatever he said since you’re still reeling from the endorphin release. hiking your leg over his body to straddle him, you clumsily reach for his belt and attempt to undo the clasps to reach his growing member. you pull his pants down and palm him through his boxers, reveling in the broken moans falling from his mouth. you start inching downwards when spencer grabs you by the forearms and flips you over so you’re back on the bed staring up at him.

“not tonight, sweetheart. it’s about you right now, wanna make sure you know what you deserve.”

“but…” you pathetically respond.

“i don’t know what that neanderthal tells you, but sex is not transactional. i think if i ever see that guy again, i’d punch him for making you think otherwise.”

the words go straight to your core, turning you on even more. spencer takes note of how your pupils widen and your chin tilts up towards him.

“besides,” he presses his crotch to yours, “the sex wasn’t even that good with him, right?”

you moan out again, unable to find words to satisfy his question. he leans back up and off the bed to fully remove his boxers and you finally get a good look at what was underneath.

holy fuck, he was huge. you propped yourself on your forearms to get a better look at him, and watched as he lazily stroked himself while he sauntered back over to you. the image was so lewd, you hoped you could borrow some of his eidetic memory so you could hold on to this moment forever.

his face held a smug smirk at your awestruck one, and he felt his ego inflate even higher, “by the looks of your reaction, i’m guessing he’s never been much of a, challenge, for you in bed has he?”

you dumbly shake your head no, “definitely not as big as you.” you whisper, more to yourself than him.

his smirk grows wider, “don’t worry, baby, i’ll take real good care of you.” he says as he climbs over you to line himself up to your entrance.

you feel him slowly start to push in, the sensation of being split open growing bigger by the second. your brows furrow and your eyes are shut tight as you wait for the pressure to turn into pleasure.

if spencer thought you around his fingers had him pussydrunk, what he’s feeling now has to be close to pussy poisoning or something because he cannot think of anything in existence that feels as good as the walls of your cunt clenching around his cock. it’s taking everything in him to not break, to just fuck you senseless and reach his peak.

once his hips are flush with yours and he’s fully settled within you, he waits for you to give him the okay to move.

you, on the other hand, have never felt more full ever. damon was not nearly this big, nor has any other guy you’ve been with. it’s a bit of a miracle on how it fit inside you, and how it felt better than anything you could’ve imagined. the pressure and slight pain subsides, and with a slight nod spencer takes the cue to start moving.

the first thrust has you both moaning out in harmony together, and he sets the pace nice and slow so as to make sure you’re comfortable.

but it's not enough for you, you need him to fuck you.

“spence…harder.”

he stills at your word, leaning up so he’s perpendicular to you.

“whatever you say, princess.”

and he starts pounding into you, hips rutting at a pace you can’t even keep up with. the whimpers and moans gush out as the familiar coil begins to build within you. he taps your leg to lift it up over his shoulder to allow him deeper access, and he’s able to reach that one spot you’d heard about from all your friends, on reddit, in movies. you had no idea this type of feeling even existed, and spencer was hitting it with precision every single thrust over and over.

“fuck,” you whine.

“that feel good, baby?” he teases, “the way you’re squeezing my cock so tight, i doubt that fucker ever made you feel like this, huh?”

your tits bounce with every thrust, and the deepened angle has you reaching your climax fast. spencer feels it too and drops his head to whisper in your ear.

“i bet he’s never fucked you like this,” he continues his taunt, “he’d never be able to fuck you like i can, make you come three times in one night like i can.”

you whimper, “spencer,”

“say it, sweetheart. say no one’s ever fucked you like me.”

he was trying to kill you, death during intercourse would be a crazy way to go out but it’s a fate you’d be willing to accept. nonetheless, you comply.

“never ever, fuck, been fucked like you, baby.”

spencer has never felt more satisfied, “good girl, now come.” and with a final thrust he lets you reach your peak as he releases himself into you.

in the midst of groans he gingerly pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss.

the next few minutes are just filled with the sounds of yours and his heavy breathing, before spencer leans over to you, “was that too much?”

still in your daze you let out a soft giggle, “spencer, i think you’ve ruined all men for me.”

he smiles back, “i meant what i said, damon’s really stupid if he’s not willing to do all that for you.”

you intertwine your hand with his, “you know, i never really liked him anyway. i was just using him to get over you.”

“me?” he says incredulously.

you nod, “i didn’t know if you would’ve felt the same so i just tried to move on to someone else, stupid i know, but i don’t know it made sense then.”

he pulls you closer to rest in the crevice of his chest, “i have been into you since the day you walked into the bullpen, and letting you slip through my fingers is a mistake i will never make again.”

you hug him tightly before groaning out loud, “shit, i have to tell damon it’s over now don’t i.”

“i mean, i could tell him if you want.”

“spence, no. i think you might kill him.” you laugh, “i can do it, i just don’t want him to get all ‘organized crime’ on me.”

“just tell him i have a gun.”

“so does he?”

“mine’s bigger.” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, “well, yes.”

[cosmic-expressions]

⋮ ♯; ⤷ YOU'RE MY FAVORITE .ᐟ

alhaitham x fem!reader, smut; tying up, cowgirl, praise, check-ins (cuz they are hot as hell too); marking (hickeys), pretty vanilla if you ask me; idk what else needs a warning wc: 665 (man so close yet so far) a/n: reblogs are nice, lemme know what you think! i wouldn't mind some feedback..... inbox is always open and maybe yall see me here a bit more often in November (unless my studies kill me lol)

having ALHAITHAM tied to the bed, laid bare for your eyes and your eyes only, is almost like a dream come true. and since he came out with this idea, something you always wanted to bring up… of course your body reacted on its own.

“does it feel good? is it tight?” you make sure he’s not in pain, that he’s comfortable because the last thing you want to do is hurt him while fulfilling your little fantasy. but when he assures you all is well, you can’t hide the excitement coursing through you. “you’re so pretty like this… i mean- you’re always pretty and handsome but this is- i really like it like that…”

ALHAITHAM smiles and lets out a little chuckle, his body growing warm and face getting red thanks to your words; also, something about your hungry stare, about you clearly enjoying it, and about pleasing you like that… it gets him going as well.

you straddle his lap, plopping softly on it; the feeling of your soft, plushy thighs against his skin only fuels his desire and need, making him let out a little, somewhat impatient, sound. but you’re no better, feeling him grow harder underneath you, seeing his every reaction, you just can’t help and whimper softly. leaning in, you place your lips on his, kissing him slowly at first, just to get greedy right after.

normally, ALHAITHAM would hold your hips, would have his hands all over you, and would make sure it’s really you on top of him; but not it’s you who gets to touch him all over. getting handsy, he can feel the rough possessiveness in your touch, in every caress and rub.

“you’re so- mmmh, just- perfect,” you mutter between the kisses, humming and moaning quietly. with hands all over his upper body, you graze your fingertips over his muscles, making sure to leave a trace of fiery passion.

“baby-” ALHAITHAM lets out a short groan when you start rubbing yourself against him, a little teasing but also a preparation for what’s to come. “you’re a- you’re a tease-”

“i know, i know,” kissing him again, you continue the slow movements a little more. you two moan into each other’s mouth, bodies reacting and moving in an almost synchronized pace. “just a little more- a little more- i know you can-”

muttering soft praises and encouragements, you trail your lips down, leaving kisses across his cheek, jaw, and neck; in every place you know will get a reaction from him. “

oh- fuck! baby you’re-!” ALHAITHAM groans again, jaw clenching when you finally take him inside you, your tight and slick walls inviting and nestling his cock so sweetly. with your weak moans and whimpers accompanying your movements, it’s just a matter of time for him to go insane.

you reach for his palm and hold it tight, kissing him softly and lovingly, all while you move up and down on him. ALHAITHAM throbs and moans, loving how your hand feels small and warm wrapped around his own. kissing you back, shamelessly eager, ALHAITHAM bucks his hips up, reaching deep inside; reaching and pressing on all the sweet and sensitive places that have you breathless in seconds.

“fuck-! fuck, alhaitham!” you moan and throw your head back, losing it to the pleasure.

he’s fast to suck on your neck and leave soft kisses all over your cleavage, something that became a small habit of his. a little familiar thing, grounding him at the moment; the feeling of your warm skin, of your pulse underneath his lips, the warm and shallow breaths over his ear – it’s all he loves and needs to be sure you feel good and safe with him. safe enough to let yourself free and feral, safe enough to take him like you want and not be ashamed of it. that’s what causes his heart to flutter aggressively in his chest… and to cum inside you immediately, filling you up and stretching you well.

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[pomefioredove]

If the flirtatious lines event is still happening, I do have a little request, and this is absolutely not forced!

Could you do “You’re a shy little thing, aren’t you?” With Leona x reader? Here’s a little twist, though; The reader is the one saying that to Leona! I absolutely adore the idea of Leona being super shy when in love, seeing normally tough characters be out-of-character when they have a crush is ADORABLE to me! Plus, I don’t see enough of reader being the teasing one in Leona x reader fics.

Thank you for listening, have a lovely day/night!

ooh this makes SO much sense though, I see your vision!!

summary: "you’re a shy little thing, aren’t you?" type of post: short fic characters: leona additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, probably really ooc idk

It's not the first time you've run into him, and it won't be the last.

It was annoying at first; your clumsiness, and that perpetual look of confusion and awe in your eyes...

You didn't belong here.

That was the first thing Leona thought about you.

Your good nature, the way you stupidly stumbled into trouble time and time again, even that look on your face; you'd make an easy meal for any predator.

And, as luck would have it, that would be him.

Though he certainly doesn't feel like the top of the food chain now.

"Talk to them," Ruggie pesters, hovering around his boss like a fly. Leona is tempted to swat him away.

"No,"

He puts a hand on his hip. "I don't see what the big deal is. You deal with being a prince your whole life, but you get choked up at the Prefect?"

Annoying. Leona is tempted to make a rude gesture, but his social etiquette gets the best of him.

"I am not choked up, but you're going to be unless you get lost," he says in a tone far too quiet.

He's lucky that Leona is in a merciful mood today.

"Suit yourself," Ruggie shrugs, sticking his hands in his pockets and heading towards the exit.

Good. Leona didn't come here to talk about the Prefect, anyway.

Of all the stupid things...

He lies back in his original position, trying to drown out the sound of your voice and get some sleep. You're here with a group, doing some potionology thing, he figures. Great.

One of your friends makes you laugh, and he feels a strange sense of jealousy.

"I'll get the poppy," you sound rather pleased with yourself.

Though, as hard as he tries, he can't seem to dislike you.

A rustle, and then another beam of sunlight hits the secluded little spot, illuminating the both of you.

"Oh!" you say, eyes wide. "Sorry, Leona. Didn't mean to disturb you."

Always so polite. He wonders if that's just for show, or if you're being genuine.

"Mhm," he hums. He can't find it within himself to tell you off. It's like he's forgotten how to speak.

And he can't look at you.

"It's not over here..." you say under your breath. You're not even doing anything and he finds you endearing. "Well... sorry again."

Ruggie's words are still fresh in his mind- the pest- and he sighs.

"Wait," Leona says, standing. "You're looking for poppy? I know where it is."

You seem to hesitate. Not a good sign. "...I don't want to trouble you..."

"It would be more rude to turn down such a generous offer," he rebuffs. That's more like it.

And, so, you follow him. It feels nice, stringing you along for once.

Leona says nothing. With anyone else, he would've made at least one comment by now- no, with anyone else, he wouldn't have offered his help in the first place.

He brings you to another part of the botanical gardens, and shows you a row of potted poppies. Crewel had the second years move them yesterday.

"Ah, here they are. Thank you!" you smile. It's almost... cute. Ugh.

He says nothing.

You collect your material, and begin the walk back with him. He can feel your eyes on him, and he can tell there's something you want to ask.

"...You don't say much,"

Great. Leona huffs. Why does he feel so hot, all of a sudden? "I just have nothing to say,"

Even he sounds unsure of what he's claiming. You raise an eyebrow, a small smile gracing your lips.

"You’re a shy little thing, aren’t you?"

And you're driving me mad, he thinks, but all he can do is grunt in response.

He feels nervous. Always so nervous around you.

Leona would never admit what those words did to him, but he didn't need to. He could feel the embarrassment on his face.

You stop at the mouth of the gardens. Your friends are waiting outside.

"Thanks again," you smile. It's genuine. He can't keep eye contact with you.

"...Sure,"

"Just, ah..." you say, looking between him and your puny first year friends as they call you over. "Let me know what I can do to repay the favor, okay?"

So naive. You're practically serving yourself on a silver platter. Like he originally thought, an easy meal for any predator.

...But, for once, that predator isn't him.

And he's actually going to have to work for this.

[changisworld]

Skz with possessive reader? 🤭 like reader is still a sub but can be veery jealous. Like if she sees a fan flirting with a member she wouldn't let go of that member (did i explain it enough? Idk😭please tell me if i did) and what do you think how would members react?? hihi just my thoughts (its supposed to be smut-) 😭

-🦇

YAMMYYAMMYYAMMY this would be so me i swear

I think leeknow, seungmin & also hyunjin would be SOOOO obsessed with the idea of you being possessive, especially right in front of their face BXBSBSBSB, holding their hand in front of any girl that speaks to them, purposely not laughing at anything the other person says but laughing a moment later if your boyfriend says something even less interesting, purposely kissing his cheek a few too many times knowing lipstick or lipgloss would stain their cheek, just to show they really are yours & yours only.

Would definitely make it up to you as soon as you got home by fucking you into the mattress, teasing you on your behaviour as your eyes are going teary from how good he’s fucking you.

“you like this cock don’t you, hmm? seem to be so jealous of anyone who steps near it”

“made for you, would never dare give it to anyone else, unless that’s what you’re wanting hmm? jealous jealous girl”

“so hot when you’re so protective y’know that? almost wanted to fuck you right there”

on the other hand, i think han, felix & probably changbin would be SO flustered by it!! the way your voice sounds more monotone while talking to the girl who you can swear flirted with them just by breathing too close to them! once you’ve successfully got the girl to get the hint & fuck off, you can feel your boyfriends eyes burning into the side of your face, honestly kinda star struck

of course once you have time for yourselves they’re so so quick to show you how much they love YOU & don’t want anyone else!

“so so pretty, so lucky for you, you look so cute when you’re jealous”

“so protective of me, makes me melt”

definitely buys you or makes you a gift to further show how much YOU mean to them🥲

OKAY so jeongin & bangchan i feel like they would get insanely turned on from it.. because why the hell wouldn’t they when you’re latching yourself onto his arm like a sloth pretty much & pretty much ushering them away from whoever you deemed was flirting or being too nice to them. the thing is though, they probably never catch on at first that you’re jealous & they probably just assume you’re tired or feeling a bit sick or something & they feel so silly when it finally clicks in their head.

they for sure try to tease you by acting even more dumb & asking you outright why you were acting that way, & the second you tell them that you WERE in fact jealous, they know just the way to make it up to you.

“i’m all yours, lemme show you how much i care, hmm?”

“you’re perfect for me & me only, don’t get jealous over anyone because they don’t compare, just look at you”

“if you could feel how good you feel trust me you’d never even want or need to be jealous of anyone else” he groans as he presses his tip past your folds

main masterlist here

->anon list & tag list are open!

@jisungml

[carmenized-onions]

Tony, Terry, Tommy? | Walk-In Hotfix

synopsis; You get an unexpected call from an old friend in need of an emergency repair. Good thing: that's kind of your whole gig. Bad thing: You've been avoiding the Berzatto family for the past year.

tasting notes; hurt comfort? idk man, he's in a fuckin' freezer. this is gonna be a long slow-burn series. We don't use Y/N here and we've got a very preestablished storyline going on babes. Eat up.

portion; 3.1k+

possible allergies; SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS, I've started writing this before Season 3 comes out in June so we're going WAY off canon (unless I'm an oracle), Mikey is gonna be central baby, any tw you require for the bear-- you require for this.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns!)

I have not written fanfiction in 5-6 years and once again some goddamn pretty boy just YOINKS me back in. I'm making up my own season three here so I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants with this series, hopefully it turns out. If it doesn't... C'est la vie, I had fun.

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life—                    Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call from an old friend.

You stare at your screen for what feels like eons but it’s really just a few rings. It’s enough time to frantically search through blankets on your couch for your remote to pause your show— Which might as well be like 10 years of time. You’re heavily debating not answering; what if it’s something heavy? What if a mutual childhood friend died? What if it’s a love or murder confession? What if it’s about the money you owe her? The money she owes you?

Do you really want to take that kind of call? On what’s been a peaceful Friday night? That’s a rarity in your part of Chicago, c’mon. If it’s important, she’ll leave a voicemail... Who are you kidding, she doesn’t leave voicemails— Frankly, it’s bizarre and concerning that she’s calling in the first place instead of spam texting. …Alright, she’s let it get to the fourth ring, she’s probably dead or dying. You need to pick up.

“…Syd?”

She sounds infinitely stressed, but relieved to hear your voice.“Hey, hey, uh—”

There’s a cacophony of yelling, banging, and what you imagine are kitchen noises in the background. Guess she kept to her guns after Sheridan. That’s nice. Or maybe it’s not. Hard to tell.

“Are you good?” She can’t see the concern on your face or your free arm crossing over your waist— But she can imagine it in the worried lilt of your voice.

“Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah— I-I’m good— Well actually, no, I’m not good, that’s why I’m calling. Actually. Sorry. I know it’s been a minute, it’s fucked up to call only when I need something—”

“Syd.”

“Is your dad still a handy-man?”

Ah. Goodbye peaceful Friday night. Hello emergency hotfix services.

You click your teeth, “Oh, no, he retired. Got a case of… Getting fucking old disease.” But a part of you is relieved it’s a thing that’s broken, and not her. This is at least manageable— Whatever it is.

“Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Ha, yeah, my dad’s got that too— Well, okay, then I’ll talk—”

You’re quick to jump in. “I took over the business though. So, if you’re—" “We need help so bad right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at the speed of it, but immediately feel guilty hearing the desperation in it. “Yeah? Who’s we?”

You stick the cellphone in the crux of your neck, already walking across your apartment to throw on your jumpsuit— Dark navy blue, elbow length sleeves, dad’s old logo embroidered on your right breast pocket.

CHICAGO’S KINDEST ⚒ FIXERS & CO. It’s managed to grow on you.

There’s an egregious number of patches ironed or sewn onto the back and shoulders of it. All from businesses you and your father had either worked with or done odd jobs for. A NASCAR jumpsuit, but for nostalgia and small businesses. Something something ‘it all starts with your neighbourhood’. Your dad would say.

Syd continues, she hasn’t changed much. You hear her sharp dicing in the background, the rhythm seems to calm down into an actual flow instead of erratic speed. You figure either the dinner rush is starting to slow down or she’s relieved you’re coming. Who are you being humble for, no shot it’s the former.

“So, you know how I’m like— Like a chef and shit?”

 You hum the affirmative, putting her on speakerphone so you can pull out your tool kit with both hands.

“So like, I actually co-own this restaurant opening tonight.”

“Oh nice!”

“Yeah— Yeah, yeah, it’s really nice, but actually, it’s not, because it’s bad.”

“In the way I can fix?”

“In the way you can fix, yeah. Hopefully.”

“What’s the damage?”

“So, my co-owner uh, Carmen, he got locked in the walk-in. Like trapped.”

You take a beat, a confused one. Half-stepping, almost tripping. You stare at your tools, picking out what you’ll actually need for this— How the fuck— “How is he trapped in the walk-in?”

“So, he meant to call to get it fixed—” “And he didn’t?” “And he didn’t.”

“What was broke about it in the first place?”

“The doorknob on the inside, broke off. And right now, or, more like, 5 minutes ago, the handle on the outside broke off too.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

“Do you have the outside handle, still?”

“Yeah. Yeah, laying around somewhere— It snapped off though, like—”

“Clean?”

“Uh…. Y’know, I would check, but I’m actually kinda—"

“Can we run table 36, please, Chefs?!” Now that’s an uncomfortably familiar voice.

“Yes, Chef! …I’m kinda busy.”

“Right. Restaurant. Oh, what fucking restaurant? You said Carmen, that’s that fuckin’ Michelin guy, right?” Berzatto. It has to be. The smallness of this world is a personal prank on you.

“…How do you know that?” Son of a bitch.

“…I try to remember what you like.” It’s a good save, but that was too intimate for 3 years of no contact besides Happy Birthday texts, fuck fuck, recover— “Ahem, uh, Restaurant?”

“The Bear. Formerly The Beef. You do still live in Chicago, right?”

Berzatto. Confirmed. Bleh.

“Fortunate for you, I do. I know The Beef, I’m not far, I’ll be there in ten. Tell him to not have a panic attack, if you get a minute.”

“I will not get a minute. But I love the dream.”

And you’re off. Jumpsuit half zipped over what was supposed to be a sleep shirt but is now posthumously a work shirt. Nobody has to know you’re wearing pajama shorts under this. Carhartt jacket thrown over your shoulders— Your dad’s, so, a bit oversized. Toolbox in hand, utility belt on— Though you’re mildly sure if your hypothesis is right, you will only need your threateningly long sledgehammer.

Thank God for your car. CTA would not like you right now.

You pull up front. Oh boy. The sign change is making you feel a type of way that you were not expecting. Pride? Envy? All seven of the deadly sins? Maybe. No time to stew on it because there’s an older woman smoking and having an emotional spat with who you assume is her shivering son out front. So. Definitely going through the back alley instead of getting in the middle of that shit.

Alas, it’s not any better, because there’s Syd, vomiting next to a dumpster.

“Better to ignore or acknowledge you in this moment?” Is the response you decide is best, despite the question, you’re already by her side. You put your tools down (out of the splash zone) and rub her back with one hand, holding back straying braids with the other.

“I couldn’t—” More vomit. “Fuckin’ tell ya.” Syd takes a few deep breathes before standing. She considers going in for a hug, but remembers, the vomit. “Good to see you. I want to catch up, f’real, but—” “The bear in the walk-in?” “The bear in the walk-in.”

You nod, fishing through your pocket. You hand her a mini container of Tums. She waves it off, of course, and you double down, of course, “Who you acting tough for?”

“Fuckin… No one.” She grimaces, taking the box. She makes a show of taking one, like a fussy kid.

You refuse to take it back. “Keep it.”

“Never stopped being the mom friend, eh?”

You laugh, picking up your tools again. “Listen, there’s no telling what the night and your stomach holds. Lead the way?”

The Bear is pretty, or at least the kitchen of it is, so far. It’s clean. Cleaner than it used to be. The death trap walk-in is really the only eyesore for you. You stare at the broken-off handle in your hand, twisting it back and forth to look at all the angles. It’s honestly a pretty clean break.

Sydney’s left to talk to her dad, as she should, and the rest of the kitchen is either too busy to pay you mind or is just silently relieved to see you.

Tina— Who has thankfully opted to not say ‘Hey, good to see you, it’s been a year, what the fuck’—Taps the walk-in door and says to this elusive Michelin Carmen that she’ll be right back, that help’s here. He does not seem to register this at all. She gently slaps your cheek before rushing back to her station, regardless.

“Maybe I’m just not built for this, maybe, maybe that’s okay— Maybe that just is.”

You’ve never said his name to him, it feels heavy on your tongue. “Carmen.”

“Right? What the fuck was I thinking?”

Alright, he’s too far gone. You flag down one of the cooks that are just shadowing for the night. “Hey, can you hold this in place for me?”

You stick the handle into what’s left of the hinge still attached to the door, which is, not much— But hopefully, again, if your hypothesis is correct, it’ll give enough leverage. The cook holds it in place, a little terrified as your sledgehammer comes into view.

“Not gonna hit you, promise.”

“—I’m a fuckin’ psycho. That’s why. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”

You tap (bang) the hammer on the door, enough to stop his train of thought. For a second, at least. “Sweetheart, I need you to stand up for me, Carmen Chef Sir.”

“…Tony?”

“...Who the fuck is Tony?”

The meek cook beside you speaks up, “He means Tommy.”

And Tina is quick to yell from across the kitchen— hearing how? We don’t know. “It’s Terry!”

“I am none of these people.” You sigh, readying the hammer. “Carmen, can you stand up, and just tuck your fingers in the wedge of the door? If there is one?”

“Heard. Yeah.” There’s shuffling from in there, getting into position. Though the steps and the words seem dazed, as he’s forced out of a mental fog. “Here.”

“This isn’t a fix by the way. Your whole door is fucked after this. Not that it isn’t already, but, y’know.” You back up, teeing yourself up before running forward.

“Well, wait—”

You slam the mallet into the tip of the handle perfectly, forcing it way too tight into the gap of the hinge. You push the cook aside with your hip, now using the long handle of the mallet to stick between the knob and the door, using it as further leverage to pull it open. It is incredibly straining.

“Carmy!” Is it okay to say that nickname before you’ve even seen his face? Eh. You’re moving the boulder, he’ll forgive you. “You feel air?!”

“Holy shit— Yeah, yeah— Push?!” “Of course fucking push!”

And it becomes apparent in this exchange of force that this Head Chef must be significantly stronger than you, because it’s opening a lot faster now. Though, fast is a strong word for the snail pace this is happening at. But it’s more than the nothing that was happening a minute ago.

“Aye… Cousin?” Richie, in a… suit? Runs up to you, coming from front of house. He immediately grabs a free spot on the sledgehammer’s handle to help pull. He was shocked to see you doing, well, this, right now, but then upon registering, he’s just shocked to see you. Period.

You can only groan in response, sticking a leg up and putting your foot on the wall as if it’s gonna add meaningful leverage— Oh wait, it kinda is. “Y'clean up good, Rich— Opening going—Fuck— well?”

“Oh yeah, fucking peachy.” He can only manage to wheeze in reply. Investing his strength in yanking rather than reintroductions; thankfully it pays off.

The hinge shoots open, you would have absolutely fallen on your ass if Richie was not ready to stabilize you. The walk-in door cracks open. Just a bit. It’s not dramatic, it’s just a breath.

It’s so anti-climactic that Richie doesn’t mind walking off to cheer before Carmen even comes out. Clapping your back as he does. “That’s what I like to fuckin’ see, Cousin! Ingenuity!”

Though, to be fair, he’s moving to intercept a very sweet looking, worried girl. You look up at her, wheezing as you keel over slightly to catch your breath, hands on your knees. She’s saying something along the lines of ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Is he okay?’ Girlfriend? Probably. Richie seems to be coaxing her accordingly. You turn your head back to the door. Carmen hasn’t come out yet. That’s a red flag. With another wheeze, you stand up right, opening the door further, peeking in.

He's standing there, catatonic. Not looking at you, but straight forward, beyond you. He must’ve been by the door to push it open but now he’s stumbled against the back shelf. Every time his girl’s voice manages to ring into here, his eyes crinkle— Wince. His breath keeps hitching. He looks afraid. It is better to be caged right now than it is to be out there, doing whatever he could be doing, right now. Talking to anyone might be a death sentence, right now.

“I don’t need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I don’t need to receive any amusement or enjoyment. I’m completely fine with that.” He mumbles repeatedly. You can barely hear it over the buzzing of the freezer.

Whispering it just for himself, like some sort of fucked up mantra. Like it’s a state of inner peace to feel this bad. You doubt he even sees you right now.

You know you don’t know Carmy personally. Mostly just through hearsay.

He’s never met or heard of you, that’s for sure.

But you know Berzattos. Or. Knew the one.

And you know a downward spiral. Intimately.

And you know that right now, he’s fucking cold. He is shivering and making no move to leave that state. You think he thinks that’s the state he deserves to stay in.

Nothing to lose but a good first impression, right? You drop a screwdriver in the doorway as a doorstop— Because how fucking dumb would it be if you both got stuck? And. Extremely slowly, you approach him not unlike approaching an actual captive bear. In your eyes, you might as well be.

Standing right in front of him doesn’t stop his mantra. You slip your jacket off, half hugging him to drape it over his shoulders. “You’re just cold.”

“I’m a—” “You’re just. Cold.” You cut him off before he has the chance to self-deprecate again, smoothing out the sleeves on him. His eyes readjust to actually look at you rather than somewhere beyond.

You sniff. You’re already cold and it’s been 30 seconds. This poor thing. You rub your hands together, breathing hot air into them before touching them to his frigid fucking face. “Fuck you’re really cold. Like danger cold.”

Never being one for boundaries or hesitation, you hug yourself to him. It’s the fastest way to warm him up. You slip your hands under the jacket— Your jacket— And just engulf the Italian Popsicle Man before you.

Shockingly, he doesn’t push you off or suddenly reawaken to his senses and tell you to fuck off. He doesn’t flinch, if anything he leans in. His body doesn’t really have time for surprise, right now, it just takes what it needs. And what it needs is warmth and oxytocin. His breathing slowly but surely self regulates, and once you start to remember decorum you lower your arms— But. He opts to place his chin on your shoulder, like the world’s most gentle hook, and that alone is enough to keep you there.

It's a long, silent, liminal spacey moment before he speaks again. Both of you speak just above the decibel of the freezer's buzzing.

“You’re not Tony.”

“Terry.”

“You’re Terry?”

“No, Tina said Tony’s Terry. I don’t know who the fuck Terry is.”

“Terry’s the fridge guy.”

“You’re still going to need to call him; I did just make it worse.”

“That’s fine.” He swallows. “Who called you?”

“Syd.”

“Should’ve called you earlier.”

“Should’ve called the fridge guy earlier.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, but he makes no move to move, so you don’t either.

“You know Mikey too?”

Ah. The patch. The Beef. It's worn, but it sits proudly on the left shoulder of your jumpsuit. Your heart tightens and so does your posture.

“Yeah.” You sigh. It’s shakier than you’d like it to be. “Dad knew him, so then I knew him, so then I occasionally fixed shit for him. Shit that ‘Fak couldn’t?’ I think his name was?”

“Hm.” He hums. “He ever got locked in the walk-in?”

“Yeah, he really fucked it up, like waayy worse than whatever happened with you tonight. Like whatever happened. At least 10 times worse.” Your voice is coated with sarcasm, but it’s not entirely untrue.

You’re relieved, when Carmen laughs at this, a touch maniacally, but it’s something. Right now, any emotion from him besides regret and anxiety feels like a trophy. He straightens up, pushing his hair back, so you remove your arms.

“You’re fuckin’ funny, Tony.”

“Still not Tony.”

“Oh my god!” A blonde, very pregnant woman cracks the door open, relieved. “Are you okay, Bear?” You step aside so she can hug Carmen, holding his cheeks to look over him. Oh, this has to be—

“I’m good, I’m great, Sug.” He says this incredibly unconvincingly, hanging one hand on her wrist.

But what matters more in your brain right now is: That’s Sugar. Natalie.

And now you can put a face to both siblings you’ve been bitched about to.

Chain-smoker, means well, cringeworthy husband, too good for her family, incredibly judgemental, cares too much and worries more, loves to fight, her mother’s daughter, pushy, sticks her foot in her mouth, can’t take no for an answer, would lay down her life. Natalie Berzatto. Little sister.

Michelin Star retaining, big shot, sensitive, definitely a virgin, ball buster, sweats the small stuff, sweetheart, asshole, incredibly smart, flighty, coward, deeply loyal, whiny, screamer, show-off, fantastic drawer, shell, mister new york, annoyingly humble, undeniably the most talented. Carmen Berzatto. Baby brother.

Mikey’s words. Of course.

Nat turns her gaze over to you, “Thank you.” You can only bring yourself to nod in reply, a bit awkward— Lost in your rolodex of memories of the people you’ve never actually met until right now. It’s weird to feel parasocial about a normal person.   

“Our toilet, exploded.” She says.

Now that pulls out you of it, and gets a laugh out of you. You put your hand over your mouth. “Yeah?”

Sugar shakes her head, eyes widening like she’s just stepped in it, “I didn’t mean like— Like, you just did a job, right, that’s like tacking on another last-minute service—”

“That’s fine.” You put a hand up stopping her from continuing, still chuckling. “I’ll take a look at it tonight and try to fix it tomorrow?”

She nods, smiling bright, “Thank you, Tommy.”

Who needs to use Y/N when you have the fridge guy?

I so desperately hope you liked this first chapter. I've been stewing on this for like a week so I beg of you to reply/reblog/send me an ask (anon or not!!) telling me what you thought!! Unless it's mean!! In which case, do NOT!!!

And just a forewarning, as we step into uncharted territory where the walk-in meltdown was cut short, I need you to hold my hand through it bb. We're making this man's life better or we're gonna die trying.

Next Part

[lordsukunas]

jjk men & you: nail appointment!

tldr: gojo, geto, nanami, ino, choso, toji, sukuna + mahito going with you to your nail appointment.

cw: fem!reader. sukuna refers to reader as ‘woman’ once. and mahito.

a/n: this was fun lowk. might do it for jjk boys, depends on my motivation. idk if mahito particularly counts as a man, but he’s here for my mootie. time to sleep now, enjoy!!!

✿ — gojo:

first things first, he’s paying for your nails. which sounds like a good thing, until you realize he’s insisting on going along with you. he’ll pester you the entire time, suggesting colors and styles (how does he know so much?!) and then doing anything to get you to laugh or look at him. sometimes it results in your nail tech getting a little lot frustrated because he keeps making you squirm. eventually, tho, he’ll stop and let the tech finish up your nails.

“they’re cute. would’ve been cuter if you let me pick, buuuut... still cute.”

✿ — ino:

he’ll flex his knowledge about nails like it’s something revolutionary or suggest a style that he swears is completely unique, only for you to correct him and realize that it’s really just basic information. he’ll spend the rest of the appointment scrolling through pinterest and instagram, trying to find inspo for your next set.

“ooh, baby, look. these are nice, right?”

✿ — nanami:

only pays if you want him to, and only goes if you want him to. is content to let you pick whatever style you want, but likes to pick out bold colors and suggest designs based on your interests or adding charms. always tips the tech, and once your nails are done, he gently grabs your hand and kisses the back of it.

“these suit you perfectly, my lady.”

✿ — geto:

at first, he is nawt going in there. unless you find a sorcerer nail tech, he’s going to be slick the entire time. he’ll side-eye everyone else getting their nails done, judge their taste (“why would she choose that shit-brown?”), and stand up the entire time. he doesn’t want the germs. once you’re done, he’s pulling you out of there as quickly as possible.

“here, take this. ... yes, it’s hand sanitizer. you don’t want those monkey germs, right?”

✿ — toji:

only goes because you told him if he tagged along, you’d pay. in reality, he was going to go all along, just to make sure nobody tries anything. he will slap the shit outta somebody, including your nail tech. sits in a tiny chair by your side, massive head resting on your shoulder and arms crossed, absolutely knocked out. he’ll only wake up if you shrug your shoulder or if the appointment ends (he has some kind of sixth sense for that shit).

“huh? ... nah, i ain’t sleep. you cute, now c’mon.”

✿ — choso:

kind of like gojo, clingy asf. he won’t make suggestions (bro has no idea, pls bear w/ him), but he’ll praise any and every decision you make. his arms will be wrapped around your waist the entire time, earning him lots of ‘awhss’ and ‘look at them! so cute.’ tips the nail tech for “making you extra gorgeous.” his words, not mine.

“you look good, i swear. i like the colors, and the shape, and the design, and your hands...”

✿ — sukuna:

has a personal nail tech. you think he maintains them black nails by himself? no. threatens his nail tech to do good on your nails, otherwise it’ll be the last set they ever do. makes minor suggestions, but is content to sit back and let you decide for yourself. he does have a preference color, though, either black, red, or dark purple. gets a weird urge to nibble your fingers once your nails are done. please don’t ask why.

“hm? you look fine, woman. nothing rivals your natural beauty, so quit ya whining.”

✿ — higuruma:

he’s awake for the entire prep process. watching you pick your colors, decide on a design, get settled in the chair. the second the nail tech actually gets to work, though, he’s tapped out. just like toji, he’s sitting in a chair beside you, head either resting in your lap or on your shoulder. if he could sit across from you, his head would be on your chest. only wakes up when it’s time to pay (he tips!) or if something goes wrong.

“... mm? oh, those are nice, sunshine. i like the little designs, very cute.”

✿ — mahito ..?:

a lil shit the entire time istg. doesn’t care what you pick, will poke and squish and pinch and nuzzle you the whole process, annoying both you and the tech. considers getting his done to match yours, but realizes he could probably just morph the shape of his soul instead of sitting there.

“those are, like, so cute! ... no? you don’t like my valley girl accent?”

[xyfanficarchive]

here, have some incredibly personal laios x reader hurt/comfort, written as therapy in the form of reader insert bcos i was sad today, might be a bit ooc idk man :)

————————————

“You know, I actually love when you ask me for things, when you tell me you’re feeling down, or if I’ve upset you.”

You raised your red-rimmed, apprehensive gaze to meet Laios’ eyes, clear and completely earnest as he smiled at you. Weakly, you tried to return the expression. It didn’t feel very convincing.

“It makes me feel like you love me and trust me. That you trust me enough to be honest - that you trust me to comfort you, to do better by you, that you believe in me and my ability to meet your needs, that you believe I can be there for you in a way that makes you happy,” he elaborated, reaching his hands out and taking yours. “I feel valued.”

You flitted from golden eye to golden eye, searching his expression desperately for any inconsistency, any unfinished edge, any loose thread that would unravel his perfect honesty and found none. Your frail smile faltered. He was like the life-giving sun, but you felt as though you were in the desert being beat down by his radiance. You wanted to shrink away, and your shoulders hunched. Oh that sentiment was so nice, and certainly he meant it. But that just meant it would hurt exponentially more when he was done with you, when he finally realized-

“What’s going on? What are you thinking?” He stooped his head closer to yours, and tears welled up in your eyes, your lips parted in a wince as you shook your head. Laios’ brow furrowed. “No, something’s wrong. This is what I mean: I want to help you, you want me to help you, but I can’t unless you tell me what’s going on! So please just tell me what you’re thinking!” The urgency in his voice struck you like an arrow through the heart.

It wasn’t like you could be much more humiliated than you already were. It felt like it was already over, it was going to blow to pieces either way. Your thoughts felt slippery as you gathered them as best you could, your vision starting to blur. You turned your gaze downwards, you couldn’t even look Laios in the eye as you drew a shaky breath in.

“You say that, but,” your voice was quiet, “you don’t understand - we’ll both regret it when you realize…” The words caught, you couldn’t say it.

“When I realize what?” He insisted.

The few seconds of silence felt like an hour. Then, quiet as a whisper, you admitted, with much difficulty: “My needs… my feelings… I’m really hard to deal with… I'm too much... You’ll realize I’m a huge fucking burden, and then you won’t want me anymore!!” You sobbed, and before the tears could fall you covered your face with your hands and hung your head, feeling two inches tall, feeling so deeply embarrassed and ashamed to the core of your being. You wished you could just disappear.

"You think I don't already know you're a burden?"

The words shocked and pained you so deeply you stopped crying, eyes shot up in gape-mouthed, grief stricken disbelief as you recoiled. He was fast with it. All these years, nobody had ever affirmed your belief so directly, nobody had ever stated it so plainly. You'd heard many empty platitudes that were hard to believe, precisely because in the end they had always proved you right - whatever you needed the most, whenever you needed it the most, you were always left in the dust, alone and despairing, and feeling like the biggest idiot in the world for your blind hope.

You saw his face change - he cringed, looking extremely pained, and with panic started to explain: "D-Don't get me wrong! Agh..." For a moment he held his brow in his palm, then took a deep breath, composing himself before he continued. He grabbed you by the shoulders.

"Everyone's a burden, aren't they? Just thinking of my friends - Marcille is really picky and particular. Chilchuck is way too proud and secretive, and he drinks a lot. Falin is my little sister, so I have to be there for her, look out for her. And Senshi... Well, Senshi seems to have a lot figured out already." He paused, and broke eye contact for a moment to look at the floor. "And we all know how I am..." His tone was incredibly loaded, and your heart broke because he was the brightest and most vibrant being you had ever met, having faced a lifetime of hardship and betrayal and still coming out the other side so true to himself.

He leaned in closer to your face. "The point is, though, they all have needs - and they know how to ask for help when they need it! You only ask for help when it becomes an emergency. If even then." His expression softened. "I know you have lots of needs. I know because I've worked really hard to meet them, without embarrassing or scaring you by asking. And it meant a lot of thinking, constant planning, lying awake at night wondering, asking everyone for advice... It's tiring work." He went down the list and you broke his gaze, looking downwards. You felt low, ashamed at all the trouble you've caused him, all because you tried to be no trouble at all. What a right mess you've made.

"Hey, look at me," his hand came up, fingers resting so gently on your jaw, and your watery eyes obliged. "I did it because I wanted to! It makes me happy to see you happy, or fulfilled, or relieved, and to know that it's because of me! I did all of that because I love you! But I can’t keep up with all that hard work all the time. I don’t think it’s fair.” You had been fending off the tears as you listened but now the dam broke again, hot as they rolled down your face, and you sniffled as your nose clogged up. “So can you please help me help you easier? Would you please help me love you like that?” His eyes were glassy now as he looked down at you.

The cry came out of your throat as a whine as Laios took you in his arms, embracing you tight while you sobbed into his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt around his back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorryyy,” you repeated through the tears and he shushed you, holding you while you cried it out until your gasping, hiccuping breaths slowed and calmed.

It was hard to say what you needed to say next, because you had to admit you were wrong about something you had believed so deeply for most of your life. It wasn’t easy to fully give up the idea that had kept you safe for so long. “I’ll try to be more honest about my feelings… and to ask for help before it’s too late…” Still in his embrace you lifted your head to look up at him, and stared into his eyes with intensity. “It’s terrifying, I won’t lie. But… I trust you.” How couldn’t you trust someone who was so deeply genuine as he was?

He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead between your brows, and your eyes rolled closed. When he pulled away you turned your head and pressed your ear to his chest. “I want you to be happy. I want this to work. I love you so much,” he said, and you felt the words rumble against your cheek.

“I love you too,” you murmured, lulled by the sound of his breath and heartbeat.

[heartlesscorpse]

Pyramid Head thoughts 🩸🔪 △

Catering this to myself and my hornee NEEDS and anybody else’s ig because I’m a dirty boy rn and I have too many thoughts in my head revolving around my man and I need to spill my guts before I lose this precious brain rot. Oh yeah this got some nsfw shit (it’s gonna be like further down so MDNI) so be sure to read at your risk, and don’t mind the occasional out of context shit bc that’s just my comments and me giggling so hard abt this fine mfer— this was pretty fun to make too ngl, I might do more in the future if I ever get anymore ideas from things or from people, Idk we’ll see.

Pyramid Head’s possessive asf over his s/o, when you’re living inside a hellhole of a town full of monsters and a cult run by a bunch of lunatics, who else is gonna protect your ass none other than this 7’0” deity??? Man wouldn’t even hesitate to kill anybody or anything that came way too close to you.

Man’s not even gonna let you out of his sight for a second, wherever the hell you’re going he’s coming with you, you’re a fragile little thing after all. He doesn’t want anything bad happening to you, not on his watch.

The size diff between you and Pyramid Head is endearing as well as arousing just thinking about how he could manhandle you into any positions he wants and watch you struggle to take him in. You’re just so short compared to him, he finds it cute. <3

It’s fun to carry you around everywhere he goes because of how short you are compared to him. Doesn’t matter if you get a say in this or not, he’s gonna carry you whenever the hell he pleases and he’ll never let go.

Pyramid Head would’ve associated you with the colour white and some times gives you white clothing because you’re pure and the only non-sinner in this shit hole of a town.

Who the fuck needs a bed when you have Pyramid Head??? Hell, he’d probably prefer you to sleep on top of him so he could hold you in your sleep and protect you from all the dangers of Silent Hill. Not to mention he’d like the feeling of how squishy you are in his embrace, particularly your thighs, he likes wrapping his hands on them and squishing them gently in your sleep. Might be a form of comfort saying “I’m here, everything’s okay”, or he’s just admiring them. Who would’ve thought a large monster living on violence and inflicting pain on sinners would be so gentle with you? (Unless you wanted him to roughen you up a little of course then by all means, he’ll fuckin’ do it.) >:))

Because Pyramid Head only exists in Silent Hill and doesn’t know a lot about the outside world, it’s rather adorable watching him get all confused with that head tilt of his whenever you explain certain things to him couples do on a regular basis besides sex, but he does show some curiosity on said topic and possibly willing to do those things with you as well.

Pyramid Head enjoys receiving attention from you, be it either hugs from behind or give him kisses on his helmet or the tongue— anywhere else is prolly gonna give him some other ideas of sorts, rnskfbsjfbw.

OH BOY the fucking dirty brain rot persists. If this man ever happened to be feeling horny he honestly wouldn’t hesitate taking your clothes off in one tear the second he has your consent.

Did I mention abt the size diff last time? Making you take in his cock nice and slow isn’t gonna do much, he’d want you to get over with the pain fairly quick so he’ll just push it in without warning lmao, of course once he’s in, he’ll allow you a brief moment to adjust to his size and once you’re all good he’s going to pound the fucking daylights out of you.

AGAIN WITH THE SIZE DIFF it’s just so satisfying and enjoyable to him watching you writhing and moaning underneath him like that, accounting to that just seeing you stuffed full of his come and utterly blissed out is adorable. (Like man I— let him rail me already PLEASEE)

And he’s for sure going to tease the fuck out of you to overstimulation until your mind is nothing but a puddle of mush and you’re begging for him. <33

Aftercare in the end is amazing, he’ll help clean you up by fucking eating you out with his tongue and then he’ll lay there with you in his arms, with a blanket big enough pulled over top to cover the both of you while you snuggle up in the mean time. A possible guarantee you’re gonna have a blast trying to walk in the morning./j

🥩⋆♱✮♱⋆🔪 🩸

[ohbabydollie]

Idk what happens I just need more mutual break up smuts

i have gotten sm requests but i LOVE writing mutual break up n im workin on a playlist for them :(

breedin’ yer ex gf ain’t for the weak

You never knew schlatt wanted kids until now, when you had begrudgingly agreed to take care of your sister’s spawn causing your weekly “friend date” with Schlatt to get postponed to Sunday. Well, that’s what was supposed to happen, and what most men would prefer to happen.

Y’know, not take care of a snot nosed 5 year old on a Saturday when you could be calling other women, probably fucking.

But no, not Schlatt, instead Schlatt says he’ll help you out since his day was entirely free and he babysits with you!

Not to mention, he great with babysitting your niece/nephew, they love him, absolutely adore him and aren’t willing to let go of him, even for a second, unless its to use the bathroom or to get more snacks with you.

This is the most loving you’ve seen the kid act towards any man, especially a tall and scary one like Schlatt.

Schlatt is the sweetest you’ve ever seen him, tickling the kid, playing with the kid, watching movies with them, all around having a ball.

All three of you decide to go to the park, hopefully for your niece/nephew to burn off some energy so pick up time isn’t too hard.

Schlatt is having a ball chasing after the kid, making the kid giggle and squeal with joy. It was precious and with you in the mix, it looked like a happy family enjoying their saturday together.

Suddenly the kid asks Schlatt “when are you gonna give me a cousin, my mom said something about y/n being sick for babies or something” tugging on his shirt while pointing to you getting their water bottle from a backpack.

You call them over to give them some water and seeing you smile, sitting besides them, it makes Schlatt think

maybe having a kid or two would be nice…

You would make an amazing mother…

Schlatt would make a great father…

That silly train of thought is what led you here, once your niece/nephew had been picked up, underneath Schlatt in a mating press while you’re writhing and squirming underneath him as he pounds deeply into your wet and sloppy cunt.

“You wan’ me to make you a momma?” Schlatt asked you between sloppy kisses

“Yes! Yes please Schlatt!” you whine “make me a mommy!” you cry, making him smile while he continues to ruthlessly fuck into you.

Your legs are thrown over his shoulders like it’s nothing as he continues to pound harshly in and out of you without a care in the world.

He truly doesn’t care if the neighbors can hear, if the entire block can hear, he doesn’t care who can hear you. He’s just so focused on getting you pregnant, all cute and round with his baby.

his baby

No one else’s

Schlatt can’t resist thrusting harshly into you, feeling you tighten around him for the upteenth time that night.

“cum for me doll, cum for me pretty girl” he says purposefully looking for the spongy spot inside you, making you cum the second his fat tip presses into it.

Hearing the cry you let out for him has him cumming on the spot, making sure to get as deep as he possibly can inside you. Schlatt’s grinning, watching your eyes roll back as your face fills with bliss.

fuck, he’s gonna have fun breeding a baby into his ex girlfriend

[m0llygunn]

Same Old Song and Dance (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: Eddie’s teased and taunted you for the last decade of your life but you’re not innocent. It’s always been a game, a dance if you will.

Tropes: bully!eddie (kind of), enemies to lovers (kind of). Warnings: 18+! mature language, hair pulling, ‘bullying’, pet names (princess, sweetheart), fingering, smut. Author’s note: There’s definitely a possibility for a part 2, possibly 3, but idk yet, we’ll see. wc: 5.4k

part 2 here

part 3 here

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Eddie yanked a little too hard this time, he knew it as soon as he did it and your hand drew to the back of your neck, cradling it in your hold. He just couldn’t resist. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail with all those perfectly spun curls and it was hypnotizing, practical calling to him, just asking for him to pull it.

He waited for the back fire, for you to spin in your chair and yell at him but it didn’t come this time. This time you just let your hand rub at your neck before raising your other hand to get the teachers attention.

“Can I go to the bathroom, please?” You ask politely, hand still rubbing over the sore muscle. 

With approval, you scooted back your chair and quietly left the class.

Waiting around the corner of the hall it’s not long before you hear the scuff of running shoes on the linoleum floor. You knew he’d come after you. 

When you watch him pass the corner, heading straight in the hall towards the girls bathroom, you quickly catch up behind him, taking a handful of his hair in your fist and yanking him back.

He falls into you with a pained moan before catching himself, his own hand rubbing at his scalp. 

“What the fuck was that for?” He groans, standing straight, looming over you. 

“Doesn’t feel so good does it?” You scold, trying your best to keep your edge while Eddie stares you down. His lips curl into a smile, eyes lighting up.

“Princess, I’ll let you pull my hair any day. I just wasn’t expecting it is all.” He says, taking a step closer to you. 

You turn on the heels of your feet heading back to the class but a hand around your wrist stops you. 

“Princess, let me talk to you for a minute.” He says, a smile evident in his voice.

“No, I already wasted enough time coming out here.” You huff.

“C’mon, just one minute.” He says, pulling you towards him.

You pause, contemplating your decision and Eddie takes that as a yes before you can say anything. 

Your shoes drag along the floor, trying to slow Eddie down from his fast pace as he pulls you down the hall right into the girls bathroom. 

“What, Eddie?” You spit, finally pulling your wrist free from him after he checks that all the stalls are empty. You cross your arms over your chest so he knows you’re serious. 

“Aw princess, lighten up, would ya?” He says, hand reaching over your shoulder for your ponytail again. You turn your head away to stop him from grabbing it but he steps forward, invading your space, taking a strand of hair in his fingers and twirling it.

“What. Do. You. Want.” You bitterly spit, foot nearly stomping on the floor in the process.

Eddie’s eyes flicker over your face, smirk playing on his lips, clearly enjoying your annoyance. It’s always the same old song and dance with him. He pisses you off, and then revels in your anger. He practically lives for it. 

“Jus’ wanted to apologize.” He says, words sweet coming from his lips… too sweet. You furrow your brows, trying to figure out what he’s playing at.

“Apologize?” You question.

“Yes, ma’am. Pulled too hard this time, didn’t I?” He says softly, eyes flitting to where he twirls your hair before his fingers dance towards the back of your neck, warmth of his palm pressing into the sore muscle.

“Yeah.” You agree, your mouth going dry as your heart rate picks up. 

“I’ll remember for next time, sweetheart. Won’t pull that hard again unless you ask me to.” He says, fingers pressing into your neck in a gentle massage. 

You can’t lie, his touch feels nice on the strained muscle. It’s taking everything in you to not melt into the way his fingers rub over the affected area. 

“Want me to come over later? I can rub your neck just like this, make you feel real good.” He says, voice going low as he spins you to face away from him, both his hands going to your neck. His touch stays gentle, hands rubbing from the base of your neck to your shoulders. 

When you feel him step closer to you, his chest against your back, that's when your personal red flag alarm goes off, sending you in motion.

“Quit it!” You shrill, spinning to look at Eddie.

“What’s wrong? Thought you were enjoying it? You were practically moaning.” He teases smugly. “Oh Eddie. Come over and massage my neck for me. Oh, it feels so good.” He moans, pitching his voice up.

“I’m going back to class.” You say turning and swinging the door open. Eddie pulls the door open above your head, following you out.

“What a coincidence, I am too. Let’s walk together.” Eddie says, trying to grab at your hand but you swat him away, making him laugh.

When you get back to class, your stomach sinks as you notice everyone has changed places, sitting in groups of two, all scribbling away at worksheets.

Mrs. Ward snaps her fingers, motioning for you to take your seat, Eddie still trailing behind you.

“Since you two were off galavanting the school halls, you missed your opportunity to pick your partners for this assignment like everyone else. You’ll be working together.” Mrs. Ward says, dropping two worksheets onto your desk, motioning for you to pass one back to Eddie. 

You stare at the two blank worksheets. Mrs. Ward began the class by talking about a big project that would be replacing the midterm but you didn’t know that you’d be starting it today.

“Oh, princess. I believe one of those is for me.” Eddie sings from behind you. 

You grab your ponytail knowing that’s exactly what he’d go for when you don’t turn around and you meet him there just in time to be able to grab his hand in yours, spinning yourself to look at him.

“My neck is still sore from the last time, can you give it a fucking rest?” You seethe through your teeth, keeping your voice low.

“Princess, if you wanted to hold my hand you could have just asked.” Eddie says, making you look down to where your fingers are wrapped over the back of his hand.

“I don’t want to hold your hand.” You spit harshly, twisting his arm so he nearly falls out of his chair. He lets out a small yelp, twisting to the side before you let go. He looks around the room noticing how the incident has gathered a few looks but he takes it in stride, scooching his chair back into his desk, rolling his shoulder a few times to get the sting out. 

“Jesus Christ, princess. Just hand over the worksheet before you get me all riled up.” Eddie smirks after he rights himself in his chair, rolling the shoulder of the arm you twisted.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“So it looks like I will be coming over later.” Eddie says startlingly as he comes up behind you, speaking far too closely into your ear. 

“Nope. We can go to the library.” You retort, grabbing the books you need for your final period out of your locker. 

“The library? Full of commoners? No way, I say we go back to your place, I can rub your neck for you a little, and you can start to do the project.” He says, fingertips walking over the slope of your neck until you swat him away, once again.

“Pass.”

“Sounds like a sweet deal to me, you should take it.”

“You’re helping with the project. I’m not gonna let you skip out on it.” You spin, shooting Eddie a glare so he knows you’re serious. 

“Oh yeah?” He says, eyebrows raising. You shrug your shoulders, losing your edge as his gaze dwindles into something you're not sure of.

“What are you gonna do? Gonna punish me if I don’t behave.” He says, stepping closer to you, dipping his face to yours.

His body looms over yours, cornering you in your locker. You’re left dumbfounded, not by his words, but by the way he’s looking at you, eyes dark yet inviting, drinking you in entirely. His lips curl into a smile and your eyes unwillingly flicker to them.

“Stop, Eddie.” You push him back by the chest, embarrassment spreading over you because you know he caught your glance at his lips by the way his eyes light up. 

“Fine. Fine. My princess wants to go to the library, we’ll go to the library. I’m just saying, we could get a lot more done if we were all alone.” He says, voice going low and suggestive.

“I’m not yours.” You argue, slamming your locker.

“Of course that’s the part that ticks you off.” Eddie laughs.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Your last class of the day was uneventful but the flickering light in the back of the room left you with a headache and the desire to get home and lay down for the rest of the evening. Fuck the project with Eddie. You have a month to do it anyways you don’t really need to get started yet. 

“Ready to go?” Eddie says as he leans against the locker next to yours.

“No. I’m canceling, sorry.” You say flatly.

“Canceling?” He furrows his brows.

“Yup.” You say, popping the ‘p’.

“Why?” He asks, eyes flickering over you like he’s looking for your reason.

“None of your business.” You retort.

“It is my business.” He quips back. 

“Not really.” You say closing your locker and swinging your bag over your shoulder. You start walking away but just as you predicted, Eddie won’t let it go and he follows you.

“Princess, I agreed we could go to the library, let’s just go.” He says, as he does his best to keep up with you as you swerve your way through the students. 

“Yeah, but not today.��� You groan, hands going to push open the door but Eddie beats you to it, pushing it open from over your head.

The bright light beaming from the sun makes you wince, shielding your eyes with your hands. It amplifies the pounding of your head and you pause, waiting for your eyes to adjust but it never comes. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, stepping in front of you, blocking the sun but it’s totally coincidental, he’s just trying to get in your face again.

“Nothing.” You shrug, pushing past Eddie to walk to the school gates, hands still shielding your eyes from the sun.

“Yeah, something's wrong.” He says, pulling you back by your backpack, moving to stand in front of you again. You lower your hands, the sun not beaming into your eyes as harshly anymore as he stands in front of you. 

“My head hurts, Eddie. I want to go home, can you please just let me go home.” You plead.  

“Let me drive you.” He says without batting an eye. 

“No.” You say stubbornly. 

“You walk right? Just let me drive you. I won’t try anything, I swear.” Eddie says softly.

You pause contemplating your answer and that’s, once again, enough for Eddie to take it as a yes, pulling you by the wrist to the parking lot. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“My head hurts Eddie, I’m still capable of buckling myself in, thank you very much.” You say, taking the belt from his hands and pressing it into the buckle yourself.

“Just giving you the 5 star treatment, making sure you’ll come back.” He smirks, closing your door for you. He rounds the van, pulling open his own door and hopping in. 

The drive goes by quickly with you giving quiet directions. At every corner, Eddie already has the blinker on before you can even tell him to turn. When you point out your house, he hums like he already knows. 

Before you hop out, the words ‘thank you’ sit on your tongue but they don’t come. You know he would twist it into something else. You give him an inch, he takes a mile. 

“Bye, Eddie.” You say, propping the door open after unbuckling yourself. He doesn’t say anything back.

When you shut the van door, you hear an identical slam from the other side of the vehicle. 

“You can’t come in.” You huff, now knowing taking the ride was just a trick of his.

“Let me walk my girl to her door, yeah?” Eddie says, strolling around the front of the van, stopping at your side. 

You roll your eyes and head to the front door, pulling out your keys. 

As soon as you push the door open, Eddie’s quick to slip in before you can even get a foot in the house.

“Hey!” You protest but it’s too late he’s already toeing his shoes off. “You said you wouldn’t try anything.” You say, words coming out weak and you feel your head pound. 

“I’m not trying anything. Just making sure you’re okay.” Eddie says matter of factly, his hand wrapping around your wrist, tugging you into the house. He pulls at your bag, making it fall from your shoulders and you glare at him, waiting for whatever he’s planning to happen. 

“Eddie, you have to go. My dad will be pissed if he has to park on the street when he gets home.” You say, trying your best to make it convincing.

“Sweetheart, that’s like a 6 car driveway he won’t have to park on the street.” Eddie laughs. “Where do you keep your advil, I’ll get you some.” He says, eyes connecting with yours and they almost look warm. It surprises you. His eyes are typically filled with amusement, taunting you, teasing you. Warmth is new and it makes your belly flutter with nerves. 

“Kitchen.” You say, narrowing your eyes, pushing past whatever you think you see in his. You should know better, he’s probably just working his way up to some big joke. 

He trudges through your house and you have no choice but to follow behind him, he’s not getting free reign of your living space. 

“It’s a nice house, princess. Daddy must work long hours, huh?” Eddie says with a teasing lilt. 

“Just when I thought you were being nice.” You mumble to yourself. He’s not wrong though, your dad does stay late at work most days. 

“This is me being nice, can’t you tell?” Eddie laughs. “Just take a seat, princess. Let me be real nice to you, let me make you feel better.” He says, voice holding the same reoccurring suggestiveness. You grimace as you watch him open cabinets. He grabs a glass as he comes across them and you take a tentative seat at the kitchen bar, watching him as he finally finds the advil.

“If you didn’t say weird stuff like that, I would think you were being nice.” You state flatly. 

“S’only weird if you make it weird.” He retorts, filling the glass with water.

“No. I think it’s objectively weird and sexual. I might have actually thought you were being sweet if you didn’t ruin it by talking.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Well it’s a good thing you don’t think that because I’m not sweet.” Eddie laughs, setting down your water in front of you and slamming the bottle of advil a little too hard, making you wince.

“The way you slammed that, I think you're purposefully trying to not be sweet.” You say, tugging on his exposed nerve. He just gave you an edge to grab at and he doesn’t even realize it. 

“I think you don’t know what you're talking about so shut up and take the advil.” He says, sounding annoyed, jaw clenching. You smile, realizing you’re getting to him. After years of him tunneling his way under your skin, this is how you return the favor. This is your golden ticket. 

“My neck still hurts.” You state, seeing if he’ll take the bait.

“So?” He replies bluntly, leaning back against the counter, eyes burning into you as he continues clenching his jaw. Pursing your lips, you switch your tactic seeing as he didn’t take the bait.

Pulling off your sweater, leaving you in your tank top, you sigh dramatically. You can practically feel his eyes exploring your freshly exposed skin and you try to hold back your smile.

“So that was all talk earlier? Should have known.” You say making eye contact with him, his eyes quickly shooting to yours from wherever they were roaming your body. 

“Hm?” He asks, looking mildly confused but trying to hold onto some indifference.

“In the bathroom? When you apologized for pulling my hair too hard and hurting my neck?” You say, eyebrows raised waiting for him to clue in.

He smirks when he realizes what you’re getting at, his bad attitude lost in the wind. 

“You want me to rub your neck for you? That it, sweetheart?” He coos, pushing off the counter and taking a step closer to you.

You don’t reply, you just close your eyes, making a sad attempt at rubbing your own neck. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips when you feel his hands take over, pushing your own hands away. 

“Take your advil, princess. I’ll have you feeling better in no time.” He chides. You scoff, because of course he has to add some stupid comment. You take the advil, washing it back with the water, as Eddie’s fingertips press into your tender muscles, thumbs trailing up and down the length of your neck.

“This chair’s uncomfy, Eddie. Can we move to the couch?” You say, spinning on the stool to look at him, fluttering your eyelashes. He looks stunned at first, hands still hovering in the air where they were on your neck. He nods slowly, swallowing thickly. 

You jump off the seat, taking his wrist in your hand, leading him down the hall. 

“How do you want me, Eddie?” You say innocently, standing in front of the couch waiting for instructions. Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink and your excitement increases tenfold.

“M-maybe we can just sit?” He stutters, eyes avoiding yours. You revel in seeing him scattered like this.

“Oh, I thought for sure you’d want me laying down, but we can sit.” You say, taking a seat perching on the edge of the couch. You look up at Eddie through your lashes and he finally gets the hint to take a seat behind you.

His hands slowly take purchase on the back of your neck again, thumbs rubbing small circles on your skin.

“Feels really good, Eddie.” You say breathily, purposefully pitching your voice up.

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice almost shaking. 

The jangle of the chains on his jacket draws your attention as they ring in your ear with each movement, and that’s your next route of attack.

“Your jacket keeps scratching me though.” You huff, exhaling deeply. 

“Oh, sorry. Want me to take it off.” He apologizes, his movements halting. His voice comes out small and genuine, not at all like the boy that's teased and taunted you for the past decade of your life. 

“Yes, please.” You say in a sugary sweet voice. 

He pulls away enough to remove his jacket, and you turn to take it from him, tossing it to the other side of the couch, letting your hand rest on his thigh.

“Can I sit there?” You ask, pointing to the spot between his legs. Eddie swallows harshly and you swear you’ve never seen him so affected by anything you’ve ever done, even when you yell at him and he gets all smirky. 

“S’all yours.” He replies, clearing his throat, evidently trying to collect himself.

With your hand on his thigh, you pull his leg so there’s more of a gap for you to sit in, and you lift your bum enough to scoot over, his knees bracketed your hips now.

“There, that’s better.” You sigh.

Eddie’s hands continue to massage you, fingers working further and further away from your neck, moving down your shoulders as he exploringly lets his fingers slip under the straps of your bra and tank top. You can tell he’s pushing it now, you gave him an inch, he’s taking a mile. He just needed a minute to gather himself.

“You know you could just admit it?” You say, interrupting the silence of the room.

“Admit… what?” He laughs, his words rolling off his tongue in a manner that makes you sound stupid. 

“Instead of pulling my hair, stealing my things, sneaking up on me just to scare me, all that other stuff you do, it would just be so much easier.” You say, not backing down. 

“What would?” He asks again, voice the tiniest bit quieter.

“If you admitted it.” You say flatly.

“I’m.. I’m not following sweetheart.” He laughs again. 

“It’s really quite juvenile, Eddie. All those playground antics, it’s not fooling anyone.” You say, shifting backwards, closer to Eddie to up the ante. 

“I’m not trying to fool anyone, princess.” He says, getting defensive. You have him right where you want him.

“But I think you are, Eddie. I think you’re dying to be sweet to me. You want to so badly, I mean, look at you right now. Letting me sit between your legs so you can massage my neck, driving me home, making sure I’m feeling better.” You taunt.

“I’m not sweet. I told you already, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says, fingertips digging harshly into your shoulders. 

“What’s so wrong with being sweet, Eddie? What if I like it? Then what?” You say. His fingertips dig harshly into your skin, making you yelp and he eases instantly, fingers gently passing over the area as if to say sorry.

You think he’s about to pull away. You pushed him too far and his mile’s over, but you’re sorely mistaken. His fingertips leave your skin only to be replaced by scattered kisses on the crescent moon indents he left on your skin. 

“You tell me, sweetheart. You like it when I’m mean to you, don’t you?” He says lowly, breath tickling you as he presses another kiss to your shoulder. 

His hands move to your waist, fingertips grazing you gently like he’s waiting for you to stop him, but when you don’t, they find purchase on your hips, pulling your back, flush to his chest. 

“Don’t think I didn’t see you looking at my lips earlier. So why don’t you admit whatever it is you want to say? Then we can move past this little charade of yours.” 

“Charade of mine?” You laugh, but it comes out broken, distracted by the kisses he continues to lay on your skin. 

“That’s what I said, princess.” Eddie says cooly.

“Eddie, you pulled my hair.” You huff, trying to regain an edge to your words.

“You pulled my hair too, princess.” He says gently, mouth pressing up the side of your neck to your ear. 

“You tease me.” You add.

“And you yell at me.” He retaliates. “Princess, you sat in front of me. You could have sat anywhere in the class, but you picked the seat in front of mine. You like this little game.” He whispers, breath fanning over the shell of your ear giving you shivers down your spine. 

“Eddie.” You whisper back. You meant to add more to your point but every thought is pulled from you as he kisses a spot behind your ear, making a whine pull in your throat. 

“If I told you how much I wanted you, what would you say?” He whispers, pressing a kiss to the same spot, making you hum. 

“I wouldn’t say anything and you’d take that as a yes just like you always do.”

“I’d need a real answer from you princess, wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want, promise. If you told me to stop, I would.” He speaks with a tender and genuine voice, whispering his words into your skin, giving you more shivers up your spine.

“What if I didn't want you to stop?” You whisper, fully absorbed by his presence now. 

“Then I wouldn’t.” He punctuates his words with another kiss to your neck.

“Sounds like you’re sweet on me.” You say, reverting back to your old banter when you find yourself at a loss for words. 

“Kind of does, doesn’t it?” He laughs. 

“Might even like me?” You say, even though you know the answer already. You both know the answer already.

“Better watch yourself, princess.” He teases, not even a hint of malice behind his words. 

You slump into Eddie, your back molding perfect to his chest. His hands glide from your hips over your lower belly, fingertips dancing just above the button of your jeans.

“Do you want me to stop, princess?” He asks, chest vibrating with his words.

You swallow harshly, trying to find your words but you can’t do it, you just shake your head. 

“Gotta use your words, princess. I know you got ‘em in that smart mouth of yours.” He teases.

“Don’t stop, Eddie.” You say so breathily you almost don’t recognize your own voice. 

“Gonna let me touch you?” He says, fingers finding the button of your jeans finally, making your stomach flutter in anticipation. 

“Yeah, touch me.” You parrot back.

He undoes the button in one hand, zipper lowered with the other. He slips his fingers under the waistband of your panties gliding down on your skin until his hand rests over your mound. He places a chaste kiss to the side of your head before dipping his fingers into you, fingertips swirling in your wetness.

“Look at you princess, all hot and wet for me.” He groans. 

“Don’t do that.” You say, feeling embarrassed. He stills his movements, pulling from you slightly.

“Don’t do what?” He asks, voice becoming serious. 

“Don’t make fun of me.” You reply quietly.

“I’m not, princess.” He says sounding hurts. “I think it’s hot. I like how wet you are, wouldn’t make fun of you for it.” He says genuinely but you still feel a flash of embarrassment. 

“Sounds like you are.” You reply quietly. 

“Would you make fun of me for how hard I am right now?” He says, pushing his hips forward enough for you to feel him against your lower back. 

“Maybe.” You tease, smiling to yourself.

“Cruel, cruel girl.” He teases right back making you laugh. “Do you want to stop or keep going?” He offers.

“Keep going.” You say confidently, feeling better knowing you have a similar effect on him. 

His fingers slide between your folds again, fingertips passing over your clit, making your hips jolt as he returns to your wetness, gathering it before moving back to your bundle of nerves. 

With three fingers he begins rubbing slow, pleasure filled, circles against you making you sigh. His movements increase gradually until he has you moaning, hips bucking as you seek out more. 

Just like he can read your mind, he lets his fingers draw down, sinking two of them into you, the palm of his hand pressing onto your clit. 

His fingers stretch you, making you whine in the added friction that you needed. He pushes them in further, deeper than your own fingers can go, and he curves them, reaching a spot you’ve never even grazed before, a spot that has you canting your hips, pushing your back further against his chest as you arch. 

“Right there, princess? Is that the spot?” He coos and you nod your head dumbly, eyes squeezing shut as you let his voice hum in your ears.

“Mhhm, right there Eddie.” You gasp as his fingers wiggle, drawing back and pushing in right against it. 

He continues his daft movements, making you squirm against him until his other hand sprawls against your lower belly, holding you still against him.

“Eddie.” You moan, feeling lost in the pleasure. 

“Yeah, princess? Want me to keep doing that? You gonna cum like this?” He whispers lowly in your ear. His voice gives you butterflies, making your stomach twist and turn fiery hot as it adds to the pool of heat in your core. 

“Ke-keep going. G-gonna cum.” You cry as his palm grinds against your clit with each drag of his fingers against that spongy spot inside you. You grip harshly on his thighs, trying to steady yourself as you feel bubbling heat quickly rising inside of you. 

“Want you to cum for me. Need to see it, princess.” He groans, face pressing into the side of your head, hand pushing against your lower belly, adding to the impossibly tight tension growing there. 

With a final high pitched whine, you melt, all of the tension exploding before evaporating into a wash of pleasure. It’s red hot, yet light as a feather as it comes over you, making you feel like you’re floating and the only thing holding you down is Eddie’s arms wrapped around you.

You feel his breathing against your cheek and the rise and fall of his chest against your back. You hold onto the steadiness of it, matching each breath to your own as you gracefully fall from your high. You whimper, feeling his movements continue against you and he slows before coming to a halt. 

When you catch your breath, you shift against him and he draws his slicked fingers from you, resting his wrist against his thigh, careful not to make any more of a mess of you than he already has.

With a deep exhale, you really let your body relax into Eddie’s. Your tired eyes flutter shut as you turn your head to rest against his chest with a content sigh. 

“That good, sweetheart?” He whispers, and you should have known he’d be back to teasing you. 

“Why do you always have to ruin things by talking?” You huff, eyes still shut, not bothering to move your tired body. 

“Fine, I won’t talk.” He says and you can tell by his voice he’s smirking. It only takes a second before you feel his lips kissing your face, placing chaste kisses wherever he can reach from the way he’s dipping his head to yours.

“See, that’s sweet.” You reply with a teasing lilt, but he stays silent, remaining true to his words of not talking.

You shift in his lap, turning to face him. You try to move to the floor, to sink to your knees between his legs but his hold doesn’t let you.

“You don’t want me to?” You ask quietly. He shrugs, tugging you back to his chest but you resist, keeping your eyes on him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, clueing in that he’s still not talking. 

He shrugs again.

“Eddie. Speak.” You say harshly and he laughs, breaking his short lived silence. 

“Princess, it’s way too easy getting to you.” He amusedly huffs, shaking his head.

“Do you want me to suck your dick or not?” You ask with a scowl, not appreciating the way he’s purposefully pressing your buttons. 

“I do, but not right now.” He says, a smirk plastered on his face like he’s up to something.

His hand rubs against your back, soothing you in a way that you didn’t know he could.

“Well, what do you want to do right now?” You ask shyly.

“I’m gonna go home.” He says tilting his head to you, still smiling. You frown, narrowing your eyes on him. You didn't expect for him to say that.

“You’re going home?” You ask, never feeling more confused by Eddie in your life. 

“Yup. You know, the place I live?” He says, teasing you now.

“To do what?” You ask, frown etching deeper on your features. 

“Honestly? Probably rub one out while I think about all the pretty noises you just made for me.” He says matter of factly and now you’re really confused.

“Why don’t you want me to suck your dick then?” You say, heat rising to your face as you think about Eddie touching himself to the thought of you. 

“Can't give you everything you want at once, that’s how princesses get spoiled.” He teases with a smirk. “Besides, gotta give you a reason to come back.” He says, inching his face closer to yours, his eyes focusing where his fingers have risen to play with the strap of your tank top. 

“And what if I don’t?” You reply, inching your own face closer to his. 

“You will.” He says confidently. You purse your lips in a smile because you know he’s right. You know you’ll come back to him. You both know it, the same way you both know he’ll come back to you. 

It’s always the same old song and dance with Eddie, and what fun is it to dance by yourself? 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

[crystallizsch]

“Oh? *I* get to be in charge of our lovely Princes? Hehe. I graciously accept the challenge.”

[SR] Yuusha Tala -> GROOOOVY!! Glimmering Soirée (fan event by @starry-night-rose)

Groooovy!!: Hehe. If you want to dance with me, you’re gonna have to keep up with me first.

Set Home: Yeah, yeah… I know I’m just a glorified attendant and I don’t really have any say over the Princes... Look, just let me have this.

Home Idle 1: Helping Deuce act like a Prince has been really hilarious. But credit where credit is due, seeing him try his best is really charming.

Home Idle 2: Wow. Somehow Azul became less insufferable after being trained as a Prince. ….Wait. Nevermind. He’s still the same.

Home Idle 3: Kalim and Hornton seem to be a natural at this. I guess I should have expected that. It’s really nice to see them shine.

Home Idle - Login: Has anyone seen Grim? I swear I saw him lurking around here somewhere…

Home Idle - Groovy: I could go for "Belle of the Ball" if I really wanted to, especially since I'm the one who helped take care of everything after all. But alas, why would you vote for the magicless prefect..? Wait, unless.….

Home Tap 1: Where did I put that ghost camera? I was just holding it just a while ago… Huh? It’s around my neck? Well, that’s embarrassing. Oh stop laughing at me, will ya?

Home Tap 2: The others say I’m like a different person when I go into "manager" mode. …And they say it either like a compliment or an insult so I’m getting mixed messages.

Home Tap 3: Ugh. This cape is cool and all but people keep getting caught by it. So annoying.

Home Tap 4: Would I compete in being the Belle of the Ball if I wasn't taking care of the Princes? Depends. Would you vote for me? ~ ♡ …What do you mean you’ll give me a "pity" vote.

Home Tap 5: No, I’m not staring "longingly" at that band! …But hypothetically, do you think they’d let me play an instrument with them?

Home Tap - Groovy: Oh, wow. Crazy that they totally just left this violin here. Hmmm…..

notes:

i had fun with the voice lines aaah but it might have some changes when i’m done with the groovy (and i’ll properly put her in an actual card template)

also slight lore drop from one of the voice lines: yuusha has experience hosting formal parties pre-twst. basically she just locks in (a bit too heavily) when she has hosting duties.

(some of the voice lines also foreshadow the groovy 👀)

anyways i was just messing around a lot with the outfit design and the colors hgsdfjds

i tried my best making her purple color scheme agree with the limited color palette and i think it worked out??? idk idk--

also the cape was supposed to have patterns similar to the ceremonial robes so as to label her as someone from nrc.

i wanted to include a LOT more ruffles too but i had no patience for lining all of that 🤧

(bonus sketches/concepts below)

at first i based off her suit on hans frozen but then (because of pinterest giving me ideas) i realized i wanted a more fun outfit and so here i am-

(also help me i meant to have the voice lines to be just talking to anyone but it just hit me that it sounds like she’s talking to jamil 💀 girl they just can’t leave me alone they live in my head 24/7 rent-free)

[wcbblife]

Ok I have another one, can you do juju x fem reader where reader is on live and she’s reading comments and someone says “ juju mid asf” and reader defends her by saying “ juju and mid don’t belong together in a sentence unless ‘not is between them’ ” or something like that (idk I was half asleep when i wrote this in my notes so you can change that if you want 😭). Then blocks the person cause she doesn’t allow anyone to talk abt her gf like that . Then juju gets sent the live from her teammates, so she txt reader or post it on twitter saying “my girl 🫡” or something 😭 I just had to write it in my notes before I forgot bruh 😭

Live Love

a/n: Kinda cheesy and short but I like it ngl. Hope you like it anon!

You’re live, chatting with your followers, enjoying the rush of interactions. The comments are flowing in, and you're responding to questions. After seeing fans online practically begging for you to go live following the volleyball team’s tournament win at home, you figured it’d be a great way to kill time while waiting at the airport for your next game. It was mostly fun, a comforting distraction.

You scroll through the comments, selecting a few to answer.

What’s your favorite thing to do on a day off?

“Great question! Honestly, I love just chilling at home, maybe cooking something new or catching up on shows. If Juju’s free, we’ll go grab some food or watch a movie. It’s all about relaxing and recharging.”

More questions flood the chat, and you pick another one.

Any book recommendations?

“Absolutely! I’ve been reading ‘The Song of Achilles’ lately. The writing is beautiful and so immersive. Highly recommend it. It’s a bit sad, though, so read it if you’re into that.”

Do you have any pets?

“Juju got a little puppy recently. You guys should see him—he’s the cutest. Juju calls him our kid now.”

As you continue engaging with the audience, the flood of comments and emojis feels like a warm embrace. But then, a comment stops you in your tracks, and your smile falters.

juju mid asf 😂

You pause, staring at the screen in disbelief. Juju’s been working tirelessly and seeing someone dismiss her like this hits unexpectedly hard. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the fire spreading through your body.

“Now I know I ain’t just read what I think I did, right? Juju mid as fuck? Don’t overstep. Juju’s my girlfriend. Juju and ‘mid’ don’t belong in the same sentence unless ‘not’ is between them, and I’m not going to stand by while people talk down about her in front of me.”

You pause, steadying your voice, determined to stand your ground.

“Keep her name out of your mouth. She’s achieved so much, and she deserves respect, not baseless criticism. You’re not going to get on my live and talk bad about my girlfriend, that’s for sure. I’m blocking you, bruh. Get out of here with that. If you don't have anything nice to say, shut your mouth. Let’s keep the vibes positive.”

Blocking the user brings a wave of satisfaction and relief. You continue engaging with your followers, but a part of you is still buzzing from the need to defend Juju.

“Alrighty, y’all, I’ll have to cut the Q&A short. We have to get on the plane now. Peace!”

Meanwhile, Juju’s phone buzzes with notifications. Her teammates have sent her clips from your live stream that fans had recorded and posted on TikTok. Watching, she feels a swell of pride.

Feeling touched and a bit playful, Juju opens Twitter to share a thought:

“My girl 🫡 #Proud #NotMid”

Shortly after her tweet, your phone vibrates with a text from Juju.

“Saw your live. Thanks for having my back. You’re amazing.”

A smile spreads across your face.

“About to take off. Love you.”

“I love you too, babe. Call me when you land.”

[starlordsandrockets]

One Bad Party

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Reader: 18+

word count: 6k

summary: After being broken up with at a house party, you return back to the compound at 3am to find Peter waiting for you.

a/n: Heyyy sorry I've been playing Baldur's Gate to escape my writers block. But here you go, feedback is appreciated bc I feel like this fic fell flat a bit??? Idk lol

There was only one question that kept crossing Peter’s mind whenever he saw you sneaking out of the compound to see your boyfriend: Were you sleeping with the guy?

Peter had no right to be this jealous. It was not like he had a chance with you. Peter tried, but he could barely hold a conversation with you without withdrawing into himself. He became a stuttering mess and before long he would find himself retiring, far too embarrassed to stay in the same room as you.

Peter looked up from his textbook. He was sitting in his dim room, studying at his desk. Or at least, he was attempting to study. The only thing running through his mind was the outfit you were wearing as you left the compound. 

Your bare leg flashed past your large black coat as you brushed off a comment from Tony. A black satin slip could be made out, hugging your curves as you wrapped the coat’s fabric around you, wishing to hide yourself from Tony’s judging gaze.

The thought of you was pushed out of Peter’s brain as he pushed out his chair, rising to his feet. He needed to clear his head for a bit.

Peter found himself staring into the kitchen’s large fridge, eyes scanning his options without a single processing thought. He wondered if you were coming home tonight. Not that it mattered, it was not like there was anyone special to come home to. Reaching out, Peter grabbed a cold, glass bottle. Studying the label he shrugged before opening the beer. The cold glass pressed against his warm skin as he took a sip.

The alcohol could never affect his senses, unless he were to make sure of it, but he still liked the taste of beer. He winced after his next sip, second guessing himself. Glancing at the time, it was almost three in the morning and Peter found himself praying for your arrival to the compound. Clearly, he needed some air to push his clouded thoughts of you out of his head. Right?

“Friday,” Peter spoke quietly with his drink in hand. 

“Yes Peter?”

“I’m going outside,” He informed the system.

“Of course, Peter. It is currently 40 degrees. I would recommend a jacket,”

“Thanks,” Peter smiled, hand finding a hoodie that he managed to leave in the lounge last night. How Tony had not thrown it on the ground in front of his bedroom door already was a surprise. 

Opening the door, the cold air hit him, making him shiver slightly.

Peter remembered what you had on when you left, and he only hoped you were inside somewhere nice and warm. Placing his bottle down on the tiny porch’s only step, he took an awkward seat on the cold stone. He rubbed his hands together, now wishing he had made a warm cup of coffee instead. Placing the bottle against his lips, he tilted his head back. He studied the stars as he took a few large sips of beer.

“What are you Tony’s guard dog?” Your voice rang through his ears, taking him off guard. You watched him begin to choke slightly, “‘Cause you’re shit at it,”

“N-No,” His single word was separated by a heavy cough, “I couldn’t sleep,” Peter knew half a beer was not affecting him, but somehow he was feeling a little confident, “and I noticed you weren’t back yet so-”

“So you’re up playing parent?” You studied where he was spread on the step, blocking your way to the door. Sure, you could go around him, but you already stumbled your way up the compound’s extremely long driveway.

“No- I just- it’s so cold and I was remembering what you were wearing when you left and I-” Peter rambled below you.

“Please give me a break. I heard enough from Tony before I left and I sure as hell don’t want to hear it again, especially from you,” You shot back. Your words were almost flowing like vomit, slurring and sloshing out of your quivering lips.

“No- No I- Y/N,” Peter shook his head. Moving his hands, he attempted to stand up, however his arm knocked against his bottle. The glass fell against the stone, shattering almost instantly. Staring at it, he almost laughed at how it reflected the conversation that hung in the frigid air.

“You’re in my way and I’m cold, so please,” Your gaze fell to your pointy heels as you wrapped your coat’s fabric around you tightly. Closing your eyes you did not want to see Peter stumbling before you in response to your hurtful tone. However, you also did not want him to see the tears that were forming in your eyes, “goodnight,” You muttered, pushing the heavy door open. 

“Y/N,” Peter called after you. He watched as you attempted to outrun him, however your imbalance twisted your ankles in your heels, “Hey-” He called out, reaching out, he steadied you as you began to crumble.

Inhaling, your stuffy nose played audibly, directing Peter’s gaze, “No,” You spoke defensively, “No- I’m not- it’s not. Peter,”

“What did he do?” Peter studied your face, “Your makeup- Before you left, you did that little thing you started doing,” He motioned to your eyes, “the little flick. And now it’s gone and your mascara is smudged under there-”

“Peter…” You stared back at him, confused as to why Peter would pay so much attention to you, if any at that. He was Spider-Man and you were Tony’s assistant who just got to live here because it was more convenient for the billionaire.

“No, because did he do something?” Peter questioned. His voice cracked slightly, making him clear his throat.

“Why do you care?” You questioned back, not sure where the question came from. Well, you knew because that is exactly what you were thinking. But, you were unsure as to why you were so blunt. Maybe you were still a little buzzed.

Peter’s hold on you loosened as the question passed through your lips. He could not confess to you, not now. He had thought of so many ways to tell you how he felt, and this was not one of them. 

He studied your appearance. Your makeup was a ghost of the painted picture it was hours before, and your posture was folded in on itself, as if you wished the dark compound to swallow you and allow you to hide away, “Because I knew he’d do something,”

“Y-You,” You stuttered, “don’t even know his name,” Peter’s brown gaze was serious, and it was a look you had never seen him wear. You were never around for important missions, just to make small talk to him at the coffee maker or Tony’s stupid little lounge parties.

“Don’t have to,” Peter spoke, “if he treated you any better I feel like you would’ve mentioned him to someone. To Nat when you guys share your coffee in the morning or Mr. Stark would bring him up during his parties to embarrass you… or to annoy me,”

You did not address his last claim. You just wanted to go to your room and cry, “I’m just… I’m a private person,” You shrugged, not meeting Peter’s gaze any longer. You heard him laugh slightly, a short exhale passing through his lips, “what?”

“I just- My body doesn’t let me get drunk so you wouldn’t believe how much I know about everyone from Mr. Stark’s dumb parties,” He watched as you met his eyes once again, “Y-You,” He paused, your gaze stirring up butterflies, “You say a lot when you’re drunk,”

“Like what?” You pried, watching Peter smile slightly.

“That’s how I found out,” Peter spoke, “Mr. Stark-” He paused, remembering the night Tony had tried so hard to get the two of you together after finding out Peter’s crush on you, “he suggested spin the bottle,” He heard you scoff, “Yeah well, that’s when you refused to play because you ‘met a guy’ and it was ‘kind of serious’,”

“So,” You spoke, “We were,” The word slipped as your gaze froze.

“...Were?” Peter questioned.

“Peter,” You shook your head.

“What do you mean?” Peter pushed.

“Peter, I’m tired,”

“Did he break up with you?”

“It’s like 3am and I want to get this fucking dress and heels off,” You spoke over him, watching him freeze in front of you.

He could help you with that, “Sorry,” Peter spoke, “You don’t have to tell me,” Peter wanted to slip that dress off of you.

“It’s not,” You sighed, feeling guilty as if you kicked a puppy, “It’s not like we talk. You know? When’s the last time we had a conversation like this?” You watched as Peter’s posture straightened in front of you, but in reality it felt like he was about to crumble from your piercing words.

“Right…” Peter spoke, knowing when to take a hint. “Sorry,” He stepped aside, allowing you to claw at the straps of your heels. It felt as if he was letting you slip right through his fingers. Sure, he did not want to be a rebound but at this point, he did not want you to think he had no intention of ever speaking to you, “It’s not that I haven’t tried,”

“What?” You questioned, planting a bare foot on the ground. The heel hung loosely in your grasp as you stared back at him.

“I try to talk to you- A lot actually… but,” Peter specified, “I’m just not great at it- I mean, I’m not even good at it,”

You paused, as awkward silence fell after Peter’s words, “Okay,” You smiled slightly, “Well, maybe we can talk in the morning? Over breakfast? If I’m not hungover,”

“Right,” Peter smiled in defeat, “Sure,” He watched as you pressed your lips in an awkward smile, the lipstick that was once there was now faded. You slipped the other shoe off your foot before turning towards the hallway. You made your way a few steps down the hall to the elevator doors, leaving Peter to stare right at you from where you left him, “It’s because I like you,” He spoke, surely low enough.

The elevator dinged but you did not walk inside it, not yet. You were at a standstill, your brain processing Peter’s quiet confession. Staring into the bright elevator, you watched as the doors began to slowly close. How could Peter like you when you found out your boyfriend had been cheating on you? Why would anyone like you?

“You’re-” You mumbled, “You’re fucking with me,” Turning, you dared to meet Peter’s far off gaze, “Stop fucking with me,”

“W-What?” Peter stuttered, watching you walk closer to him.

“You’re Spider-Man,” You informed, watching his head tilt slightly out of confusion.

“...Yeah? Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?” Peter questioned, his eyes trailed all over your body, forgetting that you could see his every move.

“Why would you…” You wrapped your coat around you in response to Peter’s gaze, “I’m just Tony’s assistant,” You stopped in your tracks, not able to get any closer to Peter.

“Why would I?-” His question fell short as he realized you had heard his quiet confession, “Oh,” Peter watched you nod shyly, “Don’t… don’t you want to get out of your clothes?”

“What?” You questioned, feeling your face heat up out of embarrassment.

“No- No! God, I just-” Peter stammered, “You said you wanted to change- I thought you could do that and maybe like, take off your makeup and then we could talk. Or, or we could do that in the morning- if you’re not hungover,” He repeated your earlier claim.

“Yeah… yeah,” You spoke, “I’ll go- I’ll go change,” You nodded, lips pressed together, “but, could you help me? These heels killed my feet,”

“Yeah,” Peter spoke, “Yeah, of course,” He was hesitant, hands reaching out. Peter hand touched you before, when he caught steadied you moments before, but now it felt different. Now you know, “Here,” Peter took in a quick breath before he slipped your large coat off of your skin. You almost looked nude, the dress under your coat was small compared to the coat’s large exterior. He folded the fabric before he tucked it under his arm, “and I can carry those,” He reached out towards your shoes that hung off of your curled finger.

“Thanks,” You smiled to yourself. However, your smile soon faded to a blank expression as you felt Peter’s fingertips on the small of your back. His hand soon flattened and you swore you could feel his sweaty palm through your thin dress.

***

The two of you silently made your way through an awkward elevator ride and stumbled your way to your room. Peter opened the door, watching you slip past him and into the dark room. You let out a loud sigh of relief after Peter shut the door behind him, “What?” He almost laughed.

“Feels good to be home,” You replied, “That party was a fucking nightmare,” You smiled, your lips quivered as you felt tears threaten to spill, “I didn’t want to go. I shouldn’t have,”

“Y/N,” Peter said, approaching you, he gathered a handful of your dress’s fabric, “Remember what I said,” The tone of his voice drew your attention. You never heard that slightly dominant tone pass through his lips before, “We can talk after. Okay?”

“Mhm,” You hummed, lips pressed nervously, “Right,” He began to hike up the fabric, the cool fabric tickling your thighs, “Peter,”

He had started helping you without a second thought. Peter was completely lost in you, functioning on autopilot. Your words brought him back to reality, “Sorry- I,” He turned, facing the wall, “I’m sorry- I forgot I was done helping. I got you here,”

You slipped the dress over your hips and past your chest, “Yeah,” You broke the silence, “but,” That word made Peter turn his head in time to check a glance of your exposed skin. The dress’s fabric covered your face as you slowly slipped it over your head. 

Could you see him staring? Peter took in the sight of your underwear and push-up bra for another second before turning his head back to the wall. His face must have been red. He felt his cheeks begin to grow warm. Peter also felt something else begin to grow and he hoped it was not noticeable.

“Could you help me?” You continued, now slipping a long, black night shirt over your skin. You wished you had anything else to wear to bed, anything sexier than an oversized shirt.

“Help with what?” Peter questioned, back still facing you. He watched as your room lit up a bit brighter from switching on the bathroom light.

“My makeup,” You almost groaned, “I’m too tireddd,” You placed your arms on the counter’s cool surface. Looking at your reflection you were reminded of the night you just had. Your mascara pooled under your lash line but you were still surprised Peter had noticed, “Peter,” You called out, hands covering your face, smudging your makeup even further.

Peter entered your small bathroom, taking in the space he had never seen before, “What’s up?” He watched as you blindly dug through one of your drawers. A pack of makeup wipes appeared in front of him as you leaned further onto the counter, a tired groan vibrating past your lips, “Okaaay,” Peter laughed, “Come’re then,” He took the pack, setting it down before he reached out. Turning you around, you faced him now. Your eyes were still closed from when you were rubbing your tired eyes, “Just one?”

“Mhm,” You nodded, finally opening your eyes. That is when you realized how close Peter was. You studied his hands as he peeled open the makeup wipes. His fingers were long and slender, making something in you stir. You focused on his fingers moving around the cloth in his large hands.

“Hey,” Peter spoke, taking hold of your face with his free hand, “I have to see your face to take the makeup off,” He laughed. The smile quickly faded as he studied your face in his hold, a look of embarrassment flooded his face. Peter realized not only how close he was to you, but was reminded just how pretty you were. Nervousness traveled up his spine, making him shiver slightly, “Right,” He spoke, clearing his throat as you stared back up at him.

His touch was gentle as he replaced his hand with the makeup wipe, making you jump, “cold,” you muttered, nervous at Peter’s closeness.

“Sorry,” Peter replied, rubbing the makeup off of your skin.

“Don’t look too close,” You laughed, “I’m not that pretty up close,” You chose your words wisely, not wanting Peter to think you were baiting for a compliment.

But that was exactly what was running through Peter’s head. Peter was trying to find the right words to say so he did not seem like he was as obsessed with you as he was, “I think you’re pretty,” Was all he managed to admit, watching your gaze snap right to his loving brown gaze, “I mean… I can move-  if you think I’m too close,”

“You think I’m pretty?” You mentally kicked yourself as the cliche question slipped past your lips.

“Yeah,” Peter nodded. Pretty was an understatement, “You’re probably the prettiest girl I know,” He tested the water.

“Nat and Wanda live here,” You spoke, “So I think you’re lying,”

“Nah,” Peter focused on your eyes, “Close your eyes,” He instructed, watching you do as you were told. He felt as if he should use this to his advantage, that way you could not affect him with your gaze, “I thought that since the day you got here. Plus, Nat and Wanda kind of scare me,” He watched you smile slightly.

“I don’t scare you?” You questioned, feeling his breath on your skin, making your lips press closed.

“A little, but in a good way,” He admitted.

“Yeah?” You laughed to yourself, eyes still closed, “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Peter did not answer, he was far too embarrassed and lost in the thought of you. The ‘good way’ was that it turned him on, “There,” He finally spoke as he studied your cleaned face.

“You didn’t answer my question,” You spoke, however your words fell short as Peter dragged the makeup wipe across your mouth.

“Sorry- Missed a spot,” He teased, watching you stick out your tongue at the bitter taste of the wipe.

You made your way to the sink, washing your face with cold water. Peter stood silently behind you, studying you through the mirror. Or you assumed so, not daring to meet his brown gaze.

“Sooooooo… you want to talk about it now?” He finally questioned as you dried your face off on a soft towel.

“About the party?” You questioned, hanging up the towel, “Or… about what you said? Earlier,”

Peter’s head fell, studying his fingers that intertwined, absentmindedly, “W-Whatever… whichever you want to first,”

Walking out of the small bathroom, you placed a finger on its light switch. You stared at Peter, waiting for him to follow you, “Yeah… whichever,” However, Peter did not budge, “That party…” You started, “that paaarty was… the worst night of my life,” You laughed before switching off the light. Walking over to your bed, you fell back onto it. However, you regretted it, feeling the alcohol move around in your stomach as your head spun, “...fuck. I’m so fucking stupid,”

“You’re not,” Peter interrupted.

Raising your head, you stared at him for a moment before your gaze returned to the ceiling, “I knew he was talking to someone else. I mean, I suspected it. Turning the phone away when I was too close. Locking it as soon as I entered the room. The lying… I could tell by the mannerisms, by his facial tics,” You groaned, “But you know… ‘he was different’... I was just into him because he barely gave me the time of day unless we were fucking,”

Those words clicked in Peter’s head. 

You were fucking that guy.

“The one time I mentioned him to Tony and he read him like a book and I just… God, I just didn’t want Tony to be right,” You somewhat laughed, “Because I hate it when he’s right,”

“You deserve so much better than that guy,” Peter spoke.

“What? I should be glad he fucking cheated on me? Glad that I showed up to the party, only to find him grinding on her ass and she was wearing the same fucking thing I was wearing?”

“Y/N,”

“What?” You heard the pity in his voice, “I don’t need you to feel bad for me-”

“I’m not- I just can’t believe anyone would do that to you. It pisses me off because if I ever had a chance with you I would never take advantage of it,” Peter admitted, “You’re way out of my league- and I bet you were for him too- and god if I ever fucked up like him I think I’d be the biggest idiot,” You stared back at him, a small smile sat on your lips, “...What?”

“You… actually do like me?” You questioned.

“Well… yeah,” Peter replied, red-faced, “I’m- I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out yet. I feel like I’m so obvious. Literally everyone here knows it,”

“I had no clue,” You almost laughed.

“Really?”

You both felt the mood shift, as Peter sat at the end of your bed, “Yeah… I don’t know. We hardly talked and when we do you always end up leaving… you know,” You rambled, staring at the ceiling, “I always thought I scared you or something, you know, because I just… don’t know how to talk to people really. Everyone I meet always goes off to tell someone they think I’m stuck up- Or if I don’t talk I’m a bitch,”

“I like hearing you talk,” Peter spoke, absentmindedly. Your eyes fell on him as he looked down at you, “You- You’re… interesting and really cool,”

“Y-Yeah?” You laughed somewhat at his awkwardness, “Well… thanks. You too- I mean, you’re cool…too,”

“I-I’m… not cool, like at all,” Peter looked surprised, “I’m super awkward and I like the dumbest stuff,”

“It's not dumb,” You picked up your head, “You’ll convince me to finish Star Wars one day,” You watched a grin curl his lips, “Really. I like it when you talk about stuff you like. I really like it,” You watched Peter’s hand move towards your face. His fingers brushed back some hair that sat out of place, “...My ex- Well he was always too cool to like anything. You know- one of those guys. He was too cool for everything…”

“How about we don’t talk about him anymore” Peter spoke. He stared at you, wanting to touch you. So he tested the water, running his fingers through your hair.

“Mhm,” You hummed in response, eyes closing with each pet of your head. Your eyes felt heavy as your body reminded you that it was probably around four in the morning.

“Do you want me to leave?” Peter questioned, catching a glimpse of your closing eyes, “so you can sleep,”

“No,” You admitted, “I want you to stay and keep touching my hair,” You heard Peter laugh from above you.

“Fine, but I need you to get on the bed more,” He stood up, waiting for you to position yourself on the bed from where you happened to just flop over.

You slowly got adjusted under the covers as you watched Peter walk towards your bathroom, “Is it okay if I use your bathroom?”

“Mhm,” You hummed again as you waited for him to return. You heard the light switch off as you felt your heart begin to beat faster at the idea of Peter sharing a bed with you, “You don’t mind staying, right? Is it weird?”

“No… I mean- do you think it’s weird?” He questioned, standing at the side of your bed.

“No,”

“Yeah… it’s fine then,” Peter almost held his breath as he entered your covers. He could hear your heart racing next to him, however it was almost overpowered with the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears.

Peter laid on his back as he felt you shifting by his side. He did not dare look your way, eyes fixated on the ceiling of your room as his eyes adjusted to the dark room.

“Goodnight,” You whispered from your spot next to him, feeling Peter’s body jump slightly from your quiet voice breaking the heavy silence, “sorry,”

“N-Night,” Peter replied, hearing you laugh to yourself from behind the sheets.

***

You stirred, as light from the room’s large windows broke your slumber. Your head was pounding as you tried to recall last night. That is when you remembered that the arm that was wrapped around you was Peter’s and not your ex’s.

Peter’s arm laid across your hip as you laid on your side, eyes staring at the wall, attempting to process what exactly unfolded last night.

You were not drunk. You remember every moment, but every moment felt like a dream.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to face Peter’s sleeping face.

Your gaze traveled across his soft skin, eyes bouncing from freckle to freckle. His lashes fluttered, looking as if he was still experiencing a dream.

Reaching out, you rested your hand on his side. You felt Peter pull you closer to him while he slept, “P-Pete,” You whispered, afraid of your morning breath.

“mmm,” Peter groaned as you shook him slightly, by his waist. You watched as he eventually stirred awake, “H..hey,” He spoke quietly, eyes barely open, “How’d you sleep?”

“Not as good as you,” You joked, as his hold on you tightened. Peter still drifted in and out of his sleeping state, “Since… you know. You’re all cuddled up next to me,”

“Hm?” He questioned, eyes finally opening, “Oh- Sorry,”

“It’s- It’s fine,” Your hand took hold of his shirt before he could attempt to move away from you. You stared at his face, his brown gaze refusing to meet your eyes. Every thought that bounced around your head told you to kiss him, hell, every cell in your body was inching towards him; grasp on the fabric pulling your bodies closer.

For a moment your gaze fell to his lips before your lashes fluttered shut, lips pressing against Peter’s for a forceful kiss.

Taken aback, Peter’s eyes widened before they squeezed shut as he attempted to hold back the lust that began to flood through him, “Hey- he- hmm,” Peter hummed against your lips as your kiss smothered any word that attempted to leave. He kissed you back, hands traveling underneath the hem of your shirt’s large fabric.

His sweaty palms traced your curves, studying you even behind closed eyes. Peter felt himself begin to be swept away, worried he would not be able to resurface. Pushing you away by your hip, he attempted to pull out from your hungry kiss, “Hey… Y/N,” Peter watched as your mood shifted almost instantly, looking as if your heart had shattered all over again from the night before, “No- no, it’s just- Y/N I won’t be able to stop,” Peter attempted to explain, “Y/N, I want you… I think about it more than I’d like to admit and it always ends up with me not being able to help myself…”

“I want you… Peter,” You thought for a moment, “I need you,”

“I don’t want to hurt you like he did… or worse,” Peter thought about his strength.

“You won’t. I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” You sat up, watching Peter roll onto his back. Picking up a leg, you swung it over his own, straddling his waist. You were never this forward, but you were always this desperate.

You always had feelings for Peter, you just never thought someone like him would reciprocate.

With that thought, you felt Peter’s hands grasp the plush skin of your thighs, “You- You’re sure?”

“Please,” You breathed out before Peter flipped you on the bed, pushing your face into one of the bed’s plush pillows. You felt as he hiked up the fabric of your shirt, exposing your panties to him. His dominant palm rubbed circles on the side of your ass before you heard him take a deep breath.

This time, it was time for you to take in a breath as Peter began to pull the fabric of your panties down.

You would be lying if you said you were not self continuous about Peter seeing your body for the first time in such an intimate way. The entirety of your last relationship had you on edge, hoping you were good enough.

Suddenly, the bunching fabric halted, making your breath stop as well, “Relax,” You heard Peter speak. Bending over your back, Peter planted a kiss on your ear, making you shutter.

“I- I just… he really messed me up I think,” You laughed to yourself, “so. So I don’t think you could ever hurt me more than him,” As the claim left your lips, Peter flipped you back onto your back, “Pete-” You heard the tearing of fabric as Peter, literally, ripped your panties off your legs.

He shifted down on your bed, ignoring your claims to the torn fabric. Peter’s heart was beating out of his chest as he grew closer to what was hidden behind the silky fabric. Placing his hands on your knees, he spread your locked legs, “Hey,” He watched as you locked eyes with him and that is when he felt a switch flip in him, “I don’t want to hear you talk about him anymore,” Your wide eyes stared back at him, “Okay?”

You nodded.

“I want to hear you say it,”

“Okay…” You mustered the courage.

“Okay? Okay what?” Peter’s fingers trailed along your skin. Closer and closer to your wet folds. His touch circled you almost teasingly.

“I won’t talk about him anymore,” You answered.

“Good,” Peter almost smiled, but there was a newfound cockiness behind his words. His thumb brushed against your clit, “Why shouldn’t you?”

“What?” You almost whimpered, wanting the teasing to end.

“Why shouldn’t you talk about him anymore?” 

“I… I don’t know,” You spoke with frustration. However, Peter’s gaze made you think about giving a better answer, “Because… because I deserve better?”

“Is that a question?”

“No…” You whined as Peter gently thumbed your clit, however it was not enough, “Peter please,”

“Fine,” Peter smiled at your desperation. Lowering himself, he placed your legs over his shoulders. He took in the sight before him, fingers running through your wet folds, “You’re so wet... You like it when I tease you or something?”

“...No- it makes me mad,” You spoke, unfiltered, not wanting to focus on the fact that Peter was seeing your flaws so up close.

“I don’t know, I think you like it,” He spoke, inserting his index finger into you, watching you wither in front of him, “So pretty,” Peter spoke under his breath. He listened as you attempted to hold back a few quiet moans, “You sound so pretty… wanna hear you,” Curling his fingers, he hit you at a different angle, making your eyes roll, head rolling back into your pillow, “Yeah?” He almost laughed, “Right there?”

You nodded, knowing if you parted your lips, you would not be able to shut up. However, Peter had other plans, his fingers moving in and out of you even faster. “FFffuckk,” You moaned, eyes screwed shut, “Pete-” His name was cut short, interrupted by a louder moan as Peter’s lips found your clit. He gave it a wet kiss before his tongue explored you.

Your ex never did this, and if he ever did, the foreplay lasted only long enough to make sure you were wet for him. Mentally, you kicked yourself, finding your brain occupied by your ex even though Peter just told you to not talk about him, “Are you thinking about him?” You heard Peter ask like clockwork.

“W-What?” You stuttered, opening your eyes. Looking down, you meet Peter’s dominant gaze.

“You stopped moaning,” Peter spoke, “Your eyebrows are all… furrowed- and not in a sexy way,” He added an extra finger into you, hearing you moan at the action, “I can stop- If you’re not over him I’d rather stop than you think about him the whole time,”

“No- No… Sorry,” You breathed out, “I- I know you told me not to talk about him but- I… I was just thinking about how he never… he never did this,” You rambled as Peter’s fingers still pumped in and out of you slowly, “fffuck- and- and I just-”

“Guess I’ll have to make up for lost time,” Peter somewhat joked before his lips returned to your clit. He placed a wet kiss between your legs before he continued to pleasure you.

“Please,” You breathed out, almost relieved. You were relieved that you no longer had to beg for anything you deserved, because Peter was ready to give it to you instantly.

A shaking moan passed through your lips as Peter inserted a finger into you. He was slow at first, taking in your small, breathless moans; however he found his hunger for you growing.

He continued to work you with his mouth and finger, before inserting another digit. Pulling away from your heated skin, Peter spoke, “I wanna hear you say my name,” He breathed out.

“W-What?” You stuttered through your waves of pleasure.

“Wanna hear you say my name,” Peter repeated, “And I never want to hear you say his again,”

“Mm,” You groaned at his dominance.

“What was that?” Peter questioned, slowing his fingers that pumped in and out of you. It pained him to do so, he wanted to please you desperately, but he also wanted to prove his point.

“Yes,” You breathed out, “...please,”

“Please?” Peter questioned.

“Pleaseee,” You drew out, mustering the courage to speak his name in such an intimate setting, “Peter,”

“Good,” Peter’s lips curled into a subtle, cocky smile. His fingers found their previous pace before pumping even faster.

“Ff-fuck,” You moaned. You heard Peter hum in response, as if he was questioning you, “Peter,” You repeated his name. With that his smiling lips return to your clit, his tongue only increasing your pleasure, “I- I’m so close,”

“Need you to cum for me,” Peter spoke quickly before returning between your legs. He found a rhythm that made you a stuttering mess, and stuck with it.

“I’m- I’m going to cum,” You moaned, hand falling between your legs. Your fingers tangled in his soft, brown locks. Your hips jutted, meeting his tongue halfway with each thrust. You felt as if you were losing your mind, not sure when the last time you experienced this much pleasure was, “Fuck Peter- I’m-” Your words fell short as you came. Your eyes screwed shut as Peter continued to taste you. Waves of pleasure jutted through you, making your body twitch with each stroke from Peter’s tongue, “f-f fuck- too… too much,” You breathed out, hands trying to push Peter’s face away from you.

“Sorry,” Peter spoke, crawling up your body. He fell to his side, laying next to you on the bed, “How was that?” He watched your chest rise and fall as you attempted to catch your breath.

Small laughter fell from your parted lips as you realized just how long it was taking you to recover from the pleasure, “I… I haven’t felt like that in… well, in a long time,”

“And that’s a good thing? It was good?” Peter questioned, hoping that his attempt would make you forget all about your ex.

“No- Yeah,” You breathed, “I haven’t cum that hard in awhile,” You added, “Just… just give me a minute and we can keep going,”

“Keep going?” Peter questioned.

“Yeah. I mean, you’re probably really hard,” You spoke, “or… I hope you are,”

“Yeah,” Peter laughed, “I am. But we can stop,”

“Why?” Your head turned towards him from where you stared at the ceiling, “Do you not want me anymore?”

“What? No- I mean. I want you,” Peter spoke, “I really want you- but I. I want to take things slow… with you,” He studied your worried expression, “If that’s okay,”

“Oh… yeah,” You nodded, “I just. I thought you’d want me to return the favor,”

“Another time,” Peter spoke, “I’ll be waiting- but no rush,” He watched you laugh to yourself.

Peter was the kindest person you have met in a long time and it made you wonder why you even settled for anyone else.

“Fine,” You agreed, “but I thought you ‘wouldn’t be able to stop yourself’,” You almost teased, watching Peter roll onto his back next to you.

“Yeah, yeah,” He laughed.

“Yeah… so forgive me if I thought something was wrong,” You spoke sarcastically.

“I just- I didn’t want to do whatever he did,” Peter spoke, “Because I like you and I don’t just want to fuck you,” Peter spoke, “I just want you to understand that. And I want you to have time to get over him,”

“Thanks,” You spoke quietly, “...You wanna go make breakfast?”

[chvnnie]

a/n: no smut! just some angst w a somewhat happy ending! idk it just came to me! bye!

The water droplets that cling to your back stick you to the bathroom door. Hair too damp, the water spilling down your nude body and dripping to the floor. Plop, plop, plop as if the liquid has a heartbeat of its own. Eyes shut, you focus on the soft sound to slow your breathing. Maybe, just maybe, if you try hard enough, you can evaporate with the water.

Anything would be better than this.

There’s a dull knock on the other side of the door. His head lulling back against the wood, level with yours. The sound of his breathing is too loud, drowning out your treasured drops of water.

“Are you ready to talk to me?”

Your eyes open, red and stinging from the shampoo you lathered in just moments ago. Purposely not rinsing properly, you let it roll down your face. Seep into your eyes. It was nice, a distraction from the feeling of your heart being ripped from your rib cage.

It beats on the other side of the door.

He sighs, and there’s another thud. As if he’s turned, forehead now pressed against the wood. “Baby, just say something.”

The taste on your tongue. Mouthwash burns it, yet that name overpowers its strength. Baby. It makes your stomach churn. Your lip trembles, nose wobbling along with it. If tears fall, it’s the shampoo.

It’s been days since you haven’t fought. Everything. Everything requires a war, the fight not stopping until you’re both broken and bloodied. Voices raw, achy. Heads throbbing. There’s been little reprieve.

Tonight was the night your white flag was raised. When he came home late, tie loosened and curls threaded as if fingers danced through them. He greeted you with a kiss to your cheek before dropping his stuff on the unused kitchen table. It took you a moment, too consumed in washing the dishes, for you to notice.

“It’s after eight.” You say, turning off the water.

“Yeah. Yeah, I got caught up in something.”

“For like, three and a half hours?” It’s impossible to stop the chuckle of disbelief. “It isn’t even your busy season.”

You know him better than yourself. Like the back of your hand, everything about him etched into your brain. Your entire soul, flesh, blood. Without even looking, you know he’s chewing his cheek, unfastening his cuff links. “Can we not do this tonight, please?”

“Not a text, not a call—“

“I’m so tired.”

“So am I.” Your words catch in your throat, sobs on the precipice. The last bit of energy you have is used to stomp them down. “You could have at least told me—“

“What do you think I was doing?” What is heavier in his tone — the pain or the frustration? “Do you think I was cheating? Off fucking someone else?”

It almost shames you, the fact that it did cross your mind. There are no other signs that point to that, nothing to really give you reason to think that. It’s the build up — the weeks of back and forth, never finding a middle ground unless he’s buried inside you. You’re so fucking exhausted. It would almost be easier to think there was another woman than to admit what it actually is.

Even thinking it feels like swallowing glass.

“You do.” He scoffs, throwing his tie on the table. “You really do.”

“Chan—“

“I fucking love you.” His voice is strained, tears like a waterfall. “Don’t you get that?”

“I don’t!” You snap back, forcefully removing the rubber cleaning gloves. The fall in the sink with a splash. “Do you really think fighting every night is love? This push and this pull, I’m so fucking sick of it.” You turn to the staircase, anxiety building in your chest so quickly. You need to get out of here, to get away from all of this.

As your foot hits the first step, the glass shatters. Your ribs cracked open, raw and exposed.

“I want a divorce.”

How can he expect you to talk to him after he says something like that? You replay the moment in your mind over and over again, the words louder each goddamned time. With a shaky breath, your hands cover your face. Nails in your scalp. Numb.

Chan is sniffling. What you don’t see on the other side of the door is the waves of regret. Salty and bitter, twisting around his ankles to pull him deep. Those four fucking words. They made you still, body immediately tense. The mere seconds you stood there felt like eons. Right when his hand reached out, ready to take it all back, you climb up. All too quick.

Why did he say something he didn’t really mean? For you, he would bring the moon to earth. Hang the stars above your bed. Crawl into the depths of the earth and break it down from the inside, watching it collapse with you. He’s tried, many times, to describe his love for you and nothing can come close. It’s bigger than him.

Bigger than this.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, choking softly on his tears. “I don’t know why I said it. I just—“ his inhale is shaky, like he’s unable to fully catch his breath. “—I don’t even know. Baby, please, please come out.”

Your entire soul. The start of time and the end of it. Every planet that ever was, that ever will be. No matter how hard you push, how badly you want to step away.

When the handle turns, he falls to his knees.

Shards of glass pierce your skin from head to toe, digging deeper when the agony he’s feeling hits you. It’s written across his face, etched into his gaze. Sorry. Sorry isn’t close to enough.

You tilt your head down, looking at your husband for the first time in hours. This isn’t the same man that left your house this morning; jaded, empty. This is the man you fell in love with.

“I’m sorry.” He cries, bowing down until his red cheek is flush against your foot. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“

Despite the words that have seeped into the walls around you, the foundation of your home all but quaking from the hate and anger that it’s been pelted with. Despite the fact that your heart lay, covered in glass and bled out on the floor next to him. You believe him.

If he really meant it, he would have taken his ring off.