#you can’t stop me from objectifying this man | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

samkerrworshipper · 4 months

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las 15.

mapi leon x reader, alexia putellas x reader (platonic)

warnings: the spanish federation ick

erm look at me posting something 😮 anyways enjoy haha i kinda hate it but need to feed yall somehow

“You need to be aware of the consequences of what could happen if you sign this document.”

You stared down at the mahogany surface of your lawyers desk, it was dark, sanded, smooth and shiny. Contemporary, but it also looked old, like a heirloom. It distracted your from the non stop drawl.

“I don’t care, I’m signing it.”

Your eyes travelled along the surface, lookinbg at the different waves of wood and the way that the dark colours marbled together.

“The RFEF could come for you, they could try and take your license. You might not compete at the world cup, the press will come for you, Vilda will come for you, Barca could reduce your playing time, it could be the end of your career. There are other negatives.”

You’ve thought about all of them of course, how could you not?

“I’ve already said it, I don’t care. Let them come for me, let them do whatever they want. I am done with it all. Fourteen other players have signed it, no? I will be the fifteenth and that is final.”

You weren’t a big fan of your lawyer, he was old and money oriented. He also didn’t have your best interest in mind, his sole focus was earning you as much money as possible, which had been fine up until today.

“So what? You plan to be the best in the world and never play international football again? This will ruin your career, it will put an end to the Ballon D’or campaign, it will change things for you, you can’t just do this because your girlfriend does it as well, this will be detrimental for you.”

The wood grooved at the edges, flattening out and curving so the edges weren’t too sharp.

“I refuse to stand by and submit myself to abuse. That’s what happens every time I go to that place, every time I go to camp I submit myself to abuse, torture, horrific conditions. The fact that you would even dare imply that I would do this for anybody but myself is preposterous. I am better than the condition I am being subkmitted to, I deserve better than to be objectified and treated as if I am dirt on that man’s shoe and I refuse to be treated as such. I have standards for myself and the people around me and I refuse to live by these for much longer. I’ll draft up the letter, I’ll send it to you for editing purposes and once your done you will send it to the RFEF, consequences be damned. You should be glad that I lasted two more windows then everyone else, honestly I’m ashamed that I didn’t do this earlier, but I’m ready to take a stand with everybody else now. I don’t want to play in a World Cup if it means this is how I will live my life.”

You looked up at your lawyer, hoping the fire burning in your soul was reflective in your eyes.

“This is a bad decision, you are thinking with your heart and not your head, this is unlike you.”

You pulled your eyes from the mahogany, standing up from your seat slowly.

“No, I’m thinking with my own interests, not yours, not my managers, not my bank accounts. I’m thinking with my mental health, my emotional health and my physical health. For the first time in my life I am taking time to focus on myself, so tyeah maybe it’s unlike me, but I’d like to think this might be the a better version of me, I’ll email you my letter, all you havr to do is forward it, if it’s such a struggle don’t even bother reading it, I don’t care what you have to say, I’m legally obligated to make you aware of any contractual issues so here I am. Give a fuck, don’t give a fuck, it doesn’t change anything for me, I’ve made my decision and nothing or nobody will make me change my mind.”

You didn’t wait around to hear what he planned to say in rebuttal, exiting the stuffy office as quickly as your legs would allow.

You made it to your car before you felt the tears flooding down your face. Even now, even after you’d tried to speak out you still felt like you were being silenced, like nothing had changed. That’s why you were doing what you were doing, why you knew this was what you needed to do. It didn’t make it any easier though, knowing that no matter what choices you made, even if they were for the good of you there were still going to be people around you who condemned them.

You were supposed to be at training, but you’d taken the day of to finalise all this bullshit. It was frustrating, knowing that the choices you were making for the good of yourself could end up being harmful to your career in a multitude of ways, it was all so fucking hard.

Everybody was at training, and yet here you were balling your eyes out in the carpark of your stupid fucking lawyers office.

If you hadn’t hit rock bottom at the last camp, the this was it, this was your final straw.

It was all too much, you’d been holding out for too long, but the mixture of the other 14 girls refusing to come back and Alexia’s injury had been enough of a motivation for Vilda to try and ruin your life. It had started with extra training after your sessions, then sessions in the mornings, then separating you from the rest of the team, limiting your diet, gym sessions, changing your schedules to everybody elses, punishing you for nothing, treating you like you were a slave to the Spanish Women’s team.

You were the best midfielder they had, excluding Alexia, and she was hurt, you were the scapegoat for the team, you were responsible for the wins and the reason for the losses.

You knew that with your leave, somebody else would end up taking your role, probably Aitana who was far to young to deal with that kind of pain, and you felt bad, you felt more guilty than you thought possible, but you couldnt do it for any longer, you couldn’t act like it wasn’t killing you on the inside for every second that you spent away with those people.

You hated it, you hated feeling like nothing, you hated feeling worthless, you hated living your life like it was pointless, you couldn’t do it for any longer, not when you were giving up every single part of yourself to keep yourself together.

You couldn’t stay how you were, crying in the drivers seat of your car milling over the memories of your last camp, you needed to leave, needed to go somewhere, needed to talk somebody.

Before you really knew what you were doing you’d started driving, letting the tears drip onto your lap and the steering wheel as you frantically drove your way through the city.

You couldn’t be alone, but you also couldn’t handle all the eyes of your teammates, so you drove to the one other place that you could think of where you hoped somebody would be.

You tried your hardest to wipe the tears from your face, but they kept falling, the sleeve of your shirt getting damper by the second as you tried to wipe up the evidence of your breakdown. It was useless, and eventually you gave up, stepping out of your car and ducking your head as you walked towards the lift and navigated your way through the apartment building.

The person you were looking for didn’t answer the door, instead you were put face to face with Olga.

“Hola chica, Ale didn’t tell me she was expecting visitors.”

You bit down on your lip, tapping your foot against the floor as you peeked around Olga, searching for the person you were seeking out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t tell her, I can go home, I know she’s been busy with her rehab, I don’t even know how I ended up here.”

Olga tugged at your arm before you could spit anything else out, tugging you through the door and closing it from behind you.

“Nonsense chica, you’re very welcome here, Alexia is sitting out on the balcony doing her exercises, she’ll be more than happy to have your company, just head on through, your always welcome here.”

You nodded at Olga, smiling at her as much as you could with your lip still stuck between your teeth.

“Thank you, thank you so much, I really appreciate.”

You tried to ignore the tears that were still dripping down your face, it didn’t feel like you were crying, even though you were, it more felt like you were shedding a layer of yourself, the layer that was holding all of the trauma that you’d been holding in, like it was your way of getting rid of it all.

Alexia’s apartment was meticulously clean as ever, but you spotted her out in the sun easily.

She was standing outside, in a pose similar to ones you did in your yoga sessions.

She looked at peace, like she was calm, like she was serene, the complete polar opposite to how you felt and you really didn’t want to burden her with your problems, but you were here now anyways.

You tiptoed over to the glass sliding door, pushing it open, causing Alexia’s head to peak up at you. She looks at you with curiosity, but doesn;t move, instead her head nods you towards one of the outdoor lounges beside her, which you beeline for.

She stays in her position as she addresses you.

“The appointment with your lawyer didn’t go well then?”

You did a double take as you stared at Alexia, shocked at the information she’d somehow managed to obtain.

“You don’t take me for a idiota do you? Mapi told me you had a appointment you were keeping quiet about this morning, it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out who it must have been with, considering recent events. Although your girlfriend wasn’t smart enough to work it out herself.”

Alexia stayed in her stretch, looking at you as if to prompt you to tell her more.

“Yes, I had a appointment with my lawyer, Alexia.”

Alexia smirked to herself, she was one of the most obersvanet people you knew, nothing got by her, you weren’t all that surprised to find out that this hadn’t.

“You’ll be joining the group then?”

You hadn’t really comes to terms with it, let alone saying it out loud.

“That’s the plan, should be official by tomorrow.”

Tears were still dripping down your face, you couldn’t find yourself caring though.

“Good for you. You deserve better, we all deserve better, may we all hopefully make a change.”

Alexia wasn’t officially a part of the movement, but she was everyway besides a signature as equally involved as everybody else.

“It just feels like i’m letting the team down, that I’m letting everyone down.”

Alexia nodded at you, finally coming out of her stretch and walking over to sit down next to you.

“You’re doing what’s good for you chica, your doing something that is going to make you happier, that is going to make your life better. Nobody else matters beyond that, trust me.”

Alexia looked at you, like she was genuinely struggling to help you out in the moment. She had been your mentor at Barca for forever, you seeked out her advice more than anybody elses, especially in this moment.

“I don’t know how to do it anymore, it’s like he was trying to ruin my fucking life, like his whole purpose for everyday was to make my life a living hell, and I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t walk around camp acting like it was fine, I couldn’t smile at cameras and talk to the press and tell them about how great I was feeling when it was all lies, all I wanted to do was leave, or sleep, or die, all because of his and his staff. They were hardly feeding me, hardly letting me sleep, hardly giving me a break and expecting me to perform at the same level as everybody else, if not better. I just couldn’t do it anymore Ale, it was too much.”

Alexia’s arm placed itself on your knee, squeezing your covered skin.

“You shouldn’t have to, you needed to leave and you did, you made the right decision chica, you made a impossible decision that will make your life 100 times easier, it doesn’t make you weak, it makes you so incredibly brave for being able to identify that you were being treated wrongly and that you needed to remove yourself from that space.”

The tears kept falling, your pants were slowly becoming soaked with the raw emotion.

“Mapi did it because of the abuse, because she had a legitimate reason, I’m leaving because they worked me a little bit harder than everybody else, it feels like I’m overreacting.”

You could feel Alexia rolling her eyes from beside you.

“Really? Has Mapi told you that?”

Mapi had told you that you deserved the world, you deserved everything you wanted, you deserved to be treated like a queen, not how the RFEF was treating you. She’d told you the decision was yours, that she would support you no matter what you did, but she’d also told you that after every camp you came back with a little bit less of yourself, that Vilda was stripping parts of you away to use at his mercy.

“It’s not the same thing, Patri, Pina, Mapi, they all have good reasons, they’ve all been hurt, Vilda is just trying to make me better, trying to make me worthy.”

Alexia’s hand squeezed tighter.

“You’re lying to yourself and you know it. As long as he is in charge, you aren’t going to get treated how you deserve, none of us are. We’ve all paid our dues, yet they don’t give a shit, they break us all down until we’ve got nothing left to give. They broke me down until I did my acl, if you hadn’t of left they would have done the same to you. It’s nonstop, even if it isn’t the same kind of abuse as Mapi, it’s still abuse, they still rip out every part of you in the process. Each time you come back you have less of yourself to offer, but they keep taking, and taking, they make us feel nothing. It’s a waste, it’s a waste of the wonderful life we’ve all been gifted. We deserve to be happy, we deserve to be free of the pain.”

You nodded your head, you’d been avoiding telling Mapi about all of this. You were conscious that she was still working through a lot of her own trauma, and you didn’t want to reopen scars that were only just beginning to heal.

“I don’t know what to do Ale, I sign the papers, I write the letters and I’m taking a stand, I’m trying to make a change. I stay, I wreck it all, but I keep my career. It feels like I’m at a crossroads with myself, and I can’t talk about it weith Maps because god forbid shes already been through enough with her own struggle through it all, she doesn’t need me on top of that.”

Alexia stood back up, getting back onto her mat and pushing herself into another stretch, all whilst she maintained eye contact with you.

“Mapi’s talked to you about her struggles, si? She’s burdening you with her own problems, yet it doesn’t feel that way, because you love her and you’d do anything to make her pain less. I guarantee she’d feel the exact same way. You’ve been through a lot, none of us will ever be able to completely comprehend what you’ve been through, but if you started talking to your loved ones about it we’d be able to support you better. Or a therapist, I know Barca has been giving you sessions, but I mean a real psychologist, not just a person who tells you that you need a day off. You need somebody to help you, to actually make you feel like you deserve better than how they treated you, because I know that you know that but I don’t think you really believe it.”

The tears were slowly coming to a standstill, slipping less frequently down your face as Alexia talked to you.

“I don’t want to make her hurt any more than she already has.”

Alexia just looked at you, with that double eyebrow raise and little crinkle in her forehead.

“If you think that Maria wouldn’t do anything for you, even if it meant sucking every single inch of pain from your body and putting it into hers, she would do it and she would do it with a smile on her face. Her whole world, her whole solar system revolves around you and she’d want you to talk to her about this. She knows better than anybody else what you’re experiencing, she’s literally been where you are, so why not talk to her about it?”

It was true, for as long as Mapi and you had been together she’d tried to fix every single thing, she would do anything to make you feel better, this didn’t feel the same though.

“She deserves to live in a world where Vilda, where the RFEF, don’t affect her anymore. She signed the petition, she’s cleaned her hands of it all, and I should have done it with her, but I didn’t. I chose to keep playing for the benefit of my career, because I was greedy and decided that a Ballon D’or and any kind of accolade I was a shot at was more important then taking a stand and I hate it. I hate that now that I’ve won things that suddenly it’s all hit me that I don’t like what’s been happening, and I don’t want to support it. Mapi doesn’t deserve to go through it a second time, all because I was greedy.”

Alexia switched sides on her stretch, the sun was radiating off of her olive skin and her blonde hair, she looked ethereal.

“Have you told her anything about it?”

Alexia was frowning, like she was shocked by your actions.

“She knows that I was struggling at camp, she told me I was welcome to talk to her. After the last one she knew something had changed, she told me she was worried and I shook her off, because I thought she was being overprotective, but she was right, she had reason to be worried, I wasn’t okay. I’m not okay, i don’t know how to process it all.”

Alexia nodded.

“Go home, tell her what’s happening, see what she says, I think it’ll be a lot better than whatever you’ve thought up. Mapi has been my bestfriend for years, she’s dated my sister, she’s dated my friends and I can confidently tell you that she loves you more than any of them, you’re her do or die, all she’ll want to do is support you, please just go and talk to her.”

Alexia looked at you with such conviction and honesty that you couldn’t find it in you to try and fight her on the topic.

“Thank you Ale, I needed this, I needed to talk to somebody, needed to feel less crazy.”

Alexia did one last stretch before standing up, pulling you into a tight hug before you could pull away.

“You’re not crazy chica, you’re going through a very real, very hard time, and you deserve to have the people around you show you how much they love you.”

Alexia let go of you, shoving you back towards the door.

“Go talk to your girl, and sign those papers, and be happy, enjoy life, enjoy peace. You deserve it, chica.”

You nodded into Alexia’s shoulder, letting go of her and slipping back into her apartment, leaving her to get back to her stretching.

You shivered when you spotted Mapi’s car already parked in her spot. You knew you’d be cutting it close with getting home earlier then her, but you’d held a silent hope that you would be the first home. You hesitated to exit your car, scared of what the inside of your apartment held. You weren’t scared so much, more a little bit tentative of the conversation that you were about to have, knowing that it could majorly impact your relationship. In your heart, you knew that Mapi would love you no matter what, but it didn’t calm the nerves inside of you as you pulled your keys from the ignition, pulled out the papers that your lawyer had given you and exited your car.

The whole walk from your car, to the elevator and then down the hallway to your apartment had your heart thrumming inside of your chest. Your hands were quite literally shaking as you pushed your key into the door.

You toed your shoes off at the door, slotting them down beside the door before slowly walking your way through the entrance. It wasn’t hard to find Mapi, she was right in front of you, sitting down at the island bench, patting Bagheera and eating a post training salad. You knew that there was one meant for you still sitting on the shelf of your fridge, from when the two of you had meal planned yesterday. She looked so undisturbed, with the afternoon light coming in through the gaps in the blinds and the general silence that you were about to break.

You announce yourself by slinging your bag down against the wall, a loud enough noise that seems to wake Mapi from her happy daze.

She smiles as soon as her eyes set on you and it only makes the weight in your gut feel ten times heavier and the pain in your heart ten times worse.

You wanted to turn around and walk right back out the door you’d just walked through, but you couldn’t, not with the way that Mapi looked at you, like her whole day had been made by your appearance.

“Hola bebita, how was your meeting?”

Mapi’s smiling ear to ear, quite literally, you swear you can see every single one of her teeth. It had hurt you to lie to Mapi about where you were going today, telling her that you’d had a crucial appointment with your manager about some media things, it wasn’t a direct lie. You had met with your manager, instead of it being positive though, it had been quite the opposite.

You didn’t have any words to reiterate to Mapi, so instead you just picked up the papers that were tucked away in your hands and placed them down on the island infront of her.

Mapi looked at you with confusion for a few seconds.

“Just read them, you’ll understand it more once you have.”

Mapi didn’t hesitate, picking up the first piece of paper and scanning over it, before moving onto the second, then the third and so on, till she’d made it through the entire stack.

You stood anxiously on your toes the whole time, balancing from one foot to the other as you contemplated how Mapi was going to reply to this sudden change.

When she did finish, she looked up at you, a lot of questions hidden behind her curious eyes.

“I’m resigning, or requesting they don’t call me up. I don’t want to play for a federation that doesn’t care about me. I’m sorry I didn’t do it earlier, but I wasn’t ready and I’m sorry I’m bother you with it now but I’m also sorry I didn’t tell you about it earlier, I met with my lawyer for the first time today to sign the documents and write my statement. If it all goes to plan then they should be out in the next week. I don’t want to do it anymore, I can’t do it anymore, I’m sorry.”

Mapi blinked a few times, like you’d just blindsided her completely, and you figured you had.

“I didn’t even really know it was happening until after last camp, and I just realised that I was so exhausted and so tired and so sick of it all that I couldn’t do it again. I should have done it earlier, I should have been a part of it all from the start but I was scared and I still am scared Maps. This is supposed to be my job, I’m supposed to be grateful for the opportunities I’m given and yet I feel like I’m a fraud and I’m lying when I say that because I’m not grateful and I’m not happy and I can’t do it anymore, I just can’t. I’ve been praying every night that I get injured, so that I get a break like Ale, and I don’t want to feel like that anymore.”

Mapi just stood up and pulled you into her arms, silencing the rambling and making you realise that you were now crying again.

She slowly led you towards the couch, bringing you into her arms as you tried to take control of yourself.

It felt like every piece of anguish, every piece of fear, every piece of internal hatred was slowly being pulled from your body and it felt so good, like you were somehow being healed.

Mapi wiated until you were coherent enough, until you felt more resurfaced, and less like the bloodn was rushing through your ears and every though of self-doubt was spirally through the different ridges of your brain.

“Princesa, you’ve made this decision for you, si? Not because of me, not because of anybody else, because you believe this is best for you?”

You nodded into her chest, enjoying the feeling of your own skin pressed directly to hers.

“I’m sick of them making me feel this way Maps, I don’t like it, I don’t think it’s right.”

Mapi’s body was surrounding you, her scent, her feel, her everything, and it was all you’d needed today, everything that Alexia had assured you would make you feel better.

Mapi’s salad was forgotten on the counter.

Bagheera was somewhere else.

It was just the two of you, just the two of you to face everything.

“We’re put into boxes, as women, men try to make us be everything and yet nothing. It’s not right, we’re expected to be as good as the men, but we have to behave eloquently, say our pleases and thank yous and never be ungrateful for the piss poor conditions we put up with. We’re supposed to be passionate, but we’re not allowed to over react in any way. We can only underperform, not overperform. There are no expectations for us, because we’re women and we’re supposed to be worse than the men, but they’re are also so many expectations for us to meet. It’s okay for you to be done with that, there is nothing wrong with you saying no to constantly being abused. You’re not a fraud bebita and I’m here for you no matter what. You’re my girlfriend first, a person second and a soccer player last. It doesn’t matter, none of it matters, you matter, you’re feelings and how you feel is what matters.”

Mapi’s hand pulled your head from her neck, her lips connecting with your forehead with ease.

“I’m not doing it anymore Maps. I want to be strong, I want to say no. I want to be a part of the right side of history. I don’t want to sit around pretending everything’s fine when it’s not fine. It’s nowhere near fine and until there is a change it won’t be.”

Mapi nodded, pressing a series of kisses to your forehead.

“Then we’ll work it out, you’ll keep me in the loop and we’ll figure it out together, no more hiding these big feelings from me. We’ll go and see our therapists and take soe time off and do whatever you need to feel safe and happy, because what matters is you, nobody else, si?”

You nodded your head once again, enjoying the same smile that her face was covered in. her lips migrated down to your cheeks, pressing kisses to the rosiest parts, pushing the tears away.

“I’ve got you bebita, we’ve got each other, we’re going to be fine, we all are.”

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amor-ad-nauseam · 2 months

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Somethin’ Stupid (pt. 2)

Pairing(s): Sam Winchester x reader

Summary :You two are pathetic for each other, so much so that Dean can’t help but take notice. Maybe, just maybe his “playing wingman” will work out alright…

Word count : 3.5k

Tags: Reader and Sam have a crush on each other, fluff, no use of y/n, reader uses she/her pronouns, carheartt!sam, heavy make out, kissing, fade to black, almost smut.

Notes; While this does read as a fade to black i may or may not have gotten a little carried away with myself and wrote part of the smut scene… it’s not included here but if y’all want that lmk!! I am so sorry about how late this is coming out! i’ve been very busy with back to school preparations. Notes and reposts are greatly appreciated

part 1 part 3

“Rise n’ shine, Sammy!” Dean announced, clapping Sam on the shoulder.

Sam flinches awake and like a row of dominos, the guitar that was in his lap is sent tumbling to the floor - creating a harsh cacophony of strings and wood.

The sound causes you to jolt from your slumber. You shoot up in bed in a flurry of confusion. “I’m up! I’m up! Where’s the Rugaru!?” You shout, whipping your head around the room.

“Woah, Good Morning to you too,” Dean chuckles, punctuating the sentence with an obnoxious bite of beef jerky. Sam makes a face. “Want some?” He points the jerky at Sam.

“Hey, Dean.” Sam sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He runs his hands down his face. "I’m good, thanks.”

You visibly relax as the real world comes into focus. “Morning, Boys.” You say as the adrenaline wears off. Sam was still across from you, now flashing an apologetic smile and Dean was well- Dean, but in a cowboy hat. That wasn’t too unusual for him. Dean nodded a hello.

“Eh, more for me,” Dean shrugs with another bite. “Anywho,” He bends down and retrieves the guitar from the floor, now with a newly popped high E string. He hoped the motel wouldn’t charge him extra for that. “When’d you become Springsteen?” He smirks.

Sam was in no mood.

Then, his eyes lit up.

“Hey, Dean, what’s that, uh, mark on your neck?” Sam said, a grin only capable of being mustered by the most annoying of little brothers appearing on his lips.

“What mar- “Dean slid his hand down the length of his neck, stopping about halfway in sudden realization. “Oh- “He clears his throat. Mumbling something about getting banged up pretty badly, he dismisses himself to the med kit in Sam’s bag.

“Oh, and that explains why you’re just now getting back at, uh,” Sam glances to the alarm clock. “7am? from a simple salt-n-burn?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean scoffs defensively. “Cause you see, Sammy, I was actually doing my job.”

The early morning sun filtered in through the blinds and for the first time you realized that the wood paneling on the divider and both doors were made to look like a saloon door. Damn. They went all out with this whole cowboy theme. On the bright side, the sun gave everything a warm almost fiery glow. Despite the rather cozy atmosphere of the room, Sam and Dean were still going.

Only two things in life are certain: taxes and the Winchester’s arguments.

“The job that requires you to receive hickeys from girls in bars?” Sam laughed. He was now stood by the foot of your bed, stretching the tension from his shoulders. Man, even through a t-shirt his back muscles were attractive- carved like a Greek statue.

“Okay, when you say it like that it makes me sound like a hooker.”

“Maybe you are, Mr. hard worker.”

“Don’t objectify me.” Dean rolls his eyes, feigning offense . Dean was leaned over the dresser, looking in the mirror as he tried to cover a small purple mark on his neck with a square gauze patch.

He definitely wasn’t winning this one.

As if suddenly remembering something, his head perked up and he set his sights on you.

“How’s the leg?” He asked, looking at you in the mirror. He did genuinely care about your wellbeing, but it didn’t hurt that you were also a good out.

“Hm?” You were a little distracted; you’d almost forgotten about your leg entirely.

“Oh right. It’s fine really,” you swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

When you look down you find the bandage that was once around your thigh, half undone, twisted about and just an overall mess.

“Right, fine.” Dean chuckles.

“Woah, you okay?” Sam questions.

Before you know it, Sam’s closing the distance between the two of you and the roll of gauze is sailing through the air from Dean’s palm to Sam’s.

“Damn, I thought you were better at the whole first-aid thing, Sammy.” Dean remarks, happy to flip the situation back on his brother.

“I am,” Sam takes a seat next to you. He’s warm. And close. Too close. “But someone.” Damn he smells good too. Like a brand-new book. “Wouldn’t let me.” He said with a teasing expression.

“Hey, I didn’t do too bad.” Your cheeks flush.

“Riiight.” He gently tugs at an end of the bandage, and it unravels like a loose thread in a pair of jeans. “Not too bad at all.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” You reply, your face contorting to an attempt at annoyance.

“Hey, cheer up.” Sam smiled.

You couldn’t help but smile in return.

He gently slid his hand to the underside of your knee and placed your leg over his lap just as he did the night prior.

While you were busy tossing the wrinkled bandage into a small barrel-shaped trashcan near the sofa-chair, Sam took the opportunity to let his gaze linger. He drank in every detail of your appearance, hoping to seer it to memory.

For some reason, 3 things in particular stuck out to him: You never bothered to put your hair up last night, the way squinted as the sun reflected directly into your eyes, and the fact that you were still in his Carhartt. That last one especially made his heart beat a little harder.

Your lovely chaotic hair and the sun shining on your face inspired countless fantasies. Some as simple as kissing the tiredness from your expression, others, he felt bad for even thinking.

The minute you turn around his eyes are once again glued to your leg and you’re none the wiser.

“How’m I lookin, doc?”

Dean with his shirt tucked beneath his chin was rubbing ointment on what he wasn’t quite sure if it was another hickey on his abdomen or an actual bruise. Upon hearing your question he perks up, ready to make a dumb Looney Toons reference when Sam of all people beats him to the punch.

“Ah, just peachy, Bugs.” He replied in a nasally imitation of Daffy Duck.

“Huh.” Dean mumbles with some small shock. He watches the two of you from the mirror's reflection. He knew Sam had a thing for you, but this, this was something else.

The way the two of you giggled and just almost leaned into each other with every joke- pulling away in shy stupidity each time you got too close. The lingering eye contact, how Sam’s hand looked almost reluctant to leave you, the way one of you would stare when the other wasn’t looking. The whole thing left his stomach feeling like a pot of warm honey.

Damn. You’ve both got it bad.

An idea.

“Hey guys,” He chimed in.

“Hm?” You and Sam said in unison.

“Oh, sorry no you go- “you said.

“No, it’s okay you- “

“Well, you did fix me up it’s only fair- “just then you realized that your leg was still in his lap. You quickly pull away and smile apologetically. Sam does the same.

Dean just about face palms. You two are hopeless.

“Guys.” Dean clears his throat, capturing both of your attentions once more.

“I'm gonna go out and uh, do something.” Dean said with heavy emphasis on “do something.”

“Oh, okay..?” you said with confusion

“Oh, uh, need help with that?” Sam added, eaqually as confused.

“No! no, sorry…heh… I just mean that you both should stay here while I go make a move.”

“You… feelin’ alright, Dean?” You question.

“He’s still hungover I think.” Sam leans in and mutters.

“Y’know,” Dean turns his attention straight to Sam. “Making a move is always the right thing.”

“…So, you do want my help?”

“No, damnit,” Dean sighs in defeat. “M’goin’ on a coffee run.”

“Oh… okay…” Sam replied. “In that case, make two of ‘em decaf.”

“Aw you remembered?” You say with an expression reminiscent of a teen girl with a crush.

“Yeah, I know how it makes you jittery.” Sam replied, sounding embarrassed.

Dean watches as the two of you sit there smiling like idiots.

Yeah.

Extra hopeless.

- -

The latter half of the day is spent with Dean acting strangely and you and Sam struggling to figure out why.

A couple of theories arose.

“Maybe he is hungover.” You quietly conceded after Dean stretched his legs across the diner’s booth seat when Sam tried to sit down- forcing him next to you.

“Nah, he’s mean when hungover.” Sam replied.

- -

“Maybe we did something?” You suggested when Dean pulled the same diner stunt later at the library.

“Like what?” Sam replied as he studied Deans relaxed demeanor.

“Dunno. Maybe it’s 'cause we bailed last night?”

“C’mon we didn’t “bail”, you got stabbed and we all know if one of us didn’t stay with you, you’d come crawling back to finish the fight.”

“Fair enough.” You shrugged. “Well, I’m fresh out of ideas.”

“Me too. Just can’t figure out what would make him not tell us details on a case, it’s not like him.”

- -

You also happened to notice that Sam grew increasingly grumpy as the day dragged on.

Whether that was due to Dean, or his uncomfortable sleeping situation last night was lost on you.

- -

“Maybe he got roofied?” Sam mumbled when it seemed as though Dean couldn’t walk in a straight line- continually bumping into you - shoving you straight into Sam.

“Can’t be, after that whole witch thing he’s really careful with his drinks.”

“Hm…”

- -

“Mid life crisis?” Sam proposes in a hushed voice from the huddled corner of a motel lobby.

Dean had bought two rooms instead of the usual one accompanied by “we’re livin’ offa credit card scams and prayers. Besides, we’ve all pretty much seen eachother’s junk anyway.”

“He’s 30” you replied while watching Dean flirt with the woman behind the counter.

“With this job and his liver, it’s midlife.”

- -

Finally, the night had rolled around.

“Been dazed and confused for so long it can’t be true~”

The radio humming as the Impala raced down the road.

Normally, nights like this would be relaxing. Windows rolled down, the sounds of the cold and buzzing night mixed with the same five albums Dean rotated. Empty back roads and the three of you endearingly out of tune as you sang along.

But this night was simply and plainly, dead.

The air in the car had a tension not even Page and Plant could cut through. You all silently sat in your unassigned-assigned seats: Dean driving, Sam shot gun and you in the back watching the night woosh by.

It all came to a head earlier when Dean notified you and Sam that you two were on stake-out duty. You watched as Sam’s expression visibly changed into one of suppressed nausea. Sure, stakeouts usually sucked ass but did the thought of being alone with you really drive him to the point of sickness?

You breathed a sigh, sinking further into your seat at the memory.

Sam steals a glance at you in the rear view- you looked sad. Guess you weren’t too excited at the thought of a stakeout either.

The car stops about 50 yards in the underbrush in front of a dilapidated old building in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.

The light previously provided to you by the stars was dimmer now due to the thick miles of pine trees stretching high above- looking as though they could touch the sky themselves.

“Aaand we’re here,” Dean said, switching off the ignition

“Mind telling us where “here” is exactly?” Sam quipped.

“Like I said, it’s a nest.”

“Yeah. That’s the problem. That’s about the only thing you’ve said.”

“Okay, fine- look, We’ve had a lot of duds lately and I didn’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up if it wasn’t the real deal.” Dean shrugs.

Dean was an incredibly good liar. Or as he liked to call it, thinking on his feet.

“Wow you are s- “

“Such a great older brother, I know. I’m gonna go walk the perimeter, shouldn’t take too lo-“

“Great I’ll come with!”

You watch as Sam quickly follows after Dean- not even letting his brother get the words out before he’s on his feet and out of the car like he’ll catch the plague if he’s alone with you.

Yeah. Stakeouts really sucked.

From inside the car all you could hear were Sam and Deans muffled voices, but even still, you could tell they were arguing…

“I’m not an idiot, Dean. I know what you’re doing.”

“Well I’d hope so,” Dean chuckled, holding his newly sharpened machete upward to inspect it. “Dad’d kill us if we ever even thought about going in dull and halfcocked.”

“Y’know you’re not the most subtle guy in the world.”

Sufficiently satisfied, Dean re-sheathes the blade and hooks it onto his waistband. “Dunno wacha talkin’ ‘bout, Sammy.”

“You forced me to sit next to her.”

“Leg got bruised las night, had to keep ‘er elevated.”

“Got two rooms?” Sam quirked a brow.

“So? What if i wanted to bring someone back?”

“Dude, you practically threw her into me.”

“Again, the leg. Can’t walk straight.” He shrugs, grabbing a vial of dead-man’s blood and putting it into his pocket.

“Alright, cut the bullshit. I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work. She’s not into me and i’m-“

“A dumbass.” Dean says sharply.

“E-excuse me?” Sam says, caught off guard.

“The girl is head-over-fuckin-heels for you. you must be a dumbass not to see it.” Dean points an accusing finger at him.

“I-“

“I see the way you look at her, hell, you busted out the guitar for her! ah- don’t give me that look, it was obvious. “

“Okay, fine, you got me Dean.” Sam throws his arms up in an exasperated manner. “I have feelings for her.” He pauses. This is the first time he’s said it aloud. His eyes go to his shoes. “Doesn’t mean she feels the same way.”

“Christ.” Dean slams the trunk, shoves his hands in his pockets and walks around the side of the car. Sam gives a puzzled expression. Dean jerks his head. “Watch this,” Dean says.

With the back of his hooked middle and index finger, Dean knocks on the back window of the Impala.

“Hm?” You lift your head from the book in your lap.

It’s a quick set of movements, but obvious, unthought action: your eyes first land on the source of the sound, Dean. He waves. You smile.

Then, all in the fraction of a second you look at Sam. Your smile falters. A short, flustered breath escapes your nose.

Your eyes go back to Dean, your lips curving into a poor attempt at a casual smile.

“See?” Dean says once you turn your attention back to your book.

“See what?” Sam replies, his voice growing annoyed and incredulous- having not picked up on anything out of the ordinary.

“You really make me wanna punch you sometimes.”

“Wha-, you know what, Dean, is this case even real? Cause if it’s not let’s just go back to the motel and-“

“Okay, Okay.” Dean pushes his arms in a ‘calm down’ motion. “It’s real, Columbo. Here,” He reaches behind his back, past the sides of his coat and pulls the local newspaper from the waistband of his jeans. “Happy now?”

Sam’s eyes skim the headline: Reports of “Cult like behavior” spotted near the old McCrowe house.

Below is a photograph of the dilapidated home they were parked in front of.

“Yes, but, h-“

“How do you know it’s real? Ya don’t. But i know you couldn’t take the risk; Even if you tried.”

Sam frowns, combing a hand through his hair. Dean smiles. “Go get ‘em, tiger” Dean says, patting his brother on the shoulder.

"You're an asshole."

Dean walks away with an extra bounce in his step. Sam frowns, again.

After taking a long moment, partially to regain his bearings, partially waiting till his brother disappeared around the bend, Sam pulls open the door.

“…Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

That wasn’t awkward at all.

Leaves crunch beneath your feet, and the book carried at your side rhythmically beats against your hip as you walk.

“So… figure out what’s up with Dean?”

“Oh, uhm,” He tosses the newspaper onto the dash as he slides into the front seat to cover his hesitation. “Nope. Not a clue.”

“Eh, I just hope he sorts himself out. If he keeps walking like that i think i’ll be bruised soon.” You chuckle at your own joke. “Guy’s got hips like Shakira, they do not lie.”

Crickets. Literal crickets fill the beat of silence after that joke.

You knew it was bad but damn.

“Ookay… tough crowd,” You mumble.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Sam said as if he were snapping out of a trance. “yeah heh, Shakira.”

You simply resign yourself to the book in your lap, every once in a while, taking a glance at the house ahead.

Meanwhile, Sam’s gaze never leaves the house for a moment. He had an expression you couldn’t quite place and an almost glazed over look in his eyes.

“Hey, i’m gonna go catch up with Dean, you’ll be fine right?” He says suddenly.

“No,” You slam your book shut and turn straight to Sam. “Sit your ass back down. we need to talk.”

“I’m sorry?”

The words come barreling from your mouth like a falling knife, sharp and unpredictable. “You have been super weird all day- I swear it’s hereditary- Dean acting strange, that i can deal with, but you? i-i don’t know what to do with that.”

A sinking sort of realization sets in. “I- god i’m so sorry.”

“I mean, did i do something? ‘Cause if i did i’m terribly sorry-“

“No, no, you didn’t do anything i swear.”

“Then what is it? i thought things were good and then- Look, if there’s something wrong just say the word and i’m there.”

“i know that but-“

“I’ll listen if you need it, i’m your friend and i wanna help.”

“That’s the problem.”

A beat of silence.

“That you’re my friend, just, my friend. That’s what’s wrong."

You feel your mouth going dry.

The words come tumbling out of Sam’s mouth much faster than he can think. “I-I knew from the moment i met you that you were this super cool and sweet and pretty but also badass at the same time kinda person and then it sorta spiraled into a crush, -which was innocent enough- so i thought it’d go away but then it didn’t and then-“

Every word, every thought, every action, everything within Sam is cut short and fades off when your lips collide with his. Your hands cup the sides of his face. His eyes widen before slowly dropping shut.

A moment later the kiss breaks and you’re sat there, staring dumbly into those gorgeous hazel eyes. From this new vantage point (the middle of the front seat) the gaps between the pines overhead is greater, allowing for starlight to filter in. The parts of his face not obscured by the shadows of his hair were illuminated in perfect detail. The soft edges of his face look almost sharp given the looming shadows, that detail though, is contrasted by the rosy blush spreading on his cheeks.

“…I wanted to shut you up,” You blink. “But I should’ve asked, i’m sor-“

The last of your attempt to apologize is muffled as Sam’s lips crash into yours.

His hand rests on the far side of your neck, his thumb moving across your cheek. The kiss grows in intensity, his tongue licking at the seam of your lips, your breath short and hot on his face. You drop your hands from his jaw and begin to slide them down his torso, eliciting a low growl-like sound from him. You both grow in fervor, the kiss bordering the fine line between sweet and desperate.

His tongue pushes past your lips and begins exploring you with warm desire. A soft sound escapes your throat at the feeling, his body growing warm, breaths shaky, and his tongue needly licking at the inside of your mouth.

Sam pulls away but only for a moment. He takes a quick survey of your face: lips red, breathing coming out in short pants, hair messy and all of you elucidated by the stars outside. You were no longer a reverie- some fantasy far out of reach. You were right there, lovely and more attention capturing than any star. So he says the thought that’s been on repeat in his mind since the moment he met you. What he’s thought on a thousand breathless afternoons when the sun shines just right on your face: “I love you”

“I love you too.” You reply without missing a single beat. you don’t have to think about it, not even for a second. You love him.

Taglist: @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillies444lola @wowzabowza69 comment to be added/ removed

#sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #one shot #reader insert #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural one shot #spn fic #spn

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bloatedandalone04 · 10 months

Text

Bets & Bargains - Part 1

Series Masterlist

➪in which a freshly broken up with bradley agrees to throw a back-to-school party and it’s there where he comes up with a cruel way to win back his ex.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 4.5k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Bri, don’t be like this,” Bradley mumbled as he watched her pace around his room from his spot on the edge of his bed. When she passed by him he reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Come on.”

She stopped walking and turned to glare at him. “No, Bradshaw,” she seethed and roughly pulled her hand out of his grasp. “I can’t do this anymore. You don’t take things seriously! You don’t take me seriously!”

Bri turned once again and picked up her discarded shirt she had taken off not even an hour ago. She had shown up at his frat house, a needy mess for him like she always is, and now that he was done fucking her she just had to bring up the fact that he doesn’t put enough effort into their relationship.

It was bullshit, because Bradley felt like he put in more effort than most guys would, and it started out as a casual thing, anyway.

Sure, it developed over time and he was going onto almost eleven months with her, but he felt fine at the pace they were going at. He was only twenty two, he didn’t need something super serious right now.

He thought what the two of them had right now was good and enough. But apparently he was wrong. “You haven’t taken me out on a date since the beginning of June,” she continued as she shrugged the shirt on and looked at his sticker-covered mirror to fix her hair.

When he just lifted a brow and set his phone aside, she met his eyes in the mirror with a harsh glare. “And?” He asked in self-defense.

She spun around and put her hands on her hips. “It’s the end of August, Bradshaw!” She nearly yelled and Bradley winced, hating how she never used his real name. No one did, but she did it even after he told her he preferred if she used his first name. “I want someone who takes me out every once in a while, and not just to frat parties. I mean, I stayed here all summer with you instead of going back home and spending time with my family. You only took me out once and it was to pick up dinner from that stupid fast food place that is literally a few streets down from the campus.”

Bradley huffed and caught his shirt when she picked it up and threw it at him. “Oh, come on,” he muttered as he put his graphic tee back on. “That’s not true. I took you to that…” He trailed off when he realized he couldn’t complete that sentence.

He looked up and gave her a boyish smile, and she really did not like that one bit. “I need a man, Brad,” she muttered and picked up her bag. “Not some boy who won’t meet me halfway. I’ve put almost a year of my life into this relationship, and for what? So you can just have me on the side? You don’t know how to treat a girl, Bradshaw. You don’t know how to be a decent boyfriend.”

She grabbed her heels and held them in one hand as she opened his door. “Bri,” he said quietly, his eyes pleading with her and saying all the words his mouth couldn’t. “Babe.”

Briana just laughed and shook her head. “This was a waste of time. It was fun, yeah, and you do not disappoint in bed, but I need more than that,” she shrugged. “Honestly, I think that’s the main reason I put up with this for so long. You’re a good fuck, Bradshaw, but a terrible guy. So we’re done.”

He scoffed and felt a little more than beyond objectified, but he still, for some dumb reason, didn’t want to lose her like this. “Briana,” he called as he stood up and made it over to her in three strides. “We’re good together. I can be better, just give me a chance.”

She shook her head and kissed the hickey on his neck that she had given him an hour ago. “I’ve given you one too many chances,” her voice was so monotone, it was actually kind of eerie. She ran the tip of her finger down his chest and stopped just above his jeans, where she full on groped him. “This is all you’re good for, and even that isn’t enough.”

Even though Bradley was currently getting chewed out by her, he still didn’t want to break up. He didn’t want to have wasted nearly a year of his life by not fighting for her. If she wanted more, he’d do more, but she wasn’t giving him the chance. “Bri, I don’t want to lose you,” he confessed quietly, gently taking her hand in his. “Or this.” He gestured in between them with his free one, and she sighed.

“Sorry, Brad,” she patted his chest. “We’ll still see each other. Maybe we can even continue the sex part of our relationship, but that’s it. I’ll seek you out if I need someone to get off with, but for now, we’re over. I’m sorry.”

And then she was pulling away from him completely and leaving his messy room with her head held high while he was left with a broken ego.

He heard her bound down the stairs and the sound of the front door closing before he slammed his bedroom door shut and fell backwards onto his bed.

All she needs him for is an easy lay? That’s all she thinks of him now? How did he possibly miss the signs? Actually, now that she put the idea in his head, he couldn’t remember her ever giving him a sign. He couldn’t even remember her ever complaining about any of the things he apparently did wrong.

This had to be a test. She was testing him, right?

She’ll be back. After she spends a little time away from him, she’ll come crawling back. Unless she just wanted him to fight for her. Or maybe she wanted him to prove her wrong, prove that he is way more than just some good fuck. He can be a good guy, and he can be an even better boyfriend.

Bradley shakes his head as he grabs his phone and clicks on the group chat he shares with his friends and housemates.

Bradley B: Bri broke things off with me. I’m gonna get her back, though.

Eli H: Fuck her. Let’s throw a party tonight.

Bradley scoffed as he read the reply, not at all surprised that his friends couldn’t care less about how he was feeling and cared way more about getting drunk.

Bradley B: I’m kind of sick of parties.

Westley E: Yeah right. I’m down for a party. It can be a back to school thing. It’ll also be a good way to get a rebound.

Of course that was all they were thinking about. Rebounds, girls and partying.

They had so many parties at their frat house last year, and had the cops called on them more than once. Bradley wasn’t kidding, he really was getting sick of the partying. He’s here to start his career, not find someone to settle down with when he’s still trying to figure out his life. He’s not here for the parties or the girls or whatever else.

But no one would take him seriously. They never did.

He really couldn’t wait to get out of here.

School starts again tomorrow, and he should really be spending his time getting himself ready and organized for his final year, but he was agreeing to another pointless party.

Bradley B: Fuck it. I’m in.

“Ooh, a party!” Sam says excitedly as she enters your room. You look up from your place on your bed, your hand shoved in a box as you tried to find your notes from last year. “Y/n/n, there’s a party tonight!”

You scoff as you resume your rummaging, not even glancing at her twice once you locate your notes. “Already? School hasn’t even started yet,”

“Yeah, well, you know how college boys are,” she pointed out as she moved to sit across from you. “What do you say? Wanna come to a party with me tonight?”

You look up at her with a blank expression on your face. “Not really,”

Sam rolled her eyes and moved to lay back against your pillows. “Oh, come on,” she whined, typing something on her phone. “You’ve been so moody lately, it’ll be good for you to get out and have fun for once.”

You scoff again and stand up, taking the box with you. “I’ve been moody? Hm, wonder why,” you muttered as you set the box down in your closet. “Maybe we should ask your brother.”

Sam looked up with you, her phone dropping from her hand as she lifted them both up in surrender. “Hey, I had nothing to do with that,” she says and gives you a smile. “Speaking of, when are the two of you going to get back together? I still want you as my sister-in-law one day.”

Shaking your head, you close the closet door and move onto your suitcase. “Yeah, maybe tell your brother to stop acting like a dick and then we’ll see about me becoming your sister,”

“Luke’s always been like that,” she brushed off your words and sat up. “And you still fell in love with him somehow. Come on, you were together all through high school, don’t waste those years just because you two got into a fight.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “I’m not wasting them,” you mumbled. “And it wasn’t just a fight. We want different things right now, that’s it. This break from each other will be good for us.”

Sam lifted a brow and gave you a skeptical look. “So it’s just a break? You’re not broken up?”

“No, we are,” you give her a shrug and a smile. “For now.”

“Then it’s rebound time! Find a hot frat boy at this party tonight and experience someone else for a change,” she suggested and you grimaced at her words. “But don’t do anything more than that. You’re still going to be marrying my brother in the future.”

Then she was pushing you out of the way and tearing through your closet for something you could wear at the party, and you knew you would be fighting a losing battle if you were to decline more than you already have.

What’s one stupid party, anyway?

This is exactly why Bradley didn’t like parties anymore. He wasn’t drunk yet and there were far too many topless girls around for him to be able to think straight.

It wasn’t even twelve yet and the party was completely out of control already. The frat house was big, but it felt way too small with the amount of people that filled every room.

Bradley was holding his third beer of the night when he finally found Eli and Wes. They were in the living room, a girl in between them on the couch as they passed a joint back and forth. “Hey, there he is!” Eli called out as soon as he saw him. “Come here, man.”

Eli pushed on the girl’s shoulder in an attempt to get her to move, and she did with a scoff. Bradley gave her an apologetic smile as she pushed past him before Wes reached forward and tugged on the sleeve of his flannel. “Get down here, dude,” he laughed, holding the joint up once Bradley was sitting beside them.

“Nah, I’m good,” he waved off his friend’s offer of the joint. “I don’t feel like getting high tonight.” Actually, he didn’t feel like getting high ever, and the few times he did was because he was pressured into it by the very two guys beside him.

“Wow,” Eli mumbled as he took the joint instead. “You don’t feel like getting high? Bri really did a number on you, huh?”

Bradley shrugged, bringing the cool bottle up to his lips. “I’m going to get her back,” he repeated what he said over text and turned to Eli when he just laughed.

“Dude, just get over her,”’ he said. “You were with her for so long, what’s left to experience with her?”

Bradley really hated the way his friends talked about girls. It was as if they were just an object to use then discard once they got bored, and Bradley couldn’t ever remember a time when he thought about a girl as just a way to gain experience.

Sure, he wasn’t much of a relationship guy, but he knew how to treat a girl for the most part.

He was sure Bri would laugh if he were to ever say that out loud, though.

“I liked her, Eli,” Bradley muttered as he finished his beer. He was definitely drunk now, or very close to getting there since his eyes were blurring and his head was spinning a bit. “I want her back.”

Eli just scoffed as Wes moved closer. “Why don’t you make her jealous? Have her come crawling back to you?”

Bradley turned his head. “How?”

“I don’t know, man, just…” The blond trailed off as he looked around the packed room. “Pick someone to be your rebound, any girl you think is hot enough, then stay with her until Briana notices you’re not paying attention to her anymore.”

“Right,” Bradley scoffs, then realizes his friend was not joking. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Hell yeah, man,” Wes answered and leaned back as the effects of the weed began to take over his body. “If she sees you with another girl she’ll go crazy. You know how jealous she is.”

Bradley just shook his head and stood up. “I’m not in seventh grade anymore. I’m not doing that,” he announced as he pushed his way through the swarm of people.

“Don’t be such a bitch, Bradshaw!” Eli called out after him but Bradley just shook his head as he held onto the doorframe and scanned the kitchen area.

He was more than a little pissed off now, and being called a bitch didn’t really help. He was half tempted to go up to his room and call it a night, while the other half of him was wanting to turn around and deck Eli square in the face. But the two of them had only recently made up for the last time they got into a physical fight with each other, and Bradley knew that another one would do as much good as the previous one did.

His eyes land on Bri, who was hanging off a guy he’s seen around campus. During the last eleven months she had never given this guy the time of day, and now that she broke things off with Bradley she was all over him.

She had every right to be, but this was Bradley’s fucking house, and she’s his fucking ex, and she looks fucking happy.

He really couldn’t believe the nerve of her.

Without thinking much, and using his three beers as a source of confidence, he made it over to her in four strides. “Bri,” he rasped, glaring at the guy whose name is Jensen. At least he thinks his name is Jensen. “We need to talk.”

Briana laughed and nuzzled further into Jensen’s side. “Didn’t we do enough talking this morning? We’re done, Bradshaw,”

Bradley glared at her then at Jensen again, who only laughed. “Why are you doing this? Huh? Why are you even here?”

“It’s a party, right?” Briana leaned up and wrapped her arm around her date’s shoulders. “Isn’t everyone invited to these things? Come on, Brad. We started off as friends, can’t we go back to that?”

Bradley felt his face heat up in both anger and embarrassment, and he knew he needed to walk away before his fist got the better of him. “Sure,” he answered and gave Jensen one last glare before turning around and pretty much storming back over to his friends. “I’m in. I’ll do it.” He said, making both Eli and Wes look up at him with smirks on their lips.

“Whose house is this?” You ask as Sam pulls you with her and into a mass of sweaty people. If you thought the outside of the house was crowded with people, the inside of it was on a whole different level. Everywhere you looked was taken over by students, and you were sure that this is what a club downtown looks like every Friday night. Maybe even worse.

“I don’t know, but that’s what makes it exciting,” she answered as she guided you into the kitchen.

You strongly disagreed with her on that, and you were quickly finding out that the smell of weed and loud music was not something you wanted to be around during your final few days before classes started again. “This is lame,” you say over the sound of people chatting around you. “Let’s leave.”

Sam scoffed, turning towards you with an eye roll. “We just got here,” she pointed out and looked at the array of booze lined up on the counter. “Live a little.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” You mutter, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hear you very well. Your head was already pounding, and your comfy bed at your dorm was calling out to you right now. Why do you ever bother leaving the house?

“Which one do you want? Vodka or gin?” She asked as she grabbed two red cups.

You raise a brow at her. “Neither,” was your answer and she gave you a pointed look. You sigh and nod at the vodka, watching as she pours an uneven amount of it mixed with coke into the cup.

“Drink up,” she stated as she handed it to you, her own cup in her free hand. “We’re here to have fun.”

You give her a thumbs up and take a sip of the drink that tasted like straight up vodka rather than a vodka mix. “Fuck,” you grimaced and she smirked at you.

“Good, right?”

Wrong. “Right,” you force yourself to nod and move off to the side when someone bumps into you from behind.

“Sorry,” they say, making you turn and meet the eyes of a cute brunet boy.

He definitely was not someone you’d look twice at, but he was nice looking nonetheless.

You weren’t able to wave him off before Sam was reaching around you and tugging on the guy’s shirt. “Tan! You came!”

Tan grins and moves to stand beside the two of you. “Oh, hey. Yeah, I was planning on staying in tonight, then you asked if I wanted to meet you at this party and thought what the hell,”

Your eyes narrow as Sam had definitely forgotten to mention that she had invited a guy to tag along. “How nice,” she beamed, glancing over at you. “This is my roommate, Y/n. Y/n, Tanner.”

Tanner lifted his cup in a form of greeting. “Pleasure to meet you,” though the way he said that gave away the fact that he didn’t care much for your presence at all.

You copy him with your own cup, glaring at Sam as you point towards the dining room area. “I’ll be over there,” you say, hoping she will follow you.

She doesn’t. “Okay, we’ll catch up later!”

And you were left to stay true to your own words as you wandered off into the next room with your too strong of a drink in your hand and a nervous look in your eyes.

“Oh, dude,” Eli nudged Bradley from his spot on the couch. “What about that girl? She’s hot enough.”

Bradley and Wes both look over and see a girl standing in the dining room, her back to the wall as she holds her cup to her chest.

She looked extremely uncomfortable, and Bradley felt a bit bad for her. He couldn’t remember seeing her around campus before, but he also couldn’t see very clearly right now. She was cute, though, he could admit that.

“Damn, I think she’s hotter than Bri,” Wes commented, earning a glare from Bradley. “Not that I think Bri is hot or anything.”

“Shut up,” Bradley muttered as tried to blink away the blurriness in his eyes. He looks over at the girl in the next room, his cold gaze softening just a bit. “She’s not my type.”

Eli scoffed, inhaling his second joint of the night. “She is so your type,”

Bradley rolled his eyes but focused on the girl for a bit. She was actually very cute, dare he say cuter than Bri, but he would never admit that. “She seems easy. I want a challenge,” he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth, and he knew that if his mom was still around she would’ve smacked him upside the head by now.

“Make it a challenge, dude,” Wes suggested, leaning back against the couch with a hazy look.

How could he do that? He just needed to make Bri jealous, that’s it. Why was he wanting to make it harder for himself? Maybe he just wanted to prove that he is someone who can be loved, and that he is someone who can be in a serious relationship. “I can make her fall in love with me,” he thought out loud and instantly regretted it as soon as he saw the look of mischief in Eli’s eyes.

“Dude,” he said as if he was just told the greatest idea he’s ever heard. “You could totally make her fall in love with you.”

“Ah, I like it. Good idea,” Wes agreed, slapping Bradley’s shoulder for further effect.

Bradley’s face fell a bit as he shook his head. “I can’t. I was with Bri for eleven months and she doesn’t give a shit about me. She never fell in love with me,” he tried to talk his way out of his own idea, but his friends seemed fully onboard.

Eli rolled his eyes. “That was Bri, she doesn’t love anyone but herself. If she were to see someone else with you in that way she’ll come crawling back,”

“Yeah, maybe you’ll even get her to stay on her knees,” Wes smirked and Bradley physically cringed. “I bet a thousand dollars on it.”

That had both Bradley and Eli looking over at him in shock. “No shit,” Eli scoffed.

“I will,” Westley says. “We all have it. I’ve got thousands of dollars saved up, Brad’s got his parents’ life insurance and your dad’s rich.”

“I don’t like it,” Bradley mumbled but then Eli grinned.

“I like it,” he said. “Dude, you have to do it now.”

“What am I even doing? I have to make this girl fall in love with me or I lose? I’d have to owe the both of you one grand?” Bradley couldn’t wrap his head around any of this, or how he even managed to come up with this dumb idea in the first place, but he knew it was slipping out of his control at this point.

“Nah, just five hundred each will be fine. You get this chick to love you, and you win a thousand bucks. It’s easy money, Bradshaw,” Wes pushed Bradley up so he was standing. “Do it, man.” He encouraged the cruel bet with a lazy smirk.

Bradley shook his head as he stepped away. “Guys, this seems a bit fucked up,”

“Just do it, man, you came up with this,” Eli muttered. “Don’t be a bitch.”

And now he was once again pissed off. Eli knew he could get under his skin easily, and that was the exact reason they got into a fight during one of the parties they threw last year.

Now Bradley wanted Eli to owe him money. He wanted to be able to hold that above him. He also wanted to hold that above Bri - that she was wrong.

“Fuck off,” Bradley grunted as he walked towards the girl on unsteady legs. He definitely had too much to drink, and he’d like to think that he would’ve never come up with something like this, or even done it, while he was sober.

His head was spinning a bit as he wandered into the dining room, though calling it that was a bit of a stretch since it only held a small round table with four chairs.

What the fuck is he doing? Is he really about to drag a poor innocent girl into his fucked up world and pull a cruel prank on her? He wasn’t that kind of guy. His mother raised him better than this, so why was he now standing in front of said girl?

A slurred, “Hi,” came out of his mouth and she was now looking at him, and it was too late to turn back around.

Her brow raised as she looked up at him, a shy and timid smile on her lips. “Hi,”

Oh, God.

That voice.

She had possibly the sweetest voice Bradley had ever heard, and his mind went blank as he struggled to find words. “I, um,” he stuttered, his face flushing when she grinned up at him. He was usually fucking great at talking to girls, drunk or not, so this was getting kind of embarrassing. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you starting your first year?”

“No, my second,”

“Really?” He asked, placing his forearm flat against the wall beside her head. “Weird…you’d think I would’ve remembered seeing you around campus.”

There he was. At least he got his beloved smooth talking skill back.

The girl hummed. “Yeah, I usually keep to myself. It’s easier that way,”

Bradley lifted a brow and leaned a bit closer. “I’m sorry, I’m being rude,” he said after a few seconds. “I’m Bradley. I live here.”

She looked at him in surprise. “This is your party?”

He nodded and her smile softened a little bit. “Why do you look so surprised?”

She shrugged, hugging her drink close to her chest. “Well, this looks like a frat party, and you definitely look like a frat guy, but…”

He felt his confidence slipping away a bit as he straightened up his posture. “But?”

“You don’t really act like one,” she shrugged and sipped on her drink. Though she tried to hold back a grimace at the taste of the liquid in her cup, Bradley caught onto the fact that she really didn’t like it.

Now he felt even worse since it was obvious she was only drinking as an attempt to fit in.

Bradley furrowed his brows as he raised his free hand and took the cup from her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked over the loud music, noting the grateful smile she gave him when he discarded the drink onto the table.

“It’s not a bad thing,” she quickly says. “Really, you seem sweet, not loud or arrogant like the other frat guys I’ve met.”

His gaze softened at that and he couldn’t fight the grin that was beginning to form on his lips. He leaned in closer and was met with the sweet scent of vanilla and peach, and if he wasn’t already, he was sure he could get drunk off it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,”

The girl gazed up at him, matching his dumb smile as she answered, “Y/n,”

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lilacxquartz · 27 days

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TO SAVE A BROKEN SOUL • suguru geto x cursed spirit fem!reader

ao3 • masterlist • mdni < previous chapter • next chapter >>

summary: saved by someone who claims to want to help you, your life quickly takes a turn for the worse.

trigger warnings: uncomfortable scenes, dehumanising and objectifying language, violence

Chapter 2. Sinner

Willingly returning back to the temple felt strange for you, especially when facing the curious glance from the girl before again, with another pair of eyes cautiously leaning in from around a corner to look at you.

The girl with darker hair stepped forward towards the monk you kept firmly glued to the side of. Her voice sounded so soft and gentle despite the words that came out of her lips, “Are you going to eat the monster, Geto-sama?”

You paled for a moment.

What could that posstibly mean…?

The man before you stopped for a moment, as if considering the situation and how to calm the two young girls while keeping your presence on the down low. “Not this one,” he replied at last, sensing the girl’s fear towards seeing you, “this one will be working with me personally.”

You felt comfort settle as you didn’t seem to be headed down such a strange route, but at the same time, you still didn’t quite understand what exactly you were brought in for. So far, as you understood it, the two girls could not only see you but didn’t fear you within his company.

This little detail unsettled you.

You weren’t afraid of many things, but this predicament you had found yourself in didn’t sit quite right with you.

And as he led you further away from the outer section of the temple, you couldn’t help but wonder what this strange person truly had in store for you. Working together? You thought you were just helping him satisfy a curiosity. Unless he was being purposefully vague to keep you on the edge. Whatever it was, you didn’t fully trust his intentions.

“Come,” he spoke once again, opening a slotted wooden door, “you’re going to bathe.”

You cautiously padded towards the room, spotting a small square bathtub with no curtain to hide being. The floor was made from bamboo and the window, although concealed by wrapping leaves around the outside of the exterior, still looked outside.

“Can I do it privately?” you asked, settling into the idea. You didn’t need to wash yourself as a cursed spirit, there was very little point in doing so. You didn’t perspire like humans did, and dirt therefore didn’t cling to your skin the same way. The rain that fell washed anything resistant away and due to not being alive in the same way that mammals were, you didn’t smell.

However, you could entertain it to keep your life.

Something told you that he wasn’t going to let you get further than this if you didn’t bathe, at least.

The man, who you had by now determined was referred to as Geto, tilted his head to the side in what appeared to be confusion. His long, cascading black hair hung in the air as his brows furrowed. “You’re a cursed spirit, aren’t you? Why are you being shy?”

“I’m not being shy,” you replied, attempting to stand your ground. You weren’t totally oblivious, knowing exactly what sort of form you had. It was feminine and through your feedings in the past, you understood that the anatomy wasn’t too far off either. “I am wary though,” you admitted, “you should understand why.”

He nodded, although his gaze didn’t wander away. “Sure, you’re a pretty face,” he considered, “but you’re also just a cursed spirit, so anything that I might do to you or not doesn’t actually matter, does it?”

“Is that why you brought me here?” you attempted to call out, trying to find the reason behind his words.

He shrugged. “I’m not being rude. I’m laying out a fact. Cursed spirits can’t feel anything.”

You tried to challenge his claim however, your words carrying some spite as you spoke, “But I might. Not every single one is evil without cause.”

“They all taste the same to me regardless,” he said, leaning back against the wall, his eyes trained on the steaming tub, “like rancid gasoline.”

There he went again, reminding you that you weren’t the only one who had the capacity to feed. You didn’t like that he had reduced your life to just a flavour that he didn’t like in his mouth. It felt demoralising, bleak and hopeless. Perhaps not too unlike how humans felt right before meeting their end.

You couldn’t quite shake the unsettling thought that now coursed through your body, understanding that while he took you in for some sort of strange hidden purpose, that he was going to very likely treat you poorly because of what you were. In his eyes, you were likely disposable because your life didn’t hold the same sort of weight that a human life did, for example.

Yet he emitted some sort of aura that made him call to you—making you drop your guard around him.

Some sort of cursed technique, maybe?

In a resigned sigh, you didn’t prod at the subject for any longer, deciding to get this whole thing over with and despite the lingering discomfort you felt from his eyes settling over your now exposed body, you pressed on, washing yourself under his hungry gaze.

He stared at you with such devotion, almost. His eyes practically worshipping you the longer that he stared. This was shaken off quickly though, his thoughts reminding him of your true nature. How horrid you truly were.

A disgusting sight.

An even more bitter taste.

You weren’t anything special, maybe even below human in his eyes.

Even despite the looks he gave you and the things your body made him feel. The way your curves sloped, the way that water rolled off of your skin—no, this wasn’t right. You weren’t right.

You were simply below him.

~~~

The next morning, he led you someplace else, guiding you off to another location. You didn’t in particular like it there either, finding that the stares of the people he acquainted with were nothing short of hateful.

Pulling you off to an airy room with a small stage, he explained your divine purpose to you with concerning detail.

“My role is to… deceive people?” you asked, not quite understanding, “Most people can’t see me, though.”

Suguru tilted his head at you, his voice dripping with a sarcastic tone, “That’s the whole point,” he smiled, glancing at one of the attending members, “I would like to be perceived as a higher power to those unsuspecting and unaware. Maybe even a deity amongst simple monkeys.”

You frowned in response for two reasons in mind. First, you didn’t want to be around humans for an extended amount of time for obvious excuses and second, for his own stated desire. Just who was this man actually and why did he seem so much worse than you?

He had the audacity to call you disgusting and yet, he spoke of himself so highly.

…Why did he have to bring you here?

“You see,” he continued, “people’s beliefs can be fragile, but that’s why in religions, miracles must happen and also… punishments.”

Just before taking you here, he did brief you on earlier with a threat to ensure your compliance. You understood fully why you felt confused around this man now and it was likely due to his cursed technique. The same reason humans feel strangely at peace before death, was likely what you felt when it felt like he was close to using it. A false salvation, a doomed hope if not only a means to an untimely end.

“You have other cursed spirits for this sort of job, don’t you?” you pressed with that information still fresh in your mind, hoping he would give you a better answer than the meaningless ones he had been giving you so far.

“True, I have my… collection,” he mused, crossing his arms in consideration, “but they act more as tools rather than helpers. I can command them to fight, to feed, to… kill, but they can’t perform miracles. That’s where you come in.”

Holding onto a sceptical tone you continued to prod, “And how could I possibly accomplish that?”

Suguru smiled at your linear way of thinking. He supposed that you couldn’t help it. “Do something positive, no matter how small. Or do something terrible, no matter how evil. These fools will interpret even the smallest act as a sign from something greater.”

You exhaled deeply, continuing to feel trapped. He was revealing his intentions to you as though you were just another one of his tamed spirits, yet you were free. Being so often around humans wasn’t something you wanted to be doing, finding the situation almost agitating.

“For example,” Suguru continued, his eyes catching onto a random man that stood in a small crowd nearby. “What do you pray for?”

The man hesitated from the sudden question, but answered the question anyway, “Wealth…?”

Clicking his tongue disapprovingly, Suguru scoffed, “Such a selfish desire, but let’s see if it’s granted shall we?” he dramatically gestured, his sights pointed at you but you didn’t know what exactly this meant. He brought you here with very little context and zero guidance.

Returning to you, he quietly reminded you in a very flat tone that he could either exorcise you or you could, you know, feed, right on the man that he had just spoken to. That he didn’t deserve this wish anyway, because if you couldn’t understand—being what you are—that selfish wishes like that aren’t worthy of miracles but punishments instead.

“I know you’re barely holding back,” he whispered, trying to tempt you, “think of just how good it’ll finally feel to give in, to not worry about consequences.”

And just like a cornered animal with a desperate desire to carry on living, you gave into instinct once again.

You couldn’t even help it.

Acting out of desperation, you reluctantly moved forward as an opportunity to sate your burning hunger had been so freely presented to you. Oh, how tempting it was to give in, to bite into flesh, to drink such thick red blood as though it was red wine—you felt so drunk, intoxicated even—as you chewed against disfigured flesh, but then, you heard it.

Screams. A lot of them. Gasps and shudders and an atmosphere of boiling dread; a feeling that both continued to intoxicate you while sickening you at the same time.

Albeit reluctantly, you pulled away from your feral stupor while still grinding against bloodied flesh, licking the blood that dried quickly over your lips. You couldn’t help but feel a wave of disgust roll over you as you backed away, with wide eyes as you surrendered to a lapse of something you didn’t want to become just yet.

(As long as you remained aware, you could remain in control. As long as you didn’t give into your instincts, you could still be you. That’s all it took. Yet, he sought to take it away from you under the false impression of becoming a god.)

In your heavily heaving state, swallowing the last bit of meat, you watched on as the man who took you in, who stared hungrily at you the same way you did at flesh, that claimed to be disgusted by you all at the same time—approach and ask someone else, repeating the same sort of question to them and snorting, hearing a finally acceptable answer.

“Good, that’s a good answer,” he praised, even if his tone did carry a hint of disgust, his eyes blank when talking to what seemed to be just regular people. “Why, it even appears that there might just be a miracle in store for you later on, but first, let’s get this… mess cleaned up.”

Gesturing for someone to come and clean up the unfortunate aftermath, he finally led you away. It wasn’t like he was completely oblivious to what you could potentially become, but that’s why the punishments would be just as rare as the miracles.

After all, if such things were a little too frequent, then what meaning could they possibly have?

~~~

this is part 2 of lilac’s bite sized yandere nightmares

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multiwreckedmess · 1 year

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Kinktober Day 3

Prompt: Hate Sex Pairing: Designer!Hyunjin x femCoder!Reader WC: 2260 Summary: Hyunjin wants one thing from you, stop calling him “pretty boy”, he can’t help he was born beautiful. This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Hyunjin or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this.

I feel the need especially with “rougher” prompts like this to put the disclaimer - fanfic should NOT ever be used as a guide to relationships or sex. ESPECIALLY SEX. Again, it’s fiction. Stuff gets glossed over for the sake of a good story. Please PLEASE please again, not fact, not a guide, just a fantasy. TW/CW under the cut.

Warnings: reader implied/is a bully, older reader (age gap not specified), name calling (”slut”, “dumbass”, “asshole”, creative insults around genitalia, gendered/misogynist insults), crying during (reader), PWOP, cum in mouth, unprotected intercourse. I’m also going to call out, sort of dubcon-y as most hate sex is.

Pretty boy was not a compliment when you said it. Always laced with venom or a sneer. It was as though you’d branded Hyunjin as worthless with two words. Only good as a person to look at. Objectified and demeaned. Even he couldn’t deny that he was in fact a very pretty man. Long brown hair, full pouty lips, deep irises, with a slender yet muscular frame. Not exactly effeminate but not exactly masculine. A beautiful human no matter how you slice it. Which is why your nickname angered him so much.

It wasn’t easy for you either. Years in the tech field had hardened you. It was a man’s world and you were used to the bro code that had been instilled in you from the early days of voice chat. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten, bully or become the bullied. The tech sector was the same.

Hyunjin wasn’t even in your cohort but you hated him from the moment you saw him. Fresh intern class filing into the large hall for their orientation. You’d hoped that he’d get eaten alive, the soft sensitive looking man thrown unceremoniously into the pool of piranhas. Instead he was gifted to the design department, a soft job for a soft kid. What was worse was his lack of coding knowledge, mostly having worked in print materials the world of internet and tech was foreign and frustrating. Worse still was that despite this he was good at his job, rising through the ranks to be your equal, forcing the two of you into the same project groups quarter after quarter. Any rank you could pull, you did, age included, and he seemed to take it.

He hadn’t meant to follow you into the windowless supply closet. It just so happened both departments were in dire need of different items. Somehow you’d been conscripted into packaging fancy boxes for capital contributors and design had sent a large order to the floor’s printer with no paper nor ink to spare. The door opening startled you, locking eyes with him as you stare at each other for once devoid of the low boiling slurry of distaste and distrust. Quickly the moment snaps. Returning to the status quo you sigh, “oh, just you, pretty boy.” “Stop calling me pretty boy.” Hyunjin states simply. He doesn’t want to make it a huge fight, trying to assume only your best intentions. Part of him figured this would be the only private moment he’d ever have with you, so might as well make use of it. “Why? It’s true.” You shrug, busy peering in drawers and boxes for your extra packaging supplies. “You’re a very pretty man who is younger than me. A boy. A pretty boy.” “It’s dismissive. I’m more than that,” the tension strains his voice. “You know I’m more than that. I put in work, effort. I have a passion. Just because I can’t translate it to whatever arcane language you use doesn’t-” “Listen pretty boy,” you stand up and sneer at him, eyes locked and narrowed. “If I could afford to be as lacking as you, I would. The world has taught you that all you need to do is the bare fucking minimum and doing anything more is considered a large effort. So, pretty boy, count your blessings if I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.” Hyunjin sucks his teeth, a snort of disbelief escaping. “The only people who have ever called me pretty have either wanted to fuck me or be fucked by me so which one is it for you?” His eyes narrow and study you as he steps closer. Your pulse quickens, blood roiling. How dare this brat? How dare he challenge you. “Neither,” you answer him with daggers in your eyes. His lips twitch at the corners. “Are you sure about that? You’re barely breathing right now. I wonder if I stepped closer,” his voice trails off. “Or maybe brushed against you, by accident of course.” “Even HR couldn’t mediate the amount of lawsuits I’d hit you with.” He’s right. You hold your breath as he gets even closer, just staring. You start to dodge around his side but his body blocks yours, shoulder sinking into his chest as he backs you against the shelves, forcing you to tilt your chin to look up at his face. The way your body so quickly betrayed you was concerning to all the ideals you’d upheld for years, tingling and burning endorphins flooding you with dizzying speed.

Slowly he leans his torso forward almost nose to nose, hands holding onto the shelf and caging you in. “Bet you’ve just been waiting for someone to do this to you, slut.” The sting comes before the sound, your hand crossing his cheek as swiftly as the word leaves his mouth. “Call me a slut again.” “Slut.” He hisses, leaning into you. There isn’t quite the surprise to dull the pain of the hit this time, his body is ready for it as you wind up and slap him again. He half smiles, half smirks, tongue bit between his teeth. “Fuck that’s hot,” your tone is hushed, almost reverent, a revelation as more for yourself than for him. Your lips and tongue clash and fight for dominance as he claims your mouth with his. It’s more a battle than a kiss, both of you unwilling to break first, chasing the other, gasping and groping like teenagers at each other's bodies. He finally breaks, lips pink and puffy and shining with saliva. The clink of the metal buckle of his belt has you practically dripping. Forcefully he spins you and shoves you, face into the roughly coated cinder block wall. “Gonna fuck you like the bitch you are.” He mutters, plosives laced with venom. You moan pathetically as his arm presses to your mid back. “Give it your best shot pretty boy, this making your micropeen hard? Can’t get laid so you have to fight your way into a quick fuck?” Hyunjin laughs, cackles, harshly grabbing your ass. “Could ask the same for you. Truly I can’t imagine anyone wanting to stick their dick anywhere near your cobweb cunt. Should I check? Should I check to see?” “Go ahead dumbass, if you can even find it.” You hiss. “All talk no-” A rip of your stockings and cool air hitting your soaked panties halts the verbal sparring match. Pushing your panties aside he sinks a finger into your hot core, gasping together. “Who’s all talk now? So soaked I slipped right in. Dumb needy hole trying to milk my finger. Gonna thaw you out ice princess.” You hope he does. Dragging your torso down the wall, your back arches into him, pushing his single digit deeper, wiggling your hips. The swish of his pants crumpling to the floor “I’m waiting, pretty boy, or is it already in and I just can’t feel it?” Your negging continues, heart fluttering in anticipation. Everything he does is just out of your range of vision, you have no idea what to expect. Even in your heavy petting you hadn’t grabbed for him. Finger withdrawn he drags the head of his cock along your slit. Hyunjin knows what he’s about to do is mean, he’s felt how tight you are. For a second he considers properly prepping you, stretching you out nicely before abusing your hole. Poised at your entrance he grabs a fistful of hair at the nape of your neck, lips pressing to the shell of your ear. “Ready princess?” “On you pretty boy,” you sneer in response. The blunt pressure of his thick member ripping through your walls twists your stomach. Filling you in a single push, Hyunjin muffles your scream with his lips. It steals your breath as your body fights the intrusion. Your legs alternate kicking and shaking below you, suddenly happy to have Hyunjin’s weight pinning you up to the wall.

“Dumb slut, do you want to get caught? Screaming like that you’ll let the whole company know you’re bending over like a bitch for me.” Hyunjin chides, holding still inside you. His harsh words soothed by his hands, gingerly fixing your hair to the opposite shoulder. Arms wrapping around your chest and waist he holds you close, face buried in your neck. “Big right?” The soft words are muffled by your skin. “Mhmphf.” His teeth run over sensitive spots along your neck, sending you shivering and shuddering in his grasp. “Good right?” “Yeeehsthhh!” You lisp and writhe. “Embarrassing right? Getting run through by some kid like me. Gonna slut you out princess.” Turning your head so you are nose to nose you growl, “shut up and fuck me, pretty boy.” Hearing his nickname he laughs, blood boiling a bit harder, and unceremoniously pulls out. A pitiful whine escapes your lips with the loss of pressure in your gut. Before you can scold him again he pushes all the way to the hilt again, hearing the air catching in your throat from words lost to pleasure. Each thrust is slow and torturous, felt to the fullest by your walls hugging him in. Despite not working hard you pant like a cat in heat, overwhelmed by the ache of your cunt. “Afraid you’re gonna cum first?” You jab between groans, frustration clouding your senses. He’s just too slow to build past the agonizing beginnings of your orgasm. “‘M being kind, can’t have you passing out on me.” “Bold of you.” Sucking a small bruise into your neck he buries himself deeply inside of you. “If you insist.” Instead of withdrawing again his hand skims down your belly to your mound, long thin fingers circling your clit. Each passing swipe coordinates with a shallow thrust, just enough to stimulate you inside and out. All you can do is take what he is giving you, body giving up to his ministrations. “Shit I think-” you gasp and shake, “I’m gonna cum.” “I bet you are.” Hyunjin sneers, “and who is to thank for that?” “You. You are. You.” You burble. “Who?” His grasp harshens, hips snapping harder. “HYUNJIN. Fucking asshole. You. Hyunjin. Fuck.” You cum violently around him, walls of your sex baring down on him as a fresh wave of arousal coats the both of you. You cry out, fat tears welling in your eyes as overstimulation hits you like a train, moans turning to choked sobs as you try to catch your breath. Both of you are sweaty, you shake. Hyunjin maneuvers the both of you to your knees on the ground, your body leaving a shine to the wall where it was pressed. He pulls his slacks under your arms to cushion what they could from the cement. “I made you cum, your turn.” “Wha?” His hand comes down hard on your ass, snapping you out of your lusty haze. “Fuck yourself on my cock.” The demanding and demeaning tone has your blood rushing even in your sensitive state. With a sniffle you start moving your hips back and forth, each slide making a grotesque sloppy slick sound. Hyunjin pushes back his sweat and hair from his brow, eyes locked to where he disappears inside of you. “Cunt looks good hugging my cock like this.” If he’s all about visuals, you’ll be a feast for his eyes. You gorge yourself on him, taking your time like he did to you. Rolling your hips decadently and letting your greedy pussy work itself around him. Hyunjin tries to keep his hands from you, to make you do the work, to take a small petty revenge for the multitude of emails politely thrown back to him by you. He can’t, finally folding, grabbing fistfulls of ass and hips and thighs. He joins you, bent over and caging you again like an animal. Together, writhing as one, grunting as one, your chemistry has never worked better. But it can’t last forever, you can feel his thick muscle seizing inside of you, lower abs and thighs tensing against the cleft of your ass. “Where,” chokes in a stuttered hurried whisper. “I’m gonna-” Summoning strength you push up, righting the both of you, pulling him out. It’s the first good luck you’ve gotten of him, flushed red and sweaty and fucked out. He’s impressive for a skinny guy, thick and veiny and heavy in your hands as you continue to stroke him out of habit. Fingers covered in slick release precum flows freely from the tip. “Mouth. Hurry.” Standing shakily he leans back into the wall, “gonna swallow like a good slut?” Holding the head of his dick to your tongue he pumps pointed down your throat. Your tongue flexes against the underside, massaging the ridge. Hyunjin can’t believe his eyes, you kneeling in front of him, defiantly staring him down as you wait for him to cum. Almost daring him to spill his load anywhere else. With an airy whine a globule of release hits your tongue, hot and bitter. Hyunjin’s hips kick forward, fucking his palm and the top of your tongue, pushing his cum deeper into your throat and making you gag. “Shit,” he hisses as you gag again, another string shooting directly into your throat. Palm to his hip you slide his cock further back, using it to force the bitter seed into your stomach. “Holy shit you’re really-god your throat-that-keep that.” Gulping the last down you pull from him grimacing and wiping your face. “Two words; pineapple juice, pretty boy.” “That’s four.”

I always get carried away lmao. This is definitely towards the rougher end of my comfort zone with characters. I can’t help be aware of the fact that some people do take fanfic as a guide to what to expect or hope for with their relationships so it’s a little difficult for me to push that to the back of my mind.

#hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids hyunjin smut #hyunjin kinktober #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids kinktober #skz kinktober #kpop kinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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dont-tell-anyone-im-here · 2 months

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Wafer Cookies

Summary: You just had the worst week of your life and all you wanted was some wafer cookies. Instead, some jerk in a lab coat got the last box. Time for some negotiation.

~*Tags: Cross-Posted AO3; Rick Sanchez x fem!Reader; Rick Sanchez Smut; Cunnilingus; Blowjob; Vaginal Fingering; Public Sex; One Night Stand; No Feelings; Don't Read Into It; Elevator Sex; Use of Pet Names (Princess); Vaginal Penetration*~

Your week has been anything but easy. An unrelenting work load at the job you despise, friends flaking out last minute, and you’ve managed to stub your toe not once but twice today. To say you were on edge and just needed to lay on your couch, pounding snacks in your face with some mind-numbing TV was an understatement. When your work week finally ended, your first stop before Relaxation Station was the grocery store for your favorite snack of all time, wafer cookies. You couldn’t leave your workplace fast enough, nearly crashing into the parking lot of the local store. Once inside, you made a beeline for the cookie and snack aisle. As you rounded the corner of where your treasure lie, you spotted your prize, calling your name. Upon nearing, you noticed you were about to grab the last box, ‘Finally some good luck,’ you thought as you reached out, your body already relaxing at just the thought of holding the box. As swift as the feeling came over you, a very tall, lanky man with a bald spot cut you off, taking the lone box of cookies.

"Hey!" You exclaimed, your arm falling to your side and forming a fist. The man didn’t even look up, reading the calories per serving as he spoke.

"Look lady, I grabbed the box first so it's mine, oka-" He finally glanced to you and stopped for a mere second then continued, however you noticed the pause.

"I-I-I got the box first, so they're mine." He tucked the box under his arm. Your jaw clenched.

"Like hell, I was here before you and you took them when I was grabbing for them!" You said, leaning your weight to one hip and crossing your arms, glaring. The man's eyes followed your movement as you spoke, clearly not listening. You weren’t sure if the heat you felt was because you were upset or if it was because it turned you on being objectified. You responded with a grunt and yanked the cookies out from under his arm, holding them close to your chest.

"I've had a long week and I don't need your perverted eyes following me to be the cherry on top of it. I'm taking these cookies and there's nothing you can do about it."

The man stood there, dumbfounded, as you stomped off with the wafer cookies under your arm. You weren’t sure if he was attractive or not, maybe it was just his raspy voice, but god what a creep, and a rude one at that. You were in the self-checkout line when he showed up again. You were paying for the wafer cookies when he was standing there beside you. Christ, you didn’t realize how tall he was in your upset state earlier, but now that he was beside you, he towered over you. If he wasn’t so skinny you’d think he was a mountain, instead, this rude, creepy stranger was more of a telephone pole. If you had to put a name to it. You rolled your eyes and let out a disgusted sigh as you scanned the box, getting out your wallet to put your card into the credit card reader.

"What do you want, Baldie?" You asked, rather irritated. You could see his unibrow lower into a scowl out of the corner of your eye. He shoved his hands in the lab coat he was wearing, frowning.

"Those wafer cookies, obv-obviously." He answered, just as irritated, watching you as you finished buying your single item and following you as you took your bounty, heading out to the parking lot.

“Are you seriously following me?” You ask loudly, barely turning your head to address the stranger as he followed you.

“I want those cookies. Can’t enjoy my evening without them.”

"I'm not going to give them to you." You take your keys out of your pocket, locking your car with the key fob to locate your vehicle in the lot.

"Look-look lady, I-I-I'm not afraid to fight UR-ya for them."

You stopped in your tracks. At first, you were astonished that he could burp mid-sentence and still have the flow of one, then you registered that he said he'd fight you. You turned to face him, covering your mouth as you snorted.

"Fight me? For wafer cookies?" You said from behind your hand, starting to giggle, then growing into full-blown laughter. You keeled over, hugging your stomach as it began to cramp. You started to light up, standing up straight and wiping your eyes as the waves died down, taking deep breaths.

"Oh- ohohohoho-" you giggled, "Christ, that was a day brightener."

When your vision cleared, you could see that the man was not as amused as you were. In fact, he looked more annoyed, almost even angry. His frustration was met with your smile and an extended hand, your mood having been drastically lifted, introducing yourself.

"You're pretty funny for a grouchy unibrow in a lab coat." You added after telling him your name. The man stared at your hand with a grimace before rolling his eyes and finally shaking it. Now that you were close and facing each other, you noticed that he was drooling, or maybe it was dribble from whatever he was drinking out of the flask he pulled out from an inside pocket of his lab coat.

"Rick Sanchez,” He stated as he uncapped the flask, took a swig, and put it back in his coat before continuing, “And this is- uuUR-WHERE'S MORTY?!"

Rick looked around frantically, his hands on his head as he searched the lot for “Morty”, calling out his name between burps.

"Uh, Morty-?” You started, but a shrill voice yelling across the parking lot interrupted you.

"RICK Y-Y-YOU ASSHOLE!" You both looked to see a teenage boy with short, curly, brown hair standing at the front entrance of the grocery store.

"Jesus Christ, Morty, you- you gotta stay with me- stay- k-keep up with grandpa, Morty!" Rick yelled back to the boy who was now making his way over to the two of you. Rick turned back to see you with a raised eyebrow. You subconsciously beat yourself when your first thought was disappointment that the man was possibly married with kids and grandkids.

"You have grandkids?" You questioned as Morty came up to stand next to his grandfather.

"Yeah. Complete shitheads if you ask me."

"Ah jeez, Rick. That-that's notta very nice thing t-to say." Morty stammered, rubbing his own arm to comfort himself. Rick rolled his eyes.

"Morty, I-I have science to prove how shitty you and your sister are. I have scientific proof, Morty!” You grimaced now, hearing how he was treating his own grandson. For a fleeting moment you had pondered if maybe a deal could be made for the cookies. A one night stand, perhaps? You weren’t sure if you genuinely wanted that or if it was just because after the work week you had, a good fuck would be the perfect stress reliever. If you got a few rounds out, then you’d be good without the snacks. But, you pushed that idea away. Besides, he could be married, no sex for cookies in that scenario. You shook your head to clear your thoughts away.

"So, you're married?" Wow, you actually did clear all thought. Rick looked over from the small boy he was ranting at. You could almost see the ghost of a smirk, but his face remained annoyed.

"No, why're you uRR-‘skin', shorty?" Not married. Maybe you could talk up a deal then.

"“Shorty”? You're freakishly tall, Jolly Green!" You retorted, not hiding your own smile from your name calling. Morty stifled a laugh. Rick sent a glare his way then looked back to you.

"Look, I-I-I just want the wafer cookies, so hand them over!" He held out his hand expectantly. Even if you were thinking of a deal in your head, you weren’t just going to hand the prize over.

"Fuck no!" You say, continuing your venture to your car.

"Rick, it's just wafer cookies-" Morty tried, only for his grandfather to angrily shove his hands to his side in fists.

"No, Morty! It’s not “just wafer cookies”, Morty! I-I-I’ve been everywhere and-and no goddamn store has any goddamn wafer cookies! That’s the last box in the whole county, Morty!”

"Really? Why not just, I-I don’t know, just-just, go to a different dimension that has wafer cookies?"

"You don’t get it, Morty. This dimension that-that we live in, it’s the URr-nly dimension with the best wafer cookies, Morty! The cookies here are-are-are the only good kind, Morty! Wafer cookies are integral to-to how we properly, properly watch Ball F-UURRp-lers, BALL FONDLERS, MORTY!"

You were long gone from the scene, sitting at the driver’s seat of your car and setting your box of wafer cookies on the passenger side, turning the keys in the ignition. Rolling the windows down you settled yourself and pulled out your phone to start looking for the music you wanted to play for the drive home. As you scrolled through your playlists, out of the corner of your eye, you can see a hand creep into the car, reaching for the box in the unaccompanied seat. You yelped and threw the car into reverse, hitting the gas. The hand flew out of the window with a gasp of surprise as the vehicle flung backwards.

"What the fuck, shortstack?!" You heard Rick exclaim. You sidled the car to be right next to him and Morty, the latter looking more worried than his general expression was.

"“What the fuck shortstack”? What the fuck, Doc Brown?! You were trying to steal a box of fucking wafer cookies from my car!" You glare at Rick, who only glares back with crossed arms. You were sure this man was going to stop at nothing to get those damn cookies, perfect for negotiation.

"You wanna come over?" You ask, holding up the box with a quirked brow, your tongue darting across your bottom lip. You felt a little ridiculous being so bold, especially when met with his annoyed gaze. He looked your body up and down as you sat in your car, debating. You were sure this time that your blush was because you were turned on. There was something about being surveyed like some knick-knack he was debating on buying as a souvenir on a vacation. Almost degrading.

"Love to.”

You weren’t expecting that, yet you grinned and unlocked your car doors, putting the box down.

"Morty," Rick reached into his lab coat and pulled out an odd-looking gun with a bulb embedded at the top. It crackled with bright, green electricity, lighting up with a sound that you could equate to the gun firing and what looked like a portal bloomed out of thin air next to Morty, the same color green that swirled in the bulb.

"Go home. I'll be back- fuckin'- I don't know," Rick looked at you. "How long is this gonna take?"

"How long do you want it to take?" You crossed your arms under your breasts, making them much more apparent. You honestly surprised yourself with what were you saying, the last time you did something like this your apartment was almost robbed. Rick, though you noticed him stare at your chest, rolled his eyes and looked to Morty.

"I'll-I'll be home when I'm home. Now go, now go- Fuck, I don't care."

“And what-what am I supposed to tell mom? You said you-you-you’d be home for dinner tonight.”

“My daughter knows I fu-UUH-ck, Morty. How else did she-she get here?”

The older man climbed into the passenger seat of the car, gleefully taking the wafer cookies from the cushion and holding them in his lap as he adjusted the chair to accommodate his long legs and torso. You watched Morty look between you and his grandfather, a look of disgust growing on his face before going into the portal with it swirling in on itself, disappearing after he stepped through.

“Did he just go through a portal?” You ask, wide eyed, looking at the empty place where the boy had once stood. Rick crossed his arms, looking bored already.

“Yes, can we go now?”

You nodded and looked both ways before putting the car in drive, maneuvering out of the parking lot.

"You should be nicer to him, he seems like a good kid." You comment as you turned onto the street outside of the lot, beginning your drive home. Rick sighed like an angsty teenager in response. In your peripheral you saw his whole head move with his eye roll.

"Fuck that noise. If-if-if you're just gonna rant about how I need to treat Morty then I'll leave."

"No, I was just making an observation. You should give the kid a break, he’s like, what? 14?" Rick groaned.

"I'm just here for the wafer cookies." You hear the rustling of the box of cookies being opened. You moved one of your hands from the steering wheel to grab his, stopping him.

"Touch those cookies and you get no form of sweets when we get to my bedroom. You hear me?” You let go of his hand, resting it on the console between the seats.

"Fuck you, Princess." Rick grunted, but made no move to continue opening the box.

"That's why you're here, Unibrow." You smirked, holding your hand out. You didn’t even notice you did it until your passenger said in a disgruntled tone,

“What?"

"Sorry, I like to hold hands when I drive with people.” You explained, but you didn’t put your hand down.

"What? No, this is a one time thing. I-I'm not doing dumb rituals or whatever."

"That's too bad, I was thinking of letting you have a wafer cookie or two if you did." You say wistfully, starting to lower your arm to just rest on the gear shift.

"Are y-y-you treating me like-like a dog? Doin’ party tricks?" Rick asked, only to be answered with silence, you glancing at him when you came to a stop sign before looking back to the road. His mouth slid into a smirk.

"That's kinky as shit." He slipped his hand into yours, earning a grin from you. You noticed the length of his fingers, how calloused his palms were. Staying focused on the road, you slowly brought your clasped hands to your lap, and you instantly felt him let go to grasp your thigh. You glanced at him again to see him looking straight at the stretch of street in front of him, his free hand feeding him the cookies he was promised, while the other rubbed your leg. You felt his fingers curl along the inside of your thigh, his pinky straying further in, sending static through your nerves. Your legs involuntarily squeezed together when his fingers brushed the seams of your crotch, he chuckled, and kept looking forward. Your face flushed, letting your thighs relax, his hand sliding further in, now rubbing the fabric of your pants. You let out a slight gasp, shifting in your seat for your legs to spread further, wanting him to touch more of you.

“Barely touching you and-and you’re already, already spread.” Rick openly laughed, taking his hands away suddenly, making you unwillingly whine. He pulled out the flask in his coat and took a swig, wiping away what slipped past his lips on his sleeve, his grin remained. He slipped the flask back in his jacket and his hand returned between your legs, his fingers trying to prod their way into you despite the obstacle.

“Y-y-you think if I keep goin’ you’ll soak through?” Your blush deepened.

“Ar-are you trying to find out?” You asked, though your voice wavered.

“I’ll stop-“ He started to retract, only for you to grab his hand and keep it at your cunt, making him laugh at you again.

“Oh! Take that as a-AH no.” His middle finger pressed deeper than the others, pushing right into your clit. You could feel the texture of your pants through your underwear, already wet, growing more desperate the more he taunted you over your clothes. You almost pulled over and dragged him into the back seat, but you were so close to your apartment, just a couple more blocks.

“Ya know, I-I can tell that you’ve gone through your pant-panties.” He sounded almost nonchalant, as if he didn’t just say one of the most insane things you’ve heard. But it made you squeeze your thighs together again.

“I don’t even, even think you’re going to be able to keep it together long enough to-to get your so called “sweets” in the bedroom.”

“We’re here.” You squeaked out as you approached your apartment complex, shakily pulling into your designated parking spot. Rick let go of you so quickly you almost whimpered, grabbing the wafer cookies and tucking them under his arm as he waited to follow you to the doors of the building, smirking at how you wobbled when first stepping out of the car. As you approached the entrance, you picked out the key to your building from your keychain, unlocking the door, though you were struggling slightly with keeping your hands straight enough to fit the key in the hole.

“Someone’s distracted.” He was right at your ear, bent at the waist, lips almost grazing you. You didn’t even notice he was so close. You were sure he could feel how hot the tips of your ears were.

“Ooh, just you wait, you’ll be distracted here soon.” You had wanted to threatening, but it clearly didn’t come across as such because the man still had that shit-eating grin on his face. Once inside, you called the elevator, ignoring the mail you’ve grown accustomed to grabbing when you had come home from work. You had more important things to take care of, like the growing uncomfortable feeling of your wet panties. Once the lift doors opened, you stepped inside, Rick again following you, standing at your side, and idly looking around the shabby elevator with dirty corners and yellowed lighting.

"Y-Y-You're how old and you have an apartment?”

"You're how old and you're not married, and live with your kid's family?" You poked your floor button with your middle finger as he raised his eyebrow, muttering, “Touché,”under his breath. The doors begin to close when someone’s hand caught the doors, shoving them open quicker than the sensor can make them move, and clambered into the cab, followed by two more who thanked them for keeping the elevator. When they all pressed their floor buttons and began chattering about their work days, you heard Rick groan then shove the box of cookies into your hands. You rolled your eyes, giving an apologetic look to the man beside you as the newcomers loudly discussed their lunches and work drama.

Once the elevator started to move, Rick slipped his hand with yours again, surprising you. After how he acted in the car, you hadn’t expected him to do that, and you couldn’t help the butterflies it sent fluttering in your stomach. But then, his hand slipped to your waist, the butterflies slamming into your body now. His hand trailed down to your hip and grazed past your ass, the butterflies sinking into arousal, the hand circling up your back and down over the span of your ass. You stared lazily at the elevator doors and the backs of the gossipers heads, trying to fight the waves of pleasure you were experiencing by just being touched. His hand found its way to the hem of your shirt, daring to go under, his fingertips skimming along your skin leaving trails of goosebumps. He wormed his hand down into the back of your pants, groping your ass, your blush making it feel like you were sweating bullets. His hand removed itself, now pulling you behind him, having his body block yours, now forced into the corner of the elevator. You weren’t sure what he had planned, but your first thought wasn’t that he would maneuver his hand down the front of your pants this time, going under the waistband of your underwear and start rubbing your cunt.

You were surrounded by people and Rick was fingering you, unnoticed.

You bit your lip to hold back the noises that bubbled in your throat, your hips rocking with his fingers to get more friction, standing in your tiptoes and balancing on the cornered walls to allow him more access. You tried to keep your breathing under control. In the nose, out the nose, in the nose, out the nose, you just had to keep breathing. But the thought of getting caught in such a lewd act with his slender fingers stroking you was such a thrill in itself. His fingers teased at your clit and with each instinctual buck of your hips, you could see his shoulders bounce, holding back giggles. You were starting to struggle with your grip on the cookies that got you here in the first place. You were getting close to cumming, meaning you were going to cum in public, and didn’t know if you were going to be able to keep quiet. As people got off the lift, they didn't even notice that you were behind the tall man in the corner. At least until the final person. Once they had stepped off the elevator and had begun walking away, you let out a small 'fuck', believing you were safe to finally moan aloud. But they turned around, and what they saw was Rick pulling a slick hand out of your pants. As if in slow motion, the doors began to close, you saw their horrified face, and they saw yours, with Rick sticking his tongue through his “V”-shaped sticky fingers. There was a feeling of mortification at being caught, but the adrenaline was enough to make you breathless. You leaned heavily on the wall, your wobbly legs more intense than before. Rick gave a satisfied grin at the sight of your flushed face, your bitten, swollen lips, your unbalanced stance, then he looked to study his wet fingers.

"Damn, y-you’re soaked," Rick spread his fingers to show the bridges of fluid between them to emphasize his point. “Why not just, just stop the-the elevator an-and get you that stress relief you’-UR-e looking forward to?”

“Hmm,” you hummed, you were rather tempted at the thought. He could pin you against the dingy walls, tell you that you’re as filthy as the lift as he holds you up by the thighs with your legs wrapped around his small frame. You were about to agree with his idea, when your eyes went wide, your jaw dropping, speechless, as he took each of his slick fingers into his mouth, one by one, sucking and licking them clean. He caught your stare.

“You expect me to just w-w-wipe that shit off? It’s more valuable than, than most organs on some black ma-ARCK-ets.”

You didn’t know how to express how hot that was. You didn’t really know what he was talking about with pre-cum being valuable on black markets, but you were about to just grab him, and make him finally make you cum. You’ve been teased enough today. The elevator doors opened again, a quick glance and you recognized the floor you lived on. Your mouth felt dry as you took one of his hands and lead the way to your apartment. You fumbled your keys out of your pocket and tried to unlock your door, only to get distracted once again by the man you brought home. His arms wrapped around your body, finding ways under your clothes to touch your bare skin, eliciting soft moans as you still tried to unlock the door.

“Fuck, Rick, can-“ You tried to protest between sighs, “Can you give me a seh-second?”

“What? You can’t handle it, Princess? Yo-you acted like such tough shit at the store.” You felt his teeth tug on your ear lobe and your legs wobbled. It was like he was using this whole excursion to show you that yes, there was something he could do about you taking that last, stupid, fucking box of wafer cookies, and it was to fuck you dumb. Finally, you made it into the apartment, flinging the box of cookies onto a nearby chair and yanking him inside by his lab coat. You reached as high as you could and pulled him down to finally crash your lips together. He tasted of stale alcohol and chemicals you couldn’t describe but you couldn’t get enough of him. You moaned in his mouth when he pulled you closer, bending down lower for you to deepen the kiss. You blindly fumbled backwards to your bedroom, trying to steer for the hallway but bumping into different furniture instead. You grunted, pulling away with a sharp bite in his bottom lip as you did, his deep moan flipping some sort of switch in you. When his lip slapped back to his gums you looked up at him with a half lidded gaze, suddenly very hungry, and you turned and dragged him to your bedroom as quickly as your unbalanced legs could carry you.

Once in the room you pulled Rick back down to you, teeth clattering together with the force of it, spinning the two of you around so you backed him onto the bed, forcing him to lay down under you as you straddle him. He allows you to take control with his hands on your hips as you felt him up, running your hands up and down his body, going under his shirt, leaving trails of goosebumps on his skin as he had done to you. Your hips ground against his, feeling his rock hard cock through his pants, you moaned in his mouth, his bulge fitting perfectly between your now soaked through pants. Based on how it felt, he was going to fit perfectly, if not be overfilling. You pulled away, your tongues partially out of your mouths, breathing heavily. He looked dazed almost, taken aback by your sudden assertiveness, just watching you with droopy eyes as you slowly inched off his lap and knelt on the floor before your bed, reaching for his belt buckle. He propped himself on his elbows, staring at you for a moment as you unhooked his belt and started at the button of his pants before fully sitting up. With one hand he caressed your head while the other reached into his coat again for his flask, finishing it off before returning it to its pocket and shrugging off the jacket. You were too busy already licking him through his briefs to notice him also take his shirt off and toss it aside with his coat, the only thing you’re able to process is how his fingers thread through your hair and his grunts of satisfaction.

“Didn’t think you-you’d do this after all the, all the shit I pulled.” He says pulling your hair slightly so you’d look up at him.

“I’ll stop.” You mimicked him from the earlier car ride, and you think he would’ve laughed if you hadn’t gone back to feeling and licking him through his underwear. Instead he moaned, his grip on your hair growing tighter the more your tongue moved. You were right about his size, but you weren’t known for being someone who half-asses things. You didn’t pick up your head until you finally pushed the band of his briefs down, and then immediately taking him in your mouth as deep as you could. You felt his nails dig into your scalp, his muscles tense under you, hearing a hiss and a guttural moan that you would replay in your mind for the rest of your life.

“God-damn.” He’s able to push past tight lips, his head thrown back. You hadn’t even started yet and he was already melting under you. Slowly, you began to suck him off, taking him deeper with each bob of your head. Rick didn’t even control your pace, his vice loosening, letting you set your own, which was enough for him based off how he groaned. You squeezed his hips before letting go and allowing your hands to travel his body, one down to the thighs, squeezing and rubbing, the other sprawling up his torso, feeling him tense and relax with each stroke, gaining momentum. You opened the back of your throat, wanting all of him, keeping your increasing speed. He sounded pathetic almost, feeding into your ego that a man who was nothing but a shit talker was whimpering because you were deep-throating him. You dared to look up at him through your lashes, his dick fully sheathed in your mouth.

“Fuck, me,” He sighed out, “Keep lookin’ at me… fuck, keep-keep lookin’ at me like that.”

You hummed and he shut his eyes, his grip on your hair tightening again. You slowed, letting your teeth graze his shaft, your hands returning to their original handles at his hips. He grunted and you felt him push against your head, but you refused, staying at your desired slow speed. Your scalp screamed when he forced you off him, Rick panting as you tried to catch your breath. You could tell you were something to behold, mouth gaping open with saliva and pre-cum drooling down your chin, trailing to a growing wet spot on your shirt, your eyes not leaving his, half-lidded, already starting to glaze.

“You fucking bitch,” He tried to glare at you but he was still coming down from whatever cloud he was on, “Y-you can’t go that hard then-then-then- fuck you, c’mere.”

He kissed you harshly, his tongue in your mouth, tasting himself, then pulled you back by your hair, making you hiss, before slamming your mouth back on his cock. You kept your gaze on him as he watched you take the near brutal pace he set. You knew that your throat would be sore after, but this was worth it, the ecstasy of just having his dick in your mouth was worth whatever bruise or soreness you’d have tomorrow. You moaned around him and he took advantage, pushing you to sheath him without warning. You felt your lungs jolt in your chest yet he held you still.

“Breathe, Princess- shit, y-you take- fuck- take me so good. Breathe through it.” It sounded like a whisper in the roaring of your ears. Despite the tears now rolling down your cheeks, you still looked up at him, and he moaned at the sight of you. He pulled you off, and before he could give you a chance to breathe, his mouth was on yours again, tongue replacing his dick down your throat, as if trying to soothe the already sore muscles. His hands moved from your scalp to down your neck and down your body, standing up and pulling you with him. He turned you around, this time pushing you down on the bed. He pushed your shirt up and kissed your stomach, running his tongue up your body to your rib cage and stopping at the underwire of your bra, kissing around it and licking a stripe between your tits, stopping at your rolled up shirt and only pulling away to bite into your neck. Your moan came from deep in your chest.

“I know you thought you’d be in-in charge of this,” He says against your throat between bites and sucking your skin, “But you had your fun, i-i-it’s my turn now.”

He pulled your legs over the edge of the bed, kneeling between them, your ass barely on the mattress. He pulled your pants and panties down in one swift movement, surprising you by how quick he was, and even more so when he wordlessly began eating you out.

You bit your lip, your moans whining past your teeth as he laps at your clit, your hips bucking when he pressed the flat of his tongue against it and two of his long fingers entered you. They scissored in you as Rick kept a steady rhythm, chuckling to himself when your body would move on its own in response to everything he did. You felt useless when all you were able to do was grip the sheets under you. The noises that were made as he slurped your clit were sloppily wet when mixed with your gargled moan as he added a third finger and curled them up deeper into you. Your legs gave out, your bottom half folding to the floor before he managed to catch your legs on his shoulders, his tongue unrelenting, taking turns between swirling, pressing, and sucking your clit. His free hand traveled up your body and grabbed at your tits, pulling the padding down to expose them, pinching your nipples and rolling them between his fingers. It was almost too much, but you wanted more. You were getting so close. You had been fed into like a growing fire, every thing that he’s done to you pushing you closer to engulfment, edging you this whole time, and you were finally going to cum. Your legs wrapped around his head, pulling him closer into you, a moan ripping out of you.

“I- Fuck!-” You finally spat out, “I’m guh- I’m gonna-”

He pulled away to interrupt you, earning a high pitched whine as your red, hot clit was left cold, but his hand didn’t stop, still pulling you to the edge.

“You think I can’t tell?”

Your eyes were closed and your head was thrashing about the bed, but you could imagine from your short time knowing him that he rolled his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up, Princess an-and just make those noises.”

Unashamedly, you obeyed, and you came, his name on your lips. Your back arched, one of his hands still pinching one of your nipples while the other drew out your moans with each curled finger, his swirling tongue slowing to a kiss. You panted, eyes blearily opening to watch him lick his fingers clean once again before going to the source, and lapping that clean as well. You squirmed, whimpering at how sensitive you were under his tongue, but both of his hands reached up to your tits, each grabbing one and pinning you to the bed as he maliciously pawed them, his fingers choosing your nipples as their next victim.

“Fuck- mmm-Rick!” You whined, but did nothing to stop him, your once useless hands now caressing his head between your legs. You felt his tongue in you, as if he was starving for every last drop of your cum, gulping it all down. You could feel an orgasm building underneath every fragile nerve he hit to finish his meal, you were sure if you came again so quickly you’d unravel. Finally, he pulled away and sat back on his knees, his hands retracting from your chest to wipe his sweaty, cum drenched face with the back of his hand. You were able to catch your breath and feel your body again, staring at the ceiling for a brief moment as you tried to even think.

“Ya know, I could sell the fuck outta that. We could be rich.” He comments as he gets up and starts to take the rest of his clothes off, kicking off his shoes.

“Sell?… What?” You’re barely able to sit up on your elbows.

“Your cum, duh.” He rolled his eyes as he pulled his pants and briefs down, and stepped out of them, now stalking towards you, sitting beside you on the bed and leering over you.

“You wouldn’t have any use for Glib-Zolians, but I-I-I’d still give you a cut because I ultimately hate capitalism an-and only use it so I can destroy it.”

“I have… no idea, what you’re talkin’ about.” You manage to word together, as you sit up and pull your shirt off despite your soft mattress beckoning you to sleep. He rolled his eyes again.

“Course y-you don’t,” He watches as you unclasp your bra and once tossed aside, his hands are back on you, moving up and down your body with an analytical eye, as if finding the mathematical formula that calculated your body.

“And didn’t I say somethin’ about shutting the fuck up?”

You glared at him as best you could, though your facade fell as soon as he took one of your nipples in his mouth. You sighed and squirmed under him, his hand caressing your cheek, the other massaging the unoccupied breast. As he held your face, his fingers curled to the back of your neck, forcing you to pick up your head and watch him as he stared back, bouncing back and forth between your nipples, as if he didn’t want the other feel left out. Your hands came up to hold his head, watching him lightly bite the sensitive buds and moan with each sharp pain of his teeth.

“Rick,” you moan and bite your lip. He pulls away and kisses you, almost sweetly, before it turns deep and desperate. He bites your bottom lip as he pulls away.

“Get on your knees, Princess.” He tells you, pulling away to let you move. You got on all fours, putting your weight on your elbows and arching your back for your ass to wag in the air for him. You gasped as felt a sharp smack across your right cheek, but it only made you squirm. You patiently waited for him to touch you again, getting more antsy by the millisecond. You heard the characteristic fumbling with a condom wrapper and you realized that you had completely forgotten about that, so caught up in how horny you were, you had ignored that one rule with sex. You were going to toss a ‘thank-you’ over your shoulder for him remembering but instead you let out a guttural moan. Rick had entered you to the hilt. He gripped your hips, his calloused fingertips already digging into your skin. He had prepped you thoroughly with his fingers and tongue, however he was still something you had to get used to. Your eyes squeezed closed and you circled your hips, trying to relax around him but only accidentally signaling to him that you were ready to go. You cried out as he moved at a speed you were not expecting so soon, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing over and over with enough force for you to lose your grasp on the English language. The only thing out of your mouth were animalistic grunts and moans that coupled with his panting and utterances of how great of an ass you had.

You were already getting close when Rick was just touching you but now that he was pounding into you, you were hurdling off the edge and plummeting into ecstasy. You couldn’t hold back how loud you were, you knew tomorrow you would receive a passive aggressive note slid under your door by your neighbors, but you didn’t care, you were cumming and he wasn’t slowing down. Garbled words tumbled past your lips, you knew you were trying to say how good it felt, how badly you needed this, how hard he was making you cum, but all that came out was nonsense. Your head fell to the bed, moaning into the mattress, only able to keep your ass up anymore. You felt a hand slither up your spine, counting your vertebrae as it gently grasped at your hair, then pulled your head back, your mouth falling open with a cry of pleasure. He slows for a moment, edging out of you until just his tip was inside, then sharply thrusting into you, each earning a deep groan from you.

“You don’t listen,” he pants, leaning down to hiss in your ear, “I said- shit- I said t’keep makin’ those- fuck- noises.”

His hips snapped back to its ruthless pace and your mouth hung open, dissonant moans and almost-words flowing out of you as a knot grew in your stomach. He stayed pressed against your back, hot breath fanning your neck.

“I- hng! Ah- ah- cummm-” Is all you manage, Rick’s breathy laugh a loud response, which only tightened the knot, threatening to untangle.

“Cum for me, Princess.”

It’s like a trigger, your eyes rolled back and your body went numb. Your cunt squeezed tightly around his dick and the moan he let out told you he was getting close. He let go of your hair and your deadweight collapsed to the mattress, both his hands now gripping your hips as he drove into you to find his own release. Your brain was mush, you couldn’t have a comprehensive thought, the only thing you could feel was his dick in you, somehow deeper and harder than before. You were so sensitive, every thrust sending shock waves through you, a perfect mix of bliss and over-stimulation, yet you kept moaning, doing as you were told.

His hips slammed into you, and finally, Rick came. A few weak thrusts follow, kissing your neck, a hand creeping up to grab your chin and move your lips to his. He sighed, staying in you and still pressed against you, matching your gasps for air, eyes closed, feeding off each other’s body heat and post-sex glow. After a moment or two, right when a cozy feeling was starting to overcome you, he was able to pick himself off your back, and regrettably pull out. You felt empty without him inside you, but you were more alarmed about how you felt like you couldn’t move, then deciding you’d just roll over and let your dead weight move your joints. He appeared beside you, laying on his back, hands clasped on his chest, a slight smile on his lips as he stared at the ceiling. The silence was comfortable and a small part of you wondered why, however, it didn’t last long, annoyance replacing the soft feeling when you heard him say,

“Sooo… about those wafer cookies…”

#rick and morty #rick and morty fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #rick sanchez fanfic #rick sanchez fanfiction #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez x fem!reader #x reader #x reader fanfic #x reader fanfiction #rick and morty fanfiction

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grapejuicebrat · 2 months

Text

my worst

PAIRING: bbf!rafe cameron x reader

SUMMARY: the more you try to fix him, the more you make it worse.

WORD COUNT: 1380

NOTES: based on this.

my masterlist

maybe it was a bad idea. maybe he was a bad idea.

maybe fucking your brother’s best friend wasn’t such a good idea. maybe falling in love with him wasn’t a good idea either. letting rafe ruin your life wasn’t a good idea but at the end of the day you loved him and trusted him. rafe was everything to you.

he was your protector and your lover. someone who could hide you from the rest of the world, who would hug you and tell you that everything will be okay and you would believe him without a doubt. because you were sure - rafe loved you. and you loved rafe.

actually it was something you wanted to believe in. that your secret relationship were not so fucked up from the very beginning. you closed your eyes when rafe was stalking you and gaslighting. didn’t hear anything when rafe told you to stop talking to your friends. didn’t say anything when you saw rafe snorting a line. because he’s a man, he is smarter than you. you don’t get to decide anything for him.

and now, three years later you were ready to write a letter to rafe. of course you could call him or text him but it wasn’t the same. you wanted to imagine how rafe would sit in his royal bedroom looking at this letter, rereading every word. remembering how you said every damn thing years ago. how you begged him to quit doing drugs. how you begged him to be a family with you. and he just shrugged, not believing that it was something he wanted to have.

and now rafe would give everything so he could just have you in his arms again.

“hey, rafe.

how are you doing? i want to believe that everything is okay. i asked topper a few times about you but he refuses even saying your name. and honestly i don’t judge him. i don’t have a right to judge me, you know? actually i was surprised that he didn’t stop talking to me after he found about our thing. but that’s not the point why i am writing this letter. don’t worry.

i had a lot of time to think. and you know what? finally i have some brave to tell you those things and finally let you go. i don’t know if you have someone beside you, and i tried my best not to reach out for you and don’t ask somebody about your love life. you know, just want to respect you and your private life because now i have no right to ask you about this since we are nobody to each other.

(and no, i can’t say that we are still friends. because we are not)

i wasn't crazy falling hard for you.

i’m used to liars, used to men using me, but you know what I'm not used to? you. you’re a different whole kind of pain. you're the type of pain that rips my vocal chords that I can't even scream. you're the type to dry my tears that 1 can't even cry.you’re the type that when I feel the slightest content, your memory stabs me in the heart. so yah, I'll take the liars, the manipulators, those men who objectify me over you because you... you made me love you with every intention of destroying the foundation i walk on just to watch me fall and stumble trying to come out of this alive.

I wish I could fix everything people broke in you. I wish I could erase every person who came into your life and left holes in your heart. I wish there was a way for me to rewind your past and erase every painful memory that made your life a little darker. I wish I had the power to go inside your heart and bring it back to what it used to be.I wish there was a way to go inside your heart and make it brave again. I wish I could just cleanse your heart and rid it of all the mess, all the chaos and all the heartbreaks. I wish I could show you the kind of love you've been missing but Rafe I've learned that love doesn't work that way and healing doesn't happen unless you feel it deep inside your soul.I learned that another human being can't tell you how you should feel or who you should love or what kind of heart you should have.

Love is the only force you can't fight even if you know you're going to lose and I wish I had the power to fight with you but darling that's one battle you're going to have to fight on your own. Because I'm also still healing. I'm still working on myself.

I'm still trying to bring my old heart back. And I'm still trying to find a way to fix everything people broke in me. I'm still trying to heal the wounds inside my heart. I'm still trying to be brave again. To trust again. To love again.And sometimes I wish there was a way for me to stay without losing myself. Sometimes I wish my journey was simple and linear so I can easily turn a blind eye to reality. To the facts that I know too well. To the struggles that I'm still trying to get through.But here I am, still trying to mend the broken pieces. Still trying to make sense of my journey and still very cautious because I'm not ready to break my own heart again.Because darling I've learned that just like can't force you to change your heart or the way you love, I can't force mine to change either. I've learned that if I can't help you heal, I have to let you go. I've learned that I need to heal myself first.

In 20 years, when my daughter asks me who my first love was, I'll think of you.

I will think of nights spent talking until the sun came up. I will think of the way your smile lit up my heart. I will think of the lessons you taught me, both before and after your broke my heart.

And I will look down at my daughter and tell her your name, I'll tell her how much I loved you, how dangerous it is to love somebody that much, how I had to learn to put myself back together again once you left.

I could tell her this funny story when I fell in love with my stalker. And how you stole my panties all the time. You thought I didn’t notice? Silly you. I just didn’t want this to end. I guess I always liked you. And I was attracted to you. I confess I’ve already been a little bit fucked up. That’s why everything was good at first.

Someday we will forget all about this. I will forget how you looked at me and I will stop dreaming about you every single night, wishing for you to come back. You will forget the way I laughed at every little thing you said and how I was different; happier, with you. We will be too far away from each other and we will have forgotten everything.

Someday, what we had wouldn't matter anymore, and I will never cry for you again.

But for now, I hope i’ll meet in any other life where we would be happy. And we’ll have a family of our own home. Like we’ve dreamed. But I don’t know, maybe it was just my dream and you didn’t want all of this. Sorry, if I said anything harmful.

We were never meant for each other. But I'm glad that even for a sheer moment It felt like we were.

But you made a mistake in your letter. Maybe you were meant to be. You and Rafe met in a wrong time. Right place.

i think i’ll rewrite it but anyways i hope you liked it! share your thoughts and add share your asks to my inbox i’ll gladly answer to them!

if you would like to be added to my taglist leave a comment or let me know by sending me in my ask!

oh and let me know if you want me to write more about their relationship before the break up!

taglist: @ivy-34

#Spotify #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut

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stopaskinf · 5 months

Text

“If I couldn’t have you as a picture on my side, I’d rather die”

Summary: Something’s been following you. Yoongi doesn’t seem too concerned though.

Genre: Yandere Yoongi, dark fic, lowkey dead dove do not eat?

Word Count: 0.5K

CW: Cursing, Heavyyyyyy Stalking, implications of breaking and enter, reader feeling objectified, lowkey paranoid reader but for good reason

A/N: This week has not been great for me, so idk send me money or reblog this for me to feel better 🙃

Min Yoongi is omnipresent.

You’re being followed.

You’re unsure about many things, except for the fact something is following you.

You hear its footsteps as you walk down the sidewalk. The footsteps are light, unnoticeable to anyone else except you.

The constant shuffling that occurs as the sole of their shoes scrape the concrete. The squeaks that occasionally interrupt to feast on the surrounding sounds around. It’s deafening.

Its figure looms over you everywhere.

Hallways. Elevators. Work. With friends. With family. With strangers who take too much of an interest in you.

You can’t put a name, face, or smell to it. There’s nothing you can define it by or associate with other than you. All you know about it is that it’s everywhere.

They’re your shadow.

You sit on carpeted floor in Yoongi’s living room, shaking. He’s not there, but he hears everything you’ve said. He listening. He’s always listening.

Yoongi is in the kitchen prepping kimchi to go with the savory dinner he promptly made once he knew you were coming. He knows you haven’t eaten. Once you get off work, you’re too tired to cook, so you miss dinner altogether. Additionally, he knows you hate frozen food and store-bought kimchi. It never tastes as good as when something is handmade.

“Stop scratching that scab. It’ll get infected.”

The man has eyes in the back of his head.

He’ll never look you straight in the eyes. Still, he knows

every move you make.

His dark orbs are constantly covered by the flowy bangs that frame his fame. They’re always pointed down or focused on another task as if focusing on you would destroy him.

Although, you feel the power his stare holds.

When you leave his house after a long night, you swear you can sense his eyes peering down at you. They detach themselves from his sockets and follow you to what is supposed to be the privacy of your home.

You have a vivid memory of having sleep paralysis. You woke up to darkness encasing you and faint breaths alerting you. You adjust your eyes and you see it. You fucking see it. That fucking creature. It takes the shape of a man, but you know better. No man’s eyes are that malevolent. The one whose eyes bore into your soul as if it is all-knowing. They wouldn’t need any other part of their body to infiltrate yours. Those disgusting, beady dots that waiver as you make eye contact are more than enough for them. The eyes that dare you to try and run. It’ll find you anyway.

As a child, you used to beg and plead with your parents to let you sleep with the lights on. The night hid things. It made everything, even yourself unrecognizable. To you being in the dark was chaos. It was being abducted and held hostage by the void itself.

When you see those eyes stare at you all those years later, you think about your intrinsic childhood fear.

Child you had a point.

Yoongi lays your finished plate of food down in front of you.

In that second, you get a good look at his eyes.

They’re the same.

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hotreadingwitch · 10 months

Text

MADE TO LIE - the news

TW: sexism (interviewers discussing the sex tape objectify Y/n)

Y/N

Natasha’s shoulders tensed.

“I can’t believe Tony made you and Bucky make a sex tape…” she exclaimed, her voice calm but her words angry, “he’s such a fucking pervert sometimes”

“Yeah! And made you release it everywhere” Wanda added zealously.

Y/n had been close with Wanda and Natasha since she’d become an Avenger. She’d quickly built friendships with the two women as they both had their own traumas to heal from, Natasha with her past in the Red Room and Wanda with the death of her parents. Over the last few years together they’d grown beyond friends, becoming sisters in every sense of the word. She trusted them with her life, yes, that was necessary as teammates, but more than that she trusted them with her past. Having shared more details with them than anyone else at the compound they knew things that even Tony didn’t.

“I couldn’t believe it either trust me” Y/n replied back to the girls, “He was so rude before too! Telling me to get over myself and focus on the mission…”

Though she was mad, Y/n’s mind couldn’t help but drift back into the feeling of Bucky’s lips on her skin the night before, making her body warm instinctively as if he was touching her right then and there…Distracted by her thoughts, she almost missed the funny look that passed between the two women in front of her.

“What?” She questioned, “I know that look—what is it?”

“You have to tell us Y/n…” Wanda hesitated before her mouth curved into a mischievous grin.

Most of the other Avengers thought Wanda was fierce because of her powers but mostly innocent otherwise. If only they knew the truth…

“Oh God,” Y/n rolled her eyes, “You want to know if it was good or not?”

Natasha stared at her with a smirk, winking in response.

“Oh c’mon, you two are ridiculous” Y/n protested, biting down on her bottom lip to stop her oncoming smile.

“Please! He’s so dreamy”

“We want to know every detail…”

“Fine, so—“

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

“Hey Y/n,” Bruce said, blushing, “you might want to come out and see this…”

Y/n, Natasha, and Wanda quickly reached the compound’s glossy, high-tech media room after walking through the bedroom-lined halls of the complex. Her neck prickled as she entered the space, making her head turn towards the source of the feeling. Bucky stared back at her from where he sat beside Steve on the couch, his legs spread open in a masculine stance as he listened to whatever the other man was saying. The rest of the team all turned to look at her once they realized that she was standing there. Her cheeks flushed.

Bucky got up in a huff, brushing past her and the girls without a single word. It was as if her mere presence aggravated him. Her eyes must have reflected her confusion and budding embarrassment because Natasha held out her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze when Y/n took it gratefully.

“Don’t let him bother you” Steve called out, instantly diffusing the knot of tension building in her stomach.

Steve was another close friend of Y/n’s, definitely her favourite out of the guys. They’d bonded when Tony had first brought her into the Avengers initiative, saving her from the criminal life that she was forced to lead, under a notorious gang-boss in France.

“Welcome to Good Morning America” a woman on the television spoke with a crisp accent, interrupting the awkwardness, “This is Stephanie Lancaster reporting to you with the latest gossip. Recent news includes the leaked sex tape of none other than popular Avenger Y/n Y/l/n and reformed mass-murderer, the Winter Soldier, James Buchanan Barnes”

“I can’t say I expected this!” another reporter chimed in, “What is a kind and respected hero like Y/n doing with a bad boy like Barnes? Remember when she organized that charity gala for orphaned children? What has he ever done that’s good? They couldn’t be more different…”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed again, this time with a spike of anger.

A third cut him off then, adding, “I think they’re cute, and well, they’re obviously pleasing each other”

This caused the three reporters to chuckle. Wanda changed the channel but each one was the same. Y/n sat on one of the couches, letting the cool leather soothe the jumble of emotions that she was feeling as the gossipers divisively discussed everything about her from the stretch marks on her thighs to the way she moaned Bucky’s name. Interrupting her growing moodiness in an instant, she heard her voice ring out over the media room speakers, “Just. Like. That.”

“Oh my god,” Wanda said, shocked, finally just turning the TV off with a click.

“How can they even play a clip of that on television” Natasha joined in, her brows knitting together.

“Well, it’s nothing everyone hasn’t seen already” Sam chuckled.

“Meaning?” Y/n asked, her head snapping back to face her friend.

Steve sighed from behind Y/n before responding, “Not only are they broadcasting short, blurred clips of the tape on most of these channels, you two are the number one trending video on Pornhub as of this morning”

“Great…” Y/n stated, suddenly annoyed, “So every horny person in the whole country has seen me naked now?”

“I haven’t seen it Y/n” Bruce came forward, the ever-respectful gentleman, “If that makes you feel any better…”

Y/n looked to the corner expecting to see Bucky glowering before remembering that he had stormed angrily out of the room. She sighed, agitated that she was taking the brunt of the exposure alone without the man who was supposed to be her partner in all this. Of course, Bucky was coming out mostly unscathed by the media, even getting a few ‘props’ from the more sexist networks and shows. Taylor Swift had sung it best, If I was a man, then I’d be the man.

Her slumped shoulders were a visible gesture that was not missed by none other than Steve Rogers. As Y/n stood and said a quick goodbye, walking back through the empty compound halls to her room, Steve followed. When she noticed him lagging behind her she paused, allowing him time to catch up.

“Hey Steve” Y/n exhaled with a bitter laugh.

“Hey” an apologetic look painting his perfect features, “Wanna talk about it?”

They soon arrived at her room. Y/n opened the door, revealing her space to him. It was different from Bucky’s. Where his space was cool and dark, hers was warm and cozy. It had crisp white bed sheets, comfy chairs for reading, bookshelves and large windows that looked out to the forest greenery surrounding the compound, giving her a sense of calm that she had never found living in the city.

“How are you feeling?” Steve braved, his concern clear.

“I feel awful,” Y/n told him honestly, “How could Tony assign this mission to us, Steve? Bucky and I are polar opposites. We might’ve completed ‘step one’ but who knows how we’ll be able to get through the rest of the plan if he can’t even stand to be near me”

“I know Y/n, I know” he consoled before hesitating.

“C’mon Steve tell me” she smiled knowingly with an eye roll, “I know you’re dying to spit out whatever wise, old-man advice you’re about to give”

“Look” Steve began kindly, brushing off the small dig, “I know he’s an ass. I’m his best friend Y/n, I know that better than anyone but I have to say you should give him another chance. He might seem cold now but he’ll warm up soon enough…How could he not when he’s with someone as amazing as you?”

Steve never failed to make her feel better and yet the pit in her stomach remained.

“I just—” she started, “I’m scared Steve, this feels like it’s going to be the death of me…and I don’t know why”

“I don’t know what’s going on with all this exactly either Y/n, but I know you’ll figure it out”

“Thanks” she sighed again, her mood slightly improved.

“And with Bucky…”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful”

“I will Steve,” she placed a comforting hand on his, “You’re a sweetheart you know? But don’t worry, he can’t hurt me”

“Right…” Steve’s eyes flickered with something she couldn’t decipher.

He left then, going to exercise with Sam, leaving her typical comforting room cold in his wake and her mind racing.

BUCKY

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Bucky’s heart rate revved in his chest like one of Tony’s over-priced sports cars. He was practically bionic at this point, how come he still had feelings?

“Motherfucker…” he uttered his thoughts aloud as wet droplets ran down his neck to his wide shoulders and below.

The cool water was supposed to help stabilize his pounding heart not make him sink further into the thoughts that had been threatening to consume him since last night. Being intimate with Y/n had made something suspicious bloom within him. His chest tightened every time he remembered her spread open just for him, his cock pounding into her, making her wet, making her—

Two hard knocks pounded on the door to his en-suite bathroom. Steve. He was the only one with a key to his room. Better safe than sorry until the Avengers team could figure out a way for the Winter Soldier programming to be permanently removed from his mind.

Most days Bucky spent working out at the compound or hanging out with Steve and now even Sam Wilson, one of Steve’s annoying friends who’d helped them out with the HYDRA disaster a couple of years ago and later the fight between the whole team that Tony now jokingly called their ‘Civil War’. It wasn’t safe for him to be out in the world most of the time, though the compound’s therapist Dr. Janet Pashia did help him work through most elements of his past.

Bucky turned the nozzle of the shower off, cutting the steady stream of water short. In a moment of intense anger with Tony’s high-tech gadgets, he’d vented to Steve until they had replaced the thousand coloured buttons with what he considered to be a much more practical handle that simply turned the water hot and cold. He didn’t need anything lavish or extra. In all honesty, after all he had been through, he craved simplicity over anything.

“Steve” Bucky greeted with a grunt, walking out of the bathroom, a fluffy white towel hanging low on his waist.

“Save that grumpy tone for Y/n” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re smart Buck, I’m sure you can guess how your storming out today made her feel”

Bucky released a low noise of pent-up frustration.

“She just drives me mad! You should’ve heard her when we got assigned the mission Steve, her hesitance to do what clearly needs to be done pissed me off and last night—”

Bucky ran a hand through his dark hair, pulling at the wet strands in desperation before continuing,

“I’m a professional for fuck’s sake” he gritted out finally, “I wouldn’t be acting this way if I was working with Natasha or with Wanda”

Steve was silent for a beat, “Well Buck, you’re not as ‘professional’ as you used to be and we both know it”

Bucky fixed Steve with a glare that would make a lesser man faint.

“What?” Steve shrugged innocently before laughing, “Hey, that’s a good thing. I like the new you—the new/old you. Whatever you wanna call it. I like that you’re a bit of a softie these days…”

Bucky’s gaze eased but he let out a heavy sigh, “Yeah well, it doesn’t mean I want to be all soft all the time and there’s still that part of me that’s…cold, untouchable”

Steve smiled gently in that wholesome way that Bucky was sure only he could do.

“You’re getting better, that’s all that matters” he stated with confidence, “Look at me. You’re trying, more than I’ve ever seen you try at something in your life, getting checked out by all those doctors and specialists, seeing that therapist you like, keeping your mind as clear as possible. You’re doing good Bucky, whether you want to admit it or not. I can say that can’t I? I know you better than anyone”

This time his smile seemed more hopeful.

“Thanks, Steve” Bucky cleared his throat, putting a veiny hand on the other man’s shoulder and clasping it.

“But Buck, with Y/n…try and ease up on her, she deserves it”

He got up from where he sat, heading towards the door, when he turned to look back at his friend there was a knowing glint in his eye.

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forever-rogue · 2 years

Text

Spiderling Sunshine

AN | No asked for this, but you’re getting anyway. Here we have a mixture of coffee shop, tattoo artist, and soulmate aus! Enjoy❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 5.2k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You hadn’t heard the soft twinkle of the bell above the door go off. It wasn’t until you heard his warm voice that you even realized that you weren’t alone.

“Is that challah?”

You jumped from where you were crouched on the floor, managing to hit your head on the counter. You hissed as you rose to your feet, rubbing at the sore spot that was already forming on your head, checking for blood or any sort of visible injury. Across the counter, much to your surprise, was a handsome man looking at you with a sheepish expression and meekly pointing at the display.

“Yeah,” you managed to choke out, distracted by the throbbing of your head and the glittering ochre eyes apologetically looking back at you, “it’s challah.”

“I’m so sorry,” he grimaced and took a step closer, “I didn’t realize you were behind there and fuck, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m alright,” you promised, knowing you’d taken many worse knocks to the head and been okay. You gave him a small smile, hoping to put him at ease, “no need to apologize. I probably should have been paying more attention too.”

“I’ll make more noise next time,” he joked and you both relaxed. You looked him over and realized you’d never seen him before; the only people that came into the coffee shop at this time of day were usually regulars. Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, he stood closer and held out his hand to you, “I’m Peter. Peter Parker. I just moved into the space down the block - well, my shop that is.”

“Peter,” you shook his hand, trying to ignore the warmth of his skin and how easily his hand swallowed yours. You told him your name and he repeated it softly, testing out how it sounded on his tongue, “oh! The new tattoo shop! I’ve walked by it a few times and was wondering when you’d be here. What’s it called again?”

“Spiderling Tattoo,” he smiled and damn, he had a magical smile that made your knees weak, “we open officially next week! I’m glad I found you…r shop. Now at least I have a spot to get my coffee.”

“Well, I’m here bright and early,” you gestured vaguely, feeling shy under his warm gaze, “so I’ll ughh…be here. Umm…bright and early. For coffee…because that’s ugh, what I do here. Obviously. I, ugh…I’m rambling and making a fool of myself so I’ll shut up now.”

“Don’t worry, it’s cute,” his eyes crinkled in the corner when he smiled wide and if that hadn’t been your weakness before, it was now, “do you think I could get some challah and a coffee to go?”

“Right, yes, of course,” your face warmed and you went to grab a knife to slice the freshly baked bread. You had to get yourself in check and stop oogling your customers. Just because they were incredibly kind, funny, flirty, and cute didn’t mean you had the right to objectify them. But no…you weren’t objectifying…just admiring beauty. Sure, you’d go with that.

“Are you Jewish?” he asked as he watched you carefully slice it.

“No,” you answered softly, “well according to 23&Me I’m like fifteen percent, but I don’t think that counts. I learned the recipe from one of my neighbors when I was growing up. She was an older Jewish lady and she loved sharing her recipes. Her kids and grandkids had moved out of New York and her husband had passed away, so she kind of adopted me in a way. I used to go see her a lot on weekends, so I like to think that I picked up her little tricks to make it perfect. I’m assuming you are? Jewish, I mean.”

“Yeah,” he liked you, he’d already decided that much, “my aunt used to make challah a lot growing up and I’m particular to it. I can’t wait to see how this stacks up.”

“I doubt it’ll be anywhere near as good,” you wrapped it up carefully and handed it across the counter to him. His fingers brushed against yours and it sent a warm shiver down your spine, “but you’ll have to tell me.”

After asking how he took his coffee, you busied yourself with making it to perfection, feeling the need to impress him. He took a sip as soon as it was in hand and you could see the smile on his face that he enjoyed it, “it’s perfect! Thank you - how much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house,” you insisted as soon as you saw him reaching for wallet, “consider it a little welcome to the neighborhood gift.”

“You’re the best,” yeah, you could get used to hearing that from him, “I’ll find a way to get you back for this, I promise.”

“Peter-”

“I’ve gotta go,” he looked at his watch and groaned slightly, “I’ll see you soon! I’ll be back, I promise!”

“See you soon, Peter Parker,” you watched him walk out the door, pausing to wave at you through the window once more before quickly booking it down the street. You found yourself staring after him, already missing him. Oh no. You had to pull it together. You’d known him for all of ten minutes, and you were already getting butterflies in your stomach. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were doomed.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The very next morning Peter was back as promised…in fact he was there so early that he managed to beat you. When you walked up, he was scrolling around on his phone, leaning against the front of the shop. Your heart almost dropped into your stomach at the sight. You hadn’t expected to see him again, at least not so soon.

He looked up as soon as he heard you, he looked up, that pretty smile on his face only growing. A hand was held up as he waved at you, “good morning!”

“Hi Peter,” it was easy to put a smile on, despite the early morning hour at the sight of him, “I’m guessing you’re an early bird?”

“No,” he shook his head as you raised an eyebrow in amusement, moving to unlock the shop, “anything but.”

“What brings you over so early?” not that you minded in the slightest. As far as you were concerned, Peter Parker was welcome any time.

“Wanted to see you,” he quickly blurted, and as soon as he realized his little admission his cheeks turned a pretty pink, “a-and coffee.”

“Ahh, well that I can do,” you promised, motioning for him to follow you inside. He trailed after you like a puppy, watching your every move with awe, “hey, Peter, I have a question for you.”

“Yeah?” he asked as you popped behind the counter and he leaned against, looking so effortlessly and ridiculously handsome, “and just what would that be?”

“Will you,” you mirrored his actions and leaned against the counter across from him, “do me the honor of being my guinea pig?”

“Yes.”

“I - oh my goodness, Peter,” you laughed lightly, a pretty sound that went straight to his heart, “you don’t even know what for!”

“Whatever it is,” he promised, “the answer is yes. Now…what exactly is it?”

“Coffee and baked goods,” you smiled softly, “there’s tons of new things I want to try out and I need an objective opinion on things. Can I trust you to always give me the truth, Peter?”

“Of course,” there was something about his words that let you both know he meant a lot more than just the coffee, “it will be an honor indeed. What’s first on the menu?”

“Lavender rose latte,” you grinned and he gave you a curious look with a bemused smile, “so - iced or hot?”

“Iced,” you gave him a nod before motioning for him to come behind the counter to watch you, “oh - before I forget. Your challah? Amazing…don’t tell Aunt May, but you’re giving her a run for her money.”

“Yeah?” your entire face lit up at the praise and Peter decided that he wanted to see that look on your face everyday. He wanted to be the reason for that look.

“Definitely.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter Parker came to see you every morning without fail. No matter what the morning brought, he was always there to greet you, a pretty smile on that handsome face. You didn’t even want to admit just how hard and fast you fell for your tattooed neighbor. Everything was just so easy with him; everything felt so right with him. Nothing else mattered when it was just the two of you in the early morning hours in your little coffee shop, or late nights at his tattoo studio. It was like time only existed for the two of you.

You came to know him better than anyone else, and you felt like he knew you down to your very soul. It was hard to explain how two people could have such a connection, or how they’d even find each other in this big, crazy world. Maybe it was completely by chance, maybe it was fate, or some sort of cosmic intervention.

Whatever it was, you were thankful that he walked into your life and managed to turn it upside down. You just had a feeling that he would be a part of your world for a long, long time. Sometimes it was scary, sometimes it made no sense, but none of that mattered. Only him and you, you and him. That was all.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

But one day it all seemed to come apart, to start unraveling at the seams.

“Peter?” you chirped out his name happily as you walked into his shop, hoping he wasn’t busy. But to your surprise you found a pretty redhead girl sitting at the little front counter, looking bored as she scrolled on her phone. She turned to you with a dismal look and raised her eyebrow, but said nothing, “h-hi. Is Peter here?”

“Why do you need to see him?” oh. That’s the kind of interaction you were doing to have apparently. She set down her phone and crossed her arms over her chest, “well?”

“I-I own the coffee shop at the other end of the block,” you explained lamely, holding up the packages in your arm and putting down the cup in your hand, “I brought him some fresh-baked challah and coffee. Is he here?”

“Oh,” she stood up and gave you a disgustingly sweet smile, “my boyfriend is in the back, finishing up with a client.”

Boyfriend. You didn’t want to admit just how deeply your heart broke at the singular word. You thought you’d gotten to him so well over the past few months, but you had no clue that he had a girlfriend. In all the time you’d spent with him you’d never never once heard him mention her. Either way, she was here now and you had to accept that heartbreaking little fact. Maybe it wasn’t you and him after all…

“It’s nice to meet you!” you put what you hoped would appear as a genuine smile on your face as you gave her name. You set the packages on the counter as you pushed them towards her, “can you please make sure he gets them…?”

“Mary Jane,” she eyed the packages but left them where you had set them, “did you need anything else? We’re kind of busy here.”

“N-no,” you shook your head, already taking a step back towards the door, “that was all. Thank you - if you ever want a coffee or dessert, feel free to stop by and it’ll be on the house!”

“Mhmm,” she was already back to looking at her, dismissing you without so much as a goodbye, “thanks. I guess.”

You were out the door and back onto the street, letting out a long sigh as you blinked back the tears that were stinging at the back of yours. You felt hurt, in a way, because Peter had never once mentioned her and you thought you were getting close to him. The other part of the hurt was the fact Mary Jane had treated you like garbage. Was she that rude to everyone? Or just you? She did think you were trying to steal Peter away? So many questions and so few answers.

But you pushed all of that out of mind and walked back to your little shop; you had plenty of work to keep you occupied.

Meanwhile, as soon as she was positive you were gone, Mary Jane tossed the delicately wrapped packages of fresh challah straight into the trash can along with the coffee and kicked it out of sight under the counter.

“Hey,” Peter had made his way from the back of the shop and came up front, “did someone come in? I thought I might have heard-”

“No,” she insisted firmly, putting a sweet smile that managed to fool him, “I was on the phone that’s all. Nothing important.”

“If you’re sure,” he raised an eyebrow almost as if he didn’t quite believe her, “well, I’m almost ready to go - five minutes. Still want to grab some Chinese on the way home?”

“That’s what we did last week Pete,” she rolled her eyes slightly, “let’s go out on a real date for once. It’s always the same thing with you. It gets so boring.”

“I never knew it bugged you so much,” he raised an eyebrow but she only huffed, “okay, we can go out for dinner and have a date night out more often.”

“Thanks babe,” her attitude changed quickly as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, “you’re the best. Can you please hurry up please?”

Peter bit his cheek to keep from making a comment and opted to simply nod instead.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A few days passed before you saw Peter again, and if you were being honest with yourself, it had been eating you up inside. It had become such a routine to see him in the mornings when he stopped in, for you to go to his shop when you had time during lunch, and for either of you to find the other at the end of the day. This was the first time in months there had been any sort of deviation from the routine. And it fucking sucked. You wondered if something had happened to him because when you’d go by his shop it seemed to be closed.

You missed him. You missed Peter probably way more than you should have. You wondered if he missed you at all.

But relief came on the fifth day when the bell over the front twinkled gently and you saw Peter Parker walk through your door. You were in the middle of finishing putting some fresh muffins, but stopped immediately as you ran over to him. A small smile grew on his face as you beamed up at him.

“Peter,” you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly, “I’ve missed you! I was starting to get worried.”

“I was out of town,” he confessed as he hugged you back with just as much feeling, as you nodded, “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you. It was a last minute thing.”

“It’s okay,” you promised, “I’m just glad you’re okay, I’m glad you’re here. Hey, did you get a chance to try the challah?”

“W-what challah?” his eyebrows shot up in confusion as you cocked your head to the side, “when did you…?”

“I dropped some off,” you whispered softly, “the day before you left, in the afternoon. I came over and dropped them off along with a new latte at the counter…with your girlfriend.”

“Oh,” his cheeks reddened and you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d hit a nerve, “it’s umm…we…we just recently got back together.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged lightly, “we’ve…yeah. But she didn’t give me anything.”

“I left two packages with her,” you worried your lip between your teeth “they were freshly baked. I tried something new with the one and hoped you would try it. I guess they just…didn’t make their way to you…o-or something.”

“You dropped them off?” you could hear the emotion in his voice and just nodded. You didn’t even need to be told that they were thrown into the trash; you could put the pieces together. Peter on the other hand was still processing everything, “but I never….fuck. I’m sorry - I swear I didn’t get them.”

“‘s okay,” you nodded softly, feeling like crying, “it’s not your fault. I-I’ll make some more soon and you can try it. Can I get you anything this morning? I’ve got fresh cinnamon rolls and I can make you a latte.”

“Actually,” he shook his head and your mouth opened in surprise. He’d never once turned you down, “I’ve gotta go. But I’ll be back, okay? I swear I’ll be back soon.”

“Peter?”

“Soon,” he promised, crossing his heart quickly which brought a smile to your face. But just before he could make his way out of the shop, he poked his head back inside, “but save me one of those cinnamon rolls please!”

“Always,” you whispered despite the fact that he was gone, “always.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter didn’t even bother going to open Spiderling Tattoo, opting instead to go to Mary Jane’s apartment. He knocked on the door, his mind reeling with all of the things that he wanted to say, and anger flowing through his veins. After a few moments, the door was opened and Mary Jane looked surprised to see him.

“Pete, what are you doing here?” she seemed perturbed at his sudden appearance, “shouldn’t you be at work?”

He ignored her question and said your name, which caused her face to scrunch up in annoyance, “she did stop by the other day. You said she didn’t. Why?”

“It didn’t matter,” she insisted, rolling her eyes and throwing her hands up dramatically, “why does it matter so much? She’s just the little coffee shop girl. She’s obsessed with you, Peter. It’s weird!”

“What happened to the challah?”

“Peter-”

“What happened to it?” he was upset with how she was acting, more even upset thinking about how hurt you must be, “tell me.”

“Jesus Peter, it’s just bread,” she sounded like she was ready for an argument, “I’ll buy you some damn bread if it’s that important.”

“It’s not just about the bread, Mary Jane,” he groaned in frustration, “it’s about all of it. Why did you lie to me? Why would you just throw it away?”

“Because Peter! All you do is talk about her and how great she is and what she did,” Mary Jane frowned deeply as Peter listened to what she said, “you’re not dating her, you’re dating me! Me! What’s so hard to understand about that? If she’s so important to you, maybe you should just go to her.”

“You know,” he took a step back, shaking his head more to himself than anything else, “I’ve been wondering why we got back together. It just reminded me of why we broke up in the first place. I don’t want to do this anymore, Mary Jane. We’re not good together…all we do is push and pull each other and I don’t think either of us are really happy. So let’s just…not do this.”

“You’re just going to break up with me?” her brows knitted together and her mouth formed a small o, “have you been fucking her!?”

“This is what I’m talking about,” Peter shook his head, “you always assume the worst, but just to answer your question, no. I have not. She’s my friend. But you? You’re not being a friend right now. It’s over, MJ. We’re done.”

“Whatever Peter,” she slammed the door shut in his face before he could even say another word. He shook his head and got out of the daze he’d been worked into. When he had first gotten together with MJ, things had been good, and they’d been good together. But he soon learned that she was prone to jealousy and acting irrationally. If it hadn’t been for that they might have worked out. But something in his gut told him that there was something else beneath it all.

The thing Peter knew was that he needed to go back to you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was getting close to closing time and Peter hadn’t come back. You thought he’d meant it earlier when he said he would be back soon. You really shouldn’t have made a big deal out of it, because it clearly wasn’t. Besides, the two of you were just friends. Just friends that happened to own businesses near each other. And that’s all you ever would be. You hated how much that broke your heart.

You’d locked the door and were just about to flip the vintage, handmade sign on the door from open to closed, when you heard the rapid tapping on the window. You looked up and couldn’t believe the sight that met your eyes. Peter Parker was standing outside, a nervous but excited look on his face, his cheeks pink from the slight chill, hair messy as always, and a handful of sunflowers and daisies in his hand. You couldn’t right back your own smile as you beamed back at him.

Let me in? he mouthed as you nodded, quickly unlocking the door and pulling it open as he came inside. You locked it behind him and flipped the sign before turning to him with an incredulous expression on your face.

“Peter? You came back...” you whispered softly as he seemed to mull over the right thing to say. Sometimes his mind worked way faster than his mouth, and he found him looking at you with a dopey little smile, “is everything alright?”

“These are for you,” he held out the flowers to you, causing your heart to beat impossibly faster. You gently took them, clutching them gently to your chest as you inhaled their sweet scent.

“They’re lovely,” you whispered, immediately touched by the sweet gesture, “but why…”

“They reminded me of you,” he confessed, a nervously anxious little smile on his face, “sunflowers because you always brighten my day, and daisies because they’re delicate and gentle just like you, and I know you told me a long time ago they’re your favorites.”

“Peter…” you blinked back the tears that had threatened to spill down your cheeks, “I don’t know if you should do this…”

“It was MJ,” he breathed out and the name was enough to make your heart constrict, “she threw it all away, and she lied to me about it. I…I’m so sorry. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“Or to you,” you shrugged lightly, lips trembling with effort as you tried to hold back your tears.

“I broke up with her,” he confessed, causing your eyes to snap to his with a hopeful little expression, “I should never have gotten back together with her. I knew that but I still did…”

“Why?” you swallowed the lump in your throat. Your heart was beating so fast you wondered if he could hear it threatening to burst through your ribcage, “why did you?”

“I hadn’t seen her in a few years and she came back and I thought that maybe…maybe being with her would help me get over you,” now that it was out in the open, Peter felt a million times better. But the look on your face didn’t necessarily make him feel relieved, your face was a mask of confusion, “but that turned out to be a huge mistake.”

“You were trying to get over me?” your voice was small and trembling as you clutched the flowers tighter in your hand, “what do you mean? Why? Peter, I-I don’t understand.”

“It’s been you,” he breathed out, more nervous than he had been in a long, long time, “from the day I met you. And I just…I asked myself why you would ever want to be with someone like me? I’m just…I’m just a-”

“I’m in love with you,” you cut him off before he could say anything else, lest he go on a self-deprecating tirade. His mouth dropped open and he looked at those you had grown an extra head. You offered him a nervous smile but nodded, confirming that he had actually heard you correctly, “if you would have asked me I would have said yes, you know.”

“I didn’t want to flatter myself that much,” he breathed out, stepping closer to you and leaving almost no space between your bodies, “to think you could ever love me as much as I love you.”

“Well,” you gently laid the flowers on the counter as you shrugged lightly, “you were wrong.”

“I was wrong.”

“Yes.”

Without wasting another moment his hands found your face and he pulled you into him, crashing his lips onto yours. It took you only a moment to respond, your arms wrapping around his waist, almost melting into him. You let him take the lead, deepening the kiss as you practically became putty in his arms. He didn’t stop until he’d kissed you dizzy, still not wanting to let you go.

“Peter,” his name whispered from your lips sounded better than anything he had ever heard and he had to fight back a soft groan. Your eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his forehead against yours, feeling your eyelashes kiss his cheek. You could feel him smiling against your lips as his hands settled on your waist, “you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.”

“I think I might have an idea,” he chuckled softly before kissing you again, all nervous and excited brushes of lips and promises of so much more, “I really like kissing you. Feels so right.”

“Funny,” you teased softly, brushing a hand through his hair gently, “I was just thinking the same thing. You know what that means, right?”

“Hmm?”

“Kiss me more.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were sitting on Peter's kitchen counter, watching him cook in between stealing kisses and sips of wine. You liked watching him cook - there was something inherently sexy about it - but couldn’t help but laugh at how messy he was. He’d managed to spatter himself with wine, oil, and sauce before he was even finished.

“Pete,” you shook your head at him, all affectionate sighs and soft smiles, “go and change your shirt and soak that one so it doesn’t stain permanently.”

“It’s fine,” he insisted meekly, looking down at his own shirt before groaning, “fine. But you stay right there.”

“Hmmm,” he quickly kissed you a few times before running down the hall to his bedroom. You let out a small sigh of content as you looked around his apartment. You liked being here, and found yourself at his place more often than not. You were taking it slow, but everything about this felt right. You knew Peter was your future, you could feel that in your bones.

“I settled on an old shirt,” he came padding back into the kitchen, “that way if it gets dirty it won’t matter!”

You turned to look at him and nearly choked on your wine. The shirt in question was in his hands and he was currently shirtless in front of you. And what a damn fine sight that was; it sent every part of you into overdrive. He was lean and well built, and you were trying not to objectify him or study the deep v of his hips or the dusting of hair under his belly button that disappeared under the waistband of his joggers.

Ample tattoos littered his body, which you had surmised from the amount on his arms, but still. They were gorgeous - he was gorgeous. He caught you staring, which you were doing nothing to hide, and chuckled in amusement, “it’s rude to stare, pretty girl.”

“‘m not,” you lied sheepishly, sighing playfully as he pulled on the shirt. But just before he was covered up again, the tattoo on the side of his ribcage caught your eye, “Peter.”

“What? What’s wrong?” his hand settled on the side of your face as he gave you the once-over to make sure you were okay.

“That tattoo, on your side,” you reached for the hem of his shirt, but he beat you to it and pulled it up. The ink came back into view and your heart almost caught in your throat. Neat and polished was a pretty, intricate flower, a little spider perched on one of the edges of the petals, “I…it’s beautiful. But…it’s…how long have you had it?”

“This?” he seemed bemused as you traced your fingers gently along his inked skin, “a long time. It was one of the first pieces I got…kind of what pushed me into tattooing myself. Why?”

You remained silent as you slid off the counter, leaving Peter to watch you curiously. You looked into those pretty brown eyes before pulling up your own shirt. He watched you intently, but his eyes widened in surprise as soon as he saw it. There, on your own ribcage, on the side opposite of his own, he saw the tattoo that was almost identical to his own. Yours was a different flower with a different little spider, but eerily the same. He made a small sound of disbelief as he reached up and traced his fingers along the edge, leaving fire in their wake as you closed your eyes.

“How?” he asked out loud, speaking his question into the ether, “how could we…when did you get this?”

“Almost ten years ago,” you breathed nervously as he settled his hand on your waist, “it was a small place in California…that’s where I went to college before moving back here. What about you?”

“Almost ten years ago,” he echoed and you both laughed softly, “but here, in Queens. How is this possible? They couldn’t have known…but they’re almost identical. I know this was hand drawn for me but…you too? I don’t understand. It makes no sense…”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to,” you set down your shirt and looked at the breathtaking smile on his face, “maybe it was -”

“Fate,” he finished for you. Peter Parker was a man of logic and science, tangible things that made sense. This? This made no logical sense at all, but at the same time it all made perfect sense. It all felt so…right, “I love you, you know?”

“I know,” you kissed him, pulling him into your arms, “I love you too, Peter Parker.”

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