#and they are a family. they might not look perfect but they are a real family. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ilygetou · 7 months

Text

MET HER 0N THE iNTERNET | EREN JAGER.

PAIRING: EREN JAEGER X FEM! READER.

SYNOPSIS: Eren Jaeger met you on the internet & immediately fell in love with your looks, personality and body. He knew his crush on you was dumb and will not last long because come on — online relationships? Those don’t last that long. Until eren found a way to not make it online anymore!

C/W: losing the pwp war, noncon –> dubcon, online stalking, solo m! masturbation, lovesick! eren, possessive! eren, cheating, vaginal fingering, face/throat fucking, facial, brief after-care at the end.

WORD COUNT: 5.9K

NOTE: repost. i know y’all are so sick n’ tired of me but this is going to be the last time i promise 😓😓🤞

Eren was laying down on his bed, the moonlight illuminating and reflecting on his phone screen as he scrolled through people’s accounts/profiles on instagram. None who’ve piqued his interest, scrolling and scrolling until he came across your profile.

Clicking on your username, he was met with the highlights you have saved on your profile and the three posts you have posted. Eren clicked on the first post–it was a picture of you laying down on your bed, ass slightly up while you had your tongue in-between your teeths with a small smile.

Eren slightly gulped and continued going through your posts, his breath slightly hitching once he came across a picture of you with your thong peeking out from the low rise jeans you were wearing, shirt too tight your cleavage was all out.

Eren quickly zoomed out and went to check your highlights, clicking on the first one which was titled with “<3”, knowing exactly what it meant as soon as he saw a picture of you and another man holding hands. The next story being another picture of you and that man nose touching. As eren continued going through the highlights, the more furious he got even though he doesn’t even know you.

Eren clicked his tongue in annoyance before hitting the ‘follow’ button, maybe, fate might be on his side for once and you’d break up with your boyfriend soon.

The next day came rather quickly and throughout his whole day–eren was thinking about you. He was thinking about how gorgeous you looked, your smile so sweet, your hair styled in a unique way, everything about you was perfect. He couldn’t help but keep thinking about you, despite not knowing who you are.

12:40am.

Eren threw himself on the bed, letting out a sigh before unlocking his phone–clicking on the instagram app and checking his notifications, to find that you’ve followed him back. Eren smiled. Viewing your story to find that you’ve posted a new picture of yourself, it was a full body mirror picture. Your body slightly tilted to the side showing off your ass, you held up a peace sign over your face–you were wearing nike pro shorts with a plain white t-shirt.

Eren quickly liked your story, swiping up to reply–“lookin real’ good” and not even a minute has passed, he has already received a reply from you. “Thank youuu,” eren scoffed at the lack of energy and effort in your reply but then again, he gets it, you have a boyfriend. You shouldn’t be giving into other men’s compliments.

Eren decided to check your following, maybe even try and find your boyfriend’s username since you didn’t tag him in any of your posts.

You were following a couple of hashtags, some celebrities and then the rest were mostly your friends, family and classmates. Eren scrolled and scrolled until he came across a guys’ profile, he had your initial in his bio and a “i ❤️ my gf” pfp. His account was private and you were one of the few people following him. Eren decided that this was your boyfriend and to confirm his suspicions about it he went through your posts and checked the comment section.

A total of almost 200 comments were under each one of your posts and finally, after a few seconds of scrolling he found the same guy bombarding your comment section; “wife” “😍😍” “mine <3” eren rolled his eyes, slightly clenching his fists in annoyance.

He turned off his phone and placed it anywhere besides him. Eren was laying down on his bed, his hand resting on his forehead as he went deep into thought. Thinking of ways to get to know you better and maybe even make you fall in love with him just like how he fell in love with you at first sight.

Then an idea suddenly popped up. Eren quickly turned on his phone and texted one of his closest friends.

Eren’s fingers dragged towards the “ + to your story” button, scrolling through his camera roll and clicking on a picture of himself after the gym–shirtless and all sweaty from working out. He added any song that seemed to fit and posted the picture on his story. In a matter of a few seconds, eren got a bunch of notifications– “armin_arlert liked your story” “conniethegoat liked your story” “mikasa_ackerman liked your story” scrolling past the notifications and pausing once he got to a certain notification.

It was a notification from you, your username displayed on his screen with a ‘liked your story’ beside it. Eren felt his heart flutter, it was just a small little interaction from you but it still left eren flustered. He did find it a bit odd though, you had a boyfriend and no guy would like it if his girlfriend was liking other men’s stories. Especially not pictures of other men shirtless.

He didn’t give a fuck though. That just means he was one step closer to having you.

Eren took a screenshot of your notification, to stare at it every time he’s feeling a bit down–to remind himself that the girl he’s currently chasing noticed him and knows he exists.

Eren was already working on getting rid of your boyfriend. So he could finally get the chance to slide into your dms again but he needs to have your boyfriend out of the picture; It was simple really, all he had to do was contact one of his closest female friends to get the job done.

And who would he speak to other than mikasa. One of the prettiest girls he knows, his childhood best friend. Texting her & telling her to do him a small little favor; to text your boyfriend and “befriend” him. She obviously refused the request, why would she break up a perfectly healthy couple? And to have you, an innocent sweet girl, fall for eren’s schemes. But after eren’s constant nagging and him threatening her to drop her and waste years of a long healthy friendship made her agree.

“mikasa_ackerman requested to follow you.”

Your boyfriend didn’t accept mikasa’s request until she suddenly messaged him;

“You’re cute. Think you can settle for two?” your boyfriend was confused, how does this stranger know what he looks like when his account is private. He didn’t question it any further though–not when he went through mikasa’s profile. Pale-skinned girl with gray eyes, shaggy black hair that reached her chin and bangs that added more to her looks, her well-toned body that made her more attractive than she already was.

Immediately accepting the request and following her back.

“Thank you, not sure about the ‘settling for two’ thing though.”

Sure, your boyfriend might’ve done the wrong thing by messaging her back instead of just ignoring her dm but come on, men will be men and having a cute girl in his requests–patiently waiting for him to text back, did not make him greater than any man.

They texted for a while, mikasa occasionally sending pictures of herself wearing a sports bra while at the gym or sending full body pictures to your boyfriend to make him fold. All to which were eren’s requests and of course against mikasa’s will. Feeling an aching feeling in her gut every time she had to text another girl’s man made her feel horrible about herself. She was no better than a homewrecker.

Your boyfriend didn’t cross the line while talking to mikasa, yeah sure he was hiding it from you but he wasn’t flirting back. Sometimes, occasionally, on rare events, he’d compliment her. Saying she has a well-built body or sometimes saying she’s “kinda” good looking. But that was all before he found out she lived in the same city as him.

As soon as he found out, the way he was treating mikasa all changed. Becoming flirty with her, washing her with compliments. Doing all that behind the “i heart my gf” profile picture and behind your back as well.

And it wasn’t long before you found out. Eren texted you from an anonymous account, making mikasa send him screenshots and even screen recordings of her and your boyfriend’s chat for more solid proof. You didn’t believe it at first, denying the proof presented to you.

Until you found yourself at your boyfriend’s apartment, tears stinging your eyes as you held up your phone to show him the screenshots displayed on the screen. Crying while asking him if they’re real and begging him to tell you they’re fake, that it’s just someone wanting to play with your feelings. But when you saw the look in his eyes, shame and regret. You broke down crying, asking him why’d he decide to ruin a perfectly healthy relationship over some girl he met online? Were you not pretty enough for him? Did she love him better than you did? Deciding to just leave and not hurt yourself any longer by staying here as your ex-boyfriend chases after you. Calling you and yelling for you to wait.

As soon as you got back home, you didn’t even bother changing clothes–laying down on your bed with your phone in your hands, watching as it buzzed from the calls your ex was spamming you with, along with his desperate text messages. You dragged your finger across the block button, not thinking twice as you pressed on it. Switching apps to block him everywhere. You even deleted the story highlight, removing him from your bio and deleting posts that he appeared in. When you were finally done, your eyes were red and puffy, swollen from crying too much.

It’s been two days since the breakup and two days since you last posted on instagram. Eren knew that his vicious plan worked, having you dump your boyfriend and getting extra information about you; for example, where you’re settled at.

And what a lovely coincidence, you both live in the exact same city.

eren 🦇

Hey, everything alright? You haven’t been active lately.

Your phone lit up with a notification from; “ern_yger.” You stared at the notification for a while, debating whether or not you should respond to this random stranger who noticed your absence when even your own friends didn’t.

Unlocking your phone and tapping on his notification, dragging your fingers across the keyboard–thinking of a simple, fitting response.

Yeah I’m alright, I’ve just been busy with college.

You clicked send, not thinking twice about your response. Your message has already been seen by eren, you were left on read for two minutes before you saw him typing and while he took his time thinking of a response back you clicked on his profile. You were met with two highlights and zero posts, you clicked on his “me” highlight, feeling your mouth run dry once you were met with a picture of eren shirtless with only a pair of sweatpants and Calvin Klein boxers that peeked out. He was laying down on his side, the room was slightly dim but you were still able to makeout his face. The next one was a picture of his side profile, his hair was put up in a messy bun–his hair also looked soft and messy.

The other picture was taken from a slightly high angle, he was wearing white beaters with gray sweatpants. Once you were about to view the next story, you suddenly got a notification from eren which you accidentally clicked on.

“You sure? I noticed the missing highlights and change of bio.”

If you weren’t in the midst of trying to cope and move on from your past relationship, you would’ve noticed the fake acting concerned tactic men use to get any women they want and in this case, you were in the start of it. And deciding to fuck it and just pour your heart out to this random stranger because you really need it. Need someone to talk to right now and since none of your friends got time for you, you really appreciate eren reaching out to ask about your whereabouts.

You didn’t hold back, venting out your emotions and feelings about your situation. You didn’t leave out a single detail and made sure eren knew exactly how you’re feeling.

Eren was slightly taken aback by your reaction and willingness to share your private life with him. He even felt bad for you, you seemed genuinely upset and hurt but that still wouldn’t make him give up on chasing you. He comforted you for a bit, sending you long reassuring paragraphs. And eren slightly cringed at himself, he has never done this type of thing before—never in his life has he ever had a girl vent out her feelings to him and have him comfort her.

At the end you thanked him a lot for listening to you and apologizing for "being a bother" which eren responded with: “Not at all, I was the one who reached out first, don’t apologize.” You liked the message and thanked him once again before going on with your night.

It’s been three months since your breakup. And three months after you started talking to eren, he helped distract you from thinking about your past partner. He was funny, kind and understanding, everything you looked for in a man. You both even shared the same clothing style, music style and humor.

You didn’t have any bad intentions while talking to eren–you weren’t trying to use him to help you forget about your ex boyfriend. He was the one always texting first, asking you how you are, cracking jokes, sending you songs that he thinks you might like (you always end up loving them), sends you both movies & tv shows suggestions–he says they’ll help with distracting you and keeping your mind occupied from thinking about anything related to your past love.

While eren was the one filled with bad intentions and thoughts. First thing he did in the morning was check his phone for any notifications from you and if he got one, a wide smile would form on the corner of his lips–immediately unlocking his phone to respond back. And if he doesn’t receive a message from you, he’d unlock his phone only to be met with “sent 9 hours ago”, he’d aggressively throw his phone back to his bed. Sometimes gritting his teeth in anger and frustration, stressing over you not texting back.

But as soon as he does get a response back, he’d immediately forget all his anger and frustration from earlier. Telling you that it’s alright and to not apologize once you tell him how you fell asleep because you were too tired and ended up oversleeping which were followed by a bunch of apologies from you. And eren dismissed them, reassuring you by saying it’s okay and he really doesn’t mind—acting like he wasn’t absolutely losing his shit over you moments ago.

Second thing he does is go through your highlights. He has seen the pictures in the highlight multiple times but he still always ends up getting mesmerized by your beauty, way too much that he’d accidentally get turned on. An erection forming just by simply staring way too hard on your photos and eren couldn’t contain himself—pulling out his laptop and logging into his instagram and pulling out your highlight.

He’d zoom in on one specific picture, It was you laying down on bed while holding your camera high in the air–You were wearing a spaghetti straps pink tank top with baggy pajama pants. Your cleavage was all out and was very visible due to the high angle. Your face was mostly the main focus as you flashed the camera a small, warm smile.

Eren cupped his bulge, his breathing shifting from steady to unsteady, letting out shaky heavy pants as he lowered his slacks to where they stopped right beneath his knees. Eren’s eyes were heavy, his eyelids threatening to shut close as he started caressing the tip of his dick, kneading the tip roughly with his thumbs. Spreading his pre-cum all over the tip and slowly coming down to his shaft, massaging his hands up and down his length as his eyes were glued to the picture of you plastered on the screen in front of him.

A moan of your name slipped past his lips, his head slightly thrown back, his eyes were squinted–his hands wrapped around his cock as he messily jerked himself off. Curses and moans kept leaving eren the more he stared at your photo and the more his fantasies about you grew wild. Thinking about splitting you open with his cock while you whine and babble about how big he was, having you gush and cream all over his cock multiple times until you pass out from overstimulation.

Eren fastened his movements, squeezing the head of his cock as you kept flooding his mind and not even 5 minutes had passed and eren was already cumming all over his laptop screen. Staring at the bright screen with half-lidded eyes, his cum staining your picture that was displayed on the screen–he was letting out loud heavy pants, thinking up a way to make you his quickly and fast because eren can’t keep going on like this and it pains him knowing that he lives in the same city as you but still feels as if he was too far away from reaching you.

Eren’s phone lit up with a notification from you, a small smile spread across his lips as he stared back into his laptop screen before grabbing his phone and clicking on your notification. You sent him a couple pictures of yourself, asking him which one to post. Eren felt his heart flutter, staring at your photos in absolute awe. He clicked on each one of your pictures and saved them to his device.

He wanted to tell you to post all of them and that you look beautiful in each one of them but the idea of other men seeing your pictures ticked eren off, he didn’t want other men to see you, just the thought of it had eren boiling up with anger—with furrowed eyebrows, eren aggressively typed you a response back, a not very nice one.

“None. They’re not post worthy and the camera quality makes you look off,” which wasn’t true at all. Eren was sure that even with a poor camera quality you’d still manage to look good.

You stared at eren’s response for a while and then went and looked back at the pictures and the more you kept thinking about his reply the more his words started to seem true, maybe you do actually look kinda bad in these pictures…even though you finally got ready for the first time after the breakup. You did your hair, makeup and carefully selected an outfit for these pictures. You decided to just brush it off, you could take better ones next time.

“Oh okay! I won’t post them then.”

It has now been six months. You and eren started talking more frequently and even started going on both regular and face-time calls. And eren couldn’t be happier, your voice was soft and soothing, every time you sent him voice messages of you ranting about your day to him, he’d melt from the sound of your voice, he’d replay the voice message multiple times throughout the day. Your voice brings him both comfort and easeniss.

But then again, eren was sick in the head. He was the definition of the word ‘deranged’ but you still didn’t know that yet.

The way he’d wrap his hands around his cock while you two were on a call together, he would be on mute as you talked to him about random things–thinking that eren was listening to you but he was more focused on rubbing his aching, hard cock to the sound of your voice.

Every time you notice the silence you’d ask him if he’s alright, concern visible in your tone. Eren would reply with a shaky, low; “y-yeah” accidentally stuttering which he cursed himself for it in his head. Fisting his cock rapidly as you went back to talking. Eren loves it when you have a bad day, he’d get the chance to hear you whine and complain, sometimes on the verge of tears as you rant to him about your bad day, it makes his cock hard against his pants.

11:10PM.

You posted a picture of you in your story but you weren’t alone in the picture, a young man who looked eren’s age with short, light ash-brown hair with the sides and back trimmed shorter; making them a darker hue. He had small, intense light-brown eyes. His hands were wrapped around your waist making both of your shoulders touch.

Eren’s eyes twitched in anger, his brows knitted together as he swiped up and replied; “Who’s this?” you immediately replied with “A friend of mine! :)” eren left you on delivered, his jealousy over-taking him as he kept looking back at the picture, the way you happily smiled at the camera and the way you willingly allowed that guy to touch you like that pissed him off. A lot of thoughts ran through his head, one of them was marking you and making you his already.

An idea popped up in eren’s head. Quickly grabbing his phone and opening up the chat between you two, completely ignoring what you said earlier and typing out; “You free this friday?”

You opened the text and looked at it in utter confusion.

y/n 🐐

what do you mean?

eren 🦇

I’m asking if you’re free this friday? You know, maybe come over to my place.

y/n 🐐

Come over? To your place? I’m sorry but i can’t.

eren 🦇

Why not? It’s finally time we meet up, don’tya think?

y/n 🐐

We could meet up anywhere else, it shouldn’t be your place.

eren 🦇

What? don’t trust me?

y/n 🐐

it’s not that, it’s just that i’ve never met you before.

eren 🦇

Well obviously you didn’t? but we went on facetime calls and we’ve been close friends for months now. I even helped you get over your ex-boyfriend and you still don’t trust me yet?

Eren stared at his screen for a while, hoping that his guilt tripping tactic works. And to his surprise, it did;

y/n 🐐

You’re right, i’m sorry. What time?

Eren lets out a long sigh that he didn’t know he was holding.

“7pm is good.”

Friday, 7:30PM.

You wore a simple pink dress that reached above your knees with black thigh highs and throwed in a plain black jacket to cover up a bit. You were outside of eren’s residence, your breathing thickened before you reached out to grab your phone to tell eren you’re here.

y/n 🐐

i’m here.

sent 7:35PM.

eren 🦇

doors’ unlocked

seen at 7:35PM.

Your brows furrowed together before you turned off your phone and walked towards eren’s doorstep, hesitantly–you slowly unlocked the door of his house. And once the door was wide open, you were met with an empty hallway, a fish tank that was filled with various colorful fishes that decorated said hallway. “Eren?” you whispered his name as you walked in and closed the door behind you, slowly proceeding further into his place.

You were inspecting the furniture, everything looked so luxurious–that you were afraid to touch anything. You heard chirping noises and decided to follow the sound, a mottled grey colored, medium-sized parrot with a vent and a tail. It had a large black bill and a white mask enclosing a yellow eye, as well as a striking red vent and a tail. An african gray parrot was just sitting there in a silver cage, with his food and water in front of it.

You were admiring the parrot before feeling a large figure pressing his back against yours– “his name is hook,” his voice was deep, it came out as a low murmur, you slightly flinched and turned to face him. “E-Eren?” the teal-eyed man looked straight into you, a warm smile making its way to his face, “mhm?” he went and stood beside you and you slightly moved away to make some space between the two of you.

“Hooks’ a nice name, ‘t fits him,” you turned your back towards eren and went back to admiring the parrot. “You think?” eren tried keeping his eyes at his pet parrot as well but the way the girl of his dream was standing right beside him, in his house, right at this moment–makes him unable to focus on anything that wasn’t you. He side-eyed you to take a quick glance at you, he noticed the height difference between you two, he loved it, it was cute. It turned him on.

Eren cleared his throat which made you turn towards him, “so, wanna come up to my room?” you paused for a moment to think about it before nodding your head. Eren led the way to his room as you walked behind him, giving you an opportunity to look around his place even more. And once you made it to his room, you were shocked by the amount of space and furniture it had. His room was big which made you wonder, why would he need all that space if he lives alone?

His bed was king-sized, it could possibly fit three-four people. He had some posters of his favorite bands, artists and games plastered on his walls, a desk that had his laptop placed on top as well as other random stuff, including studying stationery. His room was well organized and filled with lots of unnecessary stuff as well as another fish tank.

You kept looking around until you spotted a wooden door, thinking of what could be behind that door until it clicked to you–probably a bathroom. He probably doesn’t like going out of his room that much so he designed a bathroom that connected to his room.

“What’dya’ think?” Eren asked before plopping down on the black cushion that was placed beside his bed– “‘ts too big'’ you answered before seating yourself beside eren, he moved closer to you, looking down at your dress, his eyes darting from your top to your thighs, that were half-covered by those thigh-high socks you wore. “I guess but it’s not that bad, is it?” you nodded your head, trying to look at anything that wasn’t eren’s face since he was too close. Way too close that you could probably count his eyelashes from how close he was.

Eren backed up a bit, noticing how uncomfortable you were. Eren grabbed a can of beer from the wooden table and opened it, taking a huge chug out of the can. “Want some?” you gave eren a confused look mixed with a disgusted look, “i prefer water” he playfully rolled his eyes before getting up and placing the beer can on the table. “I’ll go get you some then,” you watched as eren went out of the room–his footsteps fading away.

You sat there patiently before your curiosity grew, wanting to go confirm your suspicions on what’s behind the huge wooden door. You got up, unconsciously walking towards it–you grabbed the handle and pushed it down slowly, making sure to not make any noise. Once you unlocked the door, you were met with a dim room–the only sort of light coming from the three monitors placed on another desk in the room. Three huge monitors that all opened to different tabs.

Deciding to just fuck it and proceed even further–accidentally stepping on something that made a slight crunch noise, looking down and picking it up only to be met with a pornographic comic that had dried up cum splattered all over it. You let go of it quickly, your face scrunching up in disgust as you walked towards the three huge monitors.

You bent down a little to be met with a picture of you which you have posted a while ago displayed on the screen, your throat ran dry once you noticed the gooey white stains on the screen–you looked to the right monitor, an instagram profile opened on it which was one of your years old instagram accounts that you used to own during your teenage years. And the left monitor had the guy you recently posted a picture with instagram account.

You let out a shaky sigh, the guy who you thought was naturally sweet, understanding & charming was the complete opposite. A complete creep, a weird perverted man.

“You caught me,” a mans’ voice came from behind you, making your heart stop for a second–you turned around to face him, eren had a wide smirk curved on the corners of his lips as he leaned against the doorframe, you weren’t sure for how long he has been there watching you but probably long enough to catch your full live reaction.

“What is the meaning of this?” your voice came out low as if you were completely terrified of speaking up; “I don’t know, you tell me” eren walked towards you, shutting the door behind him–you took a step back, your back hitting the wall, eren had completely cornered you giving you no way out. Eren took hold of your chin, forcing you to look back at him–he aggressively moved your chin to the side, allowing himself to give you a small kiss on the neck.

You fluttered your eyes shut, you didn’t try pushing him off as he started nibbling on your neck; covering it with hot, messy kisses. “I’ve been wanting to taste you for so long, been wanting to do this for so long,” eren confessed, making a pit of disgust form in your stomach. Eren slipped a hand under your shirt, squeezing your right breast from above your bra. “Eren please…stop,” you finally managed to say which eren turned a blind eye on, ignoring your pleas for him to stop.

“Come on baby, you’ve made me suffer long enough, don’t ya’ think? Always had to beat my dick to pictures of you but now I finally have you within my grasp, don’t you think I deserve a reward for my patience? Hm?” Eren got on his knees and spread your legs apart, he placed his middle finger on your clit through your panties and started cautiously moving his finger.

You looked down on him with half-lidded eyes, tears pricking the corner of your eyes as you bit your lips to surpass any sounds from slipping. He moved your panties to the side and brushed his digits past your glistening folds before slowly pushing in two fingers into your tight hole, he teasingly started thrusting his fingers sometimes stopping mid-way but the way your slippery walls clamped down on his thick digits encouraged him to continue.

You were out of breath, wanting this to end quickly but the praises eren was muttering made it a tad bit better; “Ah, so good angel, gonna have you cummin’ all over my fingers soon, okay?” “fuck you’re so pretty, ‘ts makin’ my dick hard” he was plunging his fingers deeper into your messy cunt, your silk gushing and dripping all over his fingers. The squelching noises made eren’s cock slightly twitch in his pants as he imagined what kind of things he’ll be able to do to you from now on.

You couldn’t hold in your moans any longer–letting out your moans & whimpers freely as he kept thrusting his finger in n’ out of your pussy, “think..’m close!” you slightly arched your back and squirmed in your place, you placed your hands on your mouth to silent any moans from coming out as you gushed all over eren’s fingers. You were letting out heavy pants, you plopped down on the floor, your eyes glued together not daring to even try taking a quick glance at the mess you’ve made.

Eren lowered his sweatpants–enough for his cock to spring out and slap his abdomen, he moved his hips closer to your face and started rubbing his dick on the side of your cheeks which made you let out a whimper at the sudden warm feeling. “Open up, princess, ‘t hurts, y’know?” he pushed his cock against your lips, smearing his pre-cum all over your plump, glossy lips.

You swallowed your saliva before obeying and opening your mouth, your vision hazy which didn’t give you the chance to make-out eren’s girth. He shoved his cock into your mouth causing you to slightly gag, “s-so good, fuck,” you sloppily started sucking the tip, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head up and down his length. Swirling your tongue around his tip while drool dripped down your chin and coating his balls, you moan around his cock while eren lets out soft groans; “so cockhungry, huh?” he snickered–throwing his head back while he was still firmly gripping your hair.

He pushed his cock deeper into your throat causing you to choke a bit, tears rolling down your cheeks uncontrollably, eren started thrusting his hips against your mouth, his dick stretching your throat with every jolt of his hips. “S-Shit,” he sharply inhales, letting go of your hair and cupping both of your cheeks instead. You could feel his cock slightly poking at the side of your throat, a clear bulge.

Moving his hips in a slow, gentle manner–scared to hurt you but the way the head of his cock kept hitting your uvula which caused you to gag around his dick and ruin his steady pace, making his hips stutter and cock slightly pulsate as his shaft land flat on your tongue, “f-fuck, keep this up and i’m gnna’ be cumming all over your face” eren groaned, caressing your face while also letting out shaky moans.

His cock shuddered, twitching inside the warmth of your mouth, “Holy shit…” he mouthened before pulling out his dick with a ‘plop’ sound, your drool was connecting to his tip–your mouth hung open, your tongue stuck out, you were letting out heavy pants as you tried gasping for air. Without any warning, a sudden splash of warm, thick liquid covered your face. Managing to get on your tongue as well, the bitter taste made you flutter your eyes shut in disgust.

His sperm was burning your face, wanting to get it off of you fast and quick while eren was admiring your cum covered face. It stained your cheeks and dripped off your chin, your mascara melted and your lip-gloss got smeared all over your face. He was panting heavily but his gaze still focused on you, half-lidded eyes pierced through you.

“Did so good f’me,” he exclaimed, bending down and gripping your chin before pulling you into another messy kiss. Pulling out with a smug look, you looked back at him with a foggy vision–a small smile made its way to your face and eren heart stopped for a moment, the way you looked at him with droopy eyes, messy face and a smile on your face will forever be engraved deep into his mind.

“Stay here, ‘M gonna make some warm tea for your throat, alright? Clean yourself up, m’kay?” he kissed your forehead before going out and leaving the room, once again. You turned your head towards the monitor, your vision landing on the picture of you, the cum stains making you fill up with shame & guilt even though it’s not you who’s supposed to be feeling like this.

The sound of a notification coming from your phone pulled you out of your thoughts.

eren 🦇

*one image attachment*

Us after i destroy your uterus <3

#eren jaeger x reader #eren smut #eren x reader #aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #aot eren #ilygetou’s kinktober ⌕

2K notes · View notes

gojonanami · 5 months

Text

"MIGHT HURT" - SUGURU GETO

✴︎ summary: suguru's popularity is truly a curse, especially when he gets hit on right in front of you. luckily, you both know how to handle those situations. aka i heard this scene from 'no hard feelings' and i had to write a fic about it. ✴︎ contents:: jealousy, crack, fluff, humor, made-up girl from suguru's middle school before he came to jjt, naoya mention ✴ wc: 788

With the two princes of Jujutsu High, it was unfortunate that you had to date the more popular one.

And no, it wasn’t Satoru.

Suguru Geto is the more popular one — probably because of his manners, compared to Satoru’s…bluntness. It didn’t hurt that he was polite, a prodigy, and a perfect prince. And how could you complain?

Except at moments like this you did.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. And it was. Two grade A curses the two of you exorcise with ease, and now you had one more night to spend at the hotel Jujutsu High had kindly booked — some of the only real alone time two of you rarely had — without Satoru bursting into either one of your dorms (whether the door was locked or not).

“Finally a date, a real date,” you sigh, walking hand in hand with him, “should we commemorate with a picture?”

He smiles, rolling his eyes, “I left my phone at the hotel — I didn’t want any interruptions,” and you grin, as he leans in, breath warming your lips like an invitation, “just you and me, Princess,”

“I like the sound of that,” you murmur — how was it he still could make your heart skip a beat like that? — utterly unfair. And your lips nearly brush when a voice interrupts you.

“Geto?” Your heads snap over, as the two of you untangle yourselves. A girl in an unfamiliar high school uniform walks over, “it’s you, how are you?” Her lips are curled too widely, her eyes too eager, and her body language completely ignoring your presence.

Oh, what the f-

“Fumi?” He asks, lips in that same smile he gave everyone, the painted polite grin he plastered on, “it’s been a long time,”

“It has. I heard you are going to a school in Tokyo now,” she smiles, “I stay in Tokyo with my family sometimes, we should meet up. I can you give my number,”

Suguru opens his mouth to reply, but you cut in, a tight lipped smile on your face, “He doesn’t have his phone, so…” you reply, and she acknowledges your existence for a moment, gaze finally sliding to you.

“Oh, then maybe I can give you my number and you can send it to him,” she offers, and you tilt your head.

“No need,” and you can see Suguru glance between the two of you, his hands in his pocket.

“Can’t hurt,” she flutters her eyelashes at Suguru, pouting, and you wonder if she would count as another curse you could exorcise. Although surely a fly head was more trouble than she would be.

“Might hurt,” and Suguru’s arm snakes around your waist, physically reigning you in.

“Me and my girlfriend actually have to get back to school, but it was nice to see you again, Fumi,” and he’s scrawling a number down, “here’s my number,” he waves, before ushering you off. She tries to stop you two, to no avail, as Suguru uses a small curse to draw her attention away for a moment before recalling it.

“Was that necessary?”

“Well I think using a cursed spirit was preferable to you beating her with your cursed tool, wouldn’t you agree?” he scoffs, but he can’t keep his lips from curling into a smile, “I didn’t really give her my number,”

“I know,” you were irritated - not stupid. You knew Suguru wouldn’t cheat on you, but you hear a noise escape his throat — and you know he’s laughing.

And it looks could kill, he would have been as dead as those curses from earlier, “you find this funny, don’t you?”

“You getting jealous of some girl I barely knew from middle school? Yes, I do,” he snorts, mirth in his tone, “but I could go back and give her my real number if you want,”

“Do that, and you won’t have to worry Fumi getting hurt, because she won’t be the one getting their ass kicked,” and he laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before his lips find yours — and you can feel him smile against your lips, “it’s really annoying that all these people flirt with you, but I guess it’s only because my boyfriend’s hot,”

“Got a catch didn’t you?” he hums, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Lucky me,” you mumble, sarcasm heavy on your tongue, and he’s kissing you more insistently, showering your face with kisses until you smile, pushing him off, giggling, “ok, ok! I’m lucky,” you sigh, burying your face in the crook of his neck again as the two of you walk, “whose number did you give her anyway? Satoru?”

“No, Naoya,” and you snort, pressing a kiss to your devious boyfriend’s cheek.

“Poor girl.”

✴︎ a/n: i watched no hard feelings last night and i couldn't get this idea out of my head. i was gonna write it with gojo, but i remembered how gege said geto was more popular so :)

#sab [mlist]#suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto fanfiction #suguru geto fluff #geto x reader #geto fanfiction #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru imagines #geto suguru x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

2K notes · View notes

noneorother · 5 months

Text

I went dumpster diving into the posters for Good Omens Season 2 and found a few pearls.

I found it odd that this season had SO MANY official posters. Hours and hours of work and real dollars from Amazon went into the production of these things. This one won a freakin Clio award. I know Neil confirmed he didn't have a lot of control of what went into these 21 (Or 22 depending on whether or not you count the umbrella piece that was made before season 2 shooting began. Personally I don't!) pieces, but I will leave no stone unturned, so here we go. I combed through every single season 2 poster I could find so you don't have to. Here's everything I've found so far:

1. The allegiances poster

After having watched season 2, knowing what we know now, this poster seems very much to me like a Game of Thrones style family at war image. We have a perfect mirror down the center, with Aziraphale/Angels/Nina&Maggie on Aziraphale's traditional left side, and Crowley with Beelzebub & Jim as reflections of Maggie/Nina, and Shax and Michael(?) as reflections of the three angels on the other side of the mirror. It seems unbalanced, unless you count the floating white head (conveniently watching in the background) as The Metatron...

Which means Michael is... not on the same side as Uriel and Saraqael? She's also grouped in with the Metatron and Shax, on the side of the demons. How very odd. Gabriel & Nina also have a mirror in that they've both turned their backs to the crowd. Gabriel is willing to go live with Beelzebub in hell, and shut down Michael's plan and the Metatron's scheming for a second Armageddon, so that literal turn towards Beez and away from everyone else makes sense to me. The Nina one however? Not so much from what we've seen. Why is she turning her back on the angels & demons? 2. The individual posters

Interestingly, the individual posters all line up pretty much exactly with the all the allegiances this season. You just have to look at the way the characters are slanted vs. how the backgrounds behind them are slanted. All 3 bookshop posters and all 3 street posters are slanting left, with their characters also slanting left. They are who they say they are, and they're on the same side.

Michael and Uriel have right slanting backgrounds, so odds are heaven is supposed to slant right. Uriel is following the rules and slanting right, but of all the characters on the posters, Michael is the only one really betraying the background slant, and is slanting left against her background. Something's up with Micahel. They're not on the same side as they claim to be. Saraqael is more mysterious, as the only one sitting straight, and the only angel to have a left slanting background. Shax seems to be slanting left with a left slanting background, which puts her in the same pose as Uriel, but mirrored. While Beelzebub is weirdly slanting right with a right slanting background, making them a bit of a traitor, like Michael. Shax, Saraqael and Michael have some explaining to do. Lastly, and I think mostly obviously, there's clearly a missing poster in the set. Why doesn't hell have a third green poster? Is it supposed to be the Metatron, and they didn't want to spoil the surprise? Furfur maybe? Why wouldn't poor old Furfur get a poster when he has more screen time than Uriel? I don't think this is very important other than it's funny : everyone single person is holding something in their right hand, except for Shax and Crowley, who are holding things in their left hands, and Muriel, who's holding fucking NOTHING. Poor baby Muriel lolsob. One thing I do think might be important is that there are 21 posters in total + 1 missing one. So maybe 22 posters for season 2? How appropriate. 3. The triple phone box

In both the Nina street poster and the group street poster, there's are a set of 3 red phone boxes down the street. We never see phone boxes in series 2. Seriously, not once. Every other detail in these ones is from Whickeber street footage: gumball machine, post box, newspapers, coffee sign, puddle, walking extras... The only thing out of place is those blasted phone boxes. As far as I can tell it's literally the only thing in all 21 posters that never appears in the show in some form, and this background plate is used for all the street posters, so the phone boxes are in quite a few of them.

4. Crowley is showing his good side, Aziraphale is always facing away from Crowley.

Crowley is always shown with his head tilted to his right this season, body tilted towards Aziraphale and always with long sideburns. Even in the illustrated poster his default is head to the right, sideburns long.

EXCEPT for this poster. This is the only time he's looking away from Aziraphale, and his snake tattoo is visible. And his sideburns are short. Either nobody noticed this or they refused to fix it. There's also the matter of Aziraphale facing his body away from Crowley in every single image except the allegiances poster, where they face each other. So cute.

5. The sneaky details posters

This one has: 1. Pride & Prejudice 2. Treasure Island 3. A tale of two cities 4. The Crow Road 5. Catch-22 9.

AND whatever the hell this photoshop artifact/invisible thing coming out of the scroll on Aziraphale's desk. I checked every version I could find of this poster and it's always there. It looks like someone tried to edit out something that was there and sort of got it mostly right. Which is completely ludicrous given the amazing amount of flawless photoshopping and collaging going on in this image. These are the magicians linking rings from the 1941 magic shop. Mystery solved!

This one has the yellow book on the bookstand, the record, and : 1. Only one clock hand on the grandfather clock, facing 6. 2. A feather duster on the floor (but weirdly it's grey not yellow). 3. The dark horse statue with Crowley's old sunglasses on it. 4. Aziraphale's bowtie ON THE FLOOR. What. Why. I can only conclude that in this poster either A) Aziraphale and Crowley have left these things behind (meaning no more bowtie for Aziraphale in season 3) B) They are currently not wearing these items somewhere else in the bookshop....

_____________________________________ I ran out of images. So the dome poster will have to be it's own post!

#good omens meta #good omens 2 #good omens season two #art director talks good omens #go season 2 #go meta #good omens season 2 #go2 #go2 spoilers #go 2 speculation #aziraphale x crowley #ineffible husbands #good omens s2

1K notes · View notes

symbioticsimplicity · 15 days

Text

Imagine if you will, Alastor, pettiest man in Hell once again choosing to lean into a relationship he DOES NOT have just to piss off a Morningstar.

But this time its Lilith.

When she shows back up, he is suddenly ALL OVER Lucifer. He might hate Luci but he hates Lilith more so he's going to make it very clear that he's closer ro her beloved than she is right now.

And he DOES pay attention so suddenly Lucifer is confronted by just like. An amount of care he hasn't felt in years. Alastor knows how he takes his coffee, the signs of him being overstimulated, his favorite song, and how he likes to unwind. And he makes sure to pamper him by taking care of all of it before he could ask, even if he would never.

And Lucifer isn't *stupid* he KNOWS there's ulterior motives but its also so nice??? Apparently Alastor can be downright lovely when given a reason to be?? Suddenly he understands why Charlie was so eager to look past his flaws, and accept his disingenuous affection. Man doesn't do SHIT by halves so it *feels* real.

Cue Alastor selling himself Luci and Charlie as one big happy family like its his *job*.

Lilith is none percent pleased by this but if she disciplines him she'll be showing her hand AND hurting her husband and daughter. The bastard put himself in the perfect spot.

Which leaves Lucifer desperately trying not to catch feelings while also trying to reconcile with his estranged wife, questioning if he even really wants to. Charlie just wants her parents to be happy but is also kind of pleased to see Alastor and her Dad getting along? Not that she doesn't want her parents back together, but Alastor is treating her Dad like...really well?

Alastor is having the time if his afterlife. If he'd known how much fun it was to be a homewrecker he would have done this years ago.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #hazbin lilith #hazbin charlie #radioapple #i just want to watch Alastor be a petty little shit some more

747 notes · View notes

neil-gaiman · 6 months

Note

Hi Neil!

My 10 years old kid loves reading. He has read a lot of books of different genres. Now he’s looking for a new book to read, and he’s been asking me about Good Omens. He never watched the tv show but I told him something about the plot and the characters. He seems to like the “other four horsemen of the apocalypse” and he’s pretty curious about Adam’s story. I’m sure he would love the book but I’m not so sure it’s suited for children. What would you suggest? Do you think it’s ok for a 10 yo child to read it?

Also, he never met his real father cause he left after his birth… and I think Adam and Lucifer’s story has some similarities to his story. I think it might be good for him to read about parents and kids. A real father is someone who looks after you, not someone who wait almost ten years old to say hello (to the phone!) and then disappear again. I believe the story that you and Terry wrote so many years ago is still very enlightening on all this matter. The world evolved but there are things that don’t go and never change.

Sorry if my English is not perfect, I’m from Italy.

Thank you from me and my whole family who loves your books!

Kids are normally good judges of whether they are enjoying books or not, even if they are getting different things out of the story than adults would...

1K notes · View notes

prettiestgrlinthemorguexo · 3 months

Text

Swipe (Lucifer morningstar x reader)

Description: after his divorce, he finally gets back into the dating game…through a dating app :)

Please note I’m writing this before the release of ep7 and ep8 so-

Takes place between ep 5 and right before ep 6

I wrote nearly 98% of this at like 3 AM-

Part 1 of 3

Warning: Lucifer being a dork, Lucifer being a dorky dad, age gap(reader died at like 25 and Lucifer is like a good few thousands years old so), talk of divorce, Charlie being a supportive daughter, I’ve never used a dating apps so i might get info wrong, Lucifer doesn’t know modern day technology or slang, lying, Lucifer straight up cat fishing reader,

No one’s POV

Lucifer was a wreck after his divorce with Lilith. Becoming the shell of the man he was, going from a family-oriented to a man who barely talk to anyone. After visiting his daughter and her hotel, he knew he had to be there, he already missed so much he wasn’t gonna miss another second of it. Becoming the best father he could also meant moving on, it’s been seven years since the separation. Charlie knew her Dad had been in pain since the divorce but she could tell, he was trying and she was going to be there.

Lucifer’s POV

“Charlie, are you sure about this?” I ask still hesitant, I knew Charlie just wanted to help and had the best intentions, but a dating app? “Of course!” Charlie exclaimed, face lite up. “It’s perfect! You get to meet people without the face to face interactions!” Charlie said downloading the app, viva by Voxtech.

Charlie’s was more excited than I was, I wanted to meet people but an app? I can’t help but feel my heart race and my body get heavy, why was I this nervous. In the middle of my overthinking Charlie handed me the phone, it had a profile made it had my name and many details. It felt like I was giving it to all 9 rings of hell! “Ok! How we gotta add some photos an-“

“Charlie!”

We both turned are head to see Alastor and Vaggie standing there. “Can you help with something real quick?” Vaggie ask seeming annoyed. “Of course!” Charlie’s called back before as standing up. “You go ahead and add those photos dad I’ll be back!” Charlie said as she ran to the two, leaving me alone on the couch staring at the screen.

I read over the info and it all was so…personal. How would anyone be comfortable putting this much out? I Don’t get me started with being the King of Hell it’s self, then an idea popped in my head. I turn my head slightly to see Charlie still talking to the pair so I decided to take matters into my own hands. I added photos of my duck inventions and made a duck with a white top hat as my ‘icon’. Now onto the name, Lucifer was too out there everyone would know, think! L names that are similar.

Lucifer..

Luci…

Luc…

Luca..

Luca! I instantly think changing the name quickly, removing the last name from the profile along with it. After that it looked like a normal profile. When I finished and satisfied with it Charlie was walking back over. “Sorry bout that dad! Now back to w-.” While she was speaking I shove my phone in my pocket and stand up. “No it’s fine! I set it up!” I nearly screamed it out as I stood from the couch. Charlie stared at me shock for a moment before her normal bright smile returned to her face. “Wow that’s great!” She said as she walked over “Look at you getting the hang of technology!” Charlie said happily. I didn’t know why I was so nervous by an app, but it was on my mind. After finishing talking to Charlie I was able to leave, soon I was back in my bedroom. I let out a sigh and feel onto the massive bed and pulled out my phone, Viva still open.

Y/N POV

Left..Left..Left..

God this app was a never ending app of swiping left on people wanting hook-ups was tiring. This was the last time I’d take F/N advice and use a dating app, the fact they exist in hell was already surprising. It was nude after nude of people looking for a hookup. Then something different popped up, instead of the naked body I almost have gotten used to, I was greeted by a rubber duck with a white top hat. My eyes widen a bit as I layed there I swipped to look at the second photo, more ducks. I then moved and read the bio. “Luca..” I said quietly to myself reading the short info. I looked at the photos and the bio, it stood out in the sea of profile, i stair a while longer…

…Right.

“CONGRATS! YOU GOT A MATCH!” Popped up on my screen in red shades, with the little duck icon. “…that was quick” I think to myself. I click on the little message option.

Y/N - Hi :)

No ones POV

Lucifer layed there looking at the profiles, this was dating. More like brothel. He could barely understand, after swiping left a few times he chose to just turn off his phone, it was a mistake to think an app could help. Almost as soon as Lucifer sat his phone down his phone went off, illuminating the room …then it went off again.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow picking up his phone to see two notifications, both from Viva. Seeing a match with someone named Y/N and a message from them. Lucifer felt himself lose the ability to breathe, “A match?” Lucifer asked himself, confused on what that meant, he open the Add to be greeted my the words “CONGRATS! YOU GOT A MATCH!” And the icon that belong to Y/N.

The icon was a photo of Y/N. Lucifer’s eyes lit up and he finally let out a breath. He admired their features. Their H/C H/L that looked perfect, their E/C eyes drew him in. He clicked the image see their profile, he was greeted my a normal photo of you, it stood out. Lucifer saw the message illuminating in corner of the screen, he let out a breath and opened the message and saw a simple

Y/N - “Hi :)”

I sat their staring at the message before typing himself

Luca - Hi

Time skip (why? Because I fucking said so.)

Over the past few weeks, Lucifer and Y/N talked every day. Learning every little detail of each other. Lucifer learned about your job, your friends, how you lived and how you died even. He couldn’t help but want to know everything.

Y/N learned he had a daughter and that he’d been “recently divorced”, his words not theirs. Y/N learned that he loves ducks and creating new duck toys, he was a big dork, like a big puppy dog. Of course you didn’t know you were talking to Lucifer himself, you thought you were talking to a man named Luca…

During Lucifer’s now frequent visit to his daughter and her little Hazbin hotel, Charlie couldn’t help but notice how her dad was one his phone more then usual, usual being never. Naturally, Charlie was curious. “Sooo..” Charlie started, a little unsure what to say about her fathers new found internet obsession. “Who are you talking to?” Charlie ask curious.

Lucifer was quick to meet his daughters eyes and quickly put his phone face down on the table . “No one!” He said in an almost scream, before it buzzed again..and again…and again. Charlie eyes went between her dads now sweating face and and his phone. Before Lucifer could even react, Charlie reached for his phone. “Wait!” Lucifer said reaching for his phone from her hands, the phone screen lite up and Charlie was greeted my 4 notifications from someone named Y/N from Viva. Charlie gasp turning quickly turning to face him, Charlie’s face lite up like Christmas lights. “YOUR TALKING TO SOMEONE?!” Charlie squealed from excitement, since she helped set up his password she quickly opened his phone to see more.

“Charlie don’t-“ Lucifer started to say before seeing her face fall from its happy to confused. “Wait..” Charlie said looking at his profile, “why is your name ‘Luca’?” Charlie ask her eyes moving from his phone finally to be greeted with Lucifer’s red face “well…,” Lucifer started, “I wasn’t comfortable putting my name and photo on there so…I put a different name and photo.” Charlie’s face went from suprise to more annoyed, not angry, just disappointed. “Dad you can’t just do that!” Charlie said to her father, her free rubbing her face. “You can’t just catfish her!”

Lucifer looked confused, catfish? Like the animal? “Catfish?” Lucifer asked, truly not understanding the term. “Yes dad you can’t just lie about who you are to someone like that!” Charlie said scolding her father. Lucifer after that was able to put two and two together, the weight of what he’s been hit him like a bus. “Dad,” Charlie said letting out a sigh, “you have to come clean to them.” She said as she handed him his phone. “Char ITS not that easy!” Lucifer said taking the phone from then hand seeing them newest text, her caring words, them asking if he he’s eaten, remind him to take care of himself, her word hit his heart hard. “It’s not a normal situation, I’m the king of hell, not some random sinner!” Lucifer said he eyes not leaving the illuminated screen. “Dad, they’re gonna find out sooner or later, it’s better if you do it now, early into you talking then later..”

Lucifer stated quiet, he knew deep down she was right, he did truly like them and want more with them, he could only imagine how you’d react if he waited much longer it’s already been a few weeks… Lucifer let out a sigh and looked up at his daughter. “your right..” he said quietly, “I’ll tell them just…give me time..” Charlie stared for a moment before letting before smiling again. “Just do it soon dad…” Lucifer knew she was right.

Later that night Lucifer layed in his bed, looking at her last message, contemplating how to tell them, shoudl he texted it, no they’d think he’s joking, “maybe…” he though out loud. “A FaceTime..?” He asked himself, no, he didn’t even know how to start one… maybe…a date? You’d know he wasn’t lying about being satan himself, he could explain better then over a device and he could only imagine how beautiful you were in person… Lucifer looked down at the message you last send hesitation purged his mind, but slowly he began to type.

Luca - hey, can I ask you something?

Y/N - of course ask anything! :)

Luca - I was thinking he could go out sometime? Like a date going out.

After a a minute he saw you typing a new message. He could already feel his heart race a mile a minute, he felt a cold sweat form. Why was he so nervous? Then a little buzz when off, it was you he was hesitant but swipe to open the message.

Y/N - wait really? You wanna go on a date with me??

Lucifer swallowed the lump in his throat before typing with shaky fingers.

Luca - yes Y/N I really do.

Y/N - Yes I’d love to!! ❤️

Lucifer’s eyes lit up seeing you answer in only seconds, he can’t help but feel his heart flutter at the simple heart emoticon. Soon you both planned to meet for dinner the next night at a nice restaurant, named killer appetite, closer to the center of pentagram city, then he hit him…you both were actually going on a date. Together…

Y/N’s POV

When I saw his message asking me out, I could have screamed. He actually wanted to see me! I quickly typed and agreed to it. We chose dinner at a nice high end restaurant closer to the center of the city, I’ve heard of the place it was up scale. I was so ecstatic.

The next day at work couldn’t have gone slower, it felt like every minute was a hour long but as soon as that clock hit five, I was out the door racing home to get ready.As soon I was ready, my hair and outfit was perfect. I was quick out the door to the restaurant. On my way I received a message from Luca.

Luca - hey! Placed a reservation under L.M.

“L.M?” I asked myself, wondering what it meant, maybe his initials? I smile and replied ok,only a few minutes later I was at the restaurant, even though it was only 7 the restaurant was lively, full and packed. I walked over to the hostess stand.

“Hi, there should be a reservation for L.M?” I felt nervous, a mix of because of how busy it is and meet him…when I said the name of the reservation the hostess gave changed a mix of nervousness and excitement. “Of course! Right this way!” She said trying to put on a happy face but the nerves over shadowed that, she let me to a table already set up in a quieter area, almost completely different from the bustling atmosphere of the restaurant. “your server will be with you shortly, please enjoy!” She said as she raced out the room. I staired at the entrance way confused, why was that girl so nervous, and to have such a secluded area on a Friday night, it was unusual…

I sat down at the table that faced the entrance way. I pulled out my phone to text me.

Y/N - Hey! I just sat down! We have a really nice table, are you almost here? :)

I saw he read the text but no reply, I felt nervous again, my eyes kept watching my phone, my mouth was dry. But then I heard a voice “sorry I’m late..” the voice sounded nervous. I look up to a short blonde man. My eyes widen and my mouth is dry…

I was looking at Lucifer himself…

TAG LIST

@reverse-soe @kazurami14 @netheris @rainycloud858

#x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel

1K notes · View notes

writingwithcolor · 4 months

Text

Author with cultural disconnect: How do I write without making it seem as if I hate my own heritage?

Anonymous asked:

I’m a white-passing Asian author, and I’ve never felt all that connected with my heritage. My current story centers on a fairy (re: fantasy-world POC) child and ends with her realizing that her parents are toxic af and her human best friend’s family takes her in. This is the perfect opportunity to sort through my own issues with my heritage and finally convince my monkey-brain that it’s okay to not know how to cook Vietnamese food or celebrate tet or speak Vietnamese… But I also realize that if I’m not careful, this could easily slip into “Hey, I hate my heritage and so should you!” So how can I stop that from happening?

Writing for yourself first, not an audience

I ask you a simple question: why put pressure on yourself to have any sort of non-offensive messaging for a story that hasn’t been drafted yet and is to convince your monkey brain it’s okay to exist as yourself?

That seems like the fastest way to stop the story from being actually cathartic and instead a performance art piece when you already feel hung up on performing as “properly” part of your culture.

As I said in Working Through Identity Issues and Other Pitfalls of Representation, not all stories you write need to be for public consumption. Especially stories you’re using for your own self-processing and therapy, because you’re trying to get a cathartic moment that is rewriting your own story.

At what point does the public need to be involved in that?

I do understand the compulsion to want to post—I have definitely posted some Questionable™ material in my drive to get validation for feeling the way I do, wanting people to witness me and say “same.” It’s a powerful urge. Sometimes it’s worked, but most of the time it’s just made me feel horrifically exposed.

But you really do not have to post in public to get any sort of validation. Set up a groupchat with friends if you want the cheerleading and witnessing—people who will know your story and give you good-faith interpretations and won’t accuse you of anything. Honestly I’d suggest setting up this groupchat anyway; as someone who just got one again after quite a few years without it, my productivity has skyrocketed from being around supportive people.

Let the monkey brain have its monkey brain moment and shut off the concept the story is for the public. Shut off the concept of performing for an unknown audience. It’s for you. Be authentic, no matter how bad it would look to outsiders. They’re not reading it. Part of getting catharsis, sometimes, is being the worst version of yourself, somewhere nobody else can see it.

Deciding to publish the work

If, after you do write it, you find that you actually do want to polish it up and put it somewhere… edit it. Rewrite it entirely if that’s what it takes. Take the story through the same drafting process every story needs to go through, ripping out the unfortunate implications as you go.

Editing can be its own form of healing, as you try to figure out what this character would need to not be hateful. As you realize, once this longform journal entry is out of your head, what was bothering you now that you can see it pinned down on a page. But you absolutely do not need to write with the intention of editing in that healing. When I’ve tried, it’s fallen flat.

The healing will come from being yourself, no public involved, and writing about your feelings in their rawest form. Anything else is extra.

There’s no point in trying to put guard rails on the drafting process, not for a deeply personal piece. And by the time that drafting process is done, you’ll likely have specific scenarios and contexts that you can ask about, and you might even have ideas on how to fix it yourself once the story has a shape to it.

This is 100% a situation where there’s no real sense in idea workshopping something in the plotting stage. You’re doing something for you. Decide if it’s for public consumption later (while acknowledging “no” is a perfectly valid answer), and only figure out how to make the story not overtly harmful if you decide to put it out into the public.

~ Leigh

#culture #cultural disconnect #creator responsibility #writing #authors of color #asks

955 notes · View notes

lxndonorris · 2 months

Text

new season, new suit - Charles Leclerc (SFS24)

Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smut (you've been warned) Theme: you're attending the ferrari photoshoot, watching Charles pose like the model he is. What happens when he invites you to the changing room? word count: 2080+ taglist: @game-set-canet the second installment of the suit fitting saga 2024.

Your heart buzzes with anticipation as the new Formula 1 season looms on the horizon, and Charles, your boyfriend and a professional racing driver for Scuderia Ferrari, is in the midst of a photoshoot for his team's new gear.

The vibrant red racing suit, tailored to perfection, hugs his athletic frame like a second skin, accentuating every contour and muscle. Throughout the last few years, he has been a part of the Ferrari family, and they always manage to create such beautiful suits for him and his teammate.

You watch Charles and Carlos strike poses, standing right next to each other, as the guy with the huge camera tells them what to do next.

When he invited you to join him for the shoot, you couldn't resist the opportunity to witness him in his element and, obviously, see the new suit on him.

As he strikes pose after pose, his smile contagiuos and his eyes sparkling with excitement, your heart swells with pride. Charles looks so handsome, with the fabric of the suit flowing perfectly across his firm body, accentuating all the right spots.

Anytime he moves, you can't help but admire his physique: his big biceps bulging, his thick thighs, and his strong frame—just perfect. You feel a sudden rush of joy and excitement, knowing that he wants you there by his side.

With each click of the camera, you find yourself falling even more deeply in love with him.

Then Carlos walks away, looking at the pictures through the screen as Charles sits down, ready for another round.

That's when your eyes meet from across the room, and you notice a familiar glint of longing desire burning in his eyes. Charles licks his lips, lifts his chin, and strikes another pose: he runs a hand across his chest firmly, dragging the suit's fabric acoss as his hand reaches his neck.

He takes a deep breath while resting his other hand casually on his thighs, right after he subtly strokes himself some more.

It feels like he is posing just for you, his gaze seeking yours amidst the whirlwind of activity surrounding us.

It's nearly impossible to look away until he focuses on the camera once more. Tension is building up inside your belly and chest, sending several shivers down your spine.

For a moment, you look around. Someone might have watched this, exposing his teasing nature, but nobody reacts—just you.

That's when he strikes another pose, looking for your eyes once again. Sparks are flying when he opens his mouth, posing like a real model would, while his burning gaze pulls you in.

You notice his hands now stroking his chest shortly before a sly smirk creeps on his lips—the same smirk he would give you before kissing you in bed.

Letting out a low sigh, you regain your composure, but the thought of him on top of you, kissing you while encompassing your entire body with his soft hands, gives you goosebumps.

You hear his voice inside your mind—a mere whisper, a soft moan—as he grinds his hips on yours. With his hand around your neck, he keeps on kissing you, pinning you to the bed. His desire presses against your thighs, asking for one special thing.

"That's it for now." The photographer's voice snaps you out of your daydreaming. He captures the last few shots before Charles regains his stance, running his hands one last time across his chest before approaching the computer.

They talk for a little while, while you can't help but sink back into that daydream. Closing your eyes, you try to push these thoughts away, but his low groans echo through every fiber of your body.

"Well, what do you think?" Charles' voice makes you jump slightly, and you open your eyes to find him standing right in front of you, a coy smile forming in the corner of his lips. "How do I look?"

"Stunning." You reply, letting your eyes wander all over him, noticing how firm his body has grown due to the excitement and tension building up throughout the shoot.

With a chuckle, Charles leans in close, his lips brushing against yours in a sweet and tender kiss.

"Carlos, your turn." A voice echoes through the studio as Carlos takes the stage.

Both of you turn to watch him perform, just as well as Charles did before him.

Then, however, Charles leans into you again, his lips inches away from your ear.

"I hope you know how happy I am that you're here today." He breathes against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Thanks for the invitation." You turn to meet his gaze; his eyes sparkle in mischief.

Both of you turn back to watch Carlos strike another pose, but then Charles whispers into your ear again.

"I always feel so special wearing this gear." His voice is low and rough. "I want to share the first time wearing this suit with you."

You dare not look at him, trying to avoid his gaze, but you're way too hooked not to look at him.

He bites his lower lip, trying to swallow a mischievous smirk, but subconsciously, he strokes his chest again, letting his hand slide down his suit to the faint bulge forming in his trousers.

"You're an idiot." You chuckle quietly, grab his chin with your hand, and push him away playfully.

For a second, you just watch the shoot play out in front of you, but then he turns back to you.

"I can tell Carlos is feeling the same." He chuckles to himself, and you can see his eyes now checking out his teammate.

"How?" You ask carefully, and he just motions for you to watch Carlos.

"Just watch his body move, so deliberately yet so naturally," Charles says, "just the way his muscles bulge—his chest, arms, and thighs. Just like mine." He swallows hard before turning his face back to yours. "Could you tell?"

Breathing deeply, you nod slowly.

"Just so fucking good." Charles smiles, leans in, and kisses you again; this time, it's a much more passionate kiss.

As the photoshoot comes to an end and they talk about the pictures for a while, Charles turns to you with a playful grin, his eyes filled with warmth and affection.

"Care to join me backstage?" He asks, his voice low and husky—an offer you can't refuse.

With a nod, you take his hand, leading him toward the changing room. Luckily, each driver got their own little private area—enough space for the two of you to have some fun.

Inside, the air is filled with the scent of his cologne, wrapping you like a familiar embrace as he pulls you into him, his hands now tightly on your waist.

Steadying yourself against his strong frame, you take the opportunity to stroke his firm chest. His muscles are already as hard as rocks, and his clothes are barely able to contain his form.

With a gentle touch, you run your hands over the fabric of the suit, marveling at its sleek texture against your fingertips. It was like silk beneath your touch—smooth and luxurious.

As you explore the contours of his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles, Charles lets out a soft sigh, his eyes locking with yours in a silent exchange of desire. His hands run along your waistline to your arse, and you can't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through your veins.

Carefully, you unbutton the collar of his suit, exposing the zipper. You exchange a knowing look, and he lets you pull the zipper down, revealing the tight red fireproofs he is wearing underneath.

With a little help, his upper body slips out of his clothes, the sleeves now hanging down his waist.

His undergarments are even tighter, just like a second skin that drags across his muscles, his nipples, and down his thick biceps and shoulders.

With a playful grin, Charles flexes his muscles, the fabric of the fireproofs stretching taut against his athletic frame. Every ripple and bulge is accentuated, showcasing his physique in all its glory—a sight to behold—and you can't tear your eyes away from him.

"Like what you see?" he teases, his voice so rough.

"Absoluetly," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Because I need this so much." Charles leans into you, kissing you. His body presses against yours, and right away, his hips grind against yours.

Together, you make your way through the room until you come to a standstill. You're standing with your back against a wall, Charles' lips tightly on yours, while one hand is around your neck, stroking you gently.

In response, you stroke his chest again and again, causing him to purr happily right in your mouth. The faint scent of his cologne grows stronger, swirling all around you as he runs a hand across your chest, your boobs, and right between your legs.

"Charles." You tilt your head, letting out a low grunt.

"I'm so hard right now," he replies, letting out a guttural groan from deep down his throat. His burning desire is rubbing against your thighs. So good.

"Let me handle that." You smirk, and in one swift motion, you turn him around, pressing his back against the concrete wall.

A devious smirk tugs at his lips, knowing very well what you're offering.

Placing a hand at his neck, you trace his firm jawline with your fingertips, enjoying how his very light stubble tickles your skin.

You kiss him once, twice, again, and again, right on his lips, before you make your way down his chest.

"You're so handsome." Running your thumb along his soft, wet lips, you look into his eyes, causing him to take another deep breath. At the same time, you rub his member with the palm of your hand, as you know he enjoys that so much.

"You're gorgeous." He murmurs, his eyes wandering all over your face—from your lips to your cheeks and back to your eyes.

You let your hands run down his neck to his chest, firmly feeling his muscles through the fireproofs. You pinch his nipples—one of his sensitizing spots—causing him to swallow a long moan.

"That feels good." He breathes deeply.

Before you go any further, you pull his shirt up, exposing his beautiful, bare chest. At first, you trace his tangible abs with your index finger before you place longing kisses all over his skin.

Looking up, you catch him watching you closely. Charles licks his lips and strokes his own chest as you get on your knees.

With a little help from him, you manage to pull his suit down enough for him to present his length bulging through his undergarments.

"You're a big boy." You tease him by tracing the outlines of his member, causing him to smirk again.

"I've been hoping we would do that." He shakes his head, exhausted yet excited. "I couldn't think of anything else." His accent comes through slightly, making you smile.

By biting your lip at the sight of him struggling to keep a straight face, you won't edge him on any longer.

You pull his length out of his suit—it towers in front of you—and you take him in your mouth—a sensational, familiar feeling. His delicious taste spreads across your tongue while he takes several deep breaths, trying not to make too much noise.

As you move your mouth rhythmically, you watch his body follow your lead. All of him is longing for a much-needed release, and you're about to give it to him.

Charles strokes himself firmly, even leaning his head back against the wall.

"So good." He runs a hand through your hair, stroking you and holding you in place at the same time.

"Mhmm." You moan, enjoying his taste all over your mouth. Your body shakes, and you steady yourself against his thighs, much to his amusement.

"I'm so close." He growls, blinking a few times, before he can't help but release himself—fucking good.

You let go of him and separate yourself, watching him stroke his member before tugging it back into his underwear.

"You're a fucking goddess." He chuckles, reaching for your hand and pulling you into another loving kiss.

"Thanks for today." You say, stroking his chest gently while staring into his beautiful eyes.

"I need to thank you." Charles smiles, and you hug each other tightly.

Together, you get changed before you return to the others already waiting for you.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #Formula 1 smut #f1 smut #sfs24 #suit fitting saga 2024

602 notes · View notes

waitimcomingtoo · 8 months

Text

I Can See You

pairing: Peter Parker x Happy’s daughter!reader

synopsis: You can see Peter being your addiction and Peter can see you as a secret mission

real synopsis: Happy forbids you and Peter from dating, which only makes you want to do it more

Masterlist

“Hey.” You nodded at Peter as you wandered into his room. The hair on Peters neck stood up on high alert now that a stranger was in his bedroom. He shut his laptop and swiveled in his desk chair to follow what you were doing. He watched you walk over to his Lego shelf as if you’d been in his room a hundred times and admired his Lego titanic.

“Um, hello. Can I help you?” Peter asked.

“Did you build this?” You asked in reply.

“Oh, yeah. I did. It took me almost a full month.”

“Wow. It’s huge.” You said and gently ran your hand along the side of it.

“I know. It’s kinda cramped in here, though. I want to display it in the living room.” Peter told you. His tingle was telling him you weren’t a threat so now he just saw you as a pretty girl who had wandered into his room.

“You totally should display this thing. It’s awesome. What’s stopping you?” You wondered.

“The family pictures in the way.” Peter laughed dryly.

“Psh. Who needs those?” You joked, making him smile.

“Not me.” Peter played along. “But my aunt might be just a little upset if I replaced photos of her dead brother and dead husband with my Lego titanic.”

“That’s nothing. My dad replaced my high school graduation picture with a photo of his dead best friend eating a cheeseburger. It’s not even a good picture. It’s blurry and my dads pinky is in the frame.”

“Damn, your graduation picture? That’s next level. Either he really loved his best friend or it was a really good cheeseburger.”

“Probably both.” You shrugged. “Uncle Tony knew all the best cheeseburger spots in Queens.”

“Wait, Tony? Like Tony Stark?” Peter asked and stood up from his desk chair.

“Yeah, Tony Stark. Oh, that’s right. I forgot you knew him.” You said and tapped the side of your head.

“Your dads best friend.” Peter said to himself. “Wait a second. Are you…”

“Y/n Hogan. Your aunt invited my dad and I over for dinner.” You said and you held your hand out.

“Wait, you’re Happy’s daughter? But you’re so pretty.” Peter said in disbelief as he shook your hand.

“What?” You laughed.

“I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. Your dad is a very beautiful man. I can see the resemblance.” Peter quickly followed up.

“Seeing the resemblance is impressive considering I was adopted.” You laughed again and continued looking around his room. You saw his Spiderman suit hanging in the closet and touched it with a fond smile on your face.

“Oh God. Can we start over? I feel like I failed at this conversation.”

“You didn’t. I actually think you’re doing a pretty good job talking to me considering the deep lore that runs between us and our mutual acquaintances.” You assured him.

“Oh.” He blushed. “Thanks.”

“No problem. So did this thing come with a Lego iceberg?” You asked and pointed to the Lego titanic.

“No. That would’ve been perfect. But unfortunately, Lego didn’t have a dark sense of humor.”

“But I do. Do you have any blue legos?” You asked with a devious smile.

“Yeah. What are you thinking?”

A few minutes later, you and Peter were sitting on his bedroom floor with his Lego bin between you. You led the conversation, much to Peters delight, as you added onto each others creations. Even though Peter was usually shy and awkward around strangers, he found it very easy to talk to you. Maybe it was because you were already apart of his secret world and he didn’t have to lie about anything, or maybe it was just because you got along. Whatever it was, Peter really enjoyed talking to you. You felt more like an old friend rather then a stranger. Happy came into the room after a little while and was surprised to see you already in there.

“Oh, there you are. I was looking for you. But I see you found Peter.” Happy said and gave Peter a stern look.

“You never told me you had a daughter.” Peter playfully scolded him to keep the mood light.

“That’s because I don’t disclose any personal information to teenagers in spandex.” Happy said curtly.

“Dad. Be nice.” You whispered harshly.

“What are you guys doing in here anyway?” Happy asked as he folded his arms.

“Making a Lego iceberg for Peters Lego titanic.” You explained and held up what you had built so far.

“Interesting, interesting. Peter, can I talk to you for a second?” Happy said through a fake smile.

“Yeah. Sure. Be right back.” He told you before getting up to follow Happy into the hallway.

“What’s up?” Peter asked kindly.

“Don’t even think about it.” Happy said immediately.

“Huh? Don’t think about what?”

“My daughter. Don’t even let it cross your mind. Because if it crosses your mind, I’ll know about it. And if I know about it, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Wait, you think I’m trying to date your daughter? I just met her. Relax.” Peter laughed.

“No, I won’t relax. I don’t ever want to see my daughter in your bedroom, okay? That’s gross. I don’t want you getting your horny little nerd germs on her.”

“We were just playing with legos.” Peter pointed out.

“That’s always how it starts.” Happy wagged his finger. “I know your type. You lure girls in with your boyish charm because they think you’re safe.”

“I am safe, Happy.” Peter insisted. “You know me. You know I’d never break her heart.”

“I know you won’t. Because you won’t get the chance.”

“I’m sorry, but why is it okay for you to date my aunt but not for me to date your daughter?” Peter asked and folded his arms.

“Oh, so it has crossed your mind? I knew you were thinking about dating my daughter.” Happy pointed accusingly at him. “I knew it the second I walked into your room. You’re thinking about her right now, aren’t you? Well stop. My daughter is not allowed in your head, okay? Ever. Get her out.”

“I wasn’t thinking about dating her until you put the idea into my head. But I kinda want to do it now.” Peter laughed in amusement and looked back at his room where you were.

“Don’t you even dare.” Happy whispered and took a step closer to him.

“Or what? What’ll you do?” Peter challenged him. He didn’t even care that much about it, he just wanted to antagonize Happy for his own amusement.

“Kill you.” Happy stated like it was obvious. “Like I said.”

“What if she likes me? Huh?” Peter smirked. “You can’t tell her not to date me. That’ll just drive her straight into my arms.”

“That’s not gonna be a problem because she’ll never like you. She’s too smart.”

“I’m a good guy, Happy. Tony knew that. Wouldn’t you rather her date a nice, responsible guy that you’ve known for years over some random stranger whose intentions might be impure?”

“She can date a guy I know.” Happy shrugged. “Just not you.”

“We’ll see.” Peter shrugged as well.

“What? What does that mean? We’ll see? We’re not gonna see anything because you’re not dating my daughter.” Happy declared.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” Peter shrugged again.

“No, you definitely won’t.”

“How are you gonna stop it?” Peter asked him.

“With a gun.” Happy replied. “That I use to kill you. To death.”

“I don’t think your daughter would appreciate you killing her future boyfriend.” Peter said innocently.

“You’re not her future boyfriend. You’re not her future anything. But you’re a future dead person if you keep this up.”

“Relax, Happy. I’m just messing with you. I’m not gonna date your daughter.” Peter laughed and patted Happy’s shoulder. Just then, you came out of Peters room with the Lego iceberg you had built.

“I’m gonna help May in the kitchen. Maybe I’ll accidentally knock down a few family pictures while I’m in there.” You said and winked at Peter.

“Why would you do that?” Happy asked you.

“Peter gets it.” You smiled coyly before disappearing down the hall and into the kitchen. Peter watched you walk away and felt something blossoming in his chest. That simple moment of sweet understanding between you was all he needed to fall head over heels for you.

“Happy?” Peter said without taking his eyes off where you had just been standing.

“Yeah?” Happy replied. Peter turned to face him, put his hand on Happy’s shoulder, and smiled sympathetically.

“I’m gonna date your daughter.”

Before Happy could respond, May called everyone in for dinner. Peter and Happy exchanged a look before throwing on smiles so that you and May wouldn’t suspect anything. Happy sat across from Peter with you sitting beside him, meaning that every time Peter looked at you, he got a kick under the table from Happy. Similarly, anytime you tried to ask Peter a question or start a conversation with him, Happy cut you off. Peter tried to do the same with you but was always met with a death glare from Happy. The incredibly silent and awkward dinner ended all too soon and Happy could not have taken you out of Peters apartment fast enough. You waved to Peter as Happy pulled you out the door but there was no time for an exchanging of words. What a beautiful wedding jk jk iykyk.

Peter was fully prepared to let his little crush on you go away on its own without any intention of acting on it. He knew it was a bad idea anyway to get involved with the daughter of the head of security, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about you from time to time.

“Hey Happy. I just wanted to report that I found a lost dog today. But then it ran away again after I returned to to the owner. I’m starting to think it wanted to be lost. Maybe he met a bunch of stray dogs and felt more at home with them on the streets than he ever did in his owner’s apartment. What do you think?” Peter asked over FaceTime as he gave Happy his daily report from patrolling the neighborhood.

“Kid, I don’t care. I never have. You don’t need to keep calling me with random updates of what you do on patrol.” Happy told him. In the background of Happy’s video, Peter could see you walking into the room with nothing but a towel wrapped around yourself and your wet hair hanging around your face. He perked up and felt his face heat up at the sight of you.

“Is that Peter?” You asked and walked over to where Happy was sitting.

“No. It’s not.” Happy said and tried to shut his laptop.

“Hi Peter.” You opened it back up and waved, leaving you with only one hand to hold your towel onto your body. Peter turned bright red as he stared at the screen and felt all dialogue options leave his mind.

“Oh, uh, hi.” He stammered. “I didn’t see you there. I didn’t even know you were home. How’s it going?”

“Pretty good.” You shrugged. “What kind of dog was it?”

“What?”

“The dog you found. What breed?” You asked with genuine interest. Peter smiled at you wanting to know and felt his blush deepen.

“Chihuahua. His name was Pinto.”

“Aw.” You smiled. “That’s so cute.“

“Oh, yeah. Very cute. Very, very cute.” Peters eyes glazed over as he stared at your through the screen. Happy looked back and forth between Peter and you before realizing what Peter was staring at.

“I’m hanging up now.” Happy warned.

“Wait-“

The call ended abruptly and Peter was left alone staring at a black screen. If Happy was going to stop him from seeing you, he would going to have to get creative.

A few nights later, Peter formed a new plan. If Happy was gonna date his aunt, he was going to use it to his advantage.

“Oopsie. I just accidentally ordered two pizzas instead of one. Silly me. What will we do with all this incoming pizza?” Peter asked as he dramatically scratched the top of his head to make it look like he was thinking.

“I don’t know.” May shrugged. “Eat a lot of pizza?”

“That’s a great idea, May. Or, and this is just coming to me now, what if we invite Happy over to eat some? So you guys can have a little date night. He even can bring his daughter. What was her name again? Telulah? Annabeth? Marcy?”

“Y/n?” May chuckled and raised her eyebrow.

“Right. Her.” Peter played dumb. “She probably likes pizza, right?”

“I know what you’re doing, but I’m gonna go with it anyway because there’s no way we can eat two pies and I hate wasting food.” May playfully scolded him as she dialed Happy’s number.

Much to Peters delight, you and Happy showed up a few minutes later. You were standing behind your dad with a bag behind your back.

“Hey. Thanks for the invite.” Happy said and kissed Mays cheek. You looked at Peter over your dads shoulder and waved.

“No problem.” May replied. “It was actually Peters idea.”

“Oh, was it?” Happy asked and stared daggers at Peter. Peter shrugged innocently before making eye contact with you. He discreetly nodded towards his bedroom before going to it. You followed after him once the coast was clear.

“Hey.” You smiled at him and shut his door behind you.

“Hey. Thanks for coming over. I’m glad you could make it.” Peter played it cool but was screaming on the inside over you being in his room again.

“I’m glad you invited us. I have a present for you but I didn’t have any way of getting in touch with you.”

“You wanna touch me?” Peter said in a low voice as he stared at you with his eyebrows raised.

“What was that?”

“I said you have a present for me?” He quickly corrected himself and threw on a smile.

“Uh huh. Look what I found.” You held the bag up and pulled out the Lego Super Star Destroyer, a Lego set Peter had dreamed of owning since he was a kid.

“What?! You got this for me?” He jumped out of his chair and held the box to read it.

“Yeah. You mentioned last time that you always wanted this one. I know you’re a big fan of the movies so I wanted you to have it.” You smiled sheepishly as you stared at him. His childlike excitement and wonderstruck expression made him even cuter than you typically found him. His expression changed suddenly when he realized he could never accept such a costly gift.

“This set costs a fortune. You really didn’t have to do this.” Peter looked apologetic as he looked into your eyes. You laughed a little at how bad he felt and put your hand on top of his.

“It’s okay. I wanted to do it.” You assured him. “Plus, Uncle Tony put me in his will so I’m kinda flushed with cash right now. I would’ve just spent the money on something stupid. And I know he loved you so he’d be happy I used the money to buy a Lego set for us.”

“Us?” Peter cracked a smile and felt his excitement return.

“Yeah. I thought we could build it together while my dad makes out with your aunt.” You suggested.

“Gross.” Peter grimaced. “But the part about building it together sounds fun.”

Now that he was willing to keep it, you tore the box open and dumped the pieces out. You and Peter sat next to each other with your knees touching as you built the spaceship. Peter snuck glances at you every now and then, and you caught them every time. You accidentally made eye contact at one point and he turned pink.

“You know, my dads been up my ass all week because of you.” You said with a soft laugh.

“Me? What did I do?”

“I don’t know. Did you tell him we were dating or something?” You questioned him, making him gulp.

“Actually, he told me not to date you.” Peter admitted.

“He told me the same thing. Little does he know, that just makes me want to date you even more.” You replied. Peter froze and realized that if what Happy said made you want to date him more, that meant you already wanted to date him in the first place. You realized that you had said too much at the same time Peter did and looked at him out of the corner of your eye to see if he was weirded out. To your surprise, he was staring at you with a soft expression. He quickly cleared his throat and looked away when you caught him staring.

“Doesn’t he know that the hottest thing a guy can do is be disliked by the girls dad?” Peter said like it was obvious.

“Exactly. I told him disapproving of you was just going to send me straight into your arms. And who could even blame me? They’re really nice arms.” You shrugged and gave Peter a coy smile. Peter laughed shyly and busied himself with the legos so you wouldn’t see him blushing.

“What did he say to that?” He asked you.

“That there will be a cold day in hell before he lets me go out with you.” You laughed.

“And what did you say?” Peter asked as he looked up at you and found that you were already looking at him.

“I told him that he can’t tell me who to date and if I wanted to go out with you, I will.” You said simply. Peter gulped and never broke eye contact with you and he reached for a Lego brick. Your hands accidentally touched and he saw sparks fly.

“Do you want to go out with me?” He asked quietly. You opened your mouth to answer just as May opened hers.

“Hey, kids. Pizzas here.” May said as she appeared in Peters doorway. You looked at him apologetically before getting up and following May to the kitchen. He desperately wanted to get you alone again to finish your conversation, but Happy was never gonna let that happen.

It came time for you and Happy to leave and Peter was visibly disappointed. As Happy and May said their goodbyes, you pulled Peter to the side.

“Goodnight, Peter. I had fun tonight.” You said sincerely.

“So did I. Thank you again for the legos. It’s the nicest thing anyones ever done for me.”

“I’m glad you liked them. Hopefully I’ll see you again. Hopefully soon.”

“Yeah. Totally.” Peter nodded eagerly.

You held out your hand to shake Peters, which Peter found a little strange. But when he shook your hand, he felt you slip a piece of paper into his. Peter waited until Happy was out the door before opening the paper up. Written in your handwriting was your phone number. Peter looked up in surprise and made eye contact with you.

“Call me.” You mouthed to him and made your hand like a phone just as Happy pulled you away.

And that’s exactly what Peter did. It became your nightly secret mission to sneak off and call Peter once you were sure Happy was asleep or preoccupied in front of the TV. You would talk for hours in hushed voices so no one would hear.

“Can you imagine what my dad would do if he found us out?” You asked Peter one night as you hung over the edge of your bed to talk to Peter.

“So there’s an us to find out about?” Peter asked and felt grateful you couldn’t see his blush over the phone.

“I don’t know.” You smiled timidly. “I really like talking to you, Peter.”

“Well that’s good. I’m happy to hear that. Because I like it too.” He laughed shyly.

“I think about you a lot when we’re not on the phone.” You admitted as you switched positions and rolled onto your stomach.

“You do?” Peter gulped.

“Uh huh. All the time.”

“What do you think about?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe half the things I see inside my head.” You chuckled. Peter gulped again and felt his face heat up. He cleared his throat before speaking again.

“Why don’t you explain it to me then?” He asked. Before you could answer, a loud crash sounded from his side of the phone.

“What’s all that noise?” You asked him.

“Mays looking for the pasta maker.” Peter sighed. “We have a thousand boxes of mezzi rigatoni but she wanted fettuccini.”

“Fettuccine actually sounds amazing right now. I need to get up and make some food. I just hope my dad went grocery shopping or else I’m eating sleep for dinner.”

“You should come over tonight.” Peter said before he would overthink it.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Come make pasta with us. May usually burns something and then gives up about 15 minutes into cooking so we wouldn’t have to hang out with her the whole time. We could make pasta together. Just the two of us.”

“Okay. My dads watching a movie in the den so he won’t mind if I go out. I’m in.” You smiled and started to get ready to see him.

“Awesome. Great. See you soon.” Peter grinned and hung up the phone. He quickly brushed his teeth and put on a fresh shirt before joining May in the kitchen. There was a knock on the door soon enough and Peter practically ran to open it.

“Ciao.” He said as he flung the door open.

“Ciao, bello.” You replied. “Scopiamo stasera o cosa?”

“Wait, what? I don’t actually speak Italian.” Peter sheepishly.

“That’s probably for the better.” You laughed and walked into his apartment.

“Oh, good. You’re here. And you brought wine! Even better. Come in, come in.” May kissed your cheek before taking the bottle of wine and opening it.

“Peters been dying for you to get here.” She whispered in your ear, but loud enough for Peter to hear.

“May.” Peter whined and motioned for her to zip it.

“What? I’m just being honest.” May shrugged. “Honesty is the best policy. That’s what I always say.”

“She’s right. That’s a great policy.” You said and gave Peter a look.

“Oh yeah? Does your dad know you’re here?” Peter asked you and folded his arms, already knowing the answer. Your smile dropped when you realized he was right.

“A little lie never hurt anybody.” You replied. Peter smirked, knowing he caught you.

“Come here. I’ll show you how to make the dough.” Peter said and led you to the kitchen with his hand on your back. You and Peter made the pasta dough while May chopped up some tomatoes and made a sauce. May switched the radio on to play some instrumental background music that made the apartment feel like a small cafe in Italy.

“All right. I think we’re ready. I’m gonna get the pasta maker. It should be in the attic.” May broke up the party and put the meatball back in the sauce.

“If you can’t find it, what do we do with all this dough?” You asked her.

“I don’t know. Make a shit ton of Pizza.” May shrugged and left to go find the pasta maker.

“Okay then.” You chuckled. Once you and Peter were alone, you hoped up on the counter and leg your legs swing.

“Should we try it to make sure it tastes good?” You asked as you rolled some dough between your fingers and made a snake.

“Yeah, but not that piece. You made a worm.” Peter said and pointed to your dough.

“So what? It’s just dough. Try some.” You replied and dangled the dough in his face.

“Dough way.” He laughed at his own pun and swatted the dough away.

“Oh, we’re making pasta puns now? You’re gonna pay for that.” You playfully warned him.

“But I dough not want it.” Peter pouted and leaned on the counter you were sitting on so you were caged in between his arms. You both became aware of how close you were at the same time and laughed shyly.

“Can’t think of anything other than replacing “do” with “dough” huh?” You asked and raised an eyebrow.

“Dough, I can’t.” He shamefully admitted. You gave him a look and he held up his hands in defense.

“That one was different.” He pointed out.

“All right. I’ll give it to you. Now eat the pasta worm.” You playfully demanded and dangled it in his face again.

“No. Get that thing away from me.” He laughed and smacked it away. It flew across the room and stuck to a nearby cabinet with a loud smack.

“Wow. Look at that.” Peter said, genuinely dumbfounded.

“It’s kinda beautiful.” You said as you quietly stared at the pasta in awe. Peter turned to look at you and rested his hands back on the counter.

“You’re kinda beautiful.” He said in a soft voice. You tore your eyes away from the pasta to look at him but couldn’t form a single word.

“Even with flour on your face.” He chuckled and wiped a smudge of flour off your cheek with his thumb. You gulped and discreetly picked up some flour off the counter.

“You have some flour on your face too.” You told him as you stared into his eyes.

“Where? Here?” Peter asked and touched his cheek.

“No. Here.” You smirked before throwing the handful of flour at him. Peter coughed and waved his hand to get it away from his face.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.” He warned and grabbed a handful of flour. He went to throw it at you but you caught him by the wrist to stop him. Peter wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him so that you couldn’t block his next attempt. But instead of feeling flour on your face, you felt Peter kissing you. You weren’t actually sure if you kissed him or he kissed you, but you didn’t really care. You wasted no time in tangling your hands on his hair and deepening the kiss. His hands slid up and down your back before finding their way up your shirt. You felt your entire body heat up as you kissed him and felt all the tension that had been building up release into the atmosphere between you. He kissed you until you felt dizzy but you didn’t stop even then. You started to unbutton his button down when the moment was interrupted.

“Found it!” May called from the hallway. You jumped apart so quickly that you fell right off the counter. You screamed on the way down as Peter watched with his hands over his mouth. He rushed to pick you up just as May came back into the kitchen. She took one look at the flour covering the two of your, most noticeably the flour handprints on either of Peters cheeks, and knew what had happened.

“Oh my God. What happened in here?” May played dumb.

“Fell.” You and Peter said in unison.

“Oh no. Are you okay?”

“Maybe?” You smiled weakly and rubbed your throbbing head. Peter touched his hands, which now felt cold from the absence of you.

“Oh my God. How did you get flour all over your back?” May laughed and turned you around to see the flour Peter had left all over your clothing.

“I’m a messy girl.” You shrugged and hoped she’d buy it.

“Look at that. The flour on Y/n’s butt looks like a perfect handprint. How funny is that?” May laughed again and pointed to the handprint Peter had left on your black leggings. He turned so red that he had to turn around so May wouldn’t see it.

“I’m gonna go potty.” You said quickly and ran to the bathroom.

“She okay?” May asked once you were gone.

“Her? What? Yeah. She’s fine. Nothing weird happened while you were gone.” Peter said a little too quickly.

“Hm. How did that piece of pasta get stuck to the cabinet?” May asked and pointed to the pasta Peter had flung.

“I’m not sure.” Peter lied.

“Are you feeling okay? Your face and neck is all red.” May asked and pressed her hand to Peters forehead. He knew she was getting suspicious and had to think of a lie to get out of there.

“I have to poop.” Peter blurted and walked out of the kitchen.

“Y/n is in there.” May called after him.

“I’ll go to the other bathroom!” He shouted back.

Peter passed the bathroom in the hallway and stopped outside of it. He pressed his ear against the door to try and hear if you were freaking out or not.

Which you 100% were.

“What the hell are you doing? You can’t just kiss him. You slut bag! You hussy! You don’t even know how he feels about you.” You whispered to the mirror. You splashed some cold water on your face to calm down before looking at your reflection.

“Woman up and get your shit together. Go out there and make pasta with your dads girlfriends nephew like a fucking normal person.” You warned yourself in the mirror.

The bathroom door suddenly opened and Peter fell inside. You gasped and pulled him the rest of the way in before shutting the door.

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t doing anything!” Peter said quickly.

“What are you doing out here?!” You whispered harshly.

“Nothing! I just wanted to talk!” He whispered back in a panic.

“So you wait outside the bathroom door? What if I was pooping?! You would’ve heard it.” You whispered even louder and angrily shook his shirt.

“But I didn’t.” He said weakly.

“I think I need to go home.” You sighed and left the bathroom.

“Wait, no. Please stay.” Peter pleaded as he followed after you. He caught you in the hallway and gently pulled your arm to get you to stop.

“I can’t. I can’t go back in there. She’s gonna know something sus happened.” You whispered to him and pointed to the kitchen.

“It wasn’t sus. But I really think we need to talk about it.” Peter said and looked at you with his big puppy dog eyes. You knew he was dying to talk about it and you felt guilty leaving him after what happened.

“Peter, look. I’m really sorry that I kissed you-“

“I’m not.” He cut you off and pushed you against the wall. The interrupted kiss was resumed and even more passionate than the last. He had you up against the wall as he kissed you as if he hadn’t seen you in years. You forgot all about the pasta and your dads warning and just got lost in his touch. You both knew it was wrong and that you could be caught any second, and that’s what made it feel so right. Peter squeezed your hip, signaling you to jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. You couldn’t feel him smiling into the kiss as he pressed you against the wall. That was the moment you knew you were never giving this boy up, no matter what your father said.

“Peter! Y/n! What happened to my sous chefs?” May shouted from the kitchen. You pulled apart and stared at each other as you caught your breath.

Peter gently set you back down on the floor but stayed in your personal space as he leaned against the wall. You never broke eye contact with him as he fixed a strand of hair that he knocked onto the wrong side of your part. You gulped and smoothed your clothing down before looking away.

“Can we talk after? Please? Don’t go home.” Peter pleased as he buttoned his shirt back up. You looked him up and down and knew you were at his mercy.

“Fine. You’ve convinced me. I’ll stay.” You agreed. Peter smiled in relief and led you back to them kitchen.

“Look who decided to join us.” May smiled proudly and stepped to the side to reveal Happy standing behind her. Peters knees buckled and he immediately fainted onto the ground. You caught him and let him lean on you as you waved your hand in front of his face to wake him up.

“Dad? What are you doing here?” You asked through a big fake smile.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He said through an even faker smile.

“I was making Peter with Pasta. I mean, pasta with Peter.” You stumbled over your words as Peter came to and nearly fell over again. You held him upright but his waist until he could stand on his own. Happy was watching the whole thing and growing more suspicious by the second.

“Hm. You didn’t mention you were going over my girlfriends house when you said you were going out. I find that a little strange. Don’t you?” Happy shrugged as he folded his arms.

“Maybe I find you a little strange.” You said out of the corner of your mouth.

“Now that Happy’s here we’re gonna need some more pasta. Honey, can you knead the rest of the dough?” May asked you.

“Sure. I can dough that.” You laughed nervously. Happy gave you a strange look and you gulped.

“I’m sorry. I kiss-poke. I mean, misspoke.” You gulped again and went over to the dough. Peter went to follow you and earned a longing glare from Happy as he did. The two of you bumped into each other and dropped things on the floor numerous times from how nervous you were now that Happy was there. Once Happy and May disappeared to the couch to drink wine, Peter knew it was safe to talk.

“Stop being weird.” He whispered to you.

“I’m about to murder-suicide us.” You said at full volume.

“Peter, can you help her? You gotta put your elbow grease into it.” May called from the couch.

“Yeah. I can dough that.” Peter replied.

“Stop making dough puns.” You hissed.

“I literally fucking can’t.” He deadpanned. You suddenly felt his arms wrap around you as he put his hands on top of yours to knead the dough.

“What are you doing?” You asked him.

“Helping you knead the dough.”

“Why wouldn’t you just stand beside me?”

“Because this is how men show women how to do things in rom coms.” Peter said very seriously.

“Okay, but we’re not in a rom com. We’re in real life in your real kitchen with my dad who has a real gun.”

“He won’t shoot me. I’m his girlfriends only nephew. I’m untouchable.”

“And so am I as long as my father is present.” You said and slipped out of his arms.

“Is everything okay over there?” Happy asked from the couch.

“Yes.” You and Peter shouted back in unison. You finished with the dough and brought it over to the pasta maker.

“You better speed run this fucking pasta before I lose my mind.” You whispered in his ear.

“I’m going as fast as I can.” Peter whispered back as he put the dough in the pasta maker as painstakingly slow as possibly. The pasta maker squeaked as he turned the handle and echoed off the walls of the silent kitchen. You could feel sweat running down your face and started to fan yourself.

“I can’t handle this. My dad is gonna know what we did.” You said and gave your hair a stressful tug.

“We haven’t done anything wrong.” He pointed out as he finished up with the pasta. You nodded in agreement and picked up the pasta he had made.

“Yet.” He added and stole a kiss against your neck. You gasped and put your hand where his lips had been.

“What are you doing? My dad is in the next room?”

“I know. That’s what makes it so exciting.” Peter said and leaned in to kiss you again.

“The water should be boiling by now. Can you start putting the pasta in?” May asked as she appeared in the kitchen. You quickly turned around and pretended to be doing something so she wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Sure.” Peter smiled calmly at her and put the pasta into the boiling water. May went back to the living room, leaving you and Peter alone once again. You picked up a wooden spoon and pushed the pasta around the pot in an attempt to look busy.

“I can see you. Stop staring at me.” You said when you felt Peters eyes on you. You looked up and sure enough, he was watching you with a soft expression.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it.” He said as he walked over to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and pulled you into him. It felt nice for a moment but you knew it shouldn’t be happening.

“I am off limits, okay mister? You cannot be staring at me like that.” You whispered and slipped out of his arms.

“Off limits? What does that mean?” He played dumb.

“It means that we cannot happen.” You said and gestured between the two of you. “We can never, ever happen. My dad will reign hell fire on you for even thinking about it. And he’ll reign regular fire on me because I’m his daughter which will be less hot but still really bad.”

“Psh.” Peter scoffed. “I’m not scared of him.”

“You should be. He has access to all of Uncle Tony’s weapons. So unless you want to get blown up or turned inside out, you need to stop. That’s means stop staring at me, stop touching me, and definitely stop kissing me.” You whispered as you got in his face. Peter smirked now that he had you close again and put his hands on your hips. You gulped and looked anywhere but his eyes as he got close to you.

“You want me to stop kissing you?” He asked as he tilted your chin up to look in his eyes.

“Yes.” You replied, but it came out like more of a question than a statement.

“Are you sure?” He asked and moved in even closer. His lips brushed yours when he spoke and you felt your eyelids flutter shut. Right before your lips could touch, you covered your mouth and stepped back.

“No. No more. We can’t.” You said behind your hand. Peter smiled sadly and nodded his head. He looked disappointed but like he understood.

“I know we can’t happen.” He said in a soft voice. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it to.”

“It doesn’t matter what we want.” You gently reminded him and nodded towards the living room where Happy was.

“So you want it too?” He asked innocently and tilted his head to the side. You sucked in a sharp breath and thought about the way it felt when he had you up against the wall and how badly you wanted that again.

“Peter.” You breathed out.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful I find you?” Peter asked you. Footsteps approaching made you jump apart and turn your backs to each other.

“Hey guys. How’s the pasta coming?” May asked as she walked into the kitchen.

“It’s coming.” Peter replied.

“It’s definitely pasta.” You nodded in agreement.

“Great. I’ll set the table.” May laughed at your strange behavior and grabbed some plates. Once you were alone again, you answered Peters question.

“Yes.” You told him.

“What?”

“You asked me if I’d want this to happen too. My answer is yes.” You said and looked into his eyes. Peter smiled now that he knew you felt the same but didn’t want to let you off that easy.

“Oh. But then I asked you if you knew how beautiful I found you so I thought you were answering-“

“Shut up.” You laughed as you cut him off. Peter smiled fondly at you from across the kitchen and you felt yourself smile back.

“Do you really feel the same?” He asked, all teasing in his voice gone.

“I do. But I told you, it doesn’t matter what we feel. We can’t date. Ours is a forbidden love.”

“I know. That’s what makes me want you even more.” Peter said with a wicked smile. You stopped leaning on the counter and started to walk to Peter when your dad suddenly walked into the kitchen.

“What are you guys talking about?” Happy asked suspiciously when he noticed the love struck expression on both your faces.

“Dad.” You whined. “Don’t you knock?”

“Knock on what? You’re standing in the middle of the kitchen.” He pointed out. You and Peter exchanged a look, and then you and Happy exchanged a look. Happy looked at Peter and narrowed his eyes, making Peter panic.

“Dinners ready!” Peter shouted despite 75% of the people in the apartment being right in front of him.

“Um, Peter, the pasta is still raw. It’s only been in there a few minutes.” You reminded him.

“Dinner!” Peter said again. “Let’s sit and eat.”

You shrugged and went with it to keep your dad from getting suspicious. You drained the pasta and put it in a big bowl before Peter added the sauce on top. You brought it to the dining table that May had set and put it in the center. Everyone sat down and served themselves some pasta.

“So what’s new with everyone?” Happy asked.

“Nothing.” You and Peter said at the same time. You gave him a look and he gulped nervously.

“Is anything new with you?” You asked May politely.

“Yeah.” Peter nodded. “Talk about yourselves. Tell us everything.”

“Well, um, May and I have been thinking about getting married.” Happy said sheepishly. You spit out your water as Peters jaw dropped.

“Oh.” May smiled tightly. “I didn’t realize we were telling them.”

“Wait, married?” You asked them.

“Yeah. Thinking about it.” Happy nodded as May shook her head.

“But, uh, if you guys got married, what would that mean for us exactly?” You laughed nervously and gestured between you and Peter.

“Well, I’d become Peters uncle, so you guys would technically be cousins.” Happy shrugged as May nodded in agreement. A chill ran down your spine at the use of the “c” word. Peters mouth started to heavily salivate like it usually did before he threw up.

“Cousins?” You choked out.

“Or would they be siblings?” Happy wondered.

“Oh God.” You whimpered. “Not siblings. Anything but siblings.”

“No, just cousins.” May explained. “Because I would become Y/n’s stepmom but Peter isn’t my son so they would be cousins. But you guys could consider each other siblings if you really wanted to. It might be nice to have a sister, right Peter?”

“Stop talking.” Peter said in a grave voice as he gripped the table to keep from fainting again.

“Relax guys. It won’t be too weird. You’re basically cousins already.” May said with an innocent smile.

“Oh no. Don’t say that.” You whispered and clutched your stomach.

“I’m gonna throw up.” Peter said through a gag.

“Why?” Happy asked as he narrowed his eyes at Peter.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t you want to be cousins? It’s just you and me on holidays Wouldn’t it be nice to have a bigger family?” May asked Peter.

“Don’t call us “family”, please.” Peter said and gagged again.

“Yeah, no more.” You pleaded. “Not while we’re eating.”

“Are we missing something?” May asked.

“I don’t want her to be my cousin.” Peter grimaced and shook his head.

“Peter. That’s disrespectful.” May scolded him.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t want him to be my cousin either.” You assured her as you wiped some sweat from your forehead. You looked over at Peter and he was just as distraught if you were. He was pale and sweating and extremely close to breaking. You snapped your fingers at him under the table and motioned for him to keep his mouth shut. May and Happy exchanged a suspicion look at the strange behavior in front of them.

“Is there something you guys aren’t telling us?” May asked and leaned on her hand. She stared at Peter, who looked at you in a panic. You shook your head at him, making Happy frown in confusion. He turned to stare at Peter, and that’s what made Peter break.

“I made out with my cousin.” Peter blurted before gasping for air. You groaned and put your head down on the table as May and Happy reacted.

“You what with your what?” May scrunched her nose in disgust.

“You what with my what?” Happy asked and glared Peter.

“Haha. He’s just kidding.” You laughed nervously and waved your hand.

“He better be.” Happy stated without taking his eyes off Peter. Peter was staring all around the room at everything other than Happy.

“This pasta is amazing. Let’s all eat it and stop talking.” You said and shoved some pasta into your mouth.

“It’s a little undercooked.” May commented. “How long did you guys leave it in the water for?”

“Peter?” Happy asked calmly.

“Yes, sir?” Peter answered while looking up at the ceiling.

“Look at me.”

“Yes?” Peter said and looked near Happy, but not at him.

“Peter, look me in the eyes.” Happy commanded. “Right now.”

“I am.” Peter scoffed as he stared at Happy’s ear.

“Not at my ear. My eyes.”

Peter shut his eyes and turned to face Happy head on.

“Open your eyes.” Happy said through clenched teeth. Peter slowly opened one eye, then the other. Happy was glaring at him with a face redder than the sauce May had made.

“Did you make out with my daughter?”

“Which daughter?”

“The one sitting beside you. The only one I have.”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“Let me ask it again then. Did you or did you not make out with my daughter?”

“No.”

“Okay. Good.” Happy nodded in satisfaction.

“She made out with me.” Peter clarified.

“Peter!” You shouted and looked at him.

“You’re a dead man. He’s a dead man.” Happy declared and lunged across the table at Peter.

“Wait! She kissed me! I didn’t kiss her.” Peter defended himself as he scrambled to get out of his chair and run away from Happy.

“You did the second time.” You pointed out.

“Second time? There was a second time?” Happys voice got louder as he chased Peter around the table.

“Daddy, no. Don’t hurt him!” You protested and stood between your dad and Peter.

“Move it, honey. I’m gonna fight him. I’m gonna fight him up real nice.” Happy declared and grabbed the bowl of Italian bread off the table. He started throwing pieces at Peter, but Peter dodged every one.

“Stop dodging my bread!” Happy shouted and threw his last piece.

“Ha! You’re all out of bread.” Peter pointed at the empty bowl before hiding behind you.

“I’ll just have to use my hands.” Happy said and lunged for Peter again.

“Hold on. Step away from my nephew.” May said as she stepped in front of you and held Happy back. Happy stopped trying to attack Peter and caught his breath.

“Happy, you need to calm down.” May told him. “Your daughter isn’t your property. She’s a beautiful young woman. She is allowed to make her own decisions. And that includes deciding who she wants to date.”

“I know that.” Happy sighed. “She just can’t decide on him.”

“Why not, dad?” You asked him.

“For starters, he rented a very inappropriate movie when we were in Germany. No man who respects women would rent a movie called “Grinding Nemo”. I can’t have a guy like that dating my daughter.”

“I was like 15!” Peter whined. “I just bought the first one I found!”

“Grinding Nemo?” You turned and asked Peter.

“It’s like Finding Nemo but instead of fish it was this guy looking for this girls-“

“I don’t even want to know.” You cut him off.

“Happy, you know Peter.” May reminded him. “You know he’ll stop at nothing to protect the people he cares about. She’s in good hands.”

“But why do they have to be his hands?” Happy pointed to Peter and sat back down. You squeezed Peters shoulder before going to sit down beside your dad.

“May is right. You knew I was gonna start dating eventually. And you also know that Peter is a great guy. You should be glad someone like him turned my head. He’s nice, responsible, smart, respectful, and loved by Uncle Tony. So come on, dad. Let me date my cousin.”

“But Tony asked me to look after him. And I don’t always so the best job. I try, but you know he won’t listen if he has his mind set on doing something. God forbid something had ever happened to him….” Happy trailed off and looked down at the ground.

“You’d be letting down the two most important people in your life.” May finished his sentence with a sad smile.

“Its hard for me to remember you’re not a little girl anymore. I thought I would have more time to prepare for this.” Happy admitted. “And I thought Tony would be here to help me. But you’re just growing up so fast. I can’t keep up.”

“We’re both growing up, dad. But we’re doing it together so it’s less scary.” You told him as you put your hands on his shoulders. Happy smiled fondly at you before looking over your shoulder at Peter.

“Do you really like him?” He asked you.

“I do. He listens to me. And he makes me smile.”

“Gross.” Happy gagged.

“Dad.” You whined. “Stop it.”

Happy sighed and looked up at everyone in the apartment. When his eyes landed on Peter, he got up and went over to him. Peter raised his fists in case Happy tried to attack him again, but Happy lowered them.

“Peter, you have my blessing to date my daughter.” Happy said sincerely.

“You have my blessing too.” May spoke up. “But I don’t love the whole cousin aspect.”

“Me either.” You agreed. “Please never get married so we’re never actually cousins.”

“We were never actually talking about marriage. May just said “Aw” during an allergy commercial that showed a wedding.” Happy admitted.

“So we’re good then? We can date without it being incestuous or forbidden?” Peter asked hopefully and wrapped an arm around you.

“I guess so. Just no PDA in front of me, okay? I don’t need to be reminded of this. Ever.” Happy asked and Peter immediately removed his arm.

“No problem, sir.” Peter replied.

“I’m glad that’s settled. Let’s get back to the family dinner.” You smiled and sat back in your seat. Everyone scrunched their face in disgust and you realized your mistake. Calling it a family dinner now that everyone knew you and Peter had kissed and nearly become cousins made everyone a little queasy.

“I, um, I apologize for my choice of words.”

Tag List 🏷️

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101 @peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr @emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom @pandaxnienke

@officialsimppage e @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours

@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @whereismytelephone @leilanixx

@so-very-asleep @veryholland @white-wolf1940 @firwproof-blog

@nowayhomeparker @imobsessedzs @spideyspeaches

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #Peter Parker x hogan!reader #Peter Parker x happys daughter #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker x y/n #peter parker angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker x you #tom holland x y/n

3K notes · View notes

nadvs · 14 days

Text

watch and learn (part eight)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

The Sunday morning sky is cloudy, offering hardly any sunlight to shine into your dorm room. Considering the tangled, dreary way you woke up feeling, it’s fitting.

Liv comes over with smoothies from an on-campus juice bar.

“They call this one Hangover Cure,” she says as she hands you a tall, plastic cup. “So I got us both the biggest size.”

You smile and thank her, feeling like you have more of an emotional hangover than a physical one. You sit up in your bed as she sits in your desk chair, swirling the straw in her drink.

“So, what happened last night?” she asks.

You shrug and look down. You’re not sure you should hook up with Rafe anymore. You don’t understand how he can call you perfect and beautiful and baby during sex, but when you’re clothed, he acts casual. At best. At worst, he’s just a jerk.

You did share a tender moment last night at the party, but it lasted mere seconds before he turned the conversation sexual again.

“What always happens. We hooked up and I went home.” You take a beat. “You actually think he likes me?” Your voice is thin as you recall Liv’s text from last night.

“The jealousy on his face when I told him you were with Blake… was something else,” she tells you. “And the way he left with you?”

She gives you a knowing look and takes a sip of her drink.

“Do you like him?” she asks. Liv’s already heard all about your arrangement with Rafe, but whenever she hinted that it could be more, you laughed it off. You don’t laugh this time.

“I’d be an idiot to like a guy who tells me from the get-go that would never tie himself down with a girlfriend,” you say. “The jealousy was because he might lose his favorite booty call.”

“If you say so,” she says. You force yourself not to feel any hope from her words.

You think about the way Rafe looked when you asked him about his family last night. It was a small glimpse into a side you hardly ever see.

He does have a heart underneath all the attitude and temper and ego. And it’s clearly damaged. But you’re not going to make a fool of yourself hoping he shows it to you again, let alone opens it up.

“Anyways, look what Blake texted me,” you say. When you hand Liv your phone and she reads the message, she puts her hand over her mouth in shock.

“This is so cute,” she coos. “A man who directly tells you he likes you? That exists?”

“Apparently,” you say. “I think I’m gonna say yes.”

“You should,” Liv replies. “But, and don’t kill me for asking, would you say yes to Rafe if he texted you this?”

“He wouldn’t,” you say confidently, taking back your phone. “Okay, stop holding out on me. You made out with Sam? How did that happen?”

Your friend tells you about the rest of her night and you’re appreciative of the break from your own thoughts.

About half an hour later, Rafe is coming back from the gym when he hears your laugh coming from your room. He can’t pass up the opportunity to pound on your door.

“Too loud!” he calls, passing by. Liv gets startled and you laugh again, recognizing his voice right away.

“Asshole,” you quietly mutter. Liv looks at you for a moment, no doubt noticing the smile on your face.

After she leaves, you look at Blake’s text again.

Gotta be honest. I wanted to kiss you when we were in my room but you make me really nervous haha. Can I take you on a date? A real one. Not just a study date lol. All good if you’re not into it. Let me know.

While you haven’t always necessarily felt an overwhelmingly strong pull to Blake, you definitely have a crush. You wanted him to kiss you last night. Maybe you could make each other happy.

You reply: you don’t have to be nervous :) a real date sounds nice.

When Blake responds, you plan to go out to dinner together on Wednesday night.

On Tuesday, one of your floormates knocks on your door to tell you she’s having a party in the common room that night. Since alcohol isn’t allowed in the building’s public areas, she lets you know the booze will be hidden to give the impression that it’s a dry party.

You decide to take the invitation. It’s nearing 9 pm when you enter the large room, its walls already packed with a crowd of students you’ve seen around the building.

Music is playing under the overlapping conversations and bottles of juice and soda are scattered around the room. You’re sure they’re all made to look innocent but are spiked with booze.

You dive into conversation with a girl who lives a floor above you when you pick up a solo cup and fill it with juice, barely glancing at the table as the overwhelming aroma of vodka hits you.

Rafe will never turn down an invitation to a party. When he comes through the door, he sees you standing by one of the couches and chatting with someone. Like always, you look pretty as hell.

He looks to one of the tables in the room to see stacks of different colored solo cups behind pieces of paper, words scribbled in marker. It must be some sort of party game.

The pink cups are behind a note that says Taken; the purple, Down to Smash, blue, Single; green, It’s Complicated.

He glances at you again to see you holding a purple cup. Down to smash?

You’ve been chatting for a while now, your cup empty and your head already sort of buzzing from how much vodka was in the bitter juice. You look up from your conversation to see Rafe gazing at you from across the room.

You hate how he can be so relaxed, in a simple t-shirt and jeans and messy hair, and still look so good.

He has a ridiculous effect on you. You accept this as a fact when you realize you’re overjoyed to see him. He’s captivating without even trying.

It’s the type of happiness you feel when you see a good friend, you tell yourself.

Your heart skips a beat when he crosses the space, closing the distance between you. You tell the girl it was nice talking to her before Rafe inevitably interrupts you.

He approaches you, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Interesting choice,” Rafe says.

“What?”

“That,” he mumbles, pointing to your cup.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you laugh.

Rafe silently nods his head towards the desk by the door. You glance over to see writing in front of each stack of cups.

“Oh,” you say, brushing past him to look down at the spread. “I didn’t know the colors meant anything.”

You can still taste the juice you drank. The vodka was good, but the juice wasn’t.

“Yuck, I hate this flavor,” you say. Rafe looks over at the bottle you must have poured from.

You study the cups, and if you’re really honest, the green cup is the most fitting. It’s Complicated. Because you’re not looking to casually hook up with anyone else, yet you’re not devoted to someone. Single makes you look like you’re hoping to be in a relationship, when you already sort of like two guys at once.

“What’s complicated?” Rafe asks when you pick it up. He wonders if it’s because of Blake.

You give him that look he’s so used to by now, that look that somehow irritates him and turns him on at the same time. At least you didn’t pick up the Taken cup. He can still touch you if you let him.

For a moment, he imagines a world where he isn’t in a frat. Where you two meet like this, at a dorm party, and he doesn’t have to watch you get slowly taken away by a guy he introduced you to.

“I can’t explain it. That’s what makes it complicated,” you flirt with a smug smile. You decide to put the cup back, still holding on to the empty purple one, figuring you’re tipsy enough for a school night.

“Why not?” he asks, muttering his words angrily.

“Is being mad, like your default state?” you ask with a small smile. “Or are you just jealous?”

“What the hell would I be jealous of?” Rafe’s eyes dart away.

“Blake,” you reply bluntly. His blue eyes meet yours.

Does he not know how transparent he is? He was pissed when he learned you were with Blake last night. He basically yanked you out of the party.

“You know you could easily find another girl to fuck around with, right?” you say. “I know of two, at least.”

You think back to the girl he had moaning in his room and the girl he made out with at the mixer party.

“I wanna fuck around with you,” he says. You let out a disillusioned chuckle.

“Charming,” you mutter. The response tells you everything you need to know. He’s mad because he’s losing a fuck buddy.

“Are you with him or not?” Rafe asks sternly.

The conversation has ignited an alluring tension between you. You were considering stopping the hook-ups. But you melt under his gaze, head swimming, core heating.

You’re nobody’s girlfriend. Why not have great sex with a friend while you’re available?

“I’m not,” you say, looking down at your purple cup. “I guess this was the right choice for tonight.”

Despite the irritation and jealousy gnawing at Rafe, he happily surrenders to the rush of excitement prickling his skin.

“Why aren’t we fucking then?” he asks.

“We?” you tease, pulling at the string making him jealous just a little more. “I was thinking I should find someone else and put all my practice to the test.”

“Shut up,” Rafe says with a lazy smile, taking the empty cup from you and placing it on the table, replacing it with his hand.

It’s almost funny, considering he was so against holding your hand the night on the boat, but now does it in front of a crowd of people.

His grip is tight as you leave the room together. Pulling you out of parties to get naked with you is becoming a new habit of his.

You’re glad he doesn’t suggest going to your room. It’s easier to leave him after the sex than to be left.

With that thought, a moment of self-restraint hits you when his door slams behind you and his lips are on yours, hands cupping your face.

“Turn on some music,” you pull back to tell him. “Loud.” Hopefully it’ll keep him from talking. His tender words are too much if you want to protect your heart.

He flips on a playlist on his speakers. Of course he has one at the ready. You bet he has turned it on for lots of other girls.

The first few notes play. You love this song. You knew what kind of party music he liked, but who knew you’d have the same taste in slow songs as Rafe does?

Rafe’s mouth finds yours again, his tongue swirling gently, his body curving into yours as you stand in the middle of his room, the gentle music filling your ears.

You both have your own pace, so in tune with each other now. He knows where to touch you and when, stripping layers off you between heated, deep kisses.

Once you’re in your bra and panties, you realize this might have to be the last time. Because his lips and hands feel damn near perfect as they roam over you. Because now you can only hope you find another man who can touch you and push you out of your comfort zone like this.

You urgently pull his shirt off and shift to sit on the edge of his desk, pulling him in, cupping his firm shoulders. Rafe smiles, amused by you taking control. You really aren’t shy anymore.

“You want me to fuck you on my desk?” he mumbles against your ear over the music. He spoke, but as long as it isn’t misleadingly romantic, you’re okay with it.

He unhooks your bra, squeezing your chest tenderly.

This is just sex. And with the confusion and uneasiness you’ve been feeling, you desperately want to get lost in the pleasure you know he can give you.

“Be rough with me,” you urge. Rafe’s stunned by your words, feeling himself throb with need.

“Look at you telling me what you want,” he praises in your ear, unbuttoning his jeans.

Once his pants and boxers are off, his hands grip your knees, aggressively pulling your legs apart. He presses over the dampness in your panties with his fingers, watching you through hooded eyes as your breath hitches.

“You wet for me?” Rafe mumbles. The moistness between your legs is palpable without you even needing to touch yourself.

“Might’ve made a mess,” you answer, looking down as he stimulates your clit, brushing over your moistened panties. Your words are so hot to him that he almost feels dizzy.

“Shit, baby,” he groans. “I can’t fucking wait to be inside you.” His fingers slip under the band of your underwear, pulling them down your legs.

He pushes your knees apart again, even rougher this time, massaging your bare pussy, coating his fingers in your arousal.

You’re so wet, so sticky, that his cock is aching at this point. He’s so glad you want it rough tonight.

Rafe finds the small of your back, nudging you forward so you’ll tilt your hips up how he wants you to. He takes a condom out of his drawer and you grab it out of his hand, ripping open the wrapper and holding his cock as you roll it down.

It’s intoxicating to him, seeing how bad you’re craving him. How’d he get so fucking lucky to be wanted like this?

Once he can guide his tip into you, he shifts to hold your hips down and look you in the eyes as he jerks into you hard.

The sudden jolt causes you to hit the back of your head on edge of his top shelf and while you giggle, his brows furrow in concern. He brings his hand up, resting it where you hit your head, thrusting into you again and letting the shelf dig into his skin instead.

The gesture is tender but then again, almost everything Rafe does during sex is tender. Why can’t he be like this all the time?

His other hand cups your cheek, pulling back and pushing into you hard again. Your breath hitches at the pressure of him curving up into you like this in the new position.

His thrusts start quickening, the desk rattling against the wall, the music throbbing within the walls of his room. Your pulse is skyrocketing as you take in his aggressive pressure.

“Feel good?” he murmurs.

You nod, lost in the pleasure, eyes rolling. He gently tugs at the roots of your hair, coaxing you to tilt your head back and look at him with your eyelids half-closed and lips parted.

“Fuck, that’s nice,” he whispers. “Like you were made for me.”

This is the shit that brings your heart into something that is only supposed to be about your body.

You press your fingers against his mouth to shut him up, but he takes the opportunity to shift and kiss your palm as he pushes into you.

“Don’t say that stuff,” you mumble.

“What?” he whispers with a mocking chuckle. “Thought I taught you to take compliments.”

“Just don’t,” you urge, leaning in to meet his lips again. Rafe kisses you hard but pulls back, forehead pressed up against yours.

“You still don’t think you’re perfect?” he rasps.

“It’s… it’s not that,” you say. Fuck. He’s just making it worse.

“I thought talking was good,” he says, almost in a whine.

“Just stop,” you tell him, kissing him again.

Rafe hates being told not to speak when all he wants to do is tell you how good you feel, but he gives into the confusing request when he hears the desperation in your tone.

Hell, he’d stop talking for days if it meant he could have you like this.

He deepens the kiss, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth. You groan at the sweet pain, shifting to wrap your arms around his body.

This position isn’t enough. You want him to be able to thrust into you as deep as possible.

“On the bed,” you say urgently. He hates pulling out of you but follows your instructions, watching you drop your feet to the floor.

When you sink onto the bed, your ass in the air, your pussy glistening, his stomach rolls with excitement. He settles behind you, propped on his left knee and his right foot, guiding into you again, watching his cock disappear as you swallow him.

You arch your back and groan, your pulse hard in your ears as he goes balls deep into you. He starts to go so hard that you feel like he’s splitting you open with every frantic thrust, your fingers bunching into his pillow.

The music is too loud. He wants to hear your pretty moans. He shifts off of the bed and you look back in confusion, watching as he shuts off the music and comes back, burying into you again.

“I wanna hear you,” he says. You rest your forehead onto the bed, pushing back onto him as he slams into you. Admittedly, you want to hear him, too.

Your breaths are shallow with his fast pace, sweat coating your skin. His stomach is starting to ache from how hard he’s working his muscles.

“Touch yourself,” he orders. “Cum with me.”

You shudder as you find your swollen clit, rubbing just the way you like while he pounds in and out of you. Rafe loves the way his hands look gripping your hips, your ass recoiling with every move.

“You take it so good,” he says, voice ragged. “This pussy is mine. You’re fucking mine.”

You hate that his possessive words sound so nice to you. A deep pleasure starts to roll through you, your orgasm slowly reaching you. He can tell with the way you’re tensing that you’re close and he goes even harder, your skin slapping.

You moan and shudder through your peak, clenching around him. Rafe’s groan is deep as he feels his cock swell and tighten, releasing and spasming with hard jerks.

His chest is heaving as he pulls out, watching you limp to your side, your face soft and satisfied.

Rafe doesn’t bother to stand and clean up yet. He’ll worry about it later. He gives into the impulse to lie down behind you, his body curving against yours, arm wrapping over your chest.

Your eyelids are heavy as you come down from the high, thinking about the things he said.

“Turns out you need more pointers,” you say between heavy breaths. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that to a girl when you don’t mean it.”

“Like what?” he says into your ear.

“You know what,” you say. “I’m not yours.”

Rafe knows he fucked up by saying that. That’s the kind of shit a boyfriend would say. And he so clearly isn’t the boyfriend type and you so clearly see him as just a friend.

“Why are you so mad, huh?” he says, trying to dismiss the tension. “You’re acting like me in… what’d you call it… my default state?”

You laugh despite yourself. He feels an overwhelming sense of pride from making you smile when you’re clearly upset.

You try to sit up, but his arm is locked around you. His breath is warm and comforting on the back of your neck.

He doesn’t understand where you’re rushing off to. You told him aftercare was important. And for fuck’s sake, now he actually wants you to say and let him hold you for a little while.

You don’t like this. You two are getting dangerously close to cuddling. It’s like he’s trying to make you catch feelings for him. Just because he can separate affection from emotion, doesn’t mean you can.

“Hate to make you sad but I gotta go,” you quip. He exhales mockingly.

“I don’t get sad,” he says bitterly. This makes you still.

With those simple words, Rafe has said so much. You knew he was emotionally unavailable, but the clear disgust he has with the possibility of feeling sad is telling.

“Everyone gets sad,” you say. You think back to his father’s cruel scolding. “And if anyone makes you feel like you’re wrong for being sad, they’ve got their own issues.”

Rafe can’t wrap his head around this. He’s been told to man up all his life.

“Did you fall asleep?” you ask with a chuckle after he doesn’t reply.

“No,” he says quietly. “You honestly believe that?”

“What?”

He’s silent again.

“That it’s okay to be sad, you mean?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Of course,” you say. “What, you don’t?”

“It’s weak.”

You stare ahead at the wall opposite his bed, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but you think you can feel his heartbeat against your back. It’s gotten faster.

“Do you really think that? Or did someone make you think it?” you ask.

Rafe has never been challenged like this before. Whenever his father berated him for simply getting close to crying, he was told to grow a backbone. To stop his whining. His whole life.

“I really think that,” he finally says. If sadness wasn’t weakness, why did it always make him feel like he was breaking from the inside?

His coldness makes so much more sense to you now. It seems Rafe doesn’t allow himself to feel anything but anger.

“It’s a good thing you’re not the relationship type,” you say with a sardonic laugh. “Some advice, though? If you ever find a girl you want to be serious with, don’t make her feel shitty for being sad. It’s not weak to have feelings.”

Rafe wants to know if you said he’s not relationship material because he told you himself or if you really think it.

Then he scowls to himself. Why the fuck does he care?

“You’re just full of advice tonight,” he says with a smirk, his hand running over your ass.

“That’s why we started this, isn’t it?” you reply, closing your eyes for a moment to enjoy the sensation. “Speaking of, consider therapy.”

Rafe playfully and gently slaps your ass and you giggle, squirming out of his grip. When you try to get up again, this time, he lets you.

His eyes take you in as you pull your clothes back on, his head propped up on his hand, hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead. You look at him, noticing how flushed he is from how hard he went.

Normally, being watched like this would make you nervous, but you’re fine with his eyes on you. You actually like it. You’re not sure if it’s because of Rafe or if you’d feel this way with any guy now.

Rafe watches you as you get dressed, getting deep in your thoughts like you do sometimes. How are you so damn cute?

You’re reconsidering your idea of if this should be the last time having sex with him. It feels too good. You’re still buzzing. While you’re single, why can’t you casually hook up with him?

“Fuck, you’re fun,” Rafe says, his bright smile and deep dimples melting your heart.

Okay. This is why you can’t. You started this because you basically hated him when you decided on it. Now, you can’t imagine hating the sweet, complicated man lying in bed watching you.

Maybe this was the last time.

“I know,” you respond with a smile, copying his cockiness. You finish dressing yourself and rush out to take a shower, wishing the water could wash away the complicated feelings bothering you.

The next night, an hour before Blake said he’d pick you up, you’re getting ready, music playing loudly from your computer.

Rafe is trying to make sense of a syllabus as your music floats into his room. He thinks of last night and immediately wonders if you’re hosting someone. And having sex with them.

As you try on your third outfit, your phone buzzes.

Rafe: loud af… do i need to tell on you

You smirk.

You: dude it’s not even quiet hours

You calling him dude reminds him of the way you called Blake babe the other night. He forces away the memory.

Rafe: partying by yourself?

You: yup getting ready for a date

Rafe looks up from his screen, disappointment wrapping around him like a heavy blanket he can’t shake off.

His stomach sinks hard. Harder than it did the other night at the ABC party when he heard you were upstairs with Blake.

You’re slipping away from him. Anger pools in his stomach but he tries to act casual, teasing you like he always does.

Rafe: who tf would date you lol

You roll your eyes at the text.

You: people with taste… jerk

Rafe: just kidding

You: hate u

Blake pulls up in front of the dorm building ten minutes late, apologizing profusely for his timing. You laugh and forgive him, sliding into his car to see he got you a bouquet of flowers.

He takes you to a restaurant off-campus, pulling out your chair. You sit across from him, taking in the way he’s sitting up straight.

“You look cute,” he says.

“Thanks. You clean up nice, too,” you say. “Compared to the plastic bags you were in the last time I saw you.”

Blake’s smile is big, his laugh gentle.

“You have fun at the party?” he asks.

“I did.” And after it in Rafe’s dorm.

“Cool,” he replies. You nod, looking down at the menu. The way conversation between you moves reminds you of your study date. It’s not painfully awkward, but it’s not seamless.

You figure it’s nerves.

When your food arrives, Blake takes a picture of the table. Once you start eating, your discussion starts to flow a little easier, making jokes and pulling from topics you’ve discussed over the phone since you started texting.

Blake’s a gentleman, parking to walk you up to your door after he drives you home. His hand ghosts over your shoulder as you walk through the hallway, his touch warm.

When you stop in front of your door, Rafe can hear you talking. He saw Blake’s Instagram story. It was just a photo of food at a restaurant, but it doesn’t take a genius to know he was with you. The date you had was with him.

“You really liked the food?” Blake asks you for the third time. You chuckle at his nervousness.

“You picked well,” you reassure. “And thanks for the flowers.”

How original, Rafe thinks. He got you flowers.

A group of fellow residents pass by laughing. If Blake tries to kiss you, you probably won’t like it in such a public space.

“That was fun,” you say, stepping back a little, hoping he gets the hint that this isn’t the place to make a move.

“It was. Oh, we’re going to the beach on Saturday,” Blake tells you. “Not everyone, just a few of us. Bring Liv. Between you and me, Sam likes her.”

“Yeah?” you say with a laugh. “Sure. That sounds fun. I’ll invite her, too.”

“Great,” he replies, nodding.

“Good night,” you say. Blake gives you a tight grin and echoes the sentiment, stepping back to give you the space to open your door.

Rafe finds a text Sam sent him a few hours ago.

Sam: you alive?

Rafe hasn’t been to the frat house since the party last Saturday night. To be honest, he’s not sure how he can handle being around Blake. He can’t exactly lose his temper on his brother. His future at the frat will be shot.

But he wants to be at the beach if you’ll be there.

Rafe: yes lol whats the move this weekend

Thankfully, Sam mentions the beach plan Rafe overheard about. Maybe he loves to torture himself. Or maybe he just wants to take every opportunity to see you.

You pull up to the beach in Liv’s car on Saturday. The boys picked a good day to swim. It feels like a heat wave.

When you find the group of six guys, you’re happy to see that Rafe is one of them. He’s in his swim shorts, his baseball hat on backwards like usual.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” you say when he notices you. “Gross.”

“Shut up,” Rafe says with a smirk, flipping you off. He takes in how good you look in your dress, eager to see the bikini underneath. “Why the hell did you come? Brothers only.”

“Am I not basically one of you now?” you say, leaning over to greet Blake with a side-hug. Rafe’s smile disappears and he looks away.

Blake hands you a bottle of flavored seltzer and you look down at it, cocking your head, trying to figure out how to kindly turn it down. It’s the same flavor of spiked juice you drank last night.

“She doesn’t like that flavor,” Rafe mutters.

Blake meets his gaze, pulling the drink back towards his chest.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. Funny enough, you actually mentioned not liking it on your date when you were swapping hangover stories. He looks at you. “I knew that. Sorry.”

“All good,” you chuckle. “What else you got?”

Blake leads you to the large cooler in the sand and you steal a glance at Rafe, whose jaw is clenched tight.

As the afternoon goes on, you realize Blake is less nervous talking to you when other people are around.

The eight of you play a game of beach volleyball. Rafe considers Blake lucky that he’s on the same team as him. He’d whip the ball at him every chance he got if he were on the other side of the net.

At one point, Sam serves it so hard that you have to duck onto the sand, the ball bouncing off your arm, leaving a stinging feeling.

“You trying to kill her?” Liv scolds her teammate. You feel a hand cupping your forearm.

“You good?” You look up to see Rafe leaning over you, his voice deep.

“Yeah,” you say. Rafe is pissed off beyond belief that Blake is just standing there like an idiot, watching you instead of making sure you’re okay.

“You alright?” Blake asks from his place on the court in front of you.

“Yellow card worthy,” you joke, getting up on your feet.

When the game wraps up after you all decided to stop keeping score ages ago, Blake approaches you, looking down at you with a shy smile.

“You wanna swim?” he asks.

“Sure,” you say.

The water is so cold that it feels sharp, leaving you and Blake to laugh together with every step into the sea.

Rafe is sitting in the sand with his buddies, watching Blake’s hand find yours. The view makes his stomach turn.

It seems natural between you two, the way you touch, the way you splash each other and laugh together.

He gets the same feeling he did the night of the mixer party, when he felt like his anxiety over losing you wasn’t just because he was losing great, casual sex. It’s not only that. It’s more. And that fact makes him uncomfortable.

But that shit just doesn’t come naturally to Rafe. Affection is like a foreign language to him. He’s not into the boyfriend stuff solely because he doesn’t want to do it. It’s also because he can’t. He doesn’t know how to.

Buying flowers, planning dates… he’d feel totally lost. He can’t compete with Blake. Like Rafe always says, doing something serious like dating in college is a waste of time. Maybe he believes that because he didn’t think he’d meet someone like you. And because he doesn’t want to fail at it.

You and Blake stop when you figure you’re deep enough in the water, the sand soft beneath you, the sun shining down.

“I keep messing up today,” he says.

“What?” He looks down, shaking his head, lips twisting adorably. These cute, little moments remind you of why you have a crush on him.

“Can I kiss you?” Blake asks.

You smirk, relieved that you can finally do this and feel if your physical chemistry is there like you think it is.

When Rafe sees two figures join in the distance, his heart drops.

(part nine)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and y/n #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction

746 notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 2 months

Text

Interviewers Are Assholes

The world didn't know about their relationship. But, once they find out, they refuse to leave her alone

(AKA I saw a martin brundle grid walk compilation and he asked someone 'who are you?' and i ran with it)

Loscar x reader

F1 Masterlist

"Are we doing Thanksgiving this year?"

This was not the conversation Logan and Oscar expected to hear from their girlfriend as the three of them stood on the grid. It was normally F1 staff, drivers, engineers, mechanics and such, along with celebrities on the grid before a race. But, dating two drivers on different teams meant not being about to sit in both of their garage at once (she was only human, after all).

So, they stood on the grid together before the race, chatting before the national anthem was played.

"It's kinda early to be talking about Thanksgiving, babe," Logan muttered, shaking his head.

She held her hands up, somewhat defensively. "Just trying to be prepared."

They'd been together for four years at this point. For the first two years of their relationship they hadn't had to worried about traditional celebrations from their countries of origin. But when they all moved in together, she insisted on it.

The first year they'd lived together, they'd gone to Florida for Christmas, spent it with Logan's family.

The next year they'd done Thanksgiving before heading to Australia for a traditional Australian Christmas, filled with seafood and everything.

This year, though, they had no idea what they were doing. Of course she was already stressing about it. It didn't surprise Logan and Oscar in the slightest.

Suddenly Logan and Oscar were looking past her. "What?" She asked, readying herself to turn around. But then Logan and Oscar were retreating. "Guys!" She called, readying to follow them.

There was a hand on her shoulder. She turned around, coming face to face with Martin Brundle on his grid walk. "Hello, who are you?" Martin Brundle asked.

It made sense. She clearly wasn't working for any F1 team, and she was surrounded by celebrities. The fact that she was talking to two of the drivers probably made him all the more curious.

"I am..." But she didn't have an answer for him. Who was she? It had been four years already, why were they hiding it. "I am a... wag," she answered, and immediately regretting it.

What she didn't know was that Logan and Oscar didn't get very far. They stood behind her, just out of view of Martin Brundle's camera, giggling as they listened to her struggle.

"Who's wag are you?" Martin Brundle asked, but he already knew. He'd seen them retreating as he walked over.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Good question, Martin," she said. "Who's wag am I?" Did she choose one of the boys? If so, which one? Or did she just come out to the world, tell everyone that she loved Logan Sargeant and Oscar Piastri?

She went with the latter, unaware of how much it would come to affect her. "Sargeant and Piastri," she said, scratching the back of her neck.

This might have been the strangest grid walk Martin Brundle had ever done. She didn't sound entirely happy to be dating the McLaren Driver and the Williams Driver. Don't get me wrong, she was happy to be dating them, but she was ready to kill them. Assholes.

"What kind of result are you expecting from them today?" She asked.

"Well, Martin, I'm always hoping they do well. Every Grand Prix they try their absolute hardest and every week I'm proud of them," she said, the perfect answer.

Lets just say, after the grid walk, the internet kind of blew up. Loscar was a somewhat forgotten ship, replaced by Landoscar. But it had returned and it was real. It was actually real!

As with everything in F1, some fans loved it, some fans didn't. But, most of all, everybody was so curious. Nobody knew this four year long relationship was a thing until a couple of weeks ago. Everybody, especially F1 reporters wanted to know everything.

Media days were completely filled with questions about their relationship. Logan and Oscar rarely got asked about anything else. They didn't mind. They were more than happy to talk about it.

But interviewers took it too far when they pulled her into things. She wasn't media trained in the way they were. She didn't have a PR team that prepared her with every answer for every question. That was how the grid walk had gone so wrong (or so right, if you asked the Loscar boys).

Oscar had gotten through to Q3, Logan hadn't. As always, she was there to comfort him, to hold him close after media duties. Media duties, which were taking ages.

But then the interviewer spotted her standing behind him. "It was recently reviewed to the world that you and Oscar share a girlfriend. How did that come about?"

The camera focused in on her behind him, as she furrowed her brow. It picked up no sound, but watched as her lips moved, forming 'what the fuck?' It was lost on her, and everyone, what this had to do with racing.

"Uhm, well, we've all known each other for our entire lives, it just made sense that we all dated," he said, clearly uncomfortable.

As soon as the interview was over, Logan wrapped his arm around her shoulders and walked her away. "Sorry baby," he said, kissing the top of her head.

"Why is it such a big deal to everyone?" She mumbled, shaking her head.

Most Wags weren't pulled in for interviews. The invasive questions had been a step to far already to the Loscar throuple.

This time, after checking on Oscar in the McLaren garage, kissing him before he went off to to his drivers room. She headed out, meeting the both of them at the car. She never expected to be accosted by an interviewer.

She didn't know his name, she didn't care. He grabbed her arm, pulled her on camera, and shoved a microphone in her face. "So, Y/N, what is it like to be dating to F1 drivers?"

There was a moment before she answered. Her brows were furrowed as she looked between the interviewer and the camera. "Why... why are you interviewing me?"

"The three of you have stunned the world with the announcement of your relationship. When did the three of you meet?"

"Uhm, I-Well... uhm... We've known each other for... sorry, why the hell am I being interviewed? This isn't... I don't want to be interviewed. Please leave me alone."

The interviewer bashfully turned to the camera, trying to recover. As soon as he looked away, she retreated, heading back towards one of her boys drivers room.

Oscar wasn't in his drivers room. He walked towards her, grabbing a hold of her before she had a chance to notice him. "Hey, baby," he said, pulling her close. "Is Logan not ready yet?"

Before answering, she turned back towards the exit, where the interviewer was still waiting. "Let's go get him," she said, pulling Oscar towards the Williams garage.

But Logan, too, was walking towards them. "Logan!" She called, throwing her arms around him. Oscar hung back. When she let go of him, they headed to the exit together. "There's a fucking annoying interviewer up there, and I want to kick his ass," she said, linking her arms through theirs.

"Kick his ass, baby."

They walked to the exit together. Once again, as they walked past the interviewer, he tried to grab their attention. Logan and Oscar were prepared to pull her past, to ignore him, but she stopped. She turned to the interviewer and grabbed his microphone.

"Just a PSA literally everybody," she began. The interviewer and the boys watched on with curiosity. "Our relationship is none of our business. Fuck off."

831 notes · View notes

sentientcave · 13 days

Text

Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.

Chapter One - The Perfect Gift

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Stalking, Drugging, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Threats (open-ended), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real.

~3.2k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

"I told ye, she's perfect," Soap said, eyes on the window across the street. They could see you puttering around your living room, wearing a pretty flower print dress as you tidied up. "Good with bairns too, met her when I was pickin' up the niece and nephew from school. She was workin' for some rich family, an' they let her go because the wife found a pair of her knickers in her husband's briefcase." He snickered. He'd been the one to put them there, although, in his opinion, he’d been pushing the bounds for a long while anyway. Sure he’d essentially cast you adrift, jobless and with no one looking out for you, but, well, they were looking after you now, weren’t they? So it wasn’t all that bad.

"Good job, pup," Ghost said fondly, ruffling Johnny's hair. "Captain's gonna love 'er."

"How do you lads want to play it?" Gaz asked. "Could go in tonight. Won’t take much to knock her out, pack up her things, take her to the cabin. Get her nice and situated for when Price gets back."

"No point in waitin', is there?" Ghost asked. "Nice she's on the ground floor. Makes takin' 'er things easier. I'll go round 'n' check the windows in a bit. Should wait till after midnight. Don't want to be spotted by the neighbours."

"No' much risk o' tha'," Soap said. "Knocked over a bunch of bins last I was here and the cunts didna even turn on a light. Just the bonnie thing worryin’ while the rest of ‘em sleep sound."

Gaz lit a cigarette, nodding thoughtfully. "Small apartment too. Is there much to move?"

Soap shook his head. "Nah, no' much. Sweet girl lives simply. I told ye, she's perfect for the captain. He'll be able to spoil the fuck out of her, once she's broken in, aye?"

"Know 'e'll like that. Man needs a wife to dote on. ‘e’s been goin’ a bit crazy, all alone. An' 'e can train'er up nice."

"Think he might share?" Gaz asked wistfully, exhaling a stream of thin smoke as he sighed. "Nice soft girl like that-- Plenty to go around."

Ghost laughed. "Thought we'd 'ave trouble gettin' Johnny to keep 'is 'ands to 'imself, and you're the one droolin'."

"Scuse me for having eyes, mate. Just think she looks sweet."

"We'll get to see first 'and soon.” Ghost clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on lads. Let's get ready."

You wake up on the hard metal floor of a moving vehicle, your pounding head cradled in someone's hands. That's what you notice first, and the thumbs rubbing circles against your neck soothingly.

It has the opposite effect. Your eyes fly open.

“Hi, bonnie,” a somewhat familiar face grins down at you, blue eyes smiling, but too intense, glittering in the low light that filters in from the windows at the front of the truck. “How’s yer head?”

You grimace, trying to make sense of what’s going on around you. The back of the van seems to be filled with boxes. “Aren’t you Finn and Rory’s uncle?”

“Aw, ye remember me? Knew ye were a sweetheart.”

You try to sit up, but Johnny puts a strong hand on your shoulder and keeps you where you are. Your head feels too heavy to try and fight him, your muscles weak. “What’s going on?” you ask. “What— Is this a kidnapping?”

“Tha’s an ugly word, bonnie. We’re doin’ ye a favour, really. Settin’ ye up with someone respectable. Captain’ll take good care of ye.” He pats your cheek. “Whyna get back to sleep? Still a ways to go, aye?”

Maybe it’s just a bad, weird dream. You do feel foggy, like you’re not fully attached to your body, and keeping your eyes open is a struggle. You’ll wake up back in your own bed, and have a funny story to tell if you ever bump into Johnny again. He’s definitely too nice to be a kidnapper, right? Like, people don’t really do that sort of thing. It has to be a dream.

“Okay,” you mumble, letting your eyes close again.

As you suspected, you wake up again in bed. The headache’s receded some, and there’s warm sunlight streaming in through the windows. You bury your face into the pillows, and then bolt upright. The pillow smells weird, like sweet tobacco and spice, and you don’t get morning sun in your bedroom. The window faces a brick wall across a narrow alley.

The room you’re in now is not your room. It’s sparsely furnished, just a dresser under the window and the bed you’re tucked into, and two doors, one that’s clearly a closet, and one that must lead out into the rest of the… house? Judging by the sound of birdsong outside, you’re out of the city.

You pad to the window and look out. There’s a van in the driveway, and three men carrying things in. One of them looks up and spots you in the window, waving cheerfully.

Not a dream. Fear grips you, ice sliding down your spine, shards settling in your stomach, needling and uncomfortable. Your sinuses prickle like you’re about to cry, but no tears come. You’re too dehydrated to summon them. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been out— It’s fully daylight outside, but you have no idea what time. A second look around the room finds a digital clock sitting on the nightstand, 3:05 glaring back at you in red.

There’s a knock on the door, and it pushes open. The man who walks in is handsome, smiling at you so beautifully that your automatic response is to try and smile back, although you feel that it’s flimsy, unsure. There’s no chance that this man is here to help you, but you at least hope he’s not here to hurt you either.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks. His voice is as pleasant as his face is, smooth and cheerful, although it makes you wary about him on principle. “You hungry?”

You shake your head. It’s not true, but you can’t trust that there wouldn’t be drugs in anything they give you.

“Well, come on downstairs, hm? Get some water at least. Maybe a tea?”

Your stomach churns. “I might be sick,” you manage to squeak out. He quickly ushers you out into the hall and into a bathroom. You don’t make it to the toilet, but you do manage to make it to the sink. If you had a little more fire in you, you might have tried to vomit bile onto the pretty man’s shoes, but it’s hard to shake the instinct to be good, not to make any trouble, to hope that they’ll just let you go. You’re not even sure what they want. You have no family to ransom, you don’t have any money to speak of, you’re just a fat little ex-nanny still paying off an English Literature degree from a second-rate college.

You turn on the sink to wash away the sick, and rinse your mouth out. Your hands start shaking when you realize your toothbrush is sitting in the holder next to the sink, like it belongs there. Your makeup bag is sitting on the counter too, and when you look down, you realize you’re standing on your own bathmat, taken from your home and arranged here, as if effects from your own house are supposed to make you feel comfortable. You look at your reflection in the mirror, and then at the man still standing in the doorway, his brown eyes all concern, as if he wasn’t party to a fucking nightmare.

You straighten up, gripping the counter to steady yourself. “What the hell is this?” you ask, trying to inject some authority into your quaking voice. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“I’m Gaz. Nice to meet you. Johnny had lots of nice things to say about you.”

So that hadn’t been a dream either. You look around the room desperately, looking for anything that could possibly be used as a weapon, but Gaz seems to know exactly what you’re doing, and he steps into your space quickly to grab your hands.

“None of that. Come on. You’ll feel better after a tea, yeah? Then you can get ready to meet the captain.”

He leads you downstairs. Questions spin around your head, but you’re not sure if it’s worth asking. Gaz only bothered to respond to one of the three you’ve asked so far, and it wasn’t the one that you were most interested in an answer to. So you stay quiet instead, taking in the layout of the big room. A front door and a back door, and windows that look out onto a forest on one side of the property, and more forest on the other side, beyond a large cleared space with a neat garden and a few fruit trees. There’s a second building that you can just see the corner of from the kitchen window, more likely a garage than a neighbour.

Gaz backs you up against the counter and leans down slightly, his hands gripping your thighs. You panic, the touch surprising you, and slap him across the face. The sharp sound makes you freeze, like it wasn’t you that had done it. He takes advantage of your surprise to shove you up onto the counter and grab both your hands with one of his, all the friendliness draining our of his eyes in an instant as he points a scolding finger at you. You feel like you’ve done something naughty that you’re not fully aware of the implications of yet, a badly trained dog or a child. “I’m going to let that one slide, because I understand that this is a big change for you. But you’re not going to like what happens if you try that again, understood?”

You nod quickly, your own eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry,” you say, the instinct for appeasement rearing it’s skittish little head.

And then the smile returns, as pretty as before, storm clouds blowing away as though they’d never been there to begin with. “It’s alright, doll. Just don’t do it again. And definitely don’t try that attitude on with the captain.” He taps the pointing finger against your nose playfully, and lets your hands drop back into your lap.

The rules seem simple enough. Be good and sweet, and get friendly faces in return, to a degree. No matter how cooperative you are, you doubt they’re going to let you go home. Fighting back means consequences, and you’re not sure how far those consequences will extend. If you’re too much trouble, it’s not a stretch to imagine that they’ll just kill you outright and try again with a meeker woman. You don’t yet know if death would be the more preferable outcome.

You pull your sweater down over your thighs. The black zip-up hoodie isn’t yours (the word Riley is stitched onto the front of it), but it’s big, and even though it smells faintly of cigarettes, it affords you at least a little modesty and comfort, more than the tank top and the sleep-shorts you’re wearing underneath do. Riley must be the third man. Was he the captain? Or was there a fourth one somewhere?

Johnny comes through the door carrying your suitcases, and he grins widely when he sees you, the charming, boyish one that you’d thought was handsome before. It’s only unnerving now. “Didja have a good sleep, bonnie?”

“You drugged me,” you accuse.

“Weel, of course. You were no’ goan ta come all peaceable, and LT wouldna be patient if ye were cryin’ the whole way here.” He trots upstairs, and you can hear him drop the bags with a thump, before he’s clattering back down the steps and leaning against the counter next to you. “How’d’ye like yer new home, bonnie? S’a nice place, aye? Better than tha’ little shoebox back in the city.”

“I like my apartment,” you protest.

“Psh, ye’d say tha’. Puttin’ on a brave face since yer such a good girl. But it wasna verra safe, was it? No’ a single neighbour paid us any mind while we were loadin’ up yer things. No’ a good place for a single girl, aye?” He reaches out and puts a big hand on your knee, squeezing lightly. “Now ye’ll be taken care of, like ye should be.”

“I don’t want to be taken care of.”

“Nonsense. Ye’ll be glad, once ye get used to things. Already looks real homey in here, don’t ye think?” He gestures at the living room.

You twist to look, and your stomach sinks. Your throw pillows are on the couch, one of the afghans you crocheted hanging over the back of it. You recognize the titles of your books on the shelves. These men were nothing if not thorough, surgically removing your entire life and transplanting it to this house in the woods, with it’s wood panel walls and big, overstuffed leather couches.

He continues blithely, like he’s not delivering some of the most horrifying news you’ve ever heard. “Most of your furniture’s in the garage, ye can sort tha’ out with Price, aye? But we brought all yer clothes and decorations and whatnot in. Figure ye should wear tha’ pretty black sundress, an’ those long stockin’s with the clippy belt, ye ken the one? Cap’ll like those.”

They’d been through all your things. If you had anything left to throw up, you might’ve again. Gaz sets a glass of water on the counter next to you. “How d’you take your tea, doll?”

“Milk, two sugars,” Johnny answers for you. “Our sweet lass has a sweet tooth, aye?”

“How do you know that?” You can hear the quiver in your voice, and it doesn’t slip by either of them.

“Come oan, hen, ye ken I didna jus’ pick ye off the street. Did my research. Wouldna pick just anyone for the captain.”

“When he said he’d found the perfect girl, we didn’t believe him at first,” Gaz says, leaning against the counter on the other side of the kitchen while the tea steeps. “But Ghost and I knew he was right, soon as we saw you.” He nods at the glass. “Drink your water. You haven’t had anything since last night.”

“Is it drugged?” you ask flatly.

“No, want ye awake for when Price gets here. Yer a real cute thing asleep, but we want him ta hear yer pretty voice and see that smile, aye?” Johnny reaches past you and picks up the glass of water, taking a big swig to demonstrate it’s harmlessness.

You take a careful sip when he hands it back to you, and then another, resisting the urge to just gulp the whole thing down. The door opens again, and the biggest man you’ve seen in your life walks in, wearing a black t-shirt and a mask with the jaw of a skull printed on it, pulled up over the lower half of his face. He looks at you dispassionately, and then at Gaz and Johnny. “What the ‘ell have you two muppets been sayin’ to the poor thing?” he asks, his voice rumbling like an avalanche. “She looks like she’s gonna faint.”

“Figure she’s just peaky,” Gaz says defensively. “I’m making her tea.”

The big guy swats Johnny’s hand away from your knee impatiently, and cages you in against the counter, one huge arm on either side of you. “How’re you feelin’ bird? Be honest.”

“Terrified,” you admit.

He chuckles. “Sensible, considerin’. But you don’t need to worry, olright? No one’s gonna hurt you, so long as you’re good. And you want to be good, don’t you, bird?”

You nod. You’d thought Gaz and Johnny were big, but this one’s huge, broad and tall and even scarier. It’s clear why they started off introducing themselves to you in the order they did. If this man had been the first thing you’d seen after waking up you probably would have gone into hysterics.

“Use your words, pet.”

“I want to be good,” you say obediently, because you don’t see any other options, at least for the moment.

“Good girl,” he says, and there’s the slightest hint of a smile in his dark eyes.

Somehow, this is the most comforting thing that you’ve experienced all day. You won’t be hurt if you’re good, and you are being good.

He pushes back from the counter slightly, giving you more space, takes the mug of tea from Gaz, and hands it off to you. “Small sips,” he instructs. “And maybe a biscuit, if you think you can keep it down.”

“Are you the captain?” you ask nervously, gripping the mug with two hands.

“Hm? No. ‘e’s still about an hour out. I’m Simon. Ghost to these two.” He fishes an open package of biscuits out of the cupboard and sets them next to you. “Once you finish your tea, we’ll get you ready. Want to make a good first impression, right bird?”

“Not really,” you admit. “I’d like to go home.”

He laughs, at least finding your honesty amusing. “That won’t be ‘appenin’. If Price dun’t want you, I’ll keep you myself. But I’ll tell you right now, you’ll like Price better. If you’re good for him, he’ll be real good to you, understood?”

You bite your tongue. It won’t do you any good to point out that a man that would accept a person as a gift is probably not capable of being good to anyone. Good is subjective, and the three men in front of you are lunatics. Their captain probably has the slightest bit stronger a grasp on his sanity, or a consistent moral code, if not a particularly righteous one. So you just keep your mouth shut, and drink your tea, and eat two chocolate digestives while Gaz and Johnny start collecting things to make dinner.

As soon as you set your empty mug to the side Ghost pops you down from the counter and ushers you upstairs with a big hand placed a little too low on your back. He tells you what to wear (down to the lingerie), but blessedly doesn’t insist on watching you get dressed. He does sit on the edge of the tub and watch you put on makeup, however, requesting red lipstick and winged eyeliner. Your hands are still a little shaky, but you manage to do as he asks. His eyes smile at you just a little when you’re obedient. You feel pathetic for not making a fuss, but you’re not sure what you can possibly do, except something stupid that will make them angry enough to hurt you.

He helps you into a pair of strappy red heels that had been languishing in the back of your closet before they dug everything out, and straightens the seam of your stockings, running his big hands up your calves. It’s like you’re a doll, dressed just how he wants, something to look pretty and say less than nothing, a gift for some other man you’ve never met to keep on a shelf.

Or worse, to play with.

You hear Johnny and Gaz greet someone downstairs, their voices loud and excited, and your heart skips nervously.

Ghost rises to his feet, smiling so big you can see it even with the mask. “Wait right here, pet,” he says firmly, leaving you sitting on the edge of the bed while he goes off to greet his captain. “Want to introduce you proper.”

So you sit, and you wait, shaking and nervous, for what feels like eternity, until you hear Simon’s surprisingly light footfalls on the stairs again. He offers you a hand, and hoists you over his shoulder as soon as you’re on your feet, carrying you down into the living room.

“We all pitched in,” Gaz says, as casually as if he meant throwing in five dollars for a card. “But she was Soap’s idea.”

“Picked ‘er out special, Cap,” Johnny says. “She’s perfect for ye.”

“She?” an unfamiliar voice asks. “Don’t tell me you got me a dog.”

“Better than that, skipper.” Ghost laughs as he circles around the couch, and drops you carefully into the man’s lap, stepping into line with the other two. “We got you a wife.”

I've been low-key thinking about this concept since I read ohbo-ohno's Don't Leave Me Locked in Your Heart a while back (If you haven't read and you like a good dark fic, you should click that link, you may enjoy it). I think getting someone a person as a gift, or being given as a gift, rather, is a fun fucked up fantasy to explore. I'm not entirely sure where I'll take this but I promise to put in content warnings. Let me know if I miss something, I don't want anyone to be surprised by what they find!

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

#cod mw fanfiction #cave writing #John Price x Reader #x reader #dark fic #Price please keep your dogs on leashes they are terrorizing women #The boys missed the real retirement party because they got emergency deployed and they've been trying to reschedule all year long #Good thing they've got such a good gift to make up for it #The homies in discord agree: These guys are unsettling

441 notes · View notes