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biteofcherry · 1 year

Note

Does mafia!Steve's Reader ever get jealous? Maybe there's a businesswoman or mafia related one that Steve has to have meetings with and reader gets jealous?

Nesting

Not an inch away

mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

warnings for the part below: some angst; soft!dark Steve Rogers; mafia!Steve Rogers; possessive behavior; arranged/forced relationship;

~ * ~

You shouldn't care. You really shouldn't, you tell yourself as you watch Steve open the restaurant door for that other woman to enter.

A woman that looks stunning in a body-clinging white dress and killer heels, not a single thing out of place in her confident persona.

She tilts her head and smiles at Steve, who reciprocates with one of his most charming smiles - one that gets you weak in the knees when he flashes it at you.

He told you he'd be home late because he has boring business meetings to attend to, so you talked your bodyguards slash enablers - Natasha and Yelena - to go to the movies and for some greasy food afterwards.

It's pure coincidence that the spot you picked for your snacking was opposite of a fancy restaurant to which Steve took this woman.

You know plenty of women have successful businesses, but you don't think a mob boss of Steve's caliber would actually do any business with one of them. In a romantic restaurant at that.

Natasha's face is perfectly impassive at the sight, but Yelena cringes as if she feels bad for you for seeing this.

You tell yourself that it shouldn't matter. This whole arrangement, one practically forced upon you after Steve found out about your pregnancy, is one you wanted out of at first, right?

The elegant, shiny ring on your finger, which you grew to love and often looked at with a fond smile, now reminded you of the cage Steve trapped you in. Gold, pretty cage.

With how intense and dotting Steve was, you actually believed the cage could become a warm house, with a faithful, loving husband.

Seemed you were going to become a cliche, instead. A wife to produce heirs to a mafia king, while he fucked around with whomever he desired.

Perhaps you should walk into the restaurant, make a scene, throw a drink in Steve's face. Throw it at that woman's white dress.

But you only clench your hands on the paper bag with takeout you bought to eat at home (your pregnancy is turning you into a bottomless pit). You straighten your back and keep your head up high as you march to the car and get inside, Natasha and Yelena slipping inside soundlessly.

Yelena tries to say something, explain Steve's actions, but you tell her you're not interested.

"I don't care." You announce as coldly as you can, quite proud that your voice doesn't crack with how hurt you feel inside.

At home you devour your food. And some chocolate muffins that you baked in the morning. Each bite as delicious as heavy, your stomach revolting with the bitter jealousy and anger at the thought of what Steve was up to.

Are they having a romantic dinner and smiling at each other across the table? Is he sliding his hand up her thigh and under her dress? Does he make her come silently in front of all the patrons?

Will he take her to a hotel room, or one of his apartments that he owns all around the city, and fuck her into a screaming mess?

Will he fuck her better than he did you last night... yanking a fistful of your hair as he wrecked you into a dripping mess and praised you, A good little wife, taking all of me so well.

Ripping apart another muffin, you decide on your next step. You know running away wouldn't work. For one, you have two guards, who may be friendly, but still were loyal to Steve and what he said triumphed over whatever you wanted.

Secondly, even if you managed to slip out, Steve would find you. And he'd drag you back into the cage and the life he builds with you beside him.

You can't leave the penthouse, but you can make yourself a safe space in one of the free guest rooms.

Since Steve's dipping his dick in other woman's cunt, he doesn't need you sleeping beside him.

You definitely don't want to touch him when he reeks of other woman's perfume. You don't even want to see him.

So after you drag most of your stuff from the main bedroom and hastily put it in the closet in your new room, you close the door. Just in time, because less than ten minutes later the echo of firm footsteps resounds.

You flip a book open, trying to focus on the printed words and not on the way your heart hammers in your chest as you hear Steve's footsteps aiming for the main bedroom.

A vicious part of you hopes that he is a shocked, seeing that you're not there.

Not in the huge bed, naked under soft covers, waiting for your husband lord and master to throw you a crumb of his attention.

The emotionally heaving part of you shudders in sobs at the image of Steve simply not minding that you're not there.

Maybe he's only a little surprised, but brushes it off and simply takes a shower to wash off the remnants of that woman's arousal and his own sweat. Then he'll get into bed and fall asleep sated, uncaring for your state as long as you obediently stayed inside.

You rub at your eyes, cursing the tears away. You shake your head and try once again to focus on the words you're reading.

But then, after a long stretch of silence, footsteps sound through the space. A creaking of door being open. Then another. Slowly moving towards where you are hidden.

Your heart rate increases, fingers trembling against the paper pages of your book.

You take a breath, willing yourself to remain calm and not show Steve how hurt you are. Play it the way mob bosses wives in movies and tv shows do it - cold and indifferent, an armor around you, so nothing can prickle you.

The door to your claimed room opens and Steve stands there in the doorway in all his stormy glory.

He frowns, seeing you sitting stiffly on the bed.

He walks inside. Sleeves of his suit jacket are pushed up, showing his forearms and twirls of tattoos. He braces his hands on his hips and gives you a look that's a combination of concern and blatant anger.

"Can you explain what's the meaning of all this?" Steve's voice is thick and raspy.

You swallow, but shrug nonchalantly as if his heated gaze isn't bothering you.

"I thought it's better to leave the main bedroom, in case you brought your companion home for the night." You say and return your gaze to the book, fighting the urge to wave him away with a dismissive gesture.

"What?" Steve's frown deepens, actual confusion showing on his face.

"I'm not sure your mistress would like seeing me there. Might ruin the mood." You lift your head and sneer at him. "So I simply made it easier for you."

"I have a mistress now?" Steve raises a single brow, remaining calm while everything inside of you was boiling.

You snap your book closed and slam in onto the bedside table. With a little huff you get off the bed and stomp over to Steve.

"No need to lie." You scoff. "I saw you. With her. Didn't know mob business meant taking beautiful women to expensive restaurants."

You push at his chest in anger, but Steve's strong, muscled body doesn't even sway at your outburst. So you push at him again, unsuccessfully, but at least you get to unleash some of your fury.

"Just do me a favor and don't bring any of your whores home once the baby is here. Stay in one of your apartments, or allow me to move into one."

You can't hold off tears anymore and as some pour out, trickling down your cheeks, you clench your hands into fists and slam them against Steve's chest.

Steve's fingers wrap around your wrists, a tight, almost painful hold that keeps your hands bound to his chest.

"You are not going away from me." He declares, a definite order.

His eyes darken, a flash of lethal danger he rarely directed at you.

"In any form." He ads, obviously meaning you switching bedrooms.

Slowly, Steve's face lightens up. Twinkles appear in his eyes and it makes another wave of annoyance surge through you.

He keeps your wrists locked in one of his hands as he uses the other hand to cup your cheek.

"Any moving you're going to do is along with me." He says and tries to lean his forehead against yours, but you pull your head back.

Steve sighs.

"Which is why," he forces you to maintain eye contact with him, "I had a meeting with Camilla. She's a real estate agent who works for me on renovating a house that I bought for us. For our family."

His words make you speechless. A house? Someplace where you'd feel more free and where your kids could run in glee.

Still, you remain suspicious. You want to assume it's just a crafty lie, you're sure Steve's good at those.

"The Infinite is a rather romantic place to talk construction." You narrow your eyes.

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. He lets go of your wrists to wrap both his arms around you, pulling you close to him despite your attempt to squirm away.

"Jealous little bird." He hums and slides one of his hands up to grip the back of your neck.

"In my line of work-" Steve leans closer, his nose tracing the line of your jaw, hot breath tickling your skin making you shiver-

"I manipulate people. Some with threats, some with sugar. And some, like Camilla, with never voiced promise of something they wish for."

Steve's soft snicker puffs across your cheek at your sneer. His lips travel toward your lips. You close your eyes at the intensity of his blue irises and the way your body reacts to the touch of his mouth against yours.

"A restaurant dinner gave her that little spark that will make her work her ass off to grand me all my wishes regarding our house. Even though not once have I even brushed an inch of her body with my fingers."

"It also happens-" the tip of Steve's tongue licks over your bottom lip, his hand starts pulling up the hem of your nightgown- "that I know how to manipulate my wife's body, so she sweats out all that jealousy and anger while she creams on my cock."

Your tiny, needy whimper makes him chuckle in dark victory.

"That what you need, huh?" He grips your buttock and kneads it. "Should I fuck you braindead every day, so that your mind doesn't come up with silly ideas?"

"It wasn't silly." You try to defend your earlier outburst, but it comes out breathy and weak.

"Thinking I could be interested in anyone else when I have your sweet, ripe body at my disposal. Absolutely ridiculous." Steve flashes you a wolfish grin.

He lifts you up suddenly, forcing your arms and legs to wrap around him. His fingers slide from your ass to dip between your thighs as he turns around and walks out of the room.

"You're coming back to our bedroom." He growls a command.

"I'm going to keep you naked and full of cum for the next few days, so it really sinks in that neither of us is stepping away from this marriage. Ever."

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #mafia!Steve Rogers #mafia!steve x reader #mafia steve rogers #mob boss steve rogers #steve rogers x you #nesting #steve rogers smut

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rottenaero · 1 year

Text

Ao3

Part 1

Part 3

Part two to the roommates idea

Whenever the mall ‘burns down’, Eddie is just chilling at home; not doing anything special.

Actually, thats a complete lie. He hadn't seen Steve since he left for his shift the day before, and currently has his band+Wayne scattered in the living room as he paces.

“He may as well be dead, he always calls before staying the night somewhere, and he totally despises that place, so why would he stay after hours?” He comes to a halt infront of Jeff who looks considering. “What?!"

“Maybe, consider, he just forgot to call you." Eddie scoffed, “ ‘Maybe he just forgot’, except you don't know him, Jeff. Steve doesn't forget, tell ‘em Wayne."

Wayne nods from his spot on the lazyboy, “ ‘S true, he'd rather call at 2am than have us worrying.”

Gareth rolls his eyes, “Look Edmund, I get your worried about you boyfriend and all but why did we have to get dragged into this?" He complained, and Eddie began pacing again.

“ Not,my boyfriend, yet, and you’re getting-”

A ringing interrupts him.

The pacing stopped almost as soon as it began, and he darts to the phone. “ Y’hello, it's Eddie talking.” A sharp breath drew from the other end of the line.

“Hey Eds."

Eddie smiled, “Holy shit, Stevie. I thought you died. Wayne and the guys are literally gathered in the living room.” Upon hearing the name, Wayne visibly relaxed, going from hunched over to leaning backwards in seconds.

“Yeah I'm- Well shit not okay but I'm not dead.”In the background there was a noise, barely noticeable but-

“Wait, what? Are those sirens? Are you hurt? What the hell-” Wayne leaned forward again.

“I'm at the mall, there's been, uh, an accident? I don't- they took my keys, I need a ride back home.”

“Who took your keys? Steve you can't just be all ominous and-” The phone line shut off. "Fuck!”

Grant, who hasn't been helpful at all, stood up. "What did he do?”

Eddie groans, running a hand through his greasy hair, “Needs us to pick him up, might be hurt. He's such a- Wayne we're taking my van, you guys coming?”

Turns out the answer is yes.

They arrive at the mall five minutes later, mostly because Eddie was driving like a bat outta hell, to every emergency vehicle you can think of, plus thirty more, surrounding the place.

Eddie roles his window down when a cop signals him. “What are you doing over here?"

The metalhead bites his lip, what the hell, “Uh, I'm here to pick up Steve Harrington? He got involved in whatever's happening.”

The cops nods, "Alright, park your vehicle over there, and go get him.”

He does as he's told, a surprising feat showing just how scared he was, because Steve being hurt could mean so many things.

They get out the car, Wayne being the leading man, and head to where the commotion is.

The mall was totally destroyed, a couple kids he didn't know were sitting around, surrounded by their parents, there's a couple teens too, Nancy Wheeler, Johnny Byers, a girl in a sailor costume, and-

Eddie’s heart stopped and he fucking sped forward. “ Holy shit, what the fuck man." Steve looked like hell, understatement of the century but-

His face was bruised and bloody, his hands wrapped in casts, his hair was flat and gross and he was still in his damn sailor costume.

“Hey Munsons, Gareth, Jeff, Grant. It's the whole Scooby gang, or Smurfs, whoever you prefer.” Eddie grabbed his shoulders, and stared him dead in the eye. “ What. The. Fuck. Are you high too?!”

“Just what the hell did you get yourself into. " Wayne said more than asked, shaking his head.

Steve buzzed his lips, his eyebrows furrowed and he brought a hand to them and-

God they were split, and bleeding now. He looked back up at the long haired man infront of him, ignoring Wayne's question-not-question.

“Nah, just recovering from being drugged. Hey this is rivveting conversation and shit, but like, I wanna go home and sleep in your bed, man. Or the couch, or the floor.”

He let out a loud laugh, “Fuck I am not picky right now, I'll even take the back of the van.”

“Christ."

They don't talk about it, not after Hellfire goes home, not the next morning, not after Steve heals. They just don't, because the news told them all they need to know, that there was a fire. Eddie just assumed when they said he was drugged, that he meant medically.

(He didn't)

#stranger Things #steddie ficlet #steddie #ficlet #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #eddie munson x steve harrington #and they were roommates #oh my god they were roommates #crisisinverted17 #crisisinverted17's roommate au

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stars-for-circe · 1 month

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Hot To Go

Song inspo!! - HOTTOGO by Chappell Roan

Tags / cw: headcanons, cheerleader!reader x dropout!ellie, fluff, Highschool au, Ellie is older by 1 year, reader is in senior year, 90s era

Dropout!Ellie who always does her best to show up and be supportive of your cheerleading

She always makes sure to pick you up every Friday night after practice, long after the sun has set and dew had started to form on the cold grass field.

She makes sure to wait by her pickup truck in the parking lot, leaning against the drivers side door and listening to music on her walkman until you come over to meet her.

She always greets you with a kiss on the cheek and one of her jackets to keep you warm in your thin uniform - the smell of her wrapped around you makes you feel so cozy.

Dropout!Ellie who lets you hangout with her in the back of her truck after practice, eating the worst junk food known to man as you gossip about people from your school

You’re sitting in the back of her truck, cuddling her under a shared blanket as you share a greasy cheese pizza - your legs intertwined as you try to feed her a slice with her eyes closed, making you both giggle as she fails miserably.

While she dropped out a couple years ago, she was still in the grade above you, so you have some shared memories about school. There are certain people she knows about, but most of them that you gossip about are complete strangers.

“No fucking way, he still goes there? Dude’s like a super duper senior at this point!”

Dropout!Ellie who won’t let you go home without a proper goodbye, leading to giggly make out sessions in her truck as you both try to hide from the automatic nightlights in your driveway.

Dropout!Ellie who sneaks into your school to watch your routines during matches, and somehow never gets caught.

At this point, you’re 99% sure she’s bribing the office ladies not to rat her out because they still have a soft spot for her.

Ellie never fucking tells you when she’s gonna show up, so every single time it takes you by surprise when you see her hiding behind the bleachers and cheering you on as you balance at the top of the pyramid.

And every single time, you almost fall from how distracted you get.

Dropout!Ellie who tries to involve herself with your schoolwork and be helpful, but is the exact opposite of what she attempts to do.

You’re studying for finals at the park while Ellie swings upside down on some random tree branch, blasting rock so loud that you can hear it all the way on the bench.

All of a sudden you hear her run over to you, leaves crunching under her feet, and two heavy hands landing on your shoulders

“So whatcha doinggg??”

She immediately regrets asking, because now you’ve trapped her next to you and planted a massive textbook in front of her to help you study.

“Babe- I dropped out in grade ten there’s no way I can help with any of this shit-”

Secretly, she gets a little sad sometimes because she can’t connect with you about school or share classes with you since she dropped out.

Dropout!Ellie who tried doing your makeup once, and you never let her go near it again because of how bad it was.

“No- Ellie it’s meant to be sparkly on the inner corner-”

“Stop with the fucking medical terms and just let me-”

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO-”

You were 27 minutes late to practice that day because of how much Ellie insisted she do your makeup even though it wasn’t necessary.

You spent those 27 minutes desperately trying to wipe off the bright blue glitter she’d spread all the way up to your eyebrows.

Sometimes you still find pieces of glitter in your carpet from the whole fiasco.

You help her feel better, though, by letting her pick out which bows to put in your hair and which colours you can use for eyeshadow during games.

Dropout!Ellie who makes sure she’s always there with you during games, even when she can’t make it herself.

While you were busy getting dressed into your uniform, she was fiddling around with you pom-poms, eyeing all the pretty colours and sparkles.

She wanted to stay as long as she could until you had to leave for the game, because this time she couldn’t go with you.

But a sharpie on your desk caught her eye, and she suddenly had a small idea on what she could do.

And hours later, after the game, when you went to grab your stuff to leave, you noticed a tiny little black smudge on the handle of your pom-poms. And upon taking a closer look, a small smile made its way to your face after you saw your girlfriend’s faded initials hidden behind all the ribbons and plastic.

Dropout!Ellie who cannot wait for summer, when she can finally have you all to herself without school or practice or homework getting in the way.

Half of the summer you aren’t even sleeping at home. Instead, Ellie sneaks you out of the house and drives three hours into the middle of nowhere to look at the stars.

She puts up some blankets and pillows in the back of her truck, brings out a radio softly playing nirvana, and a Tupperware box of cookies she made to share as you lay in the back of her truck to stargaze.

She points out the bigger ones, and the ones making constellations to you as you wrap your arms around her and listen to her nerdy mumbling, slowly lulling you to sleep.

“See? That one there’s called Ursa Major. I uh, read it somewhere a while back in one of those astronomy books you got me.”

“…mhm…”

She giggles at your quiet chirps to her explanations as your slowly fall asleep, before pulling a blanket over you and lets you drift off under the stars.

And when you wake up - still outside in the back of her truck - resting on her now sleeping chest, you glance at Ellie and her resting expression. You watch how it becomes blanketed by the early morning sunrise, and you listen to how the radio is playing some indie country artist you couldn’t name.

And after a while, you decide that, despite the fact she’s a dropout and your a straight A cheerleader, and despair the fact that it is the most random pairing ever, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Taglist: @happysparklingshadows @irelandzo @r3starttt @iamaboringrattat @genderfluidlesbain999 @slut4mascss @rxreaqia @kylorey25 @massivepeacefemme @elliewilliamsfavborderhopper @ratdungeon @elxarw @mariasabanahabanabana @vvynia @abbyshands @littlegingerperson5 @flowersforvi

#tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou #Ellie Williams x you #Ellie Williams x reader #Ellie Williams #Ellie Williams tlou #Ellie Williams the last of us #Ellie Williams tlou2 #Ellie Williams the last of us 2

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fcthots · 7 months

Note

jason x depressed!reader with "Do you want me to wash your hair?"

You're in your bed, trying to take a nap. You were exhausted, but couldn't fall asleep, and even if you did, it wouldn't go away. Picking up your phone and seeing all the missed texts and calls made it worse. The tv was on some show that you used to love, but now it was just pissing you off. Sleep wouldn't come and everything was making you upset or angry, but you also felt numb. Everything was stupid and you felt trapped in your own head.

Until you heard the door open.

You weren't worried about it being an intruder or anything. Jason made sure your apartment was equipped with oracle approved safety measures when you moved in, but that meant that there were very few people it could be.

You don’t move from your spot, only your eyes and greasy hair peeking out from the blankets. Maybe you didn’t have the energy to get up and run to the bathroom to get ready, but that doesn’t mean you particularly liked anyone seeing you this vulnerable.

He gently opens your bedroom door. The lights are off so he can't tell right away if you're awake or not. He squints until he spots your eyes watching him. He sighs.

His footsteps feel louder than they are. You avert your gaze from his and instead focus your eyes onto his feet walking closer to you.

When he finally makes it to his destination, he doesn't look at you right away. "I'm gonna turn on the lamp."

You shut your eyes and reopen them after you hear the click of the lamp. You squint at Jason's feet again.

His voice holds no judgment or accusation. "Why weren't you answering your phone?"

You want to respond, you do, but you have no excuse to offer him. Your mouth feels heavy with the weight of your guilt. You worried him. He has other things to do and now he's checking on you because you wouldn't pick up the fucking phone and send one text message. And why? Because it was too stressful for you?

He lightly peels the covers back from your face.

"Come back to me. Don't lock yourself up in there. I'm not mad. You didn't do anything wrong. Stop trying to punish yourself."

You finally look at his face in order to squint at him in faux offense. He knows you too well.

He trails his thumb gently up and down your arm. "You good to answer questions?"

You think about it for a minute and nod, despite the fact that you don't exactly feel like like answering questions, afraid of what they will be, but this is Jason after all. He's always mindful of your limits. The hand stills.

"Cool. Do you know how many days it's been since this started? Ballpark?"

You avert your eyes. You feel shameful for not telling him when it started, knowing he asked you to tell him when it happens.

He starts trailing his thumb again. "Try and stay out your head for me. I promise I'm not mad, I'm just trying to figure out how bad the episode is."

You sigh. "Three?" Your voice comes out cracked from disuse.

He watches his hand move against your arm. "Close enough, although I think it may have been 4 days, maybe 5."

You grunt in acknowledgement.

He sighs, not out of exasperation, but in thought. "Do you want me to wash your hair? Like in the sink."

"No. The rest of me is gross too, I don't wanna wash just my hair."

"Well do you feel up to a full shower?"

You feel like you want to cry, but you won't. "No...but I don't want to just wash one part. I don't wanna use all the energy I have left only to get one thing done, but I don't have energy for the rest."

He softly brings his hand to your face. His thumb trails over your cheekbone. "That sounds overwhelming" after a beat, "and exhausting."

You groan and try to hide yourself under the covers, dislodging his hand.

He peels the covers back again. His voice holds sincerity. "How about I give you a bath then? You don't have to do any of the work. I'll do everything. How's that? Sound good?"

You take a moment before tentatively nodding your head.

Jason takes his time helping you up. He supports most of your weight which seems silly because you can technically walk just fine, but you don't pull away all the same. His arm feels warm around your waist as you walk.

"I'll make you something to eat after you get out, assuming you haven't eaten in a while." He's right. You nod. Something eats away at you.

Your steps get slower as you feel heavier with guilt. "You know it won't fix me, right? None of it can." You don't look him in the eyes as you speak.

You watch the furrow of his brows from the corner of your vision. He stops walking so he can look you in the eyes. "I don’t care. I don't care if I have to do this every day for months at a time. I don't care if I have to cook every single meal for you. I'll do all of it and more because I care about you."

"I'm already too much of a burden, I won't allow you too do that for me"

"But you can't make yourself do it right now so what's the plan? To rot away? No. Not happening. You are not a burden. I want to help you. Let me help you."

For him, you'd do anything.

#saph’s love letters #jason todd #jason todd x reader #saph’s thots #red hood #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #anon #angst #jason todd angst #hurt/comfort #jason todd x reader angst #red hood x you #red hood angst #red hood x reader angst

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joonie-beanie · 11 months

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Side-Gig | [Peter B. Parker x Reader]

Pairing: Peter B. Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter gets worried about your apparent “side-gig” and goes snooping, only to discover your side-gig is writing Spiderman smut on commission.

Contents: Fluff, Smut, Consensual Sex, Pussy Eating, Banter, Friends to Lovers???

Author’s Note: I swore off posting fics on tumblr, but since this is just a one-shot, I figured why not. I think Peter B is charming, had to write a lil smth smth for him. And by that, I mean a 7.1k wordcount fic.

You and Peter Parker are friends. Not best friends, but pretty good friends.

You like to say you’ve looked out for each other over the years. You don’t talk all the time, but it’s kind of an unspoken promise that when one of you needs someone to lean on, the other person will be there.

Which is why, when Peter and MJ separate, you make a point of inviting Peter over for meals.

At first, he turns you down every time you ask, and you know it’s because he’s wallowing—depressed about his situation. And that’s understandable. You can’t exactly say you know what he’s feeling, but if you put yourself in his shoes, you’re sure you’d be a little bit fucked up about everything too.

Therefore, you give him a little space—wait for things to settle and for Peter to come around.

Except, Peter takes it all way worse than you expect—going radio silent after your third invite in two months. Then, you really start to get worried (and also a little mad that he’s ghosting you).

So, you manage to scrounge up his new address using some internet-sleuthing skills, and show up at his door. When he opens it, he’s dressed in a greasy wife-beater, worn-out gray sweats, and white socks with a hole in the toe.

“Jesus Christ, Peter.”

You spend that evening scolding Peter and letting him cry it all out—handing him tissue after tissue as he blubbers about everything on his mind. When he’s finally done, he apologizes for ignoring your last call, and thanks you for looking out for him.

With a smile, you assure him you’ll always have his back, and that now he really has to come over for dinner, because he owes you.

Laughing, Peter agrees. And luckily, he sticks to his word.

Since then, you and Peter make a point of doing dinner twice a month—typically at your place, sometimes out at a restaurant, but never at Peter’s. Not until he deep cleans his messy apartment, and you know that won’t be happening anytime soon.

Tonight, you’re at a restaurant of your choice—a local Italian joint. Peter arrives late, per normal, and you wave him over when you see him walk in the front door. He immediately spots you and hurries over, his eyes darting to the plate of bruschetta you’d ordered for the table, that now only has two pieces left.

“Aw, that’s not fair,” he says, sliding into the booth across from you. He immediately reaches for one, shoving it into his mouth. You shrug, not sorry.

“That’s what you get for always being late. And if I waited for you, I’d be hangry by now. So really, you should be thanking me.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter says with a roll of his eyes, picking up the menu to see what it is he wants.

“So, how have you been? I know we just saw each other two weeks ago, but—how’s work?”

You sigh at Peter’s question, resting your chin against your palm.

“Fine, I guess. Work is cutting hours since things are slow right now, so I’m gonna be pretty strapped for cash the next month or two.”

Peter blinks at your response, staring at you over the edge of the menu.

“Should we be here then? We could just get the check now and go down the street to the bodega—”

“No—no, it’s fine,” you reassure him, taking a sip from your glass. From the look of it, Peter can tell the glass is filled with rum and coke—your simple, yet timeless go-to.

“This is kind of my last hurrah, y’know? Gotta get one last plate of carbonara in before I’m eating ramen and eggs for the next few months.”

“I dunno about that,” Peter responds. “Eggs are pretty expensive now—you might have to settle for canned tuna.”

You roll your eyes at him, yet can’t help the little giggle that escapes you.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know,” he says with a smile.

The waitress wanders back over, and you and Peter put in your orders. Peter also opts to get a drink (after all, if you’re drinking, why shouldn’t he), and a few minutes later, a cosmopolitan is placed onto the table in front of him.

You watch him with a wide smile as he picks up the girly drink and takes a long sip—his pinky sticking out and everything.

“You and your love of sweet drinks,” you say, swirling around the ice in your half-empty glass. Peter hums happily.

“Listen, this is way better than beer.”

Honestly, you can’t disagree.

“So,” he continues, picking up the previous topic. “Are you gonna be okay? Money-wise?”

It’s not like he has much help to offer. Being a masked vigilante doesn’t pay very well, after all, but still.

“Yeah,” you assure him. “I have a side-gig that brings in a little cash-flow, so that’ll help cushion the blow. But I think I should still be able to afford rent and some groceries. I’ll just have to budget better, y’know?”

Peter nods. “Oh, okay. Good—,” but then his brain repeats the phrase “side-gig”, and his words cut off.

“Wait, what kind of side-gig are we talking about here?”

Despite how long the two of you have known each other, Peter has never heard anything about any kind of “side-gig”. It’s a little concerning, honestly, since the two of you don’t really keep secrets from each other.

Although it’s not like you know he’s Spiderman.

“Yeah. It’s nothing illegal, I promise,” you tell him, your attitude remaining pleasant. Peter stares at you, waiting for you to say more, but your smile only grows wider.

“Not telling,” you say, laughing quietly to yourself when Peter huffs in annoyance and grabs his drink. “You’ll just have to trust me. I’d never do anything illegal—you know me.”

“I dunno,” he responds, a playful lilt in his tone. “In college I seem to remember you stealing soft drinks from the mess hall without paying—”

“Oh c’mon,” you shoot back, and Peter grins, knowing you hate when he brings that up. “We were already paying to go to classes! Why should I pay 3 dollars for a cup of watered down coke?!”

Peter laughs as you go on a mini tangent about how college is a ripoff—ordering both you and him two more drinks when your waitress stops in to check on your table.

After a short while, your food comes out, and the two of you catch up over the hot meal. Conversation flows like normal—touching on any other life updates, and also local news topics, and things of the like.

At your insistence, Peter splits a tiramisu with you to close out the evening, and by the time the dessert is gone, Peter thinks he may explode.

“Ugh, why did I let you talk me into that?” Peter groans, curling over and holding his stomach as you fetch enough cash from his wallet to cover half the bill.

“Well, if you were smart like me, you would have kept half of your entree to take home with you for later, and then you would have had enough room left for dessert. Which, by the way, is too good to waste—so don’t puke it up.”

Your waitress swings by to grab the bill, and you assure her it’s all set—passing her the small stack of money taken from both your and Peter’s wallets. She thanks you with a smile, and then scurries away, leaving the two of you alone.

You reach over the table, patting Peter’s shoulder.

“You’ll be fine. Your stomachs gotten bigger, after all.”

“Hey—,” Peter frowns, lifting his head. You’re already grabbing your purse and takeout box—sliding out of the booth. He quickly follows after you.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No,” you respond, holding the door open for him as the two of you step out into the cool New York air. “You’re actually still surprisingly in-shape for someone whose diet consists of pizza and frozen meals. But, that being said, you can’t deny you’ve put on a few pounds.”

Peter places a hand on his stomach.

“Remind me again why you’re so mean to me?”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound getting lost in the crowd around you.

“You just make it too easy,” you admit, grinning up at him. Despite himself, Peter smiles back.

Being the gentleman that he is, Peter fully intends to escort you back to the doorstep of your apartment building, but—

His spidey senses tingle, and he can tell something is off.

“Hey, um,” Peter grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. Before your brain can even catch up, he’s yanking you into a quick hug, and then backpedaling towards the alleyway the two of you had just passed.

“Sorry, I just remembered there’s something I have to do. It was nice seeing you! Let’s touch base soon!”

He’s gone before you can even get a word out, disappearing around the corner. You stare after him for a moment, befuddled, and then continue on your way with a sigh.

Same ‘ol Peter.

Exactly one hour later, Peter collapses in a pile of trash—his lungs heaving, and body aching. The fight itself hadn’t been that hard—just a few wannabe criminals with deadlier than normal weapons.

No, the real challenge had been not barfing up his dinner while doing acrobatics across the city.

And maybe laying in a pile of trash to take a breather isn’t exactly helping his current predicament, but fuck—he doesn’t have the energy to move right now

Spreading out his limbs, Peter stares up at the smog-coated night sky, his mind wandering. He thinks about a lot of things—all the villains he’s fought in his time as Spiderman, the people who have come in and out of his life during it all, including you. You…who apparently has a “side-gig”.

…but like, what kind of side-gig?

Peter groans, knowing he won’t be able to let this go.

You can’t just drop the knowledge that you have a secret side-gig on him and then not tell him what it is!

And if you’re insistent on keeping it a secret, it must be something bad, right? RIGHT??

“Goddammit,” he grumbles, picking himself up. He swings off into the night, his mind reeling.

Peter lasts all of 3-days before he decides he can’t be left alone with his thoughts anymore—that he just needs to confirm what exactly your side-gig is, before his theories can get any wilder.

Because so far, his top guesses are that you’re either 1. Unknowingly acting as a middle man for some illegal trafficking operation, or 2. Providing “services” to New York sleazebags to get in their wallets.

And Peter knows it’s likely neither option—you’re too smart to get roped into something stupid. Plus, you had assured him it was nothing illegal.

But if he doesn’t figure it out, he thinks he may explode.

So…he goes snooping.

It’s not his brightest moment—using the spare key you had given him “in case of emergency” to sneak into your apartment one evening. (But to be fair, to him…this might just be an emergency).

He’d used his spidey senses to scope out your apartment before coming in, so he knows you're not home. Which is good, but…he doesn’t know when you’re gonna be back either, so he has to move fast.

Softly closing the front door behind him, Peter tip-toes across your apartment, deciding to start in your bedroom. He stands in the doorway for a moment, guilt bubbling up inside of him, but he decides to push forward anyway.

He’s just making sure you’re okay, he tells himself. You’re one of his closest friends, and you won’t tell him your secret—so it’s understandable he’d be worried.

Like the true Sherlock that he is, Peter starts with you dressers. He quickly checks each drawer—gently lifting up the stacks of clothes to make sure nothing is hidden beneath them. (The only time doesn’t is when he encounters the drawer with your bras and panties. He simply stares at them with flushed cheeks, rocking awkwardly on his heels, before he quietly closes the drawer. Surely nothing would be in there anyway, right?)

The small stack of papers on your nightstand ends up being recent receipts, and a manual on how to use the white noise machine you've apparently just purchased, considering it's sitting on the floor beside your nightstand, still in the box.

Getting on his hands and knees, Peter does a quick check under your bed, and freezes when he spots a covered box. He pulls it out without thinking, tugging off the fabric lined lid—

—and immediately slams it back down.

…veiny, pink, silicon—

Peter haphazardly pushes the box back under the bed, hurrying to his feet. He bustles into the kitchen with cherry-colored ears.

All-in-all, it takes Peter about half an hour to search your apartment, and unfortunately…he comes up empty handed. It seems like you have nothing to hide (except a box of sex toys under your bed, but Peter thinks that’s pretty understandable. You don't want dumb assholes like him accidentally finding it, even though Peter had—)

Sighing, Peter takes one last glance around your apartment.

“Ugh, I shouldn’t have done this,” he sighs to himself, taking a step towards the door. But—not watching where he’s going, he stubs his toe into the leg of your coffee table.

A curse leaves his lips, and your opened laptop—which had previously been dark—jolts to life. Kicking the table must have moved your wireless mouse, Peter realizes.

Having already decided to leave, Peter fully intends to continue on his way. That is…before he takes a glance at your computer screen and sees that you have it open to a Google doc titled: “Spiderman x Reader Commission #6”.

…then, he’s scrambling onto your couch and yanking your laptop towards him.

“Number six??” he hisses dramatically, his eyes scanning over the document so fast that he doesn’t actually end up reading anything.

He has to pause and go back to try again, but the second Peter reads the sentence “Spiderman’s cock strains painfully against the tight confines of his suit, his fingers twitching against your waist as he drags you in closer”, his brain effectively blue screens.

In a panic, he clicks into a different tab that’s open—landing on your email inbox, where a thread sits open. A transaction between you and an apparent “customer”. Someone who had contacted you in regards to your open “commissions”.

Hi there!

I saw you’re accepting commissions, and I really enjoyed reading the other Spiderman fics you wrote! Would you be open to writing one for me? Preferably a Reader x Spiderman, and a smut/fluff genre. Based on the rate sheet, I think I can afford it, but I’d appreciate it if we could talk more and discuss the final price based on the idea I have.

Thanks!

Holy shit, Peter realizes. Your side-gig is writing Spiderman porn on commission.

He sinks back into the couch, his mind whirling.

How long has this been going on?? Do you…are you attracted to Spiderman?? As long as Peter has known you, you’ve never really fangirled over Spiderman. If Spiderman had popped up in the news, the two of you would talk about him, but…that was it.

And now you’re writing Spiderman smut for cash? Holy hell.

Peter supposes he should be relieved that what you’re doing truly isn’t illegal. That you’re just making money in a mostly innocent way, from the safety of your home. Meaning, Peter can call it quits, and leave.

…but instead, he leans forward, clicks back onto the Google doc tab, and starts reading more.

The document is still a work-in-progress, but Peter scrolls back up to the top, wanting to see how you’ve managed to set up this scenario.

As it turns out, a villain had injected Spiderman with some sort of aphrodisiac, and the reader is a bystander, bravely offering Spiderman her services to get him out of this pickle.

While embarrassing to admit, Peter gets sucked into the story—impressed by your ability to write, and your portrayal of him—err, Spiderman. In fact, he gets so distracted by the story and the multitude of thoughts running through his head that his spidey senses don’t kick in until danger is right on his doorstep.

Or, in reality, you are on your doorstep—your key shoving into the lock on the door.

Peter’s heart nearly rockets out of his chest, his eyes darting to the window across the room. It’s closed, and even if he used his web shooter to rocket over to it, he wouldn’t be able to safely open the window and escape outside in the two seconds it’s going to take you to finish unlocking your do—

Before he can even finish the thought, your front door shoves open, and you flick on the lights—your gaze immediately finding Peter, who is still firmly planted on your couch, looking like a deer in headlights.

You stare at him in shock.

“Peter? What…? Why are you here?”

“I was…worried about you,” Peter responds, forcing himself to smile. And it’s not like it’s a lie.

“You said you were strapped for cash, and I…I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

You kick the door shut behind you, your purse and keys discarded on the small table beside your entryway.

“I thought I told you to just trust me?”

You face him with a hand posed sternly on your hip. You appreciate his concern for you, but it’s a little upsetting that he hadn’t just been able to trust your word.

“I know,” Peter responds with a sigh. He runs a hand through his graying hair, and your gaze flits to his ears, noticing how red they are. Why is he so flushed?

“And I’m sorry. I’m dumb, I should have. Trusted you, I mean. I’ll just—,” he pushes himself up, planning to excuse himself and run, but freezes half way to his feet.

He’s half hard. Fuck.

If he gets up now, it’ll be a lot harder to hide that—especially since he’s wearing sweatpants.

Making a lil noise, Peter eases himself back down onto your couch. You cock an eyebrow.

“...you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry…back spasm.”

“Well, you don’t have to rush out. You’re welcome to stay for a while if you don’t have anywhere to be.”

You flash him a smile and turn towards the kitchen. Peter watches you as you open your fridge and bend down—fetching two bottles of water from the bottom shelf. His eyes glue to your ass the second you lean over, and Peter punches himself in the knee—forcing his gaze up towards the ceiling.

He’s going fucking insane. He’s not used to being this…feral feeling. Arousal is usually one of the emotions that evades him nowadays, but here he is—done in by fucking Spiderman fanfiction.

Who knew he’d get turned on reading about himself fucking some nameless woman? And who knew that arousal would make him thirst after you?

(Honestly, if he thinks about it, it’s not that surprising. The two of you have been friends for years, and he feels comfortable around you. Not to mention, you’ve always been attractive, even if you do like to push his buttons—)

“Here,” you say, snapping him out of his internal panic. You plop down onto the couch next to him, handing him one of the two bottles of water.

Peter reaches out to take it, and you notice the sweat beading on his brow. Why the hell is he—?

At that moment, you spot your laptop on the coffee table—open, and still showing the commission document you’d left open earlier on. Your first instinct is to reach over and slam your laptop shut before Peter can see—

…wait.

Peter reaches forward to take the water bottle from your grasp, but when he grips it, you don’t budge.

Confused, he looks up—only to find you intensely staring at him.

“Did you read it…?”

Peter’s face heats up, his eyes darting to the side to avoid looking at you.

Busted…

You pulse races, embarrassment blooming in your chest.

HE DID, you realize. HE READ IT. Your fucking Spiderman smut!

“Ah, shit…,” you mumble, letting go of his water bottle and crumpling in on yourself. You curl onto your side, hiding your face in the couch cushion.

Feeling horrible that he has embarrassed you—having discovered something you’d tried to keep private—Peter hurries to try and smooth over the situation.

“Okay, yes, I did read it,” he starts by saying. “But…it was…really good! You’re a good writer, and I can see why people are commissioning you! You’ll surely make some cash with the skill you have.”

If he was smart, he’d have stopped there, but no—Peter keeps going.

“A-And hey! I’d be willing to help too. Y’know, help give you some inspiration for your stories—”

His voice dies in his throat, realizing what it is he has just offered. And obviously, you realize it too—your head immediately lifting, staring at him with curious surprise.

“Did you just…offer…to fuck? To help me with my stories?”

The insinuation is so insane that you can’t help laughing. Peter coughs, straightening his shoulders out.

“I think I’d be very good inspiration for Spiderman.”

“Really?”

There’s disbelief in your voice. Peter narrows his eyes.

“You don’t think so?”

You hum, uncapping your water bottle and taking a swig. Peter mirrors you, his throat feeling dry.

“Spiderman is…suave and heroic, and you’re…dorky. Smart, but dorky.”

Peter frowns. “I can be…suave.”

You cock an eyebrow, a playful grin breaking out on your face. Your heart is racing a million miles an hour, because never did you think you’d be sitting here with Peter, the possibility of sex between the two of you suddenly laid out on the table. You’d never deny he’s an attractive male, and maybe because it’s him, and because you’ve missed the feel of another human being, you end up saying—

“Yeah? Show me then.”

You lean back, waiting to see if Peter will make a move.

Unfortunately, the realization that you’re open to whatever is happening right now causes Peter’s brain to stall, and he takes a second too long to act—just long enough to allow doubt to worm its way into your head.

You’re putting him on the spot. And he’s still probably dealing with some complicated feelings from the split—you shouldn’t have poked him.

Without saying anything, you decide to try and create some space. You push off of the couch, padding towards your bedroom. You’ll make an excuse about needing to fold your clothes, or something stupid—and hopefully Peter will take what you’ve said as a joke, and will move on. Yeah, that sounds like a solid plan—

Pausing in the doorway of your room, you force yourself to smile, and turn to face Peter—only to find that he’d snuck up on you—your gaze meeting his chest the second you turn around.

“Pe—,” you’re only able to get the first syllable of his name out, your chin tilting back as you look up at him. The feeling of his palm cupping your cheek is what makes your voice die out, his chestnut eyes boring into you.

You can see the hesitation on his face. A certain lack of confidence that you’re sure stems from his past relationship issues. But beneath that, you can see desire. A craving for intimacy he hasn’t shared in a long time.

You decide to be the one to close the gap—pressing onto your toes, your palm resting flat on his pec as you lean upward—connecting your lips with his. You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips, and you silently convince yourself that if Peter backs out, you’ll be fine with it.

Luckily, he doesn’t. His brain finally kicks into gear, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist as he kisses you back.

You make a pleasantly surprised little sound, your arms lifting to wrap around his neck—effectively deepening the kiss. A wrinkle appears between Peter’s eyebrows, his grip on your waist tightening. Your chest presses flat against his torso, and he rubs his thumb against your cheek, obsessed with the plushness of your lips and the feel of you against him.

It’s been way too long since he’s been intimate like this…that’s apparent by the blood absolutely rockets into his dick.

Although, to be fair, he’d already been half-hard before this.

“You think our local hero gets hard this quick?” you mumble against his lips with a grin, giggling when Peter makes a noise of annoyance and nips at you.

“You’d be surprised,” he responds. He slots his thigh between your knees, backing you into the doorframe. His clothed cock grinds against your stomach, trapped between your bodies, and his muscles tense.

“Adrenaline can go straight to the dick sometimes…”

(Peter has lost track of how many times, after an intense fight—especially earlier in his career—he’d swung home and immediately jerked off).

“That’s fair, I suppose.”

Your fingertips coast up the nape of his neck, tangling in the messy hair at the base of his skull. You yank him downward ever so slightly, your lips connecting with the skin of his neck. He immediately shivers, the first of many embarrassing sounds ripping from his chest as you lick and suck at his flesh.

“Think Spiderman whimpers?”

You’re teasing him. As to be expected, given the dynamic of your relationship. But Peter doesn’t intend on taking it quietly.

“Maybe,” he admits, “If you make him feel good enough. But if you wanna know what I think—”

Peter surprises you by ducking down—his arms looping around your thighs as he lifts you off the floor. Your squeal, arms and legs instinctively wrapping around him since you don’t want to fall, but Peter carries you easily enough—striding into your room and depositing you onto your bed.

He doesn’t waste any time—quickly caging you down. His knee reclaims its spot between your thighs, rubbing incessantly at the dampening fabric covering your privates, and his lips find your neck—a shiver raking up your spine as his stubble scratches against your skin.

“Peter,” you gasp when his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingertips ghost over your heated skin, brushing past your waist, and finding the clasp of your bra. You have to arch to give him room to work, and Peter sucks a hickey of approval into your neck. He debates telling you “good girl”, but the thought leaves him the second your bra pops open.

He needs your tits in his mouth.

“—I think Spiderman has a thing for boobs,” Peter says, finally finishing his earlier statement. This exclamation is followed with the immediate removal of your shirt and bra—Peter forcibly tugging them over your head and discarding them on the floor beside your bed.

The sight of Peter groping you and lowering his mouth to your chest is enough to have your heart skipping a beat, and you can’t help the mewl that leaves you when Peter sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

Peter groans when your fingers fist in his hair, practically keeping his mouth trapped where it is, which he hardly minds considering he intends to lick and suck at your tits until you’re panting.

And, that’s exactly what he does.

He lavishes your chest with his mouth—relishing in the way your hips jump at each little nip of his teeth or roll of your nipple between his fingers. It’s embarrassing, honestly, how wet it gets you—your panties feeling quite wet as you continue grinding your pussy against Peter’s thigh.

You try and think of some smart response in regard to Peter’s opinion that Spiderman is a tit man, not an ass man, but words seem to be avoiding you. You can’t think of anything coherently when Peter is touching you like this. Especially when his face finally leaves your chest, his lips peppering kisses down the length of your torso.

You lift your head to look at him, propping up on one of your arms. Peter reaches your navel, but doesn’t stop, heading towards—

“Peter,” you pant, your face flushing hotly as you realize the path he’s carving.

Peter hums, his eyes flitting up and meeting your gaze just as he hooks his thumbs beneath the band of your pants.

“Another thing about Spiderman…,” he begins, kissing the skin of your tummy as he inches your waistband down your hips. You watch him with blown-wide eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly—excitement and nervousness mingling inside of you.

You lift your ass off the mattress to help him shuck you of your bottoms, and Peter smiles, tossing your pants on the floor beside your other clothes.

Never in your life did you imagine the sight of Peter sinking to his knees, his hands gripping your hips and dragging you closer to him—his gaze falling between your legs. Your panties are soaked, and the sight causes more blood to rush into his dick. He’s so hard that it honestly hurts—just a little bit—but Peter still doesn’t touch himself, because—

“...Spiderman loves eating pussy.”

“He’s a people-pleaser,” you quip breathlessly, your thighs quivering in Peter’s hold when he presses a kiss to your skin, right beside your panty line. He quietly chuckles.

“Maybe.”

Peter thumbs at your clit through your panties, relishing in the whine he rips from your throat. You hips buck in his hold, craving more, and when Peter sees the desperate look on your face, he decides to not tease you.

Peeling your panties to the side, Peter finally connects his mouth with your pussy—his tongue licking a wet, broad strip between your folds.

Oh, shit, you think to yourself, the muscles in your abdomen convulsing as you watch one of your closest friends eat you out. The whole situation is making you feel light headed, so you can’t help it when you collapse back onto the mattress, your fingers fisting in the sheets as Peter groans into your cunt.

He eats you like a man starved, his face quickly becoming covered with your arousal. His nose bumps against your clit as his tongue sinks between your walls, and you full out whimper—your hips needily grinding against his mouth.

Peter’s palm presses down on your pelvis, forcing your hips to the mattress. He doesn’t want you squirming—just wants you desperate and pliant. To see you cumming on his tongue.

His name falls from your lips again, more debauched than he’s ever heard, and Peter curses.

“Shit.”

His tone is guttural, and sexy, and—

He presses a finger inside of you.

“Oh, fuck, Pete—,” his name deterorates into a moan, your brain function declining as Peter begins fucking his finger inside of you. At the same time, he focuses his mouth on your clit, his tongue urgently flicking against the bundle of nerves.

You unconsciously wriggle at the assault of stimulation, but Peter’s hand on your stomach keeps you in place.

Why is he so strong? You think to yourself, moan ripping from your chest as Peter slips in a second finger. It doesn’t take him long to locate that spongy little sweet spot inside of you. The one that causes your thighs to shake as he practically abuses it—rubbing the pads of his fingers against it repeatedly until you’re nearly sobbing.

The coil in your belly winds tight, heat searing your veins. You can feel your clit throbbing against Peter’s tongue, and the walls of your pussy tightening up around him.

“Peter,” you cry, your entire body trembling. You’re so fucking close.

“Cum,” he rasps. He needs to see you orgasm—needs to feel you unraveling on his mouth and fingers.

Hearing the gravel of his voice is the final nail in your coffin—the tension in your muscles releasing as your orgasm washes over you. Just as he wanted, you cum all over him, your cunt gushing arousal around his fingers as his tongue continues lapping at your clit, dragging out the waves of your pleasure until you’re panting and pawing at his head, trying to push him away.

After a moment, he relents—sitting back to look at you.

You’re covered in a sheen of sweat, your chest heaving, and an arm draped over your eyes. Your tits are peppered with an array of hickies, and Peter feels his chest (and cock) swell with pride. He’s clearly done a number on you. And yet…

You feel the mattress dip, and then the room is spinning around you. When things finally settle, you find yourself laying on top of Peter.

He has one arm wrapped around your waist, his palm resting on your ass. The other brushes a few stray strands of hair out of your face when you lean back to look at him.

“Spiderman also loves being ridden,” he says with a grin. You place your hands on his chest, feeling it rumble with laughter as he watches you struggle to sit up.

“You think I have the energy to ride you after you just did that? And why do you keep saying Spiderman enjoys these things like they’re facts—you don’t know.”

“Just a feeling,” he responds, licking his lips. His hands find your hips, and he grinds you downwards. Your sensitive pussy rubs against his aching length, still trapped behind his sweatpants, and it’s hard to miss the way Peter harshly swallows at the feeling.

You sigh, scooting backwards.

“Fine.”

You shove his sweats and boxers down his thighs, careful to not snag them on his dick. And damn, he really must be aching—a sticky string of precum dripping from the head of his cock, and pooling on his abdomen.

He opens his mouth, but you don’t give him the chance to say anything. Your fingers wrap around his cock, smearing his arousal across his length, and whatever Peter had been planning to say crumbles into a needy garble of non-words.

You can’t help but smile at the sound.

“Surprised you didn’t cream your pants already,” you tell him, but your tone is hardly teasing. No, seeing him beneath you like this—the muscles in his torso clenching with every stroke of your hand—it’s actually quite endearing.

“I’ll cum in your hand if you keep doing that,” he pants, glancing into your eyes. You spot nothing but lust there, any previous reservations gone.

“Is that so bad?” you ask, thumbing at the head of his cock. Peter’s grip on your waist tightens, and you hear him take a shaky breath.

“Yes.”

He wants to be inside you, that much is clear. And while it’d be so easy to draw it out and make him beg…you don’t feel like being mean to him. Not tonight, after he’d just given you the best oral of your life.

“Fine,” you relinquish. You scoot forward, planting one hand on his chest, and gripping the base of his cock with the other. Peter’s breath catches when you rub the head of his cock between your folds, a heady groan following a beat later as you begin sinking down onto him.

By the time his cock is fully inside of you, your thighs are shaking. Whether from the lack of energy due to your previous orgasm, the remarkable size of Peter inside of you, or both—you’re not totally sure.

“There’s no rush,” Peter reassures you, but the needy warble of his voice betrays his words.

“My legs might give out at some point,” you respond with a breathless laugh, and Peter echos you, giving your waist a squeeze.

“That’s fine. I’ll help.”

With your palms planted firmly on his chest, you begin to ride him.

And god, you feel so fucking good.

“Fuck,” Peter bites out, watching the space between your bodies, where his cock disappears inside of you with every roll of your hips. It’s been ages since a cunt has squeezed his dick like this, and honestly, he can see himself very easily getting addicted to the feel of you.

The bounce of your tits as you ride him, the cute little sounds you make when his cock rubs against the sensitive spots inside you—he feels like he’s going crazy.

“Peter,” you whine, your pace flattering. Having his cock inside of you is incomparable to the feeling of his fingers, and very quickly, you can feel another orgasm building, but…the closer you get, the more your strength falters.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he responds, praises falling from his lips. “You’re doing so good. You feel so good.”

His words cause your walls to clench around him, and he groans—his hands sliding down to your hips as he helps rock you down onto his cock. The sloppy sound of sex fills your bedroom, and you watch Peter with half-lidded eyes, soaking up the desperation showing on his face.

His hair is slicked back with sweat, brows pinched together in concentration as he forces you to continue riding him. At least, until he starts craving more.

With his orgasm quickly approaching—despite the immense pleasure he gains seeing you bouncing on top of him—Peter’s hunger gets the best of him.

He grabs your wrists, moves your arms so they’re wrapped around his shoulders, and then secures his arms around your back. Before you can even digest the slight change in position, Peter is fucking you.

An incoherent string of noise slips past your lips, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as his cock pistons inside of you. With his arms trapping you against his chest, you’re helpless but to take it—your orgasm rushing to the surface at the desperate yet brutal pace that Peter sets.

“Peter,” you sob into his neck.

“It’s okay,” he responds without missing a beat, his voice breathless. “I’m right there. Cum for me again, sweetheart.”

As if you could stop.

Holding onto him for dear life, you cum for the second time that night—your walls clamping down on his cock so tightly that Peter’s rhythm falters. A curse rips from his throat, and his hands find the plush of your ass—stuffing your body down onto his dick as he cums along with you—pumping you full of his seed.

The needy tension of the room melts away, and you and Peter can only lay there—a pile of sweaty yet sated flesh. It takes you both a minute to catch your breaths, and you make a quiet noise of disappointment when Peter’s cock slips out of you.

You can feel his cum running out of your pussy.

“Your balls aren’t dried up yet?”

Peter’s chest rumbles beneath you.

“I’m in my 30’s, not my 60’s.”

You glance up at him when you feel Peter’s fingers clearing the hair away from your face, and he smiles at you. Your heart jumps.

He must know how handsome he is, right? Even with that crooked nose of his.

“Don’t you ever get tired of taking cracks at me?” he wonders, using his grip on your ass to slide you farther up his chest. You giggle, cupping his cheeks as you find yourself suddenly face to face with him.

“Mmmm, no?”

He rolls his eyes, yet his smile widens. You lean down to kiss him, and he reciprocates easily enough.

“Feeling good?” you ask him, carding your fingers through his hair. He nods.

“Very. I…really missed that.”

“Same,” you agree, sitting back. You need to get to the bathroom before any cum gets on your nice sheets. You crawl off of Peter, swinging your legs over the side of your mattress. He rolls onto his side, watching you with furrowed brows as he tucks his dick back into his pants.

“Same? You haven’t—?”

“Not in a while,” you admit, pulling a fresh shirt and a pair of panties from your dresser drawers. You’re about to make a joke that the only action you’ve gotten recently is from the toys stashed under your bed, but when you turn to look at the spot where they’re hidden, you find that…the box has moved. It’s not where you had left it.

“Did you…find my sex toys? Before I came home?”

Peter’s face goes carefully blank, but the red flush of his ears betrays him.

You shoot him a glare, leaving your room with a huff.

“Dude doesn’t trust me…how fucking rude…”

“Hey now—!”

Peter’s feet pound against the floor as he chases after you, and he catches you around the waist just before you make it into your bathroom. His lips press against the crown of your head.

“Again, I’m sorry for snooping. I’m dumb.”

You sigh, wriggling around to face him.

“You are,” you agree, lightly patting his chest. “Dumb, and insistent that Spider man loves tits, eating pussy, and getting ridden. Still holding those beliefs?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Peter grins. “And I have other beliefs about his preferences as well.”

“Of course you do,” you laugh. You kiss his cheek, and then step out of his hold—heading into the bathroom.

“I’m going to shower,” you tell him. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you want any.”

Peter nods, and the last thing you see is him heading for your fridge when you close the bathroom door.

30 minutes later, you exit your steaming bathroom in your fresh oversized t-shirt and panties, fully expecting to find Peter lounging around your apartment, eating all your food. But…to your utter disappointment, you don’t spot him anywhere.

You sigh, shoulders sagging. Had it been too much to assume he would have wanted to stay the night?

Shuffling into your kitchen, you spot an empty plate on your table. One that you know had previously been piled high with leftover chicken and potatoes.

“He eats my food and runs off…of course,” you mumble, picking up the plate to put it in the sink. However, before your annoyance can truly get the better of you, a piece of paper that had been stuck to the bottom of the plate floats to the ground.

You bend over to pick it up.

Hey!

Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to stay so long, so I left my apartment earlier without locking the door. I’m running back home to lock it, but I should be back at your place by 9!

Don’t get mad at me. I’d never run off without a word :p

-PB

PS. I have a working theory that Spiderman also has more stamina than you’d expect, even for a guy who’s been doing hero work for 20+ years, so…round two when I get back?

You can’t help but laugh.

What an idiot.

But…you like him.

#peter b parker x reader #peter b parker smut #peter b parker #i can't believe I'm posting this on tumblr #immediately going back to only posting on AO3 bc it's so much easier to format LMAO #fic #reader insert #reader x peter b parker #peter b parker x you #peter b parker x y/n

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aww-canon-no · 1 year

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Projects self all over Deaf Steve:

He wants to be a writer, but after getting made fun of by his English teacher, he never tells anyone about this.

He was born Hard of Hearing with progressives loss. By kindergarten he’s profoundly deaf, but crappy parents just stick him in mainstream school and hope for the best. They live in a small town so resources are terrible and Steve scrapes by with his horrible bulky hearing aids until he just abandons them because being cool is better than sound anyway.

He learns ASL because he’s got one speech therapist who actually learned about the Deaf community, and it sits in his brain so much better, but it makes switching from ASL to English hard and everyone thinks he’s dumb.

His teachers have written him off.

He starts writing out of spite- learning to turn sentences into lyrical, poetic prose that feel like water rushing over smooth stones whenever he reads them. But he doesn’t show anyone because when he goes over his work he still finds spots where he gets nouns and verbs swapped, and he drops articles and plurals are hard to remember, okay? They just don’t make any SENSE in English sometimes.

And yeah his teachers were probably right, even if he never lets go of his petty dreams.

He gets a job working for his dad. It’s all hearing people and it’s hard and the end of the day he’s exhausted in spite of the fact that it’s not hard labor. He naps a lot.

He’s still close with the kids he used to babysit so on some days he goes to visit Mike’s house and annoy Nancy who pretends like she’s not happy to see him now that they’re just friends. The kids have been MIA for a while and Steve finds out why.

He goes down to the basement and one of the prettiest men he’s ever laid eyes on is sitting on a makeshift throne with a book propped up in front of him. Steve can’t see his lips so he can’t make out what he’s saying but whatever it is, he can tell the guy’s really into it by how the boys are really into it.

His name is Eddie and he talks with his whole body.

When he notices Steve, he also starts throwing in some signs which...

Steve will unpack that later.

Later, Dustin explains DnD to him. It’s story telling, and it makes Steve feel things. He’ll never admit to being interested. Ever.

But he shows up more and Eddie invites him to sit and peek at his notes, and Steve starts making quiet suggestions behind the partition on his fingers once he realizes Eddie’s not fluent but at least conversational. Eddie looks at Steve with big doe-eyes and an expression of wonder.

He personally invites Steve back.

Together they start planning a campaign and when it’s over--it lasts twenty-eight hours played over two weeks--Eddie cups his face and tells him that it was beautiful thanks to Steve.

At some point, they kiss, because they’re both so obviously in love there’s no point in hiding it anymore.

Eddie shows Steve his music, and Steve buys Eddie some really powerful ear plugs so Eddie can experience how Steve listens to it.

One day Steve suddenly feels like he can’t hide anymore so he shows up at Eddie’s house and dumps a thumb drive in his palm and tells him it’s stupid but he just wanted to share something.

Eddie disappears for two days, and Steve thinks yeah. It was that bad.

Then Eddie appears with spicy chicken sandwiches in a greasy bag and throws Steve onto his bed and kisses the breath out of him before signing to him that his stories were the best things he’s ever read, and the world should probably know.

Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever actually pursue writing. But he might write more for Eddie.

#Deaf Steve Harrington #Steddie #Steve x Eddie #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #Modern AU

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sainamoonshine · 9 months

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Okay so I finally watched Good Omens season 2 and have tons of thoughts about it, especially how the minisodes and side-plots do so much work, thematically.

*slaps flashback segment on the roof* this bad boy contains so much subtext!!

And here’s my analysis about some of it:

The side plots are about at least three main themes that I can spot.

1. They are all, in some way, about resurrection. The children of Job. The Nazi Zombies. The resurrectionist. Miracles being rated on a scale of how many people they can bring back from the dead. Even Gabriel, in some way, arriving naked and without his memories and innocent as a babe, then finding himself again was a form of resurrection.

This, of course, has to do with foreshadowing season two, the one where the main plot point is going to be the second coming.

2. They were all about how much it’s a bad idea to mess with humans. All flashback minisodes either had someone die directly because Aziraphale and Crowley were around (Wee Morag, the guy at the magic shop), or almost die because Heaven and Hell said so (Job’s childrens). In present-day time, Aziraphale’s messing about with people during the ball is explicitely called out as creepy and wrong and Nina & Maggie have a talk with Crowley about it.

This leads to my theory that this is also going to be a major theme in the third season. We know that in the book, Adam explicitly tells heaven and hell to stop interfering. We also know that in the show, Aziraphale and to a smaller extend Crowley need to learn this lesson.

I also think that the resolution of the next season is probably going to involve Earth being marked definitely off limits to angels/demons, possibly via the same mechanism that makes the shop into a safe heaven you need to be invited in (and the same thing became true of the Bentley once Aziraphale claimed it! As pointed out here , Shax had to hitchhike to get in, instead of appearing inside as she did before). Earth needs to be claimed. I think that this will happen either by a combined miracle of incredible proportions from both Crowley and Aziraphale after they reunite, or (and this is my pet theory) by a combined miracle of incredible proportions by Adam and whoever is the new Jesus (I am a greasy Johnson truther lol). This would make Earth a place that you need to be invited in order to go there, and therefore safe haven for angels and demons who promise not to cause trouble.

3. All of the side plots and minisodes are about misdirection. Sleight of hand. Smoke and mirrors. Magic tricks. Showing one thing while something else is true.

This is shown obviously in the Job part and also in London 1941, with the party who is getting tricked being heaven and hell, respectively. Meanwhile, Gabriel and Beelzebub are trying to trick everyone. But who is tricked by the plot lines of Nina/Maggie, and Elspeth/Wee Morag?

We are. The audience is.

It has been pointed out here and here that Nina is meant to make us think she’s a parallel to Crowley when she is actually more of an Aziraphale thematically, and vice-versa.

But what about Elspeth and Wee Morag? We have one that robs graveyards, and one who tells her that is wrong and is worried about her eternal soul. That seems straightforward enough as a mirror to Crowley and Aziraphale, no? Well, let’s just look at what they’re doing and saying to each other, shall we?

“Don’t do this incredibly wrong and dangerous thing. It will have repercussions that you can’t even begin to understand right now.”

“I’m doing this for you! You deserve better than this life!”

“I don’t want the better life you’re offering. I would rather huddle with you here, homeless and poor but knowing you’re safe and that we’re together, than to know you alone out there doing horrible things you’ve convinced yourself you need to do.”

“I do need to do it. Trust me! This is going to fix everything! And if you don’t want me to be alone, then come with me. There! Problem solved!”

(Problem very much not solved.)

Doesn’t this sound, a tiny little bit, like a certain season finale to you guys? Elspeth was, in fact, Aziraphale all along. She thought she knew what was best, and she barrelled along without listening to anyone else, and then it went horribly wrong.

There is a reason why both times this season that we see Aziraphale fucking up someone else’s plan (the corpse to sell, Crowley’s contraband whiskey) because he initially reads it as a bad thing and thinks he’s doing good by destroying it, without having the full context, it backfires on him and then the situation has to be fixed. He needs to stop and understand things properly before taking actions. He needs, in short, to ask questions.

We see that the one time he did ask questions before acting was during the whole Job thing, and it worked out the best out of all the sub plots this season, right? … except that Aziraphale was convinced that he would Fall for his actions there. The way Crowley had fallen for asking questions.

And if the only person whose assessment of the situation matches Aziraphale’s is a demon, if the only one who is doing what he personally thinks is the Right Thing is a demon, then gosh… either that means that Aziraphale himself should therefore also be a demon, OR it means that Crowley shouldn’t be one, and this was all just one big misunderstanding, and maybe if I just speak to the manager…?

#good omens #good omens spoilers #go2 spoilers #go 2 speculation #good omens meta #meta #good omens season 3 speculation #good omens season 2 #good omens season 2 meta #good omens analysis

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obsessedwithceleste · 1 month

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So American

Lorenzo Berkshire x reader

Summary: based on this request🫶🏽 So American by Olivia Rodrigo is ON LOOP💕

word count: 3.4k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Pushing open the heavy doors, eyes begin turn and you try to ignore all the chattering and stares directed your way as you make your way into the dimly lit defense against the darks art class room.

You knew people would talk. Transfer students were rare. And transferring during the sixth year? Basically unheard of. So the intrigued whispers were valid you supposed. But that didn’t make them any less annoying, and didn’t make you feel any less self conscious.

“You’re the new student aren’t you?” A voice asks, startling you.

You look to your side to see a girl with pale skin and short, cropped black hair staring up at you from her seat. A slight smirk dancing on her lips as she leans back in her chair.

“Uh yeah, that’s me,” you reply cautiously.

You hadn’t made any friends quite yet, though not for lack of trying. It was all just a bit overwhelming.

The girl tilts her head, looking at you in consideration.

“Sit.” She says, patting the seat next to her. “I’m Pansy. Pansy Parkinson. I want to hear all about wherever it is you came from. I’ll bet Daph and Milly would too. We don’t get new students often.”

"Yeah, I kind of got the sense," you reply, gingerly taking a seat.

The two girls sitting at the desk in front of Pansy look back, offering friendly smiles as you place your bag on the ground beside you.

“So where exactly did you transfer from?” Pansy asks, leaning in.

“I’m from America. I just transferred here from Ilvermorny,” You reply.

“That is so wicked,” Daphne gasps, beginning to look excited.

“Have you ever pet an eagle?” Milly asks.

Pansy turns to the girl, making a face. “Millicent, it’s the American muggles who worship eagles,” she says with an annoyed huff.

You open your mouth to correct them when a voice from behind you interrupts.

“Hey, that’s my spot.”

The four of you turn now to see a boy with platinum blonde hair glowering at you. A rowdy looking group of boys surrounding him.

“Oh bugger off Draco. Haven’t you met the new student? They’re from America,” Pansy says, dismissing the boy with a wave of her hand.

“Yeah? How’d you find yourself on this side of the ocean?” The boy, Draco asks, crossing his arms.

“My mom works for the American ministry, our family got sent over as part of the ambassador program,” you reply easily, not really liking the boy’s tone.

“Ha. Mom. Listen to them, they’re so American!” One of the other boys laughs.

“Oh shut it Lorenzo,” Daphne sighs, giving the boy a light whack on the arm.

“Wow, I'm using American dialect, who would’ve thought? It’s almost like I’m from America. Shocker,” you retort.

Pansy lets out a snort. “Oh I do believe I’m going to like you.” She says, giving you a large smile. “And Draco, for Salazar’s sake, go sit with Enzo. Not everything is about you.”

“You’ll have to excuse the boys, they’re, well- boys. They’ll grow on you,” Daphne tells you with a grimace.

You let out a laugh as the professor appears at the front of the room and a hush falls over the classroom.

You do your best to concentrate on the lesson, not wanting to start the year off with a bad impression, but can’t help but notice the cheeky smiles the brunette boy, Lorenzo, keeps shooting you from a few rows over. No matter how many times you try to refocus, your eyes keep wandering over, meeting his. Pushing him from your mind, you force yourself to once more to focus on the professor at the front. His long, black hair was awfully greasy.

“Professor Binns is a drag. He’s dead, and wants us all to die of boredom so that we suffer with him,” Daphne tells you.

“And Flitwick is a bit of a loon, but at least he’s entertaining,” Pansy adds.

“And course there Snape. Scary as all hell, but won’t bother you long as you’re quiet and mind your business.”

Tapping your glass with your wand, you shake excitedly as it fills to the brim with coffee. You had a particular weakness for iced lattes and hadn’t had a good one in ages. The group of Slytherin girls had once again accosted you, not that you minded, and had taken it upon themselves to give you a full run down of the school. Now, the four of you sat in the Great Hall as it slowly filled with students eager for dinner.

“Hey ‘merica,” a voice greets cheerfully from behind you.

You turn to see Lorenzo grinning down at you as he takes the seat on your open side, the rest of the boys joining as well.

“Havin a cup of coffee?” One of the other boys, Mattheo, asks in what’s probably the worst American accent you’d ever heard. Somehow the teasing was significantly less charming when he did it.

“Bloody hell Lorenzo, Matt, leave the girl alone. Being from America is not her only personality trait.” Pansy says with exasperation.

“Oh come off it Pans, I’m only teasing. Besides, look at her, drinking iced coffee, so American.” Lorenzo laughs.

“Sorry I’m not interested in drinking your dried leaf water,” you reply, rolling your eyes. But you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you.

Lorenzo gives you a satisfied smirk before going to fill his plate with food, and when you turn back to the girls, a huge smile is plastered across Daphne’s face.

He so likes you. She mouths, looking rather giddy.

You choose to ignore the girl however, opting instead to turn back to Pansy.

“What does the rest of your schedule look like tomorrow?” She asks, leaning over to look at the class list you’d placed on the table before you.

“Dunno. Dumbledore just gave me the list when I arrived, didn’t really get a say in picking classes,” you reply with a shrug.

“He clearly has taste, I’ll see you tomorrow in herbology ‘merica,” Enzo butts in, glancing at the page himself.

“Oh shove it pretty boy,” Pansy retorts, not even bothering to look over at the boy who was smiling down at you warmly.

“Don’t worry love, I’ll save you a seat.”

The rest of dinner goes smoothly as you seem to fit right in with the group of Slytherins who had apparently decided to keep you. While a bit of a prick at first, Enzo was growing on you, laughing at all your jokes and over all just making you feel at home.

“I don’t know what you put in that boy’s tea, but it’s working,” Daphne says lightheartedly as the four of you leave the dining hall.

“Sorry?” You ask, caught very much off guard.

“Enzo. I’ve never seen him warm up to someone so fast. He’s usually a right foul git,” Milly explains.

Pansy sighs, “What Millicent means, is Enzo isn’t usually one to be overly friendly to new people,” Pansy says.

“Oh. Well, I don’t know that he’s friendly with me, so much as teasing constantly,” you reply, growing nervous as you’re not quite able to make out the direction of the conversation.

“Oh no. He’s totally into you, he wasn’t being a complete pompous prick tonight” Daphne reassures confidently as you make your way back down the stairs to the dungeon.

“You are so lucky that we’re here to guide you,” Pansy declares.

The next day, you find your way out to the greenhouse and are honestly unsurprised to find that Enzo had stayed true to his word, saving you a seat next to him at one of the creeky, wooden tables covered in greenery.

“Didn’t pick you out to be one for herbology,” you comment idly as you take your seat next to the pretty brunette boy.

Lorenzo smirks over at you. “Think I can’t get my hands dirty?” He asks with a teasing grin.

“Well we wouldn’t want you breaking a nail would we?” You reply, shooting a sly look back at the boy.

“Not to worry love, lucky for you, I’m the best herbologist in the class so you won’t have to worry about my pristine nail beds thank you very much.”

“Lorenzo Berkshire, you are an arrogant prick,” you say with a laugh.

“You like it.”

You feel heat rushing to your cheeks as you turn away, eyes roaming the greenhouse for the Professor. You see the plump old lady waddling up to the front of the room, a cart of strange cactus looking plants following dutifully behind her.

“Well?” She prods, once she’s standing at the front, gazing ahead at the rows of students. “The Mimbulus mimbletonia isn’t going to walk itself to your stations now is it? Come along!” She urges, gesturing for everyone to approach the cart to collect one of the oozy looking plants.

You see Lorenzo’s nose scrunch up in disgust as you both choose a pot from the cart.

“Careful not to touch the books,” Enzo murmurs to you, gingerly lifting his plant and making his way back to your table.

You follow closely behind, noting the rather putrid smell the plant emitted. You let out a shudder.

“Who can tell me the properties of these lovely specimens?” The Professor, who Lorenzo whispers is called Professor Sprout, asks as students are still moving around to collect their plant. “Mr. Longbottom?”

“It’s known for being rather squirming I think. And if you poke the boils, it squirts out stinknap. My gran used to collect bottles of the stuff,” a timid looking boy answers from the back of the class.

“Excellent! 5 points to Gryffindor!” Sprout exclaims gleefully, clapping her hands with excitement.

Lorenzo scowls at the boy who visibly shrinks back.

“Mr. Longbottom was quite right! We will be extracting the stinknap from our Mimbulus mimbletonia today as it’s a rather rare potion ingredient indeed!”

Professor Sprout goes on to demonstrate the technique used to extract the foul smelling liquid and you force yourself to listen intently, not wanting the rancid smelling odor all over you.

Once Professor Sprout releases the class back to perform the task themselves, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that Lorenzo is able to replicate the process with flawless precision.

You watch in fascination as the boy’s usually soft features harden with concentration as he carefully fills his first vial. You watch him fill a second before moving over to your own plant to copy his process.

“Make sure you keep a consistent pressure, that way it won’t spurt out at random,” the boy tells you as your vial slowly begins to fill. You keep a steady concentration, determined to impress the boy, eyes not leaving the task before you.

The vial is almost full when you suddenly feel yourself being shoved forward. Your concentration broken, the boil spews out the foul smelling liquid, covering your robes in the sticky substance.

Whipping around, you see the tall boy from earlier, Longbottom was it? Looking at you with wide eyes.

“What the bloody hell Longbottom?” Lorenzo snaps, glaring at the boy who’s now visibly shaking.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to bump into you! Just almost dropped my plant is all, I’m sorry!” The boy stutters, stumbling over his words under Lorenzo’s piercing stare.

You feel bad for the boy as it was clearly an accident, but can’t help being annoyed that you’re now covered in manure smelling gunk.

“It’s fine,” you sigh, stripping your robe off. Surely Professor Sprout would understand you not wearing your foul smelling robe. You grimace seeing the slimy substance splattered across the fabric. The poor house elves wear going to have one hell of a time getting that stain out.

With a quick nod, Longbottom scurries off without another word.

“He’s always been a bit of a wanker,” Enzo mutters, still glaring at the retreating back of the boy before turning his attention back to you. “Here, take this,” he says, shrugging off his own robe and offering it to you.

“Oh, it’s really fine,” you try to tell him, but he insists. After a bit of back and forth, you finally give in, sliding the still-warm robes on.

“You’re pretty wearing my clothes,” Lorenzo tells you with a satisfied smirk.

“Oh shove off,” you laugh, feeling heat rise in your cheeks once more.

“Oi, shove off,” he mimics with an ever familiar teasing grin. “Your accent is so American.”

“Yeah? You like it.”

It was a windy day for a quidditch match you thought as you brushed your hair away from your face for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Do you have quidditch in America?” Daphne asks from her spot right next to you in the stands.

You, Daphne, Pansy, and Millicent had managed to wade through the crowds of students to the front of the stands, securing a perfect view of the pitch.

“Of course. I used to play for my house at Ilvermorny,” you reply, watching as the two teams enter the field.

“Really? I was never much into quidditch, but Matty always likes when I watch his games. He’s the beater, just there,” Daph chatters, pointing out the curly haired boy on the field below.

“And there’s your lover boy. Lorenzo’s a chaser, long with Theodore and Marcus,” Pansy adds, giving you a playful nudge.

You just roll your eyes at the girl’s playful antics, but can’t help the small smile that forms on your lips as you see Enzo wave up to the stands in your direction. Of course Pansy takes notice, but says nothing, allowing her smug smile to speak for itself.

After your herbology class, Lorenzo just kept popping up everywhere. It probably had something to do with the fact that he was friends the group of girls that had accosted you, but he always seemed to have an eye for you.

Just this morning at breakfast he had taken his usual seat beside you, determined to ensure your presence at his match today. He’d even given you one of his thick green and silver scarves ‘so that you’d fit right in’ he’d said.

You watch contentedly as the match begins, the dark green robes contrasting nicely against yellow. Lorenzo weaves through the air with enviable agility, working seamlessly with Theo and Marcus. It’s not even ten minutes in when Theo is able to make the first goal of the game.

“Slytherin usually has a pretty easy match against Hufflepuff,” Pansy tells you, eyes not leaving Blaise as he and Mattheo wreak havoc on the other team.

Pansy’s words seem to ring true as the match goes on with Slytherin able to take a sixty point lead.

Watching the match it’s easy to begin missing home. Quidditch had been something you looked forward to every school year, and you missed your teammates. Watching Lorenzo, Theo, and Marcus now and the ease with which they worked together to make the game seem effortless felt like a blow to the gut.

It was a fun match to watch, and you couldn’t help but cheer wildly when Lorenzo scored yet another goal. But in the back of your mind, you wished it was you on that pitch. You really hadn’t felt a sense of homesickness since moving, so it surprised you that it was hitting you now of all times.

Still, you continue to smile and cheer, hoping the adrenaline of Slytherin’s win would overtake you as you and the other girls rush down to the field to congratulate the boys on a match well played.

“Hey ‘merica, enjoy the match?” Lorenzo asks, his charismatic smile practically glowing as he steps off the pitch.

You’re about to respond when you get your first real good look at the boy in front of you.

Shit.

His fluffy, brown is tossled from the wind and you can see the sheen of sweat across his forehead. And his uniform. God, his quidditch uniform fit him deliciously.

“It was great,” you finally spit out, horrified by the way your thoughts had spiraled dangerously off course.

Making eye contact with Enzo though, you’re a thousand percent sure the boy knew exactly what you were thinking if his sly smirk was anything to go off of.

Daphne swoops in to unknowlingly save you however, as she sidles up next to you.

“Enz, did you know y/n played quidditch in America?” She asks, resting her arm on your shoulder and cocking her head to the side innocently.

Lorenzo’s eyebrows shoot up at this as he glances down at you in surprise.

“Really? We’ll have to go flying sometime then.” He replies, his smile reverting comfortably on his face.

"Yeah! Today seemed like such a nice day for flying though," Daphne comments.

“‘Fraid I don’t have my broom,” you respond, trying to make out what Daphne was getting at.

“That’s alright, I have mine right here,” he says, thumping his broom lightly on the ground.

Daphne watches the two of you banter with delight.

"You should take her flying Enz. Come one y/n, I saw the way you were looking at those brooms earlier. You totally were thinking about going for a ride," she tells him. You can tell she's egging the two of you on.

"Oh, I don't know if now's the best time-"

"What's Enzo doing now? You're not cutting out of the afterparty now are you?" Mattheo asks, coming over and wrapping a sweaty arm around Daphne. Her nose wrinkles in disgust, but she doesn't say anything.

"Think I'm going to take 'merica here for a spin on the broom, hear she used to play quidditch herself," Lorenzo tells him before you can protest. "We'll be back before the party starts, we'll meet you there."

As though it had already been decided, Lorenzo hops back on his broom, patting the spot in front of him, gesturing for you to get on.

"Go on, we'll catch up with you later," Daphne says, shooing you forward.

Hesitantly, you climb on, hyper aware of the fact that Lorenzo's arms were now wrapped securely around you, his breath tickling the hairs on your neck. He kicks off, and the two of you soar into the sky, your friends getting lost in the distance.

You feel a smile grow on your face as the wind blows wildly through your hair. Leaning forward and closing your eyes you revel in the feeling of freedom that flying brings you. You'd missed the feeling of being on your broom more than you'd realized.

"Having a good time love?" Enzo asks, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

"Mhmm. Didn't realize how homesick I'd get just watching a quidditch match. Seems so silly," you reply.

"It's not silly," Enzo reassures, "were you any good?" he asks. You can't see his face, but you can practically see the teasing grin in his voice.

"My house won the cup two years in a row," you boost proudly. "I was a chaser too. Maybe I should join the quidditch team here."

"Yeah? Think you could beat me?"

"Why? Afraid of a little competition? It wouldn't be the first time us Americans beat you Brits," you taunt.

"Ha ha, 'merica. Original." Lorenzo responds dryly. You can feel the boy shaking his head at you from behind.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm so American, I know."

"You are though! What kind of psycho puts ice in their water?" He protests.

"Those of us who want cold water! Obviously. But in all seriousness, you wouldn't stand a chance against me on the pitch" you laugh.

When you don't hear Lorenzo laugh with you, you lean back, turning to find your noses brushing as he stares down intently at you. You suddenly realize that your back is now nested contentedly into his chest as his arms tighten around you. It feels as though all thoughts disappear from your brain as you lean in, closing the gap between you.

It starts out gentle at first, as if Lorenzo was shocked that you had actually kissed him. But as soon as realization fully hits him, he takes over with a determined hunger, moving his soft lips eagerly against your own. You find yourself lost in the warmth spreading over you as the whole sensation leaves you buzzing. His lips work against your in a mesmerizing dance, your head spinning as you melt into him.

You don't even realize immediately when your feet touch the ground once more, forgetting that you had previously been soaring over the school grounds just moments ago.

"How?" you ask, your mind still hazy.

Lorenzo just laughs, his hands grasping your waist to steady you.

"What can I say? Maybe I'm just the better flyer."

"Oh as if, you just distracted me," you scoff.

"Yeah? Let me do it again."

I simply do not want to talk about how long it took me to write this okay? Okay.

Anyway, channeled my inner Mean Girls obsession into this one, cry abt it🫶🏽

#lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys #slytherin #enzo berkshire #theodore nott #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire fanfic #lorenzo berkshire fanfiction #lorenzo berkshire x y/n #mattheo riddle #pansy parkinson #daphne greengrass #harry potter universe

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minhosimthings · 5 months

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You get me so High

Symphony Smut Series Day 17: The Neighborhood's You get me so high.

Lyric: We should stick together, you're my best friend I love you forever.

Pairings: bestfriend!Jake × fem!reader, best friends to lovers eyy

Warnings: smut minors dni, oral (f recieving), p in v sex, dirty talk, mentions of cheating, sex on the couch cause we be wilding, idk any other warning for this, oh yeah ITS FLUFFY AT THE END

A/N: alright the second last day and I'm finishing ths series tomorrow (probably) so for today it is my husband my loml my everything Jake! Tomorrow will be Minho also my loml and my husband.

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

Once upon a time there lived a princess. And there lived a prince. And both of them were the bestest friends ever. Singing bad karaoke, eating greasy pizza, tweeting the most obscene things about each other and giggling about them, going to parties with each other as friends, and even drunkenly kissing each other only to forget about it in next morning.

And they regretted it.

They regretted that they found other people. People who they 'loved'. Well if the definition of love was pity, then my statement would be true.

And now here they were, wound up cuddling on the prince's sofa, while the princess cried to the prince about parties and cards and people who cheated on one another.

"Princess calm down, you'll pass out." Jake stroked your back with his hand, each delicate finger leaving an impression on you. He was so...soft with you, as if you were a fragile feather.

"Why-would they do that?" You hiccuped, looking up at Jake, your tear stained face breaking his heart even more, "I-I thought-"

"We thought wrong." Jake scoffed, his tone for the first time, laced with venom, "Bitches." He mumbled under his breath. His girlfriend had been a cheating bitch and your boyfriend had also been on the ratio, kissing each other right in front of you and Jake as soon as they thought you two weren't there.

"We're stupid aren't we?" You laughed coldly, "So fucking stupid."

"I'm the stupid one here." Jake breathed out, along with a chuckle.

Now or never isn't it?

Gripping you tighter by your waist, Jake bent down to your level and pressed his lips to yours. It seemed as that moment, that butterflies had erupted out of nowhere, as your lips danced with Jake's ever so delicately. You had never imagined that a kiss from a person you love would feel so.... wonderful. Sure you had kissed other people but, Jake. Jake was different. His lips felt like sweet melted ice cream, and like those caramels he always loved so much.

Although Jake could have stayed on your lips forever, cherishing the soft touch of winter and spring, he knew you needed to take a breath too, so he pulled away, leaving you a bit warmer than you were before.

"I-Im sorry I didn't know why I did-"

Jake didn't have time to finish his sentence as you grabbed his collar and kissed him again.

The sudden passion caught him off guard. Jake's body pinned you against the sofa, but you quickly melted into the kiss, savoring the sensation of Jake's tongue on your lips. Almost instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. His left hand gripped your hip firmly, eliciting a moan from you. You allowed his tongue to explore your mouth, experiencing the rough yet passionate and intimate kiss that left you breathless. When the need for air became too pressing, he released your lips, placing his forehead against yours, locking eyes.

His eyes were filled with lust and a need for you, causing shivers down your spine. Aroused by his primal actions, you heard him whisper against your mouth, "You're so beautiful, princess. I can't hold it back."

Jake's kisses moved from your lips down to your neck leaving you breathless. His lips left little spots that would soon turn into hickeys, then shortly moved back to your lips.

Jake'ss lips moved down to your chest, he gripped one of your breasts, it was your turn to groan now. He pulled back and looked down at your shirt, gently tugging at the bottom, silently asking to take it off. you nodded and he slid it up over your head. You were now left in a black lace bra.

"Oh?" Jake raised a brow at you, "You're wearing my gift?"

"Just in case." You giggled, tugging at his curls, as he bent down to peck sweetly at your neck.

Jake dipped his head back down and continued kissing along your breasts. slowing making his way down your chest and along your stomach. you squirmed under his gentle kisses, letting out a desperate moan. Jake's chuckles vibrated against your hot skin, making you want more.

Jake pressed a kiss against your panties then giving a small lick, to tease you. “please Jake,” you half-whispered, half-whimpered out. that was all it took for Jake to essentially rip of your panties. “You’re already soaked,” he said.

"Only for you", you breathed out, and watched as his eyes looked up to meet yous as he went lower, and you hands quickly found their way into his hair as he dipped his tongue inside of you. "Fuck", youmumbled as he licked up to you clit and started to suck at it. You knew he was experienced, but you didn't know just how good he was at it.

You felt his finger enter you as his tongue swirled around your clit in a steady rhythm. Your grip in his hair tightened as you could feel a pleasurable pressure build up inside you.

Jake could tell you was getting closer, he inserted a second finger into you and hooked his fingers, rubbing just the right spot inside you while continuing to lick and suck at your clit.

Your hips roll riding his tongue, pleasure tightening deep inside your core. “Oh Jayeun fuck!” You felt yourself already coming close to the edge. Jake smiles against your clit watching your facial expressions as he flicks his tongue and sucks. It was a beautiful and addicting sight. He slides a finger inside you and watches you gasp at the sudden sensation. “Fuck youre so tight”Your moans falling endlessly out your mouth your hips grinding against his fingers and tongue. “Jake I’m gonna I-“ you can’t finish the words as you feel your climax coming fast.

"Jayeun, jaey- ahhh fuck fuck fuck!"

You moaned his name as you came, your vision going spotty and a light ringing in your ear for a moment as you slowed your breathing.

He finally took his fingers out and kissed the inside of your thigh as he smiled up at you. Jake didn't give you much recovery time as he kissed back up your body, stopping at your neck to suck a mark, his mark, just below your ear. Your hands travelled down his back, scratching as he ground against you.

"Fuck you tasted exactly like I imagined." Jake chuckled, his hands slowly travelling upto your breasts.

"You've imagined that?" You asked meekly, earning another kiss from Jake. "You don't know the things I have imagined." Jake whispered in your ear, sending vibrations throughout your body, "if you did, we wouldn't just be best friends."

"Fuck me properly and then I'll be your girlfriend."

Jake's face lit up as he heard your words. He didn't need to wait for an invitation, but hearing yours made his dick extra hard.

You leaned forward pushing Jake down to the sofa as you captured his lips in a searing kiss and straddled his hips, he ran his hands from your waist down to your thighs as he gripped them tightly "I've wanted thus for so long" you said panting as you pulled back slightly only to move your kisses down his neck.

“Ready to be a good girl for me princess?” his voice was demanding and lustful. Your eyes widen, jaw drops low and you can’t think. Jake drops his pants and his hard erection bounces out. You’re almost drooling at the sight, forgetting now all about what had happened that day. His tip was red and dripping with precum already. You needed it in your cunt.

Suddenly he pins your wrists against the couch and slams his cock into your dripping pussy. You gasp and cry out in pleasure and suprise. He plunges into you not allowing you time to adjust. His cock was thick, stretching you open.

Your jaw falls slack when you gasp at the feeling of him stretching you out, his lips pull tight together in a grunt, “so tight for me, princess— jesus christ..”

Your head fills with pleasures, not a single thought could form in your head. “Fuck you feel so good doll” he groans holding your hips down and slamming deeper inside you. “G-god Jake! Feels…s-so good!” You cry. “Is this the dick you wanted? Is it better than his?” he says as he fucks Into you harder.

Your eyes begin to roll back feeling how good he felt. His tip hitting your G-spot making you ready to cum just as fast as before. “J-Jake fuck I’m gonna c-“ you are interrupted by his hand gripping your throat, choking you. “Fuck baby you got wetter just from that… god you're so good” his mixture of degradation and praise had your body a dripping, desperate mess. You couldn’t believe the hold he had over you.

His breathing is labored when he pulls his hips back and thrusts in, he goes slow at first, treating you like you were a fragile statue made from porcelain, but then you’re begging him to go faster, to go harder. His tongue swipes along the roof of his mouth before he speaks, “are you sure, doll? i don’t— fuck— want to hurt you.”

“h-hurt me, it’s okay,” you mumble out, and he truly does hesitate for a second, then his thrusts are suddenly faster, bumping you into the sofa with the sheer snap of his hips. Your cries sound like noises formed from a blessed harp, passed down by the gods for him to listen to, each moan getting louder and louder until his ears are ringing, until the music sounds hushed compared to your screams.

He felt you trembling hard, pulsing around his cock as you got close to cumming. He works himself deeper inside you, stroking all the places you need to reach that high point. A few more thrusts and you burst. You gush around him with a long whine. You squirm and buck as he holds you in place and keeps rutting into you until it becomes too much for him. He also lets loose and shoots his cum inside you. He fucks it into you a bit, before slowly pulling out.

"Princess are you alright?" Jake cups your cheeks with his hand. He had gotten too lost in his epiphany that he hadn't really noticed about your wellbeing.

"Fuck you Sim Jayeun." You let out a breathy chuckle, "Fuck you for not fucking me like that earlier."

"You didn't ask princess." Jake laughed, carefully lifting you into his arms and taking you to the bedroom.

"From now on, you don't have to ask for it."

Taglist: @ramenoil @mynameisniya150 @demigodmahash + whoever wants to be tagged, send an ask my way!

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urf1lterr · 1 year

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afterglow | pedro pascal [1/3]

"tell me that you're still mine, tell me that we'll be just fine, even when i lose my mind"

summary: being nominated for an oscar was a dream come true, until you had to spend the rest of the night near your deceitful ex who still loved you.

pairing: actor!pedro x actress!reader

genre: acting world!au, enemies/exes to lovers ?? au | angst, fluff, fighting, mature

word count: 6.8k

status: 1/3 complete

author's note: i actually started this weeks ago but never had the chance to finish. hope you guys like this short one shot even though its gonna be two parts lol. not edited.

"Quick! Spray her hair some more! We need to make sure there's no flyaways," your manager demanded to your assistant, handing over a large can of hairspray.

Objecting, you swat it away making her gasp. "Too much will make me look greasy."

Here you were, all dressed up in your tight corset red dress in the back of some SUV one of your assistant's ordered being a nervous wreck.

If it wasn't for the two shots you had taken before, you were sure you would have fainted right about now. It was your first time attending the notable award show nominated.

And alone.

You did attend the past two years; however, you always had your boyfriend near from a distance as you walked down the red carpet and participated in interviews.

Well, ex boyfriend. But that's irrelevant now.

Of course you knew your team would be three steps behind you majority of the time, but it wasn't going to be the same knowing you had to sit alone for most of the show, especially since you were nominated.

Not that you knew you would win, you were up against women who dominated the screen year after year while you recently got your first big lead after so many years. But it was indeed a huge honor to even come to this point as you knew this might never happen again.

Pulling up to the main entrance, you could hear how loud the fans and paparazzi were through the thick, tinted windows. Your driver quickly jumped out of the car before rounding his way to yours, swiftly opening it, the chilly air instantly making you shiver.

Gulping, you try to hide any signs of fear in your body by smiling widely and immediately directing waves and bows to the crowd as your manager was right behind your ear, constantly informing you on how quicker you needed to be.

You were finally able to get rid of her when another worker offered their hand to you, ushering you to the main carpet for your pictures.

Taking a deep breathe, you are instantly dragged to a spot to start your first poses, doing the same angles- hands on hip and shifting of head- which the paparazzi demanded you do, as you followed down the long path.

Already in the middle of the walkway, you move your arms behind your back as you send a warm smile before hearing another roar from fans. Glancing to your side, you fight the urge to scoff knowing damn well you'd wake up to news outlet making headlines over it.

You just found it incredibly annoying the massive attention being displayed over nothing.

It just so happened that your infuriating ex thought it would be a brilliant idea to make his mark on the carpet right after you. Mentally sighing, you tried finding other things to plant in your head to stop you from cursing him out.

You were not going to let him get to you, especially not on your special night.

Once you came down the end of the road, you were met with your team again before being thrown into a line for interviews.

"If it makes you feel any better," you heard your assistant move up to your ear, whispering as you were neatly fixing the large necklace draped around your neck. "He was totally checking you out."

Backing your head away from hers, you give you a gross look as she shrugged. "Don't make me barf before the show even starts."

One thing about you assistant, she's been with you since the very beginning. From your first agency, she had been assigned to you until she was forced to cease the partnership as you changed companies. So she did that, but with her original company and took the move with you.

She says it's because that's what friends do, you think it's because of the increase in pay.

Since following you around for years, she witnessed all the shy, awkward, romantic, and crying stages of majority of your relationships.

Most certainly remembering the last one real well.

Him being your first love didn't make it any better as it led to you breaking down over the silliest things for months when you should've been moving on.

But every time there was a chance it was understandable to mention his name, your assistant wasted no time trying to make him stuck in your head.

Let's just say she believed what you two had was...special.

Blocking out the rest of her remarks, knowing where she was headed, you get called into an interview. Mentally groaning, it was always the same old questions every year that bore you to death.

How are you? Who are you wearing? Are you in a relationship?

You would always reply truthfully until it came to the last part. Your ex didn't mind publicly announcing it, basically pleading for its unveil anytime you two went out.

You on the other hand disagreed. Being a prominent actor himself, you knew the media would slowly take a toll and make your relationship harder.

This theory often left the two of you fighting constantly for many months, committing cruel and nasty jabs to one another before calling your almost three year-old relationship quits.

That was 10 months ago, tonight being the first time you'd be in the same room since screaming unholy words to each other's faces, throwing fragile objects in all directions before he stormed out of your home, never coming back.

Well, you did change all the locks that same night.

But long story short, only family and friends knew about your relationship from start to finish. Fortunately with that, you didn't have to deal with fans freaking out over the two of you being near one another.

Save that for Austin Butler and Vanessa Hudgens.

Forming a proud smirk, you beam back to the interviewer as she pushed a mic up your mouth. "I'm actually seeing someone."

Gasping, the interviewer looked at the camera in shock, trying to keep her audience engaged, before stepping closer. "Who's the lucky man- or woman?! We don't discriminate." You could hear the fans in the back cheering as more celebrities were passing by. "And just how long have you been keeping your lover locked up?"

'Lover', really?

Faking a grin you knew she thought was believable, you wave your hand in front of her. "He's not ready to be discovered quite yet, he's a little shy-," you wink to the camera as she squeals. "-but 9 months next week."

Ending the conversation with her wishing your nomination and 'relationship' the best of luck, you walked off to find your assistant giving you a disappointed look. "What?"

"Why would you do that?"

Shrugging, you move a strand of hair over your shoulder. "It's not that serious, maybe it'll gain me more publicity."

You didn't care for the attention, you just wanted to find a way to prove that you were moving on in life- for your fans at least. Even if it was a lie and you were still the same person you were 10 months ago.

She just stood there, making her silence loud and clear that she was not by the very least happy. Deep down you knew it was a low move to pull, but it's not like you did it in front of your ex.

Maybe the news will spread tomorrow when you don't have to breathe in the same air as him. Better for you, nonetheless.

"I love your dress," you heard someone praise you as you were in search for your seat. Turning, you were met with your familiar red-head friend. "It really compliments your eye look."

Smiling, you bowed to the famous Jessica Chastain, another actress you met a handful of times.

As the two of you reached out to one another a couple of times, you were indeed introduced by your ex as his close friend was actually a lead in a series with her.

"I could say the same for you, that necklace is breathtaking," you gush as she waves off your warm acclaim.

"I see we're sitting next to each other," she grins ear to ear, gesturing towards the seats nearby. "Good, now I won't have to only talk to my husband during the commercial breaks."

That's how the remaining half an hour went by, catching up on one another's life before the lights slightly dimmed, signaling the start of the award show.

Opening with Jimmy Kimmel's monologue, you quietly giggled from all the jokes he presented, especially the one about Pauly Shore you were sure he would take personally.

Towards the end of his act, you notice the act of violence come up, obviously referring to last year's fallout with Chris Rock and Will Smith, before he started acknowledging popular film heroes across the room.

You slightly jump as his first victim was Michael B. Jordan, exposing you and Jessica in the back trying to jump out of from the camera view but poorly failing, making the people near you laugh.

It wasn't even 30 seconds later before you heard the mention of an all too familiar character being called out, your ex boyfriend in his thick black glasses appearing on the big screen while acting tough to the lens.

Oh, how you used to love those glasses.

But you did notice another person making a small presence in the corner, causing you to pause for a moment. You were sure you'd seen this individual walking pass you down the row to his located seat.

Turning your head to see where this stranger was, your eyes instantly locked with the one person you hoped you wouldn't be near. How had you not have known he was literally sitting behind you- well, three people diagonal from you but same thing.

He was still behind you.

What made things worse was the fact his sister was right by his side, sending you a warm smile as you quickly turned your head forward, not daring to move an inch the entire show it if meant you didn't have to face his gaze again.

Continuing your attention on the stage, you didn't notice the set of eyes burning your side. In fact, that spilt second you did notice him, you didn't take account of the way his expression softened in heartfelt- eventually breaking once the swift turn of your discomfort became apparent.

It seemed you truly were disgusted by him.

But once the act was over, you felt Jessica lean over to you. "Definitely rooting for you," she lightly squealed. "If the nerves get to you, hold my hand."

You send her a questionable look. "For what?"

"Your nomination, silly," she giggled as your eyes widened. That was happening now? The memo you were given weeks ago said opposite. "Best Supporting Actress is up next!"

"But I was told it wouldn't be announced till the second hour."

She sends you a uncertain shrug, not sure what to say. There must have been a last minute change to the line up- which was totally fine, but you were not prepared for your nerves to hit.

Exhaling a shaky breath, you rub your hands together as you see the production team walking near the stage for the upcoming selection. You couldn't at least get a commercial break?

As the lights started dimming and the crowed cheered, you could see the two presenters make their way to the middle of the stage before the clips of films played.

Cringing, you jump and quickly close your eyes as you saw yourself on the gigantic screen. It's very weird watching yourself act out a character, which is why you avoid it at all costs.

Especially the crying scenes- you always thought of Kim Kardashian's crying meme whenever your tears were on the screen.

Your ex would say otherwise, constantly praising you every chance he had when you would appear on a film, claiming you had such a passionate aura when you expressed yourself. Often following with his additional, "it's what made me fall in love with you."

Swaying your neck, you try to clear your mind. Fuck your thoughts for daring to think about him in such a crucial moment.

Wishing for time to fly by quicker, you completely zone out as the wait seemed longer than usual. It also didn't help that the camera was zoomed up to your face trying to capture your reaction to this nerve wracking milestone.

You let out a sigh of relief as another actress, Jamie Lee Curtis, was awarded- thrilled that you didn't have to go up and make a dreadful speech that surely wouldn't be planned.

"Why do you seem thankful?"

Turning to Jessica, you send her a chuckle. "I probably would've fallen down the stairs if I did win," you declare as she rolls her eyes. "Plus, the other nominees had more of a lively feel with their roles than me- they deserved it more."

The rest of the show did seem to fly by smoothly. There was the segment where your ex did have to present an award in which you were forced to pull a contented face in case any random camera caught you.

He seemed nervous, but he did do well considering the room was filled with remarkable individuals- it was very intimidating to say the least.

But you weren't ever going to tell him that.

Standing up and patting your dress down, you quickly excuse yourself in search for your assistant during the intermission. You really needed to touch up your makeup and she was the only who had your powder in her bag.

Walking near the side of the stage, you slip through a door and make it to the backstage area where most celebrities' teams were scattered around, trying to be useful and take hundreds of pictures.

"There you are," you smile as you catch a glimpse of her bright red hair from the corner of your eye near a wall. "I really nee- uhm"

You halt as you were met with the same presence of the man who battered your heart and left it to rot months ago. The one who caused the constant breakdowns in your car after every Starbucks run from the frequent trips you two used to share.

The one who left you stranded for his ex.

"Oh, hey!" your assistant beamed while you just gave her an agitated expression, trying your best to stay calm and collected before you became the opposite. "You're not supposed to be here- the show is still go-"

"I need my powder," you grit your teeth, causing her to suck in her lips by your noticeable anger.

Quickly reaching to her bag and unzipping it, you tried ignoring the amused expression your ex was portraying as he leaned up against the wall in hope you would spare him a glance.

You didn't.

Placing the product in your hand, she shakily reaches out to you. "Here, I can take it once you're done w-"

"I'll hold on to it," you dryly cut her off, swiftly turning your back to them before speed walking towards the door you came in from. All you wanted to do now was sit through the remainder of the awards and sleep on the car ride home.

But of course things never went your way.

Hearing loud footsteps of shoes, you feel a gush of wind hit you as a person barged their way in front of you, causing you to stop your movements. "You didn't have to be so harsh on her, you know?"

Holding back your laughter, you mock him. "Harsh? What's so harsh about doing your job?"

He releases a wary look, knowing you would never act like this unless something was bothering you.

Sadly, he knew he was that something- or somebody.

"I was the one who went up to her," he explains, trying to defend her from your future wrath. "She was only kind enough to stay-."

"I don't care what my workers do when I am not around," you cut him off, glaring at him. "Nor you."

With that, you make your exit before he could further justify himself. In reality, you were upset she was talking to him, but you knew he must've started the conversation and could understand why she stayed.

But what really hurt was the fact you knew deep down she believed you were in the wrong as to why you resented him. Maybe the sight of the two of them triggered your feelings, but for a person who's never sat down and heard both stories she was not one to have any say as to how you should feel.

Sitting down on your seat, Jessica sends you a worried look by how fast you strutted back as if you were running away from something- your past. Returning a reassuring one, you steer clear from the body walking through the aisle as they eyed you down, ultimately brushing your backside as they shuffled to their located seat.

Goosebumps arose all over from the split-second contact. For such short contact, it was sure as hell strong as his warmth hit you.

Straightening your posture, you exhale lowly, trying to compose yourself. You don't want anyone thinking you seemed triggered or anxious because you weren't. And you were going to prove it, making it your best interest to stop thinking about all the unnecessary issues in your life and let loose a bit.

And that's exactly what you did.

"I think I broke my toe," you whine, hopping on your right leg as one hand held onto your left ankle. "How am I going to dance now?"

"That's enough shots for you," you heard Florence exclaim, quickly taking the small cup away from your right hand as you huff, trying to fight back.

It was no use, once determined you knew there was no stopping her from doing her thing.

"Give her a bottle of water and she'll come back to life," you heard Shailene suggest as you tried your best to stay balanced.

After the award show you swear you were going to go straight home until a certain somebody caused you to flip your plans around and party.

That somebody being Andrew Garfield.

"Why end all the fun so early?" you hum, finally feeling your feet numb from the pain and standing better. "The party is just starting!"

Swaying your arms crazily as your hips were rocking in all directions, Shailene's laughter fills your ears as you miss Florence's disturbed stare.

Your dancing was not a pretty sight to see.

"It started almost three hours ago!" Shailene called out over the blaring music that was playing on the dance floor. You were sure it was some EDM song until you took a notice of the familiar lyrics.

Instantly freezing, your friends stop in worry as your body movements halt. Slowly pointing your finger up in the air, you gasp. "Is this Ciara?!"

Feeling a body collide with yours, an arm immediately wrapped around your shoulder. "Oh god! I couldn't find the bathroom, they have like 20 rooms here" Andrew complained, out of breath. "I almost pissed myself!"

Florence walked in front of you two, taking his cup away from him as well. "And no more drinking for you, too. Sir."

Weeping and pulling a despairing pout, his shoulders fall. "Aw c'mon, I wasn't even dri- holy shit, is this Ciara?"

Excitedly jumping up and down, you rapidly nod as he cheers along, both of you fan girling to the iconic song choice. Your other friends just stared, not quite sure what your next actions would be.

Pulling away from you and gently pushing people to the side, Andrew began forming a circle as you giggled in your hand by how energetic he was becoming.

The large opening caught the attention of the other attendees who began walking over to see what all the commotion was.

"You're causing so much-"

"Shush! I'm about to do my 1, 2 step!" Andrew placed a hand to Florence's face, ignoring her parenting skills before swinging his body smoothly to the middle of the circle.

'I shake it like Jello, make the boys say hello 'cause they know I'm rockin' the beat'

Cringing hard, your two sober friends began covering their faces as Andrew allowed the dance floor to acknowledge his presence.

Soon enough, the crowd got bigger as guests began vibing to the rhythm, eventually making the space and air around you hotter.

'I know you heard about a lot of great MC's but they aint got nothing one me'

Constantly tripping over your heels, which you knew would reveal fucked up feet tomorrow, you find Florence and leap to her side, watching as her once stern expression was slowly forming into a grin.

She could never stay annoyed for too long, her lively personality forbid it.

"Because I'm 5 foot 2, I wanna dance with you and I'm sophisticated fun!" you hear someone beside you scream as you followed along, wrapping your loose arms around hers as the two of you begin twirling through the crowd.

Behind your drunken state, you just knew your sober-self tomorrow was going to be praying no one records your embarrassing moves.

The song seems to end faster than what you had anticipated, going from the funky beat to a familiar pop one which made you happier.

Shrieking in joy, Andrew jumped back to Florence and you once realization filled his ears. "I'm about to fucking go insane right now! This son-" stopping, he turned his head to find someone swaying right beside him before leaning towards their ear. "This is your song!"

Bursting out in laughter, you see the devoted artist agree to the obvious note he had made.

"Sorry about him," you intervene, your words coming out in slurs. "He's a dedicated Swiftie...as well as me," you squeak and watch as she waves her hand in appreciation.

God, if only you could see how badly you were humiliating yourself in front of the legendary Taylor Swift.

Not being able to begin your upcoming requests on scoring some of her sold-out concert tickets, you were dragged back onto the dance floor by your very hyper dance partner.

'I knew you were trouble when you walked in, so shame on me now'

Walking closer to get a better look at you two, Shailene's eyes widened as the song continued. "He better not-"

"Now I'm lying on the cold hard ground!" Andrew sung, falling on his knees with his head back. Following after him, you sink to the ground in despair as others continued screaming the lyrics over and over again.

Everybody's a Swifite.

Getting back up by the help of Shailene, you begin to serenade her as Taylor's famous lyrics start catching up. Expressing a face of sorrow and grief, you dramatically chant.

'And the saddest fear...'

But with the crowd of people pushing their way through, your vision ends up falling upon another person- one you were sure you would've avoided if you weren't as plastered as you were now.

'Comes creeping in...'

A sudden harsh push has you involuntarily making your way to your target, you accidentally pushing their shoulders back as they halt their movements, surprised you were even giving them any bit of regard in public until they realized what had happened.

Oh god, how can you be in this situation with a sad Taylor song playing. How ironic.

Noticing the sufferable look of discomfort forming upon your features by his proximity, he tries taking a hold of your shoulders to keep you from the rough crowd but you rejected his hands.

'That you never loved me or her'

Giving him one tough push of his chest, which was incredibly hard by how weak the night has made you, his face filled with hurt at the sight of your developing teary eyes.

You couldn't help it, all the memories of your relationship began flooding your mind. The laughs, the love, the arguments- and in this moment you weren't stable enough to contain your true feelings towards him.

Trying to reach back out for you, your ex steps forward but someone else begins to distract you.

"Or anyone, or anything, YEAHH!" Andrew hollers, viscously shaking your shoulders with his eyes closed before opening them, his beaming grin falling instantly. "Did I make you cry?!"

Squeezing your eyes shut, you shake your head and look down as you feel tears slowly begin pouring out. "Hide me before Taylor sees me, I don't want to look ugly in front of her." you joke, trying to stop his flourishing worries but it didn't.

Instead, it made him even more concerned by how unfazed you were after releasing your waterworks out of nowhere.

Nodding, he holds your hand and begins to lead you away from the crowd but another grip was holding you back. Looking at your other hand, you move your gaze to discover your ex was the one who ceased your steps, sending you an alarmed stare in return.

Trying to free yourself, you shake your hand vigorously as he leaned into you. "You can't just breakdown in front of me and expect me to leave you alone!"

Scoffing, you move your face away from his crazed one. "I'm drunk, ignore me."

"A drunk mind speaks the hidden truth."

Pausing your movements, you stare him down as he doesn't back away but only frowns by your rude attitude. He wasn't going to let this nonstop quarrel continue anymore, especially when you obviously weren't fine if you just fell apart over a silly Taylor Swift song.

In his eyes, you clearly weren't fine with him. He wanted to fix that.

Inhaling sharply, you forcefully pull your hand away as he winces by the sudden release. Trying to find a clever comeback in order to take a win on this minor bickering, you allow your drunken-self to take the lead. "I prefer Spider-man, anyway."

What the fuck? You pull a disgusted face, slapping your forehead once your back was facing Pedro to hide your embarrassment. How was that fucking clever? Spider-man- really?

Turning to Andrew, you tug his hand and swiftly make your way through the bodies of the crowd as your two other friends followed behind, definitely witnessing your intense argument with your ex- which you were sure people finally uncovered.

Strolling through the back door, a cold breeze hits your body causing you to shiver and clutch your arms together tighter in hopes of forming some warmth.

"Your car should arrive in a few minutes, Ma'am," you hear the valet attendant claim, awkwardly standing still as your makeup was smudged near the corners of your eyes.

You thank him as your friends quietly gawk you, curious to figure out what was going on but not wanting to trigger you more.

"Will you three stop staring at me like that and ask already?" you groan as they jump in alarm. "I know you're all very confused."

Slowly taking a step forward, Florence placed a soft hand on your arm for comfort. "We don't want to intrude. It's your business."

"I believe I welcomed the party in my business ten minutes ago," you sarcastically smile. "So, it's fine."

Sighing, Shailene was the first to speak up as Andrew gave you a sympathetic face, trying to be respectful. "You and Pedro dated?"

Shrugging, you nipped on your bottom lip to prevent the fear of tears from flowing again. "I guess?" you lightly chuckle, trying to lighten your mood a bit. "3 years must have meant something, right?"

Pulling you in for a hug after capturing your weak voice crack, Andrew cradled you in his arms as Florence and Shailene tried rubbing your back.

Being emotional wasn't really your thing, so being consoled was very strange yet nice.

It made you feel wanted, sadly.

All thoughts through your mind disappeared once a deafening bang was heard from the building, the four of you pulling away from the hug instantly and averting your focus to where the sound directly came from- the back door.

With harsh steps, you make out Pedro's agitated body language as he rapidly shook his head and pointed at you while your friends froze in shock. "I'm sick of you always running away from me every time we talk. Is that fair? I can't have one normal fucking conversation with you because you scatter the second words leave my mouth."

Feeling your hands tighten up, you hug yourself tighter as he takes your silence as complete bullshit.

Now you wanna be quiet?

"Do you know how hard it was trying to find you? Hearing everyone ask if you were okay because you decided to come up to me and run out crying?" he sternly declared, his face now serious as he inched closer to you, your emotionless expression killing him. "As if that was my fault!"

You knew he wanted you to breakdown, to cry in his arms and beg for forgiveness by making you feel as if this was all your fault. It might be- but you weren't going to give him that satisfaction.

His greed to be right was popular during your arguments, but of course he never saw it that way.

Stepping in front of you, Andrew awkwardly tried blocking Pedro from your view to calm him down. Placing his hand on his shoulder, Andrew began speaking. "Look man, maybe now isn't the right time to be discussing this." Giving a slight nod to the street, he continued. "There's paparazzi nearby, we don't want this getting out."

Faking a laugh, Pedro tilted his head before glancing over Andrew's shoulder to meet your eyes. "I'm sure the paparazzi won't be at fault for that one, right y/n?"

God, you hated how petty he would become when provoked. It was one of the rare traits that made him so unattractive and you hated how you shared it.

Maybe you both are just too toxic for each other if you can't be near one another, after months, without fighting- even if you did start it. It was a clear sign after all.

Glaring, you were about to break and fight back until a familiar SUV pulled up. Internally cheering for the literal perfect moment, you slowly ignore his presence and make your way to the car door as he scoffs.

"So you're just going to leave again, like always," he flares, crossing his arms over his chest as you pull the door open. "You can't be serious."

Groaning loudly, you slam the door shut and march over, facing him head on as his strong expression never falters. Instead, he released his arms to his sides and angrily looked down at you. "Can you just leave me the fuck alone?!"

Gasping, Shailene and Florence look at each other in disbelief as Andrew scratched the back of his neck, trying to process where this may be leading to.

Nowhere good, that's for sure.

Before Pedro could speak, you harshly place your hand over his mouth to shut him up. Which he did, but he was certainly not happy by your actions. "Yeah! I'm the one who caused all of this-" you start as you feel your adrenaline going crazy. "-but it's done. Over. Nothing we can do now to change what happened and if you're so worried about it, I'll make a public apology if it means I won't ever have to deal with you again."

Frowning, he snatches your hand away from his face that causes Andrew to wince at the rough contact. "Worried? You think I care about what happened in there?"

You swear you could see sadness fill his eyes as they hid under the blaring anger that was presented. He didn't dare to look at any other direction but your own, scared if he did you would run away again.

But he knew deep down that was coming, soon.

"Why else are you this upset with me-"

"Because you act like we never happened!" he interjects, exclaiming loudly as your mouth shuts. "You-" he begins, running his hand over his hair in frustration, "-you pretend like I don't exist. That we weren't together for all those years and for what? Why do I deserve to be treated like shit in the end? Why am I the only one trying-"

"Trying?!" you shriek, laughing sarcastically as he sighed in response, not taking your tone well. "Really? I don't recall you trying to reach me after you left me-"

"Left you? You changed the locks to the damn house! I couldn't come back in-"

"You still left!" you yell, causing him to flinch by your increase in volume.

Feeling the warmth of someone's hand on your shoulder, you could already tell it was Shailene's by the rings on them. "Maybe we should go. It's getting late and soon people will be coming out..."

Slowly breaking eye-contact with Pedro, you nod and back away. You were done with this conversation and you surely didn't want to even attempt to talk things over when you already knew you both needed help in order to even let things go.

But letting things go didn't mean reconciling.

The sight of you walking away from him terrified him when he knew it may be the last time he was ever going to be face to face with you again for a while. He didn't want to give up, not now when he finally had your attention after months of trying to bump into you.

That's hard when you blocked him on everything and instructed your neighborhood security he was not welcomed to see you weeks after you changed your locks. Of course he could've just waited until you left the gate to trap you, but he wasn't a stalker.

Slamming the door shut after you opened it, Pedro leaned his back against it to halter your movements. Freezing at his quick actions, you try pushing him away but he doesn't budge.

"I know you don't have a boyfriend," he blurts out, breathing heavily as he blocked your hands from grasping the door handle. You immediately pause as he continues to let his thoughts flow freely out of his mouth.

Did he watch that interview? Impossible, he was walking the red carpet. He couldn't have had time to.

"I know you said that to seem happy or I don't know, make me jealous? Fuck, you could've said that to fake it for the cameras but I'm not going to stand here and act like you don't love me."

Choking from his last statement, you immediately try pushing him away from the door to get in, even sending a look over your shoulder, you glare at your friends who sheepishly stand there not helping, too invested to intervene.

Those little nosy bitches.

Finding your wrists, Pedro stops your forceful shoves and lowers your trembling arms. "You still love me."

Not being able to move, you were stuck in his trance. Maybe it was from all the chaos happening and your emotions spiraling out of control, but you felt the sudden urge to give up.

You were tired. Tired of fighting, crying, being mad whenever his name popped up.

You wanted all of this to stop.

Gripping the back of your neck, he leaned in and sent you a hopeless look before pulling your body closer as a way to find comfort and security. "And god, I still fucking love you and you know that."

With that, you were snapped back into reality.

Finding all the power you had left in you, you yanked your body out of his arms and jumped back before he could catch you. Angrily glaring at him, you make sure there's enough distance so he wouldn't latch himself back on you before speaking your mind.

"Don't say that," you spit out, redness filling your face as your fury kept growing. "Don't say 'you know that' when you didn't seem to when you were constantly out with your ex without telling me!"

The dropping jaws behind you went unnoticed as you stared Pedro down, catching the way his face ached with agony the longer you two continued your shared meltdown.

This was getting out of hand and you both knew it.

"Why would I tell you when I knew this is how you'd react?" he snapped back, his hurt now forming into irritation by how ignorant you were being. He knew he did nothing wrong, so why couldn't you believe him? "Nothing happened and you know that."

Pointing a finger at him, you release a snarky smirk as he tried to contain his calm this time. You were getting on his nerves bad. "Hiding secrets with someone you were intimate with for five fucking years is deceiving," you huff, gripping the bottom of your dress. "and you know that."

Before he could fight for his defense, you completely shun him. Speedily avoiding his following presence, you make it to the passenger door of the SUV before he could block in and jump inside.

However, your movements weren't fast enough as he gripped the door hard, not letting you close it. Anxiously sighing, he lowered his head to keep contact with you as you ignored his close proximity, focusing on finding a stern hold on the door so you can shut him out, again.

Leaning in closer, he shakes his head. "We need to talk about t-"

"You didn't want to talk about it last time because you it was your own business remember," you intervened as he closed his eyes in exasperation. "What did you say again? 'This isn't about you. Stay out of it.' I'm out now so you can go."

"I was angry and ups-"

"Andrew!" you call out, causing Pedro to stop talking and confusingly gaze you. "Can you please help? I really want to leave."

Pedro let out a loud scoff, returning his past hurt look as you simply waited for your friend to rescue you. Within seconds, Andrew came by your side and sent Pedro a look of sorrow, not really sure how to make him feel better by his wanted removal.

He didn't need to do much as Pedro backed away himself, shaking his head and sent you one last glance of betrayal. "I'm fucking done," he declared, walking backwards and you prayed your sudden feeling of panic wasn't on full display.

"I'm not going to waste my time anymore when its no use." With that, he made his way back to the building, muttering a swift "have a great life" before aggressively pulling the door open and disappearing inside.

Ignoring the presence of people around, you stared at the windshield in front of you as Andrew stayed by your car door, not wanting to close it just yet.

You didn't want to admit it, but you felt your chest tighten as you began to feel uneasy. Was this it? Did you finally get what you wanted?

Or what you thought you wanted?

Of course you wanted this, now you could move on.

You had even forgotten about Florence and Shailene until the sounds of the back door opening flooded through your ears as they hopped in and made a seat for themselves.

As an intense wave of guilt took over, you immediately turned your back to face them for your explanation until Florence waved her hands to make you stop. "You don't need to explain anything right now, all I want is for you to relax."

Sighing, you slowly nod and turn back towards the front to see Andrew give you a small, condoling smile before gently closing your door, trying not to smash your feet or dress in the process.

Awkwardly gazing to the driver who was cautiously scanning over you making sure you weren't going to puke or breakdown, you send him a sad grin. "I'm sorry...for causing a scene."

He chuckles, shaking his head as you felt your cheeks burn from how embarrassed you were. You must've looked so childish fighting with a grown man over your secret relationship. "Don't worry, as long as I get a big tip you can do whatever you want."

Frowning at his response, your eyes widen as he laughs louder, his body shaking from how funny he thought this miserable situation was. "I'm only joking, I would never let a woman tip after dealing with an unfaithful ex."

Sitting up straighter, you send him a surprised look. "So you think he was cheating, too? Right? I'm not cr-"

"Okay! Let's not continue this conversation anymore," Shailene cuts you off and nods to the driver. "Please drive us to her house."

Your driver sends you a promising wink before starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot to hit the busy streets of the city. You wish you could remember the rest of the car ride, but sleep took over after the car passed the third traffic light.

But as you finally got to forget about the recent incident, little did you know it would haunt you the moment you woke up.

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