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leclsrc · 1 year

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reciprocate ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, pwp, very very filthy, fem!reader

word count: 4.5k

You have trouble maintaining your vow of Max celibacy when you’re on vacation together. (part 1 here)

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because… sexual tension like tons, dirty talk, masturbating, descriptions of sex, kissing, SEXUAL TENSION.

hope you like it everyone! :) req’d and i was gonna make this a drabble, but it kinda grew. kind of gives way for a part 3, so lmk if u would wanna read thaaat...?

You’re bored more than several times over the dry, chilly stretch of winter break.

With not much to do, you’ve taken to traveling before you settle back into reporting on what different teams are doing to prepare for March. It’s all car prep, helmet design, new advancements, some drama on budget breaches. But that all comes in the condensed end of February, so now you’re wandering around, aimless.

The invite comes after Christmas and before New Year’s. It’s also last minute, and you would’ve normally rejected it, but Lissie had managed to convince you despite yourself, so you text Daniel a thumbs-up, greenlighting his proposition to jet off to Monaco.

“I’m starting to think I should’ve just said no,” you mutter, dumping a bundle of clothes into your suitcase. Across you, equally busy, Lissie scoffs.

She looks up from where she’s busy folding something, then, “In what universe would anybody want to pass up on a free Monaco trip where we can spend the entire week drinking our body weight in cocktails and swimming it off?”

You laugh, nodding in semi-agreement. It’s not Monaco, you want to tell her. It’s because everybody’s going, even Max. “You’re right,” you say instead, making a show of being excited.

It didn’t seem the slighest bit sane to be going on a non-work trip where Max was going to be around. Your first tryst, barely a month ago, before the grand prix in Abu Dhabi, had given way to three days straight of retiring to his room, foregoing afterparties, and then, after deciding to go to one, sneaking back off and fucking in his room after just an hour of dancing.

Max is just as insatiable as you are, and it scares you—because it took every ounce of resistance from you to sit him down and affirm the statement that the constant sex was a bad idea. Outside of his room, outside his bed, you two still maintained the same caustic relationship, but the sex became like clockwork, and you could tell it wasn’t the best idea.

“We need to stop the sex,” you’d said, setting it down firmly. “It’s—it’s getting in the way of work.”

“It really isn’t. You still have no problem calling me out after races and then getting fucked less than an hour later,” he said.

“I’m serious, it is. And if not now, it will.”

He’d shrugged. “Fine.”

“It’ll be easy,” you’d said sharply. “For me, at least.”

It feels like cosmic karma, then, when you’re told by Lissie that Max’s room is beside yours.

—

Almost funnily, Max’s is the first face you see after you’ve settled in your hotel room. You see him first, and then notice he’s joined by Daniel and Lando, at the bar near the beach where everyone else in your little group is hanging out. You make eye contact that you tear away from instantly, willing yourself to ignore him.

Daniel notices you first when you show up to order yourself a drink. “Swam yet?”

“Nope,” you say. “Think I’ll join the girls and tan today.”

“Just glad you finally accepted the invite,” Daniel comments. “Lissie told me you almost bailed for some weird reason.”

Your eyes dart over to Max, who’s drinking whiskey. He’s already looking at you, gaze cutting. You clear your throat and look away. “I thought it wouldn’t be the best idea, but I’m about three drinks away from loving it here.”

The small talk continues, and you even get your drink, but eventually Daniel and Lando are too enticed by the sunset water, running off and yanking their shirts off on the way. You shuffle nervously on the barstool, just two seats apart from Max.

“You’re here the whole week?” He asks, not looking at you.

“I am,” you say, leveling his tone of nonchalance.

He makes a noise of petty disapproval, leaning back. From where you sit, you get fleeting glimpses of how he looks, and it isn’t helping your vow of celibacy. He’s big, which, while you knew this, still sends a throb of arousal through you. The tight tee he wears does nothing to hide what’s underneath, and his arms give you the impression that he could just throw you onto a bed or slam you against a wall like it’s nothing.

(Two things you could personally attest to, but that’s besides the point.) You’ve only just begun to get used to not having sex with him, but you’re starting to think you should get on the next flight off, because the thoughts creeping into your head of his hands, his tongue—

A cry of your name grabs your attention, and you blink, turning your head. Farther up the beach, Lissie and Lily are waving their hands around, calling you. “Let’s swim!” Lissie orders. “Now!”

“Bit busy there, were you?” Max asks, smirking.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, downing the rest of your cocktail and jogging over to your friends. Absently, you hear him chirp another teasing remark behind you—hope you drown. The abrasive remark lets the remainder of your scandalous thoughts filter out for the time being. You’re positive, though, that they won’t be gone for the whole two weeks.

You stop in front of Lissie to undo the clip in your hair when Lily asks nonchalantly: “Why’s Max staring at your ass?”

“Lil, oh m—” You swat her playfully. “Don’t just say things like that!”

“Sorry! Jesus. It was a serious inquiry. Guy’s eyes are glued. Don’t you hate each other?”

You resist the urge to turn around and maybe get in a dig of your own, but clear your throat and shrug. “You’re hallucinating. I’m sure he’ll have some random girl in his hotel room later tonight, anyway.”

You don’t miss the way Lily’s face is still etched with lack of conviction, but you tug her toward the beach anyway, splashing around and playing frisbee with the Daniel, Charles, and Lando. At some point, talk of clubbing arises through the six of you, and at Lando’s insistence, you all agree to meet up somewhere to get hammered later. A warm Monegasque welcome, Charles had dubbed it.

A sluice of nerves slide across you when you hear Charles relay the idea to Max, and the latter reply with a fuck yes count me in.

You learn a few short hours later that Monaco lives up to its predestined reputation as a nightlife beast, greeting you with vigor and sophistication. You’d been here before, but mostly for work—the immense drinking, dancing, and occasional drug is still a novel experience. Evidently, though, the drivers have little trouble settling into it, accepting and ordering shots and extravagant bottles like they’re nothing.

You’re off work, you figure, and you have no concrete responsibilites tied you as of the moment, so why not join in?

Lissie is drunkenly slurring something into your ear, about how some guy is flirting with her but he’s a 6 at best and maybe I should just make out with him to make him feel better hey wait maybe he’s an 8 actually no 9, maybe 9.5 max—no he’s a 10 I’m fucking him bye, and Lily is pissed, likely being taken care of by Alex.

Charles had upheld a promise to remain sober, but said nothing of bringing a girl home, which he’d successfully pulled off just twenty minutes ago. Lando’s obviously busy spinning the tunes at the DJ booth behind you, howling with excitement every time he plays something he likes. Which, you realize, leaves you with Daniel.

You fix the hem of your tiny dress, throwing back another shot. Your tolerance doesn’t allow for alcohol to permeate fast; it goes slowly, and never results in too much of a headache, thank the Lord. You’re pleasantly buzzed, but you want more courage, more gravitas. A timely wish, considering you haven’t quite learned how much of a party monster Daniel is.

He leans in closer. “I bet you three shots of vodka you’re not kissing someone tonight.”

“I’ll take the opposing side,” you say, laughing. “Nobody here is doing it for me.”

“A gentleman’s agreement!” He hollers, waving a passing waiter over and ordering shots for people to share.

Although you’re in a roped off area of the club, there are still people walking around and crowding the area, including a girl who’s seated on Daniel’s lap. She whispers something mumbled and low into his ear, and you roll your eyes at his equally flirty response, pinching her thigh and kissing her neck.

He turns back to you after, like it’s a casual conversation. “How can nobody ‘do it for you’ in a Monaco nightclub, man?”

There’s a question you can answer, but woefully won’t. You change the subject instead, cupping two shots. “How about you and I just do three shots each?”

“Make it four,” he says challengingly. “And take a hit.”

“Already did, Danny,” you refute. You’d smoked half a joint before drinking anything, not wanting to get too caught up in the crossfade. You’re half sure somebody in the group took molly, but your mouth is zipped all the same. “Come on, four shots.”

“Up, up,” he pauses, thinking. “Two shots of Patron vodka—and two of Clase Azul.”

Agreeing, you search for the liquor on the lit-up table, throwing the vodka back with relative ease and then standing up to do the last two. You stumble when you place the glasses back on the table, shaking hands with Daniel and moving about to shake off the alcoholic taste in your mouth.

You pass by Lando, and he flips you off from his place at the DJ booth, but eventually you meander your way to the bar instead, wedging yourself into an empty alcove that only houses a storage room door. It’s quieter, and here you can start to feel the alcohol in your system. You lean back against the wall, and just as you wished, a guy eventually approaches you.

He’s cute(ish), tall(ish), and charming(ish), and even in your hazy mind he registers as passable and definitely way too drunk and overconfident to be approaching somebody as hot as you. His arm wraps around you, toys with the flimsy strap of the minidress you’d worn today. His accent is clearly touristy and American when he asks, “What, bored tonight?”

“Little bit,” you say lowly, leaning back and letting your lips curl up into a smile. “Nothing is really exciting.”

He hums drunkenly. “I could be exciting. Show you something exciting.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you say, playing into him. “Tell me more.”

“I could tell you lots of things in my hotel room.” He smiles. “Don’t you want to have fun?”

“She’s had plenty, mate,” a voice unmistakably Dutch says, and pride wells up in you for having had your plan succeed so beautifully. You blink, reaching an arm out to gently push the guy out of the way—and meet eyes with the one behind him. Taller, broader, and evidently more sober than either of you, Max looks pissed (more than usual, at least.) “Piss off.”

“Christ, had I known she had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t’ve approached, man. Let’s all be calm.”

Max waves him off dismissively and approaches you, a glint of concern shadowing the irritance in his eyes. “This some kind of plan of yours?”

The alcohol has begun to rush through you. You’re hot, flushed all over, thinking of all the times you’d been in this position, purposely testing Max’s limits so he could test yours, albeit differently.

“Dunno what you mean,” you say. Your gaze slips downward, to the big, rough hand wrapped around the glass of whiskey. You want them on you. Then they meet his again.

“Sure,” he says, unconvinced. “You’re having a lot of fun prancing around like you’ve no responsibilities.”

“Lighten up,” you insist boredly. “It’s called a vacation. It’s for letting loose.”

“Are you letting loose enough?” He asks, suggestive.

“Max.” You lean forward, and the movement lets him see more of your chest, or what your dress allows. He coughs.

“No.” But despite himself, he’s leaning downward, too, his gaze stuck on your lips. “You told me yourself. It gets in the way of work.”

“This isn’t work,” you say, nerves hammering through you.

“Been looking after you all night, it might as well be.” His voice is cold and serious. He steps forward, effectively caging you against the wall with how bulky his frame is. “You need to be careful. I had to pry that asshole off of you.”

“What if…” You trail off, tilting your head back so you’re making searing, unbreaking eye contact. “That’s exactly what I wanted?”

You’re both frozen in place, staring up at him with the kind of coy you only get when you’re tipsy like this. Wide eyed, lip bitten, and dress riding up—this is exactly how Max likes you. Ready for him to wreck. One jerk of his knee in between your legs and you’re his. He considers other options: a light grip around your neck, or even just a hand on your waist would render you weak, too.

“You test me too much, Y/L/N.” You feel hazy from the way he says your name, in the way he always does—formal, professional, like you’re in the paddock interviewing him again. You can feel yourself growing wet.

But you’d gotten yourself into this mess. You wore this dress, took those shots, let that guy flirt with you in hopes that Max would come over and give you his time of day. Deny as you might, you know deep down this is exactly what you were waiting for. You press a palm to his stomach, feeling the hard surface there, fisting it in his shirt.

He grunts, lets his hand cover yours. “Schatz,” he says, guttural.

He lets your lips meet, but when you lean in for a proper kiss, he stands back up to his full height. One look in your eyes lets him realize you’re sufficiently sober, and he turns and walks away.

—

A volleyball hits your shoulder for the third time today.

Prior to that, it’d hit your forehead twice, putting an effective end to your beach volleyball winning streak. Beside you, Lando lets out a strangled cry of defeat.

“The volleyball legend is tapping out!” Daniel hoots from a nearby lawn chair, mimicking the racing commentators you’re all familiar with.

“Piss off,” you say. “I’m off my game, too tired.”

You wave a dismissive hand to Lily and Alex and they flash thumbs up signs. You squeeze a bottle of water into your mouth, needing release from the thoughts plaguing your mind. The events of two nights ago weigh terribly heavy, annoyingly so, on your mind.

Not Max himself, you argue. His voice. His touch. They’re so irresistible to you. The way he’d grunted out the pet name he reserved for sex, the way his hand was so much rougher, bigger than yours.

Absently, you wonder, if he hadn’t stopped it—what would’ve happened then? He must’ve been resisting his strongest demons to put an end to the flirting like that. Any other time, you think, it would’ve gone differently.

He’d crowd you against the wall, press hot, whiskey-flavored kisses to your neck. He’d drop his glass, uncaring if it shattered; he could pay for fifty of those and then some. You picture his big hands roughly feeling you up, pressing against your panties, asking if you wore them just for him. Mumbling about wanting to taste you, get on his knees and have your pussy right here, for his tongue only. You picture his fingers, nimble, yanking away the lace and pushing into your cunt, kissing your jaw, moving, moving, until you’re fully in an open-mouthed kiss, messy and dirty, just how he likes you. He’d say something mean. Do you enjoy being a slut, letting all these people watch me take care of you? You’d nod. It’s true, you do, humping his fingers and chasing release. You picture his dick, hard and thick, big like the rest of him, pressed against your bare thigh, and—

“Your gelato!” Lissie hollers crankily, waving a cone of coffee ice cream in front of you that’s begun to melt and stick to her fingers.

“Thinking of sum’in, mate?” Lando’s amused, sunglasses-clad face comes into view.

You flip him off and apologize to Lissie, attempting to enjoy your ice cream before you descend into a state of craziness. The beach day passes with additional moments of blank stares, though none to a worrying degree. Most of your friends chalk it up to you waking up late or spacing out thinking of work, thankfully.

But, at least, you think. At least this just proves that you and Max can stick to your vow of celibacy. Right?

—

Max is never usually one to eavesdrop, but when he learned from Lily earlier in the week that your room was adjacent to his, he couldn’t help but become more conscious of it. Two days of silence, the occasional TV noise, and some stumbling provide nothing, so he’s since stopped paying attention. Between you two, you’re the one always out on the shore anyway, so there’s nothing much for him to listen to.

Tonight is different.

You don’t usually make noise—and he’s generally speaking here. You’re not a loud person. Even with the aid of a mic, your voice is composed, on the edge of quiet, during paddock reports. So why can he hear you so clearly now? The walls are a bit thin, sure, but something else contributes to it.

Something else, like maybe you’re doing all this on purpose.

The shuffling on the other side of the wall grows louder, then he hears your faint, breathy whimpers. He pauses, sitting a bit more upright on his bed, curiosity piqued, anticipates something else. Your whimpers grow louder, passing through the walls with relative ease.

He could totally tune this out, maybe put on a movie, hell, leave the room for a late night walk or a drink somewhere.

But he’s rooted to his spot, listening intently, wanting to hear more of you. He hears it then, so breathy at first he almost doesn’t. Max.

Your moan. He blinks, feeling himself grow hard. Maybe he didn’t hear it right, but then he hears it again: Oh, Max. Please. Wanna, wanna—

He palms at his dick through his sweats, swearing under his breath. You sound exactly like you do when you’re underneath him, two lithe hands wrapped around his wrist, begging for release, for his tongue, for his fingers. You’d been so sure, so high and mighty when you sat him down and demanded the sex stop, but here you are fucking yourself on your fingers, moaning his name.

Barely even ashamed, he tugs his dick out, already drooling with precum. He uses it to ease the glide of jerking off. Max, you say again, louder this time, higher. He remembers your conversation clearly, your solemn voice when you told him you couldn’t ever have sex again with the way it interfered with your jobs. The way you slid in a snide remark about how it’d be an easy challenge for you.

He can’t help but be amused, fucking his fist and listening to your moans, growing in volume as you near your climax. He wants to ask if your fingers are as good as his, as his tongue, his cock. He knows you’ll say yes but think the opposite. You’ve always grown so weak around him.

Gonna cum, he hears again.

He pictures you writhing on your bed, eyes rolling back, fist half-bitten to try and silence yourself. Your thighs are probably shaking, brows knitted together, tongue lolling out—he jerks himself faster, panting, chest sweaty. It’s your last, loud moans that send him over the edge.

I’m cumming, Maxie, fuck—! He swears under his breath, cum spurting out all over his fist. He catches his breath, pursing his lips, squeezing his eyes shut. Tries to purge himself of his thoughts of how you might look right now and retreats into his bathroom.

It doesn’t work.

—

Lando personal phone 30s ago

Lissie wants her own bacardi and could you get doritos too x

And a box of condoms pls mate xx

“One more Bacardi and a bag of Doritos,” you dictate boredly. Who knew a high profile, all expenses paid vacation in one of the richest countries in the world would still entail the mandatory grocery run? “…And condoms.”

Max turns from where he’d retrieved the rum, a brow raised in question. “Sorry?”

“Lando, not me,” you defend, holding two hands up. You two had been the unlucky pair who drew short straws and were thus stuck with a long list of niche items in an empty convenience store not far from your hotel. Outside, the sun’s already gone, leaving behind traces of orange in an otherwise dark sky. The group had decided to stay nearby and drink instead of going out tonight, since you’d all been at a club basically every other night anyway.

You review each of your baskets. “Seems like this is all,” you conclude, “except the condoms, which we’ll get at the counter.”

“Did Lando specify a… brand?” Max asks, pacing to the cashier. There are already some on display, with varying features and sizes.

You recheck your phone. “Nope. Just get anything.”

“Alright, then.” Max picks up an XXL condom box and waves it around. “For Little Lando.”

Irritated, you roll your eyes. “Be reasonable, Max.”

“You said get anything!”

“You’re so annoying,” you fume. You catch sight of the cashier looking uncomfortable with the tension between you and Max and figure the situation needs to deescalate. “Okay. Fine. Whatever, just get something reasonable. Put that back.”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘reasonable,’” he says teasingly, clearly trying to push your buttons.

“Just get a standard condom box.”

“What is a standard co—”

“Get the ones you normally use,” you say, realizing the words after they leave your mouth.

The cashier coughs.

Shrugging, Max grabs the familiar box off the shelf and tosses it, emptying both your baskets right after. His face is amused when he turns and you see him again, but you’re both wordless while the payment goes through and you exit together. The car ride back to the hotel is quiet, stuffy, and tense, your arms crossed over your chest and Max’s occupied with both of the plastic bags.

“I’m surprised you remember what condoms I use.” He says with a smug smile when you’re both in the elevator. He’s parked his car on the basement floor, so you need to get to the lobby. You watch the lights signify what floor you’re on, waiting desperately for the ground floor button to glow yellow.

Still annoyed, you humor him despite yourself. “Why’s that?”

It dings yellow right as he responds. “You’re always begging for me to cum inside you, anyway.”

The doors open but neither of you move. Max watches you grow flustered and take a deep breath. “You’re a sicko,” you declare, walking out. He follows you with a laugh, knowing he’s right.

You meet the group outside the lobby, where they’re already piling onto a yacht, big enough for everyone. It’s ridiculously huge and expensive-looking, bobbing softly by the dark water. Charles emerges from the upper tier and waves to you and Max with a goofy grin.

After you help spread and deposit the groceries on the table, you walk around, finally detaching yourself from Max’s side. Eventually drinks ebb around the group, shots and crude cocktails that are fed to you like water. Buzzed with warmth and courage, you move to the back of the boat where there’s a ladder to swim, grunting when you find Max already there.

You clench your cocktail. “What’re you doing?”

“Preparing to swim, what’s it look like?”

“Oh.” You pause. “I didn’t know you could swim.”

You down the rest of your drink, leaning against the side of the boat and watching as he sheds his shirt and jumps into the ocean. Some of the water splashes onto you, and it’s cold, sending goosebumps throughout your body. He surfaces, hair darkened from being wet and smile dopey. A few strands of hair stick up.

“Wanna join?”

“Over my dead body,” you say, taking a seat and dripping your legs instead.

“The water’s nice.”

“It’s frigid,” you counter. “You should be wearing a snowsuit, dumbass.”

“How mean,” he says, diving underneath and surfacing again. “You’re too chicken, is all.”

Emboldened, by the buzz of alcohol maybe, the music, or—most likely of all—Max’s teasing, you nod. “Chicken?”

You get up, legs dripping, and pull your shorts down, tugging your tiny tank top off right after. You’re left in your bathing suit, and watch as Max’s eyes lock onto your tits, spilling out of your bikini top. His gaze is slow on you, like it’s his first time seeing you like this.

You step onto the cool ladder to avoid jumping, your back turned to Max’s as you feel more and more of your body submerge into the freezing water. You turn, taking a seat on one of the rungs. Max swims toward you, wiping a hand over his face.

“Not a chicken. But I’m not going any lower,” you say firmly, in the water from the waist down. “It’s too cold.”

“I’m fine having you like this,” he says lowly, his voice thick with desire. He cages you in, two big hands on either side of the ladder. For leverage, your legs wrap around him. You’re so close together. After days, weeks, of resisting.

You release a shaky breath, staring at him, his shoulders, his hands.

“How’s your vacation been?” He asks, lips near your ear.

“Fine,” you say. “Fun.”

“Bring anyone to your room?” You shake your head; he persists. “So you’ve had no luck there, then?”

“None at all,” you say blatantly.

“S’that why you’ve been…” A hand leaves the ladder to squeeze your thigh. “Moaning my name while fucking yourself?”

Your eyes widen, blinking, undeniably caught. You open your mouth to formulate a defense but you can’t. “What are you talking about?”

“Aw, don’t be shy, schatz. You were the one who kept insisting we swear off sex, but I think you’re starting to miss me.”

He presses two fingers to the crotch of your bottoms, rubbing softly. It’s enough to let you whimper. “Max—”

“You keep prancing around in tiny bikinis, skirts, tops. Is it on purpose, hmm? I can’t stop thinking about claiming you. On my bed, my balcony, over any surface.”

He quickens his fingers, and you whine. It feels so good, reminiscent of how wicked he is in bed. You picture it—being bent over the side of the boat, his hands big on your waist, cock sliding in and out of you.

“Feels s’good, Max,” you breathe.

“Does it?” He asks, egging you on. You nod, gripping his wrist—your hand’s still circled around it when he yanks it away.

“But remember what you told me? Before the break?”

“I—fuck,” you mutter, frustrated. “Please.”

“They were your words, not mine, schatz,” he says, easygoing as he dives back underwater, leaving you alone and sexually frustrated. You curse lowly. It’s going to be a long rest-of-the-week.

#f1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen drabble #max verstappen smut #max verstappen fanfic #f1 x reader

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selfcarecap · 2 years

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Never Have I Ever [p.p]

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: When Peter meets you at college and you two bond over your lack of sexual experience, you quickly become the best friend he’s ever had. But while he falls madly in love with you, he doesn’t know if you feel the same. You hold his hand when you’re out together, talk to him about the vibrator you want to buy and bless him with that beautiful look in your eyes that is reserved only for him… yet he’s not sure if you see more than a friend in him. Little does he know, you’re wondering the same about him, hoping for the same outcome.

Warnings: smut (all first time, oral f + m receiving, dry humping (semi-public? but it’s completely uninterrupted and unseen and in a remote location lol), masturbation (f with a sex toy and m with the reader’s underwear), vaginal sex – the second half of this is basically all smut), a sprinkle of jealous Peter, Professor Garfield lol, a little bit of angst ig bc Peter keeps doubting himself and thinks he’s a pervert but he’s just dumb as shit and oblivious, (all Peter’s pov <3), fic starts off with an awkward and embarrassing story lol, alcohol/drunk!Peter, (btw if first year of college sounds a little young to you you can always imagine they just took a break between hs and college), idk how college works in the usa, also I mention Peter's enhanced senses but it's not a Spiderman fic at all lol

Word Count: 23k omg, the longest thing I’ve ever written (if that’s too long for you i’ve put four ‘dividers’ in total so it’s split into 4 more or less equally long parts (the first is like 4k, second is 7k, then 4k again and the last is 8k) but of course you can ignore that and just read all of it in one go, all 23k are in this post, it’s a one shot)

It's finally here! Thank you for all the love I received for the teaser and just talking about this fic already 💘 This has been on my mind for so so long and I’ve been (sporadically and inconsistently) writing it since like September. I’m so glad it’s finally finished, this was one of my favourite wips I‘ve ever worked on, I really loved writing Peter and the reader and their dynamic and experiences and I hope you love reading it just as much 💖

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝒐𝒏𝒆 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ･:*:･｡

It’s Peter’s first week of college and so far he barely knows anyone. The guys in the rooms next to Peter’s are cool, but he figures it wouldn’t hurt to know a few more people, so he decides to go to this party he’s been hearing about all week.

The party is exactly how he imagined it; loud music, drinking games, a pretty girl sitting next to him. So pretty that he doesn’t dare look at you for too long because he’s worried you’ll catch him staring and think he’s being weird.

The game you’re all playing started as a simple never have I ever, but somehow people are now telling their funniest sex stories. Peter doesn’t realise it’s part of the game that everyone tells a sex story until it’s your turn and he notices how the last few people all told a story, one after the other, going around the circle you’re all sitting in.

His heart starts thumping harder in his chest. He doesn’t have a sex story to tell. But if he gets up now it will be obvious that he’s avoiding his turn, right?

Fuck.

Besides, he wants to listen to your story. He just has to hope that his usually clever brain will help him come up with something when it’s his turn.

“Most memorable sex experience…” you hum in thought as you lightly drum the bottle in your hands against your lips. “Oh wait, this one’s funny. The guy I was with asked me if I peed myself when he took off my underwear because he didn‘t know that women get wet when they‘re turned on. I explained it to him but he wouldn’t believe me.

“He was sweet about it and told me it happens to the best of us — and that he sometimes pees himself too. So at that point, I just saw it as a second chance from the universe to show me what this guy was like and I left.”

The students around you laugh and comment on the story and as you look over at Peter a few seconds later he realises the other people are doing the same.

They‘re expecting him to tell a sex story now. His mouth goes dry and his brain is empty. Think. Think. Think. Think of something. Anything.

But he has nothing.

You speak up again, pointing at the guy next to Peter, “Oh my god, Brandon, you remember that story you told me earlier? You need to tell that one, that was the funniest thing I‘ve ever heard.”

A weight is lifted off of Peter‘s shoulders when the attention simply shifts to the guy next to him.

What felt like overthinking for hours when he couldn‘t come up with anything to say was probably only a short moment, less than five seconds, and not a single person noticed that they skipped over Peter. He lets out a breath of relief as other people tell stories and no one demands anything from Peter.

He keeps glancing at you, trying to figure out if what you did was deliberate or not.

The only thing he‘s gotten from you so far is a second of eye contact, your face neutral but your eyes holding something positive. The next time you stand up to refill your drink, Peter follows you into the kitchen.

You smile at him when you see him enter, offering some of the diet coke you‘re pouring into your cup to him. “No thanks,” Peter says, watching you fill the rest of your drink with rum.

“I don‘t know if you did that on purpose or not but uh.. thanks,” he says, clearing his throat after, annoyed at himself for sounding so nervous. You’re gorgeous, but he doesn’t even know you yet. You’re a stranger, yet he finds himself caring about what you think of him.

You muster him for a few seconds before you realise what he’s talking about.

“Oh. You mean during the.. the sex stories? That was no big deal. You just looked a little uncomfortable so I tried my best to get the attention to shift to someone else,” you smile.

“Thanks, that... that was really kind. Although I was kind of hoping it wasn‘t obvious how nervous I was. I just don‘t have any special or funny sex stories to tell... or any sex stories at all,” he avoids eye contact when he says it but you immediately get what he means.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You say, taking a step forward to stand closer to him, his cheeks heating up. He nods.

“The story I told? That was completely made up. I‘ve never had sex with anyone either. And I‘m not ashamed of that fact, I mean I‘m so young and there‘s nothing wrong with waiting or honestly I‘ve just never... been in that type of situation with a boy…”

“I get it. You don‘t have to explain yourself. Same boat,” he smiles and nudges your shoulder but regrets it instantly.

Nudging your shoulder? He has never nudged anyone‘s shoulder. Especially not the shoulder of a pretty girl he just met.

You don‘t take any notice of it though, much to Peter‘s relief, and you continue.

“Even if I personally don‘t care how old anyone is when they have their first time, I just felt nervous saying it in a room full of frat boys. I know this year has barely started but so far all the frat boys I’ve met live up to their reputation and I didn‘t want them making any stupid comments.

“If I was my ideal, confident self - or just a little tipsier - I probably would have just said that I don’t have any sex stories to tell but... I don‘t know. I was nervous.”

“I get that. That‘s exactly how I felt too. Only I wasn‘t creative enough to think of a story. My mind just blanked, I must have looked crazy when it was my turn to say something. You were calm though, the story seemed as real as all the others... maybe even more real, I mean what you said sounds very realistic to me considering how little most men know about women’s bodies.”

“Yeah,” you giggle, “But you didn‘t look nervous either. It‘s just that I knew I might not be the only one too nervous to admit that I don‘t have any experience so I was hyper-aware of it, I guess.”

“Okay, I‘m glad. Thanks again.” The conversation is slowly dying but he doesn’t want it to end yet.

He holds his hand in front of him, “I’m Peter by the way. Biochemistry and computer science.”

His fingers tremble for a second. Who introduces himself like that? God, he’s messing this up before it even started.

But you grin, trying not to laugh and tell him your name and introduce yourself in the same way, “Oceanography and computer science.”

He takes a second to release the breath that he was holding in, “Oceanography? Wow, that sounds really interesting. You‘ll have to tell me more about that.”

“It is. And I will once college starts. I‘m really excited.”

“Me too. And computer science? That means we‘ll probably have a few classes together right?”

“Probably. Do you have your schedule yet?”

He takes out his phone and shows you the picture he took of it, and you lean in to look at it so closely that he can smell your lovely perfume.

“I don‘t have it on my phone but I recognise that professor’s name,” you point at a name on the screen, “I‘m in that class too, I heard professor Garfield is really good. I have two classes with him.”

And that‘s how you two end up talking all night. Peter walks you home and you realise your dorm rooms are merely minutes away from each other and you make a vow to meet each other again. He really hopes you don’t forget about him, or that you weren’t just being nice.

Peter falls asleep with a smile on his face and you on his mind.

The next day, he realises with disappointment that you didn’t exchange numbers. He would like to text you and meet you in front of the lecture hall so it would be less nerve-wracking to go to his first-ever college lecture.

It would help to have someone he already knows with him and in case you were nervous he’d love to be there to calm you down too; make you feel less alone–you can do this together.

He knows one of his first classes on Tuesday is one that he shares with you. But he hopes he can see you on Monday to be each other’s support, or at least to see you for five minutes between classes.

He looks for you all day, but doesn’t see you again.

He’s giddy all night, knowing he’s definitely going to see you tomorrow. His plan is to get up extra early and casually and totally coincidentally lounge around in the hallway that your room is in, and then you can go to class together.

But one missed alarm later he‘s running through the building, trying to find the lecture hall that was shown to him during freshers week, but he didn’t quite manage to remember each one of the hundreds of rooms.

Time is running out and he has one minute until the lecture starts. He runs around the next corner and finally finds the hall he’s supposed to be in.

There are hundreds of students though, and he seems to be one of the last; he can’t even see if there are any seats left.

While his eyes scan the rows for an empty seat–but more importantly for you–he sees some movement directed at him. A wave.

His eyes travel down the arm that's waving at him and soon he’s making eye contact with you. He’s only met you once but he can’t stop a huge smile from taking over his entire face.

Peter blushes while he’s walking up the steps, on his way to you, but once he’s close he can see your bright smile and he’s immediately reminded of why he likes you so much.

“Hi,” Peter plops down next to you on the first seat of the row. You lean in and Peter’s breath gets caught in his throat when he realises you’re hugging him–just a friendly side hug, but it’s a hug nevertheless.

He takes his water out of his bag, trying to calm himself down by focussing on the cool drink running down his throat. It does clear his mind, the water, but he’s more and more comfortable with every second that he sits next to you. Your aura is so kind and calming, and he finds his shoulders losing the tension as you start talking to him.

“I thought you weren’t going to make it or something. We forgot to exchange numbers so I found your Instagram and was gonna message you there. But you‘re private so I couldn‘t.”

Ever since you said goodbye the night after the party, Peter has been worrying that that was all. That it was just an in-the-moment type of thing and you wouldn’t think it was anything special – or worse, you’d forget about him. But now you’re here, keeping a spot for him, telling him you’ve been thinking about him and wanted to message him. The warmth in his chest spreads when you smile at him.

And sure, just because you remember him doesn’t mean you’re best friends, but it confirms that Peter isn’t the only one who thought you had a connection that was worth remembering.

Peter most definitely also stalked your Instagram. It’s public but he didn’t want you thinking he was weird for spam-liking all your pictures–which he definitely wanted to do but he stopped himself in time.

He put a timer on Instagram for the app to remind him when it’s been twenty minutes of looking at your pictures. Not that there were enough to be scrolling for twenty minutes straight – he simply enjoyed looking at you.

He takes his phone out and accepts the follow request you sent him and follows you back.

“Put your number in,” you place your phone in front of him, opened on a new contact card that Peter fills out with his number and name. You look at it and add a <3 behind his name and Peter prays he’s not blushing as hard as it feels.

You text him You up? and if his cheeks weren’t red before then they definitely are now. He can tell you’re just teasing but the fact that you’re already comfortable enough to joke around with him makes him grin.

He feels like he can be himself with you and you’re doing the same. You’re not holding back with showing Peter that you like him and it makes him feel good about himself.

But his smile fades when he hears your next words

“The professor is so hot, I have no idea how I‘ll concentrate. I talked to him before I sat down and he has a really nice voice too. And that accent… But wait till he turns around and you see his face – or you could just stare at his ass.”

Peter doesn’t know why it feels like someone stabbed him right in the heart. And when he sees you further staring at the man, it’s like that knife is being pulled out of his chest and Peter bleeds out.

“I-it’s not even that big,” Peter tries.

You look at him and now he feels stupid for having said that.

“Butts don‘t have to be big to be hot. Little booties matter. And they’re really cute sometimes.”

“W-well yes, of course, but.. he‘s really not that hot,” Peter says, and then Professor Garfield turns around, “...okay he is that hot.”

“Told you,” you sing, a smile on your face, and he can’t be mad at you when you’re looking at him like that. He couldn’t be mad at you no matter what you did. While Professor Garfield, or Andrew–as he tells you all to call him–starts the lecture, Peter tries to figure out what’s got him so mad.

Yes, of course you’re pretty. You’re gorgeous. But that doesn’t mean that he has to have a crush on you immediately. Just because you’re a girl and he’s a guy doesn’t mean that this has to go beyond a friendship. Men and women can be just friends. He can’t just fall in love with the first pretty woman who’s nice to him.

Okay, maybe he already has a crush on you. So what? Who can blame him?

But Peter doesn’t want to rush anything with you. He’ll give you the time to figure out what you feel for him, and he’ll just follow your lead. He may think you already like him as much as he likes you, but it’s still only the second time you’re ever seeing each other.

That and he just doesn’t want to overthink it all and end up losing the first person at college who genuinely feels like someone he could be friends with.

He tries to ignore how you giggle at every joke the professor makes and tries to focus on the warmth of you next to him instead. Not too much though, he’s already let your teasing get to his head and maybe even to a body part further down.

Even if it means he won’t have to witness you laughing at Professor Garfield’s jokes anymore, Peter is sad when the lecture is over. It’s the only lecture he has today and therefore also the only one he has with you today.

As you pack your things and people swarm out of the lecture hall, you and Peter stay back, taking it slow.

“What’s your next class?” You ask, looking him right in the eyes–like any normal person–but he’ll really have to get used to that. He can’t lose his mind every time you just look at him. But he's so attracted to you.

“I, um, I no. I mean, I don’t have any other classes today.”

You smile unexpectedly, “Cool, me neither. You wanna do something? We could get lunch together.”

You say it with such ease, showing your interest in him like you don’t know how it’s making Peter feel warm and bubbly inside.

Even if Peter still gets nervous around you, simply because he wants to impress you and doesn’t want to fuck this up, he realises quickly that he has no reason to be.

Your friendship blooms effortlessly and quickly.

A week later you’re texting like you’ve been best friends for years and he finds himself too happy around you to worry about what he’s saying or how he’s acting. You like him the way he is and he can feel it deeply and confidently.

Yes, he still stutters a lot around you - but he does that around most people, to be fair - and once you part ways for the day he overanalyses every little thing you’ve said to him, overthinks every little touch of yours for some form of affection that is more than platonic.

And it’s hard, figuring out whether you like him as more than a friend.

But this friendship is so new and so exciting that Peter thinks it makes him just as happy as an average relationship in the honeymoon phase would. So even if he does crave more intimacy with you, it’s hard to complain when he has a friend like you.

You show up at Peter’s door at midnight on a Friday. His sleep schedule has been surprisingly healthy for a college freshman so if anyone else disturbed him when he was already in pyjamas, he’d be annoyed.

But with you, he’s ecstatic. He’s awake immediately, grinning from ear to ear at your surprise visit. You never left his mind but he thought he’d have to wait until tomorrow to see you again.

Peter is more than aware of the contrast between your done up state and him in his ratty old pyjamas. You’ve seen him in pyjamas before and he knows better than to think you’d judge him, but he can’t help but to want to at least try and match you when you’re looking as gorgeous as you are.

“Oh sorry, I thought you’d still be up,” is the first thing you say, ready to leave if you’re bothering him in any way.

“No, no, I am, don’t worry. What’s up?” Peter asks, trying to look cool as he leans against his door frame. He ignores how it hurts like hell where his elbow meets a sharp corner.

“Well… I was gonna ask if you wanna go watch a movie with me,” you give him a charming smile not knowing he’d say yes no matter what you asked of him.

“Now?”

“Uh, yes. Now. But it’s fine if not, genuinely I won’t be mad. I can see that you had other plans,” you smile at his pyjamas.

“No. Don’t worry, I’d love to go. Do you have tickets or…?” Jealousy bubbles up inside Peter when he realises you might have been planning to go with someone else. With some other guy. Maybe he bailed on you and Peter is the second option (which he would still be grateful for, but he hates the thought of you with another guy).

“No, but I checked online and they have plenty of tickets left. It’s the last day they’re playing this film. The one I told you about, the horror one.”

“Oh God.” He’s trying to pretend that you still need to convince him when really Peter just needs a second to realise he was just overthinking again. He is your first choice. Not another guy.

“Pleeeease, Peter,” you grab his arm and pout.

Peter has been convinced since the moment you showed up at his door.

“Give me a second,” he smiles and you grin back, “Really? You’re the best,” you kiss his cheek enthusiastically and he goes back into his room fast enough to hide his blush.

He picks out an outfit, brushes his teeth and puts on deodorant just in case.

You take him to the cinema with your hand in his. Peter knows it’s not a romantic gesture, you’re just treating him like you’d treat a female friend, but his brain doesn’t know the difference. He’s just happy to be touching you.

When you buy the tickets the guy at the movie theatre shows you the available seats on his screen. He points to one of those love seats where two seats are joined together so you can cuddle.

You nod and when the guy gives Peter a congratulatory smile, Peter’s cheeks heat up. The guy probably thinks you and Peter are a couple. It’s not just good for Peter’s ego and the fake scenarios with you that he’ll imagine before bed, but it’s also better for the guy. Peter saw the way he was eyeing you, and Peter doesn’t know what he would have done if the guy had asked for your number.

“We can cuddle,” you grin as you sit down and pat the seat next to you. You’re almost alone in the theatre, you could sit anywhere you want but you want to be close to him.

While you wait for the trailers to start you take Snapchat videos with Peter, asking him if you can send them to your friends at home. His heart swells when you say that you’ve told them about him.

He takes pictures of you looking all pretty and perfect and he wonders if it would be too much to set it as his phone wallpaper. Your head is on his shoulder as you scroll through the pictures that he just took of you and your perfume is hypnotising.

How is every little thing about you so captivating? Peter has never met anyone like you.

He’s fucking scared during the movie, but with his eyes mostly closed he manages to be the guy you can hold on to during the creepy scenes. Your fingers around his bicep squeeze every time there is a jumpscare and at some point he has to force himself to watch the film after all if he doesn’t want to get hard from your touch. He knows it’s pathetic, but he can’t help it.

You look beautiful in the light of the stars as you two walk home, your hand still around his arm, gushing about the film and thanking him for watching it with you despite the spontaneous change of his plans.

You spend some time in the common area by your dorms. It’s late and everyone else seems to be at some party elsewhere or sleeping. You cling on to Peter, still jumpy from the horror film and he nearly asks you if you want to sleep in his bed.

He nearly says it about five times, but he can’t quite get the words out. He doesn’t want to give you the wrong impression, even if you may be about to ask the same thing.

Peter sits there nervously, gulping as he’s about to ask. He really will say it this time. But before he opens his mouth he hears your deep breaths and notices how your body has gone slack against his side.

He kisses the top of your head in content and soon, sleep finds Peter too. He doesn’t have to dream about being close to you because it’s already his reality.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝒕𝒘𝒐 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ･:*:･｡

It’s a few weeks into the semester and it’s become a routine for you two to study together. Whether you’re helping each other with the classes you share, or silently working on other things and enjoying each other’s company, your study sessions have even managed to make studying a rather fun part of college.

Especially when you’re both sitting on Peter’s bed, and your knees or legs or arms are always touching.

You’re not focussed today, scrolling around on your phone instead of studying. You throw your phone to the bed at some point and you hug your legs to your chest in thought.

“You think Andrew will let me suck his dick? For a better score?”

Peter’s heart stops beating for a second.

You haven’t kissed, you haven’t said anything that should have led Peter to think that this is more than friendship, but it seemed like there could be something in the future. Apparently, you’re not even considering it.

“Who’s Andrew?” He asks, mouth dry and voice weak.

“Professor Garfield.”

“Oh. Well, I-I think that‘s illegal.”

“Is it though?” You tilt your head and give him a deliberately incredulous look.

“Yes.”

“Not if no one finds out. It’s don’t break the rules or don‘t get caught, Peter.”

He’s distracted by you saying his name for a moment. There’s nothing he loves hearing more.

But he has to stop you from doing… that. He can’t entirely tell how serious you are, but he has to make sure to convince you that it’s a bad idea.

“No offence, but what makes you believe you’ll be good enough for him to give you a better score? If you’ve never… you know, done anything like it.” He remembers your conversation from the first time you met, and if you haven’t given anyone a blowjob since then, he knows it would be your first time. Your first time can’t be with a professor, even if Peter disregards the fact that he wants to be the only guy you have sex with, it really is a bad idea.

“I’m a young and pretty student and he’s a kinda old guy. He’s like 40. So I’m sure that I’ll be enough for him.”

Peter doesn’t say anything for a moment, thrown off by your casual tone.

“Don’t you think so?” you press, teasing in your voice.

“No- of course you’re pretty. You’re beautiful,” he smiles, pressing his lips together.

“Aww,” you sit up and press a kiss to his cheek, “So are you, Pete.” You hold on to his shoulder as you lower yourself into his lap, your butt right next to his thighs and your upper body resting on his legs, and his breath hitches.

“Well if you think I need practice, then.. I could practise on you first.”

“Practise w-what on me?” He asks, feeling your hands on his abs.

“Going down on a guy,” you say, looking up at him. Now the feeling in Peter’s belly changes from raging jealousy into something else of equal passion. He’s thought about you doing that before, (and pushed the thought out of his mind as quickly as it appeared) but hearing you suggest it makes a new flame of desire light up in him.

The first conversation you ever had was about sex. But anytime you mention anything sexual, Peter doesn’t know how to act.

“I- I mean. I’m not- I feel like, maybe that’s not—”

“Don’t worry, I’m joking. I won’t actually suck that guy’s dick. I just don’t wanna do this stuff right now,” you sigh, sitting up and closing your textbook.

“How about we do something to distract you for the night, and then tomorrow I’ll help you with the next assignment,” he suggests, relief still flooding through his body, happy that you don’t actually want to suck your professor’s dick.

“You’d do that?”

“Of course. I’ll always help you when I can but I especially owe you after you did my homework last week when I fell asleep.”

You sit up, “I told you it was no big deal. It was just multiple choice and all I did was copy my answers.”

“Yeah but if I hadn’t woken up then I would have missed the deadline and failed.”

“I know you’d do the same for me. And besides, you looked so peaceful sleeping. I couldn’t wake you up to do some boring computational linguistics quiz at eleven pm.”

Peter smiles at the memory of last week. When he’s with you, he doesn’t want to sleep, he wants to spend time with you. But he was tired and you were studying something Peter couldn’t help you with anyway, and he’s so comfortable around you that he just drifted off to sleep because he trusts you – he wouldn’t be okay with being unconscious next to just anyone.

“Well, it was still a very kind thing to do.”

Not sure what you’re doing yet, you go to your dorm room so you can change out of your sweats and into something prettier–even though Peter thinks you could wear sweatpants 24/7, and you’d still outshine everyone. He nearly stays outside but with a confused look you ask him what he’s doing outside and he reluctantly comes in.

Picking out an outfit, you pull off your shirt with no warning and even if he can only see your back an “Oh my God” leaves Peter’s mouth immediately, followed by a quiet, “Sorry,” as he turns around.

“Don’t worry. I’m just changing. It’s just my body, you can look.”

Despite your nonchalant words, Peter can hear your heart beating loudly and frantically in your chest. He tries not to let it get to him, it doesn’t have to mean that you like him. Maybe you’re just realising that you don’t want a boy to see you half-naked after all but you don’t want to say it now after confidently assuring him it was okay.

Peter sits down on your bed, turned away from you even though it takes all the willpower he can muster.

A few moments later you jump onto the bed next to him, “So, what are we doing tonight?”

“Do?” He asks, still dazed from seeing your naked back, “Oh do, yeah. Uh yes, we can do something.”

You giggle, looking at him expectantly. That’s when Peter remembers he was the one who suggested that you go out tonight.

“Oh-well yeah, I was thinking we could take a walk along the river, I heard they have these carnival booths up every Friday night.”

Going out in the evenings has become your and Peter’s thing. Sure, many people–especially college students–go out in the evening. But with you, it feels different. It feels special.

Illuminated by the streetlights and the LED glow from the booths, you and Peter play a few rounds of ring toss and throwing darts at balloons. You both swear it’s rigged because neither of you win anything.

You eat popcorn while Peter gets cotton candy and once again you hold Peter’s hand throughout most of your trip. It’s become a habit of yours, apparently meaningless as a romantic gesture, but platonically it means everything to Peter. You like him enough to constantly initiate physical touch; plus, he’s never seen you hold hands with any of your other friends.

Still, Peter is forever wishing for more. Sometimes he looks at you and wonders how he’s managed not to kiss you yet. But his fear grows with every day; the closer you get the harder it will be to confess his feelings because the risk of ruining something beautiful keeps getting bigger.

He’s never been this attracted to anyone but he also thinks he’s never had a friendship as good as yours. He simply can’t risk something good, something beautiful, something that makes him as happy as he’s ever been. Your friendship is strong but he’s scared you wouldn’t be able to come back from Peter confessing his feelings for you and you not feeling the same.

It could weird you out, you could take pity on Peter and see him in a different light, or worst of all, you could think he’s been taking advantage of you. He’s never touched you anywhere that would be reserved only for a lover but you two are quite close. You’ve cuddled a few times, or just a few hours ago you were changing in front of him – he doesn’t want you thinking he intentionally got any sexual gratification out of it and for you to view him differently.

He already feels bad enough when nothing but the image of you clouds his thoughts whenever he jerks off. He can’t help it anymore. He used to be able to think of something else or simply watch porn but now that he’s with you so often and you’re so perfect, you’re like an intrusive thought; whenever he’s naked, there’s nothing on his mind but you, just like when a song is stuck in your head – there’s no easy way of getting rid of it.

Peter has never been one to feel shame after masturbating. But if you only liked him as a friend and ever found out what he thinks about when he’s fucking his fist late at night, he doesn’t even want to know what your opinion of him would change into. But the mental image of you alone makes Peter cum so hard, over and over, that he can’t stop, even if guilt plagues him right after as he cleans up the mess he’s made.

He looks down at your intertwined hands while you’re walking home across campus. He wonders what you’d do if you knew that the hand you’re holding right now jerks Peter off every night without fail, thinking precisely of how your hand could replace Peter’s.

On your way home, you walk past a frat house, the vibration of the music reaching Peter’s chest even from the outside.

“Shit, Chloe told me about this party. I forgot I said I’d be there.”

“Who’s that?”

“She’s one of my friends from an Oceanography class. Do you mind if we go in? Just for half an hour.”

It’ll definitely distract Peter from thinking about you in a way that he’s not sure you’d be comfortable with.

You’re dragged away by some of your girlfriends as soon as you enter. They all say something about Peter but you quickly shrug off what they’re saying about you two always being together. He can’t tell if it’s a genuine no or just that feeling of embarrassment that you get when your friends tease you about your crush.

So your friends see it too? The indescribable chemistry between you two? Even with his enhanced hearing, he can’t hear the rest of your conversation because some of his own friends are urging him to go play beer pong with them.

Peter sees you every twenty minutes or so and you wave or smile at him and check up on him every time you walk past. Spending time with your other friends is good for both of you, but it’s also good to know that he’s still on your mind, just like you’re on his.

“Help me find the bathroom,” you tell Peter the next time you see him. He’s getting a little bored at this party so he assumes you also want to escape.

You walk into the bathroom together and Peter doesn’t realise that you actually just need to pee until he sees you contemplating on pulling your underwear down or not, “Can you wait outside?”

“Of course.”

Peter has no interest in being in the bathroom with you while you pee, but the fact that you nearly let him stay in there with you shows him once again how comfortable you are around him. He’s smiling like an idiot, standing by the wall opposite the bathroom until he hears your “You can come in.”

After you’ve washed your hands you sit on the edge of the bathtub and pat the space next to you for Peter to join you and you chat about whatever comes to your mind. So you did want a break from the party too, and Peter is glad to provide that.

“What song is that?” Peter asks. The music is loud enough for you to clearly hear it even upstairs in the bathroom.

“I don’t know, I’ll shazam it. You’re right, it sounds good.”

When you unlock your phone the screen is filled with the picture of a vibrator. You ignore it and go to Shazam the song, but Peter can’t let you off like that.

You always get to tease him so he smirks when he can finally get you back, “Wait wait wait,” he takes your phone from you, lifting it high in case you want to take it from him.

“What is this?” He asks, smiling, teasing you lovingly and in good fun but you look at him as if he’s talking about the most boring thing ever, not embarrassed in the slightest, but once more, that could be a good sign; another sign of your close relationship.

“Oh, it’s this vibrator. But it’s way too expensive for me.”

Peter licks his lips, trying not to freak out. He doesn’t know why he thought talking to you about a vibrator would be a good idea. But he tries to appear as calm as you, “Why is it expensive? What’s so special about it?”

“Well, it basically sucks your clit. But I don’t want to spend over 100 dollars on something like that when I can just go out and find a guy to suck my clit within like five minutes. It’s all those guys on campus think about, I swear. I’m glad you’re not like that, Pete” you smile at him and put your head on his shoulder, completely catching him off guard with your words.

He won’t be able to jerk off without thinking about you for days now; meaning he won’t be able to jerk off for days. Do you mean you’d hate knowing that Peter thinks about you sexually or do you just mean that there’s no pressure with Peter? And that any other male friend would have asked for sex by now?

Peter knows he’s not a perv, but he doesn’t know if you’d say the same if you knew you were the protagonist of his spank bank.

“Wait, actually, a friend told me they’re way cheaper if you buy them in-store and they’ll have more to choose from... will you go with me?” You ask him with a big fake pout.

“To a.. a sex shop?”

“I don’t want to go alone. And you’re my best friend.”

He can’t say no to you after you call him that, even if having a constant reminder of what you use to masturbate is going to kill him.

“O-okay. But why can’t you just go with your friend?”

“I’m not as comfortable around her as I am around you. Unless you really don’t want to.”

“No no I’ll go,” he nods and you grin.

“I’m sure they’ll have something for you too,” you say with raised eyebrows. And even though his hand and the thoughts about you make him cum hard and fast enough that he doesn’t feel like he needs a sex toy, your words help him feel a little less guilty. You telling him to go buy a sex toy suggests that you’re not grossed out when thinking of him masturbating, so maybe you’d understand that he’s got to do what he’s got to do sometimes, and you actually wouldn’t completely hate him if you found out what goes on in Peter’s mind when he jerks off.

“But we’re not going before we finish our assignment.”

“Deal,” you shake his hand with a laugh and join your friends downstairs to play the last few rounds of drinking games before you go home.

You’re good, but the other team is better.

You didn’t really want to drink tonight and are only playing for fun but Peter likes following the rules so someone has to have the drinks. You assure him he doesn’t have to but Peter downs all the drinks for you and the ones for himself, relying on his enhanced abilities to drink them like water. He has one drink and then five more and when you two leave the party he realises he’s drunk.

You insist on taking him to your room to make sure he’s okay but Peter is a funny drunk so he doesn’t feel too bad. If he gets to sleep in your bed he could never feel bad, and knowing you you would never offer if you weren’t okay with it.

“I like when you take care of me,” Peter smiles at you when you tuck him into bed and he takes your hand in his, “And I like when we hold hands.”

“I like it too,” you kiss his forehead and Peter practically swoons. You were holding his hand the whole way back home from the party, like one of those people keeping a toddler on a leash and he’ll probably be embarrassed tomorrow morning but right now he’s just grateful for the constant affection.

You seem no bit annoyed that you have to deal with a drunk Peter, you’re just spending time with your best friend (he hasn’t stopped thinking about you calling him that) who happens to be drunk.

“Will you need a bucket?” You ask as you pull down your skirt and leave on your cropped shirt.

“A what?” He asks, heart beating harder as he stares at your half-naked form.

“Do you think you’ll throw up?” You ask.

“No, I’ll be fine.”

When you walk over to the bed Peter sees everything in slow motion. You stand next to the bed for a few seconds, tapping on your phone, and Peter admires your beautiful body while he can.

“You know how much I love your legs? They look so good,” he says, and he can’t tell if he’s embarrassingly drunk right now or not. He just knows that your legs are perfect. You’re perfect. And that’s something his sober self would wholeheartedly agree with.

You smile and turn off the lights, leaving the window open so Peter can get some fresh air but it also leaves enough light for Peter to admire your legs some more.

“Scoot over,” you tell him and get in bed with him.

“No, you don’t understand how incredible your legs are.” He gets one last glance at them before you pull the blanket over your body.

“Thank you, Peter,” you smile, and he sees by the crinkles next to your eyes that it’s genuine and maybe you don’t hate him looking at your body as much as he’s been worrying you would.

You talk a little more but minutes later the conversation consists more of yawning than talking and Peter sobers up when he realises he will be sleeping next to you. It’s his first time sleeping in a woman’s bed, and he’s glad it’s yours.

He’s taken naps next to you and there was that one time you slept next to each other on the sofa, but this is different. You’re alone in your room, right next to each other, in one bed, sharing one blanket. He can feel the warmth of your half-naked body and before he knows it your familiar presence calms him down enough to fall asleep quickly.

When Peter wakes up next to you the following morning, it takes a few moments for it to all come back to him.

He knows there’s no way you slept with each other, Peter was kinda drunk, neither of you have even confessed any feelings and you wouldn’t have a one night stand the first time you have sex.

But when he gently lifts the blanket, making sure he doesn’t wake you up, he’s met with the sight of your lovely belly and heavenly thighs, and Peter thinks from the outside it could look like you had sex.

Not that anyone is going to see, but two hormonal college students, both half-naked, waking up next to each other.. It screams something obvious and that thing is not that you two are merely friends.

The thought of it alone makes Peter flustered and he shifts uncomfortably. His eyes widen when he realises that his morning wood is pushed right against your ass. He pulls his hips back as quickly as he can, waking you up in the process.

You’re facing away from him, and the first thing you notice is your and Peter’s interlaced hands. His cheeks warm up as he notices them too. His arm is resting above your head on the pillow, fingers next to your face where they’re loosely intertwined with yours.

He doesn’t remember waking up in the night, so you must have somehow ended up holding hands in your sleep, both finding your way to the other even while unconscious.

You squeeze his hand and twist your body to look at Peter’s face. “Hi,” you mumble, smiling sleepily.

“Hi,” Peter says, opening his mouth minimally just in case he has bad morning breath.

Your eyes flit across his face with a look he can’t decipher. “Goodnight,” you say a few seconds later and you lie back down in your tired daze, pushing against Peter and pulling his arm over your waist.

“Wait,” you turn around again, “Are you okay? Got a hangover or anything?”

“I’m good, thanks. Go back to sleep,” he smiles, partially because he knows you still need rest but also because he wants you to go back to sleep so he can take care of himself. It’s becoming painful how hard he is.

“Okay. But stay, you’re warm.”

He most definitely is warm, he knows he’s blushing like crazy.

You pull the blanket further up your body and scoot back against Peter, and the way your ass pushes against his crotch nearly makes him moan. He doesn't know how you're not noticing what's going on.

He scoots his hips back as far as he can and waits a few minutes until you’ve drifted off to sleep again. He carefully removes himself from you and goes to your bathroom. You have a bathtub, big enough for both of you, he thinks, with a showerhead on the wall.

Before he can even bring himself to care about the temperature, Peter turns on the water and pulls his clothes off in a hurry, wrapping a hand around himself before he’s even really in the shower.

He leans a hand against the wall, resting his head against it as his other hand speeds up, jerking himself off while he thinks about you in the other room. You, so pretty, so caring, so sexy in just your underwear and a short shirt. You, not knowing that Peter is about to cum in your shower, so close to you, thinking about you.

The water is only barely louder than the sound his hand makes against his cock, and he bites his lip to stop any moans from coming out.

Peter cums when he hears the squeaking of your bed; you’re getting up, you could walk in any second. While he cums, Peter’s mind wanders to you on your knees, his dick sliding in and out of your mouth as you look up at him with your gorgeous eyes.

He washes his cum off the bathroom tiles on the wall and tries to wash the guilty feeling off himself.

Suddenly the door opens slightly, “Hey can I come in? I won’t look, I just wanna brush my teeth.”

Peter makes sure to slide the shower door to the side so it’s covering him and he tells you to come in.

He peeks out of the shower and you smile at him through the mirror. He catches your eyes drifting lower but you can barely even make out the outline of Peter’s body through the frosted glass.

Peter casts his own glance at you and how you’re still not wearing anything but panties and that short shirt. You stretch your arms, still trying to shake the tired feeling, and your shirt lifts so that Peter can already see the flesh of your tits. But you stop stretching just before your top lifts over your nipples and he quickly turns to look at the wall in the shower instead.

He quickly washes himself using your shower gel, maybe he’ll smell just like you now.

You hand Peter a towel just at the right moment and he wraps it around himself before stepping out of the shower.

“Wait, leave it on,” you tell him.

In his still horny brain a scenario plays out where you said that a few moments earlier and joined Peter in the shower.

This time you don’t tell him if it’s okay for him to look while you’re changing so he diverts his gaze before you slip out of your clothes.

You squeal when you get in the shower, “Peter, why is it so cold? What’s wrong with you?”

He must not have realised how cold it was, but once he got into the shower he only cared about coming, and he blocked everything else out. By the time he was washing his body, he must have become used to the temperature already and didn’t notice.

Peter brushes his teeth with his second toothbrush that he’s got in your bathroom and quickly goes into your bedroom so he won’t be in the same room as you while you’re naked and he’s only got a towel wrapped around him.

You come out dressed in the clothes you took into the bathroom with you.

“Sorry that I used your shower,” Peter says, sitting on your bed with nothing but your towel.

“You’re welcome here whenever and welcome to use whatever, you know that. But showering that cold should be a crime,” you smile at him, “Should I get you some clothes?”

You go to Peter’s room to get clothes for him and he changes into them in your bathroom.

“I know it’s the weekend but can we get that assignment done today? I wanna go buy my vibrator soon,” you pout.

Peter forgot all about that. How is he supposed to study with you if he knows you’ll go out together to buy a sex toy after?

But somehow he manages. Well, you realise you can do it mostly by yourself once you properly start and Peter is only there for moral support (even though he’s the one who needs moral support; he doesn’t know how much longer he can pretend that he doesn’t have feelings for you, pretend that he didn’t just jerk off while thinking of you and pretend that it–by far–wasn’t the first time.)

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask Peter as you’re both on your way to buy your stupid vibrator that Peter would love to replace.

He doesn’t know what you’re talking about but your worried look tells him he looks exactly as nervous from the outside as he feels. He’s never been to a sex shop. Are they going to ID you? Are you going to meet someone you know? Is it going to be all dingy?

Normally, you’re like an anchor to Peter, your presence can make him feel comfortable in situations that would usually make him panic. But in this situation, you’re making him even antsier. Not in a way that he would describe as anxious but more like a, he’s scared he’ll get a boner any second. That’s always a risk when he’s with you but that risk quadruples when you’re going to a sex shop to buy a vibrator for yourself.

You stop Peter in his tracks and stand in front of him to wipe his sweaty forehead with your sleeve, his heart beating even faster now. “You know you don’t have to come in if it makes you that nervous. But it’s just a shop.”

“What? Yeah I’m fine, pff, like so fine. I’m just hot,” Peter says, watching your eyes go to the thick winter coat Peter is wearing. You’re wearing one too. Even in his jacket, Peter could do with a bit more warmth.

“Here,” you unzip his jacket, and even if it’s only to assist Peter with his stupid lie, you’re still undressing him. You’re not helping the boner risk decrease at all.

The shop is classy and clean and the employees leave you alone (unlike when you dragged Peter to Lush that one time and he was forced to try out bath bombs and oil that he didn’t know the purpose of).

Now he can tell you’re flustered too, just a little bit. Holding on to Peter’s arm the whole time, you find what you need, pay, and put your gloves on top of the packaged vibrator just in case anyone decides to look in your bag.

Even though it’s a Saturday afternoon, the shops aren’t busy so you go to look for some new clothes. Peter thinks you could wear a potato sack and you’d still look pretty, so he’s not the best judge when you come out of the dressing rooms to ask for his opinion on whatever clothes you’re trying on.

“This is so ugly, oh my god,” he hears you from inside the dressing room, laughing.

You pop your head out behind the curtain to make sure no one sees you as you show Peter a top that, yes–even on you, looks ugly. You still look gorgeous, that’s for sure, but even your perfect face and body can’t save the Shrek-coloured thing that is supposed to be a t-shirt.

“You know, you’re the only one who’s allowed to see me in something as ugly as this,” you say absentmindedly as you go back to try on something else and Peter’s heart beats faster at your words.

It might sound ridiculous to an outsider, but to Peter these little things mean the world.

He might not be able to tell if what you feel for him is platonic or more, but he knows you feel something for him. You feel a lot for him. He feels it every time you so much as look at him.

With you, Peter feels loved.

The love you give him feels like it’s supposed to be for a lover, supposed to be for that one special person. And the lines between friendship and more are so blurry in your relationship that he can’t tell how much is spilling onto the romantic side already.

Peter contemplates paying for your new jeans but in the end, he’s too awkward (and too broke) in front of the cashier to interrupt when you get out your money. Besides things like cinema tickets, drinks and food, Peter has never paid for anything that you bought and it would feel very boyfriend-y.

You get food on your way home and by the time you’re in Peter’s room, it’s dark outside already. Peter was surprised that you even came to his room and when he keeps noticing you looking at the bag with your new toy in it, his assumption that you’d rather be doing something else now is confirmed.

You’ve been so casual when you talk about things like vibrators and getting off, but Peter has never had the courage to properly contribute anything to the conversation. But he decides to put on his big boy pants and before he can chicken out he nods towards his door and says, “Go on, try out your vibrator. I know you’re dying to.”

You give him a charming and apologetic smile, snatching your bag, ready to go. “I’d love to spend time with you, you know that but–”

“I know. But we have enough time for that tomorrow. Just don’t break your–” Don’t break what? Don’t break your pussy? Your clit? He’s never said any of those words out loud.

“I won’t,” you help him out and climb on the bed again to kiss his cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Pancakes as always?”

“Pancakes as always,” Peter smiles, feeling himself blush, “Text me your review of the toy,” he says before you leave.

“I will,” you smile back at him, wave, and close the door.

Peter waits a few moments until he thinks you’ve arrived at your door. Are you going to throw yourself on your bed as soon as you get in? Shower first? Are you going to slowly take off all your clothes, caress your body to turn yourself on? Seduce yourself? Or are you going to push your pants down just a few inches and shove the vibrator between your legs?

Whatever you’re doing, thinking of any of those scenarios makes Peter hard immediately; that, and the tension from today that he can finally release.

He moves to the side of the bed that you were just lying on, and the sheets still smell like you.

Peter unbuckles his belt and pushes down his jeans, grabbing himself through his boxers and instantly feeling a sense of relief.

He imagines you lying in your bed, right now, two fingers between your legs. You’re so wet from being with Peter, the guy you’re into, all day, that your fingertips easily glide over your skin.

Peter shifts and runs his thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the precum. The warm, familiar pressure is already building up in Peter’s body, and he slides his fist up and down himself faster.

In Peter’s mind, you’re spreading your lips now, holding the vibrator against your clit. You jolt at the first contact and smile, knowing you’re about to feel nothing but bliss.

Your body relaxes and you let the vibration take over completely, chasing your orgasm that’s so close after only a minute. You throw your head back when you cum, your eyebrows scrunched together. Your legs start shaking once you can’t take it anymore, but you press the vibrator to your clit during the last few aftershocks.

Peter cums at the same time as you do in his imagination. He’s spilling over his abs and his hands, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

He lies in his bed for a few more moments, sighing as he cleans up the mess he just made. He gets a message from you: Had a nice day btw :) Can’t wait to see you again tomorrow <3

He smiles and texts back, too exhausted to feel bad for what he just did.

Tomorrow will be the third day in a row that you’re spending time together and you’re showing no signs of getting tired of him. But at this rate, it seems like Peter will never know what being with you while you orgasm is actually like.

He can be patient, but he doesn’t know if he’s waiting for something that will never happen.

He doesn’t even care about the sex, he just wants to hold your hand and know what it means, know that it means that you’re in a romantic relationship.

He’ll give you all the time you need, that’s all he can do. He simply can’t confess his feelings, he can plan on doing it and dream about it as much as he wants, but when he’s standing in front of you he can’t risk losing you.

Maybe one day he’ll be brave enough, and who knows, maybe you’re thinking the exact same thing right now, trying to be brave but you just can’t.

Maybe.

Peter knocks at your door the next day, ready to get pancakes like you always do on Sundays. There’s a lot of commotion behind the door and you take a while to open it.

“You’re early,” you say, hair messy and overall dishevelled.

“Am I? I don’t mind waiting,” Peter says.

“I’ve just quickly got to shower, you can go back to your room or wait here, whichever you want.”

“No problem, I’ll just wait here.” Peter feels as if that’s the wrong answer because you don’t exactly look thrilled that he’ll be in your room, but you still let him in with a small smile. He knows that you can’t be mad at him and by the time Peter’s on your bed and you're about to go to the bathroom, you’re giving him a genuine smile and say you won’t be long.

Peter gets out his phone as he hears you turning on the water and he drops to his back on your bed.

Just as he’s about to go on Instagram, he hears a quiet, mechanical whirring. He wouldn’t be able to pick up on it without his enhanced hearing.

He hears how you smack your hand over your mouth, but you’re not quick enough. Peter still heard a tiny moan.

So that’s why you didn’t want Peter coming in. You’ve probably been making yourself cum all night and you weren’t finished with the last round.

Peter sits up and tries to stick his fingers in his ears, but even if he can’t hear you anymore he’s still got the vivid image of you in his head, only a wall separating you two.

He stands up and looks for something to distract himself before he gets hard, but to make things even worse, Peter’s eyes land on a pair of panties next to your bed.

He feels like a perv as he picks them up. He can see your arousal still glistening in them, and it’s like they’re calling out Peter’s name.

He’s about to lift them to his face when he hears you turning off the water. Peter stuffs the panties into his jeans pocket quickly and out of reflex. He stiffly sits on your bed, unsure if he still has enough time to pull your underwear out of his pocket again and throw it under your bed.

He’s too nervous to hear what you’re doing, his ears ringing, and before he can bring himself to quickly put your underwear back, you’re coming out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go.

With your innocent rambling about college he manages to calm down but you and your stupid vibrator are still on his mind. But it’s a good thing that you two can talk about stuff like that, so maybe he’ll get his mind off it once he asks you about it.

“So, is it good?” He asks you as you slide into the booth at the place you always go to for pancakes.

“Is what good?”

“Your, your vibrator thing? You didn’t send me a review,” he says.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” you laugh, “It’s so good, oh my god. I’m so glad we don’t have roommates here cause I did it like six times last night. I get why people pay so much for it. I mean it’s supposed to simulate oral sex and I can’t imagine that it feels the same but I guess I’ll find out one day.”

“You always have me if you want to find out how it feels.”

He can only gather the courage to say that because of what you once said about sucking his dick for practice so you could suck Andrew’s dick for a better score. The only difference is that you turned out to be joking, but Peter is serious.

He probably sounds too serious too because you give him a questioning, “Huh?”

“Well- well I’m just saying if you wanna compare your toy to oral sex then I... you know... my tongue is available to you,” he says it exactly how it comes to his mind, unsure if he should make it sound more like a joke.

You laugh, declaring it a joke yourself, “Okay, thanks. You’re so cute.”

It’s not ideal but the fact that you’re not running away from him and gagging shows him that at least the thought of Peter going down on you doesn’t disgust you. The fact that you made a joke about going down on him first, even if that was weeks ago, gives Peter a tiny bit of hope that maybe his instinct has been right all this time. Maybe you do like him back and you just need a bit more time.

“Um, I heard that next week there’s going to be loads of shooting stars. I was thinking we could drive out of the city and go stargazing. I already asked James and he said we can take his car–the truck, it’s big enough for us to lie down in while we look at the sky, it’s going to be warmer next week too and–”

“I’d love to,” you grin.

He mirrors your smile immediately because it actually took a lot of convincing for Peter’s friend James to let Peter have his car. And more importantly, looking at the stars sounds very romantic. He wasn't sure if he should invite you to something so obviously romantic.

What if it makes you realise that Peter likes you and you distance yourself from him because you don’t feel the same?

What if you do feel the same, but you need your time and it’s too early for a date-like activity?

But what if... what if it’s just the right thing?

You hold hands, you’ve slept in a bed together, so Peter doubts you will be freaked out by stargazing. But Peter can already feel the butterflies just thinking about lying under the night sky with you, and what if you don’t?

But maybe Peter is ready for the risk after all. He’ll see if you’re enjoying yourself, try to see in your beautiful eyes if you’re as smitten as him. He's realised that he’ll have to try one day and now that you’ve agreed to his plan, it feels like this is the right timing, the right thing. Maybe he’ll even ask you how you feel, or make a comment about how romantic the situation is.

And if you and Peter belong together, then maybe it’s time for you. He certainly feels that he’s ready. He’s not expecting a kiss, he’s not expecting anything except the tiniest hint that a romantic night with Peter doesn’t leave you cold. That would be more than enough to keep him going for so many more months to come.

He can wait if you need time but he’s just one man and his passion for you burns so brightly inside him that he just needs something, no matter how small it is.

You two walk home, your bellies filled with pancakes and warmth from seeing your person. No matter if it’s platonic or romantic, Peter would be blind if he didn’t see that he makes you happy and how much you glow and grin and his presence.

You hang out on campus for a bit more but you tell him you still need to study and you’ll see him tomorrow (he tries not to think about how you’re probably lying and are simply going to use your vibrator over and over).

Peter changes into sweats once he gets to his room and as he’s putting his jeans away he notices something pink peeking out of the pocket. Your panties. He completely forgot about them.

He carefully pulls them out, holding them like they’re a sacred treasure.

Making himself comfortable on his bed, he takes a deep breath before bringing your underwear up to his face.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting your arousal to smell like, not like this, but it’s even better.

It smells heavenly, just like everything else about you.

He bunches your panties up in his hand and presses them against his face, inhaling your scent while he reaches a hand under his sweatpants and strokes himself.

He’s been hard since he remembered he had your panties and he doesn’t even think about you making yourself wet, your smell alone has him coming undone within seconds.

He does it again before going to bed, this time wrapping the panties around his hand so he’s jerking himself off with them. He bites his t-shirt in an attempt to muffle his moans as the material slides up and down his cock.

He fucks his fist as hard and as fast as he can, his bed starting to squeak from the intensity of it.

Your wetness on your panties has long dried but the thought of your arousal so close to his dick has him–once again–reaching his orgasm pathetically fast. He sighs after he cums, examining the panties to make sure he pulled them away in time and there’s none of his cum on them.

He wants to save them for another time; as many times as they’ll still have your addicting smell on them.

He cleans the mess off himself, his cum ending up in a tissue that he throws into the trash can with all the other tissues. He’ll empty it before you come over the next time.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ:*:･｡

You’ve been driving for half an hour now, the city nothing but a few lights in the rearview mirror.

You find a spot next to a field, not a soul to be seen anywhere near you. You get the blankets and snacks to make yourselves comfortable in the back of James’s pickup truck that Peter borrowed.

“Look,” you point towards the sky, but Peter misses the shooting star. He goes back to looking at your beautiful face, only to find your eyes already on him.

He feels your hand on the side of his face, pushing his head to face the sky again, “Look at the stars, not at me,” you say and he can hear the grin in your voice. You’re enjoying yourself, and that’s all that matters. You want him to enjoy himself too, not knowing that your face is so much more interesting to look at.

After a few moments of staring into the brightly lit sky–it never looks like this in the polluted city–he has to admit, the night sky isn’t bad either.

It only takes a few seconds until another shooting star races across the sky and you share an excited look, “Did you see that?” You ask.

“You’re supposed to make a wish,” Peter whispers, eyes closed as he wishes for a relationship with you.

You’re still looking at him when he opens his eyes, your gaze intense, eyes flitting across his face.

“Did you make a wish?” Peter asks. You nod and slowly divert your gaze towards the masterpiece of nature above you again.

He can’t shake the feeling that your wish also had something to do with him. Something romantic. He always overthinks and doubts himself but this is one thing he’s sure about.

But the moment is fleeting and Peter doesn’t find the words to say. You’re back to looking at the stars, and he doesn’t want to have to grab your face to kiss you.

He swallows down the disappointment and tries to enjoy the time with you, his dear friend. Not many people have a friendship like yours and at this moment he just tries to be grateful for that.

“Peter?” Your voice is quiet.

“Mhm?”

“I’m so glad we met,” you turn to your side, your whole body facing him now. He can hear the raw emotion in your voice, he thinks he can even see tears in your eyes. That’s what your shared love does to Peter too. He could cry just thinking about it.

“Me too,” he says, reaching for your hand, trying to bring the monstrosity of his feelings into words to let you know that nothing has made him as happy as meeting you, but the words won’t come out.

“Our friendship means so much to me,” you say, and it stings. In this romantic moment, cuddled up beneath the stars, is that all Peter will ever be to you? A friend?

You continue, “I‘m sorry if I ruin it with what I‘m about to do.”

“What–”

You lean in and kiss Peter.

The world stops. Nothing matters, nothing but your lips on Peter’s. He always thought he’d be overcome with great excitement when you first kiss, an explosion of fireworks in his mind and his insides, but he feels at peace. It simply feels right.

“Did I just ruin our friendship?” You whisper, and it’s then that Peter realises that he barely kissed you back. He was too stunned to.

He puts his hands on your face and pulls you in, pressing his lips against yours over and over.

“You didn’t ruin our friendship, you turned it into something better, so much better. And you know that our friendship is hard to beat,” Peter says.

You let out a laugh of joy, “It is,” and you kiss him again, slinging your arms around his neck to pull him as close as you can.

Your lips are soft, so so soft, and even in the cold night, Peter feels warm because he has your body against his.

“Could you maybe uh… slap me?” Peter asks.

“Um, what?”

“Just so I know I’m not dreaming. Please.”

You pinch his cheek instead and you both smile. Peter’s not waking up. He’s already awake. It’s not a dream, this is actually happening.

The fireworks come after all, an explosion of happiness shooting through his chest when he realises that this is real.

He hugs you tight, as tight as he can without breaking you.

Peter’s heart drops when you pull away and tears stain your cheeks, “What-what’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing, nothing,” you put a hand on his chest, “I’m just so happy.” Your voice breaks as more tears rush down your face but your eyes are full of happiness.

Tonight, Peter was hoping for a hint that maybe in the future you see something more than friendship between you two too. What he got was all of you. A confession of your feelings, a raw exposure of your deepest emotions, vulnerability. But you trust him. And he’s so glad you do. He’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy and safe and comfortable.

He starts crying too, just a few tears, either because he’s seeing you cry or because it’s the first time in his life that he’s ecstatic enough to experience happy tears—he’s been waiting for this for so long, unsure if it would ever even happen. All the doubt from the last months tumbles away – none of it matters anymore. You kissed him.

“I really want to blow my nose but I don’t want to leave you,” Peter sniffles.

You look at him, “Go blow your nose, Peter.”

“Okay.”

“I have some tissues in my bag.”

You keep your hand on Peter’s leg while he reaches for your bag and half a minute later you’re reunited again with you lying in Peter’s arms.

You drove all the way to look at the stars but you can’t keep your eyes off each other, never going more than a minute without kissing. It takes a few more minutes for you to pretend that the stars are more interesting than Peter, and you straddle him once you decide you can’t go any longer without being as close to him as possible.

Peter wraps his arms around your waist, enjoying your weight on him. The kisses turn from pecks into something more, but it’s soft and unhurried. You’re taking your time with Peter, savouring the feel of him while Peter takes it all, takes all you give him.

Your wet mouths on each other is the only sound far and wide; even mother nature is quiet as you kiss Peter in the back of this truck, out in the country with no one else around.

You shift, your lips never leaving Peter’s, and start grinding against him, slowly.

He squeezes your waist harder as it becomes difficult to control himself. The only thing stopping him from ruining his pants is the fact that you’re both wearing jeans, so you’re narrowly missing Peter’s hardness, doing what feels good for you.

You stop abruptly with horror in your eyes and Peter strokes your back, “Everything okay? Why’d you stop?”

You look down, a bashful smile on your lips, “I didn’t realise I was doing that.”

Peter stops himself from groaning. He’s getting more turned on with every passing second.

“You don’t have to stop on my behalf.”

After two seconds of contemplation, you kiss Peter again, adjusting your position. You both gasp into each other’s mouths when you’ve perfectly aligned your bodies, and they start moving perfectly in tune with one another.

“I’ve been dreaming of having you on top of me for so long,” Peter says, hands now on your hips, feeling your every movement.

“And I’ve wanted to be on top of you.. for so long,” you’re distracted, pushing yourself up with your hands on Peter’s chest, your voice faltering as you hold in a moan.

Peter feels incredible – everything you do makes him feel incredible.

So incredible that he doesn’t know how he hasn’t cum yet, but he’s trying so hard not to.

He nearly moans when you grab his hoodie harder and you whimper, “I’m so close.”

One hand is at your jeans, trying to undo the buttons but you can’t, too lost in pleasure.

“Peter, unbutton my jeans,” you say–or rather whimper, “Please.”

And even though he’s on the brink of coming, nothing matters more than your orgasm right now, so he quickly fumbles with the buttons and opens them, your hand disappearing down your pants immediately.

Peter grabs the backs of your thighs as you cum on top of him, your face more gorgeous than he could have ever imagined, so pretty and so vulnerable just for him. He cums at the same time as you, trying to hide it but his hips push up against yours nevertheless.

You let yourself fall to Peter’s side, hiking your leg up over his lap. Peter puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“Did you uh..” you look up at him, half teasing him, half unsure if it even happened.

Peter drags a hand over his face, “Yeah… I.. came in my pants.”

“Oh,” you try not to laugh, “Sorry.”

He looks at you, “No, don’t apologise, that was one of the best moments of my life.”

You give him baby wipes from your bag while you pack the stuff and wait for him in the car. He reluctantly hands you the baby wipes when he gets in next to you, looking at your lap.

“What?” You ask.

“I’ve known how you smell for nearly a week now and I don’t know how much longer I can go without having a taste of you.” He’s thinking about your panties, safely stored in his room but they’ve lost even the last traces of your smell.

You follow Peter’s eyes towards your crotch and figure out what he’s talking about, “How… how do you know how I smell?”

Shit.

He forgot that you’re not supposed to know that.

But maybe, subconsciously, he said it on purpose so he can get any secrets out before you two get serious. Or maybe he’s just a dumbass, but he’s trying to look at the bright side. He’s not capable of any negative feelings when you just kissed him.

“Peter?” You ask. You don’t sound mad, you’re just curious.

“I uh, I took a pair of underwear from your room,” he starts.

“The pink ones? I’ve been looking for them.”

“Yeah, they’re pink. And it was the day after you got that clit sucking toy thing so I kept imagining you using it and then the smell made it so much more real…” he says, head hanging low in shame. You still don’t sound mad or grossed out but you haven’t heard all of it yet.

“Go on.”

“I used your underwear to um… jerk off,” he doesn’t meet your eyes until he hears your next words.

“That’s kind of hot,” you bury a hand in his hair, looking at him like you want to eat him up.

“R-really? You’re not mad?”

You shake your head and lean over to kiss him and Peter feels his blush up to his ears.

“I do want my panties back though.”

He tells you you’ll get them back and starts the engine to drive back.

“Wait,” you say, “Didn’t you want a taste?”

He immediately stops the car and leans over.

“I- well, I didn’t get a chance to get that wet but..”

“I’ll take anything,” Peter pleads.

You kiss his nose and unbutton your jeans, your fingers disappearing beneath them. He hears the wetness and is hard at once. And that’s when you didn’t have a chance to get that wet? You pull two glistening fingers out and bring them in front of his lips.

His cheeks heat up when he leans forward to take them into his mouth.

He moans at the taste. Sweet yet tangy. He wants to bury his face in you immediately; but you seem tired and he’ll have plenty of opportunities to do that another time.

Peter pulls you close and kisses you, he’s not that good with words so he hopes his tongue in your mouth tells him how much he wants you. It doesn’t have to be now, he just wants you to know.

“I like you.” It slips out of Peter’s mouth when you pull away from the kiss but his words make you connect your lips to his again.

“I like you too,” you smile, nearly laughing because it should probably have been obvious to Peter as soon as you kissed him. Leaning back in your seat in content, you look at Peter with those beautiful eyes of yours.

Those four little words could make him cry happy tears again but he pulls himself together when you turn on one of your favourite songs and he turns away when you use the baby wipes.

Before he drives you two home, a thought pops into Peter’s head; a thought that he’s had time and time again and he has to make sure that you know exactly how he likes you.

“But I um… I want you to know that I really do like you, as a person, romantically. I– of course I enjoyed what just happened–you have no idea just how much–”

“I think it was obvious how much you enjoyed it, Peter,” you interrupt him with a teasing smile that makes him blush and stutter for a few seconds before he continues.

“So, while, of course, I’m into you sexually, the emotional and romantic part is so much more important to me, and I need you to know that. But I’ve had so many sexual thoughts about you and, now that I’ve told you that I had your underwear and everything–”

“So you feel bad that you’ve had sexual thoughts about me?” You sum it up and Peter closes his mouth and nods.

“Well, don’t. Peter, in the last month I’ve spent every minute away from you with my fingers between my legs, imagining–wishing they were yours. I’m glad I was not the only one, it’s nice to hear that you’ve been as affected as I’ve been.”

“Are you sure? Because I remember that time when you said how all guys on campus just think with their dicks and how I’m different from them but I’m really not that different. If I’m not thinking about hugging you or thinking about your smile, then I’m always thinking about getting in your pants. And that is a lot of the time. And I’m sure that, even if you’ve thought about me in that way too, I’ve thought about you way more and I just need to know if you think I’m a perv or something.”

“Peter, hey,” you cup his cheek, “I don’t think that. And you don’t think with your dick. You just said you’ve wanted me for months and you didn’t even kiss me. You’re the opposite of those guys that have nothing but sex on their minds so that they can’t even think straight and ruin friendships with girls. You didn’t do that. You thought about my and your feelings and about our connection rather than getting in my pants.”

“But I did think a lot about getting into your pants,” he sighs.

“I thought about you getting into my pants too. That’s fine. That’s the beauty of liking someone, there’s not just the romantic side but also the sexual side. But you didn’t let the sexual side control you and you cared about my feelings first and foremost. Don’t feel bad for thinking about having sex with me, I’m glad you do. But you do so much more than that. You’re nothing like those guys.”

“I’m not like the other guys?” Peter laughs and then kisses you. (He still can’t believe he’s been kissing you all night). You shake your head, reassuring him.

Hearing you say that helps him immensely. He never felt bad about imagining what having sex with you would be like. It was the fact that it was without your knowledge and he had no idea if you’d be grossed and creeped out if you knew about it because you only saw him as a friend. He was scared of making you uncomfortable if you ever found out.

But you’ve found out now and you’re not just saying that it’s okay for him to think about that, but that you have thoughts about it too. (And now his thoughts are going to be even better, knowing that you might be thinking the same thing as him and his fantasies might turn into more than just fantasies).

The journey back has both of you smiling; what just happened still seems unreal, but every shared grin reminds Peter that it really did happen.

It breaks Peter’s heart when he delivers you back to your room, but he can tell you need sleep and he’s not exactly wide awake either. You kiss him like you mean it and you don’t pull away until you’re breathless.

When he gets to his room, Peter quickly puts your panties in his laundry basket so he won’t forget, and then he throws himself onto his bed and squeals loudly. He doesn’t care if anyone hears, he’s happy and he doesn’t mind if people know.

He gets a message from his next-door neighbour Brian:

Bro, you okay?

I heard a weird noise

He texts back: Y/n kissed me :)))))

Brian: About time, happy for you!

Peter considers going over to talk to his friend and tell him all about tonight. He’s tired but there’s no way he’ll sleep now anyway.

He then gets a phone call from you, and he picks up immediately.

“Peter?”

His face drops at your unsure voice. Did you change your mind?

“Yeah?”

“Did… did that really happen?” He thinks he can hear something positive in your voice but it’s hard to tell over the phone.

“It did.”

“Oh,” you say, “Good. I’m having a hard time believing it actually happened. I’ve been waiting for so long.”

He smiles again immediately, “Trust me, it hasn’t fully sunken in yet for me either.”

“Do you maybe wanna come over?” You ask, “I know it’s late but it’s the weekend so..”

He jumps to his feet and sets off instantly, “I don’t know why we didn’t think of that before.”

You giggle, “Me neither. I guess I was tired, but I’ll just be thinking about you all night anyway.”

You stay on the phone with him until he’s at your door, pulling him in for a kiss before he’s even in your room.

You push Peter onto the bed, lie on top of him, and hug him so tight that he can barely breathe. This would be the best way to go.

You’re both exhausted yet excited and interrupt each other with a kiss every few minutes while you’re talking about anything that comes to your mind.

“How long have you liked me?” You ask.

Peter smiles as he thinks back to the first time you met, “You made me nervous from the start because you’re so pretty, and then we talked about such personal things the first time we met. But I didn’t realise just how attracted to you I was until class a few days later when you were laughing about Professor Garfield’s jokes and talking about his ass.”

You pout and cup Peter’s cheek, “And then later I even made that joke about sucking his dick for a better score. Aw no, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs, “You just came on top of me and not him.”

You hide your face in his neck at the reminder that you just nearly had sex with Peter outside. His hand rubs over your back as if he’s not blushing at the thought of it.

“When did you start liking me?” He asks and you lift your head again.

“I thought you were cute the first time I saw you and then when we talked in the kitchen I knew I’d have to keep you because I immediately felt comfortable around you. And then… I don’t know. You just did your thing. And then my heart did its thing too.”

“I’m glad my charm worked on you.”

“It worked wonders,” you push yourself up on your hands and kiss Peter again, staying on top of him for a while until his lips feel sore.

“But regardless of this romantic… and sexual side,” you shyly smile at each other, “I meant what I said. Our friendship means a lot to me. And I’m glad we became friends before anything else.”

“Me too.”

He knows what you mean. Being friends allowed you two to get comfortable around each other first without any pressure to do things to make you attractive to the other person. Now you have a solid base of trust and you know each other; you don’t have to worry about only showing your best sides like other couples do in the beginning stages. You know each other inside out, (except for the fact that you’ve liked each other for a while — but that’s different), the good, the bad, the ugly – yet you’re still choosing each other. Happily so.

You both lie on your sides, Peter’s hand reaching over to rest on your hip. He can’t help but smile the whole time.

“Were you planning to kiss me? Or was it spontaneous?”

“I’ve been thinking about how it would feel to kiss you for months now, but for some reason it never occurred to me to make the first move. I was pretty sure you like me but the time went on and you didn’t make a move and I got scared that I’d ruin our friendship if I totally misinterpreted everything and you didn’t like me back.

“And I would have never forgiven myself for that. But when we were lying in the back of that truck, underneath the stars, I don’t know, it was so romantic and you were looking at me with so much adoration that there’s no way I wouldn’t have kissed you. My heart was leading me, I only gathered the courage because my body did what it knew I had to do, I was not in control at that moment, but I guess sometimes it’s good to give up control. But it was definitely spontaneous.”

Peter leans down so his face is right in front of your chest and he whispers, “Thank you, heart,” to which he hears your gorgeous laugh. Your whole body moves with your giggles, pushing your chest even closer to his face. It takes a second for him to get the willpower to pull his face away again.

You connect your lips to his a few more times, Peter’s heart fluttering with every passing second.

“Just so you know, I have liked you all this time, you were right. But I felt the same as you and you’re the most important person to me so I didn’t want to take even the slightest risk when it came to us. There were times when I thought our friendship would even survive me confessing my feelings and you not feeling the same, but by not telling you there was always the hope that you did like me.

“But if I told you and you didn’t feel the same, even if our friendship survived, it wouldn’t have mattered because it would have broken my heart into a million pieces. And I couldn’t put myself through that-”

“I’d never do that. I’ll take good care of your heart, Peter.”

“I know you will.”

You share a small kiss, Peter intertwining your hands.

“Okay, looking back, I probably should have known that you like me as more than a friend. Your love for my legs gave it away, but at the time I didn’t realise-”

“How do you know that I love your legs?” Peter asks as he turns red, looking at your thighs and resisting the urge to put his hand on one of them.

“When you were drunk, you told me how much you love them. You were basically drooling because of them.”

“Oh.. I don’t remember that. But I do love them.”

“I know,” you smile as you place one of his hands on your thigh and he squeezes the flesh.

You lie next to each other for a while, breath evening out and Peter thinks you’ve fallen asleep until he hears your voice, “Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“I still can‘t believe that this is actually happening. It‘s like when you‘re at a concert and you don‘t realise that you‘re seeing your favourite artist live and in person, and afterwards you still haven’t realised, and you never really get how lucky you were.”

Peter turns to his side to face you, his tired brain taking a while to answer, but he’s satisfied with what he says, “But a concert only happens once, and we‘ll be together forev— a long time. And longterm. We have plenty of time to realise that it‘s real. Maybe we‘ll realise if you kiss me again.”

You grin immediately and lean in to connect your mouth to Peter’s.

He understands what you’re saying, he can’t quite believe it either. It’s been too long for it to be a dream, he knows that it’s real, but it’ll take a few days for him to realise that he really is the luckiest person on earth.

He’s grateful that you two have something so beautiful that it nearly feels impossible.

You touch each other for a bit, not sexually, you’re just touching each other’s skin, realising more and more that this is reality.

You lazily make out for a few more minutes until Peter drifts off into the most peaceful sleep he’s ever had, with you in his arms.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★ﾟ:*:･｡

It’s been a few weeks since that one eventful night and you’re spending even more time with each other than before. Making out with you has become Peter’s new hobby.

He loves that you’re experiencing all your sexual firsts together. You haven’t actually done anything more than kiss since the night under the stars, and he’s more than happy to be patient if you need it but he’s looking forward to more.

“Is it okay if we don’t go all the way yet?” You ask him while you’re both hydrating and eating fruit between makeout sessions, “I definitely want to soon, but maybe not… not yet.”

Peter pulls you on top of his lap and holds you, “We established that the very first time we met, didn’t we? Of course it’s okay if we wait.”

“Okay,” you kiss him, “I don’t mean that we can’t do anything though.”

Peter licks his lips when he realises you’re planning something. You push Peter’s chest so he lies on his back and you slot your hips over his. His eyes flutter shut when he feels your mouth on the special spot on his neck and you slowly start grinding on him.

He grabs your hips and opens his eyes again when you stop kissing him to focus on that sweet place between your legs rubbing against Peter.

You stop when your eyes meet, “You have to close your eyes.”

“I wanna see you though.”

“It’s different from the first time, we’re not out during the night. And the position’s uncomfortable.”

“Then let’s change it.”

He’s already hard and if you continue like that he won’t take much longer; but your pleasure is more important to him so he pulls his sweat shorts further up his leg and lifts you onto his thigh.

Your eyes go down and you realise what he wants you to do, “But you–”

“Shh, this is about you right now, okay? And I’ll cum as soon as you do anyway so don’t worry about me. This okay?”

He sees how his words give you confidence and you nod, letting yourself fully sit down on his thigh. Peter knew he liked your pretty skirt for more than aesthetic reasons because the only thing between your warm pussy and Peter’s skin is your underwear. He could cum from the feeling of your wet heat through your panties alone, but he tries to focus on making you breathless with his kisses once you wrap your arms around his neck and pull his face close.

He holds you as you rock yourself on his thigh, becoming surer in your movements after a while, finding what feels best for you. Peter instinctively flexes the muscles in his thigh when you change your position slightly, and your little gasp tells him to continue doing it.

Your wetness slowly but surely drenches your panties and reaches Peter’s skin. You grab his shirt hard and bury your other hand in his hair, pulling. Peter tries bouncing his leg up and down and is rewarded with the sweetest moan coming from your mouth, followed by a gasp and a whispered: “I’m gonna cum.”

Your legs get weaker while you’re coming but, through his own approaching orgasm, Peter pushes your hips in whatever direction you want them to go and together you try to savour your highs for as long as possible.

Out of breath, you’re still holding onto Peter tightly. As your hand in his hair slowly lets go, you press a kiss to his head, your hand on his shirt easing too as you smooth down the material.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” You ask carefully but Peter shakes his head and purses his lips for you to give him a kiss, and you smile when you do.

“Oh, wait did you really cum?” You’re glancing down at the wet spot on his pants but your eyes widen when you get off him and realise how much you leaked onto his thigh yourself.

“I don’t know how I couldn’t cum when I have the prettiest, sexiest woman in the world having an orgasm on my lap.”

You lean your head against his shoulder, hiding your face from him while your cheeks heat up. You get off him and he goes to the bathroom to clean up.

You’re absentmindedly biting your lip when Peter comes back and he pulls you out of your daydream with a kiss.

“Do you wanna eat my pussy?”

Peter freezes for a second and then jumps onto the bed. You laugh, “Wait, I need a break first.”

“Okay,” he sits down next to you and swallows. He’s hard already just from the thought of going down on you. He couldn’t be happier that you want him to do it, he’s had daydreams (well, he’s mostly thought about it during nighttime) about it so many times.

“Do you want me to give you a massage?” He asks. It’s something you’ve done for him countless times and he doesn’t return the favour as often as he’d want to because your massages are heavenly and he can barely get up after.

“Yes please,” you lie down on your stomach, “But don’t stand on me.” You both chuckle.

Your massages consist of kneeling or standing on Peter’s back. It sounds painful but to him it’s the best thing he’s ever felt. He doesn’t just like your weight on his lap, he likes you on top of him in various scenarios.

He’s kneading your shoulders for about a minute when you suddenly sit up, “Okay, the break is over, can you eat me out now?”

A smile spreads over Peter’s face and you kiss him, a similar expression on your lips.

You get comfortable on your back and pull your shirt over your head and slip out of your skirt.

Peter sits between your legs, speechless, thumb rubbing over the large wet spot on your panties. You gasp when he touches you there but Peter can’t continue before showing you how much he loves your tits first. They're perfect.

He kisses his way up your stomach, inching further up until your nipple is in his mouth and your hand goes into his hair. He gets lost in the feeling of one of your boobs in his hand and the other one against his tongue until you push his head away.

He worries he’s hurt you but you whimper and spread your legs, pulling them up against your chest, “Please,” is all you can manage to say. Peter’s hands wander down your sides and between your legs, his fingers gliding over your panties.

Peter drags your underwear down your legs slowly, a string of your arousal staying connected to your panties momentarily. He licks his lips and kneels in front of the bed, pulling you to the edge of the mattress.

With your legs on his shoulders, Peter kisses your clit once, watching as your eyes flutter shut. He’s forgetting that this is your first time too, so your expectations probably aren’t too high. And you’re wet from your earlier orgasm and it seems to be doing wonders for you; you already start arching your back when Peter licks up and down your clit a few times.

He savours the taste of you on his tongue, sweeter than anything he’s ever tasted, and knowing that he’s tasting you because you’re wet for him makes things even better.

As he plays with your clit, his tongue in your pussy, he puts a hand on your stomach. It’s just because he doesn’t know where else to put his hand, but you grab some of his fingers, holding his hand and Peter’s convinced his eyes must be shaped like hearts right now. He’s always loved holding hands with you.

He makes out with your pussy, your juices all over his mouth, and he starts sucking your clit.

“Peter..” your voice comes out as a whimper and you grip his hand harder. You arch further into him and your eyes squeeze shut, and Peter can tell you’re coming – on his tongue, with his face between your legs, just like he’s imagined so many times but it’s so much better than what he ever could have wished for.

He only pulls his mouth away from you slowly, not wanting the moment to end. You don’t let go of his hand, instead using your intertwined fingers to pull him up so Peter can kiss you.

You hug him like you never want to let him go again and Peter gladly complies. He wraps his arms around you and lies on top of you for as long as you’ll have him.

“I’m too tired to return the favour,” you say after a while.

“That’s okay. I just wanted to make you feel good.”

He’s glad you said it because then you won’t need to find out that he came in his pants ages ago, yet again, and you don’t need to be reminded of what a loser your boyfriend can be and how you’re the opposite.

Peter lifts his head so you’re looking at each other, and you cup his cheeks to kiss him on the lips a few times.

“I’m getting cold,” you say.

“I’ll keep you warm.”

You smile and kiss his forehead, “I should get dressed. And I need to pee. But you can cuddle me again after.” Peter gets up and scoops you up in his arms, earning a squeal from you.

He carries you to the bathroom and even though he’s completely dressed and you’re naked and vulnerable, he can tell you’re content and comfortable by the way you drop your head to his shoulder and let him hold you.

You’re in the bathroom while gets the clothes you asked him to get from your room, but he changes first so he’s not walking around the student accommodation with a mess in his pants.

You’re sitting on the bed in all your naked glory when he gets back. He stares for a second, smiling softly as he realises how lucky he is to get to see you like this, that he’s the only one in the world who does and that you want him to see you like this.

It’s later in the night and you’re in bed, you sitting on top of Peter, kissing him. It’s not sexual; you’re enjoying each other’s company, touching each other, locking lips over and over and over. Peter couldn’t be happier. There’s a smile on his face the whole time.

“I like kissing you. Like a lot,” you say.

“I love kissing you.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna be my boy—”

“Girlfriend? Do you wanna be my girlfriend?” He interrupts you, somewhat surprised.

You grin and throw your arms around him, “Yes.”

“Sorry, I wanted to say it. After you made the first move I wanted to do this.”

“Everything okay?” You ask, realising he’s not telling you everything simply by looking at him.

“Well I don’t know, I kind of thought we were together already,” he says and your face softens.

“Oh. I mean we may as well have been. But we never properly talked about it. And just now I realised how sad I was that I couldn't officially call you my boyfriend, so I wanted to make sure that I could.”

“You’re right, now we have talked about it. And now it’s official. The most beautiful woman in the world is officially my girlfriend,” he beams as he cups your cheek and kisses you again.

You lie down next to him, his arm around you as you cuddle into his side.

After a few moments of looking at Peter, you start giggling, as if you just remembered something funny or embarrassing about him.

“What?” He asks.

“Nothing just, I’m so into you, and you really weren’t sure if I liked you? I know we‘ve talked about how we were both too scared to ruin the friendship but we were both idiots.

“I mean, I tried to give you the boldest, most obvious signs. I kept holding your hand, talked about me getting off. I changed in front of you, slept next to you half-naked? Peter, I said I’d suck your dick.”

“Yeah but it was only in relation to you sucking professor Garfield’s dick for a better mark.”

“Knowing me, do you think I’d really suck a professor’s dick to get a better score?”

He shrugs, “Well, not when you say it like that, no. But we didn’t know each other that well yet. And hearing the girl you like say she’ll suck another guy’s dick isn’t nice regardless of if she’s being serious or not.”

You pout and cup his face, kissing him a few times, “I only want your dick, promise.”

“And my dick only wants you,” he says, earning a small laugh from you.

“But seriously, I contemplated peeing while you were in the bathroom with me at that party. If there was an obvious sign that I liked you, it would be that,” you joke.

“Just so you know, you can pee in front of me. And as long as you’re okay with that, I’d also feel comfortable peeing in front of you.”

You scrunch up your face, “We’ll avoid it if we can.” You both laugh but you know it would be no big deal and you’d be comfortable with it. It sounds like a weird thing to bond over, but Peter thinks it’s sweet.

“Anyway, I know I brought it up but can we stop talking about peeing so you can go down on me again?”

Peter’s eyes light up, “Yes, yesyesyes,” and he starts kissing down your body.

“So,” Peter asks you a few days later, “You know how you said your sex toy is supposed to feel like oral sex? So who’s better? Me or the vibrator?”

You give him an exaggerated pout and scoot closer to him on the bed, ”Don’t make me hurt your feelings.”

You’ve just come back from a date Peter planned. You got take-out from your favourite restaurant and ate it next to the river that goes through the city. You walked for hours, holding hands, talking, getting ice cream and just being with each other.

While Peter loves going out with you, he’s not sure if anything can beat spending time alone with you, in your bed, utterly comfortable and being nothing but yourself. Not to mention that you two can have sex whenever you want to.

“I don’t mind if you say it’s the vibrator, I mean it’s made for making you feel good and I’m just some guy,” Peter says, “It’s literally called a clit-sucker.”

“Sex with you is better but if you’re comparing the toy with you sucking my clit, then the vibrator is better, yes,” you move to his lap and put your arms on his shoulders, linking your hands behind his head.

“Can I use it on you?”

You bite your lip when he says it, “There’s not much you can do, you just hold it against my clit.”

“I’d love to do that.”

You grin and start kissing him.

He flips you around so you’re under him. He slowly takes off all your clothes and you pull off his shirt. He can’t resist getting a taste of you before he starts, humming as he begins eating you out, tongue in your pussy and his thumb on your clit.

You whine when he stops but you both remember that you wanted to use your toy. He kisses his way up your body, your arousal on his lips.

“You’re so hot, I don’t know if I deserve you,” he whispers into your skin as he’s kissing your belly. You tug him up to you to kiss him with such intensity that tells him he deserves you, all of you. You’re made for each other. And you feel it too.

You reach into your bedside drawer and pull out your vibrator. Peter smiles as he spreads your legs and lies down between them.

“Like this?” He turns it on and you adjust the setting, lying back when Peter presses a kiss on your clit and places the toy on your pussy.

You put your hand over his, shifting it so it’s in the perfect place. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and rests his cheek against your other thigh, occasionally kissing the skin there. He brings his arm over your body, smoothing his hand over your tummy and grabbing one of your tits, playing with your nipple.

Your hands absentmindedly find his hair, burying your fingers in it as he tells you how pretty you are and how he wants you to cum.

You glance at Peter between your legs, smiling and laying your head back down on the pillow. A few moments later he notices your breathing changing and how your hips slightly buck up.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan, your back arching, and Peter puts his hand over your lower belly to keep you down. Your hand tightens in his hair as frantic breaths and strangled sounds leave your mouth, not able to form any coherent sentence.

After a few seconds, Peter wants to pull the toy away, thinking you’re done, but you hold his hand in place until your legs shake and he feels your belly convulsing under his hand. You’re coming until your head drops to the side and you let go of both his hair and his hand so he pulls away the vibrator.

“Oh–God. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. Sorry if I hurt you,” your hand goes through his hair once more but he kisses your hand instead, “Don’t worry.”

You let your head fall back, your eyes not leaving Peter. The way you’re looking at him is nearly enough to make him cum right then and there, but he takes your hand and kisses you instead.

You wrap your legs around Peter’s waist and pull him as close as you can, “Can we go all the way? I feel so empty, I need you inside of me.”

Peter gulps at your words, pulling his hips away from yours so he doesn’t finish before you’ve even started. “Are you sure? Last week you said you wanted to wait.”

“Yeah, I am. I thought it would take me longer to be comfortable around you when I’m naked but I feel so good, and I like being naked in front of you. I like how you look at me and how it makes me feel,” you smile softly and kiss him.

“I like having you naked in front of me too.”

“I know, that’s why I’m so comfortable. And the fact that I want this so quickly shows me that it’s the right thing and also I just really really need you inside of me.”

“Oh my god,” he whispers, closing his eyes to refocus, “I have to get the condoms.”

“Make sure to hide this first,” your hands go to the front of his sweatpants and he playfully narrows his eyes at you because you know exactly that what you’re doing is not helping his situation.

After another kiss from you, he manages to pull himself away from you and hides his hardness as well as he can. He slips back into his shirt and runs to his room to get the condoms you two bought the other week just so you’d have them.

When he comes back you already have your fingers between your legs, “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t apologise, baby,” Peter says before taking off his clothes in record time and joining you on the bed.

You make out for a few minutes, forgetting everything else. His fingers wander to your pussy, playing with your clit until you can’t keep kissing him anymore, distracted by the pleasure.

He slips one finger into your pussy first, then two.

“Peter, it’s not enough,” you moan with a desperation in your voice that makes him even harder which, up to this point, felt impossible.

“‘M just checking you can take it, get you used to having something inside of you.”

You sigh into his mouth and give him the dirtiest kiss you ever have. “Just so you know.. I don’t know how long I’m gonna last,” he warns you, afraid of disappointing you.

“I don’t care, I just need you right now.”

“What if I cum immediately once I’m in you?”

You hold his face in your hands, “Fuck, Pete, that’s so hot. I want you to cum inside of me.”

“Don’t say that because I will.”

“Please, please, I’m ready,” you whisper.

“Wait, you mean with a condom right?”

You laugh and nod, kissing him on the nose.

“Okay, just checking,” he says, putting on the condom.

You hold on to his neck as he lines himself up with you, feeling how wet you are. He pushes into you slowly, making sure you’re okay once he’s inside of you completely, “You okay?”

“Yeah, it feels even bigger inside of me.”

He blushes at you calling his dick big and runs a hand down your cheek, “Should I pull out?”

“No, no. Just give me a second.”

You both take deep breaths once Peter starts rubbing your clit – you because you’re relaxing, Peter because he’s about to cum if he doesn’t focus.

He has you coming around his dick quickly. You press your chest against Peter’s when your back arches from the pleasure and you kiss the side of his face when you’re coming down from the high.

“Lift me up,” you tell him and you end up pushing Peter down on the bed, straddling his lap.

You place your hands on either side of Peter’s head, leaving him with your tits right in his face. You tell him to fuck you and with his hands on your hips, Peter slowly thrusts into you from below.

Your pussy squeezes him so tight, and you’re so warm, “Fuck, you feel so so good,” he groans.

You start bouncing on him, meeting his thrusts halfway, now more used to him inside of you.

He closes his eyes, trying to think of something else but your quiet moans and your earlier words about wanting him to cum in you make him orgasm after a few more seconds.

He fucks you until he’s too exhausted to move and you grin down at him, both of you lying down to cuddle.

You don’t say anything for a few minutes, both exhausted and content, only grinning at each other and occasionally giving the other a lazy kiss before you sit up on him again, your nipples right in front of his mouth.

He takes the opportunity to run his tongue around one, but you lean back, dazed, “No, no, you’ll make me horny again,” you smile, “And I don’t think I can take another orgasm right now.”

He kisses your sternum instead and picks you up in his arms so you can take a shower together.

Peter washes your body for you, taking his time to massage every part of you for a few seconds. He wants to spoil and pamper you and take as much work off your hands as he can. He knows you’d do the same for him.

Once you’re both clean, you stand under the water for a while, Peter’s arms around your waist, your back pulled to his chest. Your breathing is calm and your eyes are closed, completely relaxed against Peter.

“I came in here once,” Peter interrupts the silence.

You slowly open your eyes and turn around to face him, a smile making its way onto your face before it turns into a laugh, “What?”

“It was after that night when I got really drunk. I woke up with this perfect ass right against my crotch,” he squeezes one of your ass cheeks for emphasis.

“You mean back when we were just friends?” You ask, pulling his arms around your body again, “That feels so long ago.”

“And at the same time like it was yesterday.” “Yeah,” you smile, “I probably would have helped you out if you’d asked.”

“Really?”

“I was already into you then and there’s no way I would have been able to–or wanted to–resist if I found out you were horny because of me. I was coming on my vibrator three times a day wishing it was you instead.”

Peter runs a hand over his face, remembering how scared he was that you’d never like him back, “I was wishing it was me too. I heard you that one time, when you were masturbating while I was waiting for you in there,” he nods his head towards the door to your room.

“You can’t blame me, you saw how that thing makes me cum,” you lean your head on his shoulder, hiding your embarrassment.

The moment you look down and see that Peter’s hard again, he stiffens even more.

“You’re getting harder from me looking at your dick?” You ask, licking your lips.

He nods, putting a hand around the back of your neck and gently pulling you towards him, kissing you to distract you from the blush creeping onto his cheeks.

While your teeth tug at Peter’s bottom lip, your hands smooth down his chest, over his faint happy trail and eventually you wrap your hand around his cock. He gasps at the first contact and opens his eyes, meeting your lust-filled gaze, “I can’t believe I haven’t done this before,” you say, starting to jerk him off with a slightly unsure look on your face.

“Is this okay?” You ask and Peter nods, “Show me how you do it,” you urge, lifting Peter’s hand to wrap it around your own.

With a firm grip, Peter guides your hand, “F-fuck,” is all he can manage to get out apart from a shaky breath. Your free hand runs across his chest, occasionally rubbing over his nipples, making him gasp.

“I really need you to cum for me right now,” you whisper, looking down at your hand sliding up and down his dick. Your words make him groan and before he can prepare, waves of pleasure flow through him, his cum splashing all over your tummy. He can’t stop coming, especially not when you angle his cock further towards you, your belly now covered in him.

“Fuck,” you both moan at the same time and then you smile at each other. You step away from the spray of the shower, sliding a finger across your skin and sucking it into your mouth.

If he hadn’t already cum three times today, Peter would be hard in half a second. He shakes his head in disbelief, not sure what he did to ever deserve a girlfriend as sexy as you. He runs his thumb over your belly, picking up the rest of his cum on you and you open your mouth before he even asks you to.

He pushes it into your mouth slowly and you hum as he does it. Grabbing your face right after, he kisses you until neither of you can breathe. “Can I eat you out again now?”

You grin immediately, “Yes, but I’m tired.”

After you’ve dried off, he carries you to your bed, making sure you’re comfortable on it before his mouth disappears between your legs. He’s proud of how you grip his hair, grinding your pussy against his face and how you cum on his tongue.

He gets a notification on his phone just as he’s done kissing you after he made you cum. He ordered some food before you two went in the shower and it’s about to arrive.

“Go and get it, I can wait,” you tell him, but he makes sure to kiss your forehead and give you water and baby wipes before pulling on some clothes and rushing downstairs to get the food.

You eat it on your bed with a towel laid down to make sure nothing gets dirty. Peter likes how you randomly grab his hand while you’re eating or asking him to pass you your drink.

With some quiet music playing, you make yourselves comfortable in your bed, cuddling.

“Thank you,” you say, looking at him like he’s responsible for all good in the world.

“For what?”

“For everything. For taking care of me. For being you,” you slide your fingers between his. He picks up your intertwined hands and kisses yours, “It’s my pleasure. Thank you for being you, and for being with me.”

“There’s no one in the world I’d rather be with,” you lean over to kiss him, leaving your lips on his for a few seconds. “This white shirt looks so good on you, it’s my favourite,” you tell him, smoothing down the material and then resting your head on his chest.

“Thank you,” he wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding you tight, “You know what looks even better on me?”

“Me?” You ask, already knowing what Peter is going to say and he adores you for it.

“Yes,” he smiles, “You.”

“I like this position, I like hearing your heart beating so clearly,” you say, nuzzling up against him.

“And I like that I can feel a heartbeat as soon as I put my hand here,” Peter smirks, sliding a hand between your legs and immediately feeling the pulsating warmth, even through your panties.

“Don’t blame me for getting turned on when the man I love touches my pussy,” you say, grabbing Peter’s hand into yours and away from your underwear to stop you from getting horny.

It takes both of you a second to realise that you just said that you love him. Probably because you’ve both felt it for a while; first as friends, then as lovers. Even if no one’s said it yet, it was obvious.

“I love you too,” he says softly and that’s when you realise what you just said. You turn towards him and start grinning, meeting Peter’s own wide smile. You start littering his face with kisses until he holds your face in place to kiss your lips. It’s like you melt right into his mouth once your lips touch his.

You spend the rest of the night telling each other that you love the other, giggling and cuddling and kissing until the early morning hours.

Peter wants to sit through this lecture with you on his lap when you get to the lecture hall one minute before the lesson starts and there are no two seats free next to each other.

But you two promised yourselves that you weren’t going to be that annoying couple that has to be together at all times, so you two sit at opposite sides of the room.

Peter’s stomach tingles with jealousy when he sees that you’re sitting next to a guy you know. Brandon. Peter remembers him from the day you and Peter met. When it was Peter’s turn to tell an embarrassing sex story and he had nothing to say, you told Brandon to tell his story instead, distracting everyone and saving Peter.

He smiles when he thinks back to it; who knew that you two would end up in love?

But he hears your giggle through the entire lecture hall, over all the over murmuring, and Peter frowns. He knows it’s stupid if not wrong to be jealous about something so trivial. He’s more than okay with you having a male friend as long as he’s a good person; Peter’s happy about every nice friend you have.

But he’s spent the last few months getting to know you inside and out and you never mentioned Brandon. Now you’re talking to him like you’re best friends. Okay, the thing that bothers Peter the most is that you apparently knew Brandon’s sex story before he told it to the whole party.

Why were you talking to Brandon about sex? And why did you never mention it to Peter?

He knows you’ve done nothing wrong, and it’s ridiculous that he feels like this over a story and you laughing at another man’s jokes. If he was sitting next to you, he’s sure he’d be fine, but it doesn’t help that you’re out of reach.

He’s more curious than jealous, or that’s what he’s trying to tell himself, knowing he has no right to feel this way about such a little thing.

He tries to accept the feeling, tries to focus on what Professor Garfield is saying but throughout the whole lecture Brandon is in the back of Peter’s mind.

By the end of the lesson, he’s more mad than anything else – mad at himself for being jealous. He doesn't want to turn into one of those possessive, toxic and controlling boyfriends. He trusts you and he should be okay with you having dozens of male friends.

He waits for you by the door when the lecture is over, and in the sea of students you and Brandon leave the room separately. Peter’s so focussed on Brandon that he only notices you standing next to him once you hold his hand.

“What’s wrong?” You ask immediately. Peter didn’t know he was being that obvious.

He doesn’t want to drag you into his unnecessary jealousy and insecurity. “No-nothing,” he presses his lips together in a smile and you walk him into a quiet corner.

“What is it?” You sit down and pat the seat next to you for Peter to sit down.

“Well. I don’t know. It’s just, we usually sit together in this class and then we didn’t get to sit together and then you ended up next to a guy you know and I just…” It’s the shortened and less embarrassing version.

You smile, half with pity and half out of amusement, but he knows you’re not trying to make fun of him. “You were jealous? Of Brandon?”

“I don’t know. Kinda. I‘d honestly rather have you look at Andrew’s ass than have you talk to Brandon and giggle at everything he says and–like, I don’t even know him and I just felt insecure because I didn’t feel like I was a part of it,” he looks down, taking a deep breath, “Sorry, of course I don’t mean it like that. Obviously it’s fine if you have male friends. I was just wondering why you haven’t told me about him, because I remember him from the party the first time we met and I realised you never brought him up. And then I got so into my head about being jealous that I felt even worse and now I can’t even tell the jealousy from the being-mad-at-myself apart.”

“Okay, take my hand,” you say, “I love you. And-”

“I love you too,” Peter grins instantly, leaning over to kiss you.

“So, I didn’t tell you about Brandon because I wasn’t thinking about him. If he was important to me I would have introduced you two ages ago. I didn't even realise I was in this class until today. I met him the same night I met you and I was talking to a group of people before we played that game where he told that sex story. But wait.. Peter,” you furrow your eyebrows, “So you remember the story Brandon told?”

“I remember that he told a story, but I was too busy looking at you and being grateful that you helped me out of the situation.”

“Well, his story was about the first time he had sex with his boyfriend. And they’re still together.”

“Oh,” Peter says, dumbfounded, “Now I feel even worse. Why was I so jealous about a guy who has a boyfriend?”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. We’ve been attached at the hip lately, so of course we're not used to being apart. I’m sure we’ll get used to it in a few days. But you’re jealous for the first time and we’re already talking about it, I’m sure we’ll sort it out. I promise we’ll work it out together.”

He pecks your lips again, “Thank you. I think I was way more surprised about my jealousy than actually being jealous. I trust you and I love you and I do that more and more every day. It’s just that I want you so much that I assume every guy feels the same, because why wouldn’t they? Forgive me if I project that onto them and don’t trust them. But I trust you and that’s what matters and what I’ll try to rely on. I’m sorry for making such a big deal out of something small.”

“Don’t apologise, I’m glad you told me how you feel. You’re already not jealous anymore and you’re talking about it and working it out. That’s what matters. You recognise that it’s unreasonable but jealousy is a normal emotion.”

He gives you a small smile, already understanding himself better thanks to you. You’re right, jealousy is something everyone feels from time to time. He’ll learn how to deal with it, and now that he’s with you, feeling loved and appreciated, he can’t even imagine ever being jealous again. He can tell his love is reciprocated. He trusts you, and that’s all he needs.

You sit together for another while, smiling and saying goodbye when Professor Garfield walks past you. You wait until he’s turned around the corner to say, “Wait, what did you say about his ass earlier?”

Peter chuckles, “Oh, it’s nothing. Just the first time we had this lesson you said something about how nice his ass is.”

“Oh, now I remember. But your ass is the only ass I wanna look at now, you know that?”

“Really?”

“Really. I wouldn’t have asked you to be my boyfriend if I was interested in anyone else’s ass.”

There’s a comfortable warmth in Peter’s chest at you calling him his boyfriend. He’ll always be happy to be that.

“Well,” he thinks out loud, “There are some guys with nice asses, I can’t deny that. But then we can both admire them, okay? Together.”

You laugh, “You’re so cute. Okay, I’ll let you know when I see a nice ass and we’ll appreciate it together.”

“Good,” Peter smiles, okay with you liking other people’s asses because, after all, those asses don’t have this great connection with you like he does. He’s so much to you than a person with a cute ass.

“But your ass is the nicest,” he adds.

“Thank you," you laugh and kiss his cheek.

You lean back on your hands and tilt your head towards your shoulder. This time Peter feels warmth rushing elsewhere.

“You wanna know what I was thinking about during the whole lesson?”

He nods.

“I was thinking,” you look around to make sure no one else is close enough to hear, “about how I can’t wait to have your dick in my mouth.”

Peter’s heart starts beating twice as fast as it usually does, “My-my- my dick? In your- why would— do you want it to be in your mouth?”

“I do. I had a dream about it last night. And I was gonna wait until tonight to do it but maybe we should do it now to relax you.”

“I.. don’t know if relax is the right word,” he says.

“I’ll do it to show you that I only like you then. And because I really need you.”

Peter’s face falls, “No, shit, I have this class now… no, nevermind, let’s go to my room–”

“No, we said our education and college come first, and that we wouldn’t let our academic performance fall off because of each other.”

“Yeah but I didn’t know that that meant saying no to you…” he looks at his lap and back at you again.

“To me sucking your dick?” You’re teasing him on purpose now but despite the uncomfortable strain in his pants he’s enjoying it.

“Y-yeah..”

“Go to your class now and I’ll see you tonight,” you kiss him and get up.

“No wait–”

“Bye, baby,” you call out and walk away.

A class has never lasted as long as Peter’s next class. He leaves his bunched up hoodie on his lap the whole time even though he’s cold in just the shirt he’s wearing.

After class, he runs home, going to his dorm room first but you’re not there so he rushes to your room instead. You open the door as if Peter hasn’t been suffering for the past two hours, giving him a quick kiss and sitting back down to read a book.

He gets on his knees in front of you, putting his hands on your thighs, “Please. You can’t be serious right now. I need you.”

You pat the bed next to you and he lies down with a sigh, hoping to get your attention but you keep reading; maybe he can take a nap to make the time pass quicker. You pretend to read for another minute or two and then grin at Peter and straddle him, starting to kiss him.

“Sorry, I thought it would be fun to tease you but I don’t know what I was thinking. I really want you.”

He’s panting into your mouth after a few moments, already feeling relief as you pull at his belt, taking off Peter’s pants and your and his shirt.

“Let me know uh, how I’m doing,” you say as you get down on your knees in front of the bed.

Your words clear Peter’s mind for a second and he leans down to give you a kiss, “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, by the way.”

You shake your head, “No, I really want to. I just don’t know what to do, so, be patient with me.”

“Always,” he reaches for your hand to kiss it, “So I guess you just– oh my god.” He moans as your mouth wraps around him, all wet and warm.

He makes the mistake of looking at you, the head of his cock in your mouth, your pretty lips against his skin, eyes big and gorgeous and so innocent. He’s close so quickly and motions for you to stop.

“Everything okay?” You ask, already knowing what’s going on though. Peter’s eyes go to your chest, perfect tits pushed together by a pretty bra. If you take that off he doesn’t want to know how fast he’ll cum.

“Yes, more than okay. I love you so much, you know that?”

“I do, but Peter, this is torture for me,” you say seriously.

“What?” He sits up straighter.

“I wanna make you cum so so bad, please just let me, I don’t care how long you last.” You sound so horny that it makes Peter’s cock just that much harder in the way only happens when he’s with you, never when he’s alone.

“Okay. But try to go slow, I wanna enjoy it as long as I can.”

You smirk and he already knows you’ll give it your all, but while he wants to enjoy it as long as possible, he also really wants to cum.

You wrap a hand around him, slapping his dick against your tongue a few times, putting on a show for him. But once you wrap your lips around him, there’s no stopping you.

Peter’s skin glistens with a mixture of your spit and his precum and you keep taking him deeper and deeper until all of him disappears in your mouth. “Fuuuck,” he groans, huffing with a smile, accepting that he’s about to cum.

You start going faster, your wet mouth making a loud, obscene sound against his skin. Peter lies down on his back, barely able to keep his noises in.

“God– oh my god. This is the best thing I’ve ever felt,” his mouth falls open as he cranes his neck to look at you taking his dick. He puts a hand on your head, feeling your every movement up and down his cock.

He cums right down your throat as soon you start moaning, mouth stuffed full of Peter’s dick. You taste the first few drops and then jerk him off so his cum lands on your cheek and the sight is so dirty yet so beautiful.

You’re both panting when Peter is finished and you’re smiling at each other, in silent agreement that that was one of the hottest things you two have ever experienced. Your smile has something shy to it too, unsure how you look with Peter’s cum on your face.

But he’s looking at you with pure admiration, not believing how lucky he is for a bit before pulling you up to kiss you.

“Wait, Pete, you’ll get cu–”

“I don’t care.”

He kisses your mouth, and tasting himself on you is the sexiest thing in the world. He kisses his cum off your skin, connecting your lips afterwards, his tongue in your mouth until the cum is gone.

He wipes his mouth, asking something he’s been thinking about for a while, and he can’t go a second longer without it. “Do you wanna sit on my face?”

You’re taking off your clothes before the question even fully leaves his mouth and he takes in the sight of the prettiest woman alive getting undressed in front of him, for him.

He licks his lips when you slip out of your panties, the holy place between your legs shiny with arousal that’s started running down your thighs.

“You’re so wet.. from going down on me?” He asks, grabbing your thighs as you come closer, straddling him.

You simply nod and while you’re making your way up Peter’s body there’s a moment where your eyes meet for more than a few seconds. You don’t say anything, there’s just mutual appreciation and adoration for one another.

This is something good. Maybe it’s the best thing in the world. It is the best thing in the world.

“I love you,” he says, feeling so much more than those three simple words.

“I love you,” you say, your eyes holding such intensity that he doesn’t think there’s a single person in the world who has ever been as loved as Peter is by you.

He hopes he’s making you feel like the Goddess he sees you as, he adores every inch of you, all the things you’ve ever said to him and every second he’s spent with you.

The moment feels like it goes on forever, and at some point, you both move your heads towards each other, lips meeting in a kiss.

He grabs your ass, ready to drown in your pussy and to make you cum as many times as you want.

“Can I…?” You ask as you lower yourself.

Peter pulls you towards his face and makes love to you all night.

You spend the rest of the weekend in each other’s arms, feeling like the luckiest people on earth and you probably are.

☆.｡.:*support a writer and reblog if you enjoyed, it helps out a lot.｡.:*☆

#peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #Peter Parker x you #Peter Parker x y/n #Spiderman x reader #Spiderman smut #peter parker fluff #fem!reader #college!Peter Parker #Peter Parker fanfiction #spider man: no way home #peter parker #tom holland #Peter Parker college au #peter parker friends to lovers

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strniohoeee · 5 months

Text

Dolor Pt. 2

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N hasn’t seen Chris in a year and a half, but with the help of her friend she’s surprised by them🤭 Will those feelings still be there for one another?

Warnings⚠️: None, I’m not too sure how I feel about this one, but I had no other idea on how to write it so I hope y’all enjoy 🙃

Song for the imagine: ANGEL- Brent Faiyaz

Read part 1 here🫶🏽

Don’t ever leave my side, baby I’ll die

But from what I know, you’re always here to stay

You’re an angel in disguise

It has been a solid year and half since Chris and I broke up, a solid year and half of never seeing him or his brothers. It was very hard, but it also flew by. I wasn’t sure where a year and half went. It was honestly scary.

We both told each other we’d love to cross paths, and reconnect in a few months to be friends, but life got in the way, and that never happened. I’m honestly glad it didn’t, we were both so busy I believe it helped us move on from one another faster.

We all stood mutuals with each other on instagram and TikTok, but we just didn’t interact with each other. I watched them grow in all aspects, and it was amazing. I thought I’d be there to witness it first hand, but instead I was watching from the sidelines….it hurt me, but it had to be done.

My TikTok was flooded with videos of them from their tour they were just on, and it’s honestly crazy how much people can change in a year and a half. That didn’t even look like Chris. He was much more mature looking, sculpted cheekbones, shorter hair, stubble on his face…..Chris was looking good.

I shook that feeling off because I could not allow myself to fall back in love with Chris. It took me a long time to move on from him. I will always love the kid, but to fall out of love was hard. I hadn’t seen or talked to any other guys since splitting with Chris, and I wasn’t too sure if that was the same with him. Deep down I hoped it was.

I was scrolling on TikTok one day when I saw a clip of the triplets from their recent podcast video, they were doing a Q and A video, and somehow Chris pulled out a question asking about me. I decided to watch the video

“Okay so this person says how’s Y/N, and how have you been since the breakup. I’m currently going through my own break up right now, and I just need some advice” Chris read out

“So uh this is a good question. It’s been a year and a half since I’ve last seen Y/N, and it’s crazy to say it’s been that long, but it has. With the relationship we had and how special it was it took me a full year to finally be able to feel okay, and understand why we split up. It hurt and some part of me still hurts, but we told each other the night we broke up that we both will be okay because we’re strong, and that’s something I’ve been holding on to. I presume that she’s okay, I’ve seen her instagram posts and her TikTok’s, and she looks amazing. I actually really miss the girl. So I hope she’s doing great, and for you going through your break up just know everything happens for a reason and you’ll be okay take your time and work on yourself” he said

Oh god this was making it so hard for me not to call Chris and ask to see him….I missed him so badly

I scrolled some more and another clip popped up

“This person wants to know do you still love Y/N” Nick asked Chris

“Oh 100% that woman is my everything. Like we’ve said in the past we hope to cross paths again” Chris said nodding his head

This has to be a sign? Like this has to be a sign that I have to see him, that Chris and I are meant for each other right? Or am I being delusional……

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to call him, text him or just ignore all this and keep it pushing in life. I felt torn between my decisions

Today I was getting ready to film with Larray and Arrington. I had gotten so close to them within the last year, and we always filmed together. Larray was my biggest supporter in all this, and he was also friends with the triplets which kind of made it hard, but he never got in between anything. Although he hoped and prayed that we’d get back together one day I always told him time will tell.

He had an idea where we all stay in his car for 24 hours with special guests. I wasn’t sure who these guests were, and I wasn’t sure why he wanted us to stay in a car for 24 hours, but I agreed I knew it would be fun.

I had driven over to Larrays house, and let myself in

“YOOOOO” I yelled from the door

“Were in hereeee” Arrington yelled back

Oh god I was the last one here….I hated this, but anyways I walked to Larrays room, and when I walked in my heart sank

“Oh” was all I said as I walked in

“Hiiiii baby” Larray said, causing everybody to turn around with him the triplets face dropping

“What’s? Uh….whats going on” I said looking at Larray

“We’re filming a video, and I brought my friends” he said back

“It’s been so long” Chris said looking at me saddened

“It ummm it has” I said smiling at him

“We have missed you so fucking much….holy shit” Nick said running over and hugging me

“Uhh it’s been so fucking long I missed yall too” I said hugging him

“Matt you look so different now” I said jaw dropping and giving him a hug

“Good different I hope” he said hugging me

“Of course good different” I said laughing at him

I moved to Chris

“You look so different too” I said pulling him in for a hug

“I’ve missed you” he said hugging me tighter

“Missed you too” I said pulling away

After chatting for a bit Larray decided to film his introduction for his channel

“Alright bitches we are filming a 24 hour car video today, and of course I had to bring in my ride or dies Arrington and Y/N” he said and both Arrington and I made an entrance

“And then you know Larray had to stir the pot, so he brought the triplets” Arrington said to the camera causing us to laugh

“As uhhh most of you know there’s uh an elephant in this room between uh two people, but ummm we won’t talk about it” Larray said

And we just laughed at him

“You are so messy” I said to him rolling my eyes playfully

“Alright let’s get to the car bitches” he said and we ran out

I sat in the passenger seat, Chris and Arrington in the back, and then Nick and Matt in the third row

“Alright so right now we’re driving to Target which is 45 minutes away because Larray decided to do this video during rush hour” I said to the camera

“Uh- is that a drag?” He asked me

“It sure is” I said to him

“So Y/N….you said Matt looks different….you already had Chris so will you try another brother” Arrington asked me

I looked back at him jaw on the floor, as Chris and his brothers were laughing

“You weirdo Arrington, I will not fucking get with Matt” I said shaking my head

“Could you believe this kid” I said looking at the camera

“Ouuuu the fans want to know how many boyfriends since Chris” Larray asked me

“Boyfriends plural? Do they think I’m a slut….its only been a year and a half guys, and there’s been zero guys since Chris” I said shrugging my shoulders

“OHHHHHH CHRISSSS” Larray and Arrington yelled at him hyping him up

“She loves me too much to do that” Chris said to the camera

“Uh-“ I said turning around to look at him

“I’m just kidding” he said and touched my face playfully

“SAW THAT” Nick and Matt yelled from the back

We had finally gotten to Target, and Chris and I were paired up to go on the hunt for some things, and we had to vlog it together

“Alright guys I’m here with uh….my ex” I said to the camera

“What a great reunion” he said looking at the camera

“Who would’ve thought a year and a half later we’d be in Target shopping for a video together” I said looking at him

“I honestly thought it would’ve happened sooner, but I mean hey” he said shrugging his shoulders

“Oh whatever” I said rolling my eyes at him

Him and I were doing some shopping and grabbing some stuff, and we had found ourselves in the coloring book aisle

“Look the Disney coloring book, your favorite” he said leaning down to grab it

“You remembered?” I asked him

“Of course I did, and you only get specific coloring pencils cause you’re weird” he said laughing

“Hey don’t be mean” I said laughing at him

“It’s cute” he said smiling at me

“Do you ever think about us?” I asked him

“Pretty often actually” he said looking at me

“Do you think you see a future with me” I asked him

“I’ve thought about this a lot, and every time I picture my future you’re a main character in it” he said looking into my eyes

“This year and a half has been rough, and I so badly wanted nothing more than to cave and call you over, and just hold you tight” I said looking down

“I sat in my room for so many nights wondering if the decision I made was right, and after a while I just became numb to the feeling, but I want this again….I want us” he said

“I think we should start slow first. I want us to truly work out this time no break ups no nothing” I said to him

“I think so too, you should come film with us again we miss you so much, and the fans miss you too” he said

“I’ve seen…all over my tik tok” I said smiling at him

“Yeah they love you and I love you too so much” he said pulling me in for a hug

We finished vlogging some, and headed back to the car with everybody getting back in our original seats

“Okay everybody we are back, we’re going to go eat something and then we’ll be back in the car for the next 24 hours” Larray said

After we ate we went back into Larrays car trying to stick out this challenge and just chatting with each other asking each other questions

“How many girlfriends since Y/N?” Larray asked Chris

“None. I told yall she’s the love of my life” he said looking at the camera

“Awww Chris” I said looking at him

“HEY CITY GIRLS UP. Do not fall for this” Arrington said

“Shut the fuck up” I said laughing at him

“What’s one regret you have” Nick asked us

“I think my biggest regret was completely dropping you guys out of my life. Like no interactions no nothing that hurt the most” I said to them

“We appreciate that” Matt said

“How do you guys feel after seeing each other” Matt asked Chris and I

“Is this a hot seat? What are we doing” Chris said

“Shut the fuck up and answer” Nick said

“I feel at peace, like seeing him was the last piece to my puzzle. I still love Chris of course, and we’re hoping to take things slow, and eventually get together again” I said to them

“Yeah. I love her so much, and seeing her today brought back all those memories. Memories that made my heart flutter, and I knew I couldn’t let her go again” he said looking at me

“Yall cute as shit this has got to stop” Larray said

“So yall heard it here first they are back together” Arrington said to the camera

“WOAH WOAH NO” we both said putting our hands out

“We are taking it slow…we are not dating yet, and trust me you guys will know when we’re back together. It’s a maybe for right now” I said to the camera

“But she will be in our videos again” Chris said

“SHE WILL?” Nick and Matt said

“Yes she will!” He said to them

“FUCK YES FINALLY” Nick said getting excited

We had chatted for a good thirty more minutes before we decided this challenge was not going to happen

“Alright guys we did not make it, but we love you and we’re heading inside now” Larray said

“BYEEEEEE” we all yelled to the camera, Chris pulling me in and kissing my forehead

“Are you guys going to soft launch your comeback before I post this?” Larray asked us

“You know that’s not a bad idea actually” I said looking at Chris

“We could do that. I’d love to do that” he said pulling me in and kissing my cheek

“Yall soft launching but he smoochin on you” Matt said looking at us

“Uhhhh mind your business” Chris said sticking his tongue out at him

“OMG to keep it like private you guys could do like a couples shadow picture” Nick said

“Waittttt I love that let’s do it” I said to Chris

We had snapped the picture, and Chris posted it collabing with me once again so I can post and share it. Nick and Matt also shared it to their story saying the gangs back together and they can’t wait to film with me again. Immediately the love we got was INSANE

❤️nicolassturniolo,matthew.sturniolo,larray, and 450,000 others

christophersturniolo: I told you guys we’d always always find a way back to one another. Although we aren’t dating again we will be thinking about it for our future. I love this girl with my whole fucking heart, and I’m so glad we’re in each others lives again. She was my right person at the wrong time.My number one girl💍. Were back BITCHESSSSS🥳

Sturnioloteam: STFU THEYRE BACK

arringtonallen: mhmmm I was here for this picture so back off everyone

nicolassturniolo: mama and papa🫡

matthew.sturniolo: yall cute or whatever…..

larray: yall can thank me for this reunion MHMM💅🏽

Y/Nusername: my number one guy…love this kid so much💋

sturnioloooooo: I knew mom and dad would find each other again

The immense love we received was insane. Had you told me a year and a half ago today that all that pain would be gone, and we would find each other again I would laugh in your face. I guess I am making it to the end of his story….🥀

The End

I hope you guys liked this one I feel ehhh about it, but I had to have a happy ending🥹 but anywho let me get to writing some more 🖤

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #Spotify

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seireiteihellbutterfly · 25 days

Text

Sunflower Sorrow - A Hanahaki Tale

A/N: Writing this almost drove me insane. Like the banging your head against a laptop praying to the inspiration gods for a sign that you haven't made a mistake kind of insane.

Thank you so much @actuallysaiyan for making the pretty banner! And for reading my drafts and reassuring me multiple times that the story wasn't garbage.

All original artwork is credited at the bottom of the post.

Pairing: Higuruma x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, mentions of pain and death, PIV sex, clitoral and vaginal fingering, oral (fem receiving),

Summary: The reader finds herself infested with Hanahaki, right at the cusp of beginning to date her long time crush.

Your eyes open blearily against the sunlight pouring in, feeling like you’d much rather stay in bed than anything else. There’s a strange feeling in your body, almost like you’re about to come down with the flu, your chest feeling tight, and your throat feeling dry. Which is strange because you were fine when you went to bed.

You groan as you roll over under the covers. Now was not the time to be getting sick. You wonder if you’re even well enough to go to work. Almost instinctively, your hand reaches for your phone, squinting against the backlight as you check your messages. A smile graces your face as you see a text from the man you had been out with last night.

I know this was just our second date, but I’m already thinking about a third. I’ve enjoyed our time together recently and would like to see you again. I guess get back to me? Oh, and I hope kissing you good night was appropriate. 😅

“Hiromi,” you mumble under your breath, feeling a rush of happiness flow through you as you read his text. The man was incredibly sweet and transparent and you loved that about him. Dating in your thirties was hard but he had given off some very positive signals over these last two dates and you couldn’t help but want to set up a third one quickly. You liked being around him, he was laid back and almost goofy, traits that most men seemed to lose at a certain age. Maybe if you recovered from this flu fast enough you can meet up with him over the weekend.

I’d love that. I’m a little under the weather right now but if I’m feeling better by the weekend we can make plans? I’d like to see you again too. And yes, the kiss good night was totally appropriate. 😊

You text him back, heart fluttering as you hit send. You’re glad you had finally bitten the bullet and asked him out. There were signs of interest, but you had been secretly admiring him from afar for the better part of a year now. He was very gentlemanly, opening doors, asking if he could hold your hand, and checking in on your comfort while you were with him. A lawyer turned sorcerer, he talked passionately about his past cases and the interesting events that sparked his path into Jujutsu. On the first date, the both of you had been so wrapped up in conversation it took the poor waiter a minute to get a word in edgewise to ask if either of you had wanted another glass of wine.

He was so impossibly handsome, the thick black hair and rich mahogany eyes, that crooked smile that came onto his face when he was amused by something. It was a wonder how he was still single. Just passing by him in the hallways made your heart pound, so sure that his greetings to you were just platonic and nothing more. There were so many other talented people in this institution, that you didn’t possibly think he could have any interest in you, convincing yourself those brief glances he gave you were imagined.

But after last night’s kiss…so soft and patient, the lingering of lips, his large hands resting courteously on the small of your back, resting his forehead on yours, unwilling to let you go. Your hand had gripped the lapel of his coat, his scent flooding your senses, something woody and spicy that made you want to bury your face into his neck. Sure it’s only been two dates, but you couldn’t help but imagine what your life could be like with him. It felt like a guilty pleasure admitting it to yourself, but it wasn’t hurting anybody. It’s not like you were clawing at his door begging to move in with him. You were just really attracted to him, smitten, perhaps was the right word.

A small ding from your phone shows a response from him.

I’m sorry you’re not well. Yes, please get better soon, and let’s plan something for the weekend. I totally wasn’t waiting for your text by the way. You just happened to catch me on a break. 😉And I’m glad the kiss was appropriate.

His text makes you giggle. How could someone be this adorable? The lucidity of his intentions was refreshing, with no awkward back and forth of painfully crafted messages trying to sound casual. He was making his interest plain, making it easier for you to let down the wariness of sounding too eager. It was a pleasant change of pace compared to some of the other dates you had been on. You hoped this would go somewhere. You wanted it to go somewhere…

A sudden coughing fit overtakes you, racking your body as you feel something come up your throat. You reach for a tissue from your nightstand…and then look dumbstruck at what falls into it.

You stare at the yellow flower petals, each about an inch long, covered in pale pink mucus. A feeling of dread and anxiety fills you and you crumple the tissue, trying not to think about what you just saw. Your brain races. What could it be? Cancer? Was there a cancer that made your insides turn into tapered flower petals? Or maybe those weren’t flower petals but a tissue of some sort? The feeling of tightness in your chest gets worse. Maybe a visit to the doctor’s wasn’t a bad idea.

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Shoko places your X-rays against the lightboard and frowns. You’re no medical expert but even you can see what the problem was. You stare at them with morbid curiosity.

“Are those…?”

“Sunflowers, it looks like,” Shoko confirms, the large circular flowerheads unmistakable. “And they’re growing very fast. Your lungs will burst if they keep up at this rate.” She throws away her gloves and looks thoughtful.

“It’s strange how recently a lot of Hanahaki cases have popped up. We had Nanami in here a few weeks ago with the same thing.”

“And Nanami is in perfect health,” you interject, hoping Shoko is about to tell you a cure. “What is it? A pill? Surgery?”

Shoko purses her lips and then faces you. “Hanahaki can be removed surgically. However, you’ll lose whatever feelings you have for the person that caused it.”

Feeling like you’d been doused with a bucket of ice water, all you could say was, “Oh.”

“But you’re dating Higuruma, aren't you?” Shoko asks.

“It’s only been 2 dates,” you admit. “But it’s going well.”

Shoko’s expression remains impassive but she continues in a gentle voice. “But it’s obvious you’ve wanted him for much longer than that. The size of these flowers…How long have you loved him?”

Your chest tightens uncomfortably, this time not just from the flowers. “Who said anything about loving him?”

“The flowers don’t grow unless it’s love. But it looks like they were growing slowly and then when you started dating, your feelings intensified and caused them to bloom faster. Hanahaki rates vary from person to person depending on the level of emotions involved.”

A nervous ripple passes through your body at the thought. You remembered the way you had yearned for him after the kiss but were worried about scaring him off. Who confessed their love for someone on a second date?

“Is there any way to slow it down?”

Shoko shakes her head no. “The only thing that helps is when they return your feelings. Romantically.”

“I see.” There’s a moment of silence before you double over as another coughing fit grips you, a blob of red and yellow falling into your hands along with a few black and white sunflower seeds.

“Couldn’t you just tell him?” Shoko helps you get up to the sink in the examination room. You wash your hands and spit out the flower petals that are stuck in your gums. “I mean, he wouldn’t be dating you if he wasn’t interested.”

“You don’t tell a guy you love him after two dates!” You wipe your mouth and grip the counter trying to think. You glance at the X-ray, wondering.

“How long do I have?”

“It’ll worsen over the next few weeks now that the plants have started to bloom. Beyond that…it’s difficult to say. The more time you spend with him and he doesn’t say he loves you, it’ll only accelerate the process. You’ll feel little moments of relief, followed by an even stronger relapse.”

For the first time since this morning, you felt genuine fear. What if Hiromi didn’t feel more for you? What if after a few more dates he decided you weren’t what he was looking for? Were your only choices waiting for him to love you back or to have your feelings surgically removed?

“Am I going to die from this?” The words leave your throat in a whisper. Shoko flinches and appears to struggle with how to word her response.

“I hope not. I hope for your sake he does feel the same way.” Shoko hesitates before continuing. “I don’t want to alarm you but…if it truly becomes critical, have you considered having a plan of action?”

A tense silence passes between you both as you weigh her words. “I hadn’t. But…” You consider the words. “Is it worth dying for love, Shoko?”

“I can’t answer that for you. I can only say that I don’t wish to see you suffer.”

You drop down into one of the chairs, covering your face with your hands, trying not to cry. You had never wanted anyone quite in this way, trying to brush it off as a crush but the feelings never went away, always persistent, weighing down on your thoughts at all times of the day. You remember the tender way he’d looked at you after the kiss, brushing strands of hair behind your ears, gently drawing you against his chest, a cozy moment. He certainly seemed to be fine with the pace things were going at and hadn’t asked if he could come in like some men had after such a short time.

“Is there any chance that he’d…love me back in that way?”

“If he harbors those kinds of feelings for you then yes. But given that the window is narrowing, the sooner, the better.”

But what if…

Your mind resolves, and you sigh, finalizing on a decision. “Shoko.”

She looks at you curiously, hearing the change in your voice. Yes?

“I want to live no matter what.” Your hands ball into fists and although the notion makes your heart clench, you tell her your decision. “If my health declines, I want to be kept alive with special medical intervention. But if it gets to a point where the Hanahaki is going to be fatal to me… Please surgically remove it.”

Shoko looks at you surprised. “Really?”

“Really. Don't leave it up to chance.” You rub your eyes wearily. It felt like a cruel joke, longing for Hiromi for so long, then when you finally started dating it ended up triggering the Hanahaki at a faster rate. “I may love him but…I mean I have a life too. If it gets that bad… it would imply he doesn't feel that way…and he may never feel that way. It may sound selfish but… I want to live.”

“I get it. You don't have to explain to me.” Shoko pats your shoulder. “But considering your life is on the line maybe don't hold back in showing him how much you love him?”

You laugh humorlessly. “How many men do you know who respond well to a woman saying she loves them after 2 dates?”

Shoko sighs. “Fair enough. I wish you luck.”

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

You hadn't set the third date. After the intense conversation with Shoko, you just felt like you needed to be by yourself.

The bed felt so comforting but sleep eluded you as the coughing worsened, shaking your whole being. You got up countless times to clean yourself in between and finally having had enough, dragged yourself out of bed to grab a pot from the kitchen, heaving into it, watching with horror as it filled. After 24 hours, it had progressed from seeds and petals into partial flower fragments, bunches of petals stuck to a portion of the flower head falling out of your mouth.

Your head throbbed, feeling like it could burst. Almost self-pityingly you think about what life would be like if you hadn’t asked him out. Eventually, it would have made no difference, the Hanahaki would’ve grown despite that, you muse to yourself, feeling the scrape of stems and roots embedding their way into your organs. How did things change so fast? You were fine and one kiss later…

Your phone buzzes, and you barely manage to pick it up, looking at it with one eye open, your pulse racing as you see his name.

How are you feeling? Still sick? 🥺

A smidgen of relief is felt in your chest, surprising you, as you take in a breath that hurts just a little less. He was checking in on you. Would a man do that if he wasn’t interested? Was there hope that he may feel more for you? You try to calm your wandering thoughts, knowing it wouldn’t do you any good to imagine things that he hadn’t explicitly stated.

Unfortunately 😔 I'm sorry but I don't think we can make that third date this weekend. Rain check? I hope work was good today.

Ding.

Work was fine. Yes, we can certainly hold off until you feel better.

Before you can reply he sends another message.

Do you need anything? I wouldn't want you to struggle while you're sick.

Butterflies flutter amongst the blooms in your chest. You did want to see him, but Shoko’s words come back to you, about how spending time with him without any promise of returning your feelings could worsen things even more. Additionally, the state you were in made you want to immediately decline the offer. You didn’t want him to see you like this, pale, hacking up bloody mucus flowers, pining for him like a lovesick dog. You grip your phone wondering how to reply, then carefully word your text.

I think I’m ok. Besides you don’t want to see me sick. Not a pretty picture.

Ding.

I’m sure I’ve seen worse. But I promise not to run away screaming. 😄 What do you say?

Despite it all you laugh, noting with wonder how you didn’t feel as bad as you did a minute ago.

Ok, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. 💀

Ding.

Noted! I’m bringing soup! See you in 30.

30?! You scramble up suddenly, then hang over the edge of the bed as more flower bits force their way up your throat, falling into the grotesque potpourri pooling into the cooking pot. With as much speed as your exhausted body offers, you dump the flower vomit into the toilet, quickly rinse the pot in the kitchen, and throw together an outfit appropriate for company. You add a little blush to your cheeks and some lipstick to remedy the pale sickly quality that your skin has become.

You’re jittery when the doorbell rings. Taking a deep breath, you open the door, revealing Higuruma, looking so casual in jeans and a tee rather than the suit he wore to work. He was carrying a bag and there’s a slight twitch to his lips as he looks at you.

“I’m disappointed,” he says good-naturedly, stepping inside. “Where’s the horrifying red nose and dripping snot? The messy hair and phlegm-covered tissues? At least tell me you have those droopy eye bags?”

“They’re hidden with concealer,” you admit, biting your lip to avoid smiling goofily at his presence. You feel a strange sensation in your body, almost like the parasitic flowers were retracting to allow their host to breathe a little before resuming their consumption of your flesh.

“Concealer! The ultimate trick. Do you think I should wear some? Look at these.” He points to the just visible bags under his eyes and you give up, laughing heartily, the growing blooms inside you only slightly painful.

Higuruma grins at you. “Well, they do say laughter is the best medicine. However, soup, as promised,” he says, brandishing the bag, “And decongestants, and a little dark chocolate. Because it’s the best.”

You take the bag from him trying not to blush. “Thank you, Hiromi. You didn’t have to come over. I appreciate it so much.”

“Aw, it’s no trouble. Besides you don’t let people you like suffer. Well not alone anyway.”

Your heart constricts in your chest as he says he likes you but you try to play it cool, leaves and petals stirring in your heart and lungs. “Oh? Wasn’t aware you liked me.” You try to sound nonchalant as you say it, but secretly hope he’ll say a little more, something more concrete which would imply there’s something stronger between you two. Something that might take away this dreadful thing growing inside you…

“Really?” He widens his eyes playfully and covers his mouth pretending to be shocked. “Oh no! All my efforts have gone in vain!” He drawls dramatically. “What good is bringing someone soup if they’re unaware you like them?”

You place the bag on the kitchen counter and cover your mouth as an unruly snort of laughter leaves you, which you use to hide the twinge of disappointment you feel. Well, at least he didn’t deny that he likes you. That was a start, and it could progress from there, in a best-case scenario.

Your chest contracts suddenly and you quickly grab a napkin and stand at the kitchen sink, coughing up more foliage, trying to be discreet, attempting to soften your coughing as the fragmented sunflowers fall out of your mouth. Higuruma walks into the kitchen at the noise and you hide the napkin in your hands, wiping your mouth.

Unlike before his face is lined with concern, and he waits for you to turn around. You try to smile reassuringly, your lipstick smudging from wiping your mouth.

“You don’t have to hide being sick in front of me you know,” he says softly. “We’re both adults. What’s life without a little mucus?”

You throw away the napkin and shake your head. “We only just started seeing each other. Helping someone when they’re sick is more of a sixth date thing.”

Higuruma contemplates your words, leaning his hip against the counter. “Well, we’ve worked at the same place for a year. So that plus two dates…I think it comes close. Your lipstick is smudged by the way,” he adds, tapping his upper lip to indicate where you should clean it.

You wish he wouldn’t look at you like that, like you’re still pretty even when you’re hacking up blood, literally dying from how much you love him. You hastily swipe a finger over the color, and when he doesn’t comment further, you assume it’s gone.

“Well…thanks.” You take out a bowl to pour some soup. “Do you also want some?” you offer him.

He shakes his head no. “Here let me.”

His large hand takes the bowl from you while the other picks up the takeout container and he deftly pours steaming chicken noodle soup into it. “I can bring it outside for you. C'mon, sick person’s privilege.”

It was odd being ordered around in your kitchen, even if it was in this endearing manner. You shake your head. “You and your chivalry code.”

“I thought women loved it when men waited on them like this! Maybe I should double-check Reddit.”

How did he manage to do this to you? Your stomach is doing flips and it feels like for a brief second, the Hanahaki has frozen, allowing you a moment of clarity. Being near him was like not knowing your head was underwater until you took in that first gasp of air and felt it expand in your lungs, life flowing back into your veins.

You settle on the couch and accept the bowl from him. He sits down on the opposite end, crossing a leg over his knee, and turns to look at you.

“I think the remote’s on your end. Feel free to put on anything.”

“Anything? What a treat. I had come fully prepared with a list of rom-coms but I’m glad I can put on anything.”

You roll your eyes as you swallow the hot soup, savoring how it slides down your throat. “Rom coms? Why?”

“Isn’t that the default for when you’re sick?”

“Is that the default when you’re sick?” You probe him teasingly, noting how you don’t feel the irritating brush of the flowers as much as before. It almost felt easier to breathe with him around.

Sheepish, Higuruma grins at you and rakes a hand through his hair. “It might be. It’s too early to reveal my secrets.”

“Oh? And when would it be appropriate?”

“After a third date.”

You glance at him, spoon halfway to your lips. He hastily adds, “After you’re feeling better of course!”

You busy yourself with the bowl to hide the blush that was threatening to make itself visible and swallow zealously. As mentioned, he puts on a rom-com and you finish the soup, feeling warm and cozy. You’re wrapped in a blanket and Higuruma has remained politely at the opposite end but as he sees your eyes beginning to droop he offers his shoulder.

“No, it’s ok…I’m fine here…” You mumble, trying to focus on the movie but the Hanahaki is beginning to take a toll on your body.

“It’s all right y/n. I guarantee I’m comfier than a couch cushion.” Seeing your hesitation he chuckles. “I promise to behave. Just…c’mere. I wasn’t joking when I said people shouldn’t suffer alone.”

He scoots over to the middle and helps you tip over slightly, placing an arm around you as the side of your cheek rests on his shoulder. The effect was instantly soporific. You couldn’t believe it. He was here…and yet so far away. You struggle to remind yourself that nothing was solid, that this was all still in the beginning stages, and that plenty could go wrong.

But the yearning is stronger and you let yourself indulge for a brief moment before your brain switches from consciousness to sleep. Hiromi, warm, gentle, sweet Hiromi, here, next to you, on your sofa in your living room. Letting you use him as a pillow. It was like plucking a private daydream from your brain and shaping it into reality.

If you could disperse the little moments like this…could you possibly slow down the Hanahaki enough that you could date him a little longer until it was appropriate to tell him you loved him? And perhaps when you did…he would say it back?

You smelled that familiar scent of wood and spice, memories of the kiss lulling you to sleep. His hand rubs the side of your blanket-covered arm, steady and comforting.

“You smell nice,” you mutter almost imperceptibly but he hears it and his heart skips a beat.

“I’m glad you think so.”

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Monitors beep and there’s an IV in your arm. Shoko peers anxiously into your face as you come back to reality. Things had taken a turn for the worse. You had been floating in and out of consciousness for the past few days.

“I need to know everything that happened. I’m sorry, I know you don’t feel like talking.” Shoko helps you sit upright in the hospital bed and hands you a glass of water which you sip weakly. “But I need to figure out when I should start the special interventions you mentioned. I have all the labs. But I need to know where you are emotionally if I have to make a call about surgical intervention next.”

You take a few breaths of oxygen from the mask in your hand before steadying yourself to speak. Every inch of you hurt. Your body prickled as you tried to suck in a breath, your mouth dry and your words raspy. Living was simply draining right now.

“Four days ago, Hiromi visited me at home. He wasn’t aware of how sick I was. And I didn’t tell him.”

Shoko’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

You shake your head wearily. “It just didn’t feel right. He put me to sleep. When I woke up, I was laid out on the couch and Hiromi was gone. I felt a lot better and got myself to bed. Then the next day, I was in pain. So much pain. It felt like one of my lungs had burst. Like a million thorns were scratching the inside of my heart and throat. That’s when I called you.”

Shoko paces back and forth as she ponders on what the next best step would be, looking exasperated. “Y/n. I told you that being with him in this unrequited manner will only cause the Hanahaki to spread faster. You should have said no to him coming over. The closeness and then his absence, plus the lack of admission of any romantic feelings made it grow alarmingly. Your heart and lungs are almost purely plant now.”

You lay back against the pillows, taking the most shallow breaths possible to alleviate any further discomfort. “How long? Before…?”

Shoko sighs deeply. “I will have to do the surgery tomorrow.”

You had known deep down that she wouldn’t have any better news. Tears fill your eyes as you stare at the ceiling, dripping down your cheeks and onto the pillow. Your voice quivers are you talk.

“Wow…I really thought…I had more time than that. I thought…we’d go on a third date. Maybe a fourth. And by the fifth or sixth, enough time would have passed that it wouldn’t be weird if I said it.” You press your hands over your eyes and a sob passes from your lips. “I really wanted it to be him Shoko. My end game. I guess…it wasn’t meant to be huh?”

Shoko pats your arm sympathetically. “It’s not that you won’t ever fall in love again. It just won’t be with him.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing Shoko. Would anything else feel the way this feels?” You let yourself think back on every little interaction you ever had with Higuruma. Every tiny second where the two of you had been in the same room, or just passed by each other at work. The way his eyes danced as he laughed, little crow’s feet forming at the corners. And the fact that you’ll never find out if rom-coms were his go-to when he was sick. It was so bittersweet, to be so close yet so far to the addictive idea of almost knowing what it would be like to be loved by him, yet too late to escape the effects of the Hanahaki.

“Can you find him for me Shoko? I just…need to see him one last time. Before…you know.”

Shoko’s eyes are contemplative, but she nods. “Let me see if he’s on campus.”

“And Shoko?”

She already knows what you’re about to say but listens anyway.

“Please don’t tell him anything. The last thing I need is him pitying me.”

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Higuruma checks his phone and can’t hide his disappointment when he sees you haven’t replied to his last few texts. He’d been careful not to wake you when he laid you down on the sofa and quietly crept out that night. He’d been sure to text you to let you know you hadn’t been abandoned, but that he didn’t want to encroach on your boundaries and was looking forward to seeing you again. That was 4 days ago. Had he made things awkward without realizing it? Had you ghosted him?

He told himself it couldn’t possibly be a simple case of ghosting because you hadn’t been coming into work either. He was positive he hadn’t misread the signs. You were comfortable and relaxed around him. There was no reason for you to avoid him. Had your illness worsened? The ideas turn over and over in his head as he wanders the halls of the vast Jujustu High campus, then comes out of his reverie as someone calls his name.

“Oh! Shoko, hi.” He greets the brunette as she approaches him. Her expression looks tight as she nears, and she seems unsure of what to say.

Shoko knows she’s obligated to hold her silence, but in this case, she can’t bring herself to do it. “Can we find a place to sit down? There’s a lot that needs to be said and I’m not sure there’s a lot of time left.”

“Time left? For what? Is this about y/n?” Higuruma feels uneasy but allows Shoko to direct him toward a bench in the well-maintained courtyard.

Shoko does her best to explain everything concisely; the origin of the Hanahaki, its unexpected acceleration, and how you would be heading into surgery tomorrow to get it removed. Higuruma listens quietly but it’s clear from his expressions and the way they turn to shock and horror as Shoko describes it that he’s feeling this on a personal level.

“Unrequited love eh?” He runs a hand over the back of his neck and takes a deep breath. “Who would’ve thought?” Higuruma mulls this over in his head. Was there someone else he wasn’t aware of? He shouldn’t be surprised. You were so beautiful after all, and with your Jujutsu talents, courage, and principles, it wasn’t that much of a shock. It couldn’t be him…he was new to everything, needing help, always feeling like he was one step short. He looks to Shoko, needing confirmation. “And do we know who the mystery man is?”

Shoko looks at him pointedly and he frowns for a second thinking. “What? Is it someone I know? Am I supposed to pass on a message?”

Shoko impatiently tapped her foot against the ground, biting her inner cheek, her expression almost becoming a glare as she prayed he’d have the epiphany soon.

A lick of irritation passes through him. “Shoko, trust me when I say I want her to live. I'm dating her right now, but if there’s someone else that she needs to be well, I’m not selfish enough to stand in the way of that.” His heart clenches at the thought but if it was a matter of life and death, he couldn’t deny you that.

To him, you were the moon, the lovely, elegant, marker in his sky, and he was the ocean, hopelessly drawn by your gravity, yet never getting close enough to grasp you and make you his own, waves crashing down into salt and foam after each failed attempt.

Feeling like she might burst, Shoko begrudgingly gives him another clue. “There’s no other man.”

“There isn’t? Then…” He’s silent as the meaning of her words suddenly dawns on him, making him blush. The realization is stunning. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. But it’s always been you. Now let me make this very clear. If you do not have any feelings for her that are equal to romantic love, then there’s nothing else that can be done. I’ll take her to surgery and remove all of it. She deserves to live.”

He falls silent as her words wash over him. “And that…would take away everything right?”

“It will. She’ll forget everything. All those times she felt her heartbeat quicken when she saw you. The dates you had. You bringing her soup. She’ll forget and her feelings will become purely platonic.” She looks at him appraisingly and waits for an answer.

“I…” The words catch in his throat and he feels an unbearable guilt wash over him. He was responsible for putting you in this state. It was his fault you were now hovering between life and death. He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose and takes a calming breath. Nothing about him was steady at the moment. He was a knot of nerves, worried for your safety.

“I do love her,” he admits. “For the longest time. It’s just…you can’t blurt out things like that. Scares people off.”

“So I’ve heard,” Shoko says, trying not to sound sarcastic. “But you were dating her. That must mean that you have feelings for her.”

“Who says ‘I love you’ to someone after 2 dates?”

Shoko’s eye twitches menacingly and Higuruma leans away, looking slightly apprehensive at the expression. “What is it?”

“Nothing just that you two…are very similar.” She sighs, massaging her temples.

“So, what do I have to do now?” Higuruma looks at her helplessly. “I don’t want to be the reason she’s suffering. If I tell her I love her, that’s it? The Hanahaki fades? Because I’ll do it. I’ll tell her over and over. Anything to make it right.”

“That would certainly help but the state that she’s in…verbally making your feelings known would still require her to remain in the hospital for a few weeks.”

“What else can I do?” Higuruma looks at Shoko with sincerity. “Whatever she needs, I’ll do it.”

Shoko clears her throat wondering how to put forth the matter. “Well, while the verbal affirmations would ease her discomfort, physical love would definitely speed up her recovery.”

“So hugs? Kisses? I held her on the sofa while she slept. I can do that again, I’ll cuddle her until she feels better.”

Shoko lets out a sigh, wondering how much more explicit she would need to get. “We are very much short on time, so let me ask you this. What’s the usual culmination of romantic love?”

“What? The culmination of romantic love? It’s…it’s…OH.” His eyes widen as the realization washes over him, turning his face a brilliant shade of crimson. “Doesn’t that cross a line? We’ve only ever kissed, and it was only once.”

“I’m sure she won’t mind if it saves her life. Besides, I can’t imagine her denying it if it’s you.”

“Ah, thanks?” he says uncertainly, not sure if it’s a compliment. Still flustered, he rakes his hands through his hair, trying not to feel embarrassed. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve loved this. To make love to someone as gorgeous as you? It would’ve been a privilege. But the added complication of you being sick added a layer of uncertainty. But he knew he’d have to figure it out.

Feeling like she’s finally gotten through to him, Shoko smiles at him softly. “Just…let yourself love her naturally. It’ll fall into place. You’ll figure it out.” She pats his shoulder reassuringly. “Think you can take some time off? Stay at home with her?”

He nods, feeling his resolve strengthen. “Of course.”

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

The hands that carry you are warm, large, and gentle. Was this it? Were they taking you to surgery? Shoko had given you something strong for the pain. Had she found Hiromi? You couldn’t recollect talking to him. Maybe he was out while you were hospitalized. Well, so much for that…

It was all going to be over soon. Shoko would extract the Hanahaki from your body and the next time you saw Higuruma, you wouldn’t feel a thing. Life really was cruel.

But something felt different. Instead of being moved to a cold surgical platform, you felt yourself being placed onto a soft bed, the familiar smell of fabric softener surrounding you. Were you home? Was the surgery already over?

A presence lays down next to you, gently drawing you closer, and as you inhale, you recognize the fragrance of woody spice. Hiromi was here? How? Were you dreaming? That must be it. You were post-op and experiencing whatever pleasant sensation the anesthesia gave you until you woke up.

You feel your face being caressed, your hair brushed away, being pressed tightly against his chest as his lips skim across your temple.

“Y/n. I’m so sorry.” His voice sounds regretful. “I guess…I was an idiot. I was so unsure about how you felt, when in fact, it was quite obvious. And I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t want more. Because baby, the things I feel when you’re near me. They take my breath away. I thought the worst thing that could happen was that you would decide you didn’t want to see me anymore. I was wrong.”

His embrace tightens, and he adjusts so that your head rests on the crook of his neck, your breath falling sweetly on his skin. “The worst thing is seeing you like this, knowing I put you in this state. Why has society made dating so hard? Why are we shamed for feeling things too soon? Or too late? I think it should be different depending on the people involved. Some people feel it early. Others feel it down the line. I guess I’m one of the former. I just know.”

He kisses your forehead, and when he speaks next, there’s a crack in his voice, raw emotion coming through. “I love you. Always have from the moment I first started as a sorcerer. You leave me in awe. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. I love you, y/n. I love you so much.”

You stir slightly, listening intently. Did he just…?

“You have to get better. Remember how on the first date, you told me that you’d love to visit Paris someday? We’ll go. Just us. After you’re well. I don’t care what society deems normal anymore. We’ll go on our third date. Because you deserve it. Because I love you.”

His words permeate your body, a curious sensation because it feels like they entered your bloodstream, and were being absorbed into your heart. The tightness of the root system embedded into your veins withdraws, and you feel your breath becoming less labored.

“Please wake up darling. You have to wake up.”

He presses his lips against yours, full of tenderness and passion, and when he pulls away, he sees color coming into the previously pale and chapped lips. He kisses you again, and it’s bliss, his hands combing through your hair, stroking your back, and you take in a deep breath, the relief feeling ecstatic, your blood humming in your veins, almost purifyingly. Compelled to react, you move your lips gently, feel him still and pull away incredulously, and look down at your face.

“Y/n?” There’s so much relief on his face as he looks at you, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

‘Hey,” you manage to rasp, feeling that same purifying sensation, like the flowers in your body were contracting ever so slightly, making room for you to breathe.

Higuruma lets out a soft laugh, then rests his forehead on yours. “Oh my…you’re awake. You’re going to make it darling, don’t worry.”

“Do you really love me?”

“I do. So much. I don’t know since when. I just knew I did.”

The fortifying effect of those words brings back strength into your body and you raise your arms, wrapping them around his neck.

“Hiromi. You have no idea how happy I am that you’re here.”

“Oh I think I have you beat there darling,” he says weakly, nuzzling your neck. “I wasn’t sure when you’d wake up.”

He kisses you again, slow and gentle and your mouth opens to accept his tongue, reveling in the taste, feeling every inch of your body respond to his touch. His hands roam under the back of the thin T-shirt you’re wearing, anchoring themselves onto your shoulders, inhaling your scent as he tries to breathe through it all. He strings a line of soft kisses from your jaw down your neck, stopping to savor the way your pulse felt as it beat with vitality inside you, before coming down to your collarbone. A gasp leaves your lips, fingers tangling with his hair as he does so.

The noise brings his attention back to you, unaware of the desire pooling into your veins where the flowers were starting to withdraw. Your cheeks had a healthy glow, a flush settling into them as he pulled you against him.

“Are you ok with this?” He asks, his fingers tracing circles on the back of your neck, waiting for a response.

“I am. More than ok. Just…don’t stop now. I need this.” You lean up and kiss him, electricity sparking between the both of you. “I need you.”

Hearing you needed him switches something on in him and he groans against the passion of your kiss before burying his face in your neck, nibbling the soft flesh, listening to the flow of breath running through you. His hands sneak up under the front of your shirt and rest against your breasts, letting the heat flow into them, feeling your nipples perk up against his palms before he squeezes, his mouth leaving wet kisses between the crook of your neck and shoulder.

“Please…” you whisper into his ear, the word spoken with so much urgency that he almost loses control. He finds the hem of your shirt and pulls it off, taking in the sight of your lovely body, the pebbled nipples ripe for sampling. He pulls one into his mouth, causing a quiet moan to leave you, and begins to tease the other, rolling it between his thumb and index, listening to your cues as he increases the friction and pressure.

You feel like you're on a cloud, pleasure tingling into every crevice of your body, sighing, losing all other thoughts except for the man in your bed. “Hiromi,” you call his name in a breathy tone, cradling his head as he suckles, heat gathering between your legs. How long had it been since you were touched in this way? Held like you were precious, kissed like you were ambrosia?

Hiromi observes the way color comes back to your body as he teases you, watching with mild fascination as the pert nipple between his fingers changes color, life coming back into you.

Your eyes close against the gentle ministrations of his tongue and fingers, the moans becoming whimpers as need takes over. When he finally lets go the need for more contact with his skin was overwhelming. You fist the fabric of his top and pull it off, and he allows it without any questions. Your eyes roam over the broad, tanned chest, the cloud of black hair on his chest leading into a thready trail that crawled lower like a lion’s mane, hidden by the waistband of his jeans. For a moment you stare, drinking in the sheer masculinity of it all, the hard planes and defined muscles, contrasting against the softness of your body.

Almost shyly you run your fingers through the patch of hair before coming down to place a kiss between his collarbones, hear his breath strangle before continuing down, feeling all the muscles in his abdomen tense up as your lips follow the happy trail, delighting in the way he reacted when you nibbled around his bellybutton.

“Y/n you’re making me crazy.” he grits his teeth, struggling to keep a hold on his sanity. You had just recovered, he shouldn’t be rash or grab you but you were making it very hard to ignore the rush of want pouring into his bloodstream. It was so surprising how these acts of love, even briefly, had brought you back from the edge.

He slides you back up, sees the vitality glittering in your eyes, and crushes his mouth to yours, letting his body speak for him as he runs a hand down your smooth skin, pausing to knead the soft squish of your belly, his hand slipping under the band of your shorts and underwear, bringing them down to reveal the curve of your ass which he grabs possessively, savoring the fat, pushing your lower body against his throbbing erection. He slowly grinds against you, paying attention to your body but you aren’t pulling away from him, rather, it appears to make you crave more, the way your hands fumble at his back, holding on to his shoulders and pressing your face into his chest.

Hiromi’s hands move to your front, repeating the action of pulling the waistbands down, exposing you to his hands. As he slides your clothing off, your legs part for him unashamedly, the throbbing in your sex unbearable, feeling your chest becoming free of the previous pressure that was suffocating it. Grasping your mound in his large palm, he feels for the edge of the swollen labia and massages, grasping the moistening flesh between his fingers and applying pressure, causing you to arch against his hand, the noises you make music to his ears.

He gently parts the folds of your sex, seeing the slick from your arousal gathering at the entrance of your core, begging to be touched. He looks back up at you and you nod, the small sign of consent all he needed before he plunges his tongue into the most heat of your cunt. The knowledge of knowing he was here at such a sensitive spot on your body sends a thrill through him and he licks up, finding the base of your swollen clit, letting his tongue flick against it, satisfaction flowing through him as you hum your pleasure at the action. Laying his tongue flat, he slides up and down, unfazed when you move against him, trying to build a little more friction.

He lets his middle finger circle the entrance of your pussy, teasing until you raise your hips slightly before sliding in, the digit feeling so wonderfully filling, curling upwards to find the little patch inside you that makes you take a sharp breath before becoming so wonderfully pliant and soft under him. He inserts his ring finger, and your sighs become a crescendo of gasps and moans, writhing under him, holding the pillow to remain grounded as the ache in your core becomes unbearably sweet, blossoming from the center and filling your body with a thrum of pleasure.

You sob as the orgasm hits, all the muscles in your body contracting before pleasurably spasming, your cries becoming shrill as it passes, feel Hiromi’s tongue slow down and continue to nudge against your clit, ensuring he squeezed out every drop of pleasure from you before pulling away from your core.

You’re a sight to see after that, body rosy and flushed, a fresh vigor visible all over, hair messy and splayed across the pillow.

“Y/n…you’re so beautiful,” he rasps as he crawls back up to you, licking your juices off his fingers before covering your mouth with his. Shivering from the climax, you taste yourself on his tongue, gripping the back of his neck as though afraid he might slip between your fingers if you didn’t hold onto him hard enough.

“Do you…ahem…” He suddenly turns shy but powers through. “Do you happen to have condoms? I kind of…forgot...you know with everything that happened.”

Your lips quirk and a peal of laughter leaves you, and he joins in, smiling, cupping your face tenderly in his hands. “Top drawer,” you answer him. “You went to the drugstore a couple of days ago and bought decongestants, but not condoms?” you tease him.

“Who knew I’d be having sex a few days later?”

“We were dating! It was bound to happen.”

“Oh really? So that’s what happens when people are dating?” he teases you back and it’s your turn to blush, but he’s being sweet about it, brushing your noses together, and pressing feather-light kisses all over your face. He slides off the bed to finish undressing, and you watch him, fascination all over your face as his cock slips free, long and veiny, leaking precum, throbbing with hot need. He fumbles through your nightstand before finding the little wrapped packet, rolling down the condom before joining you back in bed, cuddling you close.

“Ready?”

You nod, a look passing between you both, before he positions himself and starts entering, the push of his tip feeling exquisite, going inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to him, feeling your fingernails scratch his forearms as he starts to bottom out. He holds still, your eyes meeting, your mouth slightly open as your pussy involuntarily spasms around him, feeling wonderfully stretched out.

He starts moving, hips rolling deliciously to set up a rhythm, leaning forward to kiss you as he does so, arching his back to ensure your G-spot wasn’t missed with each stroke. It was so artful the way he made love to you, your body so responsive to everything, and he gathered you in his arms, both of you looking into each other’s eyes.

“I love you.” He buries his face into the crook of your neck and you lock your ankles around his waist, mewling as he thrusts into you.

“I love you too,” you mumble, mind in a haze, feeling nothing but pleasure flowing through you. Your breathing has changed, no longer ragged and shallow but to a full-bodied draw of air, so refreshing as you both touch and caress each other.

Your body starts the familiar sensation of tension gathering in your belly, coiling, waiting for release. Misty-eyed, you look at him, knowing he’s been watching your face all this while, looking for cues.

“I’m close…” you whisper, touching his cheek, tracing the outline of his lips as you move with him.

“Let go for me…I’ve got you…” With a cry, your second orgasm grips you, more powerful than the first, and you barely manage to keep your legs locked around him.

“Hiromi…Hiromi…” his name falls from your lips, and his movements become a little sloppy, feeling his own orgasm nearing, and not too soon, he falls off the edge, cock twitching inside you, as he rides out the wave of pleasure.

It was the best sleep of your life afterward, wrapped up in Higuruma’s warm and secure embrace, cheek resting on his chest, and listening to each other’s heartbeats as you both dreamt.

When you wake up, it’s the middle of the night and Higuruma is awake, peering at you through the darkness.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispers, petting your hair.

“I can’t, I have the distracting problem of having a handsome man in my bed.”

“Hmm…And this is a problem, how?”

“I want to keep looking at him. Makes for bad sleep.”

A deep chuckle leaves his throat as you cuddle against him.

“So out of curiosity, if I wasn’t conscious by the time you started up, what would you have done?” You lean up to look at him, legs tangling under the covers.

“Oh, Shoko reassured me that kissing you would bring you around.”

“Yeah, but what if it hadn’t?” you press, curiosity building.

Higuruma makes a funny expression, like he’s weighing whether or not to divulge something to you.

“What is it? C’mon, tell me!” You lightly slap his chest and he sighs, defeated.

“Well, Shoko gave me a letter of medical necessity.”

Your face turns blank. “She…what?”

Higuruma takes his phone and pulls up an official-looking email with an attachment. Trying not to laugh, he reads out, “I, Dr. Shoko Ieieri, hereby state, that in the event that F/n L/n is only partially conscious, or fully unconscious, the giver of medical services, Mr. Hiromi Higuruma, has my complete medical consent to make physical love to the patient to ensure her life does not fall into jeopardy. This medical order shall remain in effect until F/n Y/n becomes fully conscious and capable of making her own decisions. See she signed it and everything.”

He tilts the phone screen so that you can see, and you cover your mouth as you try to stifle your laughter. “I can’t believe Shoko!”

“I’m sure she wrote it as a joke,” Higuruma says amusedly. “She was very confident that kissing would wake you up sufficiently.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe my doctor wrote a note advocating for sex to save my life.” You bury your face into his chest and the both of you laugh uncontrollably.

“So is it a safe bet to assume we’re having another date?” he teases, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“I’ll have to think about it. I’m joking!” you add hastily, seeing his expression grow stony. He sighs, dramatically shaking his head.

“Guess I better get used to this. Looks like it’s going to be part of my life for a long long time.”

He kisses you again before you can retort. You smile up at him, knowing he is yours.

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shoot-the-oneshot · 13 days

Text

BEST OF MOTOGP

Marc Marquez x reader x Carlos Sainz love triangle.

Read Part 1 here

3 years ago

With every step towards the garage your heart beat faster and faster, you have been working with the brand for what felt like forever and you finally got it. Redbull social media specifically focused on MotoGP you honesty would’ve been happy with any type of racing but you were ecstatic with your placement.

You don't know why you were nervous everyone has told you again and again how kind Marc was but you’ve had some unsavory experiences with other athletes coming up that didn’t understand or appreciate the new way of technology and in turn you.

You tried to keep your head up walking into the Repsol garage being amazed by the fast past everything was moving at. Being so caught up you jumped when a hand landed on your arm.

“I’m sorry, I’m Marc didn't mean to scare you.” He spoke holding a hand out for you, happily taking it. “Hi I'm Y/n, a part of the media team, its so nice to meet you”

Marcs eyes widened. “A new member of the family! please allow me to show you around.” He lead you all around the paddock introducing you to everyone you passed. Ending back at the Repsol garage he left you to a meeting with your boss wishing you good luck before he sped off to practice.

“He’s really nice right?” You spun to the right at the new voice seeing a slightly older than you blonde woman, who nodded to where you were watching Marc leave.

“Out of all the people I’ve worked with this team is by far the best and most welcoming, I'm Susan by the way while I'm technically in charge as long as you do the job and don't cause havoc we won’t have an issue.” She winked making you drop your shoulders and let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, making her laugh.

“Come on, I’ll show you the best spots for content during the race.”

1 year later (2 years ago)

“I’m really glad you let me come.” Marc spoke almost shyly with a red dusting across his cheeks as he followed your lead down the streets of your hometown. “How could i not, you practically begged.” You teased, smiling as you looked up at him as you stopped walking now there was only a few inches between you both.

“I’d beg just to learn your favorite color if that’s what it took.” He whispered, his fingertips grazing your cheek as he moved a strand of hair out of your face. Marc wishes he remembered the moment he fell for you, when he stopped seeing only the color of your eyes and started seeing his everything in them. But it's times like this he almost doesn’t care when, just that it’s there now.

“It’s red.” You answered breathlessly almost speechless from the was he was gazing at you. Your heart started racing as you noticed how close he’d gotten, his breath fanning across your face. “Tell me to stop.”

“I don't want you to.” Clutching his shirt in your hands to keep him close. Marc laughed lowly brushing his noes against yours, “Then tell me to kiss you.” He had to hear it, he had to know you wanted it as bad as he did before he did anything that couldn't be taken back.

Tired of waiting you pulled on his shirt crashing his lips against yours, Marc got over the shock instantly, pulling you tighter against him, so close you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began . Pulling away only when the need to breathe became overwhelming, even then he didn’t move away far.

“I really wish you would’ve done that sooner.” He smiled against your lips, and reluctantly stepped back remembering you were in public. Not before taking your hand in his. “Where’s that cafe you wanted to show me?” At his words you lit up practically dragging him in your excitement “Oh it’s right around the corner come on!”

During the season you shared many moments like the one shared then, getting closer and closer to each other and after the season you and Marc found yourselves back in your hometown it was just small enough that no one bombarded him plus he had never seen you so relaxed than when you were there. So his pushed to come back during the break.

“Come on champ i thought you were an athlete!” You shouted behind you where Marc was, you wanted to show him one of your favorite hikes it was rough but the view up top was worth it.

“I’m just making sure you don’t fall behind amore.” Marcs words dragged making you look back seeing his eyes locked on your butt, he only smiled being caught making you laugh.

Reaching the top, you shouted in excitement spinning around “we made it! Marc quickly wrapped you in his arms spinning you around kissing all over your face. “Marcy!” You giggled meeting his lips as he set you down.

“Come on we need a picture to remember this great feat.” You cozied up to Marc as you held out your phone being sure to get the view behind you, and capturing Marcs wide grin.

“One last photo together hm?” He said, looking everywhere but at you, sighing you rubbed his arm “It’s hardly the last time we will see each other, I’ll only be gone one season.”

“Practically forever.”

Present

Out of all the things you expected to see once you turned the corner was to see Marc and Carlos in some stand off their respective teams separating the two men. “What’s going on?”

Carlos who was just shaking out of Charles hold looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Nothing”

You looked to Marc knowing he would tell you the truth. But he just walked past you pausing once your shoulders met staring at the wall ahead. “I take it back, don’t pick him.”

Spinning around you grabbed his arm not at all finished with the conversation.

“You always tell me what to do first, not to fall for you now, don't fall for him what do you want!” You exclaimed not able to handle the mixed signals it nearly broke your heart when Marc told you nothing could happen between you two all those years ago because you worked together.

Flashback 1 year and a half ago

You and Marc layed by the pool soaking in the sun, legs tangled together. Smiling as you felt him press small kisses leading to your neck from your shoulder. “Stop” you laughed softly. Pushing him away just making him tighten his hold even more ensuring you couldnt escape. Caressing his face when he pulled away from your neck running your thumb over his cheek bone as he gazed at you.

“What color tie are you going to wear to the gala this year.” You asked out of the blue making his brows furrow and pull away further, making your hand drop. “Probably black why?”

“I wanted to make sure my dress matched.” Being a part of Redbull socials you were invited anyway and thought it would be cute to tie together. But seeing the look he got on his face you were starting to second guess yourself.

“You know no one can know we’re doing this right?” Your world screeched to a stop like a scratched record at his words. “What?” You breathed out. Marc sat up pulling away from you and sighed. “I don't want it to look bad on you if it got out, i care about you and don't want you to get all the hate you’d get for being with me. But we can still dance at the gala.” He spoke cuddling back into you, which you were gad for so he couldn't see your eyes glassing over. “Yeah” your voice cracked “yeah we can.”

(Flahback over)

Marc sighed. “We both knew being just friends would never work.” He grabbed the back of your neck pressing his lips against your forehead. “I’m so sorry for what i said before but i was always yours and i hope you’ll be mine one day.”

With those as his parting words you found yourself alone, needing time for your thought you decided to walk through the paddock to clear your head. Your heart eached seeing Ferrari red everywhere. After Marc shut down any chance of being serious, you begged for a change of scenery landing a place in F1 more specifically Toro Rosso whatever pain you felt Carlos helped you overcome and then you went back to MotoGP and everything got complicated.

“Y/N! Y/n wait!” Your body froze before you could think Carlos stood in front of you the next moment his eyes begging you to hear him out.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, you weren’t supposed to.” He breathed out, hands twitching like he fighting the urge to reach out. “Didnt apologize for doing it” he everted his gaze at your words before straighting up taking a deep breath.

“I know you have feelings for both of us, and i know i can’t do anything about it. But i just want you to remember who broke your heart and who picked up the pieces.” Carlos squeezed your hand that you didn't know he grabbed before turning to walk away,

You sighed falling onto your bed at the hotel, you knew it wouldn’t be smooth sailing with Marc showing up at Carlos race but you didn't expect this much trouble. Carlos was right he did pick up the pieces of your heart after Marc broke it, but part of you wondered what would’ve happened if you didn't run to F1 after that conversation.

During that season Marc didn’t disappear he made his presence known despite the unopened text from him in your phone he still sent flowers to every race and invited you back to Spain for the summer, perhaps he was right. Being just friends would never work

Your inner monologue being cut short by your phone going off, leaning over with a groan your brows furrowed at the text.

Carlos: check your email.

Ignoring the message you open your emails seeing a brand new one from Ferraris head of marketing personal email.

“Hello Y/n, it has come to our attention you were looking at other options outside of your current employer, you have come highly recommended from some of our employees during your time in F1 a few years ago and we would love to add you to our team. Given your close relationship to one of our drivers we think you would make a wonderful addition.

We have reviewed your current contract with Redbull and would like to offer to buy it out and add a 20% raise to your salary plus benefits. No need to interview please get back to us at your soonest convenience.

Scuderia Ferrari, Social media, Marketing team

Practically throwing your phone across the room your breathing picked up. While it was a fantastic offer and one that would definitely keep you and Carlos together it wasn’t what you wanted, wasn’t who you wanted.

Rushing from your bed you pulled open the door to your room and ran through the hallway stopping abruptly as you nearly bumped into Marc a few feet away.

“What’s wrong?” What are you doing out here.” You both spoke simultaneously.

“Ferrari offered to buy me out of my contract.” You rushed out making Marc roll his eyes and chuckle humorlessly. “So that’s what he meant.”

“You, you knew?” You stammered over your words. “That’s what he told me earlier” you’ve never seen Marc so withheld before, at least not with you.

“And you didn't tell me!” You exclaimed, Marc sighed running his hand over his face. “If it’s what you wanted i didn’t want to stop you. Would it kill me, yes, but all i want is for you to be happy even without me.”

“How good is the contract?” He asked before you could say anything, keeping a good few feet between you.

“Really good.” His face hardened at your words nodding his head he made a move to turn away before you stopped him.

“But not good enough to leave you.”

Marc spun back around so fast though thought he would’ve broken something making you giggle. “Really?” He asked needing to be sure it wanted to his imagination. “Ever since that kiss you’re all i wanted.” You whispered being afraid any louder tone would break the spell.

Marc quickly erased the distance between you and wrapped you in his arms nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He smiled against your lips reminding you of the first time.

“I’m yours, i pick you.”

That next break you found yourself back sun bathing with Marc at your home in Spain, the sun shining off his wedding ring from its place on your thigh. Your husband sending daggers at stitch who was lounging in your arms.

“I never thought id be jealous of a dog.” He grumbled laying his head back down on your chest when you giggled. “Aw poor baby.” Rubbing your hand through his hair, feeling him smile against your skin. While it was a rollercoaster getting there you wouldn’t change the life you had for anything.

Woah what a ride i hope you guys liked it let me know in the comments Carlos’s part will be out soon check out part one and Carlos part here

Best of both worlds prt1

Best of MotoGP Marcs ending

Best of F1 Carlos ending coming soon

check out my master list for more

Tag list @starxqt @motylekrozi @yeolsbubbles @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mooone90 @damianodavidhands @zig-zzag @its-astrotea-love @peakywitch @obsessed-fan-alert @lenniebordeaux @marelovesf1 @capela-miranda @enjoymyloves @amsofftrack @coffeehurricanes @speedysimp @jasondeservedbetter @chilwell-mount @buendiabebeta @dan3avacado @valkyrie418 @ricsaigaslec @idkiwantchocolate @mydutchproblem @thercher @blckgrl-sunflower @xjval @downinroma @pleasantducktimetravel @princessria127 @caidi-paris @mehrmonga

#formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #marc marquez imagine #marc marquez x reader x carlos sainz #marc marquez x reader #motogp imagine #motogp x reader

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blues824 · 1 year

Note

Can we get the TWST dormleaders with an S/O that is a FBI agent for the BAU? I enjoyed reading the one with the Obey Me brothers!

My search history looks like I’m committing every single crime to every single degree. But, this fic is a victory for Yuu/YN/Mc, and you’ll see why.

Riddle Rosehearts

He is definitely intrigued, since you don’t seem phased by your chosen profession. You’ve been faced with actual serial killers to try and find the motive as to why they did what they did, and you don’t seem to be affected mentally or emotionally.

What freaked him out was during a small date between the two of you in the labyrinth. You both were taking a small break for tea, when you told him that one of the leading reasons for homicide was because the perpetrator had suffered through too much abuse.

That’s when he realized that he might want to consider therapy, since he is one step away from actually killing someone. After living with his mother for the 17 years of his life, he doesn’t want to risk hurting you because of a psychotic break.

Leona Kingscholar

He didn’t care at first, until you started digging into the issues within everyone. You told him that jealousy was one of the leading motives for murder, and you tried to make a light-hearted joke about him being one step away from just offing his brother.

Well now he’s really looking at and assessing himself to see if he needs to go to counseling because you were right: he was one step and a psychotic break away from just killing the monarch of the Sunset Savannah because he was tired of being seen as #2.

You give him an overall summary that everyone at NRC already has a motive for committing a serial crime, so now he’s definitely concerned. Mans will stray as far away from anyone (*cough cough* Malleus *cough cough*) since they’re all ticking time bombs.

Azul Ashengrotto

For someone in your profession, you seem calm. It does make sense, however, since if the person you’re assessing can get under your skin then that wouldn’t be any good. You still terrify him though, since you fly through NRC with ease.

You were unsettling and intimidating to him, even though you were very polite and courteous. It was during a Housewarden meeting where you brought it up to Crowley that he might want to consider investing in a school counselor. Azul was genuinely frightened when you explained that everyone was a pin’s drop away from killing a peer, and the Headmage couldn’t argue against you since you were a professional.

Well, the campus has been more stress-free because they now have the option to talk with a different professional rather than dumping all of their issues on you. Even the sneaky cecaelia himself went to counseling and felt a large burden being lifted off of his shoulders.

Kalim Al-Asim

He honestly didn’t know what a BAU agent was until you told him that you basically found the reason why someone committed a federal/serial crime. Then he was very worried about how you survived for this long.

This man would one day ask if you could read his psyche, and he was pleasantly surprised. He was one of the most mentally stable people on campus, but then you told him that Jamil was one step away from going batshit.

Your efforts in trying to establish a system of mental and emotional support paid off, and Kalim took part in funding it. You both made a huge difference and now there is a school counselor at Night Raven College.

Vil Schoenheit

He’s only heard of the occupation through films, so as he does your makeup he will ask you more questions about it since movies don’t always get it right. This man’s eyes went wide when you told him how you had to sit with federal criminals and try and evaluate them to determine their motives.

So, what you were saying is that you constantly put yourself in danger by sitting with criminals who could attack you at any point? Oh, no. This wouldn’t do at all. All he can say is that he’s glad you’re here and not risking yourself for your job (don’t let him hear about the field operations of the FBI).

Then, you made the mistake of telling him that since he’s constantly jealous of Neige, he’s only a few steps away from just ending either himself or the Snow White look-alike. He’ll be right back, he’s booking a therapy session right now.

Idia Shroud

He’s also only heard of your job through movies, so when he gets more comfortable around you he is asking questions left and right. Instead of being appalled, he’s intrigued as to the most common motives that you’ve seen.

Mans could listen to you until his ears bleed. Idia comes from a family that studies blot, which is accumulated through strong emotions. So, aside from the obvious, the jobs you two had were more similar than one would think.

This man also supported you in getting Crowley to establish a system of support for the students, but he didn’t help financially. He helped by making a threat to the old crow and told him that if he didn’t, he would use his family’s influence to link the bird not hiring a school counselor to the overblots.

Malleus Draconia

He didn’t know anything about your job until you brought it up during one of your nightly walks. He tried to keep calm as you told him that you were constantly put up against federal criminals to try and find the motive behind their crimes, but it was taking all of his willpower.

The Prince found it interesting, sure, but it shouldn’t be at the expense of your mental or even physical health. He was angry that your employers would put all of this responsibility on you, but you assured that the more dangerous people were put in a straight jacket. That totally made him feel better.

You teach him about the power that emotional support can have, and he helps establish a system at NRC. Since he is one of the five most powerful mages, Crowley couldn’t exactly refuse. He can see the difference that you made, and he congratulates you by giving you a rose on one of your walks.

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gennyanydots · 1 year

Text

Matching Wits

How Jake met his wife. Part of the Spitfire Universe. Can be read alone.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x f!reader

Masterlist

Spitfire universe masterlist

Warnings: threats of bodily harm (not to either main characters) and a knife.

“If you even try to talk to my friend again let alone touch her, I swear I will pull the knife out of my bra and shove it so far up your ass I’ll be able to see it out your mouth.”

Jake’s shocked to hear something like that come out of such a beautiful mouth. He’s sure as shit glad it wasn’t directed at him though. He doesn’t know the woman who just said it, but you didn’t look like you were kidding around. Jake’s been very impressed by the way you’re staring down the man you threatened in front of you even though you looks almost a foot shorter than him. You’re refusing to back down. Good for you. He’s proud of you.

“Whatever, she’s a bitch anyways,” the man grunts out before turning and walking away, making sure to run into your shoulder as he walked by.

The feisty little lady that Jake’s been watching put both middle fingers up at him and yells, “I’m sorry about your small penis!” then you turned and pulled your friend into a tight hug. Jake nearly chokes on his beer trying not to laugh at the penis comment.

Jake had been assessing the situation from his seat at the bar, in case he was needed of course. His mama would pitch a fit if she found out he had watched that man hurt one of those girls while he did nothing about it and he’s nothing if not the good southern gentleman his mama raised him to be. If you two had needed saved from that man then Jake would have been the first in line to step in but he clearly wasn’t needed at all. The girl with the knife had it all under control.

Jake was watching the scene unfold from the corner of his eye. Didn’t want to get caught watching the drama, which he was only watching in case back up was needed, definitely not because he wanted to hear all the smart remarks coming from your mouth. Jake’s always been drawn to women like you. The sassier the better. He likes a challenge. And yeah he knows all about that ‘you’re attracted to women who remind you of your mama’ shit and he knows his mama is a bit on the sassier side but he’s pretty sure that you could whoop his mama even on a good day.

And maybe it’s less being attracted to women like his mother and more he watched his parent’s relationship and he wants to emulate that for his own future. He watched as his father helped his mother through hard times, making sure to never put out her fire, just to dim it when needed (Mostly for safety reasons). He watched his mother put up with the fire in his father which rarely came out. He watched his father soothe his mother’s worries. He watched his mother drop everything for his father when he needed help. With that kind of an example why wouldn’t Jake want something like that?

Not that Jake was actively looking for anything right now. Jake was busy as hell at The Naval Academy. He had another year to go after this one and then off to Pensacola he goes.

He had come out tonight with a couple of his buddies. They had an overnight weekend leave so they thought going out drinking was the best way to spend their time. Jake had only been at the bar to grab the next round of drinks for them all before the whole show happened and there was no way he was going back to his buddies before he knew the two girls were safe and sound.

When Jake calls the bartender over for another round he asked if he could put the feisty girl and her friend’s next drinks on his tab, which the bartender was happy to do and then got him the drinks Jake had asked for. Jake thanks him and heads back to his friends who were playing pool.

“What took you so long?” Ryker asks.

Jake shrugs, “Some guy was being an asshole to some women and I didn’t want to walk away until I knew he was gone.”

Charlie chuckles, “You wanted to be their knight in shining armor?”

Jake shakes his head, “Didn’t need to be. The one told him she was going to shove her knife up his ass so he ran away.”

Charlie and Ryker both laugh at that then went back to their game. Jake only half pays attention to his friends, instead choosing to lean against the nearest wall and drink his beer while he surveys the bar. He liked to keep an eye on things wherever he is. Always assessing his surroundings.

He thought Charlie had come to stand beside him but ended up being really confused when he saw Charlie step up to the pool table to take his turn to shoot. Jake quickly glances beside him and shouts in surprise, “The fuck did you come from?!”

“Over there,” you, the feisty woman from earlier, say as you point to the table your friend was still sitting at.

“Jesus Christ woman, announce yourself better next time,” he says with a huff.

You grin, “Naw, this was way too funny for me to announce myself. Think I’ll keep doing it.”

Jake rolls his eyes, “Glad I could be your entertainment for the evening.”

“Glad I could be yours earlier,” you say with a laugh.

“What are you talking about? I was very subtle about that. How’d you even know?” Jake asks.

“You mean the subtle way you blatantly kept turning slightly and watching? Real subtle.”

“I just wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything,” Jake says with a shrug.

You reach up from the bottom of your shirt and shift around a bit before pulling a pocket knife out and flicking open the blade, “I had it under control.”

Jake snorts a laugh, “You’re not holding it right. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“How am I supposed to hold it then?”

Jake takes the knife from you and shows you how to hold it before gently handing it back with the handle facing you.

You try, “Like this?”

Jake nods, “Better. The other way, if something accidentally caught on the closing mechanism you were going to chop off your finger tips.”

You make a face, “Ouch. Thanks for that.”

Jake nods at you.

“You know neither of us needed a man to buy us a drink…” you trail off.

“I can’t imagine you needing a man to do anything for you.”

“Except apparently show me how to hold a knife,” you say with a laugh.

Jake laughs too, “Yeah, except that. But now you’re all set. No need for a man. You’ve achieved greatness.”

You roll your eyes at his antics, “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Jake nods, “Part of my charm?”

“Is that what you are? Charming?”

Jake grins, “When I want to be.”

“Oh yeah? And right now you want to be?” You say with a smile.

“Maybe, check back in with me in like ten minutes and I’ll let you know,” he says with a shrug which makes you laugh.

“So, what’s a girl have to do to make you want to be charming towards her?”

“Helps if they’re cute.”

“Okay, check that one off the list,” you say with a grin. “I am very well known for being cute.”

“How do you know that? Did you put out a survey?” Jake asks crossing his arms while raising an eyebrow.

You nod, “I did. Went door to door with a clipboard and everything.”

Jake chuckles, “Well I can’t argue with data.”

“No you can’t. So, what else?”

“Big fan of attitudes.”

You grin, “I’m two for two. Look at me go.”

“You don’t say,” Jake says with a wink.

“Is there anything else or are you about to charm the pants off me?” You ask with a giggle.

Jake moved to stand in front of you then held out his hand to you. You gave him a funny look. He nodded towards his hand while looking at you expectantly so finally you put your hand in his. He gently closed his hand around your’s before sharply pulling you towards him so you were pulled against his chest then wraps his other arm around your waist, still keeping your hand in his. He starts to gently sway to the music that both of you can just barely hear. He bends his head so his mouth is near your ear and starts to hum along. The two of you stay like that for a minute or two and then the song changes and Jake slowly dips you then stands you both back up and pulls away from you.

“How was that?” He asks while grinning, knowing full well that he did good.

“Yep, yeah, I would say you’ve sufficiently charmed the pants off me. Good job,” you say while you feel your face heat up.

Jake chuckles.

You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket and you pull it out, “Well shoot. My friend is ready to go home and I’m her ride.”

Jake nods, “Well I did my job so I guess you’re free to go.”

You go to your phone contacts and hit new contact and hand Jake your phone, “But that was just once. Definitely not enough data to back up your claims. Should probably do it again.”

Jake laughs and enters his number under ‘Prince Charming’ and hands you back your phone, “Hope to hear from you soon, darlin’.”

“I’m sure you will. Bye Jake,” you give him a little wave and he smiles and waves back. You head off to the table you left your friend at.

Jake turns back towards his buddies.

“Knife girl?” Ryker asks.

Jake nods and glances towards the direction you went off to and sees that you’re walking out the door, “Pretty sure I’m gonna marry her.” Later as Jake’s laying in bed scrolling on his phone he gets a text that says, “Are you data? Because the only pattern I recognize is how hot you are.”

#jake seresin x reader #jake “hangman” seresin x f!reader #hangman x female reader #spitfire universe

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fluentmoviequoter · 4 months

Note

I just found out you write for Deacon 😍

I have a request for you: being in a relationship with Deacon but you guys have an age gap and because David is older he sometimes he has doubts if he his the right person for her. The reader shows him in many different ways that he is more than enough for her

Such a good idea!! I took some creative liberties and it became more of a discussion about Deacon's doubts and how reader proves her love, so I hope that's okay. If you'd like me to redo it with more focus on Deacon's emotions or anything, I can! Either way, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Warnings: discussions of doubt and insecurity, age gap (I pictured early seasons Deacon, so he'd be mid-40s, and reader in her 20s but it's up to you!), tons of fluff.

Word Count: 1.7k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

A/N: I proofread and fixed some errors on 12/27/23, but let me know if I missed anything! (And, yes, the title is an Enchanted reference.)

How Does He Know that You Love Him?

The age gap between you and Deacon has never bothered you; if anything, it’s part of why you love him so much. Deacon has doubts occasionally, but you never fail to prove that he’s the one for you and that you love him. More than you should sometimes, he thinks.

✯One Year Ago✯

You and Deacon keep running into each other. Living in the same neighborhood as each other meant that it was bound to happen, but it is occurring too often to be a coincidence. So, you decide to introduce yourself to him at the park. When you sit beside him on the park bench to continue your conversation, he points out that you could probably find someone younger than him to hang out with.

“I don’t want to sit with someone younger. I want to sit with you,” you say, smiling. “If that’s okay, of course.”

“It’s perfectly fine with me,” Deacon responds.

A few weeks later, he asks you out on the first date, and he makes it very clear that if he is reading it wrong and you want to be friends, that is okay. He mentions the age gap, and you have to interrupt him.

“Deacon, wait. I don’t care how old you are. You know that, right?” you ask, laying a hand on his forearm.

Deacon nods, but you look at him, unconvinced, and he sighs before continuing. “I’m sure it seems okay now, but what if in a few months or a year you realize you want someone younger? Then we just wasted time.”

You raise your hand off his arm to cup his jaw. Smiling up at him, you promise, “I want you, Deacon. No matter how old you are or how amazing your salt and pepper looks.”

Since then, you’ve made sure to not only tell Deacon that he’s the one for you and the age gap doesn’t bother you, but to show him. You love spending time with his friends, glad to be around a group of men rather than boys. You’ll happily decline an invitation to go to a midnight horror movie or clubbing in exchange for game nights at Hondo’s house. Deacon soon realizes that you mean what you say and what you do, and the age gap doesn’t affect him as much. He still gets insecure at times; when he sees you with a group of people your age or a young man stares at you in public, but when he remembers who you’re with and everything you’ve said you love about him, the thought returns to the back of his mind.

✯Present Day✯

“Who’s that?” you ask as you walk into the station, hugging Deacon as he walks up to you.

“Oh, that’s Jim Street. Buck’s choice of replacement,” Deacon answers, watching you look at Jim.

You nod once and look back to Deacon, smiling as you lean up to kiss him quickly. “He any good?”

“He’s got potential, just needs a little help.”

“Which is exactly what you guys do, right?”

“Right.”

You pull your hand from him to visit Luca and Chris, but Deacon can only focus on you and Jim. You’re closer in age, and Street looks over at you every few minutes. Even if it’s not Jim, you will meet other men: better options than Deacon. He knows that if this happens, you’ll both get hurt in the fallout, so he buries his doubts. Or tries to.

“Deacon,” you call, your brows furrowed as you tilt your head to the side, asking to talk to him privately.

He follows you to an empty hallway, standing before you as you lean against a wall. Your arms are crossed across your chest as you look up at him.

“What’s wrong? And don’t say nothing.”

“Just…” Deacon sighs as he rakes his fingers through his hair.

“Is it happening again?”

Deacon’s eyes drop to your shoes, focusing on you but not your face.

“Deacon, you can talk to me about it. You know I get insecure, too, right? It’s normal, but it’s not something you have to endure alone.”

“I don’t want our relationship to be you trying to make me feel better,” Deacon admits.

“You know what I like? I like talking to you, no matter what it’s about. I like spending time with you, no matter what we’re doing. You’re it for me, Deacon, and I will tell you and show you until I can’t anymore. Okay? But I need you to start talking to me about this stuff.”

Deacon nods, grabbing your elbows and pulling you up against him. “You show me a lot.”

“Really? Have any examples?” you ask playfully, blinking up at him.

“Later. I have a whole list,” Deacon answers.

He directs you back to the common area where his team is.

“We’re gonna head out, guys,” Deacon announces. “See you Friday?” he asks Hondo.

“Come prepared to lose!” Tan taunts as he waves.

You hold Deacon’s arm against your chest as you walk out, eager to stay close to him and remind him that you’re always close. Sometimes too close, maybe.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Now, the list?” you ask as Deacon passes you a steaming mug.

You pull your legs up as Deacon sits down, then drop them into his lap.

“Yes, well, it’s not just a list of things you do. There’s also specific memories and how you make me feel,” Deacon says quietly.

“Okay. How do I make you feel?”

“That’s at the end,” Deacon teases as he places his hand on your legs.

He begins telling you about the ten things that stand out as evidence of how you prove your love for him and your lack of care for the age gap.

“First, you watch for me when you’re out,” Deacon begins.

“Meaning?”

“When you go out with your friends and I come pick you up, they always have their noses in their phones. They don’t talk to each other or look around, but the second I walk in, your eyes light up and you run to meet me. Like you’ve been watching for me.”

“You’re worth watching for,” you point out, sipping your drink.

“No flirting right now, I’m trying to tell a story. Second, when you asked me to teach you how to tie a tie and started doing it for me every time I needed to wear a tie.”

You smile as you remember the memory. Deacon happily took your hands in his and walked you through the process several times before letting you try without his help. It took some practice, but soon, you could tie it perfectly and offer to do so whenever he has to wear a tie somewhere. He always accepts, of course.

“Third?” you inquire.

“You dance with me. I can turn on music and grab you, anywhere, anytime, and you’ll dance with me. Not everyone is willing to slow down and just be with someone else like that.”

“You’re my dance partner, forever, Deac.” He looks at you, and you smile into your cup as you say, “Sorry, I’ll stop flirting.”

“Four. You turn guys down with a grace I’ve never seen. When we’re out and a guy comes up to you…” Deacon trails off when he sees the look in your eyes. “It happens a lot. When they do, and they flirt with you, you make it clear that you’re not interested but you do it with a grace beyond anyone’s years.”

“Does it bother you? That guys come up to me like that, I mean. Because I can get a face tattoo or something, or a big necklace that says, ‘stay back.”

Deacon laughs, pulling you closer after you set your mug down. “Five is pretty easy. You bring me treats, and you involve my coworkers somehow when you visit me at the station. You get along with my friends and you know what everyone likes and needs. Which goes with number six, which is that you don’t rely on me for everything, but you make me a part of everything.”

“Deacon has someone said something about me using you for your money or your age?” you ask, leaning toward him as you hope the answer is negative.

“No, but I’m sure some people would expect it. And I would help you with anything in a heartbeat, but even then, on the rare occasion you do ask for help, you make me part of it, not just a means to the end.”

“I think your list of things you love about me is making me fall more in love with you,” you say.

Deacon smiles and tugs your legs once more, pulling your thighs into his lap so you’re close enough to kiss when he’s ready. You raise a hand and run your fingers through his hair, disturbing the gel he used this morning and gently scratching his scalp. He wraps his arms around you as his eyes close involuntarily.

“This is seven. When you touch my hair everything else slips away.”

“Well, you know how I feel about your hair,” you tease.

“You warned me at the beginning,” Deacon recalls. “But it’s gotten better with time.”

“What’s eight?” you whisper, stilling your hand against his cheek.

“That you stay close to me when we’re together. Even if you’re across the room, you stay in sight. When you’re right beside me is my favorite, though. It’s a reminder that you not only want to be there, but you want to be there with me.”

“Forever.”

“This one’s big. You approach my doubts so maturely, ready to explain and show me why they’re unfounded and wrong. When I get insecure or doubtful about your place with me, you find a way to show me that you want to be with me.”

“It doesn’t happen as much anymore,” you point out.

“I guess I finally caught on,” Deacon jokes. “Old dogs, new tricks, perhaps.”

“If nine was that big, I’m not sure I’m emotionally prepared for the last one.”

“It’s that you make me feel like I’m in love. You make me feel alive and young. I feel like you’re the breath that my lungs have been waiting for my whole life and you let me live and experience life in a whole new way. I love you with everything I am, no matter our ages.”

“I love you, now and forever, Deacon,” you say before kissing him.

“What do you think you’ll look like with gray hair?” Deacon mumbles against your lips.

“Not as good as you.”

#david deacon kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #deacon kay fluff #david deacon kay #deacon kay #swat cbs #requests #I don't know how I feel about this one but hopefully it works #I didn't intentionally make it '10 Things I Love About You' but just realized that it is. pun not intended but not unwelcome

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wandabear · 10 months

Text

DAYLIGHT ㅤㅤㅤ

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x female reader Summary: 'Sunflower' prequel. Read that first, if you want. You and the love of your life meet for the first time, you don't know everything that awaits you. Leigh Shaw is a tropical storm. This is also part of a request, thank you sweet anon. ㅤㅤㅤ warnings: ansgt, mentions of death, alcoholism. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPART I

Her gaze was lost on the ceiling, perhaps for twenty minutes until the alarm went off. The dark circles under her eyes showed how much it was difficult for her to sleep lately.

Y/N sighed heavily.

ㅤㅤ

She got up from the bed and went to the bathroom to take a nice hot shower. Some melancholic eyes were reflected in the mirror, she watched the scars on her body while she undressed.

ㅤㅤ

Didn't even feel like making breakfast, she just left the apartment and walked to the nearest coffee shop. Waited patiently in line until she could chat with the barista for a moment while waited for a large latte and a delicious bagel.

She took her time finishing it, listening to some music through her headphones for half an hour until she decided to leave.

ㅤㅤ Even though the barista gave Y/N her number, it didn't matter too much. She just got back on her Iron 883 and drove to the Los Angeles Fire Department, Station 12.

Some of her coworkers greeted her, surprised and happy to see her again. Everyone except her boss, who turned to see her quite surprised.

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“What did I tell you?” The man in his sixties grunted, shaking his head as he signed some papers.

ㅤㅤ “I have to go back to work.” Y/N sighed, ready to fight for what she wanted this time. “I've already learned whatever lesson you're giving me.”

ㅤㅤ All her life she dreamed of being a firefighter, of being able to help people and being in that very place where she was standing. Years of preparation, mental and physical sacrifice, her heart belonged to that place, how could she not be there?

ㅤㅤ “You can’t do it unless-” He was going to repeat the usual but Y/N cut him off.

ㅤㅤ “Cut the crap, chief.”

ㅤㅤ “Y/N.” He scolded her, looking up. With a single look it was enough for Y/N to know that she fucked it up. She swallowed. “I have told you many times, you have to go to the meetings or I can't let you come back.”

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“It's stupid!” Y/N raised her voice, so annoyed. “I don't need those stupid meetings, what I need is to get back to work.”

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“Y/N, I know what it's like to deal with loss. Trust me, I've worked here my whole fucking life.” ㅤㅤ

“Chief, please…” ㅤㅤ

“Tonight. Grief support group, Y/L/N. I need you SOBER and better than this. Last chance.” Her boss watched her and didn't back down even a step. She knew perfectly well that those were the rules and it was necessary.

ㅤㅤ

If she wanted to get back to her job, her life, she had to do what she had to do to earn it. Life is about one sacrifice after another, after all.

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“FUCK!” was heard in that place when Y/N left the place in a hurry, completely furious.

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“So… that was what happened.” That young man explained, surrounded by the group of people. He seemed quite sad but felt better when he noticed that everyone was listening to him, not ignoring his pain.

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“Thanks for share with us.” They all said, surprising Y/N, who awkwardly joined in.

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“I'm glad you could express that to us, James.” The moderator of the group, Janet, smiled kindly, turning to see the new person joining them today. “Today someone joins us and it's always good to welcome you. Do you want to introduce yourself?”

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“Umh… I’m not-” Y/N stammered awkwardly, feeling all eyes on her. Her heart raced, she could feel it. The firefighter hated being the center of attention, but she had to do this if she wanted to go back to the Station.

ㅤㅤ

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I'm not from Los Angeles… I mean, I wasn't born here, but I live here in L.A” She cleared her throat somewhat nervously, settling in the chair. “My job asks me to do it, and- and I love my job. And it doesn't bother me, I got used to this nice place.”

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“Even if it's a bit hot.” She teased, making some laugh. “I… umh-”

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They all expected to know more, they seemed like wild animals waiting for a part of the prey. Or at least that was how she saw it.

Silence flooded the place, Y/N remained thoughtful for a moment. Her gaze was lost somewhere in the room, but she just couldn't hear or say anything.

Just relive that memory, so tragic.

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And despite the fact that she wanted to keep talking, Y/N was unable to continue. As if anguish took her by the neck, she just frowned and shook her head.

Swallowing hard, the dark-haired woman just listened to the testimonies of each person who wanted to open up and express the pain they felt.

ㅤㅤ

When she was asked again if she wanted to say something else, Y/N just shook her head slowly and remained silent. It was typical, especially for someone attending for the first time. ㅤㅤ

As soon as that meeting ended, Y/N approached the coffee table in that room so she could pour herself some nice steaming cup and run away as soon as she had the chance. Y/N didn’t want to look so desperate or they would discover the truth. She was just using this meeting to go back the job.

ㅤㅤㅤ After having a steaming cup of coffee, she turned ready to leave but ended up colliding with a brown-haired woman with lovely but melancholy green eyes. Though thanks to her skills, didn’t spill even a single drop of coffee.

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“Oh, I’m sorry.” The girl apologized, muttering something a bit embarrassed but didn’t care much either. Something that caught Y/N’s attention, completely out of this world.

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The woman in front of her, a downcast gaze looking at her phone, atractive and charming features.

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ㅤㅤㅤ “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t saw you…” Y/N mumbled softly, noticing how the woman tucked one of her strands of hair behind her ear.

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Feeling completely stunned by the beauty. Even with a half-done bun and hoodies, she was… different. Interesting. Hot as fuck, yes, but… gorgeous. Those huge green eyes caught her attention, a somewhat adorable nose and the fact that she was shorter than her.

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“Hi… I’m Y/N .” Said the taller woman finally, holding out her hand so they could shake it. That gesture made the green eyed stranger smile, maybe surprised by her desire to socialize.

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“I’m Leigh.”

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“Nice to meet you, Leigh.” Y/N smiled widely, nodding a bit. Something that Leigh thought was adorable. A big dork, again. “Sorry, I wanted some coffee.”

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“And I wanted a donut, although the ones here aren’t so good tho…” Leigh whispered, wrinkling her nose, making Y/N’s heart to start pounding faster. “You’re new here. I haven’t seen you before, welcome.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N swallowed hard again, both began to walk together towards the exit. She just nodded, giving Leigh a chance to speak again. Maybe the brunette might socialize a bit, her mother and Jules always insisted so much. Surely would later regret it later.

Or maybe not.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I understand the feeling, it’s kind of intimidating.” Leigh shrugged.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yeah… it’s something… it makes you feel exposed.” Y/N babbled then opened the door for Leigh to go through first. They both talked for a while until Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. “Umh… Do you promise that if I tell you something you won’t get mad?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Promise.” Leigh smiled and raised her hand, it was incredible how they barely knew each other and they got along, even being quite friendly with that stranger.

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“This isn’t the AA group by any chance, is it?” Y/N bit her bottom lip to hide a guilty and somewhat regretful smile.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“No, it’s not…that’s Wednesday at 6 pm.” Leigh frowned, somewhat amused. Of course she knew because Jules attended every Wednesday.

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“Yeah… I realized that when everyone started talking and I… was embarrassed to leave. When I started listening to everyone talk about their losses, I felt really bad about it. I mean, I came to talk about how I couldn’t feel comfortable on birthdays or Christmas…”

She lied, again. It was so much better than having to explain, she wasn't going back to that damn meeting anyway. She would tell her boss that she did go, present evidence, and then goodbye.

ㅤㅤㅤ

And although that would surely end up annoying Leigh so bad, and she would surely get mad for feeling so exposed by telling her story to someone who wasn’t even there for it, Y/N smiled when Leigh started laughing.

ㅤㅤㅤ

It wasn’t a fake laugh, it was a pretty genuine laugh. And Y/N loved it. Y/N completely fell in love with it.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“It would be worse if you said ‘I only came here for coffee’.” Leigh joked. “Hi, I’m Y/N and I just came here for coffee and to see your sad mopey faces…” ㅤㅤㅤ Y/N laughed somewhat surprised, glad that the brunette didn’t get mad at her.

ㅤㅤㅤ “Maybe I do, the anguish revitalizes me and makes me younger. In fact, I am about fifty-two years old.” Y/N continued, walking together out of that building. Without even thinking about it, both were walking side by side, keeping each other company through the streets of Los Angeles. She took a sip from her cup but the coffee was cold. “This isn’t the best coffee tho, but it’s not that bad either…”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Leigh thought for a moment, the sound of cars and footsteps made her lose herself. She strangely felt comfortable with a stranger she hadn’t known more than a few minutes ago. How many times that happened in her whole life? Maybe just one.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Would you like to go to a place where both things are better? Coffee and donuts.” Leigh finally asked as she snatched the coffee out of her hand and tossed it into the nearest trash can.

ㅤㅤㅤ Surprised at that, Y/N simply nodded and followed Leigh who seemed to know a good coffee place that was open 24 hours. ㅤㅤㅤ

“So…” Y/N settled into her seat while she put two tablespoons of sugar in her coffee. “How long have you been in the group?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“A year? I think so…” Leigh wrinkled her nose. “It’s not so bad, I know it's hard to start, but then... it helps.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Does it? Well, she wasn't going to deny that it helped to be able to share the pain with people who understand that too. Although at first she refused a lot.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“They seem like a pretty nice group of people.” Y/N nodded slowly. “Why are you there?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Perhaps that question was more direct than expected, Y/N cursed herself. Silence for a moment was an answer enough.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Sorry, I was too… you know. I… I'm not used to socializing yet.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“It’s okay… I lost my husband a year ago.” Leigh set her coffee cup on the table and licked her lips. “It was quite a difficult time for me.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m sorry.” She sighed, seeing how Leigh just nodded, surely tired of hearing those words over and over again. 'Im sorry, sorry for your loss'. That’s exhausting. For a year, each person who crosses your path repeating how sorry they are. For what? They didn't kill Matt. He did. Or the cliff, whatever.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I wasn't looking just for the AA meeting.” Y/N added, opening up to someone else for the first time. “I mean, I was too. I needed to go to one, but also… I did... I did lose someone. Two.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N cleared her throat, holding that cup with her hands. “It's more complicated than it seems.”

She lowered her gaze.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I see.” Leigh muttered. She didn't know what to say, Leigh wasn't the most talkative person in the world either. But the woman seemed nice, ever since she stopped talking to Becca it had been hard to socialize. Well, it always was.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I try to fool myself and people that I don't need it. I don't need to get over that loss because I already did, I mean, that's it, they’re dead but…” The dark-haired woman narrowed her eyes. “I didn't.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Leigh tried to smile but it just seems like an awkward expression, failing completely. She just stretched out her hand to squeeze that stranger's hand and then leaned back in her seat.

The song from the radio seemed to help with the long silence.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What’s the most weird or embarrassing song on your playlist?” Y/N finally broke the silence, an utterly bold move.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What?” Leigh frowned without understanding, maybe a smiling a bit because of how random that was.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Come on, are you afraid that I'll laugh?” Y/N challenged her, raising an eyebrow and smiling mischievously. “What's your guilty pleasure, Leigh Shaw?” She read the name tag on the brunette's jacket.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Far from bothering her, Leigh gladly accepted the challenge.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Barbie Girl by Aqua.” Leigh smiled victoriously. “You?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I never told you that I would tell you.” She teased, drinking her latte. “The baby shark song.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Come on!” Leigh giggled.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Spice Up Your Life by Spice Girls. Oh, I love it.” Y/N shrugged and drank some of her coffee. “What Taylor Swift era are you in if you had to pick one?”

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“Oh, I don’t like Taylor Swift.” Leigh said trying to look disinterested but seeing Y/N's look, she just laughed. “Just kidding. Umh… I think I’m… Reputation?”

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“Yeah, you totally look like Rep.” Y/N nodded slowly. “If you were an animal what would you be?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I- I don’t know.” The brunette licked her lips after finishing her coffee. “Umh… maybe a… a bird. I could fly away, that's it.” She shrugged. “What about you?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I would be a panda.” Y/N leaned back in her seat, narrowing her eyes as if she had made the best decision of her life, trying to make her laugh. And she did it.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Cute and fat. Nice.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“And a loner, and really pissed off. Pandas look cute but they are always angry.”

ㅤ

"It must be the huge dark circles that don't let us see them."

ㅤㅤㅤ

And though she didn't want to admit it, Leigh seemed to be having a good time with this woman. Maybe a bit slow at first but Y/N seemed cool, and it might help if she knows someone in the grief group.

Between giggles and some weird but interesting questions, they both spent the time trying to get to know each other. And time goes by fast when you feel at ease.

Leigh told her that she was a writer, working on a book for some time but hadn't known how to continue.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N told her that she was having a 'break' from her job, as if her wounded ego wouldn't let her reveal that she wasn't allowed back unless she took a step away from alcoholism, self-hatred and pain.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Hey, Leigh… Umh… Do you know what is white, black, white, black, black and white?” Y/N narrowed her eyes, hoping Leigh would fall for it.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Mmm, no.” Leigh narrowed her eyes. “Piano keys?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“A panda falling down the stairs.” Y/N bit her lower lip to keep from laughing at how stupid that joke sounded.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Despite the fact that that joke was pretty bad, Leigh began to laugh little by little, shaking her head. They both burst out laughing; the connection between the two of them had been instant and the warmth of the moment felt so genuine.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Finally someone was bursting her bubble in an unexpected way and it terrified her. Suddenly Leigh felt a deep pang in her chest. Her eyes filled with tears for a second, remembering the first time she met Matt.

What was she doing? What was she doing in that place?

ㅤㅤㅤ

The smile on Leigh's lips faded so quickly that it made Y/N's heart skip a beat. Did she say something wrong maybe?

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Sorry, I-I've to go.” Leigh babbled getting up from her chair and taking her jacket.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Surprised -and maybe a bit sad-, Y/N just nodded quickly.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Of course, yeah.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

She got up and stood in front of the brunette, looking into her green eyes for a moment. They didn't know what to say, just feeling that connection and having to cut it off was so… sad.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“It was nice to meet you.” Leigh smiled nervously and grabbed her bag, turning to walk towards the door. “See you in the group next week.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“See you, Shaw.” Y/N murmured, sitting back in the chair and looking thoughtful as she looked at her empty cup. This was not what she expected, not at all.

Was she doing something wrong? Had she gone too far? She'd just made her laugh! Leigh was beautiful but she wasn't trying to… push her.

ㅤㅤㅤ

What was she going to do there anyway? Y/N took her keys and her jacket and left the café, to go back home before it was late. Maybe tomorrow would be a different day.

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But when she returned home, loneliness invaded her completely. Like a dark misterious being, caught her i its cloak, drowning her in misery. That desolate apartment made Y/N’s heart slowly sink.

Y/N took a deep breath and walked to the fridge, seeing only thing she had was beer cans and some old food.

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Y/N took the beer to the sink, looking at them for a moment.

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What to do? What to feel? She needed to drown all those negative feelings inside of her, and the only way to numb them was... that.

But unlike other heartbreaking nights, now there was something else on her mind. Something that aroused her interest, even if she didn't know it yet.

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Y/N took the beers and one by one poured them into the sink, letting them go. Part of her said no, leave some, at least one in case someone ever came along or something. Or drink just one and throw everything Or perhaps better drink one and throw away all the rest, one more. The last one.

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She tilted her head to see the photograph on the nearest cabinet, an adorable photograph of her and two other women, hugging in front of the beach. One was redhead and the other brunette. The three of them laughed, making funny faces. ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N remembered the time Nat and Jules invited her to go to the beach that weekend, although Y/N refused saying that they should 'make it a romantic trip', they just wanted to spend time with her.

That weekend they spent one of the best days of her life, ending it with that photograph in a beautiful sunset in front of the beach.

ㅤㅤㅤ

This is what they would have wanted.

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Sighing, Y/N dropped the rest of the beers and took the phone to order something to eat, other than a piece of cheese and bread. And although she didn't want to think about it, that night Y/N lay in bed thinking about that woman, and that perhaps it wouldn't be bad to visit the group again next week.

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“Anyone else want to share something with us?”

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“Thomas?” Janet asked but the man just shook his head, he wasn't ready to do it. Now the gaze of Janet fell on her. Y/N settled into her seat, surely Janet noticed how she moved her leg anxiously.

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“Y/N? Would you like to tell us something?” Her voice was so warm that Y/N had to stop herelf from telling her to fuck off for it.

ㅤㅤㅤ It had been quite a difficult week. Y/N believed that by throw away every bottle and presenting a paper that said that she attended ONE meeting, her boss was going to accept it, but it wasn’t like that at all.

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Swallowing, she just tilted her gaze. “I’m angry.”

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“Being angry is good, it's good to allow ourselves positive but also negative feelings.” Janet nodded, and the others around her did the same. All those looks on her, just made it feel like some kind of experiment.

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“I’m so angry. Because I want to go back to my life, to my work and I have to be here.” She let out again, not knowing why she was saying all that. Y/N just knew that every word was escaping from her mouth and couldn't control it.

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Everyone around her listened attentively, including Leigh, who was in front of her with a coffee in her hand.

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“Everyone looking at me like I'm a fucking guinea pig or something. Okay, wanna know? Let's see... I lost my whole life thanks to alcoholism.” Y/N frowned, thinking how far she had come. How is it that everything changed so much from one moment to the next? “And I fell into alcoholism because I lost my sister and my best friend at the same time. Also my parents treated me like shit.”

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Leigh, who was staring at her, felt a little sorry, understanding the woman a bit more now. Everyone there did it, in their own way, everyone suffered an irreparable loss but slowly they tried to heal.

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“My sister died a short time ago. Sh- she wasn't my biological sister, but she was my sister.” Y/N sighed deeply, entering a rather complicated field. Her lip twitched. “As I said, a year ago.”

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Everyone listened carefully and said nothing, when someone opened up like that it was important that they feel heard.

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“Julia.” Y/N swallowed at the thought of her best friend, her sister. “That was her name, we called her Jules, she was wonderful. A lovely human being, she had a lovely wife too. They died… and I'm here.”

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That name made Leigh look at her, having her full attention. As if fate somehow played a trick on them. ㅤㅤㅤ

“We were together since elementary school, always… She was there for me more than anyone.” You could tell that talking about it hurt deeply, Y/N swallowed and narrowed her eyes several times to keep from crying. “Even when I said that my dream was to be a firefighter, she decided to come along and support me. Although she chose to be a paramedic, so we could be together.”

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Y/N felt her lips tremble and how those eyes filled with tears but she tried to stay strong because she couldn't cry in front of all those people, could she? Come on. ㅤㅤㅤ “There was a gas leak in a building... then there was a big explosion. We were there.” Tears began to fall but she was too exhausted to wipe them away or hide them. “She and her wife Nat died… They died and I’m here.”

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She hated having to be the center of attention, feeling like an 'attention whore' or something. But once she started expressing what she felt, she couldn't stop. Because she no longer had anyone to talk to.

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“I’m still here and I sometimes I hate it.” She sniffled. "If we were a team… why didn't they take me too?"

ㅤㅤㅤ “I spent so much time thinking that… that maybe I'm just crazy. That maybe she's not gone. She’ll come around the corner any second, smiling at me.” Y/N smiled at the memory that came to mind. “Ma- Making fun of how I usually breathe through my mouth when I eat, she says I look like a fish out of water.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N laughed through tears.

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“Since that day my head has not stopped telling me that it is better to get away from everyone before they abandon me.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

She felt a soft hand resting on her shoulder and for a moment she thought about leaving, but seeing that the old lady only wanted to comfort her, Y/N just let it happen.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“And I'm mad at myself and everyone.” Y/N looked down. “Especially my boss who won't let me go back to work and be able to save people. That’s it.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Thank you, Y/N. For your sacrifice and for sharing this with us.” Janet said and they all repeated again, nodding.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“It is important to be able to express what we feel in order to move forward.” Janet smiled kindly. “Denial and anger are two huge steps towards acceptance.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Sighing deeply and managing to calm down, Y/N nodded and dried her tears with a tissue that the kind old lady offered her, making the woman smile a bit.

After the group finished, Y/N left the place feeling the load on her back slightly lessen. Not much, but enough to take the first step out of darkness.

ㅤㅤㅤ

She noticed how Leigh waited, sitting on the stairs. Scrolling down her phone.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Hey.” The brunette stood up when she saw her, smiling kindly.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Hey, Shaw.” Y/N stood next to her, her heart beats faster but she told herself that it was surely because she was crying before. “Did you run out of gasoline?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“No, I just took an Uber today, I didn't feel like driving.” Leigh wrinkled her nose and crossed her arms, as she began to walk with Y/N. “I'm glad you could express what you feel.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Sure.” Y/N smirked, while playing with the keys of her motorcycle. “Crying like a child in front of a group of people I don't know isn't too bad.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“But do you feel better?” Leigh arched an eyebrow.

ㅤㅤㅤ

They stopped when Y/N reached her motorcycle and she got on it. “Yeah…”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh, this is yours?” Leigh pointed at the motorcycle in surprise. “I thought it was from some bearded drunk old man who mistook this place for a biker bar.”

ㅤㅤ��

The brunette joked and within seconds she realized what she just said, but Y/N just bit her lower lip trying not to laugh.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Sorry, too soon for someone recovering from… alcoholism. Fuck.” Leigh had always been too direct and perhaps a little cruel at times, even if she didn't want to.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N finally laughed at that joke, holding the helmet in her hands. “It’s okay, it wasn’t that bad. I’m not a baby.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Good then.” Leigh turned to walk away but stopped to say something else. “Y/N?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yeah?” She looked up as she started the bike and made it roar.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“How can you want to save someone if you don't do something to save yourself?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Perhaps one of the best questions she had ever heard. Leigh raised an eyebrow and smiled victoriously.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What are you some kind of cheap shrink or something?” Y/N growled.

ㅤㅤㅤ Leigh shrugged. “I have an advice column on a website. That must give me some kind of value to my words, right?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N gave a small laugh. “Yeah, it shows.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Sighing deeply, Y/N handed the helmet to the brunette who looked at her blankly.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Come on, sunflower.” Y/N made the bike roar, but Leigh still didn't move. That nickname made her narrow her eyes, not knowing how to take it. “I'll take you home, okay?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I'm not going to get on that.” Leigh rolled her eyes, she was definitely not going to get on a bike with a stranger -not so stranger- and much less at night. What was she? One of those bitches from Grand Theft Auto?

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Come on! It's dark and the Ubers will take time, plus you could get any psycho here.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Sighing in defeat, Leigh snatched the helmet from her hands in complete annoyance. Y/N helped and when she was ready, she drove through the city to the brunette's house.

It wasn't too far from her house, so that wasn't too bad.

Once they arrived, Leigh hurried to get off the motorcycle and removed her helmet, afraid someone would see her. Especially her nosy mother or sister.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Thank you.” Leigh said quickly, arranging her hair a bit.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You are welcome.” The dark-haired woman smiled and nodded. “Not bad for a biker.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

But far from laughing, Leigh just rolled her eyes and then saw how Y/N started her motorcycle again, ready to go.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Why?” the brunette asked, making Y/N to look at her, confused.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Why what?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Why did you call me sunflower?” She frowned blankly. She had to know or her doubt would eat her up all week.

ㅤㅤㅤ

But this time, the one who smiled victoriously was Y/N.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“See you next week, Shaw.” She just looked straight ahead and drove away from that house, leaving Leigh behind.

🌼 cute people i'm gonna tag here: 🌼 @oh-thats-cute - @katiemay-025 - @imnotasuperhero - @marvelogic

#leigh shaw x reader #sorry for your loss #elizabeth olsen imagine

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