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alltheirdamn · 2 days

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Lilies | dom!joel x sub!f!reader

Song Inspo: Lilies by Ethel Cain

Summary: Joel gives you everything, but you’re beginning to crave more. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 5.5k (sorry lol) Warnings: dom/sub dynamic, a teeny tiny bit of Stockholm syndrome, lingerie!kink, reader has long enough hair to braid, brat taming, jealousy, angst, names (little flower, sir, whore, slut), degrading!kink, anal play, anal sex, orgasm denial, oral (m!receiving), throat fucking, ball-sucking/worship, rough sex, creampie, slapping, spanking, aftercare, joel is kinda a meany but also kinda sweet A/N: this just kind of tumbled out of me and yeah… here we are lol very far out of my element with this dynamic, so hopefully i did it justice. (i am very horny for dom!joel right now, please don’t perceive me)

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The rules were simple:

You were to be at Joel’s home at exactly four pm every Friday and stay with him until Sunday evening

Your hair must be in a braid at all times

You could only wear lingerie (selected and purchased by Joel)

That was your routine.

You had been Joel’s submissive for half a year, and nothing had changed. You submitted to everything he asked without question. Yes, there were safe words in place and long conversations about wants and needs, but none of that mattered to you. All that mattered was Joel’s unwavering attention every weekend.

As time passed, though, you started wanting more. Three days weren’t enough for you. The rules weren’t enough. You wanted all of Joel. Not just his commands. Not just his cock. You wanted him to be yours in every way.

Nothing within Joel’s rules explicitly stated you could only see one another. As far as you were concerned, he only tended to one submissive at a time, and you had been with him the longest. Pride swelled inside you when you thought of that; Joel kept you because he wanted you. He enjoyed the pleasure you brought him, and in return, he cared for you deeply. But you wanted to see how deeply he cared about you and if he was as committed to you as you were to him.

That's when you devised a meticulously thought-out plan to prove Joel’s possessiveness. The desperate need to make him realize there would be no one else to make him happy.

You clicked the door open at precisely four pm and entered Joel's home. He kept it spotless, an immaculate representation of his attention to detail. Nothing went unnoticed, and everything had its place and purpose. Within his home, you had your purpose as well.

Tip-toeing through his kitchen, you brushed your hand over the marble counter, the stone cold to touch as you walked into the living room. Floor-to-ceiling bay windows compromised the room's side wall, looking out onto the brick terrace. Joel’s view of the city was the best money could buy, and you spent most Saturday mornings curled up on the patio sofa, watching the sun rise over the skyline.

The plush, gray couch in the center of the living room faced a large flat screen, one rarely used when you stayed on the weekends. Joel insisted on being present with you, whether it was fucking you into oblivion inside his bedroom or dotting over you with aftercare and affection. The lines blurred between strict rules and faltering emotions. He wasn’t a man of many words, but the feelings expressed through actions were enough to make your heart grow fonder.

Joel was to arrive home in less than thirty minutes, giving you enough time to piece yourself together in the new lingerie he had purchased. Wandering into the bedroom, you looked over the sight of his king-sized bed, covered in a white down comforter and scattered with an array of luxury pillows. The sheets beneath the comforter were silky soft and cool to the touch, but the press of Joel’s body against yours during the night kept you wrapped in a blanket of warmth.

The master bath was beyond beautiful, with its white trimmed crowning and alabaster bathtub under the window. Two sinks were carved into a marble counter: one for Joel and one for you. Countless times before, Joel bent you over the counter, forcing you to watch him through the bathroom mirror as he ruined you from behind. You came to learn that was one of Joel’s favorite activities: making you watch him while he fucked you. You loved it, too.

You loved everything he did.

Setting your overnight bag on the counter, you laid out your lingerie piece by piece. The white lace bustier was practically see-through, with a detailed pattern that left little to the imagination. The only part of the top that wasn’t fully transparent was the fishbone wiring that traced the underside of the bust. The matching underwear was no better; your neatly trimmed sex would be fully seen under the lace that comprised the tiny bodice. In Joel’s words, he wanted you to look “angelic and ethereal.” Once again, the thrumming in your heart increased knowing he saw you as such. He worshiped you head to toe, and you were so eager to give him anything he wanted. Slipping the garment over your body, you worked on your hair, plaiting the strands into a perfect braid you had mastered over the last several months. You secured it with a silk bow—just as Joel had requested—and settled it between your shoulder blades. Admiring yourself, you smiled into the mirror. Joel would be pleased with you.

But first, you needed to do something.

Reaching into your purse for your cell phone, you adjusted the camera to capture your lace-clad body in a teasing portrait. The photo wasn’t for Joel. Scrolling through your phone, you found the contact of your latest man of interest—well, not a genuine interest, so perhaps, the latest victim? You were only using him as part of your plan, and you hoped it worked in your favor.

As your finger hovered over the send button, you heard the unmistakable sound of the front door lock sliding open. A thrill of anxiety rushed through your body; you would do this. Pressing send, you ran to the bedroom and placed your phone on the nightstand. The ringer was on, which Joel did not favor during your time with him.

His large frame shadowed the bedroom door as he stepped into the room. In all his glory, Joel Miller was yours for the next seventy-two hours. But if you had it your way, he’d be yours forever. Clad in his usual work attire, his broad shoulders and chest stretched out his business suit, the white button-down peeking out beneath the jacket. His thick thighs were covered in well-tailored trousers, and his shoes were pristine and polished as he liked. Gazing up, you drank in the neatly trimmed scruff along his jaw, the silver patches thickening as they neared his ears. The mustache over his upper lip was just as clean, the edges dipping close to the curve of his mouth—which was currently tipped up into a satisfied grin.

“Hello, little flower,” he greeted.

Little flower.

That had always been his preferred name for you. “You’re so delicate, like a little flower. I could marvel at your beauty but crush you in my hand in seconds.”

Such a sentiment shouldn’t ignite something so visceral inside you, but it sounded so sweet when it fell off his tongue in honey-drench syllables.

“Hello, sir,” you smiled, your body situated on the edge of the bed.

You watched as he shed his suit jacket, folding it carefully and draping it over the dresser. His eyes stayed trained on you, the rich brown of his irises boring into you with a softness so tender it toppled something inside your stomach. Working at the cuffs of his shirt, Joel rolled them in perfect sections until they hugged the thick muscles of his forearms just below his elbows.

“You look radiant in the new set,” he said, his eyes dragging over your body.

You preened at his compliment, a blush crawling over your chest and neck.

“Thank you, sir. I love anything you pick out for me.”

Joel cracked a wide grin, pleased with your response. He curled his pointer finger at you, beckoning you closer. You obeyed his command wordlessly, stepping into his warmth. Rough, calloused fingers trailed over your bare skin, trailing higher up your arm until his hand came to cup your cheek.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he rubbed a thumb over your cheekbone, the touch you craved when you weren’t in his presence. You craved tenderness at all hours of the day; you lay awake sometimes at night yearning for more. Always more.

You craned your neck to kiss his lips softly, gently. If you could choose how you’d die, it would always be in this moment, where the world dissolved around you, and it was just Joel’s body against yours.

The moment shattered away as your phone shrilled from the nightstand, the vibration rattling the wood. Joel broke from your lips, his eyes set ablaze and swimming in darkness. Disappointment washed over his features, the crease between his brow forming and his lips set in a thin line. Without a single word, he strode to the nightstand and stared at your phone screen, no doubt flooded with texts from the man you had sent the photos.

Your heart thudded in your ears, the sound pressurizing inside your head. On bated breath, you waited for him to say something.

“Kneel,” he ordered, his voice cold. He didn’t even glance at you as he said the word.

You did without hesitation, your knees dropping to the carpet floor without a sound. The tension in the room was palatable as Joel walked into your line of vision. He held the phone in front of your face, his fingers tight around the edges.

“Read.”

Your eyes scanned the words on the screen, a slew of text messages… each more vulgar than the last. You didn’t want to say them aloud.

“Read,” he repeated.

“I—I don’t want to, sir,” you whispered.

Joel’s body was foreboding, a shadow swallowing you whole as you sat perched on your knees before him. He could do anything he wanted to you, and the truth was that you’d let him. You’d let him do anything because you wanted it. You wanted him so desperately.

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to read it,” he said. “I am telling you to read it.”

You swallowed thickly, your voice barely above a whisper, as you began to read off the text thread.

Damn, I need to know what your pussy looks like.

Let’s meet up tomorrow.

Send another picture. I want to see your legs spread wider.

Bet you would let me cum inside you.

Line after line, word after word, you were embarrassed. Embarrassed and afraid, neither settled well inside your stomach as it churched together.

Tossing the phone to the ground, Joel crouched to meet you at eye level. It was the first time you felt terrified by the way he looked at you. Several times, he had been rough—almost always, as it was what he enjoyed—but there was always a glimmer of softness even when he hurt you.

“You did this for a reason.” Joel didn’t ask; he said it like a calculated realization.

You bowed your head, too ashamed to meet his eye. Oh, but he didn’t like that. Gripping your chin with merciless strength, Joel lifted your face to meet his. A breath apart, but so far away.

“Explain yourself, little flower. I’m growing rather impatient.”

“I wanted to see you jealous, sir,” you admonished. “I wanted to know what you would do.”

“Jealous,” he echoed, rolling his tongue over his teeth.

He ripped his hand from your face, letting your head fall between your shoulders. You started at the polished tips of his work shoes, the black leather shiny and without marks. No detail went unnoticed.

“Undo my belt,” he instructed, stretching himself back to his full height.

Straightening your spine, you reached up to his belt and began to unclasp the metal, holding it tight around his trousers. Joel continued to stare down at you unamused. You worked at pushing his pants down his thick thighs, shoving them far enough to reach his kneecaps.

“Take out my cock. Let’s see how well I’ve trained your throat.”

You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, giving them a good tug until his thick cock sprung free. It bobbed against his stomach, the reddened tip weeping with precum. Your hand came up to grip the girthy base, but Joel tutted in protest.

“Hands behind your back, little flower.”

Clasping your hands at the base of your spine, you peered up at him with an eager expression. Joel arched a brow, waiting for you to comply and give him his request. Shuffling your knees forward, you dragged the tip of your tongue over the slit, lapping at the salty precum that dripped down. You peppered him with kitten kisses, your tongue tracing the veins on the underside of his cock. Joel rewarded you with a satisfied hum, bucking his hips forward until the head of his cock parted your lips wider.

Dropping your jaw open, you welcomed each girthy inch of his cock into your warm mouth, the faint smell of his body wash mingling with his musky scent as you took him deeper. The moment the head of his cock brushed the back of your throat, you sputtered softly and felt the tears begin to well in your eyes as you squeezed them shut.

Joel ripped himself from your mouth, his hand coming down to squish your cheeks together.

“Keep your eyes open.”

“Yes, sir,” you said sheepishly.

He released his grip on your face and adjusted himself back at your wet lips. Sucking in a deep breath, you wrapped your mouth around his cock once more. Joel jerked his hips forward, sending his cock to the back of your throat. You swallowed around him, keeping your tongue flat against the underside of his cock. Your nose brushed against the trimmed curls that framed his pubic bones, the hairs tickling your nose as he held you there.

“I’m going to count to ten, little flower. Be a good girl, and show me how well you can take it.”

You nodded, your mouth suctioning tighter around him. Joel’s eyes darkened, his lips parted as he readied himself to count.

“One,” he barked.

You blinked away the tears springing in the corner of your eyes. You could do this; you had done it before.

“Two.”

You unhinged your jaw, your senses invaded by his scent as you pressed further into his pubic hair. Somewhere between breaths, Joel counted three and four with a loud grunt, and you continued to focus on exhaling through your nose.

“Five,” he gritted.

The urge to gag around his cock grew harder to ignore, and the tears flowed freely down your cheeks. Your chin was coated in drool as you anticipated the next count, your eyes foggy as you stared up at him. Joel tilted his head, admiring how he stuffed every crevice of your mouth.

“Six.”

“Seven.”

More saliva pooled in your mouth, and you hollowed your cheeks to avoid sputtering around him. Joel’s lips curled into a devilish smirk, and he nudged his pelvis closer until your nose smashed into his skin. You coughed around his length, the corners of your mouth dripping saliva onto your neck and chest.

“Almost there, little flower. Doing so good for me,” he crooned.

Joel brushed a finger over your throat, tapping the bulge protruding against your aching flesh. Eight and nine were a blur, your eyes barely staying open. Every flutter of your lashes garnered a dissatisfied tut from Joel, his body tense and throbbing with anger.

“Ten,” he sighed.

You tore away, coughing violently as you sucked in jagged breaths. Twisting your hands behind you, you squeezed your eyes shut to push the remainder of the tears down your cheeks. Joel wrapped a large hand around the base of his cock, stroking himself slowly and lazily.

“Stick out your tongue,” he ordered.

The words he said were far and few, which terrified you. Deep within yourself, you knew you had enraged him with your little act. It garnered no affection as you hoped, but he still gave you the attention you yearned for. Good or bad, you would take it. You would take anything he gave you.

A trail of saliva, salty and thick, dripped from the point of your tongue as you did what he instructed. Joel rested the velvety skin of his balls against your mouth, the weight of them heavy on your tongue. You didn’t need his commands as you slipped one of his balls into your mouth. Above you, Joel shuddered and clenched his fists at his side. You worshiped each with equal measure, alternating between gentle caresses of your tongue and sloppy suctions of your mouth.

“That’s it, little flower. Just like that,” Joel cooed.

A desperate moan left your lips as you lapped up the salty wetness covering his silken sack, swallowing down the remnants of your drool. Joel pumped himself faster, the sound of his jagged breathing mixing with the lewd noises of your mouth. His release was nearing; you could sense it in the way his thick thighs flexed around your face.

“Please,” you whined, your words muffled into the hair around his balls.

Joel’s hand slowed around his length, his thumb brushing over the slit as more precum leaked out. Staring up at him helplessly, you waited for his release to paint your tongue. He gave you a stern look, nodding toward the bed.

“Hands and knees. Now.”

“But—,” you protested.

Joel smoothed his palm over your cheek before pulling back and delivering a sharp smack against your face. You jerked at the sting of his touch radiating through the layers of your skin. He undoubtedly left behind a reddened mark across your cheek and jaw.

“You’ve already angered me once,” he warned. “Get on the fucking bed.”

Your knees scuffed against the ground as you scrambled onto the bed, situating yourself in the position he commanded. The unmistakable sound of the leather unsheathing from his pants ignited a new wave of fear through your body. Joel discarded it beside your face before coasting a hand down the center of your spine.

“I’ll give you another chance to explain yourself,” Joel said.

The bed dipped under his weight as he pressed a knee into the comforter beside you. You glanced over your shoulder, watching through teary eyes as Joel quickly unbuttoned his shirt. Dark chest hair scattered over his broad chest, spattered lower until it tapered into a thick trail down his pelvis. A thin sheen of sweat glistened over his golden skin as he discarded his shirt carelessly onto the ground. Careless…it wasn’t something you were used to with Joel.

��I just wanted your attention,” you muttered, your head hanging between your shoulders.

Joel tugged your braid, forcing your neck to crane backward. Despite the harshness of his words, his touch, his demeanor… your body throbbed with an unavoidable need. It throbbed at the apex of your sex, the lace rubbing against the slick that pooled between your thighs. Joel paid no attention to the way your legs shifted side to side, his unwavering stare penetrating you.

“Do I not give you enough attention?” He questioned.

“You do, sir,” you nodded, the strain on your neck growing uncomfortable.

“Perhaps you don’t deserve attention at all,” he mused.

He released his grip on your hair, your head falling forward and hanging low between your shoulders. Joel moved behind your body, his thick fingers tearing apart the lace hugging your ass. You yelped at the sheer force of it, the chill of the room skating up your bare sex. Joel’s fingertips traced over the back of your thigh, lingering close to the outline of your weeping pussy. Just one touch. That’s all you wanted—just one.

His touch disappeared, leaving you whining and frustrated. Joel huffed a laugh before bringing two fingers to your mouth.

“Suck. Get them nice and wet for me.”

You obliged, rolling your tongue over the thick digits as they pressed down into your mouth. He pulled them away, a web of drool connecting from the tip of your tongue to the pads of his fingers. Joel knocked your legs open further, and you waited in anticipation for his fingers to give you what you needed. Except, he didn’t.

A gasp left your lips as he pushed the calloused skin of his fingertips against the tight ring of muscles above your slit. With one hand gripping your ass, Joel spread you wider, humming at the sight of you fully exposed.

“Maybe you don’t deserve the attention you want. You’ll take what I give you, and you’ll thank me.”

“Please,” you whined.

“No,” he growled. “Desperate little sluts don’t get what they want.”

Joel’s finger dipped into your clenching hole, prodding you open despite your whines of protest. It wasn’t the first time he used this way, but it felt different. It wasn’t kind. It wasn’t meant to be focused on your pleasure. He was determined to prove a point, and you would comply because you were so greedy for anything he could give. He pressed the second finger to your hole, stretching you wider as he pushed them to his second knuckle. Wider and wider, he stretched you, uncomfortable but not unwelcomed.

“I see how wet you are, little flower. I know how greedy this pussy can get, but you know what? You don’t deserve it. This pussy doesn’t deserve my attention at all.”

“Sir!” You cried.

“You’re going to take my cock in your ass like the pathetic whore you are,” he growled.

Joel curled his fingers inside you, slipping them deeper until they were fully seated inside you. If you felt full now, it would be nothing compared to the way his cock would split you open. The sheer thought of it sent a shockwave to your clit, the aching bud pulsating painfully. Joel laughed at the way you squirmed underneath him, rewarding your cries with a jarring smack against your ass. Fuck, it hurt.

Tearing his fingers from you, Joel disappeared from the bed and riffled through his nightstand drawer. You heard the familiar sound of the lube squirting into his hand and the rough breath of Joel as he realigned himself with your loosened hole. The initial intrusion of his cock sparred stars into your vision, the tip of his cock tearing you open. Even in his angered haze, Joel was slow—careful.

“Breathe, little flower,” he urged.

You barely managed a full gulp of air before Joel bottomed out entirely. A scream erupted from your lips as you adjusted to his size, each inch of his length stuffed inside your tightening hole. Your body flexed and tensed under Joel’s touch, one hand pressing into your lower back, the other looping a finger through the plaits in your hair. Beneath him, you were helpless, entirely at his mercy for whatever he wanted.

With a slow retraction of his hips, Joel snapped his hips forward hard enough to send your upper body into the comforter. The rugged momentum of his thrusts tore you apart; piece by piece, Joel diminished you into nothing but a hole for his use.

“Greedy fucking whore,” Joel grunted, each thrust weighted and heavy inside you. “How’s it feel, huh? You love being used like this?”

“I love it, sir,” you cried.

Joel pulled out to the tip, a heavy breath expelling from your mouth. He ripped into you again, resolving you into a heap of tears and shallow whimpers. His finger in your intertwined hair tightened, pulling your neck back until you had no choice but to connect with his piercing stare. With blown pupils and curled lips, Joel was the epitome of carnal rage. You did this. You spurred him into this embodiment of anger.

“Is this enough for you, little flower?” He demanded.

Arousal dripped between your legs, the snap of his balls against your clit radiating pleasure through your body. You writhed under his hold, a pleading cry leaving your mouth as you stared at him helplessly. Usually reserved and stoic, Joel’s emotions washed over his features, speaking louder than his words. You didn’t just anger him; you hurt him. You questioned his role as a dominant, which was an unspeakable thing to do.

“Answer me!” He raged.

“It’s enough!” You sobbed.

Joel fucked you into abandon, your asshole sore and pained with every cantation of his hips. He was tearing you apart from the inside out, unrelenting and punishing. Your safe word balanced on the tip of your tongue, yet you withheld. You knew Joel would stop the moment you said the word, but you didn’t want him to. You wanted to prove you could be everything and more. You wanted to prove yourself until he wanted no other but you.

The pulse between your legs was unbearable. You were stretched out and gaping around his cock, void of any chance of release. Joel knew how your body responded; he was aware of how your hole contracted and flexed around him. Yet, he gave you nothing. He wouldn’t.

“Taking my cock so well, little flower,” he muttered between labored breaths. “Swallowing every inch of me.”

“Please, sir. Please, I want to cum,” you babbled.

The sting of his palm against your ass was his response to your pleas, a simple gesture to shut you up. You took it, though your body buzzed with pleasure in every limb.

“I know you do,” he crooned softly. “But you don’t get what you want. Only what I give you. So fucking take it.”

The world was caving around you, your vision blackening at the edges. Joel wound your braid over his fist and quickened his thrusts. Your body sagged into the bed, limp and pliant. Guttural sounds fell off Joel’s lips as he fucked you into the bed. Your ears deafened to the noise, your mouth hanging open and dripping spit into the soft bedspread beneath you. The erratic drive of his cock was the only warning you had to know he was close. Jagged, deep thrusts speared into you as Joel toppled over the edge with an animalist growl as he pumped his release into your fucked out hole. You twitched under his body, your knees slipping lower as your body gave out.

Despite the haze inside your mind, your lips tipped up into a satisfied grin. He used your body just as he wanted, and you proved fealty to him—ardent, unwavering submission to the one man who wove his way into your heart.

Joel pulled himself from you, slow and gentle, until the roll of his release was falling between your slit. You clenched around nothing, the tight ring of muscles aching painfully. He reached up to undo the silk bow holding your braid together, his fingers working through the soft waves as they floated over your back.

“Little flower,” he whispered, kissing your sweat-coated spine.

You flinched at his touch, not out of fear but of shock that still radiated through your muscles. You hadn’t fully returned to your mind, and Joel took notice. Working you onto your back, he roamed a hand over your breasts; his hand pressed firmly against the thrumming pulse of your heart. You stared up at him blankly, the tears now dried against your cheeks. What had been the face of cruelty only moments ago had now morphed into the soft, longing gaze you always yearned for. Joel’s pupils had returned to normal, the flecks of amber and rich chocolate boring into you with a look of concern.

“Thank you, sir,” you whispered.

He bent over you, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. Your eyes fluttered close, relishing in the softness of his lips on your skin. You wanted this. You ached for it fiercely but could not form the words to beg for it.

“Stay here a moment,” he said.

You lay against the bed, your limbs twitching as you rolled onto your side. Curling into yourself, you fought off the tremors still wracking through your muscles, a steady pulse rhythmically beating within your clit. Joel denied you your orgasm, which he never did. It was your punishment for wanting too much—a miscalculated attempt at proving your worth.

The sound of running water drifted from the bathroom, followed by Joel’s heavy footsteps nearing the bed. With a quick unclasping of your bustier and a firm hand under your knees, Joel lifted you from the bed. You became weightless in his arms, cradling you to his sweaty chest. Wrapping a shaky arm around his shoulders, you rested your head inside the crook of his neck and exhaled an exhausted sigh.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said softly.

The pungent aroma of lavender and vanilla tinged your nose as Joel guided you into the bathtub. Immediately, your muscles unwound in their tension, a relieving groan expelling from your lips. The heat of the water soothed your tender flesh, the bubbles running over your bare skin in small clusters. Joel was dedicated to aftercare, especially after rougher sessions with you. This was no different. He always remained beside the bathtub, soothing you with praise as you tipped further into its warmth.

You blinked up at him, giving him a tired smile. He gave you a silent nod, then motioned for you to slide forward. He never bathed with you. It wasn’t a rule, per se, but he never granted it to you. This was different—foreign.

You slid your body as far as it could go, your knees pressed to your chest as Joel dipped into the water behind you. Hooking a strong arm around your abdomen, he pulled you flush with your body and dropped his mouth below the shell of your ear.

“You chose to anger me today,” he muttered. “I need the honest truth as to why you did it.”

You twisted your face around to meet his steady gaze, your bottom lip quivering while you debated if the truth was worth voicing.

“I wanted you to be possessive,” you admitted. “I wanted to know if you cared for me the way I care for you.”

Joel’s eyebrows raised slightly, the words shocking him.

“Of course, I care for you. Do I not show it well enough?”

“No—no, you do, sir. I just…I want to be the only one you care for.”

“You have been, little flower. There’s been no one else the entire time you’ve been with me,” he insisted.

You turned your body around, your knees bruising against the tile as you cupped his face. Never had you been so vulnerable with Joel, but you needed him to see your desperation. You needed him to see how committed you were to your role in his life.

“I want to be the only one,” you repeated. “I don’t want you to have another.”

Joel’s hands rested at the curve between your waist and hips, prodding your flesh soothingly.

“Is that what you want, little flower?” He questioned.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, sir. What matters is if it’s what you want.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, creases forming near his temple as he shut his eyes. Silence fell between you, so loud it fractured your heart. No answer was an answer. You failed in your attempts to prove yourself. You failed to make him want you more. He didn’t want you, no matter—.

“My sweet, little flower,” he sighed.

Fresh tears slipped down your cheek, and you made no effort to swat them away. It was useless when you knew you lost the one thing you wanted the most. Joel brushed his lips against yours, and you let a muffled cry escape.

“Rules can be rectified,” he started. “If this is something you wish, I’ll happily oblige.”

“Really?” You asked, pulling away.

You studied him for any sign of doubt, any stolen glance that may prove his words a lie. But he looked at you with complete devotion, irrevocable certainty.

“I want you just as badly. All you had to do was ask. There was no need for defiance or jealousy.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“I think you’ve proven yourself more than enough today, little flower. Turn around so I can care for you properly.”

You slipped back into his warm embrace, your legs widening and pressed against his. Joel smoothed a hand down your stomach, his fingers tracing the swollen lips of your sex. You bucked into his hand, chasing the orgasm that still swam within your stomach. He drew slow, tantalizing circles over your soddened clit, muttering soft words into your ear.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed. “I know what you need. I’ll take care of you.”

“Yes—yes,” you panted, arching into his touch.

The pad of his finger pressed into the throbbing bud, the surging pleasure inside you growing agonizing. Bathwater sloshed around your body is rivulets, the push and pull of the waves crashing into the space where your skin didn’t touch. Closer and closer, he drove you to the edge until a delicious rapture tore through your body. Every muscle beneath your balmy skin seized upwards, a wail of relief echoing around the empty bathroom as you caved into your climax.

“That’s it, little flower. So beautiful when you come undone for me,” Joel mumbled into your ear, his teeth nipping at the lobe.

Shockwaves trembled over you as you slumped against his solid frame, your head falling back onto his shoulder. You had what you wanted. Body and soul, Joel granted your wish. Ecstasy wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the swelling inside your chest.

“Stay with me. More than just the weekends. I’ll have your things brought here, and you can stay permanently,” Joel offered. “This house is rather lonely without you in it, anyway.”

“Okay,” you submitted, a grin stretching across your face.

He was yours.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #dom!joel miller #sub!f!reader #dom/sub #joel miller x you #tlou fanfic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut

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misshoneyimhome · 3 days

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Yin & Yan I Seth Jarvis 🖋️🌺

Requested: yes/no

Summary; for jarvy : he’s always cracking jokes and very unserious. but he gives me golden retriever energy. so maybe something with black cat gf + golden retriever bf.

Other notes; Well hello again my sweet Canes fan 🤍 I am back with another Jarvy fic, and though I wasn't entirely sure how I wanted this to play out, I hope I managed to catch your vibe anyway 😅 I must admit, the more I look at and listen to this guy, I'm growing a soft spot for him and emotionally getting swept off my feet 🥰

Tropes & Warnings; Seth Jarvis x reader; strangers to lovers; no warnings (except I mention they sleep together, but that's not really a surprise, is it 😂)

Word count; 2.6K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50, @findapenny, @justwanderingbutneverlost, @cixrosie

Seth Jarvis was always the life and soul of the party, sporting the brightest smile and the heartiest laugh.

His demeanour was infectious, capable of brightening even the dullest of rooms, and it came as no surprise that he was often likened to having "golden retriever energy." His enthusiasm was tangible, emitting a warmth and loyalty that drew people to him. Seth’s passion for life simply meant he was always eager for the next big adventure, as he had a remarkable talent for making everyone feel valued and acknowledged, his cheerful nature illuminating any space he entered.

In contrast, you were his complete opposite. Reserved, with a fondness for sarcasm and a preference for solitude, you were often dubbed the "black cat" of your social circle. While Seth thrived in social gatherings, you found solace in quiet moments—whether immersing yourself in the pages of a captivating novel or strolling through the city streets beneath the tranquil night sky. Your wit was sharp, your humour dry, and you proudly wore your introversion like a badge of honour.

Yet despite your differences, you and Seth had an undeniable chemistry. It seemed as if his brightness balanced out your darkness, creating a perfect harmony. And though no one would have guessed that you two were such a great match, it turned out that opposites do indeed attract.

Meeting Seth had been as surprising for you as it was for him. And whenever people asked about how it all began, Seth could never contain his excitement when telling the story, his eyes lighting up as he relived that fateful moment.

---

"Oh, fuck me…" you muttered under your breath as you strolled along the pavement in the streets of Raleigh. Following a trip to the grocery store, the bottom of your paper bag had split, spilling your groceries – and naturally, the sight of broken eggs spreading across the pavement was the cherry on top of an already dismal day. “Just my luck…”

It had simply been one of those days. And weeks. Perhaps even the entire month.

Your flatmate had been an absolute nightmare lately, with her boyfriend practically living over almost every day. They stayed up all night, their noisy sex accompanied by the blare of the television, and on weekends, she'd invite more friends over, filling the flat with thumping music, dense smoke, and the chaos of impromptu parties. Sometimes, the parties didn’t even stop at weekends.

You were nearing your breaking point, but the issue was you had nowhere else to turn. Sure, you’d been on the hunt for another place to live, but nothing affordable had come up. There had been one or two options maybe, but living with a male flatmate who made it clear he'd only offer reasonable rent if you gave him "a little sugar" three times a week wasn’t exactly your idea of a good deal.

You tried to maintain a positive outlook, really, you did. Even though you knew optimism wasn’t exactly your default setting, it often felt like the universe was working against you. “It's all part of your journey for personal growth,” your mother always said. But honestly, you didn’t feel like you needed much more ‘growth’ at this point. You were pretty content with where you were in life. Almost, anyway.

All you wished for was a little positive energy from the universe. Just every now and then.

So, as you stooped to gather your belongings, reminding yourself to think more optimistically and hope for some good vibes, it inevitably began to rain heavily. Big, fat drops splashed all around you, drenching your clothes and turning the situation into a soggy mess. “Seriously? Well, fuck you too,” you muttered aloud, perhaps a bit louder than you intended, your frustration resonating in the now empty street.

“Whoa, easy there, I’m innocent, I swear,” a male voice suddenly came from behind you, chuckling as he approached.

“What?”

Turning your head slightly to see the approaching figure, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. A cheeky remark from a stranger was the last thing you needed right now. However, as the person drew nearer, he then knelt down next to you and reached out for some of your groceries.

“Need a hand?” he simply asked in a much calmer tone, looking at you with warm honey-brown eyes and a wide smile that seemed to break through the gloom.

You found yourself rather bewildered, to say the least. Here you were, kneeling on the pavement in the pouring rain, and this stranger came along offering to help with your groceries scattered on the ground, including the broken eggs. And you had to admit, he seemed a bit charming and quite good-looking.

“Um,” you murmured softly, not quite sure what to say. “Um… I’m alright, but thanks.” You attempted to offer him a faint smile, though you felt it was futile.

And you were correct. The stranger simply stayed put, picking up the packets of Mentos and the lemons you had bought, as he once again flashed you a smile, seemingly unfazed by the rain. “Well, you do seem like someone who could use a hand,” he chuckled lightly.

Damn, this guy was something else, you thought. Completely catching you off guard, he just started gathering your scattered items into his arms, still wearing that gentle grin.

You didn’t know what to say. On one hand, you wanted to be left alone, feeling embarrassed enough by the universe. On the other hand, it was rather nice to have someone lending you a hand. And you had just asked the universe for some positive energy, even a bit of luck to come your way, so maybe this was it. You might as well give it a try, you figured. It couldn’t get any worse. Right?

“Well, thank you,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem at all,” he merely replied, his tone genuine. “I’m Seth, by the way. But most folks just call me Jarvy.”

There was a brief moment where you and Seth remained crouched, exchanging looks. You truly felt thankful for his assistance, and as you retrieved the items from your shopping bag, Seth reached into his pocket and pulled out a fabric tote for you to use.

It felt almost like a scene from a romantic comedy. Two strangers meeting when one of the main characters is in a shitty situation and the other comes to their rescue. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more cinematic, the rain stopped.

“I’m Y/n.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Y/n,” Seth chuckled, holding your groceries close.

You couldn’t help but smile, thanking him once more for his help. There was something about his charming grin, the way his eyes sparkled despite the dark, grey clouds, and how happiness seemed to emanate from him like a shining aura. Seth was truly special, and perhaps he was the stroke of luck the universe had sent your way.

Well, at least until you both stood up and your jeans tore at the inner seam.

“Fucking hell!” you exclaimed, letting out a deep sigh.

Once again, Seth couldn’t help but chuckle. “Looks like you’re really having a day, huh?” He gazed at you with his warm brown eyes. “How about I buy you to a cup of coffee?”

Once more, you were taken aback. This guy didn’t even know you, yet here you were, still drenched, now with torn jeans, and he was just smiling and offering to buy you coffee? Who was this guy? Was it some sort of prank?

But no, it wasn’t. Despite your initial suspicions, Seth turned out to be nothing but a friendly guy who simply wanted to help out someone in need. He also happened to be a professional ice hockey player, playing for the Carolina Hurricanes, although he hailed from Winnipeg. All this you learned over your cups of coffee and even more so when he offered you a lift home.

Naturally, you had hesitated, unsure whether to trust a stranger on the street. However, for once in your life, you decided to push aside the anxious thoughts in the back of your mind and listen to your intuition, which urged you to trust the universe. And as you strolled with him to the nearest coffee spot, discreetly concealing your torn jeans, you felt nothing but grateful that you had done so.

Seth Jarvis simply turned out to be the best relationship you'd ever had. Even your mother took a liking to him – and if there was anyone more of a pessimist than you, it was her. And of course, Seth simply chuckled when he’d first met her, joking that now he knew where you inherited your lack of cheerful spirit from. Yet, he never made any negative remarks about it or you.

In fact, he found it intriguing and just smiled at the fact that you were more cautious and concerned about life than he was. You were a planner, always wanting to anticipate the unexpected and be prepared, whereas he was more spontaneous, going with the flow and keeping a cheerful outlook. And as it turned out, you complemented each other perfectly.

Whenever his energy soared a bit too high and led him off track, you were there to keep him grounded and calm. And when your negative thoughts and energy veered into a darker mood, dragging you into an emotional spiral, his positivity and optimistic mindset lifted you right back up.

But of course, no relationship was ever perfect. This truth became especially evident during your first hockey season with Seth while you were dating, spending most nights either at the PNC Arena or in front of the telly cheering him on. While you loved Seth and cherished your time together, the emotional rollercoaster of wins and losses took its toll on your budding relationship.

However, it was also during those low moments for Seth that you found yourself stepping up as the steady rock he needed, cheering him on and reassuring him that things would improve next time. To your own great surprise, you often found yourself embodying the positive spirit, a role you hadn't expected to play. And you couldn’t help but appreciate the positive energy Seth brought out in you, realising how much you were growing together.

Moreover, being with Seth provided a much-needed escape from your dreadful roommate. Though moving in with Seth may have seemed a bit spontaneous to some – classic Seth style – it certainly made your life a lot easier not having to deal with her. Finally, you could just focus on yourself, your work, and now your boyfriend, Seth Jarvis.

And having you around also had a positive impact on Seth. It grounded him and perhaps even added a touch of maturity, naturally noticed by his teammates. Though Seth never lost his playful demeanour, his teammates definitely observed how he became more composed and grounded in your presence. And they never missed the chance to tease him about it.

“Off home to the little missus, are we?” Jesperi would playfully tease.

“Yeah, making sure wifey’s got dinner on the table!” Necas would chime in.

Seth would just laugh it off, but there was a noticeable warmth in his eyes whenever they mentioned you, and he would often reply with a cheeky grin, “You’re just jealous you don’t have someone waiting for you at home with a warm dinner and a smile.”

Living together also brought moments of growth and adjustment. You learned to embrace Seth’s spontaneous nature, finding joy in unexpected adventures and impromptu plans. Meanwhile, Seth grew to appreciate the stability you brought into his life, enjoying the calm and predictability of the routines you established together.

“Ah, I’m sure Seth’s the one making dinner to spoil his favourite girl,” Teuvo teased, winking at you as you then entered the locker room after the game to greet your boyfriend.

“Sure, as if Seth could even locate the kitchen,” you fired back, walking over to him and planting a kiss on his cheek, eliciting laughter from the lads.

“Hey, I can cook!” Seth protested, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Just because I burn toast doesn’t mean I’m hopeless.”

“Oh of course, dear,” you teased back, patting his chest. “Let’s just stick to ordering takeout.”

Despite the playful banter, it was evident to everyone that you and Seth shared something special. His teammates admired the balance you brought to his life, even if they wouldn't admit it outright. And for you, seeing Seth’s bright smile after a long day, hearing his infectious laughter, and feeling his arms around you made every tough moment worth it.

You simply got each other. You never worried that your sharp energy might drive him away. And every day, he reminded you, in his own way, that no matter what, you were keeping him steady.

One night, after a particularly tough game, when Seth came home, flopped down on the sofa, and let out a dramatic sigh. “I need a pick-me-up,” he said, giving you those pleading puppy-dog eyes.

“Want me to sing you a lullaby?” you teased, taking a seat beside him.

“How about a massage?” he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

“How about you help me with the dishes first?” you countered, nudging him playfully.

“Alright, alright. Slave driver,” he groaned, but he got up and followed you to the kitchen, a smile playing at his lips.

It was one of those nights when his career weighed heavily on him, which also meant it weighed heavily on you. Each time you felt his cheerfulness slowly wane, overshadowed by the darkness of a loss. And it would have been easy to let your own emotions sink with his, to let it all spiral down. But you didn’t; you couldn’t allow yourself to do that. All you wanted was for Seth to be happy, to be his cheerful self.

So, as the two of you shared giggles and inside jokes, moving around the kitchen as you finished up, Seth’s mood quickly returned to its usual buoyant self. His smile widened and his chuckles deepened as always.

“You know I love you, right?” he grinned as he held you close, leaning against the kitchen counter with you in his arms, your hands finding their way to his neck.

“I know – just as you know I love you,” you smiled back at him.

“And if I ever turn into a whiny little puppy again…”

“…I know you’re back to your usual self,” you flashed him a wink before pressing your lips against his.

It was a tender moment yet filled with chuckles and laughter, as always. Something only Seth could bring into your life. And as his hands then found their way to your buttocks, giving them a playful squeeze before lifting you up in his arms, you knew everything was going to be okay.

The love you made that night was smooth and intimate. The sensation of Seth’s body against yours, your skin tingling with heat, covered in sweat as he moved inside you, sent your mind spinning, endorphins flooding your system with a high only he could induce.

Your lives were entwined in a way that felt natural and right, as if you were always meant to find each other. The challenges you faced only strengthened your bond, proving that sometimes, the universe really does know what it’s doing. With Seth by your side, the ups and downs of life felt a little more manageable and a lot more joyful.

#seth jarvis imagine #seth jarvis x reader #carolina hurricanes imagine #nhl hockey imagine #nhl fanfiction

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im-sleepdeprived · 3 days

Text

Seasonal • Pt. 2

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: inspired by the taylor swift song ‘peter’ where you and peter discover just how hard it is to hold on to something from your past, no mater how much you love each other

a/n: things are progressing :)) right now im picturing this series as 5 parts, also i’ve been getting tons of requests and TRUSTTTT that as soon as this series is over I’ll be working on those🫡

warnings: none really, some (lots) angst, some pining, there are some time skips both forward and backwards and I don’t have them marked (sorry !) but theyre pretty easy to spot imo, healthy family relationships :(

masterlist, read part 1 here

You blew out a breath as you set down the last box. “Ok, I think we’re done sweetie,” said your dad from his spot across the room.

You collapsed on the bed, exhausted from hauling boxes into your new dorm. The place you’ll be living for the next school year. “Your mom’s already in the car, said she couldn’t handle this part.”

You sat up and smiled. “Yeah, I don’t know if I can either.”

Your dad chuckled. “Come here kiddo.” You stood up and walked over, your dad pulling you into a warm embrace. “If you need anything, just let us know, we’ll be here faster than you can blink.”

“I’ll be okay,” you whispered.

“And…try to make friends honey. It’s a new place, new people. Get out there, okay? Promise me you won’t just lock yourself in here all the time.”

“I promise,” you pulled away. “I actually have an orientation to get to in about an hour, I’m sure I’ll meet tons of people there.”

“I love you,” he squeezed your shoulders for emphasis. “I know this was hard for you, breakups-”

“Dad I promise I’m fine.” You didn’t want to talk about this at all, let alone with your father.

He stared at you for a while before seemingly giving up. Your dad let out a sigh, “Fine. But if you decide this isn’t for you, if you think college completely sucks I’ll come pick you up in a heartbeat.”

You smiled and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, Dad. Tell Mom I love her.”

“Will do kid,” he ruffled your hair. “Now let me get outta here before I start sobbing.”

You laughed and gave him one last hug before waving him off. You fell onto your bed again and let out a sigh. Across the room stood another bed, empty. For now. You hadn’t met your roommate, and you didn’t really want to. You weren’t in the mood for introductions and small talk. You weren’t even sure if you were up for going to that orientation you’d told your dad about, it was recommended, not mandatory.

There was only one person you wanted to talk to, whose voice you craved to hear. The problem was, it was the one person you couldn’t call.

Columbia definitely wasn’t going how you thought it would.

Your first week flew by, you’d met all of your professors and for the most part, they were all pretty nice. You’d even made some friends; a girl named Marissa and another one named Lola. You’d met them both at the freshman orientation andthey were really sweet. You ended up going after your dad had sent you a little reminder (you wondered if he had known you were lying) and you figured it couldn’t hurt. They were nice enough people and it was good to get to know your peers. Your roommate, Lindsay, had come in on your second day, but apparently, she was dating some dude who owned an apartment right off campus and she spent most of her time there.

Clubs and all different frats and sororities were camping out in little booths all around campus trying to get new members. Seeing the photography club’s booth sent a sharp jab of pain through your heart every time. It was even worse when you realized one of the biggest photography classes was in the building right next to the English building, which is where most of your classes would be taking place. For your whole time there.

It was one day a couple of weeks into your classes, you were exiting a class where you been debating whether it was better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all. Some students were talking privately, but the teacher had overheard them and made it a class discussion, exclaiming that she thought it was 'a trendy enough subject to raise engagement and break the ice’.

Then as you stepped out of the doors to your class, a flyer flew in from beside you and landed right at your feet. When you picked it up you realized it was a flyer for the annual photography competition. It was actually a pretty big thing around here and you’d heard a few students talking about it.

You didn’t usually believe in signs but these seemed pretty clear.

Without overthinking it, you pulled out your phone.

hey

saw something abt photography and thought of you lol. how are you hows school so far ?

You bit your lip in anticipation. You weren’t expecting him to reply right away but…you were nervous he might not have even replied at all.

He was the one who’d said maybe no contact for a while might help, but he’d also said you could call him whenever, and he’d be there for you, no matter what.

i was just thinking about you

The words made your heart skip a beat as you saw them sprawled across your screen.

school’s great, still trying to get the hang of things but it’s gotten easier

my roommate’s kinda boring, but maybe that’s for the best. he could be a crazy person

You laughed until another message showed up on your screen.

how’s columbia? is it everything you dreamed it would be?

no of course not. we were supposed to go here together, we were supposed to BE together. i can’t go anywhere without thinking of you and all i want to do is call you and hear your voice and for things to be okay between us again.

But you couldn’t send that.

yeah ! it’s great but like you said, lots of adjusting haha

are you happy?

And you weren’t sure what it was exactly, but something about that text made you tear up. Were you happy? The answer should’ve been an automatic yes, you’d gotten into your dream school after stressing all year about it, you had got the classes you wanted, and everything was seemingly fine. Great even. But you couldn’t shake the hollow emptiness you’d been carrying since graduation.

You’d gotten what you’d wanted, yes. It just wasn’t how you’d imagined it.

yeah i am :)

glad to hear it ace

look ive got to go i have a class starting. talk to you soon

bye pete

bye

It wasn’t normal. At least, it wasn’t your normal and you hated it. But maybe now, it was.

Your heart raced when you saw the notification. You were so close to tapping it, reading the whole thing but you held back. Columbia’s acceptance emails went out today and you and Peter were supposed to open yours together.

You were waiting for him on the fire escape bouncing your leg up and down anxiously. Checking your phone for the time again, you decided you’d just call him.

“Hey Ace,” you heard his voice through the speaker, along with an array of other noises.

“You’re out. Are you out? It’s okay, we can talk later.” You replied quickly.

Peter chuckled on the other end. “No, it’s fine. I’m just swinging.”

You frowned. “I thought we agreed, no swinging and talking. You get too distracted Petey.”

“No you agreed Ace, I just politely listened.” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Peter,” you said in a warning tone.

“Sorry, sorry.” He laughed. “I’m on my way.”

“Oh?”

“Duh. I know what today is, I got my notification. I’m almost there.”

“Have you checked?”

“‘Course not Ace,” he chuckled. “Have you?”

“No, no way, of course not.”

“Great, I’ll be there in five.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then,” you pulled the phone away to hang up and you could hear his protesting. Quickly, you yelled into the speaker, “Watch where you’re swinging babe!” And you hit the red button.

He always said he preferred swinging on call with you, but there’d been too many close calls of him almost swinging into a building or in front of a car for you to be okay with it.

Sure enough, in almost exactly five minutes Peter landed on your fire escape, feet on the ground, perfectly contact.

“Good, you're here.” You rushed over and pulled him into a hug, kissing his cheek as he swiped his mask off.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “Thank you for waiting Ace, I’m sure it must’ve driven you crazy.”

“No, I’m good.” You said too quickly to sound true.

He laughed. “Okay,” he pulled away and gripped your shoulders. He shook you slightly and grinned. “Let’s do this!”

You sit down on the floor cross-legged and unlock your phone. Peter followed suit as you stared at him. You both pulled up your applications, ready to see the change in your status.

Accepted or denied.

A new door to your future, either opened or slammed in your face.

“Ready?” He asked you gently.

“Yeah, are you?”

He nodded. “Okay on the count of three. One. Two. Three.”

You clicked. You almost didn’t want to read and you were sure if Peter weren’t there you would’ve stalled a little more, but the words were in front of you now.

Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

Congratulations! It is a pleasure for me to inform you that you have been accepted for admission to Columbia College.The faculty and staff would like to commend you on your past accomplishments, which formed the basis of our admission decision in a highly competitive pool of applicants. We look forward to working with you in your future academic endeavors. Please visit the Welcome to Columbia website at:

You stopped reading. Your mouth hung open and you couldn’t believe it. You kept rereading that first sentence over and over as if it would morph before your eyes and call you out for believing it in the first place.

You looked up. Peter had a similarly awestruck expression on his face as he met your eyes.

“What does yours say?”

He laughed. “Nuh-uh. I asked first Ace.”

Silently, you hand him your phone, letting him see for himself because you can't even form the words. You got in.

It didn’t take him long, probably only reading the first few words before he put the phone down and pulled you into a tight hug.

“I’m so proud of you Ace,” he whispered. “See? I told you you’d get in.”

You squeezed him. “I love you so much Petey, but come on you need to show me yours, s’only fair.”

“Don’t wanna,” he mumbled into your hair.

Your brows furrowed. Why wouldn’t he want to show you? It would only make you happier to read his acceptance letter as well. You pulled away and reached for his phone on the floor. Peter didn’t stop you.

Dear Peter Parker,

The Committee on Admissions has carefully reviewed your application to Columbia University, and we are sorry to inform you that we cannot offer you a place in—

You couldn’t believe it. You read it over and over and over again. Never once in a million years did you think Peter wouldn’t get in. The boy was a fucking genius and you couldn’t believe they would reject him.

“Ace it’s not that big of a deal, honestly-”

“What? Of course it is,” you looked up at him, anger coursing through your veins. “They’re fucking idiots. They’re pieces of shit and this,” you held up his phone, “this is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever seen.”

He cracked a small smile. “Actually, that’s my phone. With you on the lock screen mind you.”

You weren’t feeling it. “Peter, they suck.”

“Obviously not if they accepted you.”

“Nuh-uh,” you shook your head quickly. “I don’t wanna go.”

“What?”

“No,” you shook your head some more. “I don’t trust people with such terrible judgment to lead me into my ‘future academic endeavors’. I don’t trust those little shits at all.”

“Ace come on, you don’t mean that.” He gave you a look.

“No, I totally do. Actually, I might just-”

He cut you off, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your mouth. But just as soon as it’d begun, it was over. Peter leaned back, “That always works whenever you’re too worked up.”

“Peter,” you said, and your voice sounded defeated.

“Ace listen to me,” he cupped your face and stared straight into your eyes. “You are going to go to that school, and you’re gonna love it. There is absolutely no way I’m running this for you.”

“You’ll ruin it by not being there,” you mumbled.

“No, I won’t. Because you’re going to be too busy blowing everyone's mind and being the absolute best version of yourself that you can be.”

You laughed softly but it held no humor in it. “But we were supposed to go together.”

“But that shouldn’t stop you from enjoying it without me. So what if I didn’t get in? I applied to other schools, greatschools. And if I really feel like it, I can always transfer, it’s easier that way isn’t it?”

“And what about us?” You bit the inside of your cheek anxiously.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to us Ace,” he smooshed your face making you laugh. “Just because we aren’t going to the same school doesn’t mean we have to break up.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You weren’t aware of just how terrified you’d been for the future of your relationship until he’d said that. You know people had little to no faith in high school relationships but…something was different about you and Peter. You were sure of it. You’d get through this.

You made your way through the halls. You were in an old building, one of the campus’ firsts, and you were on your way to the newsroom. Today was your first official day and to say you were nervous was an understatement. You knew how serious this was, they were the second-oldest college daily paper in the country, and they didn’t just let anyone onto their team. You were ready to prove yourself and prove that you’d be a great addition to the news staff.

Also, you needed something that would get you to stop thinking about Peter. You’d talked a few more times after that first week, and it was always you who initiated your chats. They never went past simple hey’s and how are you’s and then one of you (usually Peter) had to run off. It was so strange for you to think that once you two could’ve talked about nothing and everything for hours and now you could barely get past simple greetings.

You stopped in front of a door, checked the number beside it to make sure you had the right one and took a deep breath before turning the handle.

You heard all the commotion before you saw it, confirming your suspicions that this was the newsroom. Before you, the room was filled with desks, each one supporting its own computer and keyboard, most of them filled. Some desks were neat and tidy, their chairs empty, looking as if they hadn’t been touched. Others were the complete opposite, you couldn’t see the surface of them, they were covered in stacks and stacks of papers, loose pencil shavings, and various other items.

There was a whiteboard on the same side of the wall as the door and it was almost completely covered in lists, locations, and time stops for certain activities. There were copies of different editions of the paper framed and hanging on the wall. You smiled, this was perfect.

Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around and came face to face with a guy who looked to be a couple of years older than you. He had cropped black hair and stubble covering the entire bottom half of his face.

“First day, right?” He asked you.

You nodded quickly and offered him your hand. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

He accepted it and nodded. “Yeah, I remember you Y/L/N, your try-out piece was good. Really good.”

Pride bloomed in your chest and you gave him a smile. “Thanks. Where do you want me?” You gestured at the room.

He narrowed his eyes slightly before giving you the smallest of smiles, a little quirk on the sides of his lips. “Straight to business, I like that. Think we’re gonna get along pretty well Y/L/N, come on.” He started walking you through the room and introducing everyone and their roles. “I’m Brandon, the editor, over there we’ve got our photographers, that girl,” he pointed to a redhead working at her desk, “Alyssa, she’s editor-in-chief. Helps with things I can’t get around to and when there’s an overload of articles, like now.

“It’s not usually this crowded in here, usually the only people always in here are the writers but, you know, start of the school year,” he gestured vaguely, “lots of new editions, things to be sorted.” He stopped in front of one of the desks that looked like it hadn’t been touched. “This is your place. Actually, we already have something for you to work on.”

You sat in your chair and got adjusted. “Great! Anything.”

He smirked. “We need someone to cover the new bathrooms opening near Kent Hall. Good luck,” he tapped your desk before heading off to deal with other things.

You stared for a bit, when you’d said anything that wasn’t really what you meant, but you figured you had to start somewhere.

“Don’t worry,” a voice spoke from beside you and you turned towards him. “They do that to all the newbies, it’s like a right of passage or something. Write the shitty articles for the first few months, prove your worth, or some bullshit like that.” He rolled his eyes and gave you a small. Holding out his hand he said, “James Blake, nice to meet you.”

You returned his smile and shook his hand, “Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you too James.”

He grinned. James was blonde, he had a dazzling smile, and striking green eyes. Honestly, he looked more fit for a magazine cover, not a newsroom. “Well Y/N, I was in your shoes last year. It gets better,” he sent you a wink.

You laughed, “Actually, I don’t mind. I’m just happy to be here.”

“That’s the kinda attitude that’ll make you editor in a few years if you want it,” he clicked his tongue and leaned back in his chair.

You tried not to blush, his gaze was intense and you had a feeling he was trying to gauge what kind of reaction you’d have, though you weren’t sure why. “Right now the only thing I’m worried about are those new bathrooms near Kent.”

James laughed. “Fair enough. If you need anything, I’ll be right here. Don’t be shy to ask for help.” He winked at you again and you thanked him before turning on your computer and getting to work.

Your first day in the newsroom was mostly getting used to everything. The people were cool, you had a great time getting to know them all, and you could definitely see yourself working here for the rest of the year, even longer than you hoped. You’d written down the keynotes for your article and had planned to start working on it later that week after you walked over to Kent Hall and got a look for yourself. It was a lousy topic, sure, but that would stop you from trying your best and proving yourself.

It was true what they said, your first semester does fly by. Or at least that’s what you’d heard and now you understood. It was December now, almost winter break, and you almost couldn’t believe it.

Your first article on the Daily Spectator had gone over pretty well. It was small, practically pointless as it was shoved somewhere in the back where almost no one looks, but Brandon liked that you didn’t just half-ass it and he’d started to (gradually) give you better topics to work on. You were hoping that by the end of the year, you might get your hand on one of the campus hot topics.

You’d gone out a few times, Marissa and Lola from your first week were always inviting you out to different places andyou envied their easygoingness. You’d accepted a few times but you always went home earlier than them, you never seemed to really fit in those places.

Tonight, you were going out with a few of your friends from the newspaper. Over the past couple of months, you quickly became close with some of them, especially Alyssa. Even James, who was an okay guy, if a little cocky, but overall they were all good people.

One of your favorite things about Columbia was its campus and the fact that it was in the city. Walking around now, the snow glittered under all the lights, reminding you of the stars you and Peter used to watch together. You looked up at the empty sky and wondered if he could see any stars where he was now, if they reminded him of you.

You walked into the restaurant and took off your coat. You were wearing a simple sweater dress with a high neck and a pair of ankle boots. You spotted Alyssa sitting at a table waving you over and you smiled as you walked towards her.

“Hey everyone,” you took a seat beside Alyssa. Directly across from you, James shot you a grin.

“Hey Y/N, we’re still waiting on Nikki and Gavin,” Alyssa said. Her phone dinged and she checked it before saying, “That was her, they’ll be here in 5.”

Conversations flowed around the table and soon, Nikki and Gavin arrived. Everyone was laughing and having a great time and when the waiter arrived to take your orders, it took you a second to notice.

“Let me guess your order,” James leaned over the table with a small smile as the waitress started going around the table.

You grinned. “Go ahead.”

“Hmm…” he opened up the menu in front of him and pointed to a listing of words. “Shrimp?”

Laughing, you shook your head. “No.”

“Okay, okay. Are you vegan? Any food allergies I should know about?” He wondered.

“I’m getting the Fettucini Alfredo, what about you?” The way he gasped you thought you’d asked him to take his pants off right then and there.

He shook his head, “I can’t believe you ruined the game. I was supposed to guess Y/N.”

You winced. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, have you ever tried their steak?” He gave you one of his infamous smiles, “It’s great.”

“No actually, I haven’t been here before.”

“Really? Alright wait,” he held up a hand and turned his head. You hadn’t even realized the waitress had gotten to you. “I’ll have the ribeye, medium rare. And same for her,” he pointed towards you.

You stared as the waitress turned toward you. “Any sides?”

“Um, the seasoned fries with a cherry coke please.” You weren’t really sure what to order anymore, James had just completely thrown you off.

When the waitress finished up and walked away to hand your orders in, James turned toward you again. “You’re gonna love it, you’ll see.”

Jokes were shared around the whole table throughout the whole dinner and you were glad you got to have a night like this before finals week. James kept asking what you thought about the steak and while you didn’t hate it, you didn’t love it either. It wasn’t what you had wanted. But you didn’t want to hurt his feelings so you smiled and told him it was great.

By the end of the night, you were stuffed and ready to go home. “You sure you don’t wanna join? Nikki said she hooked up with one of the security guards once and she thinks she could get us into the VIP section.” You had just finished paying for your food and Alyssa was currently trying to convince you to head over to some club with them. And you might’ve been tempted if your phone hadn’t just buzzed in your hands. When you looked down you saw that it was a message. From Peter.

Your heart fluttered in your chest. He texted you.

“Sorry Lyss, I’m not up for it,” you made a face, “I’m pretty sure I’m about to start my period and I’m feeling a little off.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the complete truth.

She nodded in understanding. She pulled you in for a hug, “Alright, well if you need anything, let me know. And if you change your mind, the address was sent in the group chat.”

You smiled at her when you pulled away. Alyssa had the sweetest soul of anyone you’d met and you were glad to call her a friend. “I will thank you, and that goes for you too. If you need a ride or anything, let me know and I’ll come pick you up. And turn on your location.”

“Already done,” she grinned. You returned the grin and said your last goodbyes to everyone before making your way to the door, you were itching to step outside and open your phone. But instead, a hand gripped your shoulder. You turned around to see James smirking as he looked at you.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

You nodded, “Not really up for clubbing tonight, but you guys have fun!” You made to pull away but he held you back.

“You sure,” he furrowed his brows, “it’s not that late. If you come, you don’t even have to stay long.”

Smiling, you nodded again. “Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks for asking though.”

“Anytime,” he shot you another grin but…it wasn’t quite right. He still looked handsome as ever, sure, but if you didn’t know any better you’d think he looked a little disappointed. “Well, have a good night Y/N.”

“You too James, bye.” You waved at him and walked out the door without looking back. As soon as you were out the door, your phone was opened and in your messages app, opening you and Peter’s chat.

hey ace, how’ve you been?

hey pete <3 i’ve been good, just finished dinner with some friends. what about you ?

that’s nice I hope you had a good time.

i’m good thanks.

actually i wanted to ask what your plans for winter break are

nothing actually, you ?

i’m coming back home and i was wondering if i could see you

Your heart almost stopped. He wanted to see you.

You tried not to get your hopes up, it probably meant nothing. Obviously, you were still friends, or friendly, and maybe he just wanted to catch up. You could only share so much over text. Or maybe….maybe he’s been missing you just as much as you’ve been missing him and he’s realized all this was a big dumb mistake.

Maybe you were getting your hopes up.

i’d love that

when do you get here ?

You two stayed texting back and forth your whole walk home. He sent you a picture of his ticket and told you he and May would love to have you over the next day. You couldn’t fight the giddy smile that took over your face. You were ecstatic he reached out to you and you realized your texts together had probably been off because he was nervous. You knew how anxious he could get sometimes, and you hoped you could resolve that when you saw each other.

You settled in your dorm that night with your heart full and your face lit up. You hadn’t felt this overjoyed in a long time. You wondered what made him bite the bullet and ask, but you could ask him that when you see him. God, you were gonnasee him. This was all you’d been wanting since the summer and now the opportunity just fell into your lap.

You sat on your bed and fell asleep staring out the window with a smile on your face.

Graduation was right around the corner. The last week of school was a blur. Everyone was throwing parties, teachers were cutting you extra slack, and people who’d never hung out once in the four years they went to school together were all over each other now. It was sweet in a way. As much as you’d all complained and whined about everything, there was a sense of familiarity here, with each other, a community that was coming to an end and it was nice seeing people try to savor it while they could.

Peter had gotten into Duke. You were beyond excited and proud of him and you knew he was excited as well. But you couldn’t help the tiniest part of your brain that selfishly wondered what that meant for you. And honestly, you were scared to ask.

Peter hadn’t brought up anything about your relationship changing or anything else of the sort, so you thought he’d come to the same conclusion you had; you were going to try to do long distance.

Sure, it might be hard but honestly, it was better for you than the alternative, which was ending things. You would definitely choose long-distance over that. So you tried not to worry too much, he was probably thinking exactly like you.

You were sat in a booth at an ice cream parlor with MJ and Ned sitting across from you, and Peter beside you, arm slung over your shoulder. He’d been acting a little weird lately and you hoped this would help cheer him up, it was probably all those end-of-the-year jitters. You were all laughing together, going over all your (least) favorite memories from school.

“Who remembers when Flash brought all those stink sprays to school?” Peter said.

“Oh my god,” Ned started in his seat. “Some kid tripped over his backpack in fifth period and set them all off! The whole class smelled so bad they made us evacuate!”

Everyone cracked up but Ned wasn’t having it. He shook his head quickly, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why are you laughing? It’s not funny! I smelled so bad my mom wouldn’t let me in the house, she made me rinse with the hose in our front yard!”

That just made you all laugh even harder. “Oh my god,” you wheezed out. “I can’t breathe.”

MJ reached across the table and grabbed your hand. Looking you dead in the face with a serious expression she said, “Breathe girl.”

The whole table roared with laughter again. “Why did he have all those bottles of stink spray anyway?” wondered MJ.

“Knowing Flash he probably thought it was cologne,” grumbled Peter, making you laugh again.

Once you’d quieted down Ned leaned back in his spot and sighed. “I’m really gonna miss this.”

You looked around, trying to fully take in this moment. You had no doubt you would all manage to stay in touch but when was the next time you would all be hanging out like this? MJ was headed to Sarah Lawrence, Ned was going to MIT, you (of course) were going to Columbia, and Peter was going to Duke. Five hundred miles away from where you were going to be. 8 hours 27 minutes and 36 seconds.

Sure in the grand scheme of things, you were all still relatively close to each other but…you’d have separate lives. For so long your lives were so intertwined with each other’s and now, you’d have to fight to keep that connection otherwiseyou’d lose it. You reached under the table and grabbed Peter’s free hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. You would fight.

Peter squeezed your hand and you leaned in closer to him. “I’m gonna miss it too,” he said in a soft voice.

“Not me, I can’t fucking wait to get out of there. You guys keep talking though.” MJ said straight-faced making you giggle. You were thankful for her brutal honesty cause you were pretty sure if the conversation kept going in the other direction, it would end with you crying, and you didn’t want that.

The group of you finished your ice cream while talking, got even more ice cream, talked some more, and suddenly you could see the sun setting outside.

“Holy fuck,” you muttered, shoveling a spoon of double chocolate chip into your mouth. “I really thought we’ve only been here for five minutes.”

“Well, now we know what you need to work on before college, Y/N. Your time awareness, we’ve been here for hours.” MJ smirked.

You all laughed except Peter, who squeezed your shoulder and frowned. “She doesn’t need to work on anything, she’sperfect.”

You smiled and leaned over to kiss his cheek, “Thank you, Petey.”

He grinned cheekily at you, “Anytime, Ace.”

Mj rolled her eyes and cut you off with a loud groan. “Oh. My. God. We get it, you are disgustingly in love.” But you didn’t miss the small smile gracing her face.

“You’ll live,” you deadpanned.

She grumbled something you couldn’t make out but before you could ask her what it was, Ned’s phone started ringing. He picked it up and answered.

“Hey mom…already? But…” his voice quieted down. “Ok, ok I’m sorry. Yes, ma’am. Bye.”

He hung up and you were all quiet for a moment before he said, “I changed my mind, I’m so ready for college.”

He dropped his head into his hands, grumbling about something like it’s not funny! while you all laughed. Finally, he stood up. “I actually really do have to go though.”

You all stood up as well, saying your goodbyes. “Yeah I think we should get going too, what do you think?” Peter asked you.

You nodded as you pulled away from your hug with Ned. “I still need to pick up my cap and gown from the dry cleaners.”

Ned nodded, “I got mine earlier today.” You high-fived him and he walked over to Peter and you watched as they did their complicated handshake. They’d claimed otherwise when you’d said exactly that, stating it was just advanced, which you’d said was just geek for complicated.

You snorted as they did their little finger guns. “Dorks,” you muttered. But you loved it.

“You can say that again,” MJ agreed, and you knew she loved it too. Staring at her for a few seconds, you launched at her with your arms open and pulled her into a tight hug. She tensed up right away. “I know of your aversion to physical touch, but right now I don’t care,” you murmured, “you’re my best friend and I love you.”

To your surprise, she relaxed into your hold and even hugged you back. “I know I give you a lot of shit,” she whispered back, “but I love you too. All of you. And I’m gonna miss you like crazy.”

“We’re definitely gonna hang out, like all the time, don’t even worry about it.” You reassured her. It was already a pain that Peter would be so far away, you weren’t going to take your closer friends for granted.

She hugged you tighter, “I’m gonna hold you to that Y/L/N.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Jones,” you pulled away and gave her a wicked grin which she returned. Peter approached the two of you, placing a hand on your shoulder he said, “Ned just left.”

“Bye Parker,” she held out a closed fist for him to bump with his, “you’re pretty decent. She bumps you up to Okay.” She nodded towards you which made you blow her a kiss.

Peter chuckled as he fist-bumped her. “Thanks, MJ, I actually think you’re pretty great.”

She nodded, “Yeah, whatever. Still pretty decent.” She moved past you guys and waved as she exited through the door.

Peter sighed and leaned his head over to press a kiss to your hairline. “Hey,” you started, “at least you're ‘pretty decent’ Ifeel like it could’ve been worse.”

“That’s actually exactly what I was thinking,” he said as the two of you walked out of the ice cream shop. You laughed and leaned in closer to him. “I’m not ‘pretty decent’ to you am I?”

You looked up at him seriously, “Do you think I’d be here right now if you were?”

Peter laughed and you could see those crinkles around his eyes that you loved so much. You always measured how good your jokes were by how deep they were and right now, they were pretty deep.

He squeezed your shoulder, “Whatcha staring at Ace?”

You shook your head, “Nothing, you’re just really pretty Peter Parker.”

You could see him blush out of the corner of your eye and it made you smirk. He smiled again, deep and beautiful as ever, and the crinkles were back. “I think you’re prettier Ace.”

Shaking your head, you smiled, “Not a chance pretty boy, you’ve got me beat.”

Peter’s face turned beet red at the nickname and you knew you won. “Hey,” he said in a voice that let you know he was trying to change the subject, “you what you said to MJ back there? Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“Well, you told her she’s your best friend.”

“Okay…” you trailed off as you weren’t quite sure what he was trying to get at.

“Well, I thought I was your best friend.” That made you smile, but when you looked up at him again he was doing the opposite and you just wanted to kiss it away.

“Petey,” you said softly. You would’ve laughed if he hadn’t genuinely looked so dejected. “You are my best friend and so is she. It’s like how Ned is your best friend, but that doesn’t mean I’m not your best friend too. I think a person can have more than one best friend.”

He frowned and it was obvious your answer didn’t appease him. “Ned is not my best friend.”

Your mouth fell open. “What?! Of course, he is Peter, what are you talking about?”

He shook his head, “But he doesn’t outrank you. He’s my friend but you’re more.”

Now it was your turn to frown, “Outrank? This isn’t a competition sweetie. Where’s this coming from?”

He sighed and paused his walking. You leaned in and pressed a palm to the side of his face. “Peter,” you pressed in a gentle voice.

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to your palm before sighing again. “I’m sorry, that was stupid, it didn’t even make sense. It’s just…everything is changing, y’know? And I’m scared. ”

Your heart twisted. “I know Pete, it is scary. But we still have each other, this doesn’t have to change anything. I’ll always be here for you no matter what, no matter how far away you are. Plus, we still have all summer before we have to worry about that.” You gave him a small smile. Peter stared at you for a moment and the silence made you anxious. His eyes looked sad like he was already saying goodbye. Finally, he leaned in and kissed your forehead.

"Promise me no matter what, you'll remember I'll always be your friend."

Your brows furrowed but you agreed. "Of course, I promise."

He blew out a long breath and pulled you into a hug, “I love you, Ace. Always.”

“I love you too Peter.”

Today was the day.

Today was the day that the past twelve years of your life had led to. All those sleepless nights, insanely late nights, hours upon hours spent hunched over books and worksheets and essays. This is what they were for.

You had woken up early to get ready, but also because you couldn’t sleep you were too excited. You had already done your hair and makeup and were scrolling on your phone until it was time to get dressed when a message from Peter popped up on your screen.

morning ace ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

MORNING !!!!!!!

excited huh?

SUPER !!!!!

i love you

cant wait to see you

The plan was for Peter and May to come over and take photos before you all left for the actual ceremony.

I LOVE YOU MORE XOXO

literally, what are you waiting for come over right now

way ahead of you

Right after you read the text there was a tap on your window, making you jump in surprise. You rushed over and pushed it open, letting him in.

“Hey Ace,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“That was quick,” you replied.

He sat on your bed and patted the spot next to him signaling for you to sit as well. Taking up the spot beside him, you grinned at him and leaned in to pinch his cheeks. “What’s wrong Petey? Aren’t you happy you’re graduating?”

He smiled but his eyes didn’t crinkle like they normally do. “Hey,” you pressed with a gentler voice, “sweetie is something wrong? You can tell me.”

He blew out a breath and fell back onto your sheets. “I don’t know how.”

You played on your stomach and propped yourself up on your elbows, “That’s okay, we can figure that out together,” you ran a hand through his hair, admiring the softness of his curls. You always liked it like this, and when he got it cut, he’d started to keep it a little longer than he used to because he knew you liked it.

He looked up at you and you realized how tired his eyes looked, he must’ve been spending more time on patrol lately. You made a mental note to make sure he spent the rest of the summer sleeping well.

“How did I get so lucky to have you?” He murmured and you felt your face heat up at his words.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “wished upon a star maybe?”

He grinned. “Maybe, because there's no way you’re not magical.”

You matched his expression as you leaned down and pecked his lips softly. When you moved to pull away his lips chased yours, refusing to let you go that simply.

Somehow, you don’t even remember how, you’d moved and suddenly you were straddling his hips and his hands cupped your ass. You moved one of your hands up to his hair, letting your fingers slightly tug at his curls, making him groan into your mouth.

You could feel his hands gently pulling you down and you obliged, grinding on him as your lips attacked each other. All of a sudden, those same hands on you were being used to flip you over and the next thing you knew, Peter was towering over you, panting, lips plump and red, face flushed, and eyes hazy.

You pulled him back down but there was a knock at your door, making you both jump. Quickly, you held up a finger to Peter’s lips, making sure he didn’t make a sound.

“Y/N honey, are you up?”

“Yes Mom!”

“Alright, well get dressed and come out for some breakfast, we’re gonna need to leave soon.”

“Okay I’ll be right out.” You waited until you heard her footsteps retreating before you moved your finger. “Sorry about that.” You whispered.

“It’s fine Ace,” he smiled and leaned down to press kisses all over your face and neck. You giggled but then remembered he came over for a reason.

Pulling him back by the hair, “Wait, Pete, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

He stared at you in shock, as if he couldn’t believe you remembered. “No um, actually, it can wait. Go eat breakfast,” he kissed right beneath your ear, “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

You grabbed him and pulled him in for one more long kiss. “I love you,” you smiled sweetly at him, “and I’m so proud of you.”

He stared at you for a moment before he grabbed both your hands in his, “I love you so much Ace, and I need you to know that please.” His expression was almost pained, as if the thought of you doubting him for even a second caused physical hurt.

“Of course I know that Pete,” you frowned slightly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” He smiled. Or tried to smile, because once again those crinkles beside his eyes that you loved so much weren’t there, and you had a feeling there was something he wasn’t telling you. But you trusted him, if there wassomething that needed to be said, he would’ve said it.

“Okay,” you leaned in and kissed him, “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye Ace,” he said and walked to the window before crawling on the wall. The first time you’d seen him pull out that trick you’d told him he looked like a lizard.

Finishing getting dressed, you stepped out to have a quick breakfast so you could see Peter faster. Soon, Peter and May were in your apartment and she and your parents were all fawning over the two of you. Peter had given her his camera and she was on picture duty for the day since he would be occupied.

“Okay enough,” you said, taking off your cap and situating your hair. “It’s graduation you guys, not prom. Enough with the poses.”

“Oh, we all remember that,” Peter rolled his eyes making you smirk. The three of them had driven you guys insane with all the poses, the fussing, your dad’s jokes. And you and Peter had surely antagonized them to no end, rolling your eyes and grumbling. It was almost like being split into teams, sometimes, and you found it disgustingly cute how May got along so well with your parents and you and Peter always had each other’s backs.

“We should probably get going, we don’t want to be late,” your mom spoke up and you shot her a grateful look.

Peter looked at you. “You’re riding with me?”

Grinning, you answered, “Duh. I’ve got the playlist completely ready.”

He beamed at you and held out a hand, “Let’s go graduate Ace.” You took his hand and shot a smile over your shoulder towards the rest of your group. “See you!”

“Be safe!” You heard your Mom yell at the same time May said, “Drive carefully Pete!” But you and Peter were bounding down the stairs, your faces lit up like the 4th of July.

“Do you have the keys?” You asked him once you stepped out the door of the building. He smirked at you, “I thought we get there another way,” he flexed his wrists.

“Absolutely not, Peter.” You backed away from him, “Possibly the worst time to swing anywhere.”

He laughed and grabbed your hand, pulling you into his hold, “Relax Ace, I was only joking.” He fished out the keys to May’s car from his pocket and waved them in front of you. “I can’t wait to hear your playlist.” He dropped to give you a kiss before leading you to the passenger’s side door and opening it for you.

“Good,” you smiled as you pulled your seatbelt on and reached for the aux cord. “‘Cause I’ve been working on this for weeks.”

Peter just smiled from beside you and started up the car as you pulled up your playlist. “Okay, I know this probably fits more for after graduation, but I’ve been dying to play it so we’re listening to it now and on the ride home,” you informed him before pressing play on ‘The Spins’ by Mac Miller.

“Whatever you want Ace,” he said as he placed his hand on the head of your seat, turned his head, and turned the wheel as he backed out. Blood rushed to your face as he pulled the car out of its designated parking spot. “But I wanna hear that One Republic song.”

You knew which one he meant. “Already in the playlist and cued up to play next pretty boy.”

He smiled softly and shot you a look from the corner of his eye, “You’re absolutely perfect, y’know that Ace?” Reaching over the center console, he grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers.

You lifted your enjoined hands and pressed a kiss to his. “I know, and you’re not too bad yourself Peter Parker.”

He squeezed your hand and held it tight for the rest of the ride as you sang your heart out as if he was scared that when he let go, he wouldn’t have the privilege anymore.

When you arrived at the school, Peter rushed out to open your door and the two of walked hand in hand to the auditorium where all the students were to be gathered until they walked out to the football field where the ceremony was being held.

Entering the auditorium, the place was flooding with students and as soon as you saw MJ you were flying out of Peter’s grip and pulling her into another big hug.

“There’s gonna be a lot of these,” you warned her.

“You wouldn’t be you if there weren’t,” she remarked but held you just as tight.

The two of you took a seat over by the chairs while Ned and Peter hung out closer to the doors. As you were talking with MJ you noticed that it looked like they were in a deep, heated conversation and…were you crazy or did Ned keep glancing at you?

“Any idea what they’re up to?” You nudged MJ and jutted your chin in their direction.

“Probably talking about how their bromance will make it through thick and thin,” she rolled her eyes but when she noticed you still staring confusedly in their direction she placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Relax Y/N, really, I’m sure it’s fine.”

You could’ve mentioned how Peter had been acting weird for weeks now, that he always seemed to be in a different placelike something constantly plagued his mind. You were sure if anyone had noticed it would’ve been MJ since there was no one you knew who was quite as observant as her. You could’ve mentioned these things and tried to gauge her opinion on it, but just as you were contemplating whether or not you should, your principal walked in and started guiding you all to the doors. It was time.

As students began filing out into the hallways, it was hard to keep track of anyone in the wide array of blue caps and gowns. You had a funny thought of how it kind of looked like a tsunami.

You needed to find Peter and wish him luck one last time, the poor boy had been basically losing his mind for the past few weeks leading up to today and you wanted to make sure he was alright. Standing on your tiptoes looking around while everyone moved ahead, you finally spotted him.

Shoving your way through the bodies you made your way right beside him. “Hey!”

He jumped a little, looking paler than he did before and your heart deflated seeing how affected he was by today. “God, Ace. Scared me.”

“All those super senses and for what? Anyway, listen,” you placed your hand on your shoulder and pushed him so the two of you were to the side of the hallway and the rest of the line moved freely.

“Peter, are you okay?” You asked in a more serious voice, hoping he would just come out and tell you what had been bothering him.

You had no idea why but his face got even whiter. “What do you mean? I’m fine.” He chuckled nervously.

You sighed and gave him a big hug. “It’s gonna be fine Pete, pretty soon we’re gonna be high school graduates driving home.” You grinned up at him.

He tried to reciprocate, he really did, but you could see the strain on his face while he did, which only tugged on your heart more.

“I know Ace,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “come on, we have to take our seats soon, I don’t want you getting in trouble.”

You wanted to make a joke about how you weren’t sure you could even get in trouble anymore, but it felt like the wrong time. As the two of you walked onto the field, you kept looking up at him but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. You couldn’t wait for this to just be over so you could get your Peter back.

There was a stage set up at the head of the field, with chairs flanking each end and a podium in the middle. The stage faced all the chairs for the graduating students, which is where you would be in a minute, and the bleachers, which werebehind them, were where all the friends and family were sitting.

Peter walked you to your assigned seat and you pulled him into one last hug, “I’m proud of you Petey.”

He squeezed you so tight you wondered if he knew you’d be seeing each other right after this ceremony. “I’m prouder than you’ll ever know Ace.”

You waved him off with a smile on your face as he made his way through the crowd. You took a deep breath as you sat down, in a few minutes, your principal was up there giving some speech that you zoned out of in favor of finding your friends in the mass of blue all around you.

You found MJ with no problem and she flipped you off as soon as she caught your eyes, and you gave her heart hands and a cheesy grin in return. Ned wasn’t far from her and you gave a little wave which he returned with a sad half-smile. Weird…but it was Ned so you didn’t take it to heart.

When you saw Peter he was already gazing at you with an unreadable expression. Hoping to ease him up a little, you sent a storm of air kisses and you watched as he laughed and pretended to catch them all.

Pretty soon they were calling the names. You clapped for everyone, cheering a little for kids you were closer with, but going all out for your closest friends.

When MJ was called up you were hollering like a maniac, smashing your hands together as hard as you could. When it was Ned’s turn you whistled as loud as you could and when Peter was called up, you jumped up, lifted your hands over your head, and screamed.

You watched his knowing smile as he made his way across the stage, he’d heard you, and after he’d trapped his diplomahe caught you staring and mouthed an ‘I love you’. You smiled happily as you blew him more air kisses.

You didn’t have it in you to be embarrassed at all. Everyone was going the extra mile to cheer on their friends and whileyou might’ve tried to be less obnoxious on any other occasion, it was your graduation and Peter deserved some obnoxious cheering for how much he’d been stressing lately.

When it was your turn the cheering was returned tenfold. Peter, Ned, MJ, and all your other friends were clapping and yelling for you. You spotted your parents sitting with May in the back and you waved to the three of them excitedly. You heard Peter give an extremely loud whistle as you grabbed your diploma and shook hands with your teacher, which made you grin absurdly. By the time you made it back to your seat your face hurt from smiling so much.

You were buzzing with excitement as you waited for it all to be over so you could go and celebrate with everyone. It seemed like a lifetime till you heard the huge “Congratulations!’ on the speakers and everyone was standing up and throwing their caps into the air.

The atmosphere was amazing, everyone was buzzing with an energy different than you’d ever felt before and you knew right then, you’d always look back fondly at this moment right now.

MJ was beside you in an instant and you almost burst into tears at the fact that she was the one to hug you this time. “You were taking too long,” she mumbled and you felt a few tears slip out.

Soon Ned and Peter were on the two of you and you shoved into a big group hug, which had MJ rolling her eyes. “I only wanted her,” she stated, but you knew that wasn’t true.

You slipped out when you noticed Ned and MJ congratulating each other and took that as your chance to tackle Peter in a huge bear hug.

“You finally did it!” You laughed, arms hooked around his neck as he lifted you slightly.

“We did it, Ace,” he said and you almost melted into a puddle right then when you pulled away and noticed he was smiling. The crinkles were back.

But they didn’t last long.

The two of you made your way over to where your parents and May were awaiting you and they all pulled you into a fierce hug. Your mom was a mess and you tried to calm her down telling her if she didn’t stop, you’d be crying right beside her. Your dad was a little more composed but you could still see the emotion on his face. “I’m really proud of you kiddo.” He mumbled as he held you tight.

“Thank you, Dad,” you sniffled a little. You were barely out of that when May was crushing you with her arms, making you laugh. She was always good at that, cheering you up.

“I can’t believe you just graduated high school!” She said in disbelief. “I know,” you replied equally as confused.

Laughing, she pulled you in tighter and pulled Peter in as well. When you looked up at him he looked a little green in the face, making worry flood through you completely. What could it possibly be now? You had yourself convinced, and he did too, that it was just nerves about graduation, that the celebration was reminding him of the reality of growing up and your lives truly starting was hitting him a little harder. You thought that once it happened he’d relax a little and give himself a little time to breathe. Apparently not.

You pulled him away once you weren’t out of May’s grasp and she was talking with your parents. “Peter,” you whispered, your voice filled with worry for him, “you have to tell me what’s going on.”

“Yeah,” he croaked, eyes turning slightly red which didn’t help your anxiety at all. You watched as he stared past you andwhen you followed his trail of sight, you saw May staring at the two of you with a solemn expression.

Oh no.

You knew in your heart what was about to happen, and yet you wished with everything in you that it wouldn’t.

“Come on,” he mumbled, grabbing your hand and leading you back towards the school. You followed him wordlessly as he opened the door and pulled back into the halls, the same halls you had comforted him just a bit ago, before the two of you had officially graduated you realized.

“Peter,” you repeated, a little breathless this time because no, there was no way. He couldn’t be doing this right now, not…not after everything.

“Ace,” he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away.

“Peter,” you repeated but your voice was harder this time, letting him know that you were done with him beating around the bush. If he was going to do this, he could come right out and say it.

“I leave in 2 days,” he said quickly. It felt like a slap to the face.

“What do you mean?” Your brain couldn’t comprehend what he was saying.

He continued as if he hadn’t heard your question, avoiding your eyes as he did so. “Well technically I leave tomorrow, but I arrive the day after so…? I’m not really sure what—”

“Peter!”

He sighed and grabbed your hands, looking you in the face. “Ace, I am so sorry, like so, so, sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner I really did, and I tried! But every time it felt like it would just ruin everything and I couldn’t, I couldn’t ruin it, so I waited and—”

“Peter I swear to god if you don’t tell me exactly what the fuck you're talking about I will leave your fucking imprint on one of these lockers.”

You watched him gulp and you felt a strange sort of satisfaction seeing how you scared him. “I’m leaving,” he said in a quieter tone. “I got accepted into one of Duke's scientific summer programs and I leave tomorrow.”

It felt like a fucking punch to the gut.

“What program,” you said in disbelief, your mind reeling with all this information. “You never said anything about a program.” You looked up at him with a hurt expression.

“Ace, you’ve got to believe me when I tell you I thought I had no fucking shot getting in, I mean,” he squeezed your hands as he spoke, “really. You should see how exclusive these things are. I wasn’t even going to apply but the dude who gave me my tour around campus convinced me, and then I forgot about it until I got the email, and—”

You shook your head quickly, trying to comprehend everything. “Wait but your tour was months ago.” You looked up at him. “When did you find out you got in?”

His eyes widened and your heart fell at the realization that he’d been keeping this from you for so long. When he didn’t answer you pushed “When Peter?”

“Not that long, I promise, probably a few weeks but I just—it’s been driving me crazy how to bring this up. There was no right time, I mean, I didn’t want to do it before graduation—”

“Well how thoughtful of you to wait till right after,” you snapped back. “No, really, didn’t even give me a chance to get out of the cap and gown!” You pulled away from him and scoffed, not wanting to be anywhere near him.

“Come on Ace, please,” he pleaded, and you dropped your head into your hands. You didn’t want to cry, today was supposed to be a happy day, and it had been! Before all this.

“When do you leave?” You whispered. You were sure he’d mentioned it but you were also sure your head wasn’t working right.

“Tomorrow. At night,” he spoke in an equally quiet voice, as if the softer the sound waves, the softer the blow they would deliver. That wasn’t true.

You held back a sob.

“When do you get back?” An equally important question.

“I…I don’t. The program ends as soon as school starts…May’s shipping my things there.”

It felt as if he was physically tearing your heart out of your chest and stomping on it.

One day. All this time you’d been shoving away dealing with the reality of the situation because you wanted to be able to enjoy your summer, because you believed you still had summer left together and now he was taking that from you. It didn’t even feel like he had pulled the rug out from under your feet it felt as if he had shattered the whole ground.

“Congratulations Peter,” you said sincerely. This was breaking your heart but deny that this was an amazing opportunity. If anyone in the world deserved it, it would be him.

“Ace wait,” he moved in front of you, grabbing your chin and lifting it so you had to see his sad face. You wished he hadn’t, you didn’t want to watch him cry. “Please don’t be upset, I won't be able to go if you're mad at me.”

“Well I am upset Peter! Not that you got in, I’m so excited for you, but you didn’t tell me, and you leave tomorrow!” Your voice broke and you could stop the tears as they flooded your eyes and streamed down your face. How could this be happening? Everything was perfect and now this?

Peter pulled you into his arms, “Please don’t cry Ace,” he begged, which in turn only made you sob harder. “I’m so sorry, so sorry,” he murmured as he kissed the side of your head.

“But this isn’t forever. I’m going to come back and I’m going to find you,” he pulled away and held you by the shoulders, making sure you were looking at him, “You’re the only person I want Ace, you’re the love of my life. And I don’t want to hold you back from the amazing life you're going to start at Columbia, I can’t have you going to your dream school with one foot out the door,

“We’re going to grow and learn, and I might not be there for all of it, but we’re going to be together eventually because I want you. This is just goodbye for now.”

You closed your eyes and savored his words. You wanted nothing more than to believe every syllable.

“Promise?”

“Of course Ace.”

And maybe if you hadn’t been such a fool in love, maybe if you hadn’t been so desperate to hang on to anything that promised the two of you would find each other again, you would’ve known promises like that were rarely lived up to.

hey, sorry but i can’t make it back for winter break. weather issues :(

Your heart fell.

You were so looking forward to this, seeing him again, spending time with him and May, for things to feel like they were, even if it were for a brief moment.

You took a deep breath and stared at the two presents on your nightstand. No point in them now. You had gotten the message earlier this morning, around when he was supposed to board, but your phone had been dead.

that really sucks pete, im so sorry

maybe next time <3

He didn’t respond, the only indication you had that he’d even seen it was the little read receipt at the bottom of your text, glaring at you mockingly. You remembered sometime last year when he’d confessed you were the only person he turned them on for.

“Wait why me?”

“You can’t seriously be asking that Ace.”

“Well…I am asking.”

“Because I love you, duh.”

He hadn’t turned them off. You wondered what that meant.

You knew you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up, knew you shouldn’t have gotten so damn excited, but…god, you really thought things were going to change.

But he had still wanted to see you, he’d still asked you to come over, and it wasn’t his fault his flight got delayed. Talking yourself up a little, you put on your shoes and coat. Grabbing your phone and the presents, you left your dorm. You were going back home, you could drop off the presents at May’s, stop by and see your parents, maybe call Peter if he was feeling up to it, let him know you really had wanted to see him and you were sorry you couldn’t.

It was cold outside and you could see your breath fogging up before you as you walked, but not of it even so much as fazed you. Hope was a beautiful thing, it could change lives, and it was so, so important. Hope was going to be what got you through this time without Peter, and it was going to be the thing that brought you back together.

Because you believed. You believed him back on graduation. You believed that that hadn’t been the end of your story, itcouldn’t have been. You believed when he said he’d come back for you, that you were the only person he wanted, because you felt the same. And…maybe right now he physically couldn’t but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. You believed andyou hoped. With your whole heart you—

You stopped in your tracks. It felt like your breath was snatched from your lungs and was being held just above your head, so you couldn’t reach it no matter how hard you jumped. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

Because when you turned the corner, you saw Peter walking down the street beside his Aunt, laughing like he hadn’t justcompletely shattered your heart.

What?

You scurried backward, still unable to catch your breath but thankfully aware enough to make sure you got out of the way before either of them could spot you.

Leaning against the wall of the building behind you, you finally let out a breath, watching silently as it floated and then dissipated before you. He was here…

And he didn’t want to see you.

You tried to rationalize it as you looked around, it was clearly snowing, and it was getting thicker by the hour. So it wasn’t far-fetched that his flight really was canceled, plus he had sent you that message earlier this morning, so it was equally possible that he might’ve boarded after all, or found another flight altogether.

And maybe through all that commotion, he had forgotten to update you. Highly unlikely since you’d never known Peter to forget anything, especially when it came to you. But…you’d also never known Peter to lie, not without good reason at least, like about being Spider-Man, or that time Ned got him a birthday gift he didn’t really like, but said he loved it anyway, or any other time he’d lied for the sake of either keeping someone safe, either emotionally, physically, or both.

He didn’t tell you, and it hurt. But something deep inside you trusted him. Maybe it was naive, maybe it was wishful thinking and nothing more but you knew Peter. You’d know him his whole life and never once would you think he purposefully did something to hurt you, hurt your feelings, or anyone’s actually.

Looking down at the wrapped-up present you held, your heart tugged a little. You’d gotten him a Lego set, it was a Map of the Constellations Lego set and it was customizable, so you’d made sure it had all of the ones he’s taught you about. The ones you’d stayed staring at for hours on that hill, talking about everything. It even came with customizable Lego people, which you’d made look like you and Peter (or as much like you as you could with Lego bits), and a little telescope.

You felt like a total idiot.

You could’ve gone anyway, could’ve walked right up those stairs, could’ve said you were there to visit your parents andPeter wasn’t the only thing waiting for you here. But while you may have been feeling idiotic, you weren’t a completeidiot. You knew when you were unwanted. Even if he had just forgotten, if he really wanted you there, he would’ve remembered. And he didn’t.

You were tired when you got back to your dorm. Dropping off the presents, (Peter’s going under the bed, you didn’t want to see it at all, and May’s going on your desk. You’d take it with you when you went to exchange gifts with your parents). It was empty and you were thankful that Lindsay wasn’t there. She was a sweet girl, very bubbly, and you could definitelysee the two of you being friends if you ever got to spend more time with her, but for tonight, you just wanted to be alone.

The end of your bed was against a window and you were grateful for it. Ever since things went south with Peter, you ended most nights sitting at the window. You didn’t know what it was, but you always found yourself looking up at the sky. Maybe it was the fact that anytime you needed him, he would be out your window in minutes, if not seconds. It could be that the sky always reminded you of him. But you figured the simplest answer was probably the right one. You missed him.

It didn’t matter which window, it didn’t matter where you were, sometimes in certain buildings you could barely see the sky. Most times, you couldn’t see any stars at all. Almost every time. But it didn’t matter. Without fail, every night youwould look out the window.

Maybe you’d see him swinging around, maybe you’d catch a glimpse of those stars you both had loved so much. You weren’t really sure what you were waiting to catch. You silently hoped the silence on both ends meant nothing and he still felt the same. You hoped he meant what he’d said to you all those months ago, that he really would come back and find you. Even more, you hoped that what had happened that night was a dumb mistake, or at the very least had a solid excuse to back it up. You knew teenage romances were almost always doomed, but isn’t that why you’d broken things off? So you both could grow, and earn perspective, learn more about yourselves, and when you met again, you’d share everything you’d learned. Every new experience that had ultimately led to the reunion of the two of you. You could handle this for now, the not being together, if it meant you could have him later. That all this waiting and hoping wasn’t for nothing. You had to hope that even though you were leading different lives, in different galaxies, you both clung to the same dreams, otherwise you’d already lost him.

You supposed that’s what you sought comfort in every night. You’d look up at the sky and know it was the same one that blanketed him, wherever he was. You shared the moon, the stars, and your hearts.

You were always a dreamer, a hoper. So without fail, every night, you’d turn on your lamp and sit by the window.

‘seasonal' taglist: @keira-kaz2y5 @imafangirlofeverything

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emilybahu · 2 days

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What I want to see with Eddie/Buddie Going into Season 8

I'm really excited to see what they do with Eddie this coming season after how season 7 ended for him.

I feel like it may take a few episodes of us watching Eddie pull away from everyone as his mental state over this whole situation he got himself in just keeps getting worse until someone finally knocks some sense into him and tells him he needs to get help. Maybe the firefam even stages an intervention of sorts, telling him that they're all worried about him and that he needs to get help. I could see Buck trying his absolute best to help Eddie, to no avail. Then Hen just shows up at his house one day and straight up tells him if he doesn't work on himself, then how could he expect to repair his relationship with Chris.

I want to see a whole episode, maybe two, dedicated to Eddie's healing. I want to see him going to therapy. I need to see him learning to love himself and how to live for himself, not only for Chris. I need to see Eddie uncover the parts of himself that he's unconsciously buried through the years and rediscover things he used to enjoy. I need to see Eddie opening up to everyone and them all being proud of him and happy to see him genuinely smile. I want to see Eddie having an adult conversation with Chris about what happened and how nothing like it would ever happen again. And I want to see Eddie and Chris working on repairing their relationship and Buck hanging out with both of them.

And who knows, maybe Eddie will have a sexuality crisis, maybe he won't, maybe Buddie will happen, maybe it won't. All I know is what both Oliver and Ryan have said, which is that it has to feel right for the characters and their respective stories. Buck and Eddie have such a beautiful friendship as is, so furthering their relationship has to be done carefully. Now, I know that for a lot of us, it feels like we've been waiting long enough for this to happen, but we also have to think about the fact that the characters don't see their relationship like that. Like in a lot of the fanfics, they might both realize that they have romantic feelings for each other and be too afraid of ruining their cherished friendship to share them with one another. Or maybe they haven't realized those feelings yet, and even when they do, they'll need time to process them.

On Eddie's side, it will likely take him a while to come to terms with not being straight, and I'd like to see him putting the pieces together in his brain and talking to his therapist about self-acceptance. Apart from that, I'd like to see his dynamics with another partner (perhaps another man) before Buddie happens, if Buddie happens. I also think that Eddie figuring out he's not straight will be how he realizes the love he feels for Buck is more than one would usually feel for a friend. Maybe he'll try to give his all to whatever relationship he's in at the time, but he'll quickly realize that although he was genuinely happy with the other person, his heart just isn't in it anymore.

On Buck's side of the coin, I really hope that Tommy sticks around long enough for us to get to know his character more. I know a lot of people don't want to hear that, but as long as Buck is happy with Tommy, I'm happy with Tommy. And if they break up, I want them to still be friends. Anyway, back to the Buddie of it all...

I think Eddie will come out to the 118, and of course, everyone will be supportive as he explains that it took him months to finally be comfortable enough to tell them. And whether or not he tells them all at the same time or comes out to Buck first, I KNOW that Buck won't even hesitate to give Eddie the biggest hug! Buck starts realizing his deeper feelings when he sees Eddie with another man for the first time. Also, whether or not they're both single, mutual pining will most definitely ensue.

To me, there are only a couple ways that would feel right for a Buck and Eddie's feelings reveal (of course, in both situations, they're both single, no more cheating!):

The first one is high drama, of course, something I think a lot of people want after hearing that when Eddie got shot back at the end of season 4, there was supposed to be a feelings reveal. Hence, Eddie puts Buck in his will as Christoper's caretaker if he were to die. (Speaking of that, I really hope that we also get a serious conversation about the will in season 8). Anyways, I think it would be more interesting if, rather than only one of them getting into another near-death or serious injury situation, it was both of them together. Like they get trapped together in a burning building, one or both of them get hurt, and all they can do is wait for the team to come find them. They're holding each other, scared that they won't make it out, and they confess their feelings for one another. They hold each other even tighter after that, maybe even share a kiss.

Another scenario that I wouldn't mind seeing is a lot less dramatic. It would be sweet and soft and full of nervous energy. I think that I'd almost want it to mirror when Buck came out to Eddie, but this time, they're at Eddie's house. Chris isn't there. Buck and Eddie are just hanging out together. They just ate, and they're either sitting at the table or leaning against the counter, standing so close that their shoulders are brushing. It's a quiet moment, a lull in whatever conversation they are having, and they just look at each other fondly. Eddie quietly confesses his feelings, telling Buck that it's ok if he doesn't feel the same and that, regardless, he still needs Buck in his life. Buck is shocked, but doesn't let himself freeze, telling Eddie that he feels the same, and the scene ends with Buck and Eddie sharing a sweet kiss.

And now I'm going to make these scenarios into fanfics...

God, as much as I want Buck and Tommy to be happy as long as possible, I just NEED Buddie to happen! I love these guys't wait to see what happens in their relationship next. If nothing romantic happens between them in season 8, they need to at least have something happen that deepens and solidifies their friendship even further. Something that reminds Buck and Eddie of the place they have in each other's lives and how important they are to each other.

Thank you for reading my rant! I really do hope that people read this all the way through. Took a good amount of time to get all my thoughts out, so I hope people enjoy what I had to say! 😁

#911 abc #9-1-1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 thoughts #911 speculation

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genderfluid-insomniac · 2 days

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“Wait for me” dead!Macaque x living!reader (1.5k words)

A/N: I know I’m mixing pantheons but I’ve been back on a musical hype and this time around it’s been Hadestown. I love the musical too much and it came to mind when listening to “Wait for Me (reprise)” that the Orpheus and Eurydice characters would work for Macaque and another person. Although terribly angsty I must fulfill my heart's desires.

The reader is currently walking up to the living world after convincing the god of the underworld to go on a trial to get their lover the Six-Eared Macaque back home with them. The trick is that if they look back at Macaque before they reach the surface he has to go back to the underworld.

otherwise known as the Orpheus and Eurydice myth from the author Virgil and/or Ovid

This story is told from the reader’s perspective who knew, met, and fell in love with Macaque before his confrontation with Wukong. So it might seem that they’re being too hard on Wukong for killing his sworn brother when they yell at him but they don’t know everything that happened between them. ***Only the rumors of Sun Wukong from local towns and what Macaque told them.*** So I just wanted to make that clear.

Although you knew you had begun the trial and Macaque must have been behind you, you couldn’t hear him and yet still you walked. Step after step of hoping you weren’t tricked by them. All you wanted to be back in his arms, dancing in the moonlight and counting the stars until dawn arrived. You remembered it as clear as day. You were just on a walk with him, strolling through the woods and laughing about a forest spirit you had run into who mistook you as being kidnapped only to apologize when it was clear you both were in love.

It was calm and quiet as most days were but Macaque heard something, someone, someone who he once called his brother. They hadn’t seen each other in centuries and the last they saw of one another wasn’t pleasant. At least that’s all that Macaque had told you and insisted that it was too painful to talk about which you respected. You both trusted each other more than anything and you hoped it’d get you through everything.

You didn’t know what caused that fight or whether it was fate or a coincidence that they saw one another that day after almost a thousand years. Flashes and shouts could be heard as they both clashed against one another. For a demon, the fight would be easier to see but you could only catch bits and pieces of the battle, seeing both celestial primates create big craters in nearby mountains and strong gales whipping across the land surrounding them.

Truthfully you were terrified for your life a couple of times as trunks of big trees were flung your way and when gales of wind threatened to carry you off the ground. Through all of it, your eyes desperately searched for Macaque in hopes of seeing anything pointing to his survival. That moment almost froze in time as someone whom you now recognized as Sun Wukong “Great Sage Equal to Heaven” stood over your lover. Before you knew it you raced to where they both were and ignored the scrapes and cuts you got from recklessly running through a battleground.

Sure you heard the rumors of the Monkey King traveling west from folks in nearby towns or villages but the demon you saw before was nothing like you had heard and you saw him raise his staff high. You wanted to cry out, scream, do anything to get him to stop to your voice failed to obey you. He fiercely growled before yelling and striking Macaque who lay at the bottom of a crater covered in severe injuries with his staff. Most notably three large gashes over his right eye, the blood hadn’t clotted yet and you doubted it would even if he came out alive.

You let out a sob as you thought about those last couple of words. “if he came out alive”. Catching his gaze for a second those few seconds held a thousand words. Despite the shadow of death inches away from ending his life, he still smiled with so much love in his eyes and hoped that you could continue to live your life with the promise of finding joy in the smallest things. He wished that you could forgive him for leaving you so soon when he’d assured you so much love and happiness in your future.

Both of you wanted time to stop, for anything to stop the inevitable, a miracle to happen. You couldn’t though. The last thing you would ever see of him would be through your warped teary vision, his midnight black fur caked with thick blood and deep cuts decorated his strong-built body. His beloved scarf that he treasured so much lay on the ground torn severely and a mix of blood and dirt obscured parts of his beautiful vibrant six ears; now partially covered in small cuts on the edges of each colorful lotus petal-shaped ear. Although one of his eyes had been badly damaged surely beyond repair you could see his gold shining eye meeting yours and sharing one last glance before the red powerful staff came down on Macaque.

Sun Wukong had light tears falling down his cheeks and slowly approached the now-still demon’s body with shaking hands, letting his staff fall from his grip and clattering to the ground. There was so much conflict in his expression and hesitation as to whether he should even touch his fallen brethren but you rushed in. Dirt, blood, and bruises clung to you as you tumbled into the crater and collapsed on your lover, sobbing harshly at the reality now hitting you and gripping the soft torn yellow and black fabric of his layered hanfu. You cried out in pain not caring about the outside world because if something happened to you then at least you’d be reunited with one another.

A firm hand gripped your shoulder and tried to pry you off to no success, his insistence on getting you to safety and pressing the message that no mortals should be here fell on deaf ears. You didn’t care about the things you said getting up weakly and shoving the Monkey King’s chest with shaky hands. “I don’t care! You killed him! You bastard! He told me you were once close.” you shouted and raised a hand, slapping the left side of his face hard and seeing him hiss through his teeth when you hit a deep cut on his cheekbone.

The world was silent. Not a leaf fell or animal chittered. Only when you turned around to go back to mourning the death of someone you loved so much and knew they loved you just as much did you hear the footsteps of others. Probably the Great Sage’s companions who came to see who the victor was. You could feel 5 pairs of eyes on you and guessed the dozens of questions they had of why a random mortal was crying over a powerful demon’s corpse. One of the travelers came towards you as you cradled Macaque in your arms, an unkempt pig demon walking towards you and gleefully shouting, “Don’t cry beautiful mortal. You’re saved from the horrible demon that kidnapped you, and his power is gone! Let us help-” he was cut off by Sun Wukong tugging him back before he could touch you.

You did your best to hold in the sobs and despair you had, forcing yourself to look up and focus on the demon responsible for all of your pain. “Go. Go and live knowing you not only killed someone close to you but broke the heart of his lover. I’m sure he’s resting peacefully now.” you spat. After a few tries you managed to pick Macaque up with his head resting on your chest and carefully walked back near to where you both lived. You didn’t bother to see Sun Wukong’s expression when to told him who you were to Macaque and how it cracked into shock and anguish.

That had been almost 2 months ago until you’d finally found a local mountain god that accepted your offering in exchange for information about how to get to the underworld and after you made your trek through hell you bargained with King Yan for your lover’s soul. Another rock bounced off your shoe and hit the gravel path. You couldn’t hear his footsteps or voice or breath and you questioned if he was even behind you at all. Memories of the good times you both shared pooled in your mind and allowed a soft smile to sneak up on your face. How you had both first met because of him mistaking you for an easy victim. Safe to say he failed to do anything because you fought back decently.

Your meetings were always by surprise at first but then Macaque began to show up regularly and seemed more curious about what you did and who you were. It was obvious he could do something else rather than “wasting” time on someone he failed to kill but you caught his interest. The same game was played fairly often until a week passed when he disappeared and you thought that was it. You were happily surprised when you went to your regular sight to gather herbs and saw sizable bundles of each herb you usually picked tied up all in a basket. Macaque ended up rising from the shadow of a nearby Rainbow Gum tree and apologizing for disappearing but offering to repay you. That night he confessed underneath the stars looking at the moon while he told you stories he heard during his travels.

A bright light blinded you in the dark tunnel that was now slowly opening into the base of the mountain you entered hours ago and you fought through the tight v-shaped opening until you reached the edge where obsidian-shaded gravel met the healthy forest floor. You couldn’t tell if it was you or Macaque who let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re here.”

#lego monkie kid x reader #lego monkie kid #lmk x reader #lmk macaque x reader #lmk macaque #lmk sun wukong #six eared macaque x reader #six eared macaque #macaque x reader #monkie kid macaque

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whateversawesome · 6 hours

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Spy x Family Chapter 99: Fate and Destiny

It took a while for me to recover from that incredible chapter, so I had to take time to breathe and analyze things. And after thinking about it for a few days, the first thing that comes to my mind is that, when it comes to love, it's all about timing.

Wouldn't you agree?

Something I hadn't considered before but that is very prevalent in stories are fate and destiny. Now, after this arc with two very side characters that no one took that seriously, I see it very clearly.

Did you know that fate and destiny are not the same thing?

Fate is about the events or outcomes that are predetermined and we cannot control.

Destiny is something we can change with our choices. It's a purpose or direction shaped by our actions, habits, and even our thoughts. Sometimes, because of our habits and actions, certain destiny is unavoidable.

Like I mentioned before, I see Martha and Henry as a foil of Twilight and Yor. So, even though their stories and circumstances are very different, it's impossible for me not to compare both couples. This time, I would like to do that through the lens of fate and destiny.

The love story between Martha and Henry is about bad timing, about fate, about loss. They had a huge obstacle between them: war. And timing really played against for these two; from the false alarm when Martha was about to confess, to Henry thinking Martha was dead just when he realized his feelings. Fucking bad timing.

The love story between Twilight and Yor starts because of fate. That random encounter in that tailor shop...if Yor hadn't teared that dress, if Franky hadn't made that comment about Anya needing to play the part of a kid from a privileged family, if Twilight had chosen a different tailor shop, if they had come at a different time... Do you see it? That part was 100% fate.

However, what's happening between them now is a choice. It's destiny. Whether they are realizing it or not, they are choosing each other every day.

Think about mole hunt arc. I've talked about it before (because it's my favorite arc): By not killing Yuri, Twilight chose Yor over his mission, over his fears, over peace, over everything. It's that simple. And it's destiny at work. I think that arc and that precise action is going to come back and bite him in the ass; first in a bad way and then in a good way. (I suspect Yuri will be the one who finally discovers Twilight's identity. It has to be him, it's Yuri's destiny. But I think Yuri will also be a key a element to save the Forgers from an awful fate.)

Anyways, going back to Twiyor and the topic of timing, even though Twilight has his angsty moments when he thinks he can't love anyone and stay with his family (cue the violins), I think these two have very good timing (at the moment). They live together, they are at a relatively peaceful time in their lives (and in the story), so this is the time for them to develop that bond.

Will it always be like this? Pshhh...of course not! This is a story and things are going to complicate and get really tough at some point. Fate (and probably destiny too) will put our dear Twiyor and many other characters in trouble. A friend once told me that one day things would be so tough that we were going to miss those silly and fun extra missions and I agree.

BUT (before you start crying about this), let me tell you something: This is when destiny is really going to kick in.

When things get messy, when the Forgers separate, when we don't know if we'll get a happy ending, this is when Twilight and Yor must decide they want to be together. Here is when they will choose each other, like they always have. And when that finally happens, not only it'll be a glorious moment, but also I think it's when fate and destiny will work in their favor.

Why do I feel so optimistic about it? Well, look at another couple who seems to be at that point...

Didn't I tell you that when it comes to love, it's all about timing?

Bonus

Chapter 100 is almost here! So, plot wise, I think it will all come down to: Who is in that cabin with Martha?

Some possible theories are:

a) The Shopkeeper. I still think Martha could be involved with the Garden. If we see a young Shopkeeper (they seem to be more or less the same age) or someone involved with the Garden, we could finally get some answers about that mysterious organization.

b) Yor's family. Yor's parents are probably too young here, but maybe her grandparents?? I know it's a long shot, but a girl can only hope 😄 Plus, everything is linked in the sxf, so there's still a chance.

c) [Redacted]'s dad. Why? Well, he mentioned going to the border during Twilight's past arc. If it's him, he's probably as young as Martha and Henry.

c) Someone we don't know (but that will become important in the story).

Since it'll be chapter 100, I'm almost expecting a big revelation, so I'm leaning towards Shopkeeper or [Redacted]'s dad. We'll see!

#spy x family #twiyor #spy x family manga #sxf #spy x family analysis #sxf manga #spy x family meta #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #martha marriott #henry henderson #spyxfamily #spy x family anime #spyxfamily theories #spy x family theory

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boxeom · 1 day

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• When Judgement Day Comes •

🌻[The Failure of Truth and the Success of Lies]🌻

Synopsis: Hiromi gets yet another guilty verdict, but luckily, you are there to pick up his stray pieces.

Contains: Higuruma Hiromi/gn!reader, heavy angst, hurt comfort, a lil spooky (:3), (cw.) heavy intrusive thoughts, (cw.) suicidal ideation, (cw.) heavy dissociation, non-sexual intimacy, acts of service, bird facts (it's symbolism, I promise/I also just know way too much about birds and must share my knowledge), disgusting amounts of soft and emotional fluff.

Wc. 5k+

[Message from the Box]: Uhhhh…first time actually posting my writing. A bit nervous. I have literally been writing so much stuff in my personal life and have literally finished stories I've just been a wee scared to post so they've just been sitting in my drive for like…three years??? Maybe there will be more to come if I actually hype myself up enough- I'm proud of my writings, I think I'm an okay writer (I think), but posting them always makes me feel urrg. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! (IF YOU SAW THE UNCOMPLETED VERSION OF THIS, NO YOU DIDN'T. 🫵🏽)

-Boxe in the Box

Hiromi's eyes peel open slowly to meet the dark roof of his car. He blinks a few times, head lifting from his headrest to stare ahead at the dark and practically empty parking lot just outside the courthouse. The sun was up when he had gotten into his car- how long was he sitting here? A nearby lamppost flickers. Harsh pale yellow light flashes in rapid patterns- straining Hiromi's eyes and painting his skin ghostly white for only mere seconds before plunging him back into shadow. Hiromi chuckles without a hint of amusement. Those really were the only two sides of the coin, weren't they? The head is too bright- too harsh, it leaves you squinting in wait to adjust- to have to eventually hope that you can one day comfortably live in the exposure the light paints you in. Meanwhile, the tail is too dark to even tell whether or not you are conscious as everything passes by right in front of you- leaving you to blindly stumble your way through uncertainty. You can flip that coin as much as you want. But was the hope for heads every time really worth it? Was this worth it?

Was life worth it?

The intrusively dark thought comes creeping its way out unexpectedly- forcing Hiromi to look it right in the face and come to terms with his subconscious questioning the idea of living. It isn't new, not at all. Hiromi has always had thoughts like that, but he's never given them his attention in favor of pursuing his passion to redeem the world of justice and honor. Right now, though? Hiromi finds himself not countering this consideration of life with his usual optimism. He's too tired. He's so tired. Hiromi takes a deep breath and slightly shakes his head, starting his car, flicking on his lights, and leaving that damned parking lot he's had too many moments of defeat in. He doesn't see the dark figure flickering in and out of existence just beneath the light of that lamppost in his rearview mirror watching his retreat- nor does he see the bulb begin to surge with power, shining too brightly until it shatters with an unheard pop! and litters glass onto the asphalt below. He doesn't see that whatever had been watching him was now gone.

•••

Driving has always been something that Hiromi has come to appreciate. Despite the unfortunate impact careening around in a highly flammable steel box at speeds humans were not meant to move at pouring gray smog into the air from every hole had on the environment, Hiromi finds himself comfortable in the mindless routine of turning the steering wheel, pressing or easing off the acceleration or brake, using the appropriate signals when it was time to use them, and everything else that came with such a common act. His windows are down- wind whipping in his ears and face as he naturally drives the speed limit right at its number, blank eyes staring ahead and occasionally glancing to the left or right. Today, though, something is...different.

He finds himself disassociating from the world around him- from the other cars sharing the road and forgetting that living, breathing people reside inside them. He wonders what would happen if he just pivoted into the black Mercedes Benz he saw littering a styrofoam cup full of cigarette butts a couple miles back. He wonders what would happen if he got on the ass of the rundown truck blaring bass and shit with its driver who blatantly has his eyes glued to his phone. Hiromi can feel the upper half of his dress shoe continue to press down on the acceleration, his vehicle revving along with the action as if to egg him on to go faster. He finds himself not caring when he cuts someone off or doesn't use his turning signal. His chest feels positively hollow. Just like before, he doesn't see the dark figure lounging in his backseat just behind him.

It's like he snaps awake when he finds himself in the elevator of his penthouse, the default cheery tune of elevator music making his clear exhaustion look almost comical in the mirrors paneled to the walls surrounding him. His heavy eyes blink. Hiromi's head swivels to the wall to his right suddenly- eyebrows drawn together in puzzlement. He could have sworn, in the corner of his eye, someone was just with him in the elevator. There had been a flash of long black hair and uncomfortably pale skin, donned in a dark robe of some kind. Before he can give what he just saw much thought, the elevator dings and the steel doors slide open. Hiromi blinks a few times and lightly shakes his head. He lifts his free hand, pinching the bridge of his nose before his palm drags down the rest of his face and he sighs deeply while leaving the elevator. Hiromi's shoulders slouch and his feet are heavy against the floor below him. He slips off his shoes, toeing them in the corner before stepping further into his home.

"Hiromi?"

And just like that, the lead in his muscles and fatigue weighing him down just melts away as you peek around the corner to meet his eyes. You meet him halfway. It doesn't go unnoticed by Hiromi how your eyes look him up and down in clear concern and what he really thinks is pity. "...Guilty again, huh?" He doesn't even need to explain it to you anymore. Hiromi feels every single ounce of negativity cursing his mind, body, and soul simply disappear as he steps into your open and warm embrace. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him flush against your body as a hand cradles the back of his head and welcomes his heaviness. Hiromi's forehead drops to your shoulder and his eyes slide close in relief to be with you. "I made dinner. Hungry?" He shakes his head to decline your offer. There's a moment of guilt in the pit of his stomach that he selfishly turns down your effort in caring for him, but that feeling is soon washed away as you nod instantly. You understood. You always understood. "C'mon," you give a soft kiss to his temple, "let's get this suit off."

With your hand in his, you lead Hiromi into your shared bedroom and take his suitcase to put aside on his desk. You sit Hiromi down on the edge of your bed gently and go about grabbing some more comfortable clothes for him to wear. Hiromi watches you with the softest gaze as you return to him, setting a fresh pair of boxers and one of his old college shirts beside him. You start loosening his tie, “Wanna get washed off? We can lay down afterwards.”

“Yes, please."

“Want me to join?”

Hiromi's heart swells to a point where his chest aches. He leans forward into you, head resting on your chest to listen to your steady heartbeat as he hugs your waist and draws you close between his legs. He just needs a moment to take you in- to feel you in his arms. You let him, return his embrace without question. His heavy eyes close slowly.

He's home.

•••

Hiromi lets out a long sigh as he sinks into the hot embrace of the lavender scented water filling the master bathroom’s spacious tub, resting his arms along the porcelain edges. His eyes peel open when you pass by- pulling your shirt up over your head and tossing it into the wicker laundry bin against the wall. He tilts his head, taking you in from head to toe as you slip your shorts down your legs. Hiromi’s eyebrows knit slightly.

“Where'd you get that bruise from?” He asks in concern, sitting up and reaching out for you- palm smoothing along the back of your bare thigh where a large, dark bruise welts against your skin. “Hm?” You peer over your shoulder at Hiromi with a frown of surprise, “I have a bruise?” “Yeah- it looks horrible. Did this happen recently?” “Oh, right,” Hiromi’s thumb gently rubs small circles against your flesh as you chuckle sheepishly, “I slipped and fell while running late to a meeting the other day, but it didn't hurt or anything.” Hiromi lets out an exasperated sigh, “How do you always manage to hurt yourself? Please be more careful, you have enough scars and bruises as it is.”

You raise your hands in playful surrender as you step into the bath, “I know, I know, I'm sorry.” Hiromi just shakes his head with a smile and welcomes your body against his when you join him within the water. You hum out in satisfaction, your back pressed to Hiromi's chest- your skin warm and pleasant flushed to his. Hiromi noses at the crook of your neck before leaving a fond trail of kisses down the gentle slope. Your hand reaches back as you tilt your head to give him more room, fingers threading through Hiromi's dark hair and scratching his scalp just the way he likes as his lips linger on the scar that curls at your left shoulder. Hiromi closes his eyes and wraps his arms around your waist to pull you closer still. “How was your day?” He asks against your skin. “You don't want to talk about yours?” You shift slightly in his arms to peer at him where his chin is tucked into your shoulder. “No,” Hiromi tilts his head to gently bump yours, your temples resting against each other's, “I just want to hear about you.”

You don't respond, but Hiromi can feel the way your cheek rises just a bit with your smile.

The next thirty minutes or so are filled with you telling Hiromi how you've spent your uneventful but peaceful day off (“boring is best”, you always say) as the two of you bathe together. It's a routine that you're both familiar with- one that Hiromi holds very dear (and he knows you do as well). You always insist on washing him first, working soap against his skin with a delicate touch and melting away the stress and tension of his day. When it's your turn, Hiromi is never not thorough. He finds it oddly relaxing- cleaning another person's body for them (though, he'd never done such intimate acts with anyone before meeting you so maybe he finds it so comforting because it's you).

His favorite part, though, is when you coax him to rest back into your chest and wash his hair. Tonight is no different.

Your hands do wonders. How you aren't the most famous massage therapist in the world, Hiromi has no idea (but he's more than happy to keep your talents for himself, anyways). Your fingers work through his hair with a touch that could rival that of an angel's. The clean and woodsy smell of Hiromi's shampoo fills the air as you knead his sensitive scalp, the heavenly combination nearly causing him to doze off in the water the two of you sit in. Hiromi's head lulls whichever direction your hands work in and his eyes have long since fluttered shut at the sound of your voice very seriously recounting a nature documentary you'd been absolutely appalled by earlier this evening.

"-and the mother bird won't realize that she's been taking care of a baby that isn't hers! The cuckoo hatches along with her babies and she'll feed them all, but the thing is that the cuckoo is much larger than the others so the mother will focus on feeding them more than her own." You tell him, disturbed by the information you've learned, "The other babies will either starve to death because they aren't getting enough food or be pushed out of the nest by the cuckoo because it needs more room. It's called...oh, what was it?"

"Parasitic brooding..." Hiromi finishes for you, having remembered seeing the term in a book he'd read once.

"Parasitic brooding! That's it!" You frown deeply, "It was really...sad. I know it's just nature, the cuckoo is just doing what its instinct is, but still...I can't help but feel bad for all the birds involved. The baby cuckoo especially."

"The baby cuckoo? How come?"

"...I'm not sure. It's just...the idea of a baby that's planted into a family it's meant to destroy without even knowing..." You trail off long enough for Hiromi's eyes to open and tilt his head back against your chest to see your face. "...It's a scary thought." He correctly words your feelings aloud. "Very." You agree solemnly, absentmindedly shaping Hiromi's hair into spikes. It's a bit surprising to him- how affected you seem by this concept. He's sure there's something there, something complex within you he's yet to uncover. Your relationship was founded and built on patience and trust- both of your backgrounds are complicated enough to have shaped who you are today significantly. And you've both mutually confided in one another about your pasts with time.

Hiromi knows there is still more about your life before him that you haven't told him about. However, he would never dream of trying to push that information out of you. Whatever it is, whenever you are ready to tell him about it, he'll be there for you the whole way. It's a silent promise he'd made to you early on into your friendship that he has no intention of breaking now after three years of being together.

He slowly sits up, turning in the water to face you and cup your face in his wet hand. You lean into his touch with an apologetic and sheepish smile. "Sorry...I was getting too into my head."

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"But I'm supposed to be taking care of you today, not the other way around."

"We can take care of each other at the same time, you know." Hiromi reasons, his response being a trill of your lips and a playfully dismissive wave. "Impossible."

With a shake of his head, he kisses your forehead and chuckles against your skin as you snicker along with him. When he leans back, you're beaming up at Hiromi with a smile that will never fail to make the rest of the world just disappear. He breathes your name. "I love you." "I love you, too."

"Keep telling me about the documentary. What else did it talk about?"

"Oh! Did you know that there are families of lesbian lizards?"

•••

Hiromi climbs into bed beside you, letting out the hundredth sigh of the day when he flops face first into the sanctuary of his fluffy pillow. He hears you snicker and coo with sympathy to the side and he can't help but smile. You pull the cool duvet over him before settling in, your hand resting on the nape of his neck and absentmindedly playing with the short dark tufts of hair there. Hiromi turns his head to meet your eyes. The two of you simply stare at each other for a moment. His mind wanders back to the failure of his day- to the look of pure contempt on his client's face when the verdict was given. Will the next time be the same? And the time after that? What about the inevitable case he'd take a year from now? Will he ever make a difference? Is he the kind of person that can even make a difference...?

"What're you thinking about, Hiro?"

“...Do you think I'll ever change anything?”

Your expression is hard for Hiromi to read, even after these years of being with you, but he can see the sympathy in your eyes. There's something else he catches just in the subtle downturn of your thoughtful frown. It's complicated and deep and almost devastating. It's like you've heard these words or asked yourself the same question before, but in a way Hiromi can't seem to grasp. Your palm glides to cup his cheek, thumb stroking the corner of his eye rhythmically. Before he can think any further on it though, the brief glaze to your stare disappears to something he can actually recognize. Love.

“I do.”

There isn't a hint of doubt in your whisper. You continue;

“You are…a righteous, beautiful, and passionate soul with the mind to accomplish anything and everything you want. You're always learning, always watching, always adapting. And I wish- every single day- I wish I could be even half as strong as you are. You're unshakeable, Hiromi.”

Hiromi has never been a very outwardly emotional man. It takes a lot for his heart to bare itself so clearly. Even so, you are easily able to sway him as if it was as simple as breathing- like he is a book with its pages ready and waiting to be read and analyzed by your eyes and your eyes alone. It's a terrifying and exhilarating experience. To be seen, known, and cherished.

“You won't just change anything, Hiromi.” You smile so softly, finger brushing away the tear Hiromi hadn't noticed was falling until your touch. He lifts his hand to cover your own and weaves your fingers together. “You'll change everything. I know it.”

“...How?” His voice is so quiet, he almost doesn't hear it himself…but you hear him.

“Because you're Higuruma Hiromi. And I love you.”

There's such a serene silence that falls between the two of you, Hiromi almost feels like he's caught in a dream. Your skin is painted by the loving strokes of the rising moon’s brush- your eyes sparkle brighter than any mere shooting star that's ever streaked across the night sky. You're ethereal. Hiromi has to question- has to wonder what it is he did in his past lives to have earned the grace that is you. What he does know, though, is that you're here. With him.

And that is more than enough.

The shadows of your and Hiromi's bedroom shift, something darker than the black blanket of night slinking silently across the ceiling. It moves slowly and deliberately- spindly and twisted limbs like the branches of a dying tree moving the bulbous, swollen trunk they are attached to. The damnable thing crawls down the wall the headboard of the bed presses against, making its way closest to Hiromi's side. Its pencil thin neck stretches and cranes with the accompanied sound of crackles and pops (as if stretching bones it does not possess), two wide bloodshot eyes that are much too human yet far too large leer unblinkingly down at the soundly sleeping man just within its reach. Its face holds no features- just a silhouette of a head that is too small compared to its sac-like body. It's like a child's rendition of a giant spider they saw in their nightmares has peeled off paper and grew the size of a car. It stares, drinking in the face of the human who's woe it bore from. His desperation, his sorrow, his guilt, his regrets- all a delectable ambrosia that fills its fat gut. But it is not enough.

There's a soft, almost undetectable sound from it. Like the slow inhale of a dying man that draws on and on and on and on and on, hollow and wheezing and infinite. The space where its mouth should be begins to fall cartoonishly from the upper half of its face, a cacophony of ripping tendons and snapping cartilage growing more and more frequent the more its gaping maw yawns open. It draws closer to Hiromi, jaw unhinging and stretching to the size of Hiromi's upper torso.

Closer. Closer. Closer. Closer.

Creak.

The creature's mouth snaps closed, head shooting up to the sudden sound of something just barely moving to the right. Its wide eyes widen further when it meets the subtly glowing gaze of you. You stare into its very core- shaking the foundation of its being. Your expression is void, yet the unbridled wrath storming in your eyes and lashing through your energy strikes something into the newborn curse. Something so horrible, it cannot truly comprehend how or why you make it feel.

It feels fear.

The curse is fleeing before it realizes, scattering with uncanny speed across the floor and heading straight towards the glass doors leading to the connecting balcony. It crashes through the glass, pieces digging into its fleshy body but it is undeterred. Gnarly fingers wrap around the railing as it heaves its body up, ready to jump over the edge and escape into the night. It watches as its own body suddenly hurdles over the edge of the railing unceremoniously- plunging silently over the edge and disappearing. Its eyes shake as it slowly peers to the side.

"The next time you are born," your voice is soft and even as your fist tightens around its severed neck with a strength that has the curse's eyes about to pop out of its head, your free hand resting over its face, "make sure it isn't by him."

There's a sick, wet, tearing sound- purple residue spraying across the floor of the balcony as you reduce the curse’s head into a ball of meat, raw cursed energy rushing through both parts of its body before exploding in a display of churning blue flame. Any evidence of its existence is instantly eradicated. You look back just as Hiromi is startled awake from the shattering glass, snapping your fingers as the ruined glass door flashes and is fixed in the blink of an eye. Hiromi bolts upright and his head snaps to where you're re-entering the bedroom. "Sorry," you whisper, "did I wake you?"

"Wh-What the hell was that?!" Hiromi asks in panic, eyes flickering around your bedroom to find whatever it was that had awoken him. Guilt picks at your bones as you tilt your head and furrow your brow in feigned confusion. "What was what?" Your boyfriend stares at you like he's trying to decide if he's gone crazy or if you've gone crazy. "Th-That...that sound! It sounded like glass was breaking!" "...Glass? I didn't hear anything, Hiro."

Hiromi blinks a few times, processing your words- his mind running. You can see him thinking. You know that he definitely knows he didn't dream that up, but your reaction clearly makes him question himself. “You're stressed, baby. It was probably just a nightmare.” To ease (and distract) him, you move back into bed, your hand gently cupping his face to turn Hiromi towards you and meet him in a soft kiss. He relaxes with a slow exhale through his nose- you can feel his rapid heart beat calming where you rest your hand over his chest. “C’mere, let's go back to sleep, hm?” You murmur when you pull away, your answer a quiet nod. Hiromi moves with you- your hands gently holding his shoulders to guide him to rest on top of you.

Hiromi sighs as he lays his head on your chest, your fingers threading through his hair and running through his hair to tempt his eyes to fall closed. It's not long until you feel Hiromi's breathing slowly even out like it always does when he sleeps. You glance to the balcony door, releasing your hold on the illusion to assess the damage. There's a giant hole punched right through the now ruined glass door, pieces scattered across the ground (but luckily it's far enough that Hiromi won't accidentally step on the pieces when he wakes up tomorrow). You inwardly groan before setting the false image back into place and shut your eyes.

You'll need to get that fixed tomorrow.

#I've been avoiding uploading this for weeks ajajdjd #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #hiromi higuruma x reader #higuruma hiromi x reader

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not-5-rats · 3 days

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Gonna throw this here and run far far away

I made a bug :DD

(been putting this off for...a while...a very long while)

( @willowve01 , @aspenm00n , @rozeliyawashereyall sorry for bothering you all!)

Caution! Rambling Past This Point! Turn Back!!!

CW!!! : Talk of Death, Insanity, Struggles with Grief, Abuse!!

Chester Markins (Chez) [He/Him] -

He's on the quieter side but he's a darling, he's careful of the people around him, making sure to listen and be as polite as he can be, whether that's holding doors, helping people with bags or even backing up if they needed space.

He was raised to believe everyone deserves kindness (although he grew to believe not EVERYone deserved kindness)

He comes from a very large family, 5 siblings (1 twin brother, 2 younger sisters, 1 older sister, 1 older brother), they all lived together with their parents (though his older sister has now moved out)

The house was quite crowded and the children struggled to get along at points, but they still loved each other. They would do anything for one another

His parents had always been there for him, and all their other children. People often assumed, given the number of children they had, that their parents would show some favouritism or struggle to care for them all but this was never the case. They were always there for whatever child needed them, even ones that weren't their own! For a while their oldest sons best friend lived in their house because he was going through a rough patch with his parents! They were always there for anyone that needed them, doesn't matter if they were family or complete stranger, in their minds everyone deserved help

Chesters parents raised him and his siblings not to think lowly of any creature, no matter their species so he grew up with no hard feelings towards half-bloods...why did that change? We'll get to that! /// Chesters life, for the most part, was uneventful. His family never really struggled for money, sure there was some bullying when he was a kid but none of it really affected him, his siblings all stayed friends, he had it pretty good!...up to a point

The problem arose with his twin brother, Milo. Milo was an adventurous young boy, didn't know when to quite, when to turn back. He often got in trouble as a young boy, but never trouble serious enough that his parents/siblings couldn't bale him out.

Milo and Chester were close, super close. Sure they got on with all their siblings (Chester more so than Milo, due to his wild nature) but their connection was deeper than anyone else's. Chester spent so much of his time keeping Milo out of trouble or saving his ass from the consequences of his actions that they ended up not only brothers but good friends.

Chester didn't really have an opinion on the 'monsters' that were said to live in the swamps, away from the village. Milo, however, had such an intense interest in them. His one goal in life was to go out to the swamps and find them, not to harm them, he just wanted to meet them!

So one day, when he was about 15, Milo packed a bag and snuck out in the middle of the night to go search for the creatures. Only one person wad awake at the time, Chester. He asked Milo where he was going and he was honest about it, he told Chester that he was going to venture deep into the swamps to try and find the creatures that live there! Chester wasn't up for the idea, even if there weren't creatures out there there would still be dangers and Milo wasn't always the most careful, he would definitely get injured! So he told Milo to stay, it wasn't a good idea for him to go alone but Milo argued. He said he was old enough to go on his own, that Chester never believed in him and that a good brother would support him. Eventually Chester gave in, he hugged his brother, told him to be safe and make sure to be home soon

In the morning when people woke up nobody was that worried about him, he disappeared all the time and always returned home within a couple of days...but that didn't happen this time

Days turned to weeks and there was no sight of Milo, the rest of the family was begging to get worried and asked around town to see if anyone knew where the boy may be but alas nobody had any ideas...expect Chester. One day he copied his brothers actions and made his way to the swamps, at the very edge however is where he found it...Milos head, his body nowhere in sight. It was clear from the markings that the head had been chewed off, not cut or slashed, chewed.

Chesters mind froze when he saw it, he fell to the ground and held the head in his hands, staring into his brothers lifeless eyes, like pebbles in his skull. He kneeled there for ages, just trying to think of what could have happened. The answer finally came to him, hitting him like a knife to the heart. Milo had found what he was looking for, he had found those creatures...no those monsters, and they had done this to him. That was the conclusion he came to

He felt empty as he bundled up his brothers head and returned home, he waited until the youngest two had gone to bed before confronting the rest of his family about what he found

They were all as broken as him, he explained what he believed to have happened and whilst most of then agreed it was the most likely thing to have happened their Mother couldn't believe it. She refused to belive it. Not that the monsters killed her son, but that her son was dead. She began to spiral, she would keep the decomposing head near her at all times and talk to it as though it was alive, she began to neglect her other children as she became trapped in her grief. She isolated herself, only talking to the head, asking it how its day was, what adventures it'd been on recently, all the things she used to ask Milo when he was alive

This broke the family, their father tried to talk to their mother, to pull her out of it but nothing helped and he ended up getting enraged about the whole situation. This anger he took out on his wife and older kids, he would have gotten to the youngest two but all of the older kids agreed to protect them the best they could.

The siblings knew even if the situation was awful, even though they really wanted to get angry at each other, they wanted to fight...they couldn't. At this point they only had each other. Word had spread of their brothers death and their mother's reaction so people labeled the whole family as crazy, nobody would even look at them when they were out in the streets.

This made Chester develop a hatred for the creatures that lived out there, they had caused this, they're the reason his brother was dead, the reason his family was falling apart

So he became a hunter, to stop these monsters from ruining any other families

He barely talks to his siblings any more, they tried to stay connected but he began to dedicate his entire existence to his career. Pushing himself to his physical and mental limits at all times to stop anyone else from suffering the same fate as his brother

...but his brothers fate wasn't what he thought...his brother didn't die at the hands of a 'monster' but at the hands of-

(Alot of that probably doesn't make much sense I'm sorry, I'm just very excited 😭)

Child List:

Youngest Sister - Daisy

2nd Youngest Sister - Fran

Twin #1 - Chester (Chez/Chezzie)

Twin #2 - Milo

Oldest Sister - Audrey

Oldest Brother - Felix

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beardedmrbean · 18 hours

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WILMINGTON, Del. − A federal jury convicted Hunter Biden of federal gun charges, a historic first for the offspring of a sitting president, after a trial featuring wrenching emotional testimony about his drug use from his ex-wife and sister-in-law.

President Joe Biden's son faces up to 25 years in prison for three charges − lying on a federal screening form about his drug use, lying to a gun dealer and possessing the gun − although first-time, nonviolent offenders typically get shorter sentences.

The 54-year old businessman and attorney's case came after a plea deal fell apart in July 2023 that could have resolved gun and taxes charges without prison time. Hunter Biden still faces another federal trial starting Sept. 5 in California for allegedly avoiding taxes.

Biden's legal troubles coincide with his father campaigning for reelection. But the elder Biden as the trial kicked off issued a statement supporting his son and later told ABC News he wouldn't pardon him.

Follow along for live updates from the USA TODAY Network.

What is Hunter Biden guilty of?

The president's son was convicted on three firearms felonies. In October 2018, Hunter Biden walked into a gun shop north of Wilmington, Delaware, and purchased a revolver. People who purchase firearms are required to fill out a standardized form that asks whether they are an unlawful user or are addicted to controlled substances, narcotics and other listed substances. Biden is accused of answering "no" to that question on the form.

But Biden has been open about his longtime struggles with crack cocaine addiction. He's written about it in his 2021 memoir, "Beautiful Things," and discussed it during a court hearing last year, stating he's been sober since 2019.

Biden faces a maximum sentence of 25 years in prison, although first-time and non-violent offenders are often given shorter terms.

– Xerxes Wilson

Hunter Biden looks to lawyer, wife after verdict announced

Hunter Biden pat Abbe Lowell, his lawyer, on the back after his felony conviction was announced. He then turned to look at his wife, Melissa Cohen Biden and hugged other members of his defense team.

He was holding his wife's hand as he was ushered into elevators after the court adjourned.

– Xerxes Wilson and Esteban Parra

Hallie Biden received texts about drugs from Hunter Biden

Hallie Biden, the widow of Beau Biden, testified during the trial about how her brother-in-law introduced her to drugs. She also walked the jury through a series of text messages in the days after Hunter Biden bought the gun on Oct. 12, 2018.

A text the next day said he was behind a baseball stadium in Wilmington “waiting on a dealer named Mookie.”

Hallie Biden later texted Hunter Biden, stating that she tried calling him “500 times in the past 24 hours.” He eventually responded: “I was sleeping on a car smoking crack on 4th Street and Rodney.”

Hunter Biden called Hallie Biden ‘stupid’ for trashing gun

Hallie Biden told the jury she found the gun in Hunter Biden's car 11 days after he bought it. Rather than risk their kids finding it, she put the gun in a leather case and drove to a grocery store, where she threw it into a trash can.

“I realized it was a stupid idea now, but I was just panicking,” Hallie Biden said.

Hunter Biden confronted her when he discovered what she had done.

“It’s hard for me to believe anyone is that stupid,” Hunter Biden said in a text. “Do you want me dead?” he asked in a later text.

Retiree found gun in grocery store trash can

An 80-year-old retiree, Edward Banner, who scavenged trash containers for aluminum cans, found the gun outside Janssen’s Market in Greenville. A state police lieutenant tracked him down and asked whether he’d found anything unusual.

“I definitely remember finding that,” Banner said.

FBI chemist found cocaine residue on Hunter Biden gun pouch

Forensic chemist Jason Brewer testified that he found cocaine in the residue on the leather pouch that held Hunter Biden’s gun. Two spots on the pouch had a “minimal amount” of “off-white powder,” which Brewer pointed out in a picture prosecutors projected onto a screen in Biden’s trial on gun charges.

“Cocaine was identified within the residual white particles I sampled,” he told the jury.

Biden trial followed collapse of plea deal for gun and tax charges

A plea agreement that fell apart last July offered the possibility Biden could avoid jail time for all of the charges. Noreika rejected the deal because of disputes between prosecutors and defense lawyers about Biden’s protection from future charges.

Attorney General Merrick Garland appointed the U.S. attorney in Delaware, David Weiss, a special counsel to continue an independent investigation. Biden's lawyer, Abbe Lowell, argued unsuccessfully the charges should be dismissed because no new evidence had emerged since the plea agreement.

The gun indictment charged Biden with knowingly deceiving a firearms dealer by buying a Colt Cobra 38SPL revolver. He was charged with falsely filling out a federal form denying he was addicted to any narcotics. And he was charged with knowingly possessing the revolver despite the restrictions against people addicted to drugs owning firearms. The three charges carried a maximum penalty of 25 years in prison.

The tax indictment charges Biden with three felony tax offenses and six misdemeanors. He allegedly engaged in a scheme in which he failed to pay at least $1.4 million in self-assessed taxes from 2016 through 2019, and also evaded tax assessment for 2018 when he filed false returns.

The previous agreement would have allowed Biden to plead guilty to two misdemeanor tax charges, which could have resulted in no jail time, and enter a pretrial program for a gun charge that could have been dismissed if he complied.

But Republicans blasted the agreement as a sweetheart deal and Hunter Biden became a lightning rod for criticism of his father.

#nunyas news

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chellyfishing · 3 months

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maybe we’re all just in plato’s cave actually and it’s impossible to know something about everything and be socially aware and care about everything all the time

#i feel like i’m going to explode #being pulled in a hundred different directions at once and feeling helpless because i can’t do anything about any of them #while i also try to figure out how to make groceries cost half what they do #and whether or not i want to live through another day #and shut up you’re not the only one that’s everybody right?#that’s everybody #i can’t take another lecture about what i’m supposed to be proritizing and how i picked the wrong thing #there are genocides didn’t you know #there’s no time to get bogged down by it all #now you’re just doing more harm than good #do it scared do it tired do it bored do it sad just do it you just have to do it you should just already be better actually #why haven’t you done it #why don’t you already know this #why aren’t you talking about this #and also here’s my friend who can’t make rent #remember when you couldn’t make rent #how can you let someone else go through that #and the genocides remember #check your privilege #having a breakdown is a luxury don’t you know #it’s fine. i’m fine.#i’m fine i’m fine i’m fine #deep thoughts #it’s my birthday on sunday and i’m fine

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grinchwrapsupreme · 11 months

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One thing Being Human does really well is show the different ugly ways trauma can manifest - anger, sadness, becoming convinced of things that aren't true - and how conflicting traumas can result in actively hostile relationships

#don't click on the tags unless you want to read so so much #being human uk #i was thinking about this a lot especially wrt the first ep of season 2 where george is being SUCH an ass to nina #and it's a great example of like #they are both going through something extremely traumatic #like to the point where they cannot support one another at all #nina's whole perspective of the world has just changed and she may now be a monster #meanwhile george has killed someone - the thing he's feared most since the beginning - and they didn't show it but #presumably he would have woken up covered in herrick's viscera #like those are two insane things to process no matter who you are #and annie and mitchell cannot help them so they're both just lashing out at each other wondering why no one cares #george and nina have to relive the trauma of being infected every month when they change and go through that painful process #mitchell relives the trauma of being turned every time he feeds or sees the victim of a different vampire #all three of them have to be reminded they are monsters and are a danger to everyone around them #including themselves #and annie relives her trauma every goddam day living in that house #and every time she sees owen #whether she realizes it or not #and she tries to remedy this by feeling needed #and that's another thing about the show!!#how all of them show specific responses to trauma #george and nina react with fear and intense anger #mitchell reacts with a stand-in for addiction - seeking substances or trying desperately to avoid those substances #annie reacts with memory loss and the desire to be needed #and all four of them react by trying to have a normal life while being convinced that they can never have one #and so much more!!#the scene in the second episode where tully tries to kill himself and george just walks away?#that is not normal!!#george is so convinced of being a monster that he will behave like a monster #yes he goes back for him but that initial response is so indicative of what the trauma has done to him so early into the show

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sweet-as-an-angel · 5 months

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Giant! König Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Creep! König, Perverted! König, König Owns a Cum Jar, Size Difference, Giant! König, Size Kink, Sadistic! König, Abuse of Power, Dub-Con, Cum Soaking, Attempts at Forced Impregnation, Implied Pregnancy, Voyeurism, Hostage Situation, Human Pet! Reader, Physical Violence, Human! Reader, Fem! Reader.

Giant! König captures you after he catches you sneaking around his castle, trying to loot something of value to take back to your impoverished village.

Giant! König immediately jumps at the opportunity to take you as his human pet, throwing you into a nearby jar and closing the lid, observing you like a spider beneath a glass.

Giant! König who, after deciding he wants to keep you long-term instead of turning your body into the sprinkles atop his ice cream, creates a more sustainable living space for you after discovering you’re not as durable as he thought (almost suffocating, dehydrating, and starving to death whilst being held in that damn jar).

Giant! König surprises you with a dollhouse of his own design: a door that locks from the outside, windows too small for you to crawl through, and walls made of a material too strong for your tiny utensils to burrow through.

Giant! König doesn’t take long to start using you for his own pleasure – almost like he has no other outlet; like he was just waiting for this opportunity to come.

Giant! König who, whenever he feels like punishing you, puts you in The Jar and stares you down whilst stroking his cock, gigantic even in comparison to other giants’. He grunts, berating you, telling you how he’d “Fill you with my cock if you weren’t so small – bet I could crush you with it if I wanted to.”

When he’s ready, he cums into the jar – all over you – thick and heavy, almost drowning you with just one spurt of his load.

He loves watching you struggle to keep your head above the viscous pool he’s trapped you in as you literally swim in his semen, looking up at him with pleading eyes, begging him to “Get me out, please!��.

He’ll often leave you in there without clothes to try and teach you a lesson. Until it turns into another reason – to breed you – which you accidentally sparked in him when you told him to be careful! You’ll end up getting me pregnant!

Giant! König can’t get your words out of his head, the primal urges he’s suppressed for so long unearthed by your pleas for him to spare you, if only once.

Giant! König knows he’s way too big to fit inside you, so this – cumming profusely into a jar he’s encased you in whilst giving you no means of refusing his attempts – is the next best thing.

Giant! König gets off on the sheer size difference between the two of you – the fact that you’re entirely dependent on him for your survival. Makes him feel like the kind of giant he’s supposed to be; strong and well-seeded.

Giant! König lays awake at night and fantasises about having a family, a far-off dream until you came along. It’s all he can think about as the image of you, his tiny wife, swollen to an almost painful degree as you bear his children, floods his mind, makes his cock twitch – harden. He resists the urge to relieve himself of this burden, preferring to save every ounce of his seed for you rather than wasting even a drop of it.

Giant! König who, despite his…questionable treatment of you, does try to treat you well. He lets you eat as much as you want, both because he knows you come from a poor background and because he has to keep you healthy to bear his offspring — especially since he knows they’ll be quite big compared to you.

Giant! König enjoys questioning you about your life before him, how humans work, what they do all day, whether the stereotypes of them all being lustful, pride-driven, creatures are true.

If you validate any part of this stereotype, he’ll use that as an excuse to sink you in even more of his cum, to subject you to the task of sitting on his cock (horizontally, might I add) while he commands you to get yourself off by humping the shaft.

Man’s had no outlet for basicall all his life – he’s feral.

Giant! König loves to watch you while you’re tucked up in your dollhouse, observing everything you do. Humans are a rarity in the Giant Lands, so to have one in his home is a mythic occurrence.

Giant! König loves showing you off; he thrives on the reaction he gets when his friends see you. You’re, as stated before, a rarity in their parts, often used as a delicacy rather than a pet since humans aren’t particularly sturdy compared to giants, so managing to keep one alive is something of a status symbol in itself; the mark of a truly capable mate (hence captive humans are often given as courting gifts between giants).

However, König is also highly protective of you – especially after he caught Horangi (another giant he’d been showing you off to) goading you – harassing you – stroking his cock, telling you to “Lick the tip. Never felt a human tongue before.”

Needless to say, König never invited him around again after that.

Giant! König is, obviously, good with his hands and technical know-how. Thus, if his method of soaking you in his semen doesn’t work when trying to knock you up, he’ll create some unlawful contraption to make it inevitable.

Despite his size, König has managed to make a tiny glass syringe that he’s packed with his cum, holding you down easily with one hand as he presses the tip to your entrance, pumping you full of his seed.

He struggles to contain how the scene – the feeling – of you trying desperately to fight him off, to stop him from filling you, makes him feel. You have to watch the bulge between his legs grow as the feeling of being filled past full overcome you.

Giant! König does this as many times as he likes until he knows his seed’s taken, when you start showing. Which, considering how big his offspring will be, is pretty early on.

He definitely makes maternity clothes for you – comfortable garments that show the swell of your stomach as the weeks crawl by into months.

Giant! König loves bathing you, too. Especially after he’s covered you in his cum.

There’s something so intimate and gentle about it – a scarcity in the Giant Lands. Having something so small and fragile in his hands, knowing that he can crush you in his grip at any moment, makes him feel…responsible. Trustworthy.

Giant! König will never let you go, btw. You can try to run as much as you want, but he’ll always catch up to you, his human pet.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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januaryembrs · 1 month

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YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶

Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)

warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.

authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship

There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted.

He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck.

Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?

Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin.

He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again.

They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest.

“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him.

Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.

They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene.

She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been.

Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men.

They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.

Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to.

Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions.

“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,”

They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently.

Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face.

He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet.

“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”

They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn’t worth your mercy,”

“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”

His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry.

“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.”

She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage.

“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,”

“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him.

She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them.

“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”

The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob.

“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”

Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand.

“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter.

Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights.

Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible.

His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was.

Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed.

“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him.

“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands.

“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,”

“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”

She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip.

“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”

He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true.

He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in.

Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years.

“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”

And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

—

She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe.

She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe.

It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second.

“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing.

But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late.

“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them.

She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed.

“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”

“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new.

“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”

But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them.

Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them.

He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently.

“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”

She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands.

“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt.

His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building.

Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him.

–

She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’

She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use.

He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard.

They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign.

He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?”

She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,”

And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes.

Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested.

But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again.

It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible.

He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything).

The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright.

He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet.

“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance.

She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,”

“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,”

“I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing.

And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin.

Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down.

“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?”

She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised.

“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point.

Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”

“Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,”

She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”

His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion.

She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.

“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”

His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise.

“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off.

She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him.

“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,”

She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”

She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again.

“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his.

Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,”

Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all.

But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him.

She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”

Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #Post Prison!Spencer Reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

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cosmosis · 1 year

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based on this image from @fr3akingtf0utrn

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - office life

how miguel o’hara slowly makes you fall for him check out my miguel o’hara masterlist here!

Miguel O’Hara doesn’t fall in love with just anyone.

But... every time he sees you around the office, his hands almost inch towards you like a moth would a light. Something ignites in him that he can’t explain, but he can’t help but want so much more of you.

He likes to give you bagels and coffee during your breaks. (haha) Your work almost seems to magically disappear, and you’re a lot of the time left to finish up the easy stuff. Somehow, he’s even managed to sit with you for lunch, the rest of the spider-people in the cafeteria staring at the two of you while you eat.

The entire building, all of the spider-people seem to know the happenings between you and Miguel, and they love it. It’s become somewhat a staple gossip within the workplace.

Anyone bold enough would pass by Miguel in the hallways and say, “We’re rootin for you, boss!” In which Miguel wouldn’t know how to feel, whether it’d be angry or happy.

As of now, the two of you have been flirting around, evidently more than just coworkers. He’s yours, and you are his. To you, though, he’s the absolute sweetest. He takes work off your plate, he’s kind, and he adores you.

You’ve noticed Miguel getting a bit touchy lately, which you aren’t necessarily complaining about. Whether it’d be on your arm, a gentle hand on your neck to guide you through a crowd, or just being generally close to you, Miguel has been making his advances on you after Lyla spilled how it should be fine to do.

His touch makes you shiver a little; he’s extra warm and so very gentle. You almost always lean into his touch, and Miguel loves it too, he just doesn’t admit it upfront.

“You did great today, Miguel.“ You say.

Both you and Miguel just headed back to Nueva York from a mission, taking out another stray anomaly that wouldn’t come without a fight.

Miguel’s stomach flutters a little. Rarely, he ever gets praised by anyone. He’s the boss, the CEO; most of the time, he feels like it’s expected of him to do the best job. But, praise tastes much more sweeter when it comes from you.

“You did well yourself, sweetie.“

Miguel’s mask dissolves away, leaving behind his pretty face. You don’t think you’d ever get tired of it. He gives you this look of adoration, one that the rest of the office has never, ever seen in person.

You’re in Miguel’s office, well, more like your shared office. Miguel insisted that you’d move into his office, claiming, “I don’t want to go through the entire building just to find you for something.” which is code for, “I can’t live a day without being near you.”

So now, you have your own desk and work area. You’re both alone, no one to bother, (except maybe Lyla, but she knows better.)

You’re at your desk, and Miguel steps up behind you. His big hand slithers to your lower back, running his fingers against the curve of your spine. He’s warm, you can still feel the heat radiating off of him from the previous mission.

You feel him lean in, discreetly nosing his face into the top of your head. You lean in back, bumping your upper back into his chest.

“Is this okay?“ Miguel mumbles, serious heat trailing up to his neck and ears.

You nod. “Yes.”

And it was sealed from there.

Now, Miguel rubs your back too often. His hand fits into place with your back like a puzzle piece, Miguel always finding some kind of way to lay his hand where it belongs. You love it.

In the office? Yes.

During lunch? Yes.

Even on missions, he pulls you by your lower back to usher you away from a hit, and you both play around with that. He’s all fun and games when on missions, flirting, teasing, kissing.

Now, it almost feels wrong when he isn’t touching you.

. . .

“Hey, girl, look at this!“

Lyla pops in, automatically pulling up an internet article on your desk screen. It’s a web article; “The Science Behind Courtship in Male Spiders”

“Lyla, what does this have to do with anything?“ You ask.

Instead, she just scrolls into the article, highlighting a quote; male spiders give “back rubs” to seduce their mates.

You raise your eyebrow.

“You wanna know why Miguel’s been rubbing you so much? It’s cause of that!“ Lyla exclaims, as if she’s discovered this new scientific theory.

“I guess you’re kinda right on that.“ You mutter. But, the more you start to think about it, the more it makes sense.

Now every time Miguel palms your back, you think about the article.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv lyla #atsv #spiderman #across the spiderverse #lyla #atsv miguel o'hara #x reader #reader inser #fluff #romance #cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

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allaboutthemoonlight · 1 month

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How to Build Self Discipline

Cultivating self-discipline is the way towards personal growth and achieving long-term goals. To me, it’s really all about making choices that honor your well-being and identity.

Understand that self-discipline is about self love and respect

It’s not about punishment or deprivation, but rather caring for yourself enough to make choices that align with your long-term well-being and goals.

You’re showing yourself the respect you deserve by honoring and committing to changes you want to make.

It’s all about recognizing your worth and having the motivation and courage to pursue what’s really best for you, even when it requires a lot of effort and decision-making.

Frame your identity in a way that includes discipline

How we act directly ties to our identities and how we believe we are. If you believe you’re a successful individual, you’ll live a life framed by confidence and determination. If you believe you’re someone who is lazy and unmotivated, you’ll struggle to find the drive to pursue your goals and aspirations.

Gaining discipline is all about acting as the person you believe you are and moving through life in a way that’s consistent with your determined identity. The key here is to try to imagine who you are at your highest self in a disciplined state of mind.

To start this, ask yourself these questions and slowly arrange your life in a way so there’s no distance between who you are now and your highest self:

What does your day look like

What do you eat

What do you wear

What does your week look like

What does your work day look like

What hobbies do you have

What’s your morning and night routine

Who are you surrounded by

What do you say yes and no to

Have systems in your life

I recently wrote a post about habits and mentioned the idea of systems versus goals. Here, I want to delve a bit deeper into that concept within the context of self-discipline.

To me, another way to truly live a disciplined life is to establish starting systems, something that will propel you past hurdles and reduce the friction that accompanies change.

Let’s say you want to improve your eating habits and cultivate discipline in consuming less sugar while incorporating more whole foods into your diet. You could begin by implementing a system of prepping healthy snacks or meals in advance at the start of each week, or however you see fit. By having these snacks readily available, you eliminate the need for decision-making, making it easier to adhere to your goal.

Anything that serves as a reminder or facilitates consistent action toward your desired outcome is a valuable system in your life.

Be okay with not doing something and embrace the mindset of small wins

This may seem paradoxical in the context of developing self-discipline, but being okay with not doing something is crucial. There are times in life when we need tough love and motivation, but there are also moments when compassion is the driving force that propels us forward.

When you don’t follow through with something, whether it’s going for a run or preparing a healthy dinner, it’s important to be okay with it. You don’t need to shame yourself or feel guilty for not taking action because that will only reinforce negative thought patterns, making it harder to create the change you desire.

Consider this: if you miss a planned run and spiral into self-criticism, you’re more likely to avoid running altogether. However, if you approach the situation with understanding and compassion, you’ll be more inclined to try again next time.

This is where small daily victories come into play. Sometimes, all we need is one small step forward to develop a new habit and maintain consistency. Whatever you're striving to improve or change, if it feels daunting, tell yourself, "Just for today, I'll do a 15-minute workout instead of the full hour," or "Just for today, I'll read 5 pages instead of the entire chapter," and celebrate these as small victories. Doing so not only helps you establish new habits but also allows you to acknowledge the progress you've made and the trust you've built within yourself.

—Luna

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incognit0slut · 1 month

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Stress Relief

You convince your husband to take out his anger on you when he comes home very tense.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) dom!spencer, sub!reader, oral (f), reader in handcuffs so light bondage?, choking, unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare and domestic bliss because he’s still our beloved spencer

Words: 5k for 5k milestone celebration! TYSM ILY💘💘

A/n: I combined two requests asking for him to get all angry/frustrated because an unsub had a particular thing for winding him up (from anon 1) so he needs some kind of smutty release (from anon 2). You know who you are.

You could tell something was off.

A sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach as the front door creaked open, and instead of the usual lively greeting from your husband, you were met with silence. It was as though he was physically there and yet you could sense his absence in the air.

"Spence?" You called out, stepping out of the kitchen. When there was no response, you tried again. "Baby, are you okay?"

Your feet guided you down the hallway where you found him standing by the door with his back facing you. Even from behind, you could sense the foul mood he was in. His shoulders seemed more tense than usual, his hair slightly disheveled, and there was an edge to his movements as he closed the door with a loud thud.

"Babe?"

His response was brief, his gaze flickering towards you before quickly darting away, almost as if he were intentionally avoiding your eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey?" you echoed. "That's all I'm getting?"

When his eyes met yours again, you could practically feel the tension radiating from him. It was clear that he was angry, his usual calm demeanor seemed to be replaced by a subtle but palpable edge. There was a tightness in his jaw, a clenched fist by his side, and his usually warm gaze now held a hint of sharpness.

Only one thought crossed your mind whenever he came home like this.

"Bad day at work?"

He slowly nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head.

"Do you want a hug?"

He hesitated momentarily, his brows furrowing slightly as if debating whether to accept your offer. Then, without a word, he closed the distance between you. His arms enveloped you, pulling you close as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. Your hand instinctively found its way to his hair, fingers gently running through the soft strands.

"Oh, honey, you're so tense," you noted as your other hand trailed along his shoulder. "Is there anything I can help with? A massage? A nice warm bath maybe?"

You felt him shake his head against you, but you persisted, wanting to offer him comfort in any way you could. When your hand smoothed down his back, his hold on you tightened. When your fingers brushed the nape of his neck, you felt his warm breath caress your skin.

Then it happened—soft lips brushed against the spot under your ear, tentative at first, before growing more urgent. It wasn't the tender, affectionate kisses you were used to, but a different kind of intimacy that felt almost desperate. His lips nibbled and sucked gently at your skin and it became clear to you what he wanted.

"You want another kind of release, baby? Is that what you want?"

His lips momentarily paused against your neck, his arms loosening their grip around you before he rested his hands on your hips. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because—” he stopped, his grip on your body tightening. “Because I don't feel like myself right now."

You grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him away just enough to see his face. "What makes you say that?"

Spencer held your gaze. How could he explain to you that he was on the verge of acting out his frustration? That he was so close to losing control?

He knew how difficult he could be when anger took hold of him. In his younger days, he wouldn't hesitate to fire off sassy remarks and snarky comments, letting his emotions dictate his behavior. However, as he matured, he learned better to hide those emotions behind a composed facade.

But tonight felt different. Despite his best attempts to maintain his control, he could feel his anger slipping away, and it was unfair to burden you with it. Especially when you were offering yourself to him, so sweet and so pretty, when he knew love wasn't exactly what he could offer you right now.

So he decided to release you, his grip loosening as he stepped back.

"Forget it," he muttered under his breath before turning towards your shared bedroom. Your brow furrowed as he walked away, leaving you standing there with your mouth slightly agape, bewildered by his sudden withdrawal.

"Spencer Reid," you called after him, your voice laced with a hint of irritation as you followed him. "I wasn't done talking to you."

He paused, his hand halfway to his tie before he loosened it with a sharp tug. You leaned against the bedroom doorway, crossing your arms as you continued to study him. His lack of response only fueled your growing annoyance, but you knew better than to escalate the situation into a fight.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you spoke up, your voice steady but tinged with frustration. "Honey, I can't help you if you're acting this way."

"What makes you think I need help?"

"The way you're wrestling with your tie gives it away," you replied, your words laced with a hint of sarcasm.

He shot you a pointed look, clearly unimpressed by your remark. "I don't need your help."

Your frown deepened. "Seriously? You're just going to shut me out like this?"

"I'm not shutting you out," he countered, moving around the room. "I just need some space."

"Well you're doing a pretty damn good job of it," you shot back, your patience wearing thin as you pushed yourself off the doorway. His jaw clenched, but he remained silent, his actions focused on undoing the button on his wrist now. You scoffed at his lack of response again.

"Oh, so now you're giving me the silent treatment?" When it seemed evident he was trying to ignore you, you pressed on. "Fine, keep your silence, let me do the talking."

His eyes flickered momentarily at you before he turned around, undoing the button of his shirt. You watched him quietly as he continued to avoid your gaze.

"Spencer," you began, your voice softer now. "I know your job can be hard, and I know you're going through a lot right now, but shutting me out won't make it any easier."

“I've already told you, I'm not trying to shut you out."

"Then what are you doing?" you pressed. "I tried offering you help when you didn't want to talk about it. And the one thing I can help you with, the one thing I'm sure will help you relax, you refused."

You let out a frustrated sigh, hating how much your voice wavered now.

"Spence... you—you didn't even want to have sex with me."

His shoulders stiffened at your words, finally turning to face you. "You think I don't want to have sex with you?"

You swallowed hard, feeling a knot form in your throat. "I don't know what to think anymore," you admitted. "You're giving me the cold shoulder, it’s hard not to take it personally."

The room seemed to close in around you, suffocating in its silence. Then, you watched as he began to walk towards you. One step. Two steps. Until his presence loomed over you, casting a shadow that suddenly made you feel small and vulnerable.

"I'm refusing to have sex with you right now not because I don't want to," he said, his voice dangerously low. "I'm refusing because I'm trying to protect you."

You frowned, confusion furrowing your brow. "Protect me from what?"

There was a moment of silence before he replied, “From myself."

You felt a knot tightening in your stomach, goosebumps forming on your skin as you struggled to comprehend what he was trying to say.

“I… I don't understand."

"I don't want to risk it. I'm afraid that if we... if we cross that line, I might hurt you."

"Spencer," you whispered in disbelief, as if his words were the most absurd thing you'd ever heard. "You would never hurt me."

He shook his head. "You wouldn't be so sure if you knew half of the thought in my head right now."

You faltered for a moment, taken aback by his words. Then your gaze involuntarily flickered down his body, tracing the lines of his open shirt and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze moved lower, taking in the way his pants hung low on his hips, and the trail of soft hair leading downwards.

You swallowed hard.

"Tell me then," you challenged, your voice trembling slightly as you met his gaze again. "Tell me how you'd hurt me."

He studied you, assessing, calculating. "You won't like it," he warned.

"And what if I do?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of surprise flashing across his features. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"I know what I want."

He regarded you for a long moment, weighing your words carefully. Finally, he stepped closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, "You really want to know what I'd like to do to you?"

You held his gaze. "Yes," you replied. "Tell me."

His lips curved into a faint, almost rueful smile. With a slow, deliberate movement, he reached out and traced a finger along the curve of your jaw. "I want to use you," he murmured. "I want to feel you, to taste you. I want to make you scream."

You could feel the heat traveling through your body, a heady mixture of desire and anticipation flooding your senses. You reached out, fingers trembling as they brushed against his chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin.

"I want to control you," he continued, his gaze darkening. "I want to tie you up leave you bruises, mark your skin. I want you helpless, begging for mercy."

He tilted your chin up, his eyes locking with yours.

"I want to see how far you'll go for me."

Your breath caught in your throat as you drank in his words, and you couldn't deny the heat spreading between your legs. "And what if I want that too?"

A tense silence settled between you. Then slowly, almost as if testing the waters, he wrapped his fingers around your throat, simply holding you there. "You don't mean that."

"Try me," you dared, holding his gaze. "Put your hand between my thighs and see just how much I mean it."

His grip around your throat tightened ever so slightly while his other hand hovered at the waistband of your cotton pants. You felt a jolt of anticipation as he slipped his hand inside, your breath hitching as the pad of his calloused fingers dipped inside your panties.

A soft hum of approval escaped his lips when the slickness of your arousal coated his skin.

"Would you look at that? Barely even touched you and you're already this wet?" A low gasp fell between your lips as he found your clit. "You really want this, don't you?"

You could only manage a whimper in response, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Tell me," he insisted, his breath hot against your skin. "Do you want me to stop?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. "No," you finally managed to gasp.

With deliberate slowness, he trailed his fingertips lower, teasingly circling your entrance. He started with gentle strokes, keeping his fingers only on the outer side as you tried to bite back a moan that threatened to slip out.

“You dirty girl,” he muttered, and you feel yourself getting wetter as his finger continued to touch you teasingly. Then slowly, the grip on your throat loosened before his hand moved to cup your cheek.

“I need you to be sure," he whispered, "Because once we cross that line, there's no going back."

Your eyelids dropped lower as you chewed on your bottom lip, feeling the weight of his desire hanging in the air. It was a heady mix of uncertainty and anticipation, but one thing was clear—you wanted him.

You wanted him to use your body.

“Use me however you like,” you confessed. "I-I’m all yours.”

His lips were on yours in an instant. There was no mercy in his kiss, only raw desire and urgency. He kissed you as if he needed to breathe in your air, his lips moving desperately against yours, his tongue seeking entrance to taste you.

His hand then left your pants to cradle your face, holding you gently yet firmly as he explored every inch of your mouth, leaving you breathless and wanting more. Finally, he pulled away, his chest rising and falling heavily as he caught his breath.

He looked down at you, his gaze intense, and saw the dazed expression in your eyes. Your touch, taste, and scent clouded his vision as you trembled in his arms, the soft sounds of your labored breath sang in his ears.

Mine, mine, mine.

"Now listen to me," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I'm going to leave you for a while, and when I come back, I expect to see you lying on the bed naked with your legs spread apart."

You swallowed hard, eyes slightly going wide. You felt his hand gripping your jaw.

"Do I make myself clear?"

You quickly nodded. "Y-Yes."

His grip tightened momentarily before he released you, his gaze piercing as he held your eyes for a moment longer. Then, without another word, he turned and left the room.

With trembling hands, you began to undress, each piece of clothing dropping to the floor until you stood bare before the bed. The cool air prickled against your skin as you slowly climbed onto the bed.

You brought your feet onto the bed before spreading your knees apart. It felt weird, you had never felt so exposed and vulnerable, yet you couldn't deny the arousal pooling between your thighs. And then you heard him, his footsteps gradually coming closer and your heart pounded in your chest as you gripped onto the bed sheets.

His tall frame filled the doorway as he took in the sight before him, his eyes lingering between your legs. He watched your chest rise and fall, watched the way your legs fell apart even more as if you were offering yourself to him. Without a word, he approached the bed and stripped off his shirt.

Before you could catch your breath, he stood over the bed beside you. "Put your arms above your head."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of his gaze, but then slowly, almost instinctively, you complied, raising your arms above your head as instructed. You watched as he reached behind his back, and your heart raced as you glimpsed the glint of metal in his hand.

He didn't say a word as he reached for your wrists, securing them above your head with the cold metal of the handcuff, restraining you to the bed. The click of the cuffs echoed in the room before he stepped back, his eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam as if he was admiring his handiwork.

Your pulse quickened as you lay there, exposed and at his mercy and you couldn't help but squirm under his gaze. He moved closer, his fingers trailing lightly along your skin, and you shivered, both from the chill of the metal and the warmth of his touch.

"You look so pretty like this," he murmured. "So helpless, yet so willing."

Your eyes followed his movement as his fingers moved to unbutton his pants. Then he was completely naked, and even though you had seen him like this countless times, the sight of his cock never failed to make your cunt clench in anticipation. He was thick and hard, with veins pulsing along its length and droplets of wetness glistening at the tip.

The bed sank under his weight as he positioned himself between your legs. You gasped when he leaned forward, the underside of his cock teasingly brushing against your wet folds as his lips met your collarbone. You bit down on your bottom lip as he kissed lower, stopping at your left breast, where he suckled on the supple skin just above your nipple.

His mouth latched onto your skin after taking a moment to try and keep himself from rushing into things. But he was a simple man. His lips worked precisely and diligently, and you watched as he left marks on your breasts, his teeth gently sinking into your flesh here and there, his warm saliva coating the faint markings.

The kisses left on your sensitive skin resulted in you whining for more. Spencer felt a rush of satisfaction like no other, his touches growing more urgent with each sound that escaped your lips. His tongue glided over your plump breasts, teasing and tantalizing, until finally, his mouth enveloped your nipple.

You squealed, squirming underneath him, and he smiled against your skin, his lips forming a knowing smirk as he continued to suck while his thumb flicked the nipple he wasn't focusing on. There was no doubt you would be left with bruises tomorrow morning.

Your eyes drifted downward just as he looked up, his gaze meeting yours, and you couldn't help but whine when the tip of his tongue circled your nipple teasingly. You reached out, craving the sensation of your fingers in his hair, only to feel the metal of the handcuffs digging into your skin.

"It's torture, isn't it? Not being able to do anything," he taunted with a laugh, shifting his attention to your other nipple. "But I guess that's the fun part.”

You whimpered as he softly bit your sensitive bud, and your back arched off the bed in response. He leaned back, admiring the marks he'd left on your skin.

"God, look at you," he murmured as his gaze lingered on your flushed skin, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each breath. "I could do this all night."

Slowly, he lowered himself back down, his lips tracing a path from your chest down to your stomach. You squirmed, anticipation coiling tightly in your belly as his warm breath ghosted lower. His hair tickled your legs, and he took the opportunity to turn his head slightly to the side, immediately pressing a hot open-mouthed kiss against your inner thigh.

You gasped as he sucked your skin into his mouth, teeth grazing over the flesh as if he was intent on marking every inch of your body. His lips continued to trail along your thighs but never quite reaching the place you craved him the most.

For someone with pent-up emotions, his movements were agonizingly slow. It was frustrating, the way he toyed with you, drawing out the anticipation until you couldn't bear it any longer.

"Please," you whimpered, the chains rattling softly against the headboard as you continued to squirm beneath him.

He paused, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he looked up at you. "Please what?"

"Pl-Please touch me."

He kissed over your mound as he hooked an arm under your leg. His other hand reached for the heat radiating between your thighs before two of his fingers brushed along your outer lips, dragging your arousal along your skin. "Like this?"

You groaned as he kept on teasing you, stroking you with featherlight touches. “More," you pleaded desperately, almost pathetically. "Please."

His fingers stretched your folds, his gaze fixed on the glistening wetness, on the way your cunt clenched around nothing. "You're so pretty, you know that?"

"Spence..." you breathed out, feeling his breath achingly close to your heat.

He didn't respond with words. Instead, he lowered his head, his breath hot against your flesh. The minute his tongue touched you, you were already a writhing, whimpering mess. Your head began spinning, nerves and pleasure swooping into one big fuzzy mess in your mind as his tongue teased up and down your slit.

"Oh my god," you whined the moment his mouth circled your clit before sucking on it, sending waves of pleasure along your body. And then, just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, you felt his finger at your entrance, and without warning, he pushed in his digit, sending your head tilting back with a desperate gasp falling from your lips.

His groan reverberated against your skin as your walls clenched around him. He pushed his finger deeper, curling it inside of you as his tongue lapped at your dripping folds. With each movement, he pressed his face even further into you, relishing the sensation of your wetness coating his jaw.

Your eyes drifted downwards at the same time he looked up, locking gazes with him, and you let out the most filthy cry of pleasure. He held your gaze as his tongue quickened its pace, sucking your clit even harder as he added another finger inside you.

Your mouth gaped open as you felt the delicious stretch, and you couldn't help but buck your hips towards his face. Spencer always had a fixation on pleasuring you, but not like this—it was never like this. He seemed desperate, almost possessive, as if he couldn't get enough of your taste.

He continued his relentless assault, his fingers pumping inside you with a steady rhythm while his tongue worked tirelessly on your swollen clit. The squelching sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of your dripping walla was so lewd that it made his cock stir against the bed.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you, the heat spreading like wildfire through your veins. Before you knew it, your climax hit you hard, without warning, without mercy, and you were gasping his name over and over.

You shivered and trembled beneath him, tossing your head back even farther, squeezing your walls around his fingers and your legs around his head. But he didn't stop or even slow down. Instead, he pulled his fingers out of you, only to push your thighs apart even when your legs were shaking uncontrollably.

"Stop moving," he ordered as he leaned in, tasting you all over again. He didn't care that you were a complete mess, that you were still reeling in from your climax, that you were trying to move back away from him. All he cared about was giving you the best pleasure imaginable, and he was intent on seeing it through.

"Spence—” you gasped when his nose brushed your clit. “I-I can't—"

He gently held your fragile body in place to prevent you from running away from his mouth. "Hold still and give me another one."

How could you not relent when he treated you like this, so considerate yet so rough? You groaned, your eyes meeting the ceiling as you felt his mouth continue its relentless assault on your cunt. The sensation was overwhelming, yet despite your protests, you couldn't deny the building pressure.

Your muscles tensed. Your breathing hitched. You gasped for air. And just as the waves of pleasure threatened to consume you once more, you surrendered, letting out a pathetic cry as your body convulsed with the force of your climax.

His tongue lingered over your sensitive skin, savoring the taste of your release, before he finally withdrew, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. He then lifted his head, your juices glistening on his lips as he watched your heaving chest.

Spencer had never been so thankful for his eidetic memory. He took in the sight of your hands, bound above your head, the rise and fall of your chest as you panted, the tousled strands of hair framing your face. His gaze lingered on the way your legs willingly parted for him, your skin flushed and pussy swollen, all because of him.

It was a sight he wanted to etch into his memory forever.

You bit your bottom lip as his gaze lingered on you, feeling your body flush under his scrutiny. Then, as if something within him shifted, he reached for you, urging your body to turn until you were facing sideways, the chains rattling softly as you moved.

He settled behind you, and your heart quickened as you felt him grab your leg, lifting it in the air. With one hand gripping your thigh firmly, he positioned himself between your legs, his hard cock pressing against your slick folds.

You could feel the warmth of his body pressed against your back, his breath ghosting over your neck as he leaned in closer. With a deep, guttural moan, he eased himself into you, every inch of him sliding effortlessly into your wetness. You couldn't help but arch your back in response to the sensation of being filled so completely.

"Fuck," he murmured, the curse slipping past his lips in a breathy whisper. It sounded foreign coming from him and yet it only encouraged you more. You pushed your hips back into him, meeting his slow, deliberate thrusts.

"Needed this so much," he confessed, his breath coming out in ragged pants against the nape of your neck. "You have no idea how much I've wanted you like this for so long."

Your head fell back onto his chest, completely enveloped in him—the scent of his skin, the warmth of his touch, the rhythmic movement of his cock thrusting inside you.

"Thought it was wrong of me to take control of you," he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. "But you're enjoying this as much, aren't you?"

You whimpered, unable to form words as the pleasure consumed you and you felt him picking up his pace. The room was filled with lewd noises of your wetness along with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

"You like being helpless like this? You like it when I fuck you while being cuffed to the bed?"

Your breath hitched at his words. His hand left your thigh, but only momentarily. The crack of sound pierced the air, followed by a surge of sensation coursing up your leg. The realization hit you like a bolt of lightning—he spanked you.

And you liked it.

"Answer. Me," he demanded, each word punctuated by the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Yes," you managed to gasp out. "I-I love being helpless."

He let out a sound of pleasure as he released your thigh, only to tease your clit with his fingers. You gasped, your head thrown back as he applied just the right amount of pressure, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You felt the intensity building, the familiar coil tightening in your stomach as he continued to pump into you, his fingers moving fast against your clit.

You tried to speak and warn him about your upcoming orgasm but you couldn't even think properly. The squelch of his cock driving into you roughly rang in your ears and with a sharp inhale, you felt the tension within you reach its peak. Your muscles tensed, your breath caught in your throat, and then, with an explosive release, you cried out his name.

He groaned as he felt you pulsating around him, your walls gripping him tightly. He continued to move within you, riding out your orgasm as his thrusts grew harder, more urgent until he couldn't hold back any longer.

"I need to see you," he breathed as he pulled out of you. Then he flipped you onto your back, guiding one of your legs over his shoulder as he settled between your thighs once more. The change in position brought you closer, the heat of your bodies mingling as you met his gaze.

Without a word, he pushed himself back into you, the slick heat of your cunt enveloping him. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, feeling your body growing sticky, every inch of you glistening with sweat, but his gaze remained fixated on you, unwavering and intense.

"So pretty," he murmured, his hand finding your face and cupping your cheek, absorbing your features in the dim lighting of the room. "My beautiful wife."

You whimpered as he dragged his hand down your skin, thumb brushing over your lips as he felt your hot breath on his fingertip. He watched your eyes switch between widening and fluttering half shut while he began pumping into you.

Spencer couldn't keep his eyes off of you as you took his cock eagerly, your breasts bouncing each time he thrust forward, your mouth hanging open with your tongue slipping out of your mouth. A whine followed through as his hand moved down to your neck, practically holding you in place as his hips collided against your own.

He gave a slight pressure around your throat, and your head began to loll against the mattress, chin pointed in the air in pleasure. The squeezing sensation was now beginning to take over your body, spreading from across your cheeks, to your ears, and up to your eyes, tears pooling right at the corner. The feeling even reached your stomach, tightening and coiling with the signal of your impending orgasm.

Was this your fourth orgasm? Your fifth? You couldn't keep track; all you knew was the overwhelming sensation prickling your skin. The bed below you felt as if it was on fire. The metal digging around your wrist burned with absolute pleasure.

His thrusts grew more intense, each movement raw and unrestrained, as if he was pouring all his pent-up emotions into you. He seemed to lose himself in the moment, his grip on your neck firm but not painful, but it was enough to make you gasp, your body trembling with pleasure, eyes rolling at the back of your head.

You were instantly gone.

A filthy cry fell between your lips as another orgasm crashed over you, more intense than the last. At some point you were gasping for air, feeling your body going limp but he didn’t stop. His hips had a mind of their own. You could feel them beginning to move like they were possessed, with no regard for your pleasure, and in a way, no regard for his.

“Oh god—fuck!” You cried, arching your back as much in this position.

He groaned and leaned in, his arms pressing against the bed on either side of you as he pushed your leg up to your shoulder. He tried to kiss you, but the force of his movements made it hard. Instead, his lips hovered just above yours, both of you breathing heavily and moaning into each other's mouths.

Eyelids drooped a bit too low as your mouth went completely ajar, exhaling weakly. It didn’t take long for another wave of pleasure to rush through your body. You convulsed beneath him, thighs quivering violently as you tried to angle your body away from him, the pleasure almost unbearable now.

Through the haze of your orgasm, you caught a glimpse of him throwing back his head with his eyes screwed shut. Then he finally groaned—his movements slowing, breath sputtering from his lungs as he exploded, pumping once, twice, three times all before coming to a halt, cock twitching inside you.

You watched the sweat bead down his forehead as you both worked silently to relax your bodies, pulses pounding in ruthless rhythm. With a deep, contented sigh he finally slid himself out of you before going through his discarded pants on the floor.

After a moment, he returned to you and unlocked the handcuff from your wrist, the sound of the lock clicking echoing in the room. The chains fell onto the bed with a soft thud as he gently took hold of your hands.

“Are you okay?"

You nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. "I'm okay."

He pressed a tender kiss to both of your wrists, his lips lingering over your pulse for a moment. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked anxiously, his eyes raking over your body. "Was I too rough? Did I—""

"Spencer, relax," you whispered, you took his hand in yours. "I'm good. I promise."

"You sure?" he asked, his face still tight with concern.

"Yes, more than good. Just come cuddle with me?"

He hesitated, his eyes scanning over your body for a few seconds longer. After he seemed satisfied you really were okay, he lowered onto the bed beside you and you drew his head to your chest. Your fingers gently played with his hair, watching as he slowly relaxed into you, throwing one of his arms across your stomach.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I... I think I needed that."

Your attention shifted to his face, happy to see his expression finally somewhat peaceful as he lay just above your breasts. His eyes were closed, the tension you'd noticed on his face when he'd arrived entirely gone now.

Gently running your fingers through his hair, you whispered, "Of course, baby. Anytime you need me, I'm here."

His lips curved into a small, contented smile as he nestled closer to you. "I love you."

A surge of warmth filled your chest at his words. "I love you too," you whispered back. "But are you okay? Do you want to talk about what happened at work?"

You felt him shift as he shook his head. "Maybe later. I just want to hold you right now."

You gently kissed the crown of his head before pulling him closer. Spencer sighed happily as he snuggled closer to you, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against your chest. He then reached over your breasts, his thumb trailing over the marks he had left on your skin.

"I didn't realize you enjoyed that so much."

You shrugged the shoulder beside his head. "It's hard not to. I mean, I think I've always liked it when you're in control, and that doesn't only apply to sex."

He leaned back to look at you. "Really?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah. Remember the first time we started dating and someone broke into my apartment?"

"How could I forget?" he replied, a frown tugging at his brows as he recalled the memory. “That was one of the scariest moments in my life.”

"Right. You thought some serial killer was targeting me when it was just a random robbery. But the way you handled the situation..." you continued, your voice softening. "When you took charge and made sure I was safe, I realized how much I trusted you. And I remember thinking, 'Damn, my boyfriend's pretty cool.'"

His frown melted away, replaced by a warm smile at your words. "You thought I was cool?"

You chuckled, nodding as you met his gaze. "You're cool, smart, and hot at the same time," you teased. "What I'm trying to say is, I like it when you're in control because I like to depend on you. You make me feel safe and cared for."

His expression softened even further, a tender warmth filling his eyes. "I like it when you depend on me too," he confessed softly. With a gentle tug, he sat up, bringing you along. "Come on then, let me care for you now."

You looked up at him. "Yeah? What do you have in mind?"

"I think we both need that nice warm bath."

You smiled, already feeling the tension in your muscles ease at the thought of a soothing bath with him. "Will you wash my hair too?"

He pushed a strand of hair off your face, his heart swelling with affection at the look in your eyes. How could he resist when you looked at him like he hung up the moon for you?

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "I'll do whatever you want me to do."

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