۪ ׂ ℳ𝐢𝐚𝘰𝘺𝙞 ᮫ . 음악🧩 @jngsuoonrzs - Tumblr Blog

Heyyyyy!!!! Inspired by your latest post, I thought of a funny/good idea for a request😚😚

So, if you want ofc, could you write whc reacting to fem!reader having hooked up with a girl or like whose ex is a girl? She’s bi maybe? And the like found of on accident? Maybe on a truth or dare game or like bumping into her while they were on a date?

"Out of the damn closet"

SUMMARY: Weak Hero Boys react to meeting/hearing about your ex who's a girl. PAIRINGS: Yeon Sieun, Ah Suho, Oh Beomseok, Park Humin, Go Hyuntak, Seo Juntae, Na Baekjin, Geum Seongje. WORD COUNT: 6.470 K. (wtf) GENRE: Fluff, small angst for Gotak's, Juntae's and Baekjin's part, WARNING: None, NOTE: I just love when anons are doing this and requesting the exact kind of things i enjoy... like THANK YOU I LOVED WRITING ABOUT THIS!! love you very much and thank you for the support as always hope you liked this one<33 Suho's the longest (tho they're all lwk one shots I'm kinda happy with myself here), Juntae doesn't actually learn your ex's a girl it's more of a coming out scenario, and Baku's one is lowkey a social experiment idk what happened sorry (as always i'm sorry for the delay idk what to say im just slow asf) TAGLIST — @whcfreak, @suhoholic, @10baku, @christinamadsen, @heartshapesandcigarettes, @vamp18e, @ashayein, @stasiamazia, @aliceskzfan

margomightmop

ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇɴɪs ᴘᴀʀᴋᴇʀ ᴇғғᴇᴄᴛ

In which you accidentally send Peter Parker a photo that was definitely not meant for him, and things get a lot more complicated between two people who swear they can’t stand each other.

Warnings: !MDNI! bully!reader, meangirl! reader, sexual themes, cheating but not on eachother, suggestive content, accidental intimate photo, enemies-to-lovers, sexual tension, set in highschool, jealousy, explicit language, poor decisions, and 18+ scenes, really pathetic begging…jst how mama likes it.

5.6k wrds!

Remind yourself: never fall asleep on your balcony while it's raining. Ever again. Even if it's aesthetic and you feel like Bella Swan.

You groan as the sun slips through your window, hitting your face. You roll over, burying your face into your pillow.

You felt like shit. Complete and utter shit.

After attempting to get the perfect Instagram story of the thunderstorm a couple of days ago, you'd fallen ill rather quickly. Turns out, standing out on your balcony in the pouring rain for the sake of an aesthetic Instagram story probably wasn't the smartest idea.

It was indeed a hit though, 93 swipe ups, 489 likes, and 968 views. Totally worth it.

You'd already been gone from school for two days.

The first day was the worst. Between the throwing up, shivering, sweating, and feeling like you were actively dying, it was pretty much a personal reminder of hell.

You couldn't even watch one episode of your comfort show without your friends' group chat blowing up. It was a combination of someone talking shit, your friends bugging you about where you were, or some new piece of gossip you absolutely did not have the energy for.

You had hoped your sickness would just really take you out when you got the text.

“Omfg, Your sick ass is gone for one day and you get roped into Penis Parker’s project group. DEADD.”

When you saw it, you let out what might've been the world's whiniest groan, immediately reaching for the nearest Jellycat and choking it in your arms like it had personally betrayed you.

Peter Parker. Peter fucking Parker.

Your relationship with Parker left much to be desired. Actually, it wasn't even a relationship at all. It was more of a very personal, one-sided vendetta that seemed to piss you off more than anything.

If anyone else asked why you disliked the nerd so much, you'd say it was because he always had to be the smartest person in the room, because he couldn't hold a conversation to save his life, or because he was a creep who stared at you way too much.

Anything, really, to make you feel justified in your efforts to piss him off.

The truth, however, was that you hated Peter simply because he refused to hate you.

It had started innocently enough. You were both in third grade, and you'd immediately been smitten with the brunette boy who refused to step on ants and was somehow one of the only kids in class with genuinely impressive coloring skills.

He was also excessively kind to you. Not like the other boys, who would pull your ear or snap your pencils under the guise of "well, that just means he likes you."

No, Peter was kind.

Peter complimented your flower drawings and quietly reminded you to write your name at the top of your quizzes so you wouldn't get reprimanded.

It had younger you slowly making your way to lunch just to walk beside him, and sitting next to him during recess so you could listen to him ramble about his favorite book.

However, you'd always been a rather spoiled child. So when you realized that Peter wasn't just a sweet boy to you, he was a sweet boy to everyone, the feeling in your stomach began to squirm.

The blushes quickly turned into "accidentally" cutting him in line at the water fountain and joining the other boys when they teased him.

The worst part about it was that Peter never changed.

He never stopped reminding you to write your name, even if he said it a little less confidently each time. He never stopped complimenting your flowers, even when you'd sneer at him while the boys behind him snickered.

It only made you angrier.

Because Peter could still compliment Sarah B's hearts and play hopscotch with Emily F. He could still be kind to everyone else, so why couldn't he just take the hint and leave you alone?

Even in middle school, when you started growing into your features and your weekly crushes turned into loosely defined relationships, Peter was still just... Peter.

He had, however, stopped interacting with you so much. Apparently, he'd figured out that being anywhere near you earned him relentless teasing from the other kids.

Instead, he became quieter, sticking mostly to one kid you knew as Ned. He focused on himself, smiling at his friend in the hallways as they spoke in hushed conversations, while you were surrounded by a group of people you knew didn't really like you.

That was when you really started to hate Peter Parker.

The envy in your stomach never seemed to settle, twisting every time you watched him be genuinely happy while you quietly hated yourself.

He never glanced at you, never talked to you, and it drove you genuinely crazy.

So when he walked past you and your friends on his way to the office before the bell rang, you called out—

"Hey, Penis Parker!"

The mortified look that crossed his face as your friends burst into laughter made something inside you feel almost embarrassingly good.

Because finally, after all those years, Peter Parker had looked at you again.

The name stuck with him all the way through high school, and every time you heard someone call him that and watched his back tense, a smug little smile would grace your lips.

Because you knew you were the reason.

And, judging by the way his shoulders stiffened every time he heard it, he knew it too.

Because you really fucking hated Peter Parker, especially now.

Now that Peter Parker had grown into his stupid, lopsided smile and squeaky voice, his messy brown hair and annoyingly large brain.

Now that you'd grown into your own figure and looks, gained ten new friends and racked up twenty ex-boyfriends, all of whom you knew would throw you under the bus for a five-dollar bill.

So knowing you'd be stuck in a group with the spineless idiot made your blood boil. You already knew it'd be hours of him slowly trying to help you as if you were an idiot.

"Uh..." he'd squeak hesitantly, pushing the assignment toward you. "It says—"

"I know, Parker," you'd snap. "I can fucking read."

You could practically imagine it.

How he'd frown slightly before immediately recovering, nodding as he leaned away. You knew he'd watch you work on the project closely, silently searching for mistakes as if you couldn't feel his eyes burning into you.

And when you'd inevitably snap your head up to look at him, he'd flush, quickly look away, and mumble an apology.

The idea of it made you buzz with excitement. Maybe you'd put gum in his hair again. That had pissed his friends off real bad last time. That MJ girl had glared at you for a solid week afterward.

Your giddy planning was rudely interrupted by another buzz from your phone. You held back a sigh as you glanced down at the screen.

Babe. <3

Another message joined the collection of ten missed calls and twenty-five unread messages, all of them asking if you were okay and whether he should come over.

He really shouldn't. God, you wanted to cry at the thought of it already.

He was a basketball player who you'd honestly grown pretty bored of already, but he had a lopsided smile that made your eyes warm and a fat wallet that kept you happy.

You huffed before sending him a quick message saying you were alive, but he should stay away and let you rest. Then you turned back over, already dreaming of lopsided grins and pathetic apologies.

The second day was somehow even more torturous.

You didn't throw up again, and after your shower, you felt vaguely less stuffy, but the headache pounding behind your eyes had rendered your personality completely insufferable.

You silenced your group chats and blocked your boyfriend for the day, fully expecting to finally get some peace and quiet.

Then your phone buzzed again.

Someone had added you to a group chat.

Mr. Kavinsky Physics Project

You swore you felt tears welling in your eyes as you picked up your phone and opened the messages.

It was a group of randoms, already delegating tasks and clarifying their understanding of the assignment.

"okay so we need to figure out what everyone's doing"

"did anyone actually read the rubric because i'm confused as fuck 😭"

"I can do the research part if someone wants to do the slides"

"Guys Mr. Kavinsky said we have to present this Friday btw"

You stared at the screen in disbelief, wasting no time pressing Leave Group before tossing your phone aside and returning your attention to the TV.

Your phone buzzed again two minutes later. You cursed.

Peter_P4rk4r added you to a group chat.

Your mouth curled into a small grin at the thought of him sitting there, contemplating whether he really wanted to add you again. Knowing he probably didn't want to, but clearly deciding that dealing with you was still worth it if it meant avoiding a lower grade.

You opened the group chat, watching him type for what felt like hours with a toothy grin as you bounced your foot over your knee.

Peter_P4rk4r: Delaney, you work on the research portion, Jacob, can you do the calculations, Emily, do the slides.

You felt giddy watching him pause before typing another message, this time with your name.

Peter_P4rk4r: Could you please do the introduction and conclusion?

That asshole really gave you the introduction and conclusion. You mentally reminded yourself to ask Flash to give him a wedgie in the cafeteria next time you saw him.

You waited a few seconds before hearting his message, then waited a few more before turning it into a thumbs down and silencing the group chat.

Peter Parker's grade could burn for all you cared.

That was the entirety of your second sick day. Ice cream, ignored group messages, and plotting exactly how you were going to make Peter Parker cry the next time you saw him.

So now, on your third day, you finally felt much better.

You unblocked your boyfriend, unsilenced your friends, and even peeked at the physics group chat. You'd even gotten up to do some yoga before settling back into bed, feeling almost human again.

The rest of the day passed in a lazy blur of half-watched episodes, scrolling through TikTok, and occasionally checking the physics group chat just to see if anyone had the audacity to message you.

Your boyfriend, unfortunately, had apparently decided that your brief recovery meant you were now available for his attention. Every few minutes, another text appeared.

miss u.

are you feeling better?

you still mad at me?

can i come see you now?

You left every single one unanswered.

It was almost impressive how quickly his concern managed to ruin your day. You knew he meant well, but the constant messages were starting to feel like someone poking a bruise just to make sure it still hurt.

By the time he sent another "I miss your face :(", you tossed your phone onto the bed with an aggravated huff.

You shoved a pillow over your face and screamed into it, muffling your frustration as another few buzzes rattled against the mattress.

The first message you checked was, once again, from your boyfriend.

hey, baby... could you send me 🍒? jst miss you sm.

You rolled your eyes at the desperation before letting your eyes trail down to the next contact below.

It was Peter.

Peter_P4rk4r: Hey, look, I don't want to be annoying, but could you please just do your slides?

That one made a small giggle escape your mouth.

You stared at his message for a few seconds, your lips twitching as you imagined the expression on his face while typing it. Probably hunched over his desk, eyebrows drawn together, debating whether he should bother you again or simply accept that you were going to tank his grade along with your own.

He was so painfully predictable.

And now that you were feeling better? Well, you suddenly had all the energy in the world to be a little annoying.

You already knew how the next hour was going to go.

You were going to spend it bullying Peter through text until he inevitably gave up trying to reason with you, while your boyfriend continued blowing up your phone until you finally shut him up.

You quickly sent Peter a simple No just to rile him up, settling back into bed as you got comfortable.

You shifted into a pose you knew would look effortlessly tempting, angling yourself just right as you adjusted your hair and let your gaze linger on the camera. You dragged your shirt down, revealing the fact you were wearing no bra. After one last glance at the screen, you settled into the pose, lips curling into a knowing little smile before your finger pressed down.

Click.

You didn't even bother checking it, sending it off to your boyfriend without a second thought as you opened Peter's thread to see if he had responded.

The only message waiting for you was from your boyfriend.

what do you mean no? wtf

Your heart sank immediately as you scrambled back to Peter's message thread, only to realize you'd somehow sent him the picture instead.

Your fingers shook as you frantically tried to delete it, but the little Read appeared beneath the message.

Holding your breath, you stared at the screen, praying that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't actually processed it.

You knew he had.

Peter_P4rk4r:

I'm guessing that wasn't for me

Peter_P4rk4r:

which is unfortunate

Peter_P4rk4r:

I mean—

Peter_P4rk4r:

not unfortunate that you sent it to the wrong person

Peter_P4rk4r:

just unfortunate that I'm the wrong person

Peter_P4rk4r:

that sounded better in my head

Peter_P4rk4r:

you look really good though

Peter_P4rk4r:

not that I was looking

Peter_P4rk4r:

I mean obviously I looked because you sent it to me

Peter_P4rk4r:

okay I'm going to stop talking now

You shut your phone off, hissing as you pressed it against your forehead. This was so fucking humiliating.

Your stomach twisted as you imagined Peter showing the picture to Ned, then Ned showing someone else, and suddenly the entire school knowing.

Peter would have every right to hold it against you, considering all the shit you'd put him through over the years.

You didn't even get the chance to properly spiral before your phone buzzed again.

Peter_P4rk4r: But yea, yea, I'll do your slides lol. No biggie.

You reread the message twice before a breathy laugh escaped you.

This idiot really thought you'd been asking for a cop-out. Not only that, but he'd handed it to you without a second thought.

You scrolled back through his other messages, rereading his painfully awkward attempts at flirting. The warmth that settled in your stomach was small, but unmistakable.

You found yourself imagining him at his desk, cheeks flushed as he bounced between his laptop and his phone, trying desperately to focus on the project while your photo sat there on his screen.

The thought made your smile return.

Or was he touching himself instead? Thinking about the girl who made his life a living hell sending him an unwarranted nude.

You pressed the call button and held your phone up to your ear, a small, mischievous smile tugging at your lips as you waited for him to answer.

The call connected after two rings.

"Hello?" Peter's voice came through, cautious and slightly breathless.

You smiled. "Hi, Parker."

There was a beat of silence. You've never called Peter before, ever.

"...Hi."

"You sound nervous." You giggle. You shuffle your blanket off of you with your feet.

"I just—" He cleared his throat. "I wasn't expecting you to call."

"After what I sent you?"

Another painfully long silence. It was as if Peter had already decided he wouldn't mention it ever again. Like you spoke it back into existence.

"Yeah," he finally squeaked.

You bit back a laugh. "Aw. Did I make you nervous?"

You could practically hear him hiding his face through the phone.

"Can we please just talk about the project?" You heard a small ruffle behind the screen. "I'll do your part but you still need to know how you're presenting it."

You grinned. "Sure, Peter."

"Thank you." He sighed, relieved.

You let a bit of silence pass as you listened to him click off on his laptop. You wondered if he had the furrowed brow he always had when he stared at something he never understood. Most of the time, that was you.

"After you tell me how many times you looked at the picture."

He went completely silent, the clicking halting with him. You burst out in giggles, huffing in between breaths as you mumbled under your breath about how much of an idiot he was.

Another moment of silence passed, this one lasting even longer.

After your laughter finally died down, Peter still didn't reply. His clacking resumed instead, only this time it was much faster, more frantic, like he was suddenly very determined to finish the project as quickly as possible.

You let out a fake whine. "Don't ignore me, Peter."

He still didn't respond, letting the silence sit between you until it started to genuinely piss you off.

"Peter," you said again, this time more annoyed.

He let out a low noise on the other end, followed by a few more clicks. "Why'd you call me?"

You opened your mouth, but he interrupted before you could think of an answer.

"I already said I'd do your work," he said, his voice pathetically dejected, like he still couldn't believe he'd actually agreed to it.

The sound did something to you. Anything remotely sad coming from Peter always seemed to. You shifted beneath your blanket, squeezing your thighs together as you suddenly found yourself at a loss for words.

For once, you didn't dare reply.

Seemingly growing more annoyed by your silence, Peter spoke again.

"I mean..." He chuckled breathlessly. "I already told you you looked good."

You blinked, your lips twitching.

"You know you looked good," he continued, sounding almost exasperated. "I don't understand why you chose to call."

Growing a little defensive, you bit back a smile. "Well, you fucking answered."

Peter sighed on the other end, the sound dragging through the phone. "I don't know why I'm doing this."

You smiled, sinking further into your pillows. "Doing what?"

"This." He clicked his tongue, sounding tired. "Talking to you. Doing your work. Letting you make fun of me."

You giggled. "Nobody asked you to."

"I know."

"You are," you yawned, stretching your legs beneath the blanket. "You are pathetic."

He went quiet. Then, barely above a mumble, "Maybe."

That made you laugh. "You're not even denying it."

"I'm tired," he said miserably. "I've been dealing with you since third grade. I think I'm allowed to be tired."

You grinned at the ceiling. "And yet you're still here."

Another sigh. "Yeah," Peter muttered. "I know."

This was the first time either of you had really acknowledged the strange dynamic between you.

All the teasing, the years of pushing and pulling, it suddenly felt a little different now that you both knew exactly what was happening.

It should've made you feel bad. And, in some small way, it did. Mostly, though, it made you squirm with excitement.

You didn't reply, letting the silence stretch as you watched the ceiling. You almost didn't register the way your hand snuck under your waistband.

Peter spoke again. "Why are you acting so..."

He trailed off, searching for the word, before letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Unaffected? I mean, you sent me—" He cut himself off.

"Do you usually just send shit like that to random people?"

A small smile tugged at your lips. You let your hand sneak deeper, resting outside your panties.

"Do you really consider yourself someone random to me, Peter?"

The question seemed to register with him, and you heard him go breathless as he searched for an answer. The sound made you push the cloth away with a finger, letting another one softly touch your folds.

You heard him suck in a breath, clearly getting ready to reply, when your phone suddenly buzzed loudly with a string of repeated messages.

Your boyfriend. Of course.

You frowned at the screen, irritation immediately settling in. Why did he always have to interrupt whenever something good was happening?

The noise seemed to startle Peter on the other end. You heard him let out a sharp exhale, followed by the scrape of a chair against the floor as he shifted around.

"It's your boyfriend," Peter mumbled, though it sounded more like he was reminding himself than telling you.

A small pause followed. "Right," he added quietly. "Of course."

Whatever tension had been building between you immediately disappeared, and Peter launched into a rambling explanation of what you should say during the presentation and what you should avoid.

It irritated you beyond comprehension.

You could hear it in his voice. He felt it too. For once in your life, you found yourself cursing the fact that Peter Parker was such a fucking pussy.

With your body already aroused and anger tightening your chest, you decide to give in to the sensation. As Peter rambles on about the project, you press breathlessly against your clit, a soft hum escaping your lips.

Your fingers explore slowly at first, then with growing confidence, tracing delicate circles that send sparks through your body. You press a little harder against your clit, the intensity building quickly, and a sharp, breathy noise slips past your lips as the pleasure intensifies.

You heard Peter pause at the noise.

"What are you..." He trailed off hesitantly, his voice suddenly quieter.

You huffed, already annoyed by how easily he backed down. "C'mon, Peter. Don't be such a pussy."

You hear him shuffle the phone closer to his ear, his breathing growing heavier, and the sound stirs your imagination even more. The thought of him crying, begging beneath you, makes you so fucking wet, fueling your desire as you press harder, losing yourself in the moment.

"Fuck," you pant, voice low and firm. "You're no idiot. Now, help me."

His voice sounds exasperated, tinged with fear, and you can almost see the bewildered expression on the other side of the line.

"You have a boyfriend."

You let out a low moan as you slip a finger inside yourself. "A boyfriend who wouldn't hesitate to shove your head in a fucking toilet."

Peter falls silent, and in the background, you hear the faint sound of a zipper.

For a moment, it's just your breath, heavy and ragged, until you slowly hear his noises fall over. You can tell he's biting down on his lips.

"Oh, come on, Peter," you whisper, voice dripping with challenge. "Won't you even talk to me?"

You hear him let out a small whine. "And say what?" he whimpers. "Fuck, I don't even know what to say."

You slip another finger inside, moving steadily and deliberately, determined not to let any sound stay unheard. From the other end, you catch him murmuring curses under his breath.

"Tell me what you thought when you saw my picture," you say.

Peter lets out a broken noise. "Your titties?" he moans aloud for the first time, and it utterly undoes you. You move your fingers faster, a cry escaping you.

Peter falls silent for a moment, slowly registering the effect his loud whine has on you, you can almost hear him processing it. If you weren't so caught up in the moment, you might've cussed him out.

He pants heavily. "I knew you were beautiful, but seeing that..."

He moans softly. "I got so fucking hard, I felt so dirty."

You let out a low growl, moving your thumb against your clit. "You're such a pathetic freak, Peter."

He lets out a broken chuckle. You hear him spit in his hands before returning to his cock, moaning again.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a pathetic freak," he whispers.

Hearing him say it makes your hips buckle upward as you huff out a silent fuck.

Peter's moans grow louder, matching yours. "You like that?" He asks and it leads to you biting down on your hand to keep quiet.

Peter seems to sense it, letting out a soft cry. "No," he begs. "Please, let me hear you. Please."

You stay silent again, and Peter curses, voice trembling.

"Please, I'll do anything, just please," he begs, desperation thick in his tone.

"I'm being so good already, doing your work, touching myself, taking all your shit and whining like a damn idiot."

He breaks down, voice trembling with tears. "If my friends knew, they'd be so disappointed."

You hear a shaky sob pressed against the phone. "If your friends knew, they'd kill me."

A soft whimper follows, his breath hitching as he fights to hold it together.

You can't help it, the spit gathered on your hand loosens your jaw, and your moans spill out.

"Fuck." He croaks, voice rough. "That's it. Let me hear how much you like this."

Peter's voice cracks as he moans your name hesitantly, desperation bleeding through. "Can you tell me what you're doing, please?"

His breath hitches, a shaky whimper escaping before he falls silent, waiting for your answer.

You hesitate, debating whether to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he has you. But you're flushed against the bed, two fingers slick with your juices, and you realize the damage is already done.

"I'm—" you choke, slamming your fingers against yourself again. "Fingering myself, Peter."

"Mm, yeah?" he eggs you on.

"Yes," you croak. "Two fingers."

"Add another," he commands, voice suddenly sharp and confident, a stark contrast to his earlier begging. It makes you want to refuse.

He spits out your name, and you hear him pound his cock harder. "Lose the bitchy attitude. Add another fucking finger."

You immediately comply, sliding a third finger inside and hissing at the sharp sting. Peter lets out a bitter laugh.

"That hurt?" He clicks his tongue. "Your boyfriend must not be very big."

You don't respond, instead moaning softly at his words. This was a different Peter, one you'd been trying to coax out for years. And here he was, effortlessly undoing you in a way no one ever had.

His moans grow more desperate, trembling with need.

"If I was there..." His voice slows, thick with desire. "In you, fuck, you'd probably be crying all over my dick."

The thought makes you mewl softly, heart pounding, and Peter's whisper cuts through the silence, "Fuck, I knew you've been fucking thinking about it."

You snarl, trying to mask the ache, "Fuck off, Peter."

But then, his voice drops low, commanding, "Moan my name."

A sharp laugh bursts from you, a mix of defiance and longing. "Fuck no."

Then, almost cruelly, he hangs up.

Your head falls back, a soft whine escaping as frustration and humiliation wash over you. You wanted to be strong, to resist, but you weren't.

The shame stings through every nerve.

Unable to hold back, you call him again. He picks up on the first ring, silence hanging heavy between you, until you break it with a trembling, desperate moan of his name.

"Fuck, Peter."

Tears prick your eyes as you whisper, "You win, you win."

He lets out a whiny moan, thick with relief and longing, trembling with a mix of frustration and desire that seeps from every breath.

"I'd fuck into you so good," he whimpers, his voice trembling with a painful mix of longing and regret. "You'd probably scratch me all up, slap me, anything to make me cry."

A shiver runs through him, and he whispers, barely able to hold back the ache, "I know you like it. I'd give you that all the time if you just..."

His voice cracks as he growls out a low, sorrowful moan, filled with desperate need and sadness. "If you fucking asked."

His words make you let out a small gasp and a soft whimper, your fingers slowing as the weight of his confession leaves you breathless and undone.

You don't want to admit that his words stirred something deep inside you, reaching back to years ago when you longed to be the only one Peter ever looked at.

So instead, you let out a mocking sound. "I'll never fucking ask."

He lets out a small sigh, mingled with a silent moan, as if he had expected your answer all along. "It's okay," he says softly. "I'll give it to you anyway."

You let out a frustrated sound, three fingers just weren't enough anymore. Fuck pride, fuck it all.

"I need you. I need your cock, Peter."

He lets out a startled noise, as if he can hardly believe what he's hearing. "Really?"

You moan in response. "When you're talking to me like that, fingers just aren't enough."

You hear him spit onto his cock, the wet squelch clear through the phone. "Fuck, my cock needs you too. You're such a good girl," he says breathlessly.

Your breath hitches at his words.

"It's okay, baby, I know you're a good girl. I see it," he murmurs, moaning deeper. "Keep moving your hand with me. Let me cum, my sweet girl."

Tears start to well up, and you don't know why you're crying, whether it's from his sweet praise you feel you don't deserve, his quiet devotion to helping you come, or the overwhelming rush of pleasure.

You feel your orgasm building, moaning loudly as you grip the phone tighter. "Cum, Peter."

Even though you know he's only asking out of principle, it makes your heart race all the same, the thought of him asking politely for release while he's the one who has you sobbing.

You come, tears flooding your cheeks as your hand moves with you, your sobs mingling with the rush.

Peter cums shortly after, his voice choked with desperation. "So good... thank you, thank you... so good."

You both pant against the screens, a charged silence simmering between you as you sniffle softly once more.

You hear Peter shuffle immediately, the faint rustle of his movement betraying his nervousness as he says your name softly, like he's afraid to scare you off.

"Hey, hey," he murmurs gently, his voice trembling with concern. "You okay?"

You don't answer, biting your lip hard enough to taste the sting as another sob escapes you, shaking your body.

"No, you're okay," he insists firmly, voice soft but unwavering, as if trying to hold you steady from miles away.

You can almost see the crease of his frown deepening with worry. "You're okay."

"Did I make you cry?" His voice cracks, filled with raw fear and guilt.

You bark out a wet laugh, the sound broken but genuine, shaking your head. "You're such an idiot."

Peter exhales sharply, the quiet huff of frustration or helplessness filling the silence between you. He waits patiently as you sniffle, your breaths uneven as you try to compose yourself.

"Don't cry," he sighs deeply, his voice a soothing balm, full of unspoken promises. "Everything's okay."

You frown, vulnerability softening your features as you finally speak, voice barely above a whisper.

“You won't tell anyone?"

You hear Peter go still for a moment, the weight of your question hanging in the air.

"No, of course not," he answers with quiet certainty, the steadiness in his tone wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

You fall silent, heart pounding, and Peter lets out a deeper sigh, his breath heavy with affection and something tenderly fierce.

"You're so sweet and adorable, fuck."

You honestly think he might be crazy, just days ago, you were throwing slushies at him and calling him limp dick Peter.

He must read your mind, because a small, amused laugh escapes him, light and genuine. "I see through you so easily."

A soft yawn follows, his voice thick with exhaustion and contentment. "I'm just so happy to give you what you want."

You let the silence fully settle between you two, giving yourself time to digest not only his words, but what you'd done, and who you'd done it with.

You still hated Peter to your core. That hadn't changed. But the quiet aftermath, the steady sound of his breathing on the other end of the line, seemed to calm something inside you. The knot twisting in your stomach slowly began to loosen as you stayed there with him, listening to the silence.

Just Peter on the line, with you, and only you.

Maybe you should've, just like he said, done this earlier, asked to see him cry, to hear him cum, to be less nice to others than he was to you. The whole phone call had you convinced he'd comply with anything you asked.

You're about to open your mouth to say something you can't take back when a sudden alarm shatters the quiet.

It's a crime alert from the city, some tentacle guy wreaking havoc and blowing things up.

You hear it crackling through the other side of the line, and Peter stirs in the static, drawing in a sharp breath.

"I should go," he says hesitantly, almost regretfully, and the weight of it settles deep in your stomach.

You want to let out an ironic laugh. Peter Parker was the type to cum and run, you really didn't see that coming.

"Right," you say, the laugh hollow and devoid of any real humor.

Peter senses it instantly, his voice quick to defend.

"Fuck off, Penis Parker." You snap, then hang up without another word.

a/n: hi! I’ve had this one in my drafts for months so it’s been edited to hell for practice, I’d figure I’d debut it here, even tho it’s one of my less favorites. srry if anything looks weird im like rlly trying to figure out how to use tumbler…im an og ao3 writer. let me know any tips. tysm for reading lel

kaikaikoi

( #SPIDERMAN'S NAME IS . . . JAMES ZHAO !? ) ──── you love getting under your boyf's skin when you openly fangirl over the friendly neighborhood hero, but you don't know he has a few secrets under his sleeve too 🐝💐

# ZHAO YUFAN × FEM!READER ( fluff & humor ) &&. ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP!AU SPIDERMAN!AU SPIDER!JAMES flower shop employee!james kissing nicknames “bee” bc of james' job slight morally grey area over the fangirling 🤣

( 𝓀aikai. ) wow I haven't written for james in a while 💞💞💞 so i really got the idea randomly and I just just just just neeeeeded to write it 🥹🥹🥹🥹 a couple of references that aren't too hard to catch if you're familiar w a lil bit of spidey 💞 JUST OMG SPIDER!JAMES I NEED IT SB SBSBSBSBBSSBSBSB guys tell me I'm the smartest and most genius writer you follow 💞

jjudawn

BLACK MAGIC

synopsis: you accidentally slip a love potion into your childhood crush’s drink, will you be able to deal with the outpouring love he was now giving you or would the guilt of it all swallow you whole?

word count: 23.8k

info+warnings: childhoodfriend!keonho, slow burn, fluff + angst, unrequited love themes, a love potion, mentions of loss of grandparents, both are idiots tbh, misunderstandings, awkwardness, cringe-ish??, teen love, wingman seonghyeon, confessions, skinship, flirting, kissing

notes: genuinely locked in the past week to finish this for @cortismoon the chud 🫩 HAPPY BIRTHDAY BBY I HOPE YOU HAVE THE BEST MOST AMAZING DAY (getting drunk 💀) I’M SO GLAD TO HAVE MET YOUUU 🫶🫶🫶 ygs don’t know the pep talk she had to give me to not delete this and write a 1k fic instead so u can thank her for that 💔

The cafeteria smelled of day-old rice and desperation. You stabbed at your kimchi with more force than strictly necessary, half-listening to Yuna ramble on about her cousin's disastrous blind date, but you weren't really paying attention to her anyway. You weren't really there.

aeri2000s

♱ ─── ❝SHOW!SHOW!SHOW!❞

𓏲ּ𝄢… 2ND GEN IDOL BF MARTIN EDWARDS 𝔁 2ND GEN IDOL GF FLREADER # ─── 𝓨outube 𝓥ideo 𝓕ormat ♫ currently playing! show!show!show! ❝If you wanna be my boy, I’m gonna be with you, forever and more. just tell me you love. ❞ - girls generation

𝓒ortis is a 5 member boy group that was formed in august 2007 & 𝓖irlife is a 9 member girl group that was formed in september 2008. both groups are under the same label.

𓏲ּ𝄢… MARTIN & YN MOMENTS WHEN THEY WERE A SECRET IN HONOUR OF IT BEING 10 YEARS SINCE THEIR RELATIONSHIP WAS CONFIRMED.

#… your leader yuri adjusted the fur lined hood of her jacket before looking back toward the camera with an easy smile, gently nudging james with her elbow as he stepped into frame beside her.

“look who's here,” she said, gesturing toward him with the hand she wasn't adjusting her mic with, “straight off of stage.”

james laughed quietly, offering the camera a small wave as yuri continued speaking without missing a beat.

“this is his second year doing the company family concert,” she explained, turning between him and the lens, “and this is our first year.”

as the two of them continued talking for the camera, laughing about things that have happened so far during the show, neither of them noticing what was happening behind them.

a few feet away, you stood with your arms folded beneath your chest, the oversized fur trimmed hood of your sparkly cropped jacket pulled over your head to shield yourself from the cold december air that drifted through the backstage loading area.

martin had wandered over sometime during the conversation.

now he stood directly in front of you, absentmindedly, his fingers played with one of the fluffy pompoms hanging from the strings of your hood, rolling it between his fingers as he said something too quiet for the microphone to pick up.

whatever it was made your eyebrows knit together and you rolled your eyes dramatically before turning on your heel as though you were done entertaining him altogether, your hood bouncing slightly with the movement.

martin immediately laughed, the sound was silent to the audience behind the music and yuri's voice, but his shoulders shook enough to give him away as he hurried after you.

before you could get more than a couple of steps away, he reached out and gently caught your arm, still laughing while he leaned in to say something else that once again never reached the camera.

you tried and failed to hide the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth before you pulled your arm free and continued walking, martin falling into step beside you like he'd planned on following you anyway.

#… you sat with your members across from cortis, your hands resting neatly in your lap as you stared off into space, only half listening to the conversation happening around you. the variety show hosts were doubled over laughing at something juhoon had just said, the room filling with overlapping voices while you remained completely lost in your own thoughts.

“yn!” your head snapped up immediately at the sound of your name, your eyes finding one of the hosts who was now holding up a large photo board with a picture of you taken during a performance a few weeks earlier.

“everyone is so obsessed with how you look lately and your beauty,” they said, turning the board so the audience could see it before picking up another photo. “but then we found this.”

they held up a pre debut picture of you from when you were a trainee . “you look the same, just a little older.” they tilted their head curiously. “you really are all natural?”

every pair of eyes in the studio landed on you including your members and cortis who turned toward you.

you simply tilted your head, a small smile creeping onto your face.“I’m completely all natural,” you replied without missing a beat, a cocky grin spreading across your face. “that's perfect all natural beauty.”

one of your members immediately reached over and playfully smacked your arm, making you laugh as the rest of the room erupted into amused groans and dramatic ahhs at your shameless confidence.

“what an ego,” martin's voice suddenly cut through the laughter from his side of the studio. he leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with an amused smile. “she's got a big head, doesn't she?”

the entire room burst into laughter again while you turned toward him, sending him a small glare that held absolutely no real annoyance behind it while martin only laughed harder.

#… you stood on stage with your members as more and more groups continued filing in behind you, everyone politely bowing to one another while trying to find enough room to stand without bumping into the next group. staff members hurried back and forth just offstage, quietly directing people into place as the ending stage slowly came together.

you reached up to adjust the bedazzled sailor style hat that completed your stage outfit before letting your hand fall back to your side. with a small smile, you linked your arm through your leader's and waited patiently for the mcs to make their way onto the stage so the live broadcast could wrap up.

the noise around you was a mixture of polite conversations, laughter and idols greeting friends they hadn't seen in weeks.

you barely had time to look around before a pair of hands landed on your shoulders with enough force to make you flinch.

your head immediately whipped around, ready to see which one of your members had decided to scare you, only to be met with martin standing directly behind you.

he was already fighting back a laugh the second your eyes met his, he flashed you the most ridiculous smile imaginable, eyebrows raised as though he'd done absolutely nothing wrong.

you stared at him for a second and then rolled your eyes while one of your members gyuri who had witnessed the entire interaction from beside you, let out a quiet giggle behind her hand.

completely refusing to entertain him, you turned back toward the front of the stage without saying a word, your expression as composed as if nothing had happened.

martin, however, didn't get the hint, his hands stayed comfortably resting on your shoulders, his thumbs absentmindedly tapping against the fabric of your sparkly sailor jacket as he stood behind you without the slightest intention of moving.

you let out the tiniest sigh, trying your best to ignore him despite being painfully aware of the cameras sweeping across the stage.

behind you, martin only smiled to himself.

he leaned forward just enough for only you to hear, to the audience it could’ve been anything but you didn't even spare him a glance.

instead, you reached up, grabbed one of his wrists, and casually lifted his hand off your shoulder before setting it back at his side.

a second later, it was right back where it'd been.

keonho who stood beside him snorted quietly, quickly covering his mouth when he realized he’d laughed out loud.

you closed your eyes for the briefest moment, before turning to look back at him.

martin only shrugged innocently, the corners of his mouth tugging into another grin as the opening music for the ending stage began to play, leaving you no choice but to stand there with his hands still resting on your shoulders.

#… martin leaned casually against the hallway wall, one shoulder resting against it as a staff member held the camera steady in front of him. with an easy smile, he flipped open his silver flip phone before holding it closer to the lens.

“a friend of mine gave this to me,” he said, turning the phone slightly so the charm hanging from it caught the light. “it's cool right?”

the cameraman zoomed in on the small keychain as it swung back and forth beneath the phone, getting a close up of the tiny charm before slowly pulling back out.

martin was just about to lower his phone when movement caught the corner of his eye.

without warning, you walked straight through the space between him and the camera, completely unaware or at least pretending to be.

your bright pink flip phone was pressed against your ear as you talked to whoever was on the other end of the call, a water bottle dangling loosely from your other hand while you made your way toward the practice rooms.

the camera followed you for a split second as you passed and that's when it caught it, hanging from your pink flip phone was a charm that looked almost identical to martin's.

same design, same shape just a different colour, the kind of thing that very obviously looked like it had come from a matching pair.

for a brief moment, the camera lingered between the two keychains before drifting back to martin.

martin's eyes instinctively followed you as you disappeared farther down the hallway, watching until you turned the corner and disappeared from view.

only then did he remember the camera was still rolling.

he looked back toward the lens, a bashful smile slowly spreading across his face before he ducked his head and turned it away with a quiet laugh.

𝓣HANKS FOR WATCHING !!!

cryopie

Alexis Ness and the way he loves 𐙚♡

word count: 523 / the cutest >_<

Alexis Ness and the way he texts you throughout the day whenever you’re apart. Sending check-ins to make sure you’re rested or have eaten, attaching pictures of anything that reminds him of you. His texts grow progressively sweeter and more needy with every passing hour because he hates the distance between the two of you.

Alexis Ness and the way he protects you when someone makes you uncomfortable. The gentle warmth in his eyes turns into a glare as he shuts them down, his hand giving you a soothing squeeze to reassure you.

Alexis Ness and the way he braids your hair, his fingers moving gently, completely content just taking care of you.

Alexis Ness and the way he buys a warm pretzel just to hold it out to you, breaking off small pieces and feeding it to you with a soft smile while you walk side by side.

Alexis Ness and the way he insists on building a snowman with you in the freezing cold. Carefully sculpting it using his bare hands to smooth out the snow before wrapping his scarf around its neck, turning to you with expectant eyes just waiting for your approval.

Alexis Ness and the way he gets flustered when you suddenly compliment him out of nowhere, trying to hide his blush behind his hands while peeking slightly through his fingers just to make sure you meant it.

Alexis Ness and the way he presses a kiss to the palm of your hand every time you hand him something, his lips lingering just long enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Alexis Ness and the way he melts when you touch his face. His eyes fluttering shut, leaning his cheek into your palms like a puppy, sighing softly at the simple warmth of your touch.

Alexis Ness and the way he turns into a clingy mess when he feels unwell. Resting his head on your lap, whining whenever you move an inch away, completely reliant on your comfort to feel better.

Alexis Ness and the way his eyes light up whenever you call his name, dropping whatever he is doing to hurry over to your side.

Alexis Ness and the way he clings softly to your sleeve when he’s sleepy, resting his forehead against your shoulder while you gently run your fingers through his hair.

Alexis Ness and the way he calls his cooking his magic, proudly setting a plate in front of you, resting his chin on his hands, watching you with bright eyes as you take the first bite of his culinary spell.

Alexis Ness and the way he gently comforts you when you’re stressed, rubbing circles into the small of your back and keeping his body pressed against yours.

Alexis Ness and the way he knows your basic needs before you even realize it yourself. Preparing warm tea, organizing your space and even adjusting your pillows.

Alexis Ness and the way he falls asleep with his head on your chest, his breathing slow while his fingers remain hooked around your waist, peacefully listening to your heartbeat.

thank you for reading ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

see more characters here <3

cute divider from @/saradika-graphics

aspinny

noted (to you) - II

CHAP 1 <- prev - next -> CHAP 3

TAGLIST <3 : @mrskamikazekaito @murakamisblog @ninisreading @ssomethingalieen @kokoscutie @cup1dan93l @blissfullhaevens @mangofantaa @perlatowezz @ilunita13 @justmot @amorluvv @yeagerzs @shryniee

aspinny

noted (to you) - eren yeager x fem!reader; CHAP I

an aspiring artist meets an apricot obsessed girl in his nearby market is this… fate?

next -> CHAP 2

a/n: seeing if ppl are interested in this fic hehe : D also this is a new chat app so it might look a little different

TAGLIST: open! comment if u wanna see more of this :)

aspinny

noted (to you) VII

urs and hitch's texts beloww ;p

CHAP 6 <- prev - next -> tba

TAGLIST <3 : @mrskamikazekaito @murakamisblog @ninisreading @ssomethingalieen @kokoscutie @cup1dan93l @blissfullhaevens @mangofantaa @perlatowezz @ilunita13 @justmot @amorluvv @yeagerzs @shryniee @justmot @whiskles @imbetter111 @saaaaaaaai @yuze23rdasscheekhair @nayooznii @jkirsteinlvr @a3909 @effywells @orange0annihilation @st8killzz @indiesleazeluvr07 @glitterunicornstink12 @blizzyblitz @vampyric-puppy @naomiiily @miathecoolest @minecroft-connor @arlertsdevotion @lemonlimelolly @hypernovaxx @vermillionram @brieflyfastserpent @beaflowersfly @carnivalllz @mallorywrites @officialrubysenpai @urmommyandrea

invrtedspear

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ — SUNFLOWER (e. yeager)

(18+) TWO SHOT — PART ONE! ✩‧₊˚ not edited or beta read, spiderman!eren x fem!reader, college au, spiderman au, mentions of blood/wounds, cursing, sfw & nsfw, kissing, making out, smut, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), dirty talk, dubious consent???? (since she doesn't know who he is???), miscommunication, mentions of violence, unedited and not beta read

summary: your friendly neighborhood spiderman comes into your apartment to evade pursuers and meets you, an unsuspecting civilian in his efforts to stop crime. you help patch him up and go on your separate ways, but what you don't know is that spiderman is your project partner in bio class — eren yeager.

words: 7k

author's note: i hope this was worth the wait.... this is just part one of what will be a two part series!! more smut in the next part and also a resolve to the ending <33 anyways im spiderman eren brainrotted and now i hope you are too okiiiieeee bye have fun reading! (artist: jvnely_ on instagram)

The sound of your bedroom window opening sounded much like a death knell.

At first, you tried to tell yourself that it was a figment of your imagination, there had never been any moment that you felt unsafe in your neighborhood before this. But when you heard a step, and then another scrape of a shoe, your eyes shot open and you sat up, coming face to face with a shadowed figure.

Your first instinct was to scream, but it died in your throat. Your lungs were constricted by the sheer fear you felt being face to face with an intruding man when you were living alone in a one bedroom apartment.

He didn’t move.

Moonlight poured through the window behind him, washing out his outline in a pale silver. He was watching you as carefully as you were watching him, his shoulders rising in ragged breaths that sounded almost like he was hurt.

You allowed your gaze to dart over to your nightstand, seeing your phone just sitting on the edge. You probably had one second of movement to grab it before he could lunge over to stop you, which meant there was no way you’d be able to call the police in time. It was too far. The baseball bet your father insisted you keep for “emergencies” leaned against the wall near your front door. Even farther than the phone.

Just as you were about to take your chances in hoping someone would hear you in the adjacent apartment, opening your mouth and a slight sound coming out, the man raised his hands in a wave.

“Please don’t scream!” He yelled, waving his hands more frantically while taking a step forward and then immediately taking it back. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head and reaching for your phone.

“I know that’s what every guy says before they hurt someone,” the man took the same step forward and another, standing right at the foot of your bed. “I swear I’m not a home invader!”

Letting your hand fall down to your lap, you cocked your head to the side. “You’re in my home.”

“I know, but I’m not invading in that way just let me explain—”

From here, you could see more of his figure, but there was no skin or clothing showing. Red fabric was stretched across his shoulders, intersected by black webbing and blue patches. White lenses covered where his eyes should be, one of them cracked along the edge, and when you looked down to the blue along his legs, you saw a dark stain soaking through the suit.

Blood.

Your fingers tensed along the comforter gathered in your lap as your eyes darted back up to the stranger’s face. Or . . . not exactly a stranger in the traditional sense.

“. . . Spider-Man?” you breathed, confusion written all along your features as you wondered if this was some practical joke your friends were pulling on you. There was absolutely no way that this was real, you had to be dreaming or something of the sort, Spider-Man didn’t just break into people's homes. His white lenses widened. “Oh,” he let out a relieved breath. “Yeah.”

Spider-Man rubbed the back of his neck and winced. “Ow.” His hand flew to his side, pressing his fingers against the wound and immediately flinching at the feeling. “I probably should have led with that part.”

A pause lingered between you both before you opened your mouth again. “. . . Why are you in my apartment?”

“I was being chased,” he explained, using his hands to talk. “By people. Dangerous people.” Spider-Man sighed, shaking his head. “I’m doing a horrible job at explaining this.”

“You think?”

He let out a shaky laugh. “I just needed somewhere to hide for a few minutes and your window was open.” You glanced towards the window and it was, in fact, wide open. You’d let it stay cracked because your air conditioning was wonky all week, and you were on such a high level in your apartment building you didn’t have to worry about people breaking in. Well, until now.

“So . . . you just picked one?” You asked, eyes returning to him.

“I . . .” He hesitated. “Kind of?”

“You kind of climbed into a random woman’s apartment at one in the morning?”

“When you say it like that —”

“How else am I supposed to say it?”

Spider-Man opened his mouth and nothing came out of substance, just a tiny, “Yeah.”

Instead of delving into the absurdity of his rationale, you watched his breathing hitch, knees buckling and his hand coming to catch himself on the footboard while the other pressed against the wound at his side. “Shit,” he muttered followed by a sharp inhale, breathing becoming uneven. A droplet of blood seeped from the dark patch on his suit onto your hardwood floor, and then another.

“You’re actually bleeding,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him. You didn’t move yet, still planted in the same place on your bed as you warred in your head between helping the man who had broken into your apartment or yelling at him to leave.

Spider-Man glanced down at his side. “Occupational hazard.”

You glanced over at the still-open window, listening for the rustling of his pursuers who would never arrive. There was a car horn blaring and the wailing of an ambulance in the distance, but you could hear no shouting, no gunshots or anything that would give way to the idea he was still being followed.

Once you turned back to him, you realized his body looked more tense than it had a few minutes ago. “You’re bleeding all over my floor,” you said, finally willing yourself to move, dropping your legs on the edge of your bed and walking towards him. He tensed at first, hand coming up to stop you from coming any further. “I’m going to get my first aid kit,” you explained, holding your hand up in a makeshift surrender. “Just . . . wait here.”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. You thought to yourself as you made your way into the bathroom attached to your bedroom. Every self-defense seminar and every true crime documentary you’d ever half watched screamed at you about how this behavior was how people ended up in a breaking news article amber alert.

Do not leave a stranger alone in your apartment. Do not help the stranger in your apartment. Definitely do not turn your back on the stranger in your apartment and give them an opening to kill you.

Your first aid kit sat behind rolls of toilet paper underneath your bathroom sink, which you grabbed with shaking hands. He hadn’t moved from the place you’d left him, gloved hand still braced against the footboard with his head dipped towards the floor. At least he listened, that was something.

You patted the edge of your mattress for him to sit, sitting down with him and breathing in the tangy copper smell of dried blood emanating from his wound. “Can you take the mask off?” You asked him, motioning to the slight dip in the fabric where the mask had ridden up, revealing the tiniest sliver of pale skin.

He shook his head. “Absolutely not, just — I can do it myself.”

Spider-Man reached for the gauze in your other hand and you pulled it away from him. “No you can’t, you’re shaking from too much blood loss,” you argued, sighing at his insistence on keeping his identity secret. “If you’re not going to take the mask off, can you at least tell me what happened?”

He paused, catching his breath before dropping his gaze down to the wound on his side. “I interrupted something I shouldn’t have . . . and got stabbed.”

“Stabbed?” you exhaled, eyes widening in shock. You reached over and pulled his hand away, seeing the puncture wound through his ripped suit. It had been torn clean through, a ragged slit in the fabric that showed the puncture wound just above his hip.

Blood was welling from the opening and falling down his side, skin darkening into an angry purple bruise surrounding it.

Your stomach lurched as a wave of nausea wracked through your body. “Oh my god.”

“Don’t freak out! Just . . . just wait, it’s not as bad as it looks,” he explained, trying his best to calm you down. “Look at it for a few seconds and you’ll see what I mean.”

“What the hell do you mean look at —”

“Shh, trust me,” he urged.

You did what he said, forcing your eyes to lock onto the wound and wondering what

the hell he expected you to get from this. Then, just as you were going to look up and yell at him for wasting time you could’ve spent helping him — you saw it.

It was imperceptible at first. The blood seeped through the puncture but it appeared slower, torn flesh almost twitching beneath the layer of crimson. The edges of the wound drew together by the smallest fraction, making you blink in surprise, your mouth falling open.

“That’s not . . .” You paused, watching the gap in his side shrink no more than a millimeter this time. The healing wasn’t instant or miraculous, it looked like a time-lapse of something eerily biological. “How are you doing that?”

Spider-Man glanced down at the wound and shrugged, acting as though the most insane thing you’ve ever seen in your life is nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

“I heal a little faster than most people,” he tried to explain.

“A little?” You repeated. “Your body is stitching itself back together!”

“Very slowly,” he corrected, his attention now on you instead of the wound. “If it makes you feel any better, it still hurts a lot.”

You looked down at his side and sure enough, it was still there. It hadn’t magically vanished and blood was still dripping through, but where there had only been a deep puncture, the edges were already beginning to knit together and the bruises weren’t spreading as quickly. It was impossible, this was impossible.

“What the hell are you?”

The question hung in the air and he hesitated, as though he wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that question himself. “Just Spider-Man,” he answered, a soft humor in his voice. “I’m a human, just . . . a weird one.”

The next ten to fifteen minutes were spent cleaning up as much of the puncture as you could, asking him a few questions here and there that he would either deny outright to answer or give some half-assed answer that you couldn’t determine if it was truthful or not.

Once you were finished, you surveyed your work, seeing the flesh cleaned by the liquid antiseptic and the haunting look of the skin underneath the bruises moving as they healed.

It was getting late, way later than you’d stayed up for on a school night and your eyes started to droop. He helped you throw away the used gauze and put the first aid kit away, standing in front of your open window and giving you one last look.

“I’m sorry again, for scaring you,” Spider-Man said, motioning to the recently cleaned floors you two had done together. “And the floor.”

You leaned against the headboard of your bed, offering a small smile. “It’s okay.”

Spider-Man nodded once, his gloved fingers curling around the frame of the open window, glancing at the city stretching out in front of him. “You should lock your window after I leave. You know, so no one can get in.”

Before you could think of anything to say back to him, or any questions about his name or where he lived, he stepped onto the fire escape and disappeared. You were quick to hurry to the window, feeling the cool night air on your skin as you leaned out to catch a glimpse of red and blue swinging in between the buildings, disappearing into the darkness.

In the morning, which came unforgiving of your lack of sleep, you wondered if you imagined the events of last night. Though, that wonder was immediately erased when your eyes drifted to the folded bandage wrappers sitting in the trash can of your bathroom.

Despite your body’s protest, you managed to get to class on time. The crisp autumn air did little to keep you awake as students hurried around you towards the lecture building, your bag slung over your shoulders and a warm drink in your hand to combat the slight tremor in your gait.

Introduction to Biology was a dumb class that you had to take for a general education requirement, but at least today there would be less lecture and more working on a project that was due soon. “You’ll all be working in pairs,” your Professor stated, pacing slowly back and forth at the front of the hall. “I’ll be assigning partners so that you all work with someone you haven’t worked with before.”

There was a collective groan through the lecture hall and someone in the back muttered a complaint under their breath that earned a few snickers from the surrounding rows.

You couldn’t care less about having your partner chosen for you, as long as they actually pulled their weight and didn’t smell like stale beer, it would be a success.

Your fingers tightened around the cup in your hands, trying to keep yourself present instead of falling asleep since you’d already caught yourself zoning out twice during attendance.

As names were called and students were sectioned off into pairs together around the lecture hall, you yawned, searching the room for the person you were paired with.

“Y/N,” your professor stated plainly, commanding your attention. “You’ll be working with Yeager.”

A chair scraped backward behind you, turning your attention towards the source.

Eren Yeager was a quiet kid, not necessarily shy from the way he would answer questions when the professor called on him or from when you’d hear him making jokes with a handful of people he seemed to tolerate. But he wasn’t the type of person to make any effort to be noticed.

He’d always come to class wearing earbuds tucked beneath the hood of whatever sweatshirt he’d decided to wear and either spend his time staring at his laptop instead of the screen or reading a manga volume you assumed was one of hundreds.

From what you’d gathered, his social circle was small, sometimes there would be a blonde guy seated beside him and sometimes a goth girl with a red scarf.

Other than that, you knew absolutely nothing about Eren Yeager. He wasn’t the type of person you imagined yourself speaking to.

He slung his backpack over one shoulder and weaved through the rows of seats towards you, giving you a tentative smile. He was wearing an oversized light blue crewneck with a white collared shirt underneath, the cuffs peeking out from beneath the sleeves that were pushed halfway up his arms. Dark hair fell haphazardly over his forehead like he’d tried to make it look somewhat neat this morning by running his hands through it a couple times.

Behind the thick rimmed glasses smushed onto his face were green eyes that looked almost as exhausted as yours probably did.

“Hi,” he said, voice wavering. “I guess we’re partners then.”

“Looks like it.”

Eren slid into the empty seat beside you, setting his backpack carefully on the floor before pulling some of its contents onto the desk. First was, you guessed it, a few manga volumes with worn covers, and then the last was his laptop.

He pushed the manga over to the side with a light blush coating his face. “I forgot we had projects today,” he said, explaining the books. “I was reading before class.”

You glanced at the covers stacked neatly beside his laptop. “ . . . three?”

Eren’s ears reddened to a darker shade than before, staring down at his keyboard before facing you. “I couldn’t decide. In my defense, they’re different genres.”

“Hm.”

“I, uh . . .” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I was thinking we could split the work evenly. Half the research and combine everything later?”

The two of you settled into an easy rhythm surprisingly quickly. He typed constantly, fingers moving against his keyboard with practiced speed, occasionally pushing his glasses back into place from sliding down the bridge of his nose.

Every so often you would hear him mumble something to himself before deleting an entire section. You found yourself watching him a bit more than what could be considered necessary.

Quiet people always seemed harder to read.

“You okay?” He asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Do you need something?”

He’d caught you staring. “Oh,” you said, heat creeping up your face. “Sorry. Just dazed off. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

His fingers stilled. “Really?”

You nodded, rubbing at one eye and taking another sip of your drink. “A really weird night.”

“Weird?”

Eren looked at you fully now, meeting your tired eyes through the thick lenses of his glasses.

For a moment, you contemplated telling him about your run in with the elusive Spider-Man last night. After all, you hadn’t told anyone about what happened for fear of them saying you were full of shit, or telling you that you’d finally lost it completely.

Everyone knew who Spider-Man was, he was all over the news and social media. But it was one thing to say you knew who he was and another to say that you’d met him outside of one of his ‘saves.’

Your friends would think you had gone insane. But Eren? You didn’t know him. Not really. If he thought you were crazy, there wasn’t that much for you to lose. You’d be done with the project at the end of the two weeks and then you’d be on your own ways.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” You asked, your voice a bit lower.

Eren glanced at you for a moment while he typed. “I can promise I’ll try.”

Well, here goes nothing.

“Spider-Man climbed through my bedroom window last night.”

For the smallest, tiniest fraction of a second, Eren seemed to stop typing. The cursor blinked on his screen while his hands remained suspended over the keyboard. Then he resumed, as though nothing had happened.

You barely noticed it, it was something that flew right over your head. “Spider-Man?” He asked. “As in Spider-Man?”

You nodded, tilting your head so you could gauge his reaction to see if he was laughing at you or not.

“The one swinging around downtown?” Eren asked.

“Are there any other Spider-Man running around?”

He laughed, going back to typing. “You have a point.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I didn’t say that,” he kept his eyes on the document in front of him. “So, what happened?”

You recounted what happened last night and after every detail you waited for Eren to laugh in your face, but he didn’t.

Instead, he was calm about it, as though this was a normal thing that happened to everyone and wasn’t a once in a lifetime chance. You got to the end of the night and talked about how he apologized a bunch about getting blood on your floor.

“I mean . . .” Eren’s smile lingered. “If someone accidentally bled all over my apartment, I’d probably appreciate the apology too.”

Tap.

Three wracks against your bedroom window spurred you out of your studying, turning your attention to it. It was raining, it had been all day and at first you supposed it was a few hard raindrops landing on the glass. But then there were three more just like it.

Tap.

Slowly, you stood from your desk chair, setting your highlighter down before crossing the room. Your curtains were drawn, concealing whoever was waiting on the other side. You hesitated, then pulled it aside in one quick motion.

“Before you say anything. I’m not bleeding this time.”

Spider-Man was outside your window, his hands lifted in surrender. It had been almost a week since he’d shown up in your apartment and it looked as though he hadn’t changed at all. His suit was damp from the downpour, rainwater running over the red and blue fabric. He wasn’t clutching his side or breathing like every inhale hurt. He looked normal.

“You decided to knock,” you observed while moving to unlatch the window.

His head tilted sheepishly. “I figured climbing through uninvited only worked once.”

A gust of rain-soaked air swept into your room when the window opened completely, stepping to the side to allow him inside. You crossed your arms, eyebrows raising as you waited for him to explain what he was doing outside of your apartment again, this time with no threat of someone following him.

Spider-Man lingered just inside the window, rainwater dripping steadily from the edge of his suit. He glanced down before looking back up at you. “I’ll clean that up.”

“You’re worried about the floor? Again?” You asked, disappearing into the bathroom for a towel before tossing it in his direction. His hand shot out of and grabbed it instantly, those abnormal reflexes that you’d seen in videos of him coming in full force.

You may have spent the last week watching videos of him and the various ‘saves’ he’s had all over the city, but you’d never tell him that.

It was strange to watch shaky phone recordings of someone who had sat on the edge of your bed bleeding through his suit, a guy who was an untouchable inhuman force of nature, completely fearless and untouchable. You’d watched numerous news feeds of him joking with reporters after stopping robberies of various corner stores.

He rubbed the towel over the top of his head before draping it around his neck. “What?”

You blinked, shaking your head. “The videos make you look taller.”

“Seriously?” Spider-Man asked, a laugh escaping him while staring at you through the mask. “That’s the first thing that you noticed?”

“It’s been bothering me all week, honestly,” you answered.

“How tall did you think I was?”

“I don’t know, like . . . six-four?” You shrugged your shoulders.

He shook his head. “Six-four? That’s ridiculous. I’m six foot on a good day.” Spider-Man glanced around your room, his gaze catching on the biology textbook that was lying open across your desk.

You had been knee deep in the research for your and Eren’s project when he knocked on your window, and although you were thankful for the distraction, the deadline of the project was looming over your head.

The last thing that you wanted to do was explain to your partner that the reason you didn’t get your half of the work done was because Spider-Man came to visit again. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell him that you were busy, your heart hammered so frantically in your chest at the mere thought of him leaving again.

Which, in the grand scheme of things, was completely irrational. You had no idea who this guy was underneath the mask. Sure, he didn’t do anything bad to you a week ago, but who was to say he would keep up the nice guy charade? What if he was someone you shouldn’t trust?

“Why’d you come back?” You asked him, cocking your head to the side. “Unless there are robbers in my apartment I don’t know about?”

His gaze lingered on the textbook for another second before drifting back over to you. “I…” he began, but the words died. One gloved hand found the back of his neck and rubbed absently while the other remained on the towel you’d given him. “I don’t know.”

You squinted.

“Well actually, that’s a lie,” he said immediately afterwards. “I guess I wanted to make sure you were okay.” When you didn’t respond at first, he gave a sigh. “I know I scared you last week and I didn’t want you to think I forgot about it, your kindness I mean.”

You continued to stare at him.

Heat crept into his voice. “And . . . I liked talking to you. You’re easy to be around.” Spider-Man laughed once, a little quiet thing. “And you’re also really pretty.” His hand came to the back of his neck again. “So I figured I’d stop by.”

For a long moment, your brain refused to supply a single coherent thought. Pretty? Of all the things you expected him to say, that hadn’t crossed your mind at all. You’d expected him to have another emergency or more apologies or something else that he needed to do that required your immediate attention.

Not that you were easy to be around or that you were really pretty.

A blush coated your face, creeping all the way to the tips of your ears, realizing that he was calling you really pretty when you were here looking like a mess while studying.

You were wearing the oversized university sweatshirt you’d stolen from one of your friends a few years ago and tired eyes from being hunched over biology notes for too long. You probably had pencil smudges along the side of your hands and your hair was probably going every which way.

He’d climbed five stories in the rain just to tell you that?

You should have been even more suspicious of him now. You didn’t know what he looked like and you didn’t know his name. Every rational part of your brain insisted that trusting someone because they’d apologized to you a bunch and didn’t do anything to you after breaking into your apartment was an awful survival strategy.

However, your heart was entirely uninterested in listening to reason.

Instead, you walked a few paces closer to him. He didn’t move, feet planted in the same place. Rain continued to drum steadily against the open window behind him.

You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears, loud enough that you wondered if he could hear it too. “You really think I’m pretty?” You asked him in a softer voice, close enough that you could feel the heat emanating from his body underneath the suit.

Spider-Man let out a tiny laugh. “Doesn’t everybody?” He paused. “I mean, you’re saying other people don’t?”

“No one has ever climbed five stories to tell me that,” you said, shrugging your shoulders.

Another laugh escaped him. “I don’t usually do this.”

Silence settled between you both once more. Your eyes dropped from the white lenses of his mask before settling on the small strip of skin where the fabric met his jaw, reminding you of how it looked the same up close as it did when you cleaned his side only a week ago. You could remember how warm his skin had been beneath your fingertips.

“Can I ask you something?” you murmured, hands at your side itching to close the distance.

He nodded immediately, making you swallow. “If I asked you to take the mask off,” your eyes searched for any hint of who he really was beneath them. “Would you?”

“No.”

You nodded once. “I figured.”

“I wish I could,” he said, sincerity lacing his voice. “It isn’t because I don’t trust you. You’d probably just be disappointed.”

You tilted your head to the side, a silent question laced your features.

“Everyone has this idea of who I am. They expect me to be, I don’t know,” he searched for the correct words he wanted to use. “Someone older, maybe. Taller, apparently. I don’t want you to be disappointed if I’m not what you want to see.”

Your lips twitched. “Even if I want you to take the mask off so I can kiss you?”

The space between you both fell silent, completely still enough that not even the rain was ringing in your ears anymore. Spider-Man didn’t move, staring down at you and you imagined his eyes widening behind those white lenses. “ . . . What?”

“I—” you let out a nervous laugh. “Forget I said that.”

“No!” he said, shaking his head. “No, I was shocked, that’s all. Here—” Spider-Man moved around your room for a moment, searching for something. A few moments passed by and he landed on a black scarf you’d neglected to put away with your coat earlier this week, grabbing it and walking back in front of you.

“If you wear this over your eyes, I’ll take the mask off.”

You looked down at the scarf in his hands, biting your bottom lip while you thought. Finally, you decided to throw caution to the wind and nodded slowly, taking the scarf from him and fashioning it over your eyes. You tied it into a knot, looking back to where you supposed he was and staring at darkness.

“Can you see anything?” He asked.

You laughed, shaking your head. “No.”

“Good.”

You heard the faint shuffle of his footsteps against the floor as he seemingly took another step closer to you. The silence stretched long enough for your heart to begin racing. “Are you still there?” you asked, granting the void a nervous smile.

A soft laugh answered you. “Yeah. I’m working up the courage.”

Right as you were about to say something else, you heard the quiet rasp of fabric sliding against skin, the sound of his mask peeling off and then it falling down to the floor. Somehow, standing there in complete darkness, you felt aware of him more than ever. You could hear his breathing, the slight tremor of his exhale.

“Okay,” he said after a long moment of nothingness.

You lifted a hand slowly into the darkness, fingertips brushing against what you assumed were his collarbones.

Pushing upwards, you felt the skin of his neck, then up to the warm skin of his jawline. You traced for a moment before your hand found purchase on his cheek, still damp from the rain. He leaned into your touch, causing your breath to catch.

“Hi,” you whispered.

An awkward laugh escaped him. “Hi.”

His lips met yours with a tentative gentleness, lingering for only a moment before pushing again, as though giving you a chance to decide you’d changed your mind.

Your hand slipped farther from his cheek to his damp hair, leaning in and smiling into the kiss as a quiet, disbelieving laugh escaped his mouth.

His mouth moved together with yours almost perfectly. You could taste a hint of something sweet on his lips, sugary and laced with the dampness of the rain. His hand came up to grasp at your neck, pulling you close enough to where your chest brushed against his own.

You longed to see what he looked like, to know what face you were kissing, but you refrained from pushing the makeshift blindfold off. You wanted to respect him for the trust he was already giving you.

Both of you pulled away and you wished you could see the look he had on his face. You wanted to know if he liked the kiss or not, or if he was disgusted and wanted to leave. You went to pull your hand away and he stopped you, gloved hand pressing yours back onto his face.

“Don’t,” he murmured against your lips, the word barely louder than the silence. You stilled, palm pressing once more against the warmth of his face.

Right as you were going to say something, his lips slotted against you again, catching you off guard but he was far from unwelcome. His palm cradled your jaw with tenderness, thumb sweeping against your bottom lip.

This kiss was a bit different. Before, he had been gentle and tender, a question asked in the dark.

The moment you responded, however, it seemed as though his control completely snapped. Spider-Man groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as the kiss deepened. It was hungry and demanding while his other hand pressed against the small of your back, almost crushing you against his chest.

It felt like he wanted to devour you and you let him, your hand flying up to clutch onto his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his suit. The kiss was so overwhelming your knees felt weak, without your sight every other sense felt magnified.

Your head was spinning, half of your thoughts telling you that you should pull away before things got out of hand and the other half of you wanting to say fuck it and let whatever happens, happen.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he whispered, the words vibrating between you both. He kissed you harder, tongue claiming yours in a hunger that was almost violent. His mouth moved to the sensitive column of your throat, teeth grazing your skin that was tender and threatening all at the same time, earning a gasp from your lips as he nipped a tiny bite.

His hand slid down and bypassed the waistband of your pants, palm finding the curve of your ass, squeezing his fingers into the flesh.

A soft moan escaped him when he felt just how receptive you were to his touch, your own hands exploring the expanse of his torso through his suit. Spider-Man pulled you closer, his hips bucking forward towards your own.

“Are you sure we should—”

“—keep going,” you interrupted, shaking your head underneath the blindfold.

The kiss was feral now, the sound of both of your soft, broken gasps and slight moans was like lighting a fire over a pool of gasoline. He pushed you a bit backwards, guiding you to the edge of your bed and helping you sit down.

Your heart beats almost out of your chest, allowing for practically a stranger to not only kiss you but guide you towards your bed making your head spin. His lips trail down from your neck to your collarbones, tongue grazing along the underside of one before you felt his gloved hand tug at the waistband of your pants.

“Can I take these off?” He asked, breath panting.

Before you could give him any semblance of doubt, you reached down and pushed them off yourself, exposing your bottom half completely to him as you dropped the pants along with your underwear to the ground.

A low groan came from his throat, his body settling between your legs. He pushed your shirt up to the undersides of your breasts, kissing down in between them.

“I don’t even know your name,” you breathed, eyes fluttering shut underneath the blindfold when his kisses travelled lower, ghosting along the expanse of your stomach.

“Are you sure we should — fuck.” His hot breath on your inner thighs shut down any doubt you had about him being this close to you, and you trusted him, you trusted him so much despite not knowing who he was.

“Do you want me to stop?” He murmured, his tone tense as though he was using all the strength he had left to not just dive in. As a test, his tongue darted out and licked a stripe up the junction of your thigh and your toes curled instinctively. “I need to know before I devour you, pretty girl.”

You shook your head. “Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop.”

You could feel stubble scraping against your soft skin, working his way upward with torturous patience. “You’re dripping for me,” he murmured, awe in his tone.

In any other circumstance, you would deflect, try to play it off. It was too late, he already had you underneath him and blindfolded, there was no place to hide.

His tongue was broad and rough, swiping upward in one long, wet stroke from below your entrance all the way to your swollen clit. Spider-Man groaned at the taste, burying his face in between your legs, tongue working with precision laced with desperate hunger.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, using his tongue to swirl it around the sensitive bud while his gloved fingers found your entrance. One, and then two fingers plunged deep into you, your walls pulsing around his fingers while he continued to devour you. His tongue was relentless and vulgar, his goal to lick up every drop of your arousal from your folds until there was nothing left.

Your hands fell to his head, feeling the soft strands of his hair in between your fingers as you clutched onto him for dear life.

He had longer hair than most guys, soft and coarse, you could just tell it was beautiful in whatever color it was. Moans left your mouth with no filter, thighs clamping against his face to keep him as close to you as possible.

He wasn’t just eating you out, he was fucking devouring you. His tongue was working like a weapon, relentless and precise while he kept his fingers buried deep inside of your soaking wet cunt, stretching you as he felt your inner muscles clench and spasm around him.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he moaned against your inner thigh, returning his mouth to your clit, sucking it in between his teeth and applying a rhythmic, punishing suction that made your back arch at an impossibly harsh angle off of the mattress.

You were gasping for air through the blindfold, completely at his mercy for whatever he wanted to do to you. You were making incoherent noises now, high pitched broken whimpers.

Every time your hips thrust up against his face to seek more contact, he met you with even more pressure, fingers curling up to find that spot that made your toes curl and voice crack in between a moan. The room was filled with wet squelching sounds that were obscene and filthy, a testament to the territory he had claimed within your apartment.

“I-I’m going to–” you whimpered, hips grinding up against his face over and over again. He used one of his hands to press them down, anchoring you to the mattress.

He started flicking his tongue against you while simultaneously pumping his fingers in and out of you, creating a friction that was white hot and borderline overwhelming. You were building so rapidly to your peak that tears pricked up in the corners of your eyes.

“That’s it, take it,” he muttered, words muffled by your folds. He knew how close you were, pushing his fingers deeper, determined to ruin the last of your composure.

Your inner walls clamped down on his fingers in a desperate, rhythmic pulse that milked him mercilessly, your cunt flooding his mouth with another wave of slick arousal.

Your orgasm was less of a peak and more of a shattering, hips bucking wildly with your back arching while letting out a broken, keening cry that tore through all other sounds in the room.

He didn’t let up, sucking on your clit one last time with intensity that drove you deeper into the orgasm, savoring every shudder and gasp with his mouth.

Once the tremors in your frame began to subside and you slumped against the bed, panting and spent, you felt him pull away. He carefully withdrew his fingers, a wet pop echoing in the air and stood up before you.

“Where are you going?” you asked him, gaining the strength to push yourself up on your elbows. Your hands came up to pull the blindfold away before you remembered the circumstances and stalled your motion.

Spider-Man leaned over to you and put his hands on either side of your face. “I have to go.”

Your eyebrows screwed together. “What? Go? I thought—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, sensing your unease. “I didn’t mean to get this carried away. I still have to stop a robbery tonight and I lost track of time and I’m really sorry to leave you like this.” He was rambling now, obviously scared of pissing you off or leaving you high and dry.

But you were spent, and still had to somehow try and finish more research for class tomorrow. “It’s okay,” you said. “I understand.”

You heard him breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Will you come back again?” You asked, suddenly feeling insecure.

“Yes, of course I will. Not tonight but soon, I promise.”

You were barely listening as Eren went on about his portion of the research. It wasn’t because you were uninterested, it was because of the events of last night.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Spider-Man for the rest of the night and now into the morning, a constant revolving door of emotions and memories flooded your senses the second you allowed your mind to wander.

“ . . . what do you think?” Eren asked, oblivious to your dozing off.

You blinked. “Hm?”

Eren looked at you over the top of his laptop, one eyebrow raised. “I asked if we should include the section on ATP production or if it’s too much.”

Behind those glasses, his green eyes met yours with the same quiet attentiveness they always seemed to carry. His hair was just as unruly as it had been the first day you’d been partnered together, and he pushed his glasses up farther on the bridge of his nose while staring.

He gave a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “It’s okay, it is early,” he said, stretching his tall form in his chair that barely contained him. “These chairs are too small.” He muttered somewhat to himself.

You laughed. “Yeah, probably to you. You’re almost freakishly tall,” you said, a subtle jab that held no malice. “They fit just fine to me.”

“I’m not that tall. I’m six foot on a good day.”

You blinked.

I’m six foot on a good day.

Something about that sentence tugged at you from the back of your mind. Too familiar. Before you could remember where you’d heard it before, you could feel the feeling of it slip away as quickly as it had come.

“What?” Eren asked.

You shook your head and gave a smile towards him before glancing down at your textbook.

“It’s nothing.”

jngsuoonrzs

this is so peak

konolien

LOVERS - martin edwards

synopsis: on his first ever tour, he misses you so much.

warnings: cringe couple, swearing.

buzzybeeswax

Flirting over Fashion

˖ ݁♬⋆.˚𝄞 -- rockstar!martin x designer!(f)reader

.ᐟ.ᐟ your loyal customer is a local rockstar with whom you always had a flirty friendship with, despite having to keep it professional... ᯓ★ ⤷ ゛cortis smau, 28 slides, oneshot ˎˊ˗

•• — feat. cortis & illit ♡

𑣲an. quick lil oneshot based on this ask :) + i went thru hell to edit everything i could but it was worth it.. enjoy it babes <3

-> shoutout to @ kesahu.co on ig,, w pieces

jjudawn

CHEAP SHOT

synopsis: martin uses your date night on the basketball court as an excuse to cuddle up to you, though little does he know just how competitive you truly are.

word count: 1.5k

info+warnings: bf!martin, fluff, established relationship, date night, basketball game, pet names, skinship, kissing

"You're too slow, baby." Martin teased, his voice a warm, lilting sing-song that made your competitive spirit flare even as your heart did that familiar little flip. He was circling you again, the basketball ricocheting between his hand and the floor, his sneakers scuffing against the sun-bleached asphalt in a lazy, unhurried rhythm.

katsukisser

KISS ME

in which ᭄᭡ how cortis loves you

warnings + tags ᭄᭡ ot5 x reader (separate), gn!reader, purely fluff, not proofread, sorry for any mischaracterisation!

author's notes ᭄᭡ thank u miss grande for releasing petal i hope she gets better soon. also wrote a little less for sean cuz i wasnt too sure how to characterise him...

word count ᭄᭡ 400 ish/member the album

onecoer

unserious texts with bf!keonho.

❤︎ ahn keonho x fem!reader

. . banter banter banter , rude humour , they lowk hate each other ( but in a loving way? )

notes so originally, this was an unfinished smau for 7 months but i finally got myself to finish it after seeing cortis last night and keonho bias wrecked me SO HARD. as the title states, this is a very unserious one ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ enjoy!