texts between you and your friendly neighbour (spiderman)
fluff, slight angst but it gets resolved, smau, strangers to friends, (no mj in this universe)
note: I love peter Parker I love spiderman
October 12th
8:32 am
Y/N: is this Peter from 12b?
Peter: Yes! Is this Y/N from 11b?
Y/N: yes
Peter: Cool :D Is everything okay?
Y/N: no.
Peter: Oh
Y/N: I get that you might have stuff to do in the middle of the night EVERY NIGHT but can u be a little bit quieter plz????
Y/N: I work early morning and u wake me up nealey every day 😔
Peter: Oh shit
Peter: Sorry I had no idea the walls are that thin
Peter: I promise I’ll be quieter
Y/N: thank u
Peter: No problem
October 14th
1:03 pm
Y/N: *image attachment*
Y/N: these from you?
Peter: Nice right
Peter: A little apology from your noisy neighbour 🌷
Y/N: ass kisser
Peter: OI
October 17th
8:06pm
Y/N: hey do u have any spare quarters? I got laundry to do and I’m all out
Peter: Uh eyag jusy one scecond
Y/N: ?
Y/N: can we try again in English
Peter: Sry gimme a min
Peter: I’ll meet u in the laundry toim in ten?
Y/N: yes I’ll see u in the laundry toim
Peter:
October 20th
12:09am
Y/N: what the hell happened to you
Peter: Wdym?
Y/N: uhm ur face?? who beat u up
Peter: Oh that
Peter: It’s nothing
Y/N: it’s definitely something
Y/N: are you okay?
Peter: I’m fine don’t worry about me
Y/N: I am worried
Peter: Wow.. what a good friend 🩷
Y/N: let’s not get ahead of ourselves
Peter: It’s fine it doesn’t even hurt
Y/N: so macho and strong
Peter: Ofc 💪
October 22nd
11:34pm
Peter: Oh my god can u hear that
Y/N: LMAO YES
Peter: It surely can’t be that good
Y/N: nobody is good enough to make u scream that loud
Peter: Oh really
Y/N: gross
Peter: Are they gonna get an angry message too
Y/N: no those r just reserved for u
Peter: Oh wow
Peter: I feel so special
October 24th
9:44 am
Y/N: do u jog
Y/N: or gym or smth
Peter: Uh yeah to both
Peter: Why
Y/N: just wondering
Peter: Did my incredible physique and big muscles tip u off
Y/N: yeah they were so visible in ur juicy tracksuit
Peter: SHUT UP
Y/N: u just looked soooooo juicy
Peter: 🤬🤬🤬
Peter: Erase that from ur memory
Y/N: *image attachment*
Y/N: shall i erase this too
Peter: FUCK OFF
October 25th
9:23pm
Y/N: hey so I know this is last minute but
Y/N: I’m throwing Halloween party at my place if ur free
Peter: Idk it’s kind of a long commute
Y/N: har har har
Peter: Ofc I wanna come
Peter: Thank u for the invite!
Y/N: costumes not optional
Y/N: I won’t let u in if ur not dressed❌
Peter: I’ll make sure I’m looking my best
October 30th
7:09pm
Peter: *image attachment*
Peter: How’s my costume
Y/N: woah
Y/N: r u that Star Wars guy
Peter: That Star Wars guy???
Peter: U mean Kylo ren??
Y/N: yeah i never watched Star Wars sorry x
Peter: Girl
Y/N: don’t girl me
Peter: How have u not watched star wars??
Y/N: cause I’m not a big fat nerd
Peter: Right
Peter: R u busy tonight?
Y/N: I am not
Peter: Cool
Peter: I have them all on dvd we are getting through as many as we can tonight
Y/N: is this a threat
Peter: Yes
October 31st
12:45am
Peter: Did u get home safe x
Y/N: gosh ur so funny
Y/N: the movies weren’t half bad yk
Peter: We got through two before you fell asleep on my shoulder
Y/N: YH sorry about that…
Peter: No worries x it was so cute when you drooled all over my shoulder
Y/N: die
October 31st
9:10pm
Y/N: are the flowers from you?
Peter: Guilty
Y/N: awwww u spoil me
Peter: Just a housewarming gift
Y/N: most people brought beer
Peter: What can I say I’m a stand up guy
Peter: I like your costume
Y/N: thanks!! It’s kinda hard to move around tho.. I assume iron man had a much easier time than I am
Peter: Yeah well his suit wasn’t made out of cardboard
Y/N: unfortunately I cannot afford nanotech
Y/N: are u gonna just text me all night or are u gonna come over and talk to me?
Peter: On my way ma’am
October 31st
11:09 pm
Y/N: bro this beer pong is getting serious u have to come look
Y/N: wait did u leave I can’t find u anywhere
Y/N: peter?
November 1st
1:02am
Peter: Hey I’m sorry I had to leave so randomly
Peter: Something urgent came up
Y/N: a goodbye would’ve been nice 🥀
Peter: I’m sorry 😔 it was urgent
Y/N: nah dw im just joking
Y/N: you okay?
Peter: I will be once u forgive me
Y/N: sigh maybe I will if a pizza was in my lap and return of the Jedi was on my tv
Peter: Be there in fifteen
November 3rd
12:47pm
Y/N: what are u doing November 15th
Peter: Hmm probably nothing
Y/N: would u like to come to friendsgiving hosted at my humble abode
Peter: friendsgiving?
Y/N: yeahh smth me and my friends do every year before the real thing
Y/N: and feel free to invite anyone u want as well
Y/N: ur friend Frank? was that his name
Peter: Uh
Peter: Idk about that but I’d love to come
Y/N: perfect
November 4th
3:45pm
Y/N: are you not home?
Peter: No why
Y/N: I was gonna return ur dvds u forgot them at mine
Y/N: wait how did u leave I didn’t even hear ur door
Peter: Uh
Peter: I left quietly
Y/N: okay…
November 7th
11:47pm
Peter: Hey u up?
Y/N: uhm yeah
Peter: Perfect
Peter: So by any chance do u know basic first aid?
Y/N: I guess why
Peter: *image attachment*
Peter: Ur services would be greatly appreciated
Y/N: BRO
Y/N: 😭😭😭 Peter wtf happened to u
Peter: I was
Peter: I got mugged
Y/N: mugged????
Peter: The streets are ruthless
Y/N: all those muscles and u didn’t fight back??
Peter: Hey u should see the other guy
Y/N: I’m sure he’s battered
Y/N: can’t believe u had to fight him alone
Y/N: god where’s spiderman when u need him
Peter: I know right!!!!!!
Peter: Can u come over now 💔
Y/N: alright I’m coming calm ur tits
Peter: My tits are perfectly fine thanks
November 10th
5:45pm
Y/N: r these flowers gonna be a regular thing now?
Peter: Only when I pass by the bodega
Peter: Which is basically everyday so yeah
Y/N: how thoughtful and kind🩷
Peter: Am I finally forgiven for being loud all the time
Y/N: let’s not get ahead of ourselves here
November 12th:
6:34pm
Peter: Hey do i need to bring food to Thanksgiving
Y/N: friendsgiving
Peter: Yes friendsgiving
Y/N: and yes u have to
Peter: Shit
Y/N: can’t cook?
Peter: Yeah I live off protein powder lowkey
Y/N: LOL
Y/N: u have to bring smth tho… so u bette get in that kitchen
Peter: Fine
Peter: If I make something tonight will u be my test bunny
Y/N: do i have to
Peter: Sorry babe u do
Peter: I’ll be over with the goods later
Y/N: are u gonna bring the food too?
Peter: Cheeky
November 14th
9:12pm
Y/N: yk u disappear a lot
Peter: I do?
Y/N: you do.. noticing things
Peter: Noticing what??
Y/N: shhhhhh
November 15th
6:07pm
Y/N: uhmmmmm is that Frank
Peter: Yes?
Y/N: wow 😍 u didn’t tell me how hot he was
Peter: Y/N.
Y/N: sooo is he single or what 🩷🩷🩷
Peter: Shut up
Peter: He’s taken and about thirty years too old for you
Y/N: age ain’t nothing but a number
Peter: Ohhhh shit i just remembered he has to go home early actually 😔😔😔 Shoot!!
Y/N: LMAO
November 16th
7:12pm
Y/N: hey where’d you go we’re about to eat
Y/N: peter?
Y/N: are u seriously doing this again??
Y/N: are y gonna do this everytime I invite u to smth? In front of all my friends ?
Y/N: yk if u don’t wanna come next time just don’t show up
November 16th
10:28 pm
Peter: Y/N
Peter: Can i come over?
Y/N: sorry I’m cleaning
Peter: I’ll help you clean
Y/N: I don’t need help
Peter: I’ll keep you company then
Y/N: peter stop okay
Peter: I’m sorry Y/N
Y/N: I don’t want any apologies
Y/N: I just want some space plz I need to think
Y/N: I’ll talk to u later
Peter: alright
November 18th
9:07pm
Y/N: I’m gonna ask u smth and I want u to be honest with me
Peter: Anything yeah
Y/N: and u cannot lie to me
Peter: I won’t I promise
Y/N: and also dont freak out
Peter: I definitely wont
Y/N: are u spiderman?
Peter: what
Y/N: idk I’ve just been thinking about it and it makes so much sense
Y/N: you always randomly disappear when spiderman HAPPENS to be fighting someone halfway across the city
Y/N: ur always getting beat up and then somehow like a day later ur completely healed??
Y/N: and u always leave ur house without leaving ur front door so i guess u use ur balcony which is about ten feet off the ground so how else would u do that
Y/N: oh and I downloaded that spider tracker app and he (you) is ALWAYS by our apartment soooo
Y/N: am I right?
Y/N: peter??
Y/N: i can hear u moving around in ur place okay don’t ignore me
Peter: Can I come over?
Y/N: yes
November 19th
7:07pm
Peter: *image attachment*
Y/N: am I just gonna get spiderman selfies now?
Peter: Yes you are
Y/N: I think J Jonah Jameson will love these
Peter: Don’t even start
Peter: And you can’t lie this is sick
Peter: Don’t I look so cool swinging all over the city
Y/N: sigh I guesssss
Peter: I’ll take u one day then you’ll see
Y/N: in ur dreams Parker
Peter: That’s Spiderman to you
this is jsut smth short and sweet because im going on holiday tonight so!! Wont be posting for a week x
notice peter asking u to patch him up knowing he’s gonna be healed in like ten minutes…
Peter is struggling to get accustomed to all the new dna coursing through his body. You help him get used to it
warning: nsfw!
You can tell something is wrong with Peter the moment he makes his way into the apartment.
The way he comes in is to tell enough that something’s up. Usually he knocks at the window, shoots you a text while he’s swinging around the city that he’ll be home soon. Peter says it’s because he doesn’t want to freak you out by just coming in unannounced, and while you don’t really care either way, you think it’s cute that he worries about it. That being said, Peter has never landed on your balcony in a frenzy, cursing under his breath as he knocks one of your plant pots off the edge and to the street down below.
The commotion makes you stand quickly, distracted from the movie you had playing on the screen. Your legs stick to the couch, the house sticky with summer heat even with all the windows open. It's late enough in the evening that a breeze blows in, but you still find yourself in only a pair of shorts and one of Peter’s nerdy Star Wars shirts that hangs down past your thighs. Your face fills with confusion as he clambers through the window, movements clumsy. He knocks over your mug as he jumps down to the floor, but quickly shoots a web to catch it before it shatters.
“The doors unlocked, you know.” You say, and he doesn’t reply.
He seems restless. He picks up the mug and paces around, drumming his fingers on the ceramic as he mumbles something under his breath. The nervous energy isn’t totally abnormal, though. Peter could just be hopped up on adrenaline from a fight, or excited from just cracking a case or finding a lead in another.
It’s strange that your new normal is being Spider-Man’s roommate. When Peter had messaged you all those months ago, having found your number on the flyer you’d posted around the city, you were skeptical. He was a man, firstly, and you ideally wanted a woman to stay with. Safety, and all that. But you were desperate, and too broke to afford your own place, so you agreed to meet with him. And he’d been sweet. A little awkward and a lot nerdy, but he seemed like a nice guy. And he was cute. Those soft brown eyes and those curls that bounced animatedly as he spoke, it definitely helped his case. And he didn’t give you any worrying vibes that he might be a serial killer, which was good. The only request he had was to use the small spare room you listed on the flyer for himself. For work, he said. Which sounded a bit suspicious, but you agreed nonetheless. You had no use for it anyway.
You wonder what his plan was. It was inevitable you’d find out once you were living together, if not from his inability to sneak into the house without making enough noise to wake you from your sleep, or how horrible he was at lying about the cuts and bruises he randomly would show up with, the secrecy of what’s in the spare room he never let you go in. Or, the time he just left his Spiderman suit in the laundry basket.
An argument and a reluctant confession later, and now you were in the know. An impromptu doctor when Peter refused to go hospital, a researcher whenever he needed help figuring stuff out. Of course, as an English student you weren’t much help with all the technological aspects of his heroism, but you did what you could.
You don’t mind doing anything for Peter. Which is something you don’t like to dwell on too much.
He still hasn’t said anything. You watch as he takes off his mask, flinging it on the kitchen counter and placing your mug down gently after it. And when you get a glimpse of his face, he looks… dishevelled. His curls are loose and a mess around his face, his forehead slick with sweat and he wipes his face with the collar of his suit. His cheeks are flushed with a soft pink that stretches over his cheekbones. And finally, he looks at you, those big brown eyes softening when they catch sight of you standing before him.
He says your name, relieved and something else. “You’re home.”
“I am. Are you okay, Peter? You look-”
“Like crap. I know.” He laughs, but it sounds more panicked than anything else.
Peter makes his way to the spare room,which you’ve now dubbed his study, without a word, and you follow behind him quickly. He used to always keep it locked, but now he never bothers. He opens the door roughly and the place is a bit of a mess. Papers all over the floor, the machines on the side busy building something. You try to tell him to keep it clean but he never does.
He sits in his fraying desk chair, biting at his lip as he regards the monitors in front of him. You come up behind him, still glancing at him worriedly.
“Peter-“
“Just, give me a minute. I need to see something.” He says quickly, his leg bouncing up and down under the desk restlessly.
You sigh, rolling your eyes a little. You try to decipher the words that flash across the screen but you give up quickly. The things you can read doesn’t ease your worry. His heart rate is too high, his temperature nearing dangerous levels. It’s hard to tell what is normal, seeing as he is half spider, but you can assume it’s nothing good.
You hop up to sit on the empty desk beside him and watch him work. His curls stick to the back of his neck, and you have a perfect view of his muscular back, which you try to divert your eyes away from.
Edith blinks to life as he types something on his keyboard.
“Arachnid DNA is at eighty percent, which is the normal level it has been for the past six months.” Her smooth voice calls out to the room.
“I know,” Peter runs a hand through his hair, his voice a little irritated. “I know it’s normal. If it is, then why do I feel so-“
The words die on his lips and he shoots you a strange look. He doesn't finish his sentence and Edith seems to sense his inability to voice his concerns, because she speaks up for him.
“Your new heightened senses also affect your physiological and psychological responses. This is why your sexual-“
Peter makes a strange noise and practically slams his hand against the keyboard to shut her up. Your bite back your laugh as he glares at you, even though his face is burning with embarrassment.
“Shut up.”
“I said nothing.” You say. “Is-“
“We are not talking about this.” Peter stands abruptly. “It’s okay, just go to bed.”
Peter pauses, like he wants to say something else. Then he decides not to and shakes his head. His hand is warm as it circles around your wrist and he practically drags you out the room. “I don’t need help. Especially not from you.”
He shuts the door to his office behind him once you’re finally outside. You’re left glaring at his back as he walks into the kitchen to grab a drink. He opens the fridge and surveys the contents, seemingly unaware of your irritation.
“Especially not from me? What’s that supposed to mean?” You snap.
He grabs a can of coke, and downs it in about ten seconds. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Doesn’t mean a thing.”
“Then why’d you say it?”
“You know me and silence.” He gives you a lopsided grin but it only makes you frown. He’s breathing heavily like he’s just run a race and the redness in his face is only getting worse.
“Peter. What is going on?”
“I’m fine! I’m fine, I’m just hot. Are you hot? It’s really hot in here.” His suit sticks to his skin and he wipes at the sweat that collects at his brow.
“It’s really not.” You mumble, worry creasing your face.
Peter scoffs, pointing at your bare legs. “Why are you wearing those shorts then, huh? They’re very short, you know.” He rambles.
You raise an eyebrow. “Mhm. That’s why they’re called shorts.”
“Yeah. Is that my top, too?” He finally notices, and you nod. You try not to squirm as his eyes rake over your body shamelessly.
“All of mine are in the wash.”
“Right. Of course.” He looks away reluctantly, like it hurts to. He braces one hand on the counter, taking a deep breath in, eyes screwing shut. “You look good. The shirt, I mean.”
You walk towards him slowly. “Peter, come on. Talk to me.”
You reach out a hand to touch him but he flinches, like your fingers on his arm shock him. He groans, low and heavy in his chest, turning away from you, and your worry is quickly turning into panic.
“Peter, if you don’t tell me what is going on I’m calling an ambulance. Or Frank.”
His head shoots. “Do not call Frank.”
“Then talk to me!” You splutter. “You’re acting so weird, and you're not explaining anything, and it’s freaking me out!”
Peter winces as your voice cracks a little. “I’m sorry, I don’t wanna worry you.”
“Well you are.”
“I’m- Fuck, I don’t know how to explain it.” He sighs.
It takes a second for him to collect himself. Peter straightens up and faces you. “Okay, so. You know how a few months ago, I got all this new weird arachnid DNA?”
You nod. “I do remember.”
“Well, the new DNA comes with a lot of new side effects. Obviously, the heightened sense, the up in strength and speed. That’s all good and well, but. It also heightens other things. Things like.” His voice trails off.
You cross your arms. “Things like what?”
He mumbles something under his breath, shaking his head. “You know. Things like my anger. Happiness. And my. My arousal.”
He says the last word fast, like it’ll be any less awkward if he says it quicker. And suddenly, the restless energy, the warmth, the weird reaction to your touch. It all starts to make sense.
“Oh.” You say quietly.
“Yeah. Oh.” He laughs nervously. “And I was just, you know, swinging around town and I started to feel all. You know, hot and bothered.”
He groans, placing his arms on the table. “I thought it’d get better when I got home, but it’s worse. It feels like my skin is on fucking fire.” He hisses.
Your eyebrows crease and you step forward, hands hovering in the air. You’re scared to touch him in case he freaks out like before. “What can I do?”
“Nothing. Nothing, you- you need to leave, probably.” He takes a frantic step back, almost slipping.
“Me? Why?” You protest. “You can use me when you need a patch up but now I’m useless?”
“Because if this gets any worse than it already is I have no idea what the hell I’m gonna do. And I’d rather cut both my hands off than hurt you.”
You soften, hands falling to your sides uselessly. His face is so pained, torn between coming closer to you and leaving the apartment all together.
You think you being here is making it worse. Maybe you shouldn’t read into the fact your presence is making him feel that much more aroused. Maybe it is just the weird influx of hormones that’s making him feel the way he is, but instead, you take the information presented in front of you exactly how you want to. The sight of him this wrecked in front of you fills you with a surge of confidence, and a smile graces your lips.
“I can help you, Peter.”
His eyes are almost black from how big his pupils are, and his throat bobs as he swallows roughly. His voice is low and gravelly as he speaks. “What?”
“I can help relieve some tension. If you want me to.” You say softly.
“Y/N.” He shakes his head. “I’m not- I don’t know how well I'm gonna be able to control myself.”
“It’s okay. You can be rough if you need to.”
It takes him a second for the words to sink in. He doesn’t move long enough that you think he’s going to say no. But in one smooth motion, Peter shoots out a web that wraps around your waist, and drags you over to him. You make a surprised squeak, but it’s quickly swallowed up as his hands curl in your shirt and pulls you into a kiss.
His hand curves around the back of your neck to bring you closer, his other hand on your waist gripping you so tightly you think you might have bruises tomorrow. Peter kisses you like he’s trying to swallow you whole, like he could tip forward and fall right into you. Your hands curl into his hair, and when you tug he groans deeply. He lets go for breath for only a second before he’s back, tongue dancing against your own, teeth grazing your bottom lip.
Peter’s hand slips beneath your shirt, and his touch burns a trail up your skin. He reaches behind your back to fumble with your bra but he isn’t very successful in taking it off. He makes a noise of annoyance against your lips. Peter straightens, and his lips are red and slick with spit, and you want to kiss him all over again.
“Fuck. Can you take it off? Please?”
You snort a laugh and he groans. “I’m being nice here. I could rip it clean in half, but I’m being nice.”
“Okay, okay.”
He helps you take off your shirt and tosses it on the floor behind him. You easily unclip your bra and he makes a sound so wrecked in the back of his throat at the sight of you in only your shorts, you think you might finish right there and then.
“Fuck, I can’t wait.”
In one swift motion he picks you up, and you squeal, wrapping your legs around his waist as he all but throws the two of you into his room and on his bed. He almost falls on his face in his haste to lose the suit until he’s just in his boxers, and you only have a few short lived moments to admire his chiselled stomach, the hard curves of his biceps, before he’s all over you again.
You open your mouth as he kisses you again, lips forming the syllables of his name that you quickly swallow as his tongue delves into your mouth. You let your hands trail over his abs, and he shivers as you run your nails over his shoulders, his chest, any part of him you can get. His hand fondles your chest, pinching your nipple between two fingers as you keen, back arching off the bed.
Peter grins, hair falling over his face as he hovers over you. “God, just look at you, squirming underneath me.”
“Put that mouth to better use, Parker.”
And he does. He cups your breasts in his hands, pushing them together and licking a pert nipple into his mouth. He sucks, flicks his tongue over it until your legs latch around his waist and you whimper. You barely have time to react before he sits up, spreading your legs roughly.
You feel a rush of shyness at how shamelessly he’s looking between your legs, and you shut your legs.
Peter makes an angry face, tutting loudly. “None of that.”
Peter grabs both your hands in one of his, bringing them up to the headboard. He shoots a web that sticks your hands above your head before you can even protest. Your mouth drops open in shock.
“What- Peter!” He presses quick kisses on your face, mumbling an apology into your skin.
“M’sorry, I can’t have you getting in my way, can I? Just let me take care of you, okay? I’ll do all the work.” He breathes out.
It’s hard to argue with that. Peter spreads your legs open once more, and this time he has no further interruptions. The flush travels down his chest, down to halfway to his stomach. He discards you off your underwear and strokes his finger along your slit. But he wastes no time teasing. No, in one swift motion he’s pushing his finger in down to the knuckle and you whimper, turning to hide your face into the pillows beneath you.
“Easy, girl. I got you.” He whispers against the shell of your ear.
He adds another finger, and the stretch burns in a good way. He draws his fingers up, searching for that spot against the high point inside your walls. And when he finds you can’t help the moans that slip past your lips as he presses, the white-hot pleasure curling in your stomach.
“Fuck, Peter.” You groan.
Before you can lose yourself in the feeling, his hand withdraws. You whine at the loss and he chuckles, kissing your forehead.
“I’ll fuck you good, I promise.” He murmurs, taking off his boxers. “Just wait.”
His tip is red and leaking pre-cum, and he fists at his cock slowly. His eyebrows crease with the feeling, and the look on his face is obscene. You reach forward to and run your finger against the side right up to the head, and his hips jut up.
“Fuck. Fuck.” He breathes out. “Do you have- A condom? Or something?”
“I’m on birth control, you can-“
The words hardly leave your lips before he moves. He slips his hand under your knee and lifts you up slightly. He sets the tip of himself inside you and slowly pushes himself in until his hips are flush with yours. Your hands itch against the headboard, fists clenching.
Peter makes a guttural noise, head dropping down and his breath stutters in his chest. “Oh, finally, fucking finally.”
He gives you just a second to adjust, his face strained. “Tell me if you need to stop. Okay?”
“Okay. But, my hands, Peter.” You whine, and despite your minutes of struggling he easily tugs them loose.
It’s the only reprieve you get before he starts to move. He sets a fast and punishing rhythm, his words a litany of moans and incoherent phrases. The sound of flesh hitting flesh, the wetness that drips from between your thighs. Every rock of his hips dragged so deliciously against your inner walls it feels like torture.
“That’s my girl. Feels so good, you feel so good.” He stutters, hands hauling you up by your hips so he can thrust even deeper, his tip kissing your cervix.
Your arms come up to curl around his neck, you nails raking down his back, and he doesn’t even flinch at the sensation. No, Peter’s transfixed by the view of his cock sliding into your cunt. He sucks his thumb before he reaches down, rubbing at your clit. Your hips jolt up, and your eyes screw shut. You’re dangerously close, his thrusts getting more frantic, more desperate.
“Sweet girl. You wanna come? You wanna come all over my cock?” He huffs and you nod.
And it’s then you look up, and you see it. His eyes, pools of black as he holds you up with one hand easily, the other rubbing furious circles all over your clit. You wish you could form the words to question it, but he seems to sense your impending orgasm, because he begins fucking into you with earnest. Sharp, punching thrusts of his hips that has his name falling from your lips as the damn inside you bursts.
Your legs twitch as you cum, and your walls squeeze around him. He whines, his eyes screwed shut as he becomes messy with it, hands digging finger-shaped bruises into your thighs as he finishes with a gasp, his breath stuttering.
“So good for me, baby. Oh, fuck.” He practically whimpers, forehead dropping against your own.
It takes you a second to compose yourself. Your breathing finally returns to normal, and you sit up slightly, hand cupping his face to lift his head up so you can observe him.
“Your eyes, they were- they were black.” You breathe out, voice slightly hoarse. “Why?”
“It’s the new DNA. Makes me look kinda freaky, doesn’t it?”
“Mhm.”
You drop down against the pillows, head turning into his sheets. They smell like him, and you smile slightly, body achingly pleasant after your orgasm.
It’s then you realise that Peter is still inside you. And he’s still hard. He seems to realise it, too, because he’s kissing your neck again, sucking red marks into your soft skin. He licks against your pulse, and you groan.
“How are you still hard?”
“I don’t know.” He sighs. “I can go, it’s okay. You’ve been so good to me.”
He tries to move but you drag him back down. “No, it’s okay. I just need a moment.” You mumble.
Peter tries to hide his excitement, but he fails. You’re sure you look a mess, but you’re certain he’s much worse. His hair is tussled from where you’d been raking your hands through it, and it falls around his face in messy curls. His eyes have only just returned to normal, but his pupils are still blown, still looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world.
“What?” He says. “Why you starin’ at me like that?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
He hums happily. “Good. Because you did so good for me, sweetheart. Do you think you can do it again?”
I can’t believe this is my first marvel fic.. guys u don’t even knowww me and marvel go WAYYY back.. like what do y guys know about Bucky barnes omg
but this was so fun to write! as u can tell from my blog this is my all time favourite superhero so.. ofc the new movie (which I’ve watched twice) had me creaming my pants..
I hope u all enjoy!! Plz leave comments I love to hear what u guys think!
(Nerd)Gojo is your next-door neighbour, whose window happens to perfectly align with yours. You catch him doing some interesting one night. And many nights after that.
TW: nsfw and y/n is lowkey a perv but gojo is into it
Despite what your evening activities might suggest, you are not a pervert.
Really, if anything, this whole entire situation is completely not your fault. It's not your fault that your neighbours house is so close to yours, or that the bedroom of their teenage son happens to face yours perfectly. The houses are mirrors of each other and your bedroom window is perfectly aligned with his. And it’s definitely not your fault that every night, like clockwork, Gojo leans back in his bed, trousers pushed down his waist, and gets himself off.
You didn’t really notice Gojo much before. He was your next-door neighbour, and when you moved in a few months ago he had shown up standing shyly behind his mother with a saran-wrapped plate of brownies. There were quick introductions but not many words from him. You’d made eye contact once, and his cheeks had flushed a bright red and he’d quickly looked away.
You thought he was kinda cute. The stark white hair, the bright blue eyes. The glasses that were slightly too big for his face, the long deft fingers that pushed them up the bridge of his nose every few seconds. You saw him around school, always with the same few friends and always walking out of the advanced classes. But you guys didn’t talk. Small waves and polite smiles when you both came in at the same time, or whenever your mother had leftovers for you to walk over and give.
It was an accident. You usually keep your blinds closed, especially at night. You learned the hard way that Gojo likes to stay up all night doing god knows what on that PC of his, the light from his monitor illuminating bright enough to disturb you in your own room. You were usually long asleep by then, but one night, you were thirsty. And it was on your way back to bed, your arms alive with goosebumps from the early morning cold, that you just had an urge to look. You don’t know why. Maybe just curiosity, to see if he was still awake. It was fruitless. It was a school night, after all, and so you doubted that he would be.
But you were wrong. Gojo wasn’t asleep. He wasn’t playing some game on his PC or on call loud enough that you could hear him if you didn’t shut your window. No, Gojo was lying down on his bed, one hand holding his phone and the other tightly circled around his cock. Your face burned, and your mouth dropped open almost instantly. And you should’ve looked away. Should’ve shut your curtains and willed that image to get out of your head and slept like nothing had happened. But you didn’t.
When did Gojo get hot? Since when did he have muscles, abs that perfectly line his stomach, biceps that flex as he brings a hand up to his mouth to spit into it lewdly. You watched with bated breath as he slid it down beneath the waistband of his Calvin Klein boxers, the material tight on his thick thighs. The head was flushed, and he was long, slender, thick, and you watched his hand move up and down faster, watched his thumb ghost over the tip, teasing himself. His eyes were half-lidded, focused on whatever was on his phone, the blue light shining across his glasses.
You watched the flush spread up his chest, watched his mouth move in silent pleas and whimpers you wished you could hear. And when he came, head thrown back on his pillow, white tufts of hair stuck to his forehead as he finished all over his fingers, that is when you decided you should close the blinds and call it a night.
It took you ages to fall asleep. Mind plagued with the images of those foggy glasses, the look of pure pleasure on his face. You were determined not to follow in his footsteps, not to pay attention to the throbbing between your legs. Because of course, that would be pushing it too far. Watching him get off is okay, but getting yourself off to that pretty look on his face is too much.
You try not to look the next day. Really, you do. But your will is not strong, and it’s three in the morning on a weekend, so your morals are low enough to peek through. And he’s there. Again. And you learn, as the days go by, that Gojo sticks to a very strict routine, and on the rare nights you’re shameless enough to look, he’s always waiting for you.
A small part of you thinks he knows. There is no way he doesn’t, not with how shamelessly exposed his room is to the outside, and specifically to you. Gojo is clueless from what you’ve gathered, despite how smart he is, but there’s no way that he’s that oblivious. His blinds are always wide open. If you can see so clearly into his room he can definitely see yours.
You start to notice Gojo more, after that. You two run in entirely different social circles, but you pass him in the hallways. He likes to wear these turtlenecks, tight around his chest, or these button-ups that he rolls up to expose those smooth forearms. He also likes to bite the end of his pencils while he’s thinking, fingers curling around the end. He’s quiet unless he’s correcting a teacher or laughing loudly with his friends. He opens up around them, grinning wide enough you think it might split his face open.
It's weird, being so aware of his presence suddenly. You never realised that he was in your English class, or that you had the same study hall, and you never noticed how he seemed to leave school around the same time you did.
It turns out you were both in the program that paired up seniors with the younger students for tutoring. You’re not the smartest student in the world, but an average senior is on an even playing field with a dumb freshman, so it’s easy work. It’s only an hour after school in the library, and you saw him one day on your way out.
It’s raining. Pouring down heavily enough that you stand uselessly by the front doors of the school, not brave enough to walk out and get yourself soaked. You haven’t dressed for bad weather. It had been warm in the morning, so you’re wearing a pretty thin long-sleeved shirt, and have no jacket for protection. Your parents are both at work, and you are contemplating using the last ten bucks you have on an Uber, when you feel a tap on your shoulder.
You jolt, almost dropping your phone from your hand. You turn quickly, only to find Gojo standing behind you.
“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He says quickly, clutching the books in his arms closer to his chest.
You shake your head. “No, no don’t worry, I’m just jumpy.” You laugh, a little nervous.
It dawns on you that that is the first time you’ve spoken to him since you’ve developed your new peeping habit. You swallow, flashing him a smile to try and will the image of him with his clothes off out of your head.
“Everything okay?” You ask.
He’s wearing a hoodie today, thick and warm, and you wish you’d had the same sense that morning. Gojo glances outside through the glass doors, at the steady pour of rain.
“I thought- You walk, right? Home? I was wondering if you wanted a ride. Because of the rain.” He says, gesturing with his head to the storm outside.
You aren’t expecting that. You warm a little at the fact he actually thought about you. “Really? It wouldn’t be a bother?”
“Of course not.” He smiles slightly. “You’re my neighbour.”
“I’d love one, then. Thank you.”
His smile widens. “No need to thank me.”
You both start towards the doors. You were already dreading the walk to his car. Gojo must notice your inner turmoil because he fixes you with a puzzled look. He glances down at your attire, pointing at your thin shirt.
“You didn’t bring a jacket? Or anything?” He asks.
“No.” You whine. “I didn’t realise it was gonna rain!”
You hear a noise from him that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. You shoot him a glare. One that is aimed quite high. The height difference is very noticeable when the two of you are standing right next to each other.
“Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not.”
“I heard you!”
He betrays himself with the grin on his face. He holds up a hand in surrender, and then passes you the books in his hand. “Here, hold these for a second.”
You take the books out of his hand. Gojo reaches and grabs the back of his hoodie, quickly shucking it off. The t-shirt he has on underneath rides up, and you can see the logo of his boxers peeking over the waistband of his jogger, the happy trail of white hair that slips underneath them. You quickly dart your eyes away. The sight of that is enough to remind you of things you really shouldn’t think about when he’s this close to you.
Gojo grabs the books out of your hand and holds out the hoodie to you.
You look at him like he’s crazy. “What? Gojo, no, I’m not taking your hoodie.”
“It’s fine, just take it.”
You shake your head. “No! What are you going to use?”
“I’ll be fine, I run hot. Here.”
He practically pushes it into your hands, ignoring your protests. His fingers brush against yours for just a second, soft. You thank him again, and slip it over your head. It’s warm and smells like him; something woodsy and fresh that fills your nose as the collar brushes against your throat.
It’s less daunting to walk to Gojo’s car with the protection of his hoodie. It doesn’t take too long, but he is still pretty soaked by the time you got in and sat down in the passenger seat. His shirt sticks to his skin, and his glasses are speckled with rain drops. You point at them.
“Your glasses.” You reach over the console and carefully take them off his face.
You wipe them off with your shirt, the only dry thing in the car, and carefully put them back on. You give him a smile, brushing a stray of white hair out the way.
“There you go.” You peer at them. “Is that better?”
Gojo nods quickly, running a hand through his hair. His face looks a little red, which is weird, because it’s cold in his car. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. Thanks. Thank you.”
The ride is shorter than you’d hoped. It’s the first time the two of you had ever actually spoken for longer than a small conversation at your front door, and it’s nice. You get along surprisingly well. He’s not as shy as you thought he’d be, and how easy-going and nice it is to talk to him is not helping the slight crush you’ve been developing.
You thank Gojo about six hundred more times as you finally arrive home. He insists it wasn’t a big deal, and he also insists on walking you to your door. Even though it is literally not even a minute away from his.
You sigh as you reach your destination, trying to hide the smile on your face. “Thank you so much for walking me the two steps to my front door.” You say.
“Of course. Who knows what could’ve happened if I hadn’t.” He nods solemnly and you laugh.
You reach for your keys, and just before you can let yourself in, he stops you, a tentative hand on your shoulder.
“Wait! A second, just-“
He rips a piece of paper from one of the notebooks in his hand. He takes a pen out of his pocket, and takes the cap off with his teeth. He scribbles something on it, then holds it out for you.
You take it from his hand. In a messy, rushed scrawl, you make out his phone number.
“Just- You know, in case it rains again. And you need a ride.” He nods.
You beam, bashful. “I’ll hold you to that. And I’ll give you your hoodie back tomorrow.”
Gojo perks up. “See you then.”
You text him that night to make sure the number is correct. And he answers back with a plethora of emojis that make you bite back a smile at the dinner table, tucking your phone in your pocket.
That night, you hang his hoodie on the back of your desk chair to dry. And once it does, you put it back on. You’re indulging a little. It’s comfy, the material soft and clearly expensive. And if tonight’s the only night you’ll have with it you’ll enjoy it while you can. It’s cold, too.
Soon enough, night falls, and you can’t sleep. You tried watching a few episodes of some show on Netflix, but you were restless, rolling around in your bed. You drum your fingers against your chest, duvet thrown to the floor.
You don’t want to look tonight. It’s not like it's a nightly thing, or anything. You don’t set an alarm to go peep outside your window at three in the morning. It’s only sometimes. Very rarely. When curiosity gets the better of you and your Twitter feed isn’t doing enough.
It takes another minute of contemplating in your head for your desperation to win. Seeing him and being so close to him earlier has only made the thought of him louder in your head, and you just can’t help yourself. Your laptop is abandoned on your bed, its bright light illuminating your room. Your window is only slightly ajar. You like sleeping to the sound of rain and the breeze is cold on your legs where they’re exposed in the small sleep-shorts you have on. You pull the hoodie down over your fingertips, and when you push the curtains open, he’s there.
And fuck, it’s not fair. It’s not fair that he can just look that good. Like some sort of porn star, eyes shut and blissed out as he works himself quickly. His hand moves fast tonight, fingers tightening as he swipes them over his tip, cock leaking as he bites at his bottom lip. He’s not got his phone in his other hand tonight; it seems Gojo has taken to his memory, eyes screwed shut as he imagines something, or someone.
And it’s that thought, that Gojo might be thinking of his own crush or girlfriend, or anything, that jolts you out of your stupor. This is wrong. So, so wrong. If this was the other way round- Well, you wouldn’t really mind if it was him watching you, but that’s not important. What’s important is that you shouldn’t be doing this.
You go to shut the blind and close your window, but as you reach out for it you slip. On some books you left on the floor, old clothes you didn’t put in your hamper. It doesn’t matter what it is. What matters is the sound that slips out of your lips, half a shriek and half a scream. It’s only made worse when you try to stop yourself from falling by grabbing the ledge, but instead knock over the candle on your window sill, and promptly fall to the ground. You groan from where you landed on the floor, rubbing at your side. You mumble curses as you rise to your feet, pushing your hair out of your face. You’re glad nobody saw that.
It’s only when you reach out to close your window that you realise somebody did.
Gojo is sitting up in his bed, covers pulled over his body. It’s just your luck that you’d forgotten to turn your laptop off, because the light is bright enough to illuminate you and your guilty face. His eyes narrow just slightly, like he’s trying to figure something out. And when they widen, and you realise what he’s realised, you make a mortified noise, and drag you blinds closed.
Your stomach churns, and you think you might be sick. Embarrassment floods your veins and you cover your face with your hands, cursing under your breath. He’s going to hate you. He’s going to never speak to you again, and-
Your phone buzzing on your bed interrupts your mini breakdown. And when you flip it over and see his name across your screen you almost kneel over and die. You curse yourself for texting him earlier, all giddy from him giving you a ride home. You consider not picking up, but you both locked eyes about ten seconds ago, so he knows you’re awake. You let it ring a few more times before you pick it up, hand still covering your face.
“Hello?” His voice comes out a little breathless, and your face burns even brighter.
“Hello.” You answer back meekly.
A beat. You hear some movement on the other line. Your throat feels dry, and you wouldn’t make conversation right now if your life depended on it.
“Y/N? Are you still there?”
You make a noise that sounds like a yes, and he takes it as one.
“Can- Can you come to the window?”
You bite at your lip. Your side still hurts from where you’d fallen, and there’s no hope of you even trying to lay down in bed, let alone fall asleep. You suppose you should have this awkward conversation now, rather than later.
You trudge to the window and slowly open the blinds. Gojo is no longer on his bed, but standing at the window, phone held up to his ear. He’s slipped some sweatpants on but he’s still shirtless, and you try very hard to keep your eyes on his face. He’s not got his glasses on, and you almost don’t recognise him for a moment, but you’d know those blue eyes anywhere.
Nobody speaks. You both just stand there, staring, and you watch the sharp lines of his throat move as he swallows.
“You… Did you see, uh. See something?” He struggles to get the words out and you almost laugh at how horrifying this conversation is.
“Yes.”
It’s easy to see Gojo’s blush travel down his pale skin, over the planes of his cheeks. His grip tightens on the phone.
“Is this- Wait, hold on.”
You watch him fumble besides him before he grabs his glasses and clumsily pushes them onto his face. He blinks, and then leans just a little closer.
“Are you- Is that my hoodie?”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I was cold.” You quickly move to take it off.
“No- You don’t need to take it off, Y/N.”
You shake your head quickly. “I do! I do, you’ve been so kind to me and I- I’ve been doing this.”
Gojo’s brows furrow in confusion. “Have you- How long have you-“
You squeeze your eyes shut, holding up a hand to stop him from speaking .“I’m sorry! Oh my god, I’m sorry, I’ll move out, I’ll never open my blinds again.” You babble.
“Y/N-“
“You must think I’m such a creep.” You whine. “And I am! I’m a creep!”
“Y/N!” He leans forward on one arm, as if he’s going to climb out the window to come to your room.
Gojo raising his voice silences you quite effectively. Your mouth clicks shut, and you wait with bated breath for him to continue.
“I never… I never said I minded.”
Gojo speaks carefully, like it’s the first time he’s ever spoken to a girl like this. Or flirted? Is that what this is? Either way, despite your shock, the effect he has on you must be evident on your face, because you watch his lips quirk up into a sly smile. Your reaction seems to give him a bit of confidence, spurs him on, and he doesn’t stop.
“I just wish I’d known I’d had an audience. Could’ve made it more fun for you.” He murmurs.
Your mouth opens to reply but no words come out. The Gojo in front of you is nothing like the shy guy you spoke to in front of the school gates a few hours ago. He’s flashing you a cheeky smile, and you know the way he’s standing is only helping his muscles flex, making him look all the more appealing.
“I- What?”
Gojo tilts his head a little, pushing his glasses up with knuckles. “Well. Since you’ve been watching me for so many nights, I think it’s only fair you return the favour.”
Tomorrow you’ll blame it on the lack of sleep. The pain in your side, or maybe the fact you’re ovulating today. You’ll find some reason to explain away why you instantly agree, hands slipping under his hoodie to take it off.
Guys idk Iwas ovulating and I’m so super busy so.. I wrote this in a day.. plz enjoy 🩷
Also!! I’m almost at 1k!! So event coming sonnn watch out guys 😁😁
TRACK TWELVE: JASON TODD // boyfriend - ariana grande
trope: fake relationship
warning: nsfw, car sex
event link
Jason is so touchy. His hand burns where it’s settled across your waist, ensuring your side is flush against his own. He’s all hard muscle, warm skin that presses against you. He’s wearing a button up that stretches over his arms and his chest, and the material is soft underneath your hands. He’s holding your drink for you, your second glass of wine that tastes so expensive you feel guilty drinking it.
This would be nice for someone else. To anyone outside looking in, the fact you’re joined at the hip, the way he occasionally brushes your hair to the side to whisper something in your ear, it all looks so sickeningly sweet and couple-like. You, on the other hand, are trying very hard not to throw up in your mouth.
This entire thing, the waist-holding and the drink-holding, it’s all a lie.
When Jason had approached you for this, you’d thought he was crazy. It was something out of a cheap 90’ romcom. Jason, after a violent argument with his brothers, had sworn that he in fact was not emotionally unstable and that he could keep a girlfriend, and that he even had one he’d been hiding from them. This was all a lie, of course. Especially the whole ‘keeping a girlfriend’ part. There was apparently a week-long getaway that the family had every Thanksgiving, one that Jason had promised to bring his supposed girlfriend to.
That’s where you come in.
You’re apparently the only woman Jason knows that can stand to be around him for a week, and was lonely enough on Thanksgiving to be available. Your own family was away for the holidays, and you were painfully, no boyfriend for you to crash with.
You and Jason are coworkers, and it had taken him three work days to convince you to do it, interrupting your meetings with post-it notes and cornering you at your desk. He begged and begged and the only reason you said yes was because he promised that he’d get you in on the project you’d been begging your boss to let you run. And you’re nothing if not a woman who wants to forward her career, so you’d agreed.
You both took the three hour drive up to the place to corroborate your stories. You’d met at work, fallen in love over spreadsheets and the coffee he brought you every morning. He asked you out, you’d said yes, and the rest was history.
And for the most part, you think it's working.
His family all seemed to like you when you walked in. You’d been nervous. You felt out of place the moment he pulled up into the driveway. The house was nice. Nice was actually an understatement. It was huge, with what looked like three storeys, and you can’t help but let your mouth drop open in shock as you catch sight of it. It looked like those houses you drive by in the middle of nowhere and wonder what millionaire lives inside it. Apparently, Jason’s father.
The drive lit up as Jason pulled in, large trees and greenery lining the pathway. The house was beautiful, big glass windows and beautiful, dark hardwood. You couldn’t help but gasp as you got out of Jason’s car.
“Oh my god. How rich are you?” You marvelled.
“That’s an impolite question.” Jason scolded you lightly. His car beeped as he locked it.
Your feet crunched against the gravel as you walked around, taking in every detail you could. It was more rustic than where you’d figure a rich person would want to live, none of the modern architecture you sort of hate, which gives the family a few good points in your book.
“You know, I’m surprised you work. If my dad had this kind of money I’d be a bum.”
Jason snorted. He linked his arm through yours, and you stiffened before you remembered the whole fake dating ordeal. Jason gave you a look.
“Relax.” He murmurred. “You’re so tense.”
“I’m not tense. I’m just a little nervous.” You admitted.
“My family is fine. A little intrusive. Sort of annoying. And they sometimes talk too much.” You watched as Jason’s face turned slightly sour at the mention of them and you groaned.
“You’re not helping.” You hissed. “Are they- Did we prepare enough?”
“Well, we’re about to find out.” He said bluntly, swinging the door open.
They were all stood in the foyer once he finally managed to drag you into the house. It seemed that Jason’s good looks were not a one-off thing, because the three men that stood in front of you were very attractive. The tallest one you assumed was Dick, Jason’s older brother. He smiled brightly at you as you walked in, his eyes creasing with the size of it, and you immediately liked him. The other brother, Tim, was still young, the remnants of his youth fading away from the softness of his cheeks. His grin was a little more mischievous, and you felt a little on edge at the way he eyed the two of you up.
His father was the most intimidating, a tall, broad man whose presence filled the room. And that face looked familiar, and you quickly realised that Bruce Wayne was standing in front of you. Bruce Wayne, the playboy millionaire that just about anyone with a brain in Gotham knew.
“Your father is Bruce Wayne?” You whispered to Jason.
“I didn't mention it?” Jason smiled at you sweetly and you glared at him before your attention was drawn back to his brothers.
Jason hadn’t gone into too much detail in regards to his relationship with his family. He’d hinted that there was something there that made him reluctant to go to the whole thing, and that your presence would take some of the load off.
Dick came over first. He shook your hand, warm and calloused. “Hi. You must be Y/N. I’m Dick.”
“Yeah you are.” Jason mumbled and you bit back a laugh, giving Dick a smile.
“It’s lovely to meet you.” You said, and before he can get a word in, Tim bounded over.
“You are way to pretty to be dating that beast next to you.” His handshake was much more excited and you laughed a little nervously.
“Thank you. I think.”
Jason rolled his eyes, shoving Tim’s shoulder. “Back off. You’re freaking her out.”
“I’m not freaked out, it’s fine.”
You walked over to Bruce to greet him next. It was strange seeing a man you’ve watched on the news and seen in the paper standing right in front of you like it’s nothing. “Thank you for having me, Mr Wayne.”
His smile was small, his handshake firm. “Please, call me Bruce.”
You felt a little in awe, embarrassingly so, and you nodded, taking a step back to stand with Jason. His hand slips effortlessly against your waist, like it’s been there a thousand times, and you try your hardest to look comfortable.
If you're being honest, it’s not hard to pretend to be in love with Jason.
Jason always had a certain charm about him. Making faces at you during especially boring meetings, offering to stay late to help you finish up work. If you’re being completely honest, part of you likes Jason. You just refuse to let yourself see him as anything but a coworker. Because anything else is too dangerous of a path to go down. It’s hard enough ignoring how good he looks in the work-issued plain white button up, the soft brown eyes that always seem so insistent in making eye contact with you during every conversation.
The place is nice. Really nice, even more from the inside. Jason gave you a tour, showing you the living room, the dining room. The garden with an entire outdoor seating area and a firepit. And then, Jason showed you the room you’d be staying in.
You paused at the door. “There’s only one bed.”
Jason didn’t seem to notice the issue. He walked in easily, and opened up his bag, suspiciously small for the week-long stay, and dumped it into one of the empty drawers. “Clever girl.”
“Where am I going to sleep?” You asked a little nervously, fingers drumming against the handle of your suitcase.
Jason shot you a strange look. “What are you talkinga about? You’ll sleep on the bed.”
You sighed irritatedly. You dragged your suitcase into the room and shut the door behind you. “Well if I’m taking the bed where will you sleep?” You said in a hushed tone.
The situation seemed to dawn on him, because he straightened, pausing his movements. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
Jason shut the drawer with a click. “I’ll take the floor.”
You sat down on the bed with a huff. It was soft, smooth silk that felt slippery beneath your fingers. It was comfortable, and you felt a pang of guilt at him sleeping on the hard floor. “Isn’t there somewhere else you can sleep? I’m sure a huge house like this has a guest room.”
Jason shakes his head. “No, I can’t do that. How’s it going to look if you and I aren’t sleeping in the same room?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
You glanced back down at the bed. It wasn't small. It was big enough for you both, more than big enough. And it can’t be that bad to sleep beside him. You’d place some pillows between you both to stave him off if you have to.
“It’s fine. We’ll just both sleep on the bed.”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “You sure? I really don’t mind.”
You stood, dragging your suitcase to the drawers to stand beside him. You unzipped it, and began packing your own clothes away.
“It’s fine. Who am I to make my fake boyfriend sleep on the floor?”
All in all, you fit in easily with the Waynes. You’re all milling about before dinner, drinking wine and champagne and chatting as Alfred sets the table. Because they do that here. Have a butler to set up the dinner table.
You tap Jason’s hand and he looks down at you, a question in his eyes.
“I need to pee.” You whisper, and he nods, and as if it’s second nature, places a quick kiss to your lips before he lets you go.
Which is fine. And normal. And something you two had previously discussed.
On the way to the lodge, you stopped by the first fast food place you drove past, and you were eating fries from the bottom of the bag when the subject was brought up, leaning against the door to face him. The car park was relatively empty, still early enough in the day that most sane people weren’t eating burgers and fries for breakfast. You’d been discussing how the fake relationship would all work, when the thought crossed your mind. You hadn’t been able to ignore it the second it had, and finally managed to ignore your embarrassment long enough to bring it up.
“So.” You said. “What about PDA?”
“What about it?” He replied with a half smile on his face.
You roll your eyes, sitting up. “Well, won’t it be weird if we don’t kiss or hug or anything? Surely that’s going to be a giveaway?”
Jason fixes you with a look, eyes narrowing. When he speaks his voice is low and teasing. “If you wanna kiss me that bad you can just ask.”
“Ew.” You wrinkle your nose and throw a chip at him and ignore the flutter in your stomach. “I’m being serious, Todd.”
He hums, picking it up and popping it into his mouth. “Probably shouldn’t call me Todd. Too formal. How about babe?”
“Gross.”
“The love of my life?”
You throw another chip at him that he catches it this time. “That’s grosser. And also not what I was asking about.”
Jason thinks for a moment. The car smell like greasy takeout and his pine car freshener, and the radio plays softly in the background as you both eat.
“Well, I’m fine with whatever. As long as you’re comfortable, we can, you know.” He shrugs. “Kiss, hug.”
Your lap suddenly seems very interesting. You may have thought about kissing Jason once or twice, but never under false pretences like this. You think he mistakes the troubled look on your face for something else, because he quickly adds to his earlier sentiment.
“Only if you want to. We don’t have to, I know this is weird-“
“It’s okay. I want to.”
He pauses for a minute, and then grins at you. “You want to?”
“Shut up! Not like that!”
“Well, seeing as you want to kiss me so bad I think we’ll be okay.” He nods solemnly.
You glare at him. “Enough. Only if there’s people around. For appearance sake.”
He takes a big bite of his burger and you grimace as ketchup spreads across half his face. “We’re making rules now?”
“Yes, we are. Rule number one, no kissing when it’s just us around.” You roll your eyes at him. “Stop talking with your mouth full.”
He makes an effort to show you the half-chewed food in his mouth after that.
Knowing it’s just for show doesn’t make his kiss feel any less good. Especially when his fingers reach up to graze your cheek, before he gives you a soft smile, letting you go. The butterflies in your stomach last all the way until you reach the toilet, shutting the door quickly and resting your forehead against it.
It takes a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. You walk to the sink briskly and wash your face with cold water but it does nothing to ease the emotions racing through your head.
Things are getting a little out of hand, you think. Maybe you’ve gaslit yourself into thinking this relationship is real, because you’re starting to like Jason. Not like a fake boyfriend, but something more, something too real for you to process. It had been slow, gradual, but somewhere along the lines the whole fake part of this relationship had blurred. All the soft touches and the nights up talking in his bed. You learnt a lot about him, how good of a man he is. And it makes him about ten times more attractive than he already is.
You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. Only three more days, you tell yourself. Then you and Jason can go back to being coworkers who are just a little closer than normal. You take a breath, and make your way back to the others. By the time you do, everyone is already gathering in the dining hall. Jason is waiting for you in the corridor, and he perks up a little when he sees you coming.
“Hey. How was the bathroom?”
“Very fun. Who knew peeing could be so thrilling?”
He huffs a laugh, grabbing your hand. He laces his fingers between yours and walks you to the dining hall.
Everyone’s already sitting when the two of you walk in. You take your new assigned seat, next to Jason and across from Dick. You’re excited for dinner. You’re excited for every meal you’ve eaten here so far. There must be a whole litany of chefs in their kitchen, because every night you’re eating food that tastes good enough to be from a Michelin star restaurant. Today’s Thanksgiving, so they’ve gone all the way. A roast turkey with golden skin that smells like garlic and rosemary, mashed potatoes, gravy, macaroni and cheese. There’s so much food you’re not sure where to start, so you’re glad when Jason stands and starts making a plate for you.
“So Y/N,” Tim says, placing a heaving spoon of macaroni and cheese on his plate, “I think we’ve finally known you long enough to start the interrogation.”
Your fork freezes in the air, your bite of greens you stole off of Jason’s plate forgotten. “Uh. Interrogating?”
“Tim, shut up.” Jason shoots him a glare but the boy is not deterred.
“Yeah. Like what black magic Jason did to get you to go out with him, how much he’s paying you.”
You hum as your plate is placed in front of you. “I’m doing it for free, actually. Pro bono.”
“Ha ha.” Jason says dryly.
“Didn’t you guys meet at work?” Dick says, and Tim perks up.
“Ah, yeah now I remember. Are you the pretty girl from his office he always used to rage about?”
Jason’s hand thumps on the table. “Shut up, you freak.”
You sneak a glance at Jason and you think he might be blushing. If looks could kill you’re sure Tim would collapse over the table in a heartbeat, but you’re more focused on the tips of his ears that are turning red.
You grin, cooing at him, and his deathly glare softens as he faces you. “You talked about me? Called me pretty?”
“No. Must have been someone else.” He shrugs lightly and you shove his shoulder.
The food is good and you sigh happily, half of it already wiped clean. “The meal is amazing, Bruce, thank you.”
Jason gives you a glance, and you’re sure it takes a lot for him to suppress his eye roll. “No need to kiss the man’s-“
“Tim!” You cut Jason off before he says something to break the calm atmosphere of the dinner table. “Jason told me you’re going to Ivy University?”
Tim nods proudly. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be studying computer science.”
“That’s amazing. It’s a good school.”
“A great one. We’re all proud of little Tim.” Dick coos, scuffing the boy's dark hair. Tim glares at him, shoving his hand away.
“What do you do, Dick?” You ask.
“I’m a museum curator, actually.”
You almost drop your fork, the metal clinking against the expensive china you’re eating on. “Really? I love museums!”
“You do?” Jason asks at the same time Dick does.
Tim whistles lowly. “Dick move. Don’t even know what your girl likes.”
“Fuck off.”
You ignore their bickering, still looking at Dick with excited eyes. “Yes, I do love them. I’ve been to the ones all around where we live, my favourite is the Museum of Art.”
“That’s my museum!”
“No way!”
Jason sighs a little louder than necessary beside you, but you’re undeterred. You really do love museums. It’s your favorite pastime after work, just wandering down the winding halls and looking at the art hung up and arranged along the walls. Jason hadn’t mentioned his brother worked for your favorite one, but then again, he didn’t know you even liked museums, so you can’t blame him too much.
“You know," Dick says, sitting back in his chair. “I can show you around, if you want. We have a bunch more pieces in the back we don’t put out until later exhibits, so you’d be the first civilian to see them.” He smiles charmingly and you feel your heart flutter a little.
You nod excitedly. “I’d love to!”
“No, you wouldn’t.” Jason cuts in.
He looks considerably more agitated than he had moments ago. You frown a little. “I think I would.”
“You- Why? Museums are boring. Especially if Dick here is showing you around.” He practically snarls and you snort a laugh.
“What’s crawled up your ass?” Tim narrows his eyes. “You’re literally an English nerd, museums are like your wet dream.”
“Tim, we are at the dinner table.” Bruce finally chimes in.
The boy, under his fathers words, immediately looks sheepish. “My fault.”
Jason scoffs. “That makes no sense. It’s an art museum, you idiot, it’s got nothing to do with literature.”
Tim repeats his words in a high pitched voice and you think Jason is about to lunge at him over the table. You place a hand on his arm, squeezing a little.
“Okay, so. Maybe let’s talk about something else for now.” You smile a little sheepishly.
“I agree.” Dick looks grateful that he isn’t the only one easing the tension between his two younger brothers, and you return the sentiment with a knowing look.
Jason scowls at the two of you. “Stop looking at him like that.”
“Like what?” You say.
“Like- Like that.”
Tim rubs at his chin, elbow leaning on the table. “You know. I think Jason’s a little jealous.”
Dick sighs, shaking his head slightly. “Oh, Tim.”
Jason’s face is a comedic mix of annoyed and embarrassed, like he’s not sure if he should leave or flip the table over. You bite back a smile, desperate to try and save some semblance of calm at the table.
“I’m going to gouge your eyes out with my spoon.”
Tim tuts. “Don’t be so vulgar in front of the lady. Dick will have no issue swooping in if you do.”
“Alright, shut up Tim.” Dick rubs his eyes. “Can we just eat?”
“We are eating.”
Dick seems to lose some of the cool he’s been trying so hard to keep, and gives Tim his own stern look. That seems to be a family special. “Can we eat without the arguing?”
It’s interesting watching the way Jason acts around his siblings. They bicker amongst themselves like children, despite the fact that half of you at the table are in your mid-twenties. It’s kind of cute, in a way, the boyish anger on his face as he tries to throw a piece of cornbread at Dick without Bruce catching him.
It of course helps that the reason they are arguing is because he’s jealous of Dick talking to you.
Dinner finishes, luckily with no more incidents. You all eat warm pumpkin pie with dollops of fresh vanilla ice cream at the firepit, and after sitting around and talking in the living room for a while, everyone retreats to their rooms.
The bedroom door clicks softly as you shut it, and you wince, falling back against the bed. “Ugh. I’m so full.”
Jason huffs a laugh. “Yeah, well, nobody told you to have seconds. Of dinner and dessert.”
You groan loudly. “But the food is so good. I haven’t had a proper cooked meal in ages.” You sit up on your elbows, watching Jason flit around the room.
It's only eight in the evening, but the Wayne house is quiet. Despite the fact it’s a holiday, the whole house falls asleep strangely early. It had been a bit of a shock to find out even Tim and Drake turn in so early, the whole building eerily quiet. The second dinner is over they all retreat to their rooms, which is very much the opposite of your own nightly routine, which usually ends at about one in the morning.
You sit up, crossing your legs. “Jason, I’m bored.”
He leans against the wall, crossing his arms. Much like you, he also doesn’t sleep early, so he’s in the same boat of boredom as you. “We can do something, if you want.”
“Like what?”
Jason thinks for a moment. He comes over to flop down on the bed beside you, his hair fanning out against the bedsheets. “I don’t know.”
“This is your home town, right? You know any good spots?”
He thinks for a moment. “We could get slushies? There's this place I always used to go to when I was younger.”
You immediately brighten, shaking his arm excitedly. “Oh, yeah! I love slushies!”
Jason looks at you with a soft sort of smile on his face. “I thought you said you were stuffed?”
“A slushy is a drink. That’s a different section of my stomach, which has more than enough space.”
You both change out of your more formal dinner clothes into something more comfortable that’ll stave off the cold. It’s a little stupid to get slushies in November, but you’ll do anything to leave the house. You reach for his bedroom door but Jason stops you, pulling you back.
“No, let’s go from the window.”
You blink at him. “What?”
“The front door is so loud, and then the alarm will go off and they’ll all hear it.” He shakes his head, already irritated at the prospect of his brothers finding out he’s leaving the house. “And they won’t leave us alone.”
“So turn off the front door alarm then!” You say and he shushes you.
“Be quiet.” He whispers. “You’ll wake them up.”
“Wake- It’s half eight in the evening!”
“My family are all freaks who sleep at seven! Now come on, it’s easy.”
He walks to the window and pushes back the black curtains and unlatches the window. A cold gust of wind blows into the room and you cross your arms. You watch, thoroughly unimpressed as he gestures. “You go first.”
“Are you insane? Are you actually being serious right now?”
Jason huffs, walking over. His hand is warm as it slips into yours, and you don’t protest as he drags you over to where he was standing. You peer out the window, shivering a little at the cold weather. To be honest, it’s not that far. You’re on the second floor, but the windows are low, and there’s even a small roof you can climb down on then hang off to get to the ground. This all, Jason tells you with a hint of excitement in his voice.
You still think he might be crazy. You narrow your eyes at him. “How many times have you done this?”
“Pretty much every single family holiday we ever spent here. Up until I was about eighteen."
“Well, you’re in your twenties and you’re still doing it.”
You look down a little nervously. “Can you go first at least?”
Jason eyes you for a moment. “Just don’t pussy out once I’m down there.”
He easily makes his way out. You don’t mind waiting and watching from the top. You get a perfect sight of his arms flexing as he drops down onto the floor. He brushes his clothes off and looks up at you.
“Alright, babe. It’s all you now.”
You curse under your breath, hooking your leg over the windowsill. “Can’t believe I’m doing this.”
You manage to get both legs out easily. Your knuckles are almost white with how hard you hold onto the side of the wall as you carefully step onto the small roof. Jason cheers quietly and you shush him.
You manage to let go of the wall, after a bit of encouragement from Jason. Your plan is to slowly turn, lower yourself down and drop from the edge. Your plan is not to slip on a few dried leaves and fall off, yet that still seems to be what happens.
The drop isn’t that far, and you’re sure maybe you would've only twisted an ankle or bruised a couple limbs. You don’t need to worry about any of that though, because instead of landing on the hard grass you land on Jason. He manages to catch you, arms wrapping around your waist as you claw your fingers into him.
“Oh my god! Oh my god, I nearly died.” You gasp, and he laughs breathily, depositing you softly onto the floor.
“You’re okay.” He reassures you. “Calm down.”
“I am calm.” You mumble.
You notice that his hands still haven’t left your waist, warmth seeping through the fabric of your hoodie. You both stand there like that, lit faintly by the small porch lights around the porch, your arms around each other. Then you hear a noise from inside the house and the moment is broken, and the two of you pull apart.
The car ride takes longer than you thought it would, but it makes sense. He has to drive out the forest the house resides in, and the winding roads take a while to get out of. You flick through the CDs in your glovebox. He’s actually driving your car, since you would rather keel over and die than ride over here on his motorcycle death trap. That, and it wouldn’t have fit any of your bags.
Jason eventually pulls into an old gas station. It's the first one you pass once you drive into the local town, and it looks like it’s been here for a good couple years. It's old, the sign leaning and the lights almost flickering off, but you’re excited all the same. He parks and you hop out quickly. You make your way inside, immediately sighing at the warmth that hits your face. You rub your hands together, your hoodie not doing much to stave off the cold. You make a beeline for the slushy machine and Jason follows behind you.
“Aw, yes, they have blue. That’s my favourite flavour.” You grin, grabbing the biggest cup.
“Your favourite flavour is a colour?”
“Obviously.”
You fill up the cup as much as you can, until the cold blue spills over the side and onto your fingers. You hiss, and Jason snorts as you lick the mess off your fingers.
“Nice one.” He drawls, grabbing his own cup. He fills it with strawberry, and you wrinkle your nose.
He notices and gives you a playful glare, popping a straw in his drink and yours. “Red’s better.”
“No it’s not. Blue is.”
“Shall we make purple?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and you roll your eyes.
“Oh, quiet.”
You wander down the aisles, grabbing some snacks as you go. Takis, M&Ms, whatever even slightly takes you fancy. When your arms get too full to carry it all you hand half of them to Jason. He looks at them with a puzzled expression.
“What’s this for?”
“Snacks!” You shake the Takis in his face before stuffing it into his arms. “Your house is so healthy! I need some real food.”
“This is not real food. This is poison."
“Yes, yes. I love MSG.”
You both dump the food onto the counter. The cashier looks slightly annoyed at the mountain of it in front of him, and you smile a little sheepishly. You dig into your pocket for your wallet, but Jason pushes your hands away.
“I got it.”
You frown slightly. “But-“
“Shut it.” He fixes you with a jokingly stern look and you bite back a smile.
“Alright, then.”
Jason grabs the plastic bag from the cashier, nodding in thanks. You practically skip out the shop, tongue and teeth stained a bright, unnatural blue.
Jason smiles slightly at the sight of you. “You’ve got…”
He looks like he’s going to gesture. Instead, he reaches forward, swiping at your lip. He’s gentle and his thumb lingers a second too long for you to brush it off as nothing.
“Thank you.” You manage to get out. You clear your throat, shaking your drink at him. “You know, this was a very good idea.”
Jason throws the bags of food in the back of the car and you both get in. “All my ideas are good.”
“Debatable.”
The drive home feels quicker. The slushy helps. You pull your sleeves down to fend against the cold of your drink. You peer at Jason out of the corner of your eyes. He’s focused on the road, finger tapping along to the song coming from the radio. The streetlights catch against the hard lines of his face, and it makes him look good, in a way you haven’t noticed before.
Your unrelenting staring doesn’t go unnoticed, and he gives you a funny look. “Everything alright there?”
“Yeah. Just people watching.”
“Person watching.”
He pulls into the house, but you don’t get out of the car yet. Your drinks are finished and abandoned in the console of the car, and you sigh, leaning back against the car seat.
“Do you think your family believes it?” You ask quietly.
Jason is chewing on his straw, the white end of it stained red. “I think they do. We make a pretty good couple.”
He’s joking, you think. But his voice sounds so fond that you have to look away, unable to keep eye contact with those deep brown eyes.
“Your family is nice. I like your brothers.” You smile slightly. “They’re funny.”
“They’re annoying.” He rolls his eyes. “Invasive. I wouldn't be surprised if they’ve hired a private investigator to look into everything about us.”
“And what would they find?”
Jason makes a face, pretty features scrunching. “That ugly work picture the boss posted of us on Facebook.”
“Oh my god.” You burst out laughing. “I forgot about that!”
“You know, we were the only interns from that day who actually got hired.” Jason grins. “Says a lot about us, doesn’t it?”
“We were always the best. That’s why we’re always working together.”
You eventually, and reluctantly, both get out. You reach into the car to grab the bags, and when you turn around Jason is standing right in front of you. You jump a little, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest.
“Are you alright, Jason?”
He doesn’t say anything. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips. And slowly, giving you enough time to bolt if you need to, he cups your face in his hands. And he reaches down, pressing his lips to yours in what might be the most tender kiss you’ve ever felt in your entire life.
The bags drop out your hand, forgotten, and your hands circle his neck, reaching up to deepen the kiss. His lips move against yours slowly, desperately, his hands sliding down to curl in your clothes and drag you closer. He lets go of you reluctantly, and you take in a shaky breath. It takes a moment for either of you to speak, like you both need a second to make sure what just happened actually did.
“We just broke your very first rule. There’s no one around but us.” Jason murmurs, fingers brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.
“We can amend the rules.” You say.
The kisses quickly develop from tender to fast and restless. He pulls you flush against him, and he bites at your lip, his tongue curling around your own. You feel heat curl in your stomach, and when he presses a knee between your thigh, you have to stop for a moment.
“Where- Where are we going to go?”
Jason grins, his lips red and his hair mussed from your hands. “You that eager?”
“You’re currently trying to pull my pants down, I think we’re both eager.” You narrow your eyes at him.
Jason looks back at the house but quickly shakes his head. “It’ll make too much noise to go back in now. And we’ll have to be quiet, Dick’s room is right next to mine.”
“Great.” You sigh. “You finally kiss me and we’ve got nowhere else to take it anywhere.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. Your car is perfectly fine.” He says quickly.
“My car? You want to have sex in my car like we’re two horny teenagers?” You drawl.
Jason smirks into your skin. He kisses against your neck, teeth nipping at the soft skin. “You don’t?”
You do, unfortunately. Which is why in the next five minutes you’re both sprawled in your backseat. It’s a tight squeeze, but you’re not really worried about that.
Not only have you been having a bit of a dry spell recently, but there’s been one or two nights where you’ve woken up before Jason. And when you wake up before him, you get a beautiful eyeful of his bare chest, because he of course insists on sleeping shirtless. Which may or may not make you feel a little racy, a feeling you have nowhere to relieve.
You’re doing much more than eyeing him now. Your hands smooth over his soft skin and hard muscle as he kisses you frantically, moving down from your face, to your jaw. You aren’t quite sure when, but both of you are naked from the waist up, and Jason wastes no time, sucking red marks into your skin, lapping over them, and you feel your stomach flip as his knee presses into your core.
“Fuck, look at you.” He breathes. “It was fucking torture being so close to you all this time and not being able to do anything.”
He pinches your nipples between rough fingers and you let out a shaky moan, back arching, and it earns you a wet tongue along the crease beneath your breast. Your thighs squeeze together and you whine. Your card a hand through his hair, tugging his head up. His cheeks are flushed, hair already plastered to his forehead which is slick with sweat. He keeps tugging at your nipples and you’re practically panting.
“Come on, Jason.” You whine. “Stop teasing.”
“But it makes you beg so pretty.”
You're distracted by his teeth making another mark against your neck, that the presence of his hand on the inside of your thigh doesn't register until you feel his fingers grab your trousers, already inching them down.
“Can I-“
“Yes.”
It takes some complex manoeuvring but you manage to get your trousers off. He throws them beside him, returning to his position between your legs. He splays his big hand over your knee, trailing his fingertips lightly on the inside of it and up your thigh, until they brush over the now wet lace of your underwear. It’s black and lacy, one of your more exciting undergarments, and Jason is clearly pleased. His eyes stare at the way they cling to your cunt and he groan lowly in his chest, racking a nail down the front of them.
“You wear these for me?” He whispers into your skin, and you can only sigh in response.
Two thick fingers trail from the bottom of your slit to your clit, and he rubs you over the thin material. “These expensive?”
“No.” You shake your head and he grins.
He hooks two fingers against the waistband and easily rips them, and you watch the fabric fall onto the floor of the car, and you might cum right then from the action. Jason grabs your leg and hooks it over his broad shoulder. He leans down, breath ghosting over the soft skin of your thighs and dangerously close to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin and his thumb ghosts over your clit. It’s so light, and it’s barely there, but your hips still jerk up.
Jason huffs a small laugh. “So sensitive.” He breathes. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”
He makes good on his promise almost instantly. His thumb dips into you, rubbing your slick up and over your clit, his breath cool against your wet skin. Brown eyes stare into your own as he repeats the action with his mouth. Your hips buck up immediately at the contact and he tuts, using an arm to hold down your hips as his tongue flattens against your folds.
“Oh, fuck.” You suck in a breath, hand gripping onto his hair to try and steady yourself.
Your head thumps against the glass window as Jason laps against you hungrily, his eyes fixed on your face every time you look down at him. He hums, satisfied as the way you squirm beneath him. The sound coming from you is so wet and obscene your face feels hot, and you worry that someone outside can hear the two of you going at it.
It takes embarrassingly little for you to feel the knot in your stomach coiling and twisting, and he notices the way you moans get breathier and more incoherent the closer you get. So he drags over your clit in heavy laps, breath burning against your skin, and all it takes is for him to latch his mouth around your clit and suck, and the knot pulls loose. Your body throbs as you cum, and he works you through it until you're pushing him off you, breath catching in your throat.
His face is flushed and you watch as he licks his fingers obscenely. You wrinkle your nose at the sight. “Gross.”
“You just taste so good.”
You sit up, your back clicking as you straighten. And then, you push him back onto the car seat, so your positions are switched. He gives you a confused look.
“What are you doing?” He says.
You undo the drawstrings of his joggers. “I’m returning the favour.”
Jason grabs both your hands in one of his own. You give him a frown and he tilts his head. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I know. I want to.”
You try and tug your hands out of his grip but he doesn’t relent. “Jason-“
He sits up properly in the car seat, dragging you to straddle his lap. It’s a little surreal how easy it is for him to pick you up, barely flinching as he sets you down in his lap slowly. He grabs your joggers and places them in your hands.
“It’s cold, and you were laying down funny, your back probably hurts. It’s late. We can just go to bed.” He insists.
“My back feels great.”
The corner of Jason’s lip quirks up. “Does it now?”
“It feels perfect.”
Jason’s fingers are warm as they lift up your jaw to slot his lips against yours. It’s slower, just like the first time, tender and soft, taking his time to lick into your mouth. Your arms drape across his shoulders, your fingers curling against the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. You can feel his smile against your face and you sigh happily.
The kiss ends because unfortunately you have to breathe. His forehead knocks against yours as the two of you part.
“Look, we did this strangely. And too fast.” He laughs slightly. “And I want to do it properly.”
Your stomach flutters and you bite back a smile. “Really?”
“Really.”
You hum, drumming your fingers against his bare chest. “Im starting to think this whole fake dating thing was just a ruse to get into my pants.”
Jason shrugs. “If it was, it worked.”
You roll your eyes. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know. I probably would've said yes.”
Jason narrows his eyes at you. “Only probably?”
“Only probably.”
beach bunny is alive and well… life has been so busy. I’m currently working two jobs, one of which is at a bakery so my days are starting at SIX AM!! But I love it!!
And I love Jason Todd… I accidentally deleted the ask but!! We officially have two fics left in this event that’s been going on for like a year LAMAOOAAO
As always leave comments !! I love to hear from u guys!!
Peter Parker is your tutor, your neighbour, and nothing more. It must be a total coincidence when Spider-Man crashes on your balcony.
slight angst, smut, friends to lovers
Try as you might to distract him and change the subject, Peter is insistent in describing to you the details of the Krebs cycle. Your head thumps against the hard wood of the library table and you hear him snort at the sight.
“Come on, Y/N. We only have two chapters left.” He says, tapping your head with the end of his pencil.
You groan, burying your head deeper into your arms. The library is cold, and goosebumps trail up your skin. You’d forgotten to grab a jumper before you’d left your apartment and the t-shirt you have on is doing little to protect you from the air-con. But the weather is the least of your concern right now.
You can hear Peter failing to hide his laughter, and you lift your head to shoot him a glare. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“Don’t be funny then.” He leans his face against his palm, shutting the textbook in front of him. “Your exam is in like, a week, you know.”
“Thank you, gracious tutor. You’re just so smart.” You mumble. “What if I just drop out? College can’t be that important, right?”
Peter makes a face. “It’s pretty important.”
“You only say that because you’re good at it.” You say pointedly.
He waves you off as humbly as he can. You sit up, stretching, your back popping as you turn in your chair. Peter makes a face at the action.
“I hate when you do that.” His nose wrinkles.
“My back doesn’t.”
The library is too quiet, and the hard chair you’ve been sitting on is digging into your thighs uncomfortably. You decide then and there that the study session is over, whether Peter agrees or not. You can feel the comings on of a headache you’re sure will only get worse if he keeps talking about DNA.
You start packing up your things, stuffing them in your backpack quickly. Peter protests, grabbing your hands. “Wait, what are you doing? We aren’t done.”
You narrow your eyes at him. Your stomach flips a little at the feeling of his hands over yours, but you try to ignore it so you can keep looking annoyed. “I wanna go home.”
“We haven’t even started transcription and translation!”
“We’ll do it another day.” You whine. “Please. We’re neighbours, Peter, I can just come over later tonight!”
He thinks for a moment. You see him running the idea through his head before he sighs, agreeing. “Alright. Fine.”
“Thank you.” Peters still holding your hands, and you clear your throat a little. “Can I have my hands back?”
His cheeks redden and he lets them go quickly. “Yeah. Of course. Sorry.”
He smiles awkwardly and you feel your heart ache in your chest.
Peter sometimes feels too good to be true. He’s so cute, so charming. You thought you were imagining things when you moved into your new apartment and found him next door. You didn’t talk too much at first. He was always in and out of his place, and the times you did catch him in the hallways or in the laundry room, he wasn’t that keen on talking. Peter kept to himself. Which sucked, but you tried not to dwell on it too much.
That being said, it was actually him who’d started the friendship between the two of you. It had been an incredibly embarrassing moment for you, and even though you’re glad of what’s come of it, you wish that it could’ve happened literally any other way.
You’d been in the laundry room at two in the morning. You’d brought down the two bags of laundry you’d been putting off, your laptop and the hefty biology textbook your college had so gratefully gifted you. You looked a mess. Hair in a quick knot atop your head, your oldest and most torn pyjamas donned, since they were the only clean outfit you had left. And, of course, the tear tracks dried down your face and your puffy eyes.
You’re sure you’re not the first student to cry over a difficult chapter they can’t get right, but you’re probably the first to do it with your back against a washing machine, cross-legged on the tiled floor.
And the first to do it in front of their very very cute neighbour.
You didn’t expect anyone to come do their washing in the middle of the night. You’d purposefully come at that time to avoid seeing a single soul, but you looked up from the glaringly bright light of your laptop and saw Peter standing at the door of the laundry room like a deer in headlights.
You jumped as he walked in, and you watched him look you up and down, take in your fading Harry Potter t-shirt and glossy eyes. You rubbed at your eyes furiously, giving him a smile.
“Peter! Hi.” You choked out, clearing your throat. You shut your laptop with a snap. “What are you doing here?”
He pointed at his laundry basket before placing it on one of the machines. “Laundry. Are you okay?”
“Me? Yes, I’m- I’m great.” You tried to laugh it off but you think it just made you look a little crazy.
The concern in Peter’s face deepened, and he walked forward. “Y/N, are you sure you’re alright?”
You sighed dejectedly, leaning your head against the machine behind you. “No. I hate college.”
Peter huffed a laugh. He walked over, and sat down next to you. He looked tired. The bags under his eyes were dark, his movements slow and sluggish as he settled down beside you. You didn’t comment on how strange the two of you just sitting together was, since nothing about the situation seemed very normal anyway.
“Does anyone enjoy it?”
“I hate it. And I hate biology. I have a huge midterm in a week and I’m barely halfway through the content. It’s so confusing!” You complained, angrily gesturing at your laptop.
Peter smiled slightly and tapped his knuckles on your textbook. “I don’t think revising at two in the morning helps much.”
“Everyone’s a critic.” You mumble, and it elicits another laugh from him.
Peters looks good when he laughs. His face relaxes and his eyes crinkle, and you had to look away and convince yourself it was the lack of sleep talking.
“What are you studying, anyway?” He asked.
“Psychology. There’s this biology module though, and I am terrible at biology.” You mumbled.
Peter reached over and grabbed your textbook. He flicked through the pages you had bookmarked. His shoulder brushed against yours every time he flicked a page as you both shook from the motion of the washing machine.
“This isn’t that bad.” He said and you shoot him a look.
“I’ll hit you, Parker.”
He laughed. “Okay, fair.”
He paused for a moment, thinking. You let him do it, content to sit and listen to the soft rumble of your clothes being spun behind you.
“I can tutor you, if you want.”
Your head shot up, and you turned to him quickly. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.” He smiled slightly. “I mean, I can’t guarantee how good I’ll be, I’ve never done biology before, but. I can try. If it’ll help.”
You’d agreed, obviously. If not for the fact you desperately needed the help, but for the kind way he was looking at you. How could you say no to that face?
You meet twice a week, either at his place or yours or any other location you fancy. After that midterm finished you two kept up the tutoring, because as it turns out Peter is incredibly smart, and any thing you ask him about he can teach you after one glance of the textbook. Somewhere along the way the two of you became friends. He’d stop by for movies, dinner, or you’d catch him by the front door and you’d walk up to your place together. It’s nice. Not only to have a friend, but one your age, one you get along with so well.
You like Peter. It’s a marvel to you that he seems to be such a private person, because his personality is so big. He never has visitors, never talks about anyone other than a guy called Frank you think might be his uncle or something. It confuses you that he seems so lonely, because he’s such a good person. You don’t ask about it though, because it seems too personal of a thing to ever bring up over biology notes.
You finish packing up your bag, and hoist it over your shoulder. Peter is already up on his feet, waiting for you.
“You have any plans for later?” You ask as the two of you walk out the building.
It’s the perfect weather outside. Warm enough that you stop regretting not bringing your jumper, a cool breeze blowing through the streets. The city is busy, as it always is, but you love the noise, the life that runs through New York. You fall into step next to Peter.
“Nothing, I don’t think.” He grabs the bag from your shoulder without a word and puts it on his own back. You’ve learnt not to fight him on his chivalry, so you let him take it.
“Well. I’m making dinner. You can come over if you want. We still need to finish that movie.”
Peter rolls his eyes. “I was hoping you’d forgotten about that.”
You nudge his shoulder. “None of that. If I have to sit through Star Wars you can sit through my rom-coms.”
“How can you not like Star Wars?” Peter shakes his head, disappointed. “I’m so ashamed.”
You're glad the library is a short walk to your apartment, because you are sure Peter would’ve graced you with his very long list of all the reasons why Star Wars is a good franchise. You walk up the steep steps to your apartment door.
You dig in your pocket for your keys. “Well, you’re watching it anyway. 27 Dresses is one of the greatest movies ever.”
The key jams as you unlock it, as if always does, and you tug it out with an irritated sigh.
Peter scoffs, holding the door open so you can walk in first. “Says the girl who doesn’t like Apollo 13.”
“I dont like space movies!”
“Yeah, well-“
Peter’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he cuts himself off to check it. You watch his eyes widen as he reads whatever pops up on his screen and he quickly shoves it back in his pocket before you can catch a glimpse.
“Actually, I'm gonna have to cancel on dinner.” His face creases with guilt and you wave him off quickly.
“It’s alright, Peter, don't worry about it.” You smile. “We can do another day.”
Peter looks torn between apologising more and leaving for whatever urgent thing has come up. “I really am sorry, Y/N.”
You reach out and give his arm a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, Parker. I’ll force you to finish my movie another day.”
He finally seems convinced that you aren’t upset with him, because he hands you your bag and dashes off down the street before you can get another word out.
It’s nothing crazy. Peter does that sometimes. Just randomly disappears out of nowhere, always in a rush and never explaining why. You don’t look into it too much. Maybe it’s a girlfriend he doesn’t want to tell you about.
You instead, spend the evening alone. You clean up around your place, in case Peter does decide to come over. Your room stays a mess, since there’s no way Peter will be seeing that. Or any other man for that manner. You like your apartment. It’s small, and in a sketchy part of the neighbourhood, but you don’t have to worry about that. The perks of having Spider-Man zipping around the city all the time. This place is all you could afford while still being a student, and it’s a pretty close walk to your college, so you try not to complain. You’ve made the place feel like home.
By the time it hits eight in the evening, the prospect of having company over seems less and less likely. You cozy up on the couch with a tub of ice cream and an episode of Gilmore Girls you’ve watched about a million times. You’re disappointed, but it’s fine. Peter doesn’t really owe you anything, after all. You’re just friends.
There’s noise out in the street, which isn’t really a surprise.You try to ignore it at first, but the sirens and commotion only increase. You flip the channel to check the news, more out of curiosity than anything, and the pretty news reporter says there’s some sort of villain destroying half the street. She say’s that Spider-Man’s on the scene, but it still looks pretty bad. You’re sure he’ll sort it out. Luckily for you, it’s a good few blocks away, so you’re most likely safe.
After a while of mindless scrolling on your phone, you decide to go to bed, tired from all the studying you did today and full up on chocolate ice cream. You dump the empty can in the trash, wiping the cold condensation onto your old sleep shirt. Your mind flits to Peter, and the fact you haven’t heard him come in all night. Which is a little worrying, especially with the whole villain rampaging the town a few blocks over. You go to shoot him a quick text asking where he is, but before you can hit send you’re interrupted by a loud crash on your balcony.
You let out an embarrassing scream. It’s pretty dark out so you can’t see much from outside. What you can see is an outline of a figure standing on your balcony. Well, standing may be an exaggeration. The figure is almost toppling over, bracing themself with the edge of the railing so that they don’t fall. You feel a rush of fear in your body, your heart sinking in your chest.
“What the fuck, what the fuck.” You hiss, rushing over to your kitchen.
You don’t even have anything to defend yourself with. You think about calling the police but with what’s happening across the city you doubt they’d get here for ages. You curse under your breath, rummaging in your drawers for something to fight this intruder with. You settle on grabbing your biggest kitchen knife and hide yourself in the furthest corner of your kitchen, holding it out in front of you.
The figure doesn’t notice you. They seem perfectly content to just walk into your house. They easily fiddle your lick open, which is a it worrying, and walk in like this is normal and this is their own home. They almost slip on your smooth hardwood floors, cursing quietly. And it’s as they step into the dim light of your living room you realise this intruder is very red. And very spider-like. Because your intruder is Spider-man. Spider-man has just crashed into your balcony and broken into your house. You’re torn between still freaking out, because he is a stranger after all, and fangirling at the fact Spider-man is in your apartment.
He hasn’t noticed you still. He’s groaning, holding his side as he mumbles something under his breath. You remember the fight downtown and figure he’s probably injured himself somehow, and had swung himself to what he maybe thought was an empty apartment.
You should say something. You should definitely say something but your mouth seems to be glued shut and all you can do is stare at him, the knife going slack in your hands.
Spider-man straightens his back, grunting softly as you hear it click. In one swift motion, he reaches up and tugs the mask off his face. And you’re not sure your heart can take much more shock, because you think you forget how to breathe when you see Peter under the mask.
He looks bad. He’s bloodied, his nose bruised and his eyes puffy. His face is screwed up in pain, and he’s breathing a little erratically. Your worry and your shock is melding into an emotion you're not sure you’ve experienced before, and you think you’re about to pass out.
“What the fuck.” You breathe out.
In an instant, a web is shot out and your hand carrying the knife is plastered to the wall behind you. The action seemed to have been instinctive, because Peter looks just as shocked as you at the fact there’s someone in the room with him. When he squints, registers that the person is you, his face turns as pale as a ghost.
“What? Y/N? What- What are you doing in here?” He practically screams.
“What are you on about? This is my apartment!” You yell, trying to tug your hand loose.
The panic settles over Peter quickly, and his eyes go wide with shock. “Oh my god. You can’t see me like this! Close your eyes!”
“What?”
“You-“ He shoves the mask back on his face, but there’s not much point. “You can’t see me like this! Fuck-“
“Peter!”
“No, it’s Spider-Man! I’m not Peter.” He rambles. “You didn’t see this. Fuck. You didn’t. Erase this from-“
“Peter.” You cut him off and his mouth clicks shut instantly. He’s looking at your with wide eyes, and you realise that at least one of you has to be calm, or the two of your are going to start hyperventilating. You take a deep breath, and give him what you hope is a reassuring smile.
“Can you please calm down? And let me go?” You point at his web with your free hand.
Peter doesn’t move for a moment. His chest heaves up and down as he takes a few of his own breaths. Then, finally, he makes his way over to you. He’s half limping, one hand still holding his side. He grabs the knife out of your hand and it clatters against your kitchen table.
“M’sorry.” He frees you easily, tossing the webs on the floor. He grabs your wrist, checking it over. He gently rubs the skin where his web was attached, his face creased in concern. “You scared me.”
“I scared you?” You murmur. “You’re the one who broke into my house and crashed into my balcony.”
“I miscalculated my jump.” He smiles weakly. “I was supposed to crash into my own balcony.”
Silence slips into the space between you two and you have no idea how to fill it. Your kitchen feels too small and the room feels too suffocating and you have no idea what to say to him. He’s still holding your wrist so gently, like it might fall off. He won’t look at your face, eyes trained on your skin.
The silence makes your skin prickle, so you break it. “So. You’re Spider-man?”
Peter nods. He bites at his lip anxiously still refusing to look at you. “Yes. I am.”
You nod back. “You know, it’s taking like, everything in me not to freak the fuck out right now.”
He breathes a laugh, his fingers tightening their grasp on you, his skin hot against your own. “I’m very grateful you’re not.”
Maybe it makes sense, if you think about it very carefully. The fact you’ve never once seen the inside of his apartment. Theres probably Spider-man stuff in there he can’t let you see. His weird habit of just disappearing, the fact that he knows a little too much about the police force and the crime happening around New York.
You’ve been quiet for a while, and Peter looks restless. He’s finally raised his gaze to you, looking over your features restlessly.
“Are you okay?” He asks.
“Mhm. I think I am.” You mumble. “Just connecting the dots.”
“Okay. That’s good. That you’re okay.”
The two have you calmed down, and tbe adrenaline that had been racing in your body wears off. The same seems to be happening to him, because suddenly he can no longer forget the litany of injuries across his body, and the pain in his body seems to rear its ugly head. He lets go of your wrist to grip the counter beside him roughly, bending over and clutching his stomach. You stumble back a little as he almost knocks into you.
“Peter, what- What’s going on?” You say, grabbing his arm.
“M’fine! I’m fine, I just- It was bad today.”
You remember the news, the destruction you’d seen, and how Peter was probably in the middle of it all. “Shit, yeah.”
“It’s alright.” He straightens up slowly, wincing. “I’ll go back to mine. I’m sorry if I ruined your evening.”
“Wait, what?” You splutter.
He slowly eases himself out of your grasp and makes his way to your front door. It isn’t easy, though. He’s in enough pain that you can hold him back easily with just a hand on his shoulder. The fact that you can stop him is a very clear sign he isn’t okay.
“Peter, don’t be stupid.” You scoff. “Look at you. You can barely walk across my kitchen.”
“I’ll be fine.” His face is determined and stubborn and you frown.
“No, you won’t.”
“Y/N, I will.”
Your frown deepens as he tugs himself from your grasp once more. “Peter, come on. I have a first aid kit in my bathroom, I’ll fix you up then you can go.”
He pauses at your words. He’s breathing too heavily after only taking the few steps he has, and you hope him pausing means he’s actually going to listen to you.
“Are you sure?” He glances at you and you nod earnestly.
“Yes. Now come on.”
Peter is heavier than he looks. You assume all that muscle you can feel through his suit must be the cause, because even with just his arm around your shoulder, you nearly topple over trying to get him into your bathroom. Luckily it’s not too far, and you manage to get him in with no further injury. You sit him down on your toilet seat, and his eyes slip shut as he leans back against the wall.
Your house is silent as you rummage through the shelves in your bathroom for your first aid kit. You’re lucky your mother had forced you to buy one before you moved out, because you’re not sure Peter would’ve let you run to the pharmacy to grab the stuff to patch him up. You also grab some good painkillers and quickly dip into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. You hand him the drink and painkillers, and he nods in thanks as he quickly swallows them.
You glance at the cuts on his face and the blood oozing out of them.
“Do you not heal? Like does your spiderism not heal you?” You ask, and he smiles.
“Kind of. I just heal way faster than an average human. But if I’m constantly getting hit and hurt my body can heal fast enough and I end up looking like this.” He explains.
“Right.”
You also grabbed a bag of frozen peas from your freezer. You wrap them in a towel. “I got this, too. You kept holding your ribs, so.”
Peter’s looking at you with such a soft look in his eyes that you have to look away, face burning at all the attention.
You gesture at his suit. “You’re gonna have to take that off. At least up to your stomach.”
“Oh. Right.”
You promptly turn around as he starts tugging it off. Your bathroom sink suddenly feels very interesting. You look hard at the ceramic as he slips out of the top half of his suit, letting it bunch up around his waist.
“Alright. I’m done.”
You turn back around, and really, it’s a testament to your resolve that you don’t just sit and ogle at him. You know Peter likes to work out. He likes to talk about the gym and you’ve seen him buy more protein powder far too many times, but you didn’t know he was this into it. He has a six pack and biceps and a body of just lean muscle. There’s small scarring across his chest, and bruising by his abdomen. It makes sense that a superhero would this built but it’s more than you were expecting.
Peter is smirking a little, looking at you through lidded eyes. “You alright there?”
You clear your throat, nodding profusely. “Yep. I’m- I am great. Here.”
You pass him the peas and he presses them against his stomach. He grunts slightly, and sits up. “Thank you.”
You tap Peter’s leg, and he spreads them so you have space to stand between them. He leans his head back, and you brush his hair out of his face so you can see the damage clearly. The swelling in his eye hasn’t gotten any worse, but the blood on his nose and split lip has dried, and you can see what look like bruises forming on his jaw.
“Oh, Peter.” You mumble, and he smiles at you weakly.
The sink gurgles as you fill it with water. You dip a towel into the basin and let it soak, before you wring it out and bring it back to Peter. You settle between his legs once more. You’re gentle as you wipe at his skin until the blood fades away, and the water turns pink as you wring the towel out and repeat the process again. Peter’s fingers brush against your thigh, and you think all the silence is making him nervous, because he starts to ramble as you grab his hands to wipe the blood from his knuckles.
“I was stupid. I was- They were worse than I figured they’d be. A lot more bad guys than usual.” His eyes track your movements, the gentle swipes across his fingers.
You hum in reply. Peter continues.
“It was- It’s nothing unusual, obviously. I don’t know, I was distracted today. I was mad. I wanted to hang out with you but then I got the alert and I had to leave. And I know that you said you were fine but I know you were upset.”
He slips out of your grasp in his stupor, running a hand through his hair. “Peter-”
“I was upset. I wanted to see you, I just- I wish I could be-” The words die on his lips, and his face twists with anger.
You place a hand on his shoulder and give it a tight squeeze. “Hey, calm down. Getting yourself all worked up over it isn’t gonna make you feel any better.”
The second you tell him to, he stops. He lets out a little sigh and nods, his lips twisted into a small pout, and it takes all your energy not to lean in and kiss him. You rub some ointment on his knuckles and move onto his face. You regard the cuts and bruises slowly, your fingers barely brushing over the red skin.
“This will probably hurt.” You grab some cleaning alcohol. “This stuff stings. Try not to think about it.”
His eyes follow your movements as you dab some on a cotton bud. Then they rake over you, your exposed legs and your small sleep shorts, and his fingers twitch where they're resting next to your thighs. “What should I think about instead?”
You swallow, steadying your hand on his shoulder. Your face flushes a little under his intense gaze, and you hope he doesn’t see it. “I don't know. Use your imagination.”
To his credit, he doesn’t react as much as you thought he would. He winces slightly, and he clenches his knee, but other than that he seems fine. You delay in grabbing his face, already overwhelmed by the close contact.
“It’s okay.” He murmurs, sensing your hesitation, “I don't mind.”
So you grab him. Gently, so as not to irritate the bruised skin. He breathes out the second your palm touches his face, his shoulder relaxing. It’s quiet except for the sound of the rag dripping onto your bathroom floor. You swipe it against Peter’s lip, and he grabs your leg to steady himself, brows furrowing from the pain.
“Sorry.” You mumble.
He shakes his head quickly, brown curls bouncing around his face. “Don’t apologise.”
You grab some medical tape and put it over his lip and his nose. You’ve done what you can, and you step back, unclogging the sink and watching the water swirl down. “So what do you usually do when you get hurt this badly?”
Peter hums. He stretches a little, his back clicking. “I just do it myself.”
You peer at him a little concerned. “Yourself? Don’t you have anyone to help you with this stuff?”
It feels like the wrong thing to ask, because the second the words leave your lips his face falls, if only just slightly. He rubs his hands up and down his legs, feigning indifference. “I, uh. I don’t really. Have anyone.”
He shrugs like it’s not a big deal but it is. The man who risks his life everyday just so he can keep people safe, such a thankless job, being alone. It kills you. Your brain conjures up images of Peter alone in his apartment, fixing himself up when he can barely even walk. Peter, bleeding out with nobody to call, nobody to help him.
You feel tears sting in your eyes and you turn your head quickly so he doesn't see them collect on your lashes. But he’s too fast, and he sees you, and he’s immediately standing, your name falling from his lips as he turns you around to face him.
“No, don’t cry, come on. It’s okay.” He utters.
You shake your head, rubbing at your eyes, willing yourself not to cry. “It’s not okay. It’s not, Peter. You- You can’t isolate yourself like this, it’s not okay.”
His hands are warm where they're holding onto your arms, his thumb soothing over your skin. His eyes are flitting across your face, and he smiles weakly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine, Y/N.”
“You’re not fine.” You say wetly. “None of this is fine.”
“It’s okay, this- This is just how it has to be.”
“But why?”
Peter struggle to find the right words to say. “It just does. If- If you know who I am, you get hurt. I can’t always be around to protect you.”
You shake your head. “I don't need you to protect me, Peter.”
“You don’t know that. You don’t know-”
“But i know now.” You say, hands pressed against his chest. “I know. And you can’t change that. So whether you like it or not you have me now, okay? If you ever need someone you have me.”
His gaze darts to your lips so briefly. Peter looks like he wants to argue with you, but he can see the resolve in your face so he knows it's useless to try.
“Okay. Just stop crying, okay? It’s not worth it.” He whispers, thumb brushing against your cheek.
He’s so close to you, close enough that you can count the freckles on his cheeks, the wrinkle next to his eyes. You take in the way the strands of his hair stick to his forehead, the soft slope of his nose and the hard lines of his jaw. He’s just so pretty, and you feel the threat of tears once more because how can someone so perfect think he’s not worth crying over?
“I’m fine. Everything- I’ll heal and I’ll be okay.” He smiles softly, grabbing your hands.
You calm down, eventually. A few tissues later and a sip of the water left in the glass you brought him. You’re both still standing in your toilet, impossibly small and far too close to each other. The tension from before hasn't eased, but it's not full of sadness and anger, but something else, something more dangerous. He doesn’t leave as you toss the rag into your hamper and wash your hands, just watches you from the doorway.
When you turn to leave, he’s there. Closer than normal, and he grabs your hands again and his touch burns against your skin, and you find yourself staring at his lips, the way his lashes curl around those soft brown eyes.
Your voice comes out quieter than you mean it to, breathier. “You should… We should probably-”
“Can I kiss you?” He says suddenly.
You’re sure he can hear your heart thumping against your chest. “What?”
“It’s stupid. I know, I shouldn't do this, I shouldn't drag you into my life, but.” His hand curls against your cheek. “Can I kiss you? Please?”
You barely have time to nod before he rips the plaster of his lips so he can lean down and kiss you. His lips are soft. You worry for a moment that you might hurt him but his body melts as you kiss him back, and he digs his hand into your shirt to tug you closer. It’s slow and sweet, his tongue licking into your mouth and you raise your arms to wrap them around his shoulders, fingers tangling into his hair. You bite back a whimper as he finds the hem of your sleep shorts, his hand splaying out against your skin.
You waste no time leaving the bathroom, and Peter follows behind you dutifully as you take him to your bedroom. The place is a mess, your dirty laundry and random books and papers littered around the floor but neither of you care. You shut the door softly behind you, and Peter sits down heavily on your bed. You take your place between his thighs and he runs his hands up your bare legs, looking up at you as his fingers tease beneath the hem of your shorts. You let him tug them down, and you step out of them quickly, and he ducks his head beneath your oversized sleep shirt.
“Take your suit off.” You murmur and he grins into your skin, pressing soft kisses against your stomach.
You laugh a little as his breath tickles you, and you tug your shirt off and push him back gently. His eyes look hungrily over your bare body, and you cross your arms around your stomach. “I feel severely underdressed compared to you.”
“We can fix that.”
He stands up and shucks off the rest of his suit until he’s just in his underwear. Your eyebrows raise when you notice the thick outline of his hard cock in his boxers, and his face flushes slightly, tipping your chin up with his fingers.
“Someone’s excited.” You mumble, and you can feel the smile on his face as he kisses you softly.
His eyes shine as he regards you. The pain meds must be kicking in because his movements are lazy and slow, and his face is tinged with tiredness, but his body thrums with excitement. Peter leans back on your bed until he’s resting on your pillows, and you climb on your bed and settle between his legs, your fingers drumming on his knees. You’re ready to kiss him some more, but his hand circles your wrist and he’s tugging you further up. You give him a confused look.
“C’here,” he sighs, “Come sit on my face.”
Your face burns and you tug your hand out his grasp. “What?”
He has the nerve to look irritated, his hands reaching for you lazily. “Come on, I’m tired and hurt. Don’t get shy on me now.”
“Peter, you’re hurt!”
“I’ll be fine, my spiderism is already kicking in.” He grins. “And I need to taste you, pretty girl.”
And after that, you let him grab your hands and guide you anywhere he likes, because who are you to say no that?
He tugs you down to kiss him, and he groans as your bare chest presses against his own, and the sound goes straight between your legs. He nips at your bottom lip, using a hand to tangle his fingers in your hair and push you impossibly closer into him. He’s desperate, relentless in how he moves against you, like every kiss he gives you might be the last.
A couple minutes later, Peter lets go, his face flushed and his pupils blown. The hand that was curled in your hair reaches down to squeeze your hip as the other palms at your chest. “You ready?”
“As long as you’re careful. Don’t bust a rib just because you want to eat me out.”
He snorts at your words, his chest rumbling beneath you as he laughs. “You’re so vulgar.”
“And you’re so worked up.”
“Only for you.”
It takes a bit of manoeuvring, but with his assistance you manage to successfully position yourself right over his face, his hands palming your thighs. Your room is dark, save for the orange glow of the sunset peaking through your hastily drawn blinds. You can still perfectly see the grin on Peter's face that looks like it might split it in half.
His finger drags up and runs a trail down your slit. “Can see you dripping through your panties.”
You place your forehead against the headboards in front of you, your hands gripping onto them to steady yourself. He pulls your underwear to the side, and you clench as he puffs a breath against your skin.
And without warning, Peter noses at your clit and your back arches as he flattens his tongue and drags it against your folds. The lewd noises that come out of him between your legs makes you keen, your thighs tightening their grip around his head. It occurs to you, in the back of your mind, that you should try and go easier on him considering the state he showed up to your house in, but you can't bring yourself to do so, too distracted by how desperately Peter is eating you out, and how good it feels.
He lets out a grunt of pain as he shifts his arm to free a hand to press a finger inside you. You try to scold him but the words die on your lips as you gasp at the feeling of his finger curling against your walls.
“Peter, I said- I told you to be careful.” You breathe out, but he just ignores you.
His thumb rubs tight circles against your clit as his mouth works tirelessly against your folds, and somehow also manages to fuck you with his middle and ring fingers. You feel his hips thrust into the air as he moans into your skin. Your grip the headboard tight enough that your knuckles turn white, and you feel fire burn in your gut, your legs clamping around his head.
“M’close, Peter, fuck.” you pant.
He hums, the vibrations making your skin tingle. “What do you want, baby?”
“I wanna- Let me ride you. Wanna make you feel better.” You say.
Peter lets go of your thighs with a happy sigh. “You’re too good to me. Don’t deserve you.”
He helps you out of your underwear, and before you can make your own way off his face, he easily picks you up like you weigh nothing. You squeal as he deposits you to settle between his thighs, the only thing separating you both is the thin layer of his boxers that he’s almost soaked through with pre-come. You tug his hair a little as you lean down to kiss him. Peter sighs into your mouth, tasting like you, and you can feel his cock pulsing underneath your thigh.
You lift yourself up so that he can rid himself of his boxers. You expect him to take them off like a normal person, but he instead tears them clean in half, tossing the remains on the floor. You laugh a little, and he only smiles in response, shifting your hips so your cunt slides across his dick.
He sighs shakily, eyes shutting. “God, you feel so good.”
Peter cants his hips up and grinds into you. He pumps his cock a few times, moving it so the tip rubs against your folds, your wetness leaking over him as he slowly pushes the head inside of you. The feeling makes you screw your eyes shut, and you lean down, your head dropping against his chest.
“Thank you,” he breathes out slowly, helping you ease yourself onto him. “Thank you for worrying about me.”
“It’s okay.” You sigh, your words dying on your lips as he stretches you out.
It burns, the feeling of his cock pushing deeper inside you, but it feels good. Your cunt sucks him in, and a whine builds into the back of his throat as you sit yourself down fully. You brace a hand onto his chest, pushing yourself to sit upright, His hand glide up your thighs, and he grips your hips.
“God, you’re so fucking tight, baby.” He grunts. “You feel so good.”
He helps you lift your hips up, easing himself in and out of you slowly as you adjust to the feeling of him inside you. He’s reaching so impossibly deep, thick and hot, the pleasure creeping into every muscle in your body. As you pick up the pace, sloppy noises fill the room, indicative of how wet you are, and Peter’s face creases with pleasure.
“Just like that. Good girl.”
You set a steady pace, your thighs burning as you push yourself up and down. You throw your head back as his cock angles even further inside you. His hands palms at your chest again, and you notice that the small cuts on his knuckles have already started to fade away.
Peter senses your distraction, because he uses the opportunity to flip you both over so that you’re the one on your back, his looming figure towering over you. You let out an embarrassing squeal as he does it, and he looks too proud of himself for pulling it off.
Your protests for him to go easy on himself die quickly on your lips, and he kisses you roughly. “Sorry, baby. You looked so pretty fucking me, but it’s my turn now.”
You can't argue with that. You let him pull you up, draping one of your legs against his shoulder. He winces a little as your ankle brushes against his bruised jaw, but he carries on like it didn't even happen. Peter has no time to tease, cock hard and aching as he pushes himself inside you and thrusts quickly.
You gasp, arms coming up to circle around his neck. Your name slips out his mouth as he buries his face in your neck, kissing and licking against your pulse as he thrusts into you relentlessly. The sounds of his hips smacking against yours and the soft whines that slip past his lips fill your apartment, and you find yourself getting lost in the feeling of him in and around you. He lifts your hips up further and the new angle makes every stroke prod against that spot deep inside you, and heat starts to pool in your stomach, prickly warmth tingling across your skin as the pressure builds.
“Im gonna come, Peter.” You moan. “I’m-”
Before you can get your last words out, he drags his thumb across your pulsing clit, rubbing back and forth as he bottoms out inside you once again. The feeling in your gut overwhelms your sense, and you cum, your walls clenching around his length as your back arches.
“There you go. Good girl.” He huffs into your skin, sucking a mark into your chest.
You can tell he’s close, from the needy way his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, eyes glued to the way his cock pushes into your cunt. His chest moves up and down rapidly, and he’s whining, forehead knocking into yours as he finishes inside you. The fucked out look on his face makes you want to do it all over again, brown locks hanging down in front of his face as he comes down from his high.
His skin sticks to yours as he pulls himself out of you, the two of you sweaty and sticky, and he flops down on the bed beside you. Your blinds flutter carefully from the slow wind coming from outside, and you yawn, exhaustion and ache creeping into your bones.
You peel your eyes open to glance at Peter, and find him already looking at you, brown eyes shining and something too soft in his face all directed at you.
He reaches a hand out, fingers stroking your messy hair out of your face. “I can’t believe we did this.”
You hum, letting your eyes close once more. “You better.”
“My life isn’t a life you want to be a part of, Y/N.”
You shoot him a glare, as annoyed as you can make yourself look with how tired you are. “Don’t say that. I do wanna be a part of it. I am a part of it, whether you like it or not.”
He sighs, but you think it’s one of acceptance. “You’re so stubborn.”
“And you’re so stupid.”
“Match made in heaven, I think.”
guys I have been thinking of Spiderman NON STOP. every second of the day. I’m going to watch it tomorrow for the THIRD TIME. I am obsessed
Also I hope u liked this .. I struggle like crazy to write smut so I hope u all get horned up reading it 🩷
It’s hard to practise your skating when the hockey team captain won’t leave you alone
November 12th
6:07 pm
You: can u tell your teammates to not leave their shit all over the locker room
You: they arent the only ones using it.
Touya: Who is this?
You: dont pmo i know u have my number saved
Touya: Oh yeah
Touya: Ur the whiny ice skater
You: FIGURE skater
Touya: Same thing
You: just move ur stuff!
Touya: Alright alright
Touya: No need to get your panties in a twist
You: stfu
November 15th
5:27 pm
You: *image attachment*
You: again?????
Touya: We aren’t done training yet
You: i have the rink booked for half five??
Touya: Three minutes is a long time
You: yeah im sure you think so
Touya: Feisty today
Touya: U can come shoot some pucks if u want
Touya: Good stress relief
You: no
You: hockey is a waste of ice
Touya: Yh im sure all your dancing around is a better use
Touya: Ur just shit
You: at what?
Touya: Shooting probably
You: i am not
Touya: Dont worry babe we cant all be good at everything
You: alright fine
You: five minutes so i can shut u up and then get rid of ur shirt
Touya: Gonna get rid of my pants too?
You: SHIT*****
November 17th
2:49 pm
Touya: *image attachment*
You: I don’t want a picture of ur skates thanks
You: why are u texting me
Touya: Because u gave me ur number
You: yeah to talk about the rink
You: cause the college is sick of me complaining about you and ur team
Touya: Came here for pregame encouragement
Touya: And instead I get bullied 🙁
You: man up?
Touya: That’s so wrong to say
You: don’t care
You: hope you lose
Touya: It’s okay I’m into women who bully me
You: disgusting
November 19th
5:38 pm
Touya: Are you not cold in that
You: no im hot
Touya: Yeah u are
You: weirdo
You: why are u guys even here
Touya: Nervous with my team watching?
You: im just skating in circles I think I’ll be fine
You: just curious
Touya: Icl i thought we were booked for half past
You: LOL
Touya: Dont laugh at me
You: dont be stupid then
Touya: Hope you slip on the ice
You: im too good for that
Touya: U lowkey are
Touya: Never seen u skate before
You: impressed?
Touya: Yeah dont beg it
You: yk u are
You: enjoy the show x
Touya: You know i will
November 21st
4:54pm
Touya: Wyd
You: filing a restraining order against you
Touya: U want me in cuffs that bad huh
You: ur acc such a freak 😭😭
Touya: Only 4 u
You: and half the girls on campus allegedly
Touya: Woah woah
Touya: Where’d you get that from
You: certain people
Touya: So you’ve been asking about me 😍
You: can’t seem ti get rid of you later
You: figured I might as well find out what ur like
Touya: What’s the consensus
You: not a fan soz
Touya: Gonna kms
You: #gonetoosoon 🕊️
November 23rd
12:01 pm
You: i am so bored
You: entertain me
Touya: Y/N texting first?
Touya: Dreams do come true 😍
You: nightmares more like
Touya: R u in class
You: yes ❌
You: I should be on that rink not learning about this crap
Touya: Tut tut
Touya: Not very plus ultra of u
You: kys?
November 25th
5:00pm
You: touyyaaaaa
Touya: Yes mama
You: no.
You: but do u have training today
Touya: Yh we’re booked before u
You: can u give me a ride plz
You: I’ll pay for gas
Touya: Yeah nw
You: thank u sm sm sm
You: my partner usually gets me but he’s ill
Touya: Be honest u just wanted to see me 😍
You: sure 🩷
Touya: Wait so ur gonna train alone?
You: yes 😒
Touya: I’ll hang back if u want
Touya: Keep you company
You: you’d do that?
Touya: Yeah ofc
Touya: The rink gets kinda spooky when ur on ur own
You: alright thanks
Touya: No prob
You: *shared location*
Touya: I’ll be there in fifteen
November 27th
5:31pm
Touya: *image attachment*
Touya: Well well well
You: oopsie ☺️
Touya: U hypocrite
You: 😒I was tired okay
You: and in pain I fell on my ass
Touya: Ice it and rest
You: okay dad
Touya: Trust me I’ve fallen enough times to know what to do
You: yeah hockey is AGGRESIVE
You: figure skating is beautiful and elegant ⛸️
Touya: Whatever you say gorjus
You: just leave the skates in the locker room I’ll pick them up tomorrow
Touya: Nah I’ll drop them to urs
You: oh u don’t need to do that
Touya: Ik
Touya: I want to
You: oh
Touya: Yeah oh
You: shush
November 29th
4:07pm
Touya: Is that my favorite figure skater
Touya: With UA colours painted on her face
You: yeah maybe
Touya: Can’t believe u came to my game
Touya: Might shed a tear and smudge my eyeliner
You: ur wearing eyeliner??
Touya: Yes it makes my eyes shine
You: are you a social experiment
Touya: Stop flirting with me
Touya: Gonna play better now that your watching
You: you better
You: put all those hours training on my rink to use
Touya: Your rink??
Touya: Oh babe ur crazy
Touya: All that cold getting to ur head
You: try not to hit urs out there
You: I’ve seen how violent this game is
Touya: When she worries about u 😍
You: nah
You: just scared to lose my free rides to the rink
Touya: That all I am huh
You: and you’re not too bad to look at in that hockey kit
Touya: Jersey is all yours when I win
You: when yeah
Touya: Duh
November 29th
5:01pm
Touya: How do you know hawks
You: WHERE TF R U
Touya: Locker room I needed to grab smth
Touya: How do u know him
You: ??? shut ur mouth and come out here so I can congratulate u
You: we used to skate at the same place when we were kids
You: I didn’t realise he played on ur team!!
Touya: He’s a sub
Touya: I didn’t know u knew him until I saw u two humping each other
You: I think most people call it a hug
You: can’t believe u acc won ..
Touya: Told ya I would
You: I think I was promised a jersey??
Touya: Come get it then
December 4th
9:07pm
Touya: Where the hell are you
You: ?? what
Touya: Keigo’s party
Touya: Literally everyone is here
You: im not
Touya: Yeah that’s why I asked dumbass
You: im training
Touya: Right now??
Touya: The rink isn’t even open
You: is for me 😝
You: my coach pulled some strings
Touya: I’m coming
You: what why
Touya: You need a break
Touya: And this party sucks anyway
You: no but I need to perfect this by next week
Touya: Perfect it tomorrow
Touya: You ain’t gonna learn shit if you keep overworking myself
You: yes dad
Touya: Kinky
You: GROSS
Touya: I’ll be there in fifteen
You: guess I’ll see u in fifteen😒
Touya: Attagirl
December 7th
10:39 pm
You: yk I was thinking
Touya: Yes I will go out with you
You: pack it in
You: I think some of my skating drills would help u in ur games
Touya: Really
You: yeah deffo
You: when u were playing there’s so many like openings for u to escape if u knew how
You: not saying ur not good tho cause u were amazing but
You: just food for thought x
Touya: Nah I’ll take any advice I can get from you
Touya: Sigh if only I had a pretty skater to teach me all these techniques Sigh
You: 🙄if I must
Touya: 😛
December 9th
7:09 pm
Touya: U are not human
You: yes im ai 🤖
Touya: My body is fucking killing
Touya: How do you do this every other day
You: cause im the goat?
Touya: Ur a robot
Touya: Name one emotion
You: spite
Touya: That’s my girl 😍
You: this is like Detroit become human
Touya: Like what
You: 🙄ofc u don’t know peak
Touya: Sorry I’ll kms
You: thanks 😊
December 12th
2:45 pm
Touya: *image attachment*
Touya: So were u ever gonna tell me
You: WRF
You: I told my coach not to put those up
Touya: U got this fancy ass competition and I wasn’t even invited…
You: 😣 I didn’t tell anyone
Touya: I’m not anyone
You: IK I just am so nervous
You: and I knew i would be more nervous if u were watching me
Touya: I’ve seen u skate before dummy
You: not properly with my partner and our whole routine
You: you’ve only ever seen my drills or a couple spins 💔
Touya: So what im hearing is u tryna impress me 😍
You: well duh
Touya: Well im coming anyway
Touya: Better get used to the idea now
You: fine fine 😣😣
You: actually do u wanna come watch us practise together
You: like properly
Touya: Ofc
You: alright cool 😝 I’ll lyk when
December 11th
11:09 am
Touya: He’s very touchy
Touya: You two dating or what
You: LOL
You: no that’s just how figure skating is
You: it’s intimate and sensual
Touya: Might as well fuck on the ice and get it over with
You: STFU
You: Jealousy is not a good colour on you
Touya: Lie I look good in everything
You: did u like it
Touya: I liked you
Touya: Ur amazing on the ice but I knew that already
You: 😁thank u
You: better see u there on Friday
Touya: Oh nowww u want me there
You: always wanted u there idiot
Touya: Knew it
December 15th
2:54pm
You: oh im shitting myself
Touya: Probanly do that before u compete
You: not funny
Touya: You’ll do great
You: I can see u in the audience
Touya: Do I look really sexy
You: nah sorry
Touya: Bully
Touya: So what do I get when u win
You: if
You: and how about a date x
Touya: Oh don’t get me worked up for nothing
You: I’m being serious
You: and if I lose u take me out onna date to cheer me up x
Touya: Done
Touya: This is gonna be the best date you’ve ever been on
You: sure..
Touya: I’m gonna rock ur shit
Touya: Really romantically
You: LOL
You: okay I gtg
Touya: Good luck babe
You: thank u Touya 🩷
Touya has been on my MINDDD recently I can’t stop thinking about him.. my man……. Also hockey player x figure skater is such a cute AU so had to write a little text post 😝
Also going to watch zootopia 3 today I am very excited to see my bf nick Wilde on the screen. Also. Jason Bateman.
˙⋆✮⋆˚࿔ DO I WANNA KNOW? ~ Bucky Barnes x reader˙⋆✮⋆˚࿔
texts between you, the Avenger newest recruit, and the Winter Soldier
enemies to lovers, slow burn, multi-part
note: y/n was a black widow in the red room before she joined the team!
May 29th
8:06 am
You: where are you??
WS: At the mission.
You: ????
You: the mission we are supposed to be on together??
WS: I don’t need you to come.
You: that’s not really ur decision tho is it
You: tony paired us up so we have to work together whether you like it or not
WS: Again, I don’t need you for this.
You: is that really up to u to decide??
WS: Well I’ve already left, so there’s no point arguing now.
You: omfg
WS: I don’t know what that means.
You: it means ur annoying
WS: I can live with that.
May 29th
8:10 am
You: IM GOING TO KILL HIM
Nat: good morning to you too
You: Nat he is the WORST AVENGER EVER
You: WHO EVEN LET HIM JOIN
Nat: Tony probably
Nat: I’m assuming ur talking about Bucky?
You: don’t say that stupid name to me
You: he totally ditched me we were supposed to do a mission together
Nat: YH I saw him on the jet this morning
You: WHAT A DICK
Nat: calm down babe
You: no he thinks I’m Ike incompetent and he doesn’t even know me
Nat: just breatheeeee
Nat: and tell Tony he’ll sort him out
You: ykw ur right
May 29th
7:24 pm
WS: You told Tony?
You: welcome home x
WS: I just got ambushed the second the jet landed.
You: awww poor winter soldier
WS: Didn’t take you for a rat.
You: UR the one who left without telling me
You: I’d call that pretty rat like behaviour
WS: Well, thanks to you, Tony says that for the next month we have to do every mission he assigns to either of us together.
You: WJAT????
You: WHY
WS: Why are you yelling?
WS: He said it’s for team-building purposes.
You: fuck sake
WS: Just don’t get in the way.
You: shut up!!!!!!!!
April 1st
6:46am
WS: This mission is a week long.
You: wowww does the super serum make u super smart too??
WS: What the hell do you need all these bags for?
You: its two bags..
WS: It’s too many bags.
You: the fuck
WS: All you need is clothes, what else could you possibly be taking?
You: none of your business
WS: Whatever.
You: whatever is right
April 3rd
6:45pm
You: can u be careful with those daggers of urs
You: you almost took my eyes out like ten times
WS: Just dodge them?
You: just kys?
WS: 👍
April 4th
12:54 pm
WS: What does “wsg” mean?
You: what
WS: Sam keeps saying it to me and I don’t know what it means
You: just google it
WS: What’s google?
You: …
You: are u fucking with me
WS: No?
You: you are actually hopeless
April 4th
7:24am
WS: Did you get the files I sent you?
You: no
WS: Fuck me.
You: no thanks I’m not interested x
WS: Shut up.
You: rude
You: can u send them or what
WS: I can’t.
WS: How do I work Gmail? I don’t know how to add the files.
You: yk u don’t need to type in perfect grammar over text
You: also who doesn’t know how to work gmail??
You: where the hell have you been
WS: On ice.
You: oh
You: right
You: okay to make up for that tasteless comment I will teach you how to use Gmail and then I’m going to hopefully never speak to you again outside our missions
You: sounds good?
WS: Sounds perfect to me.
April 4th
12:40pm
You: hey so just because I taught u how to email doesn’t mean u need to email me every five seconds
You: I don’t need to know what you had for dinner
WS: I’m practising.
You: practise on someone else?
WS: No
You: why??
WS: It’s funny how annoyed you’re getting.
You: stfu
WS: I don’t know what that means.
April 5th
8:34am
You: do u think tony is the group leader of the avengers
WS: What?
WS: Why are you messaging me?
You: because this meeting is soooo boring and bruce is not even looking at us
WS: Okay, what do you want me to do about your boredom?
You: and here i am trying to ease the tension between us
WS: Bruce just told me off for looking at my phone.
You: ha ha ha
April 8th
12:07
WS: Are you nearly here?
You: yh I’m sorry one second
WS: What’s wrong?
You: I can’t find my gum 😞
You: my ears pop so bad on the plane I need it
WS: It’s fine.
You: ? no it’s not fine I need it
WS: No, I mean I have some in my bag.
You: you do?
WS: I saw you ran out last time we were on the jet so I grabbed some more.
You: oh
You: thank you
WS: No worries.
WS: Just get here.
You: so bossy.. on my way
WS: 👍
April 8th
12:11 am
WS: You were right.
WS: I think she liked the gum.
Steve: I’m always right
Steve: This is step one towards friendship
WS: Let’s not get ahead of ourself here.
WS: I think she’s gone from hatred to dislike, though. Which is good.
Steve: It’s very good
Steve: Make sure to invite me to the wedding
WS: Fuck off.
Okay so this is kindaaa short but that’s because I plan on making it a series!! So there’ll be a few parts
very excited for this… Peter Parker black widow and Bucky are THE BEST marvel characters I will hear no arguments to that
I can’t believe I’ve had this account for two years and written no marvel fics.. will be changing that now
˙⋆✮⋆˚࿔ DO I WANNA KNOW? ~ Bucky Barnes x reader ˙⋆✮⋆˚࿔ pt 2
texts between you, the Avenger newest recruit, and the Winter Soldier
enemies to lovers, slow burn, multi-part
note: y/n was a black widow in the red room before she joined the team!
April 11th
5:43pm
WS: Did you get that letter?
You: what letter
WS: Well, it’s more an invitation.
WS: From Tony?
You: OH the Easter party?
WS: Since when did people have parties during Easter?
You: you’ve missed a lot barnes
WS: We’re using Barnes now?
You: yeahhh metal man was getting kinda boring x
You: this is just what Tony is like he’ll throw a party for anything
You: surely you know this by now you’ve been here longer than me
WS: I guess.
WS: I usually ignore mail from Tony.
You: HAHA
You: well at least we’ll get a chocolate basket from him x
WS: I don’t like chocolate.
You: sighing so loud
You: give it to me then x
WS: Okay.
You: YAY
April 12th
12:34pm
You: your playlist is very interesting
WS: ?
You: so much Sinatra and Nat king cole
WS: If you’re about to say anything bad about Frank you and I are going to need a lot more team building time.
You: LOL NO
You: he’s good I’m just surprised
You: not one single modern artist?
WS: You stalking me now?
You: no.
WS: I’m flattered really.
You: well I wanted to workout but SOMEONE was already in there and SOMEONE was blaring their music loud enough for me to hear outside the door
WS: What are you waiting outside for?
WS: Just come train with me.
You: it’s okay
WS: Afraid you can’t keep up?
You: well I never said THAT
WS: Come prove me wrong then.
You: only if I can change that playlist
You: I’m about to introduce you to the wonders of Steve Lacy
April 13th
9:07am
You: u are not human
WS: Yes I am.
You: how do u do that workout consistently
You: my limbs feel like they’re about to fall off
You: my body is weak my head is hurting
WS: Weak.
You: shut it
April 15th
5:43pm
WS: We did good today.
You: you’re right we did
You: especially me x
WS: And so humble too.
You: yk our team building thing is nearly over
You: it’s been three longgg weeks
You: how are u gonna mange without me 💔
WS: I’ll mange just fine.
You: shut it
WS: We still have a week anyhow.
You: a dreaded week before I can finally have my freedom… 😍
WS: Ouch.
April 17th
6:38pm
You: I’m borooooorreeedddddd
WS: Is this a thing now?
WS: You texting me when you’re bored?
You: well why else would I text you
WS: Okay.
You: you text like an old old man you know
WS: Yeah funny you mention that.
You: LOL
April 18th
4:39pm
WS: Y/N. I need help.
You: are u okay??
WS: Somethings wrong with my phone.
WS: I think somebody hacked it.
You: why??
WS: There’s a woman speaking to me but I’m not on the phone?
You: what the hell is going on.
WS: She says that her name is ‘Siri’.
You: …
WS: What?
You: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA
April 19th
7:06 pm
You: are u ready for the party 😝
WS: I guess.
You: aww lighten up Barnes this will be fun!!!
WS: Parties are not my thing.
WS: Especially Tony’s ones.
You: yeah… he tends to overdo things but everyone’s gonna be there!!
You: even ur bff Steve
WS: My bff?
You: best friend forever
WS: I guess he is my bff.
You: and the best part is after the party I can eat mine AND your chocolate basket
WS: Who said you could have my basket?
You: *image attachment*
You: remember this message?!?
WS: You have me in your phone as ‘WS’?
You: oops
You: I saved u as that because I didn’t like you
WS: Wow.
WS: Has your opinion changed yet?
You: nah x
Bucky: You wound me.
You: I’ll see u tonight bucky
Bucky: Looking forward to it.
April 19th
12:29 pm
You: ARE YOU HAVJNG DUN
Bucky: What?
You: THIS PATTY IS FUN RIGHT
Bucky: Y/N are you okay?
You: IM deunk
You: u havejt been drunk in ages
Bucky: Oh yeah?
You: mhmmmmmmm
You: ru havifn fun?
Bucky: It’s fun watching you stumble around the room.
You: ur watgxung me??
Bucky: No.
You: come take a shot with me
Bucky: I think you need to maybe stop drinking.
You: come stop me then
April 19th
1:02am
Bucky: I know you’re asleep right now so you can read this when you wake up.
Bucky: But I’d like you to know I tried to get you into your own bed and you refused.
April 20th
10:39am
You: uhm
You: why am I in ur room??
Bucky: See above message.
You: oh
You: fucking hell I drank too much last night
Bucky: Yeah I know that.
Bucky: The whole party knows that.
You: SHUT UP
You: hey ur bed is really comfy
Bucky: I’m glad you’re enjoying it.
Bucky: When can I have it back?
You: gimme ten x
April 20th
10:45am
You: so. how bad was I
Nat: just terrible babe
You: 😭😭
Nat: idk what possessed you to drink so much
You: I WNATED TO LET LOOSE
You: it’s been so long since I had fun at a party
You: did I embarrass myself?
Nat: nah not really
Nat: it was pretty entertaining when Bucky carried you out
You: what????
Nat: well you were super drunk and falling over and he just like
Nat: appeared out of nowhere and whisked u away
You: oh. My God.
Nat: it was a great way to end the night
You: I’m gonna kms
Nat: not before u see the video I took 🩷
You: NAT
April 20th
5:45pm
You: hey soi just wanna say thank u for getting me out the party yesterday
You: and letting me sleep in ur room
Bucky: It’s no problem.
You: it was kind of you
Bucky: I’m a stand up guy.
You: with a really comfy bed
Bucky: Credit to Tony.
Bucky: I can’t believe we all just live in this tower together.
You: it’s kinda fun.. like one massive sleepover
Bucky: Unless someone steals your bed and almost throws up all over you.
You: I ALST THREW UP????
Bucky: It’s okay, it was endearing.
You: well thank u
You: I think your the first person to ever call me nearly throwing up endearing
Bucky: There’s a first time for everything.
You: there really is
i loveeeeeee jame buchanan barnes it is actually insnane
also ive started posting on tt and its so hard like plz people view my posts
also fun fact whenever im writing drunk texts for y/n i litch just type normally like i make horrible spelling errors every other word... if u saw my writing before the edits you would be horrified
